2025-07-11, 10:34 PM
It really started like any other day. I mean, getting up early in the morning, the way I always jumped out of bed with so much energy so as not to miss a single French lesson, even though I was already a sucker for French anyway. But at school, things were somehow different this time. Cathy, my secret love, came to me and asked me about my math homework again. As if I had done it! I had nothing better to do. Actually, she was a poor sod; it wasn't her fault that she made mistakes in math; she was somehow completely incompetent at any of it. But even though I was considered the nerd because I simply didn't want to have anything to do with those complete idiots of boys who spent all day planning their next party and hitting on the first girl they came across, I wasn't any good at math either. Somehow, those completely antisocial boys were getting on my nerves. I think they have no hobbies other than one or two things and now have to take out their pent-up energy, built up by their antisocial parents and siblings (if they had any), on other people (like me). It's clear that I was suited for this, given my appearance: I just don't fit the bill: Long blonde hair, about shoulder-length, blue eyes, with a green jacket and black or white corduroy pants; skull buttons and Vans.
“Hello Cillian, are you still there?” Cathy asked me.
"Oh, uh, yeah... no... sure..."
„Mathe???“
"Oh, no, not myself. I'm sorry," I stammered, torn from my thoughts.
"Okay, I'll do my morning rounds. Let's see who has it."
I gave her a quick wink and concentrated on what I'd just been thinking. Something about antisocial people, but then our teacher came in. Well, biology was on the agenda now—and a double lesson to boot.
As I sat on a bench during recess, someone tapped me from behind. Surprised, I turned around and was about to say hello to Cathy, probably because she hadn't understood biology. We'd been going through some kind of model-building exercise of a DNA molecule. But it wasn't her after all. Surprised, I looked at a boy, quite skinny and shy. I'd guess he was 15 or 16, a year younger than me. His hair was so blond it almost looked white again, and he had a rather angular face with stark contours, like a hawk's. He was really handsome; I was already envious of him.
„Hi.“
“Um, hi. Sit down.”
He sat down next to me.
"What's your concern?" I asked. You don't have to appear polite right away.
"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to make conversation." Great, since I was just about to eat my lunch. Probably some brainiac who wanted money. I'd better stay on my guard; maybe he was one of those drug dealers. Kids start taking this stuff and dealing it in 7th grade. Well, let's see.
"Okay, let's start."
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
“Anything, probably rock.”
“Do you know Tocotronic?” he asked.
"Ever heard of it? Do you like it?" People who listen to that kind of music don't usually deal. I started to become a little friendlier.
"I love this band. There's a song. It's called 'The idea is good, but the world isn't ready yet,' and it's about approaching people on the street and inviting them in. Maybe they have a problem and want to talk about it."
"I see. I assume you have a problem?" I asked.
"What makes you think that?"
"Oh, just saying. That's the case with a lot of people. I'm just good at empathizing with people." That was really true!
“Well, well... it’s true, I have a problem.”
The bell rang. The break was over.
"Call me, little one, here's my number, and just come by sometime; I'm always here. I live at Dorothea-Erxleben-Straße 34. Bye, bye," I said, somewhat pained. Am I the counselor or what? He stood up and left without a word.
Sure enough, he showed up at my house that same afternoon at three o'clock. He had strangely worn black eye makeup. It looked pretty good on him, and I immediately asked him why he didn't do it at school.
“Oh, the others would just push me away even more anyway,” he replied sadly.
"That's where the wind blows from. You want to be friends and you picked me?"
"You're really good at empathizing with people. I've often watched you. You stand around alone, reading a book. You have as few friends as I do," he said.
I was surprised he mentioned it. Usually, no one talked to me about it. Usually, no one talked to me without a specific reason, either related to homework or school. It was fine with me. Whatever.
"What's your name anyway? And how old are you? I think you should tell me."
"My name is..." Before he could finish, I had already tried to guess. I guessed his name was Jannik.
"Chris...and I am..." he tried to continue. Well, okay, I could be wrong about my judgment of people sometimes.
"16 years old. And you?"
"I'm Cillian and I'm 17 years old. Welcome to my room."
He was kind of cute, quite shy, but still waters run deep. I knew that only too well.
2.
