Would You Ever Leave Me? [2/2]

Title: Would You Ever Leave Me? [2/2]
Author: blendy_buddy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "Five years later, and I still hadn’t heard from him. For all I knew he could have been living in Russia."
Disclaimer: I don't own or know any of the people mentioned in this, they pretty much belong to themselves.
A/N: This is a sequel to "Butterflies" that I wrote about 2 months ago, if you haven't read it's, here. Sorry it took so long but it took forever to think of a plot. But yeah, hope you like it :)

Part One.

He must've spent a good half hour under the hood of that car, the first ten minutes were pretty boring though, there's not much to look at in a garage. Oil on the floor, cars, front desk, that's it. There were no other workers in there, no wonder it was packed. I was pretty surprised that there wasn't one of those calendars that feature half-naked women straddling some tyres. It's not like I cared about it anyway. If you think about it, a garage is the only place where you can have naked women on your calendar and it's OK. You wouldn't see something like that in a lawyers office, some naked chick straddling some law books.

The little car dude soon broke me out of my thoughts by asking me to hand him a 'ratchet'. I had absolutely no idea what one of those were, I knew of spanners, that's it, maybe a monkey wrench. On the little red wheelie cabinet next to him there were like a thousand different spannery-wrenchy looking things, all different sizes.

"Which one?" I asked, getting up. The guy wouldn't take his head out so he had to yell at me from the inside.

He lifted his hand and waved it around a little. "It's like a big metal stick with a tube-shaped thing sticking off of it, you undo bolts with it." I stared down at his little selection. I knew what he was speaking about once he'd described it, obviously, but there were around a hundred of those too.

"There's loads of them."

"The one with the big number fourteen written on it." Soon enough I'd found it and passed it to him. We didn't speak again for another five minutes, until he needed another one in a different size. We soon managed to strike up conversation again, it started out as small talk but ended up getting quite interesting.

"How d'you get into cars?" I asked.

"Open the door and get in." He was chuckling away to himself. Just what I needed, a wise-guy. "No, seriously? I dropped outta school and my cousin got me a job here, pretty sweet deal, even though I have to travel a good fifteen minutes to get here."

"Why d'you drop out?"

"People were just mean to me there, treated me like a leper and stuff. Usually, I wouldn't care, but I couldn't deal with it anymore." I couldn't understand why people were mean to him. He didn't look like he'd be one of those guys who were popular throughout the entire school and have some pretty girl hanging off his arm or anything, but, he did seem like someone who'd be part a big group of friends, and he'd be popular amongst them.

"What were they mean about?" I usually wouldn't pry that much into the life of a stranger, but he seemed interesting... different. With all those piercings and that crazy hair.

"People don't like the fact that I'm gay." Seriously, if I were to have had water in my mouth at that exact moment, I would've ended up squirting it everywhere. I mean, Montreal was a big place, but I thought I was the only one.

"No kidding?"

"Yeah, people can be so prejudiced these days." He finally pulled his head out of the car, that oil slick was still there, and the whole time we spoke after that I just wanted to wipe it off, it was getting on my nerves. He finished off quite quickly and told me that the car was ready to go, I just had to sign some forms, I didn't really get why, it wasn't my car. He said it was for 'legal reasons'.

He was stood behind the counter flicking one of those bobble-head things and clicking a stapler at the same time, used staples were flying all over the place. I shook my head, I was beginning to think that he was one of those people that just couldn't not fiddle with things. Maybe that why he worked with cars, he could tinker around all he wanted.

When I'd finished I passed the form to him, he read it quick with this bored look on his face, then just as he went to slide it into some file, he brung it back up to his face again.

You know when you were a kid and you made robots at school out of cereal boxes and stuff, and you drew big black dots on a pair of ping-pong balls for eyes? Well, that's what this guys eyes went like as soon as he read the form. Big and bulging out of his head.

"Your name is Pierre Bouvier?" he asked.

