When I met Erik, I was just 15 years old and my summer holidays had just begun. He and his family had moved into a house on our street. His parents had both accepted jobs at the university, so it wasn't long before they had become friends with my parents, as my mother also worked at the university. At first, I wasn't thrilled when my parents wanted me to go along to the visits to make friends with their son – not because I didn't like the Mangolds, but because I didn't think much of arranged friendships. However, it is a phenomenon that parents who are friends also assume that their children like each other. Ultimately, though, it was also my own insecurities that kept me from wanting to do it: What if we had nothing to say to each other, if we had different interests or simply didn't like each other? I would have had to make a good impression despite the bad game, or refuse to do it at all – which might ultimately have strained my parents‘ friendship. So I went along with it and went to a barbecue at the Mangolds’.
I cleaned myself up, after all I wanted to make a good impression. Besides, my parents always made a point of ensuring that their son looked decent when we were invited somewhere. It was a warm summer's day, so I opted for a pair of jeans and a matching shirt. My parents brought wine as a gift, and my father gave me two beers, which I was supposed to offer to Erik as a peer.
I already knew Erik's parents from visits to our house. They were extremely nice, very educated, but so were my parents, and obviously very funny, because my parents and they always laughed a lot.
When we arrived, we went directly to the back of the house to the garden. My parents already knew their way around and were apparently so familiar with the Mangolds that ringing the doorbell was no longer necessary. When we entered the garden, Mrs Mangold was just putting the meat on the grill. Her husband greeted my parents and then me, pointing to the two beers in my hand:
‘Hello Julius, you're not trying to seduce my son into drinking, are you?’
I looked at my father reproachfully; after all, it was his idea. But before he could react, Mr Mangold put his hand on my shoulder and let me know that it was just a joke. We greeted his wife and Mr Mangold said that Erik was a little further back in the garden and that I could go and get him as dinner would be served soon anyway.
I started looking for him in the really beautiful and quite large garden and found Erik on a lounger by the pool. He seemed to be basking in the evening sun and had his eyes closed. So as not to startle him when I suddenly stood next to him, I made myself noticeable from a distance with a ‘hello’.
He opened his eyes, put on his glasses and looked in my direction: ‘Hello. I assume you are Julius! Did they give you beer to soften me up?’
‘So to speak,’ I replied, ‘my father thought it would be a nice touch to break the ice.’
‘Arranged friendships, only parents would think of that,‘ he said, shaking his head.
’Exactly,’ I said vigorously, sitting down on a lounger next to him and handing him a beer.
We imagined how our parents sat together in conspiracy and made plans for us to become friends. We were annoyed that they would practically force us to get along well and made fun of the fact that something like that would never work. Without noticing, we became friends that evening.
Even our parents were surprised. Mine, because I usually found it very difficult to make friends, and Erik's parents, because he was usually more of a quiet type. That evening, however, we didn't stop talking. We talked about how we imagined our lives in the future, which countries we wanted to visit, told each other about things we had experienced and got lost in stories about our favourite books, comics and music. Our parents started to laugh at us, because we were still complaining loudly about how nonsensical the attempt was to establish a friendship. The evening flew by and when we went home, it was clear that I had a new friend.
We spent the following days together almost non-stop. We rode our bikes around, I showed him my favourite places, we went for ice cream. But most of the time we spent in the garden and at the pool of the Mangolds. Often we just lay on the loungers, talking or each reading a book. Sometimes one of us would read to the other and then we would talk about it.
Erik had an incredible sense of humour. He was never caustic or malicious. The way he told a story just made me laugh. We got along incredibly well, to the delight of our parents. I was actually only at home to sleep, even at mealtimes I stayed with the Mangolds. At first, my parents were still uncomfortable, but Erik's parents assured me that it was perfectly okay. After all, both sets of parents had to work, and at least we were not alone all day. However, my parents insisted on paying for our soft drinks and ice cream, so we didn't really lack for anything.
We really spent a lot of time with books. It may have been unusual to read so much at our age, but that's what connected us. We also started to read to each other more and more. For me, I can definitely say that I loved listening to him. His voice, his charisma, just his whole way had something about it that made me feel comfortable. There was a hammock in the garden and sometimes one of us would read while the other lay in the hammock, gently rocking. It was not uncommon for the other one to fall asleep. Not because the reading was boring, but because at that moment you were completely at peace with yourself and could simply switch off.
One day, we couldn't agree on who would read and who would get to sleep in the hammock. We didn't argue about it, actually we never argued – differences of opinion always led to discussions and the struggle for the best argument and usually ended with a lot of laughter at ourselves and our doggedness for some topics. The question of the hammock that day also led to one argument after another. It was enumerated who had read when and how often and who had been in it and how often. And Erik's right as the owner was weighed against my right as a guest. At some point Erik offered a compromise: he would read voluntarily if he could come with me in the hammock – it was big enough. That was a compromise I liked, after all I didn't suffer any loss from it. I didn't mind having to share the hammock; after all, I liked Erik and I didn't mind lying close to him; after all, we had touched each other several times while swimming or when applying sunscreen to each other's backs.
We both lay down in the hammock, inevitably very close. I laid my head on Erik's shoulder and listened to him reading to me. Eventually I fell asleep and Erik must have fallen asleep too. When his father found us, we were lying asleep close together, my head on his shoulder and his head laid on mine and both of us only dressed in swimming trunks. We didn't notice how he found us and saw us lying there. What we did notice, however, was the cold water from the garden hose. We jumped up and hit each other several times in shock. When we finally managed to get out of the hammock, we saw Erik's father walking towards the terrace and saying, ‘Julius, your parents will be here soon and dinner will be ready.’
We were still a bit shell-shocked, after all, we were woken up with cold water. We dried ourselves and put on something comfortable. When we came to dinner, my parents were already there. The conversations suddenly stopped and it became quiet. Without knowing why, we were the centre of attention and exposed to the broad grins on our parents' faces.
When we were sitting together, Erik and I talked and our parents talked to each other. This time, however, we were constantly asked questions: How are we? How was our day? What did we do? etc.
It was weird, but parents are often weird, so we answered. There wasn't much to tell anyway; after all, we had done what we had been doing for the last few days. After dinner, I had two beers and wanted to go back to the pool with Erik when his father said, ‘I told you he wanted to seduce my boy.’ I looked around and grinned at him because he was making the beer joke again. But it wasn't that funny, and I was surprised that my parents and Erik's mother started laughing out loud.
When my parents and I were at home, my mother took me aside. She said she wanted to talk to me briefly before I went to bed:
‘You and Erik seem to get along well,’ she said, more like a question than a statement.
"Yes we do.’
‘That's nice. I just want to know what you think of him.’ My mother sounded almost worried when she asked me that, somehow our parents were acting strangely. But I noticed that we actually hadn't talked about it since the night I met Erik. I took it to mean that my parents now wanted to know if it was really as bad as I had initially made out about meeting someone new.
‘He's funny.’ I paused. Of course he was funny, but suddenly I thought it sounded stupid to just describe him as funny. “You know,” I turned to my mother again, ’most guys my age are exhausting. They're show-offs, they always want to be the best, and they're always bragging about how great they are or they're just plain rude. Erik is different. He is smart, he is friendly, he has a sense of humour – I feel like I can just be myself with him and he seems to like me."
My mother smiled, kissed me on the forehead and wished me good night. As I lay in bed, I thought about the day and the conversation with my mother. The question she asked me and my answer to it resonated. Of course I also had other friends – from school – but we hardly did anything during the holidays. It also quickly became too much for me when the others started to outdo each other with stories, or when they talked about sports and motorbikes. I was a dreamer, lost myself in books and music, and didn't chase after every rock like the others. I constantly had the feeling that I had to prove myself, but I didn't feel like it and that was exhausting. In Erik's presence, it was different. I didn't have to prove anything to him, I could talk about things that really interested me and the things he told me interested me – he interested me. I fell asleep at some point, thinking about this.
The next day was different. I was unsure. I realised that I had thoroughly enjoyed the last few days, but I didn't know why. I didn't do anything special, I just basically lay around all day, read and spent the day with Erik. I started to observe Erik, his gestures, his facial expressions, how he talks – I was still thinking about my mother's question and now I wanted to answer it myself: What do I actually think of Erik? And why?
I found it fascinating the enthusiasm with which he talked about things that interested him. His eyes would light up and his excitement was infectious. I could listen to him for hours just looking at him. His energy and his smile inspired me. But the nicest thing was his manner. He was not fixated on himself, but always interested in my opinion. He could lose himself in stories and only now did I notice that he often sought my company. At first it was just small gestures: a hand brushing mine or sitting close to me so that our knees touched. I think it was no different the days before, but that day it just stood out to me.
We were lying in the grass and he wanted to show me a new comic that he liked. He put his head on my stomach and held the comic so that he and I could look at it at the same time. This time, though, I was less interested in what he was telling me. I just watched him: his gentle hands turning the pages, his red lips moving as he read, his ears that stood out slightly, his fuzzy hair that tickled my stomach slightly and his belly that rose when he laughed. I still didn't know exactly why I liked him – I just knew that I liked him. At some point, he realised that my mind was not on the comic. He turned his head to me and looked at me: ‘Hey, are you even listening?’
‘Er, what?’ I stammered, a little startled.
‘You seem distracted. Is everything okay?’
‘I was just thinking,’ I said, not even lying, but also somewhat evasively.
‘What about?"
I tried to avoid it again and just told him that I had another conversation with my mother yesterday. I didn't lie about that either, but I didn't mention that it was about him. I suggested jumping into the pool and got up without waiting for an answer. We romped around, splashed each other with water and were very silly overall.
The day went by quickly and at some point I had forgotten the thoughts of the morning again. It was only when I was lying alone in bed that evening that they came back to me. I let the day pass in review and thought of that moment in the grass again. His gentle hands came to mind again, his ears and his lips – I stroked my own belly where his head had been that morning and my hand inevitably moved further down.
Of course, this wasn't the first time I had pleasured myself – after all, I was fifteen – but it was the first time that my thoughts had become specific. Before that, I hadn't thought about much; I just did it because it was fun. This time was different, I thought of Erik. I traced the contours of his body in my mind, I tried to recall his scent and I thought of every inch of naked skin I had seen so far. When I was done, I fell asleep from exhaustion without even cleaning myself up. It was only when I woke up the next morning that I realised what I had done. I had thought of a boy while jerking off. My emotions were all over the place. I caught myself grinning broadly when I thought of him and what he triggered in me. But in the next moment I was panicking because I also knew that it was not normal. I hardly ever talked about this topic with friends from school, but when I did, it was always about women or girls and I also knew what it was called when you weren't interested in girls – and that it was not a compliment among teenagers.
That day, I didn't go to Erik's. I called and told him that I wasn't feeling well that day and would rather spend the day at home. I tried to distract myself, but it didn't really work. I read a book and after just one page I couldn't remember what I had just read. I watched a film, but I got restless and couldn't follow the plot. I started to feel really bad. The only thing that helped was to darken the window and to hide in bed with music on my headphones. My mother only found out that I was not over there when she got a call from Erik's parents. She came into my room after I didn't respond to the knock. I avoided her questions about what was going on. I truthfully said that I wasn't feeling well, but she wouldn't let it go. She knew me. When I was sick, I didn't hide away, but hung around in the living room on the sofa and wanted everyone to take care of me. But this? This was a new behaviour that visibly worried my mother. She sat down on the bed with me and carefully tried to find out if something had happened, and assured me that I could talk to her about anything. I just stammered incoherent sentences because I didn't want to come out with the language. But it also burned on my soul. The pressure was released when I began to weep bitterly. I sobbed like a baby on my mother's shoulder, who just held me tight and told me to let it out. When I had recovered somewhat, she offered to get me an ice cream. I wasn't nine anymore, but somehow it was exactly what I needed right now.
When my mother went downstairs again, she called Erik's parents and wanted to know if something had happened the day before and if we had had a fight. She told them that I had been crying and she didn't know why. They asked Erik, who of course had no explanation for it either, but he insisted on checking on me.
There was a knock on my door and I said ‘come in’, assuming that my mother was bringing me the ice cream, even though it had taken a very long time. When Erik suddenly stood in the room, I was shocked. I was still crying. I quickly wiped the last tears from my face and acted casual when Erik turned to me:
‘I brought us some ice cream, but I don't know if vampires eat ice cream,’ Erik said, alluding to the darkened room.
I couldn't resist his smile and had to start smiling myself, even though his face showed a hint of concern.
‘As long as it's not garlic ice cream...’ I replied meekly and held out my arm for the ice cream.
He gave it to me and sat down next to me on the bed. With our backs against the wall, we ate our ice cream in silence. At some point, Erik broke the silence: “You were crying!?” It sounded less like a question and more like a statement. I didn't know what to say, so I remained silent. His presence made me nervous and calmed me at the same time. Once again, he started a conversation: ‘Did I do something wrong?’
I looked at him in shock. Did he really think HE had done something wrong?
‘You... you didn't do anything wrong,’ I stammered. “I have, am... I don't know either.”
He put his hand on mine, obviously trying to encourage me. I looked at him and into his beautiful eyes and then...
...then I just kissed him.

“Knut... schen, knut... schen, knut... schen...”, the girls shouted in chorus.
The boys sitting around, who were something like my friends, whistled and howled.
Okay, now I had to pass or die!
