“Dang,” said Jeffrey. “I look like a TV singer on Throwback Thursday. Those hems are falling apart.”
“I’ve seen worse. These are revival threads, not true ’70s punk. It makes you more mature, from my point of view.”
“I can’t tell the difference. This style isn’t for me…”
“Not at all. You look lovely. At the very least, I know you don’t hate them.”
In the back of his mind, Jeffrey recalled a time he picked out clothing so audacious it made his father cry. This event marked the end of his childhood, because it was the moment he had felt both guilt and disillusionment toward his father, and he’d never told anyone outside the family about his punk phase since.
Jeffrey blinked a few times in surprise in that dusty store and cocked his head. “Did I ever tell you about…?”
“About what?”
“My thing for punk.”
“No. But your eyes lit up every time I picked out clothes with an edgier style, so I figured you liked it. It’s not up to me to decide your style. Everything comes down to fashion sense and taste! I’m not asking you to cover yourself in piercings, but you need to let loose and have a little fun sometimes.”
“…Is this part of us discovering each other’s worlds?”
“It is.”
Joachim smiled, finished dressing Jeffrey for the moment, and began to choose articles of clothing for himself. His eyes slid over the expensive shelves marked “vintage” in favor of inspecting the one-euro bin for unexpected treasures. Jeffrey watched him from behind. And watched. And waited. And watched.
Finally, he spoke. “Chim, can I make a little suggestion?”
“Hm? What, do you want to get ice cream again?”
“Let’s go back to the Chanel store.”
“…This place isn’t that rundown and dusty, Jeffy.”
“No, not at all. I like the clothes you picked out for me. That’s why I want to go back.”
Joachim looked confused.
Jeffrey took off his sunglasses and said, “Let me show you my world. You buy me these clothes, and I’ll take you to Chanel to buy anything your heart desires.” With a slight head tilt, like a prince in a fairy tale, he added, “Well? Would you give me the honor?”
Joachim didn’t move. If anything, he snorted in disapproval. “…You can’t ask me to play the snooty rich girl with the ‘Oh ho ho!’ laugh. I haven’t learned my lines. I can’t wear Chanel when I’m still playing the bit roles.”
“I doubt Mademoiselle Chanel was an ‘Oh ho ho!’ girl. I always took her for one of those characters with the daring grins. Anyway, you don’t have to wear any of it. Just let me buy it for you.”
Joachim fell silent. Jeffrey hadn’t meant to cause him discomfort, so he decided to drop the subject if Joachim pushed back again.
But instead, Joachim said, “You know that Seigi Nakata boy?”
Seigi’s name was the last thing Jeffrey had expected to hear. What about Seigi? He was about to ask where Joachim was going with this, but by then Joachim had finished paying for his purchases and cramming the punk revival threads into worn-out plastic bags. They exited out onto the street, and a group of children ran past them across the cobblestones.
“We met at your dad’s funeral,” Joachim explained. “Didn’t do much more than swap names, but the kid gave me some advice. Do you want to hear it?”
“…A part of me says yes, and another part says no way.”
“He told me to spoil you rotten.”
That gave Jeffrey even more pause. “I’m almost inclined to call him up and ask what he’s playing at, saying that to you.” It was only half a joke, too.
Joachim laughed, but his laughter was a mask, and he no longer looked Jeffrey’s way. “You may have played the doting older brother role for him, too, but he was still worried about you. You’re a pillar of support for others all the time, but you have no one there to support you.”
“Every businessman has a support system in case something fails. That’s what insurance and good management systems are all about. Are you interested in hearing more about the insurance policies my company offers?”
“I’m talking about support on a personal level, hon.”
Joachim refused to play along with his joke, and Jeffrey had no choice but to smile awkwardly back. He could try to deny it as had been his habit for years, but Joachim had a way of thrusting Jeffrey’s attempts at deception back in his face. It was like Joachim was a mirror. After Joachim had chosen happiness for himself, Jeffrey hated the thought of forcing him back into his former lifestyle.
Joachim leaned in closer. Jeffrey’s eyes fastened on those glittering lips. “We’d never survive if we weren’t strong, but being gentle’s optional. That’s how I see it, at least. Life would be too cruel, otherwise.”
