High shelves filled with food were awaiting us behind the door. We laughed out of pure luck. So much food!
I looked through the crates full of fruit, and stuffed a peach and an apple in my pocket for later.
Nate almost disappeared between the shelves and reappeared beaming, holding a watermelon.
"Would they have cookies?" I wondered.
Nate searched the shelves intently. Then his face lit up. "They have éclairs!"
I started to salivate. "Can you reach them?"
He jumped and tried, but could only tap the box.
I laughed. "I'll get them, tiny friend."
"No! I can do this!"
He took a leap and put his feet on the shelves. The cabinet began to wobble dangerously, but he didn't notice.
He stretched out his fingers to the éclairs when suddenly he looked up – and his eyes widened in terror.
I followed his gaze and saw a large barrel, just above my head, swaying and falling from the top shelf of the closet. I could barely comprehend that I had to dive away, when the barrel came crashing down. Before I knew it, I got pushed to the side.
I heard a dull thud, a smash, and a rustling noise. A sharp pain shot through my shoulder when I hit the stone floor.
Gasping for air, I lay on the tiles. Nate lay beside me, still. The tub got cracked and the floor around us was littered with rice.
"Nate?"
I crawled over to him, but he didn't move. His eyes were closed. Did I imagine it or did he look pale? Could it be the lighting?
"Natey?"
I put my hands around his face in hopes he'd wake up.
"Natey," I pleaded. "Shit!"
My hands were covered in blood when I pulled them back from Nate's head. My sight went black for a second.
No, I told myself sternly, stay calm. I took a deep breath and looked around for something to stop the bleeding. I couldn't find anything.
Don't panic. Breath. In and out.
My shirt. I took it off and put it carefully under Nate's head. "Stay with me, baby. Do you hear me? Say something. Open your eyes. "
I concentrated on my breathing.
There was blood, coming out of my friend's head. That was not good. He needed help from someone who knew about bleeding heads ...
Emergency number. I grabbed my phone and dialed. Luckily, someone speaking English told me I reached the European emergency number. Relieved, I told her what happened to my friend and where I was. I only knew the name of the camping site and the city, but apparently that was enough.
Meanwhile, I had my free hand on Nate's face, as if that would keep him alive. Could you die because a load of rice fell on your head? It sounded silly, yet here I was, holding my dead friend.
No. Not dead. Right? I was so scared.
"Don't die."
I had to get a teacher.
But I'd be in serious trouble when they saw this. My stomach ached with worry. If I got out to get someone, I had to leave Nate here all alone.
But I couldn't do this on my own. Someone had to point the ambulance where to go while I stayed with my mate as long as I could.
So, with pain in my heart, I let Nate go and got up. I allowed myself a second to blink away a sudden, immense dizziness, and went in search of a teacher. For the first time in years.
Running out of the door, I immediately bumped into a jolly group of boys. I asked them if they had seen a teacher and they pointed.
"Watch out, she almost saw us."
"Where's your shirt?"
"Is something wrong?" Jamie asked observantly, but I didn't answer.
Fuck, I just realized it was fucking freezing in the cold store where I left Nate. That couldn't be good for him. I wanted to go back, to be with him. Where were these teachers when you needed them?
Suddenly all the boys ran away fast.
"Hey! You! You're supposed to be in bed!"
Thank goodness! It was my English teacher. As fast as I could, and while running towards her, I told her what happened. She didn't understand a thing.
"Calm down." Suddenly she sounded much kinder – and much more anxious. I told her what happened – or tried anyway – and even showed her my bloody hands as if to prove it.
She put a hand to her chest. "Take me there." As we walked she grabbed her cellphone.
"I've already called an ambulance."
"Did you call an ambulance?" she repeated, as if she went through a mental checklist. "Very good. Well done."
She called another teacher and ordered them to bring the ambulance to the kitchens. "A student got injured."
I thought it was nice of her not to mention Nate by his name. People didn't seem to like him very much and I didn't want that to affect the help he received. Moreover, it would make it harder for people to gossip without a name.
Mrs. Stone took a step back when she saw Nate and lingered in the doorway for a quarter of a second. The blood from his head had spread out onto the floor.
I myself was already sitting next to him again with his head in my hands. The shirt I'd put under his head felt damp. He was bleeding badly.
"Nate?"
He still didn't respond. I wanted to cry.
Mrs. Stone crouched in front of me and felt Nate's wrist and his neck.
"It's too cold," she decided. "Step back."
