~PART THREE~
Angel, You Angel

“Here is where time is on our side,
Take you there... Take you there...”
-Talking Heads


Seeing as he and Marron had finally come to terms with their feelings for each other, Gateau found himself wanting to spend lots and lots of time with his cute little roomie. However, the end of the academic year was drawing near, which meant final exams, which meant round-the-clock studying, which meant no fun at all. Fortunately, they were able to compromise. Gateau could ‘bond’ with Marron as long as it didn’t interfere with his studies. Each evening found Marron at the kitchen table, reading and writing like there was no tomorrow, and Gateau sitting on the floor beside the chair, resting his head against Marron’s thigh. Gateau remained at Marron’s side, silent and true, like a faithful dog. Occasionally, Marron would even reach down to pet Gateau’s tiger-striped hair. Although Gateau felt as though he shouldn’t settle for so little when it came to loving interaction, he could deal with it. The exams weren’t far away, and after Marron graduated, they would have plenty of time to spend together. Besides, just being near Marron was enough to make Gateau’s heart flutter. For the time being, playing ‘man’s best friend’ would do.

On the Monday after the week devoted to final exams, Gateau threw open the apartment door, and paused in the doorframe long enough to pose and say, “Oh YEAH!”

A very surprised Marron’s head snapped up. He was sitting on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine when Gateau had so rambunctiously burst in. Over his surprise mere nanoseconds after Gateau had made his flamboyant entrance, Marron spoke.

“My, aren’t we happy this afternoon,” he stated mildly.

“Why yes,” Gateau agreed, striding into the apartment, concealing something behind his back and shutting the door in a gleeful slam behind him, “We are. Aaaand I got sumthin’ for you...”

Marron sighed, his smile fading only a little bit, “Gateau didn’t we agree that neither one of us would do any ‘frivolous spending’ until you found a job?”

“RELAX, Marron, I happened to pass a yard sale on the way home. A. YARD. SALE.” Gateau stressed, “It was only fifty cents and I couldn’t resist... Close your eyes.”

Marron obeyed, and felt Gateau plunk something on his head. When he opened his eyes and went to take his present off to have a look at it, Gateau stopped him, and ran and got the makeup mirror from the bedside table. Marron accepted the mirror, and looked into it, seeing himself wearing a black Mickey-Ears cap. Marron laughed. He had to admit, it didn’t look half bad perched atop his fluffy, blue hair.

“Gods...” Gateau muttered, shaking his head, and causing Marron to look up, “You have no clue how cute you are.”

Marron smiled, placing the mirror on the coffee table, “Thank you, Gateau,” he said.

“And about the whole frivolous spending crap,” Gateau added, smiling even more broadly, “Well, take a gander at this, whydoncha?” he said, brandishing an employment contract in front of Marron’s face. A smile played over Marron’s features as he looked from the paper to Gateau.

“You got a job.”

“Yep, I did! Nationwide Movers! Twelve-fifty an hour! Over twice what I was makin’ at Mac-Bastard-Donald’s!“ Gateau announced, grinning boldly and beaming with pride, “Oh yeah, look at me an’ mah bad self! Uh-huh! Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh!”

Marron smiled, shaking his head as Gateau paraded around the apartment egyptian-style. When hyperactivity finally gave way to exhaustion, Gateau settled down next to Marron on the couch. Just as he was about to wrap an arm around Marron and get down to some much-needed cuddling, the younger man leaned away from him and pulled his backpack out from under the couch. From this, he retrieved a brown envelope, which he handed to Gateau. Puzzled, Gateau carefully opened the envelope under Marron’s scrutiny. He fished a piece of blue paper out of it.

Underneath what was obviously the college’s logo were words that Gateau read aloud, slowly and carefully, like a grade-school student reading from a textbook at the teacher’s behest;

“Marron Glace: Final exam results:
Calculus; 96.5; A
Latin; 98; A
Biology; 95.5; A
European Literature; 97; A
Music Theory; 99.5; A

Dear Mr. Glace,
We are pleased to inform you that you have passed all of your courses and have achieved excellent marks in each. You will graduate with a 4.0 average and a Bachelor’s Degree. We congratulate you, and encourage that you stay and continue your studies here, for a promising student such as yourself is more than capable of achieving a Master’s Degree. Excellent work and congratulations, Marron.”

Gateau looked up from the paper to Marron, who shrugged (and was still wearing his hat), unable to suppress a smile. From the next second on, the evening was hopelessly and joyfully lost in hugs.


Less than a month later, Gateau was striding across the college campus, along with mothers, fathers, uncles, aunts, grandparents, brothers, sisters, friends and others attending the graduation ceremony. Blue-cloaked individuals with the traditional flatboard-and-tassle-topped hats mingled with the guests, or searched for seats in the ampitheatre, yapping and chattering happily away. Gateau spotted Marron, standing apart from the crowd, leaning against the side of a building. Marron too sported a billowing blue garment along with the matching headgear, which was perched at a slight angle on his head, overshadowing his hair, which had been re-dyed, this time, red. Since his hair was already very dark, and bleached only slightly, the coloring served as a mere accent, turning Marron’s hair a dark, burgundy color and making the fluffy, uneven crop look like shaggy velvet. There had been a little dye left in the jar, and this was used to reapply Gateau’s stripes, which stood out, bright red against his natural honey-blond hair color.

Marron noticed Gateau approaching him and ceased his leaning. He opened his arms and accepted the offered hug from Gateau, with the addition of an affectionate peck on the lips.

“I finally made it.” Marron said, scarcely able to believe.

“Of course you did,” Gateau agreed, smiling, “I always knew you would. You’re one smart cookie, Marron.”

Marron laid his head on Gateau’s chest, hugging him more tightly.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything,” Marron answered simply, “For bringing me back from the dead and being my guardian angel.”

“You’re welcome,” Gateau responded, smiling and gently rubbing Marron’s back, “Anything for the one I love.”

Marron lifted his head, looking fondly up at Gateau, who noted how the dark red hair color set off Marron’s golden-yellow eyes. For a moment, the campus and crowd melted around them, leaving Gateau and Marron in a dulcet, velvet world that they had all to themselves, along with all the time in the world to be spent simply gazing into eachother’s eyes...

“Uh, Gateau?”

The world snapped back into focus and Gateau blinked from the ‘impact’.

“Yeah, Marron?”

“You might want to find a seat.”

“Oh,” Gateau said wisely, reluctantly releasing Marron, “Okay.”

He flashed Marron a smile and a thumbs-up before turning toward the ampitheatre in search of an unoccupied chair.

After the playing of Pomp and Circumstance over several loudspeakers, along with the filing of the graduates into the crowd, twenty three speeches later found Marron shyly striding up to the podium. He retrieved a folded paper from somewhere within his robe, placed it upon the podium, then found his glasses, which he unfolded and placed upon his face. He cautiously tapped the microphone, which whined a little, causing him to flinch and Gateau to chuckle. With his golden eyes suddenly made bigger, via his glasses, seeing him tilt his eyebrows and wince whilst wearing the wire-framed lenses merited a little silent ‘aaaaaw’... And even though the slender man was mostly hidden behind the podium, Gateau could tell his knees were buckling within that baggy robe. Marron cleared his throat, before speaking, and said into the microphone, “Um, hello everyone, fellow students, respected professors...”

It was kind of surprising to hear Marron’s deep, gentle voice at such magnification, since he was so softspoken. It was even a little unsettling. His voice was not supposed to be that loud. It just didn’t sound right. Nevertheless, Gateau maintained his focus, and listened intently to Marron’s speech.

