07-11-2025, 10:05 PM
Unfortunately, this story is based on a true event.
She tells of the experiences I had with my friend Tim, how I loved him and how he died from leukemia.
Right at the beginning I confess to you that I am gay, but people who know me know that gay does not mean mean naughty or unfaithful.
Tim and I lived a very monogamous life. A gay marriage, so to speak. But I'll talk more about marriage later...
So, as I said: Tim and I were together since October 2003. We met at a gay party in Cologne. I still remember exactly how I first saw him. He was a handsome boy, 16 years old, 190cm tall, slim, fit, and with a face as handsome as the one you see in fashion catalogs. He wanted to get something to drink but didn't dare approach the bartender, as he seemed rather unfriendly. I, having just turned 18, went over and ordered two Cokes (I was driving and wasn't allowed to drink alcohol). With a mischievous smile, I offered him a Coke and asked him, "I guess you haven't been to a party like this often?" - "No, never before, my boyfriend brought me." Shit... he already has a boyfriend. I was so angry, after all, that stupid Coke had cost me €3. Oh well, whatever. You should be able to talk nicely, even if the other person has a partner. So I started talking to him.
"How long have you been together?" I asked briskly. "It's just friends. I'm single." Those words felt so damn good. I was glad I had continued talking to him, and now the kid was becoming interesting again.
“Have you noticed how everyone here is staring at you?”
"No, why would everyone stare at me?" - "Because you're the most handsome guy at this party!" "Was that a compliment?" he asked, blushing. "No, that was the truth. You're so damn cute!" I replied.
"You're joking, there are so many handsome guys here that you're complimenting me, but thank you. That's really sweet of you. What's your name?"
"Olli! And what should I call you? There's no name prettier than that..."
“I’m Tim. Are you from Cologne?”
"Unfortunately not. I'm from the Koblenz area, and you?"
"I'm from near Dortmund. Robert invited me to spend the weekend with him, but I haven't seen him in three hours."
"You're not telling me you're going to wait here for your buddy to take you home without even knowing where he is. He's probably out having sex right now and has long since forgotten about you."
“Do you think he won’t come back?”
"No, I think he'll have a little fun, like most people here do."
“Have you had fun here yet?”
"No, I think that's too cheap. I'm here because I just broke up with my boyfriend and I need a little change."
"Oh, I haven't been gay for very long, and I'm actually bi. I don't really like it here."
"Shall we go somewhere else? In Cologne, you can find a quiet café to talk in, so we won't have to fight the loud music. Wait here, I'll just pay for our meal tickets, and then we'll go to a café. I know a nice one there."
[…]
After I paid for the meal tickets and we got into my car, we both decided to talk a bit. He told me that his parents were openly bisexual and had no problem with his sexuality. He was a high school student, just like me back then, and after graduating from high school, he wanted to train as a nurse so he could then study physical therapy. Tim had many goals, and while we talked, our eyes would always meet. I couldn't avoid those eyes.
At some point he asked me, “Why did you and your boyfriend break up?”
"Matthias was cheating on me for several months. He confessed everything to me via text message while I was on a school trip. He also financed part of his studies with pornography."
“Oh, so you must be very disappointed in him?”
“Yes, very much so”
“How long were you together?”
"Almost 4 years. I met him when I was 14."
“But that’s…”
"Early? Yes, but you can talk yourself into feelings and suppress them, or you can own up to them."
“Are you out?”
“No, I kept the relationship very secret, which was probably the reason why he cheated on me.”
“I would never cheat if I had someone like you as a boyfriend…”
This sentence not only surprised me, it felt so good. I was on cloud nine. A boy so sweet and handsome, someone who could have absolutely anyone he wanted, was telling me that he longed for someone like me.
“I wouldn’t cheat on you even if I had you as a boyfriend.”
"I believe you. You're a nice guy, Olli. I've been watching you all evening. But I was pretty shy and didn't have the courage to talk to you."
My mouth fell open. Sure, I was young back then and not ugly, but there were much more handsome guys at that party, and I could hardly believe what Tim was saying. His hand suddenly touched mine, and his head moved closer to mine. Our faces moved toward each other, and our lips pursed. A little timidly, Tim gave me the best kiss of my life, and I kept my eyes open to see his.
I had never kissed anyone so passionately before.
