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Trains
'May 16, 2017, 5:44 a.m., large square, 186 444,' I jotted down in my notebook. Or more precisely, in the Excel list on my smartphone. I'd encountered such a striking locomotive as the 186 444 several times before, but it was the first time in such wonderful light of the rising sun.
Many of my classmates thought I was an idiot: "Whaaat? You get up so early just to watch trains?" was what they would regularly say. A teacher once even remarked in front of the entire class that I was a "weird guy." I don't mind the teasing anymore, but without my friend Dominik, I would probably be a total outsider and loner!
Sometimes I still felt lonely, but when I stood completely free in "my" meadow on such a beautiful morning, a gentle breeze conjuring goosebumps on my skin, feeling the dew on the grass beneath my bare feet, and then a train rushing through this landscape, I forgot everything around me, because then the world belonged to me alone! It was simply an uplifting, exciting feeling.
"Quirin," Dominik's voice tore me from my dream world. I had no idea what he was doing here so early! Suddenly he was standing in front of me, staring at me with his mouth open! I suddenly became aware of my situation and quickly grabbed my clothes.
"Are you out of your mind?" he whistled at me. "If only someone had come here instead of me!"
“Then I’d be screwed,” I whispered after I had at least awkwardly put on some pants and a T-shirt.
"You can say that out loud! You're already an extremist, you know that? I look for trains too, but not like that!" he blurted out, shaking his head.
At that moment, the next train from Rosenheim arrived. The white stripes on the locomotive seemed to glow in the sunrise light, allowing me to immediately identify it as 186 443. I quickly jotted down 'May 16, 2017, 6:09 a.m., Großkaro, 186 443'. What a wonderful coincidence that the next train was hauled by the direct sister of the locomotive from before.
A grin on Dominik's face signaled relaxation. He, too, was now enjoying this wonderful image of a train in the picture-perfect landscape. He had his SLR with him, of course, and immediately shot a series. As always, I made do with my phone, from which I could immediately upload all the usable images.

People
Dominik and I had known each other since kindergarten and had spent at least half of our lives together. Three or four years ago, when we discovered our love of trains as an additional commonality, we were only really separated at night. 'I wonder if he's gay, too?' flashed through my mind once again. Otherwise, we knew everything about each other, but we'd always avoided intimate topics. I have no idea why. Our 'socialization' in this cramped, strictly Catholic town was probably the reason for this. On the other hand, we'd never hidden from each other and had often flooded one or two of our parents' bathrooms in a water fight. So we knew each other in all its various forms. That's why it wasn't really a shock for him earlier, or even a reason to laugh at me.
Nevertheless, I resolved to finally tell him the truth, although I was certain that this wouldn't change our relationship. Perhaps it would improve it even further if he... 'What nonsense,' I immediately dismissed this senseless hope.
"Quirin, you're dreaming again. Look what's coming!" he brought me back to reality.
"Cool!" I exclaimed delightedly, "the 103 245! What is it doing here? It's usually on the Ulm IC in the morning!"
"Not when there's a special train coming up. Look at the carriages! A beige-red TEE, even the Domecar is there!"
After I had captured this train on camera and phone, and I had added 'May 16, 2017, 6:28 a.m., Großkaro, 103 245 with the historic T(rans) E(uropa) E(xpress)' to my list, Dominik blew the whistle for departure: "Get moving, you lame duck, or we'll be late for school!"
"Yeah, dude, what are you doing so stressing about? Our Meridian doesn't leave for another hour."
“Yes, but until we always have our stuff together...”
I laughed, gathered the rest of my clothes, and slipped into my sneakers. Once I got home—we lived practically next door to each other—I got properly dressed and grabbed my backpack with my school supplies.
Since my mother's sudden death, I lived alone with Dad in this huge hut, but neither he nor I wanted to leave; we were too overwhelmed by the many good and beautiful memories...
Dominik lived right next door with his family: his parents and his brother, who was now four years older. His slightly older sister had moved in with her ex-boyfriend (now her husband) years ago. I think Dominik was even the uncle of two nephews.
Almost simultaneously, we were back on the street and making our way to the train station. At a quarter past seven, we found ourselves among a horde of students, all of whom were headed to Rosenheim. As always, we headed for the end of the platform, hoping to catch another train if necessary. By then, our classmates weren't even paying us any attention.
Things used to be different, and I don't know what I would have done without Dominik. I was always a loner and didn't care what others did or thought.
When I became intensely interested in trains and spent every free minute at the station, I suddenly became not only a loner to the others, but also an oddball whose weakness made me easy to tease. On top of that, everyone suddenly started calling me "Schwuli," and I just wondered how they knew. Of course, they didn't. "Schwul" simply meant weak, and because I didn't react at all, it was obvious, especially to the biggest idiots in the class.
At some point, things escalated, and suddenly four of them were standing around me and started pushing me around. Before they started hitting me, Dominik intervened vehemently and threatened to beat anyone who came anywhere near me. Dominik has always been a real bear. He was still agile and our sports ace, which earned him everyone's respect. So, I had peace and quiet from then on. Thanks, Dominik!
About a year earlier, such teasing and physical violence had prompted me to set up a WhatsApp group as a kind of “virtual self-help group” so that we could at least encourage each other a little and, in extreme cases, organize practical help if the teasing escalated into outright bullying.

School
So we waited for our train, and lo and behold: Before it arrived, a freight train rushed past toward Rosenheim, again hauled by the "Harlequin" locomotive 186 444. After taking the obligatory photo with my phone, I added notes to my electronic notebook.
Shortly thereafter, the "Meridian" arrived, taking us to Rosenheim, our beloved educational institution. First, two hours of German, then a history and religion lesson, finally a double lesson of math, and after lunch, computer science and two hours of sports—that's our program for today.
All in all, it was unspectacular, except for the fact that our religious education teacher, of all people, once again made a derogatory and mocking remark about my "pointless and childish" leisure activity. Apparently, this particular guy thought he could score points with the others by verbally attacking the supposedly weakest one. But by now, he's only gotten a few tired laughs for it.
The sports lessons at the end of the day were really good: we played basketball, which I've always enjoyed. Surprisingly, I was pretty good at it (unlike soccer), and I wasn't the last one to be "chosen" for the team! The sweat was pouring down, and the mood was great.
Afterward, most people headed straight home, but I treated myself to a relaxing shower, as always. Even after judo, which I now practiced twice a week, it was natural for me from the start to shower; it was always normal for me.
At school, it was only since last year that a few people dared to take a dip in the cleansing water, but I was usually alone and enjoyed it all the more, as was the case this time. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that two showers down from me, someone else had finally found their way here. I realized that this was, of all people, our biggest asshole: Sepp, the very same guy who had so abruptly called me a faggot back then. At first glance, he didn't look so bad, but as a person, he was simply a complete nonentity. I didn't pay much attention to him until I noticed that he had a pretty decent boner sticking out of the water. Almost inevitably, I stared in his direction, which he, of course, noticed and immediately snapped at me:
"Don't stare like that, faggot! Just because I'm pushing a pipe here doesn't make me gay!"
I just rolled my eyes and turned off the water, since I was already done. I grabbed my towel and headed to the locker room. I realized I'd forgotten my shower gel and quickly went to get it. However, I heard unmistakable noises that prevented me from entering the washroom immediately. A short time later, Sepp appeared in the doorway and grinned at me provocatively:
“So? Did that turn you on?” he asked, almost a little too kindly.
I just shook my head and frowned, whereupon he stood in front of me and, as if by chance, his bath towel slid to the floor.
“Admit it!” he whispered in a strange tone.
Fortunately, I immediately found my voice again:
"Don't think you're weak, Sepp! You're not my type!" I retorted, bursting out laughing when I realized his dejected expression. But what did he do? He put on a very smug smile and simply hissed:
“Well, if someone stands naked in a meadow early in the morning and looks at trains…!”
As if struck by lightning, I turned around and got dressed as quickly as possible. A thousand thoughts raced through my head. Had he actually seen me? After all, he wasn't the only one? Or was it just a shot in the dark? Without looking back, I left the school and ran as fast as I could to the train station. Luckily, my Meridian from Kufstein was just pulling in, and I was spared another confrontation—at least for today!

Alarm
Once home, I continued to ponder what Sepp really knew and whether he and his gang of idiots were constantly watching me. And then these strange impulses after sports today. Of course, I couldn't come to any sensible conclusion.
The WhatsApp gong tore me from my thoughts.
A message from “BigBoy4014”, whose real name was Fabian:
'Hi Quirin, I actually didn't want to get up today! I can barely stand the people around me anymore. Everyone wants something from me: Fabi, do this, Fabi, do that! And then this Bernhard: Whenever no one is around, he threatens me: "I'll finish you off, you victim!" He's constantly pushing me around or tripping me up. Those who notice either laugh themselves silly or look away. I don't know what to do anymore.
Only when I stand on the footbridge over our marshalling yard and the trains rush by beneath me do I feel comfortable and strangely free. Lately, I've been feeling the urge to take off my clothes, weird? Of course I don't. You know, the other day I saw the Prussian T18 for the first time, you know, the 78 468 from Eisenbahn-Tradition. They used to offer special steam trains here.
For the second time today, I felt very hot when I read about Fabian's feelings. Somehow, I felt caught out again. Without responding , I wrote back:
'BigBoy4014, forget about these ignorant people! You know you're not alone in this world with your hobby. I caught the 103 245 today, completely unexpectedly! You've probably already seen the picture! I have to come to Koblenz now, then I'll take a look at the DB Museum with you; there are so many great locomotives there!'
Immediately I could read:
'Hey 'Mister 15000 Volt' (that was my WhatsApp nickname), that would be great! What are you doing on vacation?'
'Oh dear, everything's already planned! I have to go back to my grandma's. You know, she's not feeling very well, and Dad always says, 'This might be the last time, and if you don't come, you'll blame yourself for the rest of your life.' I don't believe that, but he still manages to make me feel guilty! But maybe during the fall break!'
'Oh man! That's still ages away! But hey, I'm looking forward to it! Take care, cu!'
'Thanks Fabi, sleep well!'

