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Somehow, I had bumblebees in my head. Big, loud bumblebees. They gave me a headache, and the sunlight streaming into my room didn't exactly help.
That party was truly amazing, but the champagne and red wine had left their mark. I slowly sat up in bed, trying to avoid any hasty movements. What had happened last night? A lot, actually, too much, and only gradually did the memories return. You only turn eighteen once in your life, but the fact that you always tend to exaggerate...
I smelled of perfume. A strange perfume, quite sweet and overpowering. It clung to me everywhere, and somehow it disgusted me.
I threw back the covers, stood up very slowly, and pulled the fabric cord next to the four-poster bed that rang the kitchen bell. It usually took less than ten minutes for Mortimer to appear with breakfast.
The sun in my eyes really hurt, but I forced myself to look out the open window anyway. Out into the beautiful nature on that summer morning.
Eighteen, I thought. Grown up. A man. Or not yet?
I stepped in front of the large mirror and looked at myself. Had I grown a year older last night? No, I decided. Twenty-four hours ago, I had looked exactly the same. Not quite as crumpled, but otherwise...
My medium-length, blond hair stood out in a mess. I ran my hands through it and had to grin. Jane once told me I had bristles like a wild boar. She hadn't meant it seriously, but she was right. The blue eyes I inherited from my mother weren't the pure white they usually were. They were more of a reddish tint. I bared my white teeth, which I was really proud of, and stuck out my tongue. Stupid alcohol. My gaze wandered over my body in the mirror and I decided it was time to get a bit of color back on my skin. The few hairs on my body were gathered on my sternum, and not much else was around my belly button, from where they disappeared into a narrow strip in my shorts. I reached into my pants and made sure that underneath everything was the same as yesterday. Everything was fine.
I took a deep breath. What would change from today? More rights, more responsibilities? I'd already had plenty of those. And even more from now on? I suspected that my carefree years were over. The end of my good life, and I hadn't even managed to sleep with a girl yet. I'd had more than enough chances, but something held me back. Well, my relatives were happy about it, even though I could have lied to them about it. But this ultra-conservative society preferred it best if people didn't engage in premarital sex. For moral reasons and all. And then the endless headlines when the paparazzi caught you kissing or when you'd had one too many. I could hardly change my appearance; it was immediately documented on page 1 of "The Sun." I would have also liked to wear an earring or have my hair highlighted, like many of my classmates. Go to the swimming pool after school, just do stupid things. Riding out with my horse, all alone. The only time I was truly alone was in the evening, within my own four walls.
Sometimes it was weird. I was lying in bed, enjoying a good jerk-off, and there were millions of people out there imagining exactly that.
"I wonder what he looks like naked?" Well, tough luck. Very few of them will ever find out. Unless I deliberately let myself be caught by a paparazzi. And then I'd be in the Sun for days. I just couldn't think of a headline for that. Even weirder was the idea that I could make a lot of money doing it. First the money, then the photos. And then disappear, once and for all. South Seas. Hawaii. Only cocktails on the beach...
"Good morning, Wallice," Mortimer greeted me, whom I had invited in after knocking.
He rolled the silver tray trolley to my table and bowed politely. Mortimer had been a servant of the house since time immemorial and was always friendly. He had turned seventy this winter and was still one of the old guard. I had asked him years ago not to address me by my title; I simply felt too young for it. I liked Mortimer because he was neither pushy nor arrogant. And yet there were quite a few around me who possessed such negative qualities. Most of the bodyguards were incredibly proud of their right to protect me. Yet I often thought I could do without them. Who would want to harm me? Sure, there were anarchists, crazy types like that, who didn't give a thought to why they were trying to kill someone. But if they really wanted to, they'd get to you anyway. Even a few monstrous piles of flesh around you didn't do much good.
"Thank you," I said briefly, because that word alone scared the bumblebees away again.
As quietly as he came, Mortimer disappeared, and I sat down at the table. How long could I be alone today? Alone with myself? Ten minutes, a quarter of an hour? I dreaded the festivities. Celebrating my birthday was entirely my own plan. My best friends, no one else.
Shadows in my mind became colorful figures. With every sip of coffee, the evening became more vivid.
Anne. My best friend. Pretty, intelligent, from a good family. But I didn't like the way she talked to me that night. She was getting her hopes up, and that's something I can't stand. I even thought I heard the word "dowry" used.
Beatrice. Short, chubby, red hair. Irish descent. Not my type, but at least she wasn't pushy or vulgar.
Jane was even more so. She was also the one who had transferred her perfume to me. She was constantly hanging around my neck, trying to kiss me, and constantly pretending to be my future wife. I didn't dare say that I could never have her. But she would soon realize it anyway.
Rachel. She was my star tonight. Tall, slim, with a narrow, even face framed by long, chestnut-colored hair. The sister of my best friend Peter. I'd known her for a long time, yet it seemed to me as if we had only just met. I constantly sought her company, but somehow she avoided me. Maybe she was far too shy to be with me in public the way we usually did. Or maybe she thought things with Jane were serious.
But something else happened that night that I couldn't get out of my head. Something I hadn't thought possible. And yet it happened.
Steven, a school friend, was also at the party. A quiet, level-headed young man. About my age but a little shorter, slim, with dark hair, brown eyes, and... Well, somehow, he was always around me, along with Jane.
Anyway, I went to the bathroom at midnight, and when I came out, he was standing in front of the door with his arms crossed. He had this weird expression on his face.
“Are you not feeling well?” I asked him.
"No, I don't."
"Do you want to be taken home?"
"No. I don't feel sick, if that's what you mean."
"Then what is it?"
Steven suddenly looked at me in a way that made me feel completely different.
"It's you," he said casually.
"What do you mean? Did I misbehave?"
Despite the diffuse light, I saw that his eyes were moist.
"Nonsense, you can't do that."
"Yes, but what is it then?"
He came up to me, put his hands around my waist and before I knew it, he kissed me on the cheek.
He stepped back abruptly, but his eyes suddenly shone.
"I kissed Prince Wallice."
I must have stood there like a pillar of salt. Somehow, I was used to getting kisses like that from all sorts of people in my extended family. I liked most of the people who did it, but this was something completely different.
The realization that Steven might be gay wouldn't affect my friendship with him. He suddenly looked genuinely happy, and I was kind of happy for him. If you could cheer someone up with such a small thing, then that was fine with me, too. I hugged him in return.
"Hey, Steve, no matter what your feelings are, you are and will always be my friend."
He smiled gorgeously and beamed at me with sparkling eyes.
»Ehrlich?«
"If the prince says something, then it is so."
We stood there for a long time until Peter stepped in front of us.
"Hey, are there any problems?"
I broke up with Steve.
"Not really. Steven has a little problem, and we just sorted it out."

