Page 40

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Luca

I couldn’t bring myself to write to Juri.

Not on the weekend, not even during the week.

The “ready for orders” hit me hard. It felt like an arrow piercing my chest. The point must have been poisonous, because I was instantly paralyzed as soon as I saw the profile picture and the white font above it.

Instead, I worked like a maniac on what was to blame for the whole mess until Thursday. But I couldn’t just throw away the recordings of Juri. They meant too much to me.

All in all, I had collected about 15 hours of material.

Of course, we didn’t talk constantly. In a three-hour recording, Juri’s speaking time amounted to just one hour, so in the end, I had about five hours.

Sure, I could have made a 45-minute documentary film, but I wanted crisp 15 minutes of high tension, which I could also have used for my project.

I took a lot of time to listen to Juri’s stories again. And when I sat in front of the computer on Thursday morning and realized I was done, it struck me like a lightning bolt.

By constantly hearing Juri’s gentle voice over the past few days as he willingly told me about his life and became more open about certain things from day to day, I had only been fooling myself.

It made me feel like everything was still okay.

Ever since the conversation with Hector, it became clear to me that I was the one who had dismantled what existed between us.

It was solely because I had been oblivious to the reality of our relationship.

God! He even allowed me to top him.

So, it was little wonder that as he left, he turned the tables once again and accused me of not paying him. I couldn’t even blame him for that.

But since he left, I felt alone. And I had never felt like that before.

Not in my whole life. I, who didn’t even know the names of my fellow students, felt more abandoned than ever.

Somehow, I was looking forward to the three days of work at the bar, which would at least distract me from my misery.

But the thought of serving people who were in a party mood wasn’t appealing.

I scrutinized my bruise in front of the bathroom mirror. It hadn’t even been a week since the fight, yet my face appeared to be healing well. However, my flank told a different story. Swirls of purple and green dominated the bruise, with patches of yellow already appearing in some areas.

I would frequently return home bearing similar injuries, yet nothing ever changed.

My parents had visited the school on numerous occasions, speaking with both the teacher and the principal, but their efforts yielded no results.

According to Mrs. Schreiber, I simply needed to contribute more to the class.

After all, I wasn’t the easiest child to deal with.

I reached a breaking point when I shoved one of my tormentors off the roof in a fit of rage.

It wasn’t until a psychologist intervened that I understood there are various ways victims of bullying respond.

I may not have been an easy child, but constant challenges pushed me beyond my limits. All I ever wanted was to be left alone.

After Jér?me’s death, I was put in pretrial detention.

I was seventeen, and since there were no facilities for teenagers, they put me in the same cell block as the adults.

I still had nightmares when I recalled that time.

Although I was only there for three months, they had left their mark just like the five years before.

The incident on the roof had blown a fuse in me, and I was no longer afraid of blows.

But in pretrial detention, compared to the others, I was weak.

Already on the first day, I was reminded that I couldn’t trust anyone there.

And even when the guards came to help, I—as was expected—kept my mouth shut.

As the painful memories surged up in me, I leaned forward and splashed my face with cold water. No time for the past. I had to go to work.

Shortly afterward, I left the house and walked toward Langstrasse.

It was only a twenty-minute walk. Of course, I could have taken the bus, but since there wasn’t one around the corner, I was faster on foot.

Besides, it had finally stopped raining, and since I’d spent nearly all of the past few days glued to my computer screen, a bit of movement felt refreshing—even though I knew I’d have plenty of activity in the next three days.

I couldn’t resist the urge to keep editing the footage I had of Juri into a film.

You never really saw Juri. The clip he had unfortunately seen was precisely the conversation where you saw the most of him.

Sometimes I positioned the phone to film his swinging leg.

At times, the ashtray filling up was the only thing you could see.

There were also the recordings where I only filmed the living room ceiling, capturing his shadow.

To make the film more interesting, I added a few of the recordings I made during our trip to the lake.

