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“So, who are you stalking this time?”
Mark sits down with a flourish on the cafeteria table, which, despite his lightweight, causes some of our fellow students' plates and glasses to clatter and earns him a few disapproving glances.
“I’m not stalking,” I reply, zooming in on the unfamiliar face and pressing the camera shutter several times.
"Yeah, sure. Then why don't you take photos openly, but secretly under the table?"
Mark fishes some fries from my untouched plate and leans over my shoulder to look at the portrait on the small display of the SLR camera with me.
“Nice,” he smacks his lips in my ear, and he’s slowly starting to get on my nerves.
"Don't say that. Nice is the little sister of shit!"
“Yes, that’s why – nice!”
I'm tempted to push him off the table, hoping he'll choke on the stolen fries, but decide to ignore him for now and take a few more photos instead.
But when I stand up, the object of my desire has already disappeared. I can just make out the mop of light brown, tousled hair on its way to the tray return.
“Great,” I mutter and turn back to my camera instead.
I scroll through the pictures; unfortunately, some are a bit blurry due to the unusual perspective and Mark's fiddling around. I'll see if I can do anything with them on the computer. But at least one of the portraits immediately appeals to me. I'm already thinking about how I could edit and crop it until Mark intervenes again.
“What exactly do you like about the little one?”
"Jealous?"
“Pff,” he shoves a few more fries into his mouth.
"Are you even allowed to eat that? I thought fat was taboo for you dancers? You're not actually allowed to eat anything, are you? At most, you can smell an apple?!"
"I love you too, sweetheart!" Mark purses his lips and grins broadly at me. I can never truly stay mad at him.
At most, he's jealous that he's actually one of those rare people who can seemingly eat whatever they want and still stay trim and slim. Of course, he's also constantly in training because of his studies.
He pats his flat, toned stomach as if it were a paunch. "But I really have to go right away to lose the fat. I actually just wanted to know how you're coming along with your show preparations. Do you need any more help?"
Oh yes, Professor Ostner always organizes a small exhibition at the beginning of the semester, featuring something from all departments. As usual, I'm there for the photography department, but as usual, I've been putting it off for a bit too long.
From my deranged expression, Mark must have guessed that I've once again completely lost my way through the exhibition. He's doubled over with laughter.
“Oh man Phil, there’s really no helping you!”
He nimbly jumps from the table, which once again elicits grim looks from the poor students who are trying in vain to eat lunch in peace at our table.
"I'd say you go through what pictures you have, and after my class, I'll come over and we'll frame them."
Just before he weaves his way through the crowd toward the exit, he turns around and calls across the cafeteria to me: "And if you're a little nicer to me later, I might even tell you what I know about the little sister of 'shit'!"
I listlessly move a few large-format photos back and forth on the large table.
Why the hell does Mark know more than me again? I pull a picture out of the stack. It shows Mark on stage. Actually, one of my favorite pictures from last semester. It captures the perfect moment of a spin. It almost looks like he's floating.
In my second semester at art school, there were many more pictures of Mark, which is certainly due to the fact that we were dating at the time. However, we both quickly agreed that things wouldn't work out between us in the long run. Mark is too fickle, too unstable for my taste. Nevertheless, a close friendship developed between us, and I still often hang out in the large auditorium, in front of or behind the stage, or in the training rooms, photographing Mark and his fellow students.
In general, I primarily photograph people. I've always found that more fascinating than buildings or landscapes. And I especially enjoy photographing people when they're not even aware of it.
For some unclear reason, I'm reluctant to choose Mark's painting for the exhibition. I'm kind of mad at him, but I can't even say exactly why.
Because he knows more than I do? Because he doesn't share this knowledge with me right away? Or because he calls the stranger "the little sister of shit"?
Instead, I pull another image from the pile of photographs. A black-and-white photograph of Lilith as Lady Macbeth. I'm telling you, I somehow spend more than average time in the C-wing of the art school. Performing Arts. Dance and Drama. It's probably because the subjects are more beautiful.
I put the picture of Lilith aside for the exhibition and indecisively move a few more photographs back and forth until Mark comes back in.
“Well, honey, how far are you?”
He reaches close to me to one of the selected pictures and leans against my shoulder while looking at it.
“You could have taken a shower after training, we still have so much time,” I grumble, although I have never found Mark’s smell unpleasant, even after training.
“I thought you might want to be a little nicer to your favorite dancer?”
A cheeky grin plays on his lips. Without looking at me, he unerringly reaches for the picture of himself. "You should definitely take that one too!"
“You’re so conceited, Mark!”
“Admit it, you already had it in your hand!”
“So what?”
Now he turns to me and grins at me again.
"Oh, I see, it's still bothering you. Then spit it out, Phili-honey. What do you want to know?"
I sit in the swivel chair with my arms crossed and swing slowly from right to left.
I hate him for playing with me like that.
He throws his arms up theatrically and sighs loudly.
"Goodness, Phil! Don't make a big deal out of it. His name is Leon, first semester, painting department. According to Ostner, he's practically the new child prodigy. That's why he's allowed to show his work at the beginning of the semester exhibition."
“How the hell do you know all this?”
Mark shrugs. "I know the right people."
“Don’t tell me you were in bed with Adrian again?”
Mark raises his eyebrows. "Where do you think we're going? We were just having coffee."
“Yes, of course.”
“Adrian thinks he’s really cute, too.” Mark laughs dirty, which somehow makes me angry again.
He seems to notice that I'm seething, because he swallows his laughter and runs his hand through his short blond hair.
"Well, whatever. If you want to meet the little sister, the exhibition is your best chance. So go ahead and pick out the pictures."
First semester and already at the exhibition. Then Ostner must really think highly of him.
I'm excited about his work, almost more than about Leon himself.
Once again, much too late, I rush to the gallery with Mark in tow. We arrive in a hurry, carrying the framed photographs in two large crates, and of course, we run straight into Professor Ostner, who, as so often, is observing the installation of the exhibition.
"Mr. Köhnen. As always, at the last minute."
“Yeah… um… sorry.”
Embarrassed, Mark and I squeeze past the professor. As I peek around the corner, I almost trip over my own feet, and Mark, in turn, almost runs into me.
I'm captivated by the portraits, which, unlike my own work, are already hanging. I recognize the face immediately. However, there's something disconcerting about the images. Something's not right, but I can't figure out what? Fascinated, I put down my box and wander through the paintings and drawings hanging on the gallery's winding walls.
“Phil, I don’t want to push, but…”
Mark sneaks behind me. The pictures don't seem to impress him as much as they do me.
I stop in front of a large screen showing a shattered reflection. One can clearly recognize more than one personality in the mirror fragments.
“Is he schizophrenic or what?” I mumble more to myself than say it out loud, but apparently it was loud enough.
“No, he had a twin brother.”
I turn around and see Adrian's superior grinning face. Adrian is a student assistant in the art department and, in my opinion, likes to poke his nose into other people's business too often, which he does all too easily thanks to his job at the university.
“And how do you know that?”
Adrian has his arms crossed. I want to wipe the stupid grin off his face. Why is everyone making me so latently aggressive today?
He takes his time with the answer. He seems to have something in common with Mark in this regard. They both love to keep me guessing and enjoy knowing something I don't.
But finally, he shrugs and casually straightens one of the pictures. "I heard him talking to Ostner about it."
“Wait, you said he “had” a twin brother?!”
“Yes, his brother died a few months ago.”
“Oh shit.”
I turn back to the screen. In some fragments, I recognize Leon. In others, I definitely recognize another person. In still others, both faces seem to merge.
"What about it?"
Confused, I turn around again and follow Adrian's nod. He points to my two boxes.
It takes me a moment to understand what he wants from me.
"Oh, over there. Same corner as always."
Adrian and Mark exchange glances that seem a little too familiar to me. Maybe I'm the one who's jealous? Adrian grabs my discarded crate and pushes Mark, who's still carrying the second crate, into my corner. Thoughtfully, I trudge after the two of them.
"As late as you are again, I'd better help you, otherwise Ostner will have another fit."
The three of us hang the framed photographs on the designated walls. I occasionally change the order of the pictures, but overall I'm satisfied, and the three of us actually make the work go quite quickly.
“Now for some tea at Lindemann’s?” Mark looks questioningly at me and then at Adrian.
"Fine," Adrian nods. They both look at me. I'd actually rather go home and sit down at the computer, finally transfer the pictures from this afternoon onto the computer and edit them, but I feel a bit indebted to them both for helping me. So I agree, and we trudge together to Lindemann's, a small, cozy cafe near the art school.
It's already looking quite autumnal outside, so a warm, fragrant caramel tea seems just right. I sink into the thick sofa cushions and clutch the teacup with both hands to prevent myself from taking the camera out of my bag.
Adrian and Mark take over the conversation and loudly gossip about lecturers and fellow students, while I'm lost in my own thoughts and mentally editing the photos.
“Yes… Phil has noticed this Leon too,” I hear Mark giggle, and when I look up, I don’t miss him punching Adrian in the side, grinning.
