2025-07-11, 10:19 PM
"Let me explain something: I'm gay, but not that gay. Okay?"
The police officer looks at me askance. Let him. Nobody here believes a word I say anyway, no matter who or what I am.
"Why should I wear this ugly thing? I don't have a girlfriend, a sister, or anyone else who's into that sort of thing. Can I please just go now?"
“No,” says the policeman dryly, scribbling something on his notepad.
"What are you writing? Homosexual steals pink braided bracelet?" I'm not usually so easily flustered, but when I'm interrogated for an hour in this heat about a theft I didn't commit, I get irritable. And the saleswoman stands calmly by, fanning herself with a piece of paper. Yes, I'm hot too, and I just happen to be expected home.
“The bracelet was in your pocket,” the police officer astutely notes.
"Yeah, but I didn't put it in there," I reply for the thousandth time. Why is he allowed to call me by my first name? "Hey, would it help if I just paid for this thing now?"
A never-ending moralizing later, they let me go "with a blind eye." I'm now three euros poorer, one hideous bracelet richer, and have sweated out all my body's water reserves. If I don't make it home soon, I'll collapse in the middle of the pedestrian zone. Lars will thank me when I come back so exhausted and sweaty. He's a bit... peculiar.
"Hey, do you still have that bracelet?" someone suddenly whispers in my ear. I turn around and see it's a boy. About a year or two younger than me, maybe 17 or 18, and a little, well... disheveled. His holey clothes take some getting used to.
"Yes," I drawl out. I can only hope he's not expecting any shoplifting tips from me.
“Can I have it?”
I stop abruptly and stare at him in astonishment. "The bracelet?"
“Yes.”
I rummage in my pocket. "This?"
“Yes,” he says happily when I hold it under his nose.
“It’s pink.”
“So what?” Now it’s him who looks at me in confusion.
“Oh, you want to give it away.”
“No, why?”
“It’s pink,” I feel compelled to emphasize.
“Yes, I understand that.”
What a stressful day. First all the bureaucratic hassle, then the police interrogation, and now this hippie kid trying to talk me into buying a pink wristband. And all of this in a sweltering 35-degree heat. I'm starting to lose my sense of direction.
“Otherwise I wouldn’t have chosen it,” I hear the boy say.
"Yeah, sure. Wait a minute..." My brain strains again. "Picked it out? Did you put this thing in my pocket?"
He probably sees that I'm about to burst, grabs the bracelet, and takes off. "Thanks, by the way," he calls back.
"You owe me 3 euros," I yell after him. What a little rat!
Sweaty, dehydrated, and annoyed, I unlock the front door and hope I can sneak into the bathroom unnoticed. Lars isn't the type to selflessly listen to other people's problems and would never offer to cuddle up with me on the sofa for a while. Not in my current state. And I could really use that right now to forget this awful day. But that's my boyfriend. He loves me in his eccentric way, I'm sure of it, and I love him, despite his flaws.
"Finn, there you are," I hear him behind me as I open the bathroom door. He comes out of his study. "Did everything go okay?"
"Yes, actually. I'm going to take a shower first."
"Okay. Should I make us something to eat?"
"That would be great."
He gives me a smile and goes into the kitchen. Yes, of course he has his good sides. It's just more fun to harp on about his quirks.
When I step out of the bathroom, freshly showered and wrapped only in a thin bathrobe, I can already smell toasted bread and my mouth is watering. I'm so hungry. He must have tried out the new sandwich thing because he didn't want to cook anything warm in this heat. That's fine with me. I plop down on the sofa and close my eyes for a moment.
“Do you want ketchup or remoulade?” asks Lars.
"Both."
"Both?"
"Yes, please."
A few minutes later, I feel the sofa cushion give slightly beneath me. "Dinner's ready," Lars says, stroking the sliver of bare skin visible through the chest opening of my bathrobe. His hair tickles my cheek and neck as he leans over me. "You smell good."
“I just got out of the shower.”
"Hmm," he purrs, undoing the fabric belt around my waist while his lips kiss my neck. His fingers are now stroking my thigh, from the outside in, higher and higher, giving me the kind of relaxation they really know how to do. That's not what I actually meant by cuddling on the sofa , but it works too. I pry my fingers out of Lars' hair and pull his face to mine to kiss him.
“The food will be…”
“Cold? Hardly.”
“No, warm and sloppy,” I say, looking at the sandwiches.
"It doesn't matter. I've been waiting so long for you to finally move in, the bread can wait a little longer."
My stomach protests with a loud growl, but soon realizes it's being overruled and gives in. For now. After a second shower, however, it makes itself known again, louder than ever, demanding the soggy mess now on my plate.
