Title: The Knife That Twists Within
Hi everybody, I'm back with the new installment. Thank you Alex and Michael for your great job! As always comments and constructive criticism are welcome.
The Knife that twists within
Part 16
by Stefan
Nicholas awoke to another morning without Marcus. It was always the first thought which came to his mind. Yawning, he looked at the paintings of Marcus. He had hung the newest one - of Marcus laying on the sofa in his atelier - under the first portrait he had made soon after he had met Marcus for the first time.
Again he felt the loneliness. A good diversion or two was required, he decided. First he would attend lessons at the workshop and then he would visit Johannes.
At lessons Nicholas was surprised to see Frank seemingly back to his old self, calmly explaining about the Impressionist painters and their preference for landscapes and street scenes. He was assured in his discourse on the effects of light on the contours of their subjects.
Ben smiled at Nicholas.
"Simon has agreed to meet this evening," he whispered.
"Yes? Great. Have you made a decision finally?"
Ben nodded, "I'd like to see him. I don't care about the consequences. After all he's going to need somebody willing to be there for him."
Nicholas was surprised. Things sounded more serious than he'd suspected.
"I only hope Simon will allow it," Ben continued.
Frank ceased his lecturing, staring silently at Ben. When he had their attention, he continued, "If the gentlemen are so well versed in Impressionism, then I recommend they step outside the class," he rebuked.
Ben's ears reddened, but he held Frank's gaze.
"On his high horse again," Nicholas whispered to Ben.
"Nick, how nice to see you!" Johannes beamed over his glasses. "I have missed you. Marcus instructed me to take care of you, but I wondered how I would manage it if you never came!"
The reception pleased Nicholas and he smiled.
"How is Trajan doing? He still feels well?"
"But yes. He had already survived two attacks and is safe for now. Forever, I hope. And how is young Augustus?"
"Also fine. Safe on the mantelpiece." He sat to Johannes and looked depressed.
"Have you heard from Marcus?"
"No! I thought you might have heard something!"
Johannes shook his head. "I don't know what he's thinking about. Next week he has his exhibition and nothing is prepared. He couldn't forget that." Yet, Nicholas observed, Johannes didn't look as assured as he sounded.
Nicholas began to worry that something had happened to Marcus... but then Karl would have called. Johannes was watching him.
"I don't think something ill has happened," he said, expressing the same thoughts. "Marcus can be very involved when he's at work - especially when he's after a precious piece of art. Do you know that he has longed for this screen for over two years? Perhaps it can be a little consolation for you to know that he might finally get it. But wait, you have his cellphone number, haven't you?"
"Yes, but when I call he either hasn't time to speak or there's no answer."
Johannes smiled grew wide. "Then take it as a good sign, Nick. Soon he will be coming through the door with a huge package. Trust me."
Nicholas sighed. If he only could trust like the old man!
"Johannes, may I ask you a question?"
Johannes nodded simply.
"Did Marcus have... many lovers? I mean you've known him a long time..."
Johannes took a deep breath. "I don't know what you mean by 'many'. A few yes, but I doubt that he brought all of them here, so I'm not quite sure. The last, Simon, was never here. Marcus said he had no interest, so perhaps others did not visit either.
I was wondering though, Marcus mentioned that you have been looking for Simon. What on earth for?"
Nicholas wasn't sure if he should tell him, but went for it.
"I found him, actually. Marcus knows, but in the heat of his chase, he suddenly seems not to care. You know Simon is HIV-infected, right? I just thought that he should be found, looked in on."
"Oh. I see." Johannes' face was troubled. "That's a sad story."
Johannes looked at the door and Nicholas followed his gaze. The man entering the room was familiar but Nicholas couldn't exactly place him.
"Alex!" Johannes seemed to be very pleased. "Two surprises at once are almost too much for my weak heart!" he laughed, rose and shook Alex's hand. "How are you?"
Alex smiled and then glanced at Nicholas.
"Fine, thanks."
"Nick, this is Alex, a former employee."
"Hi, I think we've met before, yes?"
"Yes." Alex's voice was reserved. Nicholas assumed that he was embarrassed remembering the unpleasant scene when Marcus had shouted at him.
"How's your son?"
Alex stiffened. "Fine. He is also fine," he expressed haltingly. "I'm here for a short visit only; Marcus isn't here, is he?"
"No, he's in London. You remember the Burne-Jones screen? It looks like as if he will finally get it."
"Indeed!" Alex's eyebrows rose. "That's good news. Actually, I'm on my way to London, too. Karl invited me, you know. I think it will be a good change of scenery."
"To London?" Nicholas threw in. "You'll meet Marcus then. Please tell him to call me. It's urgent. Will you?"
Alex looked him up and down before he spoke. "I don't think I will meet Marcus. I'm sure you know why," he paused, "But I can tell Karl, if that's ok?"
"Yes, it's ok, but don't forget, please."
"Are you working?"
Alex shook his head. "Still unemployed. And with my saving's gone, it was necessary for public assistance."
Johannes sighed. "Not good news, Alex. But enjoy your stay with Karl. Send him my greetings, will you?"
"Sure. Bye, my friend."
Alex's farewell to Nicholas was not much more than an icy stare mixed with a little nod. Nicholas shivered involuntary, and despite his compassionate nature, he couldn't help disliking Alex.