I did as she said and let her carry out a first aid maneuver to drag Nate to the kitchen, where it was slightly warmer.
"Good of you to press something against the wound," she said. "Can you go look what's keeping the ambulance?"
No, I thought. I wanted to hold my friend until I heard his voice again. "Alright."
I ran to the entrance of the campsite and by the time I was there, sirens sounded in the distance. I didn't know how far away they were, because it was so quiet out there that you could hear cars driving on the highway from kilometers away.
My thoughts were spinning out of control. If only I wasn't such a bloody idiot to go break in with Nate. If only I hadn't been such a hungry fool. If only my reaction had been faster when I saw that stupid tub falling. If only Nate wasn't such a good guy to push me away. Why did he even do that?
It felt like at least half an hour before I saw the flashing lights of the ambulance shining against the night sky. I immediately ran back.
Two more teachers were kneeling beside Nate now: my geography teacher, whom I loathed, and a woman who gave biology. I wish they'd go away.
"They're almost here," I mumbled.
Wrapping my arms around me I looked away. As long as all these people were there I didn't want to be with Nate. I wanted him to myself.
I couldn't breathe very well and trudged out to get some air. On the field out front, the ambulance arrived with flashing lights, but the siren was off. Maybe they didn't want to draw too much attention. Yet there were many more people out there on the field than a few minutes ago.
The teacher who was leading the ambulance, asked me where he should send it. I pointed. Then I walked away, into the forest. Nobody stopped me.
...
I don't know how long I sat there in the woods before a paramedic plodded towards me through the bushes. I also can't remember when the tears had come. Only when the man wrapped a silver blanket around me, I noticed that my cheeks were wet and that I was freezing without my shirt; a tree trunk was a lot less warm than a boy.
I stared at a point in the distance, without seeing anything, without thinking anything, feeling dizzy and nauseous with guilt.
There was an apple in my pocket, I suddenly remembered.
The ambulance man asked me questions. I don't know what he asked, only that I answered. After a while, he laid his arm around my shoulder and guided me to the ambulance. It took a long time because I couldn't feel my legs and kept stumbling.
A big crowd had gathered around the kitchen building now. Luckily, I was still conscious enough to quickly dry my face. Nate's ambulance was gone, but a car was waiting to take me and two teachers to the hospital.
Mrs. Stone comfortingly rubbed my arm when I sat next to her.
"It's gonna be fine," she said. I found them empty words.
She pulled open her purse and handed me a piece of cloth. It turned out to be my own warm sweater. She had taken it out of my tent.
"Thanks," I muttered, sincerely grateful. I hadn't thought about clothes.
"He probably has a concussion and broke his head," Mrs. Stone said. "They're going to stitch him up and he should be woken up every hour for a while when he sleeps."
I stared at her. "Woken up? Don't you think I've tried?"
"He should be coming to any moment now."
I thought it was a flimsy story. Nate looked dead in that cold room. I had no hope. If he didn't respond to me, why would he wake up to a strange doctor? It didn't add up.
The drive to the hospital was endless. I had nothing to distract my mind from the memory of that tub falling and Nate's blood on the tiles. I couldn't even eat my apple or peach because I was supposedly "in shock".
Eventually, we arrived at the hospital. They wanted me to get a medical examination, but I insisted that I went and saw you first. I myself was fine and dandy.
Then, they wanted to take the elevator, for heaven's sake! I really didn't feel like being locked in a small space with my dreaded teachers, thank you very much. "I'm taking the stairs."
Five floors later, I was exhausted. The others were waiting for me at the top of the stairs. They seemed to lose their patience with me, but I didn't really care. I just wanted to see Nate, after all this time.
"Come on, room 512," said Mr. Miller of geography, and he took off and strode down the hallway like he personally saved Nate's life. God, I hated him.
I quickened my pace, reached room 512 before the others and closed the door while clutching a chair under the door handle.
Being alone with my unconscious friend for a second, that's all I wanted.
It pissed them off.
Nate was in a dark, completely white room, covered with white sheets. A chair stood beside his bed, and above his head on the wall hung a night lamp, which I turned on.
Nate didn't look as bad as when he had been lying on the tile floor of the cold store. Lying in this bed, it seemed like he was simply asleep. But better, without nightmares. His dark lashes lay on his cheekbones.
I wanted to touch him. Could I wake him up?
I wetted my finger and put it in his ear. His eyes flew open and he stirred a little, but apparently he was so weak that he couldn't do much more. He looked at me when I laughed.