---

“Come in,” I called when there was a knock at the door.
My father stood in the doorway with a strange grin on his face.
"Well, young man, did you sleep well?"
I nodded, and he certainly guessed how I was really feeling. His eyes scanned the room. Of course, he must have hoped I wasn't spending the night alone in my bed; I could clearly see that. He also expressed his disappointment that his expectations hadn't been fulfilled.
He just waved briefly.
"When are you coming down? The Scotbys are on their way."
I swallowed. Yes, the Scotbys. The entire nobility of the country. From my grandparents down to the sirs and lords.
"Give me some time, the night was long."
"Yes, but not for too long. The press is also on the prowl. And you know, you can't always escape them."
"Yes," I groaned, "I know."
There was nothing I hated more than the public, and the worst of all were reporters. It was practically impossible to avoid them, especially on a day like this.
I stepped in front of the mirror again. No, nothing had changed.
The long shower afterward was primarily dedicated to that horrible perfume. Even as I dried myself off, it still seemed to cling to me. I would definitely avoid Jane if I caught even the slightest hint of that almost pungent scent again.
I looked out the window of our Folthmore estate in Gloucestershire, southwest England. Being a prince isn't exactly easy. The world is watching you, whether you like it or not. A lot of cars had pulled up by now, most of them probably belonging to those hyenas, as I aptly called the reporters. Cameras were being set up; it was a real commotion. I gazed longingly into the forest that stretched far behind the estate. My greatest wish at that moment was to disappear in there. Perhaps it would pour with rain and this bunch would get soaked to the bone. But it was a beautiful day, and going into hiding was out of the question anyway. A prince second in line to the throne couldn't escape the mob. People want to see him, to be part of his life. Maybe I'm part of their dreams, too. The dream of endless lazing around, spending money, and all the fun you supposedly have. And every woman in the world would be at your feet. If only they knew... And all I wanted was peace and quiet. Studying like thousands of other boys, without having to endure those secret glances. And the whispering, too. The girls were often beyond annoying. On more than one occasion, I'd locked myself in my room and cried. Begging to be like everyone else out there. But it didn't help. Future Prince of Witham—and one day, King. Did I really want that? Was that my destiny?
Sure, I had a lot of perks. A lot of them, in fact. My work abroad. I had priority, no matter what club I was in. They tried to anticipate my every need; I wasn't denied anything.
What gave me the most joy were the regular visits to children's and animal shelters. There was no sensationalism, no envy, no excessive politeness. I was able to be the person I truly am.
But there was also the other side. Although I didn't yet have any real responsibilities, and the throne and its associated responsibilities were far away, every day I became more aware of what would come my way.

---

They stood in the castle ballroom, my dear relatives from all corners of the country. From the Lord to my grandmother, the Queen of Witham. And the cuddling began. I took it bravely; after all, I didn't have much choice. I was pleased to spot Peter in the crowd. My best friend was never far from me, and I valued him as the person I loved most. His presence meant security, comfort in difficult times, joy, and fun. He was also the one who comforted me for days after my mother died. I don't know how I would have managed without him. Peter was related to me very distantly, through a thousand different connections or so. We'd known each other since we were children, and I think I would have given up the throne for our friendship. Now I saw him, discreetly in the background. Sometimes he seemed like a bodyguard to me, because he hardly let me out of his sight. And I needed this closeness, on this day more than usual. I would have loved to grab his arm and run out. Anywhere, just away from all this. But a prince isn't allowed to do that. He's not allowed to do so many things. And if he was, then only under observation. Often it was only in the tiny cubicle of a toilet somewhere on some special occasion that I could be alone for minutes at a time. Then I would close the door, sit down on the toilet lid and listen to myself, try to forget everything around me for a few minutes. Think about my future and my life in general. But whatever I made up in my head – shortly afterwards I was back in the spotlight.
»Steven?«
I suddenly looked into the boy's face. I had expected everyone to be here, but not him. But of course, he was my great-aunt Agnetha's son, after all, why shouldn't he be here?
There they were again, those brown eyes, that smile. And a look I couldn't interpret. I'm rarely prone to goosebumps, but there they came. It enveloped my entire body for a few seconds, then was replaced by a very pleasant sensation. Suddenly, I felt his kiss again and realized that it hadn't been unpleasant. Jane's perfume had been much more of an unpleasant sensation.
The banquet that evening was just as dramatic. Luckily, Peter sat to my right, Steven to my left. I had requested this seating arrangement and had encountered considerable resistance from some family members; after all, the seating arrangement had been planned weeks in advance. But that didn't really matter to me that evening; no one was more important to me than those two. Well, a few dirty looks came from Julie, one of my numerous nieces. But she's really not that great. And from Sarah. Well, there's no accounting for taste. She's pretty, sort of, but just as dim-witted. Nothing attracted me to them, and the aristocratic people around me viewed these things with disapproval, even if they didn't officially admit it. There was a fear that one day I might bring a commoner along. That couldn't be allowed to happen. Basically, it was regulations like these that often annoyed me. And putting on a brave face was particularly difficult for me.
My presents were the highlight of the evening. Dad gave me a new VW Golf, the very one I had adored so much when I was shopping in Dover weeks earlier. I won't list the other presents; that would take too long. But I have to mention Peter's bracelet. Made of copper. It was supposed to keep me healthy for a long time, and I was more pleased about it than all the other things. Well, Grandma insisted on giving me a computer. I was pretty familiar with those things, but I hadn't had one of my own yet. Why should I have one? I was rarely at home.
What a celebration they had. After the various speeches from my father and some uncles, the evening dragged on. Luckily, the whole thing devolved into a kind of standing party, so I was able to sneak away with Peter and Steve for a while. I felt like having a cigarette and a strong glass of red wine. I could have drunk it on its own, but it tasted better surrounded by people who meant something to me.
We sneaked into the kitchen, where I was never normally present. The cooks almost fell into their pots when we showed up there late at night. I felt like they'd been paralyzed with an electric shocker. But after a few words of explanation, the mood lifted, and we had a truly wonderful hour together. We smoked like crazy with the cooks, drank sherry and wine, nibbled on lobster tails, and spooned caviar. I hadn't felt this comfortable in a long time.
Slightly tipsy, we returned to the ballroom. No one had really missed us; there were too many people there.
My father stepped in front of me.
"You know we're starting our European trip in four weeks?"
Sure, how could I have forgotten? Luckily, nothing highly official this time. A visit to the Airbus production facilities. Hamburg, Toulouse, Illescas, Cadiz. A week to see something other than just politicians, and somehow I was actually looking forward to it. And the best thing was – none of my nieces or other hangers-on were there. My grandmother, father, the finance and education ministers, and then the usual entourage. I wondered about some of them, though, what they were doing on such a tour, but it wasn't up to me to decide—not yet. In Hamburg, a reception with the German Chancellor was scheduled. Oh well, whatever. I'll survive, I thought to myself. Peter didn't have time, which I was very sorry about, because with him by my side, everything would have been even better. After all, we were very interested in aviation, and I wanted to become an air force officer one day.
It was well past midnight when the first guests left, and I was dead tired. I still hadn't fully digested the previous night, and I was really glad to be getting into bed. Steven had left early; he was also completely exhausted. Peter followed shortly after, and from then on, of course, things got really boring.
It was finally three in the morning before the last person left the house. Feeling completely exhausted, I pulled myself up the railing to my rooms on the upper floor. I could no longer see or hear anything.
But I couldn't sleep for a while. I had 20 text messages on my phone, and of course I had to read them first. Almost all of my friends from university had contacted me. Steven was one of them.
"Hi Wallice. I hope you're doing well after such a stressful night. I wanted to apologize for the kiss, it really slipped up. But... I don't think you're holding a grudge. Or do you see me differently when you're sober? I didn't want to ask you that tonight, it was so nice. Have a good night. Cheers, Steve."
Aha, sure. He was afraid I would still hold it against him. I didn't. I lay down on my bed and read the message a few more times. I saw Steve again, felt his gentle, soft lips on my cheek. Saw those sparkling eyes, that smile.
I turned off the light and turned on my side. Even though I was so tired, I couldn't get Steve out of my head. I had so many other things to keep me busy. My presents, my new car, the trip through Europe. No, Steve was stuck in my head like a Band-Aid, blocking the flow of other thoughts.
Again and again, his face appeared before me. That cute little snub nose, those eyes. And... did I just smell him? Not perfume. I ran my trembling fingers over the spot where his kiss had landed. Was it just now? Was it even there? What was happening right now?
Stirred by my emotions, I stood up and went to the window. A few lanterns in front of the house provided enough light to see the bodyguards making their rounds. One of the men raised his hand and waved to me cautiously. These people missed nothing, absolutely nothing.
And at that moment, a curtain rose. It slid silently upward, as one sees in a play. Behind it, another world revealed itself to me.
What happened the other day in Dartmoor? The Prime Minister had invited me to a reception. I don't remember the reason, but it doesn't matter. Anyway, I was walking towards the entrance next to my father when a young bodyguard stood in front of me. He stared at me and nodded very furtively; no one but me noticed. Then he stepped aside and let me pass. Well, at that moment his face appeared again in my mind's eye. He had been a very handsome young man, but I only realized it then. I had met him a few times that evening, and it was always that look. From then on, I knew that I was attracted to him in the same way; I had simply ignored it.
"You can't be gay," I told myself quietly. "You're not allowed to be. Blue bloods are never gay."
The guard kept looking up at me at the window. He could only see my shadow, because it was dark in my room.
Did they realize what might be wrong with me? Didn't I once read that gay men can sense when their own kind is nearby? Did Steve only kiss me because he was sure he would?
I felt hot. Very hot. Why weren't Beatrice, Jane, or Rachel vying for me in my head? That would have been logical.
I sat back on my bed and stared at my phone. I had to answer Steve, no matter what.
A flash of lightning lit up my room. Was this a sign? Was something I'd never expected beginning? And what if it really was?
It would probably remain my secret for life. I had to find a noble woman, marry her, and have children. That was what etiquette demanded. A gay prince? In this country? Never.
Thunder confirmed to me that I hadn't been dreaming. From that night on, my life would look different. No, not one life. Two. The one the state wanted to see and the one I was truly living. My life.
I felt tears in my eyes. Not that they were tears of disappointment in myself or my feelings. No, it was nothing but the certainty that I would never be able to be the person I truly am.

