Chapter 30
David
I take a good sip and I am confused. It tastes different than usual, that.
.. that’s not vodka, that’s... gin. My eyes find Louis’s and for a brief moment, he holds my gaze.
His eyes are wide, his gaze captures mine, sucks me in, letting me feel what he feels.
Pain, fear, and... no, that can’t be... But I’m sure about it, there is longing.
Then he turns away and I sip my favorite drink, stunned he still remembers.
My heart is pounding. I have no idea what this means for us, but a light has just appeared at the end of the tunnel, and I dare to hope we can find our way there together.
The night was hectic. It was incredibly busy, and Louis and Paul were running around non-stop. But since four o’clock, it’s calmed down, as usual.
“Hello, handsome, I didn’t have any time for my favorite regular today.” Paul stands in front of me with a tired but beaming smile. “Do you need anything else?”
“Favorite regular, huh? How did I earn that title?” I ask with a grin.
Paul exaggeratedly puts one hand on his hip, puts a finger to his lips, and tilts his hips dramatically. “Let me think. You’re peaceful and you’re house-trained.”
“You’re easy to please.” My laughter surprises even me.
“Oh, believe me, you’re the whole package, and we don’t get that very often here. No, seriously, you’re not bad, David, and I honestly admire you for your persistence.”
“Thanks. As long as he doesn’t tell me to stay away, I’ll come back. As long as there’s still a chance, I won’t give up.”
“You hurt him, but you know that yourself. He’s afraid.”
I just nod. What can I say? My gaze wanders along the bar again and lingers on Louis. I was wrong when I said Louis hadn’t changed. At sixteen, he was small and cute, with soft features and a childlike wild charisma. Cheeky and impetuous.
He still has a quick tongue, and he is still small, but he has lost his baby face.
Round, rosy cheeks, are replaced by high cheekbones and pale skin and at half past four in the morning, by a dark shadow of stubble, which would perfectly fill out into a thick beard if left growing.
Dark, long eyelashes frame his large, brown eyes.
He is beautiful. Paul is hot, Louis is beautiful.
It’s 4:55 a.m., my usual time, my last chance before I leave the club as the last guest. Louis stands with his back to me, putting glasses in the dishwasher.
“Lou?”
“Don’t call me that.” He doesn’t turn around when he speaks to me. His tone is tense but calm.
“Why not?”
“That name belongs to an us that no longer exists.”
Ouch. “You’ll always be Lou to me, no amount of time will change that. Will you have breakfast with me?”
“Okay.” Louis still doesn’t turn around. “I need another thirty minutes. Do you want to wait here?”
“You’re coming?” I have to ask again, I’m not sure if I heard him correctly. My heart skips a beat.
“I’m coming.”
“Cool, um, yeah, sure, perfect. I’ll wait here. No rush.”
Paul grins and gives me a thumbs up. He so knew.
“Where are we going?”
We’re standing in front of the club and Louis has his hands buried deep in his pockets. It’s end of February and it’s freezing cold.
“There’s this little bakery with a café in South Town. They open at six and you can have breakfast there.”
“Sounds good. Let’s go. They should be opening when we get there.”
We sit at a small table by the window and warm our hands on hot coffee cups.
“Still black with plenty of sugar?” Louis asks as I open the second packet. A small, cautious smile plays around his mouth.
“And you, still with the chocolate buns?”
And there it is again. The mischievous grin and the challenging tone in his voice. “Well, sure, they’re undeniably delicious. However, your sticky sweet coffee is debatable. Is that actually coffee, or is it more of a caffeinated soft drink?”
I shake my head with a grin.
“No, seriously. I’ve wondered about that before. If you dislike the taste of coffee so much that you need four packets of sugar...”
“Five packets!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, my bad. But why don’t you drink tea, or hot chocolate, or at least a latte?”
I shrug my shoulders. “We never had real milk at home. My little sister is highly allergic. I don’t like almond milk. So I had to come up with something else.”
“Well, tea would still be an option. Too uncool? Too not the same?” He raises both eyebrows and looks at me questioningly.
I don’t want to admit that he’s right, so I quickly change the subject.
“Thanks for coming with me. I... it’s nice to be here with you.” My heart is beating so hard it’s hard to speak.
“It is.” Louis doesn’t look at me, picking at his napkin with his fingertips. “David, why are we here? Why do you come to the club every week?”
Because I love you? Because I can’t forget you, no matter how hard I try? Because my life sucks without you? Because I’m not complete without you?
I can’t possibly tell him that, or he’ll leave immediately. So I shrug my shoulders helplessly and limit myself to the safest answer. “I miss you.”
Or maybe it wasn’t safe at all, because Louis stares at the table with furrowed eyebrows, his lower lip slightly tucked between his teeth. “And when did you realize that?”
“The moment you turned around and walked away.” I look at him, even though he doesn’t return my gaze, wanting him to feel how serious I am.
“No,” his eyes meet mine, “that’s not how you spin it. I didn’t leave. You begged me to go. You hurt me like hell. First you ripped my heart out and then you stepped on it. All by yourself. Fuck!” His eyes fill with tears and his mouth twists in pain. “I can’t do this.”
Louis’s chair scrapes across the floor and he jumps up. After a quick search he finds a ten-euro bill in his jacket pocket and drops it on the table before storming out of the bakery. Shit...