07-11-2025, 06:27 PM
I know exactly how the man of my life will meet me.
He'll collide with me. Collide in the middle of the street. We'll apologize with our heads bowed, then look each other in the eye, and—BOOM—we'll both know exactly what's going on. We'll feel it.
He'll be incredibly cute. Black hair, green eyes, a dimple, soft lips, and incredibly beautiful hands, a velvety voice, and everything. Just thinking about him makes me feel warm inside.
The stupid thing is, I don't know WHEN he'll bump into me. It's really bothering me because I just turned sixteen and everyone else has a boyfriend or girlfriend except me. It's really disgusting. No matter where you go, everyone's in pairs. Not me. It's annoying.
Of course, I do a lot to see my sweetheart. I walk through the streets every day after school and hang out wherever there are lots of people, which I actually don't like because I prefer peace and quiet. I'm more of the quieter, more sensitive type.
Saskia always says I'm uptight, but she's lying. Saskia is remarkably fond of lying, especially to her boyfriend, Martin. For example, I know that she's seeing Phillip on the side, which Martin doesn't know and isn't allowed to find out because he'd throw a nasty tantrum and yell at Saskia. But Saskia wants to stay with Martin because his parents are filthy rich, and he's constantly giving her expensive clothes, CDs, and so on, and he always pays for everything they go somewhere.
I find Saskia kind of annoying, but since we've known each other since we were four, I don't say anything about it.
She, on the other hand, says all sorts of things, even though I don't ask her to. So I'm uptight, and anyway, given how I look, I shouldn't be surprised that I don't have a girlfriend yet. I always have to secretly grin, because I don't even want a girlfriend.
Oh, maybe I should mention that my name is Konstantin and I'm kind of gay. I mean, I don't know exactly, but the fact that I don't want a girlfriend, but a boyfriend, certainly suggests that, doesn't it? Nobody knows that this is the case, and I don't think anyone should. So, maybe my parents will ask my father for my hand in marriage sometime later, when the man of my life shows up at the door with flowers and sweets. But there's still time for that. My parents are actually quite understanding. When I once ended up in the hospital with Saskia, Martin, and Phillip after a hash tea party because everything was going downhill, the closet was closing in on me, and I felt terrible, my father came over and brought me pajamas and everything else I needed. Afterwards, when I got home, he explained to me that I should stop taking drugs because I'd realized they weren't agreeing with me, and if I got into trouble again, he'd kill me.
But he certainly didn't mean it like that about killing. My father isn't inclined to murder. He can't even kill a spider crawling on the wall. He then grabs it by the leg and carries it outside.
With my mother, I have carte blanche anyway, as I'm the youngest and the only one who still lives at home. My sister is already engaged and lives with her boyfriend, and my brother lives in a strange shared apartment.
What else is there to say about me? I have a lot of trouble with girls at school and elsewhere because I'm kind of really cute. At least, that's what everyone says, except for Saskia. I don't think I can complain about my looks. Okay, I'm not exactly tall and rather slender, but that doesn't bother me. Who wants to be a muscular, athletic type? Certainly not me. The man of my life must definitely not exercise excessively or be a fitness freak. Fitness freaks can't enjoy themselves, can't just sit in front of the TV and eat caramel ice cream because they're always watching themselves and counting calories. The latter in particular is by no means a girl's monopoly, as is always assumed. The man of my life must love caramel ice cream. Caramel ice cream with whipped cream and brittle pieces.
Uh...back to me.
My hair is short. Dark brown with a reddish hue, depending on the light. My eyes are hazel brown—doe eyes—girls love them. I'm constantly being hit on at parties, which makes me sweat because my friends naturally ask me why I never sleep with any of them. Then I make up something like, not my type, or too stupid, or my tits are too small...sometimes all of the above.
Oh, why can't a handsome boy just hit on me? I mean, it can't be wrong to gain some experience before I meet the man of my life. What if he doesn't even live here yet and only shows up in, say, ten years? Then I'll be a twenty-six-year-old virgin. How embarrassing! No, I'd rather know beforehand how to give a blowjob and have sexual intercourse and everything. I've never kissed a boy. But I suppose it won't be much different than kissing a girl (only much, much nicer and more exciting!), and I've done that before. It wasn't fun, but whatever. I just wanted to show my friends that there's nothing wrong with me, which makes me a little embarrassed, because that would mean there's something wrong with me just because I like boys.
How awkward. Mom sends me shopping. Since I love her so much, I can't bring myself to tell her how uncool that is, so I trot off. God... what a list. I mean, it isn't long, but it says toilet paper. TOILET PAPER, and not the small pack that you could somehow hide in a nice bag. NO! My mom wants a 10-roll pack. Then cotton swabs, Dad's dandruff shampoo, and a whole bunch of embarrassment-inducing-sweat foods like smelly cheese with caraway seeds in it, liverwurst, onion meat, and the like. She didn't write down the crunchy chocolate muesli, but I'm going to buy it anyway.
Okay, the supermarket is obviously packed, so I push my cart to the checkout and sit comfortably in line for half an hour. Then I finally load everything onto the conveyor belt, careful not to get a blush, pay, put everything back in the cart, stuff everything except the toilet paper into a bag, tuck the toilet paper under my arm, and just make sure I get home quickly and unnoticed.
So with my head down I burst out and... OUCH!!
Shit! Everything falls out of my hand because something stops me from bursting. Since my head is still down, I see liverwurst, cotton swabs, and cheese lying on the sidewalk. Dad's dandruff shampoo is peeking out of his pocket, along with tomatoes and various packets of sweets I didn't even buy.
Totally disoriented, I sit on the sidewalk, bravely lift my head a little bit and am...close to a heart attack.
Across from me, a guy is just getting up. The guy I must have collided with.
Wait a minute...a guy...collided?? AHHH...the man of my life!! THAT has to be him. Except he doesn't have black hair, which is to say, I don't know if he has any hair at all, because he's wearing a pretty dorky-looking gray knit cap.
"Man, I'm..." I begin, ashamed.
"Embarrassing," he mutters.
"Does me..."
"Sorrow."
He grabs tomatoes and sweets, stuffs everything back into his bag, and holds out his hand to help me up.
»I didn't even...«
“Seen,” he beams.
Huh? Why is he beaming at me? And why is he completing my sentences?
I stand again, staring around awkwardly. What was I just about to do before I looked into his face? Into those insane blue-gray eyes?
He bends down and hands me some stinky cheese and cotton swabs with a smile.
Oh dear...how incredibly EMBARRASSING!! Red-faced, I stuff the disgusting stuff into my bag.
"Thanks," I mumble, sweating even though it's about three degrees below zero outside.
»It was mine...«
"Guilt," I say, managing a failed smile. It must look horrific. He's still beaming and, as the height of embarrassment, hands me the family-sized pack of toilet paper.
I immediately want to bury myself in the ground, toilet paper and stinky cheese included. There's still chocolate granola lying on the sidewalk. I'm just about to pack it up when he grabs my hand. "Sorry...ahem...that's mine."
Oh my god! Now I'm going to steal his chocolate granola too!!
"Sorry," I say, and I feel like crying.
"No problem."
We stand facing each other and look at each other. I notice that he has a very beautiful face. Smooth, soft, and caramel-creamy.
He's not that old, maybe seventeen or eighteen, his cheeks are flushed... probably from the cold. I think it's adorable. I think he's adorable.
"Well then," he says.
"Yes," I say, somehow unable to move my feet. I think I just forgot how to do that.
"I have to go," he smiles.
"Yes," I say, feeling the toilet paper pack under my arm.
"Okay," he says, walking past me while I'm still trying to figure out how to do it with my feet and watching him.
After a few meters, he stops, looks up at the sky, shakes his head, and comes back. He puts his bag on the ground, reaches into his pocket, then takes my hand.
