Chapter 33
Louis
David is insecure. Even if I didn’t know him so well, it would be impossible to overlook. His smile is fleeting, it’s difficult for him to maintain eye contact. He nervously plays with his napkin, folding it and twisting it in his hands. But he’s always been like that.
When he knows his role and knows how to fill it, he is an unshakeable force bursting with self-confidence.
But as far I know that David only existed on the handball court or at school.
The real David was different, and that’s exactly what I’ve always loved about him so much.
Still do love. He still affects me just as much as he did seven years ago, six years ago, five years ago.
Because he knew what he wanted with me, but he showed it in a completely different way than with everyone else.
With me, he was just himself. Completely David, real and genuine.
His calmness and gentleness always caught me when I was nervous, enveloped me and held me.
And yes, of course, his devoted nature complemented my playful dominance well.
We were good together, so damn good. Even though our circumstances weren’t ideal, it was always easy between us.
And when I throw my fear and caution overboard and manage to just get caught up in the moment, it feels like we have a chance to make it work again.
It’s our second date. David was at the club at ten o’clock sharp and waited at his seat until five in the morning. Now we’re sitting in the little bakery again.
What do you talk about with someone you feel like you know everything about, but aren’t allowed to know because you’re pretending to start from scratch? I still think the idea is brilliant in principle, but it has its pitfalls.
“What’s your favorite color?” The question comes out of nowhere and I’m surprised when the words leave my mouth. David looks at me with a frown and stirs his tea thoughtfully. “Light blue. But not azure or cyan, more like ice blue.”
My heart skips a beat. “Um, has it always been that color?” No, it hasn’t. His favorite color used to be orange, and as expected, he shakes his head. I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help myself. “What happened? Why did your favorite color change?”
His gaze meets mine, holds it, and I don’t look away. “Ice blue reminds me of someone, someone who was very close to me and...” I see him swallow, hear the tremor in his voice. “...um, who I miss.”
He means me, right? “And what does that someone have to do with ice blue?”
David’s gaze falls on his fingers, which are now tearing the napkin into wafer-thin layers. “The wall next to his bed was ice blue.”
It still is, but I don’t say that out loud. I’m also not sure if I’d have the necessary strength in my voice to say anything at all without embarrassing myself.
“Do you have a favorite color?” The question comes quickly, probably to sweep the ice blue elephant under the rug, and I play along, only too happy to do him the favor. “Dark green. Like ivy. Or fir trees.”
“Since when has that been your favorite color? And why?” David knows the answers to that questions.
“Always. When I was a child, I had a dark green stuffed dragon that accompanied me everywhere I went.”
“Do you still have the dragon?”
The question may seem like a filler, but it’s meant seriously.
I can hear it in his tone and see it in his eyes.
He knows what the dragon means to me; I don’t have to tell him again.
It’s one of the few memories I have of my mother.
She told me the dragon came in other colors too, but she chose the green one for me.
“It’s a camouflage dragon. When things get bad, it helps you hide. ”
I don’t think she expected things to get this bad. My memories are fading, only single situations flash here and there, nothing I want to talk about right now. “Yes, even here in Karlsruhe. But he’s not allowed to sleep in my bed anymore. And he only gets cuddled on special occasions. Your turn!”
A slight smile plays around David’s mouth, making his face so beautiful and soft I want to stroke his shaved cheek, to touch him.
“Okay, what’s your favorite animal?”
It’s easy for me, I’m curious to hear his answer. “Mine is a fox, not particularly big or strong, but sly and clever. Just like me.”
David laughs out loud. Such a beautiful sound coming from his mouth, so uninhibited and free. He rarely was like that back then. Maybe it’s good for him not to live at home anymore. “Oh, so modest. Mine is a giraffe.”
“Let me guess: tall and unflappable? Observing everything from above?”
A shadow falls over his beautiful face, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Is that how you see me? Kind of contemptuous?”
No, I don’t. I shake my head firmly. “But maybe someone who doesn’t know you might think that.
I had a chance to observe you a little while you were sitting at my bar.
You keep people at a distance. I don’t know if it’s intentional or just your way of being.
..” I do know, and he knows that I know.
Since I’ve known him, there have only been two people who have been allowed to see him as he really is—soft and devoted, and the more exhausting his day was, the more he needed someone to take the responsibility off his shoulders, to tell him what to do, and to hold him when he lets himself fall.
Before me, that was Finn, and I had hoped he’d step in again, but the way David sits in front of me, I don’t think that plan worked out as I intended.
“I was never allowed to be myself, I don’t know what my way of being is. I only know how not to be. Most of the time, it’s easier to be nothing than to be wrong.”
We were together for almost two years, and I feel like I’m seeing him in a completely new light.
His youthful naivety has disappeared, replaced by resignation and emptiness.
I want to hug him, tell him that nothing about him was wrong and still isn’t, that being different isn’t bad, but I’m afraid of this new intimacy, knowing that even though I long for it, I can’t allow it yet.
It’s too soon. I miss him, I miss him so much, but I still know who I am.
David has lost himself in a world where he can never be himself because he constantly has to live up to other people’s expectations and hide his true self. And shit, seeing him like this hurts.
“What’s your favorite food?” Yes, the change in subject comes as a surprise to me too, and this time we both flinch as my words fill the space between us. I’m curious to see if anything has changed since burgers and pizza.
“Finn cooks for us from time to time and...”
“Who is Finn?” His eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. I love how he communicates so clearly without words.
“Finn is my best friend. We’ve been living together since I moved to Karlsruhe.”
“Do you know each other for a long time?”
“Since elementary school. He sat next to me on our first day of school and never left.”
I remember being envious of their friendship. Not jealous, but I always wanted a best friend like David had in Finn. I always had lots of people around me, was popular, made friends quickly, but I’ve only had a best friend since I met Paul.
“Um, and Finn cooks this pasta dish with cherry tomatoes, sun-dried tomatoes, olives, and shrimp. Then he adds herbs and sprinkles some Parmesan on top. I know it doesn’t sound spectacular, but it tastes delicious.”
“That sounds good. I like rice pudding.”
He looks up and his gaze is so soft. I want to sink into the green that is so different from most other eye colors. Gold reflects in the light around his pupils makes them shine, and a dark green ring catches the gold splinters that dance and threaten to break out.
“You like sweet food, don’t you? Rice pudding, chocolate buns.” I don’t tell him that I associate memories with both. Even though David knows my story, not today.
“I like sweet things in general.” I try to give him a cheeky grin, but I’m not quite sure if I succeed.
“I’m not sweet.” The answer comes so quickly and with so much determination.
“Would you like to be?” That was not at all what I wanted to say.
“For you?” For me.