"Stu– What? What?" Dazed, he looked around. "Huh?"
"Hullo," I mumbled.
I explained once more where he was and how he got there, but this time it felt quite different than when I explained it to him after a nightmare: now I couldn't reassure him.
"Oh, my head hurts... Shit, bucket, fast."
There was some sort of bowl beside his bed which I quickly handed to Nate so he could throw up in it. I looked the other way.
He cursed heartily. "Please, forget you ever saw that."
"Hey, Nate?" I nervously began.
"Can you turn the lights off?" he whispered.
"Yeah, sure." I did as he asked, and we sat in the dark. "Hey, listen: I'm sorry..."
"For what?"
"That you're here. It was my idea. My fault."
"Not at all, nutcase." Still, his voice wasn't more than a whisper. "I didn't want you to get that bucket on your head. How could I know that I'd get it on my head instead? That's not your fault... Good lord, what's that sound? "
I nodded at the door. "They want to get in, I think."
He saw my barricade at the door and wanted to laugh, but was interrupted by throwing up again.
"I think you're great, Stuart," he moaned, as soon as he wiped his mouth.
"Back at ya. I'll open the door."
"No," Nate pleaded. "Not yet. Are we in trouble?"
"Well, you're in the hospital."
He sighed. For a moment he closed his eyes. He might have been awake, but that was about it.
"I thought it was awesome," he weakly whispered. "Did you get the éclairs?"
I smiled. "No. Only this stupid apple. And I'm not allowed to eat it, because I was supposedly in shock."
His eyes widened. "Were you in shock?"
Hm, maybe that wasn't a very cool thing to say. "Nah, they don't know shit about me..."
He grinned. "You're such a sensitive boy."
"Shut the fuck up. I'm going to let them in."
Moaning and groaning, Nate allowed it. I tried to tell the teachers Nate was awake – the most important thing, it seemed to me – but they didn't hear me, because they were angrily telling me things.
I wasn't really listening. Their intention was pretty clear and I didn't agree. I thought it was just fine that I got to wake up Nate and had been alone with him before anyone else could get their greedy hands on him. Out of all these people I was the only one who cared about him anyway.
I sat down on the chair I pulled away from the door and closed my eyes for a second. Only then, I realized how tired I was. Now that Nate was safe and cared for, all I really wanted to do was sleep. I wondered if they could push an extra bed into his room, just so I could sleep next to my friend.
Mrs. Stone walked up to me and started to scold me. "What were you two thinking going in there?"
"I was hungry."
"You were hungry! So you're just going to search for food on your own! How did you get in?"
"The door wasn't locked."
She didn't believe a word of that, but I didn't change my answer.
"I'm still hungry," I grumbled.
"Eat your apple," commanded Mrs. Stone. I happily did as she said.
"This could all have ended very differently, do you understand that? It was irresponsible of you. Look what happens when you go do things like this all on your own. And you took Nate with you! I'm very disappointed, Stuart. I expected better from you."
I smiled. "That's sweet."
For a moment I thought she was going to slap me, but she did not. She did worse:
"I have to tell your parents," she said. She made it sound as if she would extradite me to the Nazis. That wasn't far from the truth to be honest.
I sighed submissively.
Nate was looking at me while a doctor examined him. I waved and he blew an ironic kiss my way. I formed a heart with my hands and we both laughed, annoying those around us to bits.
Mrs. Stone got up. "Come on, you're going back. You need your sleep. "
"Can't I sleep here?" I asked hopefully, but she only raised her eyebrows. The question was apparently too bizarre to answer.
Sighing, I got up, but instead of following her outside, I went to embrace Nate tightly.
"My head, my head," he moaned, and smiling, I asked where it hurt. He pointed and I gave the spot a gentle kiss. "There, there. All better."
"Bye, Stuart," he sighed. "See you in my dreams."
I laughed. It was doubly funny because Nate always had nightmares, but the people around us didn't know that. They didn't even find it singly funny.
Suddenly, Nate grabbed my wrist and tried in vain to sit up. "Wait. I have to say something."
"What?"
He looked at me with an anxious face and whispered: "Not with all those people here."
I frowned and wondered if they would go away. Probably not. "Tomorrow then."
With visible reluctance, he let me go.
Mrs. Stone and the other teachers were preaching at me until we were back at the camp site, but I was already half asleep.
Back at our tent, I snapped out of my sleepiness with a jolt. Nate's side of the sleeping bag was empty and the sight of it made my guilt flare up in full force. It was all my fault, no matter what Nate said.
