Chapter 22

“In a way, that car accident saved me—otherwise, I really don’t know what I might have done when I got home that day,” Felix said.

He rested his head on Erik’s shoulder, his cheek against Erik’s chest; Erik held him with one arm and tightly grasped his hand with the other. Their fingers intertwined, their bodies nestled together, Felix’s ankle wrapped around Erik’s calf—as if this brought them both a sense of peace.

“I was in the hospital for a few weeks. My mom and stepdad came from another city to take care of me, and some of my friends visited too… I had pushed them away in my self-destructive phase, but the accident brought them back to me.

“And because of the hospital’s diagnosis of anxiety, the university soon informed me that they had reversed their earlier decision. I was given an additional six months to complete my thesis. Of course, I didn’t take that long: my professor practically passed me with her eyes closed. She thought I was wasting away, and she probably felt guilty, thinking she was the reason for my accident, and kept apologizing to me.

“I graduated smoothly, found a job, and seemed to be back on the so-called right track. But the problem was, I felt like I was just maintaining an empty shell of my former self, with nothing left inside: all the things I once dreamed of—lots of money, an ideal lover, and everything I had tried so hard to prove to that bastard father of mine—now seemed meaningless.”

“Meaning will come back,” Erik said, pulling him closer. “You just need a little more time.”

“Maybe,” Felix said. “I hope so.”

“Do you still feel sad now?” Erik asked. “When you see Zeno again, or when he calls?”

“No,” Felix said. “He called to finalize the last bit of paperwork for the startup. There’s nothing left between us.—After the accident, whatever feelings I had for him completely disappeared. At the time, I thought it was because of the anti-anxiety medication I was taking, but even after I stopped, it was the same.” He sighed. “But that’s actually the scariest part. It makes you question yourself, your memories, and whether those feelings were ever real? If such intense emotions can vanish so completely, then what was the point of everything I did?”

“Don’t doubt the feelings you once had,” Erik said. “I mean… I’m not saying everything that happened was good. But what happened, happened. We can’t control everything, just like we can’t control our feelings. I think those feelings are part of life. Nie erfahren wir unser Leben stärker als in großer Liebe und in tiefer Trauer. (Nothing makes us experience our lives more deeply than great love and profound sorrow.)*”

Felix looked up at him.

“Where did you hear that last sentence?”

“From a book of epitaphs,” Erik said. “They asked me to choose a phrase to be engraved on the stone slab in front of Fritz’s grave. It’s usually something in Latin like ‘Rest in Peace’ or ‘May the Soul Rest in Peace’**. But I thought that was boring—Fritz and I didn’t know Latin. Later, they brought me a thick book of German epitaphs, and I chose this one.”

Felix gave a faint, almost helpless smile.

“So it’s love and sorrow that make us experience life… as long as they don’t take our lives. (So erfahren wir unser Leben in großer Liebe und in tiefer Trauer, soweit sie uns das Leben nicht kosten.)”

Erik hugged his shoulders and kissed his forehead.

“You’ll be okay, Felix,” he said, both comforting and reassuring. “The sadness will pass. And you’ll fall in love again.”

Felix smiled. “Maybe. After all, these things are unpredictable.”

He twirled a curl of hair by Erik’s ear.

“Erik, maybe this doesn’t mean much, but I want you to know: between the accident and you, I haven’t been with anyone.”

Erik felt his heart beat a little faster.

“Why… with me?”

“Come on, do I really need to say it?” he said with a teasing tone.

“Tell me.”

“Because you’re ridiculously sexy,” Felix said. “This might sound unusual to you, but in our circle, you’re probably the most popular type: tall, strong, with an amazing body and a handsome face—not overly handsome, but very likable.” He playfully ruffled his hair. “And I can tell you something else to back this up: that little Hans, the barber in town, was once quite smitten with you, which is why Wilhelm didn’t let you be on his list.—They’re business partners but lovers in private.”

Erik felt his face grow warmer. He whispered, “I want to know… how you feel about me, apart from… the sexual part.”

Felix studied him for a moment, then said, “I think you’re incredibly cute.”

“…Cute?” Erik said, somewhat incredulously.

“Yes, cute,” Felix said, smiling at him. “Like a golden retriever, and sometimes like a husky.”

Erik imagined the two breeds and their hybrid in his mind, feeling somewhat disheartened.