Revelations
Shortly afterwards, as I lay in bed, I thought again of Sepp, the Asshole. What could that mean? And above all: what was going to happen? What if he had actually seen me on Trainspotting? But why would he have done that? And then that spectacle in the shower. I would be really embarrassed to jerk off in the school showers, although that would never occur to me. So either he has a lot of self-confidence and thinks he can get away with anything, or he's somehow onto me. No matter how I looked at it, I couldn't get anywhere and finally fell asleep.
In my dream, I relived the scene from this afternoon in the shower after exercise. Only this time, Sepp came up to me and grabbed little Quirin as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and I noticed that his little friend was standing there looking like a dream.
I jumped up, woke up, and sat upright in bed. That was it: Sepp was gay! Could that be true? There was no way he would ever admit it, not to his friends, not even to himself! I decided to observe him a little more closely, even though I wasn't really that interested in him.
I fell asleep again much more peacefully, until this time the alarm clock tore me from my dreamless, deep sleep. Today, for once, I wouldn't watch any trains; I was still too scared that Sepp might have seen me doing it.
I rang Dominik's doorbell to pick him up for school.
"Hi Q, where were you earlier? You really missed something! Not only did a freight train with the crocodile *) pass by today, but I also ran into Sepp, who was very interested in asking about this locomotive and casually asked if you were coming today. It was kind of strange. But the E 94 279 *) looked fantastic; they didn't skimp on it in Munich, so they refurbished it as a heritage locomotive!"
I quickly replied that I wasn't in the mood today, which made him raise an eyebrow in disbelief. But the fact that Sepp was actually hanging around our photo meadow made me even more uncomfortable.
We arrived at the train station in silence, where almost all of our classmates from Großkaro were already waiting for transport to Rosenheim. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sepp sizing me up.
"Man, Q, what's wrong with you? You're not saying a thing today." I heard Dominik's voice muffled and far away. When he didn't get a response, he nudged me:
“Hello, anyone home?”
“Uh… sorry Domi, what did you say?”
He just rolled his eyes: "You're pretty out of sorts today. Would you mind telling me what's going on?"
"Nothing, what's wrong?" I was probably all I could think to say at the moment, and at the same time I sensed that my boyfriend would rather shake me. "I'll tell you later, okay?" I quickly added. Dominik nodded, not particularly satisfied with this statement.
Although the Meridian came with a double five-person unit, it was more packed than ever that morning.
I decided to stop pondering for the time being and concentrated on catching a glimpse of the Meridian replacement train in Rosenheim, which should be arriving from Kufstein at any moment: These were classic commuter cars pulled by a Lokomotion locomotive, temporarily replacing the multiple units destroyed in the serious train accident in Bad Aibling. Ha! Today, the "Triple-Seven," hauled by 193 777, was the last of the eight Siemens Vectrons that Lokomotion has taken delivery of this year. In its beige color, this locomotive seemed somewhat gloomy, and the red stripes on one side and the blue stripes on the other side of the locomotive didn't improve the impression. 'May 17, 2017, 6:59 a.m., Rosenheim,' I added. It was fascinating how punctually these replacement trains ran. It's a shame that this would only last until the end of the year. By then, the new multiple units would have been delivered.
“Where were you today?” Sepp’s voice tore me from my daydreams, although he whispered the question rather than yelled it out.
“Why, I’m here,” I said naively.
“You know exactly what I meant,” he whispered.
“Sepp, what do you want from me?” I whispered back.
“You!” he hissed barely audibly, and that was one of the reasons why I couldn’t believe my ears.
Without waiting for any further comment from me, he left me standing there.
I stared after him, rooted to the spot and open-mouthed.
“Shut your mouth, it’s drafty!” Domi promptly said, and he added, “Did you see a ghost?”
“Something like that,” I said, pulling myself together and turning on my heel.
"Quirin! Stop! Damn it! Stop, man! You can't just run away now, Quiriiiin!" Dominik called after me, grabbing my arm roughly.
“That’s enough, tell me immediately!” he bleated, glaring at me angrily.
“Okay,” I resigned, “come with me, let’s sit at Café Moser.”
Domi followed me without a word. I ordered us two cappuccinos and now put everything on the line: "Domi... I'm gay," I blurted out, staring into my cup. I cautiously glanced in his direction and saw only the encouraging blinking eyes of my oldest friend.
“So?” he grinned at me.
“Can’t you think of anything else?” I tried to coax him out of his shell.
“Man Q, I’ve known that for a long time, don’t you have any news?”
"Huh? That's all you have to say about it? Anyway, how did you come up with that? Do I seem like a sissy or something? I can't believe it. I've been fretting for years about how best to explain this to you, and you act like you already know! This can't be true!"
"Yes, Quirin, it can. And no, you don't seem like it at all. But man, I've known you for 14 years! We've never talked about anything too personal, which I've always regretted, by the way, but I didn't want to get on your nerves and hoped that you'd come around someday. You've done that now, and I'm happy about it! Who knows anyway?"
“Nobody!” I replied meekly.
Dominik then hugged me without saying a word. We sat there for a while, sorting out our thoughts and feelings. When he let go, he just nodded and sipped his cappuccino.
“And I think it’s Sepp too!” I blurted out.
"What now? The asshole? Oh, nonsense! Never, you're imagining it!"
I couldn't help but grin because my long-time friend had the same title for Sepp as I did.
"I don't think I'm imagining it!" and proceeded to recount everything that had happened since yesterday. When I finished, Dominik looked at me for a long time and finally said, "I still don't believe that. He just wants to destroy you as soon as you jump on it! Please, please be careful and don't let yourself be provoked! He's a total left-wing bastard! I once overheard some of the hate speech he spouts against gays."
“Oh man!” I groaned, “but the worst part is that he probably saw me mocking!”
“So what?” Domi asked innocently, but immediately afterwards he added, “Sh…! Are you sure?”
“At least he addressed it directly and maliciously.”
“And now?” Domi looked at me helplessly.
"I don't know. I'm afraid I'll have to wait and see what happens! Let's go to class."

assault
I quickly paid our bill and we crossed the street to our excellent educational institution. We arrived at Dr. Line's math class just in time for second period. Since "Fips," our history teacher Mr. Fiebig, wasn't too serious about attendance control in the first period, our absence wasn't even noticed by the faculty. But Sepp, the asshole, did, and he eyed us suspiciously.
Amazingly, the following period passed without further incident. Until the following week's sports lesson:
Although I hadn't forgotten the events, I had largely repressed them as I stood alone in the shower at our gym after a sweaty sixty minutes of volleyball. Suddenly, the door burst open, and Sepp stormed in. He grabbed me and pinned me down by forcing my head under the exposed pipes of the row of sinks in the middle of the room. He had brutally twisted one of my arms behind my back. Since I was physically inferior to him, I had no chance to move or even defend myself. Suddenly, I realized what he was planning.
“Please don’t,” I begged, but he just grunted:
"What's wrong with you? That's what you disgusting cocksuckers always want!"
I felt him positioning his hard cock.
I screamed as loud as I could.
Once again the door was flung open, but this time Mr. Baric was standing in the washroom, yelling: “What’s going on here?”
Sepp reacted quickly, let go of me, and shouted, "That faggot wanted me to give him a good time!" With a contemptuous gesture, he was about to leave. Uncontrollable rage boiled up inside me, and with all my might, my fist flew into his face. Like a classic knockout, Sepp sprawled on the ground.
I almost thought I had noticed an admiring look in Mr. Baric’s eyes before he barked at me:
"Quirin, what's going on? Have you lost your mind?"
Only now did I realize my unflattering attire in front of a teacher and quickly turned around for the towel I wanted to use to cover my nakedness. But as if on an ice rink, my legs were pulled out from under me and I landed in a high arc on the floor next to Sepp. I felt Mr. Baric trying to catch me, but he failed, and the lights went out.
A seemingly infinite calm spread; everything became light and dazzlingly bright – I was floating. "Quirin! Quirin, my darling!" I heard my mom call. "What are you doing here?"
I was just about to answer her when everything around me went dark again.
I tried to open my eyes and looked into a bright light.
“Dr. Scheuring, he’s coming to!” I heard, as if wrapped in cotton wool.
"Ah! Good. Hello Quirin, nice to have you back," I heard a youthful voice say from an unidentifiable direction.
I wanted to answer and ask at the same time, but it wasn't possible.
"Slow down. Don't talk!" the voice warned me. "You may have a concussion. You fell pretty hard, but thanks to your gym teacher, it was relatively easy. Now recover, and then we'll see what happens."
I wondered what he meant by that when my memory suddenly returned. Sepp! Then I drifted off again.
The next time I woke up, I looked into Domi's face, who was smiling at me a little crookedly with a mixture of worry and confidence.
“Hi,” I said clearly.
“Hi Quirin,” he said, and immediately it bubbled out of him:
“You really gave it to him!”
“Who did I give what to?”
"Well, the asshole! You knocked him out like a dream!" Then he paused and continued quietly: "You're saying he tried to rape you...?"
I sighed:
"Domi, I don't know, but probably. What happens now?"
"Hmm, I guess it depends on you. If you report him, he'll probably go to jail, even though he's only seventeen. In any case, he'll get expelled from school."
"What an asshole! But I don't think I'll file a complaint!"
"What?" Dominik shouted in surprise. "Hey, if Baric hadn't happened to be there, he would have done who knows what to you. Maybe he would have killed you to cover his tracks! Then that asshole would have you on his conscience."
"Now calm down," I countered, almost amused by my best friend's imagination. "You watch too many bad crime shows!"
Dominik just rolled his eyes.
“I want to talk to Sepp!”
"What do you want? Are you completely crazy now? What do you want to say to him? Anyway, what's the point?"
“I have no idea!” I rolled my eyes, “I want to hear what he has to say about it!”
"But that doesn't help! This asshole is a homophobic asshole who's also violent!"
"That may all be true!" I continued, suddenly feeling calm and quite sure of myself: "I think he's gay too, and that's why he hates himself the most. If he gets convicted, he'll kill himself!"
“So what? Let him!”
"Dominik!" I screamed at my friend, stunned, making him jump. I was startled myself and continued, a little more calmly: "Domi, if I'm right, he's a prisoner of himself! Just think about the circles he moves in! He basically doesn't know what to do!"
"I can't believe it! First he rapes you and you defend him! Hey, you're not a Holy Samaritan."
"No, I'm not. Besides, he didn't rape me. I want to talk to him! That's it!" I said defiantly. Dominik's response was no less defiant:
"Well, Q, the police want to talk to you tomorrow anyway. Then you can repeat that nonsense to them! I have to go home now. Get well soon!"
It made me very sad that my old friend Dominik judged so arrogantly.