Why did it make me feel so much that he wasn't there? Was it really just because it was my fault he was in the hospital? He wasn't thát injured. He'd barely been damaged, nothing that he wouldn't be over again in a few days. Or a few weeks. I wouldn't know...
But despite my fatigue, I did not sleep. Was it just me or did the tent feel colder without him? What was wrong with me?
I grabbed his pillow and pulled it close to me. Did it smell like Nate?
My god, how would I know, I only knew him for three days. Jesus Christ.
...
Apparently I did sleep eventually, because when I opened my eyes, the sun was shining. My first thought was if I would be allowed to visit Nate today.
Once I was one of the first at breakfast, all dressed up and ready to go, I asked Mrs Stone.
"We talked about it in the team," was her reply. "Everyone can see him any time they want, but you should not miss more than one activity."
That sounded reasonable. "What are we doing this morning?"
"Climbing."
My eyes widened. "Awesome! And the afternoon?"
"This afternoon we'll visit a museum about the First World War."
I sucked my lip. Could I make Nate wait for a few hours? It was a shame that they didn't turn those two activities around. But I didn't want to visit a lame museum if I could also go climbing.
I chose climbing: Nate had to wait. He would probably understand and not even mind, but I still felt like shit. I'd felt like shit ever since he cracked his walnut and it only seemed to be getting worse. What a drag.
At breakfast, Chantal and Kylie asked if I went to visit Nate. They'd rather miss climbing than the museum and went this morning. They promised me they'd explain how to get to the hospital, because if we wanted to visit Nate, we had to go by ourselves by bus.
During breakfast, and later in the bus, everyone tried to find out what happened the night before. I answered all of their questions honestly, except when they asked where I went when I walked into the woods and what I was doing there. I said I knew nothing of it and that I'd gone with you in the ambulance. It confused them.
The climbing was as awesome as I'd expected. Lucas and I kept trying to make each other trip and made it as difficult as possible together, hoping one of us would fall. We were secured with a rope, so it wasn't like we wished each other dead. Not really.
None of us fell. Shame.
Once we were back at the camping site, I wolfed my lunch down as fast as I could, so I could go to Nate immediately afterwards.
The bus left only once an hour from a stop near the campsite, but apparently, they stopped at all important places in the surrounding villages. I sat there for almost an hour until we finally got to the hospital.
Fusty from the ride, yawning with two hands over my mouth, I walked into the hospital and directly up to Nate's room.
Before I walked in, I thought about a way to surprise him again. Very carefully, hoping that he was asleep, I opened his door and slipped inside. Indeed, he was so fast asleep that he didn't notice I entered.
They said he had to be woken up often, so I did nothing wrong when I climbed on top of him and gave him a tiny kiss.
He woke up and raised his hands to push me away, but then he recognized my laughing face.
Groaning, he pulled his arms around my neck. "Puppy..."
"You are."
He gave me a little kiss back and I lay down next to him with my arms tightly around him, my face in his warm neck and my mind turned down to zero, because I didn't even want to admit to myself how much I liked to be with him and how much I had missed him.
"Chantal and Kylie said" – I heard in Nate's voice how wide his smile was – "That you cried over me last night."
"Chantal and Kylie have too much imagination. What big secret did you want to tell me last night?"
He let go of me. "Oh. Nothing. You'll find it stupid and get all hung up about it."
"Why?"
"Nothing," he insisted. "Forget it."
"Forget what?" I pretended to be confused and he smiled.
I gently tapped his forehead and whispered: "How's your coconut?"
Silence.
Then he sighed. "Stuart..."
I looked up at the strange way in which he said my name and saw that his face had went totally miserable all of a sudden. "What is it?"
"I like you," he moaned in a whisper.
"What?" It sounded like he said the world would end tomorrow. "What do you mean?"
"I'm sorry..." His thumb brushed my jaw, but he quickly pulled it back. "I never should have gone. But I thought... I don't know..."
Did he blush?
"I hoped it meant something. Or I don't know... I thought the odds of me getting paired to share a tent with you, of all people, were very small. I'm sorry, really sorry. I'm leaving tonight, so... Going home."
I sat up slightly. "Why? When? What? Why?"
I didn't know what to ask first. Questions tumbled over each other in my mind.
Still, his face was one big anguished frown. He tapped his head. "I can't march through the Ardennes like this. And you don't want me in your tent anymore now anyway."