Sebastian had spent a unruly night. From time to time he had awaken to see how Kay was doing and had been relieved to hear the steady breathing of his injured lover. With the morning sun now streaming into their room, he was again watching Kay sleep. What a pity about the new motorcycle. Certainly he would have to make it clear to Kay that there were certain corners of the city one had to ALWAYS avoid after sundown. He realized he hadn't spelled out the dangers of cruising the colosseum, but then who could have known that Kay would be so foolish as to go out looking. Looking for trouble because he was sulking, miffed, bored or heaven knew what else. There was absolutely no reason for him to have reacted in such a way. Sebastian had merly talked with Andrea's parents and taken their books in order to give them to his tax advisor in hopes of finding a way to economize the shop. Kay's stirring interrupted his thoughts. "Good morning, sweetie. How's the head feeling?" Kay impulsively felt for the plaster on his head, touching it gingerly. "Better I think." He blinked. "Doesn't hurt too much." Sebastian's smile was relieved. Last evening the Doctor had assured them there was no concussion, but advised that Kay would probably have a headache for a bit and would need rest. "So you're feeling alright?" "Yes. What do we do now?" "If you mean can we continue our tourist programme, you're wrong, sweetie. You need to rest." "You're saying you want to keep me in bed?" "Exactly." Sebastian raised his forefinger. "But no games!" He smiled, "You understand me?" Indeed Kay's head was still aching a bit. Half sleeping he asked, "What happened with Andrea yesterday?" It dawned on Sebastian he hadn't had a chance to tell Kay about the previous evening. "I took the books with me so I can take them to my tax advisor." "And Andrea?" Sebastian brought his lips Kay's. "Nothing," he whispered, "did you think I'd go straight to bed with him?" He kissed Kay. "Why can't you simply trust me?" "Do you like me?" "What a foolish question, Kay." "Answer me." Time ticked away while Sebastian gazed into Kay's dark, questioning eyes. Finally he said, "I must have done something wrong if you need to ask me if I like you. I thought it was plain to see - to feel. Of course I do." He took Kay's hand and kissed it. Kay blinked and he was close to falling asleep. "But it doesn't mean you love me, right", he whispered, eyes closing. Sebastian patted his hand, relieved of an answer because Kay had gone back to sleep. Antonella was waiting for Sebastian in the kitchen, espresso machine already going. "Ciao Sebastiano," she cheered and they smiled at each other. She was two years older than Sebastian, with the same black, curly hair as her brother and the big, anthracite coloured eyes so common to Romans. Married with children in school, she worked twice a week for Sebastian. "I hope I guarded the house well during your absence. I've heard from Andrea you brought home a new regazzo." Her eyes twinkled merrily. "Si cara, he's upstairs sleeping. Had a motorcycle accident last night." "Madonna!" Antonella made the sign of the cross. "Is he hurt?" "No, no. Not badly. Actually he was robbed at the Colosseo." "Haven't you told him that the place can be dangerous at night?" Sebastian sighed. "No, I couldn't foresee that he..." He spread his arms helplessly. Antonella took the tiny cups filled with Espresso and carried them to the table. She dropped two cubes of sugar into each and stirred. "Andrea also said that you were at Ma and Pa's shop; I think he was very excited to see you back." Sebastian brought the cup to his lips and swallowed the coffee in one gulp. "So, he was excited." His tone was reserved. "Can you imagine how excited I was when he would turn up after he had disappeared for days at a time? You remember he was the one who picked up the rich Brit and ran off for a bit. It seems I was not enough for him." Antonella looked amused. "So you still have grumbles with him? That's the ego of a man! You are hurt much too easily." She smiled. "Andrea is still a baby. He likes to play, capisci`?" "I don't think I'm in the right playground for him," Sebastian responded. "He must be a wonderful young man you have upstairs if you can resist Andrea's charms so easily." Sebastian looked into the empty coffee cup. "Comparing their charms, I would say that Andrea thinks only of his own advantage." He looked up, "Scusi, Antonella. I'm sorry to say it, but I think it's true." "That's not news to me, Sebastiano. You know he's the only boy in the family and you know how Italian families spoil their sons..." Sebastian smiled. "Now, tell me how are your children?" "Oh well, Maria has learned her first letters and Guido is mischievious and playful - like every boy!" She laughed. "You're raising another generation!" Sebastian laughed with her, then grew serious once more. "They are good kids, cara." "That's right, my friend." She stood up, rinsed both cups and was ready to begin her housework. "Mind if I vacuum next time? I don't want to wake up your boy." Sebastian turned to her, "Very thoughtful of you. I'll disappear and make some calls. Perhaps later we can do the shopping together, what do you think?" "Buona idea. And," she hesitated briefly, "thank you for caring about my parent's shop. It's very kind of you." "Don't mentioned it. I'll see you later." He vanished into his work room, and reaching for the telephone tried to call Marcus first. He sighed and hung up when no one answered. He hadn't heard from Marcus since he'd left town, and now he was beginning to worry. Plus, he was anxious to know if Nicki and Ben had been able to find Simon. But surely Nick would had called. Pensively he dialed Marcus' home, but again there was no answer. O course! Nick would be at school now. Finally he gave up and called his office to get the news on the excavations at the Forum Romanum.Nicholas picked up the receiver of the pay phone in the entrance hall of the Academy, inserted his coins and dialed. A male voice promised to summon Matthias to the phone.
"Nick? You're still alive?"
"Um, sorry Matthias, there's been so much happening I simply forgot to call. But tell me first, can you manage to get Tina to come to the store? I have a question."
"Sure I can. She wanted to pick me up anyway."
"Good, but she must come early because I need her good taste. I want to buy a present for my mother and she's the same size, you understand?"
"Of course. Birthday present?"
"No, just for fun."
"It's settled then. But you must tell me all about Simon later, ok?"
"Ok, I promise. Till later."
Shortly before closing Tina, Nicholas and Matthias left the centre.
"Can we drive you to your parents?" Matthias asked, eying all the parcels the three of them carried. "You won't be able to lug this all on your own."
Nicholas beamed. "Great idea! You don't mind?" He looked to Tina and she shook her head.
"Time to get your own driver's license, Nick. You don't have the excuse of money anymore."
Nick grimaced. "Yeah, I think you're right."
Nicholas entered the old block of flats, juggling the heavy parcels as he climbed the stairs. The almost forgotten odour of the place met him, sharp like urine and grungy, like an old sponge. His heart pounded as he reached the third floor and not only because of the stairs. He had no clue how his father would react; their last meeting had been most unpleasant.
The door opened and he saw his mother's beaming face shift to a look of surprise once she registered all the parcels in his arms. "Nick, darling. You haven't been home in so long."
He set the parcels down inside the door and she took him into her arms, holding him tight.
"You're looking good," his mother said. "You're even gaining weight."
