2025-07-10, 03:54 PM
I am happy.
Berlin, trains and buses
A Monday in September, no, a super important Monday in September. That stupid tram is not running today of all days. I still have twenty minutes and I haven't even made it 500 metres on the replacement bus. I have no idea if I'll make it to the institute in time for my midterm exam. Somehow this whole day has been messed up. The batteries of my alarm clock had decided to quit their service this morning, then my jam roll landed on the carpet of my room, of course, the crucial side, my cup of tea spilled on my exam outfit and finally I was at the tram stop to find out that nothing was running today. Now I found myself on my way to university, crammed into a Berlin city bus with what felt like a thousand other people. To make matters worse, it was terribly stuffy and hot, and the headaches that had announced themselves in the morning had now arrived too, joining the stabbing pain that had been occurring more and more often in my chest lately. For the moment, none of that mattered; the only thing that was important was to pass the exam. Bing, the friendly voice on the PA system has just announced my stop, Staatsoper, and I still have five minutes on my time account. Now just get out and into the main building of Humboldt University, up the stairs to the third floor and hope that it was less than five minutes. Well, I was just about on time when I arrived at the examiner's door. I looked as if I had just completed a marathon, with sweat pouring down my body and my heart pounding so hard in my chest it felt like it was trying to jump out. The door opened, ‘Ah, Mr Kevin Boltz, there you are!’ I suddenly feel an incredible pain in my chest, see dancing spots of light and then...
Berlin, Charité
Beep, beep and snippets of conversations are the first things I perceive again. After opening my eyes and fighting against the bright light, I recognise the various medical apparatus around me. A glance out of the window at the TV tower makes it clear to me that I am lying in a hospital bed in the Charite. How did I get here and why do I have electrodes on my chest, a drip in my arm and two tubes in my nose? I closed my eyes briefly to escape the light and...
Beep, beep. Man, I must be exhausted, no idea how long I was out. Now Dr Franke is standing in front of me and explaining that I had a heart attack, which was probably caused by a heart valve defect, and then there was the excitement and the exertion due to my size. I am 22 years old and now I am in hospital because of a heart attack. This morning, my biggest problem was a failed intermediate exam, but now that seems rather insignificant. Dr Franke then revealed to me that there would have to be an operation to replace the ‘broken’ heart valve, but that he needed my consent for that. He said goodbye, saying that my parents had already been informed and were on their way here. So I was alone again and could follow my thoughts and...
‘Kevin, what are you doing, so young and already a heart attack.’
My mother stood in front of my hospital bed with a tear-stained face and totally distraught.
‘You must have felt pain before, something like this doesn't just happen.’ Her words faltered and tears rolled down her cheeks.
‘Do you know what you would have done to me? To just die like that. Mothers aren't supposed to bury their children.’ She kissed me on the forehead and continued sobbing.
‘Mum, I didn't do it on purpose, let alone wish for it. Now please stop crying. I'm still alive and I'm already feeling better.’ ’Mr Boltz, you should have the operation as soon as possible to get well again.’
I hadn't even noticed that Dr Franke had entered the room, and my mother started crying harder at his words. He explained to her and me how the procedure would go and that, as with everything, there would be a risk. I felt queasy and I actually only had one question: ‘When can I leave the hospital again?’
‘We will, of course, try to perform the operation as quickly as possible, but several tests still have to be carried out,’ “I meant without the procedure?” I interrupted Dr Franke, and a “What?” rang out from both of them in unison.
‘Don't you want to have the operation?’ my mother asked, and Dr Franke said, “You are playing with your life if you decide against the operation. You could have another heart attack or suffer permanent damage from a stroke at any time. We can give you blood-thinning medication to reduce the risk, but you won't get old with it.” “When?” I repeated my question.
‘In a few days, if you insist. I'll leave you alone now. Think about it again and discuss it with your mother.’ With that, he left the room shaking his head.
‘Why Kevin? Are you afraid of the operation? Everything will be fine. You've already cheated death once!’ The forced optimism in her voice did not match her tear-stained face and red eyes at all.
