Chapter 14

[Saturday, October 5]

Erik woke up from his dream, and his first instinct was to reach out to the other side of the bed. It was empty. He opened his eyes abruptly.

No one was in bed. The room was bathed in light. They hadn’t drawn the blinds the night before, and by now, the sun had already risen, its rays filtering through the branches of the fir tree outside the window and pouring into the room.

The chilly air assaulted his exposed arms. Erik looked up toward the window across the room. It was half-open. The wind blew in from there. The morning sunlight shimmered in golden specks through the gaps in the fir tree’s branches.

He scrambled out of bed and hurried to the window, peering outside.

The first sight that greeted him immediately put his mind at ease. Beneath the window, Felix stood on the lush green grass of the backyard, wearing a white shirt and jeans.

“Good morning,” Felix looked up and smiled at him.

“Good morning,” Erik replied, savoring the gaze of those green eyes under the pale sunlight. Then he noticed Felix was only wearing a sweat shirt. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Cold,” Felix answered. “I’ll be right up.” He walked toward the fir tree by the wall.

It wasn’t until Felix placed his bare foot on the tree trunk that Erik realized what he was planning to do. “Don’t do that, it’s too dangerous!” he called out in alarm.

“Don’t distract me,” Felix stepped onto a higher branch. “I’ll fall.”

Erik didn’t dare make another sound, watching with bated breath as Felix climbed higher and higher up the tree, his heart pounding. When he finally saw Felix’s hands grasp the windowsill, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He leaned out, grabbed Felix, and hauled him up, pulling him through the window.

“That’s what’s dangerous,” Felix muttered in his arms. His skin and clothes carried the chill of the morning air. Erik couldn’t help but tighten his embrace. As soon as their bodies touched, his mind became clouded; it was as if another force was driving his body to act on its own, seeking those cool, soft, and full lips, and once found, he couldn’t help but devour them, breathless.

On his tongue, he tasted a faint sweetness, a hint of mint. Suddenly, Erik realized what he was doing and hastily let go of Felix. “I… I’m sorry!” he stammered an apology, then turned and bolted toward the bathroom.

Felix burst into laughter behind him. “Don’t be so flustered, Erik,” he said. “You don’t have any unpleasant taste.”

Erik didn’t have time to respond, quickly shoving an electric toothbrush loaded with toothpaste into his mouth. Amid the hum of the toothbrush, he saw Felix appear behind him in the mirror, leaning against the doorframe.

He rinsed his mouth in a hurry and wiped it with a towel. Felix approached him from behind. He turned abruptly and picked him up. Their lips met again. Felix wrapped his legs around Erik’s waist, clinging to him.

…By the time they finally parted, Erik felt like he had very little sanity left. He held Felix tightly, lifting him off the ground so his head rested comfortably on his shoulder, his cheek pressed against his neck. He felt the warmth of Felix’s body through the soft cotton fabric, snug against him. He hugged him as if he couldn’t bear to let go, breathing in his scent, the pleasant aroma of shampoo in his hair, a mix of apple and pomegranate… He wanted more.

He grabbed Felix’s T-shirt and pulled it up. He longed to touch his body again.

Felix’s body suddenly stiffened. “No,” he said abruptly. Then he gripped Erik’s arm and pushed him away.

But Erik had already seen the marks on his body: a series of raised, twisted scars running from the lower left side of his ribs down to his waist. The night before, he had kissed those places, vaguely aware of their presence in the darkness, but he didn’t expect them to look so ferocious in the daylight, stark against the pale skin, shocking.

Felix slid off him, standing barefoot on the bathroom floor.

“…I’m sorry,” Erik said.

“Why are you apologizing?” Felix laughed. He smoothed his shirt, his tone light, clearly having regained his composure.

“It’s nothing serious, just a bit unsightly.” He placed his hand over the scars. “Got them from an ice scraper lodged in the car door during an accident.—My own fault, too lazy to put it back in the trunk after scraping the windshield.”

Erik stared at him for a moment, then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he knelt down and hugged Felix, resting his head against his waist. He was so thin. The lines of his back and spine felt so fragile in his encircling arms, as if they could snap with a little more pressure. His cheek felt the raised texture of the scars beneath the thin layer of clothing.—Confirming this again made his heart clench.

Through the fabric, he gently kissed the crisscrossed scars.

Then he stood up, cupped Felix’s face with both hands, and kissed him again. He hoped his actions could convey his feelings better than his words—he had almost given up on the latter. If kissing could express what he felt—he hoped it could—he wished he could keep kissing him without ever having to speak.

