Battle of the Rhine

The tide overwhelmed Michael, he couldn't breathe, and his heart seemed to be beating in his ears.Across the swaying water waves, in the blurred vision, Quincy was a golden shadow.Michael closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he saw Quincy looking sideways, smiling, whispering something to the boy.

his college students.

His college student was still the same as before, clean and handsome as a statue.Quincy was wearing a white shirt, still the old suspenders from the last century.The little boy pouted while hugging his neck, Quincy stroked his head, and turned around to say a few words.A woman stepped out, followed by a tall, thin man.That's Charlie and Franz.Franz held out his hand, and the little boy turned his head and hugged Quincy even tighter.

"...Okay." Michael vaguely heard Xia Li's gentle reassurance, "Let's come on the weekend, okay?"

"No!" cried the little boy, "No! No! No!"

He pursed his lips, making a look of weeping.Quincy touched his face again, and said something in the boy's ear.In the end, the little guy got into Franz's arms angrily, and kept shouting, "No! No!"

Charlie and Quincy hugged and kissed each other on the cheek.Then she and Franz got into a car, a small family car, the kind that Michael hated most, it couldn't fit a few people or a lot of things.The car drove away, and Quincy stood at the gate waving, the wind blowing in his hair—his hair was a little longer and slightly curled.He looked in the direction the car was driving away, stared at the end of the road, slowly lowered his hands, and folded his arms, as if the wind was blowing cold.

Michael wanted to call him, or just run up to hug him, kiss him, sniff his neck.But he didn't have time to do so—the door opened, and another person came out.A man, tall and thin, half a head taller than Quinnessy.Dark hair, hooked nose, thin lips.He was also wearing a shirt, tucked loosely around his waist.The man put his hands on Quincy's shoulders, leaned over and spoke with a smile.Quincy turned around, as if leaning into a man's arms.

They go in.The man closed the fence gate, and four years later, the fence had changed color, and instead of the clean white Michael had picked, it was dark brown.Staring at the fence and the roses in the garden, Michael began to think, or rather, forced himself to think, because he was in a state of extreme rage... rage pouring down like lava and drowning him completely.

That guy, who behaved intimately with Quincy, was probably the Frenchie Oliver had met.Yeah, yeah, four years, and Michael clenched his fists, thankful he didn't have a gun around him, or he would have done something terribly evil.Four years, Mike, he said to himself, don't you already know?The French... the French, the French he despised!Why a Frenchie?Michael walked to the middle of the road, staring at the fence, damn it, he should have a gun... or a knife, or an axe.He doesn't want to be rational and calm at all now, he just wants to kill that Frenchman and kill himself.

You gave up first, said a voice, you gave up on him, and he found someone else, isn't it justified?He told you he was gay.Even if he wasn't, without the Frenchman, there would be that Ms. Lehman, and without Ms. Lehman, there would be other women...the second Emma.Thank God, said the voice, that if it had been a woman, his wife, his children, you would have committed far worse crimes.

That's right.Gritting his teeth, Michael came to the fence.Yeah, yeah, let's face it, he wouldn't want to see Quincy get married and have kids.This is why they fled Germany in a hurry.He would kill Quincy's wife and children and hack them to pieces to vent his anger.His college students... his college students!His college students can only be his!His college student doesn't need anyone else, he can take care of him, comfort him, hold him to sleep at night, wake him up from nightmares...he can do everything, for his college student, everything!Apart from--

You can't love him.said the voice.

Michael returned to the other side of the road, dejected.It was getting late, at four o'clock, he booked a train ticket for six o'clock.With the train ticket lying in his trouser pocket, he could act as if nothing had happened, get out of here, go to the train station, and buy a currywurst.Then go back to the dormitory, take a shower, go to bed, get up to work the next day... hand in your resignation and go back to the United States.

Just leave like this, Michael rubbed the corner of his clothes, the anger disappeared, his whole body was wet and sticky, like a transparent glass cover.He was so sick he wanted to vomit!The hateful weather, the hateful sunshine, the hateful bushes, the hateful gravel roads, the hateful singing of birds.He walked mechanically, writing his resignation letter...how should I start?Hello, I am--

"Hello?" said a strange voice, "Do you want to see someone?"

Michael turned his head, over the fence, the tall man blinked.He has dark eyes that complement his hair. "You seem to have been here for a while," the man said, "need help?"

"No." Michael opened his mouth and uttered a syllable.His expression must have been terrifying, as could be seen from the man's reaction.But Michael didn't want to be friendly, he glared at the man fiercely, "Who are you?"

"Gabriel," the door opened, and a golden shadow floated out, "Who are you talking to?"

"Sir, I thought he had lost his way," said the man, holding the scissors as if to cut some roses.Quincy followed his line of sight, and Michael stared as the tide overwhelmed him again, only this time it was a hot, boiling ocean... he was almost suffocating.

"Mike, Mike?" Quincy whispered in disbelief. "Mike?"

"Carl." Michael wiped his face, covered in sweat and sticky, "Hello."

"Mike," Quincy said, taking a step forward, then backing away, "God..."

"Is that Mike?" the man asked, holding Quincy up. "Honey, are you all right?"

Oh listen, "Honey".An impulse raced through Michael's head to grab the scissors and put a few holes in the fucking Frenchman.Quincy shook his head, his blue eyes widening. "Mike, I thought—"

"I'm back." Michael shrugged, "I just wanted to come... to see you."

"Are you all right?" Quincy asked, the first greeting he learned when he was learning German.He folded his arms, trembling all over.The man grabbed his hand and patted it reassuringly. "Thank you," Quincy said, and then looked up. "Mike, today I—"

"I know." Michael understood. "I was here last week and Hannah told me you were on vacation. Get some rest, Carl," he hesitated. "Goodbye."

Bye, bye, bye.Saying goodbye is painful!But he has to go. "I'm busy today." Means no time.No time today, no time tomorrow, and his college students will never have time to see him.Of course, there is no need to meet...why should we meet?Quincy already has a French...

"Are you from America?" the Frenchman said suddenly, "Would you like to come in? Maybe you need to chat." He was very enthusiastic, "I just made something to eat."