07-12-2025, 10:34 AM
I was sitting in a café. In front of me was a large mug of warm cocoa with extra cream and a dash of Baileys . I always drink cocoa. Nothing else is an option for me. In this matter, I'm still a child.
I just didn't like coffee, even though I was 20 years old. But I miss the energy boost.
Can you say I miss that? Can you miss something you don't even know?
I asked myself these questions as I looked out the window into the darkness. The illuminated street was blurred by the rain splattering against the panes. The song playing through my headphones was perfect for me: Breakfast in America by Supertramp.
I was always a child of the 80s, at least when it came to music.
It has always been my dream, even when I was a little child and my father told me about the time when he hitchhiked through America as a young man, to travel to America, even if only once in my life.
I really wanted to experience New York in real life. This city, this country, simply fascinates me. I don't know why. I was probably influenced in part by the endlessly wonderful stories my father used to tell me when I was a little kid. Whenever my dad told me about his American adventures, we always lay in front of our fireplace. This makes me associate America with the smell and warmth of burning wood. I'm aware that America will have a completely different feel. Not as cozy, but much more exciting than a log collapsing.
Standing in front of the Statue of Liberty and saying how small I feel is something I often dream about at night, and I will definitely make that dream come true! But not alone, but only with the person who is the love of my life and who also has the desire to travel to America. That was a requirement I set for myself.
America was my purpose in life. I could literally feel it. I sensed that I would eventually be drawn there.
But I have n't found true love yet. In my mind, I pushed that dream back another ten years in my life and dejectedly spooned the cream off my hot chocolate. I changed the song: Mad World by Gary Jules .
I continued to look out the window at the dark and damp outside world, while I held the warm mug in both hands to warm them. For some reason, my hands are always cold. Many of my friends find this creepy and rarely shake my hand. They prefer to hug me. I don't call my friends friends either, but my brothers and sisters. They, on the other hand, affectionately refer to me as the living death , because I was quite thin. I was a mere speck of nothing. A line in the landscape. A collection of bones where you expect my skeleton to start rattling whenever I move.
I had black hair, and I almost only wore that one color, which officially wasn't even a color. I saw things differently.
Exceptions are festive occasions like weddings and holidays, or days when I feel supernaturally comfortable (which was rarely, if ever, the case). On those days, I practiced color blocking to the fullest. Which means there are no rules! Today I wore a simple black turtleneck sweater and black pants with countless pockets and studs. The only color on me today was the purple on my black and purple checked studded belt.
Outside, behind the raindrop-speckled windowpane, I noticed a boy. Or should I say, a creature who knows how to all the rules of art and color blocking . break
This boy had turquoise-blue hair peeking out from under a hood. The hairstyle looked like something from another planet. I'd even bet it glowed in the dark!
He entered the restaurant. Now I could see this fascinating boy—I couldn't think of a better word to describe this boy—much better. What was even better was that he was looking directly in my direction. He wasn't looking at me, but probably at someone sitting at a table behind me or something.
To match his blue hair, this boy also had ice-blue eyes. His features were soft. He had incredibly clear skin for his age. How old could he be? My age, or older? But definitely not younger than me, I thought to myself. He walked past me, glanced at me briefly. I thought I saw a small smile as he looked at me. But I told myself I was wrong. Suddenly, this man was out of my sight. What a pity.
I discreetly turned around a few times to look at him. He was sitting there with another boy. An inconspicuous but nevertheless attractive boy. I was ashamed to be stalking strangers so obviously. I drank my hot chocolate in one go, burning my tongue, which now felt quite furry. My goal was now the restrooms so I could cool my mouth and tongue with cold water. When I came back, I sat on the other side of the table so I could continue admiring him . I ordered another hot chocolate with extra cream from the waitress. I needed a new song! No turning back from Wolfsheim.
While I waited for my hot cocoa so I could wrap my now-cold hands around it, I looked outside, and looked outside, occasionally glancing at the two boys. In particular, I looked at the boy with blue hair and wonderful ice-blue eyes. They were obviously deep in conversation.
