Battle of the Rhine

On Christmas Eve, Michael was discharged from the hospital.Like a docile puppet, he obediently followed Quincy's instructions and sat in the passenger seat of a family car.Quincy completed the formalities, carrying two bags filled with Michael's daily necessities, including water glasses, lunch boxes, a thermos from "Spoon" and a few changes of laundry.

"Your car?" Michael slowly tightened his seat belt. He was wearing a thick overcoat that Quinnessy had given him, and a scarf of surprising length.Quincy wrapped four or five circles around his neck in a way that seemed to strangle him.Now, he was wrapped in warm clothes, and a faint scent lingered at the tip of his nose, which was the smell of Quincy.

"Mine," said Quincy firmly. "I hate that car of yours."

"That car is very spacious." Michael pulled down the scarf, "The speed is also excellent, when accelerating—"

"It's a military vehicle," Quincy snorted. "Every time I ride in that vehicle, I feel like I am," he bowed his head to start the vehicle, "you're a prisoner."

His driving style is very close to Michael's, and he belongs to the group of drivers who drive carefully.Most Germans are used to driving fast, perhaps thanks to the highways they built early.In any case, Michael finally left the hospital, leaving the pungent smell of disinfectant that he dreaded most... the fear of death.

After driving for about two hours, Michael almost fell asleep under the scarf.The carriage was cramped, and his leg brushed against Quincy's every now and then. "Is Arden at home?" Michael caught a glimpse of the familiar scenery during the doze, "It doesn't know me..."

"Arden is friendly," Quincy said. "Are you afraid of dogs?"

"not afraid."

"I sometimes take it out to play and it just sits where you are."

It might be ironic, suggesting that Michael is less faithful than a dog or something.But Michael doesn't care anymore, what is he worried about?He seemed to have died several times, and a harsh word or two meant nothing to him.He just wanted to stay quietly by Quincy's side, which was an easy wish to realize, after all all his documents were in Quincy's hands... Now he really looks like a long-term laborer who sold himself to the king in the past.

Fortunately, the king has packed a warm room for him. "Sit down." Quincy took Michael by the hand and made him sit on the sofa, where a flannel suit and new slippers were laid out.Quincy squats down and unties Michael's shoelaces. "I can do it myself." Michael shrank his feet, "You don't have to do that."

"The doctor said you can't jerk your head down."

"I'll be careful."

Michael was ashamed, and he would never have Quincy do the menial work for him.As a long-term worker, these jobs should be done by him.His weak protest did not convince Quincy. After all, the doctor told him not to do this or that before he was discharged from the hospital. He should rest quietly for a period of time, avoid strenuous exercise, and calm down.Quincy helped him change, Michael took off the sweater, and Quincy said, "Why haven't you thrown that thing away yet?"

"What?" Michael lowered his head and touched his chest, the military registration card, the half of the military registration card, through the shirt, Quincy must have seen the chain, "No, this is one of my most precious treasures... ... engraved with your name, I will carry it with me when I die."

Quincy said nothing more, buttoned up Michael's button, and then brought a few pages of paper, "Read it."

The rental agreement was written in both German and English. Quinnessy may think that Michael's serious illness has affected his language ability, and he is no longer able to cope with the complex and changeable forms and deformations of German.The agreement is still the same, almost all "don't" and "forbidden": no eating in the bedroom, no entering the living room without changing shoes, no random posters, no playing football in the house... no support for football outside Bayern Munich team, and it is forbidden to take anyone home.

"I won't bring anyone back," Michael took the pen and signed under the two agreements, "I only loved you, Carl."

"Fifteen marks a month," said Quinnessy, "you pay for the meals yourself, and divide the rest equally."

"It doesn't matter how much money you want. I will give you all my salary...you can do whatever you want."

"I don't want your salary."

"It's better, I hate to settle accounts." Michael squeezed out a smile, "The doctor said, let me use my brain less."

They had a simple supper, and Michael had vegetable soup and bread.Quincy set up a kitchen scale and weighed the butter and cheese.After eating, Michael went back to his room—on the second floor, the curtains had been changed, thick and warm, with crisp white lace trim.He took a shower and waited for Quincy to arrive after clearing the dishes.But the bed was so comfortable... The sheets were clean and dry, and there was an artificial scent of light detergent. Michael sniffed the reassuring smell and fell asleep within a few minutes.

In the middle of the night, Michael woke up.Someone was touching his nose with cool fingertips, as if to confirm whether he was still breathing.There is also a whisper like a gust of wind, like talking in sleep, strange but not completely strange, it is Latin.

"I'm alive." Michael murmured softly, taking the hand. "Don't worry."

The owner of the hand froze, he was sticking to Michael's back. "Old Mike died in a car accident. No one in my family died prematurely from high blood pressure." Michael said, turning over and hugging the thin body. It's all right."

Quincy's face was stained with wetness, and he might have cried for a while while Michael was fast asleep.Michael hugged him apologetically, and kissed the blond hair, "I'm sorry, I haven't been so comfortable in a long time...I hate hospitals, lying there, worrying all day long...Doctors like to exaggerate, you can feel it, I Arms are much stronger than yours."

"You're an idiot, Mike." Quincy brushed the tip of his nose against Michael's chin. "It's unbelievable..."

"Are you sleepy?" Michael didn't want to ask what "unbelievable" contained, he just wanted to express his thoughts clearly and tell all the people in his arms, his favorite college student, "I want to say..."

"You are a fool."

"Yes, I'm a fool. There's no bigger fool in the world than Michael Fiennes."

Quincy laughed and arched his head, "Come on, what nonsense are you trying to talk about?"

"Well... first of all," Michael exhaled slowly, "first and most importantly - I love you."

Quincy didn't answer right away, neither sarcastic nor moved.The time had passed for him to be moved to tears by the words, and Michael knew very well, "Although you may want to mock me, I'm telling the truth... After all these years, I've finally figured it out. I'm a fool, Yes, I love you, idiot."

"But I don't love you anymore," said Quincy. "I won't love you any more. Loving a fool is very painful."

"It's okay." Michael was very calm, "The fool loves you, that's enough."

"If one day, you don't love me anymore—"

"No, I swear."

"Don't be so sure," Quincy sighed, "Sexual desire can only last for a few months...Promise me, Mike, if one day that fool doesn't love me, just tell me, okay? Even a fool , we also have to have a decent farewell."

"I don't love you purely out of sexual desire..." Michael smiled, "But, well, I promise you, I send it to God"

"Then?" After a while, Quincy asked vaguely, "Is that all?"

"Then, the second thing, it's a big deal," Michael couldn't help laughing, "I'm sorry, honey...you see, Karna, it's the girl I wrote about in the letter, it's you ...that letter was from Mary to me. Mary Jean was my ex-wife, a good girl. But..." It's a long story, and he had to start in 1945, "I went back to America and... ..."

He recalled that in those past years, he racked his brains to make up all kinds of lies, and deceived Mary into believing that he had fallen in love with a beautiful girl in far away Germany.At first, Quincy responded with a few short words, reached into Michael's pajamas, and stroked the military badge.After an unknown amount of time, he stopped moving, nestled on Michael's chest, grabbed Michael's skirt, and breathed lightly.

"Good night." Michael carefully kissed the college student's forehead, "See you tomorrow."