“Today, I want to speak to you about essence, and of potential, and I hope you will find way I say meaningful. I also hope you’ll forgive my manner of speech, because I’m used to addressing stern, commanding teachers.”

Some scattered laughter from the audience, mostly from the fellow students.

“If I were to say, ‘I have learned a lot over the past four years’, I would be making a grave understatement. There can be no doubt that my intellect was exponentially expanded, thanks to my classes and my professors. But not all of my learning came courtesy of textbooks and teachers. It was never that simple. I learned from my fellow students how to be strong and believe myself. I learned how to not be afraid of the outside world. This knowledge came at a price that was hardly monetary, and never easy. I’ve heard it said, ‘When you live in a cookie cutter world, being different is a sin.’ and though I endured many, if not all, of the possible negative aspects of living amongst others different than I, such experience was what gave me the courage I have today.”

Gateau couldn’t help but notice a few guys who looked like jocks shifting guiltily in their seats, and was reminded of that night at the diner. Marron had said, “It happens all the time.” Now he understood what Marron must have been going through during his time at school...

“Through the dark times,” Marron continued, “I told myself to keep living by ‘I wish’. As long as I hoped to be more than I was, the sky would be the limit, and I could become a stronger, better person. Old man Disney taught us, ‘When you wish upon a star, it makes no difference who you are.” Stars cannot see, and they certainly cannot judge. They can only grant wishes. But, contrary to what most people will say, you cannot make it in the world by simply believing in yourself and wishing to be more. I have many people to thank for helping me to become who I am today. I would like to extend my thanks to absent friends, for never letting me down...”

Gateau’s thoughts immediately turned to Tira, who, despite what her husband had done and told her, had faithfully sent letters to Marron during those insufferable times...

“...and to those here, I say thank you. To my professors, who taught me to work hard, rise up, and be great. To my classmates, from whom I learned the hard way how to be proud of myself for who I truly was. To the members of my band, and yes I will say the name here and now, Horny Unicornie, for providing the food of my soul, which we like to call music. To all of the aforementioned, I send my thanks. But my deepest heartfelt gratitude goes to two individuals; One whose seat is far above us, whom I hope is watching me right now with angel’s eyes, forgiving me my trespasses, and praising my efforts. I live for this individual’s memory and treasure it forever. My heart realized its potential, thanks to said person. The memories and gifts left for me, during the time we spent on the same plane of existence will be cherished in my heart forever. The second recipient of my most sincere thanks is, by the grace of the gods, among us now, and will hold a special place in my favor for ever. One who taught me how to live... and love... once more, one who was steadfast at my side, even as the entire world turned against me... and brought me up, like a phoenix from the ashes... and became... so dear to my heart...”

Marron had to pause, blinking away tears, and taking a deep, shuddering breath. Gateau, too, found himself wet in the eyes, though he, unlike Marron, also happened to be grinning like some sort of funny-farm patient. Gateau knew that Marron was referring to him, and the joy within his heart was so fierce, he was afraid it would burst. He felt so obscenely sugary, at any other time, he would’ve been disgusted with himself. But this was not the time and place to get abrasive with his emotions, so Gateau let the tears come, only to be wiped away by a hanky. Marron, unfortunately, was not as prepared as Gateau, and had to conclude his speech hanky-less.

“...one a final note, I leave you with these words... You are who you choose to be... though sometimes there is no fork in the road of destiny... So follow your path, and partake of the stores of enchanted nectar that you find along the way. Go forth... and make your life... magical...”

Gateau’s world promptly exploded with saccharine. Sniffling like a hulking, muscle-bound baby, Gateau clapped hard, trying to make the volume of his applause dominate that of the entire audience. Marron tearfully accepted his diploma, shaking hands with several upstanding individuals and performed the traditional switching of the tassel in a daze before rejoining the crowd.

The second the ceremony ended, Gateau leapt up from his chair (consequently knocking it over), and ran to Marron, who, in turn, was also racing toward Gateau, his robes billowing all over the place. He leapt into Gateau’s arms, and Gateau swept the smaller man off his feet in a rather twirly bear hug.

“That was really beautiful, Marron.” Gateau commented, after setting Marron safely back on his feet.

“Really?” Marron asked meekly, still holding onto Gateau.

“Yeah.”

“It was the truth. No more, no less.”

“Aaaaw... Now yer getting me all sappy and crap,” Gateau said, as though he was complaining, which of course, he was not.

“You don’t have a lot of room to talk,” Marron said, trying to wipe a tear out of the corner of his eye without smearing his make-up (dark brown ‘smoke-eye’ style shadow along with the usual black liner today), “I was the one who was crying all through my speech.”

“So was I,” Gateau said truthfully, “Quit doing that! You’ll miff up your eye shadow. Here, let me...” Gateau retrieved the hanky from his pocket, and removed the wire-framed glasses before carefully dabbing at the corners of Marron’s eyes.

“There. All better.”

“Thank you,” Marron said, folding his glasses and putting them away, somewhere within his robe.

“Oi, Marron!”

Marron turned just in time to be victimized by a robed, female hugger. After recovering from his shock, he hugged her back, then they released each other. She was a cute little brunette with a bowl cut, bright green eyes, and adorable freckles.

“Congrats to you, Marron!” she positively chirped, “I hear you got all A’s”

“Well, yes, I did...” Marron said, lowering his eyes in modesty, “And congratulations to yourself, Mozzie.”

“Thanks!”

“Oh, Gateau, I’d like you to meet Mozerella,” Marron said, once again taking his place by Gateau’s side, and providing a proper introduction, “Though she insists upon being called ‘Mozzie’, and was of some assistance to me in biology class.”

“Didn’t know how one went about wearing an apron,” Mozerella explained, cracking up.

“And,” Marron said sharply, eager to change the subject, ”Mozzie, this is Gateau...” Marron hesitated for a only a split second before adding, “My boyfriend.”

This came as a pleasant surprise to Gateau, who had never thought he’d hear Marron say that out loud. Gateau and Marron were both a little surprised when Mozerella didn’t even bat an eyelash, and smiled saying, “Nice to meet you, Gateau.”

“And you.” Gateau agreed. Perhaps Mozerella had some sort of ‘gay-dar’ and had known about Marron’s preferences from the start, but was one of those rare and wonderful people who saw love as love, no matter whom you loved. People like that were cool.

“So, Marron, are you gonna come back after summer and get a Master’s?” Mozzie asked perkily.

“No, I don’t think so.” Marron answered, shaking his head.

“Aw,” the girl lamented, her bottom lip pooching out, “I’ll miss you... So if you’re not coming back here, where are you gonna go?”

“Summer school.”

“What?!”

Both Gateau’s and Mozerella’s jaws fell.

“But you’re so smart!” Gateau said in protest, “What do you have left to learn?”

Marron laughed, “I’m not going to learn, Gateau, I’m going to teach. I’d love to be a summer school teacher, or I’d like to teach elementary Special Education. The idea of helping children with special needs has always appealed to me.”

“Really, Marron? I never knew that!”

“Just a little dream I had,” Marron replied, shrugging.

“It’s a wonderful dream,” Mozzie said, smiling, “I know you’ll be great at it.”

“Mozzie!”

“Oh, there you are, Biscotti!” Mozerella called to a young man who approached her, taking her into his arms and giving her a quick kiss. Boyfriend and girlfriend, apparently.

“Let’s get going, alright?” the guy called Biscotti suggested, putting an arm around her shoulders and turning away. Just before he did so, he looked over at Marron and said quietly, disdainfully, “Nice speech, Closet Queen.”

Then, he did turn his back to an only mildly offended Marron and led the his cute, cool, open-minded, compassionate, humane girlfriend away.