My kissing partner was Leslie, who was not really called that, because no one would voluntarily call their child that. Unless that someone assumes that the child will definitely be gay when they grow up.
So... Leslie crawled a little closer to me and brushed a few long, black strands of bangs out of his face. I put my long, black bangs behind my ear. Why I had gotten myself into this shit... who knows?! Real emo boys kissing each other... Nora knew and as soon as she blurted it out, suddenly everyone knew. Why Leslie and I were chosen to demonstrate this will probably remain a secret forever.
Well, I took another deep breath in and out, moistened my lips a little and finally pressed them to Leslie's pout.
“Oh, how sweet,” squeaked Nora excitedly, while Leslie pushed his tongue into my mouth.
Cool, now I'm a real emo boy, damn it... shot through my mind. At least Leslie didn't drool when he kissed me. That would have been the last straw! However, I could feel him giggling into my mouth. Was my kissing ability a joke to him? I thought I was an excellent kisser, even though I had little experience in this area. Angrily, I pushed him away.
“Very funny, asshole,“ I hissed.
Leslie wrinkled her nose. ‘Sorry, your hair tickled me.’
”I don't care,” I grumbled, reached for the bottle of vodka and orange juice mix, and took a big gulp.
“So?“ Kai asked, giggling. ‘Was it exciting?’
”I've had more fun.“
Leslie's striped socked foot rubbed against my leg.
”Do you want to die young?"
The foot quickly retreated.
“Lighten up, Jo-Jo,” advised Nora, who I hated instantly. Firstly, because it was she who had dragged Leslie along, and secondly, because it was she who had gotten me into this mess. Fritte wanted to know from me if I had gotten a hard-on.
I don't need to mention that the whole table laughed at me, do I? Especially because I, idiot, also looked stupidly down at myself, which of course looked like I had to make sure.
By the way, why is it that you never come up with something super cool and quick-witted when it counts?
Never mind.
I just drank some more vodka and hoped that I would pass out drunk as soon as possible.
“Okay, let's continue,” Nora grinned eerily and let her black fingernails glide over the empty bottle. “Who hasn't had a turn yet?”
The boys were suddenly silent and probably shaking with fear.
“Kai,“ she announced, ‘and... Fritte.’
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The two didn't even try to avoid it. Nora was something like the boss and what she said was done.
”We looked better,“ Leslie claimed.
”Of course,” I nodded.
Kai and Fritte kissed each other in a very amateurish way. Way too fast and... it looked pretty gross.
What happened during the rest of the evening is a bit beyond my knowledge, because the orange juice-vodka mix pretty much knocked me out.
I only came to when someone tried to get into my sleeping bag. How I got into the sleeping bag... no idea.
“Why don't you make some space,” someone mumbled at my ear.
Before I made space for anyone, I rubbed my eyes and looked around. We were in Nora's attic, where people liked to spend the night after parties. Kai and Fritte were lying together on the tasteless mattress, slumbering peacefully. Nora, of course, slept alone in her room one ladder and one staircase lower. The other people had apparently gone home... or been abducted by aliens, or had spontaneously vanished into thin air.
Leslie was still waiting for me to let him into my sleeping bag, which I didn't even dream of doing. He pushed me together a bit and squeezed himself behind me with his blanket.
“Are you crazy?” I hissed.
“Shhhht... not so loud, or do you want Kai and Fritte to watch us?”
Uh??
“Doing what?“
His hand fumbled with my shirt, obviously looking for the button and zipper of my jeans.
”Stop it right now,“ I snapped, muffled, and turned around.
”Ow... why don't you just ram your knee into my balls, stupid. You'll make me unable to father children because of you.”
I decided that I was way too drunk for this conversation... and for whatever might come after it, so I pretended to be asleep.
“Nice try,” Leslie giggled.
“What the hell do you want?”
“A little make out session,” he explained, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“First of all, I'm not gay. Secondly, I'm not hot for you. And thirdly, I don't do that when people are sleeping off their drunkenness twenty feet away.“
”First and second are lies. Thirdly, unfortunately I can't change that right now. We just have to be quiet.”
“You're an escapee, aren't you? I mean, you…“ I didn't get to finish what I wanted to say because he just kissed me. His hand slid between my legs.
”Second is a total lie,” he murmured and continued kissing me.
I just realized that too. Oh dear!
I have no idea how we managed to take off some clothes in such a small space.
Well, if you want something bad enough, nothing is impossible.
Leslie's hand was extremely skilled, mine was a bit hesitant at first.
“More,” he gasped promptly.
“Waaaahhhh... what are you doing? Fucking?“ A drunken voice sounded from the corner.
Not that too!
My hand slowed down.
”Hey, Jo-Jo... please concentrate on me, okay?“ Leslie demanded. ‘And you, shut your mouth back there,’ he shouted.
”I can't do it like this,” I replied annoyed.
“I'll prove you wrong,” whispered Leslie.
So that's how it was three years ago, and Leslie and I have been a couple ever since. Nah, just kidding. We're best friends. What happened with Leslie was my first and only foray into homosexuality. Fortunately, I can only say that, because my parents expect me to get married someday, have a well-paid job, and start a family. And my parents are very strict about this. My father especially. For example, if I bring home a bad grade (like a C), he'll tell me for hours what a disappointment I am. Then I get grounded and have to study until I'm completely exhausted. After all, I'm supposed to amount to something. I'm supposed to graduate from high school and go to college.
Business or something. Just something I'm not interested in at all. But what mom and dad say, is done. No back talk. You have to be the best always and everywhere, your personal desires, dreams, sensitivities don't interest us at all... these are my parents!
There is no such thing as gay in their performance-oriented world. Gay is ugh. Homos don't make it because they're too soft. Homos become hairdressers, artists or hustlers.
When I showed my dad my last report card with an A in art, he didn't congratulate me, but slapped me in the face because I only got a C in math. That canceled all vacation plans. While Leslie visited all the capital cities in Europe, I got six weeks of tutoring.
Incidentally, it was Leslie who got me to address the topic of homosexuality. He has a penchant for guys sometimes and constantly insinuates the same to me. Just because we made out a bit once. I think that's nonsense, because after all, I've had a girlfriend for five months. Merle is seventeen and looks incredibly good. Like her dad, she loves exotic animals. The basement of the house is full of snakes and some kind of lizards. Probably also because the dad is well known in the area and people often drop off animals at his house when the owners are overwhelmed or the critters have not been kept properly.
In principle, I like snakes, as long as they are not poisonous and do not strangle me. Phew, but their eating habits... I feel sorry for the poor mice and rats. When they are being fed, I am never down there in the basement.
“Hey, sweetie,” I call down the basement stairs.
“Come on over... everyone here is full,“ Merle answers me with a laugh in her voice.
By the way, she's currently messing with a box on the table.
”What?” I ask. ”New animal?”
Merle opens the lid. “It was just dropped off. The owner didn't seem to like the animal very much. Poor baby,” she coos, lifting a small royal python out of the box.
“Shouldn't you wait until your father is back?“
”Nah, the little guy needs to be warm now, and besides...“ She eyes him critically and sets him on the floor, ‘Help me, he's shedding.’
”But he doesn't need to eat now,“ I hope.
”You're a wimp, Jo-Jo,” she laughs.
I squat down next to her and carefully start to remove the scraps of skin from the snake's body. Snakes usually do this on their own, but if they're stressed or something, you have to help a little. I've already learned that. The python doesn't seem to be uncomfortable either; he flickers his tongue around with relish.
After the skin is off, Merle's dad comes.
“Well, he looks quite lively,” he remarks and puts the animal in a terrarium. ”I was afraid it would be worse.”
“The last snake we got was in a miserable state. It didn't want to eat for ages and all that,“ Merle babbles.
”Well, it took some time to adjust, but eventually it started eating frozen food without complaining,” Dad explains proudly. ”And with the little one here, we're trying it from the start.”
Fortunately, it is not tried immediately. Merle and I go to her room first.
As soon as the door is closed, she pounces on me. That is, she gives me a welcome French kiss. However, after that she only talks about her favorite subject again. Snakes, lizards, spiders. She would like to have tarantulas, but her mother is completely against it. I think Merle's mom is right. Spiders are gross! And then tarantulas too... they get as big as freaking UFOs!
“The Avicularia versicolor only gets four to six centimeters big,” Merle claims, showing me some website or other, “and the adults then get this beautiful, reddish leg and chest hair, which actually looks more pink. So it's the total spider for girls,” she grins.
Nice hair?! She's crazy! I stare at the monitor in disgust and suddenly feel like something is crawling on me.
“Oh my God... it says that these things jump and shoot their excrement at enemies. That's really unappealing.”
“If someone gets on your nerves, you just smack them too,” she shrugs.
You just can't talk to Merle sensibly.
“Get rid of that, I'm itching all over.”
Smiling, she ruffles my hair and turns off the computer.
“By the way, are we going to Subway this weekend?”
Merle makes a grimace. “Is Leslie going to be there too?”
"Probably.”
“I don't know. If he's drunk, he'll probably hit on you again. I don't need that.“
”Leslie's not hitting on me,“ I immediately get all worked up. ‘And even if she was... you should know that it doesn't bother me.’
”Three years ago, you were all over it.”
Logically, Leslie told her that. I would never go peddling such gaffes.
“I was fourteen then. Besides, I hardly remember it. So why are you getting worked up?”
“You'd be pissed off too if I was still friends with my former sex partner,” she replies.
"I wouldn't.”
She looks at me critically. “Maybe that's exactly the problem, Jo-Jo.”
“What problem?”
“Forget it,” she sighs. “We're going to Subway with Leslie this weekend. Everything's fine.”
“Tell me... do you think I should be more jealous?”
Leslie stares at me blankly.
“Merle hinted at something,“ I explain.
”I think,“ says Leslie, crossing her legs and biting into a chocolate bar, ‘that you should rethink your relationship as a whole.’
”Ah yes, and why?”
“Yo-yo,“ he groans, annoyed, ‘if you think about it and are really honest with yourself, you'll inevitably come to the conclusion...’
”Which one? Are you trying to convince me again that I'm gay? Just because we made out once? Can you please just forget about it?”
“I would, but you keep reminding me,“ he grins. ‘Must have been pretty great for you.’
”It wasn't,“ I hiss darkly.
”Besides, you're the one who keeps talking about being gay.”
“Because you're saying again...“
”Okay,” he interrupts me, ‘then explain to me what all those YouTube clips are that you have saved as favorites. Or rather, why you watch clips in which half-naked boys are involved.’
I feel instantly sick to my stomach. ”How did you know...”
“I discovered it by accident the other day when your computer was on and you were on the toilet.“
”You secretly snoop around in my affairs?“ I yell angrily.
”Is it my fault you stay out so late? Besides, I didn't know you had stored such secrets."
Shit, why didn't I pay more attention?
“And if I did... that doesn't mean anything.“
”Why don't you just admit it? I mean... sure, you don't want your parents to find out because they would probably kill you a few times... but I'm your best friend, Jo-Jo. And I already know.“
”You don't know shit. After all, I have a girlfriend.”
“Yeah? How often do you sleep with her?“
”As often as I can,“ I lie.
”And in reality?“
”Fuck you. I've only been with Merle for a few months. You don't just fuck like a fucking rabbit.“
”In the long run, your eternal denial won't make you happy,” he says seriously.
“And it's not fair to Merle either.“
”Listen,” I reply, trying to stay calm, ”it's perfectly fine that you're into guys every now and then... but it doesn't have to be that way for everyone, okay? And if you keep bugging me about it, I'll smack you in the face.”
“Yes, okay,” he finally concedes, ‘but you still haven't given me a reasonable explanation for the naked guy clips.’
Damn it!!
As soon as Leslie is gone, I delete my favorites list. Unfortunately, that doesn't really solve the problem. The truth is that sometimes I don't really know... well, what turns me on. That is, sometimes I pay more attention to boys than is normal. Until now, I didn't really mind because, of course, I would never actually do anything with a guy, and what goes on in my head is nobody's business. But Leslie is not wrong. The relationship with Merle is... problematic. We get along great, but when it comes to the physical stuff, it's not right anymore. I always try really hard. Holding hands, cuddling, whispering compliments in your ear, being attentive, little gifts... I've got it all down. However, it feels like a rehearsed role. It's about the same with sex. I do what is expected of me. At least that's how it was the first time. And to be honest, having sex once in five months is a pretty poor rate! Maybe Merle and I aren't right for each other. I often get the impression that she doesn't exactly bend over backwards to sleep with me either. If you're really head over heels in love, you're hot for each other, right? Not constantly. That's hardly the case with Merle and me. Well, and the fact that I'm actually not very jealous at all is certainly not a good sign either.
Going to Subway was a bad idea. Leslie wanted to make out with me in a drunken stupor, I secretly looked at strange guys while my girlfriend was standing next to me, and... oh, yeah... Merle cheated. Well, not in the Subway, she just told me there. Probably thought I wouldn't make a scene in public. I didn't. I went home and tried to make sense of it all somehow. The next day I called Merle and wanted to know who she was doing it with, but she said that I wouldn't know the guy anyway. Two days later Leslie came over and when I told him the Merle story, he came out after much hesitation as the guy I supposedly wouldn't know.
So, my best friend is screwing my girlfriend! It's obvious that I don't want anything to do with either of them anymore, right?!
