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“You need a hobby,” Lewis says over lunch one day. Nico just huffs, convinced it was a joke to stop him from staring at the reflective white table, fork floating before his mouth.
“I have plenty of hobbies, you know that.”
“A creative hobby then. One that calms you down.”
“Football calms me down. So does tennis.”
“If you say so.”
And that was that for a while.
-
The following weeks Nico keeps walking in on Lewis who, in a very unsuspicious way, would quickly stuff something fluffy behind his back, under the sofa and one time even between the creases of the sofa itself. At first he thinks it’s a stuffed animal or any kind of plush that Lewis is embarrassed about for some reason but it’s not always the same colour and the size seems to change as well. He wants to ask what it’s all about but then doesn’t. If Lewis wanted him to know he would tell him or at the very least, wouldn’t hide it. And there are worse things he could be doing. Or so Nico thinks. The temptation to spy lingers. Nico catches himself standing behind the corner, willing to jump out and see one of the mysterious objects, to get the smallest peek. He doesn’t. Eventually he lifts one of the sofa cushions, not really expecting to find anything but he can still try, right? And there it is. A small string of blue yarn, stuck on the edge. It’s not a shade Nico recognises belonging to one of their jumpers and the string appears to be cut so it evidently wasn’t ripped off by accident.
The first wave of excitement quickly recedes when he realizes that his finding didn’t get him one step closer to uncovering Lewis’ secret. He already knew it wasn’t a rock collection or a spicy toy. Not even food. The string ends up in a small soap container, a place where the new clues are supposed to go from now on.
As it turns out, the yarn wouldn’t stay the only lead. Two days later, while picking up a hoodie Lewis had thrown next to the door while rushing out, a red piece of lint catches Nico’s eye. At first he wants to just brush it away, it’s just some lint after all. It could be from any piece of clothing, except it’s big. Too big to have been the remains of a scarf, hat or cardigan and who wears those over a hoodie anyway. So it goes in the box.
The glittery fuzz that ends up on the dining table isn’t even a surprise anymore. An autumn breeze coming through the open window blows it under his plate and in a way that he considers sneaky, Nico puts it into his pocked. Lewis, oblivious to the gathering of evidence that is happening right under his nose, cuts his nuggets in half and scatters them over his salad even more.
“Can you believe those are vegan,” he says.
“Yeah, a bit dry, aren’t they,” Nico replies with a cheeky grin. His theft had gone unnoticed.
From then on his findings get more and more bizarre. The broken safety pin on the coffee table. He doesn’t remember having any in the apartment and how do those even break. The metal ring that looks like it should be on a keychain but it’s too small and too big at the same time. And it’s neon green. A rounded needle, maybe it has been bent, although who manages to deform a needle. Albeit one made out of plastic. Is Lewis sewing? He can’t be. There is no reason to hide a new hobby.
At this point the penny could have dropped already. But it didn’t. Not even fully when a knitting needle with a plastic tail lay on the kitchen counter. Sure, piecing together the string, the fuzz, the needle, it pointed to knitting. The green ring, the broken safety pin, it didn’t make sense. And what’s the reason for hiding it.
A sound from the door startles him and he shoves the needle into his back pocked. When Lewis comes into the kitchen he only just manages to pull his sweater over the parts that stuck out before a quick kiss was pressed to his lips. He drew his hips back to prevent Lewis’ hands from accidentally touching his secret and wonders what the point is.
“Are you alright, Nico?” Lewis’ voice snaps him out of his awkward position. “You look a bit rattled.”
“Yeah. Yes, I’m alright, don’t worry, I was just thinking about something.”
“And are you going to let me in on your thoughts or nah?”
“Doesn't matter. Are we going out to eat or do you feel like cooking?” His hand is already on the fridge handle, ready to get out the broccoli.
“Cooking sounds good, I don’t feel like facing the cold again today.”
The broccoli is quickly cut up and thrown into a bowl to be washed and Nico slips out into the bedroom to get rid of the needle. He wraps the strand of yarn he found first around it curiously, having no idea how these two objects would ever make something new. Not with his skill at least. He knows everything he’s found in the last few weeks belongs to Lewis, he just doesn’t know why he would have it in the first place. When Nico tries to put everything back into the soap container the lid doesn’t close. Frustrated, he places it onto the bedside drawer. Who cares if Lewis sees it, he’s got nothing to hide, does he.
Oil crackling reminds him of dinner being made and in that moment a “Nico? Do you mind if I put these carrots in as well?” calls from the kitchen.
“I thought just broccoli might be a bit bland.” Lewis laughs, as he sees Nico almost bolting into the kitchen.
“No carrots. Please. You know I hate them when they’re cooked.”
“Too mushy, too sweet, I get it. Worth a try.” His voice sounds mischievous and his face doesn’t hide it. “But I did think we could put them in the sauce. Blend them up with potatoes, cashews, nooch and some spices?”
“Lewis, are you trying to make cheese sauce again?” The words cheese and sauce are framed with more quotations marks than necessary.
