2025-07-11, 08:59 PM
Okay, take a deep breath and let's go. I've been working on this plan for weeks, it's perfect. Nothing can go wrong. I'm just going to march up to him, ignore the mob of women around him, and... say what needs to be said. Yes, I will. As soon as my feet are ready. Move along, you assholes! The shaking of my legs is anything but convenient. No matter. I stagger unsteadily through the common room of the disgusting student residence, secretly glad I don't have to live here. I'd rather have a cheap mini-apartment than a room in this concrete box. Anyway... ah, there he is, lounging on the couch like a damn pasha. A girl is creeping up to him from the right, one from the left. I wouldn't be surprised if a few pearl barley were crawling at his feet too. Let's face it... Nico is very popular with the ladies. There are several reasons for this. First of all, he's Italian, but not a tanned Giovanni Zarrella Italian, but a handsome, pale-skinned, almost anachronistic Italian with medium-length, dark brown curls that, depending on the light, take on a reddish shimmer. That brings us to reason number two... Nico is gorgeous. Reason number three is certainly his name... Niccolo Da Silva... I mean, that sounds really made up... like a young aristocrat in 17th or 18th-century Venice. My real name is so unoriginal and ordinary that I had to pick up a nickname as a teenager. If I'd known Poppy Brite back then, I probably would have called myself Zillah or Ghost. Oh well.
Back to my plan. Damn, seeing Nico made me completely forget what I wanted to say. An apology might have been a good place to start, because I just tripped over a woman's leg that was conveniently loitering in the middle of the path, and I was forced to brace myself with both hands on Nico's thighs because otherwise I would have fallen. Oh shit, I touched his thighs without asking!
“Oops, young man,” he smiles casually, while the anorexic lady rubs her skinny leg.
“Sorry,” I scream, completely thrown off.
“Nothing’s wrong,” assures the handsome Italian, leaning forward slightly, “Vivien… foot still on, right?”
“Stupid idiot,” she hisses angrily.
By the way, I'm standing in front of him again, fairly confidently. My hands are sweating... thank goodness they haven't left any wet marks on his jeans.
“You’re Feli,” he says, blinking.
Somehow my nickname suddenly seems incredibly stupid. I used to be (around twelve or thirteen) I was incredibly proud of it because I do like cats, and scientifically they're called Felidae. Amazingly, people just accept it when you introduce yourself as Feli and think it's a real name. You could just as well say your name is Snickers, Daim, or Pumuckl... I'm sure everyone would believe it too. I recently saw one of those crappy reality documentaries where a kid with such-and-such a name was called Benvenuto! What the fuck... to assume that at daycare he likes to play with the little one Happy Birthday and the slightly older one Walk In.
“Would you like something?” the Italian interrupts my thoughts.
"Uh... no. Well... yes, I, ahem..." I stammer stupidly, "I need to discuss something with you for a moment. Alone."
“Right now?”
"Sure, but..." I cast two or three glances at the barley, which is still snuggled up to him, "if you're busy right now..."
"It's okay. I wanted to get something to eat anyway. We can discuss whatever you want on the way to the pizzeria," he explains, finally freeing himself from the pushy women. "Wait a minute, I'll just get my jacket."
I'm surprised that Nico knows who I am. The fact that I know who he is is, of course, thanks to Silas, who attends various courses, seminars, whatever, with the Italian. Nico studies musicology, sings, plays a thousand instruments, and occasionally plays in Silas' band when they're experimenting. Oh, and Silas is a punk I picked up in a club three years ago. That is to say... actually, he picked me up... it doesn't matter at all, we ended up in bed anyway, but we quickly realized that while the sex was good, it wasn't enough for a romantic relationship. We've been friends ever since. I'm shamelessly exploiting that at the moment and invite myself to every rehearsal when Nico's there. Silas finds it amusing that I stare at a straight guy and get red-faced when Nico merely walks into the room.
My ears do indeed feel a little warm when Nico comes back. Did I mention that the Italian is gorgeous? That pretty, knee-length coat, that cozy black scarf... I feel dizzy. Unfortunately, he's wearing a stupid knitted hat, but even that can't dampen his beauty. Shit, what was my plan again? My brain is kind of frozen solid, it's arctic temperatures outside and there's a bit of snow lying around. Besides, it's the beginning of March! That's because of climate change, global warming... my parents always say. In the past, thirty years ago, it was never warm until November and cold until May. There were fewer hailstorms and generally fewer hurricane-force storms that uprooted trees and blew roofs off houses. My father, who also likes to complain about environmental and air pollution, logically drives everywhere. For the sake of the environment, I usually take my bike, but without a helmet, which is obviously a bad idea... should you accidentally fall and hit your head hard.
"It must be something pretty important if you're coming to the dorm in this crappy weather," Nico thinks as we trudge through the streets. "You don't live here, do you?"
„Nee.“
I'm not even studying. I was actually planning to... chemistry... but then an inner voice told me I absolutely had to learn the art of haircutting. By the way, it's a cliché that all hairdressers are gay. In my vocational school class, there's only one guy besides me, and he has a girlfriend.
Unfortunately, the pizzeria is only two blocks away. Too close for a conversation.
"Ciao, Tino," Nico greets as he enters the small restaurant and hugs the pizza guy. Afterward, they exchange a few pleasantries in Italian, and Nico orders something. Grappa shortens the wait. Great, I'm not confused enough yet.
When we get back outside with Nico's food, I feel a little dizzy.
"My apartment is ten minutes from here," I hear myself saying, and immediately want to bite my tongue off. Am I crazy?
"Aha," Nico smiles lasciviously. I think that's his normal expression. "It takes five minutes to get to the dorm. Now explain to me why I should walk through the cold any longer than necessary."
Fuck!
"I... ahem... well... well..."
"Persuaded," he beams, making me feel completely dizzy. "Come on, otherwise I'll freeze my ass off. And the food will get cold."
Oh my homeland… the handsome Italian wants to come with me!
Arriving at my tiny apartment, Nico unashamedly takes off his coat, scarf, and knitted hat, carelessly drops everything on the floor, and sits down on the dark blue velvet couch. I play the perfect host and bring him cutlery and something to wipe his mouth with... it's a Halloween napkin. Nico giggles sweetly.
“Get a fork, I don’t like eating alone,” he says.
Okay, so we poke around together at the tortellini alla panna, and over the tiramisu, he finally wants to know what I wanted to talk about with him. Of course, I've long since forgotten. I mean, I actually wanted to ask him if he'd sleep with me sometime, but that question seems kind of inappropriate right now. What I'm saying is, of course, I don't have the guts. I'm just not much of a womanizer, and Nico doesn't look like he'd be interested in being picked up by me, of all people.
“Feli,” he begins, licking the spoon in an almost obscene manner, “is that the nickname for Felix?”
“No, from Sebastian.”
"Please?"
“Feli is just a nickname,” I explain, blushing.
“Sounds sweet, but what does it mean?”
Cute? Did he say cute? Oh dear! Fuck, I can't tell him that stupid cat story now...
“Feli… like Fellini?” he speculates.
"Felidae."
"Ah, I see. Cool movie, pretty intense. Especially the scene where Francis fucks the cat girl."
Funny, I really remember other scenes from the film. Besides, Nico's only been here for three seconds and he's already talking about fucking?!
"To be honest, I found it almost a little erotic. Oh God, don't think I'm into animal sex. I mean... hey, it's a cartoon... forget what I said," he shakes his head.
“I think reality isn’t quite as erotic with cats.”
„Nee?“
"Because... a tomcat's penis has barbs... so you can imagine that it's probably more painful than fun... I mean, as a cat."
Wait a minute, why on earth am I talking to him about hangover penises?
"Wow," Nico marvels, "how disgusting. But female cats are still in heat all the time, so it can't be that bad."
"First of all, they're not in heat all the time, and secondly, nature probably designed it that way... for reproduction purposes. At least cats don't eat their males after sex."
"No reason to get loud," Nico says. "I like cats, okay?"
“Sorry,” I apologize, red-faced.
“Are you always so… passionate?” he grins.
“Uh…” I say helplessly.
“That little punk with his crazy band is a friend of yours, right?”
"However."
“Isn’t he gay?”
Cool, he doesn't even know his name, but knows that Silas is gay?
“So what?”
“So you like guys too?”
That sounded less like a question and more like a statement. Somehow, Nico just beamed himself down a bit from my sympathy scale.
"Why? Because gays are only friends with gays, or what?"
"Feli, you're very easily riled up. I was just asking and... I don't have anything against gays, so come back to normal."
"I'm sorry."
"No problem," he waves it off. "That question was really inappropriate. After all, we barely know each other, which... can of course be changed. Can you give me your phone number? Then we can meet up sometime when I have a bit more time... if you like."
Of course I like it!
"What's the point of that?" Silas wants to know, to whom I naturally tell him about my visit the next evening. "The guy's straight."
"You know him that well? Nico didn't even know your name."
"Yes, because he's interested in women. You saw his harem again yesterday."
“That means absolutely nothing.”
“Reality refugee,” Silas smiles sympathetically.
Shortly afterwards, my phone rings. It's... Nico! And he's making a date with me for Friday. YES!!!
“If you fall on your face, I won’t pick you up, little one.”
"You're just jealous because he doesn't want to go out with you," I grumble. "And don't call me little guy." Silas is only two years older than me!
"I warned you," he sighs, eating a donut. "What about it? Are you dyeing my hair?"
“Hey, I didn’t do anything else today but cut and dye my hair.”
“Cool, then you’re still fully in it.”
"That takes a thousand hours," I groan, annoyed. "And you can probably throw your hair away afterward. Ever heard that constant bleaching is seriously damaging to the hair structure?"
“If they break, they just come off,” he shrugs, waving his hand casually.
Well, if I had his messy haircut, it wouldn't bother me either. The sides are millimeter-short, and the rest hangs around in kind of half-length, stringy strands. My boss would throw up her hands in despair.
By the way, keyword casualness... Even as a child, Silas could look, sit, stand, or hang around incredibly casually. Silas and I have known each other since long before our night together. We went to the same daycare center for a year, where he was more of a wild rascal, which is why I was afraid of him. I hated him. And admired him, because I wanted to be like him. Later on, I often wondered what had become of him... when I had to look at old daycare photos at my mom's... Silas looked really cute as a child. And daring. He perfected all of that while growing up. So it's no wonder that I immediately went to bed with him when we ran into each other by chance about fifteen years later and discovered that we were both gay. Sometimes life is really funny, isn't it?
