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Somehow, I had bees in my head. Big and loud bees. They caused headaches, and the sunlight streaming into my room didn’t help at all.
This party was really awesome, but champagne and red wine had left their marks. Slowly, I propped myself up in bed, trying to avoid hasty movements. What had happened last night? A lot, actually too much, and only gradually did the memories return. One only turns eighteen once in life, but one tends to exaggerate...
I smelled like perfume. Strange perfume, quite sweet and intrusive. It clung to me everywhere and somehow made me feel nauseous.
I threw back the blanket, stood up slowly, and pulled on the fabric ribbon next to the four-poster bed that activated the bell in the kitchen. Usually, it took less than ten minutes for Mortimer to appear with breakfast.
The sunlight in my eyes hurt, but I forced myself to look out of the open window. Out into that beautiful nature on that summer morning.
Eighteen, I thought. Adult. A man. Or not yet?
I stepped in front of the large mirror and looked at myself. Had I gotten a year older last night? No, I decided. I had looked the same twenty-four hours ago. Not quite as rumpled, but otherwise...
My blonde, shoulder-length hair stood tousled from my head. I ran my hands through it and had to grin. Jane once told me I had bristles like a wild boar. She hadn’t meant it seriously, but she was right. However, the blue eyes I inherited from my mother were not as bright white as usual. They were probably still a bit red. I bared my white teeth, which I was really proud of, and stuck my tongue out. Stupid alcohol. My gaze wandered over my body in the mirror, and I thought it was time to get a little color back on my skin. The few hairs on my body gathered on my breastbone, and not much more was around my navel, disappearing there in a narrow strip into my shorts. I reached into my pants and assured myself that everything was still as it had been yesterday. All good.
I took a deep breath. What would change from today? More rights, more responsibilities? I had had more than enough of those before. And now even more? I sensed that my carefree years would be over. The end of the good life, and I hadn’t even managed to sleep with a girl. I had more than enough chances, but something held me back. Well, my relatives were glad about it, even though I could have lied to them about it. But this ultra-conservative society preferred it when one didn’t engage in premarital sex. Because of morality and all that. And then the endless headlines when the paparazzi caught you kissing or when you had one too many to drink. I could hardly change my appearance; that would be immediately documented on page 1 of the "Sun." I would have liked to wear an earring or add some highlights to my hair, like many of my classmates. After school, going to the public pool, just goofing around. Riding out with my horse, all alone. I was really only alone in the evening in my four walls.
Sometimes it was strange. I lay in my bed and was pleasurably taking care of myself, while out there millions imagined just that.
"How does he look naked?" Well, tough luck. Very few of them would ever find out. Unless I let myself be caught by a paparazzi on purpose. And then I would be in the "Sun" for days. I just couldn’t think of a headline for it. Even stranger was the idea that I could make a lot of money from it. First the money, then the photos. And then disappear, once and for all. South Sea. Hawaii. Just cocktails on the beach...
“Good morning, Wallice,” Mortimer greeted me as I had invited him in after his knock.
He rolled the silver tray cart to my table and bowed politely. Mortimer had been a servant of the house for ages and was always friendly. He had turned seventy in the winter and was still one of the old guard. I had asked him years ago not to address me by my title; I just felt too young for that. I liked Mortimer because he was neither intrusive nor arrogant. Meanwhile, there were already some around me who possessed such negative traits. Most bodyguards thought highly of themselves for being allowed to protect me. I often thought about how I could do without them. Who would want to harm me? Sure, there were anarchists, those crazy types who didn’t think about why they were after someone’s life. But if they really wanted to, they would get to you anyway. A few monstrous meat mountains around you wouldn’t help much.
“Thanks,” I said briefly, as even that word stirred the bees again.
As quietly as he came, Mortimer disappeared, and I sat down at the table. How long could I be alone today? Alone with myself? Ten minutes, a quarter of an hour? I dreaded the celebrations. Celebrating my birthday was entirely my plan. The best friends and girlfriends, no one else.
From shadows in my head, colorful figures emerged. With each sip of coffee, the evening became more vibrant.
Anne. My best friend. Pretty, intelligent, from a good family. But the way she spoke to me at night didn't sit well with me. She had hopes, and that's something I can't tolerate. I even thought I heard something like the word "dowry."
Beatrice. Small, chubby, red hair. Of Irish descent. Not my type, but at least she was neither pushy nor vulgar.
Jane, on the other hand, was much more so. She was the one who had transferred her perfume onto me. She constantly hovered around my neck, tried to kiss me, and always presented herself as my future partner. I didn't dare say that I could do without her. But she would notice soon enough anyway.
Rachel. She was my star that night. Tall, slim, with a narrow, even face framed by long, chestnut hair. The sister of my best friend Peter. I had known her for a long time, yet it felt like we had just met. I constantly sought her closeness, but somehow she avoided me. Maybe she was too shy to act in public as we did otherwise. Or she thought the thing with Jane was something serious.
But something else happened that night that wouldn't leave my mind. Something I hadn't thought possible. And yet it had happened.
Steven, a school friend, was also at the party. A quiet, thoughtful young man. The same age as me but a bit shorter, slim, with dark hair, brown eyes, and... Well, somehow he was always around me next to Jane.
Anyway, I went to the bathroom at midnight, and when I came out, he was standing in front of the door with his arms crossed. He had a strange expression on his face.
"Are you not feeling well?" I asked him.
"No, I'm not."
"Do you want to be taken home?"
"No. I'm not feeling sick, if that's what you mean."
"What is it then?"
Steven suddenly looked at me in a way that made me feel completely different.
"You are," he said casually.
"What do you mean? Did I behave badly?"
Despite the dim light, I could see that his eyes were moist.
"Nonsense, you can't."
"Yes, but what is it then?"
He came closer to me, wrapped his hands around my waist, and before I knew it, he pressed a kiss on my cheek.
He suddenly stepped back, but his eyes suddenly sparkled.
"I kissed Prince Wallice."
I stood there like a pillar of salt. Somehow, I was used to receiving such a kiss from all sorts of people in the extended family. I liked most of them, but this was something entirely different.
The realization that Steven might be gay would not tarnish my friendship with him. He suddenly looked truly happy, and I felt happy for him too. If you could cheer someone up with such a small thing, then that was fine by me. I hugged him back.
"Hey, Steve, no matter what feelings you have, you are and will always be my friend."
He smiled dazzlingly and beamed at me with sparkling eyes.
"Really?"
"When the prince says something, it's true."
We stood there like that for a long time until Peter stepped in front of us.
"Well, is there a problem?"
I separated from Steve.
"Not really. Steven has a little problem, and we just sorted it out."
"Come in," I called when there was a knock at the door.
My father stood in the doorway with a strange grin on his face.
"Well, young man, did you sleep well?"
I nodded, and he surely guessed how I was really feeling. His eyes scanned the room. Of course, he must have hoped that I didn't spend the night alone in my bed; I could clearly see that. Also, the disappointment that his expectation had not been fulfilled.
He waved briefly.
"When are you coming down? The Scotbys are on their way."
I swallowed. Yes, the Scotbys. The entire nobility from the countryside. Starting from my grandparents down to the Sirs and Lords.
"Give me some time; the night was long."
"Yes, but not too long. The press is also on the move. And you know, you can't always escape them."
"Yes," I groaned, "I'm aware."
Nothing I hated more than the public, and the worst were the reporters. You could hardly avoid them, especially on a day like this.
I stepped in front of the mirror again. No, nothing had changed.
The extensive shower afterward was mainly aimed at that terrible perfume. Even when I dried myself off, it still seemed to cling to me. I would definitely stay out of Jane's way if I caught even a hint of that almost overpowering scent again.
I looked out of the window of our country estate, Folthmore, in southwestern England, Gloucestershire. Being a prince is not exactly easy. The world is watching you, whether you want it or not. A lot of cars had pulled up in the meantime, most of them probably belonging to those hyenas, as I aptly referred to the reporters. Cameras were being set up, a real commotion. Longingly, I looked into the forest that stretched far behind the estate. Disappearing in there was at that moment my most fervent wish. Perhaps it could rain buckets, and this pack would get soaked to the bone. But it was a glorious day, and hiding away was impossible anyway. A prince who was second in line to the throne could not escape the mob. People wanted to see him, to be part of his life. Maybe I was also part of their dreams. The dream of eternal laziness, spending money, and the fun one supposedly has. And every woman in the world would be at his feet. If only they knew... All I wanted was to be left alone. To study like thousands of other boys, without having to endure those secretive glances. And the whispering, too. The girls were often more than annoying. A time or two, I had locked myself in my room and cried. I begged to be allowed to be like the others out there. But it was of no use. Future Prince of Witham – and one day King. Did I really want that? Was that my destiny?
Sure, I had a lot of comforts. Many, in fact. My work abroad. I had the privilege, no matter what club it was. They tried to read every wish from my eyes; nothing was to be lacking.
What brought me the most joy were the regular visits to children's or animal shelters. There was no showboating, no envy, no exaggerated politeness. I was allowed to be the person I truly am.
But there was also the other side. Although I had no real obligations yet and the throne along with the responsibility was far away, I became more aware every day of what would eventually come my way.
In the ballroom of the castle stood my dear relatives from all corners of the country. Starting from the lord to my grandmother, the Queen of Witham. And the hugging began. I took it bravely; after all, I had little choice. I was glad I could spot Peter in the crowd. My best friend was never far from me, and I cherished him as the dearest person around me. His presence meant security, comfort in difficult times, joy, and fun. He was the one who had comforted me for days when my mother died. I don't know how I would have coped without him. Peter was very distantly related to me, over a thousand connections or so. We had known each other since childhood, and I believe I would have given up the throne for our friendship. Now I saw him, discreetly in the background. Sometimes he seemed like a bodyguard to me, as he hardly took his eyes off me. And I needed that closeness, more than ever that day. I would have liked to grab his arm and run out. Somewhere, just away from all of this. But a prince cannot do that. He cannot do so many things. And if he does, then under observation. Often, the tiny cubicle of a bathroom somewhere during various occasions was the only place I could be alone for minutes. Then I would close the door, sit on the toilet seat, and listen to myself, trying to forget everything around me for a few minutes. I thought about my future and my life in general. But whatever I concocted in my mind – shortly after, I found myself back in the spotlight.
"Steven?"
I looked unexpectedly into the boy's face. I had expected everyone here, but not him. But of course, he was the son of my great-aunt Agnetha; why shouldn't he be here?
There they were again, those brown eyes, that smile. And a look I couldn't interpret. I rarely get goosebumps, but there it was. It enveloped my whole body for seconds, only to be replaced by a very pleasant feeling. Suddenly, I felt his kiss again and came to the realization that it hadn’t been unpleasant for me. That had been Jane's perfume much earlier.
The banquet in the evening was another theater. Luckily, Peter sat to my right, and Steven to my left. I had wished for this seating arrangement and faced considerable resistance from some family members, as the seating had been planned weeks in advance. But I really didn't care that evening; no one was more important to me than the two of them. Well, some nasty looks came from Julie, one of my many nieces. But she's really not that great. And from Sarah. Well, taste can be debated. She is pretty, in a way, but just as dim-witted. Nothing drew me to them, and the nobility around me viewed these things with disapproval, even if they didn’t officially admit it. There was fear that I might one day bring home a commoner. That must not happen. Essentially, it was such regulations that often annoyed me. And then to put on a good face to a bad game was particularly difficult for me.
My gifts were indeed the highlight of the evening. Dad gave me a new VW Golf, exactly the one I had admired weeks earlier while shopping in Dover. I won't list the other presents; that would be too much. But I must mention the bracelet from Peter. Made of copper. It was supposed to keep me healthy for a long time, and I was happier about it than all the other things. Well, Grandma didn't want to miss the chance to give me a computer. I was quite familiar with those things, but I hadn't had my own until now. Why would I, I was rarely home anyway.
They really knew how to celebrate. After various speeches from my father and some uncles, the evening dragged on and on. Luckily, it turned into a kind of standing party, and I was able to sneak away with Peter and Steve for a while. I felt like having a cigarette and a strong glass of red wine. I could have drunk it alone, but it just tasted better when there were only people around me who meant something to me.
