Work Text:
Adjust Curves. Colour Balance. Sharpen. As much as I could avoid it, I tried my best not to manipulate the physiques of the models in my photographs. I felt that it defeated the purpose. I took photographs to capture the moment unfolding before me, not some unrealistic ideal. Or at least, that was how I wanted them to be.
My pictures were mostly self-indulgent. It was the closest I could get to stopping time.
I was fifteen when I first took an interest in photography. Back then, my uncle had purchased a new DSLR and decided to gift his collection of old cameras to his oldest nephew. I didn’t think much of it until he taught me how to develop the film in a darkroom. A sense of calm would wash over me every time I entered that space. It was strangely satisfying to be a part of its production every step of the way, only to see what I’d captured when they were already permanently printed onto paper. It felt a lot like how my memories worked.
I quickly found myself spending entire weekends walking around town, detached from everyone else as I journeyed with only a camera and some spare change in my pocket. While the fast-paced world was bustling around me, I absorbed my surroundings one frame at a time, as though I was at a standstill.
By the age of eighteen I had won a couple of competitions, nothing too special, but enough to draw attention. Soon enough, I was commissioned by a wealthy underclassman to produce an art book, with her self as the model. Historia was petite, even smaller than myself, and moved in a gentle manner that reflected her upbringing. Her mother was a prominent fashion designer who wanted her daughter to try out modeling, but Historia was too shy to pose for someone she didn’t know. A compromise was made through hiring me as the photographer, and with that I was booked my first commercial project. Our Rococo-themed photo shoot was so well-loved by the Reiss design house that they requested the rights to use them for their marketing campaign.
Things happened too quickly after that. Shortly after Reiss’ ads hit off, I was being featured in local youth magazines and interviewed by independent journalists. My network started to expand, and before long I was being invited to art events across the country and shooting spreads for fashion magazines. Somehow I managed to graduate college with a degree in Art History amidst all that mess.
I was twenty-two now, skin pale and lungs ashen from sleepless nights and unrealistic deadlines. Commercial work slowly drained my heart out of me, and as I started to realize how generic and tasteless my work had become, I decided to take a break. After completing a campaign with Marc Jacobs, I packed my bags and booked a ticket for the earliest flight I could board. I found myself in Canada.
Before I could even claim my bags at the airport, my phone started buzzing incessantly to a tone that I knew far too well. I ignored it, trying my best to detach from the life I was trying to leave behind even just for a while. I slowly reached for the camera slung around my neck and traced its frame, leisurely lifting it upwards until the viewfinder was at my eye level. I weighed the camera in my hands, the feel of it foreign but strangely familiar. It was the Pentax K1000 my uncle passed down to me so many years ago. Using an SLR after almost half a decade was comforting in itself.
I stopped by a coffee shop at the Arrivals area to get acquainted with my current location and prepare accommodations. Coffee isn’t exactly the same everywhere in the world, but I always enjoyed warming up to a mug anyway. By the time I finished my second espresso, I’d successfully booked a room in a boutique hotel a few blocks away from the center of the city. I decided to order take-out coffee before leaving, and as I stopped by the counter I realized the staff had changed. I’d been in the shop for so long that the crew had already shifted, and this time I was served by a blond barista that was probably three times my height. His accent was easier for me to comprehend than the one who preceded him, and when he asked me if it was my first time in the town, I was able to answer him rather quickly. “The people around here are good folk, I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time here.” I managed a small smile, eager to leave as soon as possible without engaging in more unwanted small talk, but as I was searching for my wallet the barista thought it as an opportunity to slip me his number for “when I was lost or needed a tour around town.” I raised my eyebrows in shock and disbelief, but I accepted his offer anyway. I’d heard that Canadians were friendly, but experiencing it firsthand was a whole different thing. He’d introduced himself as Erwin, and as I shook his hand in farewell I shared my name, “Levi.”
When I reached my hotel room, I made the mistake of checking my call log and accidentally dialed my agent’s number. I dropped it a second too late, and avoiding her pestering afterwards would be too obvious and rude for me to allow. I sat myself by the foot of the bed before I finally picked up their 35th call attempt for the day.
"Levi, I’ve been trying to contact you all day! What have you been up to?" Hanji’s voice was especially strained.
"Ah, I missed you too," I replied in monotone.
"Please don’t tell me you did something to upset the client again," she groaned. I could vividly picture her massaging her temples, her voice still full of energy despite the body language that betrayed the weight of the stress she was in.
"I dealt with my projects just fine. I’m even taking a vacation to reward myself."
"Vacation?" She cleared her throat. "You’re joking, right? Seriously, where are you right now?"
"Some place in Canada. It was a spontaneous decision."