escalation
The WhatsApp gong interrupted my thoughts.
"Hi Mr. 15000V, today we had the steam engine in physics, and I was supposed to explain it. As I was standing at the blackboard, I suddenly heard Bernhard say, 'Oh, our gay guy must be putting a lot of pressure on the piston,' and everyone, including our teacher, started yelling. Then I made the same mistake again and just ran away. Quirin, I can't take this anymore! I think I'll hang myself. The world doesn't need me, and I don't need the world!"
I immediately wrote back:
"Hey BigBoy4014, please don't do that! Go to your guidance counselor! Who am I supposed to write to when you're gone?" I considered telling him my current story, but something inside me resisted it.
The bell rang again:
"Haha! Which trust teacher? That's our physics teacher! You can forget about that!"
Oh shit, I thought, and decided to tell him my story after all. Of course, it took a while, so I kept sending him partial messages to keep him busy.
In the end, he answered me with “Oh, wow, man” at least twenty times.
Finally, as if nothing had happened, he wrote that he would go back to school tomorrow.
Although I wasn't entirely sure, my impression was that he had recovered somewhat, even if the situation wasn't really over.

Caught
As Dominik had already announced, I received a visit the next day from our village policeman, POM Winklscherer. This wasn't a problem, as Sebastian Winklscherer was a good friend of the family, meaning he and Dad had known each other since childhood, much like Dominik and I. But that wasn't a given, of course, since he was also my mother's ex. It's a village, after all! But they had parted ways amicably at the time.
However, Dr. Scheuring wanted to talk to me in detail beforehand.
“Quirin, do you feel comfortable speaking to the police?”
“Yeah sure, why shouldn’t I?”
“Well...?” he suddenly wavered uncertainly.
“I know he wanted to rape me!” I anticipated him
"Oookaay..." came the drawn-out reply. "So, what are you going to do now?" he asked curiously.
“I’ll try to have a conversation with Sepp, Josef Hofbauer, first!” I said confidently, whereupon Dr. Scheuring looked at me as if I were crazy.
“As you wish, but only under supervision!” he determined.
"Let's see! When is Bastian coming, I mean Mr. Winklscherer?"
"He's already waiting outside!" Dr. Scheuring surprised me and turned to the door. There, he turned around again and admonished me: "Don't overexert yourself! Your nerves aren't as stable as you might think!"
"Yes, yes," I reassured, but immediately noticed my slip-up and apologized profusely, my face turning increasingly red. Dr. Scheuring finally said with a laugh:
“Now it’s all good,” and left the room shaking his head.
As soon as he was outside, there was a knock and without waiting for an answer, Basti stood in the middle of the room.
“You have it pretty ugly here,” he joked.
“Yes, yes,” I grumbled again, only this time it wasn’t a problem because Basti had known me long enough.
“Joker,” he grinned, then continued seriously: “So, what was that between you and Sepp?”
"Well, good question! I want to talk to him!"
“Hmm, Quirin, so he’s right about what he says!”
"What? What's he saying?" I looked at Basti, somewhat irritated. He just frowned and continued:
"He claims that you told him to 'get it on properly'!"
I looked into his eyes, astonished: “And you believe him?”
"Well, according to what you just said! However, he didn't exactly hold back and called you gay scum, etc. And finally, there's the statement from your teacher, what was his name again?"
„Baric“
"Yeah, right! He said Sepp probably wanted to rape you. Do you want to report him?"
“Actually, I want to talk to him first!” I affirmed, which once again earned me a look that clearly suggested the observer doubted my sanity.
"Do you think you can arrange that?" I looked questioningly at Basti. I seemed to have taken the good guy by surprise, because he thought for a while before replying:
"So, if you don't file a report... I'll try hard to persuade him to talk to you. However, I can't guarantee success!"
"Good, thanks!"
"That's it for now! Take care, Quirin, and get well soon! Oh, here's my card if anything happens," he said goodbye.
I was dozing and pondering when Dominik suddenly came rumbling through the door.
"Good morning Q. How are you today?" he asked without taking a breath.
“Thanks, pretty good,” I grumbled, “at least I think so.”
“Aha,” he simply said.
"When are you/I actually getting out?" we asked simultaneously, laughing. We looked at each other somewhat perplexed when Hannes, the Bufdi, popped in as if on cue.
“Hannes, do you know when I’m being released?”
"Uh... well, we haven't talked about that yet. But I'll find out!" he promised, and disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.
I explained to Dominik that Basti, our village policeman, would try to arrange a meeting between me and Sepp; to which he just shook his head and said:
“Q, you are an incorrigible optimist and far too good for this world.”
“Nonsense,” I countered, “I just think that Sepp is basically a poor bastard who doesn’t know what to do.”
Dominik rolled his eyes again and looked at me almost pityingly.
The tight schedule of hospital life now called for lunch. Today we had lasagna with a small salad, which was actually quite tasty, but also—let's just say—rather light on the menu. I could easily have eaten twice as much. When Hannes came to get the empty dishes and routinely asked if they were tasty, I replied:
“Yes, but who would be able to eat that?”
He just laughed and replied, "You're lucky, there's a portion left. Wait..." and then he put the same thing on my table again. I slipped out of bed again and received a smug grin from Dominik.
"What?" I asked hypocritically, knowing he was again amused by the "backless" hospital gown I was still wearing. I wiggled my butt a little, and Dominik burst out laughing.
"Well, if I were gay, that would probably turn me on pretty badly," he said with a somewhat helpless and crooked grin. I looked into my best friend's eyes, somewhat thoughtful. Then I managed a genuine smile and said, "That's a shame, Domi, but what else could I expect? Coincidences like that don't happen."
In a flash, the extra portion had changed locations: from the plate to my stomach, which now felt satisfied but not overfilled. Hannes had barely cleared the tray when there was a knock.
"Yes, please."
Basti stuck his head in.
"May we come in?" - a rhetorical question, because he was already pushing Sepp and himself through the door. Sepp looked terribly worn out, and not just because of his bruise. He and Dominik glared angrily at each other.
"See you later, Q. I'm off," he announced, practically sprinting off. That disappointed me; he could have at least asked if he should stay. Well, then. I tried to make eye contact with Sepp, but he avoided me. I thought I noticed a flash of excitement when he noticed my outfit. I quickly slipped into bed.
“Can I leave you alone?” Basti asked, probably sensing that this was exactly what I had wanted to ask him, and at the same time he pushed a chair towards Sepp – at a safe distance from me.
“I think so,” I said, watching Sepp closely.
Then Basti turned to me:
“And now you take the call button in your hand!” he ordered in a sharp tone.
"And at the slightest thing, you ring the bell! I'll be waiting outside your door!"
“Yes, that’s good!” I confirmed somewhat uncertainly.
Sepp flinched slightly at the somewhat loud and bold words. He still avoided all eye contact, while I practically stared at him. We remained silent for what felt like an eternity. I noticed myself becoming increasingly calm, while Sepp seemed increasingly fidgety. Then he couldn't take it anymore:
"Quirin," he began hesitantly, "Quirin, I don't know what to say... It's... I don't know how this could have happened." Suddenly, he looked at me with glazed eyes. I had to restrain myself from suddenly feeling sorry for the person opposite me.
"Say something... Please," he said meekly. All his usual bravado vanished. I decided to go on the offensive:
"Sepp. Everyone expects me to report you now." Fear and panic were etched in his face. I had never seen him like that before, and I was putting everything on the line:
"But the way I've seen you lately, you give me the impression that you're gay, which you obviously can't tell anyone, absolutely no one, not even yourself. You're practically a prisoner of yourself." Fear flared up in him again, then he practically slumped. Luckily, he was already sitting down, otherwise he probably would have hit the floor.
“Yes,” he squeaked, and I couldn’t believe my ears.
"And why are you so scared of it? Who do you think would want to mess with a bear like you, just because you're gay?" He looked up in surprise, and I continued: "Why do you macho men always think that the whole world would conspire against you if you ever showed your feelings? Hmm? That's sick!" I slowly worked myself into a rage. Sepp lowered his eyes; he was nothing but the famous heap of misery.