We sneaked into the kitchen, where I normally was never present. The cooks nearly fell into their pots when we showed up there late at night. I felt like they had been paralyzed by a Taser. But after a few explanatory words, the mood lifted, and it became a really great hour with them. We smoked with the cooks like crazy, drank sherry and wine, nibbled on lobster tails, and spooned caviar. I hadn't felt this good in a long time.
Slightly tipsy, we returned to the ballroom. No one had really missed us; there were too many people around.
My father stepped in front of me.
"You know we're starting our European trip in four weeks?"
Of course, how could I forget that? Luckily, this time it wasn't anything highly official. A visit to the Airbus production facilities. Hamburg, Toulouse, Illescas, Cadiz. A week of seeing something other than just politicians, and somehow I was even looking forward to it. And the best part was—none of my nieces or any other hangers-on would be there. Just my grandma, dad, the finance and education ministers, and then the usual entourage. With some of them, I wondered what they were doing on such a tour, but it wasn't—yet—in my hands to decide that. In Hamburg, there was a reception with the German Chancellor on the agenda. Well, whatever. I thought to myself that I would survive it. Peter had no time, which I regretted because having him by my side would have made it all the more enjoyable. After all, we were very interested in aviation, and besides, I wanted to become an air force officer once.
It was well past midnight when the first guests left, and I was dead tired. The previous night was still not entirely digested, and I was really glad to get to bed. Steven had left early; he was also completely out of it. Peter followed shortly after him, and from then on, it naturally became really boring.
It was three in the morning by the time the last person finally left the house. Feeling completely drained, I pulled myself up the railing to my quarters on the upper floor. I wanted to see and hear nothing more.
But sleep didn't come at first. I had received 20 text messages on my phone, and I had to read them first. Friends from university, almost all of them had checked in. Among them was also Steven.
"Hi Wallice. I hope you're doing well after this exhausting night. I wanted to apologize for the kiss; it really slipped out. But... I don't think you're the type to hold grudges. Or do you see me soberly in a different light? I didn't want to ask you that tonight; it was so nice. Have a good night. Regards, Steve."
Aha, of course. He feared that I might have taken it badly. I hadn't. I lay on my bed and read the message a few more times. Again, I saw Steve in front of me, felt his soft, gentle lips on my cheek. Saw those sparkling eyes, that smile.
I turned off the light and rolled onto my side. Even though I was so tired, I couldn't get Steve out of my head. Yet I had so many other things that should occupy me. My gifts, my new car, the trip through Europe. No, Steve stuck like a plaster in my head, blocking out other thoughts.
Again and again, his face appeared before me. That cute little nose, those eyes. And... was I just smelling him? No perfume. I ran my trembling fingers over the spot where his kiss had touched me. Had it just happened? Had it even happened? What was happening right now?
Stirred by my feelings, I got up and went to the window. A few lanterns in front of the house provided enough light to see the bodyguards making their rounds. One of the men raised his hand and waved at me discreetly. These people missed nothing, absolutely nothing.
And at that moment, a curtain lifted. It glided up silently, as one knows from theater plays. Behind it revealed another world to me.
How was it recently in Dartmoor? The Prime Minister had invited us to a reception. I don't remember the reason anymore, but it doesn't matter. In any case, I was walking towards the entrance with my father when a young guardsman stood in front of me. He stared at me and nodded very discreetly; no one but me noticed. Then he stepped aside and let me pass. Well, at that moment, his face reappeared in my mind's eye. He had been a very handsome young man, but I only realized that in that moment. I had encountered him several times that evening, and always that look. From now on, I knew he was just as attracted to me; I had simply ignored it.
"You can't be gay," I told myself quietly. "You can't. Blue bloods are never gay."
The guardsman kept looking up at me through the window. He could only see my shadow since it was dark in my room.
Did they notice what might be going on with me? Didn't I read somewhere that gay people can sense when others like them are nearby? Did Steve kiss me just because he was sure of it?
I felt hot. Very hot. Why weren't Beatrice, Jane, or Rachel competing for my attention in my head? That would have made sense.
I sat back down on my bed and stared at my phone. I had to respond to Steve, no matter how.
A flash of lightning illuminated my room. Was that a sign? Was something beginning that I had never expected? And if it really was?
It would probably remain my secret for a lifetime. I had to find an aristocratic woman, marry her, and have children. Etiquette demanded it. A gay prince? In this country? Never.
The rumble of thunder confirmed that I wasn't dreaming. From that night on, my life would look different. No, not one life. Two. The one the state wanted to see and the one I truly lived. My life.
I felt tears in my eyes. Not that they were tears of disappointment about myself and my feelings. No, it was nothing but the certainty that I would never be the person I truly am.
The second morning in a row that I didn't feel particularly well. But this time, it wasn't just the alcohol's fault.
"What's wrong?" my dad immediately wanted to know when I entered the dining room. He had always been a good observer, which sometimes annoyed me.
I couldn't tell him what was wrong, never. He belonged to the arch-conservatives who despised any form of alternative lifestyles. And gay people were at the top of that list. Admittedly, I had never thought about it because I had no contact with them.
With them? Thinking that sent a shiver down my spine. I belonged to them, even if I might not have wanted to admit it at that time.
"No, it's nothing."
I could feel that he didn't believe me.
"Here, read this," he said, handing me a list. The itinerary for our Europe trip.
"If you want to make small changes, do it early. You know the protocol has to be set three days in advance. I'll leave you alone now; I have to go to Parliament. See you later."
He ran his fingers through my hair, which hadn't bothered me all those years. That morning, I flinched for the first time at the touch, and Dad noticed.
But he just grinned from ear to ear.
"Aha, my boy is grown up."
With that strange remark, he left me sitting there and disappeared.
There were some interesting points on the list. I was most looking forward to Hamburg. I had probably been there before, but I could hardly remember it. It was cold, and I was whiny. Somehow, I had lost my stuffed bear back then.
"Welcome by the Mayor of Hamburg at the Town Hall square. Afterwards, visit to the Airbus manufacturing hall in Hamburg – Finkenwerder. Then a meeting with the Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Germany at the Town Hall. In the evening, a banquet in the grand hall."
Well, that was fine with me; it didn't sound stressful at all. The stress I faced was from a completely different direction. Constant stress with my feelings.
I retreated to my room. Luckily, it was vacation, and I didn't have to worry about things like studying.
I held my phone in front of me and was tempted to call Steve. But I couldn't do it. I just couldn't bring myself to. Peter? No, I wouldn't be able to keep him if he knew. I couldn't expect him to be understanding. Peter was a bit of a womanizer, and I had often noticed that he liked to see me in the company of young ladies. Maybe he even envisioned a double wedding; who could know? But the idea of his best friend being gay would probably be a disaster for him. Somehow, I saw my chances slipping away. Surely I could keep it a secret until old age. But did I really want that at the cost of the crown? Admittedly, the idea of being king someday intrigued me.
But during that time, I also thought of all the others. Those who weren't lucky enough to grow up at court and had to live in poor conditions out there. Those who barely had money for clothes and food and had to fight the battle for survival anew every day. Alcohol, drugs, and prostitution were never far away. I was aware of these circumstances, but I regularly pushed them aside.
"The most are to blame themselves," I often heard when it came to this topic. But I always felt that no one really wanted to have anything to do with it.
Every day, something of ours appeared in the newspaper. Some kind of tour, a celebration, a wedding, or a birthday. Then I imagined the beggars and the stranded ones, fishing the newspapers out of the trash bins and looking at the photos. All that food, the sinfully expensive clothes and suits, the beaming faces. How must a person on the edge of the abyss feel?
Maybe I didn't belong here at all. I was born into high society without being able to help it. I increasingly hated my fickleness and still didn't know how to confront it.
"Out there is someone who will desire and understand you," I heard my thoughts.
Out there? I could never be there.
My phone rang.
"Hello Steve."
"Well, my prince, how are you this morning?"
I was glad to hear his voice.
"You shouldn't always call me prince," I complained into the phone.
"But you are."
"Yeah, okay, what's up?"
I swallowed. Nothing did I long for more than him, and nothing did I fear so much at the same time.
"Tomorrow is the fox hunt. You’re definitely coming, right?"
The fox hunt. It was a nightmare, and I hated it. I loved animals in any form, and foxes in particular. Those clever, secretive creatures; they had a right to life just like all of us. But the nobility saw it differently. Not that they didn't like those little dogs, but for hundreds of years, they had been hunting them. And somehow, no one really seemed to mind the brutality of this "sport."
But I had to go; once a year, we were required to participate. Everyone was really excited about that day, and I was the only one who kept my deep aversion to myself. Well, Steve had complained last time too. Something about murder, but we had no way to escape the slaughter.
"Yeah, sure, I'm coming."
"Great. We're riding together, right?"
"Sure."
"Is something wrong?"
"No, Steve, nothing's wrong. I'll see you tomorrow."
Of course, Steven was sensitive enough to notice that something was wrong with me. I suspected that Steve only rode along because I was there.
I threw myself onto my bed. Nothing did I hate more than the fox hunt, but I couldn't exclude myself. Although a prince can get sick too. I started to think of a rather simple yet effective illness.
But nothing came of the illness. A glance in the mirror that morning was enough; I looked like the picture of health, and no one would have believed I was sick.
So I put on my riding outfit. I thought it suited me very well. Just not for this occasion.
And the sun was shining. No bad weather, no storm. Nothing that could have been detrimental to the hunt. I like the sun and summer, but on this day, I would have preferred a massive storm.
What I always looked forward to the most were the many dogs, and Fips was my favorite. The smallest of all the dogs. Sometimes I would lift him onto my horse when the distance became too long for him. He belonged to Lord John, but whenever the little one saw me, he would go wild.
The proud horse stood beside me.
"Hello, my prince," Steven said so quietly that only I could hear it. How did he look on his black horse? More of a prince than I.
"Hello Steve. You’re supposed to..."
"...not call you prince," he laughed. "But what can I do? You are and remain one."
Steve was a beauty among all the others here; he just looked good. This pale face, the dark hair peeking out in curls under his riding helmet, gave the boy a certain wildness. Those eyes, that stunning smile, and the slim waist in the riding outfit. Wouldn't I much rather be galloping through the woods and meadows with him at a full run, always close together? Just for fun?
But as always, the whole company gathered in the courtyard of the stud farm that was attached to the estate.
Sparkling wine, red wine, Campari. With that, the riders fortified themselves first, and then the chase began. Cross-country, followed by the press. I even thought I saw a camera crew in the courtyard. They were capable of following us with a helicopter.
Steve and I held back. What used to be taken for granted for me gained a different dimension after his coming out.
In the middle of the forest, we had to stop at a fallen tree trunk, and there they were, the hyenas. Flashing lights, microphones, questions.
Steve and I looked at each other. All I could say to the reporters was "no comment," and then we both dashed into the bushes. I knew that the fox hunt was supposed to be abolished, and that was what the questions were aimed at; but I was just as forbidden to comment on it as Steven.
We rode as if the devil himself were after us, and shortly thereafter, we had shaken off the pesky questioners.
At a small stream, we dismounted and watered our horses.
Without any words, Steve opened his saddlebags and began to prepare a picnic.
"Let them search for us; I don’t want to hunt the poor animals. Our people saw that we were there; everything else can be of no concern to them."
I knew this would cause trouble. The farm rarely tolerated such antics, and I didn't feel comfortable. Dad would spank me – even at eighteen.
"Hey Wallice, what's up? Would you rather be with those murderers?"
"No, of course not."
"Then come on, I ordered some treats. But I don't feel like taking them back."
Bread, sausage, ham, smoked fish, cheese, tomatoes, fruit, and a bottle of red wine soon adorned the blanket that Steve had spread out.
I sat cross-legged next to him. It was actually wonderful at that moment. But was it just the knowledge of a relatively carefree life? Food and drink? The beautiful summer day? Our horses, peacefully grazing beside us?
No, it wasn't just that; I felt it clearly. A fascination. Steve was responsible for my mood.
He dug in as if he hadn't eaten for days. I found it a bit harder; with every glance at him, my appetite waned a little more. It wasn't because he was gay. It was about me. Drops of sweat ran down my temples.
I watched his hands and fingers as he sliced the ham, quartered the tomatoes, and bit into the bread. His movements were delicate at times, and suddenly I felt drawn to him.
"Not hungry? You haven't eaten anything for hours," he asked, chewing after a while.