I nodded, "Yeah, I mean, it's my brothers car, but I'm here to pick it up." He was staring at me for a good thirty seconds. He kind of scanned my face from the chin upwards, then back down again, like he was analyzing me. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, "Nothing, it's just I used to know someone with that name." I found that pretty hard to believe because I was the only Pierre Bouvier I'd ever met. I mean, it does sound like a pretty common name for someone in the Quebec area, but it really wasn't. After he was done staring at me for a few more minutes, I finally made my way out of there with Jay's car. In the rear-view mirror I could see him watching me as I drove down the street. Seriously, beautiful, interesting guy... but boy, was he crazy.

Jay wasn't exactly greatful when I brought his car back, not so much as a thank you. My mom did supply me with more than my fair share of Christmas cookies though.

The next few days weren't that interesting at all, it was getting closer to the holidays and I hadn't done any shopping. I was just about ready to leave the house when there was a knock at the door. I wasn't really in the mood for company since I was looking forward to having the whole day to myself, my parents were at work, Jay had somehow made a 'miraculous' recovery, and Jonathan was at college anyway.

I sighed and grabbed the knob, wrenching it open. It was the little blonde guy from the garage, wearing a white beanie hat that covered up his ears and this ridiculous hoodie that looked a bit big for him. He was rubbing his hands together and bouncing around on his toes.

I frowned, "What you doing here? Did I forget to sign a form or something?" I must've taken him about twenty seconds to answer me.

He shook his head, "No, the forms are fine, I just wanted to talk."

I laughed at him, a really obnoxious laugh straight in his nervous little face. "You're really weird, you know that? I don't know you, what do you want to talk to me for? How'd you get my address anyway?"

He was looking everywhere but me, as if he was thinking of a believable answer. "It was written on the form." He was whispering, I think I must have frightened him a little bit or something. I mean, I could be quite intimidating when I wanted to. I did feel kind of sorry for the guy, so I let him in.

I told him we could go sit in the living room, which he didn't exactly object to. I did offer him a seat as well, but he sat down on the floor. His legs were spread so wide that I thought his pants were going to rip. He put his hands between them and kind of groped the carpet, he sat like a child. He said something under his breath, and I didn't catch it.

"Excuse me?"

"It still feels the same," he said, his voice sounded breathy, like he was getting turned on by it or something. Like I said, gorgeous guy, weird mind.

"What do you mean?" I asked, "Seriously, are you like some weird stalker?" That nervous look was back again, and he just stared at the ground as if I'd just yelled in his face.

"I thought you'd remember me."

"I don't know you."

"Yes, you do!" I was taken back by him speaking so loud, you wouldn't expect a voice that large from such a small guy. Apprently, I knew him, but I could of sworn that I'd never seen anyone like him in my entire life.

"Who are you?" He licked his lips a little, like he was preparing to make an hour long speech, then he began picking on some loose thread on his pant leg. I was starting to get worried about him, all I knew about him was his profession and sexuality, oh, and his weird little nervous habits. He mumbled something again, and I didn't manage to catch it that time either.

"Speak properly, will you?" I yelled, standing up. He was pretty small and I was pretty big so I was probably frightening the crap out of him, "Just tell me who the hell you are!"

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm David," he said, he sounded so cold, "David, David Desrosiers, do you remember now?" I didn't believe him for one second, he wasn't my David. I shook my head violently.

"No, you're not."

"You want me to prove it to you?" I nodded. "OK."

He got up and walked over to the fire place, he picked up a picture of me and my brothers from when I was about eight years old. I was wearing this awful Mickey Mouse shirt, and Jay had a broken arm, because he just that 'accident prone'.

David continued, "You got that shirt from Disney Land. Well, your dad bought it because you were off in some really long queue, but you wanted one anyway, so you made him get it for you. It ended up being a size too small, but you wore it all the time despite that. Jay had a broken arm because he had this bet with Jonathan that he could go higher than him on the swing, but he went too high and fell off." He set it back down again and walked back over to me, pulling his beanie off at the same time, which made his hair look all askew and fluffy.