"Can you please stop deciding what I want and don't want?" I snapped. "All along you've been saying that I don't want you sleeping in a tent with me. You know nothing about me. I'll tell you: I missed you. And you know when? When most?"
Nate didn't look at me.
"Last night. When you were here throwing up because of me and I was all alone in that rotten sleeping bag. I don't understand any of this shit, Nate. Don't you have, like, fifteen girlfriends?"
"No," he said irritably. "Girlfriends! I hardly like those girls. I think they're nice, but not – Look, I just wanted to tell you. Just so you know. Or else it... it could get awkward."
I think I looked intensely dumb. I understood very little of the situation.
"But what do you mean? What do you mean you like me? The way you like Chantal and Kylie, and stuff?"
He looked at his fingers and concentrated hard on biting his thumb nail.
It didn't seem like I'd get an answer, so I lay back down. I felt warm. My heart pounded. My breathing was fast. My stomach was all nervous. And I could only look at Nate.
"Nathaniel?" I whispered eventually. "What if I like you too?"
His head turned to me so fast it visibly hurt him. Then he pushed me with such force that I fell out of the bed.
"Hey!"
"You don't like me. Get a grip, Stuart, that doesn't make any sense at all!" He sat up straight, even though it was perfectly clear that it made him die of pain and nausea. "You don't mean that. Listen: you are smart and clever and calm and tall and sweet and funny and fantastic. And I'm a mental patient with a criminal record and a report card full of failures, who destroys everything and everyone just for fun. I'm not going anywhere; you're going everywhere. You're confused, at best. You can get everyone, literally everyone. All you have to do is ask. You're not going to start something with me. That's fucking bullshit, okay? You deserve the entire world."
"But..." I didn't understand. "I thought you liked me?"
"Yes, but– Man..." Nate lay back and put his hands over his eyes slightly too late. I saw tears.
Sitting on the hospital floor, I ran my hands through my hair. Something stormed through my body, but what it was... Nerves? Stress? Guilt? Arousal? Sorrow? Fear? Love? Who the fuck knew...
I lifted the blanket and got back into the bed with him. It was simply my favorite activity at the time – lying in bed with my friend Nate.
"I only said 'what if...'" I mumbled apologetically. "I could also, like, not like you." My finger touched his adam's apple. "But will it still be how it is now?" I hopefully asked. "Can I visit you? And sleep with you? And just kiss you? Like friends?"
He looked at me: tearful eyes, but a smile on his lips. "Like friends? Kissing like friends? Sleeping together as friends?"
I buried my face in his chest. There was a silence. I still didn't want to think about anything.
He sighed again.
"I don't want you to leave," I whispered.
"You have to leave, yourself. Visiting hour's almost over."
I held him increasingly tighter, until a small "ouch" escaped him and I quickly let go. I got up on one elbow.
"Please explain to me again what's happening." My confused frown hadn't left my face. "And what we are now."
He rubbed his eyes. Then he started.
"I know you from school, Stu. You clearly never noticed me, because you're always reading fucking books and barely giving enough attention to the people around you so they stay friends with you – let alone to an orphan boy who is new at school. But you're awesome, and someone like me really can't get around that. I mean, I like girls, but I'm not indifferent to boys. And I'd never really been in love with one, but apparently that was only because I didn't see you yet. You're so tall and cool and the first time I saw you, you were wearing pirate boots and a sweater with a huge boat neck! You could see your collarbone! You looked like a movie star or a rock star. I was completely lost, immediately... So there I was, for months, locked up in a school with a person like you. Of course I hooked up with fifteen girls, what else could I do with all this–?" He gestured vaguely at his body. "Then suddenly this shit happened. How likely is it that I, of all people, got grouped into a tent with you? That doesn't make any sense at all. At first I didn't want to go. It seemed like the worst idea ever and, to be fair, like absolute torture. I thought I wouldn't be able to speak to you at all, out of pure anxiety, and you would hate me, just like everyone else does. I really wouldn't be able deal with that. Everyone can hate me, but not... you... But then you... Well... You made sure that I went..."
Nathaniel didn't look at me as he said all of that.
"I didn't expect us to get along, and certainly not that it would be like... this, that you would even start to imagine you like me. Just because I... I was such a bloody moron to kiss you." He rubbed his face. "I'm sorry, but I really don't know what to do now."
"Why not?"
He got angry again. "Man, for real, if I just happily went along with it and we become sweethearts..." He rubbed his forehead. "At one point we'll break up. People always break up. And probably after a month or so already, I mean, look at you and look at me. But I really don't want to break up with you. I think I'd die if you broke up with me; I'd way rather never start anything. And then I'd still be on that rotten school with you and with all those people who think I'm gay and then I'll get the shit. I know I will. I really – really – shouldn't want that."
