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Alex Kampe was aware of the queasy feeling in his stomach, which grew stronger the closer he got to the house where his best friend's parents lived. The feeling that Mr. Marquard had evoked in him back when he first visited Bas at home in seventh grade accompanied him again today as he walked the last few meters to the front door of the single-family home.
He sincerely hoped Bas's father wouldn't be home. And the chances were good, because it was early afternoon, the sun was shining wonderfully warm over the city, and at this time of day, Mr. Marquard would normally be sitting in his—or so Alex imagined it—dark, musty, and cobweb-covered office in the basement of a medium-sized company because none of his colleagues wanted him around.
The office thing was a bit of an exaggeration, Alex knew, because Bas had once told him his father's office offered a great view of the southern part of the city, but Alex's idea was more in keeping with the man he... No, he wasn't afraid of Bas's father; it was more a feeling of unworthiness, of inadequacy. With the few glances and emotionless greetings he usually gave Alex, Mr. Marquard always made him feel like he wasn't good enough for Bas.
His best friend had often tried to explain to Alex that his father didn't hold him in contempt, that he was like that to everyone; he was just a reserved man who needed a while to warm up to someone. But Bas and he were now twenty years old, and the grumpy old man, as his friend liked to call his father, hadn't exchanged a single friendly word with him to this day.
Therefore, the sinking feeling was stronger than ever when he finally pressed the brass-colored doorbell button and hoped for the unimaginable: that Bas himself, or perhaps Mrs. Marquard, would open the door, because Bas' mother loved Alex almost like his own.
Alex waited as the seconds ticked by, gradually approaching the end of the first minute, with no one making a move to open the door. He checked his watch to make sure he wasn't early, but he wasn't. He rang the bell again, longer this time, and his finger was still on the buzzer when the door finally opened—by an outrageously handsome man.
Alex had to admit that he hadn't foreseen this possibility, even though it was obvious. Assuming his initial guess proved correct, it took him a while to recognize the person he was talking to, who bore no resemblance to the fourteen-year-old he'd counted among his friends four years ago. Nor to the lanky boy who, two years later, had wanted to help Bas move out and had repeatedly tripped over his own feet on the way to the car, repeatedly spilling the box's contents onto the street.
No, before him stood a man, a young man who had now tamed his chestnut-brown hair. His face had lost its childlike curves and was partially hidden under a well-groomed stubble. And his blue-green eyes—yes, that was how he finally recognized him—those eyes that had once revealed a new prank every day now testified to an inner calm and self-confidence that Alex would never have expected from the boy.
He himself was ashamed, dismayed, and confused all at once by the fact that he hadn't expected him to open the door for him for a second. And how he could have forgotten him was absolutely incomprehensible to Alex, especially since the boy, the man, unlike his brother, still lived at home.
"Nico!" Alex said in surprise, trying to hide the exclamation mark in his voice. "Hi. Long time no see."
"Wow!" the younger man replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "We meet again after two years, and that's all you can think of?" Nico shook his head and stared at him for a while, stony-faced. But then his features softened, and he grinned. "I'm just kidding. Let go of the bell before I go deaf, and come in."
Only now did Alex realize his finger was still pressing the doorbell, and he hastily pulled his hand down, but he didn't immediately follow Nico's second request—he hesitated until the younger man turned to him and looked at him questioningly. Then, with a sudden realization, he said with a grin, "Dad isn't home, you can rest assured."
As if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders, Alex felt the tension leave him. Wordlessly, he followed Bas's brother through the living room, which still looked the same as the last time he'd been there, resembling more of a library than a living room, into the kitchen, which, as always, was so sparklingly polished that the sunlight reflected off the smooth surfaces, making it seem as if the entire room were glowing on its own.
"What to drink?" Nico asked him, and Alex nodded, his eyes never leaving Nico's face. "Bas hasn't arrived yet," the younger man continued, handing him a glass of water. "He called earlier; he's stuck in traffic. He says he'll probably need another half hour."
“Oh,” was all Alex was able to reply.
“I was just about to make myself a sandwich, would you like one too?”
Alex shook himself as if he'd awakened from a trance, then nodded. "Can I help you?" he asked, opening the refrigerator. "Butter or margarine?"
"Butter, Irish butter," Nico replied, cutting four slices of bread in the meantime. "Salami or ham, you can choose. There's no cheese, you don't like it anyway. The lettuce leaves, tomato, and cucumber are already washed. The onion too. They just need to be chopped."