As soon as the jerk turned around completely and started to walk away, Marron actually flicked him off and muttered, “Bite me”. Gateau doubled over, absolutely jackmonkey with laughter.


When the time finally came to go home, Gateau led Marron around to the parking lot where he’d left his motorcycle, half-expecting Marron to start up with the whole big I’d-really-rather-walk crap. He’d gotten that rant from Marron gods-only-knew-how-many times. Gateau had always been concerned with Marron walking to college with that huge backpack, and had often offered to give him a ride nearly every other day. Marron always declined, saying that it was only twelve blocks and that walking was good exercise. When Gateau had inquired as to why Marron didn’t just stay at college (seeing as he had dorm accomadations and everything) rather than walking from and to the apartment every day, Marron had responded by laying his head upon Gateau’s shoulder and saying simply, “because now I have a reason to stay here.” Gateau was a sucker for these kind of compliments, so he left it at that.

Much to Gateau’s surprise, Marron merely smiled upon seeing the motorcycle, and didn’t say a word when Gateau lifted him up and placed him on the seat. Then they rode off to the apartment to play catch-up on on a lot of lost ‘quality time’.


“No, no, not that one!”

“Marron, chill. I know what I’m doing.”

“Gateau, look how it’s leaning,” Marron protested, pointing to a corner of the tower of wooden blocks, “You’ve already got a space over here fixing to bring about the fall of the entire thing. Take that block.”

“Marron, I’m not gonna say it again...”

It was a beeeeyoootiful Sunday afternoon, about a week after Marron’s graduation, and he and Gateau were spending it playing Jenga at the the kitchen table. Gateau had picked up the game at a yard sale, (from the same people he’d gotten Marron’s Mickey hat from, in fact), and it soon became a favorite pastime for the two. Though Marron and Gateau would never admit it, they often got a bit too... ‘enthusiastic’ with the silly little game, even to the extent of turning it into a serious gamble...

By some extraordinary miracle, when Gateau slid the block he’d insisted on moving from the bottom and placed it on the top, the tower wobbled a bit, but did not fall over.

Marron shook his Mickey-Ears-topped head in disbelief, staring. He’d taken to wearing the cap whenever he was in the apartment, and when it was not on his head, it was placed upon a pillow on the couch. Marron never wore it to work, naturally. He’d applied for a job as a Special Ed teacher at a local school, and had of course, been accepted. But seeing as school did not start until September, Marron got a part-time job at the nearby Barnes and Noble bookstore, working five days a week. Either way, he had twelve glorious weekends to spend with Gateau before he had to start on his ‘real job’...

“Your turn,” Gateau said cheerfully, leaning back in his chair. Marron winced. Gateau hadn’t left him with a lot of options, and none of them were easy. After finally making a decision, Marron very cautiously leaned over the table, toward the tower, and started to gingerly remove a block. He didn’t get very far. No sooner had he touched the block, the entire tower swayed lazily before it came crashing down.

“I guess... dinner... is on you tonight!” Gateau sputtered between guffaws. Marron hadn’t moved. He was still looming over the kitchen table top (now covered with freshly fallen blocks), his face a frozen mask of pained concentration, his fingers locked upon the block he’d tried to move...


That night (having lost fair and square at Jenga), Marron treated Gateau to dinner at the Parthenon Restaurant. It wasn’t anything terribly fancy, but it wasn’t some craptacular fast food place like Mickey-D’s, so they wore a somewhat reasonable assortment of clothing (Gateau had his nicer pair of black jeans and a new v-neck blue tank along with the usual black leather jacket and boots, while Marron wore some baggy black slacks, red sneakers, a white button-up shirt and black suspenders). While it wasn’t an elite, uppity place, the food was damn good and Gateau ended up eating so much, Marron had to beg him stop before he went broke. Of course, Marron didn’t eat much himself (a glass of water, a light salad and some grilled chicken), but a fourth helping of Augustus’s Braised Lamb Maximus was a bit much, even for Gateau, even if the gravy was mindblowingly good.

Two salads, two glasses of water, some strips of grilled chicken and three dishes of braised lamb later found the two happily spending some quiet, quality time together at a local park. It was a crappy place for a date, what with the immense amount of litter and leftover picnic crap strewn about, but at night, there was no place more peaceful or beautiful. The park was nestled next to a small lake, and the moonlight was misty and pearly upon its glassy surface. Fireflies were in abundance, floating in drunken clusters in the warm night air, and the purring of crickets was pleasant, soft enough not to drive one crazy. A path ran alongside the lake, and was perfect for a nighttime stroll. The temperature was mild, the humidity low, the moon and stars smiling in their otherworldly silver ways against a blue-velvet sky. Though it was indeed an ideal setting for a walk, Gateau and Marron fancied themselves with sprawling out upon a grassy hillside, gazing up at the night sky.

“Hey Marron?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever wondered what stars really are?”

“Gateau, you know as well as I do that stars are masses of colored, fluorescent gases held together by gravity.”

Gateau rolled his eyes, “Aw, c’mon college-boy, for once in your life, think outside of the classroom, and get imaginative. I mean, like when you were a kid,” Gateau paused to reconsider this statement, remembering that Marron had always been the scrawny kid with glasses who read textbooks for giggles and always got beaten up by jocks. And Marron had moved up a grade, he was so smart, so Gateau added, “like, when you believed people who told you the moon was made of cheese. Before you knew all of that reality crap. What did you think stars were?”

“Well, I suppose I kind of thought of them as pinholes in the sky,” Marron said, after a thoughtful moment, “Back before I learned the truth, I think I thought of the night as a big, blue curtain that blocked out the sun. The curtain had tiny holes in it that the light would shine through, hence, the stars.”

Gateau heaved a sigh, “I am the only one who thought that stars were aliens’ television screens?!”

Marron managed a small laugh at this. Gateau rolled over on his side, supporting himself with an elbow as he leaned over Marron’s lax, slender frame, loving how the moonlight seemed give Marron’s pale skin a subtle glow and kissed the tips of his hair with silver. Grinning like a dizzy-with-adoration drunkard, Gateau shook his head,

“Gods, you’re beautiful, Marron.”

The pearly shards of moonlight held captive within Marron’s eyes, which were stained sloe by the night, danced playfully.

“Then tell me so without words.”

Gateau needed no further prompting. He closed the distance between himself and Marron, kissing him deeply, amorously, and glorying in the fact that this time, Marron did not stiffen at the contact. Desperate to satisfy the warm desire spreading through his body, Gateau proceeded to move completely on top of Marron, careful to balance out his weight, putting a good lot of it upon his knees and forearms, so that he did not end up crushing the much smaller, more fragile man beneath him. Marron actually latched onto Gateau, pulling him closer, and triggering the rise of a hot new thrill within the older man’s heart.

Gateau’s lips left his partner’s, only to make a more than welcome return upon Marron’s soft neck. As Gateau planted a series of gentle, tender kisses along the lines of his throat and collar bones, Marron whispered in a pleading sigh, “Please... don’t...stop...”

On any other occasion, Gateau wouldn’t been more than happy to oblige to this request, but he remembered, he had a mission.

“Actually, Marron, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh?” Marron asked, trying not sound disappointed at the absence of Gateau’s lips upon his neck.

“Yeah... Uh...” Gateau began, looking not just a little uneasy, “Look, Marron, we’ve been through a lot together, and unless I’m obscenely mistaken, we both share the same feelings for each other... Anyway, I’ve been doing some thinking- Which is not something I normally do...”

Marron smiled patiently up at Gateau, who took a deep breath and continued, “Um... What I mean to say is...” Gateau shifted his weight so that he could lift his left hand and gently touch Marron’s pale cheek with his fingertips, while gazing into his eyes with a look of utmost affection and tenderness, “Marry, will you Marron me?”