"What? Have you forgotten about the editorial you’re doing with Vogue? Of all times to play hooky… You really want us to die young, don’t you? How do you expect me to deal with all this?" Hanji sounded exhausted, but she still seemed calm over the phone. Having worked together for so long, we were pretty well-experienced in dealing with each other’s troublesome tendencies.
"Don’t worry, I’ll be back in time. I’ll just be gone for three more days. You can take the time off, too." I kept my voice leveled.
After a short pause, Hanji groaned, “I understand. Make sure to answer my calls this time, though. Take care of yourself.”
I mumbled my thanks and flung my body towards the bed. My last memory before falling into a dreamless sleep was seeing the time flash through my phone’s screen. A few minutes shy of midnight.
—
By sunrise I was already roaming the town. I felt like a teenager again, having only my camera and wallet in tow. The sound of the shutter was music to my ears as I witnessed the town awake to another day. Dew drops leaving intricate patterns on leaves. The excitement and grogginess of children making their way to school. A freckled blanket transitioning to a bright azure sky. Everything suddenly fascinated me and I was empowered by my rekindled passion.
The sun was directly above me as I was nearing the end of my second roll of film, and it was then that I realized just how hungry I was. I paused in front of a large yet empty playground and reached for my phone to check the time, but it didn’t respond. I quickly realized that it had unfortunately run out of battery. I started darting my eyes around but I could neither remember which direction I had come from nor find anyone in the vicinity. To my right was a phone booth, and a few ways down the street was a fire station. As I searched through my possessions I could find nothing that could help me, until I chanced upon a small piece of paper with a string of numbers scrawled across from it. I audibly gulped. I disliked speaking with strangers, but conversing with an almost-acquaintance was better than nothing. The closer I got to the phone booth, the heavier my body seemed, and as I leaned into the receiver my throat felt about as dry as sandpaper. I could not tell if it was from the hunger or the anxiety, but when I heard a deep voice say hello, I felt a sudden jolt of electricity rush down my spine.
"Hello," I managed to say.
"Is this Levi?" Erwin sounded rather incredulous.
"Yes," I groaned before shortly adding, "I think I may have to take you up on your offer sooner than I had intended."
"Need a tour guide?" he urged.
"No, not exactly. I’m lost." Being honest was probably the best way around the situation.
"Oh, that’s quite the predicament. Any particular landmarks around you?"
"Nothing much around here, really. I’m by this big ass park near a fire station, and I think there’s a library next to it but I’m not too sure."
"I think I have an idea where you’re at. I could get there in about 10 minutes."
I was confused for a moment, and when I had a grasp of what he was saying I muttered, “I think you misunderstood. I just wanted some directions to get back to the town proper.”
I heard faint laughter on the other end of the line. “No, it’s fine. I did offer to help you, so I’d feel guilty if I didn’t do it right.”
I weighed my options in my head but the grumbling of my stomach decided against thinking about it too much. I shrugged, “Okay, I guess. Sorry for inconveniencing you.”
"See you around."
—
True to his word, Erwin showed up shortly after. It was odd to see him again so soon, and it felt much like the tension between strangers that chanced upon one another twice on the same day. His crisp blue button-down and light khaki pants were much brighter than the dark palette of his work attire, but his face remained the same: tired-looking eyes, practiced smile. He greeted me with a casual wave. I asked if he was okay with accompanying me for a meal. He just shrugged and started suggesting famous tourist restaurants, but I didn’t feel like going very far.
We made our way to a nearby diner in silence, and when we sat ourselves at a booth Erwin politely asked why I’d called him so early in the morning. After briefly explaining my circumstances and the state of my phone, Erwin simply nodded in understanding and ordered poutine and back-bacon for the both of us.
"While you’re here, you might as well try out some of the local favourites."
"Oh, you’re not all about maple syrup it seems," I deadpanned.
It felt like he hesitated before he said, “You could order something else if you’d like.”
"It’s fine, I wasn’t being serious. I’m actually curious, and very hungry."
"Then you are in for a pleasant surprise," Erwin smirked.
When the waitress served our food, I was quite delighted to see the platters before me. One had fries that were topped with gravy and curd cheese, and the other flaunted bacon rolled in what seemed to be cornmeal. I filled my plate in earnest.
Erwin must have sensed my hungry desperation, as he ordered an extra plate of bacon and allowed me the privilege to eat without interruption. Once the food registered in my brain, I began to process the sheer awkwardness of my situation that when Erwin offered to foot the bill I could only nod in silence.
