Page 73 of White Room Virgin

With me.

I hugged him tightly.

He was humming softly. He had fallen asleep.

I lay beside him for a while, enjoying his warmth, but it soon got chilly. Getting up, I grabbed a blanket, turned off the lights, and lay back down with him. I gave him a kiss and snuggled up to him. When he put his arm around me and pulled me close, the feelings inside me almost boiled over.

34

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Jonah

Liberated from the nagging thoughts, I finally slept deeply. In the morning, the sun beamed directly onto my face, and I felt the warmth of a soft woolen blanket against my skin. When I realized that I was lying behind Lucien and holding him in my arms, I flinched in surprise.

“What is it?” he mumbled sleepily and turned to me with his eyes closed.

“Nothing,” I replied, shoving the images from last night out of my head.

“Do you already regret it again?” he asked, snuggling up to me.

“I … no … I was just surprised.”

“That you’re gay?”

“I’m not gay.”

Lucien sat up and brushed his hair back. “It looked different down there last night, though.” He pointed at my crotch with a meaningful look.

I raised the woolen blanket higher, sat up as well, and sheepishly ran my hands through my hair. “It…”

“What?”

He didn’t bother to contain his grin as he reached for the cigarettes. Placing one between his lips, he glanced at the CD player where the lighter lay. Too indolent to move, he remained seated, the cigarette held loosely between his fingers as his eyes lingered on me. Had I not already been undressed, I might have felt as though he was peeling away my layers with his gaze.

The buzzing of my phone was a relief. I sprang up, hastily slipped into my shorts, and rummaged through my jeans. It was a message from Simon.

“Hello, Jonah, Happy New Year! Back in town? Are we going to see the movie tomorrow?”

“Of course. Happy New Year to you too,”I texted back, then tucked the phone away again.

Before I turned back to Lucien to face an unsettling truth, I slipped on my shirt and took a deep breath. Contrary to my expectation that he was staring at me, he sat cross-legged under the woolen blanket, cradling the ashtray in his lap. He smoked his cigarette and absentmindedly watched the embers.

“I don’t want you to misunderstand me,” I said with uncertainty.

His eyes darted up, staring at me with both fear and hope.

“I have to digest this first,” I explained, struggling for words. I realized that I somehow lacked the vocabulary to talk about such things. “After all … you’re a man.”

Lucien’s face brightened a little. He took a deep drag from the cigarette and blew out the smoke. Then he stroked his face. With his lips pressed together, he looked at me again and forced himself to smile. “Why are you fighting it? There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Do you even understand what I’ve done?” After a brief moment of silence, I gave him the answer myself. “I’m going to hell. God wants nothing more to do with me. I can’t imagine what will happen when my parents find out, which I hope will never happen.”

“Well, then at least we have something in common,” he said rather casually and knocked the ash off his cigarette.

I was taken aback, unsure if he had intended to reveal so much, given his sudden tenseness. He seemed unaware that I knew his story, making his vulnerability all the more surprising as he gazed at me like a wounded animal. “My parents don’t want anything to do with me,” he murmured softly, shoulders sagging. With a trembling exhale, he continued, “And… I’msorry for putting you in this situation. I’ve been grappling with it for weeks … lost in my own turmoil.” His voice filled with remorse as he bowed his head, unable to meet my eyes. “I know I’m not responsible for his death, but … it haunts me. I never meant to drag you into it.”

“Martin told me about it before Christmas,” I admitted. “I’m sorry for the loss.”

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