"Ah, you are the fifth person to tell me that!"
Vera laughed. "It's meant as compliment of course. But what have you brought here? Have you robbed the shopping centre?" She looked suspiciously at the contents sticking out of the bags.
Nicholas laughed. "Yes, sort of it. But since I haven't been here in so long, I felt I shouldn't come with empty hands."
The door to the living room opened and his father appeared. He smiled at Nicholas, who reluctantly offered his hand. Hesitating, his father took the hand while looking at all the bags
"It looks like you want to move in again."
Nicholas took it as a joke and laughed, but his father didn't.
"Come," Vera pushed Nicholas into the kitchen, "tell me all about the past weeks. How is Marcus?"
Nicholas sat down in the chair and heard the door to the living room close, knowing his father had returned to the TV. He exchanged a glance with his mother and they sighed in unison.
"Marcus is fine, I guess. At the moment he's in London. He wants to buy a screen, but I haven't heard from him in a few days."
"He hasn't called?" Vera sounded concerned. "I hope nothing has happened to him?"
"I hope so too, Mum. Although certainly his employee would have called."
"Hm," Vera didn't seemed too convinced. "Are you hungry?"
"No, Mum, we ate at the shopping centre."
"This means you visited Matthias, yes?"
"Yes." Nicholas jumped up to get the bags and spread their contents onto the kitchen table. Vera watched with surprise as pineapples, mangoes, avocados, a salmon, and thick slices of ham were laid out. Just when she thought the bag might be empty, out came salami, prawns and olives, cakes and biscuits.
"What are you doing? This is much too expensive!"
"Nonsense. I know you don't buy these things because Dad doesn't care for them, but I also know that you do, so..."
Vera didn't know if she should laugh or not. She felt most uncomfortable looking at all the things.
"Nick, I don't know,"
"No complaints, Mum." He opened the fridge to put the things away. "And the other bags are for you and dad. I took Tina with me for help. I hope you will like what we picked out."
Nicholas pulled out a long, warm coat from one of the bags, acting like Santa Claus. "Put it on. And here's more." He showed her the matching scarf and gloves, then an ivory coloured suit which - as Vera knew at the first site - would fit like a glove. Without a word she pulled on the coat and stepped in front of the large mirror hanging on the door. She turned around, watching herself.
"But I can't, you mustn't do this, it's..."
"Please, Mum."
Again the living room door opened and his father peered out.
"What's all the commotion?" Stunned he looked at his wife in the new coat. "What's that?"
"I have something for you too, Dad." Nicholas rushed into the kitchen again and rummaged in the bags.
"You're saying you bought this?" He threw an angry look to Vera and followed Nicholas into the kitchen. "What is all this shit? You come here to lavish us with stuff we don't need." He raised his voice. "You should be ashamed!"
Nicholas glared silently at his father.
"And where did you get the money to buy all this? From your faggot friend, yes?" With one motion he swiped the bags from the table to the floor.
"Rudolf!" Vera stood in the door quickly pulling off the coat. "What's gotten into you? He only wants to please us!"
"Oh really? Then tell me, from whom did he get the money?"
"It's MY money since you are so interested. Mum knows that I got a lot from selling my paintings."
He looked at Vera and she nodded. "Yes, that's true."
"Ah! That's true! You got money for your blotchings! I'd be thrilled to know what jerks buy your 'paintings'!" His voice was full of scorn.
Nicholas' face grew red and he bent down to pick up the bags.
"We don't need money or so-called presents from a faggot."
Nicholas wasn't sure if he meant Marcus or himself but it didn't matter. A hurt look touched his mother as he went without a word back to the hall and pulled on his jacket. Vera followed him and began whispering to him, but Nicholas shook his head. "I tried. Of course it might look like a bribe, but I only wanted to make joy."
"I know." Vera's voice was choked with tears. She kissed Nicholas and wiped a strand of his hair from his forehead. "Promise me to come back, will you?"
"Of course. But not here. I come to the supermarket next time, yes?" He nodded shortly. "Enjoy the clothes, Mum. I'm sure you will look marvelous in them." He turned and was out of the door before his father could say anything else.
Running down the stairs he could hear his mother's voice shouting, which surprised him. He'd never heard her shout at his father before. Perhaps this was a good sign. It was a mystery to Nicholas how she had stood him all these years. She was too good for a man like him.
Nicholas wiped a tear from his cheek as he rushed into the dark street, nearly running into Mr. Reisig, a neighbour.
"Hello, Nick. I haven't seen you in so long."
Nicholas tried to smile. "Hello, Mr. Reisig. How are you?"
"Ah, the rheumatism you know. We will have a change in weather, I can sense it in my old bones."
"I hope it will be warmer weather," Nicholas replied with a sniffed. Mr. Reisig examined him more closely.
"Sad?" he asked.
Nicholas shook the head and turned his face. "It's nothing. Only the sharp wind in my eyes."
But Mr. Reisig wasn't easily convinced. "Would you like to have a hot cup of grog? I'm sure you could use it."
Actually what Nicholas wanted was to be alone in the comfort of Marcus' house, but then he thought it might not be a bad idea to follow the old man. After all, he'd known him his whole life.
Mr. Reisig resided on the ground floor. Unlocking the door, a fat tiger cat suddenly came around the corner, rushed to Nicholas and sat down at his feet, looking up expectingly. Unable to resist the invitation, Nicholas bent down to pet the cat beneath the chin. The cat slid around and between his feet before quickly scampering away.
"Oh, Tiger likes you!" Mr. Reisig exclaimed. "Usually he's very shy, you know. Come along."
Nicholas followed him into the kitchen where he pulled off his jacket and took it with Mr. Reisig's to hang on the hook behind the door. Mr. Resig had already put on the water, and into a second pan he was pouring red wine.
"There's nothing quite so relaxing as a cup of grog, you know." He turned to Nicholas. "And you'll sleep better."
Tiger appeared again, meowed and jumped upon the chair beneath the window whose paint had long since peeled away. Nicholas cautiously stroked the silky coat and then took a seat in the other chair to watch as the old man sliced a lemon.
