Imagine Jean and Gilles during the war, sitting around camp one night. Jean's been quiet all evening, lost in his personal hell, and although Gilles spends the first half hour or so trying to cheer Jean up, to get him to eat something, he eventually gives up and settles for kicking the rocks around at his feet. The camp falls into silence save for the crackling of the flames and distant drunken chatter from the other soldiers.
Then suddenly Gilles notices something out of the corner of his eye.
"Jean..." He grabs Jean's shoulders and shakes him. "Jean! Look up! Look!'
Gilles' excitement finally seems to break Jean from his stupor. He follows Gilles' finger to see what he's pointing at. When his gaze fixes on it, his lifeless expression flickers almost imperceptibly. The event in the sky lasts only a handful of moments, but Jean's already on his feet.
Gilles cries after him in surprise as Jean hurtles out of the camp. He jumps up and runs after Jean, nearly tripping over their cookware in the process.
Even in the near pitch-dark outside the camp, Jean expertly navigates the terrain in a way that puts Gilles in awe of what little of Jean's silhouette he can make out. It's athletic prowess, it's elegance, it's angelic grace. He has to push his legs and stamina to their very limit just to catch up him.
When he does, he finds Jean standing in a clearing surrounded by the craggy forms of rock outcroppings. The night sky is even clearer out here than it was in the camp.
"Gilles, did you see where it went?"
Jean snaps his eyes to Gilles. "So it was a star?"
Well, uh..." Gilles awkwardly scratches the back of his head. "One of my tutors says it's probably not an actual star, but... Were you chasing it?"
"Of course. Someone could have been hurt." Jean hops atop one of the outcroppings to survey the horizon. "I don't see or hear anything though."
Gilles' heart lurches from the genuine concern in Jean's voice. He knows Jean will worry all night if not all week. And he almost regrets bringing Jean's attention to the shooting star in the first place.
"I've never seen anything like it," Jean says after another minute of silence. This time his voice holds a hint of child-like wonder. A kind of innocence that Gilles hadn't seen in Jean since before they came to the battlefield.
Gilles smiles as he climbs up to sit down on the rock at Jean's feet. "Wish for peace."
Jean looks down at him. "What?"
"They say if you wish on a shooting star, you'll get that wish." Gilles tilts his head. "Though, you have to make the wish while it's still in the sky."
Jean doesn't say anything for a long moment and Gilles is unable to read the silence.
Finally Jean gives a derisive laugh and sits down beside Gilles. "If peace were that easy to wish for, I think we'd already have it, non?"
Gilles takes out his waterskin and hands it to Jean. "Or maybe no one else in the world wants it as badly as you do."
"I would hope that isn't the case." Jean takes a tiny swig, then he throws the waterskin at Gilles' face.
This next swathe of silence is more comfortable. It stretches until Gilles catches Jean staring at him. He's grateful for the dark that makes it impossible for Jean to see the warmth on his cheeks. Or maybe Jean can see it anyway. That wouldn't surprise him.
"Merci," Jean says, leaving it at that, and Gilles can hear the smile that he can't see.
Thank you for caring, even if that affection is wasted on me.
And maybe this is the memory that sits in Jean's heart on that evening when you trick him into letting you become his caretaker by lying about a shooting star.
