He entered the restaurant; it doesn't matter how much he spends because he's dedicated to the service he received. He's a loyal customer; every time he encounters their surveys, he gives them five stars. They are accommodating and kind, and they served exquisite dishes—he couldn't ask for more. But above all, it's not really the meal he's been after; it's about the person he's been eyeing for a long time. Though he only knew one dish, hell, he's gruntled. He would disburse his money for his amenity, even do nothing at all, just to have a glimpse of him. It's like he's kissing him via the meals, if only for real; to have a taste of his lips, maybe it's sweeter than his plat du jour. Repas délicieux, can I have more?
He's gentle, like old money; he's delicate and harmonious. It smells like vanilla; he's full of life and love, ready to pour, like poetry that's so extensive and beautiful. He resembled the god of Delphi, maybe the descendant of Apollo. He's the rays of the sun's beating. Maybe that's why he's so smitten with his effortless coquette.
“Bonsoir! I'm Jerome; may I meet this merveilleux chef? "
“Je suis désolé, Monsieur, c'est confidentiel” (I'm sorry, sir, it's confidential).
In the sight of Paris, the most romantic place in France, why can't this man be granted his wish? He exhausts his wealth solely for the one he loves, yet he can't meet him. The entitlement he had in his lifetime is nothing but a title, because he can't violate the policy of this restaurant. Now that he has nothing to give, will the service stay the same?
He picked a yarrow for a gift, and while he's listening to jazz, he gives it to the counter and leaves.
“Monsieur! ” (Mister!)
He stopped midway; his familiar voice echoed in his head as he stood frozen while his heart was pounding so fast and his emotions were bursting with excitement that he couldn't smile.
For a man who can't cook a lot of dishes, yet he was chosen to serve this man.
“Je t'attendrai au bord de la mer, 10 PM” (I'll wait for you at the seaside).
“Bien” (Okay)
This restaurant really does fine dining.
But the day didn't last long. 10 p.m. came, and he was earlier than the time agreed.
“Bonsoir, Monsieur”
He stopped smoking and looked at the person in front of him.
“Bonsoir”
“I waited for you to ask my name, Monsieur," he said.
“Why? "Jerome asked.
“Merely because I want to know the gallant man who craves my cooking every day.” He's confident and cute.
“I know your name.” He was shocked by what he said. “Nah, you dropped your ID,” he tried to explain, but completely lost his words.
“Oh, you're the one who returned my ID. Merci! "(Thank you.) His bright eyes really make the holiday special, despite the coldness of winter, because he feels warmer than before.
“Louis is my name, Monsieur; what about yours? ”
“Jerome”
“Jerome,” he repeated.
From that moment on, it's like the angel’s bell that's ringing in his ear; it's calming, keeping all his distress away. It's a familiar feeling that the two strangers felt under the stars and moon, from the solid ground of Paris to the Eiffel Tower, which symbolizes strength and resistance against all odds. They felt a sense of belonging in each other's company.
Jerome had it first; will Louis acknowledge it?
You know him, Jerome.
“Je reviendrai ici à plusieurs reprises, même après avoir appris que je dois recommencer.”
(I'll repeatedly come back here even after learning that I have to start again.)
He thought it was impossible to not keep coming back to the place where the fuel in his heart resided. When he knew he could go to a different restaurant to have a taste of a different meal, he chose to stay where he knew his hunger would dissipate. Their lives were too short for their love, and their love was too much to be enjoyed in the short time of their lives. His last image was that the restaurant was abandoned and his lover was nowhere to be seen; he was left and crumbled.
Jerome learned that Louis died right after they broke up due to an incurable disease; he never knew they were there. Perhaps he wouldn't leave him for the military pursuit in the upcoming war between France and Germany. The fact that he survived the war but died in his own battle—the two lovers died lonely and unfounded.
How he wished this story would unfold the soul that waited for a hundred years.
“Louis, I'm done living in this solitude; Ne pouvons-nous pas arrêter d'attendre et simplement profiter de ce que nous avons en ce moment?”
(Can we stop waiting and just take advantage of what we have right now?)
Louis was lost for words.
“Je mourrai et je reviendrai encore et encore juste pour te rencontrer.”
(I will die and come back again and again just to meet you.)
‘I love the restaurant where I first and last saw you, mon amour’
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