Alex picked out two knives, handed one to Nico, and began slicing the vegetables, while his friend's brother spread salami on the sandwiches. The fact that their arms and hands repeatedly touched didn't bother Alex—quite the opposite. He enjoyed the physical contact, the human warmth, the closeness of a man. This simple work together, this togetherness, this lack of loneliness—he was grateful for every second of it and refused to think that it would soon be over.
They stayed in the kitchen, sat down at the table, facing each other, each with his plate and glass in front of him. Alex wanted to say something, anything, because he didn't like the silence, but he didn't know what. What should he talk to Nico about? Who was Nico anyway? Who were they both? And most importantly, what?
His mind told him that sitting before him was his old friend, who now looked and behaved a little differently. It was strange, as if everything was fine between them. As if he hadn't hurt Alex.
Alex's heart begged him to forgive the younger man, to make peace, and to allow the past to remain past, just as Nico apparently did. Had he forgotten everything?
Then there was his lower abdomen, which spoke a completely different language. But Alex wasn't allowed to think about that; Bas had drilled that into him early enough.
“You’ve changed,” Alex suddenly heard his own voice.
"I certainly hope so," Nico laughed between bites. "It would be a shame if I still looked like a milksop."
"You look great," Alex assured him. "And the beard suits you."
"Thank you. You too. That's what love does. How long have you been with Jonas?"
“Been,” Alex replied, cursing the bitterness in his voice.
"Been? I'm sorry," Nico replied with raised eyebrows as he stood up and put his dishes in the sink. "What happened?"
"Life. We somehow became estranged, drifted apart. We did less and less together, and we argued constantly. A few months ago, I ended it; it no longer made sense."
Alex cleared his dishes and stood next to Nico.
"Half a year ago, I would have asked you how that could be," the younger one admitted. "How two people who love each other can drift apart. Love binds everything together, I always thought. But when it happens, you can't stop it, no matter how hard you fight it. At some point, you have to accept that it's not working anymore. Do you miss him?"
Alex shook his head slowly. "This might sound cold-hearted, but no. I don't miss him. But I do miss what we had before we didn't. The common ground, the togetherness, that's what I miss. The togetherness. And you?"
Nico looked at him in surprise. "What makes you think I might be missing someone?"
“When you’re happy, in love, it sounds completely different,” Alex explained.
Nico smiled. "We're still good friends. We broke up because she made me realize something she'd known for a while. As much as I tried to love Anja—I wanted to, I wanted to love her more than anything—but I couldn't. In the end, I realized that my feelings for her were a pseudo-love. That I only loved her because I couldn't have my true love. But that took a long time—who wants to admit something like that?"
For a moment, Alex was surprised at how normal this conversation was, and he smiled because it made him happy, here and now, with Nico—as uncomplicated as it was, perhaps precisely because of it. He brushed the thought aside and surrendered to this normality.
"Does she know how you feel about her? Have you ever told her?"
Nico apparently immediately understood that he wasn't talking about his ex. "She has no clue. This... person doesn't even really know I still exist; to her, I'm dead."
Alex couldn't help but wonder what Bas's brother could have done to make the woman he loved so much hate him, but he didn't ask the question. If Nico wanted to confide in him, he would do it on his own; Alex didn't want to push him.
"You should tell her," he said nonetheless. "Maybe she'll forgive you. And if not, then you'll have some closure, you can draw a line under it, and finally be ready for a new relationship. You can only win by doing this. What you have now, this limbo, will only lead to loneliness."
"You're right," Nico replied, biting his lower lip. "I have to tell her. Thanks, Alex. I've really missed our conversations."
It took a few seconds for the memory to return. They had actually talked to each other before, as friends. Confided in each other, laughed together. Before everything changed.
"Thanks, man," Nico repeated, placing his hand on his shoulder. A gesture so common among friends, yet now so unusual that it shot through his body like an arrow, striking him right in the heart.
"That's what friends are for," Alex answered uncertainly, taking a few steps away from Nico and scolding himself. He couldn't let it happen, he couldn't fall in love under any circumstances. Not with Bas's little brother.
"Listen, Nico, I'm waiting outside for Bas. I need... a smoke." He forced a pained smile and tried to escape the seemingly ever-shrinking space, but his feet wouldn't obey him.