---

It was the second morning in a row that I wasn't feeling particularly well. But this time it wasn't just the alcohol that was to blame.
"Hey, is something wrong?" my dad immediately wanted to know when I walked into the dining room. He was always a good observer, which sometimes got on my nerves.
I couldn't tell him what was going on, never. He was one of those arch-conservatives who abhorred any kind of alternative lifestyle. And gay people were at the top of that list anyway. Admittedly, I'd never given it much thought, because I had no contact with them.
With them? Thinking like that sent shivers down my spine. I belonged to them, even if I might not have wanted to admit it at the time.
"No, it's nothing."
I sensed that he didn't believe me.
"Here, read this," he said, handing me a list. The itinerary of our European trip.
"If you want to make small changes, do so early. You know the minutes have to be ready three days in advance. I'll leave you now; I have to go to Parliament. See you then."
He stroked my hair, something I'd never minded all these years. That morning, for the first time, I flinched at the touch, and Dad noticed.
But he just grinned from ear to ear.
"Aha, my boy is grown up."
With this strange saying he left me sitting there and disappeared.
There were a few interesting things on the list. I was most looking forward to Hamburg. I think I'd been there before, but I could barely remember it. It was cold, and I was grumpy. Somehow, I'd lost my stuffed teddy bear.
"Welcome by the Mayor of Hamburg on the Town Hall Square. Followed by a visit to the Airbus production facility in Hamburg-Finkenwerder. Afterward, a meeting with the Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Germany at the Town Hall. In the evening, a banquet will take place in the Great Hall."
Well, that was fine with me; it certainly didn't sound like stress. After all, that was threatening me from a completely different direction: constant stress with my emotions.
I retreated to my room. Luckily, it was vacation time and I didn't have to worry about things like studying.
I held my cell phone in front of me and was tempted to call Steve. But I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Peter? Not him either, I'd lose him if he found out. I couldn't expect him to understand. Peter was a bit of a womanizer, and I'd often noticed that he liked seeing me in the company of young ladies. Maybe he even had a double wedding in mind, who knew? But the fact that his best friend was gay would probably be a disaster for him. Somehow I could see my chances of survival slipping away. Surely I could keep it a secret until old age. But did I really want that, at the cost of the crown? Admittedly, the idea of being king did appeal to me someday.
But during this time, I also thought about all the others. Those who weren't fortunate enough to grow up at court and had to live in poverty out there. Those who barely had enough money for clothes and food and had to fight the battle for survival every day. Alcohol, drugs, and prostitution were never far away. I was aware of these circumstances, but I regularly repressed them.
"Most people are to blame themselves," I often heard when this topic came up. But I always had the feeling that no one here really wanted anything to do with it.
Every day, there was something about us in the newspaper. Some kind of visit, a celebration, a wedding, or a birthday. Then I pictured the beggars and the stranded in my mind's eye, fishing the newspapers out of the trash cans and looking at the photos. All that food, the outrageously expensive dresses and suits, the beaming faces. How must a person feel on the edge of the abyss?
Maybe I didn't fit in here at all. I was born into high society through no fault of my own. I increasingly hated my fickleness, yet I didn't know how to deal with it.
"There's someone out there who will desire and understand you," I heard myself thinking.
Out there? I could never be there.
My cell phone rang.
"Hello Steve."
"Well, my prince, how are you this morning?"
I was happy to hear his voice.
"You shouldn't always call me Prince," I complained into the phone.
"But you are."
"Yeah, okay, what's up?"
I swallowed. There was nothing I longed for more than him, and nothing I feared more intensely.
"Tomorrow is a fox hunt. You're definitely there?"
Fox hunting. It was a nightmare, and I hated it. I loved animals, no matter what form they took, and foxes especially. These cunning, secretive creatures; they had a right to life like the rest of us. But the nobility saw it differently. Not that they didn't like those little dogs, but they had been hunted for hundreds of years. And somehow, no one really cared about the brutality of this "sport."
But I had to go; we were expected to participate once a year. Everyone was really excited about this day, and I was the only one who kept my deep dislike to myself. Well, Steve had complained the last time, too. He'd said something about murder, but we had no way to escape the carnage.
"Yeah, sure, I'm in."
"Great. We're riding together, right?"
"Secure."
"Is something wrong?"
"No, Steve, it's nothing. See you tomorrow."
Of course, Steven was sensitive enough to realize that something was wrong with me. I suspected that Steve was only riding along because I was there.
I threw myself onto my bed. There was nothing I hated more than fox hunting, but I couldn't exclude myself from it. Even a prince can get sick sometimes. I began to think of a simple yet effective cure.

