When I gain back consciousness, a gentle finger strokes my upper arm. I shimmy a little closer into Paul, if that’s even possible, my naked back against his naked chest. He kisses me gently on the neck, neither of us is hard. Sex is not what’s connecting Paul and me; it never has been. When we met, we were both kind of lost, him even more so than me. I was the sheltered small-town boy in the big city on this huge campus. I was completely overwhelmed, but I didn’t want to admit it, I wanted to make it on my own, without David. Paul was a kid like Jannis, except that his parents are still alive and he speaks. But they might as well be dead, it wouldn’t make any difference in their care. Paul always had the dream of going to university, getting out of the home that never was one, living a good life. When he was accepted to university in the supplementary admission process, he scraped together hislast few euros for the semester fees and a train ticket. Paul was nervous and tried to evade our conversation, when I sat down next to him on our first day, but wasn’t until later that night that I understood why. He had been on the streets for three weeks and hadn’t showered or really eaten in about as long.
That same night, he moved in with me, into my beautiful, bright, spacious three-room apartment, paid for by my fathers. Having so much money had never felt more wrong.
Since then, we have been inseparable; we are better together. It’s as easy as that. Paul moved into my study, and my desk moved into my bedroom. We are there for each other unconditionally, pushing the boundaries of platonic friendship. We both have our one-night stands, quick, meaningless sex with people we don’t want to see again. It works for us.
“What happened, sweetie?”
“He broke up with me; David broke up with me. With one sentence, he took away everything I always wanted for my future. He did that! He has no right to insist that he feels as bad as I do.”
“But what if he feels the same way? You can’t dictate what he’s allowed to feel, Louis.”
“If it was so bad for him, why did he break up with me in the first place? Why?”
Paul’s finger stops and I turn to him. “You don’t know why David broke up with you?” I shrug and shake my head. “Wow, that’s crazy. And you just accepted it like that?”
My snort is so terribly sarcastic even Paul realizes that’s not the whole story. “Okay, imagine your boyfriend of two years suddenly stops responding to your messages, and then you go over to him at school...” I have to swallow. “And then you go over to him, and you want to know what’s going on,and out of nowhere he says to you, ‘If you love me, then please leave.’”
Tears well up and I hate it; I hate how weak he makes me feel. Still.
“And that’s what you did.” Not a question, a statement. “What happened then?”
“Two weeks later, he kissed a girl in the schoolyard, and a month later, he had his A-Levels diploma in his hand and was gone. He was no longer at handball practice and didn’t look at me anymore at school. It was as if I no longer existed.”
“And now he’s suddenly back. Shit... I already sensed that it’s difficult for both of you. But I didn’t expect something like this.” Paul sits up behind me. “Why didn’t you have him thrown out? Why do you let him sit at our bar every damn week? Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”
“My first impulse was to call Ben to take care of him. But then David just sat there all night and accepted my boundaries, and... I liked that. And...” I take a deep breath and run my hand through my hair. “Okay, what I’m about to say sounds totally stupid, I know that myself. I’m scared shitless of what will happen if I let David near me again, but he still feels so close, so familiar.”
Paul gently pulls me onto his lap, and I follow without resistance. “Why did you go have breakfast with him?”
“My brother, Jannis, said something when I was home last weekend. That he doesn’t want me to regret not giving the love of my life a second chance. That there are people out there who would do anything for a second chance but never get it. That got me thinking.”
“You still love him.”
“I don’t want to, but I can’t help it. What am I supposed to do?”
***
Paul is no help at all in answering this question. We agree that I need to figure out whether I’m willing to take the risk of getting hurt again. But isn’t that risk always there? Even when I meet someone new?
It’s Saturday, we open in five minutes, and Paul and I are making final preparations for the night. I’m super nervous, tense, wondering if David will come tonight after last week, if he’ll talk to me, or if he’s given up on me. The weight that lifts from my heart when he stops in the doorway is much heavier than I want to admit. He looks at me hesitantly, waiting for my reaction to see if he can come in or not. He understands how I feel. With a smile and a wave to his usual seat, I invite him in.
“Paul, would you please bring him a gin and tonic with Needle Gin and Thomas Henry tonic?”
My best friend stares at me, completely confused. “We don’t have Needle Gin. What is that anyway?”
“It’s a gin from our region. David only drinks this gin; if he doesn’t get it, he drinks vodka. We have a bottle in the small refrigerator.”
I’m childishly happy when he looks up from his glass. A slight grin around his mouth, just like last week.
The lounge is gradually emptying.
“What are you going to do if he asks you again?” Paul is standing close to me. So close our shoulders and elbows are touching.
“I’ll say yes.”
“Okay, how did you come to that decision?”
“I’m afraid of getting hurt again, but I’m even more afraid of regretting not having tried.”