He heard Nico laughing and turned to him. "You don't smoke," Nico remarked amusedly. "Please stay, don't leave me standing here alone. I have something to tell you."
Alex leaned against the opposite wall to put as much distance as possible between himself and Nico, took a deep breath, and waited.
"I thought it was totally stupid," the younger man began in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice, which, however, grew increasingly agitated over the next few sentences. "I still think so. Not that you did it, but that you had to. This declaration, this compulsion to publicly declare yourself. Gay or straight. Or bi or anything else. Why can't you just love someone without it becoming socially relevant? The only thing that should matter is that you love, that you dare to open up to someone enough to love them."
So he hadn't forgotten, Alex realized with relief, and wanted to answer him that many, though by no means all, were interested in a certain gender, that they were attracted to either women or men, but he had the feeling that such words would be counterproductive and could make Nico even more angry.
"You shouldn't be forced to stand up in front of anyone and say you're not into girls," Nico continued. "You shouldn't be looked at strangely just because you kiss another boy or even hold his hand. You shouldn't be shunned because your love falls outside the bounds of societal norms. Norm, normal—those words should be erased; they hurt so many people."
Nico took a deep breath, then looked at Alex and sniffed, but didn't bother to wipe away the tear that slowly rolled down his cheek from his left eye. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry for avoiding you after you came out and pretending I didn't know you because my so-called friends expected that of me. I wish I could turn back time and make everything right."
Alex allowed himself a flicker of a smile, even though he didn't feel like it. He wanted to thank Nico and tell him he forgave him, that they should renew their friendship. But he was afraid something entirely different might come out of his mouth, a confession that might jeopardize his friendship with Bas. Because he wanted more. He imagined himself closing the distance between himself and Nico, wiping the tear from his face. Hugging him and maybe, just a little, kissing him.
He banged the back of his head against the wall behind him, grateful for a sharp pain to focus on, distracting him from his desire. He closed his eyes to avoid being drawn back to Nico's as he finally answered, "You were fifteen, Nico. You'd just discovered that friends can mean just as much to you as family. That you can confide in them, and that they even understand things your parents wouldn't. All completely..."
“Don’t say normal now,” Nico warned him.
"Okay, I won't. But I'm glad we're talking again, kid."
“Me too,” said the younger one.
And then it happened. Alex noticed it too late to avoid it, and when it happened, he didn't want it anymore. Nico's arms squeezed him so tightly that he could barely breathe, but the hug satisfied a longing that—Alex was beginning to realize—had been slumbering inside him for far longer than he wanted to admit. His own arms wrapped around Nico, and he let his head sink onto Nico's shoulder. He never wanted to let him go again.
But he did. He let go of Nico, gently pushed him away, and looked down at the ground.
“I have to go now,” Alex mumbled without looking up.
"Okay," came the answer, the one part of him didn't want to hear. The part that had dared to hope Nico would stop him. And return his feelings. The part of him that was slowly going crazy with longing, that was tired of being alone and that was falling madly in love.
He had to get out of here, he decided. Go somewhere alone to think about what he wanted. He had to figure out what meant more to him: his friendship with Bas or his budding feelings for his brother.
He sensed something was missing. Like a puzzle with the last piece elusive. What had he missed?
"Tell Bas I'll call him later," he said as he left. "He can get the drinks for tonight's party himself."
"Okay," Nico answered monosyllabically, and Alex thought he heard something in his voice that sounded like disappointment. But he was probably just imagining it.
He gave Nico a quick wave, forced a half-hearted smile, and waved again as he inserted the key into the driver's door of his car and turned it. He looked over at Nico one last time, opened the door, got in, and reversed out of the driveway.
He didn't go home because he was still living with his parents until he finished his training. His mother would be at home and, with her overprotective nature, would immediately notice that something was wrong, that something was bothering him. And she would ask him a million questions until he finally gave in and told her everything, but he didn't want to talk to her about Nico. He had to figure out for himself who he wanted, Bas or Nico. He couldn't have both, at least not if he and Nico were going to become a couple.
A couple always required two: him and... Alex was pretty sure he knew how he felt about Nico, but he had no idea if Nico reciprocated. After all, he was in love with the woman he'd broken up with his girlfriend for.
That was what had puzzled him earlier, the missing piece of the puzzle. Before he could decide anything, he first had to find out if Nico was even interested in him and wanted to give Alex the chance to help him forget his unfulfilled first love.
