Chapter 5

Erik woke up from his sleep. The room was pitch black. He opened his eyes wide and looked towards the direction of the living room. He remembered leaving the door to the living room open before he went to bed, allowing the warmth from the fireplace to seep into his room. But now, he couldn’t see anything—the fire in the fireplace must have gone out.

No wonder it’s so cold, he thought groggily.

He lay there for a while longer. The chill in the air grew stronger, driving away his drowsiness. He could even feel a faint breeze brushing against his face.

Did I forget to close a window somewhere?

Erik was fully awake now. He turned over and fumbled to turn on the bedside lamp.

Another gust of wind. This time, it unmistakably came from the direction of the living room.

He grabbed a piece of clothing and draped it over himself haphazardly, then stepped out of his room. The first thing he saw was the door to the other bedroom wide open. He quickly walked over to the door. The room was empty.

He turned his head and looked towards the balcony at the other end of the living room. Pale moonlight filtered in through the windows and the open balcony door. The white curtains fluttered in the wind. The cold breeze was coming from there.

Erik crossed the living room and stepped onto the balcony. Felix was sitting on the deck chair. As soon as Erik appeared, Felix immediately shielded his face with one arm.

Surprise, embarrassment, and guilt flooded his chest. He had carelessly intruded into another person’s—almost a stranger’s—private space, and there was no way to retreat now.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”

Felix didn’t respond. Erik hesitated for a moment, then sat down in the other chair. He avoided looking at Felix’s face—it felt too intrusive—and instead looked at the moon in the night sky, and the streaks of silver light refracting through the clouds.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked.

Felix lowered the arm that was shielding his face but still didn’t look at him.

“What do you want to talk about?” His voice was slightly hoarse.

Erik couldn’t find the right words and had to fall silent. For a long time, the two of them sat quietly, each looking at the sky, as if they were stargazers carefully studying the northern hemisphere’s autumn star map.—The scene tugged at Erik’s memories, bringing back some not-so-distant moments.

“You don’t have to sit here with me,” Felix suddenly said.

“I’m not going to jump off here,” he added with a hint of mockery.

“Oh. I hope not,” Erik said. He was getting used to Felix’s tone of voice: a mix of self-deprecating humor and a slight sarcasm towards others, light-hearted, not too offensive, but clearly keeping people at arm’s length.

He struggled to find the right words. “Is there anything I can do?”

“At a time like this, you’re supposed to offer a glass of whiskey,” Felix said. “But unfortunately, there’s no alcohol in this house.”

Erik said, “Actually, there’s a bit of… sweet white wine in the kitchen, the kind I use for cooking. Do you want me to get it?”

“Of course not, god! It’s just a figure of speech.”

“…I’m sorry,” Erik said. “Then do you want a glass of water?”

Felix turned to look at him.

“Erik, are you always this serious?”

“It depends on how you look at it,” he said, feeling embarrassed. “…I guess I’m not very good with words.”

Felix was silent for a moment, then said, “I don’t need alcohol. Or water. Thank you.”

“Do you want to be alone then?”

“What about you?” Felix shot back.

Erik thought for a moment.

“If I’m feeling sad, I don’t want to be alone. But if I feel like others can’t understand, then I’d rather be by myself.”

“Exactly,” Felix said. “You said you’re not good with words, but I don’t think I could have put it better either.”

So he is sad, Erik thought. Should I leave him alone then?

Felix wasn’t the fragile, helpless child he had imagined him to be. He was crying, and Erik couldn’t offer him the right comfort—he didn’t even know why he was crying. He didn’t understand Felix at all.

Everyone is an island. He had heard something like that before. And conversation is the bridge that extends from the island: through human language, a connection can be built between two islands.—But this kind of thing is just too difficult. He thought with frustration. Especially for someone like him who wasn’t good with words.

“Are you sad because you’re thinking about someone, Felix?” he asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just… intuition, I guess,” Erik said.

“In a way, yes,” Felix said. He tapped the armrest lightly with his fingertips. “He’s a bastard. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He turned his head away and continued to look at the sky.

“What about you, Erik? Why are you sad?”

Erik was taken aback.

“Why do you ask?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Felix said. “You’re sad and lonely.”

He turned back to look at Erik. His eyes, under the moonlight, looked like the deep color of a lake: all emotions were submerged and hidden in the silent darkness beneath the surface, with only a faint glimmer of light on the surface.

“—Is it because of Fritz, your stepfather, who passed away?”

It took Erik a while to find his voice.

“My biological father left very early, and I hardly remember him. Over the years, Fritz has been like a father to me,” he said matter-of-factly. “…I think the saddest time has passed. The first few weeks were really hard… because I wasn’t prepared. Now I’ve come to accept it.”

“Were you close?”

“Not really. Fritz wasn’t the kind of person who was easy to get close to. He was quiet, the kind who kept everything to himself. And when my mom married him, I was already fourteen. For a long time, I couldn’t stand him.” He sighed. “But he was a good man. After my mom left, he was the one who took care of me.”

Felix said, “Sorry if I’m being too nosy, but I don’t understand—where did your mom go?”

“She divorced Fritz about five or six years ago,” Erik said. “She’s somewhere by Lake Constance now, married to a local—probably a bar owner. I rarely hear from her.”

“But she left you here?”

“Yes, it sounds a bit unbelievable, but that’s how it was,” Erik said. “Fritz accepted it too, so technically he’s my adoptive father, not my stepfather.