Tuesday
The next day, Chris pretty much avoided me. He seemed a bit embarrassed; he didn't even know what had made him just approach me. Yesterday was actually quite fun; we talked about pretty much everything and laughed a lot until he had to leave around 9 p.m. I still had things to do, after all, but he relaxed more and more and laughed more and more. Otherwise, the day had been normal; the holidays would be here soon. Finally. I'd waited far too long, but it took so long. Luckily, the holidays were next week. I was already counting the days; today was Tuesday. Still, it kind of annoyed me that he kept looking at me when he was just standing in the schoolyard like a wet poodle with nothing to do. He kept looking at me, his eyes almost devouring me. Of course I was pissed off; I need at least some peace and quiet when I'm reading. So I went over to him and greeted him.
„Hey.“
„Hi.“
"So, how are you? I'm fine. You weren't that shy yesterday, were you? I mean, today you're staring at me the whole time and you think I don't notice!"
"I...I'm sorry." He looked down, ashamed. My God, is he afraid of me or something?
Suddenly, two thugs, no older than him, probably a bit younger, came up and punched him on the shoulder. He doubled over a little because he was startled, but luckily it didn't hurt. Then he looked down.
"Hey, little one? Another new one?" They walked away laughing, and I stood there completely stunned, embarrassed that I hadn't intervened. He almost started to cry. You could see how hard he was holding back the tears.
"What was that? Should I take a look at that?"
"Oh no, let's not. They do that all the time. If you just do nothing, they'll leave me alone," he said angrily.
“And what did they want from you?”
"DIDNT YOU HEAR?" he suddenly yelled at me and ran off toward the restroom. At first, I wanted to run after him, but then I decided not to. I knew this kind of situation all too well, when someone insulted me with whatever. I wanted to be alone then, too. Besides, the bell rang, and I had to go in; I still had a math test.
Our math lesson went by relatively quickly. Our teacher, Mr. Schöll, gave us a test and then, in a bad mood as always, said, "No questions," in his oh-so-perfect High German, which he always raved about. And worms. Every lesson, he compared the numbers to worms. Of course, the test had gone wrong, but that didn't bother me. All I could think about was Chris. What had those teenagers said again? It didn't matter, now I had music and then school was over. So I waited for the redeeming dong, but I had already packed my things 10 minutes before because I really wanted to catch Chris. He had told me where he lived, so I assumed he would go out the main entrance because it was closer to his street. That caused trouble, because I had to unpack my things, which I immediately packed again. Our pissed-off music teacher then had to say:
“Cillian, can you please stay here after class?”
As if I had a choice. Still, I tried.
“But I have to hurry, Mr. Wagner.”
“What’s so important?”
I quickly searched for an answer. Sweat beaded on my forehead.
“Um... I... well.” But I couldn’t get any further.
“Please stay here after class.”
That's just what I needed. Of course, the usual babble like "I'm disappointed in you" and "Try harder!" The whole thing lasted a solid fifteen minutes. I resignedly walked out the main entrance, losing hope that he might still be there by chance. Sure enough, there at the bus stop, I tapped him on the shoulder because he had his back to me. I was just starting to talk when he turned around.
“Hey, what happened today...?”
Shit! I hate confusing people. There's nothing more embarrassing.
“Excuse me?” There was no Chris standing in front of me.
“Sorry, I confused you,” I mumbled and moved on.
As I was about to put my key in the door, I felt dim light and felt hands nearby. Someone was joking and holding their hands in front of my eyes.
"That?"
"Hi Chris." Phew, I was glad he approached me on his own. I carefully took his hands in mine and turned around. I didn't even notice that I was still holding his hands.
"Watch out about this lunchtime. I mean, you know..."
"It's okay. I won't ask any questions. I know what it's like," I winked at him. He was clearly relieved. He quickly kissed me on the cheek and only then realized what had happened. He immediately ran away. I stood there, resigned, for a long time, just watching him.
3.
Wednesday
Chris wasn't at school. I still couldn't stop thinking about him. What did that mean yesterday? Okay, I'm not exactly the type of person who's super affectionate with friends and even kisses them on the cheek, but if some people do it out of friendship, fine by me! The weird thing was that he ran away afterward. It was probably all a bit too much for him. I went to his place that afternoon and rang the doorbell.
A nice young woman opened the door for me.
"Hello. I'm Chris's friend and I'm here to give him his homework."