Marron’s eyes went wide. As Gateau paused to reconsider his statement, he realized... Oh hell... Great, what was promising to be a very emotionally uplifting occasion had cheapened into a prime time sitcom. Gods, he had blown it... Shit, damn, crap, and any other four-letter word for that matter!

Gateau sat up hastily, turning his face away in shame, embarrassed beyond belief. He could almost hear the proverbial shoulder angel smirking as he twirled his halo around his index finger and sniggered “Oh yeah, nice going, Gateau! You should write a book; How To Totally Screw Over Your Marriage Proposal In Seven Syllables Or Less!”

Needless to say, Gateau jumped a bit when he felt a hand ghost over his shoulder, and Marron’s lips tickle his ear.

“I will.”

Gateau whirled around, where Marron was staring passively at him.

“Y-You will?” Gateau stammered, unable to believe.

Marron nodded, “If you ask me.”

Gods, it was so irritating how that guy could stay so frooping calm! Gateau was shaking like a silly schoolgirl and wouldn’t have been in the least bit surprised if he spontaneously combusted on the spot. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to oust the little anxiety demons, who were having a grand old time dancing and prancing around his pounding heart, and smoothed back his hair, finding he lacked the courage to look up at Marron.

“So... d’you wanna get married?”

Marron sighed, smiling serenely, “Sure.”


“Well, I must admit... the blue border was a good choice after all,” Marron said, about a week later, standing at the counter and appraising the wedding invitations that were hot off the Kinko’s press. The cards had ornate baby-blue ribbon-looking designs embossed along the edges, and on the front, in a font that looked like a series of black brushstrokes, they read; “You’re invited to our wedding.” On the inside, in a smaller version of the same font was scripted, “Mr. Gateau Mocha and Mr. Marron Glace cordially invite you to bear witness as they join their hands in marriage.” along with all of the where, when and formal/casual info that any reasonable invitation would contain.

“Told ya,” Gateau said, swiping up a card and examining it for himself, “Hmmm... that sure is a load of pretty-sounding words... If I’d written these they would’ve said something like ‘Yo, we’re getting married. Be there or be square’.”

“Which is why I wrote them,” Marron said, smiling to himself as he plucked the invitation out of Gateau’s grasp and placed it in a big brown envelope with a spartan clasp along with the others “I’m the one who used to read the dictionary when I was younger.”

“Gods,” Gateau said, shaking his head, “Did YOU need a hobby.”

“What next?” Marron asked as the two of them exited Kinko’s.

Gateau grinned, “You’ll see.”

Gateau led the way for about five blocks more, until they came upon Adore Jewelry and Diamond Center. It was not big, not small, but lit by a gorgeous crystal chandelier and run by a duo of crazy Iranian brothers who were infamous for their past lives as skilled horse trainers, and their present lives as somewhat scary jewel-mongers. Gateau gave Marron a playful smile and gestured for him to go in first. Marron stood his ground, shaking his head, “Gateau, as much as I hate to say this, neither you nor I can afford-”

Gateau cut him off with a sharp wave, “Relax, Marron. I pawned off most of my earrings, all of my gold chain necklaces and my dad’s watch. I got a couple thou’.”

Marron’s face fell, “But that watch... that was an heirloom, Gateau. How many generations did you say-?”

“Yeah yeah, my, dad, my grandpa, and my great grandpa all had to live with that thing. They were able to take better care of it than I ever would be. It was solid gold. I wasn’t too comfortable living in an apartment with an antique solid gold watch. I mean, think about it... If word got out, I can bet you so many burglars would be trying to break into the apartment... Besides, it was ugly and heavy as sin,” Gateau grumbled, rolling his eyes. He added, smiling, “And now that it’s gone, I can get something that means a lot more to me.”

Marron still eyed the jewelry store with some skepticism, so Gateau reverted to his super-sensational 100% guaranteed secret weapon. He slowly reached around behind Marron, and gently ran his fingers up his companion’s spine... an action that never failed to make Marron melt. Sure enough, the younger man arched his neck, releasing a sigh that was half pleasured, half obliging and said, “Alright... Alright...”

Nearly an hour later, Gateau and Marron emerged, one somewhat lost for words, the other smiling contentedly. They paused at a bench, sitting down to reexamine what they’d purchased. Marron ended up spending less than one hundred of Gateau’s hard-earned dollars. His ring was a silver band with a flat, blood-red ruby set into it. Although Gateau had begged him to choose something nicer, and had deliberately led him to the counter containing gold rings with diamonds costing into the thousands and up the wazoo, Marron still insisted upon the simple, inexpensive silver one. He said it was prettier, and that he didn’t like the idea of wearing expensive jewelry anyway. Gateau then finally agreed and bought the ring for him. Problem solved... Or so he thought...

“Will dat be it for yeu, gentlemun?” B.J. (the elder of the Iranian brothers) asked, a strong accent configuring his speech as Gateau was about to pay for Marron’s ring.

An upcoming “Yep” from Gateau was replaced by “No, we are not quite ready,” from Marron...

To top it all off, Marron then insisted upon buying a ring for Gateau! One could rest assured that the older man’s blue eyes were as wide as saucers. Gateau had just stared, his mouth opening and closing like the jaw of a halibut as he sputtered, “Marron! You...! I can’t...! I mean...arrrrgh! This is getting ridiculous! If you bitched about getting your uncostly ring just so you could try to get me to get one for myself...! And besides, Marron, I’m not supposed to have an engagement ring. The husband buys the ring for his fiancee!”

The corner of Marron’s mouth twitched slightly and he raised one perfect brow out of pure amusement before stating slowly and carefully (so that Gateau’s diminutive brain would be able to process his words) “Gateau, in case you have forgotten, I am a man. I am your fiancee, and you are mine. When we get married, I will be your husband as much as you will be mine. Therefore, you are getting an engagement ring whether you like it or not.”

Marron’s words were firm, but his smile was passive. Gateau paused for a moment, partially out of hesitation, and partially for a chance to glare over Marron’s shoulders, at the other customers who were staring. Seeing the threat in his iced-blue eyes, the eavesdroppers wheeled around, hastily returning their attention to their haggling/display case-shopping. Satisfied, Gateau turned back to Marron, and opened his mouth to spout a protest. Alas, the words stuck in his throat. Who could resist those sparkling golden eyes and that soft, fluffy hair? Gateau caved, and picked out a ring for himself that was just like Marron’s in appearance and price range, only his had a sapphire instead of a ruby. However, Gateau’s surrender did not come without a price. He insisted upon getting their initials engraved on the rings’ insides, and gave Marron’s hair a good ruffling before leaving Adore Jewelry and Diamond Center.

Outside, Marron slipped his ring off, and contemplatively ran a fingertip over the “GM + MG” that was engraved on the inside. He smiled to himself, and said, “Have you ever noticed that our initials are the same backwards as they are forwards?”

“They are, aren’t they?” Gateau said, laughing slightly to himself as he removed his own ring to examine its engraving, “Kinda like a mirror.”

“Perfect opposites,” Marron agreed, “Just like us.”

“Yeah, come to think of it, we are kind of negatives of each other aren’t we?” Gateau remarked, “You’re pale, I’m tan. Your eyes are gold, mine are blue. You’re a dark-haired genius, I’m a dumb blond...”

Marron smiled to himself as Gateau counted out these comparisons on his fingers.

“Gateau, you’re not dumb,” Marron said gently.

“Okay okay, I’m ‘intellectually deficient’ if you wanna get smartsy about it, Dictionary-Boy,” Gateau said, his voice bitter and cynical.