I had been in hospital for seven days and was to be discharged today. Mum had brought me fresh clothes from my apartment and seemed to have accepted my decision. We sat together in Dr Franke's office, who made it very clear that he thought my decision was completely wrong. My mother senses her chance to appeal to my conscience and repeats the one question: ‘Why Kevin?’ and quickly adds, ‘Don't think you can get away without answering this again. I've waited long enough for an answer and I won't leave this hospital with you until you've explained to me why you want to risk your life?’
I get up and go to the window and look at Berlin. I have been living here for three years now, at 19 graduating from high school in the province of Mecklenburg and then studying here at the HU. When I came to the ‘capital’, I had so many dreams and desires. I hoped that many things would change and that I could just leave my old life behind me. The disappointments and...
‘Kevin?’ my mother pulled me out of my thoughts. Dr Franke had left the room to give me the opportunity to explain everything to her in a private atmosphere.
‘Mum, I'm gay!’ Maybe that wasn't the best way to start a conversation that was supposed to make clear why her only child suddenly seemed to have taken a dislike to life. My mother's uncomprehending expression was followed by the words: ’So what? Okay, no grandchildren for me, and it won't be easy to explain to the grandparents and your father, but I'd rather you were gay and alive than dead just to keep the peace in the family. Kevin, that's not the real reason, is it? You know that no matter whether you like boys or girls, you will always be my son and I love you just the way you are! So why?’
I look into my mother's eyes and see the first tears making their way down her cheeks.
"I'm scared, mum. I'm 22 years old, weigh 160 kilos and have never experienced what it's like to be loved by another person. I don't even know what it's like to be kissed. I'm afraid that the last thing I see in my life will be the anaesthetist's face mask and the bright light of the surgical lamp.’ ’Kevin, we, your father and I, love you and how do you imagine it, stepping out of the hospital and falling into the arms of your great love? Have the operation and you still have enough years left to experience your dreams. Kevin please!’
I look back at the city: ‘Mom, you know that I long for a different kind of love. Just as you know that it would be hard for me to find a girlfriend. When I walk through the city or to university, I see the looks resting on me, hear the murmuring and get “Man, you're fat!” thrown at my head. I had hoped that I would finally find friends here in Berlin and that bullying would finally be a thing of the past. Maybe it's true that inner values are what count. But so far, no girl or boy has been interested in my character; the sight of me might just be too daunting.’
‘Don't say things like that, Kevin. You may be a little corpulent and could do with losing a little weight, but you'll find a cute woman who'll go with you if you live long enough.’
‘Man, mum, man! But I'm not looking for anything cuddly and so far I haven't met anyone who hopes to find that. The few gays I met at university didn't give me the impression that I was part of their type,‘
’You met gays?‘
’Mum!’
‘What do you intend to do now, Kevin? Go back to your apartment? Just carry on living and hope you survive each day?‘
’I'm going to travel, visit a few people who were once very important to me.‘
’That's much too exhausting for you. I can't accompany you, I have to go back to work. Kevin, think about all this again.’
Her voice had become more and more pleading during the conversation, it hurt to look at her haggard face and say, ‘Mom, I've made up my mind!’
Dresden, train
I stand in my apartment and look out the window and watch the people and the traffic in front of my doorstep. My mother is already on her way back to Mecklenburg. After a silent drive from the Charité to my apartment, she hugged me for at least ten minutes, made me promise to come back alive from my adventure and to reconsider the surgery. When she got into the car, she seemed very calm and said: ‘If you have to go away, come and visit us!’
It's funny: a week ago, my whole life looked very bleak, but dealing with death wouldn't have crossed my mind. I wanted to be on the road for four or five days, visit three people and maybe say goodbye to them. I knew that my heart could quickly thwart all plans, and I was not only afraid of never knowing what true love feels like and what it is like to wake up next to someone and look into eyes that long for you, but also of not being able to finish this little journey.