“When will you get your new ID?” asks Lars.
"In about three weeks. I waited an hour and a half for the quick 'Hello, I need a new ID.'"
“And you’re officially registered now?”
"Yes, all done." I give him a moment to respond or ask me more questions. To no avail. "And how was your day?"
“Oh, as always.”
And that ends the conversation about this horror day.
Living with Lars has several advantages. First of all, I love him and always want to be with him. Of course. Because he works so much, we don't see each other often enough anyway, but now at least we can spend every evening together. Sometimes he's so tired that he goes straight to bed. Then I just lie down next to him and watch him sleep. He sleeps so quietly that I occasionally stare at him and check if he's still breathing. I, on the other hand, sleep anything but peacefully, something Lars has complained about more than once. Apparently, I sometimes babble incoherently and toss and turn like – quote – a madman.
Secondly, it was a real relief for me when I finished school and could not only give my parents the finger, but also a piece of paper with my new address (in case of emergency). They were neither particularly sad nor thrilled that I was moving out. While they don't have a problem with my attraction to men, they obviously didn't like everything else about me. Too mediocre at school, too modern in looks, not interested enough in studying, not musical, not athletic, generally too untalented, not enough friends, and so on... Lars likes all of these things about me; he just puts it a bit awkwardly. He says I'm uncomplicated. I have no idea what to make of that.
And third, this summer, until I start my apprenticeship in the fall, I can enjoy my life without having to earn my own money. Lars pays the rent, our leisure activities, and everything else we need to live. There's always enough money in a cereal box in the kitchen, which I use to go shopping and pay for hideous pink bracelets.
"Lars?" I ask him the next day as he's just coming home from work. "What would you think if I bought myself a pink bracelet?"
„Was?“
"Oh, okay." I don't even know what the question was about. "We could go to the lake tomorrow, right? I really need to cool off."
"I don't know. It's probably going to be really crowded."
"Then we'll just leave right after breakfast," I suggest. "I'll rescue you even if you drown."
"I'm definitely not going to swim in this soup. But I could definitely use a day in the sun."
I roll my eyes briefly, give him a peck on the cheek, and start looking forward to tomorrow. This trip will be my compensation for a week full of moving stress, unbearable heat, unwarranted police interrogations, and bracelet thieves.
But of course, things turn out completely differently. It's actually already packed in the morning, and Lars is correspondingly annoyed. He demands at least five times a minute that we turn around and go home, but I've decided to jump into this lake. After walking almost once around it, we finally find a spot that's still unoccupied.
“See? It’s beautiful here,” I say, spreading out my towel.
Lars, however, is already too annoyed to be happy about our conquest. "Wonderful," he grunts sarcastically and rummages through his backpack for sunscreen.
“Should I put some cream on you?” I ask, to at least accommodate him a little.
“You wanted to swim, so swim.”
“Is this going to be the case all day?”
He gives me a grim look and sits cross-legged on his towel. Great. So, the cold shoulder.
“Do you want us to go?”
"That's what I was about to say. Now jump into the pond."
Well, that was my last attempt at responding to him. So I slip out of my clothes and jump into the water. It's exactly as I imagined. As soon as the cool water envelops me, every movement is no longer an ordeal, and I feel as if I can only breathe properly again. Lars isn't going to ruin this for me. You just have to know how to deal with his moods. This one will have to be ridden out. Let him sit on his towel, sulking, and burn in the sun.
I just float on my back in the water until I collide with someone and almost drown in shock.
"Sorry," my counterpart snorts. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was swimming."
“I didn’t either,” I snort.
"Hopefully we've both learned something," he says, brushing wet strands of hair from his face. Something pink is hanging from his wrist. That's the little rat!
“Hey, nice bracelet.” I look at him meaningfully and watch the grin disappear from his face.
"Uh, yeah... hi, it was nice seeing you again," he says hastily, swimming toward the shore. Not with me. I give chase.
“What do you want?” he asks as he crawls out of the water and notices me behind him.
"Well, at least an explanation. Do you often slip things to strangers so they can steal it for you or even be stupid enough to pay for it?"
"No, that was a completely new experiment," he says, beaming, as if he's even proud of it. I stare at him in disbelief. "Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you into trouble."
An apology? So quick and so easy? My grumpy friend could learn a thing or two from this rat.
“Why didn’t you buy the thing yourself?” I ask.
"I couldn't. I save every cent I earn. And that's not much."
"Oh." I immediately feel guilty, but try not to let it show. "And why did it have to be that?"
“Why not?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders and starting to dry himself with his towel.
“It’s pink.”