Marron countered this by laying his head upon Gateau’s shoulder and saying, “You’re a wonderful person, Gateau... And I love you.”

Gateau’s arm automatically circled his fiancee’s shoulders and he rested his head upon Marron’s.

“I love you too, Marron,” Gateau said, shunning the shame he usually felt whenever he got ‘sappy’.

“And I’ll tell you something more.”

“Yeah?”

“Back in college, during my science courses, I found, more often than not, that opposites attract.”

“It’s a sign...!” Gateau gasped, gesturing grandly and presenting his prophet impersonation very well indeed, “It’s an omen! It’s a burning bush!”

Marron laughed quietly, leaning against Gateau, who pulled him closer and softly kissed his soul mate on the forehead.

Ten minutes later found Gateau and Marron leaving the post office, with a full sheet of stamps and a ream of envelopes. Having a seat on the curb next to the big blue mailboxes, Gateau folded the invitations and placed them in the envelopes, while Marron took care of the happy stamp-sticking duty.

“How can you stand the taste of that glue?” Gateau inquired, making a face, “Don’t you think it’s nasty?”

“I don’t mind it,” Marron said casually, wetting the ‘nasty’ glue with his tongue, then pressing the stamp to an envelope. Gateau was about to respond, but then he noticed how very... ‘turned on’ he was by watching Marron lick the stamps, his keen pink tongue mapping over the tiny bit of paper like a cat’s, moistening the adhesive with warm saliva... Gateau shut his mouth and said not a word more.

When all of the envelopes were suitably full and stamped, Marron retrieved his pocket address book, and handed it to Gateau, under the arrangement that Gateau would read aloud while Marron wrote. After all of the invitations were addressed, Marron carried them over the mailbox, with Gateau at his side. Marron put them in one by one (dropping Mille’s into the International box because he’d long gone back to France), only hesitating at the last one. Gateau leaned in for a better look and noted that it was the invitation addressed to Carrot and Tira. Gateau gently placed one hand over Marron’s, and with the other, slowly freed the envelope from his fiancee’s grasp, only to drop it into the mailbox, along with the others. Marron slowly withdrew his hand and stared numbly at the blue metal box before turning his gaze to Gateau, who simply smiled his encouragement. Mission accomplished, they made their way back to Gateau’s motorcycle and rode home.


“Hey, you know, most people plan their weddings over the course of a year. Not less than a month. I mean, d’you really think three weeks is enough time to give everyone a chance to R.S.V.P?” Gateau asked for about the zillionth time.

“It’s fine, Gateau,” Marron called over his shoulder. It was about four days after the invitations had gone out, and Marron was busy in the kitchen. He was supervising a pot on the stove, which was fixing to boil over. Cream of mushroom for dinner! Yummy-yummy for our tummy.

Meanwhile, Gateau was hunched over a magazine at the kitchen table, busying himself with checking out numerous photographs of luverly ladies (he was browsing a Victoria’s Secret catalog, not that Marron needed to know that) as he waited for the soup to be cooked. While it seemed unfair for Marron to be doing all of the cooking while Gateau mooched around oogling girly pictures, both parties were fine with it. Number one, Gateau always took the dirty laundry to the laundromat, so it was a fair exchange. Number two, Gateau + kitchen = RUN AWAY. Plus, Marron was an excellent cook. ‘Nuff said.

“Still, I mean... Oh gods...” Gateau’s face paled, “I forgot to put the phone number on the invitations!”

“That’s because I put the phone number on the invitations,” Marron said, turning around and gesturing at Gateau with the wooden spoon he was supposed to be stirring the soup with, “I took care of all the information. Don’t worry.”

“The church address?”

“Yes.”

“Formal or Casual?”

“Both.”

“Reception?”

“Four o'clock.”

“Smoke?!”

“Rolls!”

Marron immediately wheeled around and yanked open the toaster oven. He hastily pulled on a mitt and slid the tray out to examine the source of the black tendrils of smoke that filtered out of the oven. The rolls were burned to a crisp and couldn’t have been broken if someone had attacked them with a sledgehammer. Marron first gazed ruefully at the blackened bread, then up at Gateau, who, following a staring spell that lasted exactly two seconds, burst out laughing. Marron hung his head as he deposited the no-longer-food into the garbage can.

When Marron gave him a baleful look, Gateau tried to stifle his laughter by slapping both hands over his mouth. It did not work. Marron said not a word, until a few seconds had passed. In that short stretch of time, Gateau had succeeded in laughing himself into falling off his chair, landing on his rear end, and causing Marron to mutter the word “Karma”, before turning his attention back to the soup to make sure that it too did not become toxic waste.

When Gateau was finally able to subdue his amusement, he picked himself up, rubbing his poor, offended posterior, and sidled over to where Marron was watching the soup with golden hawk-like eyes. The older man had a seat on the counter top, watching Marron stir their thick, creamy/chunky dinner.

“I can’t believe it,” Marron muttered as he shook his head, disgusted with himself, “I forgot to set the timer... Gods, I am stupid.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“People who are not stupid should not say that they’re stupid in front of those who are stupid,” Gateau scolded, waving his index finger in Marron’s face, causing the younger man to cross his eyes and blink rapidly. Amusing.

Gateau laughed, “Just watch the soup. Don’t screw up on that, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” Marron assured him, “I won’t.”

“Hey, Marron?”

“Yes?”

Silence. Marron continued to scrutinize the pot. He stirred the goop around with the big wooden spoon a few times, and then stared some more.

“Marron...”

“Yes?”

Another mute response. Marron dared not look up from their dinner and stirred the soup, slowly... gingerly... as if was glaring at him, threatening to bite if he tried anything funny.

“MARRON.”

“What, Gateau?!”

“Yo, earth to Marron! I’m trying to tell you something,” Gateau grumbled irritably, “Or am I so ugly, you’d rather look at the pot?”

“You told me to watch the soup, so I am.”

Gateau groaned, rolling his eyes, “When I say to watch it, I don’t mean for you to watch it all the time like a friggen television screen or something.”

“Well, then you should be more specific,” Marron replied, his eyeballs still keenly focused upon the pot.

“Marron...”

“What?!” Marron exclaimed more than asked, dropping the spoon into the soup with a satisfying ‘kerplop’, finally tearing his eyes away from the pot. He then let Gateau borrow his attention momentarily, turning his gaze upon the older man, who was still sitting on the counter top. Gateau was swinging his legs, causing his whole body to jerk slightly as an unhealthily large grin disrupted his features. Marron sighed, smiling and shaking his head before stepping closer to Gateau and draping his arms around the older man’s neck. Gateau responded by returning the embrace and pulling Marron near enough to him, so that their lips could touch. Marron tried to bring himself even closer to Gateau, who helped him to accomplish this by wrapping his legs around Marron’s middle, bringing his younger companion fully against his body, and deepening the kiss. Marron was so very into today’s lovely little round of ‘tonsil hockey’ that he failed to notice the bubbling noise coming from somewhere to his left. Gateau noticed, though. The kiss came to a screeching halt as Gateau tore away and yelled, “Oh HELL, the soup!”

Marron made a throaty, anguished noise as he looked over to his side and saw their dinner, spilling over the edge of the pot, browned in some places, and full of yucky-looking clots in others. He looked up at Gateau, “I-... I’m sorr-”

“Bah, don’t worry about it. Shit happens,” Gateau said, shrugging it off and smiling reassuringly. Marron gave Gateau a single sharp nod and went about cleaning up the mess.