"How is work? Or aren't you working there anymore? I mean, as I said, I haven't seen you for a long time."
"I don't working at the shopping centre anymore, Mr. Reisig."
"No?" The water and the wine were boiling. He mixed two parts wine and one part water into two glass mugs then added cinnamon sticks and lemon wedges.
"Don't call me Mr. Reisig," he said setting one mug before Nicholas. "I've know you since you were that tiny." He illustrated by showing the span of his thumb and forefinger. It made Nicholas laugh. "Call me Ludwig." Raising his cup, he blew on the red liquid.
"Call me Nick."
Ludwig smiled. "So you haven't lost your humour completely, right?" Tiger jumped into his lap, stretched out and began to purr. "Want to tell me about your sorrow? You were visiting your parents, yes? I always imagined you got along well with them."
"Yes, well... that WAS true, until lately. Now I can't speak to my father."
"Would you tell me why? I mean I don't want to be nosy."
"It's alright... Ludwig." Nicholas lifted the cup and had a taste. The brew was hot, heavy and tasted good, but then the scent of cinnamon and lemon reminded him of Marcus and he had to blink away tears once more.
"Want to have some sugar with it?"
"Yes, please." After a while he continued, "I brought some new things to my parents, but my father yelled at me that he doesn't need gifts. So I left."
Of course Ludwig didn't understand a word, but he remained silent.
"It was MY money I used to buy them."
"Who else's money could it have been?"
Nicholas hung his head. "I know you don't understand. It's ... my father hates me because I'm gay. Now you know." He looked into Ludwig's eyes which remained empty.
Then Ludwig said, "And that's all?"
Nicholas nodded.
"So you don't like all the pretty girls?" Ludwig pulled out a huge handkerchief and snorted into it. The cat awoke and jumped from his lap. "And you think that's the reason he's angry with you?"
"Yes, of course I think so."
"And your mother?"
Nicholas shrugged his shoulders. "She supports me, but hasn't been able to convince my father that I'm not something sick or disgusting."
"No, nobody can help you, Nick. Do you have a boyfriend?"
"Yes." Nicholas replied, watching the fine lines around Ludwig's nose and mouth and the deeper, serious lines around his watery eyes. He couldn't tell exactly how old Ludwig was but certainly old enough to have seen a lot.
"Do you know Marcus Weidenbruch?"
Ludwig pondered a while, "I think I've heard the name before. Somewhere in the news."
"Perhaps about the fire that broke out in the exhibition hall?"
"Yes." Ludwig nodded. "That's it. He's a rich man."
"You see, I stopped working at the shopping centre to go to school again. Marcus wanted it and naturally I did too. My paintings were in the exhibition and I sold almost all of them, making a lot of money - at least to me it was a lot of money. So all the things I bought for my parents were paid with money I earned from my paintings. MY money, not the money of a ... faggot!" He spit out his father's word with disgust.
"So that's what your father said, yes? He refuses to take your money because he thinks it comes from your friend?" Ludwig shook his head and had another gulp of his grog. "And what of this Marcus?"
"I live with him now, but he's not here at the moment. I'm completely alone."
Ludwig put sympathetically his hand upon Nicholas'.
"You're never alone if you have somebody who loves you. Believe an old man. It doesn't matter if it's a man or a woman."
Nicholas looked thankfully into the warm, watery eyes. A warmth was building in his belly, coming from the alcohol and the soothing words. He drank his grog and began feeling sleepily.
"Thank you, Ludwig. You helped me a lot, but now I must go, it's getting late and I have to get up early in the morning."
"This late and you want to go alone? Where do you live?"
"Grunewald."
"Phew! A noble house, yes? But it's too far away, the streets are uncertain. Stay here, you can have a breakfast with me tomorrow morning, what do you think?"
"But I cannot..."
"Why? It's been a long time since I had a companion other than Tiger in the morning."
As if on cue the cat appeared again and jumped into Nicholas' lap. Ludwig laughed, "You see!"
Nicholas admitted defeat.
As he lay on the living room couch, outfitted with pillows and covers, he remembered that he had meant to call Marcus, but didn't dare ask Ludwig to use the phone. It would be far too expensive to call London.
Seeking a late supper after visiting the King's Observatory, Marcus learned that the 'Trafalgar Tavern', situated on the Thames, was not far from George's home. Though Marcus appeared to stare intently across the river at the Docklands, an area famous for its futuristic buildings and high rises, he was in fact lost in thoughts of Nicholas. He'd been unable to reach the young man, which only added to the guilt he already felt. "Don't you like the Whitebait?" George's voice pierced his thoughts. "Huh? Oh, yes, I like it." Marcus took another bite from the fish. "Don't worry, once it was fished from the Thames but not anymore. Did you know that this was once was a haunt of Charles Dickens'?" "Indeed? It is that old?" George dabbed his mouth with his napkin. "Yes, built in 1837. Some great parties have taken place within these walls. At least before it's brief conversion to an old seamen's home and then a workers' club." Marcus looked at the old sextants and telescopes hanging on the walls. Other navigation instruments were displayed in glass boxes throughout the tavern. "You've been far away all day, my dear," George continued. "I hope you haven't changed your mind." Although he felt George's eyes resting at his face Marcus couldn't bring himself to make a friendly expression. "Look, I'm not going to press you. You are here because you wanted it, remember that." George's tone was reserved, perhaps a little insulted. "Yes, I remember." Marcus picked at his food. "But I'm asking myself if it's worth it." "You're thinking of your friend back in Germany. Well, you should have considered him earlier, before you shared my bed. Voluntarily, I stress once again." "I did nothing to you." Marcus voice was sharp and caused George to laugh. "Yes, you did nothing, but you were delighted to receive. I could see it, my dear. And certainly, I could taste it." George's manner was coquettish. "I haven't had that much fun in years." Marcus sighed. If that was the best fun the man had had in years, he was a sad case indeed. George was apparently full of complexes and if he could help him out a bit, well then maybe another good might be gained from their "arrangement". Certainly George wasn't unappealing and he was a good storyteller, Marcus rationalized before lifting his gaze to George. "Alright, George, what have you got in mind?" George placed his hand over Marcus', playing with his fingers. "I don't know how far you want to go with me." "How