"You seem to have a real problem with the color. If you'd like, we can talk about it. My office hours are always Mondays and Wednesdays..."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," I interrupted, heading back into the water. "Have fun with it. I have to go now."
"Where?"
“To my friend.”
He grins at me with a raised eyebrow. "Hey, how about I make up for the bracelet thing?"
“And how?” I ask suspiciously.
"Let me surprise you. On Monday at 1:00, where I left you yesterday?"
"Okay," I say, swimming back out onto the lake. What the hell just happened?
Should I tell Lars about the meeting? Actually, yes, right? After all, he is my boyfriend. But on the other hand, it's his own fault if he doesn't ask me how my day was and what I've been up to. If I tell him about the thing with the bracelet and my date with the little rat, he'll get even more angry and... probably jealous. And I don't think I want to know what it's like when Lars gets jealous. So that can only backfire. Instead, I'm trying to distract him by spending practically the entire Sunday in bed. But he seems to think I'm trying to make up for the horrible day at the lake. Of course, it's only my fault that he couldn't enjoy his well-deserved day off. That's clear, right?
So on Monday, I go into town with only a slight guilty conscience and wait for my shaggy date. I wonder what he's up to. Without any money.
"You're really here," I hear his voice next to me and look up. He looks relatively normal today. No ripped clothes like last time, just a pair of perfectly normal jeans and a red shirt with cutoff sleeves that clashes terribly with his bracelet. Only his hair is a complete mess again. Maybe I shouldn't, but when I compare him to Lars... I have to laugh.
“What is it?” he asks, irritated.
"Nothing. Why shouldn't I be here?"
“Does your friend not mind?”
Thanks for the tip. "No, not by chance."
"He doesn't know anything about it," he states astutely. "You absolutely can't lie."
"Okay, he doesn't know," I admit. "He..."
“…is jealous.”
“…works a lot.”
"Probably both," the little rat concludes boldly, beckoning me behind him. "Come with me."
So I follow him without asking where we're going. I should be prepared for a surprise, after all. In any case, we're already leaving the city center behind us, and then the outskirts as well. The city is quite small, so the walk now sounds longer than it actually is. We cross a street and turn onto a small forest path. It's admittedly pleasantly cool here, but I don't see how that's supposed to compensate me for my involuntary near-theft.
“Do you want to tell me your name sometime?” he asks casually.
„Finn.“
"Finn? That doesn't suit you at all."
“What do you think is more appropriate?” I ask angrily.
“I call you Mr. Stinky Boots.”
"Stinky boots?" I ask, completely taken aback. I'm not a stinky boot. That's probably Lars.
"Yeah, you always seem so grumpy to me. And Mr. Stinky Boots, because you're a bit... stuck-up."
Is he crazy? I'm a very cheerful person. And not at all snooty. When have I ever been snooty? Lars is a bit like that sometimes. The nickname would suit him.
“It looks funny when your forehead curls up like that,” giggles the little rat happily.
“And what is your name?”
„Felix.“
"Oh yeah? I call you little rat."
He just keeps giggling.
After a few more minutes of walking silently along the edge of a river, we finally reached our destination: a boat rental. Felix greeted the owner as if they were good old friends and then climbed into a pedal boat.
“Come on,” he says, holding out his hand to me.
“Thank you, I don’t need your help.”
“Of course not.”
I get in and off we go. We wind our way across the river, through the trees, and eventually arrive at a small lake, where we just drift and put our feet up. Yes, that's quite a reward. Maybe I should just relax and be a little nicer to the little rat.
“So, what kind of friend is yours?” asks Felix.
“Why do you want to know?”
"I just find it strange that you're always traveling alone. Even when you go on a trip together."
“He works a lot and is therefore usually a bit stressed,” I explain.
“And he takes it out on you?”
"What makes you think that?"
“Well, I think you’re actually quite a funny guy,” says Felix, dangling one hand in the water.
"Yes, I am," I assure you. "Unless someone tries to instigate me to steal."
He smiles guiltily. "By the way, there's something to drink in the cooler back there, if you'd like. Or would you prefer an ice cream?"
Felix is... different. I haven't noticed this for the first time, but it's becoming more and more apparent as we bob around on the water, eating ice cream and telling each other all sorts of stories. I tell him about my parents and my relationship with Lars, and I'm perhaps a little too open. Lars would behead me if he knew what I'm blabbering about. Felix then tells me about his life and his plans, which are completely different from mine. He lives in a large shared apartment, which is obviously made up of a very individual, alternative group. No wonder he feels comfortable there. He fits in perfectly. He wants to study cultural studies when he graduates next year. Study. He saves all his money for this. Everything that's left over after rent and living expenses goes into his piggy bank. Crazy, right? He doesn't treat himself to anything in between, only shops secondhand and gets anything he can't afford as a Christmas or birthday present. And these aren't big things like a bicycle or a television, but small things like a book or a CD. Or a bracelet. But he probably didn't want to wait that long for that.