My idle hands found themselves around my camera and I almost instinctively started taking pictures. The sun glared through the windows next to an old couple enjoying their meal, and I wondered how that would have registered on film. My gaze moved towards the counter, the doorway, then to the blond man I’d forgotten I’d been dining with. I lowered my focus to the empty plates before me.
"You had a whole different aura back there," he noted as I set my camera on the table.
"Or so I’ve been told," I mumbled. When I realized we’d settled into an awkward silence again, I spoke up, "Don’t you have somewhere else to be?"
"Getting rid of me already?" he smiled. "Well, not quite. Besides, I still have to show you around town."
"Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to keep you any longer than necessary. I can manage from here on out." I gathered my possessions and motioned towards the exit. "I appreciate your help," I added as an afterthought.
Shortly after I stepped out of the diner, I noticed Erwin followed close behind me. The harsh noontime sun that loomed overhead made the tips of his hair have a faint glow, and the direct sunlight seemed to soften his features. My grip on my camera almost automatically tensed when the itch to photograph buzzed in my mind. Before I realized what I was doing, I’d already taken a picture.
Erwin turned to face me then as the muted sound of the shutter caught his attention. His expression tensed as he questioned, “Did you just take a photo of me?”
"Would you mind it if I did?"
"Maybe. Could you delete it anyway?"
I shook my head. “That isn’t how this kind of camera works.”
"I see," he hummed. "So there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s fine I guess, as long as you’re the only one who’d see it."
"Can’t promise that," I confessed.
"What do you mean?"
"It might get compiled along with other photographs of mine, I can’t say for certain. Anyway," I began walking towards the general direction I believed my hotel was at.
"No, wait. I can’t allow that," he grabbed at my shoulder, but I quickly shrugged him off.
"Are you an escaped convict or some shit? How is this such an issue?" I scowled. I am reminded of the mass of emails I received with offers for jobs and private commissions, each desiring my talent in some way, and here was this man who didn’t realize how difficult it normally was to get me to photograph someone.
"That’s not it," he practically snorted, "it just feels awkward."
Our close proximity had me straining my neck to meet his gaze. It added to my irritation and I turned my gaze back towards the diner, where I could see our reflection on the windows. That just vexed me more. I cradled my head in one hand in an attempt to soothe my intensifying headache, and the intensity of the sun glaring through my closed eyelids didn’t help much.
"Fine, I won’t publish your photo. I’ll be taking my leave then."
Before I could even take in another breath, Erwin countered, “No, I think it’s all right.”
I clicked my tongue in exasperation. “What the hell are you getting at?”
"Look, why don’t we make a deal?"
"And why would I want to do that?"
"Hear me out. I’d still like you be your guide, so if you’d allow me to, I wouldn’t mind it if some of the photos you took had me in them. I’d be fine with just following you around as you took pictures, too."
"I don’t see how either of us would benefit from your proposition."
"I’ve been raised to keep my word. Also, you’re headed towards the opposite direction to where you wanted to go."
I’d probably been glaring at him as he fixed his practice smile on his face. “You’re annoyingly persistent, aren’t you?”
—
"So you’re a photographer?" Erwin asked as we stopped for a cigarette break. He’d offered me "some darts" while I was loading my fourth film, and although I normally had cloves I gladly lit up what was within my grasp. I responded to his question with a disinterested nod.
"Well that sounds pretty interesting. Are you here for work?"
"No, I’m here on break." I exhaled and the puff of smoke was swept by the wind, and I lazily followed it with my gaze. The wisps of air crept towards Erwin, who was too focused on something off the distance to notice I had taken a shot of him. When we’d disposed of our cigarettes, he glanced at his wrist and his shoulders sagged. "What time is it?"
"It’s almost 3. I need to get ready for work soon."
"I should get back to my hotel then. My agent’s probably been trying to contact me," I groaned.
"Where’s it at?"
"Well if I knew then I wouldn’t have allowed you to tag along with me now, would I?" I mumbled. "It’s some place called Cove."
"That fancy place? Heard it was pretty pricey over there. Would love to see what’s so great about their rooms."
"Are you suggesting I invite you over?" I turned over to look at Erwin, but he was busy navigating through the streets.
He let out a laugh before saying, “Well not right now, obviously. Maybe when I pick you up tomorrow.”
"When did I agree to that?"
"We’d made a deal, didn’t we?" I could hear the smugness in his voice, and I immediately regretted my earlier decision.
—
Once I’d settled myself in my room, I charged my phone’s batteries and prepared to take a quick shower. I passed by a floor-length mirror on my way to the lavatory, and my image seemed distorted as I looked longer and far leaner than I was. Such lies. As if it weren’t enough to digitally modify something, now we can choose to trick and manipulate ourselves in real life. The bathroom had cream walls with wooden floors and accents, accompanied by minimalistic white facilities. I’d lit up some candles by the sink and their calming scent eased my nerves, and I ended up soaking in the tub until my fingertips turned to raisins.