The Eurocity comes closer to Dresden with every stop. I had taken one of the first trains and would arrive at the main station shortly after 10:00 a.m. There was no time to lose. I looked out at the fields, meadows, forests, and saw villages and towns rushing past my window. I was sixteen years old when my mother sent me to a summer camp, beautifully situated on a lake with lots of fun, entertainment, and exercise. She thought she was doing me a favour and hoped I would make friends there, lose a little ballast and shed my cultivated loneliness. I hadn't even really arrived yet when the gauntlet began for me, I never found out the names of the clique that kept picking on me and coming up with all sorts of nastiness. I told myself that I would make it through three weeks, after all, I had already survived ten years of school with classmates who were not much better. On the third day, I had just been pushed off the jetty into the lake, I shuffled towards the bungalows in my wet clothes, listening to the giggling and the comments, of which ‘Look at the fat seal diving!’ was the nicest thing that was called to me. I had stopped crying over such things years ago, otherwise I would have only given them more ammunition. When I arrived at the bungalow, I couldn't open the door because it was being held shut from the inside by my roommates. I stood in the hallway and dripped away. Of course I should have gone to the camp leaders, but then I might as well have painted a target on my forehead and probably wouldn't have been taken seriously. The boys were just having a little fun and the clothes would dry again. Over the years, I had developed a thick protective shield. I had tried to fight back in the past, but that only caused trouble with my parents, theirs, and the school. The second approach was to argue, but that didn't work either. The third approach was to remain silent and wait until they found a new victim or until they lost interest for the moment.
"Hey, take this towel and you in there, finally open the door. You've had enough fun at someone else's expense!’ I looked into the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen and was initially overwhelmed. In the next moment, I thought I was being made fun of and waited for the onset of loud jeering. But the boy was really serious. First he pushed the towel under my arm, then he went to work on the door. He banged on it twice with the palm of his hand and it was immediately opened. He then shooed everyone else out of the room. ‘Hello, don't just stand there gaping! Come in, there's no one left in there and I'll stand guard outside while you go and change into something dry. Are you okay?’
With a broad grin, he pushed me into the room and closed the door from the outside. Completely automatically, I changed my clothes and was still perplexed by the behaviour of this boy. I sat down on my bed and enjoyed the peace and quiet. There was a knock at the door, which was opened a crack, and the blond head with those blue eyes appeared in it and asked: ‘Can I come in?’
I still didn't really know what was happening here and before I could answer, he was already sitting in front of me on a chair.
"It was shit of the others and absolutely no longer funny to leave you standing here in the hallway, dripping wet, I would really like to give them a real beating,’
‘NO! Then they'll just pick on me even more."
The blue eyes appraised me: “So you can talk after all, and not just drip all over the hallway and stare in amazement.”
I had to grin, the boy was not all there. First he helped me, then he wanted to avenge me, and now he started a conversation with me.
‘Smiling too. I'm Sebastian, and you?‘ Still unsure, I hesitantly said my name, “Kevin.”
’So, Kevin, what are we going to do together now?"
With this question, the best weeks of my life began. Suddenly I belonged to Sebastian's clique, had a place at their table in the dining bungalow, and was always with them. I no longer had time to dwell on my own gloomy thoughts, I no longer got annoyed. We sat together by the lake and talked about our families, our hobbies, our taste in music and actually about anything that would give us stuff. We staged wild water battles in the lake or just lay around on the beach, disfiguring all the songs that were sung around the campfire with our voices and wrong notes. Sebastian dragged me along everywhere: to table tennis, to badminton, to seemingly endless bicycle tours or to rowing on the lake. On the first night in my own bed back in Mecklenburg, I realised what I had experienced, what Sebastian had given me during those weeks. It was friendship, a rare and precious experience for me. That night I cried for the first time in a long while. He was now 300 km away from me and apart from the memories, I only had his address. We wrote to each other regularly for several years, he told me about his life, his daily routine, his friends. I was the first person he came out to, I suffered with him and I was happy for him. There wasn't much to tell about my life. I hadn't been able to take this feeling of friendship and happiness from the camp with me and it faded more and more. My monotonous life wasn't exactly exciting and so I invented stories, adventures I had experienced. I came out to him, described my first time and my escapades with boys, my wild parties and so on. With each letter, the number of lies increased and it became more and more difficult for me to keep track of the truth and invent new things. I did all this just to avoid losing him. The correspondence became more and more sluggish from year to year, from month to month, and the stories more and more outlandish. At some point, I couldn't take it anymore and confessed everything to him. He was right to be disappointed in me and the trust between us was destroyed. It took him a long time to make contact with me again, but it never went back to the way it was before. His letters were superficial and mine were full of apologies and trivial things from my life. There had been radio silence between us for a year and a half; he hadn't answered my last letters.