Gateau slid off the counter and pulled out the telephone book, placing the huge, floppy volume upon the table with an efficient ‘thud’. As he was flipping through the pages, half of him was disappointed and sorry for distracting Marron, causing the demise of their dinner. He was quite fond of cream of mushroom soup. Mwah... But on the other hand, the consequences of a neglected pot of food had provided a sufficient distraction; While making out with Marron, the smaller man was held against his partner’s body, and that delicious friction had made Gateau... think that his pants were a lot tighter than they shouldv’e been. By the grace of the gods, the soup had blossomed over the rim of the pot and claimed Marron’s attention before the ‘problem’ got to be too noticeable... if it hadn’t... Gateau shuddered to think. “Mmm! Marron you are one sexy bitch- Oh, sorry ‘bout the pony.” Yeah, that would’ve gone over very well indeedy.

Gateau found the number he was looking for, and made his way over to the phone, carrying the telephone book and holding his finger to the page so he wouldn’t lose sight of his target. Gateau picked up the receiver and punched in the number.

Dial tone.
Click.

“Hello, Domino’s Pizza, may I help you?”

“Yeah, I’d like to order a large pizza with, uh... Hey Marron, you want pineapple on the pizza?”, Gateau asked over his shoulder. Silence responded.

“Pineapple, Marron? Huh?” Gateau turned around, only to discover that Marron was nowhere in sight. He must’ve cleaned up and made a none-too-gracious exit. The soup was scrubbed off of the stove and the now-empty pot was sitting in the sink, half filled with water. The kitchen was clean, but definitely Marron-less. Gateau sighed.

“Um, yeah a large pizza with half pineapple, half extra cheese, sausage, anchovies, and mushrooms,” Gateau decided, going with his instincts. He gave the guy the address and was told it would be about ten minutes (seeing as the pizza place was only a few blocks away from the apartment building). Gateau hung up, and, before going in search of Marron, gathered up a few ‘supplies’...

Gateau found Marron sitting on the couch, staring at nothing with moody golden eyes. Pissed about having screwed up dinner, no doubt. The older man said nothing as he carefully had a seat next to Marron, mindful to keep his ‘weapons’ out of sight. Marron did not look up. He simply sat perfectly straight (not leaning against the couch, which would prove beneficial for Gateau’s purposes), his arms crossed over his chest, rising and falling ever so slightly as he breathed. His expression was that of a discontented stoic. Marron did not look up when Gateau fiddled with something he couldn’t see, nor when Gateau slowly reached around behind him. Marron didn’t even look up when he felt Gateau’s fingers carefully taking hold of the collar of his shirt, slowly pulling the fabric away from the back of his neck...

...and promptly depositing a handful of ice cubes down his shirt.

Marron didn’t just look up. He leapt up, yelping as the brisk, solidified H2O stung him like frosty bees. He clawed frantically at his back, while doing what appeared to be both an Irish jig and a belly dance at the same time. A few seconds later found Marron standing square-shouldered and panting, five half-melted ice cubes lying in a puddle on the floor, and Gateau doubled over on the couch, laughing fit to die.

Marron took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm, “Gateau. Why did you do that?”

Gateau clutched his stomach with one hand, wiping away tears with the other as he stuttered, “You...! should have seen...! your face....!”

Marron placed his fists on his hips and glared at Gateau. Completely deadpan (unless you counted the I-am-QUITE-pissed gleam in his eyes) and stony-voiced, Marron said, “That was not funny, Gateau.”

“Well, look at it this way,” Gateau reasoned, finally succeeding in suppressing his laughter, “At least I didn’t put it down your pants!”

Marron’s eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by a knock at the door.

“Pizza guy!” Gateau practically sang, hopping up from the couch and dashing to answer the door. He briefly glanced at the clock on the way, noting that it had indeed, been exactly ten minutes. Perfect timing!

After paying for the pizza, Gateau marched it into the living room, dropping the flat box on the coffee table and plunking himself down beside Marron, who’d already taken a seat on the couch. Marron opened the box and appraised the pizza, his expression making a dramatic switch from glowering to gleeful.

“Pineapple,” he remarked with an approving smile, “My favorite.”

“Yeah, I thought so, seeing as you order it every single time,” Gateau said, plucking a piece of the fruit from the pizza, and holding it up to Marron’s lips. The younger man carefully accepted the tidbit, smiling up at Gateau.

Crisis averted. Gateau helped himself to a slice of ‘his’ side of the pizza.

As both parties were supping on their respective halves of dinner, a metallic ringing noise disrupted the idle conversation they were having. Taking the half-eaten slice he was in the process of devouring with him, Gateau hauled himself off the sofa to get the phone.
He picked up the receiver.

“Hullo? ..... No, this is Gateau, he’s- ..... Oh, HEY! Long time no yack, what’s up?”

Marron was only partially listening to Gateau’s half of the conversation as he nibbled at the crust of his second slice of pizza. He wasn’t really paying attention, but he could hear how very jolly Gateau sounded, and Marron really should’ve known that this meant that the call was of some happy significance.

“Yeah ..... uh-huh ..... Oh, well it’s great to hear from ya ..... Yea- I’ll tell him- I promise I’ll tell him right now ..... Uh-huh ..... Okie-dokie smokie, we’ll see you then ..... ‘Kay, bye.”

Click.

Gateau then returned, striding jauntily into the living room and sat himself down next to Marron, grinning like a true lunatic. Needless to say, Marron was curious.

“Who were you talking to?”

Gateau’s smile grew even wider, “That was Tira. She and the kids are coming.”

Marron’s eyes lit up and the hints a smile were playing over his lips, but his joy slowly faded.

“And... Carrot?” he inquired softly.

Gateau sighed through his teeth, “Well, she wouldn’t say much about him, except that he grunted a ‘yes’ of sorts after she did some heavy-duty bitching at him.”

Marron’s eyes dimmed in contemplation. His heart felt as though it was being torn in two. Part of him was full of dread... What kind of slap on the wrist would he receive for taking his... ‘tendencies’ to a level as high as this? But something else within him said that this was his chance. His would be seeing Carrot again for the first time since ‘the Big Blow-up’, and the two of them could very possibly ball up their differences and cast them into the big wastepaper basket of the forgotten past. Perhaps they could be brothers again.

Marron’s stewing thoughts were interrupted as another shrill, metallic ring intruded upon his perception. He looked expectedly at Gateau who was connected to his fourth slice of pizza by a long, thin string of cheese that looked like it would go on stretching until the cows came home . Gateau didn’t move and gave Marron a funny look.

“Don’t look at me, I got it last time,” he said through a mouthful of pizza. Fair enough, Marron decided, getting up and padding over to the phone. He picked it up.

“Hello?”

Silence. Unlike Marron, Gateau paid full attention to his fiancee’s phone-talk... Well, maybe not full attention, seeing as he had to devote some of his focus to making sure he didn’t profane the upholstery with his errant strands of cheese.

“...No, would you like to speak with him? ..... I will go get him, then. Who’s calling?”

Sensing he was about to be summoned, Gateau hastily finished his pizza in one bite. There was a somewhat long pause, during which Marron frowned slightly, “Alright, I’ll tell him...” he said warily, “Yes, hold on please...” Marron covered the receiver with his hand before calling, “Gateau, it’s for you.”

Gateau got up and headed into the kitchen, where Marron handed him the phone and started back toward the couch.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know. Wouldn’t say.” Marron answered over his shoulder before disappearing from view. Gateau shrugged and put the receiver to his ear.

“Hello? ..... Speaking. Who’s this? ..... No, I don’t think so ..... Yeah ..... Um, could you speak up, Miss? I can’t-” before he could finish his sentence, Gateau’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped.

