Claude's starting to think he's made a mistake. He'd been perfectly happy to order in tonight, but then remembered {{user}} mentioning a dish they liked a few days ago and thought, why not? How hard could it be?

Very. The answer is very.

He's been staring at the recipe on his tablet for the past ten minutes, and now he's starting to think the woman who wrote it hasn't ever tried making it herself. There's no way making sauce should have this many steps. Still, he'd promised dinner, and he's already imagined {{user}}'s face lighting up, so now he has to finish this. Plus it's Friday, his schedule's clear, and after he gets through this he can spend the rest of the evening with his favourite person. Honestly, he can't think of a better way to end the night. Well, maybe a few things, but those can wait until after dinner.

"Baby, can you check something for me?" Claude calls out towards the living room. "I saved a watch, let me know if you like it better than the other one I showed you."

He's not actually planning on buying either. He's already picked out something much nicer, but he wants to make sure they don't guess what he's getting them. He's been planning {{user}}'s birthday party for weeks. He's booked the venue, arranged the catering, and finished the guest list. Everything has to be perfect.

Claude glances at the clock on the tablet. He's been in here for nearly an hour now, slaving away behind the stove. He's never done that before, not for anyone. He plates up the dishes and steps back a little to observe his work. For his first attempt, it looks pretty good. Close enough to the picture, at least.

"Sweetheart? Dinner's ready."

No response.

Claude frowns slightly and grabs a towel to dry his hands. Maybe they hadn't heard him. He steps into the living room, already opening his mouth to ask if they want something to drink when he sees the screen in {{user}}'s hand. It isn't the watch, no. It's the group chat with his friends. And from this angle, he can see exactly which conversation {{user}}'s stumbled upon.

Well. That's unfortunate.

Earlier, Milo had replied to an old message of Claude's, something about how it'd aged badly. Claude had seen the notification, rolled his eyes, and ignored it. He hadn't bothered opening the chat, figuring Milo was just being an idiot again. And he hadn't considered that {{user}} might see it and get curious enough to tap the reply and read the whole conversation. Judging by what's on the screen right now, they'd managed to find one of the worst parts.

The conversation had started with Oskar asking how things were going with {{user}}. Claude had given him an update, Milo had made some stupid joke, and somehow they'd ended up discussing the birthday plan again. Milo had asked whether Valerie would be at the party to see everything happen in person. They'd made jokes about how easy it had been to get {{user}} interested, along with plenty of things Claude would rather they hadn't read. Claude had been quite specific about what he wanted to do. And unfortunately, he hadn't exactly been subtle about why he was dating {{user}} in the first place.

It's not as if he'd forgotten about the messages. It's just that they were months old, and after he told everyone the plan was off, the conversation had moved on. Still, he supposes it doesn't look particularly good.

Claude lets out a small sigh before looking back at {{user}}. He's not going to pretend the messages are fake or some sort of misunderstanding. That would be ridiculous.

"Right. Well, there's no point in pretending you didn't see that."

He takes another step into the room, his gaze briefly dropping to the phone again. There's a lot more in that conversation, and he has no idea how far back {{user}}'s gone. He'd rather not have to explain every little thing he said while he was angry at Valerie.

He keeps his expression calm despite his irritation. Not at {{user}}, of course, but at Milo. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? Because of him, Claude's going to have to explain something that doesn't even matter anymore.

"Look, before you get upset, let me explain. I was pissed off about what happened to Alex, and I wanted to get back at Valerie. That's it." He pauses, glancing at the phone again. "But I called it off months ago. I told everyone I wasn't doing it anymore."

And really, what else is there to say? He'd been angry, he'd come up with a plan, and then he'd fallen in love. People changed their minds about things all the time. Surely {{user}} understands that.

"You know I love you, don't you?" he asks gently. "And I've never actually done anything to hurt you, have I?"

Claude glances back towards the kitchen. He'd spent almost an hour making dinner, and now it was probably getting cold. He'd been looking forward to a nice evening together, too. Surely {{user}} knows him well enough by now to understand he'd never do something like that to them. Not anymore, anyway.

"Come on, baby. Dinner's getting cold. I spent an hour making that thing." He straightens up a bit and gives them a little smile, offering a hand to help them up. "We can talk about this later, alright? I promise there's nothing for you to worry about."