When I walked back to my room, a bright red fixture by the bedside immediately caught my eye. I hadn’t noticed the telephone before, and the small booklet stationed beside it made me think about having room service for dinner. There were wine red throw pillows on the bed, seated neatly above a slate gray comforter and white sheets. The walls of my room were off-white save for the panel by the headboard, which was painted a textured black. A sophisticated painting spanned about half its width, but it was too abstract for my own tastes. Adjacent to my bed was a large window, with dark gray curtains that reached the hardwood floors. I consulted my handheld for the time, and as it read 7 PM I decided I couldn’t be bothered to move, so I phoned for pizza and ate in privacy.
By 10 I was feeling a bit restless. I had too much leftover energy to just sit around or to go to bed. Despite the nagging feeling that I might find myself lost again, I picked up my camera and made for the doorway. Before leaving, I copied Erwin’s number to my phone’s contact list, just to be safe.
—
The town had taken a whole new persona at nightfall. My dark hair rustled in the cool breeze, and I mentally cursed myself for forgetting to wear a jacket.
A group of teenagers passed by me, chattering away with cadence that reminded me of my foreign location. Their smiles reminded me of simpler times. Photographing their figures disappearing into the distance felt bittersweet. I elected to occupy myself with more mundane subjects rather than to lick on old wounds. I focused on the street lamps, the puddles on the streets, and the humming of the cars that sped past me. Again. Again, despite being in a entirely unknown place at a totally different time, I was an unmoving spectator of the world around me.
A certain dread started gnawing at my chest. I was no stranger to sadness. I opened my wallet and retrieved a small polaroid from one of its pockets. It had faded slightly due to its age, and suffered from the wear and tear of overuse. It was a photo of my parents, one of the first shots I’d ever taken. The image made me feel conflicted, but I was awash with relief despite it all. As much as I wanted to move on from it, the happiness of the past was something that rooted me to the present.
I’d been walking around mindlessly, pausing only to take the occasional photograph. The streets had gone silent and I realized I’d made it to a residential area, and when I’d decided to trace back my steps to the city, I’d caught the attention of a local entering their home. They acknowledged my presence with a nod. I was about to make a run for the opposite direction when they called out to me.
"Levi, have you been stalking me?" Erwin didn’t even make an effort to hide his grin. I just glared as I brushed past him. "Or have you gotten yourself lost again?"
I immediately faced him. “No, I am not as directionally challenged as you may think,” I snapped. He smiled wider but didn’t comment, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. “I’m walking the wrong way, aren’t I?”
"Would you like to come in for some coffee?"
—
The interior of Erwin’s apartment was clean and organized, which relieved me, but it seemed a little barren. He welcomed me with a standard “Make yourself at home,” and directed me to a modest dining room and handed me a cup of espresso. I may have just been imagining it, but it tasted better than what they’d served in the airport.
We mostly drank in silence, with the occasional question brought up every now and then. I complimented the order of his living space, but he gave off the impression that my words reminded him of a sore subject. I hadn’t meant to pry, but he willingly opened up to me. Maybe it was the lateness of the night or the caffeine kicking in, or maybe it was simply his nature to easily involve other people in his life.
I learned that while this was his hometown, he’d been staying in Van for most of his life. He said he’d just recently moved in as he’d previously been living with a longtime friend turned lover. Having shared the same group of friends, it was uncomfortable to stay in the same place, so he decided to head out before he could properly think about what he was doing. I felt like I understood him a bit better by the time I finished my drink. He’d asked if I’d like to share anything with him as well, but I just excused myself to use the toilet.
When I’d returned, Erwin had fallen asleep with his head on the table, one hand on his mug while the other was outstretched to reach over to mine. I grabbed my camera and snapped a photo of his sleeping form before walking to the door. As I placed my hand on the doorknob I decided to sit down and look up directions first, but the moment I sunk into the comfortable cushions of Erwin’s sofa, I couldn’t remember what I possibly could have done next.
—
I felt very disoriented in the morning. My neck felt stiff from being at an odd angle for a long period of time and the insides of my mouth tasted bitter and acidic at the same time. I picked up the smell of pancakes once I’d regained my bearings and remembered where I was. Erwin was still over at the stove when I’d sat myself by the table. He let out a cheery “Good morning,” and it felt unnatural but I greeted him back anyway.
"You’re up just in time for breakfast," he began. "Although I didn’t think I’d see you here so early."
"I didn’t mean to fall asleep on my way out," I yawned. "It’s so odd to see you first thing in the morning."
