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“... and here's the manual, but not much has changed since the last version. Are you doing okay, Richie?” I nodded. ‘Don't forget that I explained the old version to you, Rip.’ My father grinned. ”Yes, but only because you didn't trust me to choose a sensible program for the practice myself. Oh, and one more thing: a new patient is coming in later, so please take care of the paperwork, okay?” I tapped my forehead with two fingers. ‘No problem.’ ”Good, I'll be in the office. Call me if anything comes up; Anne will be helping out with the reception later.”
With that, my father disappeared, leaving me alone at the practice reception desk. Before I even touched a hand here, though, I first needed a large cup of strong, black coffee. Fortunately, we had a small kitchen in the practice, which also had a coffee machine. While the coffee was running, I browsed a bit in the manual for the new practice software. So far, everything looked pretty good, and even some bugs in the old version had finally been fixed.
Before I devoted myself to the program in detail, however, I first compiled the documents for our new patient – now back at the reception. Ripley – Dad, whatever; none of us seriously addressed him as 'Daddy' – hadn't told me anything more, except that he would arrive sometime this afternoon. I looked at the clock – it was just after three. So I probably still had plenty of time. I looked through the stack of documents that still needed to be processed; there wasn't much. The old databases had been transferred without any problems and as far as we could tell, no data had been lost.
I can see from your looks that you can't quite follow me, who I am and what I'm actually doing here. All right, our new patient isn't here yet, so I'll take the opportunity to briefly introduce myself. My name is Richie – actually Richard Andrew – Masters, I just turned 18 and live with my family in Hamburg. Besides me, there's my brother Julian, he's 20 years old and has been studying dentistry at the University of Hamburg for a year. My little sister Anne is 16 and, like me, still goes to school. And then, of course, there's Ripley, just called Rip by everyone, our father.
Usually there is someone missing... that's right. No child is born without a mother, but there are families in which the mother eventually leaves, and that's how it was with us. I was just four years old when Mom met another man and left Rip. She never got in touch with us again, and she was much too career-oriented to have children of her own anyway. So Rip simply opened the practice only half days, took care of us and only worked when we were at school. Rip would never let us down, he is our father and we all respect each other unconditionally.
We are all now old enough to take care of ourselves and we help Rip out a bit in the practice – which has two advantages for us: for one thing, we always have enough pocket money (Rip pays us for the hours helping out at the practice) and on the other hand, we keep meeting nice people – Anne even met her boyfriend there, which I'm still a little jealous of, because the guy is just damn cute. Oh yes, by the way: Julian and Anne will have to take care of the grandchildren in the family, unfortunately it won't work for me – gay men find it difficult to have children of their own.
Now there is only one question left: What kind of practice is this actually? That's an easy question to answer. Rip is an orthodontist, a job that many of you will know from your own experience. If not, orthodontists are the dentists who make sure that you walk around with more or less large wire constructions, also known as braces, in your mouth during your youth. Rip's, however, has a little something extra: the practice is not listed in the Yellow Pages or any other telephone book. I am proud to say that, although it is not meant to sound as arrogant as it does, we only treat patients who come to the practice on special recommendation. Most of them can be admired from time to time in the movies or on television, some can also be heard on the radio. In any case, they are not unknown. Most of them are simply referred to as teen stars.
How did this come about - an orthodontist from Hamburg treating patients from the land of opportunity? We were a bit surprised ourselves when it all started. Rip was born in Los Angeles and still has many friends there; one of our neighbors is the leading actor and producer of a US television series. In the summer of 1989, there were a few problems on the set that Rip had to deal with, and this brief assistance eventually developed into something more. Word got around, Rip had a pretty good reputation in the industry, and so it finally came about that he devoted himself full-time to this group of patients. Rip was also often involved in films as a consultant when, for example, there was a fight in which one of the actors was supposed to be punched in the face – in this case, he had to make sure that no one was hurt and, if something did happen, intervene immediately.
Oh yes, one more thing: since our parents are both American but we live in Germany, we grew up bilingual. In practice, this is unavoidable and when we are with Rip in Los Angeles, we don't have any problems. We used to get confused more often, but now we can speak both languages fluently (sorry, it's not meant to be a boast, but maybe some people would be surprised if the conversations were not emphasized separately).
So much for us. I was going through our files, trying to bring order to the chaos and at the same time learn the new features of our practice software, when suddenly someone cleared their throat in front of me. “May I interrupt for a moment?” I looked up, actually a little annoyed by the interruption - but unfortunately I saw the person's face directly. And so it hit me like a bolt of lightning out of the blue. “Yes... uh... what can I do for you?” ‘I'm supposed to register here somewhere,’ the guy said. He had dark blond hair, a little curly, about my height - for those who don't know me: a little over six feet - and he simply knocked my socks off.
The face looked familiar, but I couldn't think of a name for it. So instead, I frantically searched for the documents and stuttered something about “Yes, just a second...” until I pushed the first stack of papers into his hand. “You have to fill this out.” He took a look at the stack of papers and smiled - and I clung to the desk as inconspicuously as possible. “Are you sure?” he asked. I looked again – and realized that I had given him some women's magazine from Anne, with the current competition question on it, appropriately enough.
I felt my face turn bright red, bent over the table – so that he wouldn't notice – and quickly gave him the right papers. I hadn't made such a mess of things even on my first day on the job. But wasn't something still missing...? Oh yes, a ballpoint pen. I put it wordlessly on the thin stack of papers and then turned to the computer, pretending to do something. But that didn't last long. Was he looking for a reason?
“What should I enter here?” ‘Where?’ I asked. ‘Just take a look at it.’ I could almost hear a smug grin. So I turned around and looked the enemy in the face... well, if that was the enemy, then I wanted to die like this. He tapped the “Pregnancy” field with the tip of his pen. Now I couldn't even stop smiling. “It's best to just leave the field blank – or you can enter which month you're in.” I hoped that he wouldn't come up with anything, but after a moment's thought, he said, “In the 221st month.” “Huh?”
That irresistible smile again. “18 years and almost six months – do the math, my birthday's already written here.” “Thanks, I believe you.” Man, was I embarrassed. We were standing just about a foot apart, and I could smell his aftershave. He crossed out the section with the pregnancy with a flourish and then signed the form – even reasonably legibly, most celebrities signed even more illegibly than my father and he really had a doctor's handwriting.
I stapled the original of the registration form to the index card and put the copy on the stack to be processed – if I had looked at the data immediately, it would probably have been too noticeable. “And now?” he asked. ‘Have a seat in the waiting room for a moment, I'll let you know right away. Or if you want, you can wait here.’ Yes. Great. My first spontaneous answer qualified me for the next faux pas. But he smiled – again – just. ”No problem, if you don't mind... it's definitely more interesting than sitting around.”
What was that supposed to mean? Well, I probably got my hopes up again way too high. “No problem...” Before I could finish the sentence, the door opened and Anne came in - with her friend, of course. He immediately greeted our new patient. “Jason! What are you doing here?” So his name was Jason - and the two knew each other. A glance at the registration form – now I wanted to know – revealed to me beyond doubt who I was dealing with. Hm, I should have imagined a whale, then I would have guessed sooner.
Anne reached over the counter for her magazine. “I just wanted to pick this up quickly, Richie. Can you maybe fill in right away? We still have to go into town.” “Uh... sort it out with...” “Hello everyone.” Dad came out of his office, obviously having heard the noise at the reception. He walked up to Jason and shook his hand. “Hello, I'm Ripley Masters.” Jason took Rip's hand and introduced himself as well. ‘Anne, haven't you changed yet?’ ‘No, actually, the two of us’ – she nodded at Elijah – ”were going to go into town in a minute and I wanted to ask Richie if he could fill in?”
I swallowed. I had already had enough to do here at the front, but now I also had to assist with the treatment? My knees went a little weak and I was glad that I was still sitting on my desk chair. Rip looked at me questioningly. “Richie, what about it? Otherwise, there's not much going on here, I'll settle for one of you here this afternoon.” I nodded. “Sure, no problem... I'll do it.” Anne smiled at me, leaned over the counter and gave me a fleeting kiss on the cheek. ‘Thanks, bro.’ I defended myself against this unexpected attack. ‘Now don't overdo it, or I'll reconsider.’ Elijah winked at me too. “Thanks, Richie, I'll return the favor sometime.” I waved him off. ‘Then Dad can close the practice.’ ‘Richie, you still have to change,’ Dad remarked with a sugary sweet grin, thus preventing further taunts that were part of our daily lives.
“Okay. Jason, you can go to the treatment room, I'll be right there,” I said. Jason nodded – and somehow his self-confidence was suddenly gone. His face lost a little color and when I entered the room behind him, he looked around rather uncertainly. ”You can sit down.” I put down his papers and washed my hands, and I could see his face in the mirror. “Are you afraid?” I asked him. “Uh... no, not really,” he said. I suppressed a smile – it seemed to me that we had swapped roles as soon as we entered the room.
I hung a napkin around his neck and checked again to make sure everything was ready. Although Dad was someone you could talk to about anything, without exception, he wouldn't tolerate even the slightest thing being missing in the practice. I smiled encouragingly at Jason. “It won't be that bad, don't worry.” “Are you seeing your father yourselves?” I nodded. “Of course. But be glad that Anne isn't assisting you,” I laughed. “Believe me, that's... uh...” Was it my imagination, or did his ears turn a slight reddish color at that moment?
“Well, sorry, it took a little longer.” Rip came in and washed his hands as well before putting on the gloves. ‘Oh, that's not a problem at all,’ Jason replied. Rip gave me a questioning look and I just nodded – the old game, ”Is the patient afraid?” “Definitely.” Rip also put on his ‘it's-not-so-bad’ look and then asked Jason to open his mouth. He did so reluctantly, but at least Rip could start. He dictated a series of numbers to me, which I wrote down. Finally Rip summed up: “Well Jason, you have pretty good teeth. I found a small cavity and a piece is missing from one of your incisors - that's why you came here, right?” Jason nodded. Dad smiled. “Well, in fifteen minutes it'll all be over. Don't worry, it's not worth worrying about.”
Jason lost a little more color and weakly protested, “Well, I wasn't prepared for that at all.” “So what? You're not going to take the next flight back to L.A., are you?” Jason shook his head. “My luggage wasn't here yet anyway.” Rip grinned convincingly. “All right. Do you want an injection or should I start right away?” We both already knew the answer. He just nodded at me and I prepared everything. “Okay, then open your mouth again, please.” He pulled up the corner of Jason's mouth with his left hand, so that he couldn't see at the same time. At some point he had told us that it was much more pleasant for the patient if he couldn't see the syringe at all. Nevertheless, Jason felt the prick and instinctively reached for my hand. I squeezed it briefly to show him that I was there, and he made no particular effort to free his hand.
Since the kids always came without their parents – at least to the treatment room – we were used to providing a little comfort every now and then. There are definitely more pleasant things than a visit to the dentist. So I took Jason's hand and squeezed it gently to let him know that he had nothing to worry about. To be honest, I enjoyed every second of the touch, but I was able to hold back in every other respect and fully concentrated on my work as an assistant - helper would be an exaggeration.
Rip works quickly and thoroughly and after just twenty minutes he was done. Jason was clearly relieved. “Do I have to watch out for anything, not eat for a few hours or something?” Rip shook his head. “Don't worry. The fillings are made of plastic and are irradiated with UV light, they're already cured. Here, take a look.” He pressed a small mirror into Jason's hand and the guy was amazed. ‘Hey, you can't even see that anything was done at all.’ Rip coughed slightly and Jason noticed the unintentional double entendre. “Um... sorry, I mean, if you don't know that something was broken before, you can't see that something has been repaired.” Rip grinned. ‘That sounds better. Do you fancy a cup of coffee?’ he asked.
Jason looked at his watch. ‘Sure, why not?’ ”Rip, do you really want to do that to him? First your treatment and then my coffee, too?” Rip winked at me. “If we'd done it the other way around, I wouldn't have had a chance, son.” I made a face – I'd gotten used to Rip always having an answer ready – and Jason looked back and forth between us in amazement. I grinned. “Before you say anything else, just come with me.” Jason shrugged and followed me.
We went into Dad's office, picking up a few coffee cups and the pot on the way. “Milk, sugar?” “Black,” Jason replied. We sat down and looked at each other shyly for a moment. “Well,” I said, “I don't think we need to introduce ourselves anymore. What's your usual title?” “Jason's fine – I can't stand my middle name anyway.” I poured us both coffee. Again, an awkward silence spread until Jason asked, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I nodded. “Yes. You met Anne and her boyfriend earlier, and my older brother Julian is probably in a lecture about inflamed wisdom teeth right now.” Jason raised his hands in defense. “Okay, thanks, that's enough.”
At that moment Dad came in. “What's this about inflamed wisdom teeth?” Jason's face turned a little paler. “I didn't notice anything with you,” Dad said with a wink in Jason's direction. “Dr. Masters, I hope you don't mind me saying that I've had enough of dentists for the next five years.” I grinned. “Maybe for half a year at the most – I've known my father for a lot longer than just yesterday and I know that he's adamant about this.” Dad waved a hand. “Now don't you go unsettling him more than he already is.” “Honestly, Jason, was it really that bad?” He shook his head. “At least not as unpleasant as my previous visits to colleagues of yours, but I just don't like it when someone does something to me that I can't defend myself against.” Rip nodded. ‘Understandable, but that's the way it is for a lot of people. For the future, I can only give you the advice that if you feel uncomfortable about something or have questions, just raise your hand, okay?’ Jason nodded.
Dad lit a cigarette and automatically pushed the pack over to me. I held it out to Jason first, but he declined. “Thanks, I quit smoking six months ago. But don't let me... er, don't let yourselves be disturbed,” he quickly corrected himself with a sidelong glance at Dad. He grinned and held out his hand. “You can call me 'Rip', that's what everyone here calls me.“ ‘Okay... I'm Jason.’ Rip grinned even wider. ‘I know.’ Again, that slight reddish tinge played across Jason's face.
“Tell me, what happened to your luggage earlier?” Dad asked, trying to change the subject. “I guess it must have taken a different flight than mine.” “I see. So business as usual with our favorite airline. Do you want to call and see if it has arrived yet? Then you can save yourself the trip to the airport.” ‘If it's not too much trouble...’ Instead of an answer, Dad pushed the phone over to him without comment. ”The number for Hamburg Airport is 5075-0. You have to dial another zero in front of it.”
After Jason had fought his way through the various departments, he was finally informed that his luggage would probably not arrive until the next day. They were sorry about that... and so on. Slightly dejected, Jason let the receiver slide onto the cradle. “Have you at least found a hotel room yet?” Rip asked. Jason shook his head. “No. I wanted to ask you... er, you, actually, if you could recommend a hotel for me?” Rip grinned. ‘Stand next to each other, the two of you.’ Jason and I looked at each other blankly, but I could guess what was going through Rip's mind. So we stood. ”Okay, I think you're about the same height. Richie, do you know if the guest room is tidy and do you have any clothes left for Jason?“ Jason raised his hands in protest, but I didn't even let him speak.
“The guest room is difficult, but clothes are not a problem. If necessary, we can put the guest bed in my room too.” “Wonderful. Jason, I don't think we'll be needing the hotel tonight after all.” ‘But I can't...’ Rip waved him off. ‘Nonsense - of course you can. Besides, it's bound to be difficult for you without your luggage. And surely you can find a toothbrush in this house?’ Now the ice was finally broken - we all had to laugh and Jason resigned himself to his fate.
When we went to my room – Rip had sent me off to get a head start, since no more patients were coming – Rip seemed a bit nervous, though. “What's the matter?” “Oh, I just feel a bit uncomfortable – just crashing in on you like this, you don't know me at all, and I'm being put up.” He eyed me suspiciously, probably assuming I wouldn't notice, and then quickly looked away. Hm, I couldn't get anything out of him at the moment. We sat down in my room and talked about everything under the sun until Dad called us for dinner.
Since each of you has probably had dinner with a larger group before, I'll just leave this story out. As the old saying goes, “The later the evening, the nicer the guests,” and even though my surprise guest had arrived in the afternoon, it was still a nice evening. Jason and Elijah talked about various premiere parties where they had seen each other and there was a lot to laugh about. During the course of the evening, both of them tried to show off their German skills – Elijah had been around us long enough to pick up a little, and Jason had lived in Germany for quite a while a few years ago when he was here shooting a movie. He had retained a few things and could at least follow the main points of a conversation.
Finally, it was just after eleven and we went upstairs to finally get my room ready. Jason stood a bit helplessly in the corner while I set up the guest bed. “Can't I help?” I shook my head. “Nope. You're a guest here.” “That's no reason.” I grinned. “I'm already done anyway. So, a test lie-down, sir.” Jason did as he was told and was satisfied with the bed. ‘And now?’ he asked while lying down. ‘I, for one, will quickly go take a shower and then lie down. Oh wait, you still need clothes.’ I rummaged through my closet and then threw him a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. ”Here, these should fit you.”
As promised, I went to take a shower and when I came back to my room, Jason was just about to change his clothes. Compared to his first movie, he had changed quite a bit, as I noticed with a smile on my lips. Well, five years had passed since then. When he saw me standing in the doorway, he blushed again. “Sorry, I thought you weren't back yet.” “Don't worry, I've seen guys with naked chests more often than not. You've got quite a few muscles.” The sentence didn't exactly help his complexion. ‘Do you think so?’ I nodded. ”Yes. At least in contrast to your first movie.”
“How come you're always reminded of your youthful transgressions in this job?” I shrugged. ‘No idea - because it's part of the job?’ Jason nodded resignedly. ‘Yeah, I guess so.’ ‘Do you actually have a girlfriend?’ I asked him while I lay down. ”No, and also no... uh, I mean never had one.” I looked at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he had originally wanted to say – I had a good guess. “You expect me to believe that, looking at you?” Jason lay down as well and covered himself with the blanket. “Well, that's just the way it is. And what about you?”
“Never been either. Once I was in love, but it didn't work out. That person couldn't do anything with me,” I replied. Jason smiled weakly. ‘With that, I could return this question to you.’ Silence spread throughout the room. Something had happened during this question-and-answer game. I had felt attracted to him all day, but somehow it had just clicked. Not clearly audible, but I had heard it and that was enough for me. Now I just had to find out if he felt the same way about me, and something told me that I wasn't necessarily barking up the wrong tree. I took a shot in the dark.
“Have you ever had a boyfriend?” Jason almost fell out of bed when he turned to me. ‘What makes you think that?’ ‘Well, I thought I heard something earlier that suggested you don't have a girlfriend and aren't interested either. But then I must have been mistaken.’ Again, we were both silent. “Well, it would have been too good to be true,” I said, turning around. However, I didn't stay lying there for long - a dull thud caught my attention. I had guessed right, Jason had really fallen out of bed.