The toilet paper falls down. He nervously clicks out the refill of a ballpoint pen and scribbles something shakily in my palm, winks at me again, picks up his bag, and leaves for good.
I've forgotten my own name, I'm staring stupidly at my hand and I don't even understand what those numbers are.
WOW...it's starting to dawn on me. That must be his phone number!! I can't believe it! The guy has long since turned off somewhere and disappeared from my sight. I'm still standing there, come to, pick up the damn toilet paper, and float home.
In my room, I carefully write down the numbers three times, check them at least ten times with the numbers in my hand, and think about what to do.
When should I call him? Today? No, then he'll think I need it. In a few days? No, that doesn't signal much interest. Tomorrow? Yeah, that's fine.
Wait a minute...is he even...gay? I mean, I don't know. Just because he gave me his number...that doesn't mean anything. Maybe he has a girlfriend or a sister looking for a boyfriend and that's her number? Or he purposely gave me the wrong one because he's an asshole who's always messing with guys who storm out of a supermarket armed with toilet paper.
God...I would have loved to see his hair. It just has to be black. Man, he's so handsome. What an amazing smile...and those eyes...and that nose...and those rosy cheeks... I feel strange because I realize I've met the man of my life.
With sweaty fingers, a sick stomach, and faint spells, I sit by the phone, the three pieces of paper with his phone number in my hand. I dial the number, it beeps, and I immediately hang up. So, it's a real phone number.
Okay, take courage. I have to do this now. I dial again, it beeps, and I slam the receiver down.
Shit, I'm a fucking scaredy-cat.
So let's go. I take a deep breath, exhale, pick up the receiver, dial the number, and wait... a woman's voice answers.
Oh my god! It suddenly occurs to me that I don't even know his name! Who am I supposed to ask? In a panic, the receiver falls back onto its hook.
Shit, shit, shit! What now? I can't really say, "Hello, does the man of my life live with you? He has no hair but blue-grey eyes, is gorgeous, and bought tomatoes and chocolate granola yesterday."
The poor woman thinks a madman is calling her.
I could keep calling until HE answers the phone. But what if he never answers the phone, or he's not home right now and won't be back for three hours?! I can't call every two minutes for three hours and then hang up. Dear God...help me!
I decide to try again. Another woman's voice, and I hang up. Again, it's her, and again I hang up.
This happens about six or seven more times.
I feel really bad about harassing the woman like this and decide to give it a rest the next time.
I dial, I wait, I hear a VERY unfriendly "Yeah, damn it."
Oops, that's not her, it's a male voice. I have to think for a moment about what to say.
"Hello...hey, is this the guy who calls twenty times and hangs up? If you don't answer right away, I swear, I'll come through the fucking phone and punch your fucking face in."
That's definitely HIS voice. I can tell by the little squeaks it makes. "Hello," I say quickly.
He snorts. "Who's there?"
"I... I mean, you... you gave me your number... yesterday... in front of the supermarket." Silence. My heart stops.
"Oh...oh...sorry. But this asshole keeps calling and hanging up. It's really annoying. I'm sorry."
I'd rather not say that I'm such an asshole.
"Hmm...I see."
"Hi...nice to hear from you," he squeaks.
Oh my god...he likes me calling?! WOW!!
"I...I didn't think the number was right," I say honestly.
"Why? Do you think I'm such an asshole that I give out fake numbers?"
"No...uh...certainly not. I meant, I didn't think you'd remember me."
"Oh, because I write my number on the hand of every guy I bump into, right?"
"No...of course not."
Shit, how do I get out of here?
"I just wanted to say that...I mean, I...um..."
"That no one wants my number and you're the only one who's ever called me?"
Damn, he's misunderstanding everything!
As I sweat to death, I hear him laughing loudly. "That was a joke...sorry. Tell me, are you feeling nervous?"
"Yes, you could say that."
"Well, that's just punishment."
"Punishment? For what?"
"Well, you made me wait so long and I'm sitting here with a big grin because you finally got in touch."
Oh shit...is he flirting with me??
"Hey...are you still there?"
“Hmm-hm,” I say.
"Nice...that reminds me...what's your name anyway?"
Simple question...even I can answer it easily. "Constantine."
"Oh...ok, Konstantin...would you like to meet me...have some hot chocolate or something?"
"Uh...sure."
"Hmm, you didn't ask, but I'll tell you anyway that my name is Danilo. It might be interesting for you to know."
"Sorry...I completely forgot...uh...sorry."
"When do you have time?"
Shit, not too early, but not too long either. "Maybe...the day after tomorrow?" I ask timidly.
"Hmm...it's...no, that takes too long," he answers firmly.
»Okay, morning.«
"Sounds better. Where and when?"
"Uh...say around five at the Lux?"
"Lux...where is that? I haven't lived here very long."
I explain it to him as best I can.
"Yeah...I'll figure it out. Okay, all right."
What now? Say goodbye? I don't want to hang up yet. I'd rather hear his voice.
"Okay," I say.
"You...I have to go, I still have a lot of stuff to do," he sighs.
"Yes...I understand. So then..."
"See you tomorrow, then."
"Yes, see you tomorrow."
...
»Konstantin?«
»Hm?«
"You have to hang up now."
"How come?"
"Well, because, as I said, I still have things to do and I can't always be the first to hang up."
Ohhh...I love Danilo.
"Okay, I'll hang up now."
"Okay, see you then."
"Yes, see you then."
...
»Konstantin?«
»And?«
"Would you please hang up now?"
"Sure...see you tomorrow. Bye."
I manage to put the receiver down.
Man, my head is spinning.
Man, that voice gives you goosebumps.
Man, he's cute.
Man, I don't even know what to wear tomorrow.
God...please let him have hair, and please let it be black. Danilo doesn't have green eyes, and I don't remember a dimple either. But he has to have black hair!
Great, I just changed my clothes for the fifth time. Everything looked completely crap. Now I've decided on black corduroy trousers and the purple shirt with the silver star. Not because they look so good, but because I'm running out of time. I'm already panicking because I'm probably going to be late. And I hate being late like the plague. Saskia, for example... she's always 20 minutes late to every meeting and then doesn't even apologize. That's disgustingly rude. I'm not really a fanatic about good manners, but being late like that is just not okay. But Saskia is a stupid, puking cow anyway.
The main thing is that Danilo doesn't leave immediately if he doesn't see me. I grab my scarf and coat, throw my black backpack over my shoulder, and set off.
Great...it's raining.
I hurry through the streets in a bad mood.
Great...it's snowing.
I run faster.
Great...it's hailing.
I hate winter!!
Anyway...move on...I'm already a quarter of an hour late.
As I nervously shift from one foot to the other at the last red light, a shit-show-off sled speeds past me...through a huge puddle...and I look like I've been dragged through a drain.
Homeland! Is this "Hidden Camera"?
Changing clothes again isn't an option, so I grit my teeth, swallow my anger, and carry on with wet clothes.
Ahhh...that's the Lux ahead. I can see it through the hailstorm.
People look a bit amused as I push open the door and walk in. I want to shove hand grenades down everyone's throats.
My gaze wanders around the entire café...where is he?? As calmly as possible, I stroll through the rows of tables and...aha, there he is, sitting, reading. He looks as fresh as a daisy.
Black shirt and black corduroy pants...quite tidy and completely dry. I hope he even is; he looks completely different without the knitted hat.
"Uh...hello," I say as I stand in front of his table.
Danilo looks up and...bursts out a laugh.
"You should have told me you were going swimming first," he giggles.
"Very funny," I remark, taking off my wet coat and sitting down.
He waves to the waiter and orders hot lemon.
“Because of the feared cold,” he explains.
Oh...how thoughtful and caring! I love him, even though he doesn't have black hair, as I've noticed. His hair is...hm...multicolored. Medium blonde mixed with chocolate brown...completely natural-looking highlights. His hairstyle...short but not too short, with long bangs that he keeps sweeping to the side. A trendy haircut like "Tocotronic"...a "Hamburger School" look. He looks nice, but his hair...is definitely NOT black.