“You’re crazy, do you know that?” I say, fascinated.
“No, you’re crazy,” he replies.
"How come?"
"Because you judge everything by how others see it. And especially by what your boyfriend thinks."
I look at him, want to say something, but then just stare at my feet.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
"That's fine."
Afterwards we slowly make our way back.
"Hey, it's supposed to be really hot again on Wednesday. Want to go for a swim?"
"Why Wednesday?" I ask. And why me? I add in my mind.
"I told you my office hours are always Mondays and Wednesdays... Okay, I have to work the other days."
“Isn’t it summer vacation right now?” I ask, confused.
"Yes, exactly. Vacations are always good for earning extra money."
“And where do you work?”
"Here," he says with a grin, pointing to the boat rental shop that's just reappeared on the right bank. That's how he knows the owner. And that's why he didn't have to pay anything. That little rat.
When I get home, still buoyed by the beautiful afternoon, I see that Lars' car is already parked in front of the house. My heart immediately sinks, and the faint smile disappears from my lips. He must have finished early today. A little tense, I open the front door, but then decide that my behavior is nonsense and go straight into the living room. Lars is sitting on the sofa with a newspaper in his hand and looks up at me when he notices me.
"Hey, honey, I ordered sushi. It's in the fridge."
"Okay," I say, relieved. Everything seems to be fine. "Have you been here long?"
“Half an hour, maybe.”
I take the sushi platter out of the fridge and sit down next to Lars. "Hi," I say, giving him a kiss on the mouth. He puts his newspaper aside, and we eat in peace.
"Where were you?" he asks with a smile, and all the alarm bells immediately start ringing. I wasn't expecting that question. But what the heck? He's my friend, and if he's going to ask, he deserves the whole story. It's not like I have anything to hide.
“You were on a pedal boat the whole time?” he asks, confused.
“Yes.”
“Four hours?”
“Yes, it was nice.”
"And what did he slip you this time? A little weed?"
“What?” I ask, stunned, and almost choke on my salmon nigiri.
"I'm telling you, that guy is crazy. He's probably stoned all the time and is now trying to drag you into this."
"Are you crazy?" I raise my voice a little louder and jump up from the sofa. "Just because you're too fancy to swim in a lake or ride a pedal boat doesn't mean he's crazy. And just because he has to save his money doesn't mean you're any better than anyone!"
Lars also gets up and puts the leftover sushi back in the fridge. "So now he's better than me, right?"
“I didn’t say that.”
"What else were you doing on this boat?" he asks with a strange twinkle in his eyes. So here we go.
"Nothing at all."
"No? Then why did you want to hide it from me? Why haven't I heard of this guy?"
"Because you didn't ask. Because you're never interested in what I do!" I blurt out.
He takes another step toward me, but I don't back down. "How many more secret dates have there been, hm? Are there any more little bums I don't know about?"
"That's all?" I ask, horrified. "I'm telling you you're not interested in me, and that's all you want to know? Am I seeing anyone else?"
"Do you do it?"
"No, of course not! For some inexplicable reason, I chose you. And so you don't have to get so upset again, I'd better tell you right away that I'm going swimming with Felix on Wednesday."
I turn around and head toward the bathroom, but Lars grabs my arm. And he doesn't exactly do it gently.
“No, you’re not going.”
"Yes, of course," I reply, tearing myself away. "I'm still allowed to have friends, right? You can be a real asshole sometimes, Lars."
And with a loud slap, his flat hand lands on my cheek. At first I'm shocked. The pain comes later. But then it really hits. Lars doesn't make a sound, but slowly collapses to the floor. That's new. I never thought of him as violent. And I don't think he does either. But I can't worry about that right now. I run to the bathroom, lock the door, and run myself a bath. I cool my cheek with a wet washcloth and avoid looking in the mirror. I have no idea what I look like. Certainly not happy. I don't even remember how things escalated like this. What did I say? What did he say? I wasn't expecting that.
Two hours later, I feel prepared and rested enough to face Lars. I find him in the living room, crouching in front of the sofa, a bottle of liquor in his hand. This, too.
"Hey," I say coolly. "You have five seconds to apologize to me."
“Finn, I’m interested in you.”
Oh wow, so he did take notice of the accusation after all.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to."
"How much did you drink?" I ask. I need to know if he'll remember the apology tomorrow.
“Just a few sips.”
He doesn't sound drunk either, so I'll believe him.
