Just like that, the impossible button came undone. "Thank you," Samuel said to Don Juan. He got up from the edge of the bath, halfheartedly stalling on the question. It seemed he could not block or divert it; the curiosity in Don Juan's voice was too earnest. His defenses were swimming away with everything else.
"Because—," he said. He had stood up too quickly. The floor was slippery and he swayed. "Because you—," he cursed and lost his train of thought. While struggling for his balance, he stepped into a piece of glass. Holding on to the edge, he picked it out of the sole of his foot and threw it across the room. It bounced off the tiled wall with a quiet 'plink'.
His train of thought was gone. What were they talking about? The steam in the room was denser than the winter fog. He felt pleasantly dizzy and adrift in time. Without further ado, he stripped down. First out of his shirt. It fell unceremoniously on the floor and into the water. Then he got out of his trousers, pulled them down with his underwear and almost dropped them down on the floor too, but remembered the vials were in his pocket. He hastily caught them and hung them over a hook on the wall. He looked towards the man sitting on the bath and was confused why he stared at him like that.
"It just happened again," he said to him and he got in the bath, brushing past him. The water was very hot. He stood in it for a second, while he got used to it. Don Juan, of course, stared at him because of the brutal and angry red scar etchings covering his body. Irritated by the poison in his sweat, they looked more ominous and alive than ever. Samuel had given no thought to it because a part of him could not come to terms with the fact that the pair of eyes that stared at him now did not belong to him -- the person who painstakingly carved these circles into his body. "A part of me thinks that you are someone else. I know you are not, but—" the rest of the sentence vanished to somewhere. "I don't think that is good." For you; For me. He lowered himself into the water.
"Because—," he said. He had stood up too quickly. The floor was slippery and he swayed. "Because you—," he cursed and lost his train of thought. While struggling for his balance, he stepped into a piece of glass. Holding on to the edge, he picked it out of the sole of his foot and threw it across the room. It bounced off the tiled wall with a quiet 'plink'.
His train of thought was gone. What were they talking about? The steam in the room was denser than the winter fog. He felt pleasantly dizzy and adrift in time. Without further ado, he stripped down. First out of his shirt. It fell unceremoniously on the floor and into the water. Then he got out of his trousers, pulled them down with his underwear and almost dropped them down on the floor too, but remembered the vials were in his pocket. He hastily caught them and hung them over a hook on the wall. He looked towards the man sitting on the bath and was confused why he stared at him like that.
"It just happened again," he said to him and he got in the bath, brushing past him. The water was very hot. He stood in it for a second, while he got used to it. Don Juan, of course, stared at him because of the brutal and angry red scar etchings covering his body. Irritated by the poison in his sweat, they looked more ominous and alive than ever. Samuel had given no thought to it because a part of him could not come to terms with the fact that the pair of eyes that stared at him now did not belong to him -- the person who painstakingly carved these circles into his body. "A part of me thinks that you are someone else. I know you are not, but—" the rest of the sentence vanished to somewhere. "I don't think that is good." For you; For me. He lowered himself into the water.
