Coming of Age, Part II: Casual Fun “Ready for our double date with the Montoirs?” Charlotte laughed cheerily. Jean-Loup almost dropped the comb he’d been holding.
“Pardon?” he asked.
“The fair, remember?” Charlotte prompted him.
Oh. Yes. That. He’d forgotten, what with everything that had been on his mind. Crap. The remembrance of the promise to do that hit him along with the real intended meaning of Charlotte’s little joke.
“I didn’t think you liked Dorian?” he stated as neutrally as he was able.
“It’s hard to know whether or not one likes someone who’s barely ever around. It certainly adds a fun air of mystery. And anyway - what are best friends for if not their eligible siblings?” she joked, “It’s either that, or you go out with Émilie,” she teased.
“You know I-”
“Am too busy trying to get into Healer school. Yes, I know,” she rolled her eyes. “I am joking. Though would it kill you to do something normal for once?” she asked, and Jean-Loup tensed. He wondered sometimes, whether Charlotte knew. Whether she was just making those remarks casually or whether there was more to them than that.
“I am normal,” he muttered, unconvincing and defensive.
“I just mean… don’t you ever feel like having fun? You’re so serious all the time,” she stated, with a look of such genuine concern that he felt bad. Maybe she really was just worried that that he was lonely. As for having fun… He pushed that thought out of his head.
“Dating isn’t my forte,” he shrugged, regretting how very true that seemed at the moment.
“Well, maybe if you picked girls who weren’t awful or ill-suited to you or on the rebound,” she suggested. Jean-Loup never made good choices in who he dated, and it made no sense to her. There were plenty of perfectly nice girls who’d have liked to go out with him, and he always chose ones whose glaring flaws were practically shining like beacons. She wasn’t sure why he couldn’t see it - that if he kept dating like that, it was bound to keep blowing up in his face. None of his relationships had lasted more than a few months.
“I’m fine on my own. Thank you,” he informed her, giving her a nod that said she could leave, and wishing that that was true. He pulled out the top drawer of his desk, looking at the two little cupcakes he’d protected with all manner of anti-squashing charms, and conjured a little box for before hastily cramming them into his pocket and leaving the Montoirs’ summer house. He couldn’t bear to eat them. Closing the drawer, he turned his attention back to his hair wondering what kind of look to go for. How did one style oneself for whatever broomcrash of situation this was? He really wished he didn’t care. That had been the goal. That would have been easier. If Dorian even showed up, of course. He had seemed pretty hurt, and Jean-Loup didn’t blame him.
*
Why were they both here? That was the question that kept pressing in on Dorian’s brain as they crossed the short distance to the fair ground entrance where he could already make out the figures of Jean-Loup and Charlotte waiting for him and Émilie. Why had neither of them found a way to wriggle out of it? He had, he supposed, been tempted, except he hadn’t been able to come up with any decent reason. The morning’s flurry of activity, with them trying their outfits for Tatya’s party meant he couldn’t fake sick, and complaining that he was too tired wouldn’t fly. Plus Matthieu was, for once, at home, and Dorian was keen to avoid him. More so than usual. Matthieu was being pissy about being dragged to the party next month, and the morning’s activity had not improved his mood. He wondered if it was the same for Jean-Loup. Not exactly, of course, but whether he simply lacked any reasonable way of getting out of this. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care. That had, after all, been the impression he had given. Dorian was the one who had felt totally humiliated. Who had walked out, even though it was his own house. And now, here they were, face to face. Freaking brilliant. It was just what he needed on top of a day where he had already had someone try to make him feel like crap multiple times over.
“Good morning,” Dorian greeted, almost politely, except his lips were pressed together far too firmly and his tone was devoid of warmth.
“Good morning,” Jean-Loup replied. Émilie was busy hugging Charlotte and laughing giddily, saying something about what fun they would all have. She turned back to find Dorian still looking decidedly sour.
“Hey,” she told him, in an undertone, but one that Jean-Loup caught, because Émilie was many delightful and charming things, but subtle was not one of them, “He’s not the one you’re in a mood with. Be nice.”
“Sorry. It’s been a slightly trying morning,” Dorian apologised. “It’s a pleasure to see you,” he added, looking like he meant it and managing to put something like a smile on his face. Almost a convincing one too. And Jean-Loup had really thought he wasn’t much of an actor, and he had to question whether that meant this was genuine, or whether Dorian had just learnt very, very fast.
“Good to see you too. I hope everything’s alright now?” he asked. Because if the excuse of a trying morning was genuine, which Émilie’s comment seemed to indicate it was, that implied trouble with Matthieu, and that worried him.
“Nothing to concern yourself with,” he smiled, and Jean-Loup had no idea whether that meant ‘everything is fine’ or ‘none of your damn business.’ And it wasn’t like he hadn’t been regretting the way things had gone already but that really made it hit home. Because of course he gave gave a damn about that. Regardless of whatever else went on with them, he wanted Dorian to have someone on his side, and he hated that the fact they had fought might be cutting off that source of support. The more paranoid part of him also wondered whether this latest rift between Dorian and Matthieu had anything to do with him, but he was sure it couldn’t have. Things would have blown up a lot more if that was the case. But maybe not Matthieu fully knowing - maybe just the fact that he himself had thrown Dorian off kilter had been enough to spark something else. Still, they couldn’t get into the Matthieu stuff with Charlotte around. And they couldn’t get into the rest of it with anyone around. They were going to have smile and be civil and act like the casual acquaintances the world thought they were, and not like they’d brutally stomped all over each other’s feelings the last time they’d seen each other.
“Good,” Émilie smiled. She could spot Dorian’s fake smile when she saw it but trusted that Jean-Loup could not, and hopefully if Dorian was willing to be nice and pretend to have fun, he might eventually start actually having it, even if it was by mistake and against his will. She wasn’t sure what was up with him – he’d honestly been in a bit of a funk for days, even before Matthieu’s antagonism that morning. “Let’s go have some fun!” she grinned. Deciding she would prefer Charlotte’s company until her brother lightened up a bit, she tugged her friend into the fair, leaving their brothers to follow.
“Light, casual fun,” Dorian whispered to Jean-Loup, dropping the smile whilst the girls weren’t looking. “Right up your street.” And he turned and followed their sisters without leaving space for a reply.