"What the hell was that? Do you really think that's the right way to stop me from cheating?"
"No."
The police officer looks at me askance. Let him. Nobody here believes a word I say anyway, no matter who or what I am.
"Why should I wear this ugly thing? I don't have a girlfriend, a sister, or anyone else who's into that sort of thing. Can I please just go now?"
“No,” says the policeman dryly, scribbling something on his notepad.
"What are you writing? Homosexual steals pink braided bracelet?" I'm not usually so easily flustered, but when I'm interrogated for an hour in this heat about a theft I didn't commit, I get irritable. And the saleswoman stands calmly by, fanning herself with a piece of paper. Yes, I'm hot too, and I just happen to be expected home.
“The bracelet was in your pocket,” the police officer astutely notes.
"Yeah, but I didn't put it in there," I reply for the thousandth time. Why is he allowed to call me by my first name? "Hey, would it help if I just paid for this thing now?"
A never-ending moralizing later, they let me go "with a blind eye." I'm now three euros poorer, one hideous bracelet richer, and have sweated out all my body's water reserves. If I don't make it home soon, I'll collapse in the middle of the pedestrian zone. Lars will thank me when I come back so exhausted and sweaty. He's a bit... peculiar.
"Hey, do you still have that bracelet?" someone suddenly whispers in my ear. I turn around and see it's a boy. About a year or two younger than me, maybe 17 or 18, and a little, well... disheveled. His holey clothes take some getting used to.
"Yes," I drawl out. I can only hope he's not expecting any shoplifting tips from me.
“Can I have it?”
I stop abruptly and stare at him in astonishment. "The bracelet?"
“Yes.”
I rummage in my pocket. "This?"
“Yes,” he says happily when I hold it under his nose.
“It’s pink.”
“So what?” Now it’s him who looks at me in confusion.
“Oh, you want to give it away.”
“No, why?”
“It’s pink,” I feel compelled to emphasize.
“Yes, I understand that.”
What a stressful day. First all the bureaucratic hassle, then the police interrogation, and now this hippie kid trying to talk me into buying a pink wristband. And all of this in a sweltering 35-degree heat. I'm starting to lose my sense of direction.
“Otherwise I wouldn’t have chosen it,” I hear the boy say.
"Yeah, sure. Wait a minute..." My brain strains again. "Picked it out? Did you put this thing in my pocket?"
He probably sees that I'm about to burst, grabs the bracelet, and takes off. "Thanks, by the way," he calls back.
"You owe me 3 euros," I yell after him. What a little rat!
Sweaty, dehydrated, and annoyed, I unlock the front door and hope I can sneak into the bathroom unnoticed. Lars isn't the type to selflessly listen to other people's problems and would never offer to cuddle up with me on the sofa for a while. Not in my current state. And I could really use that right now to forget this awful day. But that's my boyfriend. He loves me in his eccentric way, I'm sure of it, and I love him, despite his flaws.
"Finn, there you are," I hear him behind me as I open the bathroom door. He comes out of his study. "Did everything go okay?"
"Yes, actually. I'm going to take a shower first."
"Okay. Should I make us something to eat?"
"That would be great."
He gives me a smile and goes into the kitchen. Yes, of course he has his good sides. It's just more fun to harp on about his quirks.
When I step out of the bathroom, freshly showered and wrapped only in a thin bathrobe, I can already smell toasted bread and my mouth is watering. I'm so hungry. He must have tried out the new sandwich thing because he didn't want to cook anything warm in this heat. That's fine with me. I plop down on the sofa and close my eyes for a moment.
“Do you want ketchup or remoulade?” asks Lars.
"Both."
"Both?"
"Yes, please."
A few minutes later, I feel the sofa cushion give slightly beneath me. "Dinner's ready," Lars says, stroking the sliver of bare skin visible through the chest opening of my bathrobe. His hair tickles my cheek and neck as he leans over me. "You smell good."
“I just got out of the shower.”
"Hmm," he purrs, undoing the fabric belt around my waist while his lips kiss my neck. His fingers are now stroking my thigh, from the outside in, higher and higher, giving me the kind of relaxation they really know how to do. That's not what I actually meant by cuddling on the sofa , but it works too. I pry my fingers out of Lars' hair and pull his face to mine to kiss him.
“The food will be…”
“Cold? Hardly.”
“No, warm and sloppy,” I say, looking at the sandwiches.
"It doesn't matter. I've been waiting so long for you to finally move in, the bread can wait a little longer."
My stomach protests with a loud growl, but soon realizes it's being overruled and gives in. For now. After a second shower, however, it makes itself known again, louder than ever, demanding the soggy mess now on my plate.
“When will you get your new ID?” asks Lars.