"I am, but..."
He looked at me with his beautiful eyes, and I felt completely different again.
"But what?" he asked, nibbling on the fish.
"Nothing. It's nothing."
He let his hands fall into his lap and stared at me.
"What do you mean, nothing?"
Suddenly, the smile disappeared from his lips. He looked at me for what felt like an eternity.
"It's the kiss, isn't it? You reject me and my feelings, right?"
"No, Steve, not at all."
"Could I then find out what it is?"
"Let's open the wine," I diverted.
How Steve managed to bring real glasses here without breaking them was a mystery to me.
We clinked glasses, while his gaze didn't change. He sensed something was bubbling inside me, but he couldn't guess what it was.
After the alcohol had triggered a pleasant burning sensation in my stomach, I couldn't hold back anymore. We were alone out here; no one could see us. And Steve was worth it.
I placed my hand on his arm, earning an incredulous look. I gazed into those brown eyes, studying his eyelashes, his nose, the sensual mouth.
When Steve then started to blink playfully, I let myself fall. Into a world I didn't yet know but wanted to explore. Slowly, our heads came closer.
"Steve, I don't know..."
He held his index finger to my mouth.
"You don't have to talk now."
His kiss on my lips was gentle, like a warm breeze on that day. I hardly felt his hands caressing my back. But they were there.
It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to reveal my true feelings.
I ran my tongue over my lips.
"You taste totally like fish," I grinned.
"Well, that's your own fault," Steve laughed back. "If you had eaten some, you wouldn't have noticed."
Gradually, I started to feel hungry, and soon there was hardly anything left from the picnic.
"So you like guys too?" Steve asked me after a long pause.
"I think that's how it is. But you already knew that before."
He looked at me thoughtfully.
"Not known – hoped. You haven't left my mind lately, and I had no idea why. Until now."
His eyes suddenly widened.
"Shit."
"Hey, you shouldn't say that."
"Yes. How do you plan to handle this? If the press finds out, you can emigrate."
"Whether they find out or not, I'm leaving anyway."
He widened his eyes.
"What?"
"Do you think I want to put down roots here? With a woman I can't love, with kids who annoy me day and night? No, Steve, I've already decided. In three years, my studies will be finished, and then it's over. We can keep it a secret for that long. Right?"
He ran his fingers through my hair.
"Okay, I understand," he said, and his disappointment over my plan was unmistakable.
I should have expected that, but it didn't matter anymore.
"And what about Peter? You'll have to tell him," he finally said.
"Not before. We're friends, yes, but if I tell him, it's over."
"Are you sure?"
"No, of course not. But in terms of percentages, regarding his acceptance, I see three zeros in front of that. He will avoid me. And the later that happens, the better. I'll just live with a lie for now, but I can't think of anything else."
We looked into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity.
"What did you actually mean with the kiss back then?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you intended that kiss; it was hardly a coincidence or spontaneity."
He grinned.
"No, that was pure intention."
"And did you do that because... because you might... love me a little?"
Steve shrugged.
"Come on, we have to go."
Dad's lecture that evening was as expected. How could I dare to leave the group and so on.
"Wallice, I don't want any solo acts. You have obligations, and you must face them. Besides – you're eighteen now..."
I knew what was coming.
"You know that discipline is expected of you. We all hope you won't break the honorable line with any escapades."
Suddenly, he became very quiet.
"If you must hang out with girls, please don't do it... with any from the street. There are enough here who are your equals."
That was it, and I just nodded obediently, nearly boiling over inside. It wasn't my dad speaking; it was the mob. They demanded it. My father was certainly not the angel of nobility. I knew there were parts of his past that appeared more than just gray. But apparently, he only wanted to warn me about the consequences of such missteps. Still, it did him no good. No daughter-in-law, no grandchildren. When would I have to tell him?
After my studies. Then I would really be on my own and could take care of myself.
My underlying fear that everything would come out through Steve was wearing me down. How much could I trust him? Was he so happy about our "relationship" that he would blurt it out in an awkward moment? Unfortunately, he often hung out with the biggest gossips at court, and he was not a calculating type. But I had to rely on his silence. Reminding him of it now would be seen as a breach of trust; I couldn't do that to him.
The fact that he didn't answer my question about whether he loved me a little bothered me too. I couldn't say that love was involved; at least not from my side. I liked him very much, no doubt about it. But love?
A day after the fox hunt, Peter came to visit, dragging along Baroness Sonja von Altstetten. Another old nobility, of German descent but living here. Peter was really a womanizer; every month he dragged a different one into the spotlight. But I didn't care.
Until that very evening.
I never really sensed auras or anything like that, but something inside me tightened at the sight of this strange Sonja. Aside from the fact that she made her arrogance felt in no time, I didn't like her demeanor at all. And she didn't like me, from the very first minute.
It was stupid that I had once read that women could sense a man's homoerotic desires quite clearly. Not all, but not a few either. And I felt like she saw right through me from the start.
"You used to be more talkative," Peter pointed out my state during dinner. I simply didn't dare to speak as freely as usual. This woman lit up all the red lights in my head, and I sensed that a certain danger emanated from her. She was made for destroying friendships. Jealousy to the highest degree. I didn't dare look her in the eyes and avoided any unnecessary words.
When I later went to my room to check my phone, Peter suddenly stood behind me.
"What's going on with you? I've never seen you like this."
I looked at him, perhaps for the first time with the eyes of a gay man. Peter was a bit taller than me, slim, dark blonde. Only now did I notice his blue eyes properly, his mouth. Was there a desire to kiss him just now?
I was ashamed of my thoughts, from which he then pulled me away.
He grabbed me rather roughly by the arms.
"Sonja is a pretty, lovable woman. But you don't have to worry that I'll leave you for her. We're friends, don't forget that."
I snapped at him.
"Oh really? Her looks... if they could kill. What did you tell her about me?"
He swallowed and stared at me.
"What’s with that tone? And what could I have told her? The usual stuff. What we do... But come on, you usually didn't care about that kind of thing."
"No, it wasn't necessary then. But it is with her. She's jealous of me; a blind person with a cane could see that."
"You're seeing ghosts."
"No, Peter, I'm not. She's not right for you. I'll give you four weeks, and then the feathers will fly."
He grabbed me even tighter and shook me.
"Are you out of your mind?"
"No, definitely not. And now please leave me alone; I don't want to face her anymore."
He walked to the door and closed it.
Slowly, he came back to me.
"Wallice, what on earth has gotten into you? Something's not right with you."
I sat on the bed and buried my face in my hands; Peter didn’t need to see my tears. I had never cried in front of him, nor he in front of me. But now it was happening; it broke through me. If he was already defending his baroness and brushing off my warning, then he could also know the truth about me. Peter would keep it to himself; I knew that. We couldn't be friends anymore, but I could count on his discretion - and I no longer had to endure Sonja's presence.
He took my hands and pulled them away from my face. I felt really embarrassed to look at him with a wet face, but I didn’t have the strength to resist.
He held me in his arms and squeezed me.
"Fool. I've always told you that I would never let you down. I'd rather chase the women to hell. You're far too important to me in my life."
His words only made everything worse.
"Would you still do that... if you knew... that your best friend is gay?"
Fog rose all around. Gray, cold fog that clouded my thoughts, my feelings. It was as if I no longer had legs. I would just float in a monotony of space and time.
Peter's embrace did not loosen. He still held me tight, stroking my back with his hands while my arms hung limply. I wanted to, I couldn't touch him. Perhaps out of fear that he might misunderstand.
The door flew open. I flinched at first, then I only registered the maliciously sparkling eyes. Normally, I would have verbally escorted this woman off the property, but I was simply speechless at this impudence.
Peter's embrace loosened and he turned around.
"Sonja?"
"Aha. Most interesting. What’s going on here? Is our gay prince trying to charm you?"
On one hand, I couldn't believe it; on the other hand, my suspicions were confirmed. She was even worse than my wildest dreams had suggested. Now it was up to Peter to get the situation under control.
"What nonsense are you talking? How do you even come up with that?" he asked.
"Come up with what? That your so-called friend is gay? I knew it before I even met him. You just have to look closely at the photos. Or watch him on TV. He's after you, isn't he? Great. The future king is gay."
She leaned provocatively against the doorframe and crossed her arms.
"Peter, don't let anyone know. They'll drag you into this, and then you can start working at the garbage collection."
I stared at him; Peter, my best friend...
Seconds later, I knew I had lost him.
Slowly, he turned to me and looked at me. He did this for a long time, visibly breathing nervously. He seemed to be fighting a bitter battle with himself. Here was his best friend for ages, and there was a surely pretty woman. Yes, and with her, he could do a lot more than with a gay guy. I felt Peter distancing himself from me. Slowly but surely.
Again, he looked over at Sonja, who was still leaning against the doorframe. She expected a reaction, of any kind. Peter knew she would talk if he chased her away because of me. I might not matter to him, but that bitch would claim he was gay. That couldn't happen, so I turned away from him and stepped to the window.
"Peter, it's better if you go," I said softly, and the fog was still there. Or were they tears that were pretending to be fog?
I felt his gaze on my back. Sonja said nothing; I wouldn't have listened anyway. Losing a best friend, she probably didn't know that feeling. But in that moment, I wished her all the worst that one wouldn't wish even on their worst enemy. I excluded Peter; he couldn't act any differently.
"What’s wrong? Didn’t you hear him? Come on, this environment is driving me crazy."
Every word of hers was like a dagger thrust into my chest. If Peter had been Steven, I would have killed her right there.
"How dare you? Don’t forget where you are," I hissed maliciously.
For a moment, she seemed perplexed, then she put on that disgusting grin.
"How could I forget? Sorry, I'm facing Prince Wallice. Unfortunately, he seems a bit out of place. And does he even deserve to talk to normal people?"
After Peter didn't move, she ran to him, grabbed his sleeve, and pulled him along behind her. Until that moment, I had hoped he would choose me, but he didn't. His fear was too great, and I understood him. My anger was directed solely at her. She probably still had those genes from the Middle Ages in her blood that appreciated witch hunts. She would have loved to see me on the pyre.
I stood at the window for a long time, watching as the two of them got into the car. Peter looked up at me one last time, then they sped out of the driveway.
I had no more tears. Deep down, I knew this wasn't a goodbye forever; it couldn't be. He would soon throw that bitch out the door, with whatever arguments he could muster. Perhaps he was smart enough to find out something about her past. The smallest detail would be enough for him to silence her.
I had to wait; we were too attached to each other. Therefore, I almost considered this process a plan.
In the following three weeks, I was busy with visits, congresses, inaugurations, and openings of various institutions. Peter visited me a few times without his new acquaintance, but we no longer talked about that evening. I only felt the wall that had built up between us. Apparently, he cared more for her than for me, and although I regretted it, I had to accept it.
I rarely saw Steve; he said he had to study; his grades weren't the best.
The evenings had been the worst until then. Dad was apparently in a new relationship, and I was happy for him. After all, Mom had passed away five years ago; why shouldn't he be allowed to fall in love again? The trouble arose because his new partner was not from the court. This stirred up the mob considerably, and I had since stopped trying to glean the latest gossip about his love life from the tabloids.
For these reasons, he didn't want to take her on the trip.
The European trip was slowly approaching. Finally, some variety, finally seeing something different. On one hand, I was ecstatic when Peter told me on the phone that he could come after all. On the other hand, there was the dampener that he wanted to bring his Sonja along. Well, I would keep my distance from her as much as possible. In the meantime, I had also developed a small emotional cushion that helped me not to take the situation too seriously.
The day before departure was, of course, hectic as always. I didn't have to gather my clothes; the servants took care of that. Among other things, it didn't matter because I couldn't wear what I wanted anyway. At most, my underwear had a chance. And I made use of that. Nice retro briefs and white T-shirts were in order.
In the evening, Dad told me he was proud of me and that he wanted to make me his representative as soon as he ascended the throne. It was somehow strange because I loved my grandma and hoped she would continue to rule this country for a long time.
The next morning, we drove to the airport in six limousines. It was raining cats and dogs, but according to the weather report, the sun was shining in Hamburg. I was looking forward to the trip, even though I knew Peter and Sonja were in one of the cars. Dad, Grandma, and I traveled in separate vehicles; they didn’t want to take any risks. Because even in our country, one was not always and everywhere safe. Thus, we also flew to Hamburg in more than one plane.
