I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO CALL THIS STORY SORRY (If you think of a title hmu)A fifteen year old French boy and a fourteen year old Brit stood next to each other.
The Frenchman’s name was Jacques and the name of the latter was Oliver. Both of the teenagers faces were flushed a bright red as they stood in the bathroom stall of their local Roller Rink, it was Valentine’s Day and a classmate was holding a party to celebrate. They were all expected to bring a date but neither of them had a girl with them, so to make up for it, they came with each other as friends.
Oliver didn’t have a date because of two things: One, he wasn’t a exactly a “Hot Guy”. He was pale and covered head to toe in freckles; he had bony knees and elbows due to his lankiness, and not to mention his almost feminine facial features.
Jacques didn’t have a girl with him because he saw no point in it. He just wasn’t interested in any of the girls at his school. The occasional girl would flirt with him but he just never clicked with anyone.
Oliver began to lean forward to Jacques in that rundown Roller Rink bathroom stall, his lips slightly puckered as he did so. The Brit’s bright blue eyes closed as he got closer. Jacques felt like he might be sick, but it wasn’t because he was repulsed, rather he had never felt such strong emotion before. He began to lean forward slowly and cautiously towards Oliver, almost as though the red string of fate was pulling them to one another. Their lips almost brushed against one another before the bathroom door opened and he heard a slightly nasally female voice call from the door, “Jacques!! Your Mother is here to pick you up!!”
Jacques jumped back and nervously called back in a rushed voice, his voice cracking slightly, “Okay, yeah, I’ll be right there Ms. Carter!!” he waited until he heard the door shut before unlocking the stall and stepping out. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” he stated while shoving his tan hands into his pockets and speed walking out of the bathroom. “W-Wait, Jacques!!” he heard Oliver call behind him as he returned his skates before joining his Mother.
“What’s the rush, Cher?” The short woman asked her son as she tried to keep up with him, “Nothing.” he stated as he hopped into the passenger seat and buckled in. “Alright then…” she stated before starting the car and beginning to drive away from the building that was littered with graffiti and neon paint. Jacques zoned out for most of the car ride and instead thought about how things might’ve went if he had kissed the short boy in that bathroom stall…
It was a few days later, and Oliver was sitting on the tire swing of his backyard, gently swinging back and forth as he daydreamed. It wasn’t very cold out, so he had on a baggy sweater and jeans. He thought about Jacques, about Valentine’s Day, about the Almost-Kiss… His eyes skimmed over to a pink flower that had popped up in the garden. He noticed the pink petals and how the elegantly bloomed out from the center of the plant. He didn’t know how or why the thought of Jacques and him laying in a field of these flowers while kissing one another and giggling had made it’s way into his head, but it did; he began to smile softly while staring at his shoes, still swinging gently, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…
Jacques didn’t know what had possessed him to go to Oliver Kirkland’s house that day… Maybe it was the encouragement from Francis or maybe it was just his own heart screaming at him to go do it. He didn’t know, nor did he care. All he knew was that he was on the front porch of the home and asking the boy’s mother where he was. “He’s in the backgarden, Dear.” Mrs. Kirkland answered with a soft tone, her strawberry blonde hair tied up into a messy bun ontop of her head. Jacques thanked the woman and hopped off the porch, deciding to go through the gate instead.
He saw Oliver sitting on the swing, smiling and blushing and occasionally giggling to himself. He felt his heart rate begin to pick up; his cheeks began to feel warm. He cautiously made his way over and noticed the other pick his head up once he notice him. “Hey.” he waved awkwardly at the smaller teen. “Hi there!” Oliver replied. “What brings you here?” the strawberry blonde asked, his cheeks a light shade of pink as he spoke. “I just, uh,” The Frenchman swallowed hard, noticing how nice Oliver looked in that sweater, “wanted to hang out.” Oliver smiled, and looked into the dark blue (almost violet) pools of color that were Jacques’s eyes.
They had sat on the tire swing for hours, talked about a lot of things. Mostly about life, what kind of jobs they hoped to have, if they’d go to college or not, the like. They had gotten to the topic of marriage and who’d they’d get married to, if they even would marry someone.
“I know who I’d like to marry, but I don’t know if they’d even date me.” Jacques stated as he dug his red converse sneakers into the dirt.
“Who?” Oliver piped up, his voice laced with confusion and curiosity. Jacques mused for a moment if he should tell him or not, considering what had happened at the Roller Rink. He decided to push his nerves aside and just come out and say it. Francis (who was the expert on these type of things) had told him that it’s always best to just come out and say how you feel.
“You.” he meekly replied, avoided eye contact as he did so.
Oliver felt his cheeks explode in a blush and his eyes widen, he didn’t know what to say exactly…
So he kissed Jacques instead. Right on the lips.
“I want to marry you too… One day.” He told the taller boy across from him, twiddling his thumbs as he did.
Jacques’s tan cheeks had a blush on them, he had to take this chance and not let it slip away from him again. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the paler ones of Oliver, closing his eyes as he did so. He felt butterflies begin to erupt in his chest and stomach; it was as if someone had opened the flood gate of emotions and they were spilling out of their dam, and into his heart and into his brain and into every cell in his being…
The first few months of their relationship were awkward. There we hesitant kisses placed on slightly acne littered cheeks and foreheads, the occasional public display of affection when they felt bold. They told both of their families the happy news on their three month anniversary.
And after a few years, they had moved on from awkward hand holding and onto marriage.
They had two sons, Allen and Mathieu, who were twins. So, when Jacques looks at a Roller Rink of any sort, he always looks back to that gloriously awkward Valentine’s Day where two boys stood in a bathroom stall, inexperienced and afraid, and almost kissed. And thinks that it might not have been such a terrible thing after all.
//Made for a artswap for my friend @bleshou //
//hmu if u want some fanfiction or smthn//