After about two and a half hours, his hair is Smurf-blue, and Silas leaves, satisfied. I, on the other hand, can't stop thinking about Nico, who wants to meet me the day after tomorrow.
I have vocational school on Thursdays, which is easy, and on Fridays I have to work until 2 a.m. There are definitely advantages to working for a company that only offers training. You learn better and faster, the hours are more pleasant than in "normal" shops, and there are no things like practice evenings because we learn on the job. The only downside is the money. Unfortunately, as a hairdresser's apprentice, you earn very little... I earn even less. Okay, there is one more downside... we get a lot of grannies who want the standard program: washing, styling, a cut every four weeks, and a perm every couple of months. I could probably do the latter blindfolded. The grannies are truly incredible. One time, one of them got so sick while washing my hair that she puked on my shoes through the tissue she was holding over her mouth. That wasn't even the worst part. It got disgusting when she tried to wipe the yellow slime off the floor with her vomit-covered tissue. Then again, in the morning they unpack the cheese sandwiches they brought with them as soon as they're married and a cup of coffee is in front of them. Or they fall asleep so soundly that your heart starts racing because you think they've accidentally died unnoticed. And when they're not eating, not sleeping and not dead, they talk... babble until your head nearly explodes. You learn to tune out though and nod and say "hm-hm" every now and then. But they're all mostly sweet and nice. Especially Rosalie. She's about a thousand years old, comes every Friday and gets hand-applied curls. But only I can call her Rosalie because she only lets me touch her hair. The five euro tip is obviously a plus, because most people only give one or two.
At the moment, however, I'm not having as much to do with customers because the third-year apprentices are preparing for their journeyman's exam this summer. I should have started learning theory a long time ago, but... oh well. I have a meeting with Nico in the castle park soon, which is definitely more important.
Luckily, winter seems to be slowly disappearing. It's still cold, but at least it's sunny. Nico, who's already waiting for me, hasn't worn his knitted hat, which is a good thing because his hair is shimmering so pretty reddish in the sun. We walk through the park for a while, and I have to fight the urge to hold his hand.
“What are you studying?” he asks.
"Nothing. I'm going to be a hairdresser."
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought…”
"You don't have to be sorry. Nobody forced me; I chose this myself."
"Why?"
“Because it’s a great job?” I suggest, noticing that my voice is getting a little shrill.
"Well, but not necessarily... demanding, right? Anyone could probably cut a little hair."
"You obviously have no idea," I exclaim. "Or could you just explain to me the chemical processes involved in a perm? Or coloring? Tell me what pointing and slicing are, and what tools you use for them. Strumming around on a piano or guitar isn't that difficult either. Anyone can do THAT."
"Feli," he sighs, "what's wrong with us? Why do I keep getting you so upset?"
Hmm, he's full of prejudices!
"I do not know."
“Okay, let’s talk about something else.”
"Very gladly."
Otherwise he'll come up with the idea that all hairdressers are gay and all hairdressers are stupid makeup chicks.
"Is your father the godfather of a family or just a small fry in the mafia? And how about... will you follow in his footsteps later?"
Sorry, but that had to happen now!
“Then I’d have to make you an offer you can’t refuse, right?” he laughs.
“My parents, as befits us, run an ice cream parlor.”
"Which?"
"Ice Cream Parlor Da Silva. My parents weren't very original when it came to naming it."
"This is yours? They have the best ice cream there."
“Logical,” he waves.
I have funny memories of the restaurant. Last summer, I was there with my sister. A family was sitting at the next table, and the child politely asked for a Donald Duck squeaky mouse! Instead, he got a Pinocchio, which the child didn't notice.
“What are your parents doing?” he asks.
"Nothing special."
"Okay, now that we know practically everything about each other... will you tell me?"
„Was’n?“
"Whether you like guys and what's going on between you and the punk."
“Silas and I are friends.”
"And I thought you were having a relationship with him."
“That was ages ago.”
“But you did.”
"It wasn't anything serious, just sex. Now, like I said, we're friends."
“Is that why you’ve been hanging around band rehearsals so much lately?”
“Why else?”
"I don't know," he replies, stopping. "There are people who say you're hot for me."
Okay, I'm going to blow myself up. Right now.
“What kind of people?”
“People.”
“And if that were the case?”
Huh? Did I suddenly go stupid?
"Wouldn't mind," he replies with a shrug. "After all, it's always flattering when people think you're great. No matter who says it." Suddenly he looks at his watch. "I have to go. Thanks for the walk."
“Yes.”
“So… see you then.”
Cool, that's it. He'll never contact me again. Shit, I screwed up. Why did I have to tell him that I liked him?
Nico just called to make a date with me. For tonight. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to be completely open. Or let's say half-open. After all, I didn't actually admit that I find him particularly attractive. Actually, I was remaining more hypothetical. Besides, if he doesn't mind, there might still be a slight chance...
After I've cleaned my apartment, I change my clothes about twenty times and find myself remarkably ugly... in contrast to the Italian. My hair is okay; I wear it black and styled in an emo style because that suits me best. A few strands of bangs are always colored because only black is boring. If I knew what Nico was up to, I could prepare my clothes accordingly. Does he want to go out? To a club, to the movies, to get something to eat? Or are we just staying here? Shit, maybe I should have gone shopping. The fridge doesn't have much room. On my pantry shelf are a few microwaveable meals next to a can of ravioli. There would have been plenty of sweets if Silas hadn't drastically reduced my supply. Whatever. If all goes well, Nico doesn't come here to eat his fill, but to sleep with me. Ha, ha, Feli, stop dreaming!
Nico shows up promptly at 7:30. The sight of him takes my breath away, as always. And he makes it clear pretty quickly that he wants to be comfortable today, because he immediately lounges on the couch and unpacks two bottles of red wine. Being the romantic that I am, I light a few candles. Holy crap, I hate red wine. Especially dry wine. That stuff practically knocks your socks off.
"You're really lucky to live alone," he claims. "There's always something going on in the dorm, parties and stuff, always very loud."
“Don’t you like parties?”
“Sometimes, but not every other night.”
The flickering candlelight makes Nico's face appear even more beautiful. Beautiful and mysterious. His lips look incredibly soft. My goodness, how can you not lose your mind?
“Why don’t you live at home with your parents?”
“Well, it was just time to leave the nest.”
“So why not have your own apartment?”
"I didn't have the nerve to search around for long. Feli, I was thinking," he says, sipping his wine aristocratically.
"Yes."
“About you and this thing.”
"Matter?"
„Sex.“
I'm so shocked that I get the damn booze down the wrong tube and have to cough until I'm sick.
“I can’t imagine that… that you have sex with men.”
"It's not like I jump on every guy I see."
"Sure, I mean in general. At parties, you often see guys making out..."
"It's pretty hip right now. I don't think they're all gay."
"Probably. But there must be something to it, otherwise so many people wouldn't do it."
"I guess it's about the same with straight guys. They make out too. Sometimes because they're in love, and sometimes just for fun."
“Yes, but sex with men, that’s… that surely feels different.”
"I don't know. I like it."
“Always?”
"Actually, yes. I did have a fling with a girl once, but that wasn't it."
“And with boys… with Silas… that was… how?”
"Silas wasn't the first, but he was definitely the best so far," I blurt out unashamedly. It's because of that damn booze! "Why are you asking me such questions?"
“You know, I like women.”
With this, he completely destroyed my already shaky illusion of Nico and Feli being in love.
“But that’s all I know.”
„Hm…“
“I would really be interested to know what it’s like to kiss a boy, for example.”
My illusion is digging itself out of its grave, gasping for air in hope. Especially because Nico is moving closer to me. Much closer.
“Would you like to try it?”
He tilts his head to the side and looks at me. "I think so."
Okay, that was an invitation, yes. I press my mouth against his lips, which are actually incredibly soft. My heart is pounding like crazy and my entire body is practically on fire as his tongue taps against mine and then, unfortunately, withdraws very quickly.
"And?"
The handsome Italian licks his lips slightly. "Different."
“Differently good or differently bad?”
“Just different,” he whispers and kisses me again.
This kiss lasts longer and is more intense. I don't care that I'm just some kind of test subject at the moment. What was that about giving a gift horse?
“You’re very sweet,” Nico smiles, somewhat surprised.
And awesome. Okay, no risk, no fun!
“Does this satisfy your curiosity or…”
"Or?"
“There are other things boys do together.”
Nico raises an eyebrow meaningfully.
“Do you want to know anything else?”
“Yes,” he whispers in my ear, almost making me come, “everything.”
Wow, Nico actually means what he said. Just a little fooling around is clearly not enough for him. So I'm going to have sex with the handsome Italian guy in every way I can.
A few days later, I still feel completely out of it, even though I'd promised myself not to get too worked up about it, because you never know what might come of it. It could be that it was a one-time thing for Nico. He wanted to try something out and realized he liked it better with women. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure he liked it. But maybe that's wishful thinking. Or maybe it was the wine. We didn't talk about it much afterward. We eventually fell asleep, and the next morning he took off pretty quickly. He did say he'd call me, but I guess everyone says that after a one-night stand. There's nothing I can do but wait. Under no circumstances should I keep stalking him at rehearsals or in the dorms. It's embarrassing enough that all the women at university are kissing the ground he walks on. I don't want him to think I'm like those barley. The stupid thing is, the night with the Italian guy made me so euphoric that I'm constantly grinning and walking on air. I really need to get this under control. My boss already asked me today if I'd won the lottery. If she knew I had the most amazing sex with the most beautiful person in the universe, I think she'd understand my state. Nico was so... enchanting... gorgeous... his skin is soft as velvet, and his touch... I'm simply at a loss for words.
In the evening, just as I was about to sit in front of the TV to distract myself, the doorbell rang.
“Hey,” Nico beams and hops up the last few steps.
“Hello,” I greet him, surprised.
"I wanted to see you. Is that okay?"
“Uh… sure.”
Apparently he wants to kiss me too, because as soon as the door closes, Nico is already hanging on my lips. I feel a little taken aback as he pushes me toward the bedroom.
"What?" he asks. "So shy today?"
“Rather irritated.”
"I don't understand. You seduced me and now you're irritated because I want it again?"
“I somehow didn’t expect it to be that easy,” I admit.
“Get me into bed?” he grins sexily.
"Exactly. Especially since you're something of a heartthrob."
“I just have a weakness for beautiful things.”
“I am not a thing.”
“But nice,” he winks and pushes me onto the mattress.
“Hey, how did you even come to the conclusion that I seduced you?”
He slowly leans over me, takes off my shirt, and unbuttons my jeans. "Isn't that right?"