"You didn’t have to point it out, now it’ll feel awkward."
"Well wasn’t this kind of what you wanted anyway?" I reminded.
"I suppose so." Erwin set a plate and utensils on the table, and I stood up from the table to get some coffee. When I returned with two mugs in hand, he continued, "I like your company enough to share another meal with you, at least."
I just stared at him as he handed me a bottle of maple syrup.
—
We’d both walked to my hotel as I wanted to get a change of clothes before heading out in the city again. My companion was fairly impressed by the mood of the establishment, praising its ambience and decor every now and then. When we entered my room he immediately got comfortable on a lounge chair by the large window. He had an air of thoughtfulness as he looked at the scenery. When I was certain he wasn’t minding me, I took a photo of his reflection on the full-length mirror by the bathroom door. The click of the camera didn’t go unnoticed, and soon enough his serious expression softened into something else. Snap.
"I didn’t see you as the type to take self-portraits," he droned.
"I’m not. I don’t like taking photos of myself," I countered.
"Oh? Then what were you doing just now?"
From his angle he must not have seen his reflection on the mirror. “Just the details of the frame,” I lied.
Before I closed the door of the bathroom, I saw him shrug and continue staring off into the distance.
—
"I’m leaving tomorrow," I answered when Erwin asked me how much longer I’d be in town.
"What time does your flight leave?"
"Around three in the afternoon."
"I’ll be dropping you off at the airport then," he announced with certainty.
"You’re joking, right?"
"My shift starts at four, I’ll end up heading towards the airport either way."
"You do realize I’d be leaving for the airport before noon, right?"
"I’m sure you wouldn’t mind spending time with someone while waiting to board your flight."
"I quite like being alone, actually," I admitted.
"Well you can spend any other day that way, but when’s the next time you’d get to hang out with someone so freely?"
He had a point, and the realization that I may never see Erwin again brought about uninvited negativity. After spending most of the last 72 hours with him was enough to make his presence feel familiar.
"Fine. I guess it wouldn’t be too bad to spend the last hours of my vacation with you, either," I murmured.
Throughout the day, Erwin gave me a tour around the usual tourist destinations, as well as a few of his personal favorites. I particularly enjoyed our visit to a small independent art gallery that was presently showcasing the work of a 17 year-old photographer. It reminded me so much of how my own career started out. On our way to a mall, we’d unexpectedly bumped into someone who recognized me as one of the speakers of a photography conference. She’d mistaken Erwin as one of the models I’d photographed for a previous art book, so when she requested to have her photo taken with the both of us, it was an uncomfortable situation for almost everyone involved.
"You must be flattered to be mistaken for Joshua Delos," I teased once the girl was out of earshot.
"I don’t even have an inkling as to who you’re talking about. But that must mean I have some modeling potential, eh?" he grinned.
"For someone who doesn’t like being photographed, that may be a problem."
"If it was you behind the lens, I wouldn’t mind."
"Be careful, I might hold you to your word."
—
When the sun began to set, we agreed to stop for some souvenirs before heading for dinner. On our way to the shop, Erwin’s hand continually brushed against my arm, which alerted me of our closeness. Thinking that putting a distance between us would stop any more physical contact was naive of me.
"What do you think you’re doing? You trying to hold my hand, prick?" I fumed.
Erwin seemed unfazed as he remarked, “Yes, actually. Would that be alright?”
"You’re a giant, if I held your hand it’d look as though I was your kid, and we both know we wouldn’t be fooling anyone," I ranted. "Besides, what do I need to hold your hand for?"
"If you don’t want to, then we don’t need to," Erwin pointed out as he opened the door of the shop for me.
There weren’t a lot of people around, which made it easier for me to move around and take photographs, but the sudden distance between Erwin and my person felt forced. When I noticed him consciously taking a step back from me, I immediately reached out and jerked him towards me. While I was aiming to get a hold of his forearm, I’d miscalculated our height differences and ended up clutching his wrist instead. He snorted after I complained about his height, and as he leaned closer he brought his hand in mine and squeezed it before letting go, claiming ‘I didn’t have to force myself’ and ‘if it would be alright to have some beers together.’
—
We dined at the closest restaurant. It was a small Italian-themed joint that had a decent enough number of patrons present to assure they’d at least give decent service. I reasoned with Erwin that I’d rather not drink to avoid having to deal with a hangover as I traveled the next day, but in reality I had never had beer in my life. I must have seemed believable enough anyway. I had calamari ripen while Erwin ordered osso buco along with the most expensive beer on the menu. I’d offered to pay for our meal, and his behavior struck me as that of a man who made the most of what was offered to him.