---

There was no illness involved. A look in the mirror that morning was enough for me; I looked the picture of health; no one would have believed I was sick.
So I put on my riding attire. I thought it suited me very well. Just not for this occasion.
And the sun was shining. No bad weather, no storm. Nothing that could have spoiled the hunt. I like the sun and summer, but on this day I would have preferred a massive storm.
What always made me happiest were the many dogs, and Fips was my favorite. The smallest of all the dogs. Sometimes I'd put him on my horse when the route became too long for him. He belonged to Lord John, but whenever the little one saw me, he would regularly freak out.
The proud horse stood next to me.
"Hello, my prince," Steven said, so quietly that only I could hear. What did he look like on his black horse? More like a prince than me.
"Hello Steve. You're supposed to..."
"...don't call me prince," he laughed. "But what can I do? You are and will always be."
Steve was a beauty among all the others here; he was simply handsome. That pale face, his dark hair curling out from under his riding helmet, giving the boy a certain wildness. Those eyes, that dazzling smile, and the narrow waist in his riding uniform. Wouldn't I much rather have been galloping with him at a gallop through woods and meadows, always close together? Just for fun?
But the whole group gathered as usual in the courtyard of the stud farm, which was attached to the country estate.
Sparkling wine, red wine, and Campari. The riders fortified themselves with these, and then the race began. Cross-country, followed by the press. And I even thought I saw a camera crew in the yard. They were capable of following us in a helicopter.
Steve and I kept a low profile. What had once been a given for me took on a whole new dimension after his coming out.
In the middle of the forest, we had to stop at a tree trunk lying across the path, and there they were, the hyenas. A flurry of camera flashes, microphones, and questions.
Steve and I looked at each other. All I could say to the reporters was "no comment," and then we both dashed into the bushes. I knew fox hunting was going to be abolished, and that was what the questions were aimed at; but I was just as barred from commenting on it as Steven was.
We rode as if the devil himself were after us and soon after we had left the annoying questioners behind.
We dismounted at a small stream and watered our horses.
Without any words, Steve opened his saddlebags and began preparing a picnic.
"Let them come looking for us, I don't feel like chasing those poor animals. Our people saw we were there, so they couldn't care less."
I knew this would cause trouble. The court rarely forgave such antics, and I didn't feel comfortable. Dad would spank me—even at eighteen.
"Hey Wallice, what's up? Would you rather be with those murderers?"
"No, of course not."
"Then come on, I ordered some treats. But I don't feel like taking them back."
Bread, sausage, ham, smoked fish, cheese, tomatoes, fruit and a bottle of red wine soon adorned the blanket that Steve had spread out.
I sat cross-legged next to him. It was actually wonderful at that moment. But was it just the knowledge of a relatively carefree life? Food and drink? The beautiful summer day? Our horses, leisurely grazing the grass next to us?
No, that wasn't it alone; I felt it exactly. A fascination. Steve was to blame for my mood.
He ate like he hadn't had anything to eat in days. I had a bit of a hard time with that; every time I looked at him, my appetite diminished a little more. It wasn't because he was gay. It was because of me. Beads of sweat ran down my temples.
I watched his hands and fingers as he sliced the ham, quartered the tomatoes, and bit into the bread. His movements were sometimes delicate, and suddenly I felt drawn to him.
"Aren't you hungry? You haven't eaten in hours," he asked after a while, chewing.
"Yes, but..."
He looked at me with his beautiful eyes and I felt completely different again.
"But what?" he asked, nibbling at the fish.
"Nothing. It's nothing."
He dropped his hands into his lap and stared at me.
"What do you mean nothing?"
Suddenly, the smile disappeared from his lips. He stared at me for what seemed like an eternity.
"It's the kiss, isn't it? You reject me and my feelings, right?"
"No, Steve, not at all."
"Then may I find out what it is?"
"Let's open the wine," I said.
How Steve managed to get real glasses all the way here without breaking was a mystery to me.
We clinked glasses, his expression unwavering. He sensed something bubbling inside me, but he had no idea what it was.
After the alcohol had caused a pleasant burning sensation in my stomach, I couldn't hold back any longer. We were alone out here, no one could see us. And Steve was worth it.
I placed my hand on his arm, which earned me an incredulous look. I looked into those brown eyes, studied his eyelashes, his nose, his sensual mouth.
When Steve started blinking so funny, I let myself fall. Into a world I didn't yet know, but wanted to get to know. Slowly, our heads moved closer together.
"Steve, I don't know either..."
He held his index finger to my mouth.
"You don't have to talk now."
His kiss on my lips was tender, like a warm breeze that day. I almost didn't feel his hands stroking my back. But they were there.
It only took a few seconds, but they were enough to reveal my true feelings.
I ran my tongue over my lips.
"You taste totally fishy," I grinned.
"Well, that's your own fault," Steve laughed back. "If you'd eaten it, you wouldn't have noticed."
Gradually I started to get hungry and a little later there was hardly anything left of the picnic.
"So you like boys too?" Steve asked me after a long pause.
"I think that's probably how it is. But you already knew."
He looked at me thoughtfully.
"Didn't know—hoped. You've been on my mind lately, and I had no idea why. Until now."
His eyes suddenly widened.
"Shit."
"Hey, you don't say that."
"Yes. How do you plan to do that? If the press finds out, you can emigrate."
"Whether she finds out or not, I'm going to do it anyway."
He opened his eyes wide.
»Was?«
"Do you think I want to put down roots here? With a woman I can't love, with brats who annoy me day and night? No, Steve, I've already decided. I'll finish college in three years, and then it's time to call it a day. We can keep it a secret until then, right?"
He stroked my hair.
"Okay, I get it," he said, his disappointment with my plan evident.
I should have expected that, but it didn't matter anyway.
"And what about Peter? You'll have to tell him," he finally said.
"Not before. We're friends, yes, but if I tell him, it's over."
"Are you sure?"
"No, of course not. But in terms of percentages, as far as his acceptance goes, I see three zeros in front of him. He'll avoid me. And the later that happens, the better. I'll just live with a lie for so long, but I can't think of anything else."
We looked into each other's eyes for an eternity.
"What did you actually want to express with that kiss?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you intended that kiss; it was hardly coincidence or spontaneity."
He grinned.
"No, that was purely intentional."
"And did you do that because... because maybe you love me... a little?"
Steve shrugged.
"Come on, we have to go."