“You wanted to know…”
"And you enjoyed showing me, huh? Anyway..." He kisses my neck, my chest, and licks my nipples a little, "I'm a perfectionist, and since this kind of sexuality is new to me..."
Well, he can blow pretty well. Oh my goodness, I feel like I'm seeing colorful stars!
“I never thought it could be so sensual to touch another man,” Nico whispers afterward, “to kiss and… to love.”
Oh shit, he talks like a sappy novel. I don't know if I want to get used to that. The guys I dated were pretty direct.
And Silas, for example, likes things dirty.
“You really turned my head.”
“And you to me,” I reply and kiss him.
I have to tell Silas. He's already noticed something's going on, and besides, I just can't keep it to myself any longer. Nico and I have been dating for a few weeks now, but we haven't seen each other much because I'm working and he has to write papers and practice his thousand instruments.
Silas is lounging on the couch as usual, eating my hair. I've barely bought sweets before they're gone again.
“Spit it out, little one,” he demands, sucking on a Kinder chocolate bar.
“Hmm?” I pretend I don’t know what he means.
"I can see from the tip of your cute nose that you want to tell me something. It's probably about that boring Italian."
“Nico is not boring.”
“A walk in the castle park wouldn’t really blow me away.”
“You don’t have a sense of romance either.”
"I once held your hair back while you were throwing up, boy, that's pure romance."
“That was at best… nice.”
"Sorry I didn't have a red rose handy to tuck into your black braids," he replies. "So, what about Nico? Did he go for another walk with you, Romeo?"
“No, he went to bed with me.”
"Aha," he says, staring boredly at his fingernails, but he's not fooling me. He's probably just as surprised by this as I still am.
“You’re an asshole,” I think.
"I never doubted you could get him if the opportunity arose. You're sweet and a good blow job, even a straight guy would be tempted. Are you together now, or was it a one-time thing?"
“It was several times,” I grin like I’m stoned.
“I’d be interested to hear what his girlfriend has to say about this.”
My grin dies reflexively.
“What kind of girlfriend?”
“Well, one of the harem ladies is probably his girlfriend.”
Ah, okay, my heart is beating again. I thought Silas actually knew something.
"No way. Nico is with me."
“Well, then everything is… in the paint, or something.”
“Very true.”
“Can I please make stupid sex jokes at the rehearsal tomorrow when the Italian comes?”
“No way, you complete idiot.”
Silas is laughing his head off.
"Cool. I'm off then," he explains, puts on his shoes and jacket, grabs a few chocolate bars, and... is off.
I can only hope he keeps his damn mouth shut! Silas can't be trusted for a second.
I actually don't even know if Nico and I are together. It feels like it, but no one's said it out loud yet. On the other hand, you don't have to say something like that, do you? After all, we're not twelve-year-olds secretly sending each other little "do you want to go out with me?" notes at school. The fact that he's normally into women is also a problem. Because I have no idea if he's still in the trial phase with me. Is he straight and just wants something new? Or is he bi and just hasn't had the courage to do it before? I find it hard enough with guys who know exactly what's going on. Now I have a half-decent boyfriend and no clue what's going on inside him. And what if he decides the day after tomorrow that he's had enough homosexual experiences and dumps me to be happy with some other guy he likes? Maybe even with that skinny chick with a leg. I have to die immediately.
The next evening, Nico shows up at my door with shopping bags. Some vegetables peek out of one. He kisses me in greeting, immediately stomps into the kitchen, and spreads his shopping on the table.
“I’ll cook us something,” he says cheerfully.
„Okay?“
“It’s nothing special,” he grins, “I’m Italian… we cook all the time.”
I strongly suspect that he defines the term completely differently than I do. For me, cooking means putting some kind of ready-made meal in the microwave. And when I'm hungry for something "proper," I invite myself over to dinner at my mom's. Shit, Nico brought that disgusting red wine. The mere thought of the caustic concoction makes all my taste buds convulse. But I can't bring myself to tell him that I refuse his favorite drink; after all, he wants to cook for me, and no man has ever done that. I watch in delight as he chops things up and stirs pots. The fact that I have any kitchen utensils at all is thanks to my mom, who brought all sorts of things over when I moved in here. Personally, the microwave would have been enough for me.
“Of course, that wasn’t a truly classic Bolognese,” Nico explains later as we sit cuddled together on the couch, “that would have taken far too long.”
“Still tasted better than anything I’ve eaten before.”
"Thanks. I didn't want to tell you right away, but your Silas threatened to beat me after rehearsal today."
Horrified, I move away from him.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"In case I'm just playing with you and hurting you."
Okay, Silas is definitely going to get a good beating from me. And it's going to hurt him a lot!
"Silas fell badly on his head as a child. He's been crazy ever since. Don't take it seriously."
"He seems to like you," Nico shrugs. "Very much."
"That doesn't mean he needs to run around like Rambo. He's probably crazy."
“You didn’t have to tell him we liked each other.”
"Why? Is this a secret?"
"No," he shakes his head with a smile, "of course not. But apparently he's not handling this information well. Besides, I would never play with other people's feelings. And certainly not with yours."
“Then you have nothing to fear,” I beam, beaming with love.
Silas has taken off, the cowardly rat. He went home to his parents for Easter. Ha! He didn't want me to give him a slap on the wrist. Nico, by the way, is also away for a few days, which is much worse, of course, because I miss him like crazy. Logically, I won't get any Easter holidays at all, because I only go to school once a week anyway, and if I don't, I have to work. I won't get a vacation until the summer. And maybe a very long one if I pass my exam and have to find a new shop. That said, my boss has some really good contacts and has already picked out a cool salon for me. But do I really want to work as a hairdresser for a hundred years after my apprenticeship? I could easily start studying chemistry. But my life costs money, and I have to earn it somehow. I think Silas is only studying because he doesn't want to do some eight-to-five job and would rather make it big with his band. Nico... I don't know, we hardly talk about things like that when we're together. Oh man, the main thing is that I see my beautiful Italian again soon.
First, I see Silas again, and I immediately want to make a fool of him, but... well, he's standing at the door, grinning cutely and holding a chocolate bunny in front of me. How can I possibly stay mad?
“Is this your way of apologizing?”
"Why?" he asks, sitting down on the couch. "Did I do something wrong?"
“Uh… you want to beat up my friend?” I prompt him.
“Oh, that,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.
“Yes, it would be nice if you didn’t meddle in my affairs.”
“What kind of loser is that who’s about to tell on me?”
“That’s not the point.”
"I just wanted to make it clear to him that he's under observation."
“And he does that because…?”
“I don’t trust the Italian,” he explains.
"I trust him, that's enough. Since when did I choose you as my protector?"
“You would do that for me too.”
"You can certainly take care of yourself... with your experience in fistfighting."
"That's right. Because unlike you, I don't fall in love with any old sisters."
"Where did you get that word? From the gay dictionary?"
"Why doesn't he go out with you? Why do you always meet here... where no one can see you, huh? Doesn't he dare go out in public with you?"
"Maybe he just wants to spend the little time we have alone with me. When you're in love, you don't need publicity, asshole."
"Of course, anything could be true," he nods. "I'm sorry, but guys who are so ostentatious about showing themselves with women and sleeping with guys behind closed doors are suspicious to me."
Me too. But we're talking about Nico, damn it.
“I think we should change the subject.”
“Sure, I’m fine with that.”
“How was it with your parents?”
Silas grimaces. "Hit, sunk. Thank you."
When he's left two hours later, I still feel a little sorry for the question. I know Silas doesn't get along particularly well with his parents. It's mainly because of his appearance. A ragged punk just doesn't fit in with a family of doctors and aspiring architects. Dad is an oral surgeon, Mom a dentist. His brother, Silvester, is studying architecture. It's a shame my parents are just ordinary people, otherwise I'd definitely have such a great name. Well, you can't have everything. Ha, ha... Silas and Silvester, my goodness, Mr. and Mrs. Doctor probably just inhaled too much laughing gas. My parents are really nice, they like me the way I am... even if I were a punk, they would love me. The fact that I'm gay is no big deal at home; I could easily bring my boyfriend over to dinner or something. In any case, Silas is allowed to come with me to my parents' house, but they've known him since he was a kid, and I haven't exactly gone around telling them that we had sex at some point. But the welcoming kiss he once gave me in front of Mom and Dad might have given them that idea.
A few days after Silas, Nico also shows up again. And we end up back in bed. I don't really have anything against that, but the conversation with Silas somehow stuck with me. I also wonder why Nico always needs his disgusting booze to get laid? Then again, he's Italian, they're always drinking red wine.
“I missed you,” Nico crooned romantically.
“Why don’t we ever go out?” roars out of my mouth.
„Hm?“
"We're at my apartment all the time. Don't you want to be seen with me? Because no one should know that you... that we..."
Nico's eyes widen in surprise. "You think... Feli, I just like having you all to myself."
Ah… how sweet!
"But if you want to go out... no problem. How about a movie?"
Great, it's dark there and no one can see us. Why didn't he just invite me on a ride on the ghost train? Or secretly summon me to the old oak tree outside the city gates on a dark night?
“We could watch Dark Shadows on Saturday,” I suggest.
“I’ve already seen it with… friends.”
“Oh, I see. Not me,” I explain, somewhat disappointed.
"Fine by me. It's so great, you might as well watch it twice."
“So we’re meeting on Saturday?”
“Sure,” he smiles.
So, my dear Silas, that's proof that your stupid theory is wrong!
Unfortunately, Nico calls me Friday afternoon and tells me that he's so in love that he's forgotten some family celebration he absolutely has to attend on Saturday. So our movie trip is canceled. He's postponing it until next week.
I watched Dark Shadows with Silas. He was pining over Johnny Depp the whole time, it was horrible. Although... Johnny is really adorable as a vampire. And cute. And funny. I like Depp/Burton films anyway. And then a week later, when Nico and I were on a date, he suddenly fell ill. A cold. That could mean something, but it doesn't have to. Nico is constantly afraid of colds. Especially the ones that come with sore throats and throat congestion. Logical, after all, he needs his voice for his studies. I don't really understand what all he studies... singing seems to be in there somewhere, anyway. He's also incredibly knowledgeable about antique instruments... shawm, lute, various flutes, harpsichord, dulcimer, psaltery-something, bagpipes, hurdy-gurdy... although he can only play a few of them. My goodness... and I'm making grandmas' hair go crazy! Silas also knows all these instruments, by the way, but he never lectures me about them. Well, Nico is just an absolute music freak. Sometimes a little too freaky for my taste. But only sometimes.
