The arrival

The piece of paper remained unchanged between his fingers, as though looking at it again would remind him of the humiliation involved in doing so. He silently studied the sign displaying the street name. This was the place, he was sure of it, but his eyes inevitably drifted back to the crumpled piece of paper.

Just to check, just to make sure his destination was waiting for him in that dark alley.

“Miller Street, 21”

An unpleasant sensation crept up from his stomach to his throat. That slight nervousness that came with stepping outside one's comfort zone, and Hans was hundreds of miles away from his. He didn't want to be there, he shouldn't be there... and yet, there he was, looking like an idiot as he stood in front of a peeling facade that seemed to be laughing in his face.

Angrily, he crumpled the paper into a small ball of fury and threw it as far away as he could, over some bushes. He wasn't going into that building, where it looked as though some junkie would mug him the moment he stepped through the door.

But... where else could he go?

He mentally weighed his options. If he didn't go through that door, he'd be forced to live under the bridge he'd crossed barely an hour ago, the one where getting stabbed by some homeless person was practically a given.

So many apartments, so many cars he owned that he could have slept in... but realising that this was actually all he had left... felt like a slap in the face. He had no other choice, and perhaps that was why his feet moved unconsciously towards the building.

Towards a warmth that promised to be very cold.

He gripped the strap of the Louis Vuitton bag slung across his chest tightly. That last remnant of luxury that still made him feel as though he had a piece of home with him. That warmth which had once comforted him, but now made him feel completely out of place.

This wasn't his world, and everything around him seemed to know it, to shout it, even throw it in his face.

He sighed and summoned every ounce of strength he could muster. Only then was he able to cross the threshold and experience the absolute emptiness of the lobby, lit by barely more than a single flickering lightbulb. The door, of course, was broken, and he'd been able to get in without having to call anyone.

He climbed the stairs. He didn't dare take the lift and risk getting stuck, and step by step, he finally reached his destination.

“3rd floor. Knock on the door, the doorbell is broken”

He had read that sentence on the misplaced piece of paper over and over again. He wondered what kind of dump he was getting himself into, if the guy couldn't even be bothered to fix the doorbell.

Well, if they couldn't fix the front door, why bother worrying about a stupid doorbell?

He cleared his throat and knocked on the door with his knuckles, in an act of complete resignation.

The doorbell itself didn't matter. It wasn't the device, but what it represented. That utter neglect, that feeling that if they couldn't afford to fix something as simple as a doorbell... what could he possibly expect to find inside?

He began to hear noises on the other side. Hurried noises, as though he'd interrupted something at the worst possible moment.

He heard footsteps that stopped right at the door.

“Who is it?” a deep voice asked, still far too sleepy to sound clear.

“It's... Hans,” he replied reluctantly.

“Hans?”

Silence fell for a moment, so profound that he could have sworn he heard his interlocutor's thoughts. Then the door opened just a crack, as far as the security chain would allow. A blue eye peered through the gap, still half-closed, as though unsure whether it was studying him or simply hadn't managed to open properly yet.

“Hans... But... I wasn't expecting you until Sunday.”

He let out a sigh, trying to summon some patience.

“Today is Sunday.”

The blue eye moved away for a moment, and then he saw a frown, far too focused on trying to place itself in the same space-time continuum as Hans.

“Shit...” he whispered, more to himself than to him. “Wait here.”

And he slammed the door in his face.

He couldn't help smiling at the fact that he had been right, at how that small, stupid gesture made him feel superior in such an absurd and illogical way, yet somehow familiar. That feeling he got from ordering the servants around, checking the messages from his suitors, desperate for his attention, and not even bothering to reply, or being served at the table by polite and well-mannered staff.

He heard more noises on the other side... voices... a woman. Some shouting and doors slamming shut, more noise throughout the apartment until, finally, the door swung open abruptly. Standing before him was a red-haired girl who seemed barely surprised, more annoyed than anything else.

She glanced into the apartment and shouted without the slightest hesitation.

“Don't ever call me again!”