Free
"Sepp, look at me!" I snapped at him. He raised his head in shock. "I don't think I can excuse what you did, but if you would at least come out to our class, maybe we could bring this story to an orderly conclusion."
"How is that supposed to work? If I told anyone, it would spread like wildfire!" he practically blurted out. Now I was astonished and thought:
"Well, I guess we'll just have to live with the risk of being outed. That's been bothering me for a long time," I admitted.
"Ha! That means you're actually gay!" he suddenly exclaimed triumphantly. I looked at him confidently and sharply. "As much or as little as you!" I grinned at him, baring my teeth. Again he flinched.
"Okay, you're right. Does that mean you're going to come out to the class, too?" He narrowed his eyes at me. There it was: the question of all questions. The more I actively grappled with it, the more certain I became:
"I think so. However, we should NOT stand in front of the class and make some kind of declaration. Straight people don't do that either. We should convey this to our friends and families as unspectacularly as possible. If we're honest, there are hundreds of opportunities to do so!"
"You're completely crazy! If I tell anyone at home about this, my father will beat me black!"
"Sepp! Don't exaggerate! You're almost eighteen years old, do you seriously think your father will still beat you?" I asked, almost amused. Sepp suddenly smiled at me:
"Hmm. Well. Not really. Still: You don't know him! He's unpredictable. At the very least, he'll kick me out!" That sounded pretty depressing in the end.
“There is no other option, is there?” he finally asked, torn.
“Do you see one?” I tried to coax him out of his shell.
"No, but something completely different: Will you take me train spotting next time?" I must have looked at him a bit stunned by this surprising change of subject, which is why he grinned at me cheekily. Now I narrowed my eyes and looked at him sideways:
“How come?”, although I was already aware of his lustful thoughts in this context.
“Oh, so be it!” he grinned, feigning innocence.
“Ye ...
Finally, we both burst out laughing and couldn't stop laughing.
The door to the room opened with a bang, and Dr. Scheuring, followed by Sebastian Winklscherer, stormed in. They paused, astonished. The doctor was the first to regain his composure and asked, quite skeptical:
“What kind of theater is being played here?”
"A drama with a somewhat conciliatory ending. At least, I hope so!" I reported, although for the first time since the day before yesterday, I felt my bottom sore. My movements stopped all conversation; both Sepp and Dr. Scheuring apparently knew about it. With a harsh "Get out now," the latter ordered everyone else out of the room.
"Turn around," he ordered me succinctly. Reluctantly, I did as he told me.
He started to fondle me unpleasantly.
“But there can’t be anything there!” I said, half angrily, half uncertainly.
"Well, Quirin, that's true about your butt, but your tailbone will bother you for a few more days. Longer, at least, than Mr. Hofbauer's black eye."
“Hmm,” I grumbled, “when can I go home?”
"Oh, I thought..." he teased, "you'd never ask! No, nonsense, since it wasn't a concussion, there's nothing stopping us from letting you jump tomorrow morning!"
“Well, that sounds good!”
“Now rest a little longer, I have the impression that the last few hours have not left you completely unscathed!”
As soon as he said that, I realized he was right and pressed myself into my pillow. As I left, Dr. Scheuring warned those waiting outside to keep it brief and leave me alone as soon as possible. Meanwhile, Dominik had reappeared, and the three of them were standing there, as if they had been called but not picked up. Sepp glanced at me ruefully, or so it seemed to me. Dominik, too, was no longer as hostile as he had been three hours ago.
“What now?” Basti asked a little nervously.
“Nothing, what’s wrong?” I replied almost provocatively, and added “Everything’s fine!”, although one certainly couldn’t say that yet.
“Thank you, Quirin!” came Sepp’s honest reply.
Basti and Dominik looked extremely skeptical, but thankfully they held back.
“I'll be out of here tomorrow morning,” I managed to say before my eyes closed.
“Then sleep well! Servus Quirin,” I just heard the others say.

Paps
When I woke up from a deep sleep, it took a while to realize where I was and that I must have missed dinner. Thankfully, however, the tray had been left on the table, where Dad had meanwhile taken a seat. He was engrossed in my tablet PC.
When I thought about what he might have found there to read, my blood rushed to my head.
"Hello, my son, you were sleeping soundly. I've been sitting here for an hour and it hasn't been quiet at all. But nothing woke you up. Interesting website you have there!" My head had become more of a tomato. Dad had to laugh.
“Man, Quirin, I haven’t seen you this embarrassed in a long time!”
“Uhh…” was all I could manage right now, more than a croak.
"Nick Stories," my dad read, probably to buy me some time. "Trainspotting—what's that?" he asked, looking puzzled.
“These are railway enthusiasts who spend hours watching trains and sometimes documenting it!” I explained, adding, “Just like me!”
“Aha,” grumbled Dad, “and the other one is just like you?”
"Um, yeah. Dad..." suddenly tears welled up in my eyes.
"Shh, Quirin, boy. No reason to worry. I wasn't swimming around on the stinging soup either, even though I'm thirty years older than you. Since it's just the two of us, I've been watching you even more closely! Not in a controlled way or anything, don't get me wrong. It was simply important to me to always know how you were doing. And a father notices a lot of things that maybe only a mother would have noticed otherwise. But I've talked to her intensively about you, especially since she got her diagnosis. She knew very early on that we probably couldn't expect any grandchildren from you. But it was never a disappointment or anything. She kept saying, 'I hope he's happy.' And on her deathbed, her last words were, 'Take good care of our boy. You have to watch closely; he's not as tough as he always claims to be.'"
That was too much: We both howled like dogs. Dad had come over by then, and we just held each other for a while. Suddenly, he laughed really wickedly:
"When you were fifteen or so, she caught you and Domi having one of your bath fights. You had forgotten to lock the door, and she needed something from the bathroom. An open bathroom was always normal for us back then. Anyway, she was startled, but a quick glance at her son was enough to accurately assess his mood..."
Is there anything redder than a tomato?
“That can't be true,” I defended myself, “we never had anything with Domi, he's not gay...”
Oops, now it's out. "Besides, I only realized that about a year ago!"
"I believe you, but your mom already knew. And I've known it for a while, too!"
"Why are you all always so cool about this? I rack my brains with questions like 'why me' and 'what do I do now?' and then you all act like it's the most normal thing in the world."
“Why, who else?” - my father again!
“Well, Domi, he was the first person I dared to tell a few days ago!”
"Oh?! And me? When would you have been kind enough to tell me?" he acted exaggeratedly offended.
“Oh, Dad,” I groaned.
"Oh, Quirin. Everything's fine. It's normal for you to go to your best friend first. It's nice that he's taking it so easy. You know, I don't think this is a question of 'normal' or 'abnormal,' but above all of tolerance and acceptance. And that goes without saying! Everyone has to cope with their own life and find happiness. No one has the right to influence it from the outside! Your reaction shows how difficult it still is: You're ashamed, you're beating yourself up inside. That can't be right. Quirin, if you ever need support, please come to me immediately!" Now Dad became very serious and determined:
"What happened to you the day before yesterday must never happen again, do you hear! Never again. Wasn't there any warning?" Bitterness lingered in his voice.
I thought about it because I hadn't thought about it before.
“I don’t know, you can interpret a lot into it afterwards.”
"Why? What do you mean?"
"Well, Sepp was certainly strange to me, but I never would have thought he was capable of something like that. By the way, I had a long conversation with him today."
“You had what? Are you out of your mind?” my dad snapped at me.
"Man, what's wrong with all of you?" I snapped back. "You look for the most obvious thing, namely conversation, and you all act as if I'm crazy."
"Quirin! What's there to talk about? Someone like that should be locked away, it's that simple!"
I looked at my father in complete shock, shook my head and said very quietly:
"No, Dad, it isn't. Actually, I agreed with Sepp that he would say it himself, just between us, okay?" Dad didn't react.
“Just between you and me, okay?” and looked deep into his eyes.
“Yes, of course!” he replied, astonished.
"So, Sepp is also gay and has a huge problem with it. Until now, he hasn't even been able to admit it to himself, let alone those around him."
"What? Him and gay? Then he has a problem. Are you sure?"
"Well, those were just the signs. Anyway, today I told him straight out that I thought he was gay. He almost broke down and admitted it without discussion. We then discussed exactly what you had previously presented as so obvious. And that it's a problem in his entire environment. Anyway, we've firmly agreed that we'll come out gradually, meaning we won't post it on posters, but rather use the many small opportunities that constantly present themselves. If I were to report him, he wouldn't stand a chance. Please let's just let this go. Thank you!"
"Boy, you're the one affected. I just hope it works out the way you imagine!"
By now, my stomach was growling so loudly that even Dad noticed. So I slipped out of bed and sat down at the table. Dad also grinned openly when he saw me in this outfit; he even went one step further by saying:
“You’re a handsome boy, Quirin.”
A compliment like that from your father's mouth is enough to make you blush, right? Sighing, I devoured dinner in record time, which some kind soul must have topped up a bit. It certainly wasn't a normal hospital ration. Before I could climb back into bed, my father hugged me one last time and said goodbye, saying:
"Good night, little one, sleep well. I'll pick you up in the morning." Standing in the doorway, he added quietly, "I'm proud of you!"
"Thanks, Dad, see you tomorrow. Good night!"