From one moment to the next, there was a huge commotion in the bar. Startled, I looked in the direction the noise was coming from.
The noise came from the two boys. The blue-haired one apparently jumped so hard that the chair he was sitting on fell back. The table was also no longer standing on its specially made legs. There were shards of glass everywhere.
It was obvious they were arguing. I became curious and pulled my earplugs out. Although... that wasn't really necessary, given how loudly they were shouting at each other.
"What's so bad about being free?" the blue-haired man shouted. "Why do you want to hide, why can't you show who you really are? You're not yourself! Not even now! You'll never be able to be." With that, he knocked over another chair and hurried out of the bar.
I couldn't help myself, and I followed him. I put 30 euros on the table. I didn't care at all that it was way too much money. I just wanted to go to him. I didn't know why, and honestly, I didn't really think about it. I've always been someone who listens to my gut first, and then to the thoughts in my head.
I rushed out the door of the bar. It was so wet and cold that I pulled my jacket tighter. I looked for the blue-haired boy. A regular thundering sounded in my ears. As if someone was kicking metal. That's exactly what it was. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the blue-haired boy kicking a beautiful old VW bus. It was my absolute favorite car. Just as it was standing there. In red and white. "What are you doing?" I asked calmly, but with a horrified tone in my voice. I couldn't believe he would deliberately damage such a wonderful car. I simply wouldn't allow that to happen!
"What do you want?" he barked at me. As he said that, he turned to me. "Oh, I didn't see it was you. I'm sorry!"
How? That it's me? What difference does it make whether it's me or someone else?
"Um... what's going on?" I asked cautiously. He looked at me as if I weren't all there anymore. He came over to me and held out his hand. "I'm Aaron, by the way!" Surprised, I hesitantly held out my hand as well. "Sascha. Sascha Mertens," I introduced myself, happy that I no longer had to think of Aaron as the blue-haired guy. "So Sascha, what is such a young and sweet boy like you doing here all alone in a bar, drinking cocoa with so much cream as if you were deliberately trying to get diabetes someday?" Had he been watching me the whole time, too? I felt myself blush. He came even closer to me. So much so that I could see he was shaking all over. He put a hand on my cheek and stroked me tenderly. His hand was ice cold. Nevertheless, I got goosebumps all over my body, all the way down to my toes. I tried to keep my composure and get back to the topic of why I'd followed him in the first place. "What was going on with you and that other boy?" He looked at me sadly. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could see him fighting back tears. For a while, neither of us said anything. "How about we drive around a bit and I find out a bit more about the boy who's been catching my eye all evening?" After a moment, I nodded hesitantly. It turned out that the VW bus belonged to him. Although I loved that car, it was the first time I'd ever sat in that bus, and I had no idea that in the not-too-distant future, I'd be spending entire days in it.
The owner of the bar rushed out, looking for us. Aaron flashed his headlights, which caught his eye. The owner, who reminded me of a rat, was obviously furious. The only thing missing was foaming at the mouth. Aaron blinded him by briefly switching on his high beams. Then he hit the gas, and we drove off into the darkness. This may sound corny, but I've never felt as safe as I did at that moment.
It's a Man's World by James Brown and Luciano Pavarotti blared from the speakers Aaron had installed in the bus. I was glad that a song I liked was playing. I was even more relaxed than I already was.
There was nothing for miles around except trees. Some people only see trees close together, but I... I see spaces and light!
I had no idea where we were. Honestly, I didn't really care! I found myself wanting this ride to never end. The only thing I was dying to do was find out what had happened in the bar earlier, and why.
“What does quality of life mean to you?”
I paused. This question caught me completely off guard, for one reason alone: I'd already prepared myself to tell him something about myself.
I looked at him. I couldn't see his face because it was so dark. I could only make out his profile. He stared intently at the road. At that moment, he looked like a silhouette. I also looked ahead, at the road, and thought for a while about the question and what he wanted to hear from me. Nothing came to mind. He seemed to notice this and expanded on the question:
"Suppose. Just suppose, because I don't want it to happen so quickly. Suppose you're dying. What trait is most important to you, the one you want to keep until your last breath?" I understood even less now. I looked like a wrecked car. Aaron had to laugh. "Look in the glove compartment! There's a notepad in there. Take it out."
