Silent

29. There's something you should know

Patrick visited them often, a fact which Michael hated. As Paul had warned him, Jean seemed blind to his friend's faults. Every time that Jean wasn't there to witness, Patrick teased and touched Michael, squeezing his buttocks or his crotch, whispering nasty things in his ear. There were a couple of times when the man had even tried to kiss him when he had been drunk.

 Patrick's behavior towards him was demeaning; in his eyes, Michael was a whore that didn't deserve to be treated equally. Michael hadn't dared to say anything to Jean, he probably wouldn't believe it. A friend's word against a word of a whore, – Patrick had laughed one time.

 The man also claimed that he had some porn films where he was performing, films that Michael seemed to enjoy fully. Michael didn't want to believe it, but he didn't remember half of those times that Ricky had "sold" him. Perhaps he had been drugged enough to make it seem like he had enjoyed it when, in reality, he had been in a completely different world while it took place. Michael didn't know, and he was confused. Patrick taunted him with the idea of showing those tapes into Jean, which Michael didn't want him to do. It was a different thing to know about something than to actually see it happen for real.

Months went by, Jean had told him he loved him. The man repeated his confession of love often and Michael replied that he felt the same way. It wasn't the same kind of love that he had felt for Jack or Tommy. He cared for Jean and was devoted to him. He wanted Jean's love and appreciation, affection, but the love he felt wasn't passionate or breathtaking, it was complicated and born gradually. When they were alone, when Jean was sober, Michael felt at ease and safe. But when Jean drank or was with Patrick, something changed and the change was unpleasant.

Jean proved to be quite jealous nature. When a strange man came to talk to Michael at a club, an argument followed. Jean sometimes believed Michael was looking at someone the wrong way; flirting and he got angry. Michael didn't know what this look was that agitated Jean. He was careful and tried his best to avoid situations that could lead to Jean's jealousy.

When Jean was working, Michael studied French. He could often walk along the streets of Paris with headphones on, studying French words and phrases. He walked long distances. One of his favorite routes was walking slowly along the Seine, at times sitting in the parks, looking at people. And this was one of his favorite activities; watching others, normal people, small stolen moments of their happiness or grief. He thought about things a lot and thought about himself and his place in the world. He tried to remember the boy he had once been, remember things that he had lost to get at least a small fraction of it back.

Certain melancholia had followed him, a weight on his shoulders that seemed impossible to shake off. The emptiness inside, something was missing. His family was a big part of it and then something else, something that was difficult to grasp properly. Whatever that was, it was the piece, the important piece that could probably make him feel happy again. It was forever since he had last been happy, with Jean he was content, he couldn't complain, not really. Perhaps contentment was the best he could ask for anymore.

Too often he lost track of time on these walks and then Jean would call him in a temper and demand him to return home. Michael always did. Jean had promised him that he wouldn't be a prisoner; still, with him, he could never feel truly free. Unwritten rules that he had to follow, one was to always be within Jean's reach. Although Jean wouldn't admit it out loud, it was clear that in their relationship Jean decided the rules and they were not to be negotiated.

May 2001

Patrick's voice traveled to his ears from the living room, Michael gritted his teeth and continued chopping the vegetables. His nerves were tense, Patrick's behavior only grew worse, his arrogance was sickening, and Jean... Jean just didn't see it. Michael prepared dinner as slowly as he could only to avoid Patrick's company. Soon he heard the balcony door opening as Jean went to have a smoke. Steps neared the kitchen and Michael moved nervously, glancing over at his shoulder to Patrick's sneering face. The man got closer and brought his hands to his buttocks, squeezing and causing him to yelp. He tried to move away but Patrick pressed against his back and held him against the kitchen counter. The man moved his hips against him, licking his earlobe.