“It’s quite nice to look at.” Adrian stares at me over his teacup, and once again, extremely spiteful thoughts arise in my head, which end with the suffocation of my counterpart.
"Well, I really don't understand what you see in that guy." Mark stretches his long legs under the table. "He's not ugly, but he's just... well, kind of average-looking."
"I wouldn't push him off the edge of the bed." Again, I have the feeling Adrian is trying to provoke me. His dark brown eyes are still fixed on me. I feel like I'm being watched.
"Why are you so sure he's gay? Did he just tell Ostner that, or what?"
“Nope.” Adrian stirs his Earl Grey carefully.
“I still think he’s gay,” is Mark’s verdict.
"I bet he's gay, but he's still closeted." Adrian grins at me. "What do you say?"
“Hey, I don’t even know him yet? Why should I make bets about his sexual orientation?” I blurt out.
"You'd think, the way you were stalking him this afternoon, you'd be very interested in his sexual orientation."
I roll my eyes in annoyance. "I didn't stalk him."
Again, they both giggle like pubescent schoolgirls, and I'm incredibly annoyed that Mark would say something like that in front of Adrian. At this point, I'm really sick of letting those two gossips ruin my day any further. I struggle out of the giant sofa cushions, fish under the table for my bag, and pay at the front counter rather than wait another minute for the bill.
“I still have work to do,” is my brief farewell.
I take the tram the three stops to my shared apartment. Even now, I'm gripping the straps of my shoulder bag to avoid reaching for my camera. I want to wait until I get home.
As expected, Lilith, one of my roommates, is also home. She's wrapped a towel around her wet hair like a turban and is pacing around our kitchen-living room with a toothbrush in her mouth and a textbook in her hand.
As I carelessly put my jacket and my bag down a little more carefully on one of the kitchen chairs, she pulls her toothbrush out of her mouth with a popping sound and briefly interrupts her walk to say hello.
“Hey, sweetie. How was your day?”
"So-so. Yours?"
“Very well, we already have a new play.” Thanks to the libretto in her hand, I almost suspected that.
"Would you like some tea?" she asks, putting the textbook down on the wobbly kitchen table. She simply pushes the toothbrush back into her mouth to keep her hands free.
"No thanks. I was just at Lindemann's with Mark and Adrian."
“Oh,” she mumbles with her toothbrush in her mouth and puts the water on anyway.
"And what about your day that only deserves the rating 'so-so'? Did you think about the exhibition?"
Why does everyone have this in mind, but not me?
"Uh, yeah, sort of. But Mark and Adrian helped me hang the pictures. I also have a nice photo of you."
"Macbeth?" Lilith beams from ear to ear. I nod.
The kettle whistles and she turns back to her tea.
“I’ll definitely be there tomorrow and check out the exhibition,” she promises.
"Great. I'm going to jump in front of the computer now."
“Brought new work again?”
"Yup."
I really like Lilith. She's a pleasant roommate and a good friend. Friendly and always willing to listen, but not pushy or overly nosy. We met in our second semester, when I started hanging out in the Performing Arts department all the time because of Mark. We took an instant liking to each other, and when Lilith told me she wanted to move out of the dorm and start a shared apartment, I was instantly hooked. We've been living together ever since. We held a few castings for the third shared room until we found a worthy roommate in Karsten. Karsten is the only one of us who doesn't study at the art academy, but at the sports academy. He has very little to do with art of any kind, but he often serves as a willing photo subject, and after six months, I was pretty sure he was smitten with Lilith.
In my room, I can barely get the camera out of my bag fast enough. It's driving me crazy that the computer takes so long to boot up. I'll probably need a new one soon.
I quickly pulled the photos off the card and began sifting through the nearly 100 images. As always, at least 80% were wasted. 15% I put in a separate folder to deal with later. Three pictures remain for now. The first shows Leon in profile. His gaze is directed downward, so that his eyes are almost completely obscured by his long eyelashes. His hair falls over his face. Mark, the philistine, would say that you can hardly see anything in the picture, but that's not true. A very slight smile plays on Leon's lips, and at the same time, he appears quite fragile in the picture. I'm reminded of the story behind his paintings. He recently lost his brother, his twin brother. I try to find something in the picture that tells me his story. At the same time, I almost wish Adrian hadn't told me this in the first place. Would I then see Leon's photos with different eyes?
" Hey Phil, are you still mad? I'm sorry about yesterday. Maybe A. and I overdid it a bit. Now get your sweet ass out of bed. I'm coming to pick you up. See you soon. M."
Typical WhatsApp from Mark. But at least he apologized, and like I said, I can never stay mad at him for long.
Unfortunately, I don't feel rested at all after this night. It's more like I barely slept, so I drag myself into the bathroom and face the horror in the mirror.
Hopefully, a quick shower will make me presentable enough to socialize right away. What I desperately need is a coffee.
As I come out of the bathroom, I can already hear Mark's excited voice coming from the kitchen-living room. He's entertaining the whole flat again, but at least he brought me a latte macchiato, which has earned me a little more respect.
"So? Did you and Adrian have fun yesterday?" I sip the latte through the hole in the plastic lid and promptly burn my tongue. How can it still be so hot?
Mark lowers his gaze, but he doesn't seem guilty, more like a mother giving a pedagogical, valuable response to a stubborn toddler.
“Honey, Adrian and I are just friends.”
"Yes."
“I thought we were putting yesterday’s argument behind us?!”
"Yeah, fine. And just for your information: It wouldn't be a problem for me if there was more going on between you and Adrian."
Mark grins at me because he knows as well as I do that a problem on my part wouldn't stop him from starting something with anyone. Still, I wanted to get it off my chest.
“And were there any usable photos?” he skillfully changes the subject.
“A few,” I reply evasively.
"Are you coming to the exhibition later?" Now it's me who changes the subject. I don't want to talk about Leon right now.
"Yeah, sure. I only have one class this morning. Then I'll come over and we'll get something to eat, okay?"
"Essen will have to wait until after the opening. Ostner wants to start promptly at 12 o'clock."
“Hmm, if that’s what it takes.”
Our paths diverge on the university grounds. While Mark rushes off to his seminar, I have all the time in the world and use it to take a few photos until my feet carry me to the gallery. It's still empty here. In an hour and a half, it will be full.
I wander through the corridors and look at the work of the other students.
As I turn the corner to check my area one last time, I stop. A man with light brown, messy hair is standing in front of my photos. He's examining the photograph of Lilith closely. I consider whether I should just sit down in the cafeteria for the rest of the time, but something makes me keep going. He's bound to notice me.
He jumps in shock when he notices me behind him.
“Sorry,” I mumble, and a gentle blush rises in his cheeks, accompanied by an embarrassed smile.
Even though I know what picture he's looking at, I ask, "What are you looking at?"
Leon turns to Lilith's photo. "This one."
"Do you like it?" I ask with genuine curiosity. I'm interested in his opinion.
"Yes, it's so... clear. The framing and perspective are very well chosen. The intensity, the way she immerses herself in the role, is perfectly captured." His gaze is fixed on the photo, and I hang on his every word like a drooling idiot.
He analyzes a few more aspects of photography, but without disparaging the work, my work. I'm afraid I love him.
He sighs. "They're all wonderful. I especially like this one." He points to the picture of Mark. I feel like my heart is racing and I'm about to have a heart attack. Can someone please get me out of here.
“Yes, I can understand that.” Oh, please not that someone.
Mark jumps between Leon and me, excited as ever, and Leon immediately notices that Mark is the person in the photo.
“It’s you.”
"It's me."
"Really a great picture. A perfect partnership between photographer and subject."
"So, between Phil and me." Mark grins from ear to ear as he nudges me in the side. Leon's face falls.
“These pictures are yours?”
I just nod hesitantly.
He suddenly looks at me so differently. Almost reverently, even though he's Ostner's new prodigy.
"Everything I said was sincere. The pictures are really... wow." His gaze wanders back and forth between the pictures and me. Now it's my turn to blush. "Thank you."
As always, Mark is much more practical.
"I'm Mark." "Leon." They both look at me expectantly, and I'm afraid I won't be able to say a word. "Phil... Philipp." I stumble over my own name. Besides, I've never introduced myself to anyone as "Philipp." Only my parents call me that. To everyone else, I'm Phil. Mark looks at me strangely; he must have noticed.
The gallery is slowly becoming more crowded.
I'd rather be alone with Leon for a while longer. I want to tell him that I've seen his paintings and find them very impressive, but then Adrian shows up, and shortly after, Lilith too.
"And is there at least some champagne to toast with?" Lilith asks, greeting me with a kiss on the cheek before linking arms with mine. Meanwhile, Adrian seems to have taken Leon under his wing, which definitely makes me jealous, I grumble.
Before I can do anything about it, Professor Ostner, followed by several other faculty members, steps up to the podium, and the usual, rather boring litany of the beginning of the semester begins. He thanks everyone present, and of course the students who are exhibiting their work in the gallery this semester, blah blah blah. I'm barely listening as I try as secretly as possible to glance over at Leon. He seems completely distracted by Adrian, though. Adrian jokes with him and, after Ostner's speech, introduces him to some other students and faculty members. They slowly move further and further away from Mark, Lilith, and me.