Now I am on my way to see him and hope to find him at his old address. Sebastian, the first and only one who called me his best friend and who is my first and only love to this day.
Dresden, city
Dresden Central Station, I remember the pictures when the water here made its way through the doors like a rapid. I buy my ticket for the next stop on my journey at the travel centre. I'm only staying until tonight, I feel like time is racing by for me and I don't even know if I'll find Sebastian. Doubts assail me in the taxi on the way to the last place I know he lives. I've been standing in front of the house for half an hour now, according to the doorbell sign he still lives here. Actually, I don't have any time to lose and now I'm standing here looking like I'm casing the house for a break-in. I press the doorbell and since I'm worried that he won't let me in, I'll try the catchphrase ‘advertising’. The thought that he might not be there at all is quickly pushed out of my mind. The buzzer signals that I can enter, I push open the door and slowly make my way up the stairs to the fourth floor. I would also complain to fate if my heart were to give out here. My eyes have just caught sight of the blue one for whom my heart has been beating for so long. With my well-considered greeting on my lips, I step up to Sebastian.
‘Come in, Kevin!"
He turns around and disappears into the apartment. I follow him and see him go through a door on the left side of the hallway. I close the front door, put my backpack down, take off my jacket and wait for things to come. Nothing happens, so I start moving and head for the same door where Sebastian disappeared. I'm standing in the kitchen, he's sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast with a girl.
‘Tina, this is Kevin. Kevin, this is Tina, my flatmate, who woke me up ten minutes ago saying, ‘There's a guy outside the house watching it, look at that.’ So you dared to ring the doorbell after all. I'll make it short, Kevin. What do you want here?’
Tina uses the silent moment to steal out of the kitchen. I look into his blue eyes and wonder why I'm actually here. ‘Sebastian, I just wanted to see you again, find out how you've been lately. Ask for forgiveness. Revel in memories and try to pick up where we left off.’
‘What do you want to tie up again, Kevin? Your lies, your stories, our ‘friendship’. You hurt me deeply back then, I thought we were best friends and could tell each other anything. I was happy for you because it seemed like you had finally found the life you had always been looking for. In the end, it was all just fiction because you were afraid of losing me. I told you everything about my life, I trusted you and you only found lies to answer me. Kevin, I never gave you any reason to think that you could become unimportant to me."
I look out of the window and the doubts from before are back again. He's right, what am I thinking, turning up here and expecting him to take me back into his arms.
‘Now sit down, Kevin. I couldn't bear to see it back then at the camp, that expressionless face, as if someone had taken a child's favourite toy away. Would you like a roll? Maybe just one, you seem to have lost a bit of your shape over the last few years!’
When he smiles, I wish that this day will be like the ones at the lake in the camp. He tells me about his great love, or rather, about a great love. After they had moved in together and set up a cosy nest, he cheated on Sebastian and left him alone with everything. I tell him about my life in Berlin, about my studies and about how I have been withdrawing more and more into myself for a year now. I don't like to leave the apartment, I'm afraid of the world out there. We talk about our dreams and goals, imagine our future and design our dream man. Time flies and I hear the sound of the waves and the wind blowing through the reeds.
The Frauenkirche has been rebuilt and we stroll past it towards the Elbe. Each of us has an ice cream with several scoops in our hands as we sit by the river, the water flowing ceaselessly towards the North Sea.
"How long do you want to stay? You can sleep at my place, but you don't even have a bag with you, do you?’