I was accustomed to eating in silence, and it was no different for this occasion. I mostly watched Erwin as he ate, as creepy as it sounded, and constantly resisted the urge to call out to him so he would look my way. After what happened in the souvenir shop, it was as if he was trying not to acknowledge I was with him, and yet still making it difficult to ignore him altogether. It was distressing, but I chose not to point it out. I had more important matters to attend to, like the food before me and the increasing worry in my chest over how red my companion had turned.
"Oy, are you planning on getting drunk?" I announced once I’d finished my meal.
"I hadn’t intended to, but I think I’m starting to get a bit tipsy," he slurred. "Do I seem like it?"
I observed his movements in distaste. His face was crimson, his speech was garbled, and it took him three seconds to respond to my question. I was pretty sure he was drunk. I felt stressed. How was I supposed to escort a man three times my size back to his home?
"This is ridiculous," I upbraided as I hailed a waiter for the bill. "Do you think you can stand?" I practically pleaded.
"If I had a bit of water, yeah, I think I could."
I shook my head in frustration. I should’ve at least asked him beforehand if he was good at holding his beer.
Once I’d paid for our dinner, I summoned up the courage to navigate through the city while trying to keep an inebriated titan in check. I would’ve wanted to get a cab but after waiting for 10 minutes I couldn’t stand the trouble of attending to Erwin’s drunken mischief, so we ended up walking. I gave up the idea of showing the man home as it would’ve been too far and too tedious for me to care, and I didn’t even know his address so I couldn’t look it up on the map. I remembered passing by the hotel a few minutes before reaching the shopping complex, so I deduced that it wouldn’t have been to far.
Erwin kept stumbling on the sidewalk that I had to grab at him constantly until I settled to holding his hand instead. I was far too small to support his weight or do much else to support him, really. With my other hand occupied with carefully following the directions shown on my phone screen, Erwin reached one hand over to the camera dangling from my neck and appraised it.
"You better give that back. If you break it, I’m going to beat you up and leave you here to die," I threatened. I tried to reach up to it, but Erwin lifted his arms even higher, which was unnecessary.
He pointed the camera towards me and smiled. “I like it when you scowl like that,” he exclaimed suddenly. As my face contorted to his statement, Erwin clicked the shutter. I let out a groan in disbelief.
Having taken a photograph of me satisfied him enough to hook the camera’s strap around my neck again, all while never letting go of my other hand. I was busy looking at the directions again and he must have noticed this as he placed his hand on my shoulder and slowly brought it up to caress my face. With no free hands to fight him off with, I shook my head in an effort to fend him off. It didn’t work.
"What are you trying to do? You smell awful, get off me." He took a step back, but otherwise didn’t budge. "Come on, if we make a left at the next curb we’d be at the hotel already." At that, he hesitantly lifted his hand and continued to walk. We’d barely made it to the corner when he felt the sudden urge to puke.
This was why I didn’t drink. It caused too much of a mess.
—
Back in the room, I coaxed Erwin to drink a glass of water before showing him to bed. He had the decency to take off his shoes, for which I was grateful. After tucking my camera into my backpack, I took a light shower before joining him in the bed. Thankfully the king sized mattress was large enough to accommodate the both of us. It felt odd to sleep beside a practical stranger, but I dismissed the thought in favor of more positive ones. My body’s fatigue felt more apparent as every moment passed, and the steady breathing of the man beside me lulled me to sleep.
—
I was awakened when I felt something warm on my face. I was still too exhausted to open my eyes, so I kept them shut as I felt a hand tracing my features. I started to sink back into unconsciousness when I felt a sudden pressure on my lips, its touch too soft and heat too intense to be that of a finger. I slowly opened my eyes to see a droopy-eyed blond, hair illuminated by the brightness of the moon seeping through the space between drawn curtains. Even in the dark, his eyes shone a bright blue, and the crease between his eyebrows deepened as he realized I was aware of what he had done.
"I’m sorry," he sighed, eyes darting to the side until I rested my hand on his face to get his attention.
It was novel to feel another person’s warmth beneath my palms. I traced circles on his cheek with my thumb, and as I held his gaze, his eyes searched mine. He tentatively brought his hand atop mine, and when I hadn’t reacted he leaned in close enough for me to smell the stale scent of beer. I smiled as our lips met. As I tasted him, I wondered if it was possible to get drunk secondhand.
—
I managed to awake a little more than an hour before my phone’s alarm, and I took it as an opportunity to internally debate how to escape the predicament I was in. A heavy arm had been slung across my chest, and I had yet to produce the energy to shove it away. The memories of the previous night were hazy, and while my current reality wasn’t exactly the ideal, I didn’t question or resent it.
