Live, Love, Lose - 8. Chapter 8

Hello my dear readers!
So I guess none of you like George for now, but you know what they say: "don't judge a book by its cover." Just saying...
Well, I hope you'll enjoy that chapter as well

Later during dinner, George and Karl were sitting down next to each other, Karl being on the side that was the nearest to the stove.

Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins were sitting next to each other as well, Mrs. Hopkins across George and her husband across Karl while their son was alone on one end of the table, the one opposite the stove.

The meal was peaceful; everyone was eating in silence until Mrs. Hopkins decided to break it at some point.

“So, George, tell me, how are your studies going?” She asked him with a bright smile.

She didn’t seem to like it when it was too silent. Well, as she obviously was a warm and outgoing woman who liked to make conversation with anyone, Karl wasn’t too surprised.

All eyes were on him as he seemed to think about his answer.

“Huh, much harder and more exhausting than I thought it would be when I first started going to uni,” George replied. “I even thought about quitting.”

“Oh no, that would be such a pity. It’s of utmost importance to get a diploma if you want to have a good job.” Mrs. Hopkins said with her brows furrowed.

“Yeah, that’s what my mother told me.”

Another smile appeared on her face.

“Of course she would. She wants to be proud of her little boy like every mother.”

George didn’t reply anything. He was somehow looking anxious as if something was bothering him.

But none of the Hopkins seemed to notice. Or maybe they simply chose not to say anything about it if they did.

“By the way, how has she been?” Mrs. Hopkins then asked him, still smiling, probably unable to bear the thought of a long moment of silence that might have become awkward.

But George didn’t reply immediately.

“As good as she can be,” he ended up saying, not looking really interested in what they were talking about.

Mrs. Hopkins’ smile quickly faded, a concerned look now on her face.

“Does she even know you’re here?”

George gazed into her concerned eyes briefly before he looked away.

“You know, when I said I just wanted to spend the weekend here, in fact, it will probably last much longer… So I really hope you don’t mind…”

Mrs. Hopkins looked pretty upset after he said that.

“George… Have you thought about your poor mother? She must be worried to no end and so heartbroken…”

Silence.

Even if Karl couldn’t get what they were saying precisely, he could clearly see something was off. He kept looking at George from the corner of his eye with no intention of looking away.

“I’m really sorry to show up here so unexpectedly…” George apologised.

“Don’t be. It’s okay. You know we’ll always be there for you, no matter what. And this home will always be your second home,” Mr. Hopkins responded in a fatherly tone and with a reassuring smile.

George stared into his brown eyes before he smiled at him gratefully. He murmured a small thanks before he took a bite of his food.

“You know, it’s not that we don’t want to welcome you here. You know we’re always happy whenever you’re around, but… You should go back to your mother,” His wife suddenly said, breaking the silence, still looking concerned.

The atmosphere became tense again, and Karl heard Mr. Hopkins sigh.

“She needs you much more than you think, you know,” Mrs. Hopkins then added.

“Margaret, please,” her husband said to her gravely. “Let’s stop talking about that for tonight, shall we? He can stay here as long as he wants to. And he’ll get back home once he feels ready to do so.”

She didn’t seem to really appreciate her husband’s attitude.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about getting my own flat so I wouldn’t bother anyone anymore,” George chimed in. “But as long as I don’t graduate and get a job, it’s really complicated… I know my mother will never accept to pay for it and for the rent…”

“George, you’ll never bother us, okay?” Mr. Hopkins said.

“Yes, that’s not what I meant, dear,” his wife said as her features seemed to soften. “But since we only have two bedrooms I don’t know where you will sleep, you see…”

“He will share the room with Carl,” Paul suddenly interjected, looking casual.

“But there’s only one bed in your former bedroom,” Mrs. Hopkins said, her brows slightly knitted.

“Yes, I know. But this is war, Mum.”

Her frown deepened.

“Does Carl even know about that?”

“They’ll reach an agreement together,” Paul replied.

“But how?”

“Listen, Mum, as I said to George, Carl isn’t stupid, so they’ll manage to do it with gestures and words, you know.”

His mother was about to retort something. But her husband spoke before she could utter anything.

“Please, no arguments tonight, understood? Can’t we have a peaceful meal? May I remind you we have guests over,” he stated gravely.