We stayed in the car, which was parked in a parking lot in Cologne, all night. Since it was very cold in October that year, we huddled together to keep warm. After a while, we fell asleep.
We exchanged cell phone numbers and addresses the next morning, met every free weekend, and had a long-distance relationship, 300km apart.
It was the best time of my life to see my boyfriend on my days off during my senior year.
We loved each other very much and felt a close bond. On the days we didn't see each other, we talked on the phone, and I was glad we had the low-cost area codes. Otherwise, our hours-long conversations would have racked up an exorbitant phone bill.
We rarely ran out of things to talk about and usually fell asleep while talking on the phone.
Tim also introduced me to his parents. Elisabeth and Jochen liked me very much. They called me their son-in-law, and Tim's younger brother Stefan also got along well with me.
So far, it sounds like the story of a happy couple. Everything was going well, and their relationship was harmonious.
But then, in December 2004, a terrible event occurred. Tim's doctor diagnosed him with leukemia.
My sweetheart had been feeling unwell for weeks. He often felt nauseous and weak. So he went to the doctor.
And now this news. Tim was scared, and I was devastated. But I had hope that chemotherapy or a bone marrow donation could save him.
We continued our relationship normally for the next few weeks, and for Christmas I gave him a ring as a token of my love. Unfortunately, we spent the New Year apart. Our vacation together had to be canceled because of his pain.
The year 2005 was the worst I've ever experienced. In February, Tim was hospitalized. He had a cold. His immune system was severely weakened by the chemotherapy, and he lacked the strength to fight the viruses.
March. Tim's face was chalk white, and the days I went to the hospital were getting longer. I still saw the handsome boy from October 2003, but a sickly, miserable little heap of corpse lying in front of me in a hospital room, wrapped in white sheets. Tim weighed no more than 38 kg. His will to live was gone. When he was asked to pull the plug if he fell into a coma, the worst of all things became clear to me. There was no hope of a cure. Neither the chemotherapy was working, nor had they found a suitable bone marrow donor. Added to that was Tim's physical condition.
With the little time I had left, I proposed to Tim, and three days later, on March 21, 2005, I married my sweetheart. Unfortunately, it was only symbolic, since he wasn't yet 18.
Yet it had the same meaning for me.
On April 1, 2005, Tim fell into a coma. I got up from class and drove from Koblenz to the hospital to see him. I stayed by his side for two days. Every night was a nightmare because I was afraid to fall asleep. I wanted to stay awake so Tim would stay awake, too.
I was completely helpless. Tim's parents also stayed with us. Stefan got us lunch during those days, and his father provided coffee around the clock. I was at the height of my despair. Barely responsive, I was with Tim, holding him in my arms. Even when he was vomiting blood and I was physically unable to cope, I stayed with my husband.
April 3, 2005. Tim's 18th birthday. I brought a piece of cake with a candle into the room. When I entered, a row of doctors were standing around my partner's bed, taking notes. The senior doctor approached me and then said:
"I think you should say goodbye now," I lit the candle and wiped the tears from my eyes. The volunteer patted me on the shoulder, the rest of the group looked down. The ECG machine echoed Tim's heartbeat in a sinister rhythm. I took a chair, sat down next to him, and wished him a happy birthday. I'm not sure today if he even noticed I was in the room, because his condition was indefinable. His eyes were open, but he wasn't speaking; he was breathing very lightly, and his gaze was fixed on the ceiling.
Then Tim's parents came and sat down next to me: "Olli, thank you for everything you've done for our son, but we think you shouldn't come here anymore. We want to spare you from seeing Tim die. We're always here for you; you're like a son to us." With tears in my eyes, I hugged Elisabeth and Jochen. Then I leaned over Tim's bed, gave him a kiss, and heard the EKG alarm sound. His little heart stopped beating.
I fell into a trance, suddenly no longer knowing what was going on. I grabbed his heart, trying to revive him.
[…]
The doctor and two nurses came in, and a male nurse pushed me to the side. I don't remember much else because these images are blurry.
TOT. Tim was tot.
Elisabeth and Jochen were crying in each other's arms, and I was down. I'd never been down before in my life.
I had lost the most valuable thing I owned in my life.
Tim S. turned 18. Together with a large Koblenz-based company, I founded an initiative that supports parents of children with cancer, allowing them to stay with their children when work and/or finances don't allow it.