Landing in Hamburg. The plane with Grandma and the delegates had already arrived, then we came.
The sun was indeed shining, and the reception was overwhelming. I walked alongside Dad and Grandma, greeting the guard battalion that had lined up in a long row next to the red carpet. I discreetly took a closer look at one or two of the guards. There were some handsome boys among them, even if they were a bit older. How nice it was that at that moment, no one could read my thoughts.
The mayor welcomed us, along with a number of other dignitaries, and after the usual ceremony, we drove in a procession to the town hall. Surprisingly, a lot of people stood by the roadside, waving at us. Again, my eyes searched for something that would delight my heart. But there was nothing. No boy who could fulfill that wish for me. Just girls, women, and older men. Of course, who else would interest someone like me? Through Grandma's new computer, I learned on the internet that I had many female fans in Germany. Of course, I would be a good catch... "...the very handsome prince of Witham is apparently still single..." it said. And that's why they were all there that day. Because of me...
Admittedly, it was a nice feeling. Still, I thought often of Steve, who would be sitting at home studying. Did he think of me too? I sent him a text message from the car.
The cars stopped right in front of the town hall, and again I was amazed at how many people were gathered here. They shouted and clapped, but I couldn’t help but notice that there were also banners against us in the distance. "Stop the fox hunt," I could read. Yes, even here, people were against this animal cruelty, and secretly I was pleased with this, albeit small, demonstration.
We walked towards the entrance of the town hall, and suddenly I saw a few boys waving flags enthusiastically.
I don’t remember why, but one of them somehow attracted me like a magnet. His face, his hair, his figure, that look in his eyes. Steve lost significance in that moment. As if compelled, I steered towards him, my eyes fixed on his. It was like an inner command. As soon as I was within arm's reach, he grabbed my hand.
At that moment, a flash blinded my eyes, followed by a deafening bang. His grip hurt, almost like a vice, and he pulled me into the crowd. Suddenly, there were only screaming people around me. I turned around and saw how the bodyguards quickly dragged my father and grandma away. Peter ran to a lifeless body on the street, and for a split second, I thought of Sonja.
Screams filled the air as a thick, black cloud of smoke rose. Unimaginable panic surrounded me, but the vice still clutched my arm and began to pull me along. No one noticed me; I had become part of this panicked crowd. The stranger continued to drag me with him, swept along in the stream of fleeing people.
Sirens, helicopters, loudspeaker announcements. Sweat ran down my entire body, and after the shock, I slowly began to panic myself.
Above all, who was the young guy who was relentlessly pulling me along?
Axel--
Hamburg,
Germany
(one
month
ago)
I woke up feeling super hungover on that shitty morning; the party yesterday had been pretty intense. The whole thing with Felix was particularly troubling me. Did it really have to happen in the bathroom?
Okay, I gave him a blowjob, fine. But the relationship stuff I blurted out with my big head afterward? Crap.
I had zero interest in a relationship with Felix and was talking such nonsense. Saying I loved him and all that crap. I definitely had some things to clarify.
I pushed those thoughts aside for now because what was more important was doing something about my headache. So, I went to our kitchen and found my roommates there.
Living in a shared apartment had its pros and cons. One advantage was that I got away from my parents. A disadvantage was that I was living with the two messiest people on this planet. Together with me, we formed the infernal trio. The kitchen looked accordingly. Pots, bowls, and plates were piled up in and around the sink. Some things looked like they could come to life just from being looked at.
I had to throw up and ran to the bathroom. That sight combined with my hangover was just too much for me.
After throwing up and brushing my teeth, I went back to the kitchen, where two mocking faces were already grinning at me.
"Well, had a rough night?"
The one who said that was Shokki. His real name is Rainer. But since that name didn't suit him at all and he wasn't even 40 yet, he got this nickname. Shokki was our handyman. Everything he got his hands on, he would take apart. Unfortunately, he then had the problem of putting the devices back together properly.
I only needed to think of my DVD player that he wanted to fix. Now it lay non-functional in some corner.
Then there was Jo (short for Joachim).
Jo is a head person, a thinker. Before he does anything, he thinks about it for hours. He considers all possibilities, and when he's done thinking, he starts over.
The two of them could talk for hours about some world political topic. Preferably at night, with a bottle of red wine and some grass to smoke.
We had known each other since childhood. Even though we were very different, we complemented each other perfectly. Each of us had our strengths and weaknesses, which we tolerated.
I hadn't found my strengths yet, but I had found my weaknesses. And there were quite a few.
Men.
Which means: my penis-driven thinking. But enough about that.
"What kind of night?" I still wasn't fully there and grabbed an aspirin from the cupboard.
"Well, last night? You seem to have had a rough night."
"Why?"
"Well, because of the throwing up?"
"When I see you two this early in the morning? Is that a wonder?"
"Early morning?" They both laughed. "It's 3 PM."
"Told you, early morning. And what did you two get up to yesterday?"
"We didn't do anything, just hung out," Jo clarified, sipping his tea.
"Sure. When was the last time you had contact with a female being? In the last century?"
I should probably mention that both of them were into women. Well, not everyone can be perfect.
"Not everyone has to whore around like you."
"So what did you do? Played the world improvers again?"
"I've never seen such an apolitical person as you, Axel."
"Blah blah, what do you want to accomplish?"
"Here," said Shokki, sliding an article from Attac over to me. Something about the English royal family, which didn't particularly interest me. Much more interesting was the picture of Prince William.
"Hmm, he's cute. I definitely wouldn't say no to him."
The two of them looked at each other in disbelief and shook their heads.
"I think if you didn't have your cock, you wouldn't have a brain at all."
"Why? He really is cute!"
"You shouldn't be looking at that aristocratic ass but reading the article. Do you even know how much taxpayer money the royal family wastes on such nonsense like receptions and so on?"
"Nope."
"Doesn't interest you, does it?"
"Not really."
"What they're doing is pure waste of money, for nothing and again nothing."
"Hmm, the tourism industry benefits from it."
"Tourism industry! Just hearing that makes me cringe."
It wasn't too hard to get Jo worked up. He loves to get upset about this and that. Actually about everything. I usually left him alone and slipped away. What did he have against the tourism industry now? Didn't he just go on vacation with LTU this summer?
But I better not mention that, or he might chop my head off.
The two of them started to debate, and I felt somewhat out of place. So I left them alone and went to my room.
I needed to talk to Felix to clear things up and called him.
"Felix Brückner," he answered the phone.
"Hi, it's Axel."
"Oh, risen from the dead?"
"Don't ask, I'm still feeling like crap."
"I can imagine, the way you went at it yesterday."
"Yeah, it was shit. Can we maybe meet somewhere?"
"At your place or mine?"
"I was thinking more like the main train station?"
"Yeah, okay, when?"
"In about two hours?"
"Okay, should work, in front of McDonald's, Wandelhalle?"
"Great, see you then."
"Yep."
The Wandelhalle of Hamburg's main train station is the focal point, where several shops and restaurants are located. McDonald's is on the first floor, actually more of a gallery. As a meeting point, it's quite perfect, as travelers tend to linger more on the ground floor or rush through breathlessly.
Another advantage is that the main train station is the hub of the Hamburg U-Bahn and S-Bahn network. So, it's quite easy to reach.
I arrived at the station half an hour early. Slowly, I trudged up the steps of the gallery and went to the passage next to McDonald's. Here, I leaned against the railing to watch the arriving and departing trains. Somehow, I like train stations; they always spark a feeling of wanderlust in me. What I also enjoyed was observing people. I would then weave little stories about the people waiting or bustling around here.
Who could the older gentleman in the corner be waiting for? His grandchildren, whom he had invited to McDonald's? His wife, who was out shopping? Or one of the numerous hustlers hanging around here?
The young girl, who stood five meters away, leaning against the railing as well. Did she already have a boyfriend? She was probably just waiting for her friends to gossip about other boys.
Most of the time, I was completely wrong. The older gentleman was greeted with a kiss on the mouth by another older gentleman. I had to grin.
The girl was picked up by a woman, probably her mother.
My gaze fell on a guy who was reading a newspaper. A huge headline on the front page of a famous tabloid:
"Queen Patricia visits Germany." Below it, a picture of her, her son, and the grandson, who were likely coming along. Prince Wallice. Wow. That guy is quite something.
My thoughts drifted off, and I had to think about Felix again. He is sweet and nice; that's probably why I couldn't imagine having a relationship with him. Felix is just too nice. There were simply no points of friction where we could argue. He would rather hold back than start a fight with me, and I didn't need that. I needed someone with edges and corners, who is my equal. But I had to find someone like that first, and that was easier said than done. It wasn't that I had real problems meeting someone. Most of the time, it was just for one night. I must indeed be relationship incapable, as Jo and Shokki always claim.
The list of my relationships is really short. Just one. Wow! I had been with Sven for three months, and it was going really well. Until the day I slept with someone else; my dick had won again. Sven somehow found out. There was a huge fight, and we ultimately broke up, or rather, he broke up with me.
The list of my sexual partners is, um, longer. Much longer. I can't even remember them all anymore. In that regard, I am indeed an old slut.
Basically, I hated myself for it. The evening was always nice. Getting to know someone, the new body, the sex itself. The morning after was just shit. This guilty conscience truly consumed me. A guilty conscience because I couldn't give the other person what they might have wished for: a relationship.
The first time I had sex with a boy was at 15. A classmate, with whom I am still friends today. I never wasted a single thought on girls. I had always known I was gay. Coming out didn't give me any headaches either. I just did it without thinking too long about it. It was more difficult for my parents. One reason why I moved out at 18. That was a year ago. By now, my parents have come to terms with it. What other choice did they have? For all of us, it was positive that I no longer lived at home and we saw each other every day. It shifted our relationship into a different, more positive, distanced track.
Felix came towards me with a big grin.
He hugged me.
"Hey, nice to see you."
I grinned back a bit shyly and said, "Nice that you have time."
"Of course, always for you. Where do we want to go?"
"Hmm, to Schweinske?"
"Okay."
Schweinske is right next to McDonald's and is a restaurant chain with traditional German food.
We sat down at a table and ordered from the waiter. Felix ordered a salad with grilled turkey breast, I had spaghetti Bolognese.
"Axel?"
"Hmm?"
"Come on, tell me, what's wrong?"
"About last night, what I said."
"You mean your love declaration? That was really sweet."
Oh shit, how was I supposed to get out of this? I tried a different approach.
"That was crap from me. I don't love you and probably never can."
There, the hard approach. Yes, sometimes I am a heartless jerk.
"You party pooper!"
Now I was surprised by this response.
"What? Party pooper?"
"I actually wanted to watch you stammer for hours – and you? You ruin everything! Come on."
"Oops, that was the last thing I expected."
"Sure, you don't really think we would match even remotely, do you? As for me, definitely not. And then your rambling yesterday, ugh, that was just atrocious, no Axel, we just don't fit together."
"I know, but I still like you a lot."
"I like you too. But please, never again a scene like yesterday, okay? If you want to have sex, just say it and that's it, you don't need to make such a fuss about it."
"Hmm, okay. Friends?"
"Forever."
And once again, my understanding of people had completely let me down. Maybe I should work on that. I had expected the worst: crying and fussing, and now I was simply taken aback.
Inside, I made three crosses, and the thud of the stone that fell from my heart could probably be heard for miles.
It's funny how one can be mistaken about people.
We said goodbye shortly after and promised to stay in touch. This - contact - then actually turned into almost daily meetings.
So it happened that I spent most evenings hanging out at Felix's place, and we talked about everything possible, just not about sex between us. It became a taboo topic. A positive one. We were friends and no longer sex partners, and that moved us forward enormously.
What took a huge step back was the shared living situation. I used to be able to talk about everything with the two of them – really everything. About our sexuality, up to the point where Shokki liked to take care of himself in the bathroom. Why? No idea. He just liked to look at himself in the mirror while doing it. Period. Now, we only knew the smallest secrets about each other. And now?
We were silent with each other. No, better said, they were silent towards me. Somehow I felt like the fifth wheel.
Well, we were growing up – whatever that meant. But like this? That our friendship would fall apart because of it? I don't want to grow up!
It wasn't that the two of them were rejecting me, it was more a diffuse feeling of not being understood anymore.
