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The boy put his arm around me, pulled me toward him, and kissed me. I felt like I was floating on clouds.
What was that? A loud, shrill sound pierced my eardrums. The beeping of my watch. I blinked. Shit, it had just been a dream again. But wait, where was I? There was a strange smell of rubber all around me, the bed felt incredibly hard. I opened my eyes fully. Oh yeah, right. I was lying in a much too cramped, blue-grey igloo tent on a campsite somewhere in Italy. From outside, I heard the voices of my classmates. They were awake before me again and seemed to be already running around outside.
We were on a week-long trip to Fiumicino, a coastal town on the Mediterranean, just a few kilometers from Rome. Someone had suggested, for financial reasons, that we stay at this campsite instead of a youth hostel. I silently wished that someone all sorts of things on their heads as I lifted my aching bones from the already suspiciously flabby air mattress—not without hitting my head on one of those stupid tent poles, like every morning.
I unzipped my tent a bit and poked my head outside. Most of my classmates were already milling around outside, some of them just returning from their showers. It remained a mystery to me how they managed to wake up so early every morning.
My watch showed 10 to 8. It was awful, getting up in the middle of the night. Breakfast would be ready in ten minutes. I dug my toiletry bag and a towel out of a corner of the tent and headed for the showers. Even at this hour, it was warm enough to walk around in just a towel.
I met Marco in the washroom. He spent at least ten minutes in front of the mirror every morning, using various sprays to give his bleached hair the right look.
"So, awake already?" he grinned at me. I mumbled something and continued on to the showers.
I've been friends with Marco for as long as I can remember. He was in the same class as me in elementary school and then moved on to high school. He was the best friend you could imagine; you could tell him anything and he was up for any fun. Okay, he was a little crazy, I have to say. He sometimes drove our year leader, Ms. Dahlkamp, crazy with his various antics. I spent most of my free time with Marco and Jens – he was also in our year. I could talk to them about anything. Up until now, they were the only people I'd confided in about being gay. They both had no problems with it; they told me that straight away, and nothing changed between us when I came out.
When I returned to the tents, I was horrified to realize that I'd once again lost track of time in the warm shower, and everyone else had already left for breakfast. I searched for my shorts and pulled on a light gray T-shirt, then jumped into my sneakers and raced to the breakfast room. Thankfully, Marco had saved a spot for me.
While a cup of coffee revived my spirits, Ms. Dahlkamp outlined the day's program. We were to meet immediately after breakfast at the bus that would take us to Rome. Today's itinerary included a guided tour of St. Peter's Basilica and the Vatican Gardens. Afterwards, we had some time for lunch, and then the bus would take us to the outskirts of the city, to the Via Appia. There, we would visit the Catacombs of San Sebastiano. After all, this was officially a study trip, and a decent cultural program was part of that.
With this daily schedule, only the evenings remained for our own activities. We made the most of them. Marco, Jens, and a few other guys from our class would party hard in the local pubs and discos, or we'd buy a case of beer and have a bonfire on the beach. This part of the program usually lasted until the early hours of the morning, and it sometimes happened that we couldn't remember how it ended the next morning.
After breakfast, we set off as planned. Shortly before we reached Rome, a young woman boarded the bus to guide us through St. Peter's Basilica. She started rattling off the history of the cathedral through the microphone, but our attention was rather limited.
Things got more interesting when we left St. Peter's Basilica after an hour's sightseeing and walked through the Vatican Gardens. Here, however, we weren't allowed to move freely; instead, we had to stay together and trot behind the young woman. Only Marco didn't seem to mind, and while the guide explained the significance of various trees that had been brought here from all over the world, he whispered to me that he wanted to visit the Pope sometime, and slipped off unnoticed.
About half an hour later, we passed the Papal Station, which, however, consisted only of some rusty tracks and a few old wagons standing around on them, seemingly unused for ages. Suddenly, I saw Marco jump out of a freight car and run toward us. Mrs. Dahlkamp had seen it too and took a deep breath, but then she didn't say anything so our guide wouldn't notice.
After lunch, we boarded the bus again, which made its way for a full hour and a half through Roman traffic to the Catacombs of San Sebastiano. There, we first had to climb countless steep steps and then entered a veritable labyrinth of winding passageways and niches. They were built 2,000 years ago as Christian tombs, but in the centuries that followed, generations of grave robbers had gone wild here. There are said to be more than 150 kilometers of such passageways beneath Rome, explained Ms. Dahlkamp, scanning the area to see if Marco was still with the group.
By the time we arrived back in Fiumicino, it was almost seven o'clock. Phew, I had to lie down in my tent and rest for a bit. Unfortunately, sleep was in short supply here, because even though we didn't crawl into our sleeping bags until around two or three o'clock in the morning, Mrs. Dahlkamp mercilessly insisted on having breakfast at eight o'clock.
As I dozed with my eyes closed, I remembered what the guide had said in the catacombs of San Sebastiano. 2,000 years ago, the first Christians are said to have hidden there when they were persecuted by the Romans. Much of what the woman had said about these Christians sounded familiar to me. It reminded me of the situation of many gay people in today's world. They, too, often have to hide, afraid to openly admit that they are gay. They form a community among themselves that separates itself from the rest of the world, perhaps not because they want nothing to do with the world, but because they only felt safe here. What would things be like in 2,000 years?
At some point, I came out of my tent again and went down to the clubhouse. Marco, Jens, and Mareike, Jens' girlfriend, were sitting at a table on the terrace playing cards. I bought myself an ice cream and sat down, and we played until the sun dipped low over the sea.
A little later, more people from our class joined us and asked what we wanted to do that evening. We decided to walk along the beach to a bar that always had a disco in the evenings, then we got up and left.
We could see the building from afar, built on stilts into the sea. On the waterside, there was a large terrace, from which music blared. We reached the house and climbed a flight of stairs to the terrace. In the middle was a dance floor, which wasn't busy yet. Tables were set up along the railing facing the sea, and in front of the house was a bar. Behind the bar stood an Italian man wearing a Hawaiian shirt who was also the bartender and DJ, playing the summer's latest party hits on the CD players. We pushed two tables together and sat down.