Today is the day. Today, Nico and I are finally going to the movies. He hasn't canceled yet, which is a good sign, because we're meeting in an hour. Naturally, he's chosen a musical film: Farinelli. It's playing out of order as part of some special program, which means there probably won't be many people there. Anyway, I'm off now.
Nico is waiting outside the cinema; he's already bought the tickets. How thoughtful, I'm obviously invited. He also takes care of the popcorn and drinks. Wow, what a gentleman! The film is okay, beautiful pictures and all, but... hmm, maybe it's the annoying dubbing voice of that Farinelli type. I can't imagine castrati speaking so croakily. But then, it's also hard to imagine how castrati sang in real life. The singing in the film is an electronic hybrid of the voices of a countertenor and a coloratura soprano... Nico knows.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, pretending I know all about it.
"I have a CD by Alessandro Moreschi, the last and only castrato whose recordings exist. But his singing sounds more eerie than it gives you an idea of what castrati actually sounded like. Honestly... he whines like something hurts," he grins as we have drinks in a bar afterward. "Well, by the time the recordings were made, he'd probably already lost quite a bit of his vocal range."
“Hmm…” I say.
“Sorry if I bore you or get on your nerves.”
"You don't. I find that very interesting. Have you ever read Falsetto by Anne Rice?"
"I considered it. But even the synopsis was a bit too... ahem..."
"Gay?"
"Too much pompous history surrounding it. I don't want to know who castrati had sex with or who they wanted revenge on. I'm interested in singing and music."
Well, for me, it's the exact opposite. For example, I didn't know before that castrati could even have sex. Ha, ha, that's why they were so incredibly popular with women... Having fun without having to fear unpleasant consequences!
“Don’t you ever read anything for entertainment?”
“If I have time, definitely.”
„Was’n?“
"Recently... My inner Elvis. I hardly believe you..."
“The little sister with the reptilian eyeglasses who collects her urine, constantly plays psychotherapy and asks about orgasms,” I interrupt, laughing.
"Exactly. I found that incredibly funny. About as funny as the scene earlier where Farinelli practically sang old Handel to death," he giggles.
“Hey, that was supposed to be dramatic, you philistine.”
"Yes... but it wasn't, was it? Lascia ch'io pianga couldn't save it."
I'm very happy that Nico is a normal person after all. And that he doesn't mind being seen with me. The bar is busy. On the other hand, we're not sitting that close together, holding hands, or doing anything romantic. One might think we're just good friends having a drink. I don't dare give him a kiss now. Maybe that would overwhelm or scare him. I don't know. You don't have to admit your homosexuality all the time, everywhere...
"That was a lovely evening," Nico smiles, moves a little closer, places his hand on mine, and strokes the back of my hand with his thumb. Then he gently kisses my cheek.
My entire body tingles and feels remarkably rubbery. Especially my legs, as I leave the restaurant.
“I’d love to spend the night with you, but I have to get up early tomorrow.”
I couldn't care less that my schedule tomorrow includes perms and granny haircuts starting at 8 a.m. I'd stay up all night. Oh well. Nico says goodbye with a super tender kiss, and I'm not going home... I'm floating!
The next day is Friday, and Rosalie's hair has already been washed. I hastily down my coffee and push aside the little intern who's been constantly in my way for a week. I think she's a little bit in love with me; she never looks at the others. Whatever, I get to work, creating perfect waves and securing them with combs.
“Sebastian, my boy, you seem to be in a particularly good mood today.”
“I always am.”
“Of course, but today… there’s something wrong with you.”
“Everything’s fine,” I shrug and grab a comb for myself because the little intern is too slow to hand it over.
"I think there's a girl behind this. Should I be jealous?" my customer jokes.
“No girl, no reason to be jealous,” I grin.
“Well, then it’s a boy,” she replies dryly.
In shock, I throw the box of combs and curlers off the cart. The poor little intern has to pick everything up.
"Caught," Rosalie smiles. "You don't have to be embarrassed. It's nice when you're newly in love."
I can see my face turning red in the mirror. Suddenly she turns around, grabs me, and pulls me down to her.
“You’re not still in the closet, are you?”
"Please?"
“Isn’t that how you say it?”
"Yes, I mean... no, well... uh... it's not a secret."
"I thought that about you from the beginning," she claims, letting go of me so I can continue my work. "You're far too pretty to be heterosexual."
“Thank you,” I say helplessly.
By the way, the little intern just made off. Rosalie shakes her head in irritation.
"Anyway, my granddaughter's friend is a lesbian. A very nice girl. She's having a big fight with her parents about it. It's a disgrace, if you ask me. I hope Obama stays president; I can't stand Romney. What do you think, Sebastian?"
My goodness, she's got leaps of imagination.
"Yeah, sure," I nod, draping the hairnet on her head and adjusting the cap. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"You're pretty out of it," Rosalie barks over the roar of the hood. "I'd like a glass of champagne... like every Friday morning. It's good for the circulation," she laughs.
Incredibly, this antiquated wavy hairstyle with ringlets at the nape of her neck is in complete contrast to the modern views she undoubtedly holds. But Rosalie herself once described her hand-styled waves as "classic and timelessly chic" and believes that what matters is what's on your mind, not what hairstyle you're wearing.
Luckily, today was only half a day. When I get home, I'll catch up on a few hours of sleep and then finally dig into my textbook to familiarize myself with redox reactions, sulfur bridges, peptide coils, esters, and the like to the point where I'll have enough time for my upcoming exam.
Saturday afternoon, I realize that my handsome Italian boyfriend left a book about picture motets at my place recently. Since I can't reach him by phone at the moment and was just about to pop over to my parents' house anyway, I decide to drop the book off. The dorm is pretty much on the way, and besides, it'll give me a good excuse to see him for a few minutes and kiss him.
So, in a relatively good mood, I knock on his door and wait... what feels like five minutes. Shit, isn't he home or what?
Ah, finally the door opens and Nico appears, shirtless. How convenient.
“Hey,” I grin and look at him suggestively.
“Feli… what do you want here?”
My good mood level drops a bit.
“What kind of greeting is that?”
“Sorry, it’s just… ahem…”
“Honey…” a female voice suddenly sounds.
What the hell is going on here? I push the door further open, stomp into the room, and suddenly feel like throwing up. The bitch whose foot I once stepped on is sprawled half-naked on Nico's bed. I recognize her by her anorexic hocks.
“Sorry,” I murmur, stunned, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“Well, then get lost,” the bitch screams.
"Vivien," Nico hisses. "Feli... wait!"
No thanks. I've seen enough.
The fact that I have to take a quick breather outside in the ugly entrance area turns out to be a mistake, because Nico suddenly stands next to me.
“Let me explain,” he begs… after all, he’s dressed now.
"What," I ask, "is there to explain? My probationary period is apparently over. And I failed it."
“It’s not that simple, Feli.”
True. If it were that easy, I wouldn't have this terrible heartache right now and wouldn't be on the verge of tears.
“Look,” he babbles, “I really like you and…”
“Aha, so I just imagined the bitch in your bed?”
„Vivien.“
"I don't care what it's called. By the way, has it been going on for a while?"
Nico runs his hand through his hair with effort.
“Well, actually… we’ve been together for two years…”
“Fuck you,” I hiss, spit on the ground in front of him, and quickly make my escape.
Shit, hey, Silas was right from the start and as far as I'm concerned he can punch that damn Italian in the face now!
And all of a sudden, everything gets on my nerves. The work, the fucking studying, Silas, from whom I've been hiding for days because I don't want him to know he was right, the almost summery weather that practically screams for me to stroll around in love... and Nico, who bombards me with calls. Does he really expect me to talk to him? After he's admitted that I was just a fling for him? Something exotic that tore him away from his boring heterosexual routine for a few weeks? Probably every time he had to do some work for his studies, he was actually in bed with his skinny-thighed chick. He had her disgusting tongue in his mouth and then came over to kiss me and give me a blowjob. I'd love to dip my cock in Clorox and gargle with Domestos.
Fuck, I should have known. You just don't get involved with a straight girl in the crazy hope that she might actually be into guys. But Nico was so... I thought he loved me. Oh well, just write it off and move on. Unfortunately, that doesn't work. Studying as a distraction doesn't work either. To be honest, I'm totally screwed. So much so that I accidentally open the door when the doorbell rings, even though I obviously don't want any visitors. Hopefully not Silas, to whom I have to confess that my boyfriend is banging a skinny chick with legs. Oh no, much better. It's my boyfriend himself. Luckily without his skinny chick with legs. I'm still anything but thrilled.
“Let’s talk again,” the Italian scoundrel begs.
“Get away from my door or I’ll call the police.”
“Feli… that’s silly.”
Well, maybe a little bit.
“Do you have any idea how I feel right now?” I hiss.
"No. But I can imagine it."
"You don't know shit. Asshole."
“Man, Feli… it wasn’t planned that… I would fall in love with you.”
"No? What was the plan?"
“I don’t want to explain that to you in passing,” he replies, and forces his way in by simply pushing me aside.
“This is trespassing,” I yell and slam the door.
"I thought it was kind of weird that a guy was into me... at first, that is. But then when we... when we first met... damn, Feli, I don't want to lose you, okay?"
“That’s why you’re fucking some bitch.”
“I should have told you about Vivien,” he admits.
"Uh, no," I counter. "You should have broken up with her before you started anything with me. That's what normal people do."
“Just because I’m with Vivien doesn’t mean… I love you too.”
“You don’t want both of us now, do you?” I ask, horrified.
“Something like that can definitely work,” he claims.
Excuse me? I think it's hacking!
“Have you already presented her with your great suggestion?”
"Vivien is pretty relaxed about it. She wouldn't have a problem with it."
He really means it. Oh dear!
"Sorry, but I'm completely unhinged when it comes to this. So get out of here and leave me alone."
“Think about it,” he suggests and leaves.
Hey, that guy's crazy. What am I saying... One? Several. He wants a threesome with me and that skinny bitch. If it weren't so sad, you'd have to laugh about it.
Okay, I'm so close to freaking out right now, I absolutely need to let off some steam. Go out, dance, drink. Drink a lot. There's a tea dance at the Crystal Palace today, and they're playing nothing but old crypt and punk stuff. Very good. I'll call Silas and make a date with him.
"I thought you were dead," my best friend greets me, placing two bottles of beer on the small, round table and sitting down next to me. "Why haven't you been answering my calls?"
“I was busy,” I reply briefly and drink half of the bottle.
“Fuck your Italian, huh?”
Immediately, I get a nasty stabbing pain in my chest, but I'm not drunk enough to tell Silas what happened.
