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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.”