A Slightly Disturbing Situation

David said he was afraid to enter the palace grounds and face Meiden. He wasn't afraid of the Norwegian and what he might do to him. He was afraid of himself. What Meiden had done to him stuck with him, though he tried to forget it. He didn't want a repeat, that's for sure, but since he wanted to know if he was susceptible to this kind of temptation he had to set himself up for temptation. How else would he be able to confess his love to the girl he loves with a pure heart?

His heart was beating hard and his throat was dry. He had no idea what to expect from himself. He was afraid that if he gave in to the test, he would succumb to it, and then he would lose all right to Berenice. But after all, he can't stand here like this indefinitely.

What should he do now, then? How to behave? Seemingly, everything between him and the Norwegian had been clarified, but... He swallowed his saliva. Of course, David could not imagine that the situation could happen again. That time was just once, the only time. The Norwegian was annoyed that David saw something he shouldn't have seen and got a little carried away. That would have been it. A one-time unplanned situation, for which he apologized, by the way. He took a deep breath and crossed the palace gates.

However, he couldn't help the fact that his legs were going very slowly and his heart was beating faster than it should. It didn't make sense. He shouldn't be nervous about meeting Meiden. Everything was already explained, he repeated to himself again, as if it were a mantra. That situation will not happen again and he will behave in the company of the Norwegian as he did before the incident. He will not do anything controversial. He will be professional all the way. After all, if he wanted to keep the job, and he did, he should remain on good terms with the owner and certainly avoiding meetings with him will not ensure that. So he gathered all his courage and rang the front doorbell.

He was not surprised that there was no response.

He pressed the handle, but the door did not give way. He could have opened it with his key, but decided that before entering someone else's house without asking he would look around and see if the Norwegian was hanging around somewhere. So he walked over to the side, where his office was.

He thought he spotted a crouching figure, but wasn't sure because the sun was reflecting off the glass. So he knocked on the outer door of the study. The old door, nibbled by time and woodworm, gave way on its own.

Yes, there was Meiden sitting at the desk. David could see his golden-red hair and stooped, broad-shouldered figure. The man sat motionless giving the impression that his eyes were fixed on one point of the monitor. It was impossible for someone to be so thoughtful.

"Mr. Meiden..."

The man twitched violently and quickly turned toward him. He gave the impression of being completely surprised. His bloodshot, sunken eyes in his pale face were unable to catch his focus, even though David was standing only a few steps in front of him. It was as if his consciousness resided in a different place than his body.

Meiden batted his eyelids and smiled pleasantly.

"Oh, it's you."

At the sound of his voice, David felt strange. It was rough and hoarse, but expressed contentment. The Norwegian even smiled broadly, although with those misguided eyes and several days of beard it gave a somewhat ghostly impression.

"I rang the doorbell at the front," Dawid explained shyly.

"I was working. When I do that, I forget about the world."

Something similar was once said by Krauze.

This aroused David's curiosity. He glanced at the monitor and, seeing a text file on it, blushed and looked away.

"Would you like to read it?" asked Meiden with a smile. It wasn't that wide, sincere smile there, however. This time David saw the deception and provocation in it. He immediately remembered the warning he heard last time. He felt his cheeks turning red.

"No," he replied shortly. He lied. He was curious about the text and whether it was erotic like that one. And his body hearing the provocation became slightly warmer. When he realized this, he blushed even more. "I'm just curious, what kind of work is this?"

The Norwegian looked at him curiously. Finally, he sighed.

"I'm a writer. A novelist, to be more precise."

David looked at him in silence. His only reaction was to squint his eyes. Gustav Meiden a writer? A novelist? Really? Him? How could it be that while searching the Internet for information about someone named Gustav Meiden, he hadn't come across something as relevant as a writer?

"You write... gay romance?" he finally asked.

"What, no, not really," he sighed. "I write moral historical novels. I especially like the France of Louis XIII and XIV. I try to convey the spirit of the time, the realities of the time, and the truth is that many men of that era liked male company. Even kings."

"Really?" David didn't quite believe him.

"Yes. Most people don't delve into these topics and accept the official images of events and rulers. They don't look for their true nature because why should they? My books reveal them and very clearly. I'm not ashamed to call a spade a spade, to speak plainly about them..."

He paused as if to take a breath, David noticed, however, that this came with difficulty. His eyes once again lost their hard-won focus. Meiden lowered his head gravely. David felt a sense of unease. Meiden is not going to faint here, is he?

"Sir!" he called out and ran up to him.

Meiden smiled pale and raised his gaze at him, which clearly indicated that he was wandering between the here and now and a sweet state of unconsciousness unable to decide which to choose. Their gazes met and David felt a shiver run through his body. Those eyes, green and sparkling, were not scary at all, they were even appealing in an unexplained way, a little sad and very beautiful. David shook his head. Focus, damn it, he chastised himself. Your boss is about to faint!

"I think I've been working too long," said Gustav apologetically. "Damn," he laughed and leaned back in his chair.

"I'll get you some water," offered David and ran out to the kitchen.

Not good, he thought genuinely worried. If his boss suddenly dies, the police will start an investigation and worst of all, he will lose his well-paid job.

He smiled to himself at this bitter joke. It was a silly way to ease his anxiety about Meiden. Boss or not, he was, after all, a man who could have passed out from exhaustion any moment.

How long had he been working? All night? Longer than that? Is it really possible to turn into a ghostly specter when writing books? With any work, a person should keep enough sense not to bring himself to such a state.

As frightened as he was annoyed at Meiden's brainless behavior, he quickly grabbed a bottle of water and ran to the office. If the guy fainted, he splashed that water in his face.

Meiden was conscious. That's a good thing. He looked very pale to say the least, but he was smiling with relief and satisfaction. Well, what is he so happy about?

"At least I'm done," muttered the satisfied Norwegian and reached out for the bottle. "Thank you."

His hand trembled slightly, clearly indicating fatigue. Oy, oy, how could a grown man bring himself to such a state? Doesn't he have any brains?

"You're welcome." David replied reflexively. After all, it really wasn't a big deal to bring someone water, so he was puzzled why Gustav was looking at him as if he had accomplished something special?

Gustav? Mr. Meiden, he corrected himself immediately. One should avoid all confidentiality, especially after that one. Why did he even call him by his first name in his mind?

An uneasy shiver ran down David's back. The Norwegian, having drunk a bit of water, was already looking better and his eyes had regained their focus anew. Now they were fixed straight into the gardener standing before him....