BigBoy
This time I couldn't sleep right away, but instead reflected on today's conversations. Everything seemed to be going well, but I still wondered if it had all been inevitable. After all, Dominik had warned me.
Was I too careless?
My thoughts lingered on "my" WhatsApp group. It was supposed to help prevent exactly what had happened to me. But since I only told Fabian everything afterward and hadn't written to anyone else beforehand, I obviously couldn't expect any help from that group. Fabian!
I remembered the message in which he wrote about his urge to take off his clothes to trainspot. I felt strangely warm inside. The mere thought of it excited me. But I didn't want to give in to it now, because in the same message, Fabian reported essentially similar threats to the ones Sepp had made to me. I was able to calm him down by telling him my story, but was that enough? Slowly but surely, I began to have various doubts.
Then I had to grin again because I remembered a message from Fabian in which he was completely over the moon and told me that Union Pacific, a large railway company in the USA, now wants to restore a “BigBoy”, the largest steam locomotive in the world, to working order.
To do this, the engineers carefully examined all eight engines still in existence in various museums and determined that the one furthest from the UP's central workshop in Cheyenne would be the most suitable. They did have locomotive 4004 right outside in a park. However, this engine was submerged in water up to its engine several times during floods. Therefore, they suspected there was too much hidden damage there, especially to the bearings, so they decided not to repair them. After all, locomotive 4014 had survived its more than fifty years of storage in the mild Californian climate the best. With a major media presence, this locomotive was brought back to Cheyenne by rail in several stages in 2014.
It's scheduled to run again in 2019, for the 150th anniversary of the first transcontinental railroad. He would definitely want to be there.
That’s why he called himself “BigBoy4014” in our WhatsApp group.
Thoughts of BigBoy4014, aka Fabian, transported me to dreamland. I saw him standing on "his" railway bridge over the marshalling yard. He carefully placed his shoes first, then his socks and all his other clothing on top. He then checked the trains as usual and finally climbed onto the railing and flopped forward.
I jumped up and sat in bed, drenched in sweat.

disaster
Just at that moment, my phone’s WhatsApp chime rang.
"Quirin, five of them just ambushed me, chased me through the park, and finally beat me, even when I was already on the ground. Luckily, a patrol came and they fled. But before they could do that, Bernhard shouted to me that next time they'd stake me and get me. I'm going to go to my trains now. Farewell, Mr. 15000V."
My blood ran cold. I immediately wrote back:
"Hi Fabi, that's terrible. Didn't they take you to the hospital first?"
Normally, another message should arrive within a minute. But Fabian didn't respond.
“Hello Fabian, please get in touch!”
Again anxious minutes passed without any sign of life.
Then I tried to call him. I got a dial tone, and after about ten calls, I heard a message saying the person I was calling was not answering.
“I notice that too!” I screamed desperately into my phone.
A glance at the clock showed 2:12 a.m.
'Shit, shit, shit, what do I do now?'
Basti! He seemed to me to be the only one who might be able to do something.
Unfortunately, I hadn't saved his number yet.
'Shit, where did I put the damn card?' and rummaged in the small drawer,
'That can't be true! Ruling side'
I rummaged through it again, just as nervously as I had just rummaged through the small stack of papers, from which the piece I was looking for now fell out. I grabbed it and typed with shaky fingers.
'Oh shit, man!' I kept typing. Finally, I got the damn number on my display and tapped dial.
'I hope he's still awake.' 'What nonsense, Quirin, it's the middle of the night,' I dismissed the thought immediately. After only two rings, he answered:
“Guard Großkaro Winklscherer.”
"Basti, it's Quirin. You have to help me!"
"Quirin, man, it's 2:30 in the morning. What on earth is going on? Did things go wrong with Sepp after all?"
"Sepp? Oh, no, nonsense. How can you prevent someone from trying to kill themselves?"
Pause.
“Basti, are you still there?”
"Yeah, sure. Now slow down. What's going on?"
Then I tried to explain to him as clearly and as concentratedly as possible that I had founded this WhatsApp group about a year ago to combat the constant teasing and bullying against us trainspotters.
“Train – what?” he bleated into the phone
"Trainspotters, Basti. They're people who just love watching trains!" Maybe the short version would work...
“Is there such a thing?” he asked, confused.
"Yes, there is such a thing! I am one too!"
"Really now?"
I was desperate.
"Basti, there's someone named Fabian. He lives in Koblenz or something. He got beaten up today, and now he wants to take his own life! He's hinted at it before, and I've always been able to hold him back somehow. But today I can't reach him at all! The phone rings, but he's not answering."
"Quirin, calm down. Just because someone says that doesn't mean they'll do it. Especially not with prior notice!"
"Basti, I know he means it this time! First of all, he didn't write it directly, he just said goodbye! Yes, that's right, he just wrote "goodbye," something he never did before. And besides, Basti..." I wasn't sure if I should mention it, but I did anyway: "Basti, just before his WhatsApp message, I had a dream about him killing himself. Please, you have to help him, if it's not already too late."
"Shit, Quirin. Wait, you said it rings when someone calls him? Then he's got his cell phone on. Give me his number quickly. We'll try to track him!" I gave him the numbers and heard him making the call, issuing the tracking order with the utmost urgency.
"Quirin, hang on, this will take a moment. Do you have any idea where he might be?"
"Yes, of course! He always talked about a bridge over a marshalling yard."
"Okay, anything else... - yes, Ralph, I hear... yes, Koblenz marshalling yard? Yes, that's right. Thanks! So, Quirin, what you said about the marshalling yard seems to be right. You're incredibly lucky. An old school friend of mine is in the higher civil service in Koblenz, with whom I'm in regular contact, and he's on duty right now. I'll alert him and be right back with you!"
"Wait! Tell him to call the signal box there right away so the dispatcher can stop all train movements via emergency call!"
“Okay, Quirin, I’ll do it!”
I heard him calling his colleague in Koblenz in the background, apparently able to convince him to take immediate action without much explanation. It seemed to me as if his choice of words acted like a code for certain actions. My tip about the dispatcher also seemed to be nothing new.
"Quirin, watch out! They're sending a psychologist to this bridge! They want you to talk to the—what was his name again?"
„Fabian!“
"Yeah, they want you to talk to this Fabian! I'm giving them your phone number now. Be ready, okay?"
"Yeah, sure! And, Basti, thank you very much!"
"No problem, that's what we're here for! Hello Quirin!" With this somewhat trite sentence, he bid me farewell. Now began a seemingly endless period of waiting. Finally, my phone beeped.
“Quirin Silberschmid.”
"Um, this is Dr. Ilzheimer. Am I speaking to Quentin?"
“Quirin,” I repeated, “Quirin is my name!”
"Um, yeah, whatever. You're a friend of this Fabian Rotschmied, right?"
I had to swallow hard because I didn't know Fabian's last name until now.
"Yes, I am."
“Okay, Quentin, -”
"Quirin!" I interrupted, thinking, 'What an idiot.'
"Um, excuse me, Quirin, so your friend is obviously standing naked on the railing of this railway bridge. We're going to approach him carefully now and try to calm him down, and we're asking you to help us. We're going to tell him you want to talk to him, okay?"
"Yes, done!"
“Okay then, let’s go…”
The railway service actually seemed to be at a standstill, as it was completely silent. I took a deep breath, because it was still about 6 meters high, and there was also the 15,000-volt overhead line. Fabian was still in mortal danger. I heard Dr. Ilzheimer making his way out. He seemed quite short of breath...
"Fabian! I'm coming to you now!" - I felt like I was in a bad movie. Fabian didn't answer. "Fabian, I have your friend Quirin on the phone!" - At least he remembered my name now. "Fabian, I'll be right with you! Quentin, um, Quirin has something important to tell you!" - 'What an asshole,' I thought.
"So! Here is the T...tut...tut...tut...tut
What was that? I quickly tapped "received calls" and the number displayed. The dial tone sounded twice, and then: I couldn't believe it, the asshole just hung up on me! I tried again, but the only message I got was that the subscriber was temporarily unavailable.
I stared at my smartphone in shock. What upset me most was my helplessness at that moment: I couldn't do anything, absolutely nothing. In my desperation, I dialed Basti's number again.
“Wake up, Grand Karo Winklscherer!”
“Basti, it’s me again.”
"Hi Quirin, I knew that number sounded familiar! What is it now?" he asked, a bit annoyed. I then told him the story about Dr. Ilzheimer in brief.
"Hmm, Quirin, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for you at this time! Let's talk again tomorrow, this afternoon. I'm usually well-rested by four, even though today, yesterday, was a long day! Okay?"
"Yeah, fine," I admitted defeat for the time being. I didn't want to unnecessarily strain his nerves; after all, he was the key to my progress, that much was clear to me. So I lay back down in bed and realized that, despite it being the month of May, I was pretty cold. The image of Fabian standing on the bridge railing, letting himself fall forward, kept popping into my head. I guess I fell asleep over it anyway, and the thoughts turned into a dream.