END
She tells of the experiences I had with my friend Tim, how I loved him and how he died from leukemia.
Right at the beginning I confess to you that I am gay, but people who know me know that gay does not mean mean naughty or unfaithful.
Tim and I lived a very monogamous life. A gay marriage, so to speak. But I'll talk more about marriage later...
So, as I said: Tim and I were together since October 2003. We met at a gay party in Cologne. I still remember exactly how I first saw him. He was a handsome boy, 16 years old, 190cm tall, slim, fit, and with a face as handsome as the one you see in fashion catalogs. He wanted to get something to drink but didn't dare approach the bartender, as he seemed rather unfriendly. I, having just turned 18, went over and ordered two Cokes (I was driving and wasn't allowed to drink alcohol). With a mischievous smile, I offered him a Coke and asked him, "I guess you haven't been to a party like this often?" - "No, never before, my boyfriend brought me." Shit... he already has a boyfriend. I was so angry, after all, that stupid Coke had cost me €3. Oh well, whatever. You should be able to talk nicely, even if the other person has a partner. So I started talking to him.
"How long have you been together?" I asked briskly. "It's just friends. I'm single." Those words felt so damn good. I was glad I had continued talking to him, and now the kid was becoming interesting again.
“Have you noticed how everyone here is staring at you?”
"No, why would everyone stare at me?" - "Because you're the most handsome guy at this party!" "Was that a compliment?" he asked, blushing. "No, that was the truth. You're so damn cute!" I replied.
"You're joking, there are so many handsome guys here that you're complimenting me, but thank you. That's really sweet of you. What's your name?"
"Olli! And what should I call you? There's no name prettier than that..."
“I’m Tim. Are you from Cologne?”
"Unfortunately not. I'm from the Koblenz area, and you?"
"I'm from near Dortmund. Robert invited me to spend the weekend with him, but I haven't seen him in three hours."
"You're not telling me you're going to wait here for your buddy to take you home without even knowing where he is. He's probably out having sex right now and has long since forgotten about you."
“Do you think he won’t come back?”
"No, I think he'll have a little fun, like most people here do."
“Have you had fun here yet?”
"No, I think that's too cheap. I'm here because I just broke up with my boyfriend and I need a little change."
"Oh, I haven't been gay for very long, and I'm actually bi. I don't really like it here."
"Shall we go somewhere else? In Cologne, you can find a quiet café to talk in, so we won't have to fight the loud music. Wait here, I'll just pay for our meal tickets, and then we'll go to a café. I know a nice one there."
[…]
After I paid for the meal tickets and we got into my car, we both decided to talk a bit. He told me that his parents were openly bisexual and had no problem with his sexuality. He was a high school student, just like me back then, and after graduating from high school, he wanted to train as a nurse so he could then study physical therapy. Tim had many goals, and while we talked, our eyes would always meet. I couldn't avoid those eyes.
At some point he asked me, “Why did you and your boyfriend break up?”
"Matthias was cheating on me for several months. He confessed everything to me via text message while I was on a school trip. He also financed part of his studies with pornography."
“Oh, so you must be very disappointed in him?”
“Yes, very much so”
“How long were you together?”
"Almost 4 years. I met him when I was 14."
“But that’s…”
"Early? Yes, but you can talk yourself into feelings and suppress them, or you can own up to them."
“Are you out?”
“No, I kept the relationship very secret, which was probably the reason why he cheated on me.”
“I would never cheat if I had someone like you as a boyfriend…”
This sentence not only surprised me, it felt so good. I was on cloud nine. A boy so sweet and handsome, someone who could have absolutely anyone he wanted, was telling me that he longed for someone like me.
“I wouldn’t cheat on you even if I had you as a boyfriend.”
"I believe you. You're a nice guy, Olli. I've been watching you all evening. But I was pretty shy and didn't have the courage to talk to you."
My mouth fell open. Sure, I was young back then and not ugly, but there were much more handsome guys at that party, and I could hardly believe what Tim was saying. His hand suddenly touched mine, and his head moved closer to mine. Our faces moved toward each other, and our lips pursed. A little timidly, Tim gave me the best kiss of my life, and I kept my eyes open to see his.
I had never kissed anyone so passionately before.