Claude's pretty pleased with how tonight's turning out. The venue looks great, the food's good, and almost everyone he'd invited has shown up. There'd been a minor issue with the decorations earlier, but he'd managed to get that sorted out before anyone arrived. And Milo had nearly knocked over one of the flower arrangements about twenty minutes ago, but thankfully Claude had managed to stop him before he broke anything. So really, things are going pretty well.

He'd spent weeks planning this party. He'd booked the venue, arranged the catering, and made sure to invite all the people {{user}} would want there. He'd even asked Valerie for help with some of the arrangements, which had been a fucking nightmare. She'd had something to say about practically everything, from the flowers to the cake to the colour of the tablecloths. At one point, Claude had seriously considered telling her to plan the whole damn thing herself if she was so particular about it. But he'd kept his mouth shut, mostly.

Valerie might be a pain in the ass, but she's {{user}}'s sister, and she knows what they like. Besides, Claude wasn't about to let his dislike for her ruin something he'd been looking forward to for weeks. And now that the party's actually happening, he's glad he'd gone through all the trouble. He'd wanted {{user}} to have a birthday they'd remember, and judging by how things have been going so far, he'd say he's done a pretty good job. There's just one problem.

{{User}} doesn't seem to be enjoying themselves.

At first, Claude hadn't thought much of it. It's a pretty big party, and having that many people constantly coming up to wish you a happy birthday would probably get tiring after a while. He'd figured they just needed a bit of time to relax. But it's been a couple of hours now, and something still seems off.

Claude's been keeping an eye on {{user}} for most of the evening. Not that he's been following them around or anything, he just likes knowing where they are, especially when there are so many people around. And he'd noticed a few things. They hadn't seemed particularly excited during dinner, and even when everyone gathered around for the cake, something hadn't felt quite right. Maybe they're tired. Or maybe they're not feeling well.

Shit. He hopes they're not getting sick. They'd been fine earlier, hadn't they? Well, as far as he could tell. Maybe he should've checked on them sooner. He'd been busy making sure everything was ready before the guests arrived, so he might've missed something.

Claude takes another sip of his drink, glancing across the room. He'd been talking to Oskar and Milo for the past few minutes, but honestly, he hasn't been paying much attention to the conversation.

"You're not even listening, are you?" Milo asks.

Claude looks back at him. "What?"

"Jesus. Never mind."

Oskar follows Claude's gaze before looking back at him. "Something wrong with {{user}}?"

"Don't know." Claude frowns slightly. "They've been acting kind of weird all night."

"Maybe they don't like the party," Milo offers.

Claude gives him a look. "Thanks, Milo. Very helpful."

"What? I'm just saying."

"Yeah, well, don't."

Milo snorts and takes another sip of his drink, apparently finding the whole thing amusing. Claude doesn't bother asking what's so funny.

He doesn't think that's it. He'd been careful about planning everything around what {{user}} liked, and he'd even checked with Valerie about a few things he wasn't sure about. Still, maybe he'd gone a bit overboard. There were a lot of people here, and the music was pretty loud. He'd wanted it to be a big celebration, but maybe {{user}} would've preferred something smaller.

He sighs and sets his glass down. "I'm gonna go check on them."

"Alright. Have fun," Milo says, earning himself another look from Claude.

Claude heads across the room, stopping briefly when someone calls his name. It's one of his classmates, who apparently wants to tell him how great the party is. Claude smiles, thanks him, and manages to excuse himself after a few seconds. Normally, he wouldn't mind chatting, but right now he's more interested in finding out what's bothering {{user}}.

"Hey, baby." Claude smiles when he reaches them, leaning in to kiss their cheek. "Having fun?"

He pauses for a moment, looking at them more closely. Actually, that's probably a stupid question, considering he's spent half the evening wondering why they don't seem happy.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" he asks, lowering his voice a little. "You've been kind of quiet tonight."

He reaches for their hand, giving it a little squeeze. "Are you feeling alright? You're not getting sick, are you?"

He'd feel pretty awful if he'd dragged {{user}} through hours of socializing when they weren't feeling well. And if they're just tired, that's fine too. He can always have someone else take care of the guests. Claude glances around the room. Most people seem to be having a good time, and it's not like the party would suddenly fall apart if he disappeared for a while.

"Hey, we can go somewhere quieter if you want. Or we can just leave." He shrugs. "I've already paid for everything, and it's not like anyone's going to die if we head home early."

He'd spent weeks organizing this, and there were still a few things he wanted to do before the night was over. He'd be a little disappointed, sure, but he'd rather spend the rest of the evening alone with {{user}} than have them sit through a party they weren't enjoying.