“Heart-wrenching as always,” Lilith giggles, and it takes me a moment to realize that she’s referring to Ostner’s speech.
She turns around with a swing and pulls me along with her, still hanging on my arm.
“Then show me your pictures.”
“You already know.”
“It doesn’t matter, I’m only here because of you.”
She wanders thoughtfully through the photographs. She pauses a little longer in front of her picture. I fear that artists of all disciplines are a little self-absorbed.
Meanwhile, my eyes keep scanning the gallery for Leon. But as expected, he's busy shaking hands and is being passed around like a traveling trophy.
"Who is that?" Lilith's question tears me from my thoughts. She has followed my gaze and nods in Leon's direction.
"This is Ostner's new prodigy, 'the little sister of shit,' and Phil's object of desire." Mark, of course.
Lilith cranes her neck to get a better look. I want to punch Mark.
“Leon… his name is,” I add quietly.
"That's sweet," Lilith finally says, as if we were talking about a pet.
"Can we go?" I ask, pained. I usually enjoy the exhibitions at the beginning of the semester, but today it's all just too much for me.
My two friends look at me in surprise.
“Hmm, okay… where to?” Lilith asks with her lower lip stuck out.
“Tea?” comes from Mark.
I don't care about anything, just getting away from here. So we trudge to Lindemann's again.
The fresh air outside feels good, we push our feet through the autumn leaves.
“One would almost think you were jealous?” Mark giggles and I feel like I suddenly turn pale.
"Do you have a problem with not being number one at Ostner anymore? Not that you'll have to be on time anytime soon." The giggle has turned into a full-blown laugh, and I'm slowly getting my color back.
I was afraid Mark was referring to Adrian.
"Oh what."
“Is this Leon really that good?” Lilith wants to know.
"His work is truly impressive..." It just pours out of me. I'm obviously rambling on for far too long about the choice of colors, the brushwork, the composition, and who knows what else. Mark and Lilith exchange indefinable glances.
“Okaaaaay…” Lilith draws out the word unnaturally and grins to herself.
I remain embarrassed and silent. In fact, I've rarely spoken so extensively about my fellow students' work, and when I have, it's certainly been with far less enthusiasm.
We exchanged only a few words until we reached the cafe, and once we'd peeled off our jackets and coats and fallen into the cozy sofa cushions, Mark finally leaned forward on the table with a serious expression. His hands clasped, his gaze almost piercing.
“Okay, Phil, am I seeing this correctly? You really have a crush on your little sister?”
Lilith has to press her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud.
“Don’t always call him that!” I grumble.
“Thank you, that was almost clear.”
I punish Mark with a nasty look, which unfortunately has little to no impact on him.
“What do you intend to do about this?”
"What do you want from me? What do you want from me?"
“That you finally get out of this mess.”
I glance at Lilith for help, but she just shrugs with a grin and takes her steaming tea from the waitress. She's a great help.
After our breakup, Mark had repeatedly tried to set me up with someone else, but since I vehemently refused, he finally gave up. He himself is known for being a real person and therefore has no problem finding someone when the need arises, if I may call it that.
Maybe I'm generally more selective in choosing a partner than Mark, but the main thing is that I'm more interested in something long-term.
"I don't know what your problem is? If you like him, then just talk to him."
"I was, before you just interrupted," I snarl at him, immediately regretting it. To avoid spouting more nonsense, I quickly sip my tea and promptly burn my tongue. For the second time today.
“Does he like boys?” Lilith now interjects.
“Adrian and I bet on it,” grins Mark.
"But that's not certain," I retort. My tongue hurts, and I feel like I'm stuck in the same annoying situation as yesterday.
"Well, get to know him first!" Is Lilith serious? What an incredibly helpful tip.
“I’ll hold back too, I promise!” Mark theatrically places his right hand on his chest.
I glare at him grumpily, which makes him grin again.
“Unless I feel you need tutoring!”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Well then, get to work!”
His expression and tone of voice have changed dangerously, and I can almost read it in his face. I cringe inside when I hear the doorbell.
„Hey!“
I hardly dare to look up. Adrian... with Leon.
“This is where you hid!”
I treat myself to a longer look at Leon for the first time. His light brown hair is a bit more disheveled than usual thanks to the autumn wind. A few freckles are scattered across his straight nose and slightly flushed cheeks. He lowers his bright, large, blue eyes when he notices my gaze. I immediately stare into my teacup again.
“Would you like to sit with us?” Mark asks, and I don’t know whether I should be grateful or not.
"Sure, please!"
We slide closer together, and I feel hot as I find myself between Lilith and Leon. The right side, where Leon is sitting, feels hotter than the left.
“And how was it again?”
Mark and Adrian are once again loudly entertaining the entire café, peppered with interjections from my roommate. Leon and I are both silent. I surreptitiously look at his hands, which are clutching his teacup. Long, slender fingers... covered in paint. I have to smile.
"Okay, guys, I have to get to my next class. See you later." Lilith stands up, grabs her coat and bag. She leans down briefly and, as she often does, gives me a kiss on the cheek. "See you tonight at the latest."
With that, she rushes to the front of the cash register and then waves out of the café.
Because I no longer have an excuse to cling to Leon, now that Lilith's spot on the sofa has become free, I slide away from him a little. Our eyes meet briefly.
I'm starting to get scared that Mark might make good on his earlier threat and say something embarrassing, just like Leon and I are keeping quiet.
Mark's gaze bores into mine from time to time. But instead of saying anything embarrassing about me or to me, he just takes a pointed look at the clock and nudges Adrian next to him. "Say, isn't it about time for your seminar?"
“Oh crap, I still have to copy the handouts for Schmittie.”
I can't tell if this whole thing is a staged performance or real. But Adrian and Mark actually jump up, say a hasty goodbye, and head back toward the college.
I feel alternately hot and cold and I feverishly think of what to say so that the awkward silence between us will soon end.
"Well... they're gone." Very witty, Mr. Köhnen. I want to bang my head against the wall.
“Yes.”
…
“Your… girlfriend…” Leon clears his throat.
„Lilith.“
“Studying acting?”
I nod.
“That was her in the photo, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” It occurs to me that by “girlfriend” he might mean steady girlfriend and might have completely misunderstood Lilith’s kiss and her goodbye.
And maybe he's more interested in her than in me. 'Get out of bed!' Mark's words echo in my head, and I gather all my courage.
“We live together.” Uh, no, wrong approach.
"I mean, she's my roommate and, like, my girlfriend, but I... uh, I mean, my best friend, not my girlfriend." Very eloquent. I want to bang my head against the wall again.
The corners of Leon’s mouth twitch upwards.
„Ok.“
I don't want to talk about Lilith. I'd rather talk about his work.
"Your pictures are really great. You totally deserve to be in the exhibition. You're really proud of yourself."
Leon blushes. "Thank you," he murmurs quietly.
“It’s rare that the Ostner lets a freshman exhibit.”
Leon looks at me thoughtfully for a moment.
“I heard the last time was four semesters ago.”
Adrian, the old snitch. I don't want to know what else he told Leon.
I clear my throat, genuinely embarrassed. "Um, yeah, maybe."
He takes a deep breath. "Look, I... I don't want to dispute anything with you or anything. I admire your work, I really do... if you just left because..."
"Wait!" I interrupt him, confused. "Arguing? What are you talking about?"
He chews uncertainly on his lower lip and clutches the almost empty teacup, while I suspect what he might mean.
"Well, Adrian said..." I'm freaking out a little inside. "...you've been Professor Ostner's favorite so far, and that you might be angry because he... because he..." He pauses.
“Nonsense!” I blurt out and Leon flinches, which I immediately feel sorry for.
"Adrian is talking bullshit! I'm not mad, except at him for spouting such garbage. I hope he didn't tell you any more nonsense?!" I really hope so.
Another thoughtful look from his blue eyes, but he says nothing more.
Somehow, the mood has sunk. I have no idea how to fix it. We pay for our tea and head off to the college.
We walk side by side in silence for a while.
"How does that work?" Leon suddenly asks. "Do you only attend classes in your chosen subject area?"
"Not necessarily. You could also attend a seminar in photography or sculptural design, of course. The life drawing course, for example, always attracts a striking number of students from a wide variety of disciplines." We both grin. It feels a little more relaxed next to Leon.
“Do you do anything else?” he asks me.
"Besides photography, you mean? Graphics, mostly."
“So the life drawing course.”
"For example."
We laugh.
“Show me your timetable.” I think Mark would be proud of my offensive.
He stops and rummages in his pocket.
I study his handwritten timetable and silently admire his flowing handwriting.
"Anything you particularly recommend? Or something you'd advise me against?"
I'm a little flattered that he's asking me for advice instead of Adrian, the idiot.
"Ostner can be a bit dry sometimes. But you should definitely show up at his lectures. You can't go wrong there. Hmm... Rickmann is great. I learned a lot from her."