The sky was painted a light orange when I finally managed to worm away from Erwin’s clutch.
I opened the curtains and observed the town below long enough for the streets to start crowding with early birds. As I turned to face the mess of sheets on my bed, I was taken aback by the tangle of limb spread across the white linen. I walked over to the camera that rested at the end table and proceeded to immortalize that moment onto what should have been the first shot of my tenth roll of film.
—
As I exited the bathroom wrapped in a bathrobe, Erwin was already seated upright on the bed. I greeted him with a smile, which he returned with a yawn. “Your alarm woke me up,” he confessed. “So you’d be going soon, huh?”
"Yes, you should get yourself dressed if you still plan on accompanying me. Or do you need to stay back to nurse your hangover?" I taunted.
He groaned as he brought both his hands to cover his face. “I’ll manage somehow. Just give me a second,” he bargained, and after a little urging he managed to drag himself out of bed.
He wore the same clothes he’d gone to bed in, and it had gotten so wrinkled that it was embarrassing to be seen with him. We arrived at the airport hand in hand. After I’d checked myself in for my flight, I forced him into a new shirt from the airport mall after threatening to don one of the touristy Canada shirts I’d purchased the day before.
We lounged at the coffee shop Erwin worked, trying to kill the time before his shift started and before I had to leave. The latter was never brought up. We were seated towards the back of the cafe, but still close enough to the counter to keep an eye on the clock. Our fingers linked underneath the table, and whenever Erwin tried to rest his shoulders on me I would glare at him until he leaned the other way.
I decided to leave my camera on the table as I mulled over whether I wanted to order another cup of coffee. “You ordering?” Erwin muttered after a moment.
"I was thinking about it, and now I think I am. Do you want anything?"
"No," he shrugged. "I think I’ll be fine drinking off your cup," he added in a whisper, then smiled when he realized I’d heard him. I chose not to comment.
The barista had memorized my order by this time, and as I claimed my cup and breathed in its aroma, I let my eyes wander to the wall clock above the shop’s menu. It was ten minutes to when the boarding gates opened, and it had come far too soon.
When I reclaimed my seat next to Erwin, I allowed him a sip of my coffee before saying, “It’s almost time.”
He nodded, “Then let’s go.”
It felt as though we were actually heading out together. A part of me wondered if I hoped that were so.
—
When the Departure area was in view, I turned to Erwin and sighed, “I guess this is it. It’d be embarrassing if you walked me right to the door. People might really think I’m your kid this time.”
He smiled but said nothing, and when I’d lowered my gaze to his chest he pulled me into a hug. “See you around, Levi.”
I huffed as I pushed away, “Yeah, you take care.” Turning away, I waved at his general direction without trying to meet his eyes for the last time. In my head I chanted that I shouldn’t look back, but when I passed through the door to the Departures I glanced behind me and made out his figure in the distance. Time ticked away and yet we stood there, unmoving.
—
When I’d settled back in my apartment in New York, it was by instinct that I dialed Hanji’s number.
"Please tell me you’re back," she greeted.
"Yes," I assured her. "Can you send my schedule over?"
"Sure thing, Levi. Did you enjoy your little getaway?"
"I did, actually. I even got you some souvenirs," I admitted.
"Wow! That’s a first for you. I’d gladly pick you and the goodies up tomorrow morning! We have important stuff to deal with tomorrow," Hanji emphasized, "so get some rest as soon as possible."
I hummed in response. “See you tomorrow, then.”
I ended the call then walked over to my luggage, carefully retrieving the bag where I stored all my films. I brought them over to the back of my apartment, to a storage space that I’d remodeled into a decent darkroom. The next hour or so was spent developing the photos and hanging them to dry. Towards the end I’d gotten too tired to look through all the finished prints. By midnight, I favored the idea of lounging in bed so much that I decided to look at the photos in the morning.
—
A loud, rhythmic knocking reeled me out of a senseless dream. I creeped towards the door in annoyance, and seeing Hanji’s obnoxious face first thing in the morning did nothing to alleviate my mood. She was unperturbed by the boxer-clad man that greeted her and shoved past me as soon as she could.
"Good morning, sunshine! So, where are my gifts?" she wheezed, and I felt the incessant need to light a clove.
"I’ll get right to it once I can hear myself think again," I complained. "Isn’t it a little too early for you to be here?"
"It’s half-past nine in the morning. We need to head out in two hours, plus we have an appointment in four, so I didn’t think it’d hurt to be overly punctual," she grinned hard enough to raise her eyeglasses to a weird angle on her face.