---

Dad's lecture that evening had been as expected. How dare I leave the entourage and so on.
"Wallice, I don't want you to go it alone. You have responsibilities, and you have to face them. Besides, you're eighteen now..."
I knew what was coming.
"You know that discipline is expected of you. We all hope that you don't break the honorable line with any escapades."
Suddenly he became very quiet.
"If you have to hang out with girls, please don't... just any girl off the street. There are plenty here who are your equal."
That was it, and I just nodded obediently, almost boiling over. It wasn't my dad speaking, it was the mob. They were demanding it. My father was by no means an angel of nobility. I knew there were parts of his past that appeared more than just gray. But apparently, he only wanted to warn me about the consequences of such missteps. But it was no use to him. No daughter-in-law, no grandchildren. When would I have to tell him?
After I finished my studies, I was truly on my own two feet and able to take care of myself.
My underlying fear that everything would come out through Steve was wearing me down. How much could I trust him? Was he so happy with our "relationship" that he'd blurt it out at an awkward moment? Unfortunately, he often hung out with the court's biggest gossips, and he wasn't a calculating type either. But I had to rely on his silence. Pointing it out to him again now would be seen as a breach of trust, and I couldn't do that to him.
The fact that he didn't answer my question about whether he loved me a little also bothered me. I couldn't say there was any love involved, at least not on my part. I liked him very much, no doubt about it. But love?
One day after the fox hunt, Peter came to visit, with Baroness Sonja von Altstetten in tow. Another old noblewoman, of German descent but living here. Peter was truly a womanizer; every month he dragged a different woman into the spotlight. But I didn't care.
Until this very evening.
I never really felt any auras or anything like that, but something inside me shrank when I saw this strange Sonja. Aside from the fact that she let her arrogance show in good time, I didn't like her whole demeanor. And she didn't like me, from the very first minute.
It was stupid that I'd once read that women could sense a man's homoerotic desires quite clearly. Not all of them, but not a few of them either. And I felt like she had seen through me from the very beginning.
"You've been more talkative before," Peter pointed out to me at dinner. I simply didn't dare to speak as freely as usual. This woman set off all the red lights in my head, and I sensed that she posed a certain danger. Her nature was perfect for destroying friendships. Jealousy at its finest. I didn't dare look her in the eye and avoided every unnecessary word.
Later, when I went to my room to check my phone, Peter suddenly appeared behind me.
"Tell me, what's wrong with you? I've never seen you like this before."
I looked at him, perhaps for the first time through the eyes of a gay man. Peter was a bit taller than me, slim, with dark blond hair. Only now did I really notice his blue eyes, his mouth. Was that the urge to kiss him?
I was ashamed of my thoughts, from which he then tore me.
He grabbed me quite roughly by the arms.
"Sonja is a beautiful, lovely woman. But you don't have to worry about me dumping you because of her. We're friends, don't forget that."
I venomized him.
"Oh yeah? Her looks... if they could kill. What did you tell her about me?"
He swallowed and stared at me.
"What's with that tone? And what am I supposed to have said? The usual stuff. What we do... But tell me, you haven't usually worried about this sort of thing, have you?"
"No, that wasn't necessary there either. But with her, it was. She's jealous of me, even a blind man with a crutch can tell."
"You see ghosts."
"No, Peter, I don't. She's not for you. I'll give you four weeks, then the sparks will fly."
He grabbed me even tighter and shook me.
"Say, do you spin?"
"No, definitely not. Now please leave me alone, I don't want to face her again."
He ran to the door and closed it.
He slowly came to me.
"Wallice, what on earth has gotten into you? There's something wrong with you."
I sat down on the bed and buried my face in my hands; Peter didn't have to see my tears. I'd never cried in front of him, nor he in front of me. But now it was time; I was breaking through. If he was defending his Baroness and ignoring my warnings, then he might as well know the truth about me. Peter would keep quiet, I knew that. We wouldn't be able to be friends anymore, but I could count on his discretion—and I didn't have to endure Sonja's closeness anymore.
He took my hands and pulled them away from my face. I was really embarrassed looking at him with my wet face, but I didn't have the strength to resist.
He took me in his arms and hugged me.
"Idiot. I always told you I'd never let you down. I'd rather send women to hell. You're far too important in my life."
His words only made things worse.
"Would you still do that... if you knew... that your best friend was gay?"
Fog appeared all around me. A cold, gray fog, and it obscured my thoughts and feelings. It was as if I no longer had any legs. I was just floating in a monotony of space and time.
Peter's embrace didn't break. He still held me tight, stroking my back with his hands, while my arms hung limply at my sides. I wanted to, but I couldn't, touch him. Perhaps also out of fear that he might misunderstand.
The door burst open. I flinched at first, then all I could see were angry, glaring eyes. Normally, I would have verbally escorted this woman out of the property, but I was simply speechless at her impudence.
Peter's embrace loosened and he turned around.
»Sonja?«
"Aha. Very interesting. What's going on here? Is our gay prince trying to seduce you?"
On the one hand, I couldn't believe it, but on the other, my suspicions were confirmed. It was even worse than my wildest dreams had predicted. Now it was up to Peter to get the situation under control.
"What nonsense are you talking about? How did you even come up with that?" he then asked.
"What? That your so-called friend is gay? I already knew, even before I met him. You just have to look closely at the photos. Or watch him on TV. He's after you, right? Great. The future king is gay."
She leaned provocatively against the doorframe and crossed her arms.
"Peter, don't let anyone know. They'll drag you into this, and then you'll have to start working as a garbage collector."
I stared at him; Peter, my best friend...
Seconds later I knew I had lost him.
He slowly turned around and looked at me. He did this for a long time, his breathing visibly nervous. He seemed to be fighting a bitter battle with himself. Here was his best friend of ages, there was a surely pretty woman. Yes, and he could do a lot more with her than with a gay man. I felt Peter moving away from me. Slowly but surely.
Again he looked over at Sonja, who was still leaning against the doorframe. She was expecting a reaction, no matter what kind. Peter knew she'd talk if he told her to go to hell because of me. He couldn't care less about me, but that bitch would claim he was gay. That wouldn't work, of course, so I turned away from him and went to the window.
"Peter, it's better if you go," I said quietly, and the fog was still there. Or were tears feigning it?
I felt his eyes on my back. Sonja said nothing; I wouldn't have listened anyway. Losing your best friend was probably not something she'd ever know. But at that moment, I wished on her everything you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. I ruled out Peter; he couldn't act any differently.
"What is it? Didn't you hear him? Come on, this environment is driving me crazy."
Every word she spoke was like a dagger in my chest. If Peter had been Steven, I would have killed her, under that door.
"How dare you? Don't forget where you are," I snarled viciously.
For a moment she seemed perplexed, then she put on this disgusting grin.
"How could I forget? Sorry, I'm standing opposite Prince Wallice. Unfortunately, he seems a bit out of character. And does he have the right to talk to normal people like that?"
When Peter didn't move, she ran to him, grabbed his sleeve, and pulled him behind her. Until that second, I had hoped he would choose me, but he didn't. His fear was too great, and I understood him. My anger was focused solely on her. She probably still had those medieval genes in her blood that favored witch burnings. She certainly would have loved to see me burned at the stake.
I stood at the window for a long time, watching the two of them get into the car. Peter looked up at me once, then they roared out the exit.
I had no more tears. Deep down, I knew this wasn't goodbye forever, couldn't be. He would soon throw that bitch out, no matter what the argument. Maybe he was smart enough to find out something about her past. The smallest thing would be enough to silence her.
I had to wait; we were far too attached to each other. So I almost considered this process a plan.

