It wasn't Alexander who picked out a Christmas tree for the upcoming festivities, but me. Accompanied by his brother-in-law, under curious glances and a brotherly, goodbye pat on the shoulder. After Alexander and I looked at each other in silence for minutes, exchanging gentle kisses and simply enjoying the last moment, he eventually put me in the promised taxi. The friendly older gentleman exchanged a few quick words with my friend, talked about his son and the healing process of the maltreated wrist, and then took me directly to Alexander's brother-in-law's restaurant. Raphael was slightly irritated when he saw me, but soon realised what it was all about and waved me into the warm interior of his fancy restaurant. Alexander getting an unexpected call from the hospital is not unusual.

As we made our way through the snowy streets, he recounted a few incidents where a phone call brought the evening to an abrupt end, or didn't even happen at all. Alexander is a doctor with heart and soul, the well-being of his patients is close to his heart. He always gives one hundred percent, is appreciated by his colleagues, the nurses and carers enjoy working with him. Raphael had a lot to tell. About their trip to Indonesia together, how they worried about Jace every time he had to go on a mission across the ocean. How they were finally able to welcome Charlotte into the family after what felt like an eternity and a quick Caesarean section. Raphael talked a lot, about cooking, the food in Indonesia, the cold weather in New York and how much he hated dragging that monstrous Christmas tree into Alexander's flat every year. Startled, he looked at me, trying to come up with a suitable justification, and I promised not to tell him. Relieved, he patted me on the shoulder and said, "You're all right Magnus. Finally someone who makes Alec smile. I've missed that. And I'm only doing this tree-dressing for my adorable wife and her charming brother. They love Christmas, and it brings them closer to their parents. You know they both passed away a long time ago?" I nodded and told him briefly about our date. No details, just that we also talked about our families and got a really deep insight into each other's past.

The grin I had been wearing on my face since Alexander's words just wouldn't go away. Raphael didn't miss this and so our trip into the forest a few streets away from Alexander's flat became a real experience. So many trees. Small, big, even bigger. Thick trunks, pointed needles, thin trunks and crooked like a banana. Thoughtfully we walked between the different trees. We analysed them together, synchronously discarded a crooked fir, and just when I thought I would have to disappoint Alexander, he suddenly stood in front of me. Dark fragrant fir green, dense growth, branching branches and straight as a die. That was it. A Christmas tree like it was in the book, beautiful and powerful. At the latest, I looked forward to the decorated splendour, the glittering points of light and colour-coordinated baubles. Candy canes and a star on top of the tree. Raphael sighed when he saw the little hearts in my eyes. The tree had a considerable weight, a stately size and allowed me a small moment of schadenfreude. Raphael cursed in Spanish, I didn't understand a word. But after finishing his attack towards the tree, he looked at me and nodded. "He's perfect. But you help me get the behemoth inside. I hope Alec has already put the stand down. Then we can put the thing right up for display and I'll have to look at it decorated again first."

"But of course," I answered cheerfully, and so it came about that two not exactly big strong men dragged a gigantic fir tree through the streets of New York. We were sweating and panting, Raphael cursed and dropped exhausted onto the sofa when the tree finally stood in its intended place. I went into the kitchen, put on water, fished two cups from the upper cupboard and decided on two bags of fruity cherry tea instead of ginger. Raphael watched me sceptically. I felt his eyes on my back, but he didn't say a word. The sight of another man handling Alexander's kitchen as a matter of course is certainly a rare sight. At least if I believe what Alexander told me. He politely thanked me as I held out the steaming cup to him. Even though the weight of the tree and the way to its splendour heated our bodies quite a bit, a hot steaming cup of tea is always a relief. I hoped Raphael felt the same way. Or did he prefer coffee? But before I could ask him that question, all his attention turned to me and the iridescent mark on my forehead.
"What happened? When you left the restaurant last night, you didn't have a band-aid?" he asked with interest and I groaned in annoyance.

"A lamppost liked me," was my curt reply and Raphael suppressed a laugh. Lips pressed tightly together, the quivering of his body showed the failure of his efforts.
"Go on. Let it out. I've christened the unicorn Rosi. Say hello Rosi." And there was no stopping Raphael. He snorted, coughed and almost choked on his laughter.
"Rosi?" he asked, and now I was laughing too.
"Yes Rosi. Rosi is super sweet and accompanies me everywhere from now on. Alexander thinks it's hot," I replied and from then on the last ice between us was broken. For a while we sat in Alexander's flat and talked, drank tea and I thanked him for the extremely tasty meal.