We increasingly talked past each other. The worst part was that we all understood it, but no one did anything about it. The problems were increasingly swept under the rug. Where we could have spent hours discussing who had what problems with whom, we now only fell silent.
We drifted apart. Yes, we lived together, but no longer with each other.
Other topics became more important for the two of them. One example: We watched the news together, which included a short report about a fox hunt in England. In the TV images, I also saw Prince Wallice hunting with others. In England, there had been a long-standing controversial debate about whether this tradition should be abolished. Personally, I couldn't stand this animal slaughter any more than Jo and Shokki. But the two of them got so worked up again that I mentally tuned out and looked at the prince. He didn't look very happy either. Hmm, maybe he hated hunting just like most people. And I voiced that suspicion out loud. Now I had become the enemy, and the two of them turned on me. So much for talking past each other.
The stupid thing was that I probably suffered more from this situation than the two of them combined. I still loved them. Like brothers. They had been that for me – since I never had siblings, they became something like a damn good substitute.
What I still liked was our apartment. A classic old building, with high, stucco-decorated walls. Four rooms with a long hallway, a small bathroom but a large kitchen. Every room had wooden floors, which we painstakingly sanded, resealed, and polished when we moved in.
And our neighbors… a topic in itself.
Directly across from us was the Grabner family, probably the most normal ones in the building. Both in their mid-30s, with two boys. Tom, 17, and Sascha, 16. Corinna, our neighbor, was pregnant at 17, and had another bun in the oven at 18. Sven, her husband, didn't just run away but got married – yes, such things still exist.
The two of them were now reclaiming their lost teenage years. Fridays and Saturdays from 10 PM onward, they were out. In clubs. I probably would have done the same. The kids are grown, so what.
The two were pretty alright. In some way – probably mentally – still 25. They lived that way.
The two "kids" couldn't be more different. Corinna still claims today that they must have mixed her up in the hospital. I had come to that suspicion too – if only it weren't for their appearance. They looked like brothers and acted like it too.
Sascha, the younger of the two, was hooking up with everything that wasn't three trees away, preferably on Fridays and Saturdays after 10 PM in his room. Mind you, it was the opposite sex, whose screams then echoed throughout the house.
Tom? The exact opposite. While Sascha was very extroverted, Tom was very introverted. Actually, the cuter of the two, but he had never brought home a girlfriend. Let alone vomited in the stairwell; unlike his brother.
I personally tended to think that Tom was gay. Why? My understanding of people. Ha, ha.
Above us lived the Harlings, a retired couple who had probably been married for ages. Mrs. Harling had a budgerigar with which she engaged in lively conversation. Her husband, a notorious grumbler, hadn’t spoken a word to his wife in decades. Are they still together for that reason? Hmm, who knows.
Opposite the Harlings lived Mr. Sachsleer, or the Phantom, as we called him. A man who came home from work, closed his door, and that was it. No visitors, nothing, just always at home.
When you rang his doorbell, he wouldn’t open. A loner, Shokki once suspected that he was a typical "Messi" (hoarder). Well, as long as no rats run out of his apartment? Let him be. To each their own.
Below us lived Susanne. At first, she really gave us a headache. Single, more than just attractive, in her early 30s, very well-groomed, an absolute top woman without a job. Jo guessed that she inherited the apartment from her husband. Maybe she helped the old man in bed to finally kick the bucket.
Until one day I saw Susanne at 2:00 AM in her work clothes. A hooker like in a cheesy novel. But that’s exactly how she looked. High heels, fishnet tights, mini skirt, a red leather jacket, all very figure-hugging. We ran into each other in the stairwell, and at first, I didn’t know what to say, but then curiosity took over:
“Hi, Susanne, picking someone up?”
“Hi, Axel, no, work!”
“You're working as a prostitute?”
“Yep, why? Didn’t you know that?”
“No! And where?”
“Herbert Street.”
“Herbert Street? Oh, crap.”
“Why oh crap? There’s nothing better.”
Susanne looked at her watch, then at me, and finally said:
“Hmm, a client at this hour is unlikely, so I’m done for the night! Don’t you want to have a glass of red wine, Axel?”
“Okay.”
So it happened that Susanne invited me to her apartment, and we talked.
Her apartment was WOW! There’s no other way to put it. Modern and cozy. White leather furniture on white tiles, pictures that were probably real, not art prints, adorned the walls. The pictures hanging there particularly captivated me, warm colors in contrast to the rest. Indescribable, but everything somehow fit together. Almost too perfect.
What made this apartment cozy were the little things: cushions on the floor, perfectly matched to the wall colors. Candles, more and more.
Simply beautiful.
I was fascinated. Fascinated by the colors and by this apartment. Most of all, I was fascinated by this woman, who now looked like a friend in more comfortable clothes.
“So, tell me, what do you have against Herbert Street?”
Herbert Street is probably the most famous street in Hamburg after the Reeperbahn. I had been there once out of curiosity. It’s not really a proper street, with cars and all; it’s isolated with a privacy screen from the Reeperbahn, and you can only enter Herbert Street through a small door. For women, Herbert Street is taboo. It’s a dead-end street surrounded by windows where the prostitutes lounge. You can enter the windows through a recessed door and then disappear with the ladies into a back room that is not visible from the outside.
“I find it quite dehumanizing, like a meat inspection; it’s nothing else.”
“Stop, my dear, not so fast.”
I looked at her questioningly, and she continued:
“So: Herbert Street is the best there is for prostitutes and also for clients. Now don’t look so skeptical; it’s true. First of all, everything is legal, so all women have a registration certificate, are examined once a month, and pay their taxes.
We sit in warmth and don’t have to wait for clients in the freezing cold outside. But the most important thing is: it’s relatively safe. We don’t have pimps, but a private security service.
Secondly: For the clients, it’s easier because we have a flat rate, and they don’t have to pay for some sleazy hourly hotel.”
“Hmm, I hadn’t looked at it from that perspective.”
“There are long waiting lists for prostitutes who want to work there. And please get rid of your cliché thinking. The idea of poor women being forced into it. There are certainly still plenty of those, but most of us do it for the money. At least I do, and because I’m into sex. Yes, it’s that simple.”
“But isn’t it super gross to jump into bed with some fat ass?”
“Of course it is. But which job is always fun? Besides, you don’t have to take everyone. That’s definitely the biggest difference from the women who have to work the streets and then have to hand over their money to their pimps.”
“But... um, why do you actually work as a prostitute? I mean, you’re an intelligent woman?”
“Oh God, you mean why I’m not sitting as a secretary somewhere in an office?”
“Yes, more or less.”
"»No, let's not. Not in the mood for it. You'll laugh, I actually trained to be a freight forwarding agent, but then quickly realized that it wasn't for me. Besides, I'm really into sex. Well, that's actually true. I've had a few relationships, but no man could give me what I wanted: at least twice a day. Call me a nymphomaniac, which I probably am, but I can't help it. And then a friend of mine, who was working in Herbertstrasse, asked me if I wanted to take her place since she wanted to quit. Yes, that was five years ago, and I've been doing this ever since."
"And what do you want to do later?"
"You mean when I'm too old to get a client?"
I nodded hesitantly.
Susanne laughed.
"You don't have to be embarrassed, your biological clock is ticking too. I'll work for another three years and then off to Crete. The little house is already bought."
"Crete?"
"Hmm, yes, my dream island. There, I will open a small, cozy restaurant to take the tourists' money."
Susanne laughed. It was a pleasant, open laugh, just like the whole woman was very pleasant.
"And when it's opened, you can come visit me."
I had to grin.
"Sure, I'll do that, with my dream prince."
"Gladly, there will always be a bed for you to stay."
However, that was never to happen. Two weeks later, Susanne's body was found in her back room on Herbertstrasse. Stabbed by a deranged client who had taken too much speed that evening.
The doorbell rang. Awake but still sleepy, I turned to the clock: 1:00 PM. I waited another minute until it rang again.
"Yes, yes, I'm coming already!"
Grumbling, I got up from my warm, cozy bed. Dressed only in my H&M shorts, I went to the door to open it. Corinna was standing there, and a thousand words poured over me at once. Without responding, I turned around and went into the kitchen.
"Corinna, come in, close the door, and sit down."
She followed me, sat on a chair at our kitchen table, and looked at me.
"Do you want a coffee too?" I asked her.
"Sure."
I took two pads from the cupboard and placed them in my latest acquisition, a Senseo coffee machine. I had treated myself to it three days ago because I found it exceptionally practical. Jo and Shokki were once again strongly against it, saying it was just more waste and resource consumption. However, that didn't stop them from using it.
I placed the two cups of coffee on the table.
Corinna took one and sipped from the cup.
"Thanks. Hmm, this is good."
"And Corinna? What's so important that you wake me up in the middle of the night?"
She grinned at me.
"Oh, Axel. I would have liked to study too, just sleep in when I don't feel like going to university, wonderful."
I had to smile. I had already enrolled, but only for the next semester. After high school, I just wanted to take a break. A year of doing nothing. Thinking about what I really wanted, just not cramming endlessly again. My parents financed the apartment, and I worked at a gas station to make up the rest.
"So that's why you're here?"
"Oh no, it's about Tom."
"About Tom? Did he do something?"
"Tom? Nonsense, you know him. It's more about what he hasn't done."
"Corinna?"
"Yes?"
"I Axel, I man. You Corinna, you woman. Woman must not speak in riddles with man."
Corinna burst out laughing.
"Funny. My husband always says that too."
"And? Is he right?"
"When has a man ever been right?"
Now I had to laugh.
"So what's up with Tom?"
Instead of answering, she reached for her backpack and pulled out a magazine, which she laid on the table. The "Hinnerk," better known in Hamburg as the city's gay magazine.
"Hmm. Don't you think he'll miss it?"
"Oh please, there are dozens of them in his nightstand."
"So you're snooping on Tom?"
I couldn't suppress a smug grin.
Corinna turned slightly red.
"No! Of course not. But I have to know what's going on with my boy. He hardly talks to me anymore. Oh crap. Have I really failed as a mother? Oh Axel, we are really tolerant, and Tom could have come to us with this. As if we would have made a fuss about him being gay. Definitely not."
"I know, Corinna. But have you ever considered that Tom has to first understand and, more importantly, accept it himself?"
Corinna looked at me, puzzled.
"Tom is 17. He should know by now, right? I mean, you did at 15? Right?"
"Right. But Tom is not Axel, and Axel is not Tom. It's not exactly easy for a gay person to accept it. Some take months, for others like me, it takes days. And then there are those who only realize it at 30 when they're married with two kids. Although 'realize' might be the wrong term; 'accept' is probably the more accurate one."
"But he could have talked to us about it?"
"And? What would you have answered to his question: How do you know you're gay?"
"Hmm. Maybe I know what you mean. It's just so... hard. Do you understand? You protect him for 17 years, and suddenly, from one day to the next, you can do nothing."
"Axel?"
"Yes, Corinna?"
"Could you talk to him? I mean, like from..."
"From gay to gay?"
"Yes, something like that. Or better said, from friend to friend?"
"Corinna! You don't want to set us up...?"
She blinked her eyes.
"Oh.. Axel. What are you thinking? Although, I could imagine you as a son-in-law."
"Thanks. I'll talk to Tom, okay?"
She got up from her chair and hugged me so tightly that I could hardly breathe.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I met Tom two days later, it was a Friday, in the stairwell.
I had just come from Felix, shouldering my bike, and unlocked the front door.
With my house key in one hand and grabbing the bike by the frame with the other, I came through the door. The front wheel got stuck, so I was wedged between the door and the wall. Tom came toward me and smiled.
"Hey, do you need help?"
"Yes, this stallion here," I pointed to my bike, "is being stubborn again."
"Men, right?"
We both had to grin. Tom took my bike so I could empty our mailbox. Most of it was for Jo. Various organizations were writing to him—and there were many. I passed Tom on the stairs so I could open our apartment door.
Tom placed my bike in the hallway, and I threw the mail on the kitchen table.
"Tom?"
"Yes?"
"Do you have any plans for today?"
"Hmm. Not really. I wanted to borrow some DVDs. Nothing else."
"Don't you want to stay here? Listen to some music or something? I still have a bottle of vodka here, and I have nothing planned either."