An Italian waitress came over and asked what we wanted. Most of us ordered a Lambrusco, which had become our regular drink here. We chatted about the day's events in Rome. Almost everyone had found the tour of St. Peter's Basilica too long, and the half hour for the shopping spree had once again been far from enough.
Sabine told how she and Julia had returned from the toilet after lunch and noticed that the rest of the class had already made a run for it. Julia, of course, had immediately panicked and wanted to call her parents at home, but Sabine had managed to stop her. Then the two of them wandered through the streets of Rome for hours until they reached us again at the catacombs. Mrs. Dahlkamp, of course, was already at her wits' end, since even after the fourth count the number of people still wasn't right. Marco imitated her as she moaned in her unmistakable way: "My God, what do we do now?" while flailing her arms, and we shook with laughter.
As the sun set over the sea, turning the sky red, the terrace slowly filled up. Most of the people were tourists from the campsite or from the city. A group of young locals, five boys and two girls, just then came up the steps. Two of the boys immediately jumped onto the dance floor, while the others came over and sat at the table next to us.
Marco, Jens and a few of the others couldn't stand it any longer and ran onto the dance floor.
"Come with me!" Marco called to me, but I shook my head. I'd rather stay seated a little longer, sip Lambrusco, and watch the others. I was sitting with my back to the water and had a good view of the dance floor. Well, watching good-looking guys was one of my favorite things to do anyway, and some of the Italian boys here were pretty impressive. My gaze fell on one of the young Italians, who was zipping around the dance floor with his shirt open. He was maybe 18, like me, had black, shaggy hair, and was about 6'1". At that moment, he turned around and looked straight in my direction. For a second, I looked into beautiful, dark eyes, then quickly looked away again. Oops, I hope he hadn't noticed that I'd been staring. I was always embarrassed by things like that, and I would quickly look away whenever someone looked back, even though it was actually perfectly normal—straight guys look at girls, too. I thought to myself, I should be able to approach someone like that. Other people always manage to do it with girls, somehow...
Now the other Italian boys from the next table got up and came over to us. They sat down in the empty seats, a few chairs away from me, and started talking. One of their friends from the dance floor joined us too. They seemed to have their eye on the girls in our class. Two of them spoke pretty good German. I noticed that they had both grown up in Germany. Then they asked us where we were from and what we had seen so far, and Sabine, of course, told the story about her and Julia this afternoon, which the Italians seemed to find incredibly funny. One of them then said something in Italian, at which everyone burst out laughing. When Maik asked them what he had said, they replied that it couldn't be translated.
I leaned back and looked out at the sea. The sun had almost set, the last rays still glittering on the water. Further out, a few sailboats were cruising. It was a beautiful, warm evening, and I wondered how often I would experience something like this in the near future. Tomorrow we would be heading back to Germany, and there were only a few months left until school ended for us. Then we would all go our separate ways, and such school trips would probably be a thing of the past forever.
I looked away and took another sip from my glass. The Italians at the table were still flirting with the girls from our class. I saw that one of them had sat down, it was the cute guy I had just been watching. I discreetly glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was barely participating in the conversation – he probably didn't speak German either – only once did he say something short in Italian to his friend. I wondered if there was any way I could get ahold of him – completely by chance. Today, after all, it had to work. First, I reached for my glass again – maybe because it's sometimes easier to approach others when you're a bit drunk. That's how it is for me anyway. As I went to put it back, with him constantly in the corner of my eye, I bumped my elbow against a half-full beer bottle. Shit! Before I could put the bottle back down, some of the contents had spilled across the table and onto the floor. Although nothing spilled on anyone's clothes, everyone at the table turned around and looked at me, making me blush. "Hey, can't you be careful?" Sabine growled at me. I mumbled something and tried to clean up the mess with a few napkins. When I looked up, I noticed the Italian who had just arrived smiling at me from across the table. I tried to manage something resembling a smile, but then he looked away again, and I stood up and threw away the wet napkins.
When I returned, the last notes of Britney Spears' latest compilation album were just fading out on the dance floor. The DJ behind the bar was now spinning "Don't Be Afraid" by DJ Tonka, one of this year's party hits. The dance floor immediately filled up again, and the Italians invited Julia, Sabine, and Bettina, all three of whom didn't mind and giggled as they joined in. Marco ran past me, shouting, "Come on, come on!" and I followed him onto the dance floor.
Things really got going there, and for the next half hour, I forgot the world around me. The rhythm got into my blood and dictated my movements. Even though the sun had already set, it was still incredibly warm, and I was sweating from every pore. Some of the guys had taken off their T-shirts, and seeing so many well-built, incredibly good-looking boys dancing around me with their shirts off made me sweat even more. You almost have to pull yourself together a bit to keep yourself in check. You might know the feeling...
The song had just ended, and I was completely exhausted. Marco came up to me and handed me a bottle of Peroni, and I took a deep drag. I'd actually wanted to sit down for a moment, but then the DJ started playing "Around The World" by ATC, this year's absolute summer hit. Immediately, the dance floor was packed again. A few boys from our class grabbed each other's shoulders and formed a chain, and more and more joined them. Suddenly, someone nudged me from behind; I turned around and—looked into the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. It was the Italian boy I'd been watching at the table. He was dancing shirtless at one end of the chain and probably wanted me to join him. I must have stared at him, pretty bewildered, and before I could react, he pulled me closer and put his arm around my shoulder. It took a moment for me to regain control of my senses, then I put my arm around his bare shoulders, and more people joined us, so that we finally formed a circle.
My heart beat a little faster as I danced shoulder to shoulder with the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. He had his arm tightly around my shoulders, and I felt the warmth of his body. It seemed completely normal to him, but I felt like I was floating on air. I think it might have been the most beautiful dance of my life. When I turned slightly in his direction, I could smell his shower gel. I glanced at his face from the side, but then quickly looked straight ahead again.