A moment of silence followed his words.

“Anyway it won’t kill them if they have to share the same bed,” he added somewhat casually, breaking it. “Besides, it will be easier for them to become friends.”

“Who said I wanted to become friends with him? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against him, but I haven’t come here to make friends,” George retorted.

Robert was left speechless. It seemed that he preferred not to add anything in case he might have said something he shouldn’t have.

“You should finish eating before it gets too cold,” he merely said in a low voice.

These words were a safe bet.

*

Once dinner was over, both Karl and George went into Paul’s former room at the same time. George didn’t even bother to close the door. Karl decided to leave it open, without any particular reason.

They remained standing still as if waiting for the other to do something, neither too close nor too far; staring into each other’s eyes as if trying to decipher what was on the other’s mind.

This lasted for a little while. George ended up breaking the silence.

“Do you mind if I stay here?” He asked Karl, not sure he would understand his question.

But he didn’t know how to proceed otherwise.

He saw there was no reaction on Karl’s part. He considered what he should do when he suddenly remembered Paul’s words.

Gestures and simple words. This was the key.

“Me,” he said as he pointed at himself, “here,” he then said as he pointed down at the floor. “Okay?”

But he couldn’t say whether Karl had understood or not. So he proceeded, hoping to be clearer this time.

“You and I,” he said as he pointed at the two of them in turn, “here, share the room, okay?” He shook his finger from right to left, showing the space of the room.

But there was still no reaction on Karl’s part, making him almost desperate. He turned around and was about to leave the room to go and see Margaret and Robert when Karl finally spoke up.

“Problem,” he simply said with his thick Danish accent. (Anyway, it's the same word as in English.)

George turned back around to lock eyes with him again, a slightly puzzled expression plastered on his face.

“What problem? What are you talking about?” He inquired.

Karl waited for a few seconds before he spoke up again.

“Jeg taler måske ikke dit sprog flydende, men jeg er ikke blind,” he merely said, leaving George at a loss for words.

He had never needed to speak foreign languages and didn’t even know what Danish sounded like, until now. Well, he did speak some French and German, and right now he almost wished he could speak Danish.

I may not speak your language fluently, but I am not blind.

That’s what Karl had meant. Even though George couldn’t understand it.

He kept staring at Karl in silence before something seemed to dawn on him.

“Oh, I think I get it. If that’s a problem for you to share the room with me, then I’m just gonna leave.”

He was about to leave the room again when Karl spoke up again.

“Nej. No,” he managed to utter the word in English.

George repeated the same movement as he did only a few moments ago.

“You mean I can…”

Karl nodded without adding a single word.

“But… What about the bed? Bed,” he repeated, stressing it as he pointed at it.

Karl glanced at it before he stared back at George.

He didn’t really know what to say or do actually. He had never found himself in such a situation before.

So he shrugged his shoulders lightly before he made his way toward the bed to sit on it.

George just watched him silently.

“Well, I guess I’ll sleep on the floor then. It’s still better than being homeless,” he ended up stating, trying to sound casual.

He sat down on the floor swiftly which was fortunately comfortable compared to the one in his own bedroom.

Karl observed him wordlessly. He figured out what George was up to. He just couldn’t let him sleep on the floor…

“No… Komme…” he said as he patted an empty spot on the bed.

George seemed to be surprised he should do and say that.

He knitted his brow slightly.

“Are you sure?”

Karl just nodded.

George waited for a few seconds before he stood back up and made his way toward the bed as well. He sat on the edge of it gingerly, toward the end of it, so he wouldn’t be too close to the blond boy.

They just both stayed still and silent, Karl’s gaze fixed on the door as if it were the most interesting thing to look at while George was looking down at his feet, his two hands on each side of him pressed flat against the mattress.

After a few minutes of doing absolutely nothing, Karl stole a glance at George who was still looking down, as if he were afraid to make the slightest move.

Once they both seemed to come to a silent agreement that it was time for them to go to sleep, they laid in bed, back to back, careful to remain on their end of the bed so their backs wouldn’t brush. Karl was so close to the bedroom wall that he was almost touching it. As for George, if he moved, he could easily fall off the bed.

A long while passed until they finally drifted off to sleep.

They guessed they could get used to that if they really didn’t have any other choice.