I'm trying to memorize his schedule so I can maybe adjust my own a bit.
As I hand him back the notebook, our hands briefly touch. He doesn't let it show, and neither do I.
"No, everything looks pretty good. You can use your free time to do some work in your studio. Or for a cup of tea at Lindemann's."
He smiles at me and I feel warm again.
“I go there often.” I have no idea why I say that.
"Okay, good to know." My heart races. "In case I need some more tips."
We stand there for a moment, a little hesitant. He's only slightly shorter than me. I don't know what to say. Finally, he takes a deep breath, almost like a sigh, and starts to leave. "So, thanks again. See you later... or something."
All I can manage is a nod and he actually turns around and walks off toward the studio.
I have to gather all my courage again and half-heartedly rely on his example from just now to sprint the few steps after him.
"I, I can give you my number if it's urgent. So, with the tips."
Again, the corners of his handsome mouth twitch upward. I hastily scribble my cell phone number on a torn piece of paper, my handwriting not even half as beautiful as his, and solemnly hand it over.
"Thanks."
“Yeah, well… if anything happens, let me know.”
"Ok I'll do."
„Gut.“
“Then uh… see you later?!”
“Yes, see you then…”
He puts his hand with the note in his jacket pocket. Hopefully, he won't lose it.
While he turns around and leaves, I just take a few steps backward and make a complete fool of myself when I (how could it be otherwise) run into Mark.
"Hey, sweetheart? How far are you?"
“Oh man, don’t scare me like that.”
"It was a good move on my part to keep Adrian off your back, wasn't it? Now I desperately need my promised food, come on. You can tell me everything in the cafeteria."
“Well, not bad by your standards.” Mark dissects the already overcooked fish fingers on his plate.
I give him an annoyed look. "But I'm really angry that Adrian is telling him such nonsense."
Mark grins mischievously and points a forkful of mushy mashed potatoes in my direction. "Well, you have to admit, such thoughts aren't entirely unfounded."
„Was?“
"Well, for the last four semesters, you've been pretty much relying on the fact that the Easterner likes you. One could almost imagine that you see Leon as competition."
"What a crap!"
"And if you don't see him as competition, that only shows your overwhelming megalomania and arrogance."
I make such a face that Mark almost falls into his disgusting fish sticks from laughing.
"You're both crazy! It's not like we're applying for the same job or anything. So why should I consider him competition?"
“I’m just trying to tease you!” he laughs.
"And you were able to clear up the 'misunderstanding.' So what's next?"
I shrug my shoulders.
"No idea."
“Do you have his number?”
„Nee.“
Mark shakes his head and tears his hair. I'm probably a hopeless case.
“But he has mine.”
“Well, at least.” All hope is not completely lost.
“Any other ideas?”
I shrug my shoulders again.
"I know his schedule, roughly. I thought maybe I'd pick one or two classes from there."
Mark shakes his head back and forth as if he has to think about the idea.
“Yeah, at least it’s a start.”
So two days later I'm sitting in a seminar on screen printing.
When Leon enters the workshop, I'm already sitting, clearly visible against the back wall. His face brightens when he recognizes me, and he walks straight toward me.
"Hello Philipp!" Now my last faux pas is catching up with me again. Philipp sounds strange to me. But I don't dare correct him.
“Hi! You here too?” As if I didn’t know.
"Yeah, I've never done that before. Sounds interesting."
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he puts his things down on the chair next to me.
“Have you ever done screen printing?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
“No, so far only linocut.”
We don't have much time left to talk. The lecturer, Dr. Schmidt, affectionately known to us as Schmittie, rushes into the room and launches into the conversation.
Leon is hanging on her every word, and I'm on his, at least mentally. I just catch Schmittie explaining how to stretch the wooden frames and that we should do it in pairs.
A short time later, we're both half-squatting on the table. Leon is holding the wooden frame while I try to staple the fabric to it under tension. We have quite a laugh, and I'm glad that at least Leon was listening, otherwise this would surely end in chaos.
Towards the end of the event, we actually had two more or less presentable frames covered, which can then be used for printing starting next week.
In my high spirits, I allow myself to ask Leon if we could go to Lindemann's for tea.
At least he looks as disappointed as I feel when he replies that he has his next event in 15 minutes.
"Okay, I see. It's not worth it."
“No, sorry.”
We stand in front of each other again, a little embarrassed, while the other students push past us.
“Well, I have to go now.” It sounds almost apologetic.
"Yeah, sure! Have fun. See you!"
When I get home, Karsten and Lilith are standing in the kitchen. Karsten is stirring intently in a pot that appears to be simmering tomato sauce. Lilith is leaning against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed, grinning at me meaningfully.
“Oh, a culinary feast!” I joke.
Lilith has to suppress a grin, and Karsten blushes a little. It dawns on me that Karsten has finally gotten over his fear and is cooking for Lilith.
I bite my lower lip. "Yeeeeeah, enjoy!" and quickly push myself out of the kitchen and into my room.
As I lean against the closed bedroom door, I can't quite shake a certain feeling of jealousy. And yet, I'm not jealous of either Karsten or Lilith. I'm really happy for them both if they finally find each other, but unfortunately, it just makes me feel even more lonely right now.
I throw my bag on the bed and sit on the swivel chair in front of the PC, which still doesn't boot up any faster than it did last week.
I surf the web listlessly for a bit until I get the idea to look up Leon on Facebook. Why didn't I think of that sooner?
He's actually listed on the network using his full name, but he's restricted his page to non-friends. That's basically the right thing to do, but it's a bummer for me, since I see virtually nothing other than his profile and cover photo. The cursor hovers over the "send him a friend request" button. I decide there's really nothing there and click the mouse button.
I then stare at the screen for about two minutes, vacillating between impatience as to why my friend request hasn't been accepted immediately and the knowledge that Leon is currently attending a class at university and, as an exemplary student, is of course not surfing Facebook at the same time.
A little red 1 pops up next to my globe, proving to me that Leon might not be such an exemplary student as I thought.
With dry lips, I click on his profile picture again and see more pictures on his wall. A few photos of his work, photos from his graduation party, where he doesn't look very happy, and if I scroll down a bit further, they appear: photos of him and his brother.
I looked at the pictures for a long time. They really did look incredibly similar. Yet I still imagined I could clearly tell who was who in each picture.
The photos are from spring of this year. The more I look at and read, the more I feel like a stalker, like an intruder. His brother, Robin, has reacted to some of the photos or even commented on them. My stomach feels like lead.
Does Leon feel the same way when he reads the old posts?
When my phone vibrates to indicate that I have received a WhatsApp message, I almost have a heart attack and reflexively close the browser window.
" Hey honey! Want to dance tonight? M."
I breathe a sigh of relief, half annoyance. Only Mark.
“Dance? With you? For heaven’s sake!” I type back.
"Do you have anything better to do? Which, of course, can't be the case..."
"Hi Philipp, Leon here. Sorry again about this afternoon. Otherwise, I'm always up for a cup of tea."
Oh my goodness. Here comes the next WhatsApp message. And I feel hot and cold all over again.
“ Leon just wrote to me!” I hastily write to Mark.
“Is that your excuse for not wanting to dance?”
“I don’t know what to answer!!!”
Mark sends an emoji sticking out his tongue. I send back an angry one.
Then I almost drop my phone in shock, but it's only Mark calling.
"Okay, I'll help you. Write: Do you want to go with me? Check: Yes, no, maybe."
I'm about to throw my phone against the wall.
"Are you kidding me?"
“Just a little.” I hate Mark.
“Well, what did he write?”
I switch to speakerphone and read him Leon's message.
"Sweet... what happened this afternoon? What does 'tea' stand for?"
“Tea stands for tea you idiot!”
“You guys are boring.” He laughs dirty.
"Maaaaan Mark, help me instead of just making fun of me. He must think I'm an idiot if it takes me half an hour to reply to his message."
"My God, Phil, what happened to us back then? Oh yeah... I took charge of that!"
Mark clears his throat. I can just picture him trying to stay serious again.
"Don't make such a fuss. He's practically handing you a gift on a silver platter. Then ask him when he wants to have tea with you."
“Stop putting ‘drinking tea’ in quotation marks.”
“I don’t.” He giggles.
"Yes, I hear that. Any other helpful tips?"
“Relax, man.”
“Well, thank you!”
"You're welcome! I love you too. Keep me posted."
I pace my room three more times, then try to remind myself that I'm a mature 22 years old and an adult and everything...
“Great, when do you feel like it?”
I delete the text again.
“Okay, I have time, how about you?” Better, but I’m still not completely satisfied.
I walk around the circle two more times and realize that he might see that I've been writing for what feels like an eternity.
"I still have raspberry vanilla and caramel cream tea." I send the message before I can change my mind. The reply comes immediately.
"Sounds good. I still have chocolate chai available." I nod approvingly. Good taste.
"Not bad either. We could host a tea tasting."
He sends a laughing emoji. "Okay, when and where?"
My fingers tingle. "If you like, right here?"