A goddamn tear ran down his cheek. What was I supposed to do?
I kissed away the tear.
"I just said it so you know," he sniffed. "Nothing more. Then you couldn't be mad if you found out later. I should have said it right away, then you'd never gone in a tent with me." He sighed shakily and looked at me with big, pleading eyes. "But I wanted it too badly. I'm so sorry, Stuart."
I lost my patience and got irritated. It was all too much. Nate was weird and this whole situation was weird and I was very confused.
"Well, great," I grumbled. "Good to know. You like me, and I can't do shit with it. Thanks a lot, buddy, and good luck with that fucking splendid head of yours. See you at school."
I slammed the door behind me and went back to the campsite.
Had I been sitting in that rotten bus for this? I wish I got assigned to Lucas. With him I wouldn't have these problems.
...
Back at the campsite, I was alone. The rest of the year hadn't returned from the museum yet. It probably wouldn't be long before they were back, but I couldn't think of anything to do and only had my confused mind to keep me busy. It drove me nuts.
I sat around the campfire that wasn't a campfire at the moment, and pondered.
It had all been real. The kiss meant something. All Nate's vulgar jokes meant something. His comments on how good-looking and hot he found me were all serious.
It changed everything.
But what about me? Had it been real from my side? When I kissed Nate, did it mean something? When I held him at night, or allowed him to be wrapped around me, did I really not feel anything, like I claimed all this time? Was I just friendly? Had I been indifferent to his flirty remarks?
Shit, I didn't know. I only knew him for four days.
But the things I did with Nate, I wouldn't like to do with anyone else. Lucas I would never have held, even if he begged and bribed me, right? Even Mia I'd almost immediately wanted to drop for Nate. And the kissing... I just loved kissing. Going out, I kissed quite often, but with girls.
Maybe my kiss with Nate really didn't mean anything to me. Although I really liked it with him, way more than I did with other people, ever. Also, I'd initiated it a few times with him. Ever other kiss I ever had, had been started by someone else.
What was more: I talked with Nate and trusted him more than people I knew better. I preferred to be with him over anyone else, and if I wasn't with him, I thought about him. A lot. At lots and lots of things I found Nate the best. He was the sweetest, funniest, most interesting, smartest person I knew. And the best dancer.
I ran yet another pair of hands through my hair.
It was pretty obvious, whether I liked it or not. It didn't matter what I wanted or what Nate wanted: I liked him. I really, seriously liked him. More than friends. To hell with friends, I wanted to do everything with him.
"Crap!"
What was I supposed to do now? Oh, this was just so typically me! Falling in love with a guy, and one who was kind of cray-cray too.
I could just pretend I wasn't. So far, that went quite well. If we kept this friend-thing going, we could continue to see each other without any trouble. I could just sit through this camping trip – it was only two more days – and then I would see him again this Monday. We could just talk, and stuff... I could manage without him for a few days, right? Right?
My knee restlessly bobbed up and down. When would Nate go home? Would he get back to his foster home? Would they be nice to him? Why didn't I ask if he liked it there?
I didn't even have his phone number, I suddenly realized. When he was gone, he was gone. Then I really had to wait until Monday before I could even say something to him.
Fuck.
Perhaps a teacher had his number...
No. I really could go a few days without him. This was unbelievable.
I hoped he didn't think I was mad at him. I had run off in anger, but I wasn't really angry. I didn't know what I was, but I didn't think any badly of Nate. Anything but.
I hoped he wouldn't worry about me. If he could only lie in bed with his poor, aching head and he would just worry about me storming off, I would really feel rotten. It was already all my fault he was there, if he'd also be worrying because of me, I couldn't live with myself.
It really had been a coincidence though, that out of all people, the two of us were to share a tent. Those odds were small, and the chances were even less that we would get along well; so well that we kissed.
I missed him already.
I went looking for the bus. If I looked for it hard enough, I'd forget Nate and the bus would come back earlier. It couldn't be longer than an hour before they got back.
...
It was indeed barely half an hour, but it felt like an eternity. I felt bad for not staying with Nate a little longer. Now I wouldn't see him until fucking Monday. I didn't know why that was such a heavy thought, but it was. That was nearly four days, just as many days as I'd known him. Unbearable. I'd only just gone through an hour of it.
