Bijou knew he wasn't dead yet, but if anyone told him the dense, hot room he woke up in was heaven, he would believe it.

The room was dark, gentle kiss of sunlight reaching past cotton curtains by his arm. It stifled with scents of many, and he swore he could smell spicy pie. To his right, three lumpy mattresses were lined with neatly folded blankets atop of them. In the sodden corner, items were piled together like a desultory attempt at cleaning up.

Back aching, he sat up slowly, pushing the blanket on him with a shift. His things were left at arm's reach. His head hurt like hell.

With a creaking of the door, someone greeted his wake. "Oh, good. You're awake."

"Good morning," he muttered. Inocencio grinned and stepped in, placing something on the floor. Then he drew the curtains, and Bijou recoiled with squinted eyes. "Ah, God."

"Sorry."

Now that it was lit with nature's power, he could see the room better. Like the flaky walls and the bucket left in the middle. But what caught his eyes the most--of course--were the paintings hung on the wall.

They were all in similar hues. But the artist had such skills in shading and contrast that they could depict entire imageries with only that red color. Lakes, mountains, forests. And most of all, cities.

Paris, he recognized one.

"We don't have much." Inocencio sat cross-legged beside him, pushing a bread to his hands. "Only bread."

"This is more than enough." He nodded. He didn't usually have breakfast, but he couldn't turn away the kindness. "Thank you."

The bread was stale, and it was the most delicious bread he had ever tasted. Nothing else could linger with so much love and homeliness into it. He stole a glance at Inocencio, still not buttoning his upper buttons, and gazing out to the outdoors.

This man had been so nice towards him. He caught him in the middle of fainting and gave him shelter. He didn't know if he could ever repay it.

They ate in momentary silence before Bijou spoke up. "Who painted those?"

"Huh?" He blinked. Then he snorted. "Oh, those. Quite messy, huh?"

"It's beautiful."

"It's lacking color."

He broke out into a smile. "You painted it? It's brilliant! You're very talented."

"Ah..." Degrado puffed his fat cheeks, a light blush spreading over his face. Bijou found that surprising, and amusing. "It's nothing much. My hands just want to be busy."

Then they enjoyed their times by stories of the Degrado family. Inocencio told him about the siblings staying with him--and him forcing them to clean up with the stranger's unconscious arrival, his Ma cooking another pie. Him getting the day off from shoulder ache. "I think I've been hoisting too many heavy baskets."

The only ache Bijou ever felt was from slouching in a chair all night. He had never lifted something heavier than a stool in his life.

"Baskets?"

"Pa has a farm somewhere." He dismissed. "And we have a vineyard at the back..with some olives. Sometimes people come here during Harvest Season when those big, fancy ones uphill are full or too expensive. Ma always welcomes them, free of charge."

"That is very sweet of your mother."

"For them." He shrugged. "We barely make enough for a month."

Bijou pursed his lips, hand ran through his hair. He didn't know what it was like or what to say, born with a silver spoon in his mouth and all.

Maybe he should've been grateful for his privileged life.

"Enough about me, let's talk real." He laid down on one of his brother's mattress to the side, hands folded under his head. "What happened to you? Who are those people that chased you?"

It almost seemed like a dream; what happened yesterday. He could almost pretend like it was all his imagination, and he was there in the Degrado household simply because they were friends.

The heavy somber washed over his heart in an instant. He remembered Maëlle. And Not Maëlle.

"If I tell you," he started, pulling his knees to his chest. "You won't believe it."

"Of course I would. You don't remember, maybe, but I remember you." His warm eyes trailed over him. "You were never a liar."

He also had always been a child of bizarre imaginations. "Really?"

"You're too nervous to lie."

He didn't doubt that.

"This one's a little...crazy."

"Like that time you almost got kidnapped by a weird woman?"

He gasped, eyes widening. His grip tightened around his legs. He remembered it clearly. Being enchanted, until his friend came calling for him. And that friend was Inocencio Legrand.

At that moment, he wished to desperately remember their times spent together.

But first, the elephant in the room shall be addressed. "That woman's people, the Fair Folk...they took my sister. To Paris."

*****

The crack of dawn bid its welcome after a night of bickering to who would sleep on the floor. Inocencio won and Bijou had to begrudgingly sleep on his mattress, but that was last night's tale. A new day was beginning, and time had passed him in the race.

Seeing the painting of Paris reminded him of the Exposition Universelle; the one in 1890 where he saw the Eiffel Tower's opening. There would be one that year too; ending in November. He suspected that it tied to the Fae's plans, somehow (Fae loved connections and circular rings), including the involvement of Maelle as Hollow's Eve's sacrifice.

The house was petite and stocky like a cottage. He leaned his weight against the door. In front of it hung cold iron horseshoe, salt sprinkled near his feet. The Degrado family were superstitious and friendly folks, and he was forever indebted to their deeds.

But if Maelle was to really be a sacrifice, then he had to hurry to Paris. Alone for the first time.

Damn are you spoiled, Legrand.

He took a deep breath and brushed his palm over the door one last time, and made way out in the early day. His journey was about to begin--

"Leaving without a goodbye."

Not yet.

He stiffened, dramatically frozen in his track. "Goodbye."

Footsteps shuffled behind him and Inocencio came into view. His dark hair was a mess, his eyes clouded. He was still in his nightgown, but his face was very much awake.

"I know you're worried about your sister." He sighed. "But Paris? This early? What's your plan?"

"I'll get there somehow." He looked away. He couldn't waste more precious time. "I'm sorry I woke you up. And for leaving like this."

"No, no." He huffed. "Say no more. I'm coming with you."

Chapter 5 is done, yes! This story is hella chaotic because I have no idea what is going on. But hey, Inocencio is coming with Bijou on his adventure! More bare chests, it is.

Side note, I actually want to portray that Inocencio is plus-sized. I'm not sure if you got that from the text, but it's what I'm aiming for. If you have some advice to hone on that aspect more, please do tell me in the comments!

Please vote if you like it! Next chapter, we delve into Inocencio's POV, and his own motivations to get to Paris. Let's go!