“Where is ‘here’?”
I send him my location.
"Great, then put the water on. It can be here in 15 minutes, if that's okay with you?"
"Clear."
Exhausted, I collapse onto my bed and gasp for air as if I had just run a half marathon.
I switch chats and text Mark. "He's coming!"
“I didn’t want to know that much detail when I said, keep me updated!”
"Ass!"
Another tearful laughing emoji.
"Great, so what do you do then? Drink tea?"
"Me, Idiot."
"Have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
“Is there anything there at all?”
His emoji sticks out his tongue.
I grab my kettle and run into the kitchen.
Karsten und Lilith sitzen noch am Esstisch und unterhalten sich.
Beide sehen auf, als ich zur Spüle schleiche.
„Na, alles klar bei dir?“, fragt Lilith und guckt mich komisch an.
„Mh, krieg gleich Besuch.“
Sie zieht eine Augenbraue hoch und Karsten dreht sich interessiert zu mir um.
Als wäre es so eine Sensation, dass ich Besuch bekomme …
„Wer denn? Das Wunderkind?“
Warum erfinden eigentlich alle komische Spitznamen für ihn?
„Er heißt Leon.“
Karsten grinst breit.
„Wir trinken Tee.“
„Ok, alles klar. Ihr wollt also nicht gestört werden …“
Geräuschvoll atme ich aus und kehre den beiden mit gefülltem Wasserkocher den Rücken, ohne auf die blöden Kommentare einzugehen.
Ich lasse meinen Blick nochmal durch meinen Raum schweifen und versuche ihn mit fremden Augen zu sehen. Aber bevor ich mir groß Gedanken machen kann, klingelt es auch schon.
Als ich auf Socken durch den Flur schlittere und dabei fast die Kommode umrenne, höre ich wieder Gekicher aus der Küche.
With my heart racing, I open the door.
I cling to the door frame to avoid the first impulse that tempts me to grab his fluffy hair.
„Hi!“
„Hi!“
I step aside to make room for him. Our hallway is incredibly narrow.
Embarrassed, he stands in the hallway and I have to squeeze past him again after closing the door to go ahead.
“Did you like it?”
“Thanks to Google Maps.”
I scurry past the kitchen-living room door with him as quickly as possible and guide him to my room. As I turn to him, I see his gaze catch on the pictures decorating our hallway.
“They’re all yours, right?” I lean against my doorframe and watch him look at my photographs.
“Yes.”
To balance things out, they mostly feature Lilith and Karsten, sometimes Mark. We considered this a fair compromise regarding the design of the common areas of our shared apartment.
Slowly he comes after me and follows me into my little kingdom.
He lets his gaze wander.
There's really nothing special about my room. A bed, a desk with a computer, a wardrobe, a dresser, a bookshelf, and a small two-seater sofa.
In my room, unlike the hallway, there are hardly any pictures hanging, which he immediately notices.
“Why didn’t you hang any of your pictures here?”
“Sometimes I need a bit of plain white.”
He nods knowingly. I don't think he's the type to wallpaper his walls with his own work either.
"You have it nice here. Cozy."
"Thanks, just throw your stuff somewhere. Sorry, my room isn't that big."
Leon laughs heartily.
“Compared to that dump that calls itself a student dorm, this is a palace!”
I have to laugh along, remembering my first semester. The dorm rooms are truly a joke.
While I turn on the kettle, I try to make small talk.
“And how are you liking college so far?”
His eyes begin to shine.
“Very good, actually it was always my dream to spend the whole day just doing art.”
“Given the size of the dorm rooms, you’ll often have to work in the university studio, right?”
He laughs. "Yeah, in the dorm, the most I can do is draw something in my sketchbook."
“Where do you store your large-format works?”
"Currently, they're all still in the gallery at the university. We'll see where to put them after the exhibition. Maybe I'll take them to my parents' house; they have plenty of space now."
Does he mean only himself or also his brother, who is missing?
He takes the teacup from me. I think of the photos of his brother, and I'm afraid he can read my face like an open book.
One corner of his mouth twitches upwards.
“Ask whatever you want to ask.” He blows into his tea, his hair falling in front of his eyes.
I hesitate. The topic seems so personal to me.
He stands up again and looks me very directly in the eyes.
"I'm serious. What do you want to know?"
"I uh... well... how..."
"How did he die? It was a car accident. During the graduation party. I don't know exactly how that happened. The car must have missed him."
He stares into his teacup. I don't know what to say.
“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to…”
When he looks up again, he smiles at me. He looks a little tired, though.
“I exhibited the pictures, so I have to talk about them.”
I nod and still feel bad.
“Maybe it’s my kind of therapy, too.” He laughs quietly, but the hands that are clutching the teacup speak a different language.
I want to hold him in my arms. I want to take away at least some of his pain.
But maybe that would be a bit too close considering we've only known each other for two weeks.
“Do you have any siblings?” he suddenly asks.
Surprised by the change of subject, I briefly shake my head.
"Not?"
"Oh, yes, an older sister. She's in her final stages of studying to become a primary school teacher. My personal horror!"
“Your sister or the teaching profession?”
I laugh, and he joins in. That feels better again.
"No, my sister is fine. Teaching wouldn't be for me. Especially not with such little nincompoops."
Leon grins. "Don't you like children?"
"On me..."
“Do you want to have your own later?”
The question takes me by surprise. I take my time answering. I sip my tea carefully.
"Let's put it this way. It's rather unlikely that I'll ever have children of my own."
He looks at me curiously.
"Why?"
We're really sliding from one sensitive topic to the next. Mark would probably find this a perfect opportunity to lay his cards on the table.
“Well, because… I’m gay.”
I can't interpret Leon's look. If he's gay, too, this would be the right moment to tell me. But he says nothing.
I wait for an answer, a reaction, something. Instead, he takes a sip of tea. This guy is really driving me crazy.
“That doesn’t rule out having your own children these days.”
I stare at him, somewhat stunned. This is a response I would never have expected in a billion years. My range of possible reactions ranged from, "He confesses his love to me, we throw our arms around each other, and spend the next 24 hours in bed" to "He throws his teacup at my head, storms out, and never speaks to me again."
“Hmm, yeah, no… not necessarily.”
I don't know what else to say. I'm kind of depressed that he's not gay after all, as Mark and Adrian predicted. That would have been a huge coincidence.
"I don't know yet if I want to have children later on. It's just still a long way off right now." He stares into his teacup again as he says this.
Then he suddenly looks at me and smiles so warmly that I feel a little better again.
“We’ve got some pretty strange topics today, haven’t we?”
I have to grin too. "Indeed."
"Normally you start with: What kind of music do you listen to? Or what movies do you like? Instead, we're talking about dead brothers and artificial insemination."
Coming from his mouth, it sounds so relaxed and not at all oppressive that I have to laugh.
He agrees.
The rest of the afternoon actually passes quite relaxed. We chat about all sorts of things and drink lots of tea. As it starts to get dark outside, he says goodbye.
When the front door closes, Lilith immediately sticks her head out of her bedroom door.
"So? How was your date?"
“That wasn’t a date.”
"Not?"
"He's not gay... I think."
„Mh …“
Of course, Mark also demands a detailed report. But as always, his advice isn't helpful, at least not from my perspective.
For now, I've resigned myself to secretly pining for Leon. We often see each other at the university or meet for tea at Lindemann's. Somehow, I've been treading water for weeks.
I push through the door into the studio. The familiar smell of tempera paint immediately envelops me. A few students are standing or sitting in front of easels. It's fairly quiet. Most have headphones on and are listening to music; otherwise, all you can hear is the scratching of brushes and palette knives on canvas.
I maneuver through the maze of easels to Leon's usual corner, but he's not there. I stare uncertainly at the empty stool. He's usually here every Tuesday.
The girl to the right of Leon's seat pulls out an earplug with paint-stained fingers.
“Are you looking for Leon?”
“Yes.”
“He’s not here.”
“I see that.”
She gives me an annoyed look.
"I mean, he wasn't in the seminar this morning, and he wasn't in the lecture yesterday either. He's probably sick or something."
"Oh. Okay... thanks."
Lost in thought, I turn away. She throws a "You're welcome" at me, with an undertone that should make me doubt the truth of her words. But I don't care. Out in the hallway, I pull out my cell phone.
“ Hey, where are you?”
I see that he has read the message, but it takes a long time for him to start typing.
"At home"
"Are you okay? Are you sick?"
This time the answer is even longer in coming.
I add, Do you need anything?” “
More blue checkmarks, then nothing for a long time, and finally WhatsApp tells me he's typing a message, but either he's writing me a novel or he keeps deleting it and starting over... I don't know. It takes forever.
" No, I don't need anything. Thanks. I'm not sick. I just don't feel well."
I chew on my lower lip and almost run into one of the pillars that line the hallways of our university because I'm staring so intently at the screen.
I don't have a good feeling about it.
I consider suggesting that I come over, but I'm too afraid that he'll refuse a visit from me, so I decide to just go.