The girl shoved Hans aside and stormed out into the hallway. The blue-eyed young man had barely taken a few steps when he remembered, first and foremost, why he'd thrown her out.

“Rosa! Wait!”

“No, no! Your new roommate is more important!” she shouted from the other end of the hallway before turning around and disappearing from sight. “Leave me alone!”

They stood in silence for a few moments, while Rosa's words still echoed through the walls, as sharp as a razor blade. Hans glanced at the guy for a moment, then quickly looked away when he noticed his bare legs and the black boxers covering his most private parts.

“Did I interrupt something?” Hans asked with a slightly mocking tone.

He didn't know why, but he felt good about having annoyed him. Some kind of revenge for something his roommate hadn't even done, but which Hans somehow took personally.

“Not at all,” he replied with complete conviction. “Come in. I'm Henry.”

Henry extended his hand in greeting, and Hans couldn't help looking at it with a certain degree of distaste. Nobody had ever introduced themselves to him in such an ordinary, ridiculous manner, and he had certainly never shaken hands with a half-naked man.

“A... pleasure.”

He stood in the doorway, hoping his disgusted expression would be enough to make Henry give up on his attempt at physical contact. He got the hint immediately and withdrew his hand, though not without a slight frown.

“There's not much to show you... this is the living room and the kitchen.” Hans followed him inside and closed the door behind him. “The pots and pans are here, and I'll make some room for you in the fridge.”

As if he was ever going to cook... he thought, almost insulted by Henry's words. Although that kitchen... that was the real insult.

Several frying pans were soaking in the sink, waiting their turn, with a layer of grease floating on the surface that made Hans shudder. A small window let in the faint light of dawn, illuminating a shelf where bunches of different plants hung upside down, drying.

As if buying ready-made herbal tea wasn't good enough.

Opposite the kitchen and the fridge stood a barely two-seater sofa, mostly occupied by books, magazines and what appeared to be dirty clothes. A small television sat on a wooden plank supported by several bricks, right in front of the kitchen counter. There was no room for anything else.

“And over here...” he continued, walking down a tiny hallway with only three doors. “The bathroom, and your room.”

He opened the door, and a ball of fur full of excitement lunged at Henry. The moment it spotted Hans, the dog shifted its attention and ran towards him, rising onto its hind legs and planting its paws on his chest, covering him in licks.

Hans had never felt so disgusted in his life.

“Mutt! Stay!”

Henry rushed over, grabbed the dog by its collar and pulled it away from Hans.

“Sorry... he usually sleeps in here. I'll have to leave him on the sofa now. I suppose you might... want to change the sheets.”

Hans didn't even know how to react anymore. He could feel the dog's saliva on his face, and millions of its white hairs had become embedded in his sweatshirt. He peered into what was supposed to be his room and found it full of boxes, more books... and whatever other junk Henry had decided to keep.

The bed was covered with a duvet that had once been black, but was now the same colour as the dog. He didn't even need to get any closer to notice that it smelled like the dog, too.

“Yeah. Tomorrow... I'll clean up,” he managed to say without raising his upper lip too much, hiding his disgust.

“Great. Here's your key.”

Henry held out his hand and offered him the small piece of metal, which Hans took reluctantly. To his surprise, the key was brand new and spotless.

“If you need help with anything, I'll be right next door. Now, if you'll excuse me...” the young man yawned exaggeratedly. “... I had a bit too much beer yesterday. I'm going to get some more sleep.”

Hans said nothing as he closed the door to his room. He was alone and silent within those four completely unfamiliar walls, in the apartment of a stranger, in a world utterly removed from everything he had known until then.

He was about to throw the key on the floor and walk away, never to return. But that wasn't an option.

His eyelids suddenly began to feel heavy, and the exhaustion accumulated during the journey seemed to hit him all at once. He placed his precious bag in a corner, right on top of some boxes, and closed his eyes, trying not to think too much.

He tried to open the window to get rid of some of the dog smell, and after several attempts, the track finally gave way with a loud squeak. The sound seemed to drill straight into Hans's head.