There was water, a few ducks, and Juri’s shoes.

But since I still didn’t have enough footage, I wanted to go back to the back room during my shift at Exil on Saturday and ask if I could take some shots there—of course, not with the intention of filming the guests.

I wanted to capture the gloomy atmosphere and ask the host for a playlist. Because if I put music in, it would be Dark Wave.

My cock suddenly twitched as I thought of the back room. Juri had been incredibly alluring. The fact that he resisted kissing me only added to the intensity of the moment.

Juri.

I faltered. There he was, in front of a building on Europa Allee, smoking a cigarette. It seemed like he was waiting for someone.

My heart skipped a beat, and I gasped for air. He hadn’t seen me yet. I still had a chance to take a detour. But that was foolish. The bar where I worked was straight ahead.

Don’t be so silly! This is your chance!

I touched my head. Yes, my chance. For what? I still had no idea how to fix everything. Plus, I didn’t even know if he wanted to see me at all.

Simply walking past him would be stupid, though. You just don’t do that.

So, I continued hesitantly. The closer I got, the better I could see him.

He was shivering from the cold. To my surprise, he was wearing a suit under his knee-length black coat—of course, also black.

Even the shoes matched. And as if his outfit wasn’t exclusive enough, he also wore a purple scarf, making his style unique.

He had a magnetic presence I couldn’t resist.

Juri blew out smoke and crushed the cigarette. Once he noticed me, he flinched and tensed up. When he nervously looked around, I understood what he was doing here. He was waiting for a client.

“Hi,” I said, clearing my throat since my voice was so quiet.

“Hey,” he replied cautiously.

He had his hair styled into a quiff and his eyes subtly made up. He reminded me of a model. His sight left me speechless, so I could only stare at him. As he raised the collar of his coat and rubbed his cold hands, it dawned on me that I probably had only minutes left before his client arrived.

His client.

Deep down inside me, something grumbled. Was I jealous?

“You look good,” I managed to choke out.

“I’m meeting someone soon. Don’t you need to be somewhere?” His words sounded cool and rushed. Nervously, he glanced around again. But his tone was by no means disdainful. It was as if he wanted to protect not only his client but also me.

“I’d like to talk.” It wasn’t easy to say that, but even if I didn’t know what I wanted to say yet, it was the right thing to do.

A crease appeared between Juri’s brows, and something flickered in his eyes.

Something foreign. But also something I had seen before.

Back when I found him after he’d strangled himself, he was on drugs. He wore the exact same expression then.

Oh, Juri.

“I can’t right now.”

“Not now. Tomorrow. Or the day after. Anytime.”

He shifted nervously from one foot to the other, pressing his lips tightly, and appearing overwhelmed.

“Please,” I said gently, surprised at myself for remaining so calm.

But it was because of Juri. He had this effect on me, which was undeniable.

The attraction between us was still there, and I realized how unique the time with him had been.

There was so much more between us that we couldn’t grasp because it had been so natural.

The way we had kissed, the affection between us, the intimacy.

Fuck! Part of me wanted to hug him. Now.

Here. But my mind kept me from it. I longed for this man, but right now he wasn’t the one I had met.

Before me stood the person he had been talking about all this time.

How foolish I was. He shared all these stories with me, yet I kept them at arm’s length, refusing to let them affect me.

And now, here he was, right in front of me, dressed up and awaiting a client.

It was all so obvious, yet my mind refused to comprehend it.

Yes, something grumbled inside me. From the bottom of my heart.

But who was I anyway? I didn’t even have the right to be jealous.

“Please, leave!” Juri’s tone became more urgent.

I couldn’t. Should I have just turned around and left? Maybe, but then it was already too late. A man approached us and placed his hand on Juri’s shoulder.

“Juri?” he said with a deep, sonorous voice.

My breath caught. My pulse. My heart. All warmth left me, and the blood rushed to my legs.