On the way to the student dorm, I stop at the nearest discount store and stock up on a pack of vanilla tea, chocolate, and a pre-packaged Mirácoli. Leon simply can't refuse.
It's only two stops by train to the dorm. I stare out the window, against which water is now pounding. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate this terrible autumn weather? Of course, I don't have an umbrella or anything with me, so I end up standing in front of Leon's door pretty soaked.
When nothing happens when I ring, I pull out my phone again and text him.
"Come on, let me in. I'm standing at your door and it's pouring with rain."
Still, it takes a while for him to open the door.
He looks like shit.
Well, not fundamentally. Fundamentally, I still find him adorable, but he's pale, looks tired, and also somewhat tearful, although I could swear he was trying to cover up that impression.
“You didn’t have to come.” It sounds like he would have preferred to say “should” instead of “must.”
"Yes, probably, but since I think we're kind of like friends, and friends care about each other, I've decided that maybe you shouldn't be alone."
He still doesn't seem convinced, but he shrugs resignedly. He probably just doesn't have the energy to argue with me right now.
I leave my soggy shoes outside, quickly sneak past Leon into his room, and peel off my wet sweater. He shuffles after me, unmotivated.
Exhausted, he sinks down onto his messy bed and looks at me with tired eyes.
"I can …"
"Oh, never mind. I'll do it," I say, getting ahead of him and turning on the kettle in his kitchenette.
I actually find two clean cups and a short time later I'm balancing two steaming cups of vanilla tea over to the bed.
He looks at me guiltily and I wonder if my unannounced visit might have actually worsened his mood.
"I also brought noodles. If you're hungry."
He shakes his head barely noticeably.
"If you want to tell me what's going on, I'll listen. But I... I can also just stay with you for a while."
His gaze wanders nervously around the room, seemingly careful not to meet my eyes. The tea is still untouched in front of him.
“I’m tired.” His voice is very quiet and it sounds as if it took enormous effort for him to say those three words.
I nod. "Okay." I sneak a glance out the window and notice, with a twinge of regret, that the rain outside is slowly turning into a small autumn thunderstorm.
“Do you want me to go?”
Now he suddenly looks at me, almost frightened.
“No, I… can you stay with me?”
“Sure.” My legs are already half asleep from how cramped I was while squatting on the carpet in front of him, and I stagger a little as I stand up.
"Do you mind if I sit on the bed with you? My legs are falling asleep."
He shakes his head and slides further toward the wall. I carefully sit down on the edge of the bed. Oh man, he's really pretty exhausted. I have my theories, but not knowing what's going on is stressing me out.
I clear my throat. "If you're tired, go to sleep. I'll just sit here, okay?"
He looks at me so sadly that I feel like I'm about to start crying, and then he says very quietly, "Can you hold me?"
Instead of answering, I spread my arms.
He throws his arms around my neck almost instantly, and as we slide into a vertical position, he starts crying. It's really bad. So much pain is audible in his sobs that tears well up in my own eyes. I hug him. Press him tightly to my chest, hoping that this will at least help him.
It feels like an eternity before he calms down, and at some point I'm astonished to realize that he's fallen asleep in my arms. It takes a while longer for the tension to leave him. His breathing becomes calm and regular again, and I feel a little sleepy myself. Even though I had imagined our first night together in bed a little differently, I enjoy (with a guilty conscience) the closeness of his warm body against mine. I gently stroke his wild hair, careful not to wake him. It's pitch black outside by now, but you can still hear the wind howling and the rain pounding against the window.
When I wake up, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. Leon is lying on his side next to me. He's still asleep, but I daresay he doesn't look as pale as he did... uh, yesterday?! I sneak a glance at my watch. It's almost 12:30. Oh man, I slept like a log.
I carefully slide away from Leon, gently place his arm, which he still had wrapped around me, next to him, and pull the blanket up to his shoulders.
After that, I quickly disappear into his mini bathroom.
When I come back out, somewhat unwrinkled, Leon is awake. He's sat up, but wrapped the blanket around himself, so only his fuzzy head and his hand holding the blanket are visible.
He looks at me silently, but already looks worlds better than he did yesterday when he opened the door for me.
“I don’t know what to say,” he says seriously.
“Good morning?!” I can’t think of anything better.
A brief smile flits across his face and I have to grin too.
"Although, it's actually already lunchtime. What about pasta?"
“Okay, give me 5 minutes.” He seems grateful that I don’t bring up yesterday, so I let it go.
While he disappears into the bathroom, I pour yesterday's cold tea into the sink, rinse the cups, and boil more water. Once for more tea, once for the noodles.
When he appears next to me, he looks even better.
He reaches past me and I feel a little dizzy for a moment, then he grabs the tea packet and pulls out two tea bags.
“Sorry, I’m a shitty host.”
“Oh, I’m just so free and feel completely at home,” I grin cheekily and receive a slight shove in return.
The tea water boils and he pours the hot water into the two cups while I take apart the all-round carefree noodle package and knead the packet of pasta sauce.
While I expertly cook spaghetti and mix the pasta sauce with the herbs provided, Leon sets the table.
“Hmm, I love flavor enhancers and E numbers.”
“Are you criticizing my cooking skills?”
“I would never dare to do that.”
“Good, because I also have phenomenal dessert on offer.”
I melodramatically pull the bar of chocolate out of my bag, and Leon almost falls off his chair laughing. It's good to see him like this again.
As I'm about to clear the plates, he grabs my hand. I allow myself to briefly savor the moment while I look at him questioningly.
"Leave it, please. I'll feel really guilty if you clean up my place now. I'll do it... later."
Since Leon lacks comfortable seating in his small room, we simply throw ourselves back onto the bed with the chocolate.
“Well done, Chef.”
“Do you feel better now?”
My question wasn't meant the way he probably interpreted it, but it seems okay. He just looks at me briefly, a little uncertain, then nods.
"Yes, I do, actually. Thank you."
I shift around nervously on the bed until I get the courage.
“Hmm, may I ask what…”
He shrugs and breaks another piece of chocolate off the bar.
“Sometimes… there are always bad days.”
Then suddenly it all just bubbles out of him.
"Robin and I wouldn't be here together anyway. He really had no interest in art." Leon laughs quietly. "He was completely different from me in many ways anyway. He was much more confident, a real showman. He played guitar in a band and things like that. But still... sometimes the thought comes to me that I'd just like to call him or send him a WhatsApp or something, and then I really realize that he's not here anymore. Not here and nowhere else."
I feel helpless.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” I stammer unheroically, but Leon looks at me in surprise.
"That's okay. You don't have to say anything. It's... great that you're here, that you're listening to me."
“Anytime.”
"Thanks."
We finish the rest of the chocolate and decide that the university will have to survive without us for the rest of today. Instead, Leon suggests Netflix, and while he sets up his laptop, I quickly glance at my phone.
23 unread messages and 3 missed calls. Mark and Lilith, of course. Where am I (or who am I—Mark, that jerk) and why haven't I been in touch? Will I be able to get to college today? Am I okay? Why haven't I been in touch yet? Have I checked my watch? And so on...
I quickly type “I’m with Leon, I’ll get back to you later.” and send the message directly to both of them, hoping to have some peace and quiet now.
We watch some shallow comedy and have a great time.
Like last night, we have to squeeze a little closer together in Leon's narrow bed because, being lazy as we are, we prefer to watch TV lying down. Of course, I don't mind Leon being stapled to my left side, even though I do get quite hot at times wherever his body touches mine.
Late in the afternoon, I actually have to say goodbye to Leon. I leave, but only after making him promise to call or text me immediately if he's having another bad day.
It was probably a mistake to text Mark that I was on my way home. It's no surprise that when I arrive at the shared apartment, he's waiting for me, totally excited, in the kitchen next to Lilith.
"Uh, wait... just for the record: You spend a day and a half with Leon in his tiny dorm room, sleeping in his bed, and you're telling me NOTHING happened?"
I stir my teacup slowly and shrug.
“He just wasn’t feeling well.”
"Are you the damn Pope or something? Although... even he wouldn't have come out of this as chaste as you!"
“I know you would shamelessly take advantage of such a situation,” I venomously tell Mark.
He grimaces and sinks back against the back of his chair.
“Please say something!” He turns to Lilith, who is leaning against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed and has remained silent until now.
I feel like I'm being interrogated by my parents or something.
"But... he knows you're gay, doesn't he?"
“Yesss?!”
She frowns. Those two are driving me crazy, seriously.
“And you’re sure it’s not him?”
“Otherwise he would have had the opportunity to comment on this.”
“But his behavior is a bit unusual for a straight guy, don’t you think?”
I don't say anything. I don't even know what to say. It's not as if these questions haven't crossed my mind, but it makes me somewhat aggressive to be asked these questions by someone else. Probably because I don't have the answer myself. At most, I wish that maybe he's just a tiny bit into men and that I still have a chance to be more than just 'a friend' to him.
In fact, Leon even writes to me twice in the next few weeks, as promised. I show up each time, and it's just as intense, for him as it is for me. But I maintain that he calms down more quickly.