“I think he really loved my mom… After she left, he would often sit here, staring into space and drinking alone. I regret not stopping him from drinking so much back then. Maybe that’s why he got liver cancer.”

“So there’s no alcohol in this house now,” Felix murmured to himself. “Was he sick for a long time?”

“No, not for long,” Erik said.

“He committed suicide. A week after the diagnosis. He said he couldn’t bear to go through all the suffering in the hospital and then die a slow, painful death. He wanted to leave the world in his own way while he still had the strength.—So he chose to climb up the cliff on the west side of Königstein and jumped.”

After a moment of silence, Felix said, “He sounds like a decent guy.”

He suddenly stood up from the deck chair.

“It’s too cold out here,” he said. “Let’s go inside. Hey, can you still stand up? Are you frozen?”

“I should be asking you that,” Erik said, grabbing the hand that was extended towards him. The hand felt like ice.

They walked back into the room.

“I need to take another hot shower to warm up,” Felix said. “If it’s okay with you, could you light the fireplace in the living room again? My room is as cold as an icebox. I think I’ll just crash on the living room couch tonight.”

“Of course. No problem,” Erik said.

“Thanks. Then good night,” Felix said. Without looking at him again, he headed straight for the bathroom.

Erik moved the blanket and pillow from the other bedroom to the living room couch, then opened the fireplace, stirred the nearly extinguished embers, and added a few logs and some kindling. He watched as the sparks flew and the wood crackled as it caught fire. The warmth gradually rose, dispelling the cold.

He closed the fireplace door and watched the flames through the glass. He faintly heard the sound of the bathroom fan running continuously.

He thought about their earlier conversation. He had to admit that Felix’s attitude had stung him a little: he had so bluntly exposed his feelings. “You’re sad and lonely,” he had said.

Yet Felix was unwilling to share his own feelings. “In a way, yes,” he had said.

“…I don’t want to talk about it.”

—I don’t want to talk to you.

Of course, he couldn’t blame Felix. After all, they were practically strangers who had just met. Not everyone would choose to share their feelings with a stranger.

He hadn’t told Felix everything he was feeling either. After all, his intention was to comfort someone else, not to pour out his own troubles.

…After his mother left, Fritz and he would often sit on the balcony, sitting there for entire afternoons or evenings. Fritz would sit in the deck chair, drinking in silence, while Erik would sit in the other chair, listening to music through his headphones and staring at the sky. Most of the time, neither of them spoke. There was a bit of comfort in this silent companionship, and a greater, unavoidable pain: because she had abandoned both of them, this shared fate tied them together. They could only support each other, keeping their lives from falling apart.

They developed a habit of wandering in the forest, and later, they became each other’s protectors while rock climbing. This was the best way for people who didn’t like to talk to spend time together. Like animals retreating into the depths of the forest, by the streams, among the moss, slowly licking their wounds.—This also became his way of healing: later, when he lost his best friends Peter and Hannah, he did the same. The Swabian Alps had the changing seasons of plants and trees, and the unchanging cliffs, with long stretches of time to heal all wounds.

But maybe he was the only one who truly healed. Because he was still young, and it wasn’t easy for him to feel despair. But he could sense that in Fritz’s heart, there was a place he couldn’t reach, where a lingering shadow always loomed.—Fritz had never spoken to him about it, probably feeling that he wouldn’t understand. In a way, his stepfather had always seen him as a child: even though he had long since grown up and was taller and stronger than him.

After Fritz died, one evening, he went out onto the balcony and sat alone in the deck chair, burying his head in his arms. He was trembling, thinking he would burst into tears, but he didn’t. He couldn’t cry. Maybe it was because deep down, he knew it was too dangerous: because there was no one left by his side, no one to comfort him, no one to stop him from crying endlessly.

In the end, he pulled himself together, just as the well-meaning people around him had advised, and there was no reason not to. He was twenty-three, a young, healthy, strong man, and of course he could take care of himself. Even without a protector, he could climb the cliffs alone.

…The sound of the fan brought him back to reality. Erik suddenly realized something was wrong. How long had he been sitting here?

The fan was humming, and it had been for a while, but there was no sound of water from the bathroom.

He walked to the bathroom door and knocked.

“Felix, are you okay?”

No response.

He knocked again. Suddenly, a couple of very low, muffled sounds reached his ears, like suppressed sobs.

“Felix?”

Erik waited a few more seconds, then pressed the handle and pushed the door open.

Felix was sitting on the floor under the sink, leaning against the wall, hugging his knees. His face was completely buried in his arms, and his whole body was shaking.

“Get out,” he said in a low voice.

Erik’s heart was pounding in his chest. He walked straight to Felix and knelt down in front of him.

“Go away,” Felix said. His voice was completely hoarse. One hand slowly clenched into a fist.

Erik reached out and took the fist in his hand. The knuckles were slender, cold as ice, and curled up in his large palm like a frozen bird.

The next moment, Felix’s head was resting against his chest. Rapid, sobbing breaths warmed his chest through the fabric of his shirt. The thin arms wrapped around his waist, and he tightened his grip on Felix’s back, pulling him closer. He felt the other’s rapid heartbeat, each beat slamming against his ribs, merging with his own, reminding him that this was real and not a figment of his imagination: Felix was sobbing against his chest, holding him, desperately needing his comfort.

At the same time, he realized another undeniable fact: he needed this embrace just as much, perhaps even more urgently and fervently than Felix did. Felix’s body was cold, shivering in his arms; while his chest felt like it was on fire, wanting to hold him tightly, to let his body’s warmth seep into him, to warm him from head to toe.