章節 32: A Storm is Approaching
What bloodshot eyes Meiden has! David couldn't get out of his admiration by putting a cup of tea in front of him. It was not a form of adoration but a sincere concern that someone could be so careless about his health. Is this what it means to indulge in passion? Just at what cost? What good can come out of a man who has so little regard for his own health?
"That book you wrote, is it good?" asked David. His tone was perhaps too hooked, but he couldn't and wouldn't understand how someone could prioritize writing a book over eating the basic meal that keeps him alive.
"Yes. Very much so."
The simple, short answer, accompanied by a flash of green eyes, surprised David. He looked at Meiden with doubt. The Norwegian seemed so sure of his book, so proud of it! Was his work really that good, or did the guy lack objectivity? Curiosity began to awaken in David about the book. A novel, he corrected himself in his mind.
"In that case..." he interrupted. He wanted to ask if he would be able to read it, but he just remembered Meiden's promise of what would happen to him if he read documents not his own. He felt heat on his cheeks. He grunted. "Will it be published then?"
"Yes."
Wow, Meiden answered without even a moment's hesitation.
"In Poland?" Dawid inquired. "It's written in Polish... Uhm... is this the one I read an excerpt of?"
Meiden looked at him penetratingly. His eyes were very tired, but they lit up. He slowly nodded his head.
David felt a dryness in his mouth. Perhaps he should have brewed tea for himself as well? He felt an unpleasant stirring in his stomach. His heart beat harder. Was it because of that Norwegian's gaze or because of the erotic scene he read then? David had to say something quickly to keep the tension from building up inside him.
"I was a little surprised that you write in Polish, Mr. Meiden. I thought you would write in Norwegian."'
"Why don't you use my name?" asked the Norwegian again. Was he so tired that he didn't remember that they had brought up the subject a few minutes ago, or had he done it on purpose?
"You don't use mine either," he remarked to divert his attention.
"David," Meiden said softly, warmly. In his mouth that name sounded soft, pleasant and something moved inside the boy. The feeling was pleasant, but that's why it caused discomfort in David. He shouldn't feel pleasant when a man says his name. It was,,,.
"You know what, you look like you desperately need sleep. Why don't you lie down and I'll lock everything up. You'll get some sleep, rest, and I'll bring you something warm to eat tomorrow. How does that sound?"
The Norwegian looked at him for a moment, then nodded slowly. He lifted himself heavily and crawled toward the stairs.
David led him away with his eyes. He saw him climbing hard while holding onto the wall. Would he make it to the floor? He should. He couldn't take his eyes off Meiden until the man disappeared behind the door of his room. Only then did David let the air out of his lungs, breathing a sigh of relief. Being in the company of Gustav was quite dangerous.
Gustav, huh?
***
David returned to the kitchen and made a brief survey of her food supplies. It seemed that almost nothing was gone from what Krauze and Ursula had brought. It was as if Gustav had not looked in the kitchen at all after she left. Gosh, this guy completely failed when it came to practical matters. He can't manage without a housekeeper.
Well, yes, with his money he probably never had to worry about anything. Surely he had servants to take care of the young master. Or just a cleaning lady who came once or twice a week to clean up and as for food, he probably usually ate out at some obscenely expensive restaurant. If he didn't have that provided here, he would die miserably, and David would very much hate that. More so than he thought just an hour ago.
The boy cleaned up quickly and left the house through the study, locking the door. On the way, he still checked the front one, which, just as he had guessed, turned out to be locked, and from below he looked at Meiden's bedroom window.
He smiled.
The Norwegian might be a little quirky, but that didn't change the fact that David was starting to like him more and more.
***
David didn't want to lie to his mother, but he didn't bring himself to say that he wanted to bring Meiden some warm food. She wouldn't have refused, but being an incorrigible romantic, she would have started to get hysterical about how miserable he was on foreign soil, and probably would have immediately wanted to mother him, which in turn was not what David wanted. Maybe he was a terrible egotist, but he really preferred to take care of Gustav personally than to have his mother do it. He knew that so far the Norwegian had only trusted him, and he didn't want to lose that trust carelessly and without question by introducing more people into his entourage. That's why he asked his mother to make some more of his delicious lecho, since he wanted to take it with him to work. The father was surprised that the boy wanted to go to the palace again (after all, how much work can he get done there?), but David explained that the recent storm had done some damage to the park and he wanted to clean it up before it threatened anyone's safety.
Thus, although he neither wanted nor planned it, David began to lie to his parents.
But what was he supposed to tell them? Not the truth, after all. They wouldn't understand that their son had had an erotic relation (or whatever you want to call it) with Meiden and was now flitting between fear and the desire to see if, in a moment of temptation, he would succumb to the palace owner again. He himself did not understand this. However, he felt that for some reason they had both become accustomed to each other's company and seemed to feel quite comfortable in it.
His mother cooked the lecho in the evening and immediately prepared her son's portion for tomorrow. The jar cured well under the heat and as soon as it cooled down, David packed it in his bag. In the morning he got on his bicycle, stopped by the bakery for a new loaf of bread, took the opportunity to buy his favorite butter cookies and rode to the palace.
Various emotions mixed in David - confusion and shyness, which had not yet passed after realizing what had happened between them a few days ago, anxiety about whether Gustav was feeling well but also some inner excitement and joy for the meeting that awaited them. He didn't expect anything from him, he was just glad they were going to meet, just as he looked forward to a day spent in the company of his buddies or a cool girl.
He entered the palace without ringing the bell. If the Norwegian is sleeping at the moment, he won't wake him up. After all, he was so tired yesterday. After stepping over the threshold, however, he spoke up, although not very loudly. If Gustav was on his feet and heard someone enter, at least let him know it wasn't a break-in.
"Hello, Mr. Meiden!"
As he expected, there was no response. As usual, anyway. If the palace owner was upstairs, he certainly didn't hear him. Likewise, moreover, if he was working in his office again. The man really had trouble paying attention to the reality around him.
David left the food on the kitchen table (absolutely nothing had changed in the kitchen since he left yesterday) and started climbing the stairs.
I wonder if he's asleep, he thought and quietly knocked on his bedroom door. Silence answered him, so he carefully pressed the handle.
On a large bed with columns but no curtains, he noticed a mass of tumbled, golden-red hair in cream satin sheets. The Norwegian was lying on his stomach with his face deeply dented into the pillow and one of his arms hanging inert. David noticed with a blush that Gustav was not wearing an undershirt.
He stared at him for a long moment admiring his beautifully sculpted, strong arms, smooth neckline and pale back. He only averted his gaze when he made sure his chest was rising and falling. He was alive, how good!
David slipped out of the room carefully closing the door. He noticed that his heart rate was faster for some reason. He felt a hot desert in his mouth. He didn't like it. It was just too disturbing. He put his hand to his heart. It was beating far too fast. He looked at the window. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, but for some reason David got the impression that a storm was approaching.
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