Out of sheer frustration, I looked up all the half-naked guy clips on YouTube again, got a little drunk to give me courage, went to some weird gay site and stumbled across Flo. He's twenty-two and totally into Circus Contraption. Isn't that incredible? Actually, nobody really knows them, which is almost a scandal, because they're really great. On top of that, Flo is gay and has no problem with it. However, I'm not interested in the fact that he's gay at first, because otherwise he's super nice and funny. Of course, I didn't tell him that I'm theoretically interested in boys, and instead I said that I was looking for Circus Contraption and just found him. Anyway, we've been chatting from time to time since then... more or less regularly.
“Hello,“ it squeaks through the closed door. ‘Can I come in?’
”No.“
Merle trudges into my room anyway. I stare at her in disbelief.
”Let's talk about it, Jo-Jo.“
”There's nothing to talk about,“ I reply coldly.
”Yes, there is,” she claims, sitting down on my bed.
“Are you going to tell me who else you screwed around with while we were together?“
”It was just Leslie. Just once.“
”Okay, so now you're sorry, you promise me it will never happen again, and you want us to try again? You can forget it.”
Merle strokes a blonde strand behind her ear. “I'm sorry and it won't happen again because... Jo-Jo, it wasn't really working out between us anyway.”
“Leslie's always hitting on you,” I mock her. “That was the joke of the century.”
"That's why you're mad, right? Because he went to bed with me and not you.”
Man, did something heavy fall on his head on the way over or why is she talking such shit?
“Next you'll be telling me that it's all my fault.”
“That's nonsense,” she shakes her head. “But I just noticed that you were never really into it when we... you know... kissed and stuff.”
“I bet Leslie was totally with you when she... you know...“ I smile horribly.
”He wasn't thinking about any boys while he was sleeping with me.“
”Get out!“
”Yo-Yo...“
”Piss off!” I yell.
“What's all the noise about?“ my father suddenly shouts, tearing open the door. ‘Merle... what's going on here?’
That's all I need!
”I have to go home,“ she mutters, pushing past him.
”What's going on, Johannes?” he asks.
“She has to go home, as you heard,“ I explain, annoyed.
”Don't take that tone with me, okay? And stop rolling your eyes when I'm talking to you. Have you studied for the math test next week or are your girl stories more important to you?“
”No, I mean, yes, I have.”
“I'm warning you, buddy. If your grades don't improve soon, you're going to boarding school. They'll teach you some discipline there,” he yells and slams the door behind him.
Oh dear! My father has been threatening to send me to boarding school for quite some time. Because I'm a lazy piece of work, don't study enough... yadda yadda. Discipline. That word makes me want to throw up. He's sure picked a place that's comparable to a boot camp. Dad thinks that his upbringing has had no effect on me and that the boarding school has completely different means of making people toe the line, and I'll be in for a surprise. I don't think the means at the boarding school could be any worse than his. My father has always had a relatively light touch when I didn't suit him. He used to spank my bottom, but now he “only” slaps me. My mother seems to be fine with that. But she probably just doesn't dare to have a different opinion. I can even understand that. I don't dare to rebel against Dad either. Or to put it another way, I do what he says and I'm left in peace. That's why I bury my nose in books, even though I know full well that I'll never be a math genius. Nor will I become a footballer, handball player, volleyball player, swimmer or track and field athlete. I really had to try it all out, but I was always only mediocre to bad... so another disappointment for my father. After he realized that the boy was not cut out to be a sports ace, he now wants him to at least be the best at school. I suppose he would have liked to have seen me being smart enough to skip a grade. But I wasn't, because I'm just average at the important, scientific subjects.
He didn't mean what he said earlier about me and girls, because I think he thinks it's quite good that I'm not completely failing in that area.
Luckily he doesn't know that my super pretty girlfriend cheated on me with my best friend.
Sometime in the evening after a thousand hours of studying, my door opens.
“Are you going to avoid me forever?“ Leslie asks.
”I was planning to, but obviously I'm not even safe from you in my own room.“
”At least you're not kicking me out.“
”Did my ex-girlfriend come crying to you? Because I was so angry? Did you fuck her again as a consolation?”
“That's exactly what I did, asshole.“
”Shouldn't you be apologizing instead of swearing at me?“
”My only mistake is not waiting until Merle broke up with you,“ he claims.
”You're a pig,” I think.
“Because I slept with a girl you don't love? If your relationship had been super great, I would never have done that, you know that very well, Jo-Jo.“
”How nice that you know so much about who I love and who I don't.”
“Okay,“ he sighs, ‘let's be honest, I totally understand that you feel betrayed and all that... it was a crappy thing for Merle and me to do... but you don't necessarily look like it's breaking you. Maybe now is the time to finally admit to yourself...’
”Yeah, damn it,” I interrupt him, ”you don't need to say it.”
“You admit it?“ he asks, a bit dumbfounded.
”So what? You've known that for three years anyway. Why are you so surprised?”
“Whether I realize it or not doesn't matter, Jo-Jo. You have to accept it. And you have to dare to fall in love properly. Your internet clips may be great jerk-off material, but you can't hug them.“
”You and Merle... are you together?” I change the subject.
He shakes his head. “Nah. It was more of a classic situation. She was in a bad mood, I was in a bad mood... blablabla. You should make up with her. She really likes you, in a completely unsexual, unromantic way.”
“Sounds familiar,” I admit.
“Exactly. And you should make up with me,” he grins, ‘because I love you in a completely unromantic and... er... at least mostly asexual way.’
To avoid further stress, I tell Leslie that everything is fine again.
Today is Nora's birthday party, which traditionally takes place in her parents' allotment house. Since I'm not as emo-ish anymore, we don't meet very often, but I'd say we're still friends. That means we can go weeks without talking, but when we see each other, we're immediately back on the same wavelength.
“Yo-yo,“ Nora greets me, blowing a kiss on my cheek and looking darkly when she sees Leslie.
”Did you bring the plague with you?"
I shrug my shoulders uncomfortably. ”Happy birthday... I put the present on the table with the others.”
“Happy Birthday,“ Leslie coos happily and wants to hug her, but Nora pushes him away.
”What's up?“ he asks.
”Nothing,“ she snorts, shaking her head.
”Could it be that you're still mad?“
”You sat on my ass and made sure that my boyfriend broke up with me,” she starts.
“I gave you a harmless massage. Is it my fault that your boyfriend reacted so jealously?“
”And you rode on the roof of my parents' car, wanted to pee out the window and would have stuck chewing gum in the ignition if I hadn't slapped you first.“
”Nora, that was so long ago,” he groans.
“It's only been a few months. And you are an irresponsible piece of garbage. The total antichrist. You're the kind of person I would warn my daughter... or my son about."
Oh dear, I'll piss off quickly. Grab a bottle of Desperados, sit on the couch and stare at the people. Kai and Fritte are there, but otherwise I don't know anyone. As already mentioned, I no longer move in emo circles. So while I'm drinking and staring, my gaze lingers on a guy standing in the corner with his beer, somehow out of place because he's not wearing emo clothes, but black and green plaid bondage pants and a tight black wool sweater that mostly consists of honeycomb-like holes. His hair is brown or black... I can't see it clearly in the dim lighting... short and frayed with long strands of bangs. Strangely, my heart suddenly starts beating a bit faster. Probably also because the guy is looking in my direction and probably notices that I'm staring at him. Or have stared at him, because of course I quickly look away.
“Hey, who are you looking at?“ Leslie asks and throws herself down on the sofa next to me.
”Why... uh... no one,“ I reply hastily.
Leslie grins stupidly. ‘Cute, eh?’
”What the hell are you talking about?” I mutter weakly.
“Green and black plaid trousers and lots and lots of naked skin, Jo-Jo,“ he explains in this stupid, compassionate tone of voice that makes me want to kick his ass immediately.
”Have you made up with Nora?” I change the subject so Leslie doesn't get any stupid ideas.
“Nora loves me. She's just really pissed off because she can't have me.“
”She thinks you're garbage.“
”I can live with that, after all I know the truth. What? Should I talk to the guy or something?“
”If you're keen on him,” I act uninvolved.
“I actually meant, should I talk to him for you?“
”Are you drunk?“
”Not yet, but I'm on my way.“ Jo-Jo, what the fuck? You're obviously interested in this guy. So...”
“Shut the fuck up, Leslie,” I hiss, “seriously.”
“I'm going to go over to him. He might have noticed you already."
And with that, he got up and sauntered over to the guy. I felt sick with horror. If Leslie said something stupid... I'd blow up instantly. But before he reaches the guy, he fortunately changes his mind and joins Kai and Fritte, who are standing nearby. My heart is pounding in my throat. And Wollpulli is looking in my direction again, taking a sip from his bottle and licking his lips. I'm getting hot and... oh my God! Leslie stands next to him and says something in his ear, and the guy smiles. At me, in fact. I frantically dig for cigarettes and a lighter in my bag as a cover, taking my time with it, and when I cautiously look up again, they've both disappeared. I can guess what they're doing now. Leslie is an old flirt! So what? I don't care. I only like boys in theory. Unfortunately, I'm no longer sure about that, because my stomach still tingles. Alcohol. I desperately need alcohol!
I usually know how much I can handle and know when to stop before it gets unpleasant. Today, I missed the point when it became uncomfortable. After so many beers, I feel incredibly nauseous and if I don't get to the bathroom soon, I'll throw up in the bowl in front of me and become the laughing stock of the party.
I stagger to the toilet and have the misfortune to have eaten with spoons. The outside toilet is occupied. So around the corner, a few steps further and it comes up to me. Everything. Even what I ate a week ago... at least it feels like that.
“Bah... that's disgusting,” I hear an angry voice close to me.
I continue to puke.
“Man, are you drunk or what?“
I don't have much time for stupid questions like that right now, but I notice that someone is pushing me roughly.
”You almost threw up on my shoes.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. When the retching is over and I raise my head, I almost want to throw up again. Smite me. Hang me. Dissolve into thin air. Next to me stands the guy in the green and black plaid bondage pants and the holey sweater.
“I'm really sorry. I just... I wasn't feeling well.“
”You've got vomit on your chin,” he says, disgusted, and leaves.
Great, Jo-Jo. You've really made a splendid impression! There's no way I'm going to stay here any longer. Not after that stunt. Without saying goodbye, I sneak home.
Why do such unbelievably stupid things keep happening to me? I'm naturally very careful, I think carefully about what I say and do and how I might come across to others. One damn careless second and disaster strikes. I embarrass myself to the bone. It's been that way since elementary school. There was a child sitting next to me who used to keep his sandwiches under the table. On the bread was nasty deviant sausage. One time the smell was particularly dangerous that I felt sick and couldn't get out of the classroom fast enough. I threw up all over the damn table and my classmates were totally disgusted for the rest of the year. Actually, it wasn't entirely my fault. After all, I still can't help it if I gag on repulsive food. And the holey sweater guy standing in the way when I was throwing up... well, okay, I should have stayed away from alcohol.
Hey, that's not funny, okay? , I type, feeling a little offended. The guy was... well, and now I'll be the one with the puke on his chin forever.
What happened? , Flo writes back.
Huh?
The guy was what?
Nothing. I was just embarrassed.
I see. Still, something like that can happen to anyone, and the guy could have at least handed you a handkerchief. He probably has no manners, huh?
Manners stop at puke.
But you felt bad. If I had been there, I would have held your forehead.
Really?
Of course. And I would have brushed the hair out of your face. There's nothing more disgusting than hair that smells of vomit.
You're making fun of me *pout*
Yeah... but just a little null I have to go, I have a date. We'll talk, okay?
Okay, see you, I'm signing off.
Flo has it good. He meets up with handsome guys all the time, who all fall in love with him immediately and want to go to bed with him, and he doesn't have to worry about what his father would say about all this. Flo came out to his family a long time ago and no longer lives with his parents anyway. I should actually break off contact with him immediately because I stupidly realized that I think he's more awesome than I allow myself to. But why did he have to send me a photo of himself? And why does he have to be so fantastically good-looking? So good that my imagination sometimes gets completely out of hand and I imagine him... with me...
“Just send him your phone number and tell him you want to meet him.“
”Argh,“ I squeal and reflexively click Flos photo away. I really have to be more careful. If it wasn't Leslie but my father who had crept up like that... oh my god!
”I don't want to meet him,” I explain after my heartbeat has normalized a bit.
“Does he know that you only think about him when you jerk off?“
”Of course. I always write that to strangers at the beginning. It makes a good impression. Moron.“
”In any case, you should be more careful. Imagine if your father had snuck up on you like that.“
”Is he there?”
“Yes,“ he answers and plops down on my bed, ‘I told him that we were studying together... as always.’
”That's good, because I have to have my damn paper finished by Monday.“
Leslie grins maniacally. ‘Paper, huh? About pretty blonde gayboys?’
”Very funny. About the German Autumn.”
“Aha. Why about that in particular? And why not summer... or winter?"
I'm kind of stunned. Leslie, on the other hand, is laughing her head off.
“RAF, Schleyer kidnapping, plane hijacking, the night of the death of Stammheim and in the end Schleyer had to believe it... do you think I'm totally uneducated, or what?“
”Excuse me, but most of the time you talk about sex, music, clothes, movies, books.”
“Exactly. You should have watched the Baader-Meinhof complex with me. Although... the movie is kind of pretty stupid. It doesn't give any answers, it just rattles off the actions. But especially with such a difficult topic to understand, it makes no sense at all. Unless the goal is to make a cool action flick, which I'm just going to assume is what the makers were going for.”