Dismissal
When the curtains and windows were flung open at 6:30 a.m., I felt completely drained. Luckily, Hannes was on duty again, and not some matronly nurse.
“Good morning Quirin!” he said in a reasonably tolerable volume.
"Good morning Hannes! Do you think I could have a moment's peace? It's been a nightmare here tonight."
“Hmm, the night nurse said ‘nothing unusual’!” he wondered.
"That may be true for the ward! But here, I've been in a funk! I'll tell you later, okay?" I tried to look as pained as possible. Sure enough, Hannes closed the window and curtains again and said as he left:
“But don’t complain if you get out of here later!”
Then I dragged myself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. In the shower, I realized I had absolutely nothing to wear. I had been brought here straight from the gym showers. The mere thought made me blush again, because I was embarrassed in retrospect. For better or worse, I had to wait for my father in this strange hospital gown, and first, for breakfast. That gave me another chance to think.
Of course, I ended up back at Fabian's. And the more I thought about him, the clearer it became to me that I absolutely wanted to go to him. No! I had to go to him, absolutely! But how? I only knew his last name from earlier. That was all. I didn't know where he lived, or how old he was, and I didn't even have a picture of him. 'Perfect conditions,' in other words. As I was sighing to myself, Hannes arrived with breakfast, or rather, he arrived with two breakfasts—or is it breakfast?
"Hey, what's going on? You look like you've been through ten days of rain."
Since he seemed to have some time, I gave him a quick summary of the previous night.
“Wow, that was pretty intense,” he said, adding, “I think they’ve put Fabian in a mental institution.”
“Closed?” I was a bit naive that morning
"Psychiatry!"
“Do you really think so?”
"I think so. It's primarily done for these people's self-protection. Until the doctors can get a complete picture, which was definitely not possible tonight. Just imagine: There's someone standing naked on the railing of a bridge, unresponsive, and the doctors were alerted with a strong suspicion of suicide."
"I don't have to imagine this! I've been dreaming about it all night!" I grumbled tiredly.
"I'm sorry. But you get what I mean."
I just nodded and turned my attention to the breakfast that was served to me, because I was hungry, no question about it.
There was a knock and Dr. Scheuring entered the room with Dad in tow.
"Good morning, Quirin. There's not much more to say at the moment. This," he brandished a tube, "it's for your backside." I grimaced, "don't look at me like that, this ointment will definitely help you, even if it's a bit greasy. Then this: This is a referral to a psychologist; so if you have any problems, flashbacks, or sleepless nights, contact Dr. Filsthaler immediately. I know him quite well and think you could get along well with him. Otherwise, I wish you all the best and goodbye, although not necessarily in here!" he said, and swept off.
“Good morning Quirin!” my father greeted me. “Here I have
brought some clothes so you don't have to go out on the street naked!"
I gave him a suspicious look; was that a hint? But he couldn't possibly know THAT! Perhaps it was because nudity has never been a problem for us: For example, we regularly use our small family sauna in the garden.
I was quickly dressed appropriately again and we were able to leave the place.

uncertainty
At home we first sat down in the living room.
"Dad, I have a problem!" Dad pricked up his ears, because when I called him 'Dad,' he knew something was up. So I told him the whole story. About the difficulties my hobby brought with it, the teasing, and the resulting creation of the WhatsApp group; and finally, about Fabian and tonight's story.
“Oh my God, Quirin, that’s a fantastic story!”
"Dad, I have to go there! I have to go to Fabian!"
"I was afraid of that. Knowing you, I'm aware of that. I just don't think it will be possible. Although, as stubborn as you can be..." this time I noticed the benevolence in his voice. "Maybe Basti can actually help you with that. As far as I know, he has quite a few acquaintances up there. I also think he once mentioned something about a psychologist who used to go to high school with him and who ended up there after graduating. Must have been a good friend of his."
I could hardly wait until it was finally four o'clock in the afternoon.
Not a minute too soon, I called him; Dad had saved his private number for us.
"Hello Quirin," he answered immediately, "I've been expecting your call. I've put out feelers in the meantime. Listen: The colleagues on site only know that your Fabian..."
“That’s not MY Fabian,” I interrupted, offended.
"Yes, of course not, sorry. In any case, he was taken to the Johanniter Center for Child and Adolescent Psychiatry. And now hold on tight: That's where my friend, Sebastian Leidbichl, works as a child and adolescent psychiatrist. You're so lucky, my dear!"
I was immediately hooked.
"Basti, I have to go there! I don't really know Fabi. I only know him through WhatsApp, but somehow my gut tells me he needs me right now!"
Basti then suggested the following:
"Quirin, I'm trying to reach Wastl now. I'll explain the case to him with all the information I got from you, and I'll also tell him that you'd like to help Fabian. Then we'll see what he thinks! Is that okay with you?"
“Yes, of course, Basti, thank you very much!” I thanked Bastian euphorically.
"Now just wait and see! I'll get back to you!"
"Dad, Dad!" I excitedly ran to him in the kitchen. "Basti's friend, the one you mentioned, actually works at the clinic where they took Fabian!"
"Sounds very promising!" he simply said. "Now come and sit down! Dinner will be ready soon!" Only then did I notice that my father was simply there:
“Don’t you have to work?” I asked cautiously.
"My son...", oh dear, now things are getting serious, "of course I should be working, but what do you think? Our boy was almost raped, he hit his head, and today he was released. Don't you think a father could take a few days off? The fact that you're recovering so quickly is a miracle to me! That doesn't really mean anything. Because it's only because you're even more stubborn than your mother was and have such a good soul like she did, that's the only reason you're sitting here!"
When I noticed his glassy eyes, I lowered my gaze and fought back the tears again. Man, what a crybaby I'd suddenly become! As if he could read my thoughts, my old man sat down next to me and said quietly:
“Quirin, you’re not a whiny crybaby, even though you probably think so right now. You’re just a really great person that any father can be incredibly proud of!”
“Oh, Dad!” I sobbed, “I’m not that great!”
"Yes, Quirin, yes. Just take it as I said!" He ruffled my hair for the first time in a long time, which I enjoyed very much.
“You can do that more often!” I blinked at him.
“Uh… What?” He didn’t seem to even realize it.
"Well, that!" and ruffled my own hair. Then he laughed:
"Nothing easier than that!" came to me, and the whole thing ended in a seemingly endless attack of sniffing and tickling. I was always mercilessly lost, ticklish as I was. But he was the exact opposite: Any attempt to tickle him was met with a grin at best. I never found out whether Dad really wasn't ticklish or whether he was just incredibly good at controlling himself. There I was, lying on my back on our kitchen floor like a cockchafer, gasping for air. Dad was back at the stove, laughing his head off.
"Okay, little one, dinner's ready!" I used to hate it when Dad called me that, but now I can tell the mood or importance of his statement from his choice of words. When he calls me 'little one,' it's an expression of deep affection. To celebrate the day, we had beef bourguignon, which Dad had prepared the day before. After two seconds, I leaned back contentedly. Fabian came to mind again. I wondered what he was doing right now?
The doorbell rang. Dad and I looked at each other wondering who it could be.
I got up and went to the door.
"Oh hello Basti! What brings you here? Are you hungry? We're serving beef bourguignon!" I promised him.
"Hi Quirin! No thanks, I just ate. I'm on my way to work and just wanted to give you a quick update!"
“Come in quickly. Would you like a coffee?”
"Oh yeah, good idea. Hi Markus, your son offered me a coffee!"
“Well, howdy!” teased the addressed man. “Hello Basti, come in! There’s always coffee here! What brings you here?” my father then asked.
"Sit down first!" Basti demanded. Wait a minute, isn't that our role as hosts? Nevertheless, we followed his request. "Here's the thing: Quirin, my friend Wastl unfortunately no longer works at this clinic. Instead, he's set up his own business and now cares for people like Fabian on an outpatient basis. Of course, for that to happen, they first have to be released from the closed ward. In that respect, he's still working with the Johanniter Center. You should call him tomorrow evening. Until then, he'll try to find out how Fabian is doing. Here's his number." He slid a piece of paper across to me. After finishing his coffee, he said goodbye.
Now it was time again to wait and see.