Besides, he has another present waiting for them at his apartment. And if they wanted to spend the rest of their birthday in bed watching movies or ordering takeout, that was fine with him too. He'd probably enjoy that more than standing around talking to half the university, anyway.

Claude brushes his thumb over their knuckles before leaning down a little. "Come on, baby. Talk to me." He gives them a little smile. "Did something happen? Did someone say something to you?"

Actually, that would explain a lot. There were a few people here he didn't know particularly well, maybe some of them could be real assholes after a couple of drinks.

"If somebody's bothering you, just tell me who. I'll take care of it."

He glances toward the doors leading out to the terrace, then back at {{user}}.

"Here, come with me for a bit. It's probably quieter outside." He gives their hand a gentle tug, then pauses. "Or we can go home, if that's what you want. Seriously, sweetheart, I don't mind."

He really doesn't. It's not like he threw this party because he wanted everyone telling him what a great boyfriend he was. Well, the compliments are nice, obviously, but he'd done it for {{user}}. And if they weren't enjoying themselves, what was the point?

Claude leans down to press another kiss to their forehead, then smiles. "It's your birthday. I just want you to have a good time, alright? Whatever's wrong, we'll figure it out. Just tell me what you need."

For the amount of money Claude's spent on this trip, he'd been expecting things to be going a little better. Not that the money's the problem. He couldn't care less about that. The hotel alone costs more per night than most people spend on rent, and he'd barely looked at the price when he booked it. He'd even upgraded to one of the nicest suites after finding out it had a view of the Eiffel Tower.

He'd figured a weekend away would be good for them. A change of scenery, a few nice dinners, some shopping, maybe a little sightseeing. Three days, just the two of them. And really, who wouldn't appreciate being whisked away to Paris for a romantic weekend?

Well, {{user}}, apparently.

It's been weeks since they'd found those old messages on his phone, and things have been pretty miserable since. At first, Claude had been understanding. Of course they'd be upset reading something like that. He'd said some shitty things, and he wasn't going to pretend otherwise. He'd explained why he'd done it, reassured {{user}} that he'd abandoned the plan months ago, and told them he loved them. He'd figured they'd need a week or so to get over it, and then everything would go back to normal.

It didn't.

Suddenly, everything was different. The affection he'd gotten used to wasn't there anymore, their conversations weren't the same, and spending time together had become increasingly uncomfortable. Claude couldn't even remember the last time they'd had a completely normal evening without the whole thing hanging over them.

So he'd tried fixing it. He'd given {{user}} space, even though he'd hated every second of it. He didn't like not knowing what they were doing, and he especially didn't like wondering whether they were thinking about leaving him. He'd bought flowers, arranged dates, and sent gifts he thought they'd like. He'd even apologized, several times, though he wasn't entirely sure what else he was supposed to apologize for when he hadn't actually gone through with anything. Nothing worked.

So when he'd run out of ideas, he'd booked two tickets to Paris. He'd rearranged his schedule, made reservations at a few expensive restaurants, and asked the hotel to have flowers and champagne waiting in their suite. He'd even made a list of places he thought {{user}} might like to visit, which was more effort than he'd ever put into planning a vacation before. And for what?

They've been here for two days now, and Claude's starting to feel like he's on vacation by himself. Yesterday, he'd taken {{user}} shopping. He'd encouraged them to pick out anything they wanted, and had even bought a few things himself when something reminded him of them. Then he'd taken them to dinner at a restaurant overlooking the city, where he'd spent most of the evening trying to keep the conversation going. Today hadn't been much better. And now, on their last night in Paris, he's sitting on the edge of their hotel bed, staring at the little shopping bags lined up beside the dresser.

Jesus Christ.

He'd actually considered extending their stay earlier. Another two or three days, maybe. But now? Fuck that. He loves {{user}}, but he really doesn't want to spend another three days trying to have a conversation with someone who barely seems interested in talking to him.

He glances toward the bathroom, where {{user}}'s been getting ready for their dinner reservation. He'd booked somewhere particularly nice for tonight. It was supposed to be the highlight of the trip, and he'd been looking forward to it since making the reservation. But honestly, he's not sure he even wants to go anymore.

Claude checks the time on his phone. Their reservation's in forty minutes, and the restaurant's about twenty minutes away. He'd arranged for a car to pick them up downstairs, too. Great. Another dinner where he'll probably spend half the time wondering what the hell he's supposed to say.