“Yeah, probably,“ I sigh.
”So, if I help you now, can you go out with me this weekend?“
”That depends on whether my dad's in a good mood.“
”Your dad's an asshole,“ he remarks.
”I hadn't noticed that yet.“
”That's why I'm telling you. Now let's write your stupid paper.”
Man, Leslie really knows a lot about terrorists. He always acts like he's only interested in fun and games, but in reality he's pretty smart. And I feel pretty stupid next to him right now. Maybe you should spend more time studying politics and history. Isn't that kind of important? The events of 1977 are probably even part of general education... I obviously don't have much of that. On the other hand, I know the rules of various ball sports through my stays in different clubs. Unfortunately, this is not particularly useful knowledge. Unless you happen to be sitting at “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” and get a question about it. But how realistic is that?!
“You should get at least a B+,” Leslie explains. “Your father will be satisfied with that.”
“Do you think that's enough? Shouldn't it have gone into more detail about, um, the ideology of the RAF and how they came up with all that sick shit? After all, I don't just want to rattle off the actions.“
”This is a presentation for a lousy history class, not a doctoral thesis. If your teacher wants more detail, he should get Aust to take a look at it.”
“I'll tell him.“
”So, we're going to Subway on Saturday.“
”Whatever,“ I nod.
”Great, because I want to introduce you to my new boyfriend.“
Oh dear, I almost fall off my chair. ‘You have... a...’
”Boyfriend, Jo-Jo. Why not? After all, I'm a nice, sociable person.”
“If you officially introduce him to me, it must be something really serious,“ I consider.
”We'll see how it develops, but... I'm convinced that he's the one,“ he smiles.
This is really strange, because Leslie doesn't usually fall in love with boys.
”Does Mr. Right also have a name?“
”He does. Kim.”
“And... what's he like?“
”Stunning.“
”Cool, now I know everything about him.“
”You'll meet him on Saturday,” he shrugs.
Yeah, I'm looking forward to a couples evening that I'm being dragged along to! Hey, if they're constantly kissing, I won't be able to stand it.
Subway is way too crowded, loud, hot, stuffy and I feel kind of queasy. Flo told me today via email what he did yesterday. Did! He did it with a guy he barely knows. It's logical that I'm in a bad mood, right?!
“I told you to meet up with him,“ Leslie yells. ‘That's what you get for never listening to me. Your sweetheart is fucking someone else.’
”Flo is not my sweetheart,“ I reply aggressively.
”The guy's not for you anyway. He's been around too much.”
“Oh yeah? How would you know? And what does that even mean?“
”Well, that he's mainly interested in sex. Do you want someone like that to be your first boyfriend?“
”Where is your boyfriend?“
”Don't worry, he'll be here.“
”Fine, I'll get a coke first.”
At the bar, I once again made a fool of myself. As I was about to go back to Leslie with my coke, I tripped and accidentally poured my drink over a guy.
“Fuck! Sorry,” I yell and quickly make a run for it. I don't want him to kick the shit out of me. His black and red striped shirt has gotten a whole lot of coke on it. Great... Leslie is nowhere to be found. I search the dance floor for him, but in vain. Okay, so he must have gone to the bathroom. I'll just wait.
At some point, someone taps me on the shoulder. Leslie. Next to him is a black and red striped shirt with various zippers, a dark spot on his chest, and I have the unpleasant feeling that I am far from reaching the peak of embarrassment.
“Yo-Yo, this is Kim. Kim, this is Jo-Jo,” Leslie introduces us politely.
I feel sick. Kim is the boy I almost threw up on at the garden party. Man, maybe he doesn't remember.
“First puke, then coke... I'm really curious to see what you'll come up with for the next mouth when we meet,” he grins.
Too bad.
“I'm sorry,” I mumble.
“What?“ he yells, coming a little closer with his head.
”I'm sorry,“ I repeat louder. A big mistake, because my voice sounds totally squeaky. Hey, why doesn't anyone shoot me?
”It's not that bad,” he claims. ”As long as you don't throw up on my shirt right away...”
It could happen. My stomach is rumbling wildly and my body is starting to tingle because Kim looks about a thousand times more beautiful up close, smells faintly of jasmine and... because he's Leslie's boyfriend. He's dating Leslie and I'm swooning here. That's just not on! Anyway, now I know for sure what they were doing at the party and why the outhouse was occupied when I had to throw up. It reminds me instantly of Larry Flynt... having sex with his mother in an outhouse... Leslie and I laughed our heads off about that. I wonder if all the zippers are real, as if you could see Kim's naked skin if you unzipped them... okay, Jo-Jo, calm down!
“Awesome, huh?” Leslie whispers in my ear.
It pisses me off a little that he hooked up with Kim, of all people. I mean... he sleeps with my girlfriend, grabs the guy I secretly adored in the garden house, the only thing missing is that he does it with Flo next week. An old Bates classic is playing, which is very fitting.
...she's the girl that I'm dreaming of
but I know I'll never get her
never
she's my best friend's girl...*
Unfortunately, Kim is not a girl, but a boy. So what? I don't care. And I don't want him either. Never! After all, I still only like boys in theory, and that's not going to change. Even if my body tingles from the scalp to the tips of my toes because Kim is standing close to me and obviously likes Bates, because he is softly singing the lyrics along.
"The Bates are hot, aren't they?”
I nod weakly. Kim's lips have just touched my ear very gently as he speaks.
“After Zimbl died, I couldn't hear it for a long time, but now I can again.”
I nod again because I remember that three years ago, shortly after we met, Leslie wore black for quite a while... because Zimbl died. Logically, this didn't attract much attention because Leslie usually wore black clothes anyway. He still does today. Huh? Where is he anyway? Lost again. Does he have a screw loose to just leave me standing here with his handsome friend?
“I'll go find Leslie,” I explain.
It doesn't take long. He's hanging out with some girl I don't know. Relatively close.
“Yeah?” He asks when I nudge him.
"Uh... so your friend is standing back there and... are you picking up a girl here?”
“Oh my God,“ he groans. ‘Just a minute,’ he calls to the girl and drags me outside into a quiet corner. ‘Haven't you got it yet, Jo-Jo?’
”No. What?“ I reply, confused.
”I'm not with Kim."
My brain is overwhelmed.
“But... you said he was your boyfriend.“
”You're my friend, too. Does that mean we're together? No. I thought if you got to know him, you'd fall in love and...“
”Is this some kind of set-up? Like a blind date? Are you out of your mind?“
”Why? You like him, don't you?”
“You really are an ass,” I hiss. ‘Oh, shit... what did you tell Kim to lure him here?’
Leslie looks a little contrite. ‘Ahem... about what I told you?’ he suggests. ”Maybe with the little addition that you don't have any experience with guys and he would be your first boyfriend.”
“You're kidding,“ I hope.
”What's so bad about it? Kim thought you were cute at Nora's party, too.“
”Probably before I had vomit dripping off my chin.“
”Why don't you stop with your stupid vomit and go back in to see him?“
”Now you're kidding,” I'm sure.
“What's your problem, Johannes? I practically present you with the guy on a silver platter and you're annoying around here.“
”You're my problem. In the future, please just stay out of my life, okay? Have a nice evening,” I wish and get away from the madman.
At home in my room, I'm way too angry and upset to sleep, so I sit down in front of the computer and see that Flo is online. Fine.
I had a weird evening, I tell him without beating around the bush.
A friendly 'hello' would have been nice too null
I'm not in the mood for niceness!
Wow... even with an exclamation mark. What happened?
Leslie tried to foist a guy on me today. Guess what kind of guy.
Tell me, I don't want to guess.
Vomit in the allotment garden... ring a bell?
I'm a bit confused. You like boys?
Great, Jo-Jo! Well, what can you do?!
Seems that way.
Cool. Then I want a photo of you too, right away null
What for?
Yeah... what do you think?
No idea?!
So I know what you look like and can dream a little about you...
My head is spinning. Is he flirting with me? Oh dear!
I don't look like someone you could dream about.
Please let me decide that for myself!
Nope. You'll just break off contact in disgust afterwards.
Are you such an ugly goblin?
Yep! I've got a little, red, spotty face... and if you're not careful, I'll pinch you in the ear null
Ahhhh... carrier pigeons, mh? I used to find them pretty cool. Okay, pinch me... but not in the ear.
But where?
*rrrrr* I could think of a few places...
Meanwhile, my stomach is all over the place. And Flo is impatient.
Hey... I'm still unpinched...
Nah, it's getting too tricky for me now.
I'll go to sleep, that's how I'll get out of this.
Spoilsport! OK, sleep well and... send me a photo!
Well, I've got myself into a mess.

Yesterday, Mirko came up to me and told me that he and his family had decided to move to the Ruhr region at short notice. That was a slap in the face for me.
My mood was in a complete slump that day. Mirko, on the other hand, was dancing on air. It was one big adventure for him. He was as excited as if Easter and Christmas fell on the same day.
I couldn't understand how he could be so happy. Is he happy to finally be rid of me?
“Hey, what's wrong? Why are you making such a face?”
“I just don't understand why you're so happy to get out of here! I just don't know how I'm going to kill time here without you.”
“Hey. Come on, be happy with me that I'm finally getting out of here. And why should we lose sight of each other. You just can't keep something like us apart!”
He tried to cheer me up with a little smile. But it didn't really work, all I got back was a pained smile.
“Promise me that you'll write to me at least once a week!” it shot through and straight out of my mouth.
“Of course, do you think I would forget my best friend? No way, you'll get so much to read from me that you'll kick yourself in the ass!” he promised and grinned cheekily at me again.
The last day wasn't exactly pleasant though. I sat there like a sip of water while Mirko and his family scurried around preparing the last bits and pieces for the move. The night before departure was cruel for me, I lay in bed and couldn't sleep a wink. I kept crying and I just couldn't imagine how I could go on living here without Mirko. It was simply cruel. And when the day came, I stood in front of Mirko's car with bloodshot eyes and dark circles under my eyes and said goodbye to him in tears.
“And you promise to write to me as often as you can?”
“Yes,” he replied, looking a little annoyed, ”I'll write as soon as we arrive.”
“Sorry to be a pain, but I miss you already.”
“I understand what you mean. At least I'll get out of this wasteland and you'll have to spend the next few years here. But I promise you, you'll hear more about yourself than you'd like.”
Then he and his family got into the car and drove off. I stood at the side of the road the whole time and waved after them. I stood there for quite a while and watched the car, I even stood there when the car was no longer visible.
The next few days and weeks were terrible for me. After school, I went home, sat in front of the TV and let myself be bombarded. And that went on for quite a while until I moved to grammar school and met new people and built up a new circle of friends ....
That was 10 years ago now. It was shortly after reunification and many families “fled” to the “West” in the hope of wealth, work, prosperity and probably also out of fear that the Wall would be built once again and they would be stuck in the GDR again.
Mirko's family was one of these families. Today we are both 18 years old and even if nobody expected it, the friendship still exists, we wrote at least one letter to each other almost every week and it was still like at the beginning, with every letter I receive, my heart beats with joy and does three somersaults.
Today is another one of those days. There was only one letter in the letterbox straight after school and this time it was another one from Mirko. I grabbed the letter and ran upstairs to my kingdom. I threw myself on the bed and ripped open the letter in a hurry. It wasn't really anything special anymore, because the letters were the norm, there were already more than 1000 of them on my desk, but I was still as happy as a little child and had to read them straight away.
As always, I carefully unfolded the letter.
Hi Gregor
What I have to tell you today will probably knock your socks off.
After 10 years you will finally see me again and this time not just for a few days but for a longer time.
My mom and dad have decided to move back to Mendelshaben (I hope the place doesn't exist) after all these years. After all these years, they want to go back home after all. It comes as quite a surprise to me and my brother. But I'm really looking forward to finally seeing you again. The time here wasn't exactly the best. I really missed the people from my old home. The move back is just as sudden as the move away. In just 3 days, my parents, my brother and I will be on our way.
I'm really looking forward to seeing you and everyone else again.
I hope you'll forgive me for writing such a short letter today, but all hell is breaking loose here because of the move. My mom is whirling around the apartment like a madwoman, trying to somehow bring order to this mess.
My dad helps her wherever he can and takes on the heavy lifting for her. And I'm jumping around the apartment like a lunatic and am really happy to finally be home again.
But I really have to stop now, otherwise I won't be able to pack and stow everything away.
This was my last letter to you, because from now on I'm going to tell you everything straight away.
See you in 3 days at 17:00 at our old apartment.
Mirko
Did I just get that right? Mirko is coming back? I just couldn't believe it. I read the letter over and over again. I have no idea how many times.
I just couldn't believe that Mirko, my best friend Mirko, was coming back.
When I realized it after ages, I jumped up and couldn't believe my luck. I jump around the room like a fool and dance like I'm on cloud nine.
“Oh God,” I think to myself when I see the postmark. It's arriving today, the letter has been on its way for two days. Oh my goodness. So fast. Shit, it's so sudden that I don't even have time to be happy about it, let alone prepare anything for him. When I look at the clock, it's already 4:30 pm.
“Shit again!” I gasp. I can hardly make it another half hour.
I run down the stairs as fast as I can, grab my bike and pedal so hard that my chain almost flies off right at the start. Luckily, our town isn't particularly big, it's more like a big village and everyone knows everyone else.