“I thought you liked the last one we tried. it’s a new recipe this vegan chef forwarded to me the other day. It’s a quick dinner.” With those words he pulls out two pots and fills one with water, setting it on the stove. “Here, you can peel those potatoes.” Nico takes them, slowly opens the drawer to get the peeler and gets to work. Something about Lewis is different, he just doesn’t know what it is. Again. This is becoming a way too permanent state for his liking.
After dinner, which was better than expected, although the sauce didn’t taste like cheese at all in Nico’s opinion, and once the pots are cleaned and the plates are in the dishwasher, they make way to the living room. Lewis slumps down on the couch and Nico is about to do the same when he notices something sticking out behind Lewis’ back.
“Uhm.” A pause. “Do you, by any chance, know what this is?”
“It’s a pillow. I made it,” Lewis cheerily replies.
“You made this. Alright. You made this.” Slowly it finally dawns on him. He’s still not sure what exactly is dawning on him but the realization that Lewis had been knitting. “And, tell me, is there a reason you made this?”
Lewis hesitates. “No?”
“No.” Nico’s eyes move as if he’s trying to find the answer to a question he doesn’t know yet somewhere on the walls. Lewis pulls him onto the sofa by his hand and draws him close, curling into his side, smiling. Stretching his arm while trying not to lose his position he grabs the remote and turns on the TV.
“Sooo. Do you expect me to just let this slide?”
“Let what slide?”
“Oh, come on, Lewis. You knitted an entire pillow case, put it onto a pillow, placed it in our living room and just.. never mention it?” An amused huff comes from his side and he can feel Lewis lean in closer, his head resting on Nico’s shoulder now.
“No, but I figured if you were curious you would have asked.”
Nico wants to properly look at him but doesn’t want to break free from their cosy position either so with a shake of his head but a small smile on his lips he continues.
“How am I supposed to ask about something you keep hiding? I thought if you stuff whatever fluff into the sofa when I enter the room, I can’t know.”
“That.. I had the idea it would make you curious. But you never said a word. I left out my stitch marker. I even cut a safety pin in half to get you to ask about it. But you never did.”
“Oooh, so that’s what that was.” His head bonks on Lewis’. “You’re a real child sometimes, do you know that?”
“A child?” The remote drops onto the sofa and Lewis rips their new pillow from underneath himself. “Could a child make this?” His free hand holds the pillow so close to Nico’s face his eyes can’t even focus on it.
“Well, I don’t know but a child certainly would hold something they made so close to my face I can’t see it anymore.” He grabs it and puts it on his lap. After a moment of silence, only interrupted by the TV in the background, he starts again. “Will you show me how to make one myself?”
“With pleasure!” Lewis looks and feels like he’s about to break out into laughter any second. “But not today. Let’s just watch this for now.”
And so they do.
-
The next evening they sit on the same couch again, the only difference being that both of them have a set of knitting needles before them and several balls of yarn lie before them.
“I thought you’d like to start with a light chunky yarn, you’ll see what you’re doing better. And there’s more visible progress,” Lewis starts, when he sees Nico looking down at the selection before him, unsure what to do.
“Whatever you say. But I don’t even know what to make..”
Lewis tries not to laugh out loud, Nico can see his muscles trying to hold it back, but it happens anyway. “You reeally don’t have to worry about that. Whatever you’re making very likely won’t turn out as you imagined the first time anyway. I have yet to see someone start out a professional.”
“A professional? Knitter? Is that even a thing?”
“Well, what do I know, but just don’t worry, alright?” He hands Nico a mustard coloured ball of yarn. “You ready?”
“I guess?”
“Good, stick your fingers in those holes and try to find the beginning of the thread.”
Nico doesn’t move, he just stares at his hands, now holding a pile of mustard, uncertain if Lewis is serious.
“Come one, I thought you were ready!”
“Oh, so you really are serious.” He slowly inserts his index finger into the hole Lewis had pointed out and moves it around. Everything in there feels the same to him and he feels awkward with Lewis observing the tiniest of his movements. After a few seconds he pulls out, shaking his head. “Lewis. It’s just a ball of fluff, I can’t find any beginning.”
“How about you use two fingers and dig around some more.”
Nico is about to add his middle finger when he is stopped. “Thumb. Try your thumb. You’ll want to pull something out this time.” Lewis’ grin is saucy and Nico blushes but does as he is told, trying his luck again.
Once he managed to pull a chunk of yarn intestines out and found a cut end, Lewis takes his left hand and rolls his middle finger, ring finger and pinkie towards his palm and connects the tips of his thumb and index. “Hold like this.” He forms a loop and puts the loose end into his free hand. “Now into the loop, disconnect your two fingers and flip down.” He guides Nico’s fingers and puts the yarn where it is supposed to be.
“And when are we going to use the needles? I’m about ready to stab something.”
“Stop being so impatient, I thought you wanted to learn.” Nico attempts an eye-roll but is quickly stopped. “Take one of the needles. Good. Now through the loops. Take out your hand. Fasten.”
Nico looks at the single line of yarn on his needle, not sure what he just did. “That was a lot of work for whatever that is.” He waves the needle and Lewis catches his hand before Nico’s only stitch could slip off. “This is the start. Repeat this a few times and we’re set to go.”