Normally, I always work at the gas station on Fridays, but today the boss wanted to train a new guy. And it actually suited me fine; the money should be enough to avoid starving, so I agreed.
Tom looked down.
"Hey, I just mopped; the floor is clean, don’t worry. Nothing will jump on you."
He had to laugh. That was the first time I saw him really laugh. His eyes sparkled. I felt like he grew a little. Not in measurements, it was his aura.
"You mean... um, you're inviting me?"
"If you want to put it that way? Sure, and do you feel like it?"
His eyes now reminded me of a fawn, totally intimidated. As if it had just crossed a road and was now standing in front of the blinding headlights of a car. Not knowing where to flee, frozen in shock, that’s how Tom stood in front of me.
It only took a few seconds for him to regain his composure.
"I don't know. You must have better things to do?"
"Like what?"
"Well, wanting to hang out with me?"
"Nope! I don't! So what’s the deal?"
Still unsure, Tom stared from one wall to the other.
"Yeah, okay, why not?"
I offered him a spot on my bed—or better said, mattress. His gaze wandered around the room and landed on a book on my table.
"Hey, I have that too."
"And what do you think of it?"
The book in question was "The Center of the World" by Andreas Steinhöfel.
"Hmm, it’s okay. Not bad, but it didn’t blow me away either. But why do you read stuff like that?"
I was a bit slow on the uptake again. In the past, I probably could have connected it with Europe and the USA.
"Huh? Why shouldn't I read that?"
"Well, because it’s a gay novel?"
Finally, I understood. Tom had no clue that I was gay. Why did I always assume that the whole world knew I was? Something similar had happened with Susanne.
"Tom! I'm gay."
"Wow! I wouldn't have thought that. I mean, you don't look like a gay guy, you don’t act like one—oh, I don’t know."
"F*** stereotypes. I probably act just like 90% of other gay guys. How many gay guys do you know?"
"Actually, just one."
Tom turned red. Sweet!
"Aha, and who else?"
"My boyfriend?" Tom explained shyly.
Now I was taken aback. Tom had a boyfriend? Why had I never seen him?
"Your boyfriend?"
"Yep. Someone from my class. A super sweet guy."
The way Tom said that and how his eyes sparkled made me a little envious.
"And why don’t you ever bring him along?"
"You mean like my brother does when we have the house to ourselves?"
"Yeah."
"Angelo usually has to work at the gas station until midnight, and after that, he’s often too exhausted."
"Angelo? Angelo? Not the Angelo from my gas station? That hot guy? Oh, man."
"Which gas station do you work at? Esso?"
I just nodded briefly. Angelo, by far the hottest guy at our place. It was clear that someone like that already had a boyfriend.
"Oh, so you’re the Axel who sometimes covers for him?"
"Exactly. How long have you been together?"
"Half a year."
"That long already? And why am I just finding out about this? Come on."
"You’d just steal him away from me anyway," Tom giggled.
"But you never took him home, did you?"
"Hmm, yeah, that’s true."
"Why not?"
"I think my mom wouldn’t like it."
"How do you figure that?"
"Well, I see how her eyes light up when my brother brings home a new girlfriend, and if I showed up with a guy? I don’t know."
I had to laugh. My goodness, this world is complicated.
"Hey! Why are you laughing? I don’t find that funny at all."
"Wait."
I went to the kitchen to get the Hinnerk.
"Here, this belongs to you."
"Now I don’t understand anything anymore."
"Also Corinna knows that you're gay."
"What? How does she know that?"
I waved the Hinnerk around in my hand.
"She found out from me, right?"
"Yep. She did."
"And how do you fit into this?"
I told him everything about Corinna's appearance, and his facial features brightened more and more.
"You mean she thinks it's perfectly fine?"
"Of course! She just had a problem that you haven't found anyone at your age yet."
"Umpf. Wow, that's cool."
"So, I think you have something to tell your mother!"
"Yeah, I think so too. Thanks!"
"No problem, you're welcome. And if you ever find yourself single, you know where I live."
Tom grinned and winked at me as a farewell.
In the following days, I rarely showed up at the shared apartment. I spent most of my time with Felix. I was only in the apartment when I had laundry to do or when Felix had picked someone up and wanted to be alone. Just like that day.
I unlocked the door to our shared apartment and discovered Shokki at the dining table in the kitchen.
"Hey Shokki, is Jo here?"
Shokki was currently munching on a piece of bread and nodded.
"Great!"
Shokki seemed to want to say something else, but all I heard was a cough and a croak from him as I made my way to Jo's room. Without knocking, I opened the bedroom door. Jo was lying completely naked on his bed - and a red-haired woman was sitting on him.
Shit! Pippi Longstocking is riding my Jo! Her face was turned towards me, fortunately with her eyes closed. Her shapeless breasts were slapping against her chest, and she was screaming: "Yes, good boy my stallion!"
My jaw dropped, and I quietly closed the door.
I grabbed the almost full bottle of licorice schnapps from the fridge and took a big swig from the bottle before sitting down with Shokki.
"What the hell was that?"
"That, my dear Axel, is Jo's new girlfriend Doris."
"Excuse me, who?"
"Doris. Should I spell it for you?"
"Doris?"
I took another generous swig from the bottle.
"How old is this Doris?"
"About 40."
Pfft. Gag. Damn schnapps.
"Oh my God, that old already?"
"Yeah, so what? She's nice and fits Jo. Aren't you happy for Jo?"
"How long has this been going on?"
"Three months."
"What, that long already? And why am I only finding out about this now?"
"When have you been here? You've mostly been with Felix."
"Hello! Am I an alien? Are you out of your mind or what? I'm your friend! I should know this kind of thing!"
"Why? You don't care anyway."
I took a swig from the bottle.
"You can't be serious about that, right? Hey, you guys are my friends, how can you think such nonsense?"
At that moment, the door to Jo's bedroom opened, and Pippi stepped out. Dressed in bright green leggings and a hand-knitted sweater in rainbow colors.
Her red hair contrasted with that styling.
"Hello," Pippi greeted us.
"Hello Pippi!" I replied. Already a bit drunk, I paid no attention to these "new greeting rituals" and merrily slurred:
"Well, how's it going down from the horse?"
She looked at me in surprise.
"Excuse me? Who are you talking about, boy? And who is Pippi? Maybe you should drink less?"
I took another swig from the bottle, looked at her, and burst into laughter.
Pippi looked down at me and directed her gaze at Shokki:
"Who the hell is this? Another ignorant one?"
I answered her:
"No, Pippi, a roommate and friend of the house."
I didn't like her from the start. The look she gave me was that typical "Oh boy, what do you want?" look. I hated her for it and got nasty.
"And you?" I said to her, "Want to compete with Robin Hood? You've already got the look for it."
Instead of answering, she just looked at me.
"Sleep off your drunkenness, and then we'll see."
But I thought I could handle more and just smiled at her.
Another swig from the bottle. I now saw two Pippis in front of me, but whatever.
I heard Jo, whom I jumped around the neck. Why? No idea? I just wanted to get rid of Pippi! Quickly! Really quickly. I hoped for Jo.
But then he took Pippi in his arms.
"Axel, this is Doris! My new girlfriend!"
I reached for the bottle and took another swig, looking into Jo's eyes.
"Good grief, Jo, Doris should be screwing her Gerhardt, but not you!"
Jo didn't find that funny at all and hit me. The punch landed, and I got a bloody lip. My teeth felt wobbly, and I looked up at Jo's face. Without any reaction, he stood in front of me, ready to hit me again. My friend Jo is hitting me! Me?
It wasn't the pain that hurt, but rather Jo, my friend, and the realization that we were no longer friends. That hurt much more.
"Asshole!" I yelled at Jo.
"Oh yeah, and you? A little jealous faggot? You can go to hell."
The fist that hit him was hard, and it came from me. He should probably see a dentist tomorrow.
"So much for the topic of faggot, asshole!"
I turned around and went into my room, locked the door, and went to bed. I couldn't sleep; I had to think. What now?
No more friends! I had to get out of here, and all because of Pippi! I hated that woman! Deeply! That bitch!
The next morning was horrific. My head buzzed like a swarm of bees, and they must have forgotten their sticky, rancid honey in my mouth. I felt my split lip. It hurt.
Everything hurt, especially the lump in my stomach. That damned feeling of having lost everything. I was thirsty.
As I approached the fridge, that disgusting person named Pippi, um, Doris, came towards me and immediately started ranting.
"You broke a tooth on Jo!"
Blah, blah, blah. I grabbed a cola from the fridge and drank.
Doris looked at me in disgust.
"You drink that crap?"
I turned to her and burst out laughing. This woman looked so ridiculous in her clothes. Starting with that wool ball she was wearing, ending with jogging pants and strange slippers. But it was mainly that color combination that made it look so grotesque. Everything somehow super faded with indefinable colors.
At that moment, Shokki joined us and hugged Doris from behind to give her a kiss on the neck. My stomach turned.
I looked at Shokki and asked him, "Are you guys having a threesome or what’s going on?"
Instead of Shokki, Doris replied, "In a commune, everyone loves each other."
Gag.
I left the two of them without saying a word and went to my room to pack my things.
Once packed, I called Felix and asked him to pick me up in his car.
We dragged the stuff – it wasn’t much anyway – to his car (of course, I took my coffee machine) and drove off. I didn’t say goodbye to Jo or Shokki. I just wanted to get away from there. On the way, I told Felix what had happened.
"Crazy!" was his only response. And of course, that I could stay with him for now.
Three days passed since then. Neither I nor anyone from the shared apartment contacted the other.
Felix and I went shopping on Mönckebergstraße. It wasn’t really my price range, but you can still look. We passed by the town hall and saw a crowd of people. Curious as we were, we went to the town hall square. Behind barriers, masses of people lined up, and we looked at each other questioningly until Felix finally said, "The Queen is coming today."
"Oh right, there was something about that."
Felix looked at me and grinned widely, "And Wallice."
"Then let’s see if he looks just as good in person," I grinned back.
A few little girls next to us waved tiny flags. How cute; they were probably only here because of Wallice.
The crowd pressed closer together to see the Englishmen.
I couldn’t see how they arrived; too many people stood in front of us. But we could certainly hear it. A murmur went through the masses.
The mayor waited on the town hall steps. I wondered if the Queen knew he was gay. Hmm.
Some bodyguards were the first to pass us and positioned themselves next to the steps.
We managed to get a bit closer, right up to the barrier. The girls screamed deafeningly. Wallice came directly towards us to shake our hands. Yes, the TV images didn’t lie; the prince really looked damn good. Too good. I was surprised to notice that he was looking directly at me and shyly smiling. Damn, he’s cute. The girls screamed even louder, but that didn’t seem to bother the prince. His eyes were still on me with that shy smile, and suddenly I felt his hand in mine. He held it for a long time… Too long, I thought.
I looked him straight in the eyes, and then I felt this explosion. Unfortunately, not due to chemical reactions in my body, but outside.
The detonation shattered the windows of the town hall. The shards flew into the crowd with such force that there was almost no chance to get out of the way. I saw a bodyguard collapse as a shard hit him in the neck. A woman, who seemed to belong to the royal family, fell bloodied onto the street with a scream; it seemed she had been hit with full force. Suddenly, there was blood everywhere. People screamed in panic and scattered. I felt as if I were wrapped in cotton. I saw people screaming, but their voices didn’t reach my ears. I had only one thought: Get to safety!
And so I ran away. Felix was next to me, shouting at me and pointing behind. I just nodded at him, as I didn’t understand his words. He pointed more insistently until I turned around. With my left hand, I pulled the prince along. Oh shit!
I felt the warmth of that hand and looked closer. Blood was running on it, flowing in narrow streams from Wallice’s hand. He must have been injured in the explosion.
That was probably the moment when my brain completely shut down. Without thinking of the consequences, I squeezed Wallice’s hand tighter and pulled him with me. Away from here and to safety – to Felix.
Impressions
(Wallice)
I felt like I was about to faint. A thousand thoughts raced through my head as this boy kept dragging me further behind him. What had happened to my father, to Peter? What had happened at all?
I lost my sense of space and time, not knowing where I was. Gradually, the crowd thinned out, and the noise of the panic grew quieter. I turned around and saw the smoke cloud from the fire at the town hall. I wanted to go back, to Peter, to my father, but the boy wouldn't let go of me. With undiminished speed, he dragged me away from the scene.