I got out of bed too and helped him up. ‘Did I just hear you right?’ he asked. ‘About what?’ I asked with a completely innocent look. “Didn't you say something about it being too good to be true?” I still held his hand. ‘Yes, that's exactly what I said. If you have a problem with it, just tell me.’ Instead of an answer, he sat down on the bed and stared at the floor. ‘No, on the contrary,’ he said. ‘?’ These question marks were clearly written on my face.
“Why didn't you say so earlier?” he asked, turning his gaze back to me. ‘Why should I have done that?’ He stood up again and looked me in the eye. ‘Would you be angry with me if I told you that you are more than just likeable to me?’ I shook my head. ‘No, quite the opposite.’ He smiled a little. “Then we could have had this much sooner.” He put his hand on the back of my neck, gently pulled me towards him and kissed me on the lips.
No sooner had our lips parted after what seemed like an eternity than there was a knock at the door. We quickly broke away from each other. ‘Come in.’ Rip poked his head around the door. ”What was going on in there? I thought I heard something.” Jason put on a shy smile, matching the returning blush on his face. ‘I just fell out of bed - I haven't quite adjusted to the surroundings yet.’ Rip winked at us. ‘Well, then everything's fine. Sleep tight, boys.’ With these words, he closed the door and left us alone again.
Jason looked at me, shaking his head. “What? That Dad just barges in like that?” I couldn't help but grin, and Jason gave me a gentle push in the ribs. “Nonsense. That I can finally hold you in my arms.” I nodded. “Hey, it was the same for me. But still, maybe we should lie down and not stand around in the landscape forever.“ I pulled Jason to my bed and a short time later we were lying snuggled up under the covers.
“Can I clear up one more thing?” Jason asked. “Sure, what?” “I said earlier that I've never had a girlfriend.” “But a boyfriend?” I asked. “Yes. You know him, he sent me to you.” I looked at him questioningly and wondered if I should back away from him a bit – but he didn't give me the impression that he was still involved with someone. He seemed to sense my thoughts. ‘Don't worry, we weren't together for long, but we remained friends.’ ‘Who is it?’ Jason smiled gently. ”Jeremy.”
If I hadn't been able to hold on to Jason, I would have fallen out of bed. 'Jeremy?' Jason just nodded. 'Yes. A few days ago I didn't know where to go and Jeremy was the only one I could think of. As I said, he gave me the tip to go to your father.' 'What happened anyway?' Jason shook his head. 'Not now, Richie – some other time.' His hand found its way under my T-shirt and he gently stroked my chest. I enjoyed these touches - it was the first time that I was so close to another boy and I really was on cloud nine. Finally, we took off our T-shirts to be even closer. We just lay there for a while, snuggled up close to each other, and finally fell asleep contentedly.
When I woke up the next morning, I was surprised about two things: first, that an arm was on top of me and second, that I was not wearing anything except my shorts. After a few seconds, I remembered what had happened the night before. I carefully turned my head to the right and Jason was lying next to me, breathing evenly and obviously still fast asleep. I just looked at him – for me there was no more beautiful sight in the world. Those of you who have been in a relationship before may remember the feeling of happiness when you are newly in love and wake up together in the morning.
I would have liked to stay like this for longer, but I slowly realized that one of my body parts was becoming alarmingly stiff – namely my neck, which was because I was lying at quite an angle in bed. I turned around carefully and put my hand on his chest. He grumbled contentedly and snuggled up even closer to me. I kissed him gently on the lips, maybe that would wake him up – but there was no reaction. Hm... I had read somewhere that he was quite grumpy in the morning, but a glance at the clock told me that we should get up slowly because otherwise it would almost be time for lunch.
But Jason was obviously impossible to wake up. I leaned forward and nibbled on his lower lip, but other than trying to escape my teeth, there was no noticeable reaction here either. Wasn't there a smile playing around his lips? Hm, I must have been mistaken. In my mind, I went through the other options I had left to bring him back to the present. I tensed my hand and tried to catch his neck, but just as I was about to grab it, he opened his eyes and grinned at me. “Who would be so brutal early in the morning?”
“How long have you been awake?” I asked, smiling as well – is it actually normal for lovers to grin all the time? ‘Long enough to enjoy your kiss. Can I have more of the same?’ he asked with a challenging look. Everyone can guess the answer, and of course we didn't manage to finally get up during the next hour.
Around twelve we finally managed to get up. “We should shower separately though, I think anything else would be too obvious,” I suggested. Jason nodded. “Do your people know?” I shook my head. “No, not yet – but sooner or later they'll probably have to find out.” “Are you afraid of that?” “No. I'm not worried about Dad at all, nor Anne and Elijah... only Julian might have a few problems with it.” ‘Why?’ ‘He told me a while ago that he went out with two fellow students who are both gay and he wasn't thrilled about it.’ Jason couldn't say much about that, because he didn't know Julian very well. He stroked my cheek. ”Let's hope for the best. I'm going to take a shower.”
I took the opportunity to pick out some clothes for him and tidy my room. When Jason had finished showering, he came back into my room and got dressed – for the first time I was able to see him in all his glory. However, he never turned his back to me the whole time. We were now something like a couple, but still, it surprised me a little. Well, he probably had his reasons. “Do you want to call your parents later so they know where you are?” Jason waved it off. “Don't worry, it's not urgent.” “Okay, you have to know.”
After I had showered and changed my clothes, we went downstairs to the kitchen. Julian was sitting at the table with the newspaper and a mug of coffee, and he greeted us with a grin. “Good morning, are you guys up already?” Jason and I looked at each other uncertainly for a moment – did he suspect what was going on? In the next sentence, Julian reassured us immediately. “Don't worry, I used to chat with friends all night long when they stayed with me, too.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Did you leave us any coffee?” I asked. Julian nodded at the coffee machine. “Sure, help yourself.” Jason sat down at the table while I got us coffee – which was way too weak for my taste, of course.
We talked about everything under the sun, but when Julian wanted to talk about his studies, Jason politely stopped him. “Thanks, Julian, but I've got enough dental information for a while.” Julian grinned. “Oh yeah, I forgot you were at Rip's yesterday.” Jason nodded with a self-pitying expression. “Yes, and Richie assisted.” Julian almost choked on his coffee laughing. “Oh man, and you survived that?” “Yes, just.” “Then it's no wonder that you're so sensitive on the subject.”
I stood up and nudged my big brother in the ribs, challenging him – but without causing any serious damage. Julian saw the maneuver coming and reacted as he usually did – he tensed his abdominal muscles and my hand hit a rather hard muscle plate. He grinned. “Richie, you never learn.” With a quick movement, he grabbed my wrist and before I knew what was happening, I was lying on the floor and he tickled me. “You see, little brother, never mess with your elders.” I screamed and laughed at the same time, while Jason - also laughing - watched. I'd lost out again, as I almost always did when Julian and I tussled.
After breakfast, we told Dad that we were going into town. “Do you have any special plans?” he asked. I shook my head. “No, I want to show Jason a bit of Hamburg and we want to stop at the airport on the way back.” Dad nodded. “Okay. But don't you dare take the BMW.” “Don't worry, I wouldn't dare take the car into town.” Dad had recently fulfilled a long-held dream – a dark blue BMW 850 CSi – and he guarded the car like the apple of his eye. “Then it's fine. And drive carefully, Richie.” I grinned. “You know me.” “Exactly, that's why.”
Jason and I fought our way through the heavy Saturday afternoon traffic in downtown Hamburg in the station wagon. It was a warm day and I got the impression that some people were probably too warm. In any case, some drivers were behaving erratically, and twice it was probably only luck that the car didn't suffer serious damage. It took almost an hour before we found a parking lot and inwardly I cursed the Hamburg traffic routing more than once. »Say, I thought Hamburg had its own subway, right?« I nodded. »Yes, we really wouldn't have needed much longer with that.« And we still could have taken a cab back from the airport.
I parked the car in the last free parking space on the street and turned off the engine, while a Mercedes driver honked angrily behind me. He obviously wanted to park here too. The driver and a young girl, about our age, got out regardless of the traffic. “Say, what do you think you're doing, taking the parking space away from me? Do you even have a driver's license?” the driver shouted angrily. I nodded. ‘Yes, I even got it at driving school and didn't buy it with my car.’ Jason grinned and the driver blushed. The girl - obviously his daughter - suddenly took a closer look at Jason, then she tugged her father's sleeve excitedly. ”Dad, that's...”
“WHO is this?” He turned to her angrily. She whispered something in his ear and then pointed to something in the car. He looked at her in surprise. ‘Are you sure?’ She nodded eagerly. Her father reached into the car and took out a video cassette – and another comparison of people. He had obviously come to the conclusion that she was right. Wearily, he waved it aside. “Okay, let's forget the whole thing.” She took the cassette out of his hand, held it out to Jason and then asked him in English, “That's you in the picture, isn't it?” Jason smiled. “At least it was me until yesterday.” “Could... would you give me an autograph?”
While the two were talking, her father approached me. “Sorry for the scene just now, but we've been looking for a parking space here for an eternity.” I nodded. “Yes, welcome to the club - it was the same for us.” “Normally that's not my style - Uwe Schmidt is my name.” “Richie Masters.” We shook hands. “Are you American?” ‘My father, but he's been living here for a long time – I was also born in Germany.’ He nodded to show he understood. ‘I hope we're not messing up your plans?’ I waved a hand. ”No, don't worry – we just wanted to see a bit of the city.” Mr. Schmidt grinned. “Well, you should avoid the area with the young girls, otherwise you won't have much time for a stroll through town this afternoon.” I laughed too. “With a companion like that, you have to expect that, yes.”
Jason had signed the video tape for the daughter in the meantime and now she came back to her father. “Dad, can you maybe take a photo of us? Jason agreed.” Her father nodded resignedly. “Do I have a choice?” She beamed and the two of them posed. I deliberately stayed a little way off. Her father took a few pictures – I was glad that she didn't want a little kiss from Jason for the photo – and finally that part was over, too. “Come on, we don't want to keep them any longer.” I grinned. “There's a parking space opening up up ahead.” We said goodbye to each other and the two drove on. About fifty meters further on, I saw someone jump out of their car angrily...
“Does that happen to you often, Jason?” I asked. ‘Not anymore, but for a while I hardly dared to go on the road.’ I nodded. ‘I'll bet you do... if only for that reason, the job wouldn't be for me.’ He grinned. “Oh, but you get to meet some interesting people – even if it's only at the dentist's.” I nudged him in the ribs and we continued our leisurely stroll towards the Alster. ‘Come on, let's go and get a coffee first.’ There were some cozy cafés in the Alsterakarden, and we had a nice view.
The waitress was also around our age and exactly what I had secretly feared happened. We had come across one of those very elegant shops where you were looked at askance if you didn't pay with a credit card, and the waitress pushed the bill towards Jason with a sweet smile until I demonstratively cleared my throat and remarked, “I'll pay.” Finally, she could bring herself to ask Jason for an autograph. When we left the café, Jason said, “Why do I always get girls?” If at least once in a while there was a cute guy in between...” ‘Hey, careful - what about me?’ He raised his hands laughing. ”Hey, don't worry.” The passers-by gave us various looks - either amused or annoyed, but we didn't care about either.
We visited a few more places of interest in Hamburg before we finally decided to drive to the airport and check on Jason's luggage. “When do you want to tell your father, anyway?” Jason asked during the drive. “I don't know yet.” ‘Well, because I was only supposed to stay with you for one night.’ I waved it off. ‘That shouldn't be a problem – when I tell Dad that we've become friends, he'll definitely have no objection to you staying with us for a few more days.’ Jason's gaze wandered into the distance a little, and I decided not to disturb him in his thoughts.
When we arrived at the airport, we had one less thing to worry about: there were no parking problems here, at least not at this time of day. We fought our way to the airline terminal and after being sent to four different offices, Jason finally held his travel bag in his hand. The airline employee apologized profusely and countless times until Jason finally interrupted her in a friendly but firm manner: “Ma'am, I have my luggage back and nothing is missing. So why all the fuss?” She looked at him in amazement, and before she could say anything, we took flight with Jason's bag. Once we were back outside, we just looked at each other, shaking our heads. “How can a person talk so much without a break?” Jason asked. I shrugged. “I don't know, but that lady obviously can.” We got in the car and hurried to finally get home.
When we arrived, I asked Jason, “You're not planning on getting a hotel room, are you?” Jason shrugged. “I don't know – I haven't thought about it much. I'd like to stay with you, but I don't know what your father would say.” I grinned a little. “He invited you. Besides, Elijah almost lives here, so I don't think one more person will make a difference.« »Don't you think we should ask him anyway?« I shook my head. »No. We've had friends stay over here before, and it was never a problem for him.«
We went upstairs and brought Jason's bag to my room. He carelessly put it on the guest bed. “Well, I guess we won't need this anymore, will we?” I asked. “I don't know – does your father have a habit of stopping by at night to make sure you're really in bed?” I shook my head. “No, he hasn't done that for two or three years.” Jason took me in his arms and then kissed me gently on the lips. “Oh Richie, what have I ever done to deserve you?”
We lay down on my bed and Jason slowly took off my T-shirt. Gradually, we were both only wearing our shorts and we enjoyed each other's company to the full. I scratched Jason's chest, he scratched the back of my neck and we were just happy. There were definitely body parts that longed for more, but there was an unspoken feeling between us that we wanted to wait before doing anything further.

Raphael
During the four-hour drive, I had sat silently next to my father, who had insisted on shipping me off to this “co-ed boarding school” a month after the start of the school year. He had given up in exasperation after several unsuccessful attempts to strike up a conversation with me. What did he expect after suddenly tearing me away from my familiar surroundings?
“So this is where I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life?” it flashed through my mind as I stared at the heavy entrance portal of the large house. ‘Okay, okay, the rest of my school life.’ The boarding school logo, carved in stone above the door, was repeated in the large flowerbed in front of the entrance in an arrangement of different plants and flowers.
The Maybach had come to a halt. We unloaded my luggage and I followed my father, who was briskly hurrying ahead of me, into the building. On the stairs, I was violently jostled by a rushing, black-haired boy around my age. I almost fell backwards.
“Can't you be careful, idiot?” I snapped at him.
“You're the idiot, why are you hanging around on the stairs?” he spat back at me and disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared.
The office was well signposted. Shortly afterwards, we were standing in the director's outer office.
“Hello, my name is Dr. Hausner, this is my son Raphael. I have an appointment with Dr. Neubert.”
“Hello Dr. Hausner, Raphael, my name is Schmitt, Dr. Neubert is already expecting you.”
My father, the old scrounger, immediately accepted the offered coffee, although he usually only drank tea. The heavy, leather-covered door to the director's office opened and he went to meet my father. At an estimated 1.85 m, Mr. Neubert towered over my father by a few centimetres. With his blue jeans and beige jacket, I estimated him to be in his late fifties, despite his snow-white hair.
“Neubert, good afternoon, Dr. Hausner.”
“Good afternoon, Dr. Neubert,” my father hastened to return the greeting with a slight bow.
Mr. Neubert looked at me over the edge of his pince-nez.
“Hello Raphael, welcome to the Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi boarding school. Would you like something to drink?”
I politely declined, although I was in the mood for a Coke or something, but I just didn't like the look of the place.
“If you would like to follow me,” Dr. Neubert asked us into his office.
“Well, Dr. Neubert, certain circumstances require us to place our son in your care at short notice. It would be really nice if he could take his A-levels at your institute in three years.”
Oh how I hated this exaggeratedly submissive, false tone that my father always adopted in such situations.
“Dr. Hausner, it is very unusual for us to accept a new student after the start of the school year. But the urgent recommendation from the colleague at your old school, Raphael, was reasonably convincing. The decisive factor was definitely your good performance, which should make it easy to integrate you into our 11th grade.”
My father nodded with satisfaction.
“I didn't expect anything else, Dr. Neubert. I'll say goodbye then, if you don't mind. Goodbye, Doctor. And you, don't be a problem for us!” he said, turning to me.
And with that, he was gone.
I noticed a disapproving look on the face of my new principal, which my father, in his ignorant way, did not register. Dr. Neubert looked at me for a while without saying anything.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“A Coke, please, if you have it.”
He went to the door.
“Ms. Schmitt, if you would please bring us a coffee and a Coke.”
Then he sat down with me in the seating area. Even before he could continue the conversation with me, his secretary brought us what we wanted and, in addition, a small plate of chocolate biscuits.
“Help yourself!” the teacher urged me with a grin on his face.
“Raphael, you don't seem to be too happy about this change of school.”
I didn't answer immediately, but looked at him a little shocked. Should I tell him the real reason, that my old man had simply caught me in bed with a classmate and, under threat of a beating, made it clear to me that he wanted to thoroughly expel such nonsense from my mind. Neither I nor my mother could prevent his decision to send me to a mixed boarding school from now on. And if my father had already chosen this boarding school, it was surely because homosexuality was not tolerated there. So I answered the headmaster evasively:
“That's true, but it's not easy when you have to leave your friends so suddenly.”
Dr. Neubert nodded and changed the subject:
“Raphael, in addition to mastering the normal school curriculum, we expect each student to be more involved in artistic, musical or other creative activities. For example, do you play an instrument?”
At first I didn't know what to think of that, but then I answered, “I play the piano a little.”
“Oh, very nice, there have been some wonderful results here. Classical?”
“No, more in the direction of jazz and boogie.”
“Interesting, that would be something new. It's best to discuss it with our music teachers. Now I'll show you the system first. Then our caretaker, Mr. Maier, will accompany you to your room, which you share with Karl-Friedrich, a classmate. I hope you get along with each other, because for the time being it's the only option.”
I was amazed at how much time the headmaster took to explain everything to me.
When I arrived back at the office, a sporty middle-aged man was already waiting for us.
“Raphael, this is Mr. Maier, the heart and soul of this company.“ Mr. Maier, if you would be so kind as to take Mr. Hausner to his room to see Mr. von Seewein. Raphael, I'll see you tomorrow in math,” he said and disappeared into his office.
“Well, come with me then!“ Mr. Maier said in a deep, pleasant voice. He grabbed my large trolley case when he saw that I was sufficiently packed with a huge backpack and two not much smaller travel bags.
“Karl-Friedrich von Seewein” was written on the door that Mr. Maier was now knocking on.
“Yes, please,“ came from inside.
Mr. Maier opened the door and pushed me into the room.
“Maier, what's the idea?” the occupant of the room grumbled at him rather indignantly.
“I'm sorry, Seewein, if you haven't been informed yet, but according to the boss's instructions, I'm supposed to bring Mr. Hausner to you. As you may know, this is the only free bed in the house.”
The man addressed just rolled his eyes theatrically.
Ultimately, he introduced himself to me: “Karl-Friedrich von Seewein,” and held out his hand, “but everyone just calls me KF.”
I grinned crookedly: “Pleased to meet you – Raphael Hausner,” and I dropped one of the bags and took his hand.
KF scanned me and said somewhat resignedly: “Then let's try to get along.”