The song ended far too quickly, and the circle dissolved. I wished I hadn't let go of him at all. It was as if I'd woken up from a dream. I turned to him briefly and looked into his beautiful black eyes for a moment. I wanted to say something else, but he had already disappeared into the hustle and bustle. My heart was pounding and I was sweating, so I slowly walked toward the bar. Jens was perched on a barstool, and I sat down next to him.
"Well, everything okay?" he asked hypocritically.
“Mhm,” I said, and Jens ordered us two Lambruscos.
"He must have done it to you, huh?"
I looked at him. "Huh? Who are you talking about?"
"Come on, it's obvious you've got your eye on that boy over there," he grinned.
Oh shit. "Well..." I mumbled, embarrassed. Jens didn't miss a thing either. Before I could say anything else, Mareike interrupted.
"Well, Jens, weren't you just about to ask me to dance?" They were now playing "Eternal Flame" on the dance floor. "Or should I wait until someone else asks me?"
Before Jens could respond, she dragged him onto the dance floor. He gave me an apologetic look. "I wish you the best of luck!" he called out before the two disappeared into the crowd.
"Yes, thanks," I mumbled and turned back to the bar. The waitress was just pushing two Lambrusco glasses across the counter, so I had no choice but to pay for Jens's. Then I took a sip and stared at the bar. Shit, I thought, if I don't finally manage to approach someone, I'll probably never meet anyone. But what can I say? "Hi, I'm gay, are you?" The odds of someone saying yes were about one in twenty against me, so not a great prospect.
So I sat at the bar for a while, lost in thought, and eventually the second glass was empty. Uh, I was starting to notice the Lambrusco. The bar stool suddenly wasn't quite as stable anymore. Behind me, the guys and girls were still dancing the blues, tightly embraced. My God, couldn't he finally play something else?
And then suddenly someone tapped me from behind. I turned my head, thinking the alcohol had finally confused my senses. Standing in front of me was the cute boy from before—it really was him, and he meant me!
"Hi, can I sit next to you?" he said in not-so-bad German. I was still staring at him.
"Uh, sure, yeah," I stammered, immediately blushing. The boy sat down on the empty bar stool next to me, where Jens had just been sitting, and called something to the waiter in Italian.
"Tiring, isn't it?" He probably meant the dancing.
“Yes,” was all I could manage.
»Where in Germany are you from?«
"We? From, uh... from Stade. Near Hamburg." I almost forgot where I lived. I still couldn't believe that this boy had just spoken to me like that, of all people. And I, the idiot I am, could barely manage a coherent sentence!
The Italian waiter brought a large beer and placed it in front of the boy. I watched him raise the glass to his mouth and take several deep sips. Then, slowly, I found my voice again.
"How do you speak German so well?" I asked him. At least I know a little.
"I lived with my parents in Germany for 14 years. In Munich. Then I came back here three years ago."
He took another sip. I frantically thought about what else I could ask him, but he got there first.
“And you’re here on a school trip?” he asked me.
"Yes, our graduation trip. School's over for us this summer."
Well, and so it went on for a while, slowly we got into conversation, talking about this and that, the things you usually talk about. I told him about our school trip, our excursions to Rome and other destinations, and of course about the big and small disasters that had occurred during the trip. Then I talked about my friends, Marco, Jens, and Mareike, and what we do together. Only afterwards did I realize that it was mostly him who was asking questions; I hardly learned anything about him in the conversation. When I mentioned Jens and Mareike, he asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I said no. Then he pointed to the dance floor and said:
"A lot of nice girls here, huh?"
“Mhm,” I just said.
"Not the right one for you?"
"Oh, well... I'm not that interested in girls..." I mumbled, and then choked. Shit, what did I just say? I could have slapped myself! I hoped he hadn't misunderstood, I mean, understood correctly. But he didn't pursue it any further, and we changed the subject.
During the conversation, I couldn't take my eyes off him. His body, now covered by a shirt again, was well-built, his skin a dark tan. Around his neck he wore a silver chain with a small pendant dangling from it. But the most handsome thing was his face. When our eyes met and I looked into his black eyes, a shiver ran through my entire body. Sometimes he smiled briefly, and it was the sweetest smile I had ever seen.
"Okay, I need to go," he said at some point with a wink. I watched him as he got up and walked down the stairs to the beach to relieve himself.
"Hey, are you coming?" I suddenly heard Marco's voice. "We want to walk down the beach again, maybe we'll find a bar or something..."
"Just a minute," I called back. I couldn't leave now; I had to at least wait until he came back. But I didn't want to stay here alone either.
"The others are leaving, hurry up!" There was still no sign of the Italian boy, and finally I got up and ran after Marco.
The alcohol had obviously already taken its toll on some of the people in our class; they were supporting each other, beer cans in hand, as they staggered along the beach in a not-quite-straight direction. A small group led the way, including Ben and two other boys.
When I caught up with Marco and Jens, they couldn't help but grin. Of course, they had been watching the conversation at the bar, and they probably hadn't missed my glances at the boy either.
"Don't say anything wrong," I grumbled, whereupon my grin grew even wider and Marco had to ask innocently, "Why, I don't even know what you mean..."
At least they didn't make any more stupid comments after that. Instead, Marco took off his sandals and let the surf wash around his calves; a few others did the same. We walked a little further until Ben and the others stopped in a small, rocky cove. Apparently, they had some kind of idea again.
“What’s going on?” Marco called as we got closer.
"Hey, who's coming swimming with me?" Ben called back.
"Now?!" Jens asked, aghast. Most of the others were immediately fired up and disappeared behind a rock. Marco ran after them, too.
“Do you want to swim too?” I asked Jens.
He shook his head, and I also preferred to stay on dry land, so we sat down on the rocks a few meters from the water. I was already a little tired, and just watching the others swim was enough for me.
Suddenly, we heard voices coming from the direction we'd come from. I turned around and recognized the young Italians from the beach bar. Apparently, they had been following us. Naturally, I immediately looked for the boy who had been dancing next to me.