That often gets on your nerves. If you carelessly drop your fag in the street, it's in the local newspaper the next day. That kind of thing is really annoying, I'd rather have the anonymity of the big city. I know many people can't understand why people want to move to the city, but if you've lived in a small town for 18 years, you're happy to finally see something different.
Sure, there's a disco in our town, but what a disco. Only kids or those village bums hang out there. Not to mention that there's no decent music there at all. No, you're bombarded with stuff like Blümchen or N' Sync and I really don't fancy that. There's nothing else for young people in this town. Most of them hang out somewhere in the area and get high on alcohol or other drugs. Yes, that's right, there are drugs in the village too, not as obviously and excessively as in the big city, but they do exist. And they are mainly used to numb oneself from the dullness of the old people and the authority of the teachers and boredom.
But I'm getting too off topic again at the moment. God I wish I could get out of here. But all right. After about 10 minutes, I reach the old block of flats where Mirko and his family are apparently going to move back in. It's one of the old prefabricated housing estates left over from the GDR era. Not exactly the nicest place to live. But it was cheap housing. Low rent, low heating costs, low electricity costs. Years ago, I lived in a building like that, but then my family moved into their own house and since then it's finally been quiet.
You have to realize that the walls in such apartments are as thin as paper. You hear every noise from your neighbor, every argument and everything else you don't want to hear.
Of course, this also causes a lot of unrest in your own family, but since everyone has had their own realm, that problem has also been solved. I realize I'm distracting from the topic.
So I arrived on time after all. It was more than in time. About 5 minutes until they would show up. So I put my bike away and sat down on the steps outside the front door. The seconds passed like chewing gum, every second seemed like hours.
Finally, a car turns the corner with the license plate K. It can only be Mirko. I don't know anyone else who would drive here from Cologne. No sane person would do that.
As the car gets closer, I can see Mirko's dad behind the wheel. He seems to look the same, except that his skin is a little wrinklier and his hair has more gray strands. But otherwise the 10 years don't seem to have done him any harm.
The car stops right in front of me, braking abruptly. I jump up from the steps and my hands are damp, as if I'm about to go on my first date. Oh God, my heart is pounding as if it's about to burst, but luckily it doesn't.
The doors of the car open and four faces emerge. From the driver's side, of course, Mirko's dad, who, as I said, has hardly changed at all, except for the fact that his hair and skin have suffered a little over time. From the passenger side, Mirko's mom steps out onto the road. Unlike before, she now has a fashionable short haircut and has lost a few kilos over the years. She has become a real feast for the eyes for her age. You'd think she was just an aging model. It's amazing what miracles time can do, she must have lost at least 20 kilos. There's a happy sparkle in her eyes, as if she's seeing something today that she's been looking for for ages and never found.
Maik and Mirko get off at the back. Maik is Mirko's younger brother, although small only refers to his age. He is a good head taller than Mirko and is only about a year younger than him. If I'm not mistaken, Maik should be 17 now. So that's what the little pest from back then has become. A big, handsome boy. But he doesn't seem too happy. As if he's reluctant to go along with this. Which I can certainly understand. He stands forlornly next to the car with his head down, apparently not knowing what to do.
Mirko, on the other hand, jumps out of the car with a huge smile and immediately throws his arms around my neck.
“Home again at last!” He is really relieved to see his old home again and not have to leave.
I haven't seen Mirko since his last visit, which was 5 years ago. A lot has happened in that time and everyone has changed, including Mirko of course. His growth spurt must have stopped at some point. He's a good head shorter than me, I reckon he's around 1.70-1.75, but he's still the lanky guy he used to be. There's not an ounce of fat on his body, but no muscle either. Black hair and brown doe eyes. But he must have reported the beard growth twice when it was awarded. Either he hasn't shaved for the last two days or they're just shooting out of his face. I'm guessing the former - moving house is a lot of stress and it's easy to forget your daily routine.
Just as quickly as he threw his arms around my neck, he quickly detaches himself again and starts looking me over.
“Hey, what's happened to you? I almost didn't recognize you!”
“Why Mirko, who is that actually?” his mother now asks.
At that moment, I couldn't help but grin. It's nice when you can change so much that others don't recognize you.
“Ma, that's Gregor!” Mirko shoots back. At this moment, the jaws of the other three drop so hard that a magnitude 9 earthquake could have been measured.
“Don't be so jumpy, it's been five years since we last saw each other. And you've changed a lot, too!” I immediately reply to Mirko's mom.
“That makes two of us now!” she smiles at me. “But stop calling me 'you'! You never used to do that and don't start now, otherwise I'll feel so old. So I'll stick with Marion!”
“Okay, then I'll stick to Marion and you, sorry, YOU, of course, Gregor.”
Mirko now pushes me a little away from him and looks at me closely. To clear up this behavior:
It's actually quite easy to explain. About 4 years ago, I had a minor, or rather major, crisis. It was actually the trigger for me to change. I used to be a fat little chubby girl. Really, I was fat up to the top. And the crisis made me fall so low that I finally decided to make something of myself. So I started to lose weight, which unfortunately soon became almost pathological. I lost more than 30 kg in a very short space of time. But luckily people kept telling me how skinny I was and so I found myself again and put on 10 kilos. Today I finally feel comfortable with my weight and with myself. I'm certainly not a top model yet, but I certainly don't want to be. Otherwise I've just shot up and with my hard-won 1.92 I'm not exactly the smallest. I'm quite happy with that. At least I don't have to look up to others any more. At least I don't have to look up too often. To give you a complete description of myself, I also have green eyes and black hair, which has recently been cut short, and if it's still relevant, my shoe size is 43 and my trouser size is 32/33 ;-). And to define the crisis even more precisely. It was the time when I admitted to myself that I was gay, which hasn't changed to this day and to this day only my parents know about it.
Mirko took a few more minutes to look me over. Above all, I somehow feel like I'm sitting on a platter. It's not exactly a pleasant feeling and I quickly turn red. Maik and his father are still standing there with their mouths open, while Marion and Mirko have already gone back to normal
“As always, you're so kind and help us carry the last boxes up!”
Mirko still has a way of turning a request into an order. I'm normally a sloth and don't like to work. That's just the way it is, I prefer to have a good time and hang around stupidly. But I hate it like the plague when something is forced on me, like now. But this time, I don't really care. At least I can hang out with Mirko for a while. But in future he'll probably learn what it means to force something on me. And I can't really complain, as there are only a few boxes of personal belongings left to carry into the apartment. Apparently the removal men had already moved most of them into the apartment during the day yesterday.
“Of course I'm happy to help. It's no problem at all.”
“Still the Gregor from back then, can't say no to anything even today!” Marion grinned wryly at me from the side.
“Oh yes, I can say no. I've got myself under control so far. I think you'll have a lot of fun with my stubbornness in the future!” I grinned cheekily.
Even Mirko's father and Maik had their jaws dropped again and seemed to be back to normal. Only Maik hung his head again. He looked really pitiful the way he was standing there. Rolf, Mirko's father, regained his composure and went to the trunk and opened it. At that moment, I began to hate estate cars. They simply had too much storage space for me at that moment. There are at least 10-20 boxes all to carry upstairs. Oh God, what have I let myself in for!
Now I had already agreed and couldn't go back.
“And now everyone get to work on the boxes, standing around won't move anything!”
It seemed that it wasn't just me who wanted to leave the boxes in the car for the next few years, Maik and Mirko also looked like they'd rather hide away at the moment.
“Grab it!”, he told Maik and pressed two boxes into his hand. “Marion, will you go upstairs and unlock the door?”
“Already done darling!” Such harmony was almost unbearable ;-). It really seemed like it would have been best to go back.
“When did you start thinking about coming back?” I began to ask as we made our way up to the fifth floor with the boxes.
“For some time now! Why do you ask?”
“And why did you tell me about it three days before? I actually only received the letter three quarters of an hour ago! I must still be in shock. I don't think I've realized yet that you're staying here!”
“Ouch,” I cried out and almost dropped the box.
“You see, you're not dreaming and I've just pinched you. Wake up or realize that I'm staying here!” he grinned at me.
“You don't have to give me a bruise!” I grumble back. But I definitely don't mean any harm. I'm still too overwhelmed inside, I finally have him back.
“And you're so happy! Don't you miss your friends, acquaintances etc. from there? Don't you care about any of that?”
“Can we talk about it later, please? I'm just running out of breath with all this running around and I can't talk anyway!” Inwardly tense and curious about everything that has happened, I still have to pull myself together. I don't know how they managed to fit so many boxes into such a small van. In any case, after walking up and down at least 10 times, my feet are smoking. Up to the 5th floor, heavily loaded, back down again. Up to the 5th floor, back down again ...
I just let myself fall onto Mirko's bed and take a deep breath.
“God, I'm exhausted! Why did I come by!” I grin at him.
“Why do you think? Because you're just curious and want to be the first to know everything so you can gossip about it!” A pillow immediately comes flying off me and lands right in Mirko's face. Mirko staggers and falls backwards onto his backside.
As soon as he's caught himself again, he jumps up and comes straight at me.
A fierce tussle starts between us. I'm the bigger one, but he's still the stronger one, so at first it goes back and forth, sometimes he's on top, sometimes I'm on top. But in the end, he's the one who gets the upper hand. He pins me to the floor, so to speak.
His knees are on my hands and his bottom is on my stomach so that I can no longer move properly and only then does his real punishment begin. He starts to tickle me from top to bottom and I simply can't defend myself under his weight. I squirm under him. Squealing and screaming like a small child. But it's also really stupid in situations like this when your whole body is ticklish. I have to laugh and squeal so much that my stomach hurts and apparently I squirm so much under Mirko that he has to give up, even he starts to sweat.
Exhausted, we fell onto the bed next to each other and had to take a deep breath. I don't know exactly how long it took me, but I was gasping my lungs out.
“So why did you come back?” I asked, still out of breath.
“There are many reasons. The main one, of course, was that my father got a job offer here. He's starting as a roofer next week. It's tough over there when you have to get by without a job and without a steady income. But that's only been the case for the last few months, because my father wasn't earning too badly at the beginning. It's just that the company went bankrupt three months ago and he was out on the street!” He pauses for a moment and then continues.
“And, of course, because we all missed our old friends here!” He looked at me and gave me a smile.
“But don't you already miss all your friends from there?”
“What friends? They're all assholes, those Wessis. None of us over there have made any real friends!”
“Why should they be assholes? I never had any real problems with anyone from the former FRG. They were actually always super nice!” (*wink wink*chuckle chuckle*).
“You just have to talk to them. They think they've eaten wisdom with spoons. They don't accept anything else and believe their shitty capitalism is the best thing that has ever existed on earth. They don't even know how well off we were before reunification!” Did Mirko really just say that? Doesn't he know how bad it was before reunification? We were only 7 - 8 years old at the time. But neither of us should have fallen on our faces. The buildings were ready for demolition. You could hardly get anything sensible in the supermarket, which was still called Konsum back then. It was enough if you had to have Christmas written down to get one Santa Claus per child. Has he forgotten all that?
“They're just know-it-alls who can only grumble and think we're just there to take money out of their asses! Funnily enough, Maik was the only one who got on with them. He already had a huge circle of friends. But unfortunately it was the wrong one. They put bullshit fantasies into his head, which he of course believed. In the end, it was enough to make you tear your hair out, the things he let himself be talked into.”
“What was that exactly?”
“Don't be angry with me, but I don't want to talk about it. Sooner or later he'll realize what a load of crap he was talking back then and realize that it was best for him to come back.”
“But...”
“No, not another word about it!” There was a shadow on Mirko's face.
“So Maik was the big reason you came back?”
“If you want to know for sure. Yes!”
Shit, what could Maik have done? He seems like he can't hold his water.
“What's it going to be like here then? Are you going to chain him up all the time? He's 17, how are you going to keep him in?”
“He's still 17, so we still have a year to show him that he's done something wrong. And that's why he'll have to hang out with me for the next few years. If he wants to leave the apartment at some point. Otherwise he'll have to hang out in the room and as we'll have to share one again from now on, he won't be able to mess up here either!”
There is a shadow of worry on Mirko's face. There also seemed to be a bit of anger at the fact that he hadn't looked after him before.
“Let's change the subject instead!”
“Sorry. I'm afraid I can't! I have to go home, it's fucking school again tomorrow. You'll finally see your old friends again, at least some of them!”
“Will you pick us both up then?”
“Sure, no problem. Around 7?”
“Oki! We'll wait downstairs.”
I quickly went to the others and said goodbye and then disappeared.
I spent the rest of the day in a trance. I just couldn't comprehend that Mirko, my best friend, was finally back and would never leave again! I could jump for joy, but Maik kept pulling me back down to earth. Why is he causing his family so much worry? I would never have believed him capable of that. Back then, he was the tormentor who followed us at every turn, but not in such a way that he could have done anything to anyone.
I go to bed with a bad feeling and fall asleep with the same feeling

There I was, standing in the entrance to the cellar, having a smoke. Not that I minded being seen smoking, I was past that age, but why cause stress for yourself or others.
The night was clear. I saw many stars.
I enjoyed the silence after today's hustle and bustle. My eyes closed and I smelled the hay that had been made in front of the hotel that day. It reminded me of the past. What haven't we done in the hay.
I sat down on the step of the stairs. Was I happy? Satisfied?
I was fine. I had been lucky almost all the time. Few injuries and always in the right place at the right time.
Oh, the reader wants to know who I am. Kai.