Mr. Maier pushed my trolley case to the front of the free bed and said goodbye with a ”Well then.”
My first day at Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi boarding school began with a double period of English with Dr. Gabriel. So I should introduce myself in English, which went reasonably well. The only free seat was next to the bully who had almost knocked me down the stairs the day before. He immediately started to insult me, but I could do that too and I shot back. I almost thought I saw a brief grin on his, admittedly, pretty face. His dark complexion harmonized with his brown eyes and jet-black hair. But the magic of the moment was gone the next moment when he whispered, “What are you staring at, faggot?”
“What an ass,” I thought, shaking my head. Nevertheless, I found myself staring at him again and again. Fortunately, he didn't seem to notice. During the break, KF told me that Miguel Hernandez was probably somewhat arrogant; his success had probably gone to his head. I wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but the school bell interrupted our conversation and called us back to class.
That evening, in bed, he came to mind again. 'What an idiot.'
Admittedly, he fascinated me in a way. His graceful movements did not match his gruff manner at all. Over time, my imagination ran away with me as I tried to picture him naked. The rest of my mind, which was still working, scolded me for being a fool. No sooner had I started at the new school than I was already on the prowl for sex. And the object of my desire was, of all people, the biggest jerk in the school. Seen in this light, I was probably the idiot in the story.
I tossed and turned these thoughts to no avail. Fortunately, my remaining sanity slowly kicked in again, and at some point I managed to fall asleep after all.
A violent movement woke me up.
“Man Raphael, you sleepyhead, get up at last, or don't you need breakfast before class?”
KF obviously only managed to wake me up by shaking me vigorously.
“What's going on?“ I grumbled sleepily.
“UP – STAY –ING!” he grumbled impatiently and pulled the blanket away from me, grinning nastily.
“Oh man,” I grumbled when I noticed the tent that was stretched over my midsection. Immediately, the rest of my blood rushed to my head and I swung my legs out of bed.
“Raphael, don't worry about it,” KF said unusually gently, ”everyone feels that way.”
If only he knew what I had just dreamt.
“I'll be right there, go ahead.”
I got through the first few days of school with little noise.
On Wednesday of my first week of school, I had an appointment with Mr. Kramer, one of our music teachers, to play the piano.
I arrived at the music room a little early and was about to enter when I heard that it was still occupied.
I listened and liked what I heard very much. Whoever was sitting at the piano knew his stuff. He had just finished a piece by Rachmaninov, but then he started with the “Honky Tonk train blues”. At a breathtaking tempo, he (or she) played this classic by Meade Lux Lewis and skillfully varied it. So this music was not as unknown here as I had assumed after our principal's welcoming remarks.
I quickly went to the restroom before my turn for piano lessons.
When I returned, my predecessor was already gone. I really wanted to ask Mr. Kramer who it was. But now it was my turn. The lesson began with the obligatory finger exercises. I had previously discussed with Mr. Kramer that I would like to learn some of Scott Joplin's works.
I already had the “Magnetic Rag” quite well down, but we spent the whole lesson working on the finer points and, above all, on my playing technique.
Oh dear, I had let myself in for something.
But Mr. Kramer seemed reasonably convinced of my ability and my willingness to work consistently. When I mentioned that I had also taken organ lessons at home and occasionally accompanied the Sunday service when the organist was on vacation or sick, he was very impressed. When I asked him whether it would be possible to continue learning and playing the organ here, he promised to find out.
I left the music cabinet feeling exhausted but very satisfied.
At the next practice session, Mr. Kramer told me that Oliver Stotz, the local cantor, would be happy to teach me the organ as a trained music teacher. He gave me his cell phone number and asked me to contact him as soon as possible. Then the lessons began, which were quite challenging for me again, but great fun. Mr. Kramer seemed very pleased with how well I had prepared all three pieces by Scott Joplin. He had little to correct, so instead he sat down at the second grand piano and we improvised “Maple Leaf Rag” four-handed.
In the end, he asked me if I was sure I wanted to play piano “just for fun.” Immediately, my thoughts darkened and the good mood was gone.
“Raphael, what's the matter all of a sudden?” Mr. Kramer asked with concern.
“Oh, you know, Mr. Kramer, I would love to make music full time, but my father expects me to succeed him in the company without any ifs or buts.”
Mr. Kramer noticed my glassy eyes and said nothing more than, “Raphael, whatever the case may be, you are a great pianist and you can inspire people with your playing.”
Although I already had a healthy self-confidence, I now felt the urge to show modesty: ”Thank you very much, Mr. Kramer, but I still have a long way to go to become a good pianist.”
He just grinned at me.
“Okay, now enjoy your meal. It's already past six o'clock, we've completely lost track of time,” he said with a laugh.
So we headed to the cafeteria together. I really enjoyed the simple dinner.
Since it was still before eight, I thought it wouldn't be too late to call Mr. Stotz.
“Oliver Stotz,” a youthful, very pleasant voice answered, which almost took my breath away. So I came straight to the point: ”Uh, yes, Raphael Hausner here. Mr. Kramer said that I could take organ lessons from you.”
“Oh, good evening Raphael, nice of you to get in touch. Yes, that could be arranged here. Unfortunately, not many people are interested in this instrument, of which we have a really good example here in our village church.”
“Good evening, Mr. Stotz. I'm sorry to have barged in like this, but that sounds good. When would you have time for me? My schedule leaves me some time on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.”
“Hm, Wednesday doesn't work?” asked Mr. Stotz.
“I have piano lessons with Mr. Kramer then.”
“Aha, do you think you could ask Volker, that is, Mr. Kramer, to reschedule your piano lessons?”
“I don't know, I'd have to ask him first.”
“Wait, Raphael, I'll get back to you in a moment. When did you say you had time? Monday, Tuesday and Thursday?”
“Yes, that's right.”
“See you in a moment,” and he had already hung up, only to call back less than ten minutes later: ”So, Raphael, I've just spoken to Volker on the phone. He would move your piano lessons to Monday. Please call him right away. Then please come to me at the Saint Nicholas Church on Wednesday at 3 p.m.”
“Okay, Mr. Stotz, thank you very much, see you next Wednesday”
“Yes, great. Good night, Raphael” and he had already hung up.
After consulting with Mr. Kramer, I now had piano lessons with him from 4:00 to 5:30 p.m. on Mondays and organ lessons with Mr. Stotz from 3:00 p.m. on Wednesdays.
Satisfied, I made my way to my room. When I arrived here at the boarding school, I would never have dreamed that I would be able to indulge my greatest passion here so freely. Now I was glad to be so far away from home. More precisely, from my father. With this joyful news, I quickly fell asleep that evening.
The presence of the new guy annoyed me to some extent. What was his name again? Oh, right: “Raphael”. First of all, he ran over me as soon as he arrived, what a klutz, then he kept staring at me in such a gay way. I mean, I have nothing against gays, after all, my “tutor” Carsten was one too. However, he never made any advances towards me. Well, Carsten was blind, so he couldn't have been fascinated by my appearance. Besides, he was Andreas' boyfriend. So it was possible for us to concentrate exclusively on the piano. We had arranged Monday for my piano lessons with him.
This afternoon it was time again and I was well prepared, or so I thought. But somehow I couldn't concentrate and I played Carsten accordingly. I sensed how hard he was controlling himself not to completely destroy my performance. It was thanks to his composure that I didn't freak out, because what I played didn't correspond to my ideas or my actual ability. His objective, professional criticism was one hundred percent comprehensible to me, but that afternoon nothing went well.
Perceptibly unnerved, Carsten ended the lesson early.
“Miguel, what's the matter with you today? I've never seen you so unfocused!”
“I don't know either. Maybe it's better if we call it a day,” I replied somewhat resignedly.
“Okay, Miguel, see you next week.”
When Carsten had left the room with Max, his guide dog, I was still sitting at the grand piano, still confused. In fact, I couldn't think of any reason for my lack of concentration. On the contrary, it had always been the case that when I was brooding over something and couldn't get anywhere, I just needed to sit down at the piano and forget about all my problems.
Suddenly the door was flung open and HE was standing in the room – Raphael!
“Oh, it's you?“ he stared at me, startled at first.
“What do you want?” I snapped back.
A mocking grin stole across his handsome face. Did I just think “handsome”?
Did he notice my bumbling attempts at playing earlier?
He had.
“What would I want here? You're not the only one who can play this instrument,“ he smirked.
Squinting, I watched as he approached me.
“Well? What's the matter? Are you going to stand there all day?” Mr. Kramer will be here in a moment.”
With a sigh, I got up and left the music room almost in a hurry. How embarrassing was that? Annoyed and confused, I decided to go for a jog before dinner.
At the lake, I ran into Carsten again, who greeted me by name even though I hadn't said a word. Surprised, I asked him: “How do you know it's me?”
Carsten laughed: ”Oh, Miguel, even if I can't see you, I can still hear you and, in this case, smell you too.”
“Oh! Do I stink that much?”
Carsten laughed again: “No, Miguel, but we just spent almost an hour together, so I remember your mixture of deodorant, aftershave and sweat very clearly, even if a hint of detergent has been added. You seem to have changed your clothes. Let me guess: you want to go for another run.”
“Quite right,“ I replied, amazed.
I took a deep breath.
“Carsten. May I ask you a question?”
“Apart from the fact that you've already done that,” I grinned inevitably, “we'll see if I can answer it.”
I hemmed and hawed a little until I plucked up all my courage: ”How do you realize that you're gay?”
“Oh, Miguel,” he replied, ‘something personal and direct.’ Carsten thought, ”I don't know if there is a general explanation for that. Some say they knew it from the beginning, when they started to think for themselves.”
Again he paused.
“It wasn't like that for me. I didn't think about it. Maybe because I was fully stretched with all the other things. I don't know it any different. I was once told that it was and is very exhausting for me to orient myself. Then the piano took up all my attention. But to answer your question: I think that my very first encounter with Andreas in the stairwell of our boarding school when he arrived gave me the impetus. His voice captivated me immediately. At that moment, I wasn't thinking in any sexual categories. It was only over time that I slowly realized that I had already fallen in love with him. Love at first sound, so to speak. Although we happened to share the same room, it took a long time for us to find each other. Andreas was aware of his sexual orientation, but he had had very bad experiences at his old school, so he was very reserved. He later told me that he had come out to him during his first conversation with Dr. Neubert. I think we are very lucky with our headmaster, who is extremely empathetic and also an absolutely tolerant and open-minded person. For me, however, it was only with the steadily growing sympathy for Andreas that I became aware that I had fallen in love with him and was therefore probably gay. Especially when I felt more and more physically attracted to him. May I ask why you are asking this question?”
“Hm,” I replied, lost in thought, ”I think that's why I was so unfocused today.”
“What now? Am I confusing you?” Carsten asked jokingly.
“Huh? Oh, no Carsten, it has nothing to do with you.”
“Then it's okay. You know, Miguel, that I'm in a committed relationship with Andreas.”
“Yeah, sure. I was just curious. I'll trot off. See you at dinner.”
“I'll see you later.”
“Joker, see you later.”
The following Monday, I was amazed to discover that Miguel played the piano quite well, even if it wasn't entirely convincing to my ears either. At least he took lessons from Carsten von Feldbach, a kind of star of the school, who had already given fantastic concerts with the school orchestra and on a guest appearance in Dresden. The fact that Carsten was blind didn't matter at all. Unfortunately, I hadn't had any contact with him yet. I had only been at this boarding school for two weeks.
In any case, I was really looking forward to Wednesday. I set off at half past two sharp, after all I didn't want to be unpunctual on the first day. Fifteen minutes later I was standing in front of the church of St. Nicholas. Unsure whether I should go in or not, the decision was taken out of my hands by an extremely attractive man in his mid-to-late twenties who came straight up to me.
“Hello, I'm Oliver Stotz. Are you Raphael from the Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi boarding school?”
“Yes, exactly, hello Mr. Stotz.”
“I'm glad you came. Let's go in, the door should actually be open.”
He led the way to the middle of the three-aisled church building.
He proudly pointed back to the main entrance, above which the organ gallery was located, as it were, in front of the tower. In an elaborately carved organ front, a comparatively large instrument extended almost to the early Gothic vault of the central nave.
“It is a little-known fact that this instrument was built by Gottfried Silbermann as early as 1710, in other words, before his first officially documented organ in Frauenstein. We can only speculate that he happened upon it on his way home from Strasbourg and tried to build an organ here without the help of his brother Andreas. But since all the written documents from that time have survived, it was possible to determine that it was actually a Silbermann organ that replaced a previous instrument. The suspicion arose quite quickly, because there are simply a few typical features that point to the famous organ builder. At the end of the 19th century, the instrument was overhauled for the first time and unfortunately also modified in line with the spirit of the age. About a hundred years later, in 1995, a comprehensive renovation and careful reconstruction was decided and carried out. In any case, we are quite proud of this great organ and it's great fun to play on it.”
He paused for a moment, and I was amazed.
With a lump in my throat, I asked reverently if I could really play and learn on it.
Mr. Stotz laughed amusedly.
“Sure, Raphael, why not? An instrument that no one plays is of no use to anyone. Let's go up!”
So we climbed the rather steep stairs to this extraordinary instrument. After he had turned it on and there was enough air, Mr. Stotz simply asked me to play something.
I had expected that, which is why I had refreshed my dusty knowledge again yesterday, just at one of the pianos at school. So I tried my hand at what is probably Bach's most popular organ piece, the 'Toccata and Fugue in D minor', which I managed quite well after the long break. After I had finished, there was silence for a moment. I looked at my organ teacher, whom I had visibly impressed.
“Raphael, that was wonderful. And very expressively played, even though you don't know this instrument at all. All respect. How long have you not played?”
“About a month, but not this piece for a while. However, I want to confess that I practiced it yesterday at boarding school on a piano. I thought to myself that I should probably play something for you,” I answered mischievously.
Mr. Stotz smiled.
“Without having heard more from you, I would say that you already have the representative position here if you want,“ he grinned at me.
“Representative position?” I asked, confused.
“When I'm not around, I would say that you can easily accompany every service.”
I was very happy about this recognition.
“And,” he added, ‘I would also like to leave this place to you and just sit next to you and listen to you.”
I was flabbergasted; I didn't think I was that good, or at least not yet.
“Now don't look so incredulous,’ he smiled at me kindly, ”of course for a fee, even if you won't get rich from it.”
“I would be honored,” I blurted out.
He smiled at me again; I almost imagined that he was flirting with me.
“Do you have certain pieces or composers that you would prefer to practice?”
I thought about it, but couldn't come up with anything specific for the organ.
“Well, on the piano I would like to start with a few basic works by Scott Joplin, but here? Can it be something jazzy?“ I asked my organ teacher, feeling a little unsure.
“Yes, sure, why not? I don't think he would mind,” he said, pointing towards the cross above the altar. Again the twinkle appeared in his eyes.
I smiled and nodded.
“Hm, then George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue,“ came to mind spontaneously.
“Oo... keee,” came the drawn-out response from Mr. Stotz.
“And as luck would have it, I have a special arrangement here just for organ,” he beamed at me.
“You see, I also really like this music. Have you played this piece before?”
“No, not yet.”
“Do you want to try it from the sheet?”
“Yes, please.”
Mr. Stotz put the score on my music stand and explained:
“Raphael, it's best to play the organ arrangement a little slower, or vary the tempo a little. This is because the reverb in the church is too intense for some parts.”
I started playing, and the realization on the keys went quite well, as I was somewhat familiar with the piece itself. Mr. Stotz helped me with the registration.
I thought it sounded quite passable, which Mr. Stotz confirmed with an encouraging look.
Of course, I made quite a few mistakes and my playing technique still left something to be desired; I also wanted to take over the registration bit by bit. It was really fun, although it was exhausting. We completely forgot about the time in our zeal. The clock showed that it was already well past six o'clock again. I couldn't believe it. A real feeling of happiness spread in me, and Mr. Stotz couldn't get out of his permanent grin either.
Nevertheless, he said at some point: “Raphael, we should slowly call it a day despite everything. I have never seen a student with such enormous stamina as you, really. I think I'll get you your own key so that you can come in anytime to practice without me.”
I must have looked a bit dumbfounded, but at least he laughed: “Hey Raphael, don't look so shocked. You're really good. But now get out of here. You won't get any dinner otherwise.”
The prospect of going to bed on an empty stomach created an almost rushed atmosphere of departure, which gave Mr. Stotz a real laughing fit.
“Well, Raphael, take care, and I'll see you next week.”
Before I fell asleep, I thought again of this pleasant afternoon in the village church with the equally understanding and attractive cantor. So I drifted off into the land of dreams. Again and again, the image of Oliver Stotz with his friendly and winning smile flickered before my mind's eye. I dreamt that he stepped out of the church, spread his arms, I rushed at him and threw myself at his neck. He laughed happily, embraced me around the hips and spun me around.
This movement startled me and I sat in bed, bathed in sweat. This dream was so real that it took me quite a while to sort myself out. When I realized what was going on, I let myself fall back onto my pillow. Where would it all end? However, the longer I thought about it, the more certain I became that Oliver Stotz had really flirted with me. How could it be that from our very first meeting, there was such a familiar and – yes – warm atmosphere between us?
I decided to pay close attention to his body language next Wednesday.
After I finally fell asleep again, I dreamt of my organ teacher again.
The next day, I only perceived my surroundings schematically, several times my thoughts were far away and the teachers admonished me not only once to concentrate on the lesson. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Miguel's mocking grin, which, to my own amazement, no longer bothered me at all.
So I daydreamed my way through the week and the weekend and became more and more fidgety the closer Wednesday came and I would see HIM again. At lunch, I couldn't get a bite down and immediately afterwards I rushed into the shower. Of course, I had forgotten to take fresh underwear with me, so I walked back to my room with only the towel around my hips, which, of course, caused quite a stir on a Wednesday afternoon. Most people just gave me a blank look, but I ran into Kevin, our class clown, and he was with a few others. He was with a few others and couldn't keep his loose mouth shut: “Oh, hey Rafi, are you putting on a strip show in broad daylight now?”
He wiggled his hips exaggeratedly. I was about to counter with a casual remark when he had already torn the towel off my body. Since I didn't have my hands free with shower stuff and the like, I couldn't react fast enough and suddenly found myself standing outside. Normally, I wouldn't have minded and I would have gone along with his game, but somehow I couldn't that day. So I ran like stung by an adder to get to my room as quickly as possible. The smirking students and the shaking heads of the teaching staff did not escape me. To make matters worse, not only KF but also his girlfriend Lilo, with whom he always studied on Wednesdays, were waiting for me in my room.
“Hello Rafi, interesting outfit,” was his prompt comment, Lilo looked sheepishly to the side. Nevertheless, my face turned red like a tomato. I threw the shower utensils on my bed and quickly fished a pair of boxer shorts out of my closet. But then the drama began: what should I wear? I had never given it much thought before. Unsure, I stared into the closet until the other two noticed.