far I want to go? Well, I would have thought you'd have it meticulously planned. First you want to seduce me, suck me off, then fuck me? Or do you want me to fuck you?" He stared into George's face who bristled at the coarse language. "I told you before, I don't want to 'fuck you'". He lowered his voice and the last piece of the sentence was barely audible. "No?" Marcus lifted his glass and drank a bit. "Good. Because I don't think I would allow it." Now George lifted Marcus' hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. Marcus flinched and pulled his hand away, looking around the room. Apparently the gesture had gone unnoticed. George pushed his empty plate aside, leaning closer to Marcus, laying his arm over the back of Marcus' chair so he could lightly caress his back. "Then what do you say to fucking ME?" he whispered. "Is it this you want me to do?" "Yes." George's lips shifted away from Marcus's ear to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. It was at that moment that Marcus' eyes caught site of a man sitting across the room, arm raised in a toast to the apparent intimacy he shared with George. Marcus went pale as he recognized Alex, and with him, Karl, who thankfully appeared too wrapped up in conversation to have noticed Marcus' presence. Shit! How much he had seen? How much he would tell Karl? But then, he tried to soothe himself, Karl didn't know about Nicholas and he saw no reason why Alex should make difficulties for him. Still he couldn't get rid of the odd feeling that coming here was a big mistake. Instantly he made space between himself and George, hoping to avoid all body contact. But George, inhibitions lowered by the port wine and unaware of Marcus' distress, followed his movements and leaned in close beside him. The impression they made, Marcus realized, was that of old lovers. "Can we go now?" Marcus said quickly. "I could use some fresh air." "But of course." George waved to the waiter, settled the bill and remained close beside Marcus as they crossed the room, passing Alex's table. Alex was grinning broadly at Marcus and poked Karl in the arm to look up as they passed, but George had already rushed Marcus out of the room by the time Karl's attention was gained. Arriving home by taxi, George couldn't get Marcus upstairs to the bedroom quickly enough. "Come on, don't waste time," George was breathless, tugging at Marcus' dinner jacket and shirt while grinding his very hard erection into Marcus' abdomen. Surprised, Marcus looked up. "It's the first time! Could it be you need port wine to get aroused?" "Perhaps. It doesn't matter now though." George fumbled with his buttons, even ripping off one of them. Marcus observed the flush over George's face and realized that he would probably need only a minute to empty his load. Though he encouraged the man to calm down, George continued with his frantic stripping, jerking down his trousers together with his boxers so that he stood there, thin pole pointed at Marcus, shivering and ready. He stepped closer. "Come on. Fuck me now," he hissed, his breath heavy with port wine. Unzipping Marcus' trousers and slipping his hand inside, he searched for the hardness he craved, but found none. To Marcus the scene was more than a touch ridiculous: George's stunned face, his desperate attempts to land them both upon the waterbed... Finally Marcus gave in, and plopped down on the bed, causing a great sloshing which George ignored as he flung himself onto Marcus like a bee to a flower. Rutting like a pig, George slid his stiff cock over Marcus' still limp penis roughly. In only a few moments George went rigid atop Marcus, letting lose a shrill cry to accompany the warm, sticky liquid pulsing across Marcus' belly and black pubic hair. George then collapsed over him. "Gosh! You don't have to cry like a stabbed ox!" Marcus scolded as he tried to move George's inert body off his own. He was disgusted. Seconds later George opened his eyes and began to shower a struggling Marcus with kisses. With persistence, George snaked his way down Marcus' body, licking his own cum away and beginning to suck fervently on Marcus' still limp penis. "What's the matter with you?" George complained after a few moments, "Now I'm in the right mood and you are so cold to me." "Ah, shit, stop it. I'm really not up for this." George instantly released the flaccid penis, peering up to meet Marcus' eyes, which were rolling toward the ceiling at that moment. Then he crawled up the bed to face Marcus. "I don't have to remind you of our deal, do I? With a word you can go." He grinned. "But the screen stays." "God damn it, George!" Marcus cursed and tried to sit up. George rolled away, "As you like it, lover," he said and pointed at the door. Marcus jumped out of the bed, collected his clothes and vanished through the door. Downstairs he came to a halt in front of the door leading to the room which housed the screen. He hesitated before stepping inside. Decision made, Marcus groped for a light switch against the wall and then finding it, winced when the room was suddenly so brightly illuminated. With his clothes still pressed against his chest, he moved barefoot around the screen to turn on the lamps so that he might turn off the harsh ceiling lights. Again he had the impression of being in the isolated crypt of an old church, illuminated by the morning sunlight streaming through the bright colours of the painted glass. He set down his clothes and shoes to simply look at the screen. After taking in the whole of it, naked as he was, Marcus moved forward, hands outstretched and trembling, to cautiously touch the surface. Knowing it was probably the last time he would see the piece, he tried to absorb as much detail as he could - the way it looked, how it felt, even how it might smell. Close as his face was, anyone seeing him would guess that he was about to kiss the screen as he might a lover. But the glass was cold and flat and it couldn't compare with Nicholas' smooth, warm and silky skin. With that thought, he suddenly reached for his jacket and withdrew his cellphone. No matter how late it was, he had to speak to Nicholas immediately. He longed to hear his voice, but the only sound he heard was a depressing, emptiness of infinite ringing. Eventually he gave up, shaking his head. How long had it been since he had spoken to his lover? Days? A chill crept over him and he became aware of his nakedness. He pulled a chair forward and sat down in front of the screen with the idea of putting his clothes on. Instead he found himself once more tracing the lines of the figures depicted, imagining the wind that blew their dresses, veils and hair. With a shiver to remind him of his present vulnerable state, he wondered at his foolishness. How could an adult man behave so? But was it foolish to love beautiful things? Perhaps to do so was to harbour a sort of craziness. Were all the men