"In about three weeks. I waited an hour and a half for the quick 'Hello, I need a new ID.'"
“And you’re officially registered now?”
"Yes, all done." I give him a moment to respond or ask me more questions. To no avail. "And how was your day?"
“Oh, as always.”
And that ends the conversation about this horror day.
Living with Lars has several advantages. First of all, I love him and always want to be with him. Of course. Because he works so much, we don't see each other often enough anyway, but now at least we can spend every evening together. Sometimes he's so tired that he goes straight to bed. Then I just lie down next to him and watch him sleep. He sleeps so quietly that I occasionally stare at him and check if he's still breathing. I, on the other hand, sleep anything but peacefully, something Lars has complained about more than once. Apparently, I sometimes babble incoherently and toss and turn like – quote – a madman.
Secondly, it was a real relief for me when I finished school and could not only give my parents the finger, but also a piece of paper with my new address (in case of emergency). They were neither particularly sad nor thrilled that I was moving out. While they don't have a problem with my attraction to men, they obviously didn't like everything else about me. Too mediocre at school, too modern in looks, not interested enough in studying, not musical, not athletic, generally too untalented, not enough friends, and so on... Lars likes all of these things about me; he just puts it a bit awkwardly. He says I'm uncomplicated. I have no idea what to make of that.
And third, this summer, until I start my apprenticeship in the fall, I can enjoy my life without having to earn my own money. Lars pays the rent, our leisure activities, and everything else we need to live. There's always enough money in a cereal box in the kitchen, which I use to go shopping and pay for hideous pink bracelets.
"Lars?" I ask him the next day as he's just coming home from work. "What would you think if I bought myself a pink bracelet?"
„Was?“
"Oh, okay." I don't even know what the question was about. "We could go to the lake tomorrow, right? I really need to cool off."
"I don't know. It's probably going to be really crowded."
"Then we'll just leave right after breakfast," I suggest. "I'll rescue you even if you drown."
"I'm definitely not going to swim in this soup. But I could definitely use a day in the sun."
I roll my eyes briefly, give him a peck on the cheek, and start looking forward to tomorrow. This trip will be my compensation for a week full of moving stress, unbearable heat, unwarranted police interrogations, and bracelet thieves.
But of course, things turn out completely differently. It's actually already packed in the morning, and Lars is correspondingly annoyed. He demands at least five times a minute that we turn around and go home, but I've decided to jump into this lake. After walking almost once around it, we finally find a spot that's still unoccupied.
“See? It’s beautiful here,” I say, spreading out my towel.
Lars, however, is already too annoyed to be happy about our conquest. "Wonderful," he grunts sarcastically and rummages through his backpack for sunscreen.
“Should I put some cream on you?” I ask, to at least accommodate him a little.
“You wanted to swim, so swim.”
“Is this going to be the case all day?”
He gives me a grim look and sits cross-legged on his towel. Great. So, the cold shoulder.
“Do you want us to go?”
"That's what I was about to say. Now jump into the pond."
Well, that was my last attempt at responding to him. So I slip out of my clothes and jump into the water. It's exactly as I imagined. As soon as the cool water envelops me, every movement is no longer an ordeal, and I feel as if I can only breathe properly again. Lars isn't going to ruin this for me. You just have to know how to deal with his moods. This one will have to be ridden out. Let him sit on his towel, sulking, and burn in the sun.
I just float on my back in the water until I collide with someone and almost drown in shock.
"Sorry," my counterpart snorts. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was swimming."
“I didn’t either,” I snort.
"Hopefully we've both learned something," he says, brushing wet strands of hair from his face. Something pink is hanging from his wrist. That's the little rat!
“Hey, nice bracelet.” I look at him meaningfully and watch the grin disappear from his face.
"Uh, yeah... hi, it was nice seeing you again," he says hastily, swimming toward the shore. Not with me. I give chase.
“What do you want?” he asks as he crawls out of the water and notices me behind him.
"Well, at least an explanation. Do you often slip things to strangers so they can steal it for you or even be stupid enough to pay for it?"
"No, that was a completely new experiment," he says, beaming, as if he's even proud of it. I stare at him in disbelief. "Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you into trouble."
An apology? So quick and so easy? My grumpy friend could learn a thing or two from this rat.
“Why didn’t you buy the thing yourself?” I ask.
"I couldn't. I save every cent I earn. And that's not much."
"Oh." I immediately feel guilty, but try not to let it show. "And why did it have to be that?"
“Why not?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders and starting to dry himself with his towel.
“It’s pink.”
"You seem to have a real problem with the color. If you'd like, we can talk about it. My office hours are always Mondays and Wednesdays..."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," I interrupted, heading back into the water. "Have fun with it. I have to go now."