"The food was very good. I still wanted to thank you for it. It's not a matter of course," I said and Raphael made a hand gesture which I had seen before but couldn't quite place. It looked like he was chasing away an insect.
"No problem. I was happy to do that. I knew Alec had met someone special. Izzy told me. Alec called me and asked for a table for a dinner date and told me you were from Indonesia. This immediately took us back to a time so far ago. We reminisced and it made me want to cook Indonesian food again. So it was a coincidence that I had all the right ingredients in the restaurant."
"I don't believe in coincidences. It was meant to be. And without knowing it, you cooked my favourite dish. It reminded me of home and the past. Of family dinners at my grandparents' and how much I miss it all," I said with a sigh, sinking into the past for a brief moment. I saw pictures before my eyes without the help of a photo, smelled spices and the rain, felt the heat of summer and felt the security of my parents.
"Are you okay Magnus?" asked Raphael carefully. His hand rested reassuringly on my forearm and I felt a wet salty tear run down my cheek.

"I haven't seen my family in two years," I said. Why was I telling him this? I don't know. And it didn't matter. Raphael understood me and told me that his father lived in Spain and he rarely saw him. His mum, on the other hand, was very present and Izzy was on the verge of cracking up a time or two. Again he went into a torrent of words, told me about his fear that his mum would smother the soon to be grandchild with her love and that Izzy would then, willy-nilly, run away screaming and suddenly he stopped. I smiled and was very happy for them.
"You can't tell anyone. Not even Alec knows about it. It's still too early. Izzy is a midwife and slightly paranoid since she knows." I gave him my promise to keep it to myself and Raphael relaxed again. So the day passed and Raphael eventually took his leave to wow hungry New Yorkers with his culinary delights. I stood indecisively in a strange flat, stared at the Christmas tree for minutes and thought about whether I should stay or go. I decided to leave after washing up our used cups and leaving a note for Alexander.

The days passed sluggishly, crammed with sweaty work, far too quick deadlines and absolutely no time to properly appreciate my virgin relationship. Alexander and I talked on the phone every evening and wrote short messages. Whenever his time allowed. The shifts at the hospital are long, following no schedule but the needs of the patients. A vital operation demanded all his attention and, unfortunately, our date for a romantic visit to the cinema. The popcorn tasted bland and dreary, the Coke was too warm and the seat next to me yawningly empty. Sighing, I let the incoherent story wash over me. I didn't care if the badly coloured blonde could convince her best friend not to marry the hated cheerleader queen from high school. Likewise, I cared precious little about what happened at a bachelor party in Las Vegas and whether or not the groom's mother had sex with her way-too-young lover at the wedding reception.

Alexander had chosen the film for us. I was bored to death, looking around the dark cinema hall, hearing soft voices and the odd smacking noise. Eventually it dawned on me, the film was so grotty and the couples were here to make out. Ashamed, I sank deeper into the seat, picked up my mobile and texted Alexander. It didn't take two minutes and a loud beeping noise pierced the silence. Dead silence had just fallen on the screen in front of me as a distraught blonde rushed into the church, panting and red-faced. The groom looked startled, the bride angry and the priest annoyed. I had the couple's attention in front of me and the bearded burly man looked anything but thrilled. As if he minded my beep interrupting the film. His companion giggled and immediately captured his lips. I don't know how the film ended, because one look at the luminous display was enough to send my sluggish body out of the cinema. As fast as my legs would carry me, I sprinted to the nearest underground station and thirty minutes later was sitting in a small cafe with dim alcoves, dim lighting and lots of coffee-guzzling blue coats, opposite the hospital.

To my dismay, there was no ginger tea, the waitress was in a bad mood and country music was blaring from the speakers above me. I found this more than disturbing, in a city like New York it was the last thing I expected to hear. Also, the white lace doilies and the small vase with a single flower in it did not match the music I had chosen. The menu was manageable, nothing out of the ordinary but I remembered Alexander telling me about this cafe two days earlier. The owners, an elderly couple, made a point of being friendly and always having enough freshly brewed coffee for the hospital staff. But frightened relatives with nerves pretty close to the brink of a breakdown were also welcome guests. According to him, they always had an open ear for everyone, coffee as black as the darkest night and the most delicious cheesecake in the world.

His stories didn't fit at all with the waitress, who was chewing gum and bored, hammering on the small pad in her hands with the tip of her red-painted claws. Her hair reminded me of the poor actress who so desperately begged for the love of another man. Blonde curls framed a roundish face. Her blue eyes lacked any passion and the glaring make-up dazzled me like the first sunbeam of the day wakes one from sleep. Pity, she was a pretty thing. But the tight red plaid blouse stretched so much over her ample bosom and with the blue shorts she looked more suited to a Kentucky rodeo than a New York cafe. The poor kid looked so out of place and I put her out of her misery. Without further ado, I decided on a hot chocolate with cream and a slice of cheesecake. It wasn't long before a rather tired-looking Alexander sat down at the small table, pulled me into a tight hug and murmured a thousand apologetic words.