"Chris mentioned something like that, but he didn't tell me he wanted homework from you. Hey, are you new to Chris's class? I'm Alex, by the way, come in. Chris is upstairs in his room. Just to the right and then straight ahead."
I was glad she forgot about the class question, because I didn't really want to lie. But how else would I get in? With a cheese tray and say, 'Room service, your brother kissed me?'
"Thank you very much."
"Oh, and don't tell Chris I let you in, he doesn't want to talk to you."
“You owe me something.”
"Tell me you. I'm not that old."
“Thanks, Alex.”
I knocked on the room with the bright orange door. Someone called "come in," and I slowly opened the door. Suddenly, his voice changed, becoming shaky, and he began to shiver very gently and slightly. Despite this, he tried to stay cool, but failed.
"What do you want?"
“Talk to you,” I said.
“There's nothing to talk about.”
"Yes, and you probably know that better than I do." I sat down next to him on the bed and took a good look around. There were painted dragons on the grass-green walls. It looked beautiful; there were three on each wall, huge and beautiful, almost perfect. A simple, somewhat wide bed stood against one wall. Only then did I notice that there was an angel on the ceiling. One of those angels with a sword and shield in hand, ready to fight, in crisp armor. It was the most beautiful picture I had ever seen. The rest of the room consisted of a desk under a window and a few cupboards. There wasn't really anything else to see. It was pretty sparse, but that's precisely what made it so beautiful. He noticed that I was very surprised.
“I painted it.”
“This is... beautiful”
"Thank you very much."
I almost forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. But then it came back to me.
"So what I wanted to say..."
"I know. You don't want anything to do with me anymore. It happens to me with a lot of people. Suddenly, happiness hits me, and then it's too late. Well, I'll just look for new friends."
“Well, first of all, I’m really offended.”
"Oh?" Suddenly, he felt truly cold. But that was just his outward mask, hiding what was going on inside him.
"I'm offended because I'm apparently so easily replaced as a friend by some other idiot. And secondly, your former friends must have been great if they freak out about something like this."
He looked at me with big eyes. Sweet, that dachshund look. He didn't know what to say, so he just started crying. The tears just flowed, without a sound. I hugged him. He must have had some terrible friends if he was crying like that!
"Thank you," he whispered shakily. I simply enjoyed feeling his warmth. I had a friend. And now I had to cry, too. Finally, someone I could confide in.
“I want us to stay friends.”
“Yeah, me too,” he replied, “You know what?”
“No, how could it?” I laughed.
He leaned over me at the nightstand and rummaged through a drawer. The feeling of him almost lying on top of me was somehow both beautiful and oppressive. Then he pulled out a bound folder and handed it to me. When I opened it, I was thrilled. He noticed, and his eyes sparkled.
“You’re the first one I’ve shown them to.”
I was honored. The folder contained such beautiful pictures. Entire battles of creatures: giant lizards, orcs, humans, dragons, angels. It looked breathtaking. Even the smallest person in the far corner of the battle was painted with such attention to detail that I almost fell over in awe. And that was just from the first picture. The second picture was just as good: a giant castle made of diamonds, all in black and white, but you could still see the glitter so clearly, as if it were real.
"That's... beautiful," I said, just as I had with the murals. Only now did I wonder how he could paint that angel on the ceiling! It must have been difficult enough as it was, but then it was so perfect!
"You should send some of these pictures to companies that have something to do with magic and such. You'd be on the front page!"
“Thank you.” He blushed a little because he wasn’t used to this.
"You can keep them. I have several of them. My only hobby."
I was absolutely stunned. I was allowed to keep it!
“I can’t accept that!”
"Then I'll make you," he laughed out loud. Suddenly, he pounced on me and tickled me. Then we laughed so hard we could have laughed ourselves to death even over a toothbrush. After a quarter of an hour, we were writhing on the floor, staring at each other. If we hadn't immediately burst out laughing ourselves silly again, I would have said the moment had something romantic about it. Somehow, I liked Chris more and more. With every second, he grew closer to me.
“Okay, now it’s… hehe… enough… Phew, that was exhausting.”
“Laughter builds abs...” I giggled a little.
"Great, then you should come every day," he said, pulling up his T-shirt and showing his stomach. He already had a slight (slight!!!) six-pack. And a beautifully tanned stomach. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. Of course, I had peeked at the other boys in the locker room, and they had much bigger six-packs and browner skin, but his stomach looked so nice and delicate. He noticed that I was checking him out, so he pulled his T-shirt down again.