and women who collected precious works of art in hopes of saving them for posterity crazy? Certainly there were differences between curators and private collectors, especially those collectors who would hoard and hide the treasures. The Japanese tycoons who bought all those Van Gogh's, came to mind. They'd locked the paintings away in a vault which was only opened occasionally and to a very select few, celebrating their good fortune with wine and cigars. Marcus didn't count himself among those kinds of collectors. His feet were getting cold in the unheated room and he stuffed his hands inside the pockets of his trousers. He still felt dirty, George's scent clung to his clothing, probably at his skin also. His thoughts jumped from one subject to the next so he wondered now why Nicholas hadn't answered the phone. Was it that he was so sound asleep that he hadn't heard the ringing? Marcus made a mental note to install an extension in the bedroom. Or perhaps Nicholas wasn't at home. Maybe he was out with Ben or Simon or with both of them? He remembered their last quarrel on the phone and Nick's threat to have a nice threesome. He had meant to be playful, hadn't he? Would Nick be capable of wronging him? A derisive laugh escaped his lips. There he was, alternately praising and doubting his lover when he himself had entered into a deal to fuck George for the screen. And still his mind was scheming, trying to figure out how he might get the screen without fucking George. God Damnit! He ought to simply go, forget the beauty his eyes feasted upon and take the next airplane home to his lover. Why didn't he? Again he picked up the phone and dialed home, but just then the door behind him opened. Dropping the phone, he turned to find George dressed in a blue robe. "I hoped I would find you here." George's voice was soft and low. "I'm sorry about what happened. Can you forgive me?" His striking grey eyes sparkled in the light, free of the madness Marcus had seen before. Marcus said nothing. "Come with me." George offered his hand. "It's the middle of the night. You can go still tomorrow if you want." Marcus clenched his teeth, causing the muscles in his jaw to move. "Ok. But only because I'm tired." George took his arm and led him out. "I'm sure you are." Arriving in the bedroom, George began to undress Marcus lovingly before motioning him to lie down. Then crawling in beside him, he spread the covers over both of them, snuggling as close as he felt Marcus would permit. Marcus was asleep almost immediately. In the morning, Marcus' cellular phone rang repeatedly but went unanswered since it lay forgotten on the cold floor, the screen before it. Marcus dreamt of a warm body sliding over his erect penis, causing him to squirm and buck his hips. He murmured incoherent words and moaned as he imagined Nicholas hunched above him, smiling down at him while his cock sought shelter in the moist crack of his arse. "Honey", Marcus purred, "Come," he reached for Nicholas' legs, stroking them and Nicholas bent down to kiss him. But the kiss felt different. An eager tongue pushed into his mouth and then his lips were bitten. Marcus flinched and opened his eyes to find George only a few inches from his face. He realized all at once that this wasn't a dream. It was the wrong man who squatted above him, sliding his arse crack over his cock feverishly, before positioned himself so that Marcus could penetrate him. "Shit, what are you doing?" Marcus shouted, trying to push George away. "I told you already I don't want this!" "Sssshhh, you don't have to do anything. Let ME do it. Just lie there and enjoy it." "No!" Marcus blinked away the last of his dream, "I don't want to." George gripped his shoulders firmly, pressing them into the sheets. "I want to feel you inside me," he hissed, and Marcus could see the madness again building in his eyes. "It's your decision - me or the screen. And," he grinned, "if you don't want the screen I will destroy it. I have no use for it." "What?" Marcus pushed aside George's hands. By straining his legs he was able to roll George away from his body. "What did you say? Are you crazy?" George giggled. "That's not meant seriously, is it?" Marcus continued. "Of course it is, my beauty. You must decide now." It was too much for Marcus. Screen or no screen, things had gone too far. He didn't want to fuck a complete lunatic. As he had only a few hours before, he jumped out of bed, slipped into his trousers, threw on the shirt, grabbed his shoes and jacket and left the room. He moved quickly down the stairs, never looking back. Passing the door to the screen he again hesitated briefly, but this time went on, stepping outside to breathe in the cool, fresh air. Greenwich lay before him in peaceful slumber, dawn just beginning to break. He slipped into his shoes - without socks because he hadn't seen them as he made his escape - and into his coat. Then he slammed the door behind him. To make those pretty eyes look so blue Ben had kept on at Nicholas for days about seeing Marcus' workshop. Finally Nicholas agreed and he was to meet his friend later in the day. There was still no word from Marcus and Nick's longing had grown so much that he hadn't enjoyed masturbating under the shower that morning. Even imaging Marcus' mouth wrapped around his cock the last time they'd made love and the feel of being inside his lover's body had paled when he realized it might have been his only chance. The breakfast with Ludwig had been enjoyable and Nicholas was glad to find a compassionate listener for his sorrows. Leaving the old man, he had made a short stop at his mother's supermarket to hear that she'd had a bad fight with her husband. So serious was the fight that she'd ended up sleeping on the couch, a thing she hadn't done in their 23 years of marriage. Nicholas felt guilty about it, but Vera assured him that it would be alright. She also wanted him to know that she wasn't willing to give in to his father on the subject of Nicholas and his sexuality. It was a thing to be discussed till the end, she explained. The thought of divorce crossed Nicholas' mind, making his heart ache. After leaving his mother, Nicholas met Ben in the hall. It was there that Marcus brought him after they'd first met. And now Ben stood, just as Nicholas had months ago, with awe in front of 'Arthur's sword'. And just as Nicholas had, Ben tried to pull it from the rock. When the sword didn't budge, Nicholas laughed. "You are not the chosen one, my dear." Repeating Marcus' words stung. "No?" Ben turned, "who is?" "Only the lawful king of England may take Excalibur from the rock," Nicholas answered mechanically. Perhaps he wasn't the right man for Marcus. He wondered if Sebastian had ever tried to prove himself the one for Marcus. Ben looked expectingly at him and Nicholas pushed his thoughts aside. "Who made the piece, do you know?" "I haven't a clue, never