“I had to study, I have an exam soon,” I say instead.
Silas looks really hot today. High-top Docs, tight jeans, a wide silver belt, and a dark, low-cut, sleeveless skull-print shirt. And as always, he's wearing a studded dog collar with a small padlock dangling from it, Sid Vicious-like.
Fittingly, “Anarchy in the UK” plays and he storms onto the dance floor.
While Silas is busy, I get more supplies at the counter.
“Man, you really want to know today,” he remarks as he returns to the table and sees the full tequila glasses.
I hastily down the swill. "You have no idea."
“What’s up?”
„Nix.“
“Aha,” he shakes his head.
Back to my plan. Damn, seeing Nico made me completely forget what I wanted to say. An apology might have been a good place to start, because I just tripped over a woman's leg that was conveniently loitering in the middle of the path, and I was forced to brace myself with both hands on Nico's thighs because otherwise I would have fallen. Oh shit, I touched his thighs without asking!
“Oops, young man,” he smiles casually, while the anorexic lady rubs her skinny leg.
“Sorry,” I scream, completely thrown off.
“Nothing’s wrong,” assures the handsome Italian, leaning forward slightly, “Vivien… foot still on, right?”
“Stupid idiot,” she hisses angrily.
By the way, I'm standing in front of him again, fairly confidently. My hands are sweating... thank goodness they haven't left any wet marks on his jeans.
“You’re Feli,” he says, blinking.
Somehow my nickname suddenly seems incredibly stupid. I used to be (around twelve or thirteen) I was incredibly proud of it because I do like cats, and scientifically they're called Felidae. Amazingly, people just accept it when you introduce yourself as Feli and think it's a real name. You could just as well say your name is Snickers, Daim, or Pumuckl... I'm sure everyone would believe it too. I recently saw one of those crappy reality documentaries where a kid with such-and-such a name was called Benvenuto! What the fuck... to assume that at daycare he likes to play with the little one Happy Birthday and the slightly older one Walk In.
“Would you like something?” the Italian interrupts my thoughts.
"Uh... no. Well... yes, I, ahem..." I stammer stupidly, "I need to discuss something with you for a moment. Alone."
“Right now?”
"Sure, but..." I cast two or three glances at the barley, which is still snuggled up to him, "if you're busy right now..."
"It's okay. I wanted to get something to eat anyway. We can discuss whatever you want on the way to the pizzeria," he explains, finally freeing himself from the pushy women. "Wait a minute, I'll just get my jacket."
I'm surprised that Nico knows who I am. The fact that I know who he is is, of course, thanks to Silas, who attends various courses, seminars, whatever, with the Italian. Nico studies musicology, sings, plays a thousand instruments, and occasionally plays in Silas' band when they're experimenting. Oh, and Silas is a punk I picked up in a club three years ago. That is to say... actually, he picked me up... it doesn't matter at all, we ended up in bed anyway, but we quickly realized that while the sex was good, it wasn't enough for a romantic relationship. We've been friends ever since. I'm shamelessly exploiting that at the moment and invite myself to every rehearsal when Nico's there. Silas finds it amusing that I stare at a straight guy and get red-faced when Nico merely walks into the room.
My ears do indeed feel a little warm when Nico comes back. Did I mention that the Italian is gorgeous? That pretty, knee-length coat, that cozy black scarf... I feel dizzy. Unfortunately, he's wearing a stupid knitted hat, but even that can't dampen his beauty. Shit, what was my plan again? My brain is kind of frozen solid, it's arctic temperatures outside and there's a bit of snow lying around. Besides, it's the beginning of March! That's because of climate change, global warming... my parents always say. In the past, thirty years ago, it was never warm until November and cold until May. There were fewer hailstorms and generally fewer hurricane-force storms that uprooted trees and blew roofs off houses. My father, who also likes to complain about environmental and air pollution, logically drives everywhere. For the sake of the environment, I usually take my bike, but without a helmet, which is obviously a bad idea... should you accidentally fall and hit your head hard.
"It must be something pretty important if you're coming to the dorm in this crappy weather," Nico thinks as we trudge through the streets. "You don't live here, do you?"
„Nee.“
I'm not even studying. I was actually planning to... chemistry... but then an inner voice told me I absolutely had to learn the art of haircutting. By the way, it's a cliché that all hairdressers are gay. In my vocational school class, there's only one guy besides me, and he has a girlfriend.
Unfortunately, the pizzeria is only two blocks away. Too close for a conversation.
"Ciao, Tino," Nico greets as he enters the small restaurant and hugs the pizza guy. Afterward, they exchange a few pleasantries in Italian, and Nico orders something. Grappa shortens the wait. Great, I'm not confused enough yet.
When we get back outside with Nico's food, I feel a little dizzy.
"My apartment is ten minutes from here," I hear myself saying, and immediately want to bite my tongue off. Am I crazy?
"Aha," Nico smiles lasciviously. I think that's his normal expression. "It takes five minutes to get to the dorm. Now explain to me why I should walk through the cold any longer than necessary."
Fuck!
"I... ahem... well... well..."
"Persuaded," he beams, making me feel completely dizzy. "Come on, otherwise I'll freeze my ass off. And the food will get cold."
Oh my homeland… the handsome Italian wants to come with me!
Arriving at my tiny apartment, Nico unashamedly takes off his coat, scarf, and knitted hat, carelessly drops everything on the floor, and sits down on the dark blue velvet couch. I play the perfect host and bring him cutlery and something to wipe his mouth with... it's a Halloween napkin. Nico giggles sweetly.
“Get a fork, I don’t like eating alone,” he says.
Okay, so we poke around together at the tortellini alla panna, and over the tiramisu, he finally wants to know what I wanted to talk about with him. Of course, I've long since forgotten. I mean, I actually wanted to ask him if he'd sleep with me sometime, but that question seems kind of inappropriate right now. What I'm saying is, of course, I don't have the guts. I'm just not much of a womanizer, and Nico doesn't look like he'd be interested in being picked up by me, of all people.
“Feli,” he begins, licking the spoon in an almost obscene manner, “is that the nickname for Felix?”
“No, from Sebastian.”
"Please?"
“Feli is just a nickname,” I explain, blushing.
“Sounds sweet, but what does it mean?”
Cute? Did he say cute? Oh dear! Fuck, I can't tell him that stupid cat story now...
“Feli… like Fellini?” he speculates.
"Felidae."
"Ah, I see. Cool movie, pretty intense. Especially the scene where Francis fucks the cat girl."
Funny, I really remember other scenes from the film. Besides, Nico's only been here for three seconds and he's already talking about fucking?!
"To be honest, I found it almost a little erotic. Oh God, don't think I'm into animal sex. I mean... hey, it's a cartoon... forget what I said," he shakes his head.
“I think reality isn’t quite as erotic with cats.”
„Nee?“
"Because... a tomcat's penis has barbs... so you can imagine that it's probably more painful than fun... I mean, as a cat."
Wait a minute, why on earth am I talking to him about hangover penises?
"Wow," Nico marvels, "how disgusting. But female cats are still in heat all the time, so it can't be that bad."
"First of all, they're not in heat all the time, and secondly, nature probably designed it that way... for reproduction purposes. At least cats don't eat their males after sex."
"No reason to get loud," Nico says. "I like cats, okay?"
“Sorry,” I apologize, red-faced.
“Are you always so… passionate?” he grins.
“Uh…” I say helplessly.
“That little punk with his crazy band is a friend of yours, right?”
"However."
“Isn’t he gay?”
Cool, he doesn't even know his name, but knows that Silas is gay?
“So what?”
“So you like guys too?”
That sounded less like a question and more like a statement. Somehow, Nico just beamed himself down a bit from my sympathy scale.
"Why? Because gays are only friends with gays, or what?"
"Feli, you're very easily riled up. I was just asking and... I don't have anything against gays, so come back to normal."
"I'm sorry."
"No problem," he waves it off. "That question was really inappropriate. After all, we barely know each other, which... can of course be changed. Can you give me your phone number? Then we can meet up sometime when I have a bit more time... if you like."
Of course I like it!
"What's the point of that?" Silas wants to know, to whom I naturally tell him about my visit the next evening. "The guy's straight."
"You know him that well? Nico didn't even know your name."
"Yes, because he's interested in women. You saw his harem again yesterday."
“That means absolutely nothing.”
“Reality refugee,” Silas smiles sympathetically.
Shortly afterwards, my phone rings. It's... Nico! And he's making a date with me for Friday. YES!!!
“If you fall on your face, I won’t pick you up, little one.”
"You're just jealous because he doesn't want to go out with you," I grumble. "And don't call me little guy." Silas is only two years older than me!
"I warned you," he sighs, eating a donut. "What about it? Are you dyeing my hair?"
“Hey, I didn’t do anything else today but cut and dye my hair.”
“Cool, then you’re still fully in it.”
"That takes a thousand hours," I groan, annoyed. "And you can probably throw your hair away afterward. Ever heard that constant bleaching is seriously damaging to the hair structure?"
“If they break, they just come off,” he shrugs, waving his hand casually.
Well, if I had his messy haircut, it wouldn't bother me either. The sides are millimeter-short, and the rest hangs around in kind of half-length, stringy strands. My boss would throw up her hands in despair.
By the way, keyword casualness... Even as a child, Silas could look, sit, stand, or hang around incredibly casually. Silas and I have known each other since long before our night together. We went to the same daycare center for a year, where he was more of a wild rascal, which is why I was afraid of him. I hated him. And admired him, because I wanted to be like him. Later on, I often wondered what had become of him... when I had to look at old daycare photos at my mom's... Silas looked really cute as a child. And daring. He perfected all of that while growing up. So it's no wonder that I immediately went to bed with him when we ran into each other by chance about fifteen years later and discovered that we were both gay. Sometimes life is really funny, isn't it?
After about two and a half hours, his hair is Smurf-blue, and Silas leaves, satisfied. I, on the other hand, can't stop thinking about Nico, who wants to meet me the day after tomorrow.