“…Sure would be.”
“But that doesn’t have to be the case for you. You’re aware of how privileged your upbringing was, and I like that about you. It also makes me worry about you, and I know I’m not the only one. Even that sweet boy wants to take care of you, in his own roundabout way, asking me to pamper you silly. People pick up on your emotional ignorance easier than you think, love.”
“How does pampering me translate to me buying things for you?”
“What, you mean you aren’t more comfortable fussing over other people than the reverse?”
Jeffrey couldn’t even gulp. He let his head droop in defeat—have mercy, please don’t read me for filth again—and Joachim laughed.
“I’ll smother you with more attention than you’ll know what to do with, but you’d better pay me my stylist’s fee. I’ll pick out the best clothes ever, even in the middle of our awful fights.”
“The best clothes ever, huh? Sounds great. We might need to have ourselves an awful fight.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, silly.”
“Too bad. I’m itching for a fight. Because,” Jeffrey said, “that just gives us a chance to kiss and make up.”
The corners of Joachim’s mouth slid upward into the smallest of smiles, like a mother watching her unruly child. Jeffrey returned that with a grin of his own, and this time, Joachim’s smile grew to fill his whole face.
“All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m gonna tear you to shreds.”
“Perfect. Chim, have I ever mentioned how much I love you? You mean the world to me.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Give a guy a warning before you start laying it on thick.”
“I’m just picking my fight. You mad yet?”
“Okay, let’s settle down.” Joachim patted Jeffrey on the back. “That’s enough.”
His cheeks had a slight flush. Jeffrey felt a stirring of something akin to happiness, and that was when the recollection hit him.
“Topic change, but when you mentioned Seigi a bit ago, you called him a kid. How old do you think he is?”
“Hm? He can’t be older than eighteen. Right?” Joachim’s lips formed a sour shape. “I mean, I thought he was much younger, but then he showed up wearing a suit.”
Jeffrey had to stifle his laughter. When he divulged just how old Mr. Seigi Nakata really was, Joachim placed a hand against his forehead and mimed fainting on the spot like an actress from an early 1900s film.
“His skincare routine!” he moaned. “My kingdom for his skincare routine!”
This time, Jeffrey laughed out loud. “Is it that much of a shock?”
“I can’t believe it. I’m pretty darn good-looking at my age, too, and you know how much effort I put into it. But that skin? How can it be? Oh, to be in your early twenties! Is this a scam? Ohhh, goodness gracious. Joachim here has had a bit of a nasty turn.”
“Hey, Chim, look. Here’s Chanel. Buck up.”
“I only agreed to come along because you asked me, you know!”
“You sure did.”
The scent of sweet perfume assaulted the two as they entered the Chanel flagship store in Paris’s first arrondissement. An hour later, they walked out with numerous bags and a groaning Joachim.
“I’m exhausted… I’m more worn out than the night I picked up a shift for a girl with a stomachache and danced all evening…”
“That’s clothes shopping for you.”
“Just get me something to eat, anything… A hamburger, whatever…”
“I’ll look up where the closest McDonald’s is.”
“…Are you sure you’re fine with McDonald’s?”
“I’d eat anywhere so long as it was with you.”
Jeffrey bent over his phone’s map app until Joachim laid his hand across the screen. His nails were painted the deep blue of the night sky and glittered like the stars. Jeffrey’s eyes traveled up Joachim’s arm to his face.
“Yes?” he asked.
“…I just wanted to say, me too. I’d go anywhere, eat anywhere, so long as I’m with you.” The statement was delivered slowly, haltingly, and ended with a smile. “You know, I think I want to pop into Maxim’s de Paris after all. Care to join me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I want you to take me to that art gallery.”
“Whatever you say.”
“And then…well, I haven’t decided that yet. You think of something good.”
“Will do.”
Jeffrey’s grin was evil, but the smile Joachim offered in return said Bring it on.
Fifteen or so minutes later, a herd of Chanel employees left the store with a staggering number of paper bags and began hauling the bulk of Jeffrey and Joachim’s purchases to the Hotel Ritz.