Blue Dream (Kreuzberg Dragonshifters Book 1) #Wattys2016

Blue Dream Part 6

Paul wandered back to where Richard still stood, idly thumbing through one of his purchases, with apparent glee. Paul smiled at the unguarded expression upon the other man's face, and it was only then that he realised just how tense Richard looked ordinarily. He didn't have time to ponder upon that, for Richard looked up and the slight stain of embarrassment coloured his face then; he slipped his comic back into the crinkling paper bag, with its brightly coloured brethren, again.

"Are you ready?" he asked, before Paul could say anything.

"I am. You can enjoy your comic at home," Paul said, realising only afterwards that he'd used the term - 'home' - to include Richard as well.

Richard looked suprised at that, yet didn't comment upon it, and neither did Paul; instead, he smiled and led the other man from the shop. Richard seemed to have a hankering for pretzels more than anything else, which surprised Paul, for he'd expected to perhaps get a sandwich, or a pizza from somewhere. He didn't complain, however, nor pass comment; instead, he led the way to the Little Bear Soft Pretzel Company, a store that sold the best pretzels in Berlin, in Paul's humble opinion. They ordered a couple of pretzels apiece, sour cream and chive to satisfy their savoury needs, and a sweet sugar and cinnamon one apiece for afterwards. Richard seemed to particularly enjoy the pretzels, mouth wrapped around the large bready treats with almost orgasmic noises leaking past his lips as he chewed.

"You know, it's been too long since I've had these," Richard said, as he washed a cream and chive covered mouthful down with a hefty, appreciative swig of coffee. "I made myself a promise that as soon as I returned to Berlin, I'd eat some genuine Berliner pretzels, beause I missed them, so much."

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but where have you been? It's been a couple of times that you've mentioned returning to Berlin, now," Paul asked, before he grimaced at himself. "I mean, you don't have to answer that if it's, perhaps, too personal or something."

"It's not personal; well, not really," Richard replied, but he seemed unable to meet Paul's gaze, then. "I was in America; New York actually. I lived there for a while; a few years, y'know? It wasn't the best time for me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Paul said, feeling a little awkward for even asking, as though he'd perhaps inadvertantly ripped the scab off an old wound.

"It's not a tale for such a pretty place," Richard said, unprompted, as he gestured around the homely bakery surrounding them. "I will probably tell you what happened one day, but today isn't it. All I can say right now is that I had my reasons for wanting to come back to Berlin; it's where I was born, after all. It's all I know, really."

"You don't even have to tell me anything you don't want to," Paul told him, softly, not unkindly. "You don't even really know me, after all."

"I know; but still, if I'm gonna tell anyone, I have a feeling that it might be you," Richard said.

He looked to Paul then and Paul saw uncertainty in the other man's gaze, lending him a soft, wounded look. Paul sighed; despite the fact that he felt uncomfortable and awkward, uncertain as to what even was going on, he nodded and smiled as supportively as he could.

"I might be a lot of things, but I am a good listener, or so I've been told," Paul told Richard. "Just so you know."

Richard nodded, and a look of great relief crossed his face at Paul's words.

"Thanks," he said, simply, before he took another sip of his coffee.

Paul watched as the other man took another bite of his pretzel, and chewed it slowly; Richard smiled as soon as he became aware of Paul's scrutiny and spoke again, breaking the silence between them with a distinct change of subject.