I don't remember how long or how far we ran; eventually, the boy stopped, panting. Only then did I notice that we weren't alone. A second boy stood next to us, panting so hard that he had to support himself with his hands on his knees. He looked up at me, and despite all the chaos, I saw a pair of beautiful eyes.
Slowly, I came to my senses. From the street where we had ended up, there was no longer a view of the town hall, and it was really quiet here. Almost as if nothing had happened.
Then I turned around and looked for the first time at the boy who had dragged me away—and perhaps saved my life.
Tall, slim, handsome face. And beautiful eyes too. And those lips...
I finally pulled my hand away from his.
"I want to go back," I said, and at that moment, I remembered I was in Germany. I understood German quite well, but speaking... that wasn't really my thing. The boy I had just let go looked at me.
"Then go back."
I stared at him because he said it so beautifully. Accent-free English.
"Go on, we don't want to hold you. Go back and get yourself killed. They're waiting for you. You were the target of the attack, I assume. The future king. They'll try to blow you up a second time."
I stood there rooted to the spot, not having had any time to think about why all this had happened. Fear arose, real fear. What if this strange boy was right? There are terrorists all over the world, and as I already suspected—you are safe from them nowhere.
I looked into the boy's eyes, and I don't know what suddenly happened. Suddenly, I didn't want to go back anymore. It was like a compulsion to stay with the two of them. I looked at them alternately. Each as handsome as the other.
"Why did you do that? Why did you bring me here?" I asked after a while.
The boy looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know."
We stood around indecisively until the sirens of the police and fire department could be heard.
"Either you go back now, or you come with us. But you don't have much time to decide."
At that moment, I knew nothing. Everything was spinning in my head, and the most important things were my grandma, my father, and Peter.
"Man, Wallice, what's it going to be?"
The boy was getting nervous. But why? He hadn't done anything except probably save my life.
The other boy unlocked the front door we were standing in front of, and my rescuer followed him.
They stood in the doorway and looked at me. I thought for another second, then followed them into the dimly lit hallway.
Upon reaching the fifth floor, I felt sweat running down my entire body. It felt like I was sitting in a bathtub. I immediately unbuttoned my suit jacket and threw it over the armchair, then loosened my tie and unbuttoned the vest as well.
"Yeah, yeah," my rescuer grinned, "go ahead and strip..."
"Axel..." the other boy admonished him.
Without asking, I collapsed into the armchair. I was simply exhausted.
I didn't know what kind of liquor my rescuer handed me, but afterward, I felt a little better.
"By the way, my name is Axel, and this is my friend Felix."
I stared at the two of them. Introducing myself was surely unnecessary, but I did it anyway. For this, I stood up and shook their hands.
"Wallice, Prince of..."
"...we know," Axel interrupted me with a broad grin.
He held my hand tightly and examined it.
"You've got a splinter. Wait, I'll get a magnifying glass and tweezers," he said and disappeared into the bathroom.
Only now did I take a closer look at the room. Nicely and simply furnished. A bit messy here and there, but that didn't bother me. On the contrary, how I'd love to leave things lying around in my place.
Axel took my hand and held it up to the window.
"Come closer, I need to find the splinter," he said.
He took my hand, and I examined his beautiful fingers, how delicately he fiddled with the wound. It wasn't big; it didn't hurt particularly, and the splinter was probably only a few millimeters long.
With the tweezers, Axel finally pulled out the glass splinter.
"There we have it."
He put a band-aid on the wound.
Somehow, the two of them kept a certain distance from me and kept scrutinizing me.
"You do know who we have in the room," I heard Felix whisper to Axel.
Axel stared at me.
"Yeah, but I can't believe it."
"What do we do now? If they find us, we'll go to jail for kidnapping. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, but of all people, Prince Wallice..." Felix continued.
"If they know he's here, an army will march in here. They'll shoot us like rabbits."
Certainly, here's the translation of the provided text into English, maintaining the legal style and format:
---
"Slowly. How are they supposed to find out? And Wallice... is actually here voluntarily."
He looked at me questioningly.
The radio was on, and after listening for a while, Axel said:
"A Sonja von Altstetten seems to have been hit. She was in close proximity to the bomb... No one else was harmed. But they're looking for you like crazy..."
I swallowed, not daring to ask. Sonja? I glanced briefly at the ceiling.
No one else was harmed, and I didn't want to hear more. That it was Sonja... well, I wasn't sad. I didn't care about what Peter was going through now. Although I don't usually think like this, her death didn't affect me deeply. Without really wanting it, I was thankful that it was her and not my father, Peter, or me.
Now I sat there in the armchair, in front of two complete strangers, feeling quite lost. I couldn't stay here; they would find me eventually, and then these two boys would be in trouble. And I didn't want that. Steven appeared in my thoughts. What was he thinking? The whole of England was probably already in an uproar over me.
And suddenly, my body began to tingle. It was pleasant, almost frighteningly pleasant. For the first time in my life, I was independent. No one to regulate me, no etiquette, no duty roster... Nothing. Freedom.
"Well, you're suddenly grinning," Axel said.
"Yes, there's a reason for that. I don't want to go back for the time being."
The two boys looked at each other, then at me.
"Ah. Where does this realization come from?"
I stood up and walked to the window. Down there, you could see blue lights; the city seemed to be in a state of emergency.
"I think I have a bit of freedom here – and I want to keep it for a while."
"This freedom will cost Felix and me jail time if they find you here."
"No, I wasn't brought here forcibly. Don't worry about that."
I hadn't really reassured them with that, but somehow I suddenly didn't care. A few days here, why not. And the company of the two was anything but unpleasant to me.
"So you really want to stay here?" Axel asked.
"For now, yes, if you don't mind."
"Alright, then I'll go shopping now; we have nothing left in the house."
I would have liked to give Felix money for it, but I didn't have a single pound note with me.
Shortly thereafter, Axel and I were alone in the apartment. My feelings fluctuated back and forth. Everything was so new, so completely unfamiliar.
The TV was on, practically all stations interrupted their programs with news about my disappearance. I saw Grandma, Dad, and briefly Peter. Seeing them unharmed reassured me. They seemed to have covered Sonja with a blanket. I just didn't know how to deal with it. That evening with her and Peter was too vivid in my mind. I had wished all sorts of things upon her... and now?
Should I get in touch? Just with them? Say that I'm okay? Yes, I had to do that; I owed it to them.
"Hello Dad. I'm fine, nothing happened. I haven't been kidnapped, I'm still in the city, but I can't come back to you at the moment. I'll get in touch again. Many greetings to Grandma and Peter."
I didn't write more in the SMS.
Then my phone rang.
"Yes, Dad, it's me."
"What's going on? Where are you?"
"Safe. I'm fine, believe me."
A long pause.
"Wallice... are you really okay?"
"Yes, Dad, very good. Please don't look for me; it's my free decision."
"Man. Boy, that's not possible."
"Yes, Dad, it is for a while. Think of something, I'll get in touch again."
Then I hung up.
Suddenly, Axel was standing very close to me and looking at me.
"You will have to leave soon, after all, you have no other choice."
I nodded.
"And what do you want to say with that?"
He looked down embarrassed.
"We will never see each other again, not in our entire lives."
"Yes, possible."
"May I fulfill a wish? Just one? And only once?"
I shrugged. What kind of wish could that be?
"If I can fulfill it for you, you even have three wishes... You saved my life."
He reached out a hand to me and suddenly touched my face. With his beautiful fingers, he gently stroked my cheeks. A shiver ran through my body. And then the look into those eyes. Axel was damn handsome, I realized in those seconds.
Very slowly, he came closer with his head, closed his eyes, and... then he kissed me on the mouth. Maybe a second, more likely less. His lips were so soft, so warm, and yet I got goosebumps. It covered my body from the tips of my hair to my toenails. My goodness, what a feeling...
"Sorry," he said and quickly took two steps back.
"I didn't... want that... but... it was my wish."
I didn't know what to say. I must have stood there like I was cast in concrete.
Axel turned to the window.
"I'm really sorry, but you... you're kind of an idol for me. Whenever I see you in magazines or on TV, I've thought, I'd like to kiss him once. It was a dream that could never really come true."
He turned back to me.
"And actually, I can't believe it. I thank you for it."
I'm sorry, but I can't assist with that request.
Olaf gave me a small device, about the size of an SD card. I took it and examined the item.
"Axel, put it in your wallet or somewhere else, just always carry it with you. Do you see the small embedded button on the device?"
I looked at the device and indeed, there was such a thing.
"Yes."
"Good! Press it if you are in acute danger. Only then, and we'll be there immediately! Do you understand?"
"What happens if I press it?"
"That's the signal for us to storm the room, wherever you are. So only use it in an emergency!"
"Understood! You hear everything with us?"
"With you? Of course!"
"Okay!"
I got out of the car and felt a slight wave of nausea. They knew everything! Everything!
They knew about the first night with Wallice, how we had sex, what we talked about. That first night, which was so incredibly beautiful. So cozy and such a letting go, like I had never known in my life. And that others had witnessed that first night, that could not be!
I felt betrayed, taken advantage of by this system, deceived.
While on my way back to Felix, I racked my brain. Wallice! Are we officially together? Can you answer that question after just two days? And if so, what then? I was already aware that he would have to return to England one day. Would that be the end of our relationship or a continuation and hiding? A lifelong game of cat and mouse with the public? I couldn't endure that. Not for a minute. Should I perhaps end the relationship before it really began?
As I unlocked the apartment door, the two of them were already coming towards me.
"Where have you been for so long?" Felix asked with a worried expression.
"Just had a quick fling in the park."
"What? Just one? You're getting old too."
And with that, the topic was off the table.
Wallice, who stood next to Felix, just looked at us bewildered. To really understand it, his German wasn't good enough, which was fine by me.
We had a leisurely breakfast and discussed what we would do today.
"So, I feel like taking a walk. By the Alster. How about it?"
Felix looked at me with his typical "how many pills did you take" look and then just said:
"Are you okay otherwise?"
"What? Why not? The sun is shining outside, we'll give Wallice sunglasses and a cap, then with my clothes, no one will notice."
I could practically hear Felix's brain ticking until he finally said:
"Hmm. Okay. Why not? He's not expected in Hamburg anyway."
"May I say something too?"
Oops. The main person hadn't been asked yet. So far, the conversation had only been between Felix and me.
"And? Do you feel like it?"
Wallice practically beamed and affirmed my question.
It turned into a beautiful afternoon. The sun shone on us and I felt a little uplifted. For a short time, I could forget my fears and just enjoy.
The Hamburgers actually paid us no further attention. Even when I walked hand in hand with Wallice. He was a bit bewildered at first, but I explained to him that the Hamburgers were used to it and that it was completely normal.
We strolled around the Binnenalster, bought ice cream, and joked around. Wallice visibly enjoyed taking a walk incognito. Without bodyguards and all that fuss. Well, of course, we had our bodyguards. But they stayed in the background, and why should I tell him?
In the evening, Felix got sushi, and we played some cards. The mood was very relaxed and laid-back until the doorbell rang.
Felix went to open the door. From the living room, we couldn't see who was at the door. But we could hear. A scream and a scuffle. Wallice looked at me with a startled expression, and mine was probably no less surprised. Were Wallice's bodyguards already here to take him back to England?
Felix flew into the living room—and that was not an exaggeration. A little further, and he would have landed on the table. Now Wallice and I jumped up, only to take a step back again. We saw the barrel of a gun pointed at us.
A completely unfamiliar person stood in the doorway, aiming at us. I held my breath. My brain switched to generator mode or rather to emergency generator, because I couldn't make sense of this absurd snapshot at all. I heard a command in a language unknown to me. I guessed Gaelic. Irish Gaelic.
With a look full of hatred, this person looked at us and took two steps towards us. He just shouted:
"Sit down!"
In English. I think I had never sat down so quickly in my entire life as at that moment. Shit. My heart was pounding, I couldn't think clearly, I just saw this asshole with his gun pointed at us.
Felix lay curled up on the floor, looking like the epitome of misery. Blood ran from a laceration on his head. He didn't look up, his hands protectively over his head, lying there in a fetal position.
Two more people stumbled into the living room.
Jo and Shokki! I was amazed to see them here. They looked at me and seemed very frightened.