Diversion
"Dad, sorry, but I can't stand just sitting here! I'm going to go spot some trains, if that's okay!"
“Yes, of course! When are you coming back?”
“At the latest when it gets dark, around nine/thirty!”
“All right! See you later.”
“Okay, Dad, see you later!”
The sky was bright blue. I decided to ring Dominik's doorbell.
"Oh, hey Quirin, how are you?" Evi, Dominik's mother, greeted me. "Domi's at sports!"
"Oh, of course, I could have figured it out myself, but my sense of time is messed up right now. Thanks for asking, I'm fine!" I lied, worrying about Fabian was getting on my nerves. I didn't want to tell Evi off. "Please give him my best regards. See you soon, Evi, and have a nice evening!"
“Hello to you too, Quirin!”
I was strolling down the street toward the railway embankment when I noticed a group of teenagers in the distance. It was the idiot gang. 'Oh well,' I didn't need them right now, and considered taking a detour, because they hadn't noticed me yet, or so I thought, when Sepp came along, the asshole... no, he didn't have any of the asshole-like quality about him anymore! He came toward me with a beaming face; even his blue eye shone; not blue anymore, but a yellowish green, or was it a greenish yellow? I almost couldn't help grinning at him.
“Sepp, you’re so beaming, have you become world champion at pulling out trees?”
With a crooked grin he responded:
"Something like that! This morning at breakfast with my mom, I just happened to tell her. Since I took precautionary cover, she looked at me strangely at first and then almost laughed at me!" There was still an offended undertone. "Then she hugged me for the first time in ten years and declared: 'Oh, Seppi, I think that's no longer a problem these days. But of course I can't help you at all!' 'Yes, you can! What should I do with Dad?' She thought about it for a while and said: 'Seppi, let me do it. We'll get it done, I promise!' Quirin, I almost feel like a new person now!"
"So he won the gold medal in tree-pulling after all?" He just laughed, raised his hand briefly in greeting, and rejoined the others. 'I wonder if he's told them yet?' I wondered, walking past the group unchallenged.
When I arrived at the "evening curve," I felt a strong urge to take off my clothes, but I resisted, at least for the time being. "Evening curve" because here the setting sun would bathe the trains in a magnificent raking light. The sun was still relatively high in the sky, but it would make for a magnificent sunset.
I had barely found a spot in the tall grass from which I could see the entire curve when the first train came along:
The Munich section of the Railjet from Budapest passed by with the singing engine noise of the 1116. In this light, the anthracite/red color scheme looked particularly elegant. 'May 26, 2017, 4:10 p.m. Large check 1116 xxx with Railjet from Budapest,' I wrote after taking the obligatory photo with my phone. I hoped to be able to identify the locomotive number later in the photo. I wanted to do that in peace at home.
Fabian! I thought of that guy again. I took off my shoes and socks and once again enjoyed the grass beneath my feet.
An unusual whistle ignited an exciting but thrilling feeling. Could I have that luck today? I had:
The E 94 279, the "German Crocodile," climbed the incline toward Ostermünchen with its engine fans running at full throttle. The traditional locomotive from Lokomotion GmbH in Munich had a hefty train on the hook: 24 grain transport wagons, each weighing almost 90 tons, or over 2,100 tons! I almost forgot to take the photo because this train wasn't on the timetable that day at that time. So now I could also note:
'May 26, 2017, 4:24 PM, Großkaro, E94 279 with grain train (2100t)'
I was in high spirits. Twenty-six other trains passed by in both directions, which I meticulously noted and photographed. The sun slowly set, bathing the landscape in a warm, orange light. A light breeze brushed across my bare chest. I felt indescribably good. There was a rustling in the grass. I flinched.
"Don't be alarmed, Quirin, it's just me, Sepp!" he quietly announced his arrival. Nevertheless, panic gripped me, and I threw off my clothes. But then he was standing next to me, staring at me as if I were from another planet. He said nothing more, but slowly began to undress. Finally, he stood about five meters away from me and said quietly but firmly:
"Quirin, don't be afraid, I'll never offend you again. But the atmosphere here is simply fantastic." I slowly relaxed and glanced over at him. Fabian appeared again on the railing of this bridge, this time in the form of Sepp.
"Sepp, I can't do this!" was all I could manage, and I grabbed my clothes. I put on pants, a T-shirt, and shoes; I didn't have enough room for anything else. I stuffed the rest into the pockets of my cargo pants.
"Sepp, it has nothing to do with you, really. But I'm working on a crazy story, maybe I'll tell you later! Take care, see you back at school soon!"
So I left him disappointed and perplexed. Since then, he hasn't actually stalked me again, but he's never said a word about it again either. His obvious transformation from Saul to Paul was phenomenal. Before nightfall, I was sitting in Dad's living room again.
“Quirin, what do you think about going on a trip together tomorrow?”
“Depends on where!”
"To the Brenner," he said casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "I know the training coordinator at Lokomotion. I spoke to him earlier, told him you're a big fan, and asked if we might have a chance to ride in the cab tomorrow. He then looked at the roster and noticed that a very nice colleague will be working the shift from 10:45 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. tomorrow. We should just come into the office tomorrow morning so the ride permits can be issued. What do you think?"
"That's fantastic! Dad, you do have some good ideas sometimes!" I said, feigning arrogance. I shouldn't have done that, because I was once again the victim of a fatherly tickle attack of the finest kind. Since I was only wearing a T-shirt and pants – I had taken off my shoes after entering the house – Dad had an easy time. I didn't stand a chance: I'd never gotten rid of my T-shirt and pants so quickly, which wasn't usually a problem, because I usually wore something underneath. So I was lying on the living room carpet, squealing and gasping for air, when Dad realized he'd made me naked. At first he was taken aback, but then he continued tickling me in a less intense way, and finally grinned wickedly at me and slapped my bottom. Shaking his head, he explained his thoughts to me:
"It's unbelievable, little one. Almost exactly 16 years ago, I was romping around with you right here, just like I am right now, only your voice is much deeper today and you're almost grown up. But tell me, since when have you stopped wearing underwear?"
Now, I didn't want to tell him everything. Or would that mean betraying his trust? Well, fathers don't have to know everything, I decided, and just grumbled, "That's only because it was so hot today!" Dad left it at that, anyway.

---

The following day turned out to be a unique experience: At 10:00 sharp, we arrived at the Lokomotion office, where, after a brief accident prevention briefing, we received a permit to travel on trains 43129 and 43126 that day. We were wished a lot of fun and headed to Munich East marshalling yard, or MOR for short. Steffen, a long-time Lokomotion train driver, was already waiting for us there.
Several trains were lined up, some already with locomotives, some not yet. My question about the E 94 was answered with a smile and a tear in my eye:
"We were supposed to take the train to Kufstein, but the schedules don't work today. The E 94 is in Pfaffenhofen with yesterday's grain train!"
“What a pity!” I couldn’t quite hide my disappointment.
"For this purpose, we will run the double traction 189 917 and 918 from here to the Brenner Pass. Our Italian colleagues will take over the train combination in an interoperable manner.
So we have plenty of time for a leisurely pizza at the Brenner!” Steffen beamed at me.
The journey was fantastic! Already at the border before Kufstein, we were connected to the new "European Train Control System" (ETCS), which gave the train driver what was known as "electronic visibility" for – theoretically – 32 kilometers of clear road. This displayed speed changes, inclines and declines, and the distance of clear road. After Wörgl, we traveled through the Lower Inn Valley Tunnel at 120 km/h. Only after the Innsbruck bypass tunnel did we see daylight again, apart from a few crossing points.
From there, the climb was steep and winding, with gradients of up to 26 per thousand. A magnificent spectacle in a breathtaking landscape. A train weight of just over 1,400 tons meant almost the limit of our two locomotives, both of which Steffen controlled from the front cab. Over 17,000 horsepower! So many trains came towards us that I couldn't even write them all down. Our colleagues from RTC were already waiting for us at the Brenner Pass and took the train on to Verona Quadrante.
We, on the other hand, enjoyed a real Italian pizza and finished the meal with a very good cappuccino.
Our train to Munich also arrived at the Brenner Pass on time. As mentioned above, the cargo consisted of containers, swap bodies, and truck trailers. This time, the train had to be re-hauled at the Brenner Pass.
Two brand-new Vectrons were ready for this: the 193 772 with blue stripes and the lead locomotive, the “triple seven,” which I had recently spotted in front of the Meridian replacement train.
Driving downhill is almost more challenging than going uphill, Steffen explained to me, because braking has to be done differently depending on the train weight, with the locomotives' dynamic brakes feeding electrical energy back into the overhead line.
We were also expected in Kufstein, where the 193 777, which had previously been the front-runner, was taken from us. We switched to the 772, and after another brake test, as must be done before every journey, Steffen brought us and the train safely to Munich with a locomotive.
Of course, I had informed Dominik about when we would be passing through Großkaro. We actually passed the evening curve at 7:14 p.m., in the most beautiful evening light.
After we said goodbye to our train driver, I realized that because of all the impressions I had that day, I hadn't even thought about Fabian, which almost made me feel guilty, because unlike me, he was probably feeling really bad!
Nevertheless, I was very grateful to Dad for arranging this nice diversion. As soon as I got home, I picked up the phone to call Professor Leidbichl.