---

For the next three weeks, I was busy with visits, conferences, inaugurations, and openings of numerous institutions. Peter visited me a few times without his new acquaintance, but we never spoke about that evening. I only felt the wall that had built up between us. Apparently, he was more attached to her than to me, and although I regretted it, I had to accept it.
I rarely saw Steve; he said he had to study hard because his grades weren't the best.
The evenings had been the worst so far. Dad was apparently in some kind of new relationship, and I was happy for him. After all, it had been five years since Mom died, so why shouldn't he be allowed to fall in love again? The only reason for the fire was because his new girlfriend wasn't from the court. This really stirred up the mob again, and I stopped reading the latest news about his romance in the gossip magazines.
For these reasons, he did not want to take her with him on the trip.
The European trip was slowly approaching. Finally, a change, finally something different to see. On the one hand, I was thrilled when Peter told me on the phone that he could come along after all. On the other hand, there was a damper because he wanted to take his Sonja with him. Well, I would stay as far away from her as possible. By now, I'd also acquired a small emotional cushion that allowed me to take the whole thing less seriously.
The day before departure was, of course, hectic as always. I didn't have to gather my clothes; the valet took care of that. Partly because I couldn't wear what I wanted anyway, it didn't matter. At best, my underwear had a chance. And I took advantage of it. Fine retro dresses and white T-shirts were in.
That evening, Dad told me he was proud of me and that he wanted me to be his representative once he ascended the throne. It was kind of strange, because I loved my grandmother and hoped she would rule this country for a long time to come.

---

The next morning, we drove to the airport in six limousines. It was pouring with rain, but according to the weather forecast, the sun was shining in Hamburg. I was looking forward to the trip, even though I knew Peter and Sonja would be in one of the cars. Dad, Grandma, and I drove in separate cars; we didn't want to take any risks. Even in our country, you weren't always safe everywhere. So we flew to Hamburg on more than one plane.
Landing in Hamburg. The plane with Grandma and the MPs was already there, then we arrived.
The sun was indeed shining, and the reception was truly overwhelming. I walked alongside Dad and Grandma, greeting the guard battalion that had formed a long line next to the red carpet. I surreptitiously glanced at one or two of the guards. There were some handsome boys among them, albeit a bit older. It was a good thing that no one could read my thoughts at that moment.
The mayor welcomed us, along with a number of other dignitaries, and after the usual ceremony, we drove in a procession to the town hall. A surprising number of people stood along the side of the road and waved to us. Again, my eyes searched for something that would gladden my heart. But there was nothing. No boy who could have granted my wish. Girls, women, older men. Sure, who else would be interested in us? Thanks to Grandma's new computer, I learned online that I had many female fans in Germany. Sure, it would be a good match... "...the very handsome Prince of Witham is apparently still single..." it said. And that's why they were all there that day. Because of me...
Admittedly, it was a nice feeling. Still, I often thought about Steve sitting at home studying. Was he thinking about me too? I sent him a text message from the car.
The cars stopped right in front of the town hall, and again I was amazed at how many people were gathered there. They shouted and clapped, but I didn't miss the fact that there were also banners against us in the distance. "Stop the fox hunt," I could read. Yes, people here were against this animal cruelty, too, and I was secretly pleased by this demonstration, albeit small.
We walked towards the entrance of the town hall and suddenly I saw some boys enthusiastically waving flags.
I don't remember why, but one of them had a magical pull on me. His face, his hair, his figure, the look in his eyes. Steve lost all of his importance in that moment. As if compelled, I headed toward him, my eyes fixed on his. It was like an inner command. As soon as I was within arm's length, he grabbed my hand.
At that moment, a flash blinded my eyes, followed by a deafening bang. His grip hurt, almost like a vice, and he pulled me into the crowd. Suddenly, all around me were screaming people. I turned around and saw the bodysuits quickly dragging my father and grandmother away. Peter ran to a lifeless body in the street, and for a few seconds, I thought of Sonja.
Screams filled the air, into which a thick, black cloud of smoke rose. Unimaginable panic surrounded me, but the vise still gripped my arm and began to pull me along. No one paid any attention; I had become part of these panicked people. This stranger pulled me further and further along in the stream of the fleeing crowd.
Sirens, helicopters, loudspeaker announcements. Sweat was pouring down my body, and after the shock, I was slowly starting to panic myself.
But above all, who was the young guy who was constantly pulling me along with him?