Meanwhile, my lemon is in front of me. To break the awkward silence, I want to ask what he's reading, so I reach across the table for the book and...knock over the glass.
"Ow...shit," I exclaim, my face turning red. The lemon soaks the book. I frantically wipe it while he...laughs. He can barely contain himself, places a napkin on the wet side, and puts it out of reach.
I sit there, keep my hands under the table and don't dare to move in any way.
"Wow...are you always so hectic?" he grins.
"I'm sorry..."
I feel like crying. Crying and never stopping.
The waiter brings a new lemon, but I don't touch it. Who knows what will happen if I do...
"I...I'll pay you for the book," I say quietly.
"Nonsense. Don't stress about it...it's just a book I've already read three times."
"I'm such a clumsy person."
"Stop it and drink your lemon."
I don't dare take my hands out from under the table.
Danilo takes the glass and holds it up to me. "Come on," he grins and winks, "a drink for Danilo, huh?"
My one hand moves to the glass, reaches for it, and feels soft fingers that don't let go as I put it to my lips and...promptly burn my mouth.
"Ow...damn it," I hiss.
Danilo puts the glass on the table, crosses his legs, leans back and stirs his cocoa slowly.
God...why is he staring like that? I'm blushing again, or maybe I'm still blushing. Hard to say.
»And...have you calmed down a bit yet?«
"So-so," I mumble.
"Will you tell me what happened? I mean, why are you so late and anyway...I don't know anything about you."
"I walked through the rain, then through snow, then through hail, then a car hit me...so just the water splashing up. Sorry I wasn't on time."
"Well," he smiles, "under the circumstances, I'll forgive you. And what else do you do when you're not causing chaos?"
»Going to school, parties, friends, celebrating...«
»What.«
Shit, now he thinks I'm shallow.
»But most of the time I'm at home reading...«
Shit, now he thinks I'm a homebody. God... I'm doing everything wrong. "What do you do?" I ask bravely, without stumbling.
"Hmm...I just finished high school and...uh...I'm thinking about what to study."
"Finished high school? How old are you?"
"Nineteen...shocked?"
»No...I just assumed...I mean...«
Damn, he's three years older than me. That might not matter in ten years, but when you've just turned sixteen, three years are almost insurmountable. He's probably been with a lot of guys and chicks. Right now, I feel like a stupid kid.
"I hope you're already sixteen," he says.
»Hm-hm.«
"Good, then I don't have to worry... about seducing minors," he grins.
Okay, that was a joke...he didn't mean it like that. He certainly doesn't want to...seduce me. "Do you have," I lick my lips because they're terribly dry, "a...girlfriend?"
Danilo snorts a laugh, which sounds super cute. "No...you?"
»Nee.«
He looks at me skeptically. "Tell me...why do you think I gave you my number?"
"No idea."
He seems to think for a moment. "Let's go."
I'm going to puke! I messed up! Shit!!
After he pays, we stand outside. Luckily, it's stopped raining. Still, I'm freezing cold because my clothes are still pretty damp.
"Okay," I begin tearfully, "I have to go that way. See you...see you then."
Danilo just looks at me, I turn around, take a few steps and feel his arm on my shoulder.
"I actually thought we were going to my place. Or are you out of time?"
Curious...
"Well...yes...I just thought that..."
Sighing, he grabs my hand and simply pulls me with him.
The entire way, he doesn't let go of my hand, and I don't walk; I float. I keep staring at him. He's adorable. Soooo handsome in his knee-length black coat and scarf. This sweet red, white, light blue, and dark blue striped velour scarf.
I could melt away - if it wasn't so freezing cold.
He stops in front of a pink, stucco-decorated Art Nouveau house, rummages in his bag, and unlocks the door. I love these houses; they always look like cotton candy. I love Danilo for living in a house like that. It's unthinkable if the man of my life lived in a gray, monotonous building.
"You live in a cotton candy house," I blurt out and immediately bite my lip, but Danilo beams at me and nods.
"Isn't that amazing? I always wanted to live in a house like this as a child."
"Me too," I sigh, looking up at the ornate balcony.
"Come on," he demands, so I follow him, climb the six flights of stairs, and wait, panting, until he opens the apartment door. As I walk in, one of my sleeves gets caught on the doorknob, causing me to recoil and hit my head.
"At..."
Danilo, who is already in the apartment, comes back and helps me free myself, then closes the door.
“Is everything okay?” he asks worriedly, putting a hand on my head.
"Yeah...it's okay...stupid door..."
"What's that rumbling?"
A girl appears in the hallway. Damn pretty. A small, barely there figure, short, tousled honey-blonde hair, and a flawless model face.
“Konstantin hit his head,” explains Danilo.
"Oh...bad?"
God, this is embarrassing!
His hand buries itself in my hair, ruffling it. "I don't think so, do you?"
"No," I answer embarrassedly and blush.
"Maria...this is Constantine. Constantine...Maria."
"Hi...nice to meet you," she smiles.
"Ha...hello."
"I made lasagna...do you want to join me?"
Danilo looks at me. "Shall we?"
I don't even want to imagine what could happen.
"Hmm...I don't know."
“So yes,” Maria states.
We go into the spacious kitchen, where the first thing I notice is a huge refrigerator. The kind you always see in American movies. And, as is only right, there are lots of funny magnets and notes stuck to it. Then I notice that the kitchen is painted in two colors: two walls pink, two light blue. There are angel pictures stuck everywhere, cherub heads, and colorful pictures of saints in gold frames... Kitsch to the point of nausea, but I'm delighted. I don't mind living here with Danilo in the future.
Maria sets the table and heaves a huge pile onto everyone's plate. Not hers, that is, because there's only a small portion. So she's one of those terrible calorie counters. I already suspected that, given her figure.
"Maria," laughs Danilo, "who the hell is going to eat all this?"
She just shrugs her shoulders and sits down too.
The first few bites go easily and without a catastrophe, but then the misery begins. I accidentally bite my tongue, but manage to hide it quite well. Then the lasagna on my fork lands not in my mouth where it should, but on my shirt.
What's wrong with me? I'm not usually such a clumsy, clumsy idiot. "Damn it," I hiss, fishing the pasta-cheese-and-minced-meat pieces off my chest. Maria and Danilo grin at each other. I want to go home to my bed and not get up for the next hundred years.
After dinner, we retreat to Danilo's room...WOW!! The color scheme almost brings tears to my eyes. Bright orange walls, deep blue carpet. AWESOME!! I hope he doesn't go crazy when he opens his eyes in the morning.
I'm sitting on his bed, still wiping the lasagna stain.
»Konstantin?«
"Yes?" I ask, looking up.
"Would you please stop that now and just relax?"
"Sorry, I..."
"And stop apologizing all the time," he interrupts. "Really, everything's fine."
My pants are still damp from the rain, and I secretly feel the blanket under my butt and realize it's no longer dry. Can I please die?!
"I...I'll wet your bed."
Danilo looks at me in shock. "Oh shit...do you want something dry to wear from me?"
"Nah, I...maybe I should just leave...before more disasters happen."
"God," he sighed, "you're a real tough case."
"I'm sorry..." I bite my lip because I wanted to apologize again.
Danilo moves closer. "And you're the sweetest thing I've seen in a long time."
"Me?" I ask incredulously.
"Sure... or is anyone else here?" His hand ruffles through my hair. "How's your head?"
"Okay," I say.
»Konstantin?«
»Hm?«
"Would you like to kiss me?"
"Uh...now?"
"No, next Tuesday...I just wanted to ask," he grins.
His face comes closer, his lips brush mine, I feel warm all over, my nose tingles, I...shit...I have to sneeze.
Danilo shakes his head, stands up, and rummages around. "Here, put this on. I'll make you some tea in the meantime."