I did as I was told. There were piles of notepads in the glove compartment. "Why do you have so much writing material? And why in your bus?"
"I'm a writer, and my best ideas always come to me while driving. It's not uncommon for me to pull over in the emergency lane and fill a whole notebook, jotting down my idea in detail, before moving on." I was impressed, and picked up the notebook on top and one of at least 30 pens that were also in that compartment. I opened to the first page. "Now what?" I asked.
"Now you're going to tear a sheet out of this pad and tear it into five pieces. On each of these pieces, you're going to write one quality that's incredibly important to you."
I wrote "independence" on the first piece of paper. I wrote "taste" on the second piece of paper. I also wrote something on the other three pieces of paper. "What's the next step?" I asked.
"Now take all the pieces of paper and hold them in front of you. On each piece of paper there is a characteristic or a skill that is important to you. All of them together represent your quality of life. Little by little you decide which skill you would be most likely to give up." I stared at the scraps of paper. Little by little I threw one piece of paper after another into the footwell. It became more and more difficult to part with a piece of paper. At some point I only had two pieces of paper left in my hand. What is more important to me? I seriously pondered which piece of paper had more value to me. On one piece of paper it said " To be clear in my head" and "The ability to express myself". For me they belonged together. What good is it to me to be clear in my head if I can't express what I think or what I feel?
Suddenly, Aaron snatched one of the two scraps I was still holding from my hand. I was shocked. My clear head was taken away from me.
"Do you now know what I mean by quality of life?" I had a hunch, but I didn't dare say it. I didn't even get a chance to say what I thought, because he continued.
"Quality of life means being free to decide and live as you see fit. As soon as you can no longer decide how you want to live so that you feel comfortable, you no longer have a single shred of quality of life. You are then trapped in a world as other people see it. Personally, I equate quality of life with being free because I was born to live my life, not a life for another person."
Now it became quiet between us again. I got a completely new picture of him. What was even more frightening: I got a completely new picture of myself!
"Thank goodness there's a gas station! The tank's empty." Aaron laughed mischievously. I was glad, because I desperately needed some fresh air.
We stopped next to a gas pump. Aaron turned off the engine and looked over at me. "Are you okay?" I nodded. "Really?" I nodded again. Aaron looked through the windshield again. "Why don't I believe you?" I looked out my window. I looked out the window, not through the windshield, so he couldn't see my face. I didn't want him to see that I wasn't okay. I definitely didn't want him to try to analyze how I was feeling, because I didn't even know myself.
"All right." He opened the door. Then he slammed it shut.
Relieved, I turned my head forward again and took a deep breath. I was startled to realize he was still in the car. I realized this the moment he took my face in his hands and... and kissed me. I opened my eyes in complete shock. But I quickly closed them again because I felt, and I was one hundred percent sure, that it was a good thing.
After at least a minute, our lips separated again. He kept my face in his hands, however, and he smiled at me. Despite the darkness, I could see that his eyes were shining even brighter than usual. It was such a wonderful blue that I decided at that moment that from now on, blue would be my favorite color, apart from the red that adorned the bus in which I had my first kiss today, with a boy. I suddenly realized this for the first time. My breathing quickened rapidly, and when I touched my chest, I noticed that my heart rate had increased. "Are you okay?" he asked me for the second time this evening. Now I knew that I would probably hear that question a lot, and I knew that it would really piss me off.
“Didn’t you want to fill up?” He let go of me and this time, without saying a word, actually got out of the bus and filled up.
Meanwhile, I tried to calm myself down and relax my circulation. I rolled down the window a bit to get some fresh air.
Five minutes later, he got back on the bus. "Where do you live? I'll drive you home." I was overwhelmed. Sure, the kiss threw me for a moment. But I still couldn't imagine getting off the bus again.
