Chapter Text
France, 1967
The middle of summer has felt odd to Pierre for years. There are days where he has more energy than others, able to potter around the shop watering his plants and talking to customers as he works.
Even Simba picks up on whatever is in the air that morning, gambolling as fast as his legs can carry him, and barking excitedly at the gulls that he has no chance in hell at catching. Pierre laughs to himself as he jogs along in Simba’s wake. Despite his small size, he still outpaces Pierre, but it’s a nice enough morning that he doesn’t mind the workout of chasing his companion along the sand.
“Come on, Simba. Breakfast time.” Simba barks again, turning on the spot and streaking towards Pierre’s legs like a furry bullet, almost taking both of them out as he barrels into him. “And you also need a bath, you smelly creature.”
He bundles Simba into his arms to cross the street, uncaring of the sand and seawater that seeps through his shirt. It’s summer, and the air holds a promise of something he can’t quite name.
*
Pierre doesn’t leave Simba alone in his flat all that often, but he’s had enough experience of the dog's post-bath chaos that he knows he doesn’t want it anywhere near his books. It will only be for a few hours, and then he can come down to take his place on the armchair by the window.
The same chair that Lando always used to sit in while Pierre worked. He could almost laugh at the irony, that the two great loves in his adult life share the same preference of viewpoint.
Pierre glances around his apartment again, a habit that he has kept for as long as he can remember. He’s still carrying the weight of an odd morning, and finds his eyes drawn to the jewellery box on his bookshelf. Some days now, after Franco’s visit the year before, he wears Lando’s ring around his neck again. It’s nice to be reminded every so often that he’s been seen as desirable in his life, even though he doesn’t chase anything.
He doesn’t think he could bring himself to, with how Franco’s flirting with him had only shown him just how much he still carries his love for Lando in his chest. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone else if Pierre’s heart isn’t fully committed.
For a moment, Pierre hesitates, before adding the ring back onto his chain. If he can’t have Simba to keep him company for the morning, then he can compromise with the idea of Lando. He tucks it under the collar of his shirt, all too aware of the sympathetic looks he’s had in the past from customers who assume the worst when they see it. In a way, they’re not wrong, but Pierre doesn’t always want to be a tragic lover in someone’s story. Sometimes he wants to just be an ordinary man - as forgettable as they come.
Opening the shop is a familiar routine, and he hums to himself as he unlocks the door and opens the blinds. He takes his time caring for the plants - most of which have been propagated from the original potted plant that Charles had gifted to him when he first bought the shop. The plants in his own apartment may suffer, with too much light and not enough water through the summer months, but he won’t let Charles’ plant suffer the same fate.
There's something about how he clings onto gifts given to him that should be examined, but he’s not exactly in a rush to think about it.
Anthoine’s record player and collection. Charles’ plants. Lando’s… His shell, and his photos, and most importantly, his ring.
It swings against Pierre’s chest as he straightens up from pruning a few dead leaves from the plant next to the window. It’s been less than an hour and he’s already given up tucking it under his clothes. He should probably get a longer chain specifically for wearing it, but that’s another problem for future Pierre.
There’s a box of books sitting on his counter - a last post delivery from the night before that he’s not had a chance to pack away yet. With Simba safely locked away upstairs, it’s the perfect time to actually navigate the shop without the worry of tripping over. Loading a few into his arms, Pierre begins organising them onto his shelves.
All morning the energy surrounding him has felt strange. A mid-summer buzz that doesn’t sit right with the midweek lull that hits the town as the guest house empties.
And yet.
The hairs on the back of Pierre’s neck stand on end, and he gets the feeling of someone staring at him. It’s almost like deja vu, with how he turns in slow motion to look out of the large window.
Time stops.
For a moment, Pierre is ten years younger, staring out at a beautiful stranger on the opposite side of the street. Then he’s only five years younger, watching as the man he loves looks aged, and wearing an expression he’s not seen on those features before.
And when time starts up again, he’s face to face with a man he shouldn’t be able to recognise from this distance, and yet somehow, he instantly does.
The sound of the bell above his door startles him into movement, books dropping out of his arms as he crosses the shop in three unsteady steps.
“Lando?” Pierre reaches out, aware of just how much his hands are shaking. He doesn’t know how he’s still upright, with how his knees feel as though they’re going to give out underneath him at any moment.
Lando’s staring at him - although it’s not directly, and more at the chain around Pierre’s neck. The one that holds the ring that Lando had given him all those years before.
Pierre’s glad of his strange intuition now, and how on a whim he’d decided to wear the jewellery that day.
“Pierre,” Lando replies, his hands twitching at his sides as though he wants to reach out but doesn’t know if he’s allowed.
“Are you-? Is this -? What about-?” Questions tumble through Pierre’s brain at the speed of trains that rush in opposite directions. All he can think about is what he said in his letter to Max. If Lando is here on his doorstep, then something must have happened with his marriage back in England. Until Pierre hears it from Lando’s lips though, he has to try and keep his hopes in check.
Not that he’s been all that successful with that over the last ten years.
“Can I stay?” Lando asks.
Pierre can hear the unspoken implications. It’s not ‘can we’. No mention of his family at all.
Pierre stills in place, his mind whirring as he studies Lando’s expectant expression. For years, Pierre has dreamed of this moment. Of Lando finally finding out Pierre’s feelings, and how, probably with Max’s confirmation, they’ve stayed the same throughout the years.
Pierre has loved and lost, hoped and believed, and now he feels as though he can finally get to live.