I was still feeling a little dubious, "How d'you know that?"

"Oh, God! I could just hit you!" He was getting really riled up, his hands were balled into fists and I was getting a little freaked out by that, I was just glad that I wasn't that beanie. He was pretty small, but he reminded me of one of those little fly-weight boxers that look harmless enough, but could really pack a punch if they wanted to. "Why won't you believe me? Just take a minute to look at me. I'm David. Sure, I don't look the same. I'm not twelve anymore. I'm seventeen, Pierre. People change!" He seemed so desperate and frustrated.

I sat down, giving myself time to think. It all started to add up. The bouncing on his toes, the way he sat, his uncontrollable need to fiddle with things. It was him! As I looked up, every little memory from our time together came flooding straight back.

Like the time when I begged my mom to let David stay over, she set out a little sleeping bag and everything, but we just left it there on the floor and David climbed into bed with me, he clung onto me the entire night. The times when we held hands under the table, snuggled up during a movie, or stole kisses from one another when no one else was looking. It all came right back, and as I looked at him again this incredible feeling washed right over me.

"Do you believe me now?" he asked.

"Yeah... uh, yeah." I couldn't speak properly, I felt like I was going to throw up from a strange emotional mix of excitement and confusion, "It's you... David?"

"That's me," he shrugged. Before I knew I was standing infront of him with my hands in his hair. It still felt the same, it's just, there was a lot less there than before, it used to be quite long when he was younger.

"What did you do to your hair?"

"Don't you like it?" He looked a little worried.

I shook my head, I loved it. "I love it." He smiled right then, all big and bright, beautiful as ever. I couldn't get over how much he'd grown up, he was tall. Well, tall for him anyway.

"I missed you Pierre."

"You don't think I missed you? I cried over you for about two months non-stop." He bit his lip and didn't say anything, just looked at me with this nervous look on his face. Before I even had a chance to ask what was wrong he was kissing me, and wow. I probably would have fainted if it wasn't for him gripping onto the front of my shirt. He had a vice-like grip, it seems height wasn't the only think he'd gained...

He never let go.

After six years he was still around, crazy as ever. I have to say, those five years we were apart were totally worth it. Seriously, David Desrosiers is like thee best kisser in the world. Really, I'd walk a thousand miles for one of his kisses.

Oh, and he'd changed his hair again, it was black. Though, I must say, I did miss the blonde, it was pretty damn hot. David didn't like to keep his hair the same colour for too long though, he'd get bored with it way too easily. He was thinking about growing it out too. I didn't mind that at all.

We went to this show for David's twenty-third birthday, I'd never heard of the band, but David liked them a whole lot. Some random guy shoved him over in there and David went flying into the wall. He was about ready to smack the dude before I dragged him out of there. So he made me carry him home as punishment for not letting him fight the guy. One way or another I always had to carry him, whether he'd hurt himself or not.

It was pretty dark out, too. David had always been afraid of the dark, and the whole way home he was clinging onto me for dear life. Every little noise, he jumped about six feet in the air. He really was a strange one. He didn't mind fighting some six-foot tall guy with around thirty friends, but a little bit of darkness? All that bravery flew right out of him.

"I think there's someone behind us," his voice was all high-pitched and frantic.

"There's no one behind us."

"What if someone comes?" I wasn't planning on answering him. We'd had that same conversation about six million times. Same conversation, different locations. He was looking all around, and by the look on his face I could just tell he was preparing to fly out of my arms and do some crazy karate move if someone jumped out of a bush all of a sudden. "If an insane guy with... with an axe turns up, I'm not going to be able to defend myself on my own you know?"

I couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Seriously! I'll be needing your help if anyone comes. Promise you'll never leave me."

Oh man, Déjà vu much? "I promise you, David. I'm not going anywhere."


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A/N: I've spent the last 2 days re-writing this over and over again. I'm not sure if I like it, what do you guys think? Thanks a bunch for reading it though :D

x-posted to hott_baguettes