‘I only have the backpack with me, I'm not staying in Dresden. What time is it?‘
’A little before 7:00 p.m.‘
Berlin, trains and buses
A Monday in September, no, a super important Monday in September. That stupid tram is not running today of all days. I still have twenty minutes and I haven't even made it 500 metres on the replacement bus. I have no idea if I'll make it to the institute in time for my midterm exam. Somehow this whole day has been messed up. The batteries of my alarm clock had decided to quit their service this morning, then my jam roll landed on the carpet of my room, of course, the crucial side, my cup of tea spilled on my exam outfit and finally I was at the tram stop to find out that nothing was running today. Now I found myself on my way to university, crammed into a Berlin city bus with what felt like a thousand other people. To make matters worse, it was terribly stuffy and hot, and the headaches that had announced themselves in the morning had now arrived too, joining the stabbing pain that had been occurring more and more often in my chest lately. For the moment, none of that mattered; the only thing that was important was to pass the exam. Bing, the friendly voice on the PA system has just announced my stop, Staatsoper, and I still have five minutes on my time account. Now just get out and into the main building of Humboldt University, up the stairs to the third floor and hope that it was less than five minutes. Well, I was just about on time when I arrived at the examiner's door. I looked as if I had just completed a marathon, with sweat pouring down my body and my heart pounding so hard in my chest it felt like it was trying to jump out. The door opened, ‘Ah, Mr Kevin Boltz, there you are!’ I suddenly feel an incredible pain in my chest, see dancing spots of light and then...
Berlin, Charité
Beep, beep and snippets of conversations are the first things I perceive again. After opening my eyes and fighting against the bright light, I recognise the various medical apparatus around me. A glance out of the window at the TV tower makes it clear to me that I am lying in a hospital bed in the Charite. How did I get here and why do I have electrodes on my chest, a drip in my arm and two tubes in my nose? I closed my eyes briefly to escape the light and...
Beep, beep. Man, I must be exhausted, no idea how long I was out. Now Dr Franke is standing in front of me and explaining that I had a heart attack, which was probably caused by a heart valve defect, and then there was the excitement and the exertion due to my size. I am 22 years old and now I am in hospital because of a heart attack. This morning, my biggest problem was a failed intermediate exam, but now that seems rather insignificant. Dr Franke then revealed to me that there would have to be an operation to replace the ‘broken’ heart valve, but that he needed my consent for that. He said goodbye, saying that my parents had already been informed and were on their way here. So I was alone again and could follow my thoughts and...
‘Kevin, what are you doing, so young and already a heart attack.’
My mother stood in front of my hospital bed with a tear-stained face and totally distraught.
‘You must have felt pain before, something like this doesn't just happen.’ Her words faltered and tears rolled down her cheeks.
‘Do you know what you would have done to me? To just die like that. Mothers aren't supposed to bury their children.’ She kissed me on the forehead and continued sobbing.
‘Mum, I didn't do it on purpose, let alone wish for it. Now please stop crying. I'm still alive and I'm already feeling better.’ ’Mr Boltz, you should have the operation as soon as possible to get well again.’
I hadn't even noticed that Dr Franke had entered the room, and my mother started crying harder at his words. He explained to her and me how the procedure would go and that, as with everything, there would be a risk. I felt queasy and I actually only had one question: ‘When can I leave the hospital again?’
‘We will, of course, try to perform the operation as quickly as possible, but several tests still have to be carried out,’ “I meant without the procedure?” I interrupted Dr Franke, and a “What?” rang out from both of them in unison.
‘Don't you want to have the operation?’ my mother asked, and Dr Franke said, “You are playing with your life if you decide against the operation. You could have another heart attack or suffer permanent damage from a stroke at any time. We can give you blood-thinning medication to reduce the risk, but you won't get old with it.” “When?” I repeated my question.
‘In a few days, if you insist. I'll leave you alone now. Think about it again and discuss it with your mother.’ With that, he left the room shaking his head.
‘Why Kevin? Are you afraid of the operation? Everything will be fine. You've already cheated death once!’ The forced optimism in her voice did not match her tear-stained face and red eyes at all.
