Hey! Hey, you! Elias slips between a small group who are spanned out along the entire width of the platform. He wants to catch Gaspard before he gets onto the train, though he has to look down at the piece of paper with ten, neat, curved, well-written numbers that speak wonders about this French-speaking prettyboy when he can't even try to understand what he's saying. Gaspard! Or at least, that's the name written at the top of the sheet.

Oui? The brunette turned on his heel, the woman beside him still walking.

Once Elias catches up with him, he shakes his head and smiles weakly. Please don't. I don't speak much French at all...

A sort of disappointment passes over Gaspard's countenance, though it vanishes quickly and the look in his eyes is replaced with a sort of laughter that makes Elias feel more comfortable. So, he begins, accent heavy. You don't understand a word of what I said earlier?

No, that's...well, that's why I came after you. He smiles, a little bit sheepish, though tries not to let on that he's a bit flushed. Yes, he'd been advised to follow Gaspard all the way to the friggin' Metro, though he can't honestly say it was out of hope just for a gentle friendship. He could easily call him if that were to be the fruit of the long run. Au contraire, Elias is standing before this gorgeous, skinny brunette with these beautiful blue eyes, and he's panting as though he's just finished a marathon, because he might as well have. And from what he can tell, he's won, because the train is leaving and Gaspard's laughter isn't at all dampened when he notices. He merely waves goodbye to the woman, who is watching them with a content, knowing eye, and turns back to Elias.

So I guess you want me to repeat myself, yes?

That would be helpful.

Gaspard looks up the stairs and his smile recedes, though becomes much warmer. I don't know if I can remember everything I said.

The responding grin on Elias' face becomes playful, as though he's going to prompt Gaspard into remembering. Can you remember the most important things you said?

Well..., Gaspard begins, rocking back on his heels. He pushes his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched up into a shrug. Do you believe in soul mates?

I didn't run all the way to the nearest Metro for nothing. The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, though the brief, pleased widening of Gaspards eyes and the fingers brushing his own before weaving them together are enough to tell him that he's said the right thing.

I bet you live closer.

Elias smiles and, with a curt nod, turns to lead Gaspard out of the Metro. He opens his mouth to speak, though Gaspard's accent is already drifting through his ears. I am a little bit embarrassed to say, but I do not have your name. He turns to Elias, eyes apologetic and curious as he watches the blond expectantly.

Elias. Elias McConnell. He glances over at those gorgeous blue eyes before turning his eyes back down to the ground he walks. Down to the steps as they climb, around along the sidewalk and up his own front porch. He feels guilty, having put Gaspard through this walk in silence, and with nothing to go by but the hand he is holding, and he turns to tell him so when Gaspard lays one finger, long and slightly curved as it, alone, sticks out of a knit sleeve belonging to a very casual leather jacket, and effectively silences his apology. Using the same free hand, he reaches down and twists the doorknob to let them both in. As if he owns the place. Elias smiles and follows en suite, shutting the door behind them and reveling that they still haven't let go of each other's hands.

You know what? Elias doesn't know. I don't think I ever needed to say anything. After a long moment, and a very intentionally, blatantly confused look from Elias, Gaspard continues. You came after me, even though you did not know what I had said. I don't think I needed to speak. I could have just given you my number and I think it would have happened. He pauses for a moment, obviously in thought. If the spot of pink that is his tongue against the side of his lip is anything to go by. It being…this, that is. He holds his hand – their hands – up.

Elias tightens the grip he has on Gaspard's hand and nods, unsure of what to say after something like that. He could agree, though he has a feeling that that would make him seem like he has no thoughts on the matter. He would state such thoughts on the matter, but they're the exact same things that Gaspard has just stated, and he doesn't want to seem redundant. He goes down the list of things to do in his mind, and the proverbial last option left in the world to do at a time like this, is some form of physical expression. They're already holding hands.

Without a second thought in his already-overworked head, he leans forward to love their lips together. He can feel Gaspard reacting immediately, because this is what both of them had come back to this house to do. Gaspard wasn't asking for sex and Elias didn't expect marriage, but at the moment, Gaspard's long-forgotten query about soul mates is tossed back and forth between their striving tongues.

When they finally part, Gaspard has to wonder if a relationship like this is divine; if he truly has, indeed, met his soul mate. His eyes slowly flutter open to see Elias, already watching him intently. He blushes a little bit and ducks his head to hide his ear-to-ear grin. It takes so much of him not to confess love, because he really doesn't want to seem silly. Maybe it's the city that's cast a spell over him. Paris has never betrayed him before, though he's never met anyone like Elias. In fact, he's hardly met Elias.

So what now? The words aren't coming from his own mouth, and he looks back up at Elias with his smile faded yet still present.

How about takeout? For some reason, they laugh, and Gaspard is grateful that he doesn't have to be funny to be funny for this man.

When Elias' laughter settles down, he meets Gaspard's gaze once more and nods with acceptance. Well, soul mates have to start somewhere.