"How come?"
"Because I asked you!" he barked at me. His eyes sparkled again, but this time not with tenderness, but with anger.
I couldn't utter a word. I was too busy concentrating on keeping a tear from running down my cheek. He definitely didn't want me to be labeled a little sensitive! So I just looked ahead, observing what was happening in the gas station shop. "So?" Aaron asked. "Why do you want to know?" I asked. It was clearly audible that I had a frog in my throat. "Because I'm driving you home." His voice sounded less aggressive now. "I'm not leaving you alone, especially not here. We've driven at least 20 kilometers. And I'm just going to assume you don't have enough money on you to pay for a taxi."
To be honest, I found it disgusting that I had nothing in my hand to counter it, and I deeply regretted having slapped too much money on the table just so I could follow the boy who was now causing me such an insane emotional chaos.
“If you don’t answer me now, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to get out. I can’t and don’t want to stay at a gas station all night.”
I finally gave in. "You can drop me off at the restaurant; I live less than two minutes away."
Aaron revved the bus's engine, and we rolled out of the lit gas station and back onto the dark road.
We remained silent. Without saying anything to me, Aaron suddenly pulled over, turned off the engine, and turned on the car lights. Then he turned to me. "Are you okay?" I asked. "I feel bad." I wasn't expecting that, but it didn't bother me. "Should I drive the rest of the way back?" I asked, with a hint of hope in my voice. What would be better than driving my favorite car myself than just sitting there doing nothing as a passenger? "That's not what I mean!" He looked deep into my eyes, but I couldn't interpret his expression. "I'm kissing you, and I expect it's okay. Especially since it was your first kiss."
How did Aaron know? I didn't tell him. At least, I wouldn't know. But what reason would I have to tell him, a boy? Can you tell whether someone has already kissed you or not? I didn't know the answer to that. After a few moments, he continued. "I have no right to just yell at you."
“It’s okay!” I replied, trying to escape this awkward situation.
"To get back to your question: That was the reason I freaked out in the bar earlier. I'm gay."
It didn't bother me at all, he seemed to see it too.
"You can see it in my face, too, and I'm open about it. He just isn't. He's..." Aaron paused. "He was my boyfriend. We've been together for a good two years now. I'm just not someone who hides who I am. I live out who I am. I can't change it anyway. I need a partner who's as confident as I am, or I'd have to love him damn hard. I guess I don't love him enough..."
I didn't know what to say. It wasn't necessary, because he kept talking. "I actually thought I was serious about him, which is why I planned a huge trip to introduce him to my family. All over Europe. And finally to America. That's where I would have asked for his hand in marriage."
I felt goosebumps running down my back.
"Now I'm pedaling alone, and this old car," he tapped the steering wheel, "is starting the trip. I told all my family and friends that I wasn't coming alone, but that I wanted to introduce them to the love of my life. Now I can say that was all a mistake."
I could see a tear running down his cheek. Without being able to do anything about it, I simply kissed him away, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He smiled at me. "Karma!" he said. "You believe in karma?" I asked, surprised. "Of course!" Then we kissed passionately again. This kiss was even better than the first. My whole body trembled as he slowly and carefully pushed his tongue into my mouth. It took a while before we could pull away. He smiled at me. His eyes sparkled, but this time, thank God, with tenderness. He revved the engine again and drove on. After a few minutes, we were standing in front of the restaurant again, but it was already closed. "I hope to see you again!" Aaron said. "Sure, when?" I asked immediately. "In 6 months. Is Tuesday convenient for you?" Aaron laughed. I wasn't expecting that answer at all. I was completely perplexed. "I'm leaving in two days, and I have a lot to do before then. I'm sorry."
I could honestly say that I had never been so sad in my life, although there had certainly been sadder moments in my life.
"I'm going to the Harz Mountains first. To visit my grandma." I sobbed. It was unintentional, and I couldn't hold it back. Embarrassing! Aaron kissed me goodbye. When our lips parted, I said something I hadn't thought about. As I said, I react from my gut, not what my head tells me is reasonable. "Will you ask for my hand in marriage at the end of this trip?