I had been in hospital for seven days and was to be discharged today. Mum had brought me fresh clothes from my apartment and seemed to have accepted my decision. We sat together in Dr Franke's office, who made it very clear that he thought my decision was completely wrong. My mother senses her chance to appeal to my conscience and repeats the one question: ‘Why Kevin?’ and quickly adds, ‘Don't think you can get away without answering this again. I've waited long enough for an answer and I won't leave this hospital with you until you've explained to me why you want to risk your life?’
I get up and go to the window and look at Berlin. I have been living here for three years now, at 19 graduating from high school in the province of Mecklenburg and then studying here at the HU. When I came to the ‘capital’, I had so many dreams and desires. I hoped that many things would change and that I could just leave my old life behind me. The disappointments and...
‘Kevin?’ my mother pulled me out of my thoughts. Dr Franke had left the room to give me the opportunity to explain everything to her in a private atmosphere.
‘Mum, I'm gay!’ Maybe that wasn't the best way to start a conversation that was supposed to make clear why her only child suddenly seemed to have taken a dislike to life. My mother's uncomprehending expression was followed by the words: ’So what? Okay, no grandchildren for me, and it won't be easy to explain to the grandparents and your father, but I'd rather you were gay and alive than dead just to keep the peace in the family. Kevin, that's not the real reason, is it? You know that no matter whether you like boys or girls, you will always be my son and I love you just the way you are! So why?’
I look into my mother's eyes and see the first tears making their way down her cheeks.
"I'm scared, mum. I'm 22 years old, weigh 160 kilos and have never experienced what it's like to be loved by another person. I don't even know what it's like to be kissed. I'm afraid that the last thing I see in my life will be the anaesthetist's face mask and the bright light of the surgical lamp.’ ’Kevin, we, your father and I, love you and how do you imagine it, stepping out of the hospital and falling into the arms of your great love? Have the operation and you still have enough years left to experience your dreams. Kevin please!’
I look back at the city: ‘Mom, you know that I long for a different kind of love. Just as you know that it would be hard for me to find a girlfriend. When I walk through the city or to university, I see the looks resting on me, hear the murmuring and get “Man, you're fat!” thrown at my head. I had hoped that I would finally find friends here in Berlin and that bullying would finally be a thing of the past. Maybe it's true that inner values are what count. But so far, no girl or boy has been interested in my character; the sight of me might just be too daunting.’
‘Don't say things like that, Kevin. You may be a little corpulent and could do with losing a little weight, but you'll find a cute woman who'll go with you if you live long enough.’
‘Man, mum, man! But I'm not looking for anything cuddly and so far I haven't met anyone who hopes to find that. The few gays I met at university didn't give me the impression that I was part of their type,‘
’You met gays?‘
’Mum!’
‘What do you intend to do now, Kevin? Go back to your apartment? Just carry on living and hope you survive each day?‘
’I'm going to travel, visit a few people who were once very important to me.‘
’That's much too exhausting for you. I can't accompany you, I have to go back to work. Kevin, think about all this again.’
Her voice had become more and more pleading during the conversation, it hurt to look at her haggard face and say, ‘Mom, I've made up my mind!’
Dresden, train
I stand in my apartment and look out the window and watch the people and the traffic in front of my doorstep. My mother is already on her way back to Mecklenburg. After a silent drive from the Charité to my apartment, she hugged me for at least ten minutes, made me promise to come back alive from my adventure and to reconsider the surgery. When she got into the car, she seemed very calm and said: ‘If you have to go away, come and visit us!’
It's funny: a week ago, my whole life looked very bleak, but dealing with death wouldn't have crossed my mind. I wanted to be on the road for four or five days, visit three people and maybe say goodbye to them. I knew that my heart could quickly thwart all plans, and I was not only afraid of never knowing what true love feels like and what it is like to wake up next to someone and look into eyes that long for you, but also of not being able to finish this little journey.