My pants and shirt are lying on the bed next to me. I just have to reach out and touch them, but somehow that suddenly seems like a total effort. I'm so warm and a little dizzy...a little more, I'm hot, I'm sweating...God...I feel weak. I slowly tip over to the side and lie there for no idea how long.
At some point, something strokes my hair. It's Danilo, who's looking rather worried.
"Hey," he whispers, "are you okay?"
"Sleep," I mumble, "I...I...I don't feel well. I'm going home," I say, trying to get up but it doesn't work. I feel too dizzy.
"All right, Maria will drive you." And so she does, or rather, I accept it, because I don't really notice much in the car.
Perhaps I should mention that I tend to be VERY sick whenever I'm sick. So a simple cold that others have running around doing who knows what will knock me out for at least two weeks.
Anyway, at some point I'm safely in bed. Mom frantically rushes into the room, shoves a thermometer down my throat, brings me lemon and honey, puts cool compresses on my head, and gives me some kind of flu medication.
I suffer, groan, sleep, doze, sweat, freeze, don't want to drink my lemon, but I have to. My shirt is lifted, something slippery is rubbed on my chest, and on my back too. I'm covered up again, sleep, doze, sweat, freeze, and drink my lemon. It burns terribly in my throat. I want to protest, but only manage a pitiful croak. I feel acute laryngeal pressure, a freight train is racing through my skull, the bright sunlight is almost killing me.
I have no idea how many days and nights this goes on for; I've lost all sense of time.
At some point I feel a little better.
And then suddenly the door opens and...Danilo enters my room.
“Well, you dying swan,” he greets me with a smile.
Ahhh...he looks good. Mmm, and he smells so fresh when he sits down by my bed.
"Hi," I croak and cough a little.
"Still so sick?"
"It's going ok."
"Your mother told you to drink the lemon. Oh, and she told me to tell you that she has to stop nursing for a few hours because she has something to do. I told her I'll take over the job until then, so...drink up!"
"I never thought I'd see you again."
Danilo sighs. "You think too much."
He waits until I've finished half the lemon, then casually kicks off his shoes (oh my god...he's wearing red and white striped socks...CUTE!!) and takes off his black sweater. A black shirt appears, and the Pink Panther's face grins at me.
I love Pink Panther and I love Danilo and...oops, he's crawling under the covers with me! Oh no! I haven't washed in days, I've sweated into my duvet, my hair is greasy. I'm a total creep...and he smells so clean, sweet, and fresh. Ashamed, I move away from him and against the wall. My bed is so big that there's now a noticeable gap between us. That is, my Little Polar Bear hot-water bottle is actually in that gap, which I immediately, very red-faced and ashamed, hide behind me.
Danilo slides closer and pulls me to his chest, gently brushing greasy, sweaty, and dirty strands of hair from my forehead.
"No," I say miserably, "I'm totally..."
"Shy?" he asks with a grin.
"Nee...gross and smelly."
He sniffs around me, which makes me so uncomfortable that I want to die immediately.
"You smell like eucalyptus," he observes, his lips touching my neck.
"Wow...you smell like a koala bear...oh...that's sooo cute, Konstantin."
I remember Mom smearing me with that cold paste.
Slowly I begin to relax, I feel comfortable in Danilo's arms.
Still, what does such a beautiful, perfect person want with a disaster like me?
"I was really worried and...I felt really guilty."
"How come?"
"Well, you only got sick because we had a date. If only I had given you dry clothes sooner..."
"Oh...I'm sick all the time. I've gotten used to it by now."
»Konstantin?«
»And?«
Danilo leans on one arm, casually brushing his bangs to the side. "I know this is probably not the best time, but...I really can't take it anymore. I mean, I've been waiting for days to...to finally kiss you. Our first attempt went a bit...uh...off."
I blush as the memory returns. "Did I... sneeze on you?"
He laughs. "Yes, a little, but it doesn't matter. I've experienced worse. Maria once spat cocoa on my head while she was laughing...and I had just washed my hair."
Oh...I want to kiss him but...I don't dare. I've never kissed such a beautiful boy. I've never kissed a boy at all.
"No," I say, "you'll just catch it from me and..." I can't go any further because I feel his lips on my mouth. God, they're soft and sweet and warm and wet and...ahhh...the tip of his tongue gently feels for mine, touches it and...WOW...little fireworks ignite all over my body! After three seconds, I'm addicted and hanging on his mouth like a junkie.
We kiss, smooch, suck, nibble, and nibble until we can barely breathe. I feel dizzy, which is definitely not due to the flu.
"Constantine...we have to stop."
Shit...he doesn't like the way I kiss!
"How...why?"
His lips touch my ear. "Because otherwise I can't stop, and this is neither the right place nor the right situation for that."
Oh my goodness! My cock is... oh dear, I hope he doesn't notice. I'm moving away from him just to be on the safe side.
Danilo's hand rests on my stomach. "But since I saw you, I can't think about anything else."
His hand starts moving, moving down a little. My cock is... oh no, it's already there. Huh?? Didn't Danilo just say this isn't the right place? Besides, this is definitely going too far for me.
Hey, what's up? I'm only sixteen and still a virgin, so I'm probably allowed to be a little nervous about my first time, right? So I hold his hand, which is to say, I push it away.
"Sorry," he says contritely, "it's just...you're so incredibly sweet and I...sorry."
"My mother could come in at any moment with a hot lemon," I explain, trying to grin.
"Oh...I completely forgot." He suddenly smiles dirtyly. "Your mother isn't even here. But I get it. I mean, we have time, right? I think Sister Danilo should say goodbye for now..."
He puts on his sweater, then his shoes. I feel like shit.
"Are you...angry?" I ask tearfully, but he shakes his head.
"Nonsense." He ruffles my hair. "Everything's fine. We'll talk on the phone, okay?"
"Okay...when?"
"Later," he says, kisses me on the mouth, puts on his jacket, winks at me again, and leaves.
I was just about to stretch out and dream about the beautiful Danilo when the door burst open and a herd of elephants came roaring in.
"Hey, dude...everything okay?"
Oh God! Martin, Phillip, and Saskia are standing in my room. Well, they're not standing anymore...Martin is sitting on my desk chair, Phillip collapses onto my bed, panting, and drinks the last half of my lemon, and Saskia...she looks kind of confused.
“Who was that just now?” she hisses.
"Thank you, I'm feeling better," I declare angrily. Man, they can fuck off.
"Yeah, yeah, don't exaggerate. You're always on the verge of dying when you have a mild cold, so...who was that guy?"
"Which type?"
"The one who opened the door for us? Hair like this...pretty face..."
Shit, of course she means my Danilo.
"That was an acquaintance."
"Since when do you have acquaintances I don't know about?" she asks suspiciously.
"Don't we all have our little secrets?" I smile, and she looks at me as if she'd bitten into a dead rat.
Honestly, I think it's totally crap that she's messing with Martin like this...with his supposed best friend. Should I tell him the truth? I mean, I feel sorry for Martin, but...I actually don't care about him at all. Let him figure it out himself...it certainly wouldn't be that difficult. Sometimes I think he just doesn't want to realize it.
After a horrific hour of teenage chatter about what's going on at school, when the next party is, what drugs are currently popular, who wants to fuck whom or not...I'm finally alone again. Not for long, though, because Mom comes in and asks how I'm doing.
"Better...I just want to sleep."
She hands me the thermometer and waits patiently. "I didn't know you had such nice friends."
"Hmm?" I say.
"This Danilo...very polite young man."
»Hm-hm.«
"Does he perhaps have a sister?"
»Mh?«
"Well...I'm just saying, you're getting old enough for a girlfriend, and I don't want my son to fall for someone like Saskia."
Mom can't stand Saskia, which I don't blame her for. Still, she should stay out of my private life.
To distract her, I present her with the thermometer, which she examines critically. "No more fever. You can go back to school next week. Sleep well, sweetheart."