“Don't you have anything to wear either?” KF asked in a mocking tone that unmistakably contained a dig at the female presence. Lilo just gave him a strong nudge in the side.
“Ouch,“ he cried out shrilly.
“Just don't make any more of your unqualified innuendos,” Lilo said, unmoved, and turning to me, she asked, “Do you need help? Do you have a date?”
Unable to answer, I listened to her further advice: ”You have those black, hip-hugging jeans. And a tight white T-shirt to go with it,” she suggested, looking at my wardrobe and the glorious sunshine, and sat down again with her boyfriend.
Could I dare to do that? It was clear that the T-shirt would regularly slide up.
Anyway, more okay. So I obediently followed the recommendation of my roommate's girlfriend.
Dark socks and my black sneakers, done.
I finally managed to leave on time. Man, was I excited.
Almost like in my dream, Mr. Stotz stepped out of the side entrance of the church. He spread his arms a bit, but not as an invitation to rush at him. He was wearing white jeans and a loose black T-shirt.
“Hello Raphael,” he greeted me and actually pulled me towards him with at least one arm in a friendly way. In doing so, he inevitably got his hand under my T-shirt. I felt all warm inside.
“Please call me by my first name from now on, otherwise I feel so old compared to you, okay?”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Stotz... uh Oliver, okay.”
'That got off to a very encouraging start,' I thought to myself and beamed at him.
He returned the favor with an equally radiant look and a wink. Now I was getting hot.
Somehow we were standing around a bit indecisively, although the purpose of my visit was clear.
Finally, we entered the house of worship and immediately went up to the gallery.
“Raphael, you mentioned last time that you were learning a few pieces by Scott Joplin on the piano. Surely that includes Maple Leaf Rag, doesn't it?”
“Yes, that's right, I'm working on that right now.”
“Good, I sat down over the weekend and arranged it for our organ. Do you want to try it right away?”
I looked at him in amazement, and he grinned from ear to ear.
“Yes, of course I'll try it.”
I had to seriously hold back so as not to fall around his neck. I quickly sat down at the console. Oliver put his score on the desk and we discussed the differences to the piano. He had chosen a very powerful, almost shrill registration. I began to play and it sounded fantastic, considering my mistakes. Oliver had put his hands on my shoulders, which sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.
“Again, please,” he whispered in my ear. I felt all tingly inside. ”And a bit faster.”
I did as I was told and, lo and behold, it sounded even better.
I simply changed the manual to get the different timbres Oliver had chosen for the individual sections. This Silbermann organ had two of them.
Oliver's hands were still on my shoulders, and he seemed to know that the slightest movement made me shudder again.
No sooner had I finished than he ran both hands up my upper arms. That was too much; I automatically stiffened my upper body, causing him to pull his hands back in shock.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“I didn't mean to offend you.”
“Pity,” I blurted out, and swung my legs over the organ bench.
I only briefly withstood his gaze and instead looked at my sneakers.
What was he doing? He put his bent index finger under my chin and lifted my head until I inevitably sank into his bright eyes.
“What do you mean, Raphael?”
I looked at him for a long time, should I or shouldn't I? Then I made a decision.
“Oliver,” I began softly, ”since last week, I can't get you out of my head. I dream about you at night.”
Again, there was a pause that was far too long.
“Now say something. Say that under these circumstances, you can no longer teach me.”
I felt tears welling up in my eyes.
“No, Raphael, no. I want to continue teaching you and see you sitting right here on this organ bench. I have to admit that I have never met an organ student with as much talent and enthusiasm for learning as you. In fact, I stood in front of my closet forever today because I didn't know what to wear.”
That was it. I started laughing. “Man Oli, that's exactly how I felt too. Fortunately, the selection wasn't very big and I had a consultant.”
“A consultant?”
“Yes, my roommate's girlfriend.”
Since the mood had now relaxed a bit, I told him the whole story of the day.
“Oh dear, Raphael, you were pretty rattled.”
“You can say that again,“ I grumbled.
“I must have changed ten times for that,” he admitted.
Once again we smiled at each other.
An indescribable feeling of well-being flowed through my body, I felt so good that I could have uprooted trees. I now felt an incredible desire to play on this dreamlike instrument.
I turned around and started Beethoven's Ode to Joy. I had already practiced this most famous excerpt from the Ninth Symphony on the piano forwards and backwards, so I was able to concentrate on the registrations.
And so the European anthem resounded in the Church of St. Nicholas in an improvisation lasting several minutes. Suddenly I had the idea of playing a medley with the European fanfare, although I didn't immediately succeed in doing so as I had imagined. It took me several attempts to get this short piece of music, which has always been played at the beginning of a Eurovision broadcast on television, to sound at the appropriate time. Unexpectedly, I received support from Oliver, who, obviously enthusiastic, set a number of fantastic registrations. His precise knowledge of this instrument was unmistakable. As I swung my legs back over the organ bench, pleased with the result, I looked into a beaming face.
“That was fantastic,” he enthused, ”simply incredible.”
In the following weeks, I really blossomed.
I practiced like a man possessed on both instruments – Oliver had actually given me a key to the church and the organ. – And my piano lessons on Monday and the organ lessons on Wednesday always went by much too quickly, especially the Wednesdays.
The phenomenal thing about it was that my other – already good – school performance also improved. I literally became a model student.
As much as possible, I kept away from Raphael, which I managed quite well with a few brash remarks.
Nevertheless, I always tried to keep an eye on him. So I noticed that every Wednesday he disappeared towards the village at half past two, all spruced up – not to say dressed up. This increasingly worried me; where did he think he was going? However, I wondered why I was actually interested in it. Somehow I began to doubt my sanity. When he left the JHP boarding school again at exactly 2:30 p.m. the following Wednesday – Mr. Kramer had to postpone my piano lesson – I must have been spurred on and followed him; I had to know what Raphael was up to. I was all the more surprised when he disappeared directly into our village church and did not reappear for over half an hour. Incidentally, the organ could be heard from then on. However, it did not occur to me that Raphael might be playing there. I cautiously opened the heavy church door and found myself in a kind of vestibule. This way I could penetrate further into the interior of the church without being heard.
I had always been fascinated by organ music, but what I heard now had a very special charm, even though the playing was interrupted again and again. Suddenly a variation of the “Maple Leaf Rag” sounded, which sent a slight shiver down my spine. Completely unusual on an organ, but played powerfully and in great harmony. I completely forgot why I had actually come here. After an hour and a half, the organ playing ended. I heard two people talking quietly as they came down the creaking stairs from the organ loft. I pressed myself against a pillar of the three-aisled church and was amazed to recognize that it was Raphael, who was walking towards the exit, joking with an attractive man in his late twenties. I couldn't believe my eyes when the two of them embraced and said goodbye.
Why on earth did that hurt me now?
Five minutes later, I also left the church unnoticed.
From then on, my thoughts revolved only around Raphael, which completely confused me. At first, I didn't understand what was suddenly going on with me. I began to dream about him in a completely confused way.
One night I woke up with a start and realized that I had had a wet dream, something that hadn't happened to me in years. On the one hand, I was extremely embarrassed, but on the other hand, I suspected again that I might be gay. That couldn't, no, that must not be the case. However, with a bang, this suspicion instantly solidified into an irrefutable realization. I let out a loud, plaintive “Nooo!” which, of course, woke my roommate Fabian. He came running in, asking anxiously what was wrong. With some effort, I was able to convince him that I must have had a nightmare. Nevertheless, he remained sitting on the edge of my bed for a few minutes, unsure of what else he could do.
“Thanks, Fabian, I think I'm okay now,” I remarked, prompting him to go back to his bed.
I couldn't think of sleeping anymore. So I admitted to myself that I probably had a crush on Raphael.
Shit, man.
Was he really gay? Suddenly, the question arose as to who the guy in the church was that Raphael was kissing, and a completely new and unknown feeling arose: I was getting really jealous, all the more so when I imagined what else the two were doing together. I sat up only to fall back down again. Okay, they had only hugged briefly, but in a church!
“What am I going to do now?”
My thoughts now revolved around this question in an endless loop.
Meanwhile, it was half past five and I decided to go jogging. Even a frantic lap around the lake in the pouring rain did not help. I urgently needed to talk to someone. But who? I plunged headlong into a hot shower. When I entered the washroom, I ran into Andreas and Carsten, who looked at me in shock. Evidently, I had surprised them. Andreas was the quickest to regain his composure and, after he must have noticed that I was quite rattled, he asked with concern: “Miguel, what on earth happened to you?”
I hadn't realized that my confused thoughts were so obvious.
I turned to the wall, embarrassed.
“Miguel, there's nothing to hide.“ Andreas' casual remark didn't make it any better.
On the contrary, I felt like crying: ‘Man, Andreas! I don't know why, but I'm gay!’ I practically screamed.
“So what? We are too,” Carsten said dryly.
“For you it's normal, but for me? My father will kill me.”
As I said this, my legs gave way. Andreas was on me in a flash and caught me before I hit the ground. Almost like a drowning man, I clung to him. The fact that we were both naked and not exactly in a relaxed state, I suppressed at that moment.
After what felt like an eternity, I broke away from him. Carsten was now standing next to us, putting his arm around me.
“Are you okay?“ I heard his gentle voice.
“Yes, thank you,” I replied, looking down.
“Miguel, can we leave you alone? Now warm up first, you're freezing.”
“And then you come to our room, and we'll talk!“ Carsten added in a tone of voice that brooked no contradiction.
“Aye, aye, captain,” I blurted out.
“Joker,” Carsten replied.
The offer of a conversation with the two of them obviously loosened the knot in my desperate thoughts.
“See you in a bit,” Andreas confirmed, ‘and, Miguel, we'll help you if you want.”
“Thanks. See you in a bit.”
It was still quite early, so I went straight to Carsten and Andreas's place after showering.
“Ah, Miguel, come in. Nice outfit,’ Andreas remarked.
“Uh, do you mind if I show up here in my bathrobe?”
“But no, it's just surprising.”
“I just thought that your room was on my way, so to speak.”
“It's okay. Miguel, what's going on? Come, sit down!”
Andreas had sat down on Carsten's bed. I sighed: “I don't really know where to start.”
“Best from the beginning,“ Carsten suggested with a smile and a slight irony in his voice.
“Okay, from the beginning,” I repeated hesitantly, trying to sort out my thoughts. “So, there's this new guy, Raphael Hausner.”
I told them about our first meeting on the stairs and the constant mutual teasing. On the other hand, there was this strange fascination that this guy radiated, up to the incidents in the church and the feeling of jealousy that was actually foreign to me. Which is why I then concluded that I was attracted to Raphael, which in turn would explain my physical reactions.
The way I told them all this, it became clear to me that, firstly, I had a crush on Raphael and, secondly, I was probably gay.
“Guys, thanks for listening to me. That helped me a lot.”
“Hey Miguel, always a pleasure,” Andreas grinned at me.
“How I'm supposed to tell my parents, however, is completely beyond me,“ I shook my head.
“Now, first of all, see you at breakfast, but you should get dressed first,” Andreas said.
“Do you really think so?” I flirted, wiggling my butt a little, ‘Can't I do it like this? All right, see you in a minute,’ I laughed, suddenly feeling free.
Mr. Kramer turned up at the church today, completely unexpectedly and unannounced. At first I didn't even notice him, because he had inconspicuously sat down on one of the benches in the middle of the choir room.
Oliver asked me to simply play Beethoven's Fifth and put the score on the music stand for me.
I had practiced this arrangement intensively over the last two weeks. Somehow I had a strange feeling. After 30 minutes I knew why: Mr. Kramer wanted to evaluate my playing and he seemed to have liked it. When he came up the stairs, Oliver grinned at me somewhat slyly. An extremely animated conversation developed between the two music educators, which I could only follow with my eyes growing ever larger. Mr. Kramer came up with an idea that took on more and more concrete forms as the conversation progressed.
“Tell me, Raphael, what would you think of an organ and piano duet?“ he wanted to know.
I looked at Mr. Kramer in amazement.
“A bit unusual, isn't it? Is that even possible?” I replied evasively.
“Well, there are the Scott Brothers in England who have published various arrangements for organ and piano. It would be worth a try.”
“And who did you have in mind as a duet partner?”
“Miguel Hernandez comes to mind spontaneously.”
“Not really,“ I blurted out. I didn't feel like dealing with this arrogant jerk at all. My surprise seemed to be written all over my face, but Mr. Kramer interpreted it as admiration rather than dislike.
“Why not? Miguel is excellent at adapting,” he continued.
I couldn't imagine that at all.
“And he loves jazz and boogie-woogie just as much as you do.”
That too.
Turning to the cantor, he asked:
“Oliver, you also have a grand piano here, if I remember correctly?”
Surprised, I looked at Oliver, who just grinned and nodded.
“Very nice! Raphael, you have 'The Fifth' perfectly on the organ, as I was just able to see for myself. Miguel can play it on the piano,” Mr. Kramer continued undeterred. ‘Why don't we meet here next week and develop a suitable arrangement for you for piano and organ as a quasi-orchestra. I usually have piano lessons with Raphael at this time, so I'll just order him here. Oliver, would you please set up the grand piano and have it tuned?”
“Yeah, sure,’ Oliver replied in a good mood.
Admittedly, I found the idea itself very appealing and exciting, but with the unsympathetic school as a duet partner?
The two music teachers were so enthusiastic and convinced of this idea that I didn't dare to contradict them.
Somehow it was all getting a bit too much for me now. So I decided to go for a swim. I was almost alone in the changing room. When I entered the pool after showering, I realized that there were actually only a few people doing their laps. Suddenly I recognized Carsten, who quickly covered the 50m with a few strokes like a fish. Fascinated, I watched him for a while. When he took a break, I approached him:
“Hello Carsten, you swim like a fish.”
He laughed: “Well, Raphael, weekly training keeps me in pretty good shape. It's an excellent counterbalance to playing the piano. But you seem to think that too. If you swim anywhere near as well as you play the piano, you shouldn't be much slower than me.”
I was amazed and asked him how he knew that I played the piano.
“Raphael, there aren't that many people who play a keyboard instrument at the JHP boarding school. Since I plan to study music and piano, I can tell when another pianist is suddenly practicing. Everyone has their own individual style, and I really like yours.”
I blushed slightly at this praise from the JHP piano icon.
“Thanks, Carsten, such recognition from you is music to my ears. But I'm thinking about something else right now: I just watched you swim and wondered how you do the lane?”
“Oh, that's easy: there are acoustic signals here to keep the likes of me on the right track!”
I had to laugh at this formulation. “Well then.”
“I'll call it a day, see you later, Raphael.”
“See you later, Carsten.”
Now that Carsten had mentioned it, I could hear the signals too, which I would otherwise not have noticed. Inspired by his words, I now wanted to swim a few laps too. However, I was pretty out of practice.
I was pretty exhausted when I got into the shower and slipped off my swimming trunks to regenerate under the water jet. That's when I noticed HIM. Suddenly, my blood rushed not only to my face. Before I once again earned a malicious and brusque remark, I fled the shower room. I no longer cared about the smug and amused looks of the few other bathers.
“Raphael, please wait,” I heard Miguel's call, which lacked any sharpness.
Surprised, I turned around.
Miguel had followed me immediately into the changing room, just as naked as I was.
“Raphael, look at me! I feel the same way you do!”
There we were: Big-Raphael, Big-Miguel, Little-Raphael and Little-Miguel.
Luckily we were alone and we scrutinized each other.
Miguel began to grin friendly and a smile crept onto my face as well.
“Here, I think these are yours.” With that, he handed me my swimming trunks, which he had brought out of the shower with his own.
Even though there was a distinct crackling sound in the air, we wanted to leave this very public place quickly and inconspicuously. So we dried ourselves and got dressed for the street, but not without glancing at each other again and again and giggling childishly.
On the way home, I thought about what Oliver and Mr. Kramer had said.
“Miguel, I've been taking organ lessons at the local church for a few weeks.”
“I know,“ he blurted out.
“Really?” I said, taken aback by the sudden dark look in his eyes.
“Be that as it may, Mr. Kramer came to the church unexpectedly today and he and Oliver, my organ teacher, came up with the absurd idea that the two of us should play a piano and organ duet. Pretty crazy, right?”
Miguel stared at me in disbelief.
“Where did they get that idea?” he finally asked.
“No idea. To be honest, I was pretty shocked. Especially after all the banter between us.”
With a mixture of surprise and arrogance, he laughed.
“You see, it's exactly this arrogance that has kept me at a distance from you all this time, and I can't imagine making music with you because of it.”
Now he looked at me completely dumbfounded.
“Are you serious? Do I seem arrogant to you?”
“You could say that again, my dear.”
Ashamed, he lowered his gaze.
“Raphael, I just wanted to keep my distance from you.”
“Aha, I wouldn't have noticed that,” I replied sarcastically.
He looked sadly into my eyes.
“Raphael, at the beginning it was a reflex after we bumped into each other on the stairs. Then somehow instinctive.”
“And why?” I asked annoyed.
After a while he stopped and said:
“Raphael, I'm gay and I have a crush on you.”
I looked down at him, because I towered over him by a good 15 centimeters. Then I remembered the scene in the swimming pool and I had to admit to him that he had this difference of 9% in his favor in other respects more than I did. I shook my head.
“What are you grinning at now?”
After we left the pool, we wanted to get back to the boarding school quickly.
Suddenly Raphael started babbling about a duet of the two of us on the piano and organ, which was an idea of Mr. Kramer's, who couldn't imagine it because of my arrogance.
That shocked me to some extent. I never wanted to appear that way to others.
I tried to explain to him that I just wanted to keep my distance from him.
“And why?” he wanted to know.
I took a deep breath. Should I confess to him that I had a crush on him and was therefore probably gay? On the other hand, if I thought about his reaction in the shower in the swimming pool, wasn't he too? That was obvious, wasn't it? I stopped. Close the eyes and go for it, I thought.
“Raphael, I'm gay and I have a crush on you.”
I looked up at him expectantly, but still skeptically. Inevitably, I grinned, because at that moment I realized that although he towered over me by about 15cm, he lacked those 8% from his point of view in other places. He promptly asked me why I was grinning now.
“Hm,” I grumbled, ”but don't be mad, okay?”
“Why should I be angry all of a sudden?“ he asked in surprise.
“Well, I realized that I'm about 15 centimeters shorter than you, but you have that 8% of you that is less from another point of view,” I grinned at him cautiously.
Raphael laughed out loud.
“That's exactly what I was thinking, only the other way around! Is that a problem?”
“Nah, sure. Now tell me, what about you?” I finally wanted to know.
Raphael hesitated for quite a while.
“Miguel, to be honest, even when you were always giving me a hard time, I thought you were a sweet guy and never understood your negative reactions. At some point, I put aside everything regarding a friendship with you.”
“Shit,“ I blurted out and I felt my eyes moisten.