I have vocational school on Thursdays, which is easy, and on Fridays I have to work until 2 a.m. There are definitely advantages to working for a company that only offers training. You learn better and faster, the hours are more pleasant than in "normal" shops, and there are no things like practice evenings because we learn on the job. The only downside is the money. Unfortunately, as a hairdresser's apprentice, you earn very little... I earn even less. Okay, there is one more downside... we get a lot of grannies who want the standard program: washing, styling, a cut every four weeks, and a perm every couple of months. I could probably do the latter blindfolded. The grannies are truly incredible. One time, one of them got so sick while washing my hair that she puked on my shoes through the tissue she was holding over her mouth. That wasn't even the worst part. It got disgusting when she tried to wipe the yellow slime off the floor with her vomit-covered tissue. Then again, in the morning they unpack the cheese sandwiches they brought with them as soon as they're married and a cup of coffee is in front of them. Or they fall asleep so soundly that your heart starts racing because you think they've accidentally died unnoticed. And when they're not eating, not sleeping and not dead, they talk... babble until your head nearly explodes. You learn to tune out though and nod and say "hm-hm" every now and then. But they're all mostly sweet and nice. Especially Rosalie. She's about a thousand years old, comes every Friday and gets hand-applied curls. But only I can call her Rosalie because she only lets me touch her hair. The five euro tip is obviously a plus, because most people only give one or two.
At the moment, however, I'm not having as much to do with customers because the third-year apprentices are preparing for their journeyman's exam this summer. I should have started learning theory a long time ago, but... oh well. I have a meeting with Nico in the castle park soon, which is definitely more important.
Luckily, winter seems to be slowly disappearing. It's still cold, but at least it's sunny. Nico, who's already waiting for me, hasn't worn his knitted hat, which is a good thing because his hair is shimmering so pretty reddish in the sun. We walk through the park for a while, and I have to fight the urge to hold his hand.
“What are you studying?” he asks.
"Nothing. I'm going to be a hairdresser."
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought…”
"You don't have to be sorry. Nobody forced me; I chose this myself."
"Why?"
“Because it’s a great job?” I suggest, noticing that my voice is getting a little shrill.
"Well, but not necessarily... demanding, right? Anyone could probably cut a little hair."
"You obviously have no idea," I exclaim. "Or could you just explain to me the chemical processes involved in a perm? Or coloring? Tell me what pointing and slicing are, and what tools you use for them. Strumming around on a piano or guitar isn't that difficult either. Anyone can do THAT."
"Feli," he sighs, "what's wrong with us? Why do I keep getting you so upset?"
Hmm, he's full of prejudices!
"I do not know."
“Okay, let’s talk about something else.”
"Very gladly."
Otherwise he'll come up with the idea that all hairdressers are gay and all hairdressers are stupid makeup chicks.
"Is your father the godfather of a family or just a small fry in the mafia? And how about... will you follow in his footsteps later?"
Sorry, but that had to happen now!
“Then I’d have to make you an offer you can’t refuse, right?” he laughs.
“My parents, as befits us, run an ice cream parlor.”
"Which?"
"Ice Cream Parlor Da Silva. My parents weren't very original when it came to naming it."
"This is yours? They have the best ice cream there."
“Logical,” he waves.
I have funny memories of the restaurant. Last summer, I was there with my sister. A family was sitting at the next table, and the child politely asked for a Donald Duck squeaky mouse! Instead, he got a Pinocchio, which the child didn't notice.
“What are your parents doing?” he asks.
"Nothing special."
"Okay, now that we know practically everything about each other... will you tell me?"
„Was’n?“
"Whether you like guys and what's going on between you and the punk."
“Silas and I are friends.”
"And I thought you were having a relationship with him."
“That was ages ago.”
“But you did.”
"It wasn't anything serious, just sex. Now, like I said, we're friends."
“Is that why you’ve been hanging around band rehearsals so much lately?”
“Why else?”
"I don't know," he replies, stopping. "There are people who say you're hot for me."
Okay, I'm going to blow myself up. Right now.
“What kind of people?”
“People.”
“And if that were the case?”
Huh? Did I suddenly go stupid?
"Wouldn't mind," he replies with a shrug. "After all, it's always flattering when people think you're great. No matter who says it." Suddenly he looks at his watch. "I have to go. Thanks for the walk."
“Yes.”
“So… see you then.”
Cool, that's it. He'll never contact me again. Shit, I screwed up. Why did I have to tell him that I liked him?
Nico just called to make a date with me. For tonight. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to be completely open. Or let's say half-open. After all, I didn't actually admit that I find him particularly attractive. Actually, I was remaining more hypothetical. Besides, if he doesn't mind, there might still be a slight chance...
After I've cleaned my apartment, I change my clothes about twenty times and find myself remarkably ugly... in contrast to the Italian. My hair is okay; I wear it black and styled in an emo style because that suits me best. A few strands of bangs are always colored because only black is boring. If I knew what Nico was up to, I could prepare my clothes accordingly. Does he want to go out? To a club, to the movies, to get something to eat? Or are we just staying here? Shit, maybe I should have gone shopping. The fridge doesn't have much room. On my pantry shelf are a few microwaveable meals next to a can of ravioli. There would have been plenty of sweets if Silas hadn't drastically reduced my supply. Whatever. If all goes well, Nico doesn't come here to eat his fill, but to sleep with me. Ha, ha, Feli, stop dreaming!
Nico shows up promptly at 7:30. The sight of him takes my breath away, as always. And he makes it clear pretty quickly that he wants to be comfortable today, because he immediately lounges on the couch and unpacks two bottles of red wine. Being the romantic that I am, I light a few candles. Holy crap, I hate red wine. Especially dry wine. That stuff practically knocks your socks off.
"You're really lucky to live alone," he claims. "There's always something going on in the dorm, parties and stuff, always very loud."
“Don’t you like parties?”
“Sometimes, but not every other night.”
The flickering candlelight makes Nico's face appear even more beautiful. Beautiful and mysterious. His lips look incredibly soft. My goodness, how can you not lose your mind?
“Why don’t you live at home with your parents?”
“Well, it was just time to leave the nest.”
“So why not have your own apartment?”
"I didn't have the nerve to search around for long. Feli, I was thinking," he says, sipping his wine aristocratically.
"Yes."
“About you and this thing.”
"Matter?"
„Sex.“
I'm so shocked that I get the damn booze down the wrong tube and have to cough until I'm sick.
“I can’t imagine that… that you have sex with men.”
"It's not like I jump on every guy I see."
"Sure, I mean in general. At parties, you often see guys making out..."
"It's pretty hip right now. I don't think they're all gay."
"Probably. But there must be something to it, otherwise so many people wouldn't do it."
"I guess it's about the same with straight guys. They make out too. Sometimes because they're in love, and sometimes just for fun."
“Yes, but sex with men, that’s… that surely feels different.”
"I don't know. I like it."
“Always?”
"Actually, yes. I did have a fling with a girl once, but that wasn't it."
“And with boys… with Silas… that was… how?”
"Silas wasn't the first, but he was definitely the best so far," I blurt out unashamedly. It's because of that damn booze! "Why are you asking me such questions?"
“You know, I like women.”
With this, he completely destroyed my already shaky illusion of Nico and Feli being in love.
“But that’s all I know.”
„Hm…“
“I would really be interested to know what it’s like to kiss a boy, for example.”
My illusion is digging itself out of its grave, gasping for air in hope. Especially because Nico is moving closer to me. Much closer.
“Would you like to try it?”
He tilts his head to the side and looks at me. "I think so."
Okay, that was an invitation, yes. I press my mouth against his lips, which are actually incredibly soft. My heart is pounding like crazy and my entire body is practically on fire as his tongue taps against mine and then, unfortunately, withdraws very quickly.
"And?"
The handsome Italian licks his lips slightly. "Different."
“Differently good or differently bad?”
“Just different,” he whispers and kisses me again.
This kiss lasts longer and is more intense. I don't care that I'm just some kind of test subject at the moment. What was that about giving a gift horse?
“You’re very sweet,” Nico smiles, somewhat surprised.
And awesome. Okay, no risk, no fun!
“Does this satisfy your curiosity or…”
"Or?"
“There are other things boys do together.”
Nico raises an eyebrow meaningfully.
“Do you want to know anything else?”
“Yes,” he whispers in my ear, almost making me come, “everything.”
Wow, Nico actually means what he said. Just a little fooling around is clearly not enough for him. So I'm going to have sex with the handsome Italian guy in every way I can.
A few days later, I still feel completely out of it, even though I'd promised myself not to get too worked up about it, because you never know what might come of it. It could be that it was a one-time thing for Nico. He wanted to try something out and realized he liked it better with women. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure he liked it. But maybe that's wishful thinking. Or maybe it was the wine. We didn't talk about it much afterward. We eventually fell asleep, and the next morning he took off pretty quickly. He did say he'd call me, but I guess everyone says that after a one-night stand. There's nothing I can do but wait. Under no circumstances should I keep stalking him at rehearsals or in the dorms. It's embarrassing enough that all the women at university are kissing the ground he walks on. I don't want him to think I'm like those barley. The stupid thing is, the night with the Italian guy made me so euphoric that I'm constantly grinning and walking on air. I really need to get this under control. My boss already asked me today if I'd won the lottery. If she knew I had the most amazing sex with the most beautiful person in the universe, I think she'd understand my state. Nico was so... enchanting... gorgeous... his skin is soft as velvet, and his touch... I'm simply at a loss for words.
In the evening, just as I was about to sit in front of the TV to distract myself, the doorbell rang.
“Hey,” Nico beams and hops up the last few steps.
“Hello,” I greet him, surprised.
"I wanted to see you. Is that okay?"
“Uh… sure.”
Apparently he wants to kiss me too, because as soon as the door closes, Nico is already hanging on my lips. I feel a little taken aback as he pushes me toward the bedroom.
"What?" he asks. "So shy today?"
“Rather irritated.”
"I don't understand. You seduced me and now you're irritated because I want it again?"
“I somehow didn’t expect it to be that easy,” I admit.
“Get me into bed?” he grins sexily.
"Exactly. Especially since you're something of a heartthrob."
“I just have a weakness for beautiful things.”
“I am not a thing.”
“But nice,” he winks and pushes me onto the mattress.
“Hey, how did you even come to the conclusion that I seduced you?”
He slowly leans over me, takes off my shirt, and unbuttons my jeans. "Isn't that right?"
“You wanted to know…”
"And you enjoyed showing me, huh? Anyway..." He kisses my neck, my chest, and licks my nipples a little, "I'm a perfectionist, and since this kind of sexuality is new to me..."
Well, he can blow pretty well. Oh my goodness, I feel like I'm seeing colorful stars!
“I never thought it could be so sensual to touch another man,” Nico whispers afterward, “to kiss and… to love.”
Oh shit, he talks like a sappy novel. I don't know if I want to get used to that. The guys I dated were pretty direct.
And Silas, for example, likes things dirty.
“You really turned my head.”
“And you to me,” I reply and kiss him.