The Eurocity comes closer to Dresden with every stop. I had taken one of the first trains and would arrive at the main station shortly after 10:00 a.m. There was no time to lose. I looked out at the fields, meadows, forests, and saw villages and towns rushing past my window. I was sixteen years old when my mother sent me to a summer camp, beautifully situated on a lake with lots of fun, entertainment, and exercise. She thought she was doing me a favour and hoped I would make friends there, lose a little ballast and shed my cultivated loneliness. I hadn't even really arrived yet when the gauntlet began for me, I never found out the names of the clique that kept picking on me and coming up with all sorts of nastiness. I told myself that I would make it through three weeks, after all, I had already survived ten years of school with classmates who were not much better. On the third day, I had just been pushed off the jetty into the lake, I shuffled towards the bungalows in my wet clothes, listening to the giggling and the comments, of which ‘Look at the fat seal diving!’ was the nicest thing that was called to me. I had stopped crying over such things years ago, otherwise I would have only given them more ammunition. When I arrived at the bungalow, I couldn't open the door because it was being held shut from the inside by my roommates. I stood in the hallway and dripped away. Of course I should have gone to the camp leaders, but then I might as well have painted a target on my forehead and probably wouldn't have been taken seriously. The boys were just having a little fun and the clothes would dry again. Over the years, I had developed a thick protective shield. I had tried to fight back in the past, but that only caused trouble with my parents, theirs, and the school. The second approach was to argue, but that didn't work either. The third approach was to remain silent and wait until they found a new victim or until they lost interest for the moment.
"Hey, take this towel and you in there, finally open the door. You've had enough fun at someone else's expense!’ I looked into the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen and was initially overwhelmed. In the next moment, I thought I was being made fun of and waited for the onset of loud jeering. But the boy was really serious. First he pushed the towel under my arm, then he went to work on the door. He banged on it twice with the palm of his hand and it was immediately opened. He then shooed everyone else out of the room. ‘Hello, don't just stand there gaping! Come in, there's no one left in there and I'll stand guard outside while you go and change into something dry. Are you okay?’
With a broad grin, he pushed me into the room and closed the door from the outside. Completely automatically, I changed my clothes and was still perplexed by the behaviour of this boy. I sat down on my bed and enjoyed the peace and quiet. There was a knock at the door, which was opened a crack, and the blond head with those blue eyes appeared in it and asked: ‘Can I come in?’
I still didn't really know what was happening here and before I could answer, he was already sitting in front of me on a chair.
"It was shit of the others and absolutely no longer funny to leave you standing here in the hallway, dripping wet, I would really like to give them a real beating,’
‘NO! Then they'll just pick on me even more."
The blue eyes appraised me: “So you can talk after all, and not just drip all over the hallway and stare in amazement.”
I had to grin, the boy was not all there. First he helped me, then he wanted to avenge me, and now he started a conversation with me.
‘Smiling too. I'm Sebastian, and you?‘ Still unsure, I hesitantly said my name, “Kevin.”
’So, Kevin, what are we going to do together now?"
With this question, the best weeks of my life began. Suddenly I belonged to Sebastian's clique, had a place at their table in the dining bungalow, and was always with them. I no longer had time to dwell on my own gloomy thoughts, I no longer got annoyed. We sat together by the lake and talked about our families, our hobbies, our taste in music and actually about anything that would give us stuff. We staged wild water battles in the lake or just lay around on the beach, disfiguring all the songs that were sung around the campfire with our voices and wrong notes. Sebastian dragged me along everywhere: to table tennis, to badminton, to seemingly endless bicycle tours or to rowing on the lake. On the first night in my own bed back in Mecklenburg, I realised what I had experienced, what Sebastian had given me during those weeks. It was friendship, a rare and precious experience for me. That night I cried for the first time in a long while. He was now 300 km away from me and apart from the memories, I only had his address. We wrote to each other regularly for several years, he told me about his life, his daily routine, his friends. I was the first person he came out to, I suffered with him and I was happy for him. There wasn't much to tell about my life. I hadn't been able to take this feeling of friendship and happiness from the camp with me and it faded more and more. My monotonous life wasn't exactly exciting and so I invented stories, adventures I had experienced. I came out to him, described my first time and my escapades with boys, my wild parties and so on. With each letter, the number of lies increased and it became more and more difficult for me to keep track of the truth and invent new things. I did all this just to avoid losing him. The correspondence became more and more sluggish from year to year, from month to month, and the stories more and more outlandish. At some point, I couldn't take it anymore and confessed everything to him. He was right to be disappointed in me and the trust between us was destroyed. It took him a long time to make contact with me again, but it never went back to the way it was before. His letters were superficial and mine were full of apologies and trivial things from my life. There had been radio silence between us for a year and a half; he hadn't answered my last letters.