“But your reaction in the shower earlier?” I asked quietly.
“Miguel, look, give me a little time, you know, Oliver, my organ teacher is a really great person, I've never met anyone like him in my life.”
That was too much, I ran off without looking back.
I arrived at the JHP boarding school completely out of breath and immediately retreated to my room, which I didn't plan to leave anytime soon.
Once again, I had ruined everything with my cheeky mouth. Why did I have to play the unapproachable jerk to Raphael from the start? Well, I actually didn't know from the outset that I ever wanted to have anything to do with him. Was I too arrogant to even have a normal conversation with him? At the latest after our first encounter in the music cabinet?
I fell asleep with thoughts like that and even more confused thoughts. I woke up in the middle of the night and realized that I was still fully dressed. Since I had to go to the bathroom anyway, I put on my pajamas right away.
I woke up before the alarm went off and dragged myself to the shower in the bathroom, where I was alone at this early hour. I was also the first at breakfast and couldn't wait to load my plate, since I hadn't eaten since yesterday at noon.
Sated but listless, I made my way to class. Inevitably, I would sit next to Raphael here. I decided not to let on, but to keep the usual distance, which might be difficult due to yesterday's events. On top of that, we had a double period of sports that day. I kept asking myself how that would go. It would be best to excuse myself with a general feeling of discomfort. Although I hadn't wanted to miss the sight of my naked classmates for some time, it was better to put that aside today if I didn't want to make a fool of myself in front of the whole class.
So, let's go, I said to myself, trying to encourage myself.
As one of the first in the class, I sat down in my seat and waited for what might come.
Miguel was gone as soon as I mentioned Oliver.
Now I was once again caught between two stools.
Oliver.
This man had become a beloved friend of mine in a very short time. He had literally taken my heart by storm with his warm, open manner of approaching me. How could I ever face him again if I were to defect to Miguel with flying colors?
The fascination, including the butterflies in my stomach, that Miguel evoked was, of course, still there. To be honest, it never went away. However, because of my perfect relationship with Oliver, I was able to block out Miguel relatively easily. The last few weeks were the most intense of my life in every respect: everything seemed perfect. I studied harder and learned more than ever before. And not just in school, but also on my two instruments.
No, I couldn't just push Oli aside, but I knew I had to talk to him urgently.
I had always been afraid of such situations, even as a child, and especially during puberty. Whenever I realized that I had done something wrong and wanted to straighten it out, I was always afraid that from that moment on no one would like me anymore and that everyone would turn away from me.
I would see Miguel again at dinner.
But Miguel didn't come. At first I thought, 'That's fine,' but soon I was overcome by doubts.
Until late into the night, my thoughts kept switching back and forth between Miguel and Oliver. It's a wonder that I still fell asleep at some point.
Relatively late the next morning, I dragged myself out of bed.
Miguel was also nowhere to be seen at breakfast. My unease and concern grew immeasurably. If he didn't show up for class, I would sound the alarm.
I was one of the last to enter the classroom, just before class started. Miguel was sitting in his seat as if nothing had happened. However, he didn't look at me.
He only nodded in response to my “good morning”.
At least he stopped his taunts from then on.
At that point, I didn't know how this was going to continue in a reasonable way.
I decided to just leave him alone for the time being.
That was very difficult for me, because the more intensely I thought about Miguel (again), the more I felt a connection with him, even without us talking to each other.
I thought I knew, I even sensed, how he was doing. Seconds before he expressed a thought or did something, I already knew what was coming. Could that be, or was I imagining it, because his thoughts and actions were perhaps generally foreseeable, right?
What we experienced in the upcoming sports lesson, however, was as fascinating as it was inexplicable to me.
During the break, Mr. Kramer ran into me and spoke to me:
“Miguel, do you have time for me right now?”
“Sure, Mr. Kramer, what is it?” I asked back, although I could already guess.
“Miguel, I don't know if Raphael has already spoken to you, he is your desk neighbor, as far as I know. The idea of a duet with piano and organ has come up.”
After this formulation, I grinned to myself.
“That has already come to my attention,” I replied with the same understatement,
“Raphael has already told me about it. I don't think I can imagine that.”
“Oh, that would be a shame. I've known you for quite some time now, so I think I can assess your abilities on the piano very well. I also know how you can fit in with the orchestra when you play together. The two of you could make a great duo.”
“But what if I don't want to?”
“That would be highly regrettable,” he said, unable to hide his disappointment.
“You know, Mr. Kramer, I feel a little steamrollered,” I explained my displeasure.
But the music teacher was not satisfied with that:
“Oh, that was not my intention, because when I heard Raphael play the organ the other day, you immediately came to mind. I am deeply convinced that the two of you would harmonize excellently. Let's just do it this way: You sleep on it for a night and let me know by noon tomorrow. What do you think?”
I hesitated to answer. It was clear to me that Raphael played the piano and organ very well. But this Oliver somehow caused a blockage in me, although factually it had nothing to do with it. Making music together would undoubtedly have its charm.
“All right, I'll think about it and let you know tomorrow.”
“Good, Miguel, see you tomorrow.” And he had already disappeared back into the school building.
I still didn't say a word to Raphael, which I admit was very difficult for me. I had the feeling that on the one hand he left me alone, but on the other hand he kept a very close eye on me, ready to start the conversation as soon as I signaled it to him. I had never known such a connection to anyone before.
Contrary to my original plan, I did take part in physical education after all, because I felt an enormous urge to move. The fact that basketball was to be played that day was just right for me. As luck would have it, Raphael and I played on the same team. I was the smallest on the field, but a little nimbler. Again, I sensed Raphael's attentiveness, with which he repeatedly brought me into the game. Because of his height (sorry for the dirty thoughts that immediately crossed my mind) and his precision when shooting at the basket, I passed to him more than once, and he almost always scored a three-point shot. Yes, over time we developed an almost blind understanding for each other and didn't give our opponents a chance. The first game ended 58:17, which prompted our gym teacher to split us up by swapping me with Kevin from the other team. After that, however, nothing went well. The rest of the game was pretty uncoordinated and tough. So we ended the sports lesson pretty exhausted and extremely dissatisfied.
In the shower, KF said to Raphael and me: “It was really stupid of Scheibner to separate you after the first half. You played really well together. Even though I was on the opposing team, it was great to watch you, I'll give you that.”
And Fabian added: “You're like nitro and glycerine. Completely harmless on their own, but explosive and unbeatable together.”
This saying led to loud laughter and mostly approval. Everyone thought they had to pat us on the back. That distracted me a bit, because I was struggling with the flow of my blood, especially when I made eye contact with Raphael.
And Kevin's comment, “Really cool, man,” didn't make it any easier either. I don't know whether our classmates generously overlooked the, fortunately only slight, changes in my and, incidentally, Raphael's lower body region, or whether they didn't even notice them, or whether they even accepted us as a “dream team.” In any case, this double period of sports was surprisingly pleasant on the one hand, but also eerie on the other.
Even though we still didn't talk to each other, we at least went to lunch together.
I was already so far along that I would accept Mr. Kramer's “duet proposal” after all, when the wildest dreams haunted me again that night. Again and again, this Oliver interfered, so that I couldn't find a connection to Raphael. I woke up completely exhausted from the noise of my alarm clock and it took me several attempts to leave the cozy bed. During breakfast and the rest of the morning, I weighed the pros and cons of a duet with Raphael. In class, I was met with the pitying, mocking glances of my classmates when a teacher caught me off guard again. But I noticed that Raphael looked rather worried. Again I sensed this bond, which I “only” had to get involved with.
So I decided to fight for Raphael.
My agreement to this “project” of my piano teacher would certainly be an easy way to get started.
So I gave Mr. Kramer the green light, which made him visibly happy, although he only said:
“All right, Miguel, then please be at St. Nicholas Church next Wednesday at three. We'll just move your piano lesson there.”
I didn't inform Raphael yet.
There was still radio silence between Miguel and me.
Nevertheless, I managed to do my schoolwork with a reasonable degree of concentration and to practice consistently on both of my instruments.
On Monday, I finally plucked up the courage and simply approached Miguel at school in the morning:
“Good morning, Miguel. So what do you think? Should we dare to do the experiment that Mr. Kramer came up with on Wednesday?” I deliberately avoided mentioning that Oliver was instrumental in the idea.
As if he had been waiting for my question, he replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world:
“Yeah, sure. It'll be fun.”
I looked at him in amazement.
“You know what, come with me to my piano lesson with Carsten today.”
At first I was even more amazed and couldn't manage a reply. Now he laughed at me.
“So, it's a date, half past two at the music cabinet. I'll let Carsten know.”
I finally found my voice again, and this last sentence was also clear to me in the wording seconds before he uttered it.
“Great, Miguel, I'm glad. I'm already curious to see what it will be like,” I laughed back now.
We even managed to follow the morning lessons attentively.
During lunch, we were already huddled together, discussing our repertoires. I remembered that Mr. Kramer wanted to hear Beethoven's Fifth. In the course of our conversation, we also mentioned that we were both practicing Gershwin's “Rhapsody in Blue.”
In general, we realized that we had exactly the same preferences in musical styles and composers.
At half past two, I entered the music cabinet.
For the first time, I was to play the piano together with Miguel under the critical ears of Carsten von Feldbach. Miguel had already informed Carsten about this.
He was calm as a cucumber, while I was a bit nervous.
“Okay, guys, let's hear you,” he urged us.
So we sat down at the two instruments and Miguel began with his finger exercises, which seemed familiar to me. Apparently effortlessly, I started these finger exercises. After a short period of parallel playing, we began a kind of question and answer game: one of us played a sequence of notes, the other repeated it. Each “answer” was more or less varied. The sequences also became more and more complicated and extensive until we finally ended up with “Maple Leaf Rag” without having discussed it.
This “finger exercise” turned into a quarter-hour improvised ragtime, with a few technical mistakes, but with a fabulous, non-verbal coordination, which not only gave me tremendous pleasure. We played as if we had never done anything else. After we had finished, Carsten applauded appreciatively after a short pause.
“When did you practice that?” he asked.
We looked at each other in disbelief and answered as if from the same mouth:
“Never, we just played together for the first time ever.”
“I don't believe you. You're kidding me.”
“No, Carsten, really. It's true,“ Miguel confirmed.
“Well, it was fantastic for that, so I assume that you noticed the mistakes yourselves, which were due solely to your imperfect playing technique. Do we want to work on that?”
“Yes, of course, that's why we're here!” we both said at the same time.
As always, the devil was in the details, so a busy, exhausting and quite entertaining hour followed.
When Carsten ended the hour, everyone was very satisfied with the result.
We briefly discussed whether we should also take my lessons with Mr. Kramer together. But we wanted to hold back a bit from the music teacher. So we arranged to meet again for dinner.
I was not at all sure how I would act towards Raphael.
In retrospect, the joint lessons with Carsten were the best idea I ever had.
Raphael and I harmonized in a way I would never have dared to imagine.
Once again, time passed far too quickly. After that, I was hopelessly in love with this guy. Still, I tried not to let it show.
As we sat at the dinner table, Raphael suggested that we practice together in the church the following Tuesday.
“Oh, that's a great idea. Can we even get in?”
“Yep, no problem,“ he said, ringing the keys.
“That's good, then we can try it out in peace,” I confirmed, but I had to admit right away that I wouldn't be free until about four o'clock, to which Raphael just smiled: “Morning or afternoon?”
“Man, Raphael!”
“Yes, all right, then let's go in the afternoon. So let's march out of here at four.”
“I should be able to make it, see you tomorrow,” I said, saying goodbye to him.
I didn't tell him that I wanted to practice with headphones on my keyboard. I don't remember how long I sat at the “Rhapsody” anymore, sometime after midnight Fabian asked me if I didn't want to go to bed, even though he wouldn't be disturbed by my – for him – soundless playing. In fact, I was dead tired, as I realized at that moment, and almost fell asleep in bed, just managing to put on my pajamas.
I fell into a deep sleep full of music in my dreams.
Although it was only about five hours of sleep in the end, I woke up before the alarm went off and felt fitter than I had in a long time.
On my way to the bathroom, I ran into Carsten and Andreas.
“Good morning, you two. Did you sleep well?”
“Man, Miguel, what's with you today?“ Andreas grumbled.
“Hihi,” I laughed, “I slept better than ever. In a dream world full of music.”
“Oh,” Carsten replied, “it's been a long time since I could say that about myself. And the way you sound, it was nice and restful.”
“Yes, it was,” I replied now a little melancholy.
“When I dream of music, then I usually roll some difficult parts back and forth.”
Even in the shower, I talked with Carsten about the world of music.
“Boa you two! Your good mood in the early morning is unbearable!” This sentence from Andreas was immediately confirmed by a few other morning grouches, which only elicited a pitying laugh from Carsten and me, though. Out of consideration for our poor fellow students, we held back from further discussion from then on. Instead, Carsten received a fleeting kiss from his Andreas.
And nobody took offense at it.
It occurred to me that I hadn't yet told my tutor why the two of us had shown up at his house yesterday. After a moment's thought, I decided to leave it at that.
Now I really should hurry up to get to breakfast and class on time.
Mr. Kramer opened my piano lesson with the question:
“Hello Raphael, where is Miguel?”
“Uh,” was all I could manage.
“You played so fantastically together with Carsten just now.”
“How did you know?” I couldn't get any further because Mr. Kramer was indignant: ‘Well, listen. Do you think two people can make such a racket at two pianos for an hour and a half without anyone in the building noticing?”
“Was it that bad?’ I asked meekly. And that's where he had me.
He laughed out loud: “Man, Raphael, you should admit to me, as your music teacher, that I can very well distinguish who is playing the piano behind a closed door. It was immediately clear to me that the second pianist was not Carsten for a change, and that only you could be the one. By the way, it was quite crowded in the hallway: you had plenty of enthusiastic listeners.”
“Really? That's a bit embarrassing.”
“What? Raphael, you're not serious, are you? An artist needs an audience.”
“Well, maybe an artist does...”
“Stop it, Raphael, you should get used to having listeners who actually like what you play. Now tell me what you've been working on since last week.”
Still a little confused by the stir that Miguel and I had unwittingly caused, I sat down at the grand piano and began to play the “Rhapsody in Blue” as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I would probably play Beethoven's Fifth on the organ tomorrow, which is quite different. Of course, I chose the orchestral part.
Mr. Kramer sat quietly in his chair, nodded approvingly and had only a few details to improve. However, nothing related to playing technique, which was probably because these subtleties could not be easily transferred to the organ.
“As a piano piece, it sounds really good. I'm very excited to see how it will be on the organ and in combination with Miguel on the grand piano the day after tomorrow. Please don't think about the organ anymore, just concentrate on the piano. Let's continue working on Scott Joplin.”
I had practiced that diligently as well. So I was able to surprise Mr. Kramer with quite a bit of progress. When I had finished, there was silence at first. I carefully looked over at him. He nodded approvingly: “Raphael, respect. You have really done a good job. No objections from me, let's go to dinner,” he laughed, relaxed and satisfied.
When we arrived in the dining room, it was already very busy. I looked around for Miguel, who was already sitting at a table in a quiet corner. After I had loaded my tray, I sat down with him.
“Mr. Kramer asked about you right at the beginning of the lesson. Our joint lesson with Carsten seems to have caused quite a stir.”
He just grinned mischievously at me.
“I've already noticed that too.”
We agreed that we would leave together at four o'clock in the afternoon.
Miguel then said goodbye relatively quickly for today, which gave me the opportunity to practice a little on my new keyboard so that the embarrassment wouldn't be too great. KF had a “late start” today because he was involved in the volunteer fire department. So I had my peace and quiet until 11 p.m. Nevertheless, I used my headphones so as not to disturb the neighbors, as the walls were reasonably thin. First, I tried my hand at the orchestral part of Beethoven's Fifth, which was specially arranged for the organ. At least with the simple timbres and similar touch, I should be able to prepare myself for our experiment to some extent. I was so absorbed that KF really frightened me when he suddenly lumbered into the room at a quarter past eleven.
“Jeez, you scared me, what are you doing here?”
“'Scuse me, I live here,“ he grunted, and I laughed. He squinted at me rather guiltily. I could tell that he was a bit worked up. Strictly forbidden as a matter of principle, KF never really went over the top.
“Is something wrong? Are you okay, KF?” I asked him, a little worried.
He stared glassy-eyed in my direction
“All's well,“ he mumbled, ‘I'm going to bed,’ he announced, and he was already lying down.
“Oh man, at least take off your shoes.”
“What?” he snapped
“Wait, I'll help you.”
“No, don't touch me, you fag,” he said unexpectedly and shrill.
Shocked, I let go of him. I had no idea where he got that from, or if it was just a saying. I didn't need a homophobic idiot right now. I didn't say anything at first, it wouldn't have been worth it in his condition anyway. Nevertheless, I decided to be on my guard and to speak to him about it the next day. After what felt like half an hour, he had finally taken off his boots and at least his cargo pants. This procedure in itself was amusing to watch, had it not been for the hostile comment. As soon as he lay down, he was already snoring. If that was the case, I might as well spend a little time with my keyboard. When I happened to glance at the clock at some point, it was actually already past one.
Oh dear, but now quickly to bed.
Despite the snoring of my roommate, I fell asleep quickly, I was so dog-tired.
This time it was me who had to drag KF out of bed with great effort the next morning. He even let me accompany him to the shower to fight his hangover as inconspicuously as possible. When we were back in our room after quite some time, he even thanked me for my support.
“And, Rafi, please excuse me. I didn't mean that last night,” he added with his eyes downcast. Since I was very happy that this had resolved itself in this way, I replied with a grin.
“It's okay, KF, I would have been very surprised too. You were probably more loaded than it seemed.”
“That's right,” he admitted, and I noticed tears in his eyes. He was still sitting naked on his bed, his mind far away.
“Hey, what's wrong?” I crouched down in front of him.
He sighed deeply: ‘Lilo has broken up with me.”
“Oh, I'm sorry, really.’ So we were sitting opposite each other, suddenly he fell forward and wrapped his arms around me. I took him in my arms as a matter of course and pulled him to his feet.
“That bad, huh?” I asked, continuing to hold him. He didn't seem to mind that he was now touching me along my entire length. Or maybe he wasn't even aware of it. After a while, he exhaled forcefully, pulled away from me, and said, ”Thanks, Rafi, that felt good. Now we'd better get dressed and go to breakfast.”
Then he added with a wry grin: “Otherwise people might think something.”
That made me laugh again.
“Well, hurry up,” I told him.
Together we went to breakfast, even if there wasn't much time left.
We arrived at class on time.
Miguel was already sitting in his seat in a good mood.
An English vocabulary test was the only surprise on this school day. After lunch, Miguel had another double period of computer science from 2:00 to 3:40 p.m. I had the morning off and decided to go for a swim.
Shortly before four, I was at the gate. Miguel arrived and we headed towards St. Nicholas.