I had long since forgiven Alexander, enjoyed his closeness and the last touch of shampoo that lingered in his messy hair. The smell of the sea and Alexander clouded my mind and I was aware that we were in a gentle kiss as if through a veil. I felt light, surrounded by fluffy soft clouds, a gentle breeze tickling my skin. But it was Alexander's lips on mine, his fingers tenderly stroking the muscle strands of my neck. The blood rushed in my ears, a soft gasp left my mouth, mingling with Alexander's hot breath as his tongue entwined with mine. Rapidly the arousal spread, capturing me, and like a drowning man I clung to the blue fabric of his top. We hadn't seen each other for three days, three days which were infinitely long for our fresh love.

"Hi," Alexander breathed against my lips as he broke our kiss, much to my regret. I gazed dreamily into his eyes, seeing the brilliant blue and the sparkling points of light. Literally, I melted in his embrace and the all-devouring irises.
"Hi yourself," I replied. Alexander placed a small kiss on the tip of my nose and immediately heat shot through my body. The clattering sound of china on china and the sweet sticky voice of the waitress turned our cloud into rock hard concrete.
"Hello Alec. Good to see you," she purred and polite as my friend is, he turned to her and smiled kindly.
"Hello Heidi. Can you get me a coffee please? Black?"
"But of course. More of the hot stuff? Or something sweet?" Her voice dripped with feigned eroticism, ignoring the fact that Alexander had his tongue deep in my mouth just two seconds ago. Nausea overcame me, accompanied by hot anger as her index finger slowly stroked Alexander's forearm. The varnish on her nail reminded me of bloody red, the little golden dots looked a lot like the baubles hanging in the shop window for decoration and I would have liked to wring her neck. This was the second person to flirt openly with my friend. He is a beautiful man, no question. But does it have to be in my presence of all places? Why is this happening to us? What is wrong with people in New York that they see my boyfriend's body as a playground?

"Please don't do that Heidi. I'm gay. And it's not fair to my boyfriend," he said in a stern tone and the lustful look in her eyes turned to anger and disgust. This, however, was directed at me. She glared angrily at me, slammed the plate with the delicious smelling piece of cake on the table and made as dramatic an exit as the greasy waiter. The only difference being that her long hair brushed suspiciously close to Alexander's face.
"Wow. I thought your brother-in-law's waiter was unfriendly. But she tops everything," I said, glaring after the bad-tempered waitress. Sulking, she set about placing a large cup with a striking pattern, dancing dark shadows on a white background, under the gurgling hissing machine. Steaming, the jet-black invigorating liquid flowed into the cup. Alexander clasped my chin, forcing me to look at him, and insistently eyed my face.

"How are you?" he asked affectionately.
"Quite well. I handed in my project work on the Winter Wonderland today. I hope it meets my professor's requirements. He's very critical and I'm not entirely happy with the choice of pictures. Now it's too late and never mind."
"What do you mean?" he asked, irritated. I was still so euphoric when selecting the pictures, but that changed pretty soon when a photo caught my attention. Immediately I saw the editing, filters, shadow play and light. A radiant face, a soft background and far too little time to sort out my thoughts and implement them in the darkroom. And since I didn't have time to ask certain people for their permission to use the images, I opted for the safe option.
"I would have liked to have included a picture or two of your family," I said.
"What's the problem?" he asked, thanking me in passing for the coffee that had been served and looking at me waitingly.
"I could have had your friend, what's her name? Your godchild's mum?"

"Clary," he replied.
"Yes, exactly. I should have asked Clary for permission. And you and your sister too. There's a beautiful photo of you two. And one of the two ladies on the ice. That would have been perfect. Instead I decided against people and for objects. Also beautiful, but not perfect and my professor is into perfectionism," I sighed and the only thing Alexander did was kiss me gently. First my chin, then my cheekbones and my forehead. Finally, his soft lips slid gossamer softly over my closed eyelids. With fluttering eyelashes I received the expression of his affection. I sighed comfortingly, remembering the morning after our first time and this time it was Alexander who signalled to me that everything was fine.
"I'm sure your work is perfect," he breathed against my lips and I grinned.