I just didn't like coffee, even though I was 20 years old. But I miss the energy boost.
Can you say I miss that? Can you miss something you don't even know?
I asked myself these questions as I looked out the window into the darkness. The illuminated street was blurred by the rain splattering against the panes. The song playing through my headphones was perfect for me: Breakfast in America by Supertramp.
I was always a child of the 80s, at least when it came to music.
It has always been my dream, even when I was a little child and my father told me about the time when he hitchhiked through America as a young man, to travel to America, even if only once in my life.
I really wanted to experience New York in real life. This city, this country, simply fascinates me. I don't know why. I was probably influenced in part by the endlessly wonderful stories my father used to tell me when I was a little kid. Whenever my dad told me about his American adventures, we always lay in front of our fireplace. This makes me associate America with the smell and warmth of burning wood. I'm aware that America will have a completely different feel. Not as cozy, but much more exciting than a log collapsing.
Standing in front of the Statue of Liberty and saying how small I feel is something I often dream about at night, and I will definitely make that dream come true! But not alone, but only with the person who is the love of my life and who also has the desire to travel to America. That was a requirement I set for myself.
America was my purpose in life. I could literally feel it. I sensed that I would eventually be drawn there.
But I have n't found true love yet. In my mind, I pushed that dream back another ten years in my life and dejectedly spooned the cream off my hot chocolate. I changed the song: Mad World by Gary Jules .
I continued to look out the window at the dark and damp outside world, while I held the warm mug in both hands to warm them. For some reason, my hands are always cold. Many of my friends find this creepy and rarely shake my hand. They prefer to hug me. I don't call my friends friends either, but my brothers and sisters. They, on the other hand, affectionately refer to me as the living death , because I was quite thin. I was a mere speck of nothing. A line in the landscape. A collection of bones where you expect my skeleton to start rattling whenever I move.
I had black hair, and I almost only wore that one color, which officially wasn't even a color. I saw things differently.
Exceptions are festive occasions like weddings and holidays, or days when I feel supernaturally comfortable (which was rarely, if ever, the case). On those days, I practiced color blocking to the fullest. Which means there are no rules! Today I wore a simple black turtleneck sweater and black pants with countless pockets and studs. The only color on me today was the purple on my black and purple checked studded belt.
Outside, behind the raindrop-speckled windowpane, I noticed a boy. Or should I say, a creature who knows how to all the rules of art and color blocking . break
This boy had turquoise-blue hair peeking out from under a hood. The hairstyle looked like something from another planet. I'd even bet it glowed in the dark!
He entered the restaurant. Now I could see this fascinating boy—I couldn't think of a better word to describe this boy—much better. What was even better was that he was looking directly in my direction. He wasn't looking at me, but probably at someone sitting at a table behind me or something.
To match his blue hair, this boy also had ice-blue eyes. His features were soft. He had incredibly clear skin for his age. How old could he be? My age, or older? But definitely not younger than me, I thought to myself. He walked past me, glanced at me briefly. I thought I saw a small smile as he looked at me. But I told myself I was wrong. Suddenly, this man was out of my sight. What a pity.
I discreetly turned around a few times to look at him. He was sitting there with another boy. An inconspicuous but nevertheless attractive boy. I was ashamed to be stalking strangers so obviously. I drank my hot chocolate in one go, burning my tongue, which now felt quite furry. My goal was now the restrooms so I could cool my mouth and tongue with cold water. When I came back, I sat on the other side of the table so I could continue admiring him . I ordered another hot chocolate with extra cream from the waitress. I needed a new song! No turning back from Wolfsheim.
While I waited for my hot cocoa so I could wrap my now-cold hands around it, I looked outside, and looked outside, occasionally glancing at the two boys. In particular, I looked at the boy with blue hair and wonderful ice-blue eyes. They were obviously deep in conversation.
From one moment to the next, there was a huge commotion in the bar. Startled, I looked in the direction the noise was coming from.