The church was closed, so we would be alone. As we entered, I immediately noticed the grand piano that was set up at the altar on the side opposite the pulpit.
“Should I close it again?“ I asked Miguel.
“Hm, I don't know. Actually, no, right?” He replied uncertainly.
By now, Miguel had already struck the grand piano once. It was freshly tuned. Immediately, the acoustics of this place of worship captivated us.
Now I realized a circumstance that could possibly pose a problem. Due to the “geography” of the room, we had no chance of visual contact. That was certainly completely different in the music room at our school; there the two grand pianos were placed exactly opposite each other. There was constant eye contact.
“How should we approach it?”
“We'll just play, and we'll see,” Miguel suggested pragmatically.
So I went up to the gallery, turned on the organ, and took a seat at the console. I heard Miguel play a short sequence of finger exercises. Just like yesterday, I simply started playing. And lo and behold, a harmonious “question and answer game” developed again, just like on Monday. In my field of vision, I saw only the console and the stop knobs. I tried to concentrate on Miguel and again I could actually feel him, sense what he was going to do. We varied and improvised anew, but still we ended up with “Maple Leaf Rag” again. When we ended, the overwhelming applause of a pair of hands was suddenly heard. I turned around and leaned over the balustrade of the gallery to see who had sneaked in unnoticed as a listener.
It was Oliver.
He was walking towards the altar, which took my breath away.
Even though I couldn't see Raphael, I could feel him. Is that even possible? The more I focused on him, the more clearly I thought I could sense how he would play next. No, I didn't just think it, I actually felt it. It was an overwhelming, fantastic feeling.
Never before had I felt more joy in playing than during this first duet in the church of St. Nicholas.
We ended up with the Maple Leaf Rag again, just like yesterday, Monday, but we took a completely different approach. Probably because it is currently our favorite piece, which we then also improvised on, not completely differently, but quite differently than yesterday.
I am not sure, but I think we played for almost half an hour and completely blocked out everything else around us.
So I was quite startled at the end when there was a sudden burst of applause after we stopped playing. I hadn't even realized that we had attracted an audience.
As I tried to work out who it was, I saw Oliver coming towards me.
I don't need to mention that my elation suddenly turned to despair. With great effort, I restrained the urge to jump up.
“Hello, you must be Miguel, right? I'm the cantor here, Oliver Stotz. Sorry to barge in like this, but that was really great, really. Your virtuosity impressed me very much. How long have you been playing the piano, if you don't mind me asking?”
Admittedly, this person had a very winning charisma that also had an effect on me despite my reservations.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Stotz, I am pleasantly surprised that we are practicing together for the first time today. Oh yes, I have been playing the piano for about 12 years.”
Mr. Stotz nodded appreciatively.
In the meantime, Raphael had also joined us.
“Hello Oliver, what brings you here?”
“Well, Raphael, I work here and when there is such great music in this church, I have to listen to it.”
Mr. Stotz had turned around and walked a few steps towards Raphael to embrace him.
That was too much for me, I had to get out of here. I fled the place and made sure I got back to the boarding school.
When Oliver hugged me in greeting, I already suspected what was going to happen. Miguel ran out of the church as if the devil himself were after him.
Oliver looked around in shock and sank down on the nearest pew.
I let out a deep sigh: “Please move over a bit,” I asked Oliver, so that I could sit down next to him. There was a long pause during which I wondered how I should start this conversation, which I should have had a few days ago, at least before Miguel met with Oliver. Before I could start, Oliver spoke up:
“Raphael, I don't know why Miguel stormed off like that. Although I have an idea. It's the reaction to my hug. That's probably how you react when the cantor of a community embraces another man. It's just not intended. My bond with you, which has existed since the first moment we met here, is still so unique and at the same time so self-evident to me that I have trouble thinking clearly. And I have a lovely wife.”
“WHAT? And I thought you loved me.”
“Did you feel that way? I didn't mean it that way. Are you disappointed now?”
“YES! No. I mean, I feel a lot for you. I don't know such understanding and warmth as between us from home. Is that wrong?”
“Not wrong. The fact that there has been a crisis between me and my wife for some time made my feelings immediately run high when I first met you. Through the music and our shared enthusiasm for this instrument,” he said, pointing in the direction of the Silbermann organ, ”we had a level at which no one could disturb us. At least that's how I imagined it. When I was with you here, in this wonderful world of music, I completely blocked out the rest of my life with all its facets, the difficult ones and even the beautiful ones. There was only you and this fantastic instrument. At home, it was exactly the other way around; I was suddenly able to face everyday life very easily again and take loving care of my wife. I am very sorry if I have unintentionally triggered something and given you hope. The fatal thing is that at the beginning I thought that the two could work in parallel, because for me they were and are two worlds that have nothing to do with each other. Raphael, I like you very much too. But you are very young and secondly, I am something of a teacher to you. I'll end up in hot water, may God forgive me for the comparison. Please forgive me.”
He looked at me with glassy eyes.
When I realized the implications of his words, tears welled up in my eyes and I buried my face in my hands. He had carefully put a hand on my shoulder, but I shook it off. These words hit me hard, but then Miguel came to mind again. Can you love two people at the same time? I couldn't figure it out. At first, I imagined that the two had nothing to do with each other, and I also separated the two worlds. On closer inspection, however, it was only because I was able to “block out” Miguel because he apparently didn't want to know about me. So I was able to accept my connection to Oliver fully consciously and enjoy it to the full. However, my relationship with Miguel had changed fundamentally in the last few days, so that his apparent rejection was only apparent. Seen in this light, everything was fine now. However, I wanted to continue taking organ lessons with Oliver. Would that be possible?
“You know, Oliver, Miguel reacted so violently because he fell in love with me. Basically, it was the case that I had already fallen for him at our first, somewhat unpleasant encounter. However, at that time he had given me a clear signal of rejection.”
“I don't understand that now,” Oliver admitted.
So I told him the story from the beginning. This led to the fact that the whole picture was now clearer to me as well. So what was the problem now?
“Oliver, I would just like to continue taking organ lessons with you and maybe actually take on one or two substitutions. Do you think we can manage that?”
Oliver now looked me in the eye and replied:
“Raphael, we'll manage it. After all, our personal circumstances have now been clarified and they don't really get in each other's way at all.”
He held out his hand to me, which I gratefully took.
Nevertheless, I now exhaled audibly.
“Why are you sighing now?”
“Because I don't know if I'll be able to reach Miguel with this.”
“Shall I talk to him?“ Oliver suggested.
“I don't know,” I admitted, “I think it's up to me.”
“All right, Raphael, hopefully see you tomorrow, good night.”
“Oh my God, is it that late already?”
He laughed, ”Yes it is, you'd better get home.”
I arrived at the dining room completely exhausted, the boys were just about to call it a night. When they saw my pained expression, they must have taken pity on me. Besides, there was far too much food left. There were still plenty of cheese and sausage plates, as well as far too many pre-portioned “mixed pickles,” not to mention bread. So I loaded up my tray, because I was very hungry, and made my way to my room. I promised to return the tray for tomorrow's breakfast. I had barely sat down at my desk and was about to eat my dinner when the door flew open and Fabian shot in.
“Raphael, you damned asshole, what have you done with Miguel, who has been lying on his bed for hours and crying his eyes out.”
Not at all prepared for this, I just looked at him completely bewildered.
“Now move your ass and talk to him!” he snapped at me.
Unable to answer, I followed him to his room. He practically pushed me in and then closed the door behind me.
Miguel was curled up on his bed facing the wall, sobbing. This sight gave me a huge stab. Carefully, I sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. I gently began to stroke him. He seemed to be calming down slowly.
“Fabian, thank you, it's good.”
If I told him now that it was me and not Fabian, he would probably freak out immediately. I knew him so well by now. So I decided to come straight out with it.
“Oliver is married. To a woman.”
He turned around abruptly and stared at me. I could literally see his mind working.
“Miguel, I love you. Do you hear me? Only you!”
He wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve and stared at me, disoriented. I tried an encouraging smile and dared to stroke his cheeks.
That worked, he relaxed.
“How come?” I said softly.
“Not suddenly, Miguel, but from the moment I arrived here. But we've already been through that, haven't we?”
“That's not what I mean. Why does this Oliver suddenly have a wife?”
Raphael laughed briefly: “Not suddenly either, Miguel. He only told me earlier.”
“Damn, what an ass,” I replied angrily.
“Miguel, no. It's not that simple. It's a bit tricky, it has, how should I put it? It has an 'emotional logic'. At least I can understand it.”
Now I sat up straight and looked at him expectantly.
“So tell me.”
“Have you eaten yet?“ he asked, changing the subject. As if to answer himself, my stomach growled quite loudly, making us both grin.
“Okay, Miguel. I'll quickly get my tray, I got a few things from the kitchen, that's enough for both of us.” And just like that, he was gone.
My heart leaped for joy when I remembered the three words that Raphael had just said. Was it that easy? And here I was crying my heart out and telling Fabian all kinds of crazy stuff. I must have come out to him too. How embarrassing that was, I could have sunk into the ground in an instant, once again there was no hole when you needed one. To make matters worse, he now came into the room. He carefully assessed the situation.
“Hey, Miguel, are you okay?” he asked without any mockery or anything like that in his voice.
“Yes, thank you, Fabian. Raphael will be back in a moment. He went out to get something to eat.”
“Ah, okay. No problem. I still have to do some homework anyway. It doesn't bother me if you eat something on the side,“ he said with a laugh.
Raphael was back in a flash with a tray full of sandwiches with sausage and cheese.
“Oh, Fabian, do you mind if we eat in front of you?” he asked when he noticed Fabian.
“No, why should it? I just explained that to Miguel.”
Raphael carefully placed the tray on the bed; I only had a single chair at my desk. So we were able to tuck in to the late supper together. Since we were both quite hungry, we made short work of the ten loaves.
Then Raphael told me about his conversation with Oliver Stotz. Together with the background to it, especially the parts that I hadn't heard myself, the situation finally became clear to me as well. With a noticeable thud, the weight was off my mind, or rather my heart. Suddenly I felt like cheering.
“So all my jealousy was completely in vain?” I realized and had to grin, ‘so much wasted energy.”
After a short pause, I asked uncertainly: ’But you are continuing to take organ lessons from him?”
“Yes, Miguel. Why not? The circumstances have been made quite clear. You don't have to worry about anything. I only love you.”
“So please no sex scenes here!” came from diagonally opposite.
Raphael blushed dark red as he realized that he had completely ignored Fabian's presence. But the latter just laughed when he looked at us, because I had also changed my face color a little. I think tomatoes were pink in comparison.
“That's sweet!“ he chuckled.
“Fabian!” we both exclaimed at the same time. Which only intensified his laughter, which we now also joined.
“Guys, that's not a problem anymore these days. Besides, you're not the only ones here.”
That, however, seemed to sadden Raphael rather, his eyes became glassy.
“You say that so easily, Fabian. Do you know why I'm here at all?”
I probably made an equally questioning face as Fabian.
“Because my father is a homophobic asshole!”
Then he told us his story in a few words.
“However,” he ended, ‘I'm ultimately very happy to have ended up here. It's completely beyond me how I'm supposed to explain this at home.”
“You said it!’ I blurted out, ”I have no idea how to explain this to my parents either. I grew up in a strict Catholic home!”
Fabian looked at us in complete disbelief.
“I'm not gay, but I'm quite sure that my family wouldn't have a problem with it if I were. Why don't you ask our head teacher if he can't help you? Or someone else. It shouldn't be the case that you still have difficulties with this in this day and age.”
“Yes!” came the synchronous reply from Raphael and me.
So the evening came to an encouraging end after the promising clarification discussion, even though there were considerable doubts regarding our families.
Fabian finally urged us to go to bed slowly, as it was getting close to midnight and actually all underage boarders should be in their beds by 10 o'clock.
Accordingly, it was not only difficult for me to get back on track the next morning. Once again, KF had to pull out all the stops to get me out of bed.
So I was the last one in the shower, almost. Just as I put down my towel, Miguel entered the bathroom and stood next to me. The man simply had an invigorating effect on me, which got my blood pumping. Fortunately, we were alone. He just gave me a cheeky grin, which I immediately returned when I saw that he felt the same way.
“Good morning, Raphael, but we should hurry anyway.”
“You're probably right, we're the last ones here,“ I sighed.
“We still shouldn't give the others any reason to attack, should we?”
“Yes, that's right,” I acknowledged Miguel's words of caution, and ended my stay under the refreshing water. We even managed to get to breakfast without attracting too much attention.
I was able to follow the lesson attentively, even though I was increasingly looking forward to our musical afternoon.
Miguel and I had arranged to meet at 2:30 p.m. to make our way to St. Nicholas together. When we arrived there, I noticed Oliver's relieved expression.
“I'm glad you came after all,” he greeted us.
“Hello Mr. Stotz!“ Miguel greeted him calmly.
“Oh please, Miguel, call me by my first name too.”
“Hello Oliver,” I forestalled Miguel, who then headed straight for the grand piano in the church.
I climbed the gallery and Oliver wanted to wait for Mr. Kramer.
When I had turned on the organ and sat down at the console, I could already hear Miguel playing.
Once again, I simply repeated his finger exercises with slight variations, which he threw to me as musical balls, and then I returned them, also embellished.
Slowly I immersed myself in our world, where I felt again what Miguel was up to. This time we playfully arrived at Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Miguel took the lead, and I transformed the organ into an accompanying orchestra. After half an hour we were done and hadn't even noticed that Mr. Kramer had arrived in the meantime. Considering that we hadn't discussed it further, I thought the result was quite good. I heard the two music teachers discussing and went downstairs to the choir room.
“Hello Raphael, when did you practice that?” Mr. Kramer greeted me.
“Hello Mr. Kramer, not at all, we haven't gotten around to that yet.”
“I find that hard to believe, the way you played it was so powerful and harmonious. In particular, your coordination is amazing. Others can't do it even with a hundred times of practice,“ he shook his head.
“Volker, I don't know how they do it. The two of them harmonize in an uncanny way. They actually only played together briefly yesterday. And it was something completely different. I'm absolutely thrilled,” enthused Oliver.
With all due modesty, I nodded my head slightly and saw out of the corner of my eye that Miguel was also grinning contentedly. I remembered Mr. Kramer's words when he said that Miguel was 'excellent at adapting' and I also felt that I could easily respond to Miguel.
“The minimal tempo changes and your small variations give this symphony a light touch, which admittedly doesn't correspond to a classical performance, because the Fifth wasn't composed for organ and piano at all. Nevertheless, there are some passages that you should still work on.”
So we discussed and practiced this piece under the guidance of Mr. Kramer and Oliver Stotz.
Once again, the time flew by in no time. It was incredible when Oliver suddenly said:
“Guys, it's already a quarter to six. I think you should start thinking about heading home.”
Mr. Kramer looked at his watch in disbelief and shook his head.
As the three of us entered the cafeteria, chatting casually, we attracted some curious glances from our fellow students. A few grinned knowingly.
I felt really comfortable in my own skin. I would have ruled that out completely just a few weeks ago, when my father thought he absolutely had to commit me here. I grinned a little smugly inside that my father's plan backfired.
“Raphael,” Miguel pulled me out of my thoughts.
“Shall we get some fresh air?”
“Hm, I still have to do some homework,“ I replied.
“Oh dear, I should probably do that too. Would you like to come to my place? Fabian won't be home until after ten tonight.”
“Yes, I'd like that,” I winked at him. I wondered if he had the same ulterior motives. Despite his poker face, I was sure that it wouldn't be about homework.
I think Raphael sensed that I didn't just want to do homework with him.
I had barely laid out my materials when there was a knock at the door.
“Yes, please,” I said as usual, and Raphael was already standing in the room.
“Come on, sit down at Fabian's desk. I asked him for permission, that's why he cleared it. Normally, he piles all kinds of paper on his desk. I think we should do math and English. Dr. Gabriel will probably write a vocabulary test tomorrow.”
“Really, you think so? Okay, then we should start with that, then the two math problems and finally we'll revise English again.”
“Good plan.”
So we actually concentrated on our work. With mutual support, it was much easier for me than alone. I told Raphael that too, whereupon he beamed at me and confirmed that it was the same for him. I wasn't sure whether he was just saying that out of kindness to me, because I knew from the lessons that he had advanced to the top of the class in a short time. And that without outside help.
“Don't worry, Miguel, it's always easier to learn in pairs. Especially if you're on the same wavelength,” he surprised me. Can he read minds?
Raphael laughed, probably because I had looked a bit stupid. I grinned and shook my head.
In fact, the vocabulary as well as the quadratic equations went easily from the hand, respectively into the head, so that after an hour we sat uncertainly and insecurely opposite each other. Somehow it had struck us speechless.
I would have liked to just hug Raphael, but suddenly I didn't dare anymore. Nervously, I played with my pen and looked at the grain of my desk. After what felt like two hours, I wanted to say something:
“Raphael...”, but I faltered because he started at the same time.
“Miguel...”
He also interrupted himself again immediately.
“You first,” I stammered a bit faster and looked at Raphael expectantly.
After the very efficient hour of English and math, an uncertain silence suddenly set in.
I would have loved to just hug Miguel, if it hadn't been for my hormones demanding more. But an invincible tiredness set in very quickly. As fulfilling and successful as this day had been so far, it was also exhausting.
“Miguel...“ I started, but immediately stopped, because Miguel found his voice again at the same time:
“Raphael...”
“You first,” he added immediately, and gave me a look that literally melted me.
“Come over here,” I urged him, because my knees were too weak for me to be able to stand up.
As if he had been waiting for it, half a second later he was sitting on my lap with his arms around my shoulders. After a brief hesitation, he pressed his lips to mine. I opened them slightly and immediately felt his tongue. I closed my eyes and let him have his way. In retrospect, I was amazed that our tongues hadn't become hopelessly tangled. But for the moment, I just enjoyed Miguel's affection. Time lost its meaning. So today I can't possibly say how long we lost ourselves in this kiss. Anyway, we scattered when we were loudly addressed, obviously not just once:
“What's going on here? Hello you two! Heeeello!”
Fabian had come home.
As quickly as Miguel had settled on me, he jumped off again.
“Man, you scared me,” he hissed at his roommate. But he just laughed.
“Hey, I addressed you at least five times, but you only registered it when I literally shouted. So no unwarranted complaints, okay?”
Embarrassed, Miguel looked at the ground. I couldn't utter a sound either.
“Don't look so dazed. Man, you've really been hit,” Fabian expressed his impression. But we still weren't able to react.
“Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Although I think that you are already the main topic of conversation at school.”
“WHAT?“ we exclaimed in unison, which caused Fabian to burst out laughing.
“We don't really know what's going on with us yet,” Miguel explained, and I looked at him questioningly.
“That is, we already know what's going on with us. It's just completely new to us,” he corrected himself.
