By March, the Witcher and I had fallen into a pleasant daily routine: every morning we met on Skype, me having breakfast at the office, he just having gotten out of bed. We wrote for about an hour and departed when he left for work.
We arranged a board game evening in the capital where I was introduced to his friends. Afterwards there were no trains home for me, so I slept over at his place. The flat he had back then was very small, with the tiniest and most uncomfortable couch I have ever seen. I immediately understood why he had dismissed all my offerings to sleep there. I got to sleep in his bed, which was located on a platform above the office niche of his living room. He lay down on a blanket on the floor.
“Ok, I can’t go through with this. We are not in kindergarden. Would you please just sleep on the other side of the bed?”
My tone did not leave room for an argument. He switched to the left side of the bed and we slept next to each other. I had often before shared a bed with friends, so in itself it was nothing special, had there not been this kind of tension between us. Not once did he touch me, not even accidentially.
He did however hug me goodbye when I was about to leave the next morning.
On the way to the train station, in an impulse I wrote to him: “I am sure that you already know what my mysterious text meant.”
On that day, he made his first mistake. He could have followed me to the train station. I was only 10 minutes ahead of him – he could have hoped for me still having to buy a ticket or waiting for a train, ambush me and confront me about my feelings. He might have conquered me for himself then and there. I don’t know how things would have gone afterwards and regarding later events it is ok that he messed up his chance.
He did not follow me. Instead, he asked me to wait for him, so he could come and see if he could confirm his suspicion. He announced an act that should have been sudden and dramatic, giving me time to think about it, time to see the possible consequences, time to panic. My rationality came in the way of my feelings. What else cound I have done but flee? I anxiously waited another 10 minutes, then texted him that I was already on bord of a train leaving the station when in fact I spent half an hour waiting, casting paranoid glaces over my shoulder.