“Set to go? You mean we’re not going already. I’m not sure this is going to be my thing.”
He wouldn’t have imagined that all his sneaking around, collecting tokens like a magpie, would end up with yarn wrapped around his fingers. Yet, here he is, Lewis laughing at him, a glint of malice in his eyes, while Nico is ready to chuck it out of frustration at the slow progress. He managed to set up 50 stitches, not without help or redoing some, but eventually they exist.
Lewis tries his hardest to stay patient when Nico isn’t. To explain knits and purls and to fix the work when Nico didn’t realize he was on a purl side and switched the pattern by accident or decreased it so much it became noticeable even to his overly concentrated eyes. Not that teaching Nico is hard, but it is slow and Nico knows it. He knew it was to be expected, he’s a fast learner, he gets all things technical and loves paying attention to them but being a beginner always means being slow and making mistakes. It was still frustrating.
-
Eventually Nico finishes what would turn into a pillow case. It’s a bit crooked, awry and not very smooth, especially at the beginning. But they sew it together and put it on one of the pillows that Lewis appears to have bought in bulk to both of their amusement.
On Christmas Eve a present that feels suspiciously soft is under their tree and bears Lewis’ name.
“Ooh, I wonder what this,” he says with a sly grin.
They had ordered food. No food experiments on Christmas, Nico had proclaimed a few days ago, phone in hand, the number already dialed. It had indeed been a good idea. Their kitchen was still clean, the dishes just had to go in the dishwasher and they were ready to open presents in no time. The tree was artificial which Lewis didn’t agree with, but it was here and taking down a live tree would have been even worse. And what is Christmas without a tree anyway. So they exchange gifts and Lewis accepts the ugly pillow with a fond smile.
“It was made with emotions.”
“Don’t you mean with love?”
“If that makes you feel good, then that’s what I mean.” The comment earns him a quick, sloppy kiss and a wrinkly package in his hand.
Nico’s present is small, maybe as long as his hand and even smaller once it is unwrapped. In the remains of the paper lies what looks like a pair of socks, except once taken in hand the actual sock part is missing. Instead there are holes on one side.
“What are those?”
“Wrist warmers. Your hands will stay warm and your fingers are free.”
They are grey, pretty, neatly worked and even have, what Nico would call a Norwegian pattern. He loves it. Not without envy, he does check to make sure there isn’t a tag on it, but it only spurs him on more. Lewis also gets a bigger container for their blender. Nico fears this might result in soup for weeks every time Lewis feels like making some but that one explosion that covered the kitchen walls and him after the container was just that little bit too full is enough to put up with that.
They end up on the couch again. Lewis with the pillow in his lap that he helped make, Nico’s head on top of it, his hand repeatedly smoothing his hair back, out of his eyes. The Christmas tree next to them is the only light source and the radio sounds quietly in the back.
-
It becomes a habit during the rest of winter. They try one of Lewis’ new recipes and then knit together. Nico really is a quick learner and after his first scarf that doesn’t randomly decrease and even has tassels he moves on to hats. Then socks. Those are a bit more difficult and he can’t find a heel that he likes and manages to work so after a pair he stops and attempts a sweater.
“You know, I’ve been wondering,” he says one day, his current work only a few centimeters long. “Back, when I played CSI, I found pieces of lint and yarn in different colors but the pillow you oh so unsuspiciously placed here is just blue and grey. What happened to the others? I mean, after only a couple of weeks I have a drawer full of clothes that I won’t be able to wear at once, where are your weirdly shaped pieces, full of holes?”
“What makes you think I am not a natural?”
“I saw you sew on a button once. I doubt your first attempts were any better than that disaster.”
Lewis shrugged. “I gave them away.”
Nico tries to remember any of their friends or colleagues wearing knitwear but he had been so focusses on finding things around the house that he didn’t pay attention to what happened outside. There went his detective career.
“That orange beanie Jenson wore a while ago, that he got teased about. I made it. Didn’t think he would put it on.”
Nico very faintly remembers. Not so much the beanie itself but the mocking and the traffic cone calls. He doesn’t think he got a traffic cone feeling from it but since the memory is faint he’s not sure.
“I thought that was store bought. I can’t believe you did this. Behind my back. And no one ever mentioned it to me either. Did you bribe them? Did you bribe Jenson to dress up as a traffic light?” Maybe he had had his fun.
“No?” Lewis looks amused, as almost always when they’re talking about anything knitting related. “They probably thought you knew. Ever think of that?”
Nico doesn’t say anything anymore, just knits stitch after stitch, secretly digging around in his memory for more occasions in which things Lewis had made could have been worn, but in vain.
“Now let me ask you a question. Do you like your new hobby?”
“My new hobby? What do you mean?”
“Last year I told you you needed a hobby and you said you had enough. And yet, here we are. You’re knitting.”
“Knitting is not a hobby, shut up,” Nico shoots back quickly, trying to conceal his embarrassment. If this had been a plan all along and Lewis only taught himself to knit to prove a point he truly got him. He doesn’t need to ask. Lewis’ wink says it all.