The man was in his mid-fifties and wore black horn-rimmed glasses.

With his already white hair, he looked like a mad professor.

He was a bit overweight but seemed well-groomed and clean.

My gaze wandered to the hand on Juri’s shoulder.

There was actually a wedding ring. His wife probably had no idea what her husband was up to.

“Hello,” Juri said, turning to him.

“Sorry for making you wait.”

So friendly? What the hell …?

“No problem,” Juri replied politely. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“Sure. Time is money, right?” the mad professor joked.

I felt sick. Really sick.

“Exactly,” Juri said, smiling, then turned back to me. “Have a nice evening.”

I stood there like a statue, completely frozen. That was definitely not the Juri I knew.

“Friend of yours?” the man asked, guiding Juri toward the entrance with a hand on his back.

“No. More like an … acquaintance. I don’t really know him,” Juri replied.

The client nodded satisfied, then they disappeared into the building.

It took a moment for life to return to me. But then it hit me like a punch.

What the fuck?

Of course, I deserved that jab. He hardly knew me. But still …

We do know each other!

Emotions overflowed, and if the door had still been open, I would have followed them, grabbed Juri, and given the old guy a piece of my mind. He had no idea who he had just booked. This asshole was paying for something that …

Suddenly, Juri’s stories caught up with me again.

“Many of them are nice. They pay me for a few hours, and I give them what they want. It doesn’t matter who I am. But it’s nice when they don’t treat me like a piece of meat.”

“Fuck!” I shouted, running my hands through my hair.

“This can’t be happening!” I paced in circles, but my gaze kept returning to the entrance where Juri and his client disappeared to.

The apartments here were unaffordable for ordinary people.

Who was this guy? Did he have that much money?

His wife surely wouldn’t be waiting upstairs.

Maybe the apartment belonged to a friend of his.

Whatever. Juri was up there somewhere, letting himself be …

“Argh!”

Jealousy overwhelmed me like a steamroller, and I lost myself. I would never have otherwise screamed alone in the middle of the street. I pulled out my phone, opened the chat with Juri, and wrote: “Guys like that? Seriously?”

Feeling like I had vented my anger, I finally managed to keep walking. But his words echoed in my head like a haunting refrain.

“We do know each other!” I typed furiously. “So don’t you dare drag that through the mud!”

From the status of my messages, I could tell his phone was turned off. But that wasn’t surprising. This old geezer was paying enough to have Juri all to himself.

Nausea crept back in. The queasy feeling rose in my throat, and I swallowed hard.

How was I supposed to work now? My mood was shot. It wouldn’t take much more for me to start a fight. It had been a long time since a situation had made me this angry.

When I saw the bar, I glanced at the clock. I still had some time, so I decided on an extra round. The way I was now, I couldn’t stand behind the counter and pretend everything was okay. I took the detour I should have taken in the first place.

I recalled Dario’s training methods and focused on my breathing. Then I thought about the countless conversations we’ve had.

“If something makes you angry, take a step back, and try to see it from a different perspective. Then maybe you can understand it.”

Easier said than done, but I tried. I lit a cigarette and exhaled the smoke. The walk did me good, and I realized why the situation had thrown me off so much.

I was worried about Juri, and there was nothing I could do about it. The mad professor had made a fairly reasonable impression, but who knew how he behaved in bed? What if he was a perverted jerk and hurt Juri?

Fuck!

Panic spread through me, and I pulled out my phone again. Just looking at my already-sent messages showed me how much I had overreacted. I deleted them and typed a new one.

“I’m worried about you. Please let me know if everything went well.”

The bar was already in sight, but I sent another message right away.

“Please, let’s talk.”

And another: “It was nice seeing you.”

When I stood in front of the entrance, I stubbed out the cigarette and blew the smoke into the air.

Maybe one more …

“If you need time, that’s okay too, but PLEASE, give me a chance.”