As he thought this, the dream from earlier suddenly returned to his mind. In the dream, they had stood facing each other like this, barefoot, their toes lightly touching. His hands were on Felix’s cheeks and neck, and then he leaned down…

Erik gasped and let go of Felix. “Are you hungry? I’ll make you something to eat,” he said quickly, then headed to the kitchen.

He took out the things he had bought the previous afternoon from the fridge, turned on the range hood’s exhaust fan, and began making breakfast: placing a dozen bright red, round cherry tomatoes in a frying pan, drizzling some olive oil, and covering it to let them simmer slowly; two six-inch skillets were used to fry eggs and bacon.

The bacon sizzled in the skillet. He turned down the heat and gently pressed the bacon with a spatula.

He thought of the dream that had been in his mind just moments ago: he had held Felix’s face in his hands, leaned down to kiss him—but it wasn’t the cautious kiss from reality, but one that made him burn with shame and heat just remembering it…. At his feet lay a corpse. He didn’t need to look back to know it was a dead man, and that it was none other than himself who had killed him. Even though he had never seen that person in real life and didn’t know what he looked like, in the dream, he knew who it was. Knowing that was enough.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, biting his lips, then moved to his ear, licking the little silver bird earring. “…I’m capable of anything.”

…Erik felt his face flush. He didn’t know where he had stolen such shameless and lowbrow threatening lines—they sounded like something a villain from a popcorn movie would say: not the main villain but the kind of thug with arm tattoos and a hairy chest who kidnaps a hostage and then immediately gets beaten up by the hero. Worse, in that scene, beneath his large hands, that slender, pale neck was bound with two or three loops of thick rope—it was obvious who had done that.

“Erik, I think that bacon is done for,” Felix said.

Erik snapped out of it and found that the bacon in the pan had turned into small, charred lumps, and he was still crushing them repeatedly with the spatula. He hastily grabbed another pan and managed to rescue the fried eggs.

Fortunately, there was still plenty of bacon left in the package, ensuring their breakfast was quite hearty. The leftover bread slices from the day before were toasted golden and crispy in the toaster, paired with bacon and eggs, and the juicy cherry tomatoes—sprinkled with fresh basil. Of course, there was also the newly bought sugar jar and coffee creamer, making everything perfect.

“This is the most delicious breakfast I’ve had in years,” Felix said. “Since I moved out of my parents’ house, I’ve never had a hot breakfast—if you don’t count coffee.”

“I thought you’d make crêpes for breakfast.”

“Never,” Felix said, spreading his hands. “I can barely cook anything, at most heating up frozen meals in a pan.”

“What about the honey almond cookies yesterday?”

“Store-bought semi-finished products, just bake them in the oven for fifteen minutes—same as canned bread.”

“They were still delicious,” Erik said. “I can make crêpes tomorrow morning, um, if you don’t mind them not being authentic,” he added, a little embarrassed.

“Of course not, I love crêpes,” Felix said with a smile. “I’m already looking forward to tomorrow’s breakfast.”

Tomorrow. Erik repeated in his mind.

Felix picked up the coffee on the table and downed it in one go. “By the way, I’m taking the 10 o’clock train tomorrow,” he said casually. “Can you take me to the station?”

“Of course,” Erik said.

“Thank you.”

Twenty-five hours. Erik thought. Twenty-five hours and twenty-five minutes.

Confirming this fact didn’t upset him; instead, it brought a strange sense of relief: like a death row inmate finally knowing the time of their execution, no longer having to worry about the impending outcome. No matter what, the remaining time was still his: between him and that final moment, there were still twenty-five hours to go.

“Can you come to Huoyan with me today?” he asked.

“Of course. We agreed on that, didn’t we? We need to get your gear back,” Felix smiled. “By the way, that’s kind of my responsibility too.”

“After that, we can take another route down the mountain, toward Geiger Peak,” Erik took out his phone and showed Felix the hiking route on Komoot. “It’s a bit of a detour. But the scenery is beautiful.”

“Sounds great.”

“It’s my favorite hiking route,” Erik said, growing enthusiastic. He looked at the winding blue loop on the pale green map, the cliffs, meadows, and forests coming to life in his mind. And he would soon walk through them with Felix. Just the thought of it made him secretly giddy.

“We can overlook Geiger Peak from this spot, and if we’re lucky, we might even see a waterfall. On the way back, we can stop by a local Greek restaurant and grab a bite. Their grilled meat and moussaka are amazing.”

“It’s probably crowded there this time of year,” Felix said. “It’s the long weekend for the national holiday.”

“No problem,” Erik said cheerfully. “Old Yannis and I are good friends. If the terrace is full, he’ll definitely drag out a folding table from the kitchen and make room for us.”

Felix glanced at him. The excitement on Erik’s face made him swallow the words he had originally planned to say.

“If it’s good with you, we’ll go together,” he said.