He collapsed onto the bed, forgetting that the duvet was covered in hair, and froze the moment he felt it. As though staying perfectly still might somehow make that horrible sensation go away, but it was no use. He got up in distress and began shaking himself violently. His movement knocked into one of the boxes, sending it crashing to the floor and scattering a pile of junk everywhere.

Hans stumbled, lost his balance and only just managed to grab the headboard of the bed before falling flat on his face. His distress grew even worse.

He wanted to scream.

He didn't want to be there.

He didn't want to smell like a dog. He didn't want to have to interact with new people. He didn't want to live in worse conditions than his servants. He didn't want to, he didn't want to...

But he was there.

And so many thoughts crowded his mind at once, mixing with his exhaustion, finally overwhelming Hans and sending him crashing onto the bed, where he slept until almost noon.

A noise coming from the kitchen woke him up. He opened his eyes in confusion and struggled to remember where he was and how he had ended up there. It hadn't been a dream. Henry's apartment was real.

Another loud commotion echoed through the wall: pots, cutlery, the extractor fan... That, along with the light coming in through the window, made it impossible for Hans to get any more rest.

I swear to God, that boy is making an effort to annoy me.

He got out of bed in a bad mood, shook his clothes again and ran a hand through his hair to make himself look somewhat presentable. He needed a shower... but that meant having to step into the hallway and face Henry's carefree expression while he himself struggled under the weight of his exhaustion. Another humiliation, having someone see him at his most private.

If he needed to use the bathroom... Henry would know. Would he be able to hear him? He could no longer wander around the apartment in his dressing gown as he used to, especially since that furry beast would cover him in dirt again in no time. God, he hated that place.

At last, he left his room with as much dignity as he could muster and approached the kitchen. It didn't look anything like it had the day before. It was completely clean and tidy. The dishes were nowhere to be seen, the fallen leaves from his dried plants had been cleared away, and every surface was sparkling.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Henry was looking at his phone, a steaming mug in his hands.

“Good morning!” he greeted him as soon as he saw him. “Sorry about the mess yesterday. I don't usually leave the apartment like that, but I was really tired. I hope I didn't wake you up.”

Hans frowned, not in the mood to respond with something rude. He sat on the stool in front of the counter and took in how clean everything was. At least, it offered him a small measure of peace of mind.

“Is that coffee? I'd like one.”

Mutt responded with a whimper, his head tilted from his corner of the sofa. At least now he had a blanket to wallow in his own filth. Henry smiled in confusion and took another sip from his mug.

“It's not coffee, it's one of my herbal teas. But if you want coffee, there's a packet in that cupboard.”

He opened the small wooden door to show him, and Hans felt ridiculous. Of course Henry wasn't going to make him a coffee. He expected him to make it himself. But how could he tell him he'd never made one before? That whenever he wanted one, there was always a hot cup waiting for him in the kitchen?

“Never mind. I'd better go take a shower.”

He got up and headed towards the bathroom, trying not to get too close to the dog.

“Oh, by the way, Hans!” Henry approached him with his phone in his hand. “Can I have your phone number? In case something happens with the apartment or we need anything, it'd be good if we could keep in tou…”

“No.”

The interruption, delivered in a tone bordering on rudeness, caught Henry off guard.

“...No? Well, it's just for apartment-related stuff.”

Hans let out an exasperated sigh.

“I said no. Only a very small number of people have my phone number. There's no need for you to have it.”

It was at that moment, standing face to face, that Henry truly understood the situation. Hans wasn't there to be his friend, and if he didn't want to, he didn't even have to be nice to him. They only had to tolerate each other.

He took a calm sip of his herbal tea, leaned back against the counter and paid no further attention to Hans. In a cordial tone, but so cold it could have frozen the drink in his mug, he replied.

“Alright.”

Hans nodded and unconsciously lowered his head, as though those two words had struck him somewhere deep inside with unexpected force. This was what he wanted: to keep his distance and not make friends with anyone.

But... why had it hurt?

“Alright,” he repeated.

And then he went to take a shower.