"Where?"
“To my friend.”
He grins at me with a raised eyebrow. "Hey, how about I make up for the bracelet thing?"
“And how?” I ask suspiciously.
"Let me surprise you. On Monday at 1:00, where I left you yesterday?"
"Okay," I say, swimming back out onto the lake. What the hell just happened?
Should I tell Lars about the meeting? Actually, yes, right? After all, he is my boyfriend. But on the other hand, it's his own fault if he doesn't ask me how my day was and what I've been up to. If I tell him about the thing with the bracelet and my date with the little rat, he'll get even more angry and... probably jealous. And I don't think I want to know what it's like when Lars gets jealous. So that can only backfire. Instead, I'm trying to distract him by spending practically the entire Sunday in bed. But he seems to think I'm trying to make up for the horrible day at the lake. Of course, it's only my fault that he couldn't enjoy his well-deserved day off. That's clear, right?
So on Monday, I go into town with only a slight guilty conscience and wait for my shaggy date. I wonder what he's up to. Without any money.
"You're really here," I hear his voice next to me and look up. He looks relatively normal today. No ripped clothes like last time, just a pair of perfectly normal jeans and a red shirt with cutoff sleeves that clashes terribly with his bracelet. Only his hair is a complete mess again. Maybe I shouldn't, but when I compare him to Lars... I have to laugh.
“What is it?” he asks, irritated.
"Nothing. Why shouldn't I be here?"
“Does your friend not mind?”
Thanks for the tip. "No, not by chance."
"He doesn't know anything about it," he states astutely. "You absolutely can't lie."
"Okay, he doesn't know," I admit. "He..."
“…is jealous.”
“…works a lot.”
"Probably both," the little rat concludes boldly, beckoning me behind him. "Come with me."
So I follow him without asking where we're going. I should be prepared for a surprise, after all. In any case, we're already leaving the city center behind us, and then the outskirts as well. The city is quite small, so the walk now sounds longer than it actually is. We cross a street and turn onto a small forest path. It's admittedly pleasantly cool here, but I don't see how that's supposed to compensate me for my involuntary near-theft.
“Do you want to tell me your name sometime?” he asks casually.
„Finn.“
"Finn? That doesn't suit you at all."
“What do you think is more appropriate?” I ask angrily.
“I call you Mr. Stinky Boots.”
"Stinky boots?" I ask, completely taken aback. I'm not a stinky boot. That's probably Lars.
"Yeah, you always seem so grumpy to me. And Mr. Stinky Boots, because you're a bit... stuck-up."
Is he crazy? I'm a very cheerful person. And not at all snooty. When have I ever been snooty? Lars is a bit like that sometimes. The nickname would suit him.
“It looks funny when your forehead curls up like that,” giggles the little rat happily.
“And what is your name?”
„Felix.“
"Oh yeah? I call you little rat."
He just keeps giggling.
After a few more minutes of walking silently along the edge of a river, we finally reached our destination: a boat rental. Felix greeted the owner as if they were good old friends and then climbed into a pedal boat.
“Come on,” he says, holding out his hand to me.
“Thank you, I don’t need your help.”
“Of course not.”
I get in and off we go. We wind our way across the river, through the trees, and eventually arrive at a small lake, where we just drift and put our feet up. Yes, that's quite a reward. Maybe I should just relax and be a little nicer to the little rat.
“So, what kind of friend is yours?” asks Felix.
“Why do you want to know?”
"I just find it strange that you're always traveling alone. Even when you go on a trip together."
“He works a lot and is therefore usually a bit stressed,” I explain.
“And he takes it out on you?”
"What makes you think that?"
“Well, I think you’re actually quite a funny guy,” says Felix, dangling one hand in the water.
"Yes, I am," I assure you. "Unless someone tries to instigate me to steal."
He smiles guiltily. "By the way, there's something to drink in the cooler back there, if you'd like. Or would you prefer an ice cream?"
Felix is... different. I haven't noticed this for the first time, but it's becoming more and more apparent as we bob around on the water, eating ice cream and telling each other all sorts of stories. I tell him about my parents and my relationship with Lars, and I'm perhaps a little too open. Lars would behead me if he knew what I'm blabbering about. Felix then tells me about his life and his plans, which are completely different from mine. He lives in a large shared apartment, which is obviously made up of a very individual, alternative group. No wonder he feels comfortable there. He fits in perfectly. He wants to study cultural studies when he graduates next year. Study. He saves all his money for this. Everything that's left over after rent and living expenses goes into his piggy bank. Crazy, right? He doesn't treat himself to anything in between, only shops secondhand and gets anything he can't afford as a Christmas or birthday present. And these aren't big things like a bicycle or a television, but small things like a book or a CD. Or a bracelet. But he probably didn't want to wait that long for that.