Normally, I had no trouble being alone. I grabbed one of my books and suddenly it would be three hours later. Or I'd listen to music or check out what was happening in the area. There was always something to do. Now I couldn't pay attention to anything. I didn't feel like doing anything.
Once Lucas was back, I tagged along with him and did what he did, but I didn't enjoy it much. He was not very funny or original, and not at all interesting. He was just talking and messing around with other guys. I was happy when I persuaded him to play foosball in the bar of the campsite. At least that way we had something to do before dinner.
Lucas didn't even ask how Nate was doing. Bastard.
Twenty-four hours passed. We ate, we were bored, we waited, we slept, we sat in the bus, we were transported to a large garden and a large aquarium – and I was completely done.
Yawning, I said goodnight to Lucas at eight o'clock the next evening and I left under weird looks to my tent.
There, I wrote a note in which I explained that I went home by myself and asked if they could take back mine and Nate's stuff. Then I packed my backpack with a couple of key things. The rest I would leave.
But which were those key things? You never knew what would happen, how long I'd be on the road, what the weather would be like and what I'd experienc. How many books would I take? Two, three? I had to have a choice, right?
T-shirt, sweater, pants, underwear, my jacket. My pajama pants I left. Three books was probably too much. My dumbbell probably couldn't come with me either. I could do without it for a while. I hardly used the thing the past days either. Maybe one book was enough. I couldn't focus on anything anyway these days.
Toothbrush, toothpaste, hairgel. Shaving stuff I could care less about. I rummaged through all the medication I brought with me, because I was neurotic and preferred to be prepared for every disease. It was so hard to leave any of it behind. What if I got stung by a hornet? What if I suddenly got the flu or diarrhea? Or couldn't get to sleep? What if I got seriously injured?
Shit, this wasn't very easy. I really was a hoarder.
Finally I decided to leave the box of cotton buds behind, but took a strip of paracetamol. I left the acetone, but took my anti-hay fever pills. From the first aid kit I only took patches!
When I was finally done, I felt wrecked. It felt like I packed my backpack with just about enough stuff to survive a scant day in which nothing went wrong. I hoped that nothing strange happened, and that I truly only needed a single day to come home.
Why did I even do this?
Yes, yes, I knew why. Not because I was so fond of being home, and not because it was so annoying here...
I slept for ten hours, with Nate's pillow pressed against me, still tired from yesterday and all those activities the past week. And from Nate: thinking about us made me tired too. And being woken up early by the sun as well.
So that.
...
As usual, I woke up early because of the sun, but this time I didn't pull my sleeping bag over my head to sleep some more, but got up. I got dressed, grabbed my backpack and slipped out.
I put the envelope with Ms. Stone's name on it under a stone on a picnic table – good thing it wasn't raining. I brushed my teeth and took the bus-that-stopped-everywhere to the station.
It was a puzzle to figure out how I could get home by public transport, but there were nice people behind desks who helped me. Ultimately, it took me only two trains to get out of Belgium.
Once I crossed the border, I texted my sister to ask if she could get Nathaniel's address one way or another. Magically she even succeeded; it took a few hours, but then I had his address in my inbox. It was positively superb to have such a nerd as a sister.
She wanted to know why I needed it, so I texted the truth:
"Went away from the trip and am going to a friend who had to go to the hospital because of me and who is back home now."
"Sounds rough," she texted back. "Have fun."
I got off the international train onto a slow train, and from there on a bus that stopped practically next to Nate's street. I only had to ask for directions once before I was standing in his front yard.
I got nervous and bit my lip. What was I doing there? Oh no! Was I a stalker?
Wasn't it better to go home? Had I thought this through enough? How much trouble would I be in after running away from camp?
Boy oh boy, was I nervous. I hopped from one leg to the other, just as Nate had done in the castle garden.
God, he was so cute. I really wanted to see him.
I rang the bell. My thumb lingered slightly longer on it than strictly necessary. I was still nervously jumping from one foot to the other, as if I badly needed to go to the toilet.
Please, answer...
A lady in a summer dress, about the same age as my mother, opened the door. I automatically took a step back and cleared my throat. "Hullo."
"Hello," smiled the woman. She waited.
"Is – Is Nate here?" Shit, did he even really live there? "Is – eer, is a Nate living here?"
"Yes, just a second. Nate!" No reaction. She turned back to me. "You two know each other from school?"
I nodded.
"Come on in. He's in the garden. The bloody idiot."
She led me through the living room and opened the door to the garden. "Nathaniel! You should be resting!"