Kai Oberhäuser, 24 years old, midfielder in a Ruhr Valley club and international.
18-time!
Hence, no one forbade me from smoking anymore.
But the question of happiness and satisfaction?
Yes, more or less, I was satisfied. Happy?
I would have liked someone who was honest with me. I already had three relationships behind me, some more or less long. It always ended with the ladies looking for someone who spent even more money on them and wasn't out of the house as often as I was.
But I didn't really miss it. There were always some girls around after training or a game, and there was always an opportunity to do it somewhere, so I didn't get a seed fit.
I took another deep drag of smoke into my lungs. The night was really nice.
It wasn't too warm for June yet, and I thought of the evenings at home with my parents and my stepbrother on the terrace.
A lot had changed in the last two or three years.
Painful memories came back.
I'd better go to sleep too, the game is tomorrow.
It wasn't really important anymore, but at the moment we players weren't in good standing, because we had played too badly recently.
I wanted to at least try to play well tomorrow.
I was just about to leave when I heard voices next door.
One was very angry and the other was trying to calm him down.
The angry one belonged to our trainer. I had had problems with him in the past, but since I regularly scored my goals, we had something like a truce.
What might have upset him so much? I listened (what you know, what you should know).
“A fag in my squad and no one told me!”
"Now give me a break.”
I recognized the voice of Hüsch. Franz Hüsch, our assistant coach.
“He didn't do anything to you and was just honest with you.”
“Doesn't matter, I don't want any gays on the team.”
I thought about it. It could only be one of the new ones that Gerd meant. I knew from one of the newcomers, although he had no idea that I knew. Was that the one meant?
We had four new players on the squad this morning. There was Janne Münter, 17 years old, he was still an amateur and a student, had the number 23 and played as a man-to-man marker. Lars Simon, 18 years young, he was also still a student, but as far as I knew, he already had a contract or was still negotiating. He was the goalkeeper with the number 30, then Larsen Neumann, also 18 years old and a student, wore the number 33 and was to be used in the offense. He had already signed with a top club. We still had 4 players from that club here. Last but not least, there was Michael Klünter, Jens' little brother. He was 22 years old, already wore the number 4 and was in defense.
Gerd continued:
“He'll be slaughtered tomorrow, you can bet on it. I'll line up the team right away. The number 1 will be injured. If our Schwuli gets the ball in the net, he'll be torn to pieces in the press. You can count on it.”
Oh, him, he meant.
Lars.
Lars Simon. Him? Lars? He hadn't given me that impression. I had to grin, as I'll explain in a moment.
First, though, I have to write about what occurred to me at that moment.
It had started that morning.
Friday 22.06.2001 9:00 a.m.:
I drove into the hotel parking lot, took my bag out of the trunk and went to the bus. Some of the other players were already there. I gave my luggage to Kalle, the bus driver. He would bring it to the hotel room later.
I greeted the others and the two newcomers, Larsen Neumann and Michael Klünter. Our German black African Kunta Simba was already there too. I got on really well with him. The others slowly arrived, along with Gerd and the assistant trainer Franz.
Franz was counting the attendees when two more newcomers arrived. They were brought by mum or dad.
Lars Simon and Janne Münter.
Janne was the one I knew, but he didn't know me. I had sharpened the knife on him, as I first learned from the newspaper that he was in the lineup. He had to be prepared for something.
After the general blah-blah, we drove to the stadium and were expected by the press and fans.
They mostly pounced on the new players and the coach. The rest of us tried to get to the dressing room unscathed.
Kalle had already prepared everything there, with shoes and jerseys each in their usual place. Kalle, our driver, was the soul of our team. If there were small problems, he solved them. But he also had a sense for when something was wrong.
I was surprised to find the seat next to me occupied. The number 30, the reserve goalkeeper. He wasn't there yet.
I changed and talked to Kunta.
Gerd came into the dressing room and asked for Lars Simon. He came rushing in at that moment.
He apologized and quickly changed. Then he stood up, held out his hand and said,
“I'm Lars Simon, I'm happy to be here.”
He paused and added a little more quietly,
"Above all, I'm happy to meet you. I'm your fan.”
Statements like that make me, at least, embarrassed and I shook my head. As I did so, I looked at him more closely.
He was at least 1.80 m tall, slim, had dark blond hair, which was cut very short on the sides and otherwise ended at a length. When he took off his T-shirt and pants, you could see a really nice body. You couldn't guess anything else from the boxers, but I didn't have any interest in that anyway; the girls would be interested in that.
He had to talk to Gerd and then go to the team doctor.
The rest of us left. The new guys introduced themselves while we were warming up. They were all nice, except for Janne. No, that's not true. He was probably as nice as Lars, and he also looked a lot like Lars in terms of height and build. He had dark hair and looked even younger than seventeen. He seemed so vulnerable and yet I hated him.
We did a few stretching exercises and then we all had to go to the team doctor one by one. Lars was the first to go, and in my opinion, he came back a little distressed, as if something had happened. But in the end, I didn't know him well enough to worry about it. I wasn't his nanny.
Lunch at 12:00 went without any peculiarities.
After lunch, we were able to retire to our rooms, and then the training was to continue at 2:00 p.m.
Some stayed in the reception.
But I thought I would take a nap. I got the key and went to my room. In the past, I always shared the room with Oliver Hobt. But he was injured, so I was surprised to see someone else, Lars Simon, lying in one of the beds.
When he saw me, he immediately jumped up.
“If you want to sleep here, I'll gladly take the other bed."
I was a bit surprised to find him here, since it was usual to ask the old players if a greenhorn should join them in their room, but Kalle, who also took care of it, was sure to have a reason. I generally accepted what Kalle did, so I said to Lars:
“No, you can stay in bed. I hope you're a heavy sleeper, because sometimes I snore.“
He looked embarrassed:
”I was once told that I talk in my sleep. Just wake me up then.“
I couldn't help but ruffle his hair.
”It's okay, I think we'll get along. Okay?"
He nodded and lay down again.
These seconds,
- the touch of his hair,
- the confession of talking in his sleep,
- his appearance.
Tears came to my eyes. How much he resembled Dennis.
I lay down and my thoughts wandered back.
Dennis:
I hear him laugh, talk. A wild blond. As tall as me, but half my weight. Always friendly; good at school. Respected by everyone, I thought.
Him, yes, I loved him. He was the only one I loved.
At first I was against the marriage. My mother surprised me with it. She wanted to get married again. My father had left early. The man, Hans, had a son, 13 years old, whom he wanted to bring into the marriage, Dennis. I was totally against it and made no bones about it, saying at every appropriate and inappropriate opportunity that I did not agree with the new family. Although it was the biggest nonsense, I was 21 and could have moved out anytime, completely stupid.
My mother suddenly left me alone with it. At first I didn't understand why, but then I did.
The doorbell rang, I was home alone, my mother was at a conference.
A kid stood in front of me and looked at me. I thought he wanted an autograph. He shook his head and said:
“No. I just wanted to see the asshole who's putting me down and doesn't know me at all. I'm Dennis Lange, Hans' son!“
I was speechless at such an address. I looked at him in amazement. He grinned.
”May I come in?”
I let him in and he looked at everything. My dislike for him lasted two minutes. He told me about himself and his father and asked me about things I didn't remember. He was interesting. I offered him something to drink. We continued talking. He laughed and was thoughtful at the same time. I was fascinated by him.
Sorry, I think I should tell the gentle reader that there was no sexual interest here, at least not on my part, since I was in a heterosexual relationship at the time and my gay phase had been over for at least three years.
Nevertheless, I had fallen in love with the little one. Honestly, he was the brother I always wanted to have. It was getting late that day. The phone rang and a man's voice on the other end:
“Excuse me, this is Hans, is Dennis with you, I'm very worried.”
I looked at the clock, half past ten. Crap.
“I'm sorry, I missed the time. I had such a good time talking to Dennis. What do we do now? Should I take him home? Can he sleep here?“
”I don't know what he wants, he can stay with you if you like, but if he annoys you, I'll come and get him."
I looked at Dennis. No, he didn't annoy me.
“Of course he's staying here, he'll move in here sooner or later, I hope so. Right?“
Dennis beamed from ear to ear at the words and nodded vigorously.
”You have to know, your mother has made everything dependent on your decision.“
”I just told you my decision... told you. Come over tomorrow so we can get to know each other. I was so stupid.”
That was three years ago. We got along. That same evening, or night, we talked until 4:00 a.m. He had undressed and lay down in my bed with only his underwear on. Absolutely no fear of contact. We told each other everything. About school, sports, fears, desires.
He asked me about my first time, what it was like. I was so captivated by him that I told him about my feelings and also my failures. He also revealed that he was seduced by two girls for the first time and that he didn't like it. The girls had spoken condescendingly about him afterwards. We could tell each other everything. Crazy.
My mother then remarried and I was able to experience the best times as far as family is concerned.
When he was 14, he would stand in front of my bed in the evening, or rather in the morning. He had something on his mind.
I moved over, not caring that I had a game the next day, I could still sleep.
He told me that he was in love, he was so cute. He swore he was really in love. I was happy for him, I told him so. He turned to me.
“You're my big brother. I always wanted something like that. When I was standing in the doorway and calling you names, that's when it happened to me. I fell in love with you as my brother. Now I'm lying next to you, someone else, different. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I love you as a brother too, you know that. At the same time, I love Katja too, obviously in a different way, and I have sex with her too.“
”It's a boy I love. Is that bad?"
I saw a tear roll down his face in the light of the lanterns. I took him in my arms.
“No, it's not bad at all. You, that means you, have to follow your heart."
It was a beautiful time, Hans also found out about it, said nothing against the relationship.
I became the confidant of love; when something happened, he told me about it. Afterwards, I knew almost everything about the boy. He was just lovely. I also tried to give him advice if he wanted it, but I always accepted his approach.
Then he wanted to introduce us to his friend Jan, who was a year older than him, as he called him, and with whom he had been together for three months.
It was April 13, 1999, when we waited in vain for the two of them.
It was the most terrible day of my life. The doorbell rang, I thought Dennis had forgotten the key, and there were two policemen standing in front of the door, looking down, holding their caps in their hands and saying something.
I only heard Dennis, trucks, no chance.
It took me a long time to get over the loss. Even today, every thought of him hurts.
Little by little, the truth about what happened came out. Not everyone at school liked him. Some had seen him with his friend in a suggestive pose. They were probably after him when he ran in front of the truck, whether intentionally or unintentionally?
But what made me particularly angry was that his friend didn't stand by him; he didn't even come to the funeral, I resented that, very much, it made me furious. I knew him, he would pay, bitterly pay!
Lars shook me by the shoulders.
“What's the matter with you? You're crying. What is it?”
I shouted at him:
“If you say a word, then...“
He looked at me in horror. Tears were now in his eyes, like a beaten dog.
”No, I don't mean that, I'm sorry.“
I pulled him down by the jersey and he sat down next to me.
”I was thinking of my brother, you're so much like him."
I added.
“What about him?“
I took a breath
”He's dead.“
He wanted to ask something, looked at me, I shook my head.
”I'm sorry, really."
he just said.
Friday 22.06.2001 2:00 p.m.:
I washed the tears from my eyes and we went to the bus. The others were already waiting. After the warm-up, we played against each other. Janne was on the other team.
I positioned myself so that he would have to cross my path at some point.
Of course, this was just a warm-up game, you couldn't get hurt normally. I wanted to change that with Janne.
He ran towards me with the ball. I took aim and, pretending to play the ball, kicked Janne full in the knee.
In my mind, I could already hear the crack of the broken knee.
Janne saw the foot coming and my gaze. He was frightened, but couldn't get out of the way. He closed his eyes. Centimeters before I touched him, something yanked me around. I don't know what it was, there was no one around. It was as if someone had pushed me. Janne kept running. I remained lying there for a moment, stunned.
"Man Kai, what was that for?”
Kunta was talking to me.
“Did you want to ruin the new guy?”
I mumbled something about 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to' and such, and sat down on the bench for a moment and involuntarily watched the goalkeeping training.
Gerd was pretty rough with Lars. I didn't know him like that at all. Normally he was very friendly, especially with new players.
Well, I wasn't very friendly to Janne either. I continued playing. Janne didn't come near me again.
Then it was time for dinner. We went to shower. Unlike this morning, everyone was suddenly in the locker room and under the showers.
It's always like that, as a heterosexual you can shower naked together, but you're not allowed to look at each other, or if you do, it's just a quick, cool glance. Above all, don't show any reaction.
Unfortunately, that doesn't always work, and I saw how the new guys, after hesitantly undressing, almost popped their eyes out when Kunta let down his trousers.
Cheeky as he was, he turned around to them again. But he also had a dick. Like half a Blutwurstring.
“Well guys, do you like that?”
He laughed and went to the shower.
The four of them also laughed embarrassedly, with Janne blushing bright red. Lars was also very embarrassed.
I went into the shower, followed by Lars.
As he stood next to me, I looked at him briefly.
Ping - even more Dennis!
Why did I keep seeing Dennis in him? Dennis usually showered with me. We weren't shy about looking at each other either. I asked him at the beginning if he could even pull back the foreskin. He didn't say yes or no, he stood in front of me and pulled it down and showed me that he could do it.
Now Lars was standing next to me, his little one looked like Dennis's. Small, little hair, long foreskin, small sack.
“I don't have any more,”
he said quietly.
I flinched. He caught me staring, it was embarrassing.