Marco immediately yelled, "Hey, come with me!" He had stripped completely naked and ran into the surf. The locals said something in Italian, then came running up, yelling, took off their clothes, and rushed after him. Now I recognized the cute boy from the bar.
They swam further out, squealing with delight. Shit, maybe I should have gone with them after all. The thought of swimming stark naked in the ocean with these cute boys made my heart race.
“So, is he gay too?” Jens pulled me out of my fantasies.
"What? Who?"
"I wonder if he's gay too. The Italian guy, that is."
"I don't know, how am I supposed to know? Should I just ask everyone?"
I paused. Mareike came running over to us; she had sat down higher up with the other girls. Somehow, she always had a habit of barging in at the wrong moment.
"Hey guys, we want to start a campfire. Will you help?"
"Okay, we're coming," I sighed and stood up. The girls were already hauling wood from a small grove behind an embankment. Since it hadn't rained here for days, it was completely dry, and it was no problem to get the campfire going on the rocks with a lighter. Soon we were sitting in front of the blazing flames.
Meanwhile, loud yelling came from the water. It must have been some catchy tune my classmates were singing while drunk, although I couldn't make out what it was. From the fire, I watched the bright spots on the water's surface. Then I turned away and stared into the fire. Jens threw a new log on it, sparks flew, and it crackled. Then the flames ate through the wood and burned even higher. You could really feel their warmth on your face.
Later, the night swimmers gradually emerged from the water. Since no one had brought a towel, they ran up and down the beach below, trying to dry off somewhat. From a distance, I cast a few discreet glances in their direction and, of course, tried to catch a glimpse of the Italian boy.
After they got dressed, they came running to warm themselves by the fire. Marco sat down next to me and Jens.
"Cool! Why didn't you come with us?"
I shrugged. Even though I didn't want to show it, my mind was elsewhere. I looked for the group of Italians who were now walking up the beach. They sat down with us at the campfire, directly across from me. Without meaning to, I kept looking in his direction. He was talking to the others in Italian. Water was still dripping from his hair, and when one of his friends whispered something to him, I saw that dazzling smile again.
To my right, Mareike cuddled up to Jens. They kissed, and somehow I felt a pang in my heart—and couldn't help but look over at him. His face was illuminated by the firelight, and the flames glittered in his black eyes. If you've ever sat around a campfire at night, you're probably familiar with this. The warmth of the fire, the crackling, the light, and the dancing shadows create a very special atmosphere. And when you're in love with a boy sitting across from you in a moment like that, but you just can't tell him, you feel a strange mixture of love, longing, and pain at the same time.
And so we sat there for a while, while I stared into the flickering flames as the embers slowly consumed the stacked wood. At some point, it had burned down completely, and the last logs were only smoldering faintly. Suddenly it had become cold. Next to me, Marco had finished his last beer, and I realized how tired I suddenly was. Jens and Mareike had already gotten up to go back to the campsite, and I slowly got up too. One of my feet had fallen asleep and was tingling. As I walked away from the fire, I turned around and looked over at the Italian boy. It was probably a coincidence, but he was also looking in my direction, and for a few seconds our eyes met. Then he turned away, and I followed Jens and Mareike along the dark path to the campsite.
Before I crawled into my tent, I quickly glanced at the clock. Phew, half past one. Dead tired, I collapsed onto the air mattress. Maybe I should drink one less beer next time?
A short time later, I heard the rest of our group outside, gradually making their way up the path from the beach and crawling more or less loudly into their tents. Then it finally became quiet. I lay there for a while, staring into the darkness. I couldn't get that sweet boy out of my mind. I could see his smiling face in front of me, looking at me. Was it a coincidence that he'd just looked at me...? But nonsense, of course it was. In moments like these, you always get your hopes up about such little things, but that was nonsense, of course.
Outside, several owls were hooting in competition with each other. My God, who could sleep with all that noise? I turned on my side and tried to stretch my legs, but the tent was too narrow. And there was no soft pillow to snuggle up to. Or, of course, someone to snuggle up to...
Damn, I'd really drunk too much. Now my bladder was acting up. Trying to stand up in the unlit tent, my head hurt again. I crawled outside and slipped on my shoes. The restrooms were in the main building, at the far end of the campsite, so I went into a small wooded area that began behind my tent and was still part of the campsite. More or less loud snoring came from the neighboring tents. I took a few steps into the woods and relieved myself behind a bush. Phew, that felt good. An owl hooted again, and I heard a rustling behind me. Must have been some kind of animal. As I turned around and stepped out from behind the bush, my foot caught on a root and I fell flat on my face to the forest floor. Damn it! Cursing under my breath, I got back to my feet. My elbow hurt, but otherwise, all my body parts seemed to be in place. I carefully looked around to see if anyone had seen me fall. Nothing moved. Or wait, was there something back there? It seemed to me as if something had moved, a shadow, behind the large tree trunk. I strained my eyes and looked in that direction—pretty much halfway between me and my tent—but there was no one to be seen.
I slowly continued toward my tent, discreetly making a small detour so that I was quite close to the tree behind which I had seen the shadow. Maybe it was another one of Marco's stupid jokes?
I continued walking at a steady pace until I was about level with the tree. Then I suddenly changed direction, leaped to the tree, and before she could react, I grabbed the figure by the arm and held her tight. Only then did I recognize the Italian's face. It was the boy from the bar.
"Ouch!" he cried, astonished, and I let go of his arm.
"What are you doing here?" I asked him, astonished.
"Oh, actually nothing..." he began. "Well, I..." He looked at me. "I wanted to see where you were sleeping. I just followed you," he said without batting an eyelid.
I was stunned. "Where do I sleep? And why?"
He looked at me. "Come on, shall we walk for a bit?" was all he said. What else could I do but follow him?
We crept past the others' tents, careful not to wake anyone or trip over the tent ropes. He headed for the path to the beach, and I silently followed him along the narrow trail through the dunes. The bright light of the full moon shone down on us. In front of me, its black shadow stood out clearly against the pale dunes. I felt a strange tingling in my stomach as I trudged behind the boy through the still-warm sand. He was walking quite quickly, and I had trouble keeping up. At the end of the path, he stopped and waited. In front of us lay the deserted beach, and beyond it, the endless sea stretched to the horizon. At regular intervals, white waves rolled onto the shore and broke over, forming whitecaps that reflected the moonlight. A light breeze blew.