The noise came from the two boys. The blue-haired one apparently jumped so hard that the chair he was sitting on fell back. The table was also no longer standing on its specially made legs. There were shards of glass everywhere.
It was obvious they were arguing. I became curious and pulled my earplugs out. Although... that wasn't really necessary, given how loudly they were shouting at each other.
"What's so bad about being free?" the blue-haired man shouted. "Why do you want to hide, why can't you show who you really are? You're not yourself! Not even now! You'll never be able to be." With that, he knocked over another chair and hurried out of the bar.
I couldn't help myself, and I followed him. I put 30 euros on the table. I didn't care at all that it was way too much money. I just wanted to go to him. I didn't know why, and honestly, I didn't really think about it. I've always been someone who listens to my gut first, and then to the thoughts in my head.
I rushed out the door of the bar. It was so wet and cold that I pulled my jacket tighter. I looked for the blue-haired boy. A regular thundering sounded in my ears. As if someone was kicking metal. That's exactly what it was. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the blue-haired boy kicking a beautiful old VW bus. It was my absolute favorite car. Just as it was standing there. In red and white. "What are you doing?" I asked calmly, but with a horrified tone in my voice. I couldn't believe he would deliberately damage such a wonderful car. I simply wouldn't allow that to happen!
"What do you want?" he barked at me. As he said that, he turned to me. "Oh, I didn't see it was you. I'm sorry!"
How? That it's me? What difference does it make whether it's me or someone else?
"Um... what's going on?" I asked cautiously. He looked at me as if I weren't all there anymore. He came over to me and held out his hand. "I'm Aaron, by the way!" Surprised, I hesitantly held out my hand as well. "Sascha. Sascha Mertens," I introduced myself, happy that I no longer had to think of Aaron as the blue-haired guy. "So Sascha, what is such a young and sweet boy like you doing here all alone in a bar, drinking cocoa with so much cream as if you were deliberately trying to get diabetes someday?" Had he been watching me the whole time, too? I felt myself blush. He came even closer to me. So much so that I could see he was shaking all over. He put a hand on my cheek and stroked me tenderly. His hand was ice cold. Nevertheless, I got goosebumps all over my body, all the way down to my toes. I tried to keep my composure and get back to the topic of why I'd followed him in the first place. "What was going on with you and that other boy?" He looked at me sadly. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could see him fighting back tears. For a while, neither of us said anything. "How about we drive around a bit and I find out a bit more about the boy who's been catching my eye all evening?" After a moment, I nodded hesitantly. It turned out that the VW bus belonged to him. Although I loved that car, it was the first time I'd ever sat in that bus, and I had no idea that in the not-too-distant future, I'd be spending entire days in it.
The owner of the bar rushed out, looking for us. Aaron flashed his headlights, which caught his eye. The owner, who reminded me of a rat, was obviously furious. The only thing missing was foaming at the mouth. Aaron blinded him by briefly switching on his high beams. Then he hit the gas, and we drove off into the darkness. This may sound corny, but I've never felt as safe as I did at that moment.
It's a Man's World by James Brown and Luciano Pavarotti blared from the speakers Aaron had installed in the bus. I was glad that a song I liked was playing. I was even more relaxed than I already was.
There was nothing for miles around except trees. Some people only see trees close together, but I... I see spaces and light!
I had no idea where we were. Honestly, I didn't really care! I found myself wanting this ride to never end. The only thing I was dying to do was find out what had happened in the bar earlier, and why.
“What does quality of life mean to you?”
I paused. This question caught me completely off guard, for one reason alone: I'd already prepared myself to tell him something about myself.
I looked at him. I couldn't see his face because it was so dark. I could only make out his profile. He stared intently at the road. At that moment, he looked like a silhouette. I also looked ahead, at the road, and thought for a while about the question and what he wanted to hear from me. Nothing came to mind. He seemed to notice this and expanded on the question:
"Suppose. Just suppose, because I don't want it to happen so quickly. Suppose you're dying. What trait is most important to you, the one you want to keep until your last breath?" I understood even less now. I looked like a wrecked car. Aaron had to laugh. "Look in the glove compartment! There's a notepad in there. Take it out."