Yes, but only after I call Danilo...
He'll collide with me. Collide in the middle of the street. We'll apologize with our heads bowed, then look each other in the eye, and—BOOM—we'll both know exactly what's going on. We'll feel it.
He'll be incredibly cute. Black hair, green eyes, a dimple, soft lips, and incredibly beautiful hands, a velvety voice, and everything. Just thinking about him makes me feel warm inside.
The stupid thing is, I don't know WHEN he'll bump into me. It's really bothering me because I just turned sixteen and everyone else has a boyfriend or girlfriend except me. It's really disgusting. No matter where you go, everyone's in pairs. Not me. It's annoying.
Of course, I do a lot to see my sweetheart. I walk through the streets every day after school and hang out wherever there are lots of people, which I actually don't like because I prefer peace and quiet. I'm more of the quieter, more sensitive type.
Saskia always says I'm uptight, but she's lying. Saskia is remarkably fond of lying, especially to her boyfriend, Martin. For example, I know that she's seeing Phillip on the side, which Martin doesn't know and isn't allowed to find out because he'd throw a nasty tantrum and yell at Saskia. But Saskia wants to stay with Martin because his parents are filthy rich, and he's constantly giving her expensive clothes, CDs, and so on, and he always pays for everything they go somewhere.
I find Saskia kind of annoying, but since we've known each other since we were four, I don't say anything about it.
She, on the other hand, says all sorts of things, even though I don't ask her to. So I'm uptight, and anyway, given how I look, I shouldn't be surprised that I don't have a girlfriend yet. I always have to secretly grin, because I don't even want a girlfriend.
Oh, maybe I should mention that my name is Konstantin and I'm kind of gay. I mean, I don't know exactly, but the fact that I don't want a girlfriend, but a boyfriend, certainly suggests that, doesn't it? Nobody knows that this is the case, and I don't think anyone should. So, maybe my parents will ask my father for my hand in marriage sometime later, when the man of my life shows up at the door with flowers and sweets. But there's still time for that. My parents are actually quite understanding. When I once ended up in the hospital with Saskia, Martin, and Phillip after a hash tea party because everything was going downhill, the closet was closing in on me, and I felt terrible, my father came over and brought me pajamas and everything else I needed. Afterwards, when I got home, he explained to me that I should stop taking drugs because I'd realized they weren't agreeing with me, and if I got into trouble again, he'd kill me.
But he certainly didn't mean it like that about killing. My father isn't inclined to murder. He can't even kill a spider crawling on the wall. He then grabs it by the leg and carries it outside.
With my mother, I have carte blanche anyway, as I'm the youngest and the only one who still lives at home. My sister is already engaged and lives with her boyfriend, and my brother lives in a strange shared apartment.
What else is there to say about me? I have a lot of trouble with girls at school and elsewhere because I'm kind of really cute. At least, that's what everyone says, except for Saskia. I don't think I can complain about my looks. Okay, I'm not exactly tall and rather slender, but that doesn't bother me. Who wants to be a muscular, athletic type? Certainly not me. The man of my life must definitely not exercise excessively or be a fitness freak. Fitness freaks can't enjoy themselves, can't just sit in front of the TV and eat caramel ice cream because they're always watching themselves and counting calories. The latter in particular is by no means a girl's monopoly, as is always assumed. The man of my life must love caramel ice cream. Caramel ice cream with whipped cream and brittle pieces.
Uh...back to me.
My hair is short. Dark brown with a reddish hue, depending on the light. My eyes are hazel brown—doe eyes—girls love them. I'm constantly being hit on at parties, which makes me sweat because my friends naturally ask me why I never sleep with any of them. Then I make up something like, not my type, or too stupid, or my tits are too small...sometimes all of the above.
Oh, why can't a handsome boy just hit on me? I mean, it can't be wrong to gain some experience before I meet the man of my life. What if he doesn't even live here yet and only shows up in, say, ten years? Then I'll be a twenty-six-year-old virgin. How embarrassing! No, I'd rather know beforehand how to give a blowjob and have sexual intercourse and everything. I've never kissed a boy. But I suppose it won't be much different than kissing a girl (only much, much nicer and more exciting!), and I've done that before. It wasn't fun, but whatever. I just wanted to show my friends that there's nothing wrong with me, which makes me a little embarrassed, because that would mean there's something wrong with me just because I like boys.
How awkward. Mom sends me shopping. Since I love her so much, I can't bring myself to tell her how uncool that is, so I trot off. God... what a list. I mean, it isn't long, but it says toilet paper. TOILET PAPER, and not the small pack that you could somehow hide in a nice bag. NO! My mom wants a 10-roll pack. Then cotton swabs, Dad's dandruff shampoo, and a whole bunch of embarrassment-inducing-sweat foods like smelly cheese with caraway seeds in it, liverwurst, onion meat, and the like. She didn't write down the crunchy chocolate muesli, but I'm going to buy it anyway.
Okay, the supermarket is obviously packed, so I push my cart to the checkout and sit comfortably in line for half an hour. Then I finally load everything onto the conveyor belt, careful not to get a blush, pay, put everything back in the cart, stuff everything except the toilet paper into a bag, tuck the toilet paper under my arm, and just make sure I get home quickly and unnoticed.
So with my head down I burst out and... OUCH!!
Shit! Everything falls out of my hand because something stops me from bursting. Since my head is still down, I see liverwurst, cotton swabs, and cheese lying on the sidewalk. Dad's dandruff shampoo is peeking out of his pocket, along with tomatoes and various packets of sweets I didn't even buy.
Totally disoriented, I sit on the sidewalk, bravely lift my head a little bit and am...close to a heart attack.
Across from me, a guy is just getting up. The guy I must have collided with.
Wait a minute...a guy...collided?? AHHH...the man of my life!! THAT has to be him. Except he doesn't have black hair, which is to say, I don't know if he has any hair at all, because he's wearing a pretty dorky-looking gray knit cap.
"Man, I'm..." I begin, ashamed.
"Embarrassing," he mutters.
"Does me..."
"Sorrow."
He grabs tomatoes and sweets, stuffs everything back into his bag, and holds out his hand to help me up.
»I didn't even...«
“Seen,” he beams.
Huh? Why is he beaming at me? And why is he completing my sentences?
I stand again, staring around awkwardly. What was I just about to do before I looked into his face? Into those insane blue-gray eyes?
He bends down and hands me some stinky cheese and cotton swabs with a smile.
Oh dear...how incredibly EMBARRASSING!! Red-faced, I stuff the disgusting stuff into my bag.
"Thanks," I mumble, sweating even though it's about three degrees below zero outside.
»It was mine...«
"Guilt," I say, managing a failed smile. It must look horrific. He's still beaming and, as the height of embarrassment, hands me the family-sized pack of toilet paper.
I immediately want to bury myself in the ground, toilet paper and stinky cheese included. There's still chocolate granola lying on the sidewalk. I'm just about to pack it up when he grabs my hand. "Sorry...ahem...that's mine."
Oh my god! Now I'm going to steal his chocolate granola too!!
"Sorry," I say, and I feel like crying.
"No problem."
We stand facing each other and look at each other. I notice that he has a very beautiful face. Smooth, soft, and caramel-creamy.
He's not that old, maybe seventeen or eighteen, his cheeks are flushed... probably from the cold. I think it's adorable. I think he's adorable.
"Well then," he says.
"Yes," I say, somehow unable to move my feet. I think I just forgot how to do that.
"I have to go," he smiles.
"Yes," I say, feeling the toilet paper pack under my arm.
"Okay," he says, walking past me while I'm still trying to figure out how to do it with my feet and watching him.
After a few meters, he stops, looks up at the sky, shakes his head, and comes back. He puts his bag on the ground, reaches into his pocket, then takes my hand.
The toilet paper falls down. He nervously clicks out the refill of a ballpoint pen and scribbles something shakily in my palm, winks at me again, picks up his bag, and leaves for good.