I have to tell Silas. He's already noticed something's going on, and besides, I just can't keep it to myself any longer. Nico and I have been dating for a few weeks now, but we haven't seen each other much because I'm working and he has to write papers and practice his thousand instruments.
Silas is lounging on the couch as usual, eating my hair. I've barely bought sweets before they're gone again.
“Spit it out, little one,” he demands, sucking on a Kinder chocolate bar.
“Hmm?” I pretend I don’t know what he means.
"I can see from the tip of your cute nose that you want to tell me something. It's probably about that boring Italian."
“Nico is not boring.”
“A walk in the castle park wouldn’t really blow me away.”
“You don’t have a sense of romance either.”
"I once held your hair back while you were throwing up, boy, that's pure romance."
“That was at best… nice.”
"Sorry I didn't have a red rose handy to tuck into your black braids," he replies. "So, what about Nico? Did he go for another walk with you, Romeo?"
“No, he went to bed with me.”
"Aha," he says, staring boredly at his fingernails, but he's not fooling me. He's probably just as surprised by this as I still am.
“You’re an asshole,” I think.
"I never doubted you could get him if the opportunity arose. You're sweet and a good blow job, even a straight guy would be tempted. Are you together now, or was it a one-time thing?"
“It was several times,” I grin like I’m stoned.
“I’d be interested to hear what his girlfriend has to say about this.”
My grin dies reflexively.
“What kind of girlfriend?”
“Well, one of the harem ladies is probably his girlfriend.”
Ah, okay, my heart is beating again. I thought Silas actually knew something.
"No way. Nico is with me."
“Well, then everything is… in the paint, or something.”
“Very true.”
“Can I please make stupid sex jokes at the rehearsal tomorrow when the Italian comes?”
“No way, you complete idiot.”
Silas is laughing his head off.
"Cool. I'm off then," he explains, puts on his shoes and jacket, grabs a few chocolate bars, and... is off.
I can only hope he keeps his damn mouth shut! Silas can't be trusted for a second.
I actually don't even know if Nico and I are together. It feels like it, but no one's said it out loud yet. On the other hand, you don't have to say something like that, do you? After all, we're not twelve-year-olds secretly sending each other little "do you want to go out with me?" notes at school. The fact that he's normally into women is also a problem. Because I have no idea if he's still in the trial phase with me. Is he straight and just wants something new? Or is he bi and just hasn't had the courage to do it before? I find it hard enough with guys who know exactly what's going on. Now I have a half-decent boyfriend and no clue what's going on inside him. And what if he decides the day after tomorrow that he's had enough homosexual experiences and dumps me to be happy with some other guy he likes? Maybe even with that skinny chick with a leg. I have to die immediately.
The next evening, Nico shows up at my door with shopping bags. Some vegetables peek out of one. He kisses me in greeting, immediately stomps into the kitchen, and spreads his shopping on the table.
“I’ll cook us something,” he says cheerfully.
„Okay?“
“It’s nothing special,” he grins, “I’m Italian… we cook all the time.”
I strongly suspect that he defines the term completely differently than I do. For me, cooking means putting some kind of ready-made meal in the microwave. And when I'm hungry for something "proper," I invite myself over to dinner at my mom's. Shit, Nico brought that disgusting red wine. The mere thought of the caustic concoction makes all my taste buds convulse. But I can't bring myself to tell him that I refuse his favorite drink; after all, he wants to cook for me, and no man has ever done that. I watch in delight as he chops things up and stirs pots. The fact that I have any kitchen utensils at all is thanks to my mom, who brought all sorts of things over when I moved in here. Personally, the microwave would have been enough for me.
“Of course, that wasn’t a truly classic Bolognese,” Nico explains later as we sit cuddled together on the couch, “that would have taken far too long.”
“Still tasted better than anything I’ve eaten before.”
"Thanks. I didn't want to tell you right away, but your Silas threatened to beat me after rehearsal today."
Horrified, I move away from him.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"In case I'm just playing with you and hurting you."
Okay, Silas is definitely going to get a good beating from me. And it's going to hurt him a lot!
"Silas fell badly on his head as a child. He's been crazy ever since. Don't take it seriously."
"He seems to like you," Nico shrugs. "Very much."
"That doesn't mean he needs to run around like Rambo. He's probably crazy."
“You didn’t have to tell him we liked each other.”
"Why? Is this a secret?"
"No," he shakes his head with a smile, "of course not. But apparently he's not handling this information well. Besides, I would never play with other people's feelings. And certainly not with yours."
“Then you have nothing to fear,” I beam, beaming with love.
Silas has taken off, the cowardly rat. He went home to his parents for Easter. Ha! He didn't want me to give him a slap on the wrist. Nico, by the way, is also away for a few days, which is much worse, of course, because I miss him like crazy. Logically, I won't get any Easter holidays at all, because I only go to school once a week anyway, and if I don't, I have to work. I won't get a vacation until the summer. And maybe a very long one if I pass my exam and have to find a new shop. That said, my boss has some really good contacts and has already picked out a cool salon for me. But do I really want to work as a hairdresser for a hundred years after my apprenticeship? I could easily start studying chemistry. But my life costs money, and I have to earn it somehow. I think Silas is only studying because he doesn't want to do some eight-to-five job and would rather make it big with his band. Nico... I don't know, we hardly talk about things like that when we're together. Oh man, the main thing is that I see my beautiful Italian again soon.
First, I see Silas again, and I immediately want to make a fool of him, but... well, he's standing at the door, grinning cutely and holding a chocolate bunny in front of me. How can I possibly stay mad?
“Is this your way of apologizing?”
"Why?" he asks, sitting down on the couch. "Did I do something wrong?"
“Uh… you want to beat up my friend?” I prompt him.
“Oh, that,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.
“Yes, it would be nice if you didn’t meddle in my affairs.”
“What kind of loser is that who’s about to tell on me?”
“That’s not the point.”
"I just wanted to make it clear to him that he's under observation."
“And he does that because…?”
“I don’t trust the Italian,” he explains.
"I trust him, that's enough. Since when did I choose you as my protector?"
“You would do that for me too.”
"You can certainly take care of yourself... with your experience in fistfighting."
"That's right. Because unlike you, I don't fall in love with any old sisters."
"Where did you get that word? From the gay dictionary?"
"Why doesn't he go out with you? Why do you always meet here... where no one can see you, huh? Doesn't he dare go out in public with you?"
"Maybe he just wants to spend the little time we have alone with me. When you're in love, you don't need publicity, asshole."
"Of course, anything could be true," he nods. "I'm sorry, but guys who are so ostentatious about showing themselves with women and sleeping with guys behind closed doors are suspicious to me."
Me too. But we're talking about Nico, damn it.
“I think we should change the subject.”
“Sure, I’m fine with that.”
“How was it with your parents?”
Silas grimaces. "Hit, sunk. Thank you."
When he's left two hours later, I still feel a little sorry for the question. I know Silas doesn't get along particularly well with his parents. It's mainly because of his appearance. A ragged punk just doesn't fit in with a family of doctors and aspiring architects. Dad is an oral surgeon, Mom a dentist. His brother, Silvester, is studying architecture. It's a shame my parents are just ordinary people, otherwise I'd definitely have such a great name. Well, you can't have everything. Ha, ha... Silas and Silvester, my goodness, Mr. and Mrs. Doctor probably just inhaled too much laughing gas. My parents are really nice, they like me the way I am... even if I were a punk, they would love me. The fact that I'm gay is no big deal at home; I could easily bring my boyfriend over to dinner or something. In any case, Silas is allowed to come with me to my parents' house, but they've known him since he was a kid, and I haven't exactly gone around telling them that we had sex at some point. But the welcoming kiss he once gave me in front of Mom and Dad might have given them that idea.
A few days after Silas, Nico also shows up again. And we end up back in bed. I don't really have anything against that, but the conversation with Silas somehow stuck with me. I also wonder why Nico always needs his disgusting booze to get laid? Then again, he's Italian, they're always drinking red wine.
“I missed you,” Nico crooned romantically.
“Why don’t we ever go out?” roars out of my mouth.
„Hm?“
"We're at my apartment all the time. Don't you want to be seen with me? Because no one should know that you... that we..."
Nico's eyes widen in surprise. "You think... Feli, I just like having you all to myself."
Ah… how sweet!
"But if you want to go out... no problem. How about a movie?"
Great, it's dark there and no one can see us. Why didn't he just invite me on a ride on the ghost train? Or secretly summon me to the old oak tree outside the city gates on a dark night?
“We could watch Dark Shadows on Saturday,” I suggest.
“I’ve already seen it with… friends.”
“Oh, I see. Not me,” I explain, somewhat disappointed.
"Fine by me. It's so great, you might as well watch it twice."
“So we’re meeting on Saturday?”
“Sure,” he smiles.
So, my dear Silas, that's proof that your stupid theory is wrong!
Unfortunately, Nico calls me Friday afternoon and tells me that he's so in love that he's forgotten some family celebration he absolutely has to attend on Saturday. So our movie trip is canceled. He's postponing it until next week.
I watched Dark Shadows with Silas. He was pining over Johnny Depp the whole time, it was horrible. Although... Johnny is really adorable as a vampire. And cute. And funny. I like Depp/Burton films anyway. And then a week later, when Nico and I were on a date, he suddenly fell ill. A cold. That could mean something, but it doesn't have to. Nico is constantly afraid of colds. Especially the ones that come with sore throats and throat congestion. Logical, after all, he needs his voice for his studies. I don't really understand what all he studies... singing seems to be in there somewhere, anyway. He's also incredibly knowledgeable about antique instruments... shawm, lute, various flutes, harpsichord, dulcimer, psaltery-something, bagpipes, hurdy-gurdy... although he can only play a few of them. My goodness... and I'm making grandmas' hair go crazy! Silas also knows all these instruments, by the way, but he never lectures me about them. Well, Nico is just an absolute music freak. Sometimes a little too freaky for my taste. But only sometimes.
Today is the day. Today, Nico and I are finally going to the movies. He hasn't canceled yet, which is a good sign, because we're meeting in an hour. Naturally, he's chosen a musical film: Farinelli. It's playing out of order as part of some special program, which means there probably won't be many people there. Anyway, I'm off now.
Nico is waiting outside the cinema; he's already bought the tickets. How thoughtful, I'm obviously invited. He also takes care of the popcorn and drinks. Wow, what a gentleman! The film is okay, beautiful pictures and all, but... hmm, maybe it's the annoying dubbing voice of that Farinelli type. I can't imagine castrati speaking so croakily. But then, it's also hard to imagine how castrati sang in real life. The singing in the film is an electronic hybrid of the voices of a countertenor and a coloratura soprano... Nico knows.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, pretending I know all about it.