“Oh my gods...” he breathed, staggering backwards and collapsing against the wall in shock, “Oh. My. Freaking. Gods.”


Nearly an hour later, the leftover pizza had been packaged and put away for tomorrow’s lunch, and Marron was sitting cross-legged on the couch, reading the latest addition to his expansive bookshelf (a book called ‘Utopia’). Gateau finally hung up the phone and wandered into the living room in a daze, collapsing on the couch, the force of the impact nearly sending Marron toppling off.

“Gateau, what is it?” Marron asked, a bit startled and quite concerned as he marked his place in the book and removed his glasses. He was shocked to see Gateau; Red around the eyes, wiping away still more tears with a Kleenex, and wearing a sentimental grin that would’ve put the star of a cheap cable romance movie to shame. Emitting a gasp of joy, Gateau bombarded Marron, hugging him fiercely, almost hard enough to make his golden eyes pop right out of their sockets.

“Ga...teau...” Marron gasped, unable to draw breath and turning all sorts of fun colors. Thankfully, Gateau loosened his grip a bit, only to kiss Marron multiple times all over his face. Marron caught Gateau’s face in his hands, then gently dried the tear-streaks with his fingertips, “Gateau, what has gotten into you?”

Gateau’s voice shook with the force of his joy as he managed to utter one word;

“Eclaire...”


Nearly an hour later, Marron heard the lock on the door click and he placed Utopia on the coffee table. Gateau was bringing Eclaire into the apartment. Apparently she and Gateau had agreed to meet somewhere and she would come home with him. Although Gateau had assured Marron that he was more than welcome to come along, he had declined. Marron had never met Gateau’s younger sister, and he would’ve felt awkward and ‘in the way’. Gateau and Eclaire had not seen each other in twelve years, so Marron felt that their first reunion should be between the two of them and them alone.

The door opened and then closed, and Marron could feel the presence of a new aura that blended almost perfectly with Gateau’s, only this one was more muted and pale. So she was a little shy, then. Alright.

Marron saw Gateau stride into the apartment with a second figure at his side. He looked like he was emotionally and blissfully drunk. The one beside him was quite small, not even coming up to Gateau’s shoulder. She was very muscular, but thin and wiry. She wore a torn, stained knee-length skirt, no shoes, and a faded plaid button-up shirt. Her face was hidden almost completely by a scarf that was wrapped around her head. The fact that she was concealing her face was a bit unsettling, but, never one be rude, Marron stood from the couch and gave her a pleasant smile.

“Um, Eclaire, I want you to meet Marron,” Gateau said, gesturing to his fiancee, “Marron, this is my sister, Eclaire.”

Despite the kindness of Marron’s smile, Eclaire still stood her ground, withdrawing behind the scarf. Big brother gave little sister a knowing look. She hesitated for a moment before very slowly lifting her hand and removing the scarf, baring her face to Marron for the first time.

She was definitely Gateau’s sister. She had his messy honey-blond hair in a short, jagged cut that looked like it had been lopped off with a knife (it had). She had her brother’s tanned complexion, and her muscles were strong and firm beneath her sunbrowned-skin, like she’d worked like an ox for most of her life (she did). Her face was small and angular, with strong, petite tomboyish features. She had Gateau’s big, baby-blue eyes, but they held a kind of translucent darkness. Like the eyes of a soldier, or a prostitute. Like she had spent her childhood, hoping for the arrival of a knight in shining armor whom she know very well would never come (she had). Well, that is to say, all of the aforementioned applied to the eye she had left... A livid scar severed her eyebrow and ripped down over her right eye, which was shut permanently. It was truly a terrifying attribute to behold, like something out of a bad horror movie, but Marron didn’t even blink. Gateau watched in wonder and Eclaire in pleasant disbelief as Marron took her hand with the utmost grace and a ton of culture, and kissed it gently.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Eclaire.”

“A-and you...” the little blonde managed to squeak, unable to believe that a man who possessed such pulchritude paid no mind to her disfigured face. He had been abused for the way he looked all his life, so he knew how much it hurt. Besides, even if she was horribly scarred, when Eclaire smiled at him, not only was she beautiful. She was radiant. Thus, in that short span of time, Marron had earned Eclaire’s trust.


In addition to the many traits she shared with Gateau, Eclaire had his extremely healthy appetite. The three of them sat at the kitchen table and Eclaire filled the guys in on her rather unhappy childhood as she consumed the five pieces of pizza that were left over from dinner. She’d been kidnapped at the age of five, on the eve of Gateau’s thirteenth birthday. They’d put her to work in a factory in Brazil, screwing caps on tubes of toothpaste. A few years later, she was transferred to a plantation, where she harvested crops like coffee and bananas. Finally, shortly after she’d entered into her teen years, she’d been placed on the assembly line for Abercrombie and Fitch. Both Gateau and Marron were happy to say that they’d never bought anything from those “Ghetto Yuppie Scalpers” as Gateau so affectionately dubbed them. She also informed her brother and Marron on how she’d lost her eye. A jaguar had wandered into the camp where she and her fellow workers slept and ate. The animal had smelled the meat they were cooking and had scaled the fence surrounding the ghetto. It had walked passively into the camp, without shaking a whisker while the terrified children watched from a distance. It showed no signs of attack until an older boy saw it heading for the pot of stew that was being warmed over a fire and leapt between the animal and the food. The jaguar then attacked and killed the boy, and all hell broke loose. Upon seeing one of their comrades killed, the children burst into a screaming frenzy. Frightened by the commotion, the jaguar panicked and ran about, searching for an escape, finding only walls to the left, walls to the right, and threatening to attack those who stood in its way. It was Eclaire who leapt in front of it, dancing and darting about, providing a distraction for the big cat as one of her friends ran for help. Just as a few of the foremen arrived, the jaguar pounced on her, one of its claws finding her face. The men arrived in time to stop the animal from biting her head off, opening the gate and scaring the jaguar away with gunshots. Eclaire’s eye could not be saved, so it was removed and the cut was sewn closed. She said she liked to think of it as a ‘battle scar’ because all of her fellow workers had the utmost respect for her after the incident. Later still, she received the best birthday present ever. The day she turned seventeen, the FBI busted the factory, freeing all of the workers were, and searches were conducted to find their families. Gateau was her only living relative (their mother and father had died recently) so she was put on a plane to America. Because she was not yet eighteen and not of a legal age to live alone, she was placed in a foster home less than a mile away from the apartment building. Though Gateau and Marron both insisted that she could stay with them if Gateau could get custody of her, Eclaire shook her head, saying that the foster home provided a training program that could give her the necessary education for a part-time job, and that three was a crowd in an apartment.

“Besides,” she added, a wry smile on her face, “You guys don’t want a girl piddling around your place now that you’re...um...” she concluded the statement, gesturing by crossing her fingers, “I mean, you are... um... going steady, right?”

Marron gave Gateau a funny look, “You didn’t tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

Marron raised his eyebrows and let his fingertips drum on the table top, drawing Gateau’s attention to his ring...

“OH!” Gateau exclaimed, slapping his forehead, “No, I didn’t!”

He grabbed Marron’s wrist and held out Marron’s hand along with his own, showing Eclaire their rings. She leaned over for a look, and her raised her eyebrows as a large grin spread over her face, “Oh, no way...” She looked from the rings, to Gateau, over at Marron, then back at the rings again. Gateau looked at Eclaire, then at the rings, then at Marron, whose gaze focused on his ring, then Gateau, then Eclaire. After playing a sufficient few seconds’ worth of eyeball pachinko, Eclaire spoke again, still grinning broadly, “So, you guys are married, huh?”