“You’re crazy, do you know that?” I say, fascinated.
“No, you’re crazy,” he replies.
"How come?"
"Because you judge everything by how others see it. And especially by what your boyfriend thinks."
I look at him, want to say something, but then just stare at my feet.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
"That's fine."
Afterwards we slowly make our way back.
"Hey, it's supposed to be really hot again on Wednesday. Want to go for a swim?"
"Why Wednesday?" I ask. And why me? I add in my mind.
"I told you my office hours are always Mondays and Wednesdays... Okay, I have to work the other days."
“Isn’t it summer vacation right now?” I ask, confused.
"Yes, exactly. Vacations are always good for earning extra money."
“And where do you work?”
"Here," he says with a grin, pointing to the boat rental shop that's just reappeared on the right bank. That's how he knows the owner. And that's why he didn't have to pay anything. That little rat.
When I get home, still buoyed by the beautiful afternoon, I see that Lars' car is already parked in front of the house. My heart immediately sinks, and the faint smile disappears from my lips. He must have finished early today. A little tense, I open the front door, but then decide that my behavior is nonsense and go straight into the living room. Lars is sitting on the sofa with a newspaper in his hand and looks up at me when he notices me.
"Hey, honey, I ordered sushi. It's in the fridge."
"Okay," I say, relieved. Everything seems to be fine. "Have you been here long?"
“Half an hour, maybe.”
I take the sushi platter out of the fridge and sit down next to Lars. "Hi," I say, giving him a kiss on the mouth. He puts his newspaper aside, and we eat in peace.
"Where were you?" he asks with a smile, and all the alarm bells immediately start ringing. I wasn't expecting that question. But what the heck? He's my friend, and if he's going to ask, he deserves the whole story. It's not like I have anything to hide.
“You were on a pedal boat the whole time?” he asks, confused.
“Yes.”
“Four hours?”
“Yes, it was nice.”
"And what did he slip you this time? A little weed?"
“What?” I ask, stunned, and almost choke on my salmon nigiri.
"I'm telling you, that guy is crazy. He's probably stoned all the time and is now trying to drag you into this."
"Are you crazy?" I raise my voice a little louder and jump up from the sofa. "Just because you're too fancy to swim in a lake or ride a pedal boat doesn't mean he's crazy. And just because he has to save his money doesn't mean you're any better than anyone!"
Lars also gets up and puts the leftover sushi back in the fridge. "So now he's better than me, right?"
“I didn’t say that.”
"What else were you doing on this boat?" he asks with a strange twinkle in his eyes. So here we go.
"Nothing at all."
"No? Then why did you want to hide it from me? Why haven't I heard of this guy?"
"Because you didn't ask. Because you're never interested in what I do!" I blurt out.
He takes another step toward me, but I don't back down. "How many more secret dates have there been, hm? Are there any more little bums I don't know about?"
"That's all?" I ask, horrified. "I'm telling you you're not interested in me, and that's all you want to know? Am I seeing anyone else?"
"Do you do it?"
"No, of course not! For some inexplicable reason, I chose you. And so you don't have to get so upset again, I'd better tell you right away that I'm going swimming with Felix on Wednesday."
I turn around and head toward the bathroom, but Lars grabs my arm. And he doesn't exactly do it gently.
“No, you’re not going.”
"Yes, of course," I reply, tearing myself away. "I'm still allowed to have friends, right? You can be a real asshole sometimes, Lars."
And with a loud slap, his flat hand lands on my cheek. At first I'm shocked. The pain comes later. But then it really hits. Lars doesn't make a sound, but slowly collapses to the floor. That's new. I never thought of him as violent. And I don't think he does either. But I can't worry about that right now. I run to the bathroom, lock the door, and run myself a bath. I cool my cheek with a wet washcloth and avoid looking in the mirror. I have no idea what I look like. Certainly not happy. I don't even remember how things escalated like this. What did I say? What did he say? I wasn't expecting that.
Two hours later, I feel prepared and rested enough to face Lars. I find him in the living room, crouching in front of the sofa, a bottle of liquor in his hand. This, too.
"Hey," I say coolly. "You have five seconds to apologize to me."
“Finn, I’m interested in you.”
Oh wow, so he did take notice of the accusation after all.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to."
"How much did you drink?" I ask. I need to know if he'll remember the apology tomorrow.
“Just a few sips.”
He doesn't sound drunk either, so I'll believe him.
"What the hell was that? Do you really think that's the right way to stop me from cheating?"
"No."