Axel--
Hamburg,

(before
a
Month)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I woke up on this crappy morning feeling completely worn out; yesterday's party had been pretty intense. The whole thing with Felix was particularly bothering me. Did this incident have to happen in the bathroom?
The fact that I gave him a blow job was fine. But that relationship stuff I then blurted out with my broad head. Crap.
I had zero desire for a relationship with Felix and was talking such nonsense. Like, I loved him and all that. I guess I had a lot to set right.
I pushed these thoughts aside for the time being, because my primary concern now was to do something about my headache. So I went into our kitchen and found my roommates already there.
Living in a shared apartment had its advantages and disadvantages. One advantage was that I got away from my parents. One disadvantage was that I lived with arguably the two sloppiest people on the planet. Together with me, we formed the infernal trio. The kitchen looked accordingly. Pots, bowls, and plates were piled up on and in the sink. Some things came to life just by looking at them.
I had to throw up and ran to the bathroom. This sight, coupled with my hangover, was just too much for me.
After throwing up and brushing my teeth, I went back to the kitchen, where two malicious faces were already grinning at me.
"Well, did you have a rough night?"
The person who said that was Shokki. His real name is Rainer. But since the name didn't suit him at all, and he wasn't even 40 yet, he used that nickname. Shokki was our tinkerer. He tore apart everything he could get his hands on. Unfortunately, he then had trouble reassembling the devices properly.
I only had to think of my DVD player, which he wanted to repair. Now it was lying nonfunctional in some corner.
Then there was Jo (from Joachim).
Jo is a cerebral person, a brooder. Before he does something, he thinks about it for hours. He considers all eventualities, and once he's finished thinking, he starts over.
The two could talk for hours about any topic of global politics, preferably at night, with a bottle of red wine and some weed to smoke.
We'd known each other since childhood. Even though we were very different, we complemented each other perfectly. Each had their own strengths and weaknesses, which we tolerated.
I hadn't yet discovered my strengths, but I had discovered my weaknesses. And there were quite a few.
Men.
Meaning: my dick-ven thinking. But enough of that.
"What kind of night?" I was still not quite there and got an aspirin from the cupboard.
"Well, last night? You seem to have had a rough night."
"How come?"
"So, because of the vomiting?"
"When I see you this early in the morning? Is it a miracle?"
"Early morning?" The two laughed. "It's 3 p.m."
"I told you, early morning. And what did you do yesterday?"
"We didn't do anything, we just did things," Jo clarified, sipping his tea.
"Sure. When was the last time you had contact with a female? In the last century?"
I should also mention that they both like women. Well, not everyone can be perfect.
"Not everyone has to whore around like you."
"So what did you do? Play do-gooders again?"
"I've never seen such an apolitical person as you, Axel."
"Bal blah, what are you trying to accomplish?"
"Here," said Shokki, and handed me an article from Attac. Something about the British royal family, but I wasn't particularly interested. I found the picture of Prince Wallice much more interesting.
"Hmm, he's cute. I definitely wouldn't say no to him."
The two looked at each other in disbelief and shook their heads.
"I think if you didn't have your dick, you wouldn't have a brain at all."
"Why? He's really cute!"
"You're not supposed to look at that aristocratic ass, you're supposed to read the article. Do you actually know how much tax money the royal family wastes on such nonsense as receptions, etc.?"
»Well.«
"You don't care either, do you?"
"Not really."
"What they're doing is pure money-wasting, for nothing."
"Hmm, the tourism industry benefits from this."
"Tourism industry! When I hear that."
It wasn't too difficult to get Jo really angry. He likes to get worked up about this and that. About everything, really. I usually left him alone and pissed off. But what did he have against the tourism industry? Hadn't he just flown on vacation with LTU this summer?
But I probably shouldn't have mentioned that, otherwise he would have beheaded me.
The two of them started arguing, and I felt somehow out of place. So I left them alone and went to my room.
I needed to talk to Felix to clarify this matter, so I called him.
“Felix Brückner,” he answered the phone.
»Hi, Axel here.«
"Oh, back from the dead?"
"Don't ask, I still feel like shit."
"I can imagine, the way you got there yesterday."
"Yeah, it was shit. Can we meet somewhere?"
"At your place or mine?"
"I was thinking more about the main station?"
"Yeah, okay, when?"
"About two hours?"
"Okay, should work, in front of McDoof, Wandelhalle?"
"Great, see you later."
»Jupp.«
The concourse of Hamburg Central Station is the main station, housing several shops and restaurants. McDonald's is located on the first floor, which is more of a gallery. It's a perfect meeting place, as travelers tend to hang out on the ground floor or walk through it breathlessly.
Another advantage is that the main station is the hub of Hamburg's subway and S-Bahn network, making it relatively easy to reach.
I arrived at the station half an hour early. I slowly trudged up the steps of the gallery and went to the passage next to McDoof. There I leaned on the railing to watch the trains coming and going. I kind of like train stations; they always gave me a feeling of wanderlust. Another thing I liked was people-watching. I would then spin little stories about the people waiting or milling around there.
Who could the elderly man on the corner be waiting for? His grandchildren, whom he'd invited to McDonald's? His wife, who was out shopping? Or one of the numerous prostitutes hanging around?
The young girl who was also leaning against the railing five meters away from me. I wondered if she had a boyfriend yet. She was probably just waiting for her friends to come back so she could gossip about other boys.
Most of the time, I was completely wrong. The older gentleman was greeted by another older gentleman with a kiss on the mouth. I had to grin.
The girl was picked up by a woman, probably her mother.
My gaze fell on a guy reading a newspaper. A huge headline on the front page of a famous tabloid:
"Queen Patricia visits Germany." Below is a picture of her, her son, and her grandson, who would presumably also be coming. Prince Wallace. Wow. This guy is a real hottie.
My thoughts wandered and I thought of Felix again. He's sweet and nice, which is probably why I couldn't imagine a relationship with him. Felix is just too sweet. There were simply no points of friction that could have caused us to clash. He would rather back down than start an argument with me, and I didn't need that. I needed someone with rough edges, someone my equal. But I had to find someone like that first, and that was easier said than done. It wasn't like I had any real problems getting to know someone. But usually it was just for one night. I really am incapable of relationships, like Jo and Shokki always claim.
The list of my relationships is really short. Just one. Wow! I was with Sven for three months, and things were going really well. Until the day I got into bed with someone else; my dick had won again. Sven somehow got the hang of it. We had a huge fight, and we eventually broke up, or rather, he broke up with me.
The list of my sexual partners is, um, longer. Much longer. I can't even get them all together anymore. I guess I'm actually quite a slut in that regard.
Basically, I hated myself for it. The evening was always nice. Getting to know each other, the new body, the sex itself. The morning after was just shit. This guilty conscience was literally eating me up. A guilty conscience because I couldn't give the other person what they might have wanted: a relationship.
I had sex with a boy for the first time when I was 15. It was a classmate who I'm still friends with today. I'd never given girls a single thought. I'd always known that I was gay. Coming out didn't bother me either. I just did it without giving it too much thought. It was harder for my parents. That was one reason why I moved out of home when I was 18. That was a year ago. My parents have come to terms with it now. What else could they do? It was positive for all of us that I no longer lived at home and that we saw each other every day. That took our relationship in a different, more positive, more distant direction.
