when you say nothing at all... (boyxboy)

Chapter 5: A candle for your granddad and ice-cream on your nose

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Rolfie and the lady drummer...

Chapter 5

Daniel POV

Somehow, I found Josh’ reaction on my two words hilarious. It was like he thought I wasn’t planning on saying anything. EVER. Which was not true. I just didn’t feel the need to waste my words when they weren’t necessary.

I wanted to go see the church, but Josh didn’t look like he was going to move anytime soon. Seriously? I just said: ‘I know’, it’s not like I gave a five hour long lecture on the deeper meanings in life. I just said: ‘I know.’

Josh was still holding my wrist, so I gave a little pull to get him to start walking.

‘O, right,’ he said, ‘church.’

I chuckled and followed him up the stairs towards the entrance. Even though the weather was good, it wasn’t very busy, most likely because most people had to work or go to school this time of year. By the entrance there was a sign that said that we weren’t allowed to take pictures or to eat. I didn’t really mind, though it would have been nice to have some photographs of the place. On the other hand, now I didn’t run the risk to get so distracted by taking pictures of everything, that I forgot to actually look around.

Josh entered the church first and I followed him (as usual). As soon as we stepped over the threshold, everybody fell silent. As I’d said earlier, I thought this was one of the most magical things in the world. Nobody forced them to be completely silent, still everybody was. And for me, that silence felt like coming home, because I was finally released from the pressure to say something all the time. So as soon as I entered the church, a big grin spread over my face.

The church was beautiful. There were amazing, big stained glass windows made of more than a thousand small parts, all in different colours, and as the sun shone through them, it was like little light bulbs were dancing through the church. Everything was so big and impressive.

And then I’m not even talking about all the hundreds of candles which were standing along the pathway. I’d always loved to look at the candles and think about how every candle was lit up with one special person in mind. It made me feel better about the world we live in.

Sorry, churches just bring out the deep side of me.

Suddenly, I felt Josh let go of my wrist and I saw him walking towards the candles. I just stayed where I was while watching him expectantly, curious of what he was going to do. Without saying anything, he took some money out of his pocket and threw it in one of the little wooden boxes. Then, he took one of the small candles and lit it with another one. I’d never seen him with such a concentrated, serious face, and I didn’t know what to do. Still I felt that I had to do at least something. So I started walking towards him. When I reached him, I just stood there awkwardly. See, comforting was never really my thing.

‘I always light one,’ he whispered. ‘For my granddad.’

I had to do something, I had to do something, I had to do something...I really had to do something! What was I supposed to do?! I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. To me, it felt extremely uncomfortable, but apparently it helped, because he looked better. We just stood there for some time, until he turned around, looked at me and whispered: ‘Thank you.’ I gave him a nod. Then we just walked on.

Josh POV

Had I felt big just a few minutes ago, now I felt incredibly small. But still, in a good way. Even though it sounded weird, it felt like I was taken care of. By the church and by Daniel, for some reason. The way he had just put his hand on my shoulder, to let me know he was there. It felt so natural.

We had nearly reached the exit. There was a little gift shop on our left, but we just passed by it. When we stepped out of the church, a storm of sound came our way and I felt the urge to press my hands against my ears. And from the looks of it, Daniel felt the same.

I checked my phone to see that we still had some time left.

‘We still have twenty-five minutes,’ I told Daniel. ‘Why don’t we get ourselves an ice-cream?’

He looked up and smiled at me and I took that as a ‘yes, please’.

In the bus, Mr Johnson had told us that there were lots of little shops nearby the Sacré Coeur and a square full of painters (apparently). So we just headed in what we hoped was the right direction. It turned out it was. Yay us! (Or actually, yay me, since I was pulling Daniel).

It didn’t take long until we found an ice-cream parlour. Since I would be very surprised if Daniel would just casually order himself an ice-cream, I asked him what he wanted.

‘Strawberry.’

Wow, he didn’t waste any words, did he?

I walked to the counter.

‘One cone with chocolate and one with strawberry, please.’

Silence. The man was staring at me like I’d just asked him if they had fried elephant to put on my toast. O wait, no English. Right.

I turned to Daniel.

‘You don’t happen to be a genius in French, do you?’

He shook his head.

Nice.

‘Well, bonjour...monsieur...Je want...une avec strawberry...and another one...avec...chocolaté...Please?’

Okay, I know saying everything with a French accent doesn’t make it French, but I could try, right?

I looked at the man with pleading eyes. He just chuckled. O yeah, very funny, laughing at desperate tourists, trying to buy some stupid ice-cream.

‘Une chocolat? Et?’ the man asked.

Well, he understood at least one thing. But I couldn’t just walk away and leave Daniel there. That would be cruel. I just pointed at the strawberry ice.

‘Ah, fraise,’ the man said.

I figured that meant strawberry, so I said: ‘Yes! I mean, oui!’

After I had finally understood exactly how much the ice creams cost (okay, I admit it: I still don’t know it. I just gave him ten Euros  and waited for the change), I turned around to proudly show them to Daniel, only to catch him laughing his ass off.

‘Think this is funny, do you?’ I asked him, trying to sound mad, but I couldn’t help the little chuckle escaping from my lips. His laugh was very contagious.

‘Well, you’re not getting any ice cream, then.’

He pouted and put on his puppy eyes. O no, not the puppy eyes. I looked away and said: ‘No, no! You’re not getting it!’

When I finally dared to glance back at him, he was still standing there, unmoved, with the exact same look on his face. How did he do that?

‘Fine,’ I said, ‘but only because I don’t like strawberry!’

I gave the cone to him, but couldn’t stop myself from giving it a little push, so a bit of ice-cream ended up on his nose. He made a funny face as he unsuccessfully tried to lick it off, and as we stood there in the sun with our ice-creams, I couldn’t help but think that this whole trip-thing turned out a lot better than I had expected it to be.