“…Did I say something wrong?” Felix asked, looking at him.

“No,” Erik said, lowering his eyes. “I just feel like you don’t really… like me that much.”

“Of course, I like you. I thought I’ve been expressing that all along.”

No, not like. Erik thought. That’s not the word I want. What I want… is the kind of feeling you had for Zeno. I want you to love me, to love me the way you loved him, the way you loved your ideal lover, the way you loved the one person in your life.

These thoughts echoed chaotically in his mind. He couldn’t say them. They were too much: too intense, too overbearing, too inappropriate, too abnormal.

—But they were indeed what he felt.

He looked up and met Felix’s gaze. He didn’t know if his expression betrayed those thoughts—or if he just looked like a sad puppy.

“I can tell you another lie I told,” Felix said softly. “I actually had booked a hotel in town.”

Erik looked at him, slightly dazed.

“I lied to you because I had a feeling that if I had nowhere to go, you might invite me to your place. And I really wanted to come.”

“…Oh,” Erik said. “Okay.”

“I like you a lot, Erik,” Felix said, placing a hand on his cheek. “And you’re amazing in bed—no, actually, you’re incredible. Does that make you feel better?”

“Yeah.”

Felix gazed at him. “Do you know what I like most about you?”

“What?”

“You seem serious, but you’re actually a bit crazy,” he said, gently caressing his face. “—It makes me feel less alone.”

Erik couldn’t help but kiss him.

They kissed quietly for a while. Erik pulled the blanket over both of them.

“Let’s sleep for a bit now,” Felix said. “I’m exhausted, and I have to get up early tomorrow, take the train all day… the holiday is over.”

He closed his eyes. Erik leaned over and kissed his forehead and eyelids.

“Sleep. Sweet dreams.”

As soon as his lips left Felix, he realized Felix was already asleep.

Erik lay beside him for a while, but he couldn’t feel any sleepiness. His mind had never been as clear and sharp as it was at this moment: he could feel time passing in the room, minute by minute. Every minute that passed was a minute subtracted from the time and memories he shared with Felix, bringing them closer to the moment of separation.

He thought about their first meeting, the evenings they spent listening to music, and that long embrace in the middle of the night. From those initial moments to now, it felt like a long time had passed—like they had walked a long way, carefully approaching each other, constantly testing and hiding, between the fear of disappointment and the irresistible desire to be close, slowly building trust, layer by layer, until they gradually let down their guards. Felix had finally opened up to him a little… but tomorrow, he was leaving.

I don’t have time. He thought desperately. Just a little more time… maybe with a little more time, things could be completely different. But now, it seems like neither moving forward nor stepping back is right, and there’s no way out: the time we’ve spent together is just too short, too short to be anything more than a fleeting encounter between two strangers, a nostalgic memory of a holiday.

“…The holiday is over,” he said.

But this wasn’t a holiday. Erik thought. A holiday is something that makes you feel relaxed and happy, a brief escape from work, a time to rest and recharge, so you can return to your daily life with renewed energy. A holiday doesn’t change the course of your life, doesn’t make you feel like everything before it was meaningless, and everything after it is no longer worth looking forward to. A holiday also doesn’t put you through that kind of torment, so full of self-struggle and pain yet so blissful, blissful enough to make you forget all your worries and fears… and then suddenly, you’re at the end, facing the moment it’s over, waking up as if from a dream.

He reached out and hugged Felix. Felix’s breathing was steady, asleep in his arms.

After a long while, Erik got up quietly, walked to the desk, and picked up his phone. He opened the search bar and typed “Zeno,” thought for a moment, and added Felix’s full name.

…He quickly found what he was looking for: a photo of two young men in formal attire. Zeno Presley and Felix Lorbeer.

The first thing he noticed was Felix. In the photo, his hair was jet black, and he looked mature and composed.—The Felix now was a somewhat overly thin boy, looking much younger than his actual age, and his blond hair added to that youthful, delicate appearance. But in the photo, he was an exceptionally handsome man, more balanced and steady, especially with that black hair: it perfectly balanced the delicate, fragile parts of his features. He wondered if Felix preferred his appearance in the photo: he was so dazzling, breathtaking.

He shifted his gaze to the tall, handsome man beside Felix.

That was his ideal lover. He thought. He looked at those impossibly blue eyes and the cold, resolute lines of that face.