Sometimes, when he's exhausted and falls asleep, I quietly pull my sketchbook out of my bag and draw him. I feel even more like a stalker than when I was secretly taking photos, but I can't help it.
Monday afternoon. My phone rings.
“Phil? … Can, can you come?”
I nod automatically, even though he can't see it.
"Sure. Chocolate and tea?"
„Ok.“
"I'll be right there!"
I wrap myself in my thick winter scarf, and before I rush out, I think I see Lilith's disapproving sniffle at the kitchen doorframe. But I don't care.
In this terrible weather, the train is delayed again. But winter always comes so suddenly. I hop from one foot to the other to warm myself up.
Leon actually sounded relatively composed, even though it was immediately clear to me why he was calling.
The last few times he was in this state, it was only enough for a quick WhatsApp message.
Accordingly, he actually looks pretty good when he opens the door for me, compared to my expectations. He's a little pale and a little shaky, but not as miserable as usual.
„Hey!“
„Hey!“
„Tee?“
He nods. "I've already put the kettle on."
I unwrap my scarf inelegantly and actually elicit a small smile from Leon.
"Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Mark has told me often enough that I'm no good at dancing."
“You don’t have to be perfect at everything.”
Like I'm perfect, oh man... he actually makes me blush.
In silence, he makes us some tea and then we curl up on the bed with it.
I won't say anything either, just wait and see.
“I was home over the weekend.”
„Ok?!“
“It was awful.”
He takes a deep breath. I see him grip the cup tighter, probably because his hands have started to shake.
"My mother... after Robin's accident... at first, she started crying every time she saw me. It's not as bad now, but... I still see it in her eyes. It's killing me."
I just nod and move a little closer so our shoulders touch. He takes the impulse and rests his head on my shoulder.
"Besides, I think I can suppress things better here. I'm alone here anyway, so Robin would never have been here. But back home... We shared a room, you know? It feels totally weird waking up in this room. My mom hasn't touched Robin's things yet. It looks like he's only been gone for a short while." His voice falters, but he doesn't cry this time.
"I don't want to go home for Christmas. I don't think I can bear it."
Suddenly, his wide eyes look at me. I can practically read the question.
"Um, I'm going to my parents' house." I can barely get the words out, almost wanting to apologize, and then I just keep talking without thinking. "Do you want to come with me?"
For a moment neither of us says anything.
"Um, I... do you think that's okay?"
"In an emergency, I'll just say you're my friend. Then they won't ask too many questions."
Damn, my mouth is acting up. I want to bite my tongue off.
The corner of his mouth twitches upward in embarrassment, and he turns a little red. Oh, I really want to introduce him to my parents right now, marry him, buy a house, and adopt little ankle biters, if I please... I'd better take a sip of my tea, which is already cold, but it's better than spouting more rubbish.
“Let’s talk about something else,” Leon says suddenly.
“Okay, what about?”
He shrugs. "I don't know, whatever." He thinks for a moment. "How did you get into photography?"
I have to grin. "I used to draw mostly, but my perfectionism got in the way. Everything I drew always looked better photographed. Plus, I could capture moments; I wasn't that fast at drawing."
Again a smile adorns his handsome face.
“Do you still do it?”
I'm distracted. "Huh?"
"Draw?!"
"Oh, yes, sometimes. But only for me."
“Will you show me something?”
Without thinking too much, I pull the sketchbook out of my bag.
He puts down the teacup and takes it carefully as if it were a precious treasure.
“There’s a lot of crap in it too…” I apologize immediately and put down the cup of cold tea.
Leon laughs. "Don't worry. My art teacher always said: The first thing you should do when opening a new sketchbook is always open it in the middle and pour a cup of coffee in. That takes the pressure off."
I laugh along, but I'm still nervous, as he opens the book and carefully looks at page after page.
He turns the page again and stops. A chill runs down my spine. I hadn't thought of that. We both stare at a drawing of him sleeping.
“I… I… uh… I’m sorry, I…” I stammer wildly without knowing what I want to say.
A hint of red adorns his cheeks again and he gives me a quick glance before continuing to examine the drawing.
“This is beautiful.”
You're beautiful. Luckily, only in my head. This time I can actually bite my tongue before the rambling leaves my mouth.
"I well... you..."
If he can analyze this sketch even remotely as well as he's discussed my other work, he'll be absolutely in love. I hope he turns the page soon.
"You shouldn't give up drawing. Your photographs are amazing, no question, but these drawings are..." he searches for words. "...even more authentic, even closer to you. When you take photographs, you are the observer. When you draw, you reveal your soul."
I think I'm going to be sick. I'm relieved when he turns the page.
Finally, he gives me back the book and thanks me.
We return to safer areas for conversation and finally decide to order pizza.
" Hey, treacherous tomato. Do you have time for anyone other than your 'little sister'?"
Oh Mark feels neglected.
“At least he doesn’t call my friends insulting nicknames.”
"There's nothing going on between you anyway. Then you can come to the Christmas party."
The asshole. Mark and Lilith both complain that I'm supposedly letting Leon keep me waiting. They think I jump at the chance as soon as he texts or calls, but that I don't get anything out of it. Which is nonsense, because I just love spending time with Leon anyway. Although, of course, I wouldn't mind if there was more to it...
"Now get over it and come. It'll definitely be fun. When was the last time you were out with me?"
Admittedly, it was a while ago. Although I don't really like going dancing with Mark in general. It gives me an inferiority complex.
“When and where? And who else is coming?”
“Tomorrow evening, 7 p.m., Aula, Adrian, Lilith and the usual suspects.”
“I will NOT dance!”
"Yeah, yeah... we'll see about that. And if you feel better then, just bring Leon with you."
After a brief hesitation, Leon actually agrees to come along. We all meet in front of the auditorium in the atrium. Lilith, Karsten, and I set off together. Lilith, of course, looks stunning, and Karsten doesn't take his eyes off her for a moment. I grin at her on the train, and Lilith raises her eyebrows meaningfully. Well, at least things seem to be moving along slowly for those two.
Mark and Adrian arrive together. Why aren't I surprised?! I'm more surprised that Mark has been able to put up with the same person for so long. Love is in the air... apparently. Everyone is beaming and has dressed up nicely. Although, with Mark, it wouldn't matter what he's wearing. Once he starts dancing, he'll attract everyone's attention anyway. He might as well show up to a party in a potato sack.
Leon arrives just a few minutes after Mark and Adrian. And I notice Lilith punching Karsten in the side and Mark and Adrian grinning so silly as we greet each other.
In the atrium, which is also already decorated with kitschy Christmas decorations, they have set up a cloakroom where you can leave your jacket, just like last year.
When Lilith peels off her coat, even Mark whistles through his teeth.
"Honey, you look fantastic." Lilith blushes, and Karsten seems to be bursting with pride. She's not one of those skinny, scrawny types, but (as far as I can tell) she has a great figure, and the tight black dress flatters it immensely.
I secretly observe Leon's reaction to Lilith out of the corner of my eye. I'm still waiting for a clue that will tell me which gender he's interested in. But since Mark is also completely ecstatic about Lilith's appearance, it really wouldn't matter, and his reaction probably wouldn't be very meaningful.
Leon, incidentally, is looking very chic today. Tight-fitting black jeans and a gray shirt with the top buttons undone. Casual, yet also chic for a night out.
But he seems a bit nervous.
Music is already blaring through the open doors of the auditorium. Mark and Lilith are seemingly drawn to it like moths to a flame, and can't get into the commotion on the dance floor fast enough. A short time later, Lilith forces Karsten to join in. Adrian skillfully slips away quickly enough and is already engrossed in conversation with some other classmates.
Leon and I first walk towards the counter.
We get some mulled wine and then look for one of the empty tables at the edge.
From there we have a good view of the three dancers and the music is at a tolerable volume, so that we can still have a conversation without having to shout at each other.
“Lilith looks great, doesn’t she?”
Leon nods and turns the mulled wine mug in his hands.
"Yes, all three look good today. Karsten just looks a little pained."
We giggle.
“Don’t you feel like dancing?” he asks, his gaze still fixed on the dance floor.
“No, I have no talent for it and I don’t like making a fool of myself,” I reply.
A smile flits across his face, but it cannot hide the tension.
“What about you?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going.
He shrugs. "I'm not much of a dancer either. Actually, I'm not even a big partygoer." He smiles apologetically again, his index finger nervously tapping the rim of the cup.
Mark is now slowly getting going and for a while we, like many of the students present, are staring spellbound at my best friend.
As clumsy as Mark can be sometimes, as soon as he hears music he just seems to float.
The auditorium is slowly getting more crowded, and I can feel Leon's nervousness growing. We exchange a few words now and then with familiar classmates who pass us on their way to the bar, but I notice that he's only clutching his cup to hide the trembling of his hands.
Skeptically, my gaze wanders from his hands up to his face. Despite the heat in here, he looks pale.
I put my hand on his arm, which makes him look up in surprise.
“Are you okay, Leon?”
He seems to think for a moment before answering.
“Can we go outside for a moment?”