Felix came towards me with a big grin.
He hugged me.
"Hey, nice to see you."
Somewhat embarrassed, I grinned back and said:
"It's nice that you have time."
"Sure, always for you. Where do we want to go?"
»Hmm, ins Schweinske?«
»Okay.«
Schweinske is located right next to McDonald's and is a restaurant chain serving home-style food.
We sat down at a table and ordered from the waitress. Felix had a salad with roasted turkey breast, and I had spaghetti Bolognese.
»Axel?«
»Hmm?«
"Well, tell me, what's going on?"
"About last night, what I said."
"You mean your declaration of love? It was really sweet."
Oh shit, how was I supposed to get out of this? I tried a different approach.
"That was shitty of me. I don't love you and probably never can."
So, the hard way. Yes, I'm a callous jerk sometimes.
"You spoilsport!"
Now I was surprised by this answer.
"What? A spoilsport?"
"I really wanted to watch you fidgeting around for hours—and you? You're ruining everything! Damn."
"Oops, that was the last thing I expected."
"Sure, you don't really think we're even remotely compatible, do you? Well, I certainly don't. And then your rambling yesterday, wow, so awful, no, Axel, we just aren't compatible."
"I know, but I still love you very much."
"I love you too. But please never again have a scene like yesterday, okay? If you want to have sex, just say so, and that's it. You don't need to interrupt yourself like that."
"Hmm, okay. Friends?"
"Forever."
And once again, my understanding of human nature had completely failed me. Perhaps I should work on that. While I had expected the worst: whining and whining, I was now completely taken by surprise.
Inwardly I made three crosses, and the rumble of the stone that had been lifted from my heart could probably be heard for miles.
It's funny how you can be mistaken about people.
We said goodbye shortly afterward and promised to stay in touch. This contact then turned into seeing each other almost daily.
So it happened that I hung out at Felix's most evenings, and we talked about everything except sex between us. It became a taboo subject. A positive one. We were friends and no longer sexual partners, and that helped us progress enormously.
What took a huge back seat was shared apartment life. I used to be able to talk to them about anything—really anything. About our sexuality, even to the point where Shokki liked to jerk off in the bathroom. Why? I don't know. He just liked looking at himself in the mirror while doing it. Period. Well, we knew the smallest of secrets about each other. And now?
We were silent. No, or rather, they were silent. Somehow, I felt like the fifth wheel.
Well, we were growing up—whatever that meant. But like this? That it would ruin our friendship? Then I don't want to grow up!
It wasn't that the two of them were hostile towards me, it was more a vague feeling of no longer being understood.
We increasingly talked past each other. The worst part was that we all understood it, but no one did anything about it. The problems were increasingly silenced. Whereas before, we could have spent hours discussing who had what problems with whom, today we just kept silent.
We grew distant from each other. Yes, we lived together, but no longer with each other.
Other topics became more important to the two of them. For example: We were watching the news together, which included a short report on a fox hunt in England. On the TV pictures, I also saw Prince Wallice hunting with others. There had been a long-standing debate in England about whether this tradition should be abolished. Personally, I couldn't stand this animal slaughter any more than Jo and Shokki. But the two of them were once again working themselves into such a rage that I mentally tuned out and looked at the prince. He didn't look particularly happy either. Hmm, maybe he hated hunting just like most people. And I voiced this suspicion out loud. Now I had become the enemy, and the two of them attacked me. So much for talking past each other.
The stupid thing was that I probably suffered more from this situation than the two of them combined. I still loved them. Like brothers. Which they once were to me – since I never had any siblings, they became a damn good substitute.
What I also liked was our apartment. A classic old building, with high, stucco-decorated walls. Four rooms with a long hallway, a bathroom that was too small but a large kitchen. Hardwood floors in every room, which we painstakingly sanded, resealed, and polished when we moved in.
And our neighbors… a topic in itself.
Directly across the hall from us is the Grabner family, probably the most normal people in the house. Both in their mid-30s, with two boys: Tom, 17, and Sascha, 16. Corinna, our neighbor, was pregnant at 17, had her other baby at 18. Sven, her husband, didn't run away right away, but got married—well, that's still possible.
The two of them were now making up for their lost teenage years. They were out on Fridays and Saturdays after 10 p.m. To discos. I probably would have done the same. The kids are grown up, so what the heck.
The two of them were already pretty good. In some way—presumably mentally—they were still 25. They both exemplified that.
The two "children" couldn't be more different. Corinna still claims today that they must have been mistaken for one another in the hospital. I had already come to that conclusion—if only it weren't for their physical appearance. They looked like brothers and acted like them, too.
Sascha, the younger of the two, shagged anything that wasn't nailed down, preferably in his room on Fridays and Saturdays after 10 p.m. Mind you, it was the opposite sex, whose screams then echoed throughout the house.
Tom? The exact opposite. While Sascha was very extroverted, Tom was very introverted. Actually, he was the cuter of the two, but he'd never brought home a girlfriend. Let alone vomited all over the stairwell; unlike his brother.
Personally, I was leaning toward the idea that Tom was gay. Why? My understanding of human nature. Ha, ha.
The Harlings lived above us, a retired couple who'd apparently been married for ages. Mrs. Harling had a budgie with whom she had lively conversations. Her husband, a notorious complainer, hadn't spoken to his wife in decades. Is that why they're still together? Hmm, no one knows.
Across the street from Harlings lived Mr. Sachsleer, or the Phantom, as we called him. A man who came home from work, closed his door, and that was it. No visitors, nothing, just always at home.
When you rang his doorbell, he didn't open the door. A loner, Shokki once suspected he was a typical "Messi." Well, as long as no rats are running out of his apartment? Let him do it. To each his own.
Susanne lived below us. This woman had really given us a headache at first. Single, extremely attractive, in her early 30s, very well-groomed, a top-notch woman without a job. Jo guessed she'd inherited the apartment from her husband. She'd given the doddering old man in bed a little help so he could finally get off his feet.
Until one day, at 2:00 a.m., I saw Susanne in her work clothes. A whore straight out of a trashy novel. But that's exactly what she looked like. High heels, fishnet tights, a miniskirt, a red leather jacket, all very figure-hugging. We met in the stairwell, and at first I didn't know what to say, but then curiosity got the better of me:
"Hi, Susanne, need to pick someone up?"
"Hi, Axel, no job!"
"You're going to work as a prostitute?"
"Yep, why? Didn't you know?"
"No! And where?"
»Herbertstrasse.«
"Herbertstrasse? Oh shit."
"Why the hell? There's nothing better."
Susanne looked at her watch, then at me and finally said:
"Hmm, a customer at this time of night is unlikely, so it's time to call it a day! Wouldn't you like another glass of red wine, Axel?"
"Cut down."
So it happened that Susanne invited me to her apartment and we talked.
Her apartment was WOW! There's no other way to put it. Modern and cozy. White leather furniture on white tiles, pictures that were probably real, not art prints, adorned the wall. I was particularly taken with the pictures hanging there; their cozy colors contrasted with the rest. Indescribable, but somehow everything fit together. Almost too perfectly.
What made this apartment cozy were these little things: cushions on the floor, perfectly coordinated with the wall colors. Candles, and more.
Simply beautiful.