“Engaged,” Gateau corrected, “We’re getting married in a few weeks.”

“And you are more than welcome to attend,” Marron finished for Gateau.

Eclaire laughed, “I can’t wait! Sounds like smashing-good fun. Wouldn’t miss it for a hot fudge sundae.”

“Speaking of which,” Marron said, taking his hand back, “Gateau, why don’t we all get ice cream? It’s only a few blocks away, so we can walk.”

“Oooooh!” Eclaire just about squealed, her one good eye lighting up with joy, “I haven’t tasted ice cream in so long!”

Gateau smiled. He had been devoted to his little sister and was heartbroken when she’d been kidnapped. Anything he could do that would make her happy, now that he finally had her back, he would.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he agreed, “My treat.”

After Eclaire took a quick shower and was suitably dressed in some of Marron’s clothes (Gateau’s were much too big for her), the three of them were strolling down the street lamp-lit sidewalk, toward the Storm Brothers ice cream parlor. It had been a family business for over a hundred years, and looked somewhere between old fashioned and retro. The floor was check-tiled and there was an antique wooden bar of the side with these spiffy revolving stools to sit on. There was also an awesome variety of flavors from the expected Vanilla and Chocolate, to Strawberry Cheesecake and Cotton Candy. Marron got a sugar cone with a single scoop of Mint Chocolate chip. Gateau got a double-decker waffle cone with one scoop of French Vanilla and another of Mocha-Chip for himself, and a cup of Chocolate-Chip Cookie-Dough ice cream for his sister. Despite the size of his order, Gateau finished first and had to help Marron. Because of his slow, delicate eating habits, Marron hadn’t even finished half of his ice cream before it moved into its major melt-down stage. Eclaire giggled as she watched her brother and his boyfriend frantically lapping up the melting ice cream, Marron getting quite a bit of it on his face in the process. Once they were out of danger, and all that remained to be consumed was the cone, Gateau took it upon himself to ‘kiss away’ the ice cream on Marron’s face. Little sister smiled to herself as she watched Gateau rid Marron of the last traces of his dessert, this gesture making him look like a kitten cleaning a companion’s face. Cute.

They walked home, with Gateau carrying his little sister on his shoulders, like he used to before she had been stolen away from him.

When they returned to the apartment, it was decided that letting Eclaire have the bed was only fair, seeing as she’s slept on the hard boards of a makeshift bunk most of her young life. At 10:31, Gateau tucked Eclaire in. He knelt beside the bed, holding his little sister’s hand while Marron waited patiently, not too far away. The whole thing was almost like a hospital scene from a drama flick, Marron thought, smiling to himself.

“I always knew I’d find you again,” Eclaire said, looking lovingly up at her brother with her one eye, “I never lost hope.”

Gateau smiled, “I’m glad you didn’t,” he said, “Eclaire, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” said Eclaire, “You were the best big brother ever. Always putting up with my whining and yapping. Always trying to make me happy...”

“I’d drink poison for you, Eclaire,” Gateau said, looking ready to cry all over again as he held her hand in both of his own, “You’re my little sister. I was heartbroken when you were gone.”

“I was too,” she said.

“I’m here now,” Gateau said, as though reassuring a woman on her deathbed.

“Yes, you are here,” Eclaire nodded, “And so am I.”

“And I’ll never lose you again,” Gateau promised, letting go of her hand only to take his little sister into his arms, hugging her. She hugged him back, and the silent spectator, Marron, felt a warmth seep into his heart as he watched them. What incredible siblings, he thought, suddenly resurrecting an old ache within his heart. Carrot...

Gateau laid Eclaire back down, pulling up the covers and giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“Goodnight, sis. Sleep well.”

“You too, Gateau,” Eclaire said before she curled up and closed her eye, keen on getting a good night’s sleep. Gateau brushed her bangs away from her forehead before getting up and leaving the bed. Marron followed him over to where they faced a new problem... Was it even possible for two men to share a couch???

Gateau pulled out a blanket, and wrapped it around himself and around Marron, and they both sat down on the sofa.

“It’s so wonderful,” Marron said.

“Hmmm, what is?” asked Gateau.

“It’s wonderful to see you so happy,” Marron replied, leaning his head against Gateau’s shoulder, “and that you and Eclaire have finally found each other. That you care so much for her.”

“Yeah,” Gateau agreed. It took him a few seconds to realize what Marron was talking about, and Gateau felt overcome with pity. He had finally found Eclaire, after so many years. At least she had a big brother who cared for her... who wanted her...”

Gateau placed his arms around Marron, holding him close, and massaging his back. Marron felt the waves of comfort seeping out of Gateau’s aura and gratefully allowed them to wash over him as Gateau soothed him with a loving touch that would’ve been more at home within the hands of an angel.

“He’s coming to our wedding,” Gateau said, pausing to remind Marron, “Things will work out.”

“I hope so,” Marron said, nestling up against Gateau, “I hope so...”


Eclaire awoke at close to three a.m., having need of the toilet. Her heart stopped for a few seconds when she felt an obscenely soft bed beneath her rather than the cold, hard wooden planks of her bunk, and the warmth she felt was provided, not by a humid climate, but a soft, down comforter. She shot straight up in bed, breathing hard. Her one-eyed gaze darted about the apartment for a good few seconds before she remembered...

Smiling to herself, she slid out of bed and made her way over to the bathroom, pausing only to glance briefly over at where her brother and Marron were settled on the sofa. They were sharing a blanket and Gateau had fallen asleep sitting up, his slumbering fiancee snug in his arms and lap. Eclaire smiled to herself, then returned to her attention to the reason why she’d gotten up in the first place. She found the restroom and a huge grin spread across her face upon seeing the pristine, powder-blue tiles! The graceful curve of the sink with its shining metal faucet! The dulcet pink of the shower curtain! The gleaming white porcelain of the toilet! A real, in-your-face place to answer the call of nature! No more palm trees! No more banana leaves! No more stinky mud! Ah, bliss.


The next day, Gateau and Marron took Eclaire on a mini-shopping spree. They bought her a few sets of good clothes, some non-perishable food items/snackies, and other goodies she’d need/want for her stay at the foster home. After putting together her care-package (which included a wedding invitation of course), Gateau and Marron walked Eclaire to the foster home. Before going inside, they paused at the steps, where Marron hugged Eclaire and told her it was nice meeting her. She told him that he and Gateau were a beautiful pair, and that he had better make her brother happy, lest she poke him repeatedly with a pointy stick.

Gateau then gave his sister a hug, and said his goodbyes.

“You come and visit me, okay?”

“Of course I will,” Gateau promised, “I only wish I could take you out of this place, myself.”

“A year will go by in flash after what I’ve been through,” Eclaire replied, “I’ll be out of here before you know it. Meanwhile, you’ve got someone else who needs and deserves your love and attention,” Eclaire said, not even slightly bitter, and very possibly a little playful to boot, “He’s quite a catch, Gateau. Take care of him. I’m sure he’ll do the same for you.”

“Yes,” Gateau said, still holding tightly to his sister, “Now that I have you back, I don’t wanna let you go.”

“It’s alright,” Eclaire said, petting the back of her brother’s head, “I’m here to stay.”

“Yeah. Me too, sis. Me too.”

When Gateau finally released Eclaire, he stood his ground and watched as she walked through that door, stopping only long enough to give him a smile and a wave, before disappearing. He raised his hand to wave back, but she was already gone. Gateau stared numbly at the door, not sure what to think or feel, until Marron gently took hold of his arm.

“Let’s go home, Gateau,” he requested softly.

“Yeah...” Gateau said as if in a daze, not taking his eyes off the door, even as Marron began to lead him away.





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