“Excuse me... I... uh... shit... please don't think I'm gay, I'm not. But I'll explain something to you tonight."
I turned around and without me saying anything, he washed my back. His hands on my body. I cried, - Dennis -, I held my face in the shower so nobody could see the tears.
Dinner went well. Gerd said that he would announce the exact team line-up tomorrow.
“I just ask that you all be in bed by 10:00 p.m. That also goes for our gamers.”
He looked at Hubert, Janik, and Dieter.
I wondered what I should do. I sat down in an armchair and watched the people. Janne kept a distance of at least 10 meters around me. Lars talked to Gerd and the two were obviously arguing. Lars shook his head and left the room quickly.
I decided to go after him, not necessarily to find out what was going on, but I wanted to explain to him what had happened in the shower.
When I entered the room, he was lying on the bed and crying. He hadn't noticed me coming at all and jumped in fright when I sat down on the bed next to him.
"What is it? Can I help you?”
As I said, he looked up in fright, looked at me, wiped away his tears and shook his head.
“No. Thanks, I'm fine, it's nothing.”
I looked at him, but he said nothing more.
“I wanted to explain to you what happened in the shower.”
“It didn't happen.”
he replied.
“Yes, I looked at you, looked at you for too long, others might think something. I think you noticed it too.“
He shrugged.
”As you stood there naked, I saw my brother Dennis in you again. Like this afternoon. You would pass as brothers if he were still alive. Even your cock looks like a copy of his.”
“Is that why you were crying?"
I didn't think he had noticed. I nodded. We talked for a very long time. He talked about himself, about school, and I, if I'm being honest, talked almost exclusively about my stepbrother Dennis.
I realized that he still had something on his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to tell me.
It was almost 11 p.m.
I wanted to have another smoke and said to him:
“I'm going to have a cigarette now. I have a favor to ask of you, but don't get me wrong.”
“You smoke?”
he interrupted me.
I grinned at him.
“Doesn't everyone have some secrets?”
I asked back.
He blushed, said nothing.
“So one more request, if I go out for a smoke now, you'll have time to jerk off. Otherwise, if I want to sleep and someone's jerking off, I don't like it. Or you have to go to the bathroom. Okay?”
He now became embarrassed and took a breath.
“You don't have to say anything. You don't have to. When I was your age, I had to release pressure at least twice a day."
I grinned at him and left him alone with my words.
Since I still suspected our trainer was in the hall, I went to smoke at the back of the basement stairs

Hello, I'm Micky. Actually Michael, but hardly anyone calls me that. You could theoretically even change my ID. Even my boss only calls me Micky when he's in a good mood, otherwise, of course, Mr. Hohlbein. Yes, it's a crappy name, but I can't do anything about it. What it's about today? About my youth. Yes, I know it sounds stupid when I talk about my youth at the age of 21, but what it is about today happened five years ago, and for me it is about a quarter of my life and thus clearly a long time ago. When it all began, I was still 16 and lived in a small town in the countryside, somewhere between Berlin and Hamburg. It's not really worth mentioning exactly where, so we'll leave it at that. It was a small place, about 10,000 inhabitants, so there was an atmosphere where everyone knew each other. Sometimes this is quite pleasant, but in the long run it's annoying. You are recognized by everyone and you can't do anything without being watched. If you're in a bad mood for a day, then two minutes later the whole “city” knows about it, basically it's not a real one, it's much too small and much too village-like. At that time, I still went to high school in town, hard to believe, but our town really had its own. Although it is also quite small. Since then, I have never seen a school that can manage with 200 students. Well, and I was involved in a clique of about 8 guys. All of them were in my course level and we had all known each other for years, most of us even from kindergarten. There were Sandy, Melanie, Andy, Matthias, Daniela, Christina, Marcus and me. All of them were 17 except me, I was just the baby of the family, but only for a few more weeks, then it should be time for me too, finally 17 and the summer vacations weren't far off either, after all, it was already early summer, it was slowly getting really warm outside and you could almost dare to go out in just a T-shirt and shorts, well, but only almost. I'm a real frostbite for such actions.
“Morning,” I greeted Marcus.
“What? So cheerful so early in the morning? I don't think you're normal.”
"I don't know if I'm normal, but you definitely aren't. You look more like you just fell out of bed.”
“That's how I feel too. Well, I should just get a bit more sleep. But try explaining that to Melanie, she just won't let me get any rest,“ he rolled his eyes.
”What about me?“ Melanie suddenly joined us too.
”Speak of the devil…“ and again Marcus just rolled his eyes.
”Hey, what's that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing. Just that my little devil always shows up when people talk about him.“
”Weirdo.“
”But at least a nice weirdo?“
”The best weirdo in the world."
And what happened in the next few seconds before my eyes? Yes, it was time, the first couple had found each other this morning and had to slobber all over each other. Whereby one must say that it is a miracle how Melanie keeps our womanizer Marcus so close to the leash and does not let him escape in any adverse direction. For those who haven't understood it yet: me, Marcus and Melanie were standing in front of the school one Wednesday morning, waiting for the bell to ring to start school. Well, not primarily for the bell to ring, but rather for the others to arrive.
“Good morning,“ something suddenly jumped on me from behind and I jumped in fright at first. ‘Hey, don't faint.’
”Then don't squeak in my ear and don't jump on my long-suffering back.“
”Oh, you poor thing. I'm really sorry. But good morning to you two lovebirds too.”
“Morning Sandy,” Marcus says, joining in again.
Morning, morning, morning, and so it went on until finally all eight men and women were standing in a circle and chatting about the previous evening as usual. At that time, there were only one couple internally and four couples externally in the clique, if you want to put it that way. As already known, Marcus and Melanie were a couple and everyone else except for Matthias and me had found their partner outside of the group. Well, but I wasn't really jealous about it. Sure, I would have liked to have had someone by my side, but if it doesn't work out, it just doesn't work out. Lately, though, I've noticed that my friends have somehow been trying to set me up, and when this time of setting up starts up again, I can bury myself for a while. I think there is nothing worse than being introduced to a girl, only to then tell her yourself: “Nah, you're not my type!” which is probably the case most of the time. If my friends would tell her themselves, no problem, but in the end you are always the scapegoat.
“So, what are you all up to today?” Daniela asked, sort of into the room.
“Well, me and Melanie have to study math.“ And at the same moment that Marcus said this, the rest of the group burst into laughter, while Melanie blushed beautifully at his side. ‘Shouldn't it be biology?’ someone from the group added.
”Nah, but seriously, who wants to go swimming at the lake this afternoon?” Daniela asked this time a little more specifically.
“We're both in,“ Melanie answered first this time.
”And what about math?“ Marcus asked in disbelief.
”That can wait, just like you.“ Gosh, someone wanted to get even for the gaffe from earlier.
”Um... Excuse me, but isn't it a bit too cold to swim?” I interjected.
“Wimp. A man feels no cold, he'll get through it, and it's not that bad, the water is already 15°C,” is typical of our Hartei Matthias.
“Hey, don't be a tough guy here. If it's too cold for me, it's too cold for me. I don't want to be sick in bed for the next week when the water might finally be really warm,” I spat at him a little too harshly. But anyone who makes such allusions to me should watch their back, I get mighty bitchy about stuff like that.
“Now just calm down, you two squabblers, not again, so once more: Who's coming to the lake to swim or just to hang around, can also be nice for those who don't want to?"
Somehow this has been happening more and more often between Matthias and me lately. I don't know exactly why, but we ended up arguing almost every day, and it only took a very small provocation for either of us to take the first step. Yes, I admit it, I wasn't really an innocent lamb either; every now and then, when I was in a bad mood, I took advantage of this opportunity to let off steam, especially at that time. Why has this only happened recently? In my opinion, Matthias had undergone a transformation overnight. All of a sudden, he wanted to appear strong and self-confident. That's all well and good, I say to myself, as long as it doesn't get too strong, otherwise it quickly becomes bragging and that's just how it turned out with him. Always these weird sayings about tough guys and this typically conservative social image of women and men. He often played the big shot and tried desperately to find a girlfriend. Sometimes it was really annoying. The others seemed to be able to deal with it, but I tend to blow up pretty quickly when it comes to stuff like that. Me and Matthias had never really done much together outside of the group, so neither of us really minded bickering with each other.
“So, who's coming with us?“ Daniela asked again.
”So, Marcus, Melanie, Matthias, Sandy, Andy, Christina, me. And what about you, Micky?“
”Oh, I don't know yet, I actually still have a bit to do.” I replied. Actually, I didn't really have anything to do, but rather I didn't really feel like running into Matthias.
“Oh, come on, what do you have to do? It'll be more fun at the lake than doing what you're planning to do,” Melanie tried to persuade me.
“For one thing, I still have a lot to organize because my parents are going on vacation tomorrow, if you remember, and for another thing, I really need to do something for school again,“ I snapped back a bit too sharply, so of course I was sorry about it at the same moment.
”It's okay. You don't have to be a bitch about it.”
“Sorry, I didn't mean it, I must have got up on the wrong side of the bed today.“
”Come with us for a couple of hours despite your things, it'll be fun and it'd be a shame if you weren't there,” Daniela tried again to persuade me.
“Well, I'll see what I can do, but I still can't promise anything.“
”Thanks, it'll be great and you won't regret it, I promise."
And with these final words, the wretched ringing of the school bell began. Annoying every day, it just reminded us that we were stuck here for the next 2 years. But what could you do about it? There was nothing you could do except just put up with it all. And that's where our group split up. Some in math, some in art. Well, at least it wasn't the case that we all had to go to different classes, but there was always someone with us. Well, but whether this person was really useful to me. Now I had math and who was with me, of course? Matthias. I guess I'll never get rid of that guy.
“You have the homework with you?” he asks me at the same moment.
“Yes, sure, don't you?” I snapped at him, of course.
"Hey, it's fine. What did I do to you this time? Say, are you having your period?”
“If you don't stop this shit right now, I'll hit you. You're just annoying!“
”Sorry to have disturbed your royal highness. Get off your high horse, apparently the sun has gone to your head today.”
“Blah blah blah. Can't you do anything other than use others for your own purposes or do without your stupid comments for once? They're really annoying!“
”Sorry for being annoying. You can leave if you don't like it.“
”Thanks, I'll do that then.”
No sooner said than done. I grabbed my stuff and snuck off to one of the back rows. Finally some peace and quiet. No annoying guys getting on my nerves. Well, I was in a really bad mood this morning, I admit, but Matthias of course topped it all. At least I had two hours of peace and quiet for now and was able to slowly return to normal. I didn't catch much of the lesson, but so what. It's just math, I'll manage somehow.
Well, and then I was talked at for two hours by our teacher. About the integration of a normal e-function etc. etc. Boring stuff that really didn't interest anyone. I'm sure you're not interested either. So I'll skip the next 90 minutes, during which I was only asleep anyway, and move on to the next big break. Math was over and now our group gathered again in the auditorium.
“Is anyone else coming this afternoon?“ I ask again to be on the safe side. There have been occasions when just the eight of us wanted to meet and suddenly there were about 20 of us.
”No, not really. My friend and the friends of the others have to find something else to do today. It's possible to do without us, and besides, the eight of us should meet again on our own.”
“I agree, I just wanted to check again. You can surely still remember last summer, when suddenly about 20 people came to shit?”
“Sure, but I thought it was cool. It was almost party time, a bit few people for a party, but still. And above all, it was full of delicious girls.” Who do you think made that comment? Right, Matthias. All talk and no action. He talks big about delicious girls, but has never even remotely had a girlfriend himself.
“Well, that's fine for you. But I can live just fine without looking after every other skirt. Maybe this afternoon will help you to finally get your blood pumping in your loins again if you don't see any other girls!“
”Hey, what's that supposed to mean?” the other female creatures in our group objected indignantly.
“Oh, nothing, I just wanted to...” I said, ‘um...’ ”Oh, forget it.”
And again only this nasty grin of the girls. I don't know, but somehow you're always powerless against women. It's true, women often have more brains than the rest of humanity, whoever that may be. At least a few women, and if I should narrow it down even further, then our 4 girls.
“Yes, yes, we understand, we're not your level, we're just a bunch of poor women who have nothing to offer. No money, no beauty...“
”But a very charming character and a wonderful friendship,” I interrupted the four of them. Somehow I had to get out of my fat mouth again.
“Smoothie,” was the only reaction from the rest of the guys, and from the girls there was just an ‘Ohh,’ and everyone blushed equally. At least I had achieved my goal there and could grin from ear to ear for the time being. And I didn't just say that to make it sound better, I really meant it, I loved my girls. Whenever I felt like crap, I could just contact them and someone was always there for me, and all without anything in return. Well, there was one, but it wasn't asked for, I was there for her in return. You have to be honest. Girls tend to be put off by a guy like Matthias; I doubt that you could build up any kind of deeper emotional relationship with him, let alone talk to him about something like that.
At that very moment, the eerily annoying shrillness of our school bell sounded. The break was over and our group once again split into two. Sandy, Marcus, Matthias and I had German first, while the rest went to art. As soon as we entered our room, our slightly graying German teacher stomped in. Unlike our other teachers, he really was only slightly graying at 40, and he was also quite open and tolerant of other matters. But just as fickle as me, you could tell immediately whether it would be a good or rather an annoying hour, and today it was rather a positive hour, at least that's what his face looked like.
“Sandy?“ I tried to whisper quietly.