Solutions
“Leidbichl!” a sonorous voice said.
"Good evening, Professor Leidbichl. My name is Quirin Silberschmid. Sebastian Winklscherer put me in touch with you!"
"Ah, Quirin, good evening, please call me Wastl, then I'll feel at home in Großkarolinenfeld again. Yes, Basti told me a few things. If I understood correctly, you started a WhatsApp group because you were the victims of ridicule and even physical violence with your Trainspotting. He also told me what happened to you. How are you doing now?"
"Well, Prof. Leidbichl, Wastl, I'm actually doing fine after talking to my opponent. But since then, I've just been really worried about Fabian. I feel like I have to help him and can help him."
"Well, 'adversary' is a very flattering term for the person who ultimately almost raped you. It seems to me that you're so preoccupied with worrying about this Fabian that you're probably just repressing your own trauma at the moment. Therefore, my urgent request to you: When the Fabian story is soon over for you, be sure to talk in detail with someone you trust about your own story with this Josef Hofbauer. If for some reason you're unable to do that, you need to seek professional help, okay?"
"Yes, I think that will work. I've always had a good relationship with my father, and it's getting even closer now, so I'll tell him the whole story, if I've kept anything from him. But can we please take care of Fabian now?"
"Good. Well, after hearing the name Ilzheimer, I thought there was no chance. Because he treated you with the same clumsy manner that he treated everyone, whether patient, colleague, or relative. The guy is a classic misfit. However, he's also a coward, meaning when things get difficult for him, he tucks his tail between his legs. That seems to have happened in Fabian's case, because your friend hasn't said a single word yet – to anyone. A guy like Ilzheimer can't handle that. Our, or rather your, trump card is that you're probably the only confidant in Fabian's life and have had contact with him, albeit only via WhatsApp so far. Fabian's care is now being taken care of by a very empathetic, young colleague whom I know very well; after all, she did her doctorate under me. I'm going to suggest to her that she could try to find a way to approach Fabian with your help. What do you think?"
“Thanks Wastl, I was hoping to do something like that!”
“Are you mobile? How old are you?” asked Wastl.
“I just turned 17, but I can already take the train by myself,” I joked.
"Ha ha," my counterpart laughed out loud. "I like your humor! What does your father think about the story?"
"He will support me. I told him everything, and he was very upset."
"Quirin, another suggestion: You get on the train as soon as possible, I'll pick you up from the station, we'll meet the colleague in question, and we'll discuss everything else calmly. What do you think?"
"That sounds fantastic!" I replied happily. "Wait, I'll just check... Yes, here, I could leave here at 6:36 a.m. and then be in Koblenz at 12:11 p.m.! Just a minute, I'll give you my father. See you tomorrow, good night, Wastl."
"Silberschmid here, hello, Dr. I overheard everything, and as far as I'm concerned, my son can leave tomorrow morning. How long do you think he should stay?" ... "Ah, okay, yes, three or four days, that's fine!" ... "Thank you, I wish you the same!"
Dad ended the conversation.
“What do you wish him too?” I asked curiously and Dad grinned at me:
"A good night, what else at this time of night? Now go and pack your things for four days. By the way, he has a guest room he's willing to let you use if it takes that long."
“Thanks, Dad!” I just said and threw my arms around his neck
“All right, little one! All right,” he grumbled.
I packed my things right away: clean clothes, socks, three T-shirts, my hoodie (in case it suddenly got colder), slippers, toiletries, and a towel. Oh, and yes, the charger for my tablet and phone. I also ordered my mobile ticket right away.
“Dad!” I called through the house.
“What is it?” came back from below
“I just wanted to say goodnight!”
"Good night Quirin, sleep well. I'll get up tomorrow and make you coffee!"
“Oh, thank you very much, sleep well, Dad.”
I thought of Fabian. MY Fabian, as Basti put it in my mouth. Suddenly, the thought didn't seem so strange anymore.
But other than his name being Fabian Rotschmied, I didn't know much about him.
So who and what awaits me tomorrow? Of course, he was a trainspotter, like me. His passion was more steam locomotives.
But what kind of person was he? I remembered a chat in which he wrote that his father died when Fabian was still very small. He remembered happy years with his mother, but then arguments between them became more and more frequent, and she started drinking. Their relationship suddenly reversed, meaning he had to take care of her from then on, which soon overwhelmed him. His mother's constantly changing acquaintances made Fabian's life even more difficult. He was beaten for no reason and locked in his room. One day, he simply ran away and suddenly found himself standing on this railway bridge.
He watched the goings-on there with complete fascination. When it became apparent that his mother was changing his partner again, Fabian retreated to "his" bridge.
He also discovered an old high seat on a railway embankment, from which he had a magnificent view of the beautiful trains that rolled past.
He spent many hours playing Trainspotting, but not only that: he acquired a wealth of background knowledge on the school computer, which he then shared with me via WhatsApp.
But he never wrote anything about the rest of his life, except for several unpleasant scenes at school, where he became more and more of an outsider and eventually even threatened.
He never mentioned a girlfriend, nor, of course, a boyfriend. I found myself assuming he was gay. But where did I get that? It was pure imagination! Wishful thinking! The more I thought about it, the more I went around in circles.
Despite all the excitement, I fell asleep relatively quickly. The trip to the Brenner Pass had probably made me feel heavy enough to go to bed.
At a quarter past five, my alarm went off on my phone, and I got up without hesitation. A shower revived my spirits, and shortly after, I was standing in the kitchen, exhausted, backpack in hand, the smell of coffee already wafting up to me.
“Good morning, Dad.”
"Good morning, Quirin. Enjoy!" Dad baked rolls especially for me.
“When does your train leave again?” asked my forgetful father.
“At 6:36 a.m.,” I reminded him.
“You still have time,” said Dad casually.
“Mhm,” I agree with my mouth full.
“Dad, am I doing the right thing?” I began to doubt.
"Absolutely, Quirin. Look, you're not alone! You're even doing this at the doctor's request!"
'Actually, that's true,' I thought to myself and finished my breakfast.
"Wouldn't you like to take something to eat with you?" my father asked. I waved him off. "Never mind. I'll get something to eat in the onboard bistro when we pass the Loreley!"
“You’re a real connoisseur,” Dad remarked, and I countered:
“It probably runs in the family.”
I put on my shoes, put the slippers in my backpack and said goodbye.
“Hello Quirin! Have a good trip! Will you let me know when you get to Koblenz?” Dad wanted to know in conclusion.
"Yeah, sure. As soon as I know a little more than I do now. Bye, Dad."
I managed the ten-minute walk to the train station with my eyes closed. The Meridian was on time, and the ICE also departed from Munich as scheduled. In Mannheim, I had an 11-minute transfer. The ICE remained largely on time, so this connection also worked out well. As planned, I sat down in the onboard bistro in Mainz and treated myself to a good meal, arriving in Koblenz full and on time.
At the exit, I immediately bumped into Wastl Leidbichl, who was holding a sign with my first name on it. I immediately liked the man; he was probably about the same age as our village policeman, although he had more gray hair.
“Hello Wastl,” I greeted him.
"Hello Quirin," he greeted back. "You're really early! Did you have a good trip? My car is outside! Dr. Busch, Verena is already waiting for us at Cafe Einstein."
My backpack was quickly stowed away. And after a short drive, Wastl parked his car in a parking garage not far from the aforementioned café.
A young woman waved to us from a corner at the back.
“Hello Verena,” Wastl greeted his colleague, “this is Quirin, we’ve already talked about him!”
“Hello Quirin, Wastl,” she greeted me first and nodded to her doctoral supervisor.
“Good day, Dr. Busch.”
“Oh dear, no!” she interrupted me immediately, “please call me Verena!”
So etiquette didn't seem to be that important here, which made things a lot easier for me.
“Please sit down!” Verena urged us.
After a short pause, Wastl began to get the story rolling:
"You know, Quirin, we only know the somewhat confused theories of our colleague Izheimer and Basti's descriptions, so to speak, 'secondhand,' and that doesn't quite add up. Please be so kind as to bring us up to speed."
So I told them how I had met Fabian through our hobby. About his difficulties at home and at school, which ultimately prompted me to set up a WhatsApp group called "Trainspotters against bullying". I reported on his mostly direct statements about wanting to commit suicide, but how I was always able to catch him. Until finally, three days ago, he wrote what I felt was a very alarming message and then became unresponsive. I described the otherwise well-coordinated operation to find Fabian up until the moment this Dr. Ilzheimer simply pushed me away. At that, Wastl and Verena just looked at each other and shook their heads in incomprehension. I showed them the chat history with Fabian, which they looked at very carefully.
In the end, Verena revealed her simple plan to me:
"We see only one chance to get close to Fabian at the moment: through your presence and your connection to him. We should go to the clinic now. I think we'll see right away if and, if so, how he reacts to you. I'm almost certain it will work."
“And if not?” I replied
Verena and Wastl looked at each other and shrugged.
“So let’s go!” Wastl took the initiative and put €20 on the table for our bill.

Chance
He let me out in front of the clinic's underground car park and said:
“We can only come in here with our ID cards, please wait for us at the gate!”
When I arrived there, a sinister figure suddenly approached me and whispered in a smoky voice:
"You're not coming in here, young man! But if you do, there's no way out!" He bared his teeth in a sinister grin. I wondered how I could have come up with the crazy idea of driving here.
Fortunately, Verena and Wastl reappeared before I fell victim to this gorilla. Verena instructed him to issue me a visitor's pass, which he did somewhat reluctantly. I almost thought I could see a certain disappointment in his eyes that he wouldn't be able to eat me for lunch after all.
"Hello Quirin, are you still there?" Wastl grumbled at me, somewhat amused. "Our Mr. Feuereisen can be quite scary, but he's actually very good-natured!"
I couldn't imagine that at all. I must have made a corresponding face, because Wastl burst out laughing.
Then things got serious. We took the elevator to the fourth floor. There was an electronically secured gate that we could only pass through one at a time using our ID cards. On the other side, we were greeted warmly. Verena led us to a room. "Room 4.0.14 Fabian Rotschmied," I read with amusement.
“Why are you grinning?” Verena asked me uncertainly.
"After the Number!"
Verena looked irritated from me to Wastl, who also just raised an eyebrow.
"Hello Joe," Verena greeted, "may I introduce you to Quirin. He's Fabian's friend. So? How are things?" she wanted to know.
Joe, a young, powerfully built nurse, described the past three days.
Since Fabian was admitted, he hadn't spoken a word; he would remain apathetically in the position he was placed in.
"When he arrived here, he wasn't wearing anything. He let us put on this nightshirt without resistance. When we put him to bed, he just curled up. The next morning, he was still lying there like that. So far, he hasn't responded to any conversation. The only time he does anything on his own is when he's taken to the toilet. But he won't even brush his teeth, wash, or even shower on his own. Nevertheless, he lets us do all of these things. When he sits at a table in his nightshirt again, for example, he stays there until we pick him up. He also makes no attempt to eat or drink on his own, but he lets us feed him without any problems. He finds it most comfortable, at least that's what I've noticed, when he can sit on the edge of his bed, like now. You just have to take him to the toilet regularly to make sure nothing happens. Otherwise, he doesn't react to anything; not to stories, not to music, not even to sudden, loud noises. Only if you hold him tightly does he react. panicky. His head then goes back and forth, and he tries to wriggle out of the grip. It took a while for us to realize that he'll do anything if you just loosen the grip, or even better, just lead him by the hand. But we just can't find a way to get to him," he said sadly.
I looked through the window at this boy; it pained me to see him sitting there like that. I remembered the message in which he enthusiastically told me about the giant American steam locomotive, whose recommissioning he was so eager to witness. Tears welled up in my eyes.
Wastl stepped behind me and gently placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Quirin,” I heard his deep voice softly, “Quirin, do you think we can give it a try?”
I looked into his eyes, which radiated honest confidence, and nodded silently.
As expected, my knocking went unanswered.
I quietly pushed down the handle and carefully opened the door.
I slowly entered and called his name.
"Fabian." No reaction. I stepped closer.
“Fabian, it’s me, Quirin,” I whispered and crouched down in front of him.
He slowly raised his head slightly, as if waking from sleep. Our eyes met, and a flash of lightning shot through me, almost making me fall backward.
"Quirin," Fabian said quietly, letting himself fall forward; I just managed to catch him. He clung to my neck as if he never wanted to let go. I carefully took him in my arms.