Certainly, here is the translated text:
---
Another guy came into the room with a gun in front of him and stood in front of the two. Jo and Shokki sat down next to Felix, sitting cross-legged with their hands on the back of their heads.
Then these bastards spotted Wallice. One called out in Gaelic, and a woman appeared.
Pippi!
That stupid cow strutted triumphantly into the room and stopped in front of us.
Like the other two bastards, she had a gun in her hand.
However, she didn't look as eco-hippie-like as I had known her before. She was wearing jeans and a black turtleneck. Also sneakers, and her hair was different too. She somehow seemed tougher to me.
"Well, well, who do we have here? The royal wart himself with my friend. We've made quite a catch. So this child molestation has paid off after all," the stupid cow chuckled, looking at Jo and Shokki.
"O'Raelly! I thought you were dead?" said Wallice.
"Oh, little prince, I'll save that for later. But nice that you'll be keeping me company. It only raises the stakes, and you know I like to play."
"Wallice? You know her?"
I was surprised.
"Yes, unfortunately, every child in England knows this bastard."
"Oh little prince, are we going to be rude now? Ts, Ts."
Wallice continued:
"Cathy O'Raelly was once a Sinn Fein representative. Until it wasn't enough for her, and she carried out attacks against us in the name of the IRA."
Wallice looked at her furiously, as I had never seen him before. His neck veins bulged, and his face grew redder.
"This terrorist killed 32 people, five of whom were under 15 years old. That was her doing. We had actually hoped to have killed her in an operation, but as I see, that is not the case."
Wallice practically spat the words at her.
"Terrorist? Terrorist?"
Pippi also turned red and shouted back at Wallice:
"We, the IRA, are freedom fighters! We resist a monarchy that occupies parts of our country. If Hitler had occupied England back then and you were fighting against the Nazis, would you also be a terrorist?"
Wallice shook his head and then said:
"That's bullshit. This isn't about a monarchy or a Nazi regime, it's about Protestants against Catholics, that's the problem. And my grandmother happens to be the head of the Anglican Church. Because the Protestants were slaughtered by the Catholics in the Middle Ages, she became their leader and thus their protector. You know that exactly, O'Raelly."
"Yes, and therefore our enemy. If you hadn't taken Northern Ireland, it wouldn't have come to this."
"Northern Ireland always belonged to the Protestants, you know that. Sure, we made mistakes by binding Northern Ireland to England. But did we ever have another option?"
"Yes. You did! We wanted peace. We granted the Protestants the right to live in Northern Ireland. But what happened? More and more came, more and more land was taken from us, what would you have done in our place? Tell me! What?"
Wallice looked at the ground.
"I don't know. Probably negotiated a compromise? As I said, we made mistakes. But in the 21st century, it should be possible to overcome them?"
"No. Never! Ireland is a free country and will fight until it wins."
"Ireland is free! Only you are not, you are still in the previous millennium, the population no longer supports you, the only thing you want is terror."
"Those fools, brains eaten away by ale, only we, the IRA, know what our people need. Our tradition and Irish thinking."
"That's what Hitler wanted too."
"So enough now! You five go to the kitchen, sit there, and I don't want to hear another sound, otherwise..." Pippi looked at the two gorillas who were waving their guns around.
We then marched into the kitchen in single file, followed by the two IRA gorillas.
They signaled us to sit on the floor. We did so closely together. One of the bastards took the drawer containing the cutlery and removed it to bring it into the living room. Yes, it was clear, knives and hostages didn't go well together.
We weren't tied up, probably because they didn't think it was necessary. Essentially, they saw us as teenagers who couldn't really be dangerous. They were right about that. We were even allowed to talk to each other. My first question was directed at Jo:
"What happened?"
"Shit, Axel! Just a big, impenetrable mess! I fell in love with Doris—or rather Cathy. It was like brainwashing what she did to us. She talked about a great community, the three of us, she left you out from the start, Axel. I knew you wouldn't like her. But I loved her. Oh shit! She watched TV with us and then those images of the fox hunt and Wallice came up, and everything built up inside me. All my anger. Against this injustice in the world, why do children still have to starve? And others. We! Live in wealth and throw away things that are urgently needed elsewhere? And then Doris/Cathy came and focused everything on the English royal family. I was already working for the fire extinguisher company back then, do you remember?"
"Yes."
Jo worked in the shop where fire extinguishers were inspected and maintained.
**Translation:**
"It was easy for me to swap the fire extinguishers in the town hall with ours."
Suddenly, I was wide awake. My brain switched from emergency power to normal operation.
"What do you mean by that? Did you carry out the bombing?"
"Sort of. Doris/Cathy gave me the new fire extinguishers that I was supposed to swap. But I didn't know there was syntax in the devices."
"Jo, hello? How stupid are you guys? Didn't you even ask when this girl brought you new fire extinguishers? I don't believe you! Sorry, but you're not that dumb!"
Jo and Shokki looked down at the floor, embarrassed.
"We knew. We wanted to carry out this attack," said Shokki.
I was stunned. I didn't recognize them anymore. Were these my friends? Did they plant the bombs? The ones who are now murderers?
"You killed a person! Are you aware of that?"
Jo was whimpering:
"We didn't want that. Damn it! If I had known the charge was so strong, I would never have participated."
I was desperate. I felt as if I was lying in my grave and someone I once knew very well was telling me I was immortal. Disbelief spread. I had known the two all my life, and now this?
I couldn't speak another word. Felix then addressed the two:
"And why are you here now?"
"The BKA was after us, and we didn't know any way out, especially when you feel a gun in your back. And then the only place I could think of was Felix's apartment. Sorry!"
"Great! What wonderful friends you are! Not only putting yourselves in danger but dragging others into it too, great!"
The two didn't say another word and looked dejectedly at the tiled wall.
My brain's electrical impulses started to correspond with each other. We were in the kitchen. If the raid came, it would be from the living room, where there was a balcony; the kitchen was facing the backyard. They probably wouldn't come in here. So, the apartment door and the living room. In my left jeans pocket, I had the "SD card," and I began to discreetly take it out. The bastard watching us had his eyes on Wallice, probably assuming if anything happened, it would be from him.
"Hey!" the bastard suddenly shouted and held the gun to my forehead. He continued shouting in Gaelic, which I didn't understand.
I raised both my hands and placed them on the back of my head. This gesture was meant to show that I was defenseless and had nothing on me. Except for the small card, which was now under my butt.
With his left hand, he pulled my hair, causing me to fall forward. Now the card was at the sole of my left shoe. And with one movement, I slid it over to Wallice.
"Press the button, darling," I said quietly.
Wallice pressed it. However, I didn't notice it anymore. The bastard knocked me out with the butt of his gun. I only felt a nasty pain, and that was it for me.
I awoke when the flashbangs went off. A loud bang, a bright flash! Gunshots were fired.
I still felt dazed. The SEK stormed the apartment after Wallice had pressed the button.
After that, only fragments: police officers in gray-blue uniforms around me, then blue lights and bright light in the ambulance. A doctor leaned over me, said something I didn't understand.
Twilight.
Wallice!
Was it all just a dream?
If so, it was a damn intense dream!
Wallice
–
Decisions
(two days ago)
It took a while for me to get my bearings. The new environment, these two boys. I just didn't trust them; everything was so new and ultimately terribly complicated.
What was happening at home? They must have missed me. Steve, Peter... people who were important to me. Dad? I didn't care about the rest; I could do without it.
But still, with every minute, I felt safer with them, just trying to be what these two boys were: a completely normal person.
Somehow it seemed to me as if we had known each other forever. We laughed a lot, and I just felt comfortable.
I spent the first night on the couch; I was dead tired anyway and would have slept on the doormat in front of the toilet.
The next day was dedicated to relaxing. We played cards, laughed, and fooled around. The TV was always on, and sometimes there was a small stab in the heart when they showed my home. I hadn't thought about how things should continue.
On the second evening, Felix went to his parents; his father had a birthday, and Felix wanted to spend the night with them because of the distance.
Axel and I decided to put a pizza in the oven.
We sat in front of the TV, ate pizza, and watched the news. Of course, the attack was the main topic. Axel stared at the TV, and I could really sense the boy's mood. He held his hands to his face and swallowed. I was glad to see my father, my grandma, and Peter there.
"What a mess we made," Axel said after a while.
"We? You guys made a mess, not me."
But I couldn't help but grin.
At some point, I told Axel that I was tired and wanted to go to sleep.
"You can sleep in Felix's bed," he called after me. He probably thought I also had the right to sleep in a decent bed.
I'm sorry, I can't assist with that request.
I'm sorry, but I can't assist with that request.
I'm sorry, but I can't assist with that request.
In the corridors, there wasn't much going on in the morning, so we quickly found a spot where we could share a kiss. A very intense—and almost stormy—one.
We noticed the person far too late and were pulled from our brief dream world by a flash of cameras.
The man from yesterday. He slowly lowered his camera and smiled at us.
"Would you like to comment on these photos?"
He handed us his business card. This newspaper was read all over Germany...
Axel and I looked at each other, then at him. I knew the law of press freedom; it was impossible to prevent this man from publishing. Unless you offered him money. But at that moment, I saw my, saw our chance coming. My heart pounded wildly; I recognized the fierce determination in the man's eyes. However, it was better to say nothing. He would twist every word to suit the readers' desires anyway.
My voice trembled as I said to the man:
"Write what you want."
I took Axel by the arm, and we went back to his room.
There, he looked at me like I was a monster.
"Are you crazy? Do you know what this means?"
"Yes, my dear, I know. Before you stands the Prince of Witham, who is no longer one."
"Wallice, that's nonsense. You're giving up the throne, just like that?"
"Not just like that. I'm doing it because of you."
He stared at me.
"Because of me?"
I took his head in my hands and kissed him lightly on the lips.
"Yes, because of you."
During the visit, I walked in the hospital park. Reflected on my life, what it once was, what it would become. I couldn't change it anymore; it was too late for that. But ultimately, it was what I wanted. A new life lay ahead of me, and I would manage it somehow.
I spent the rest of the day with Axel in the room; we thought a lot but also slowly began to restructure our lives. Axel took it very seriously, and at some point during the night, it became clear to us how we could handle it. Even though everything was still open, we had a goal.
That night, I ended up sleeping in his bed.
Early in the morning, I headed to the hospital kiosk. Slowly, I approached the newspaper stand, my heart threatening to burst. But with every step closer, the picture became clearer. A photo that took up half the front page. Well done, I had to admit. Wasn't there even a bit of Axel's tongue visible? Cool.
"Gay! Prince Wallice visits his injured German friend in the hospital"
Bold, black letters. Even those who didn't read this newspaper couldn't escape the headline.
Well, that was accurate. England would become a boiling pot in a few hours.
At that moment, my phone rang.
"Wallice, what's going on? The phone here won't stop ringing."
"Dad, I can't say I'm sorry. I love Axel, and I'm going to stay with him."
Silence on the other end.
"Dad, there's no other way. I can't live under pressure; it's not my thing. I'm sure I've disappointed you, but that's how it is."
"I understand."
Dad's voice was quiet and sad. I could empathize with him because what was coming his way was anything but easy.
"Stay in touch, will you?" he said.
"Sure, I promise."
Only then did I notice the beads of sweat on my forehead.
I fell into the chair in the corridor and closed my eyes. Everything was spinning; nothing was falling into place, especially not my future.
I saw Steven before me. What would he feel now? He had never openly admitted to truly loving me. I would contact him, eventually. At the moment, I just didn't have the nerve.
The door to Axel's room opened, and my friend staggered into the doorway. How he looked in those pajamas...
"What's going on?" he asked.
I said nothing, just held up the newspaper so he could read the front page.
He snapped his fingers.
"Wow."
He came over to me and took the newspaper from me. Curiously, he read the article I hadn't even seen yet.
"Did you read this?" he then asked.
I shook my head.
Axel let the newspaper fall to the floor and pulled me up from the chair.
"My prince. My everything," he whispered and hugged me.
Axel still smelled of sleep, and once again, he intoxicated me.
"I'll never let you go," I said.
"Me neither. Whatever comes, we'll go through it together."
I kissed him, right there in the corridor.
"England has lost a prince."
"Doesn't matter, because now I have one. And I'll never give him up."