I've forgotten my own name, I'm staring stupidly at my hand and I don't even understand what those numbers are.
WOW...it's starting to dawn on me. That must be his phone number!! I can't believe it! The guy has long since turned off somewhere and disappeared from my sight. I'm still standing there, come to, pick up the damn toilet paper, and float home.
In my room, I carefully write down the numbers three times, check them at least ten times with the numbers in my hand, and think about what to do.
When should I call him? Today? No, then he'll think I need it. In a few days? No, that doesn't signal much interest. Tomorrow? Yeah, that's fine.
Wait a minute...is he even...gay? I mean, I don't know. Just because he gave me his number...that doesn't mean anything. Maybe he has a girlfriend or a sister looking for a boyfriend and that's her number? Or he purposely gave me the wrong one because he's an asshole who's always messing with guys who storm out of a supermarket armed with toilet paper.
God...I would have loved to see his hair. It just has to be black. Man, he's so handsome. What an amazing smile...and those eyes...and that nose...and those rosy cheeks... I feel strange because I realize I've met the man of my life.
With sweaty fingers, a sick stomach, and faint spells, I sit by the phone, the three pieces of paper with his phone number in my hand. I dial the number, it beeps, and I immediately hang up. So, it's a real phone number.
Okay, take courage. I have to do this now. I dial again, it beeps, and I slam the receiver down.
Shit, I'm a fucking scaredy-cat.
So let's go. I take a deep breath, exhale, pick up the receiver, dial the number, and wait... a woman's voice answers.
Oh my god! It suddenly occurs to me that I don't even know his name! Who am I supposed to ask? In a panic, the receiver falls back onto its hook.
Shit, shit, shit! What now? I can't really say, "Hello, does the man of my life live with you? He has no hair but blue-grey eyes, is gorgeous, and bought tomatoes and chocolate granola yesterday."
The poor woman thinks a madman is calling her.
I could keep calling until HE answers the phone. But what if he never answers the phone, or he's not home right now and won't be back for three hours?! I can't call every two minutes for three hours and then hang up. Dear God...help me!
I decide to try again. Another woman's voice, and I hang up. Again, it's her, and again I hang up.
This happens about six or seven more times.
I feel really bad about harassing the woman like this and decide to give it a rest the next time.
I dial, I wait, I hear a VERY unfriendly "Yeah, damn it."
Oops, that's not her, it's a male voice. I have to think for a moment about what to say.
"Hello...hey, is this the guy who calls twenty times and hangs up? If you don't answer right away, I swear, I'll come through the fucking phone and punch your fucking face in."
That's definitely HIS voice. I can tell by the little squeaks it makes. "Hello," I say quickly.
He snorts. "Who's there?"
"I... I mean, you... you gave me your number... yesterday... in front of the supermarket." Silence. My heart stops.
"Oh...oh...sorry. But this asshole keeps calling and hanging up. It's really annoying. I'm sorry."
I'd rather not say that I'm such an asshole.
"Hmm...I see."
"Hi...nice to hear from you," he squeaks.
Oh my god...he likes me calling?! WOW!!
"I...I didn't think the number was right," I say honestly.
"Why? Do you think I'm such an asshole that I give out fake numbers?"
"No...uh...certainly not. I meant, I didn't think you'd remember me."
"Oh, because I write my number on the hand of every guy I bump into, right?"
"No...of course not."
Shit, how do I get out of here?
"I just wanted to say that...I mean, I...um..."
"That no one wants my number and you're the only one who's ever called me?"
Damn, he's misunderstanding everything!
As I sweat to death, I hear him laughing loudly. "That was a joke...sorry. Tell me, are you feeling nervous?"
"Yes, you could say that."
"Well, that's just punishment."
"Punishment? For what?"
"Well, you made me wait so long and I'm sitting here with a big grin because you finally got in touch."
Oh shit...is he flirting with me??
"Hey...are you still there?"
“Hmm-hm,” I say.
"Nice...that reminds me...what's your name anyway?"
Simple question...even I can answer it easily. "Constantine."
"Oh...ok, Konstantin...would you like to meet me...have some hot chocolate or something?"
"Uh...sure."
"Hmm, you didn't ask, but I'll tell you anyway that my name is Danilo. It might be interesting for you to know."
"Sorry...I completely forgot...uh...sorry."
"When do you have time?"
Shit, not too early, but not too long either. "Maybe...the day after tomorrow?" I ask timidly.
"Hmm...it's...no, that takes too long," he answers firmly.
»Okay, morning.«
"Sounds better. Where and when?"
"Uh...say around five at the Lux?"
"Lux...where is that? I haven't lived here very long."
I explain it to him as best I can.
"Yeah...I'll figure it out. Okay, all right."
What now? Say goodbye? I don't want to hang up yet. I'd rather hear his voice.
"Okay," I say.
"You...I have to go, I still have a lot of stuff to do," he sighs.
"Yes...I understand. So then..."
"See you tomorrow, then."
"Yes, see you tomorrow."
...
»Konstantin?«
»Hm?«
"You have to hang up now."
"How come?"
"Well, because, as I said, I still have things to do and I can't always be the first to hang up."
Ohhh...I love Danilo.
"Okay, I'll hang up now."
"Okay, see you then."
"Yes, see you then."
...
»Konstantin?«
»And?«
"Would you please hang up now?"
"Sure...see you tomorrow. Bye."
I manage to put the receiver down.
Man, my head is spinning.
Man, that voice gives you goosebumps.
Man, he's cute.
Man, I don't even know what to wear tomorrow.
God...please let him have hair, and please let it be black. Danilo doesn't have green eyes, and I don't remember a dimple either. But he has to have black hair!
Great, I just changed my clothes for the fifth time. Everything looked completely crap. Now I've decided on black corduroy trousers and the purple shirt with the silver star. Not because they look so good, but because I'm running out of time. I'm already panicking because I'm probably going to be late. And I hate being late like the plague. Saskia, for example... she's always 20 minutes late to every meeting and then doesn't even apologize. That's disgustingly rude. I'm not really a fanatic about good manners, but being late like that is just not okay. But Saskia is a stupid, puking cow anyway.
The main thing is that Danilo doesn't leave immediately if he doesn't see me. I grab my scarf and coat, throw my black backpack over my shoulder, and set off.
Great...it's raining.
I hurry through the streets in a bad mood.
Great...it's snowing.
I run faster.
Great...it's hailing.
I hate winter!!
Anyway...move on...I'm already a quarter of an hour late.
As I nervously shift from one foot to the other at the last red light, a shit-show-off sled speeds past me...through a huge puddle...and I look like I've been dragged through a drain.
Homeland! Is this "Hidden Camera"?
Changing clothes again isn't an option, so I grit my teeth, swallow my anger, and carry on with wet clothes.
Ahhh...that's the Lux ahead. I can see it through the hailstorm.
People look a bit amused as I push open the door and walk in. I want to shove hand grenades down everyone's throats.
My gaze wanders around the entire café...where is he?? As calmly as possible, I stroll through the rows of tables and...aha, there he is, sitting, reading. He looks as fresh as a daisy.
Black shirt and black corduroy pants...quite tidy and completely dry. I hope he even is; he looks completely different without the knitted hat.
"Uh...hello," I say as I stand in front of his table.
Danilo looks up and...bursts out a laugh.
"You should have told me you were going swimming first," he giggles.
"Very funny," I remark, taking off my wet coat and sitting down.
He waves to the waiter and orders hot lemon.
“Because of the feared cold,” he explains.
Oh...how thoughtful and caring! I love him, even though he doesn't have black hair, as I've noticed. His hair is...hm...multicolored. Medium blonde mixed with chocolate brown...completely natural-looking highlights. His hairstyle...short but not too short, with long bangs that he keeps sweeping to the side. A trendy haircut like "Tocotronic"...a "Hamburger School" look. He looks nice, but his hair...is definitely NOT black.