I did as I was told. There were piles of notepads in the glove compartment. "Why do you have so much writing material? And why in your bus?"
"I'm a writer, and my best ideas always come to me while driving. It's not uncommon for me to pull over in the emergency lane and fill a whole notebook, jotting down my idea in detail, before moving on." I was impressed, and picked up the notebook on top and one of at least 30 pens that were also in that compartment. I opened to the first page. "Now what?" I asked.
"Now you're going to tear a sheet out of this pad and tear it into five pieces. On each of these pieces, you're going to write one quality that's incredibly important to you."
I wrote "independence" on the first piece of paper. I wrote "taste" on the second piece of paper. I also wrote something on the other three pieces of paper. "What's the next step?" I asked.
"Now take all the pieces of paper and hold them in front of you. On each piece of paper there is a characteristic or a skill that is important to you. All of them together represent your quality of life. Little by little you decide which skill you would be most likely to give up." I stared at the scraps of paper. Little by little I threw one piece of paper after another into the footwell. It became more and more difficult to part with a piece of paper. At some point I only had two pieces of paper left in my hand. What is more important to me? I seriously pondered which piece of paper had more value to me. On one piece of paper it said " To be clear in my head" and "The ability to express myself". For me they belonged together. What good is it to me to be clear in my head if I can't express what I think or what I feel?
Suddenly, Aaron snatched one of the two scraps I was still holding from my hand. I was shocked. My clear head was taken away from me.
"Do you now know what I mean by quality of life?" I had a hunch, but I didn't dare say it. I didn't even get a chance to say what I thought, because he continued.
"Quality of life means being free to decide and live as you see fit. As soon as you can no longer decide how you want to live so that you feel comfortable, you no longer have a single shred of quality of life. You are then trapped in a world as other people see it. Personally, I equate quality of life with being free because I was born to live my life, not a life for another person."
Now it became quiet between us again. I got a completely new picture of him. What was even more frightening: I got a completely new picture of myself!
"Thank goodness there's a gas station! The tank's empty." Aaron laughed mischievously. I was glad, because I desperately needed some fresh air.
We stopped next to a gas pump. Aaron turned off the engine and looked over at me. "Are you okay?" I nodded. "Really?" I nodded again. Aaron looked through the windshield again. "Why don't I believe you?" I looked out my window. I looked out the window, not through the windshield, so he couldn't see my face. I didn't want him to see that I wasn't okay. I definitely didn't want him to try to analyze how I was feeling, because I didn't even know myself.
"All right." He opened the door. Then he slammed it shut.
Relieved, I turned my head forward again and took a deep breath. I was startled to realize he was still in the car. I realized this the moment he took my face in his hands and... and kissed me. I opened my eyes in complete shock. But I quickly closed them again because I felt, and I was one hundred percent sure, that it was a good thing.
After at least a minute, our lips separated again. He kept my face in his hands, however, and he smiled at me. Despite the darkness, I could see that his eyes were shining even brighter than usual. It was such a wonderful blue that I decided at that moment that from now on, blue would be my favorite color, apart from the red that adorned the bus in which I had my first kiss today, with a boy. I suddenly realized this for the first time. My breathing quickened rapidly, and when I touched my chest, I noticed that my heart rate had increased. "Are you okay?" he asked me for the second time this evening. Now I knew that I would probably hear that question a lot, and I knew that it would really piss me off.
“Didn’t you want to fill up?” He let go of me and this time, without saying a word, actually got out of the bus and filled up.
Meanwhile, I tried to calm myself down and relax my circulation. I rolled down the window a bit to get some fresh air.
Five minutes later, he got back on the bus. "Where do you live? I'll drive you home." I was overwhelmed. Sure, the kiss threw me for a moment. But I still couldn't imagine getting off the bus again.
"How come?"
"Because I asked you!" he barked at me. His eyes sparkled again, but this time not with tenderness, but with anger.