I nod and, because of the crowd, reach for his hand, without thinking about what impression this might make on whoever it is.
His hand is unusually cold, but he doesn't let go until we're out of the auditorium and the atrium.
“Where to? All the way out?”
"No." That came out like a shot. It's incredibly cold outside, after all. We take a quick look around the hallway and then decide to sit down on the stairs one floor up.
He looks very pale and exhausted when we sit down.
I'm almost afraid something's brewing again. I'm waiting to see if he starts talking. That's how we've always done things lately.
We remain silent for a while. The music is only faintly audible here. Every now and then we see students walking past at the bottom of the stairs.
“This is the first party since…” He doesn’t say anything else, but some pieces of the puzzle are coming together in my head.
I don't know what to say. "Oh."
"I'm sorry, I... I feel like I'm just whining. It must be awful spending time with me."
I suddenly grab him by the shoulders and turn him towards me.
"No! Don't talk such nonsense. I'm sorry, I didn't even think about it. And as for complaining, I've told you before, and I mean it: I'll listen to you anytime."
His big blue eyes look at me for a long time.
“Besides, I like spending time with you.”
His gaze remains fixed, but he seems uncertain.
“Thank you,” he finally says, which I take as an opportunity to take my hands off his shoulders.
We're silent for a while. Leon takes a deep breath. I notice that he's calming down a bit.
A questioning look from me is enough to get him talking.
"It's okay. The memory just suddenly came back."
Ich nicke.
„Darf ich dich was fragen?“
„Klar.“
Er zögert kurz, scheint seine Worte mit Bedacht zu wählen.
„Du … deine Eltern wissen, dass du … schwul bist, richtig?“
Ich bin überrascht über den plötzlichen Themenwechsel.
„Ähm ja … Also eigentlich, ich renn jetzt vielleicht nicht mit nem Schild durch die Gegend und reib das direkt jedem unter die Nase, aber so grundsätzlich ist das kein Geheimnis.“ Kein Geheimnis mehr.
Er nickt und knetet (wieder nervös?) seine Hände.
„Sieht man dir ja auch nicht unbedingt an.“
Jetzt muss ich lachen. „Nö, nicht so offensichtlich wie Mark zum Beispiel.“
Er lacht auch und wird dabei ein bisschen rot. Ich würde ihn jetzt so gern küssen.
„Ja, Mark … kennt ihr euch schon lange?“
„So anderthalb Jahre. Haben uns im zweiten Semester kennengelernt.“
„Und … wart ihr mal …“
Ich werde unsicher wo unsere Unterhaltung gerade hinführt.
"Um... yeah, so... just briefly. We're not a good match."
He looks at me thoughtfully for a long time. Well, long enough, anyway, for me to start to get nervous.
“When did you tell your family?” Now he turns his gaze back toward the top of the stairs.
"That I was into boys? In 11th grade. Everyone knew then. It was probably a stupid idea, so close to graduation, but oh well..."
“Why a stupid idea?”
"Well, there were plenty of idiots in my class who had a problem with it, but I was just in love. It just had to come out."
Again, the corner of his beautiful mouth twitches upwards into a smile.
“What happened to the boy?”
"Studying business administration in Cologne or something. I don't know. After high school, our paths diverged."
I decide to ask boldly. "And what about your love life?"
I think he suddenly turns a little paler again, or maybe redder? Maybe alternating... Hard to say...
“It’s virtually nonexistent.”
“Oh okay… what’s wrong?”
“On me, I guess.”
“Don’t talk nonsense!”
He smiles a little painedly and kneads his fingers.
“Okay, when was the last time you kissed someone?” I try to coax him out of his shell and feel incredibly skilled at it.
His gaze wanders. You can almost see him remembering.
“She kissed me, if you look at it closely.” My heart sinks a little at the “she,” but then climbs back up again with difficulty, clinging to the fact that he emphasizes that the initiative didn’t come from him.
"That was... one day after..." He sighs. "One day after Robin's accident."
Oh shit, I really have a talent for putting my foot in it.
He looks at me sideways and grimaces. "Lena. She was his girlfriend."
My jaw drops. I probably look completely stupid.
"Yeah, I was just as confused, too. I have no idea why she did that. I was glad when she left." His gaze seems to be searching for something in mine. He looks at me so intensely that I feel alternating hot and cold.
“At least I became aware of something I already knew, but… this absolutely absurd moment… I’ve never seen it more clearly before…”
He looks so incredibly fragile right now that I want to take him in my arms and hold him tight, afraid he might break somehow. But I still don't understand what he's actually trying to tell me.
But he looks at me so helplessly. Not just helplessly, but begging for help. As if I could help him somehow. I just don't know how?!
I raise my eyebrows questioningly, waiting for him to share his insights with me.
Time seems to almost stand still. I no longer notice the music or the voices of the other students. I just stare at his lips, which seem to be silently searching for words.
Finally he says it and I'm afraid my heart really stops now.
“I’m gay… I think.”
I can't help but smile.
Leon, on the other hand, puts his hands over his face. I'm not sure if he's about to start crying.
Following my first impulse, I put my arm around his shoulders and pull him closer. He lets me, but I sense his familiar tension. Perhaps a little awkwardly, I stroke his now truly trembling back.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
A laugh mingles with the quiet sobs and he actually sits up and looks at me with moist eyes.
"I mean... everything's fine. You don't die from it. I'm still alive."
He laughs again, even though a tear is running down his cheek. I gently wipe it away with my thumb.
“That was the first time I said that out loud.”
“And how do you feel?”
"I don't know... nervous, but also relieved, a little." He frantically wipes the telltale tear stains from his face.
We don’t even want to talk about my current emotional world.
I'd love to propose to him right then and there, but I'm afraid we've had enough confessions for one evening.
In fact, I don't tell Mark anything about it.
Somehow, it doesn't seem right to me. I feel almost honored because I'm the first person Leon has ever said this to.
When Mark and Lilith ask where we've suddenly gone, I tell them that Leon wasn't feeling well, a few references to the accident at the graduation party, and at least Lilith puts on a sympathetic and understanding face. Mark sends me eye-rolling emojis.
When a short time later Karsten staggers out of Lilith's room towards the bathroom, looking disheveled and wearing only boxer shorts, I just raise my eyebrows and Lilith shrugs with a grin.
“It took long enough with you two.”
She punches me in the side and starts setting the table.
“When are you going to see your parents?”
I take the cups from her. "Tomorrow. In keeping with family tradition, they want to cut down the Christmas tree in the woods with us again and decorate it together and so on.
“Oh, that sounds idyllic.”
I have to laugh. "Well, more like in the movie "Christmas Vacation." Totally chaotic, but it's actually always funny."
“So Leon is really coming with you to your family?”
“That’s the plan.”
Lilith sits down at the now fully set table.
“It’s pretty crazy that he doesn’t want to celebrate with his parents.”
“I can understand him.”
“Yeah… mh…”
Karsten has managed to get dressed and, chest puffed out with pride, strides into the kitchen. He leans in for a kiss from Lilith before sitting down next to her and pouring himself a cup of tea.
Unfortunately, this idyllic situation here is a bit of a pang for me again, but hey... maybe there's still hope for me and Leon. His coming out to me was a first step in the right direction.
We arranged to meet for tea at Lindemanns.
He seems a bit tense and nervous when we meet at the bus stop. Sometimes he looks around as if he's afraid of being followed.
"Don't worry, it won't show just because you said it out loud," I whisper to him with a grin. He blushes, but grins back. After that, he seems a little more relaxed.
“How did your parents react to you not wanting to celebrate Christmas with them?”
He twists his mouth. "Not good, but... they accepted it."
He has his hands buried deep in his coat pockets and is looking at his own feet in the snow.
It has started snowing again and some snowflakes are stuck in his hair.
I try not to let my excitement show as I ask, “And have you thought about how I should introduce you to my parents?”
His gaze meets mine. I shiver, but I can certainly blame that on the cold.
His expression and his silence betray that he's either thinking long and hard about it or is still struggling with himself. I'm all the more surprised by his answer, which turns out to be a nasty counter-question. "How would you like to introduce me?"
After all this back and forth, he's now putting the gun to my chest? I notice my heart rate has increased dramatically, and at the same time, I suddenly feel very, very warm and my lips feel very, very dry.
I wonder if he feels the same way. I see him, perhaps nervously, running his tongue over his lower lip, and that sends a shiver down my spine.
Once again, I hear Mark's voice in my head, 'Get out of bed!' and it almost feels like a knee-jerk reaction, maybe my brain is simply overwhelmed by this question... but I actually pull my hand out of my pocket, brush one of the wild strands of hair out of his face, and then it happens as if by itself. My lips touch his. It's possible that he flinched for a split second, but the moment passes so quickly that immediately afterward, I'm not sure if I just imagined it.
The kiss feels like it lasts an eternity, as if time stood still.
When we finally separate, we stand in front of each other, breathing heavily. Our breath rises between us in little white clouds. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are shining. Did I mention that I love him?
“Does that answer your question?”
He smiles.
"I think so."