"I have a CD by Alessandro Moreschi, the last and only castrato whose recordings exist. But his singing sounds more eerie than it gives you an idea of what castrati actually sounded like. Honestly... he whines like something hurts," he grins as we have drinks in a bar afterward. "Well, by the time the recordings were made, he'd probably already lost quite a bit of his vocal range."
“Hmm…” I say.
“Sorry if I bore you or get on your nerves.”
"You don't. I find that very interesting. Have you ever read Falsetto by Anne Rice?"
"I considered it. But even the synopsis was a bit too... ahem..."
"Gay?"
"Too much pompous history surrounding it. I don't want to know who castrati had sex with or who they wanted revenge on. I'm interested in singing and music."
Well, for me, it's the exact opposite. For example, I didn't know before that castrati could even have sex. Ha, ha, that's why they were so incredibly popular with women... Having fun without having to fear unpleasant consequences!
“Don’t you ever read anything for entertainment?”
“If I have time, definitely.”
„Was’n?“
"Recently... My inner Elvis. I hardly believe you..."
“The little sister with the reptilian eyeglasses who collects her urine, constantly plays psychotherapy and asks about orgasms,” I interrupt, laughing.
"Exactly. I found that incredibly funny. About as funny as the scene earlier where Farinelli practically sang old Handel to death," he giggles.
“Hey, that was supposed to be dramatic, you philistine.”
"Yes... but it wasn't, was it? Lascia ch'io pianga couldn't save it."
I'm very happy that Nico is a normal person after all. And that he doesn't mind being seen with me. The bar is busy. On the other hand, we're not sitting that close together, holding hands, or doing anything romantic. One might think we're just good friends having a drink. I don't dare give him a kiss now. Maybe that would overwhelm or scare him. I don't know. You don't have to admit your homosexuality all the time, everywhere...
"That was a lovely evening," Nico smiles, moves a little closer, places his hand on mine, and strokes the back of my hand with his thumb. Then he gently kisses my cheek.
My entire body tingles and feels remarkably rubbery. Especially my legs, as I leave the restaurant.
“I’d love to spend the night with you, but I have to get up early tomorrow.”
I couldn't care less that my schedule tomorrow includes perms and granny haircuts starting at 8 a.m. I'd stay up all night. Oh well. Nico says goodbye with a super tender kiss, and I'm not going home... I'm floating!
The next day is Friday, and Rosalie's hair has already been washed. I hastily down my coffee and push aside the little intern who's been constantly in my way for a week. I think she's a little bit in love with me; she never looks at the others. Whatever, I get to work, creating perfect waves and securing them with combs.
“Sebastian, my boy, you seem to be in a particularly good mood today.”
“I always am.”
“Of course, but today… there’s something wrong with you.”
“Everything’s fine,” I shrug and grab a comb for myself because the little intern is too slow to hand it over.
"I think there's a girl behind this. Should I be jealous?" my customer jokes.
“No girl, no reason to be jealous,” I grin.
“Well, then it’s a boy,” she replies dryly.
In shock, I throw the box of combs and curlers off the cart. The poor little intern has to pick everything up.
"Caught," Rosalie smiles. "You don't have to be embarrassed. It's nice when you're newly in love."
I can see my face turning red in the mirror. Suddenly she turns around, grabs me, and pulls me down to her.
“You’re not still in the closet, are you?”
"Please?"
“Isn’t that how you say it?”
"Yes, I mean... no, well... uh... it's not a secret."
"I thought that about you from the beginning," she claims, letting go of me so I can continue my work. "You're far too pretty to be heterosexual."
“Thank you,” I say helplessly.
By the way, the little intern just made off. Rosalie shakes her head in irritation.
"Anyway, my granddaughter's friend is a lesbian. A very nice girl. She's having a big fight with her parents about it. It's a disgrace, if you ask me. I hope Obama stays president; I can't stand Romney. What do you think, Sebastian?"
My goodness, she's got leaps of imagination.
"Yeah, sure," I nod, draping the hairnet on her head and adjusting the cap. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"You're pretty out of it," Rosalie barks over the roar of the hood. "I'd like a glass of champagne... like every Friday morning. It's good for the circulation," she laughs.
Incredibly, this antiquated wavy hairstyle with ringlets at the nape of her neck is in complete contrast to the modern views she undoubtedly holds. But Rosalie herself once described her hand-styled waves as "classic and timelessly chic" and believes that what matters is what's on your mind, not what hairstyle you're wearing.
Luckily, today was only half a day. When I get home, I'll catch up on a few hours of sleep and then finally dig into my textbook to familiarize myself with redox reactions, sulfur bridges, peptide coils, esters, and the like to the point where I'll have enough time for my upcoming exam.
Saturday afternoon, I realize that my handsome Italian boyfriend left a book about picture motets at my place recently. Since I can't reach him by phone at the moment and was just about to pop over to my parents' house anyway, I decide to drop the book off. The dorm is pretty much on the way, and besides, it'll give me a good excuse to see him for a few minutes and kiss him.
So, in a relatively good mood, I knock on his door and wait... what feels like five minutes. Shit, isn't he home or what?
Ah, finally the door opens and Nico appears, shirtless. How convenient.
“Hey,” I grin and look at him suggestively.
“Feli… what do you want here?”
My good mood level drops a bit.
“What kind of greeting is that?”
“Sorry, it’s just… ahem…”
“Honey…” a female voice suddenly sounds.
What the hell is going on here? I push the door further open, stomp into the room, and suddenly feel like throwing up. The bitch whose foot I once stepped on is sprawled half-naked on Nico's bed. I recognize her by her anorexic hocks.
“Sorry,” I murmur, stunned, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“Well, then get lost,” the bitch screams.
"Vivien," Nico hisses. "Feli... wait!"
No thanks. I've seen enough.
The fact that I have to take a quick breather outside in the ugly entrance area turns out to be a mistake, because Nico suddenly stands next to me.
“Let me explain,” he begs… after all, he’s dressed now.
"What," I ask, "is there to explain? My probationary period is apparently over. And I failed it."
“It’s not that simple, Feli.”
True. If it were that easy, I wouldn't have this terrible heartache right now and wouldn't be on the verge of tears.
“Look,” he babbles, “I really like you and…”
“Aha, so I just imagined the bitch in your bed?”
„Vivien.“
"I don't care what it's called. By the way, has it been going on for a while?"
Nico runs his hand through his hair with effort.
“Well, actually… we’ve been together for two years…”
“Fuck you,” I hiss, spit on the ground in front of him, and quickly make my escape.
Shit, hey, Silas was right from the start and as far as I'm concerned he can punch that damn Italian in the face now!
And all of a sudden, everything gets on my nerves. The work, the fucking studying, Silas, from whom I've been hiding for days because I don't want him to know he was right, the almost summery weather that practically screams for me to stroll around in love... and Nico, who bombards me with calls. Does he really expect me to talk to him? After he's admitted that I was just a fling for him? Something exotic that tore him away from his boring heterosexual routine for a few weeks? Probably every time he had to do some work for his studies, he was actually in bed with his skinny-thighed chick. He had her disgusting tongue in his mouth and then came over to kiss me and give me a blowjob. I'd love to dip my cock in Clorox and gargle with Domestos.
Fuck, I should have known. You just don't get involved with a straight girl in the crazy hope that she might actually be into guys. But Nico was so... I thought he loved me. Oh well, just write it off and move on. Unfortunately, that doesn't work. Studying as a distraction doesn't work either. To be honest, I'm totally screwed. So much so that I accidentally open the door when the doorbell rings, even though I obviously don't want any visitors. Hopefully not Silas, to whom I have to confess that my boyfriend is banging a skinny chick with legs. Oh no, much better. It's my boyfriend himself. Luckily without his skinny chick with legs. I'm still anything but thrilled.
“Let’s talk again,” the Italian scoundrel begs.
“Get away from my door or I’ll call the police.”
“Feli… that’s silly.”
Well, maybe a little bit.
“Do you have any idea how I feel right now?” I hiss.
"No. But I can imagine it."
"You don't know shit. Asshole."
“Man, Feli… it wasn’t planned that… I would fall in love with you.”
"No? What was the plan?"
“I don’t want to explain that to you in passing,” he replies, and forces his way in by simply pushing me aside.
“This is trespassing,” I yell and slam the door.
"I thought it was kind of weird that a guy was into me... at first, that is. But then when we... when we first met... damn, Feli, I don't want to lose you, okay?"
“That’s why you’re fucking some bitch.”
“I should have told you about Vivien,” he admits.
"Uh, no," I counter. "You should have broken up with her before you started anything with me. That's what normal people do."
“Just because I’m with Vivien doesn’t mean… I love you too.”
“You don’t want both of us now, do you?” I ask, horrified.
“Something like that can definitely work,” he claims.
Excuse me? I think it's hacking!
“Have you already presented her with your great suggestion?”
"Vivien is pretty relaxed about it. She wouldn't have a problem with it."
He really means it. Oh dear!
"Sorry, but I'm completely unhinged when it comes to this. So get out of here and leave me alone."
“Think about it,” he suggests and leaves.
Hey, that guy's crazy. What am I saying... One? Several. He wants a threesome with me and that skinny bitch. If it weren't so sad, you'd have to laugh about it.
Okay, I'm so close to freaking out right now, I absolutely need to let off some steam. Go out, dance, drink. Drink a lot. There's a tea dance at the Crystal Palace today, and they're playing nothing but old crypt and punk stuff. Very good. I'll call Silas and make a date with him.
"I thought you were dead," my best friend greets me, placing two bottles of beer on the small, round table and sitting down next to me. "Why haven't you been answering my calls?"
“I was busy,” I reply briefly and drink half of the bottle.
“Fuck your Italian, huh?”
Immediately, I get a nasty stabbing pain in my chest, but I'm not drunk enough to tell Silas what happened.
“I had to study, I have an exam soon,” I say instead.
Silas looks really hot today. High-top Docs, tight jeans, a wide silver belt, and a dark, low-cut, sleeveless skull-print shirt. And as always, he's wearing a studded dog collar with a small padlock dangling from it, Sid Vicious-like.
Fittingly, “Anarchy in the UK” plays and he storms onto the dance floor.
While Silas is busy, I get more supplies at the counter.
“Man, you really want to know today,” he remarks as he returns to the table and sees the full tequila glasses.
I hastily down the swill. "You have no idea."
“What’s up?”
„Nix.“
“Aha,” he shakes his head.