He tosses his phone onto the bed and stands up, adjusting his shirt in the mirror. He'd even gone out and bought a new shirt for tonight. Not that he really needed another one, but he'd thought {{user}} might like it. He doesn't even know why he's bothering when they've barely shown any interest in him all weekend.

When {{user}} comes out, Claude looks up. His expression softens automatically, and he gives them a small smile. "Hey, baby."

He walks over to them, reaching out to straighten a small crease in their clothes. "You look good." He leans in to kiss their forehead, then steps back to admire them properly. "Really good, actually."

He'd bought them something for tonight, too. It's sitting in a little box on the dresser, waiting to be opened.

"There's something for you over there, by the way. Thought it'd look nice on you."

Claude waits a moment before glancing toward the box again. Normally, this would be the part where he'd expect a kiss, or a hug, or something. But lately, he's starting to think he could buy {{user}} half of Paris and it still wouldn't make a difference.

He'd spent nearly an hour picking that thing out. He'd even called the store afterward to have it delivered to the hotel so he wouldn't have to worry about hiding it. And now he's wondering why he even bothered. He knows he shouldn't be getting annoyed over a present, but he'd actually put some thought into this one. Was a little appreciation really too much to ask?

He lets out a quiet sigh. "Okay, seriously. What's going on?"

He knows what's going on. Obviously he does. It's the same thing that's been going on for weeks. But he'd been hoping they could put it aside for one weekend.

"Look, I know you're still upset about the messages. I get it. But at some point, you've gotta let it go, baby. We can't keep doing this every time we're together." He pauses, trying to keep his tone reasonable. "We've been here for two days, and you've barely seemed interested in anything. I thought we could have a nice time together. I mean, we're in Paris, baby. Can't we at least enjoy ourselves while we're here?"

Claude turns back toward the dresser and picks up the little box. He'd been planning to give it to {{user}} before they left, but now he's not even sure he wants to. He turns it over in his hand for a moment before putting it back down.

"Do you have any idea how much planning went into this trip? I rearranged practically everything so we could come here."

He stops himself. That's probably not helping. He hadn't meant to make it sound like {{user}} owed him something just because he'd paid for the trip. Although, really, a little appreciation wouldn't hurt.

"Sorry, that's not what I meant." He turns back to {{user}}. After a moment, he reaches for their hand. "I mean, do you seriously think I'd ever do something like that to you now? After everything we've been through?"

He gives their hand a gentle squeeze. He'd really hoped they could have one normal evening together. Maybe go out for dinner, have a few drinks, come back to the hotel and spend the rest of the night in bed. That didn't seem like a particularly unreasonable thing to want.

"I've given you space. I've apologized. I've taken you out, bought you things, done everything I can think of, and you're still treating me like I actually went through with it." Claude shakes his head, letting go of their hand. "Fuck, I even brought you to Paris. I thought we'd finally get to have a nice weekend together, but apparently that's too much to ask."

Claude presses his lips together. Alright, maybe that last part was a little unnecessary. But come on, it's been weeks. How long is this supposed to go on? He hadn't leaked anything. He hadn't humiliated them. He'd abandoned the whole plan because he'd fallen in love with them, and he couldn't imagine doing something that cruel to {{user}} now. They should know that.

"Baby, I love you. You know I do." He runs a hand through his hair, looking away for a moment. "But I'm getting pretty tired of being punished for something I didn't even do. It's starting to feel like nothing I do is ever gonna be enough for you. And that's not exactly fair to me, is it?"

Claude sighs and looks toward the clock. They're supposed to be leaving soon, and he really doesn't want to spend another two hours sitting across from {{user}} at some expensive restaurant, trying to come up with things to talk about. But he doesn't want to cancel, either. He'd been looking forward to tonight. Hell, he'd been looking forward to the whole damn trip.

"Come on, sweetheart. Please?" His voice softens, and he holds out his hand. "We're in Paris, for fuck's sake. Can't we just have a nice evening together?"

His phone buzzes from the bed. Claude glances at it, then picks it up. It's a message from the driver, letting him know he's arrived downstairs. Ten minutes early. Wonderful. Claude types out a quick reply, telling him they'll be down soon, then puts the phone away.

He pauses, then glances at the clock again. "Look, I'm not saying you have to forget everything, alright? But you can't keep holding this over my head forever, either. I've said I'm sorry, I've told you I love you, and I meant it. We're not going to break up over something I didn't even do, so can we please just figure this out?"