"Oh... Um... well, I guess," I started to stammer, but he shook his head and just said:
"Oh, never mind. We're even." He winked at me. I smiled a little, a little pained.
"Come on, it doesn't matter. And if so, then you just think it's nice or who knows what." He smiled, which made me smile too. To quickly change the subject, I returned to his folder. I looked at it again, and he noticed the twinkle in my eyes again.
“Look, I really can’t accept this.”
“Hello Cillian, are you still there?” Cathy asked me.
"Oh, uh, yeah... no... sure..."
„Mathe???“
"Oh, no, not myself. I'm sorry," I stammered, torn from my thoughts.
"Okay, I'll do my morning rounds. Let's see who has it."
I gave her a quick wink and concentrated on what I'd just been thinking. Something about antisocial people, but then our teacher came in. Well, biology was on the agenda now—and a double lesson to boot.
As I sat on a bench during recess, someone tapped me from behind. Surprised, I turned around and was about to say hello to Cathy, probably because she hadn't understood biology. We'd been going through some kind of model-building exercise of a DNA molecule. But it wasn't her after all. Surprised, I looked at a boy, quite skinny and shy. I'd guess he was 15 or 16, a year younger than me. His hair was so blond it almost looked white again, and he had a rather angular face with stark contours, like a hawk's. He was really handsome; I was already envious of him.
„Hi.“
“Um, hi. Sit down.”
He sat down next to me.
"What's your concern?" I asked. You don't have to appear polite right away.
"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to make conversation." Great, since I was just about to eat my lunch. Probably some brainiac who wanted money. I'd better stay on my guard; maybe he was one of those drug dealers. Kids start taking this stuff and dealing it in 7th grade. Well, let's see.
"Okay, let's start."
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
“Anything, probably rock.”
“Do you know Tocotronic?” he asked.
"Ever heard of it? Do you like it?" People who listen to that kind of music don't usually deal. I started to become a little friendlier.
"I love this band. There's a song. It's called 'The idea is good, but the world isn't ready yet,' and it's about approaching people on the street and inviting them in. Maybe they have a problem and want to talk about it."
"I see. I assume you have a problem?" I asked.
"What makes you think that?"
"Oh, just saying. That's the case with a lot of people. I'm just good at empathizing with people." That was really true!
“Well, well... it’s true, I have a problem.”
The bell rang. The break was over.
"Call me, little one, here's my number, and just come by sometime; I'm always here. I live at Dorothea-Erxleben-Straße 34. Bye, bye," I said, somewhat pained. Am I the counselor or what? He stood up and left without a word.
Sure enough, he showed up at my house that same afternoon at three o'clock. He had strangely worn black eye makeup. It looked pretty good on him, and I immediately asked him why he didn't do it at school.
“Oh, the others would just push me away even more anyway,” he replied sadly.
"That's where the wind blows from. You want to be friends and you picked me?"
"You're really good at empathizing with people. I've often watched you. You stand around alone, reading a book. You have as few friends as I do," he said.
I was surprised he mentioned it. Usually, no one talked to me about it. Usually, no one talked to me without a specific reason, either related to homework or school. It was fine with me. Whatever.
"What's your name anyway? And how old are you? I think you should tell me."
"My name is..." Before he could finish, I had already tried to guess. I guessed his name was Jannik.
"Chris...and I am..." he tried to continue. Well, okay, I could be wrong about my judgment of people sometimes.
"16 years old. And you?"
"I'm Cillian and I'm 17 years old. Welcome to my room."
He was kind of cute, quite shy, but still waters run deep. I knew that only too well.
2.
Tuesday
The next day, Chris pretty much avoided me. He seemed a bit embarrassed; he didn't even know what had made him just approach me. Yesterday was actually quite fun; we talked about pretty much everything and laughed a lot until he had to leave around 9 p.m. I still had things to do, after all, but he relaxed more and more and laughed more and more. Otherwise, the day had been normal; the holidays would be here soon. Finally. I'd waited far too long, but it took so long. Luckily, the holidays were next week. I was already counting the days; today was Tuesday. Still, it kind of annoyed me that he kept looking at me when he was just standing in the schoolyard like a wet poodle with nothing to do. He kept looking at me, his eyes almost devouring me. Of course I was pissed off; I need at least some peace and quiet when I'm reading. So I went over to him and greeted him.