"Fuck you and your fucking rest!" I recognized Nate's worked-up voice at once. "I'm going bloody insane in there!"
"Okay, honey, take it easy. There's someone here for you... No, not the police, don't worry so much. It's a friend of yours. "
He scoffed. "Yeah, right..."
I appeared behind his foster mom in the doorway. Nate stood in a grassy field, leaning over a lawnmower. His tanned arms and forehead glistened with sweat.
"Hey, Nate."
He dropped the mower and seemed frozen. There was an awkward silence.
"Alright..." said his foster mother softly. "I'll pour you a drink."
"What..." Nate asked, still completely bewildered. He took a step toward me. "Stu? What?"
I smiled and shrugged. What could I say? "I – I just came round to visit... I'll go home in a minute."
Nervously rubbing my nose, I looked what was keeping his foster mom. Hopefully it would be less uncomfortable when she got back.
"But," said Nate, "you're supposed to be camping until tomorrow or something, right?"
"Yes... I didn't feel like it anymore."
"Did you leave? Could you just leave?"
"Dunno."
"How–"
"By train."
"Was it that bad? Where are all your things? Your dumbbell and your books?"
"Yeah, still there." I told him about my note.
His eyes became even bigger. "I don't get it. Why did you go home? Without all your stuff? What if you got stung by a hornet?"
"Yeah, I know, it was risky. And I don't know," I mumbled. "I wanted to see you, or something. I dunno."
"Drinks are ready!" called his foster mother through Nate's baffled silence.
Her voice broke his trance and he walked past me, but grabbed my hand on his way inside.
Nate was holding my hand.
He took me and two glasses of iced tea upstairs. There, he kicked open a door to push me into a dimly lit room.
I thought it looked more like a prison cell than a bedroom. There was a bed, an old cassette player and a few moving boxes filled with stuff. On the wall was a poster of Fall Out Boy that was coming down on one corner, and that was it. Oh, and the wallpaper was messily torn, so streaks of the concrete underneath it could be seen.
"Cosy room."
"Stupid oaf," he grumbled. "What are you doing here?"
I put my hands in my pockets, closed the door with my foot and walked up to Nate.
He didn't move, so when I got close, a tennis ball could be pressed between our noses without falling.
I took my hands out of my pockets and put them around his face. His face was soft, except where he had stubble.
He did not even blink when I carefully stroked his eyelashes with my thumb. I kissed his temple. And his cheek. Then I pulled his face even closer to me to kiss every centimeter of his lips.
He closed his eyes and got on tiptoe to reach me better. His hands slid over my chest, until he got so caught up in the kiss that he clutched my shirt in his fists.
Only when my heart was pounding so fast that I could barely breath, I let him go.
Carefully I unclutched Nate's fingers, so I could hold his hands.
"I've never felt like this for anyone. Really," I softly said. "I think so much more of you than of anyone else. So why would we break up after a month?"
I put his arms around my neck and my own around his waist. He was nice to hold. He really did smell like the pillow in the tent, I realised.
He cursed almost inaudibly and, smiling, I held him even more tightly. To my great happiness, Nate did the same with me.
Suddenly he released me and pushed me away. "We're keeping it a secret," he softly ordered. "At least for a month. If anyone finds out, it's over and I'll deny everything."
I touched his nose. "Fine by me." I wasn't ready to tell anyone anyway.
He slapped my hand away. "You have no idea what you're getting into. I swear, you don't know –"
"I get the picture, Nate," I grumbled impatiently. "You're pretty fucking fragile, that much is obvious. But I don't want you to be hurt, so I'm really careful."I plopped down on the bed. "And I'm not angry. And I wasn't angry at the hospital either. I'm not easily upset."
"Even though you seem pissed." Nate stood a safe distance away from me, his hands clutched beneath his armpits.
"Yeah. I was never mad at you, only at everything else." Leaning my elbows on my knees, I looked up at him.
For a while, Nate just watched me in return. And his face changed. His eyes got softer than I had ever seen them. It seemed like he really did see me as a piece of art created by gods. And I can tell you: I wasn't.
Sighing, he sat down beside me and bravely took my hand. "This is weird as fuck..." He hid his face in my shoulder. "I love you more than music."
My stomach did a somersault. The wind blew through his open window, pushing the curtains a bit to the side. A streak of sunlight covered the room in gold.
Nate wrapped his arms around my upper arm and whispered: "Mine."
I pressed my nose into his hair. "Mine."
The end