asked. Come, I show you something." Nicholas led Ben into the workshop, where Johannes was busy painting a wood frame. "Hello Nick, back again? I didn't expect you so soon." "This is Ben, a classmate. He wanted to see the workshop." Johannes smiled, "Make yourself comfortable, Ben." Nicholas dragged him in front of Michelangelo's drawing. "Ever seen it before?" "No, who is this?" "I'm asking you." "Me?" Ben examined the reddish conte chalk drawing. "It's a beautiful man, isn't it? Or is it a woman?" "Hm. I thought you could help me out with that question." "Who drew it?" Ben asked. "Michelangelo." "Ah, Michelangelo! Then it's clear enough. It must be a man." Ben exclaimed. "Because he was gay? Do you think that's true?" "Sure, all men in that era were gay." Nicholas grinned. "Anyway it's androgynous enough that it could be a man. Perhaps that is what Michelangelo wanted to express: both genders in one person. Do you feel from time to time the female side in you?" Ben looked surprised. "Never thought about it. I don't think so." He turned to Nicholas. "What questions you ask me! What's your female side?" Nicholas shrugged his shoulders and turned away. "Hey," Ben called, "perhaps it's my ponytail!" Both snorted with laughter. Ben pulled out one of the long spears stuck between two shelves. He lifted it over his head and said with deep, sinister voice "I'm Wotan, the bearer of the spear and flash, the Earthshaker!" Nicholas watched and grinned broadly. "You must undo your ponytail, then it would be perfect - a young Wotan!" "Nick!" Johannes called from the other side of the room. "Can you come over here, please." As Nicholas came closer he recognized Alex sitting at the table next to Johannes. Nicholas frowned and said a reserved, "Hello." Look to Johannes, "Is there something wrong?" But then he remembered that Alex had been on his way to London. "I thought you were in London? Back so soon? Did you speak to Marcus?" "No, I didn't speak to Marcus." Alex stared malevolently at Nicholas. Rising, he took Nicholas aside and lowered his voice. "I have to talk to you in private. Can we meet in the cafe across the street in one hour?" Nicholas nodded. "Of course we can. But what secrets do you have to tell me that no one else should hear?" "Wait and see." His eyes were icy again and he didn't smile when he said goodbye to Johannes. Johannes looked at Nicholas and said, "Strange. He's changed. Something is wrong with him. He looks bad - old." Ben came nearer still examining the busts and sculptures, vases and plates that were placed around the room. "You have any idea why Alex wants to speak to me?" Nicholas asked Johannes. "I'm sorry." Johannes took off his glasses. "The only thing he said was that the screen is lost and that Marcus is missing. He has not been at his hotel for three days and even Karl doesn't know where he is." Nicholas sank to the stool. "Hey," Johannes patted Nicholas' shoulder, "It doesn't mean something bad has happened." "What else could it be?" Nicholas exclaimed. Ben, hearing Nicholas' distress approached them. "What's wrong?" "Marcus has disappeared. Nobody can find him!" Ben glanced at Johannes and back at the distraught Nicholas. "The man who was here said that?" "Yes, he wants to speak to me again in one hour in the cafe over there." "Ok, Nick, let's go. We can wait together." Nicholas followed him weakly, accepting a coffee and brandy which warmed him inside. It was hard for Ben to understand the story because Nicholas was monosyllabic. Giving up, he changed the subject to Simon, telling Nick about visiting his flat, the turmoil he found it in and Simon's admission to being a complete slut. At last a little smile appeared on Nicholas' face, only to vanish again in another moment. "That's what Marcus told me. Simon is a slut and always quarreled with Anna, the housekeeper." "Yeah? What else did he tell you about Simon?" Nicholas rummaged his memories. "Not much, I'm afraid. It was hard for him to speak about Simon. I guess he was a cheerful guy, but easily bored and therefore always in search of entertainment." Ben nodded. "And then Marcus found him in bed with another man." "Yes. Simon told you?" "Mhm." Nicholas forgot Alex for a moment. "And what does he do now? Still sell drugs in bars?" "I'm afraid so. I cannot dissuade him from doing it. He needs the money he says." Nicholas thought for a moment. "Don't know much about his parents, but I know they're rich. Perhaps they aren't that giving, you know. But if I understood it right, Kay doesn't need to work. He does it simply because he enjoys it." "Kay?" Ben's brows knit at his mention. "Simon's brother. You haven't called him to tell him that we found Simon, right?" Nicholas looked guilty. "No. Not yet. But I have to, it's not fair. Simon never mentions Kay?" "He did last time we met, but says that he doesn't want to see him, because Kay would feel obliged to care for him, to support him and that he couldn't bear the pity. He doesn't want to be a burden." Nicholas looked into Ben's hazel eyes. "You would bear the burden though, right? Is he still a hustler?" "I don't think so. He earns enough money dealing. And I guess Frank shocked him a bit." Nicholas laughed unhappy. "Yes, Frank shocked us all - Simon, you and me. Isn't it odd?" Ben nodded. "You think he has the results of his test yet?" "Perhaps, but he'll have to repeat it next month." Just then Alex entered the cafe. "There he is." Ben turned and rose. "Give me a call when you're finished, yes? I'll be at home." He rummaged in his pocket for money. "It's ok. It's on me." Ben gave him an encouraging smile and was gone. Alex took the still-warm seat. He didn't smile as he gazed at the young man. Indeed, he did look bad, as Johannes had said. His face was haggard and the temples more white than grey. "So you have no idea where Marcus could be?" Nicholas asked. "I wouldn't say that." Alex answered and ordered a cup of tea. Nicholas was nearly bursting with curiosity and nervously drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "So what are you saying? You saw him but didn't speak to him?" Alex took his time. He didn't answer until he'd received his tea, added the lemon juice and sugar. Slowly he stirred the brew and glared at Nicholas. "Yes, I saw him. How long have you known Marcus?" Nicholas lost his patience. "Listen, I only want to know your important news. Say it and let me go." A smug smile played around lips. "He means a lot to you, right?" Nicholas would have loved to have snatched the spoon from Alex's grip. "Well, I was in a restaurant with Karl when I saw him. You know Karl? Johannes had given me some things..." "I know who Karl is, please come to the point." Alex grinned. "It was at the 'Trafalgar Tavern', you know, a popular restaurant situated on the Thames. There is a wonderful view to the Docklands from there and Karl told me it was once famous for the public figures who