"You haven't seen a single photo of me. Maybe I'm also the worst student the academy has ever seen and I'm just playing you? So that the great and esteemed Doctor Alexander doesn't drop me like a hot potato." Looking at me somewhat unhappily, I bit my lower lip in embarrassment and regretted my words. 'Does he think I'm a fraud now?" I thought at that moment and the comforting warmth around us began to dissipate. Frost moved through the alcoves of the small café. A light layer of ice already covered the floor, creeping inexorably closer.
"No," he said, twisting his mouth into an enchanting whatever-it-was gesture and shaking his head vigorously once more.
"Your professor thinks a lot of you," he said seriously. I stared at him, for minutes, trying to read his expression. But I did not succeed.

"You wouldn't know," I replied eventually, snorting.
"He doesn't pay any attention to me, never dispenses any praise or even the glimmer of a good word. I've been busting my ass for two years. Go to every seminar, even when I'm sick. And since the disgustingly wet weather in New York, I now know what a runny nose feels like and coughing and hoarseness take your breath away and you feel like every swallow burns your throat. I do everything he says. Read the textbooks. Even the bad ones. I stand on my feet for hours to get the perfect photo. I always hand in my work on time. But he hasn't exchanged a word with me. Not in two years. I don't think he even knows who I am." I was frustrated and sad. The elation of having seen Alexander that night after all had burst as quickly as a balloon high above the clouds.

"He thinks you have a huge talent. And do you know how I know that?" I replied in the negative, eager to hear his answer. How would he know my professor? From the Pandemomium? That gay club where my friend turned the heads of men by the dozen?
"I know his daughter Cat, she's the good soul of the ER. And her old man likes to drop in, bring donuts and coffee. Sometimes ice cream too when it's really sweaty hot outside in the summer. I've known him for three years. As long as I've worked here. He's a really nice guy. Privately. But I know he's feared by the students. Now the thing is that he can't favour anyone. Therefore he behaves as neutral as possible. It would make a bad impression if he praised the same students to the skies over and over again. His criticism is a distinction. Because he wants to get the best out of you. And maybe he was in the emergency room yesterday and we were here in the café during my break and I told him about my grandparents' Christmas cake recipe. Maybe we talked about my boyfriend there too. And possibly he told me about a gifted student from Indonesia." I was surprised, overwhelmed, completely confused. Tried to put his words together and eventually a coherent picture emerged for me.

"My grades are pretty good," I said quietly.
"Exactly. Because you are good. And because the good Professor Loss can use grades to show who has potential and who should rather stick to family photos. His words. Not mine," he said apologetically. We both laughed and a weight lifted from me.
"So you trusted my judgement. Cheesecake."
"When was the last time you ate anything?", I asked. Alexander's drooling was hard to miss. His eyes sparkled as he saw the delicious piece of cake laid so gracefully in front of him.
"I don't know. What day is it?" I didn't find the statement funny, he did. I knew his week was long and exhausting. Some evenings he barely managed to eat a slice of pizza or a forkful of pasta before falling asleep on the sofa. The snowfall and frosty slickness on the streets of New York brought various broken bones and many a bruise to the emergency room. Besides the everyday ailments and accident victims, a real organisational feat.

"Come on. You can't live on coffee alone. I need my friend healthy and well-rested. And your patients out." Promptly, I pushed the plate closer to Alexander and promptly a rumbling sound came from the pit of his stomach. Smiling, he devoured the cake, sighing comfortingly at the first bite, and I too got to enjoy the creamy sweet delicacy. We took turns eating, Alexander feeding me. The hot chocolate tasted just as heavenly, dark and strong, full-bodied aromatic. All too soon our intimate time was over. Loud and shrill, the beeper on his trousers announced the next emergency. Sighing, he glanced at the little black thing and apologetic words gushed from his mouth.
"I'll see you on Christmas Eve. Latest, okay?", I said and Alexander nodded.
"I'll look forward to it. The tree is great. I've already decorated it. I hope you like it."
"I'm sure I will. I'm looking forward too. Very much so." Alexander said goodbye with a gentle kiss. A promise of more at another time. And that time is today, Christmas Eve.

Nervously, I stand in front of the door to Alexander's flat, laden with presents. Muted music pierces through the dark wood, an anticipatory tingle settles on my skin. I'm excited, his family is already there, eagerly waiting for their new friend. Only Raphael I have already got to know better. For everyone else, I am a name, a narrative, a stranger. I hope for the goodwill of his loved ones and my irresistible charm. My excitedly beating heart pulses up to high in my throat. It chokes the air out of me and I take several deep breaths in and out. A panic attack is the last thing I need right now and so I just quickly get the inevitable over with. Before my finger has even left the white plate of the doorbell and the sound has faded, a half-naked Alexander swiftly opens the door. My breath catches in my throat and I clutch the parcels with the precious cargo to keep from jumping him on the spot.