Retrospective: Paris - How things happened

3.7. Francesco De la Cruz - Derailed
Fall 1993, Mae's apartment

Francesco was tired when he came back to Mae's apartment. But at least the day had finished much better than it had started.
Despite the waiting in the police station for Mae felt like an eternity, they could finally leave without further problems.

After she gave her testimony, Arthur accompanied her back to the main room. He even apologized for the inconveniences, and he even seemed to be honest about it.
Outside, both were relieved that everything went smoother than expected, but still worried about each other. 

Mae wasn't too happy that he wanted to go back to the bar. She was afraid that Diego's friends would wait for him again and he had to convince her that they had no more reason to do that. And he desperately needed his job as he was completely broke. And somehow fix up his slip up from earlier and make sure he wouldn't get in trouble for being illegally employed.
He, on the other hand, was a bit reluctant to let Mae go to party tonight, but honestly, he preferred it to her coming with him to the bar. He felt it was safer that she wouldn't be seen around him.
Just in case.
And she wouldn't be alone, she was with her friends, including the blonde cop.
Nothing would happen to her.
So they parted, a little uneasy, but not overly worried.

When he arrived at the bar, Monsieur Fillipe, the owner was relieved he appeared. He was stressed out with all the police around, and one of the waitresses had quitted because she was too afraid to work here after a murder had happened so close to the place.
Nevertheless, the bar was already buzzing full.
Monsieur Fillipe offered Francesco a contract on minimum wage, which was at least a bit more than he had paid before. "I know you will understand that I cannot pay you more", he said with a sad face. "Business is so hard these days..."
Francesco looked around the crowded bar.
The guests didn't seem to have a problem with the murder, other than the waitress. It rather looked like they were even excited to be in a place close to a crime scene. Additionally, the cops were quite thirsty too.
Sure, he understood his boss.
If Francesco wasn't forced by the police to stay at Mae's place for longer, he'd slap the contract into Monsieur Fillipe's face. But he didn't intend to stay for free at least, so instead, he just signed it without another word.
"You know our guests love your performance... I heard some ladies come only to see you", the owner added with a dirty smirk.
And honestly, hearing that he had an audience coming for him, even just a small one, did make Francesco smile.

On the counter were plates with fresh bagels and sandwiches. "Eat" was written in those already familiar curvy letters. Mae told him she'd go home to change, but apparently she found time to make some food too.
And Francesco was still hungry, the snack in the bar was the only thing he had today.

He listened to his rumbling stomach instead of his bad conscience and took a sandwich.
He'd have to calculate some food money for her, too.

But where was she? It was almost dawning and she was still not back.
There was no chance that something had happened to her.
He was sure of it.
Or at least tried to convince himself to be sure of it.
He paced through the room.

When he took his third sandwich, the door opened and she finally stumbled inside. She almost gave him a heart attack.
"Whoa... there you are", he said.
She looked at him for a second as if she hadn't expected him to be here.

"Tonight was a blast!", she exclaimed then.
Her hair was messy and she could barely stand straight.

She dropped herself backwards on the bed and told him about that crazy party where she and one of her friends were the only ones to have enough stamina to stay until the end. 

"But then we ran into his friend, Jean, and Jean was there with his friend, Marthe, and then we drank a few shots together. We got so wasted", she laughed.
She still was.

She slurred.
Francesco couldn't help a certain feeling of uneasiness coming up.
"We also danced a lot, and I'm not sure how, but then we ended up making out on the dance floor. Just everyone with everyone!"
The feeling of uneasiness became even stronger when she told him that after the party she went to their place.
"There was no métro towards home because it was too late. And then when we sat on the couch - Oh, and Jean makes good coffee by the way - and I was sitting between him and Marthe. But then they started making out again, and it was awkward and I didn't really know what to do, so I joined them", she shrugged her shoulders. "They're both really good kissers!" 

And Francesco's uneasiness increased further.
Mae giggled. "Dante was completely knocked out, though! He was just hanging on one of the armchairs, like half unconscious!"
Considering how drunk she still was, she couldn't have been far from that state too.