"Come," he said, and we walked left, along the water. Then he finally started talking.
"Nice place, isn't it?" he said. I just nodded silently.
"I love the sea. I always missed that in Germany. It's so infinitely vast, you feel infinitely free."
"Is that why you went back to Italy?" I asked.
"Also." He paused for a moment and looked out to sea. "It's most beautiful here at this time of year, don't you think?"
"Mhm," I nodded.
"I'm here often, in the evenings. Well, when we're not partying on the weekends." His brief smile made my heart race. "I sit on the beach and look at the water. I wait for someone to come from somewhere out there."
"On whom?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he picked up a small stone from the ground and hurled it far into the surf. Then he stopped and looked me in the face.
"What did you mean when you said you weren't interested in girls?" he asked.
I had to swallow. That was very direct, considering I'd only met him a few hours ago. Should I tell him? After all, only my closest friends knew, and I barely knew him—who knows how he'd react? But of course, he must have had some premonition, otherwise he wouldn't have asked, and I didn't want to lie to him. I still hesitated. "Well, I just don't like girls," I stammered.
"You are gay?"
I nodded, avoiding his gaze.
"Hey, that's nothing to be ashamed of," he said. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
"You're very direct," I swallowed. "But if you're interested: no, I don't have one."
"Me neither."
I choked in shock and coughed. Had I just misheard? He said it as if he were talking about the weather.
"What do you mean? You're also..." I asked when I could speak again.
»Yes.«
I was stunned. It took some time to process. I had kind of wanted that, in my imagination, but I couldn't believe he was actually saying it. After a pause, I asked him, "How did you come to the conclusion that I'm gay, too?"
"I just knew it."
"Knew? How?"
"I just knew it. Right from the beginning," he answered mysteriously.
"How many people know you're gay?"
"Most of them. My friends, my parents... well, basically everyone who knows me."
I couldn't believe it. I'd been sitting next to him the whole time, and he'd known from the start. And the other Italian boys had known all along that he was gay. The next moment, I was overcome by an incredible feeling of happiness; I almost threw my arms around his neck. No, it wasn't a coincidence that he'd brought me here to the beach. I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed in the cool sea air. I felt like I was in a dream. I'd met the most handsome boy in the world, and now I was standing here with him on this beautiful beach, and he'd just told me he liked boys too. This was the moment I'd always dreamed of, and now this was about to happen... no, this was actually too good to be true. I opened my eyes again, but he was still there, standing in front of me, looking at me. For a moment we just stared at each other, then I found my voice again.
"I... I don't even know your name."
» Gian.«
"Gian, I think... I've fallen in love with you," I whispered. Without saying a word, he pulled me toward him. Our two faces moved closer, millimeter by millimeter, until our lips touched. It was the first time a boy had ever kissed me. And it was the most beautiful kiss of my life. It took an eternity before we parted. Then he took my hand, and we continued walking slowly along the water. The surf lapped steadily, the moon glittered in the water. We walked for a while without saying a word. At that moment, I didn't want anything else but to walk here next to him. I needed a moment to process what I had just experienced. I think he noticed that, and he gave me time and didn't say a word. In the few hours of that night, my life had changed completely. For the first time, I had found someone who felt the same way I did. No, but not just anyone. Him!
A cool breeze blew in from the sea. I felt the wind on my skin through my thin T-shirt, and I shivered. As if reading my mind, Gian put his tanned arm around my shoulders, and I quickly felt cozy and warm.
By now, we had already walked quite a distance; the campsite was about a kilometer behind us. The beach was already rocky here, and not far away was the cliff, which rose over ten meters out of the sea.
Gian leaned towards me and whispered something in my ear.
“Should I show you something?” he asked me.
"Sure. What?"
"Come with me," he whispered mysteriously. "But you can't tell anyone else." Then he let go of me and led the way toward the embankment. A narrow footpath led steeply upwards, next to it stood a rusty metal sign whose inscription I couldn't decipher. Gian trudged up the path with rapid steps, making it difficult for me to follow. Because of the darkness, you had to be careful where you put your feet. He, on the other hand, seemed to know the way inside out, and I often had to call out "Wait" to him when he strayed too far. As I ran after him, I felt that butterflies in my stomach again. Where was this boy trying to lead me?
The path seemed endless, winding its way through the dunes. When we reached the highest point, we took a short break. I collapsed onto the white sand, panting. "The worst is over," Gian whispered to me. I don't know why he whispered, but somehow it suited the nighttime atmosphere. It was almost a little eerie. Around us, the dark shadows of the dune grasses moved in the cool night wind; on the horizon, the sea lay like a large, black mass. Above everything, the full moon shone bright and pale.
I'd barely sat down when Gian wanted to move on. "Come on, let's go back down," he urged, and I had to follow him to avoid losing him.
Again I had to hurry to keep up. Now it was a steep descent, but I found it hardly any easier to walk; in fact, it was even more dangerous in the dark. The path led through a narrow crevice in the rock. It was pitch black between the rock faces; only when I looked up could I see the stars. We must be here on the cliffs. Ahead of me was only darkness, and I was almost a little afraid. All I could hear of Gian was his footsteps. "Gian, wait." Automatically, I whispered too. He stopped and offered me his hand. It was perhaps a little childish, but I felt more comfortable this way, and I couldn't lose him again.
The path through the narrow crevice wound ever downwards, at some points it became very steep, and he had to let go of my hand to steady himself. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we emerged from among the rocks. The sea stretched before us again. We stood in a small cove; it must have been somewhere on the steep coast, enclosed on one side by a meter-high cliff; on the other, one could continue, but the cove was barely visible from the outside. Behind us, the jagged rock rose pitch-black into the Italian night sky. Still silent, Gian walked close to it. Suddenly he stopped; I almost bumped into him.