Now I am on my way to see him and hope to find him at his old address. Sebastian, the first and only one who called me his best friend and who is my first and only love to this day.
Dresden, city
Dresden Central Station, I remember the pictures when the water here made its way through the doors like a rapid. I buy my ticket for the next stop on my journey at the travel centre. I'm only staying until tonight, I feel like time is racing by for me and I don't even know if I'll find Sebastian. Doubts assail me in the taxi on the way to the last place I know he lives. I've been standing in front of the house for half an hour now, according to the doorbell sign he still lives here. Actually, I don't have any time to lose and now I'm standing here looking like I'm casing the house for a break-in. I press the doorbell and since I'm worried that he won't let me in, I'll try the catchphrase ‘advertising’. The thought that he might not be there at all is quickly pushed out of my mind. The buzzer signals that I can enter, I push open the door and slowly make my way up the stairs to the fourth floor. I would also complain to fate if my heart were to give out here. My eyes have just caught sight of the blue one for whom my heart has been beating for so long. With my well-considered greeting on my lips, I step up to Sebastian.
‘Come in, Kevin!"
He turns around and disappears into the apartment. I follow him and see him go through a door on the left side of the hallway. I close the front door, put my backpack down, take off my jacket and wait for things to come. Nothing happens, so I start moving and head for the same door where Sebastian disappeared. I'm standing in the kitchen, he's sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast with a girl.
‘Tina, this is Kevin. Kevin, this is Tina, my flatmate, who woke me up ten minutes ago saying, ‘There's a guy outside the house watching it, look at that.’ So you dared to ring the doorbell after all. I'll make it short, Kevin. What do you want here?’
Tina uses the silent moment to steal out of the kitchen. I look into his blue eyes and wonder why I'm actually here. ‘Sebastian, I just wanted to see you again, find out how you've been lately. Ask for forgiveness. Revel in memories and try to pick up where we left off.’
‘What do you want to tie up again, Kevin? Your lies, your stories, our ‘friendship’. You hurt me deeply back then, I thought we were best friends and could tell each other anything. I was happy for you because it seemed like you had finally found the life you had always been looking for. In the end, it was all just fiction because you were afraid of losing me. I told you everything about my life, I trusted you and you only found lies to answer me. Kevin, I never gave you any reason to think that you could become unimportant to me."
I look out of the window and the doubts from before are back again. He's right, what am I thinking, turning up here and expecting him to take me back into his arms.
‘Now sit down, Kevin. I couldn't bear to see it back then at the camp, that expressionless face, as if someone had taken a child's favourite toy away. Would you like a roll? Maybe just one, you seem to have lost a bit of your shape over the last few years!’
When he smiles, I wish that this day will be like the ones at the lake in the camp. He tells me about his great love, or rather, about a great love. After they had moved in together and set up a cosy nest, he cheated on Sebastian and left him alone with everything. I tell him about my life in Berlin, about my studies and about how I have been withdrawing more and more into myself for a year now. I don't like to leave the apartment, I'm afraid of the world out there. We talk about our dreams and goals, imagine our future and design our dream man. Time flies and I hear the sound of the waves and the wind blowing through the reeds.
The Frauenkirche has been rebuilt and we stroll past it towards the Elbe. Each of us has an ice cream with several scoops in our hands as we sit by the river, the water flowing ceaselessly towards the North Sea.
"How long do you want to stay? You can sleep at my place, but you don't even have a bag with you, do you?’
‘I only have the backpack with me, I'm not staying in Dresden. What time is it?‘
’A little before 7:00 p.m.‘