"Stop –", he interrupted her endless bubbling, "you're not gonna tell me you went alone to some people you don't know while being completely wasted...", and he tried to wipe off the image in his mind of Mae being half unconscious while others had their hands all over her.
"Not alone! Dante is my friend, and I think Marthe and Jean too, now!" she objected, but he barely could listen to her. Those hands had a very close resemblance to someone he knew before.

"Well, at least I think so, since we ended up having sex together..." she looked confused, as if she wasn't sure what had happened, but Francesco knew. He knew that feeling of not knowing what exactly happened, and that feeling of a resentment that was pulsing back in his mind, and that feeling of still doing things he wouldn't have if not for being numbed out by the Heroin.
But now it was Mae being knocked out by alcohol, and she had brought herself in this situation, because she was always so careless, and there was no one there that would have helped her.

"You ok?", Mae asked, as if it was him that had a problem.
"How can you do that? Are you crazy -", he asked, trying to calm down his erratic breath.
She said something, but he couldn't really make out what it was. It was slurred and blurry and he barely could hear her.
He didn't take any Heroin after he came back to him again, he knew! But this felt similar, just - worse.
He tried to talk, but the words wouldn't want to come out.
Stop.
Not now.

But his body didn't listen to him, it just reacted to his touch.
He loved him, didn't he, but why did he feel so disgusted?
Deep down he knew, because Diego owned him.
Diego played him like a game, he took everything away that meant something to him. His home, his dreams, his ambitions. And he made him feel like he had to give up everything because there was nothing he wanted more than to be with Diego, but still, it was not enough.
Not anymore.
"Don't touch me!", he burst out, and this time his voice listened to him.
And this time, the touching stopped.

Confused, he looked around.
This wasn't Diego's apartment.
Mae was sitting next to him, and her eyes were wide open.

She inhaled sharply, then jumped up, and stormed out of the room.
He tried to get back his composure.
Diego was dead. He couldn't do shit to him anymore. Or to Mae.
Fuck.
"Mae?!"
She had run outside, god knows where, drunk and in a skimpy dress in the cold morning.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He had to find her.

She was sitting on the ground in the hallway, just a floor below theirs, crying and a picture of misery.
"I'm - sorry... I didn't mean to...", he mumbled.
She replied by turning her head away from him.
He didn't really know how to explain himself. He wasn't even sure what exactly had happened before.

He sat down next to her.
While he was still struggling for words, Mae finally broke the silence.
"I'm not really planning that, okay", she burst out, "but it happens, and I don't understand why I shouldn't have sex when I'm in the mood for it, it's not that I hurt anyone, I mean I never sleep with guys that have girlfriends, at least not when I know about them - "
She stopped abruptly.
Francesco was confused.
"What are you talking about?", he asked.
"Please tell me you don't hate me for... for being a slut", she sniffed. "All my friends - not here, but back at home, they stopped talking to me when they heard I sleep with guys that were not my boyfriend... And - I don't want you to stop talking to me."

He was perplexed. She completely had misunderstood him.
"I won't stop talking to you. I don't care who you're sleeping with", he really didn't. "And your friends are just dicks..."
She wiped off her wet cheeks and smeared her eye shadow or whatever it was, even more than it was already.
She looked somewhat relieved, but she wasn't fully convinced yet.
"But then why you freaked out?", she asked.
Yeah, why did he freak out.
"It's... I was worried", he tried to explain at least that part he understood himself. "It was really careless of you to go to someone you don't know, when you're so drunk you barely can even walk. They could have done god knows what to you, and you wouldn't even be able to defend yourself..."
It sounded so weak.

"I freaked out because I was afraid someone would hurt you..."
Like someone had hurt him before, many times - NO.
That didn't happen, not like his mind wanted to make him believe earlier.
Mae watched the floor, even the hint of a smile wiped off her face and replaced by sorrow.
"That's not all, isn't it. 'Don't touch me' - that's what you said... I didn't even - I just... It sounded like you're disgusted with me."
Oh shit.
He had to tell her, there was no avoiding it.
He leaned back and took a deep breath.
"I... didn't say it to you", he said.
God, this sounded so crazy.
She looked at him with big eyes.

It was crazy.