We stayed in the car, which was parked in a parking lot in Cologne, all night. Since it was very cold in October that year, we huddled together to keep warm. After a while, we fell asleep.
We exchanged cell phone numbers and addresses the next morning, met every free weekend, and had a long-distance relationship, 300km apart.
It was the best time of my life to see my boyfriend on my days off during my senior year.
We loved each other very much and felt a close bond. On the days we didn't see each other, we talked on the phone, and I was glad we had the low-cost area codes. Otherwise, our hours-long conversations would have racked up an exorbitant phone bill.
We rarely ran out of things to talk about and usually fell asleep while talking on the phone.
Tim also introduced me to his parents. Elisabeth and Jochen liked me very much. They called me their son-in-law, and Tim's younger brother Stefan also got along well with me.
So far, it sounds like the story of a happy couple. Everything was going well, and their relationship was harmonious.
But then, in December 2004, a terrible event occurred. Tim's doctor diagnosed him with leukemia.
My sweetheart had been feeling unwell for weeks. He often felt nauseous and weak. So he went to the doctor.
And now this news. Tim was scared, and I was devastated. But I had hope that chemotherapy or a bone marrow donation could save him.
We continued our relationship normally for the next few weeks, and for Christmas I gave him a ring as a token of my love. Unfortunately, we spent the New Year apart. Our vacation together had to be canceled because of his pain.
The year 2005 was the worst I've ever experienced. In February, Tim was hospitalized. He had a cold. His immune system was severely weakened by the chemotherapy, and he lacked the strength to fight the viruses.
March. Tim's face was chalk white, and the days I went to the hospital were getting longer. I still saw the handsome boy from October 2003, but a sickly, miserable little heap of corpse lying in front of me in a hospital room, wrapped in white sheets. Tim weighed no more than 38 kg. His will to live was gone. When he was asked to pull the plug if he fell into a coma, the worst of all things became clear to me. There was no hope of a cure. Neither the chemotherapy was working, nor had they found a suitable bone marrow donor. Added to that was Tim's physical condition.
With the little time I had left, I proposed to Tim, and three days later, on March 21, 2005, I married my sweetheart. Unfortunately, it was only symbolic, since he wasn't yet 18.
Yet it had the same meaning for me.
On April 1, 2005, Tim fell into a coma. I got up from class and drove from Koblenz to the hospital to see him. I stayed by his side for two days. Every night was a nightmare because I was afraid to fall asleep. I wanted to stay awake so Tim would stay awake, too.
I was completely helpless. Tim's parents also stayed with us. Stefan got us lunch during those days, and his father provided coffee around the clock. I was at the height of my despair. Barely responsive, I was with Tim, holding him in my arms. Even when he was vomiting blood and I was physically unable to cope, I stayed with my husband.
April 3, 2005. Tim's 18th birthday. I brought a piece of cake with a candle into the room. When I entered, a row of doctors were standing around my partner's bed, taking notes. The senior doctor approached me and then said:
"I think you should say goodbye now," I lit the candle and wiped the tears from my eyes. The volunteer patted me on the shoulder, the rest of the group looked down. The ECG machine echoed Tim's heartbeat in a sinister rhythm. I took a chair, sat down next to him, and wished him a happy birthday. I'm not sure today if he even noticed I was in the room, because his condition was indefinable. His eyes were open, but he wasn't speaking; he was breathing very lightly, and his gaze was fixed on the ceiling.
Then Tim's parents came and sat down next to me: "Olli, thank you for everything you've done for our son, but we think you shouldn't come here anymore. We want to spare you from seeing Tim die. We're always here for you; you're like a son to us." With tears in my eyes, I hugged Elisabeth and Jochen. Then I leaned over Tim's bed, gave him a kiss, and heard the EKG alarm sound. His little heart stopped beating.
I fell into a trance, suddenly no longer knowing what was going on. I grabbed his heart, trying to revive him.
[…]
The doctor and two nurses came in, and a male nurse pushed me to the side. I don't remember much else because these images are blurry.
TOT. Tim was tot.
Elisabeth and Jochen were crying in each other's arms, and I was down. I'd never been down before in my life.
I had lost the most valuable thing I owned in my life.
Tim S. turned 18. Together with a large Koblenz-based company, I founded an initiative that supports parents of children with cancer, allowing them to stay with their children when work and/or finances don't allow it.
END