I couldn't utter a word. I was too busy concentrating on keeping a tear from running down my cheek. He definitely didn't want me to be labeled a little sensitive! So I just looked ahead, observing what was happening in the gas station shop. "So?" Aaron asked. "Why do you want to know?" I asked. It was clearly audible that I had a frog in my throat. "Because I'm driving you home." His voice sounded less aggressive now. "I'm not leaving you alone, especially not here. We've driven at least 20 kilometers. And I'm just going to assume you don't have enough money on you to pay for a taxi."
To be honest, I found it disgusting that I had nothing in my hand to counter it, and I deeply regretted having slapped too much money on the table just so I could follow the boy who was now causing me such an insane emotional chaos.
“If you don’t answer me now, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to get out. I can’t and don’t want to stay at a gas station all night.”
I finally gave in. "You can drop me off at the restaurant; I live less than two minutes away."
Aaron revved the bus's engine, and we rolled out of the lit gas station and back onto the dark road.
We remained silent. Without saying anything to me, Aaron suddenly pulled over, turned off the engine, and turned on the car lights. Then he turned to me. "Are you okay?" I asked. "I feel bad." I wasn't expecting that, but it didn't bother me. "Should I drive the rest of the way back?" I asked, with a hint of hope in my voice. What would be better than driving my favorite car myself than just sitting there doing nothing as a passenger? "That's not what I mean!" He looked deep into my eyes, but I couldn't interpret his expression. "I'm kissing you, and I expect it's okay. Especially since it was your first kiss."
How did Aaron know? I didn't tell him. At least, I wouldn't know. But what reason would I have to tell him, a boy? Can you tell whether someone has already kissed you or not? I didn't know the answer to that. After a few moments, he continued. "I have no right to just yell at you."
“It’s okay!” I replied, trying to escape this awkward situation.
"To get back to your question: That was the reason I freaked out in the bar earlier. I'm gay."
It didn't bother me at all, he seemed to see it too.
"You can see it in my face, too, and I'm open about it. He just isn't. He's..." Aaron paused. "He was my boyfriend. We've been together for a good two years now. I'm just not someone who hides who I am. I live out who I am. I can't change it anyway. I need a partner who's as confident as I am, or I'd have to love him damn hard. I guess I don't love him enough..."
I didn't know what to say. It wasn't necessary, because he kept talking. "I actually thought I was serious about him, which is why I planned a huge trip to introduce him to my family. All over Europe. And finally to America. That's where I would have asked for his hand in marriage."
I felt goosebumps running down my back.
"Now I'm pedaling alone, and this old car," he tapped the steering wheel, "is starting the trip. I told all my family and friends that I wasn't coming alone, but that I wanted to introduce them to the love of my life. Now I can say that was all a mistake."
I could see a tear running down his cheek. Without being able to do anything about it, I simply kissed him away, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He smiled at me. "Karma!" he said. "You believe in karma?" I asked, surprised. "Of course!" Then we kissed passionately again. This kiss was even better than the first. My whole body trembled as he slowly and carefully pushed his tongue into my mouth. It took a while before we could pull away. He smiled at me. His eyes sparkled, but this time, thank God, with tenderness. He revved the engine again and drove on. After a few minutes, we were standing in front of the restaurant again, but it was already closed. "I hope to see you again!" Aaron said. "Sure, when?" I asked immediately. "In 6 months. Is Tuesday convenient for you?" Aaron laughed. I wasn't expecting that answer at all. I was completely perplexed. "I'm leaving in two days, and I have a lot to do before then. I'm sorry."
I could honestly say that I had never been so sad in my life, although there had certainly been sadder moments in my life.
"I'm going to the Harz Mountains first. To visit my grandma." I sobbed. It was unintentional, and I couldn't hold it back. Embarrassing! Aaron kissed me goodbye. When our lips parted, I said something I hadn't thought about. As I said, I react from my gut, not what my head tells me is reasonable. "Will you ask for my hand in marriage at the end of this trip?