celebrated there." Nicholas leaned back and folded his arms in front of his chest. "How interesting," he said sarcastically. "Indeed, as I sat there, talking to Karl I saw Marcus, eating and drinking. Quite enjoying himself apparently." "And?" "He was in the company of a very good looking man, and since I know that Marcus is gay I had a closer look." Alex enjoyed his tea and peered into Nicholas' eyes. "I'm afraid I don't understand you," Nicholas said. "But you will understand me when I say that both were very familiar." Nicholas shrugged but his heartbeat quickened. "Could be anybody, an old friend." Alex leaned forward over the table. "Would he allow an old friend to kiss his hand? From what I saw they looked as if they had come straight from bed." He watched intently for Nicholas' reaction. The young man grew a little paler and the struggle to maintain his self-control was evident. Alex grinned again. This play was beginning to please him. "If I were you, I would take care of my boyfriend. I don't know what Johannes told you, but Marcus changed his lovers like he changed his shirts. I know he met guys whenever he was in Paris, no matter if he had a boyfriend in Berlin or not. So, it's not new." Nicholas' fingers began to tremble and he tried to hide it by clenching his fists. "I'm sure this is a misunderstanding." Nicholas managed to say. "I will call him and all will be all right." Alex laughed. "How will you call him when he's unreachable? Even Karl couldn't track him down. No, no, my friend. He's lying in bed with that handsome man and having a great time, believe me." Nicholas would have liked to throw the tea into Alex's complacent face. "And why do you tell me this? For what reason?" Alex's eyes sparkled dangerously. "To protect you from harm of course. Don't be foolish enough to fall in love with a man like Marcus. Look at you. You have nothing to offer, no money, no education, you have nothing special. Why should he be interested in you?" He stared luridly into Nicholas' deep blue eyes and saw that his words hit him hard. Without speaking Nicholas rose and left the cafe. It couldn't be true... simply couldn't be true ... the words rang loudly in his head as the tram traveled to the railway station, drowning out the chatter of the crowd that threatened to close in on him. He desperately needed fresh air. Trying hard to concentrate, he willed himself not of think of Marcus, but continued to fail miserably. Alex's persistent, sneering face kept appearing in his mind's eye - his slow voice full of scorn, telling him that Marcus had a lover in London. It made sense, he had to admit. He'd disappeared from his hotel, had promised to call but then never had, and when Nick had reached him, he had made some excuse about being unable to speak just then. Added to that, there was a reluctance, almost a holding back that Nicholas had sometimes sensed. Apparently it was what he saved for the others. Rushing through the front door, Nicholas dialed Marcus' cellphone. Alex was just tormenting him. It was his revenge for the humiliation he suffered at being fired, at being embarrassed by Marcus the last time they met. The phone was answered after only two rings with a distant "Yeah?" "Marcus? My God, I've been trying to reach you for days! Why haven't you called me?" There was only silence at the other end of the line. "Marcus?" He heard a throat clear. "I'm sorry, I don't think Marcus can come to the phone right now." Devious thoughts raced through George's mind as he saw the chance for sweet revenge against Marcus. "He's busy at the moment." George began to moan and allowed his breathing to quicken. "His mouth is stuffed with - you know what ... oh, yeah, baby." George moaned again, his cock growing stiff as he imagined Marcus between his legs and the hurt and anger Nicholas would be feeling. "that's it, Marcus..." Nicholas grew pale. That bastard Alex was right, Marcus was in bed with the man now, doing heaven knew what to create such moans. The receiver nearly slipped from his weak hand. "Boy? Are you still there? I suppose you are Marcus' lover - I forgot your name..." "Nicholas," he whispered. "Yes, so he said. Marcus is wonderful, you know... Oh...." George moaned again, not just for effect. "We have a deal, boy. He fucks me for a week and the screen is his. You'll lend him to me for a few more days, won't you? Please? ...Oh yes, yes Marcus, like that!... Shall I send him your greetings?" Nicholas hung up. His knees were shaking. He slipped down the wall and reaching the floor, embraced his legs. A dry sob escaped his chest. The thoughts and feelings somersaulted in his mind - from disbelief, to lack of understanding, to hurt and hate. How could Marcus do this? It hammered in his brain. Betray their love for a ... for a ... he couldn't find the right word. For nothing he thought finally. Compared to a living, breathing, loving man a dead piece of wood and glass means nothing. Yet something deep down inside his bowels refused to believe that Marcus could be so cold, so calculating and so stupid as to take his phone with him and let that man answer it. There could be only two explanations: Marcus had lost his mind with lusting after the screen and the other man or the conversation with the other man had been a lie. But how could he have gotten Marcus' phone? Nicholas wasn't aware of the tears running down his cheeks. He was cold, very cold. What should he do now? Quickly he considered all his friends - Ben, Matthias, Kay, Sebastian, his mother, Ludwig, Johannes, Simon? He ought to call Ben but shook his head, there was nobody he could speak to right now. He had to manage it by himself. And - how could they help him, when Marcus didn't love him? Although he'd never said it, could the feelings Nicholas felt have been wrong? The shelter and protection, the understanding and support he had experienced? And Marcus threw all that overboard for a SCREEN? He would had done anything for Marcus - even slept with another man if was necessary to save his lover's life or health. But this. To do so for a screen. It was selfish and mad - he wouldn't accept it. It was prostitution. He stopped at that thought. If he did this only to get the screen, was there then hope for their love? Had Marcus given his body and not his heart to that man because his heart still belonged to him - to Nicholas? He shook his head and wiped the tears away. If that was the case, then he would have preferred that Marcus had fallen for a wonderful man that he couldn't resist. To find this coldness within Marcus was sad, that he would give his body for a piece of art that couldn't speak nor breathe, nor laugh nor cry. Slowly Nicholas rose from the floor and went upstairs to the bedroom where he crept under the covers. He had never felt so unhappy in his entire life. The warring voices fell silent within him and all that was left to do was sleep. To be continued