”Yes?“
”When are we actually meeting this afternoon?“
”Around three, right at our swimming hole in the forest, you surely remember that, don't you?“
”Yeah, sure, I just wanted to know roughly when so I don't arrive last again. You know me.”
“Well, don't exaggerate, there are much worse guys than you in our group, just look at Matthias. Cheesy, macho and always late. What are you supposed to think of that?“
”Oh, it's not just you who's noticed that?”
“Nah, who hasn't? You could only miss it if you had a tomato on each eye or just didn't want to see it...“
Suddenly a louder voice came from the front and addressed both of us, well, me, directly.
”Mr. Hohlbein? What else is there that's interesting?“
”Oh, nothing.”
“Nothing? Well then this is more interesting for you. You have to fill out a questionnaire in groups of two by tomorrow...”, during these words he was already standing up and handing out 4 pieces of paper with questions to each of us, ”... you have to work through these questions with your partner and present a concrete overall picture of the person to the class at the end. You are not supposed to reproduce any explicit statements here, but rather to interpret the person as you see them, how well you would get along with them, for example, what you think of them and so on. You understand. Everyone has about 5 minutes to express themselves, so we should be done in about 2 hours.” A small artistic pause set in and he continued. ”So now to the individual groups. Sandy, you'll work with Martin. Daniel, you'll work with Manuela. Michael, you'll work with Matthias..."
Um, excuse me? I'm supposed to fill out a crappy questionnaire like this from one day to the next and answer questions like ”When did you have your first relationship? Are you looking for sex or love? How do you see your life at the moment?” I was already against the grain, but I also had to do this together with Matthias and then evaluate it. Surely, evaluating will not be a problem. A rough, uncouth block of wood that only thinks with its pig and nothing else, I probably don't need to say more in class, but I don't want to let go of any soul here either.
“Um...“
”Yes, Michael?“
”You're not really asking us to answer all these questions, are you?“
”Well, actually, yes. Why not?“
”Why not? Because they're pretty much private and I certainly won't give some answers because they just don't belong in public.”
“Do they come into the public eye? I don't think so. You are supposed to answer each other and these answers will ultimately remain in your possession. You are not supposed to simply repeat the other person's answers here, you are supposed to characterize the people. You are not supposed to mention any explicit answers here. So I don't really see a problem."
Aha, no explicit statements to the class, but to Matthias. I wonder what the difference is. One word to Matthias and two hours later the whole town knows it. Once again, you had to be prepared for anything. For the next two hours, my mood was once again in the basement. As soon as you get a little cheerful, something like that slows you down again. So what did I do for the next two hours? I stared out the window and cursed myself for getting out of bed that day.
“Michael? Do you still want to take part in the lesson?”
“Michael? Are you even listening to me?“
”Michael? What are you doing there at all?"
And again and again the questions came from my teacher, but I wasn't interested at all, so at least he saw what I thought of his teaching method with the test. Nothing at all, well I could do something like that with Sandy or someone like that, but not with Matthias, gossip number 1.
But eventually even those two hours were over and the bell rang for a break. Well, at least it would have been a normal break. No, now I had to quickly get my gym clothes out of the locker and then it was off to the gym. But first I had to say goodbye to Sandy, who had philosophy instead. Have I already said that I curse this Wednesday? Yes, well then I'll say it again here, I hate Wednesday, because the next two hours I had again together with Matthias and no one else from our group. I would have liked to just gone home and slept until this Wednesday would be over.
The way to the gym was a narrow dirt road through a small forest. Well, in our area, the gym is not directly on the school grounds. But it's not that bad, it's only about a 500-meter walk. Suddenly, however, Matthias is walking right next to me and I jump in fright.
“Hey, not so jumpy. Don't say I've done something to you again!” And once again Matthias is walking next to me. ‘I just wanted to ask how we're going to do our questionnaire?’
I started boiling up inside again just hearing the word questionnaire, but there's nothing I can do about it.
“I'm not sure, but it would probably be best if we went somewhere together after our meeting at the lake and worked through all the stuff.“
”Well, where? I don't really live near our swimming spot! What about you? Couldn't we meet there? It's right on my way anyway?”
This guy even has the nerve to come to me. But I don't really have anything against it either. It's really the best option, and before we end up having to go to him, I'd rather agree to meet at my place.
“Okay, then at my place, if it absolutely has to be?” I try to sound indifferent.
“It doesn't have to be, we can just put 0 points on the board.“
”Well, don't be a bitch about it again.“
”Oh, just forget it, we'll meet after the bath.“
And again he was gone, probably fortunately, even more of his sayings and at some point I would blow up...
...”Have you seen the new one from the ninth?”
“No, which one do you mean?“
”Well, the one with the two excellent arguments!“
”Oh, you mean the one with the watermelons?“
”Yes, I'd really like to take her on. She looks really hot...“
”Dream on, by the time she lets you at it, your dick will have rotted off. Stick to yourself, you'll get more out of it.”
“You should know. Well, I don't think I know anyone who switches to manual mode as often as you do!”
Can you imagine that? You just come into the gym locker room and what do you get? Watermelons, rotting cocks, hand jobs? Sometimes I feel like I'm in a stable full of horny rabbits just waiting for the next shot. Well, I guess guys aren't really any better than rabbits. Often I'm really glad when at least some of them get their blood to the head at least once a day and then and when they can produce a reasonable, straight sentence without using words like wanking, fucking, tits and the like. It really works for some of them, but well, what can you ask for? You just want to wander past for now and hide in a quieter corner.
“Ah, our Mr. Clean is back. Still chaste and well-behaved?“
”Oh come on, leave him alone, he's just a bit behind, what did you expect, poor guy.“
”I think his biggest dream is to cum once a year.“
”Well, or at least get it up once.”
Well, sometimes the day continues just as badly as it started. Today seems to be one of those days again. Are you not a man just because you don't jerk off every two minutes or slobber over some female every two seconds, no matter how ugly she is? Well, you have to listen to something like that every week. At some point you just get numb and just ignore it, or rather, you try to somehow not hear it. And yet it comes back to your eardrum and you still hear it. No matter how often you tell yourself, “They're just assholes, you don't have to pay attention to that!” you're still somehow hurt again and again. You ask yourself, what did I do wrong? Am I really such a failure? And I think, no matter how self-confident some 30 or even 40-year-olds pretend to be, it just doesn't work. They too are vulnerable to such things, maybe not as easily as teenagers, but it also takes a toll on them. I used to freak out regularly because of such comments and sometimes I would have lashed out, but I am no longer proud of that today, however much they might have deserved it. But I had simply given them the right to do so by my reaction. I was weak and didn't know how I could have reacted differently. Today, I'm at least a little older and just walk past the guys, sit down somewhere in a quiet corner of the locker room and just change. T-shirt, sweatpants, sneakers, what more do you need? Somehow it's time for me to get dressed quickly and just get out of there and go somewhere where you're not sitting across from these weirdos.
“Aha, we're not fancy enough for you, are we?“ Sven, the weirdo, says, of course.
”Should you be?“
”Shut your wankered mouth or I'll smack you!“
”Ah, a threat, but you'd better take another look at the dictionary so you have other words than wank and tits. Well, at least you should know what other words there are, nobody's asking you to be able to write them,« I said and just walked past him. Behind me, I heard him call out »wanker« after me again. Well, as I said, a dictionary might work wonders, although I'm actually afraid that everything is already forgiven anyway. Instead of getting annoyed about it again, I preferred to go to the gym, or rather to the stack of mats in the equipment room, and just lie on them. Close my eyes and relax a bit. It didn't take a second and I was asleep. Although the day was still pretty young, I was so exhausted that I just collapsed...
... Michael? Hello? Mr. Late Riser! The lesson has started! You'd better come quickly to the others, before you get into trouble!” Something was jolting my shoulder. ‘Hey, not yet, I don't feel like doing sports’ was the first thing that went through my mind. But eventually I had to open my eyes after all. I was lying on the mat as before, only Matthias was bent over me, constantly shaking my shoulders. Aha, the culprit, why can't he just let me sleep, no one will notice anyway.
“Ah, Sleeping Beauty is awakening from her deep sleep!“ Matthias simply grinned at me.
”Oh, just shut up, why can't I just sleep in peace here?” I spat at him, still a little tired, and then had to yawn again promptly.
“Why? No idea? Because otherwise you'll just get into trouble with our professor again? Come on, before you really get a reprimand!” he smiled at me this time and held out his hand. Still a little sleepy, I reached for it rather weakly and moments later he had pulled me up. But unfortunately a bit too hard, I was apparently still too weak on my feet, because at the same moment I lost my balance and just fell forward, but there was Matthias. Somehow, as a reflex, he just grabbed me and held me just to make sure I didn't fall over.
“Hey, still a bit weak on your feet?” he whispered to me, rather gently, directly in my ear this time.
“Thanks, but I'm fine now,” I just tried to react somehow, broke away from him and left the equipment room as quickly as possible and sat down with the others.
Somehow the scene had just frightened me a little. What was that about Matthias? Is he kidding me? Or is he suddenly trying to be friendly after all? Sometimes you really can't figure him out.
“So, now for handball. Like every week. Form teams and compete against each other. Oh, and by the way, that's when the final grades are given,” it came from our sports teacher, and I knew exactly that it was going to be one of those shitty days again. I hate handball like the plague, actually all kinds of games. I'm just not good at any kind of sport, well, maybe a little chess and table tennis, but well, you can forget the rest. That's why I was always chosen last, I had already gotten used to it. Well, at least I was useful as a defender, because anyone can stand around stupidly and raise their hands.
“Micky!” Um, who's shouting for me? Sure, Matthias had once picked me for his team and this as the penultimate, so this time I didn't stay on the bench until the end and then had to be assigned to some team after all, which basically didn't want me.
“You're going back to defense, you're pretty good at it,” Matthias said again. The big guy is trying to act like the boss again. ‘And whenever the situation seems successful, you slip through to the front. Most of the others won't cover you, it can lead to too many surprises...’ Blah, blah, blah. Have I already told you how much I like playing handball? You can actually see this quite well in something like that, everything is discussed and most of the time it's just about beating the other team, and the fun falls by the wayside. Anyway, you just have to subordinate yourself, if you get annoyed about any aberrations in the game here, you'll be punished with a punishing look from the coach anyway.
And whistle. The game had started again. I first received the ball in the middle and passed it to some runner, and then disappeared into our defense again. How exciting.
Tom, Matthias, Tom and ouch... That must have hurt. During a jump attempt, he was first taken down and landed on his side on the floor. I think I would be guaranteed to be disabled for the next 10 years with such an action, but of course these guys get up after 10 seconds and continue as if almost nothing had happened.
Final whistle and 9 meters. That means that all opponents have to go to their circle line and our team has to go to the dashed 9-meter line. Except for me, I didn't mind. I had to stay a little further back so that I could maybe distribute better. The real reason was that I wasn't doing anything up front, so at least I could quickly get into defense during a counterattack.
“Micky! I'll throw you the ball in a minute. This time, don't distribute it, just run with it to the goal line and try to throw it. Meanwhile, the opponents will try to keep us in check, so you'll have a free run.”
Um, did I just understand that right? Mattias doesn't really want me to start an attack, does he? “And go,” apparently he does. He quickly clapped me on the backside and then went to his position.
Whistle! The game was on again, only now did I realize that I was still standing there a bit perplexed. Only slowly did I realize what was going on now. Not only did I realize it slowly, but time seemed to be running in slow motion before my eyes.
Matthias threw me the ball, slowly and gently like a balloon, it flew into my hands. “Micky go!” Matthias suddenly shouted at me. I had apparently just been standing there for a while, not knowing what to do. Well, a while, in handball maybe two seconds. Only then did I realize what I had to do and I started dribbling the ball forward. With the utmost caution, step by step. As promised, a gap opened up in front of me. Matthias on one side and Tom on the other. Both held back the opponents to give me space. I dribbled meter by meter, with the utmost caution. After all, I didn't want to disappoint, not this time. At least I wanted to score. If it's held, that's another matter, but at least score. Meter by meter. The first beads of sweat formed on my forehead, first small and then larger and larger, and all just because of the adrenaline, which must have shot through my head by the kilogram at that moment.
Five meters to the circle line. I took the ball in my hand and was about to take the last three steps to the jump shot. Three more steps. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer against the inside of my ribs. Two more steps. I was about to gasp for air, but not a single breath entered my lungs. One more step. My muscles tensed and I was about to jump. But shit, Sven had slipped past Micky and was standing right in front of me, but I couldn't go back. I was already in the air phase when I first noticed him. He stretched his arms up and was about to jump, but I was already right in front of him, swung my hand wide and threw the ball over his hands. The ball first hit the ground. It had so much spin and power that the ball, with a slight left turn, went right past the goalkeeper's hands and only lost momentum behind him, in the goal's net, and was intercepted.
But at the same time, I was still in my flight phase and kept flying, but at some point Sven was standing in the way. He also started to jump, but the ball had already flown over him. But he and I were in our flight phase at that moment and it seemed inevitable that we would collide. After all, I couldn't brake or turn, nor could he. He crashed violently into my chest with his face and went flying, landing on his back on the ground. He landed roughly on his back first and then on his stomach. As I was about to touch down, I got caught up in his feet, but landed a little more gently on my side right next to him. It was only when I was lying on the ground that my normal sense of time returned. My adrenaline level dropped and I was able to breathe again.