Without paying attention to the honking and cursing drivers behind him, he performed a U-turn across three lanes of traffic, already preparing his words as he drove back to the Marquard house.
He didn't hear the gravel beneath his shoes or the doorbell he pressed as soon as he reached the front door again, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest. And then it stopped. All of a sudden, it stopped beating as the door opened and Bas stood before him. Bas, his best friend, the one he hadn't wanted to confront until—if—Nico returned his feelings.
A timid, pained smile spread across Alex's face. "Bas! Man! Good to see you."
His friend didn't smile back, but pushed him forward, stepped out the door and closed it behind him.
“What did you do with Nico, Alex?” Bas asked instead of greeting.
Alex raised his arms defensively. "Nothing."
"Even."
"What? I didn't do anything to him. We talked, we made up. What's wrong with that?" Alex asked, confused.
"Nothing. On the contrary, it's great," Bas agreed.
"Exactly. But before we continue this extremely interesting and confusing conversation, I have a favor to ask."
“Shoot.”
"Release me from this promise," Alex begged. "It doesn't make sense anymore. It's totally stupid."
"What promise? What are you talking about?"
“From the promise I made to you the day I came out to you.”
"I don't know what you mean, but yeah, sure," his friend agreed. "You know I owe you a thousand times more than you owe me."
"No, no. It doesn't work like that. You have to remember. The one promise, the only one I ever made to you."
Bas looked at him again, puzzled. "Alex, not a good time for puzzles. My brother's climbing the walls in there."
"Exactly, your brother. I had to promise you to keep my hands off him. Back then, it made sense. I was fifteen, he was thirteen, and he was like a brother to me. But today..."
"Wait a minute," Bas interrupted. "You're still keeping a promise you made to me when you were fifteen?" Alex nodded imperceptibly. "You, my friend," Bas continued, "are an idiot. And the second one's in there. You fancy him, he fancy you, but no one dares say anything! Go in, talk to him."
He unlocked the door behind him and gestured for Alex to go in, but grabbed his arm before he could even step over the threshold. "Just so there's no misunderstanding again: You are hereby released from your promise. My brother has long been old enough to make his own decisions. And by the way: The fact that you made that promise to me back then was even more stupid than the fact that I made it of you. As if you'd ever be capable of hurting Nico!"
This time, Alex's broad smile was genuine, full of gratitude and joy, but also a little pride, as he nodded to Bas.
"Give me some time to talk to Nico, then we can go get the drinks for the party tonight," he asked his friend, who grimaced and looked away strangely. Alex figured out what that meant in the next few minutes, as he got to know a new side of his best friend. The former party animal had apparently tamed down, at least to the point where he was considering swapping the obligatory party he used to celebrate the first day of the semester break for an evening with his girlfriend.
"We haven't seen each other in over a month and a half, I miss her. And that's your fault, by the way. You're making me a softie," Bas grinned cheekily at Alex before confessing that the alleged party had been a little white lie to finally get him and Nico to reconcile and figure out if they felt the same way about each other.
"How long have you known?" Alex asked when Bas finished.
"A few weeks. Since they broke up."
“And you didn’t tell me because…”
"Because I didn't know if you had feelings for Nico," Bas confessed. "I completely forgot that I had forbidden you to feel anything other than friendship for him. And besides, he asked me not to tell you anything because he was terrified you might still hate him."
"Hate him... Earlier he said, she, the person, I mean, he said he died for me."
Bas chuckled, which visibly confused Alex, as he didn't understand what was funny about it. "He really likes you, the little one," Bas explained, "but dying for you – I hope he wouldn't go that far."
"No, I didn't mean that. Oh, forget it, I have to go to him," Alex said, leaving his best friend alone to look for Nico. He finally stopped in front of the open, floor-to-ceiling glass door that led to the terrace and stared at Nico's back for a while.
Bas's brother sat on the middle of the three pale red steps leading from the terrace into the garden. His left leg was bent, his T-shirt fluttering gently in the warm summer breeze, the heels of his hands resting on the edges of the steps, his fingers moving as if concentrating on a rehearsed piano piece. It had been ages since he'd enjoyed one of the mini-concerts with which Nico always delighted the family and guests on holidays.
Alex sat down next to him, rested his forearms on his thighs, and followed the younger man's gaze to a point somewhere on the horizon.