"Right, now we're going up," he whispered. While I was still staring at him in disbelief, he was already nimbly climbing the bare rock face using some protruding rocks. A ledge jutted out of the wall about three meters above the ground. Gian nimbly shimmied his way up, and when he reached the ledge, he climbed onto it and called quietly to me: "Come on! It's easy!"
I looked up at the black wall doubtfully. Easy? Uncertain, I began to hold on to the protruding stones and feel my way upwards. It was actually easier than it had looked from below, because the jagged wall offered plenty of opportunities to support myself with my hands and feet. Panting, I reached the ledge – and was once again surprised. Behind the rock ledge, visible from below and projecting about half a meter, lay a large ledge, about two meters wide and one and a half meters deep. A section of the rock behind it was hollowed out about a meter deep, so that one could sit underneath and be protected from the rain. In the covered area lay several old blankets, and in one corner stood a large basket and behind it a small, old suitcase. Gian took the blankets and spread them out on the ledge.
"Have a seat," he gestured. I sat down and looked around.
"Are these your things here?"
"Hmm. I'm here often now in the summer, especially in the evenings. You're undisturbed and can enjoy a wonderful view of the sea."
“What’s in there?” I asked, pointing to the basket in the corner.
"Look!" he said, spreading a second blanket on the ledge. I crawled on all fours to the basket and found a tin of cookies, a book, an empty water bottle, one that looked like a wine bottle, and a few other cans and packages.
"Wow! You're well-equipped! Do you often have guests here?" I asked, continuing to examine the basket. When I didn't get a response, I turned around.
»Cheating?«
The ledge was empty.
"Gian?!" I crawled forward and looked around. No one to be seen, only darkness. "Gian, are you down there?" No sign. He hadn't fallen, had he?
“Gian!” I shouted even louder.
Now I heard something from below, a quiet voice calling my name. "Hey, come quick!"
Terrified, I hurriedly climbed down the rock. I was going a little too fast on the last few meters, slipping, and scraping my elbow. But that didn't matter now. Once I reached the bottom, I looked around. Where was he?
»Cheating?«
No answer. Was he lying here somewhere? Was he unconscious?
"Gian? Please say something!"
I carefully searched the ground beneath the ledge. If someone hit the rocks here, they had little chance of survival. I suddenly felt completely helpless.
Suddenly, I felt a rush of air behind me. Before I could turn around, an arm wrapped around my neck and held me tight.
"Hey," I exclaimed, startled, and looked into Gian's laughing face. The shock was still in my bones as he burst out laughing.
"Just you wait! You'll get it again," I hissed, but he had already started running. I chased after him, across the moonlit beach. At first he ran to the right, but then he remembered he wouldn't get far because of the rock face on that side. He veered around and ran along the water's edge, so I could cut him off. When he was about fifty meters away from me, he must have realized he had no escape route and stopped. I saw him taking off his shoes and guessed what he was going to do, so I did the same. Gian started running again, shouting something to me in Italian I didn't understand. He dodged through the shallow water to get past me, but I also ran through the surf, cutting him off. We met about halfway across the bay; he tried to dodge back to the beach, but I was faster and lunged at him. Gian tried in vain to free himself from my grasp and quickly landed on his backside in knee-deep water. Now it was me who had to laugh at the sight of him – unfortunately too soon, because he splashed his legs a few times until I was soaking wet too. While I was still trying to protect myself, he grabbed my arm and pulled until I lost my balance and landed screaming on top of him in the water. He groaned but immediately tried to put his arm around my neck and hold my head below the surface. Using his hands and feet, I managed to free myself from his headlock and grab his arm, swallowing liters of salty seawater. Spluttering, we rolled in the surf and tried to push each other under the surface. We splashed and splashed like little children, and I can't remember ever having so much fun. Several times I was on the bottom and it looked like Gian had won, but I always managed to get free. Then I tried to crawl away, but he grabbed my T-shirt, which suffered some damage, and with one leap he landed splashing next to me and held my arms. I laughed out loud; it was a really funny sight, but unfortunately I choked and had to cough. Gian pushed me down with his left hand and tried to stand up with the other, but I was faster and held his legs so that he splashed back into the water. While he was still lying on his back, I was on top of him and sat on his stomach so he couldn't escape. He thrashed around wildly, but eventually he realized there was nothing he could do.
"Okay... okay, we're even," he gasped, struggling to keep his head above water in the ankle-deep water. We stopped for a moment to catch our breath.
"It... it's a little... uncomfortable down here..." he managed to say.
"Oh, I find it really comfortable," I replied. I bent down until I was lying flat on his body. I could feel his breathing getting faster. Our lips came closer, almost touching, when a large wave washed over us, and we both coughed. Then he put his arm around my neck and held me tight. We rolled out of the water together and lay next to each other in the sand, breathing heavily. Our clothes were soaking wet and stuck to our bodies, and we were covered in mud. I looked him up and down as he lay there in front of me, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His body was truly a sight to behold, a sight that took your breath away.
Suddenly I felt my lips trembling.
"Shit, we're going to get ourselves killed," I gasped.
"Come with me," he called, and shivering, we ran across the beach toward the rock face. Our soaking wet clothes were as heavy as lead, and the darkness didn't exactly make the climb any easier, but finally, shivering, we both reached the ledge.
"We have to take off our wet clothes," he said, pulling his shirt over his head. I did the same, and soon we were stark naked and wrapped ourselves in the blankets. (Before anyone asks, I couldn't see much because of the darkness.) Then he stood up again. "Wait a minute," he said, and went back. From behind the basket, he took out an old, rusty kerosene lamp and placed it in the middle of the ledge. I heard him rummaging through the basket for matches. When he found some, he lit the lamp. "I hope there's still enough kerosene," he murmured, while I silently watched everything from my blanket.