Meanwhile, my lemon is in front of me. To break the awkward silence, I want to ask what he's reading, so I reach across the table for the book and...knock over the glass.
"Ow...shit," I exclaim, my face turning red. The lemon soaks the book. I frantically wipe it while he...laughs. He can barely contain himself, places a napkin on the wet side, and puts it out of reach.
I sit there, keep my hands under the table and don't dare to move in any way.
"Wow...are you always so hectic?" he grins.
"I'm sorry..."
I feel like crying. Crying and never stopping.
The waiter brings a new lemon, but I don't touch it. Who knows what will happen if I do...
"I...I'll pay you for the book," I say quietly.
"Nonsense. Don't stress about it...it's just a book I've already read three times."
"I'm such a clumsy person."
"Stop it and drink your lemon."
I don't dare take my hands out from under the table.
Danilo takes the glass and holds it up to me. "Come on," he grins and winks, "a drink for Danilo, huh?"
My one hand moves to the glass, reaches for it, and feels soft fingers that don't let go as I put it to my lips and...promptly burn my mouth.
"Ow...damn it," I hiss.
Danilo puts the glass on the table, crosses his legs, leans back and stirs his cocoa slowly.
God...why is he staring like that? I'm blushing again, or maybe I'm still blushing. Hard to say.
»And...have you calmed down a bit yet?«
"So-so," I mumble.
"Will you tell me what happened? I mean, why are you so late and anyway...I don't know anything about you."
"I walked through the rain, then through snow, then through hail, then a car hit me...so just the water splashing up. Sorry I wasn't on time."
"Well," he smiles, "under the circumstances, I'll forgive you. And what else do you do when you're not causing chaos?"
»Going to school, parties, friends, celebrating...«
»What.«
Shit, now he thinks I'm shallow.
»But most of the time I'm at home reading...«
Shit, now he thinks I'm a homebody. God... I'm doing everything wrong. "What do you do?" I ask bravely, without stumbling.
"Hmm...I just finished high school and...uh...I'm thinking about what to study."
"Finished high school? How old are you?"
"Nineteen...shocked?"
»No...I just assumed...I mean...«
Damn, he's three years older than me. That might not matter in ten years, but when you've just turned sixteen, three years are almost insurmountable. He's probably been with a lot of guys and chicks. Right now, I feel like a stupid kid.
"I hope you're already sixteen," he says.
»Hm-hm.«
"Good, then I don't have to worry... about seducing minors," he grins.
Okay, that was a joke...he didn't mean it like that. He certainly doesn't want to...seduce me. "Do you have," I lick my lips because they're terribly dry, "a...girlfriend?"
Danilo snorts a laugh, which sounds super cute. "No...you?"
»Nee.«
He looks at me skeptically. "Tell me...why do you think I gave you my number?"
"No idea."
He seems to think for a moment. "Let's go."
I'm going to puke! I messed up! Shit!!
After he pays, we stand outside. Luckily, it's stopped raining. Still, I'm freezing cold because my clothes are still pretty damp.
"Okay," I begin tearfully, "I have to go that way. See you...see you then."
Danilo just looks at me, I turn around, take a few steps and feel his arm on my shoulder.
"I actually thought we were going to my place. Or are you out of time?"
Curious...
"Well...yes...I just thought that..."
Sighing, he grabs my hand and simply pulls me with him.
The entire way, he doesn't let go of my hand, and I don't walk; I float. I keep staring at him. He's adorable. Soooo handsome in his knee-length black coat and scarf. This sweet red, white, light blue, and dark blue striped velour scarf.
I could melt away - if it wasn't so freezing cold.
He stops in front of a pink, stucco-decorated Art Nouveau house, rummages in his bag, and unlocks the door. I love these houses; they always look like cotton candy. I love Danilo for living in a house like that. It's unthinkable if the man of my life lived in a gray, monotonous building.
"You live in a cotton candy house," I blurt out and immediately bite my lip, but Danilo beams at me and nods.
"Isn't that amazing? I always wanted to live in a house like this as a child."
"Me too," I sigh, looking up at the ornate balcony.
"Come on," he demands, so I follow him, climb the six flights of stairs, and wait, panting, until he opens the apartment door. As I walk in, one of my sleeves gets caught on the doorknob, causing me to recoil and hit my head.
"At..."
Danilo, who is already in the apartment, comes back and helps me free myself, then closes the door.
“Is everything okay?” he asks worriedly, putting a hand on my head.
"Yeah...it's okay...stupid door..."
"What's that rumbling?"
A girl appears in the hallway. Damn pretty. A small, barely there figure, short, tousled honey-blonde hair, and a flawless model face.
“Konstantin hit his head,” explains Danilo.
"Oh...bad?"
God, this is embarrassing!
His hand buries itself in my hair, ruffling it. "I don't think so, do you?"
"No," I answer embarrassedly and blush.
"Maria...this is Constantine. Constantine...Maria."
"Hi...nice to meet you," she smiles.
"Ha...hello."
"I made lasagna...do you want to join me?"
Danilo looks at me. "Shall we?"
I don't even want to imagine what could happen.
"Hmm...I don't know."
“So yes,” Maria states.
We go into the spacious kitchen, where the first thing I notice is a huge refrigerator. The kind you always see in American movies. And, as is only right, there are lots of funny magnets and notes stuck to it. Then I notice that the kitchen is painted in two colors: two walls pink, two light blue. There are angel pictures stuck everywhere, cherub heads, and colorful pictures of saints in gold frames... Kitsch to the point of nausea, but I'm delighted. I don't mind living here with Danilo in the future.
Maria sets the table and heaves a huge pile onto everyone's plate. Not hers, that is, because there's only a small portion. So she's one of those terrible calorie counters. I already suspected that, given her figure.
"Maria," laughs Danilo, "who the hell is going to eat all this?"
She just shrugs her shoulders and sits down too.
The first few bites go easily and without a catastrophe, but then the misery begins. I accidentally bite my tongue, but manage to hide it quite well. Then the lasagna on my fork lands not in my mouth where it should, but on my shirt.
What's wrong with me? I'm not usually such a clumsy, clumsy idiot. "Damn it," I hiss, fishing the pasta-cheese-and-minced-meat pieces off my chest. Maria and Danilo grin at each other. I want to go home to my bed and not get up for the next hundred years.
After dinner, we retreat to Danilo's room...WOW!! The color scheme almost brings tears to my eyes. Bright orange walls, deep blue carpet. AWESOME!! I hope he doesn't go crazy when he opens his eyes in the morning.
I'm sitting on his bed, still wiping the lasagna stain.
»Konstantin?«
"Yes?" I ask, looking up.
"Would you please stop that now and just relax?"
"Sorry, I..."
"And stop apologizing all the time," he interrupts. "Really, everything's fine."
My pants are still damp from the rain, and I secretly feel the blanket under my butt and realize it's no longer dry. Can I please die?!
"I...I'll wet your bed."
Danilo looks at me in shock. "Oh shit...do you want something dry to wear from me?"
"Nah, I...maybe I should just leave...before more disasters happen."
"God," he sighed, "you're a real tough case."
"I'm sorry..." I bite my lip because I wanted to apologize again.
Danilo moves closer. "And you're the sweetest thing I've seen in a long time."
"Me?" I ask incredulously.
"Sure... or is anyone else here?" His hand ruffles through my hair. "How's your head?"
"Okay," I say.
»Konstantin?«
»Hm?«
"Would you like to kiss me?"
"Uh...now?"
"No, next Tuesday...I just wanted to ask," he grins.
His face comes closer, his lips brush mine, I feel warm all over, my nose tingles, I...shit...I have to sneeze.
Danilo shakes his head, stands up, and rummages around. "Here, put this on. I'll make you some tea in the meantime."