“Be that as it may, boys, we should go to bed, because it's curfew,“ Fabian replied and began to undress unabashedly, which we followed unconsciously but with interest.
“Stop drooling and get laid instead. But please each in his own bed,” he admonished us with a grin.
“Yes, Dad,” we replied again at the same time. With a laugh we said goodbye and I went to my room.
It was the beginning of an intense time in which Miguel and I found each other more and more. We practiced our instruments with great diligence and even greater fun, and as with me before, Miguel's other academic achievements also improved.
I can't even describe the feeling of happiness that surrounded me from that moment on.
The only thing that was completely beyond us was how we would ever tell our parents, which is probably why we tried to suppress the thought of it. Given my starting point, it was actually clear that I would simply have to break with my family if I wanted to continue living my life as I was doing at the moment. However, the fact that Miguel couldn't count on any understanding at home either made our situation much more difficult.
It was still a mystery to me how I should tell my parents that they would have a gay son and a gay son-in-law. This idea was so absurd that at first I laughed almost hysterically and then I burst into tears. Fortunately, I was alone, Raphael was at his organ lesson and Fabian at sports. It was now perfectly clear to me that I wanted to, indeed had to, tell my parents. Firstly, I hated the game of hide and seek of the last few weeks and secondly, it was clear to me that they, as my parents, had the right to know what was going on with their son. More often than usual, my mother asked me during every phone call if I was okay – and she asked several times during a single conversation. She seemed to realize that something was wrong, at least not the way I had been pretending up to that point.
Suddenly, an idea came to me: they say that music connects people. Maybe Raphael could play his way into their hearts, so to speak? Traditionally, the Hernandez family's annual Christmas baking took place on the Saturday before the first Sunday of Advent. It followed the same pattern every year: Mom always invited four to five friends to help her. The strange thing about it was that there was always some old movie playing on the side, in the past via a projector, today via our huge TV. In terms of space, our huge living/dining room with the open kitchen was no problem at all. The fact that Dad regularly fled would make my plan easier, so I was able to “test the waters” with Mom first. Strangely enough, I wasn't at all deterred when some of my mother's friends were there. They had all been infatuated with me since I was born. Only Elvira Bäumler, the pastor's housekeeper, could pose a problem.
I imagined that I would simply entertain the group of ladies with music together with Raphael, and that this would help to break the ice. I knew my mother well enough to be 95% sure that it would work. During the next phone call with her, I asked somewhat hypocritically whether she already knew which of the girls would be coming to the Christmas baking session.
“Why are you suddenly interested?”
“Just wondering...”
“Just like that... I see. Miguel, what's going on?”
“Now tell me, is the priest's housekeeper coming again, for example?”
“I don't know yet. Are you coming too?”
“I was planning to, if I'm allowed to bring someone.”
“Really? Who?”
“A classmate.”
“Okay. I'll pick you up on Friday afternoon.”
“But I have to take my keyboard with me.”
“Why is that? You have our piano, I just had it tuned.”
“Yes, but if you're watching one of those old movies again, I can't use it. But we have to work out an arrangement and the keyboard's midi interface is quite helpful.”
“Yes, well, if you think so. Didn't you want to bake your Butter-S again while you're here?”
“We'll see, Mom, I can't say yet. It depends on how we get on.”
“We're looking forward to seeing you. See you on Friday.”
“Yes, okay Mom, see you on Friday. Good night, please give Dad my regards.”
“I will, sleep well, my darling.”
And she had already hung up.
Now I just had to convince Raphael of my plan. I wanted to ask him right away at dinner. So I made my way to the dining room and met Raphael on the way.
“Hey, Rafi, how was it?”
“Strenuous, but good. And you?”
“Well, the lesson is postponed again until tomorrow.”
“Now I'm really hungry!”
I laughed: “When are you not hungry?”
“Never, actually,” laughed Raphael.
When we had loaded up our trays, we sat down in a quieter corner, as always.
“Say, Rafi. This weekend, I'm hosting the big Christmas baking event at my house, and I'm usually involved in that too.”
“Oh, that's sure to be nice,” he replied, adding sadly, ”we don't have anything like that.”
“You know what, just come with me! Then I'll introduce you to my parents right away. That way, I would finally come out to my mother, that is, if you agree.”
“Phew, do you really mean that?”
“Yes, Rafi, I'm serious and I'm just tired of the game of hide and seek,” I emphasized almost pleadingly.
Raphael looked at me intently and then said,
“Okay, Miguel. I'm in. How did you think this would work? So far it always sounded so inconceivable?”
“That's right. But I think we can get my mother through the music. She'll love you. You're easy to like. I'm almost sure it'll work.”
“And your father?” Raphael wanted to know.
“That's the tricky part. He'll run for the hills again.”
“Why is that?”
“Well. It's something of a tradition that some old fool is always being looked at during the bakery.”
“I see,” laughed Raphael, ‘and that's when your father always takes off?”
“Yes exactly. Hm, Raphael, there's something else…”
“Really?’ he asked skeptically, ”What else?”
“There will be a few of my mom's friends there.”
“You're kidding? You want to out us to everyone?”
“I've known them since I was a kid. I hope Ingrid Neuhäuser will be there this time. She has a gay son who is now 35 or so. Anyway, I remember that his coming out was discussed at a Christmas baking session a few years ago, and there were no negative reactions at the time. So there is a certain hope.”
“Okay, Miguel, I trust your instincts and your plan. What exactly did you have in mind?”
“We'll help with the baking first. I'll make sure there's no too gruesome movie. Do you have any ideas?”
“Casablanca,” Raphael said spontaneously.
“Yeah, good idea, we definitely have that.” After the movie, we'll just sit down at the piano and keyboard and play casually. Finally, a Christmas medley. What do you think?”
“Sounds easy. Should we come up with a more detailed plan tomorrow and at least run through it once?”
“Agreed, preferably after my lesson with Mr. Kramer.”
Everyone was still lost in thought and we finished our dinner.
Together we made our way to the accommodations.
“Miguel, I'm really looking forward to this weekend. Sleep well, I'll see you at breakfast.”
“Yes, I think it will be good. Sweet dreams, see you tomorrow.”
So we parted ways for today.
Miguel surprised me every day. Just a few days ago, he was completely distraught because he didn't know how he could possibly tell his conservative parents that he was gay. Now he wanted to come out to his mother's friends as well. And me too. Not that I had any fundamental problem with it, I had long since been “out” at home, albeit with nasty side effects, such as verbal abuse and threats from my father. He, in turn, expected nothing more and nothing less from me than to become “normal” again; otherwise I would probably face permanent expulsion from the family home, including being disinherited. I was well on my way to achieving that. I didn't even want to think about it. And yet I was just happy here. I could finally make music to my heart's content and I had also met the sweetest person in the world. I would really like to see him accepted at home just as he is. As far as music was concerned, he was already accepted for that reason. Fortunately, my father's information about this institute was more than sketchy.
In any case, Miguel and I arranged to meet again at Miguel's parents' house to practice for an audition.
That same morning, in the usual school routine, Miguel received the message that Mr. Kramer was once again unable to make it. When Miguel then explained that he wanted to practice with me instead, Mr. Kramer was more than happy about it.
So we found ourselves in the music room that afternoon, working on a “mom-conquering program” at its finest. Miguel had brought his keyboard for this purpose, so we had the same instruments for practicing as we would have for the “performance” at Miguel's home. As we had often done before, we wanted to start with simple finger exercises, during which we passed the musical balls back and forth to each other and playfully developed a “Ragtime Special” from them. We then wanted to move on to boogie woogie. These transitions required the most practice to achieve precise coordination. Finally, we wanted to perform our interpretation of Gershwin's “Rhapsody in Blue” for the first time. To do that, I would use the sampled organ and some wind instruments on Miguel's keyboard. Once again, I was amazed at how well we worked together without having had much discussion, just by me concentrating intensely on Miguel. Our “Ragtime Special” was to be a medley of three of Joplin's most famous pieces, “The Entertainer”, “Maple Leaf Rag” and “Pine Apple Rag”, as they were partly known from the film “The Sting”. It was great fun improvising the transition to the boogie-woogie, but we had to practise it intensively, because we wanted it to sound the same as when we played it off the cuff, even though we wouldn't be playing it off the cuff anymore. Varying the individual titles was not a problem, because the individual passages and themes were given. We agreed on the “Swanee River Boogie” and the “Honky Tonk Train Blues” as boogies. With a few bars and key changes, we then ended up in C major, which allowed us to play most of the well-known Christmas songs. It was quite amazing that we had put together and practiced a great piano duet program in less than three hours. Some passages worked right away and would sound harmonious even the tenth time around, while others needed a lot of practice.
In the end, we were very satisfied and confident about our plan, at least from a musical point of view. However, it was by no means clear whether Miguel's hope for acceptance of his orientation would grow out of it. Out of pure self-interest, I sincerely hoped he would. However, we didn't say another word about it.
It was clear that our session had made me extremely happy, but also quite tired. It was just that we were able to make it to a relatively small dinner before I fell into bed, dead tired. There was no doubt that Miguel felt the same way.
That Friday, my excitement woke me up before my alarm clock.
I didn't see Miguel again until breakfast, when he didn't look particularly bright-eyed. Despite all the pondering, the morning passed relatively quickly and after lunch I was just able to pack my things for the weekend. On Miguel's advice, I held back in the cafeteria, because there would be a sumptuous dinner at Hernandez', after coffee and cake. We had barely dragged our luggage and Miguel's keyboard case and its contents into the foyer when a slender woman of medium height and age came storming in. She was unmistakably Miguel's mom, with hair that was just as jet black, with a few white hairs showing through. She seemed completely unpretentious, wearing her white strands with dignity. She radiated a strong sense of self-confidence. Immediately she embraced her son. I almost thought she would crush him, but he seemed used to it and returned the embrace.
“Hello Mama, you're right on time.”
“Hello Miguel, yes it went surprisingly well for a Friday afternoon.”
“Mama, may I introduce Raphael, my classmate.”
Ms. Hernandez turned to me, scanned me for a moment and extended her hand.
“Hello Raphael, nice to meet you.”
“Hello, Ms. Hernandez. Nice to meet you too. Thank you for having me as your guest.”

I'm lying alone on the beach and the sun is shining on my body.
Alone? That seems to have been a mistake, because someone is snuggling up against me from the left.
Oh, that must be my girlfriend. I slowly turn to the left, keeping my eyes closed so that I can give myself completely to her caresses. Her hands gently caress my body, touching me in places that no one has ever seen on the afternoon program of the German television channel ZDF. Slowly, I begin to explore her body, gently, very gently, making my way to her most intimate spot...
But, oh my God! That doesn't feel feminine at all down there. I can clearly feel in her pants what she surely felt with me: a not-to-be-scorned bulge...
Wait a minute! A bulge?? I open my eyes jerkily and look into the smiling face... of a tanned boy!
Oh my God! A boy?! Completely confused, I look around and suddenly see the horrified faces of my family and schoolmates.
Suddenly one of them shouts: “Well, now look at this fag!”
No, it's not just anyone, it's my own father saying this. It seems to me that all these people are smiling contemptuously at me while they surround us both in a semicircle and stare at us.
I really don't understand the world anymore, how did I end up in this desperate situation? I have always tried so hard to keep my little “weakness” secret from everyone, but suddenly everyone seems to know, but what seems even more important to me is the question of where the good-looking boy next to me came from all of a sudden. I am finally so perplexed that the only thing I can still perceive is the monotonous humming of the sea.
Wait a minute! The humming of the sea?
...
I start, bathed in sweat, and look around...
The sand, the sea and everything else that could in any way convey a holiday mood has disappeared. I am back, and I almost have to sigh with relief, in my own room.
The only sound that reaches my ears is the deafening, bloodcurdling, but at the same time infinitely relieving buzzing of my alarm clock.
Phew, that was probably all just a bad, bad dream.
I need a few moments to recover, but then my thoughts are almost back in order.
“Damn it,” I think to myself, ”why the hell is this crappy alarm clock going off at seven o'clock on a Saturday morning?”
At the same time, however, I am also relieved.
Firstly, that this sentence only took place in my thoughts and my mother doesn't have to take note of my extensive repertoire of “expletives” (to use her expression for it). Oh yes, you can't joke with my mother about something like that, even my usually loud-mouthed little sister Sabine knows that.
Secondly, I am quite glad that the alarm clock has woken me up from this nightmare before anything worse could happen. Although, when I think about it, the alarm clock wouldn't have been necessary for that, because who doesn't know that you always wake up at the most terrible moment of the dream anyway.
Sighing, I decide that my need for my most dreaded fantasies to come true is covered for the next few decades and finally get up with a heavy heart.
I can't remember ever getting up so early on a day off from school, and inwardly curse myself for it, but I much prefer a certain tiredness to the danger of ending up in such a dream again.
To wake up for good, I decide to take a thorough shower first. While such a “showering” process can often take quite a long time for me because I really enjoy letting the hot water flow over my body, today I get it over with much faster, deeply immersed in thought.
All of a sudden, all my unresolved problems have come back to me. In the last few weeks, I had repeatedly tried to distract myself from all of this by doing a variety of things, but now it all seems closer than ever.
I've actually realized for some time that I'm more likely to stare at boys than girls, where “stare” can be taken quite literally, but nobody but me knows that yet. It's been hard enough for me to even admit it to myself, let alone tell anyone else.
I can already imagine what kind of words my nice classmates would have for me. You would think that tenth-grade high school students would be beyond the age when gays are simply referred to as “perverted ass-fuckers,” but somehow I doubt it when I look at some of the guys there.
Not least because I felt so completely alone in my situation, I was by far the biggest proponent of an Internet connection in my family, which we finally got last year for Christmas. Or rather, I got it, because the computer has been in my room ever since, although the other family members are also allowed to surf the Internet from time to time with my kind permission.
The other family members are my little sister, who has already been mentioned, my big brother Jonas, who is currently on a so-called study trip to Prague with his class (whereby “study trip” could just as easily be replaced by “booze trip”, but that's only a side note), and of course my parents.
It seems that even my initially skeptical mother has now become friends with the big, wide world of the Internet.
But that would probably change again abruptly if she knew what sites I usually surf when I feel unobserved. But I don't have to explain that to anyone in more detail, I guess I'm not the only one.
When I'm done dressing, there is still a heavenly silence in the house. You really appreciate something like that when you're used to constantly hearing your little sister's squeaky voice. On a sudden impulse, I decide to do my parents a favor and treat them to a first-class breakfast. Well, at least as excellent as my domestic skills allow.
Half an hour later, however, I am really pleased with the result of my efforts; the kitchen now smells wonderfully of fresh coffee and croissants. Apparently, my parents have also noticed this scent, because a little later I hear them coming down the stairs.
“Wow, what did we do to deserve this?“ That was my mother, who is visibly delighted with this surprise.
“Well, I just wanted to do something nice for you guys, since I usually cause you so much grief.” The broad grin on my face is hard to miss as I strike exactly the tone of voice my mother uses when she's scolding me again.
“All right, Marius, the show's over, no one's bought the little golden boy act for ten years anyway. What do you need money for this time?” Ah, I might have known that my father would have to pull my leg again.
“Well, Dad, if that's what you think of me, I'd better go.” I say with mock seriousness in my voice and move slowly, very slowly, towards the door. But as I expected, my father intercepts me before I get there and hugs me.
“Hey, I didn't mean any harm. Of course we are happy when our otherwise useless son finally takes care of the household. Besides, you're the only one who knows exactly what we're about to eat here if we end up in the hospital with food poisoning tomorrow.”
Infected by the laughter of my esteemed parents, I too can no longer hold back my laughter and my mood improves instantly.
For the next half hour, all my problems are forgotten, and we have breakfast together in peace, thanks in no small part to the absence of my lovely little sister.
Finally, my father leans back and groans, saying, “Man, I haven't eaten this well in ages,” which earns him an angry look from my mother, who, however, agrees with him the next moment: “I think we've discovered a real talent of yours here, and believe me, many women want a man who can also help around the house.”
Oh dear, that hit home. All of a sudden, everything is back, the dream appears clearly before my eyes, especially the horrified looks on my parents' faces. My mother seems to immediately realize that something is wrong with me and looks at me with concern: “Hey Marius, if I said something wrong, I'm sorry!”
I look up, somewhat disturbed, and stutter: “No, no, it's okay. Something just got stuck in my throat. Please excuse me, I'm going up to my room!”
I quickly leave my baffled parents in the kitchen and run upstairs. And yes, something did get stuck in my throat!
These are exactly the situations I fear most: either a reference to my later, oh-so-happy family life with at least 15 cute, cuddly children or these constant questions about whether I finally have a girlfriend.
My best friend Sascha is particularly fond of annoying me with the second point, especially since he himself turns up with “a new one” at least every few weeks. Well, he's not that bad-looking with his hazel eyes and almost black hair. Still, I could never fall in love with him, he's just my best friend and besides, he's definitely “from the other side of the tracks.”
I must have been lying on my bed for quite a long time, because suddenly the doorbell rings. At first I jump, but then I look at the clock and realize that it must be Sascha, we were supposed to meet at 11 a.m. to study math.
Well, of course, who else would ring the doorbell so insistently as if the devil himself were after him. I rush downstairs, throw open the door and look into the grinning face of my best friend.
“Well, you little all-round genius, ready to initiate an illiterate into the great secrets of mathematics?”
That had to happen again! He just can't stop teasing me about my good grades, but is it my fault that my performance is always quite good despite my laziness?
“Come in, you weirdo!” is all I can think of and run up to my room with him.
For the next half hour, we work hard on what teachers like to call “calculus.” But then what usually happens when we study together happens: We are only too happy to be distracted and eventually we end up together in front of my computer. It's strange how time always seems to pass at a snail's pace when we're studying, while it seems to fly by when we're on the computer. Suddenly I feel an eerie pressure on my bladder, which is probably a little too much coffee this morning.
When I return to my room with a relieved bladder, Sascha is critically eyeing one of my disks.
Oh my God! This is not just any disk, but THE zip disk on which I have stored the “successes” of my exploration tours through the Internet.
So I run around my room like a madman and snatch the disk out of Sascha's hand. He looks at me rather puzzled at first and then says: “Hey Marius, what's gotten into you, I didn't want to steal the disc from you.”
“It's none of your business, it's my private business!” Great, I congratulate myself inwardly, what a diplomatic and, above all, unobtrusive answer.
“What's the matter, Marius? You should know very well that I would never interfere with your private things. Come on, you've got something!”
Even while he is speaking, he looks me intensely in the eye.
Damn, if only I didn't blush so easily!
“Hey, I thought we were friends. Come on, you can tell me!”
The undertone in his voice is almost demanding, so that the request has become an order. Very slowly, I begin to speak, not without throwing a last desperate glance at the ceiling: “Um, Sascha, well, there is something that...”

“Who is it?” grumbled Lukas, annoyed.