"Somehow... when you told me you were drunk and not really knowing what you did, it reminded me of - something that happened. Or not, I don't really know. It's so blurry...."
He tried to fight back the the panic that rised when he thought of what happened. He didn't want to get caught in a probably fake memory again and forget where he was.
"Like... a flashback?", Mae asked.
"Yeah. Like a flashback... just I don't know if it was true... I never remembered this before. I was back at Diego's apartment. But this was not so long ago, this was after I tried to break up with him the second time. I know I didn't take any drugs that time, and definitely not Heroin, but it felt like I did, I wasn't myself. And if it was a drug, it was way worse than Heroin. It didn't just numb out everything, but it made me do whatever he wanted." And as hard as it was to start talking, as easy it was now. The words spilled out without control.
"And I wanted him to stop, but I couldn't talk..." He felt like slipping away again, but then a light pressure on his hand pulled him back. Diego had never held his hand.

He found his in a much smaller one, with silver bangles around her skinny wrists and cracked nail polish.
"So you told him to not touch you?", Mae asked, eyes still wide open.
"Yeah..." He chuckled uncomfortably. "Look, I'm not crazy. This never had happened before, okay."
She'd be scared of him.
Fuck, he was scared of himself.
"I'm just a bit messed up, but okay", he said. Actually, a lot messed up. He knew, he was too tense, too wary and too numb. And now he even saw things that weren't there.
Mae stared into the far distance.
She didn't say anything, but her eyes said more than words ever could.
There was no fear. Just - sadness.

For a while, they sat in silence. The sun was up already and threw a grey light through the window. It was a cold and foggy autumn morning.
"We should maybe go back inside", he said when the silence became unbearable.
She nodded, still half absent, but she didn't move.
When he tried to get up, he noticed they were still holding hands. He didn't want to let go of hers. If he did, he felt like he might never hold it again.
Something had changed again between them in the last few minutes. Like yesterday morning, when he had slipped up about what had happened the night before.
He already regretted that he had told her the truth now. And this was just one of many more humiliations he had let others do to him. And the old familiar emptiness spread and wiped out all feelings he thought he ever had.
"Now you're the one not talking to me anymore, hm...", he said.

At least she didn't cry anymore.

"I -", she hesitated.
"I don't even know what to say. I'm so sorry – I wish I could make you feel better, but I don't know how... I want you to be happy again, and to have everything you ever wanted -" She took a second to catch her breath.
He sighed. "Don't worry. I don't want anything anymore."

He had struggled so long. No matter how much he tried, everything always got just worse than before.
He was exhausted.

He found himself wrapped in warmth and a soft scent of vanilla and something he couldn't name but that was so familiar already. But it wasn't enough to fill the emptiness.

"I'll not let you give up yet", she said. 

She didn't know, but he had nothing left to give up anymore. Even that little dignity he had kept, was lost with his last confession, just because he couldn't see her sad.
She pitied him, he could feel it. Her kindness to him was more a result of compassion, not affection. And it shifted more and more the better she knew him.
But he was too tired to care anymore.

She was so close to him he could taste her breath. His nose touched her cheek, and her lips were only a few centimeters from his.

And despite all better knowing, he closed that gap.

She didn't pull back. And he stayed. And the emptiness from just a second ago slowly filled with peaceful tranquility, as deep as an ocean.
Kissing her felt familiar. Like something they had done before, at least a thousand times, in a life before this one, and another one before that, and even further before.
And in another life, he might have loved her, more than anything else. In a life where he hadn't been assaulted, raped, broken and left an empty shell struggling to survive. In this one, he had no love left to give.
But with every second passed, it was harder to stop.

He pulled back before the kiss became more than just lips. Her eyes were wide again. Surprise, confusion, curiosity. She was so easy to read.

"Sorry...", he mumbled. He shouldn't have done that. Not when he was a just a mess and she was drunk and feeling sorry for him.
One or two more silent minutes passed.

"Did you have breakfast?", Mae asked then and got up. "I made something before I left... I hope it was still fresh when you came home."
She still looked like she tried to understand what just had happened.
"Yeah", he said and followed her upstairs. "Thanks."
He didn't really know either.