„Hey.“
„Hi.“
"So, how are you? I'm fine. You weren't that shy yesterday, were you? I mean, today you're staring at me the whole time and you think I don't notice!"
"I...I'm sorry." He looked down, ashamed. My God, is he afraid of me or something?
Suddenly, two thugs, no older than him, probably a bit younger, came up and punched him on the shoulder. He doubled over a little because he was startled, but luckily it didn't hurt. Then he looked down.
"Hey, little one? Another new one?" They walked away laughing, and I stood there completely stunned, embarrassed that I hadn't intervened. He almost started to cry. You could see how hard he was holding back the tears.
"What was that? Should I take a look at that?"
"Oh no, let's not. They do that all the time. If you just do nothing, they'll leave me alone," he said angrily.
“And what did they want from you?”
"DIDNT YOU HEAR?" he suddenly yelled at me and ran off toward the restroom. At first, I wanted to run after him, but then I decided not to. I knew this kind of situation all too well, when someone insulted me with whatever. I wanted to be alone then, too. Besides, the bell rang, and I had to go in; I still had a math test.
Our math lesson went by relatively quickly. Our teacher, Mr. Schöll, gave us a test and then, in a bad mood as always, said, "No questions," in his oh-so-perfect High German, which he always raved about. And worms. Every lesson, he compared the numbers to worms. Of course, the test had gone wrong, but that didn't bother me. All I could think about was Chris. What had those teenagers said again? It didn't matter, now I had music and then school was over. So I waited for the redeeming dong, but I had already packed my things 10 minutes before because I really wanted to catch Chris. He had told me where he lived, so I assumed he would go out the main entrance because it was closer to his street. That caused trouble, because I had to unpack my things, which I immediately packed again. Our pissed-off music teacher then had to say:
“Cillian, can you please stay here after class?”
As if I had a choice. Still, I tried.
“But I have to hurry, Mr. Wagner.”
“What’s so important?”
I quickly searched for an answer. Sweat beaded on my forehead.
“Um... I... well.” But I couldn’t get any further.
“Please stay here after class.”
That's just what I needed. Of course, the usual babble like "I'm disappointed in you" and "Try harder!" The whole thing lasted a solid fifteen minutes. I resignedly walked out the main entrance, losing hope that he might still be there by chance. Sure enough, there at the bus stop, I tapped him on the shoulder because he had his back to me. I was just starting to talk when he turned around.
“Hey, what happened today...?”
Shit! I hate confusing people. There's nothing more embarrassing.
“Excuse me?” There was no Chris standing in front of me.
“Sorry, I confused you,” I mumbled and moved on.
As I was about to put my key in the door, I felt dim light and felt hands nearby. Someone was joking and holding their hands in front of my eyes.
"That?"
"Hi Chris." Phew, I was glad he approached me on his own. I carefully took his hands in mine and turned around. I didn't even notice that I was still holding his hands.
"Watch out about this lunchtime. I mean, you know..."
"It's okay. I won't ask any questions. I know what it's like," I winked at him. He was clearly relieved. He quickly kissed me on the cheek and only then realized what had happened. He immediately ran away. I stood there, resigned, for a long time, just watching him.
3.
Wednesday
Chris wasn't at school. I still couldn't stop thinking about him. What did that mean yesterday? Okay, I'm not exactly the type of person who's super affectionate with friends and even kisses them on the cheek, but if some people do it out of friendship, fine by me! The weird thing was that he ran away afterward. It was probably all a bit too much for him. I went to his place that afternoon and rang the doorbell.
A nice young woman opened the door for me.
"Hello. I'm Chris's friend and I'm here to give him his homework."
"Chris mentioned something like that, but he didn't tell me he wanted homework from you. Hey, are you new to Chris's class? I'm Alex, by the way, come in. Chris is upstairs in his room. Just to the right and then straight ahead."
I was glad she forgot about the class question, because I didn't really want to lie. But how else would I get in? With a cheese tray and say, 'Room service, your brother kissed me?'
"Thank you very much."
"Oh, and don't tell Chris I let you in, he doesn't want to talk to you."
“You owe me something.”
"Tell me you. I'm not that old."
“Thanks, Alex.”