The light was dim, but it was enough to illuminate the small ledge a little. At the same time, the flickering flame produced large shadows that danced on the stones, creating an unnatural atmosphere. Gian's figure cast an oversized shadow on the wall behind him. He rummaged around in the basket, his back to me. When he turned around, I caught a brief glimpse of the symbol of his masculinity in the lamplight. He slipped between two blankets next to me and covered himself. Then he handed me the bottle of wine he had taken from the basket.
"Here, it's good for falling asleep. Homemade, by my grandfather."
I didn't really feel like I needed it today. It was almost morning again, and my eyes were starting to close. Nevertheless, I took a sip and passed the bottle to him.
Gian crawled closer to me and put his arm around my shoulder, warming me up again. With my right hand, I gently stroked his hairless, warm chest. I touched the small silver pendant on the chain he wore around his neck.
"Where did you get that?" I asked.
"From a friend."
"What kind of friend?" He didn't answer. "I mean, did you love each other?"
"Yes... He... he's no longer alive." Gian took a deep breath. "He was my first boyfriend. I mean... he was gay too. We met in Germany. Two years ago. Then he died—in a traffic accident."
"I'm sorry for that …"
"It was a difficult time. I couldn't live in Germany anymore after his death. That's why I came back... I had to start over."
We remained silent for a while into the night. I was glad when he changed the subject.
“Have you ever seen Rome at night?” he asked.
"No... not at night. We were only there during the day."
"You absolutely have to see it. I love this city. There's nothing more beautiful, believe me. You have to see it once in your life... I wanted to show it to him; we both wanted to come here. But it never happened." He sighed. Then he continued speaking in a low voice, and I closed my eyes and listened.
"I love strolling through the streets at night... the streets and everything are lit up, you can look at the shop windows or sit in the cafés and have a drink. You smell the food as you walk past the restaurants, and you breathe in the night air..." He paused. "But it's always best when you're with someone. Since he's gone, I only walk through the city alone. I constantly imagine what it would be like to have someone walking next to you, someone you can talk to, someone you can cuddle up to, someone who puts their arm around your shoulder. Straight couples walk beside you everywhere, and you can see how happy they are."
»Hmm, I think I know that...«
"I'd like to show you Rome..." I said nothing, because we both knew I'd be going back to Germany when the night was over. Instead, I imagined it while he continued in a whisper. "We'll walk through the streets together. Everything is lit up, the lights reflecting in the river. You can go into the Colosseum; it's illuminated with colorful lights. A fantastic sight. The bridges are the most beautiful. The lights reflect in the water..."
At some point, while I was lying there with my eyes closed, imagining Rome at night, I must have fallen asleep. I have to disappoint you, nothing more happened that first night. And I didn't want anything more; what had happened that evening was already more than I could have ever dreamed possible. Besides, what hadn't happened yet could still happen...
Not long after, I was woken up by the shrill chorus of seagulls. The first rays of sunlight of the new day made me blink. My head was still resting on Gian's chest, just as it had been the night before. He seemed to still be asleep. Careful not to wake him, I pulled my arm out from under the covers and looked at my watch. It was five to seven, so there was still a bit of time before I had to be at the campsite. Hopefully, no one had noticed my absence!
I turned my head slightly toward the sea. The sun hadn't fully risen yet, seeming to still cling to the surface. The cloudless sky had a reddish hue. A magnificent sight. Although the sun hadn't quite risen yet, the air was already quite warm. I inhaled the scent of this wonderful summer morning. Anyone who has ever experienced one of these beautiful sunrises in Italy knows this atmosphere and this air that only exists at this early time of day.
My neck hurt, and as reluctantly as I was, I had to sit up. As carefully as I could, I lifted my head from Gian's chest and sat down. In the reddish light of the rising sun, I studied his body. He looked almost sweeter than usual, lying so peacefully before me, sleeping. There was a slight smile on his lips. His black hair was still a little damp and lay in his face. The silver chain around his neck glittered in the sun. My eyes wandered over the tanned skin of his torso. Only a few white hairs could be seen; otherwise, it was as smooth as a peach. His chest moved slightly up and down, his left hand resting on it. The rest of his body was covered by the blanket; only half of his right leg was visible. Only now did I realize that the sight of him gave me a hard-on.
Now he let out a soft groan. Was he dreaming? He turned slightly away from me and stretched out his left leg. He pulled the blanket with him, and I saw that he also had a hard-on.
At some point, I was able to tear myself away from the sight of him. Unfortunately, I wasn't allowed to stay here forever, even though there was nothing I would rather have done at the moment. But if Mrs. Dahlkamp noticed I was missing, she would probably immediately notify the police and my parents, and it wouldn't be long before they found me. And I didn't even want to imagine what would happen to me then – I knew that Mrs. Dahlkamp was very strict about such matters and wouldn't tolerate anyone disobeying her rules.
I stretched and stood up. Our clothes were still lying there, just as they had been the night before; they had barely dried in such a short time. But I guessed I had no choice if I didn't want to run back to the campsite naked. Suddenly, someone whistled right behind me. Startled, I turned around and saw that Gian was awake. Lying there, he looked me up and down, grinning cheekily, his black eyes flashing.
"Good morning," he said.
"Gian, I have to go right back. Breakfast is at eight!"
“Oh, just stay here,” he said.
"That's not possible. Mrs. Dahlkamp will do everything she can to find me. She'll probably run to the police and call my parents."
»Hmm… actually, I really don’t feel like missing the sight of you right now!
"Hey, I'm really sorry. But what am I supposed to do?" I turned around and started to get dressed.
"Damn, where are my shorts?" I rummaged through the clothes on the floor, looked under the blankets, and was just about to lean over the edge of the ledge to see if they had landed when my eyes fell on Gian. He was lying there grinning, holding the item of clothing I was looking for in the air at arm's length. I immediately jumped at him. Lying on his back, he tried to fend me off with his feet, but I managed to grab his left leg and held on tight. With my other hand, I tried to reach my pants, but Gian was holding them at arm's length over the ledge. I reached for them, but it was impossible to reach them with one hand. I let go of his leg and sat on his stomach, leaving him powerless to resist. Gian gasped, but immediately started gurgling with pleasure again when I leaned forward to grab the pants. Before I reached it, he took it in his other hand and held it in the opposite direction. Between his laughter, he blurted out something in Italian that in German would probably have meant "Denkste." I changed strategy and decided to test whether he was ticklish. Indeed, especially under the arms. He shrieked with laughter and held his arms protectively in front of him – the moment for me to rip my pants towards me. "Stop, stop," Gian shouted, but I didn't feel like stopping right now. He was lying so beautifully defenseless in front of me, and revenge is sweet.
