Avec moi, ma chère

Laughter,

Sweet,

Slightly obnoxious,

But...

Welcoming laughter.

The sight of the brightest blue hue, brighter than the mid-summer sky... hair darker than deepest nights... the lost twisting feeling churned around with the foggy memory.

~

Somewhere within the Paris of the present lay another, equally as lost within a world, an empty spot where nobody fills...

To meet again, by coincidence, would be a saintly blessing.

Noé yearns to find him, even if just for one last time... he had not expected to see that boy again, nor to find what they had lost returned... a relationship born again, tel un phénix.