I knocked on the room with the bright orange door. Someone called "come in," and I slowly opened the door. Suddenly, his voice changed, becoming shaky, and he began to shiver very gently and slightly. Despite this, he tried to stay cool, but failed.
"What do you want?"
“Talk to you,” I said.
“There's nothing to talk about.”
"Yes, and you probably know that better than I do." I sat down next to him on the bed and took a good look around. There were painted dragons on the grass-green walls. It looked beautiful; there were three on each wall, huge and beautiful, almost perfect. A simple, somewhat wide bed stood against one wall. Only then did I notice that there was an angel on the ceiling. One of those angels with a sword and shield in hand, ready to fight, in crisp armor. It was the most beautiful picture I had ever seen. The rest of the room consisted of a desk under a window and a few cupboards. There wasn't really anything else to see. It was pretty sparse, but that's precisely what made it so beautiful. He noticed that I was very surprised.
“I painted it.”
“This is... beautiful”
"Thank you very much."
I almost forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. But then it came back to me.
"So what I wanted to say..."
"I know. You don't want anything to do with me anymore. It happens to me with a lot of people. Suddenly, happiness hits me, and then it's too late. Well, I'll just look for new friends."
“Well, first of all, I’m really offended.”
"Oh?" Suddenly, he felt truly cold. But that was just his outward mask, hiding what was going on inside him.
"I'm offended because I'm apparently so easily replaced as a friend by some other idiot. And secondly, your former friends must have been great if they freak out about something like this."
He looked at me with big eyes. Sweet, that dachshund look. He didn't know what to say, so he just started crying. The tears just flowed, without a sound. I hugged him. He must have had some terrible friends if he was crying like that!
"Thank you," he whispered shakily. I simply enjoyed feeling his warmth. I had a friend. And now I had to cry, too. Finally, someone I could confide in.
“I want us to stay friends.”
“Yeah, me too,” he replied, “You know what?”
“No, how could it?” I laughed.
He leaned over me at the nightstand and rummaged through a drawer. The feeling of him almost lying on top of me was somehow both beautiful and oppressive. Then he pulled out a bound folder and handed it to me. When I opened it, I was thrilled. He noticed, and his eyes sparkled.
“You’re the first one I’ve shown them to.”
I was honored. The folder contained such beautiful pictures. Entire battles of creatures: giant lizards, orcs, humans, dragons, angels. It looked breathtaking. Even the smallest person in the far corner of the battle was painted with such attention to detail that I almost fell over in awe. And that was just from the first picture. The second picture was just as good: a giant castle made of diamonds, all in black and white, but you could still see the glitter so clearly, as if it were real.
"That's... beautiful," I said, just as I had with the murals. Only now did I wonder how he could paint that angel on the ceiling! It must have been difficult enough as it was, but then it was so perfect!
"You should send some of these pictures to companies that have something to do with magic and such. You'd be on the front page!"
“Thank you.” He blushed a little because he wasn’t used to this.
"You can keep them. I have several of them. My only hobby."
I was absolutely stunned. I was allowed to keep it!
“I can’t accept that!”
"Then I'll make you," he laughed out loud. Suddenly, he pounced on me and tickled me. Then we laughed so hard we could have laughed ourselves to death even over a toothbrush. After a quarter of an hour, we were writhing on the floor, staring at each other. If we hadn't immediately burst out laughing ourselves silly again, I would have said the moment had something romantic about it. Somehow, I liked Chris more and more. With every second, he grew closer to me.
“Okay, now it’s… hehe… enough… Phew, that was exhausting.”
“Laughter builds abs...” I giggled a little.
"Great, then you should come every day," he said, pulling up his T-shirt and showing his stomach. He already had a slight (slight!!!) six-pack. And a beautifully tanned stomach. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. Of course, I had peeked at the other boys in the locker room, and they had much bigger six-packs and browner skin, but his stomach looked so nice and delicate. He noticed that I was checking him out, so he pulled his T-shirt down again.
"Oh... Um... well, I guess," I started to stammer, but he shook his head and just said:
"Oh, never mind. We're even." He winked at me. I smiled a little, a little pained.
"Come on, it doesn't matter. And if so, then you just think it's nice or who knows what." He smiled, which made me smile too. To quickly change the subject, I returned to his folder. I looked at it again, and he noticed the twinkle in my eyes again.
“Look, I really can’t accept this.”