"Are you still playing?" he asked, noticing Nico's silent head shake out of the corner of his eye. Neither of them spoke for several minutes after that. The ease in their interactions that Alex had thought she had felt an hour ago had now given way to uncertainty, the fear of saying something wrong that could stifle the blossoming feelings before they'd even had a chance to fully develop.
“I stopped doing that,” Nico finally said, “because it reminded me of you and made me angry.”
"Angry?" Alex asked, puzzled. "How can music...?"
"Because I hated you," he was interrupted. "Do you remember the very first day you came to us?"
And how he did it. Bas and he had ridden here right after school and tossed their bikes into the ankle-high grass when they saw Nico waiting at the front door with blood and tears smeared on his face and bloody forearms.
"'Hello, I'm Alex,' you said, and sat me on a chair in the hallway and shouted orders to Bas, who was completely frozen with shock. And while I was explaining, between screams of pain, what a stupid thing I'd done, you calmly cleaned my face and arms and disinfected the wounds and, at the end, told me how brave I was. And in that moment, I felt just like I was the bravest boy on earth. Because I believed you. Trusted you. You didn't scold me, laugh at me, or make fun of me. You just told me I was brave, and even though it took me years to realize it, to understand it, that was the moment I began to love you.
That was the reason for playing the piano and the pranks I came up with. All just to get your attention. And you gave it to me. It was so easy, I was satisfied with just a glance or a smile in my direction. I didn't want anything more.
At least, that's what I thought until you came out. There you were, standing in the schoolyard, hand in hand with that clown of a guy, a beaming smile on your face, unaware that he would dump you three weeks later. But by then it was too late; my jealousy had already sunk so deep into my consciousness that I didn't want to see you anymore. So it suited me quite well that some of my friends at the time were loudly expressing their homophobia, and I let them carry me along.
Alex didn't know what to make of this confession. If Nico meant to confess his love to him, then it had backfired badly. To say he was shocked would be an exaggeration, but...
Maybe a little shocked.
But maybe a little more.
He didn't know what he felt. Or what he should feel. He stood up and took a few steps away from Nico, turning his back on him. He briefly considered calling his best friend, but quickly dismissed the idea, as he didn't want to put Bas in the position of having to choose between them.
"Is that why you thought I hated you?" he asked into the gentle breeze that gave him goosebumps. "You were talking about me when you said you wouldn't exist for... the love of your life, right?" he asked.
“Who else?” Nico answered, looking up at him before standing up and standing in front of him – so that Alex could no longer avoid his gaze.
"Why now? I came here to ask you out, and you tell me you hated me."
"That's exactly why," replied the younger one. "What's the point of dating if you can't forgive me? And speaking of confessions, I snore and sometimes drool in my sleep."
At the last sentence, Alex couldn't help but burst out laughing. "I know. Or have you forgotten who always had to wake you up when I stayed over because you're just as much of a late riser as your brother?"
Alex felt Nico's arm brush against his, but this time he wasn't satisfied with the much too brief touch. Instead, he sought out his old friend's hand and took it in his.
"I like you, Nico. A lot. And it was hell that you turned away from me back then, because you were the little brother I never had. But the time off has changed me; my feelings for you are different now than they were three years ago—I realized that today. Standing next to you in the kitchen was a great feeling. Holding your hand now feels amazing."
“But…” Nico seemed to read his thoughts.
"You've put me on such a high pedestal that I can only fall off. And disappoint you."
"Then I'll be there to catch you," Nico promised. "All the cheesiness aside, you're ranked so high because I'm not just getting to know you now; I've known you forever. I know it's not a bed of roses when you let someone go, but I also know that you can be relied upon—even when it comes to promises so stupid and old that you've forgotten them yourself."
“You were eavesdropping,” Alex concluded, to which Nico responded with a feigned innocent expression.
"I know what you're like and who you are," the younger one continued. "And by now, I've also figured out who I am. I won't give you up without a fight again this time, even if it means fighting yourself, the fears and reservations you may have, for whatever reason."
"I have no choice but to say yes," Alex stated, stroking Nico's cheek with his free hand. "I don't want to say no either," he added, his face moving closer to Nico's and two pairs of eyes deciding not to let go of each other anytime soon.
"Tonight then," whispered Nico. "What do we want to do? Where do we want to go for our first date?"
“Let yourself be surprised,” came the equally quiet reply, before the last few centimeters were finally overcome and their lips found each other, their eyelids closed and they gave themselves over to what they had both longed for.