This has happened way too many times in the past that I wondered why I even bothered to ask. I was at least in the right mind to not press on further. I made my way towards my shower and bellowed, “Well, whatever. I’ll go freshen up a bit, I feel like shit.”
I was close enough to overhear Hanji mumbling, “You look like it too.”
—
When I’d reentered my living room, I was welcomed by the sight of my agent hunched over the coffee table, a jumble of photographs scattered across it.
"I don’t recall giving you permission to look at those," I lectured.
"As your agent and your friend, I think I’m allowed this much." In her hand were a number of photos, some of which were of myself, and others, of Erwin.
"Where did you say you went?" Hanji queried.
"Canada."
"Didn’t know you had friends around those parts."
"I don’t, actually."
"Oh?" she remarked in surprise.
We sat in silence as I looked over the selection laid out before us. My gaze went from shots of strangers huddled together intimately to those of wilted flowers, from stills of old-fashioned buildings that faded into sleepy morning skies. I lingered on a series I was sure I didn’t take. One had my face stunned into an expression of disbelief, neck craned upwards and form slightly blurry, most likely due to an unsteady hand. Another was of my side profile, hands wrapped loosely around a cup of coffee I’d drawn under my nose, my eyes shut. The third photo was initially difficult to decipher, but after looking at it closely I realized it was a portrait of myself sleeping, the moonlight shining against my clothed back.
"I wonder what you did to make this man fall so hard for you," Hanji said softly, handing over two photos I’d taken in succession. The first showed Erwin’s regal figure seated on a muted gray sofa, eyes distant, deep in thought. The second showed his face had relaxed, eyes half-closed and lips curled into a relaxed smile. He was looking straight at the camera.
"It’s impossible to feel that way in such a short time," I mused, mostly meaning it as a reminder to myself.
"You can think what you like, Levi." Hanji carefully grouped the photos together before straightening out her clothes as she stood up. "We should get going. It’d be troublesome if we got caught in traffic on our way to the cemetery."
I nodded, but my hand froze while holding the last photo I’d taken in Canada. The morning sun made the white sheets glow, and the chiseled physique it embraced was flushed with ethereal radiance. Blond locks messily draped the man’s face, but perfectly enough to allow a view of his long eyelashes. The empty space beneath his sprawled arm still held an impression of a smaller body. I was filled with a sense of pride over the charm of the photograph, but I was also overrun with bitterness. While I felt I had captured a tranquil moment in time, I regretted how I could probably never relive it again. I didn’t even know his full name.
—
At the cemetery I left two bouquets, one for each headstone erected in memory of my parents. It was their wedding anniversary, as well as the day their plane had crashed on the way home from what should have been their second honeymoon. It’s been six years since then.
By my mother’s grave was a framed photograph of what was once my family. It was taken right in front of the local Departure area, shortly before they’d boarded their plane. We were all smiling, unaware of the despairing events that awaited us.
It was a reminder of simpler, happier times.
—
—
Shortly after my arrival, Hanji had reprinted a couple of my photos and displayed them in her office. A photo of Erwin had initially caught the attention of a female publisher, who was later impressed by the rest of the collection. A coffee table book of selected prints from my vacation was published a little over a month after my trip to Canada. I reluctantly allowed the printing of Erwin’s photos, along with those he’d taken of myself.
As though following the domino effect, I received an offer from a certain Historia to photograph an upcoming marketing campaign for the Reiss menswear line.
"I tried working with the photographers the company suggested," she gushed over the phone, voice just as meek as I’d remembered, "but none of their styles really resonated with my vision."
"I appreciate your trust in me, Historia," I replied. "When would you like me to go over to talk about the design brief?"
"No worries, we need not fuss over that just yet. I still have to settle things over on my end, I’ll notify your agent as soon as I could. I just wanted to give you a heads up," she uttered. "There’s just one thing I’d like you to arrange for me beforehand though, Levi, and I hope you won’t mind—"
"What is it?" I interjected.
"While the company mainly agreed to hire you because of your skill, we were also particularly enamored by the recurring blond model in your latest photo book. We were unable to find a contact for his agency, but would you be able to arrange that in our behalf?"
When I staggered to respond, Historia quickly added, “If it’s too much then you can send their details to my secretary instead.”
I composed myself before saying, “No it’s all right, I can do it for you. I look forward to discussing the full details with you in the future.”
After I ended the call with Historia, I allowed myself to scroll through my contact list and stop at the name that had been plaguing my mind in the recent weeks. Every ring and every pause seemed to echo in my ear. The wait made my hands shiver and my heart ache in anticipation. A beep. A deep voice, calm and leveled, greeted me on the other line, but once I spoke back, I heard an audible gasp.
"It seems I need your help yet again. I hope your offer still stands."