My pants and shirt are lying on the bed next to me. I just have to reach out and touch them, but somehow that suddenly seems like a total effort. I'm so warm and a little dizzy...a little more, I'm hot, I'm sweating...God...I feel weak. I slowly tip over to the side and lie there for no idea how long.
At some point, something strokes my hair. It's Danilo, who's looking rather worried.
"Hey," he whispers, "are you okay?"
"Sleep," I mumble, "I...I...I don't feel well. I'm going home," I say, trying to get up but it doesn't work. I feel too dizzy.
"All right, Maria will drive you." And so she does, or rather, I accept it, because I don't really notice much in the car.
Perhaps I should mention that I tend to be VERY sick whenever I'm sick. So a simple cold that others have running around doing who knows what will knock me out for at least two weeks.
Anyway, at some point I'm safely in bed. Mom frantically rushes into the room, shoves a thermometer down my throat, brings me lemon and honey, puts cool compresses on my head, and gives me some kind of flu medication.
I suffer, groan, sleep, doze, sweat, freeze, don't want to drink my lemon, but I have to. My shirt is lifted, something slippery is rubbed on my chest, and on my back too. I'm covered up again, sleep, doze, sweat, freeze, and drink my lemon. It burns terribly in my throat. I want to protest, but only manage a pitiful croak. I feel acute laryngeal pressure, a freight train is racing through my skull, the bright sunlight is almost killing me.
I have no idea how many days and nights this goes on for; I've lost all sense of time.
At some point I feel a little better.
And then suddenly the door opens and...Danilo enters my room.
“Well, you dying swan,” he greets me with a smile.
Ahhh...he looks good. Mmm, and he smells so fresh when he sits down by my bed.
"Hi," I croak and cough a little.
"Still so sick?"
"It's going ok."
"Your mother told you to drink the lemon. Oh, and she told me to tell you that she has to stop nursing for a few hours because she has something to do. I told her I'll take over the job until then, so...drink up!"
"I never thought I'd see you again."
Danilo sighs. "You think too much."
He waits until I've finished half the lemon, then casually kicks off his shoes (oh my god...he's wearing red and white striped socks...CUTE!!) and takes off his black sweater. A black shirt appears, and the Pink Panther's face grins at me.
I love Pink Panther and I love Danilo and...oops, he's crawling under the covers with me! Oh no! I haven't washed in days, I've sweated into my duvet, my hair is greasy. I'm a total creep...and he smells so clean, sweet, and fresh. Ashamed, I move away from him and against the wall. My bed is so big that there's now a noticeable gap between us. That is, my Little Polar Bear hot-water bottle is actually in that gap, which I immediately, very red-faced and ashamed, hide behind me.
Danilo slides closer and pulls me to his chest, gently brushing greasy, sweaty, and dirty strands of hair from my forehead.
"No," I say miserably, "I'm totally..."
"Shy?" he asks with a grin.
"Nee...gross and smelly."
He sniffs around me, which makes me so uncomfortable that I want to die immediately.
"You smell like eucalyptus," he observes, his lips touching my neck.
"Wow...you smell like a koala bear...oh...that's sooo cute, Konstantin."
I remember Mom smearing me with that cold paste.
Slowly I begin to relax, I feel comfortable in Danilo's arms.
Still, what does such a beautiful, perfect person want with a disaster like me?
"I was really worried and...I felt really guilty."
"How come?"
"Well, you only got sick because we had a date. If only I had given you dry clothes sooner..."
"Oh...I'm sick all the time. I've gotten used to it by now."
»Konstantin?«
»And?«
Danilo leans on one arm, casually brushing his bangs to the side. "I know this is probably not the best time, but...I really can't take it anymore. I mean, I've been waiting for days to...to finally kiss you. Our first attempt went a bit...uh...off."
I blush as the memory returns. "Did I... sneeze on you?"
He laughs. "Yes, a little, but it doesn't matter. I've experienced worse. Maria once spat cocoa on my head while she was laughing...and I had just washed my hair."
Oh...I want to kiss him but...I don't dare. I've never kissed such a beautiful boy. I've never kissed a boy at all.
"No," I say, "you'll just catch it from me and..." I can't go any further because I feel his lips on my mouth. God, they're soft and sweet and warm and wet and...ahhh...the tip of his tongue gently feels for mine, touches it and...WOW...little fireworks ignite all over my body! After three seconds, I'm addicted and hanging on his mouth like a junkie.
We kiss, smooch, suck, nibble, and nibble until we can barely breathe. I feel dizzy, which is definitely not due to the flu.
"Constantine...we have to stop."
Shit...he doesn't like the way I kiss!
"How...why?"
His lips touch my ear. "Because otherwise I can't stop, and this is neither the right place nor the right situation for that."
Oh my goodness! My cock is... oh dear, I hope he doesn't notice. I'm moving away from him just to be on the safe side.
Danilo's hand rests on my stomach. "But since I saw you, I can't think about anything else."
His hand starts moving, moving down a little. My cock is... oh no, it's already there. Huh?? Didn't Danilo just say this isn't the right place? Besides, this is definitely going too far for me.
Hey, what's up? I'm only sixteen and still a virgin, so I'm probably allowed to be a little nervous about my first time, right? So I hold his hand, which is to say, I push it away.
"Sorry," he says contritely, "it's just...you're so incredibly sweet and I...sorry."
"My mother could come in at any moment with a hot lemon," I explain, trying to grin.
"Oh...I completely forgot." He suddenly smiles dirtyly. "Your mother isn't even here. But I get it. I mean, we have time, right? I think Sister Danilo should say goodbye for now..."
He puts on his sweater, then his shoes. I feel like shit.
"Are you...angry?" I ask tearfully, but he shakes his head.
"Nonsense." He ruffles my hair. "Everything's fine. We'll talk on the phone, okay?"
"Okay...when?"
"Later," he says, kisses me on the mouth, puts on his jacket, winks at me again, and leaves.
I was just about to stretch out and dream about the beautiful Danilo when the door burst open and a herd of elephants came roaring in.
"Hey, dude...everything okay?"
Oh God! Martin, Phillip, and Saskia are standing in my room. Well, they're not standing anymore...Martin is sitting on my desk chair, Phillip collapses onto my bed, panting, and drinks the last half of my lemon, and Saskia...she looks kind of confused.
“Who was that just now?” she hisses.
"Thank you, I'm feeling better," I declare angrily. Man, they can fuck off.
"Yeah, yeah, don't exaggerate. You're always on the verge of dying when you have a mild cold, so...who was that guy?"
"Which type?"
"The one who opened the door for us? Hair like this...pretty face..."
Shit, of course she means my Danilo.
"That was an acquaintance."
"Since when do you have acquaintances I don't know about?" she asks suspiciously.
"Don't we all have our little secrets?" I smile, and she looks at me as if she'd bitten into a dead rat.
Honestly, I think it's totally crap that she's messing with Martin like this...with his supposed best friend. Should I tell him the truth? I mean, I feel sorry for Martin, but...I actually don't care about him at all. Let him figure it out himself...it certainly wouldn't be that difficult. Sometimes I think he just doesn't want to realize it.
After a horrific hour of teenage chatter about what's going on at school, when the next party is, what drugs are currently popular, who wants to fuck whom or not...I'm finally alone again. Not for long, though, because Mom comes in and asks how I'm doing.
"Better...I just want to sleep."
She hands me the thermometer and waits patiently. "I didn't know you had such nice friends."
"Hmm?" I say.
"This Danilo...very polite young man."
»Hm-hm.«
"Does he perhaps have a sister?"
»Mh?«
"Well...I'm just saying, you're getting old enough for a girlfriend, and I don't want my son to fall for someone like Saskia."
Mom can't stand Saskia, which I don't blame her for. Still, she should stay out of my private life.
To distract her, I present her with the thermometer, which she examines critically. "No more fever. You can go back to school next week. Sleep well, sweetheart."
Yes, but only after I call Danilo...