When I was done with him, I rolled off him, exhausted. We lay panting next to each other, staring up at the cloudless sky. I had never had as much fun as I had in those few hours with him. That was exactly what I loved about him—even if I still had to get used to his jokes.
A glance at my watch startled me. It was a quarter to eight! "Gian, I have to go. Sorry, there's no other way."
"Too bad," he simply said, sounding almost offended.
“Are you still coming with me?” I asked cautiously.
He nodded and stood up. We put on our not-quite-dry clothes, climbed down the rock, and walked back along the path to the campsite.
Panting, we reached the last dune, behind which the tents stood. We stopped, and I looked at him.
"Gian, I'm really sorry, but I have to go now."
He didn't say anything. But I read what he was thinking in his eyes.
"We'll see each other again, definitely. I promise. And then you'll show me Rome at night, okay?"
He just looked at me. Shit, why couldn't he say something?
"Bye," I said, feeling a lump in my throat. It sounded a bit silly, but I didn't know what to say at that moment. I hated goodbyes. But there was no other way; he had to understand that. He acted like he didn't want to believe it, and somehow I wasn't sure what I was doing at that moment either.
I turned around and walked slowly toward the tents without looking back. I swallowed and felt my eyes moisten.
Marco was standing in front of my tent.
"What, you're already awake?! Where have you been?" he asked, surprised.
"At the beach," I muttered, walking past him. I crawled into my tent to put on some dry clothes and join the others for breakfast.
After dinner, we started packing our clothes into our duffel bags and taking down the tents. We were all supposed to meet at the bus at 10:30. It was a quarter past before everyone had arrived and their things stowed away. Most people had already boarded, and I was still standing in front of the bus with Marco and Jens. I hadn't been fully focused all morning and had barely spoken to them, and they hadn't missed it. Marco had already asked me what was wrong, but at that moment I didn't feel like telling him anything. I was grateful that he recognized that and didn't ask any more questions.
Finally, the time had come. Mrs. Dahlkamp returned from her last tour and called everyone in so she could do a headcount. I looked up at the dunes one last time. Somehow, I hoped to see him one last time, to say a proper goodbye. But no one was there.
"Hey, are you coming?" I looked at Marco, who was standing in the bus door, waiting. Everyone else had already boarded, some were grinning out the window. I sighed quietly, climbed the three steps onto the bus, and found a free seat.
The air conditioning whined, Mrs. Dahlkamp walked down the aisle for the second time, counting heads aloud. Then she nodded with satisfaction, the driver slowly started moving, and the bus rolled meter by meter out of the parking lot. I sat slumped by the window, staring out. Behind me, someone turned up their radio; it was playing "Around the World." I immediately thought of the previous evening.
We rolled from the parking lot, across the driveway, toward the campsite entrance gate. A few young people with suitcases were crossing the road in front of us. The driver stopped briefly, then started off cautiously again. We drove at walking pace between the large iron gate at the entrance. To the left was a steep slope, at the foot of which glittered the turquoise sea. To the right, outside my window, stood a row of plane trees, and beyond them, olive trees. I let my gaze wander through the forest of leaves. The driver drove slowly along the narrow road. Suddenly, I saw a figure sitting on a wall about 100 meters from the campsite. My eyes widened. I recognized him immediately. His gaze followed our bus, he seemed to be scanning the windows. We were getting closer, but he hadn't recognized me yet. Now we were passing him directly. Just before he passed my window, he looked in my direction. We drove very close to him, and he recognized me. My heart beat faster. For three seconds we looked into each other's eyes, he smiled only slightly, then we were past. I pressed my nose to the window and tried to catch another glimpse of him, but the road curved to the right and he disappeared from my sight.
It's hard to describe how I felt. Somehow miserable, just shitty. I wanted to cry. How I would have loved to be in his arms right now. I swallowed and just kept looking at the side of the road, at the boundary posts whizzing past. The road wound along the mountain, on the other side the sea, whose beauty I couldn't see at all. Someone ran through the aisle to the front. I wiped a tear from my face and hoped no one had seen. Then we suddenly slowed down. The driver braked and steered the bus into a small parking lot by the road. The back door opened with a hiss, and through the window I saw Sabine get out and run towards some bushes.
"If anyone else urgently needs to go to the bathroom, please go now," Mrs. Dahlkamp called from the front. "The toilet on the bus is blocked and cannot be used during the journey!"
But apart from Sabine, no one else got off. An idea occurred to me, but I still hesitated. I saw Sabine emerge from behind the bushes and run back toward the bus. Mrs. Dahlkamp was sitting in the front, leafing through a road atlas; the bus driver was also distracted. The others were talking, playing cards, or looking outside; no one was paying attention to me. I stood up and took one last look ahead. Then I went to the rear door, which was directly behind my seat, and went down the steps. Sabine had just reached the bus and was getting in at the front. I met Marco's questioning look and signaled to him. Then the pneumatic doors hissed, and at the last moment I jumped through the gap outside, ran to the back, and ducked behind a dumpster. From there, I watched as the bus pulled away, left the parking lot, and continued on its way.
As soon as he was out of sight, I emerged from behind my cover. No one on the bus had noticed. I took a deep breath and ran back down the street. For a moment, I wondered what would happen if they noticed. But then I put that thought out of my mind. They were gone, I was all alone, and I felt completely free. And now I looked ahead to what was to come. Just one more bend, and beyond it was the wall. I ran even faster. Then I saw him. He was still sitting there, staring straight ahead at the sea. Now he turned his head. I reached him, pulled him off the wall, and took him in my arms