It's eight o'clock in the morning and it's vacation. If he doesn't have a good reason for waking me up now, I won't guarantee anything anymore, it went through his head, still a little drowsy.
“It's me, Hendrik” – Lukas winced inwardly, ‘this is a dream,’ he had often hoped that Hendrik would one day stand in his doorway; but no, had he really hoped for it or was it rather a pipe dream... No, he hadn't hoped for a long time, it was too absurd, never could this be, or could it?
“Morning, Hendrik,” Lukas murmured half-friendly, ‘what makes you disturb my beauty sleep?”
“May I sit down?”
“Of course,’ Lukas replied as he sat up in bed.
Lukas expected Hendrik to sit down on one of the two office chairs in his room, but instead Hendrik went straight to the bed and sat down on the edge of the bed; although it was actually a sofa, Lukas was pragmatic, he didn't need an extra bed, it just took up space. So he had bought a sofa bed in good time, but he never took it apart; the undrawn 85cm wide lying surface was enough for him.
“Do you remember how we met?” Hendrik began hesitantly.
Guessing games at this time, he's making fun of me.
Lukas shot off again without thinking first, as so often. Somehow he could do that without really talking nonsense, but it happened so often that he changed the train of thought in the middle of a sentence and sometimes the beginning and end of the sentence no longer had anything to do with each other.
“Mh... when was that? You must have been at school before I noticed you. That was two years ago, when you came back from your year abroad in England and joined my class. But no, we didn't meet then either; no, it must have been when we became neighbors in physics, although, to be honest, we don't really know each other. We did talk a bit about everything in physics, but I don't really know much about you.”
“Hm, somehow you're right, before we became neighbors, I hadn't noticed you either...”
“Hendrik, you're a nice guy and I…“ Lukas faltered. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was boiling inside, now he had almost let the cat out of the bag. Yes, of course, he was kind of attracted to Hendrik, but to tell him directly, no, he couldn't do that; he lacked the courage for that.
“What?” Hendrik pressed.
“Er... Er... Yes; and I like talking to you and I appreciate your opinion, but it's vacation, it's eight o'clock and I didn't go to bed until four, and I really don't feel like playing guessing games right now. So please, Hendrik, get to the point,” his voice sounded harder than he wanted, but he didn't want to show any weakness, not show that he felt something for Hendrik, and at the moment this was the only way to keep up appearances.
“I should probably go,” Hendrik said quietly, averting his gaze. Lukas recognized tears in Hendrik's blue eyes, his beautiful deep blue eyes. Lukas just wanted to sink into that look, but he knew that would probably never happen.
“Oh damn, Hendrik, I didn't mean to be so harsh, it's just... it's just that I'm just under a lot of stress right now and all,” Lukas tried to appease Hendrik, ”you know me, sometimes I blabber on without thinking, and then I sometimes say things in a way that doesn't come across the way I want it to; although do you really know me? After all, we're just neighbors in physics.”
“Neighbor!!! Neighbor!!! So that's what I am to you?” Hendrik was now howling uncontrollably and almost screaming.
Lukas was perplexed. What was going on here? Something didn't fit into the picture, but he didn't know what. He noticed that Hendrik wanted to leave, wanted to grab Hendrik's arm, understand the situation, comfort Hendrik, hold him, tell him that he would always be there for him. He reached for Hendrik's arm and just missed him.
Hendrik jumped up and stormed out of the room. Motionless, Lukas tried to grasp what had just happened. He heard Hendrik running down the stairs, heard his mother call, “Are you all right?”, the front door slammed, the scooter started; silence.
Christine, Lukas' mother, entered the room; there were almost as many question marks on her face as on his own. “Tell me Lukas, what just happened here? Visitors at 8 o'clock in the morning; not that it's not nice that you get visitors, it rarely happens enough, but at this time; unannounced? Was it your boyfriend, did you break up, did you cheat on him? Talk to me!” Christine knew that her son was gay and wasn't unhappy about it. She always said to herself, at least there won't be any unwanted children, and as long as he's happy.
Lukas woke up from his stupor: ”No mom, it wasn't my boyfriend. I'm single and have no idea what that was supposed to mean.”
In fact, despite being almost 19 years old, Lukas had never been in a relationship, mostly because it wasn't until around his 18th birthday that he was able to accept himself, and since then he had realized that it wasn't that easy to find a friend.
“What was it about then?” Christine didn't let up.
Mothers, Lukas thought.
“He thought you wanted to steal his girlfriend, but no, that doesn't make sense either, you're out at school after all.”
Partially out, he didn't make a secret of it, and when asked, he said it openly or corrected people when asked why he didn't have a girlfriend. But he couldn't say who knew, after all, he hadn't stood in front of the class shouting “I'm gay,” he hadn't found the courage for that, and somehow he thought it was unnecessary to put it that way. But he didn't feel like explaining it to his mother now.
“Again, Mom, I don't know what was going on, but I'd better go after him.”
“Oh, so you like him.”
“...
You don't have to say anything, but he's cute. I'd be happy for you if it worked out.”
Mothers thought again, Lukas. He rolled his eyes and pushed his mother out the door. Quickly, he grabbed some clothes, oddly enough his favorite shirt.
Once he was fully dressed, he grabbed his bike keys and cell phone and stormed out, hearing his father call out, “Don't you want to take the car?” as he passed by, but he was already out the door. He ran to his bike and noticed out of the corner of his eye a squirrel splashing in the bird bath. He hesitated for a moment; as an amateur photographer, this was the picture of the year for him, but he pulled himself away. Hendrik was more important now; he could always take more pictures. He ran on, reached the bike, swung himself into the saddle, and off he went towards the city center.
Lukas lived a little further out, not in the city at all, but in a larger village on the outskirts, so he had to cycle 8 km every day to get to school, and his thighs were correspondingly well-trained. On a good day, he could cover the 8 kilometers in under 20 minutes, but usually it took him about 25. He enjoyed not living in the city; it was usually quieter and more relaxed in the village, which Lukas enjoyed very much because he himself was often quite tense and had little inner peace.
When he had been on his way for a few minutes, he wondered where Hendrik would go. He realized that it was even possible that Hendrik had not even gone in the direction of the city, but in the opposite direction to the lake. He dismissed this thought. What would Hendrik be doing there? He lives in the city, after all. Lukas had to start his search somewhere. Even if he suspected that the whole thing could develop into a needle-in-a-haystack situation. He feverishly considered where Hendrik might be. He knew that Hendrik played rugby, but not where, he also didn't know where Hendrik lived and what other places were important to Hendrik; after all, he was just his seat neighbor and not a friend. He realized that he had perhaps acted hastily, just driving off without having found out anything about Hendrik beforehand. What should I do? Who can help me with this? Suddenly it dawned on him: Dick!
Dick was Lukas' best friend, together they went through thick and thin. People often teased that they were a couple, but Dick was 100% straight, and Lukas didn't want to destroy their friendship as best buddies by starting a relationship with Dick, but he knew that a relationship with Dick wouldn't work.
Frantically, Lukas fumbled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed, not caring that it was forbidden to use a cell phone while cycling. He just hoped the police were busy with something else.
“Here...”
“Dick, no time to explain, the air is burning.”
“You shouldn't always call me Dick!”
“Now drink your damn morning coffee and listen to me!”
“Okay,” he replied grumpily. ‘What do you want?”
“Go online and find out where Hendrik plays rugby, his cell phone number and where he lives, or no, better his parents’ number, and as quickly as possible, and oh yes, send it to me by text message, I'm on my bike right now.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I'll explain later, bye!”
“Is something going on there...?” Dick couldn't finish his sentence. Lukas had just hung up.
Ten minutes later, Lukas received the message he had been waiting for just as he reached the city center. He had set a new track record, but he would probably need new brakes. At the roundabout, he had only just avoided colliding with a bus, but since then, when he applied the brake, nothing happened.
Rugby club, cell phone number, parents' number - everything was there. You could really rely on Dick. Lukas called him immediately, but Hendrik's phone went straight to voicemail. As a precaution, he left a message, but he knew that didn't matter anyway. So the parents. A little sleepy and puzzled, Hendrik's mother finally picked up the phone after the sixth ring. But she couldn't help either, but wanted to be informed immediately if Lukas found out something, and encouraged Lukas to look at the harbor. Lukas promised to report if he found out something.
The harbor was closer and was on the way to the sports field anyway, so Lukas decided to look there first. He pedaled faster than ever.
When he arrived at the harbor, he started looking, looking for Hendrik, asking warehouse workers, looking into empty halls, trying to spot the scooter, but nothing. After half an hour he gave up, the harbor was just too big, if Hendrik didn't want to be found here, Lukas wouldn't find him either. At least not without the police's dog squad.
So to the sports field. Lukas ignored the red lights, he just ran them over, he couldn't have braked anyway, the only thing that mattered to him now was to find Hendrik. From a distance, he saw Hendrik's scooter leaning against the sports field fence. Hope spread in him, as did fear. The sports field had a grandstand building, 17m high and barely visible from the ground.
He threw his bike on the grass, the sports field gate was not locked, he looked around in panic; no Hendrik.
Fuck, so he was on the roof after all. Where was the damn entrance? He frantically tried all the doors on the building. Finally one opened, revealing a staircase leading up. This had to be the way to the roof. Taking five steps at once, he leaped upwards, hoping it wasn't too late. At the top was a door, it was stuck. Lukas threw himself against it; once, twice, finally it sprang open and Lukas rushed out onto the roof. He didn't even notice the wonderful view that presented itself. Panic spread, he couldn't see Hendrik. Had he already jumped, had he really run up here? Then suddenly he noticed him.
Hendrik was standing at the edge of the roof, his eyes averted from Lukas.
Damn it, right on the edge. Lukas walked slowly towards Hendrik without saying anything. Damn fear of heights shot through his mind, but he couldn't take that into consideration. He stood next to Hendrik and noticed that he had his eyes closed, as if he was gathering strength to jump. Lukas wanted to say something, but couldn't. His throat felt like it was being constricted, and he didn't know what he wanted to say anyway. His thoughts circled, one step and Hendrik would be gone without him noticing me. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he still didn't know what to say. Suddenly his mouth came to his aid. Without realizing it, he said,
“Nice weather up here today, you'd like to spend the day here in the sun.”
What am I talking shit for, though, better than nothing at all.
Hendrik was startled, staggered, caught himself, stood securely again. Lukas' heart, which had skipped a beat, began to beat normally again. Hendrik's gaze was dark.
“Go away, I don't want to see you anymore, and soon I won't have to!”
“Hendrik, I know that I sometimes react a bit too steamroller-like when others start to be sensitive, but I have no idea what that was about this morning. Please, I want to understand you.”
“There's nothing more to talk about.”
Lukas finally lost his self-control, and the tears just poured out of him.
“Save your tears, they're not real anyway!”
Lukas almost collapsed and plunged into the abyss, but he managed to keep his balance.
“Hendrik please...”
“What Hendrik please? I don't care about you anyway!”
Lukas cried more bitterly, he could hardly bear how Hendrik's words hurt him.
“Hendrik, this morning when you asked me: I feel more for you than just being my classmate, I just couldn't confess it, I was afraid of completely losing you, afraid you wouldn't talk to me anymore, ignore me. Hendrik, the first time you came into class, I had already fallen for you, and when we became neighbors, it slowly became clear to me that I really feel something for you. I pushed it aside, hid it because I thought it would never work out anyway. Oh damn it, Hendrik, I LOVE YOU!”
It was out, Lukas was relieved, and yet, actually he didn't know if that was really what Hendrik was getting at, he just had a strong suspicion, and no matter what: It had to come out.
“You're just saying that!”
“No, Hendrik, it's true, and the further this day progresses, the more I think you love me too.”
“How do you know...”
“It's not that hard. You yell at me, and you call me just a seatmate? Then you storm out of the room, and then I find you on a roof, from which you apparently want to jump. Even a blind man can see that!”
“[...] is it that obvious?”
Hendrik started crying too.
“Yes!”
“You know, I came to you to tell you, but I was afraid. I tried to get to the point somehow through another route, but then, yes, then you had answered, and I was hurt and thought, if you see it that way, then I don't need to say anything more, and then I don't want to either…”
“Oh Hendrik, I was surely just as afraid as you and that's why I reacted that way. Please, if you can, will you forgive me?”
The tears of grief and anger turned into tears of joy.
“How could I ever stay mad at you?”
Lukas grinned, “We're a couple of crazy birds!”
“Just shut up and enjoy the moment!” Hendrik laughed back.
He did just that, he didn't say anything either and just looked into Hendrik's eyes, but he didn't have to say anything either, the world ceased to be important, stopped existing, they only lived in the eyes of the other, and after what seemed like an endless time, they fell into each other's arms, and their mouths found each other for a long-awaited kiss. The last shred of reality was washed out of their minds. Nothing existed anymore, only the other, they knew that no one could ever separate them.
Suddenly Lukas' mind kicked in again, something was wrong, something was terribly wrong. Something told him that he was moving, but not in a direction that seemed logical to him. He moved his legs, nothing. What is going on here? Slowly he opened his eyes. Hendrik didn't seem to notice anything. The horizon was moving, the sky was slipping out of his field of vision, he saw the ground, the ground was coming closer, he was falling. Lukas was falling, Hendrik in his arms, still with closed eyes, lost in a kiss. What was going on? Lukas didn't understand, they had just been standing. Then he realized, they were standing on the edge of the roof, 17 meters above the ground. Lost in the kiss, they had lost their balance without realizing it, and now they were falling towards the ground.
Suddenly Lukas realized that if they fell, they would hit the ground from a height of 17 meters, which would be almost impossible to survive. How much time did he have left? Certainly not much. He knew that in extreme situations the brain goes into a kind of hyperactivity and time feels considerably slower, so maybe he could still think a few thoughts, come to terms with his life, even if he didn't want to.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to see when the time would come, and began to empty his mind, first of all the things he regretted, then the things he still wanted to do, and finally the beautiful things he had experienced. Inner peace and calm spread through him, and finally the last moments with Hendrik faded from his mind. He was no longer afraid, he just hoped that it would be quick and that he would not feel any pain.
But even this faded away and then
BLACKNESS
Bathed in sweat and with a pounding heart, Lukas woke up, sitting bolt upright in bed. The moon was shining through the window; it must have been a few days since the full moon, and the clock showed 2:30 in the morning. Lukas realized all of this in a split second. Something was wrong: he had fallen, he was dead, or had he survived? But then what was he doing at home in his bed in his room? Why was he still alive? Something stirred next to him, perplexed, he looked down, next to him lay Hendrik. Then he remembered: Hendrik came to his room, but instead of talking for a long time, when Hendrik sat down on the edge of the bed, Lukas had simply taken Hendrik in his arms and kissed him. But that was two weeks ago. Finally he understood, it was all just a dream. He breathed a sigh of relief. He could deal with dreams; his imagination had often played one or two tricks on him in his sleep, but after waking up, he was always happy when he had dreamed, even if they were often very strange, sometimes not very pleasant dreams, but they were dreams, like a movie, only with better special effects and more lifelike.
Hendrik stirred again next to him.
“What are you making such a fuss about, you can't even sleep,” he grumbled.
Lukas grinned, ‘Oh, nothing, I just had a dream.”
“Well, it must have been disturbing.”
“Well, you were in it, so yes,’ Lukas teased.
“Thanks, it's nice of you to think of me when you're sleeping.”
“You died in it.”
Lukas got an angry look from Hendrik, but somehow he found the look rather amusing.
“Hey, I died with you!”
“How reassuring, at least you couldn't hit on the swimsuit models that way.”
“Hey!”
“Can I go back to sleep now, because some of us need to get some sleep.”
“Go ahead, you bird!”
Snuggled together and smiling blissfully, they fell asleep again.

Prolog
Never before had Chris met someone who could look at him with such disgust as the man at the other end of the street. And yet it didn't bother him. He didn't care what this man thought or how rigid his gaze was. All this did not change the effect he had on Chris. And he had that without a doubt. For the first time in his life, he felt completely unreasonably attracted to someone he had never seen before. For a moment, he even forgot his invisible bonds and walked towards the man.
Halfway there, someone spoke to him unexpectedly.
“How much?” an elderly gentleman asked from the window of his car.
“Sorry, I'm already spoken for,” Chris replied coolly and turned away. He looked at the spot where the strangely fascinating man had been standing, but he looked into the void. He had disappeared. Chris ran as fast as he could, ignoring the many rude comments from the rejected driver. If Arnie knew what I was doing here, ... Chris thought, but something else was more important now.
He turned the corner and was now on the main street. There weren't many people around at this time, but he was only looking for one face anyway. And he found it. The man walked quite briskly along the street and Chris followed him. Maybe he could find out where he lived and catch up with him at another time to talk to him. The prospect of standing face to face with this man, looking into his eyes and talking to him was so tempting that Chris didn't care that he was following him without being asked. Maybe it wasn't worth the trouble, but he had a hunch and usually he could rely on it. And he knew one thing for sure: he had to meet this man. At all costs.
You have made my life new,
you infect me with your strength,
you make everything so worth living,
I don't want to fight it.
You have lit a candle,
and brought light into my world,
made my life a house of cards,
built on you.
(Silbermond – Kartenhaus)*

Children's Games
“Don't you ever come back here!” an angry woman's voice echoed through the stairwell. Paul had stopped reacting to it. For two months now, he had been able to listen to his two roommates arguing every day. Nothing new. Initially, he had drawn their attention to the enormously increased noise level, but now he followed the tactic of leaving the house as soon as the air deteriorated.
Fleeing from Jane's piercing voice, he descended stair after stair, towards the noise of the city. Halfway down, Tom overtook him, holding his hands over his ears.
“How do you want to make it up to me this time?” Paul asked.
“I don't even know what I've done wrong. How should I apologize?”
“Not at all.”
“Exactly. See you later!”
A few moments later, Paul heard the creaking of the front door on the ground floor and remembered the day when he himself had been thrown out by his girlfriend. Lisa. At the time, she had also broken up with him for no apparent reason. However, Paul hadn't regretted it particularly. She was never really his girlfriend, never the one person in his life. Actually, she was always just a friend. What Paul longed for was more profound, more emotional and simply something for the soul. Something that, at the age of 25, he had only been able to observe from a distance a few times at most. To most people, a couple in love may look like any other couple, but for Paul, love was not just love. Friendly love was all well and good, but it was not for eternity. A one-night stand? That was love at the very bottom of the scale, if you could even call it love at all.
Lost in thought, he strolled for a while through the brightly lit streets of the city center. As always, he was lost in the hustle and bustle of the big city, and as always, he was glad about it. He was not good with people, especially people he didn't know. Most of the time, he preferred to be alone so as not to be involved in boring conversations. Not that he longed for particularly witty conversations, no. But most of the people he had met were too preoccupied with their own major or minor problems to engage in a balanced conversation. There had simply been too few people who had caught his attention and in the end he had given up looking for them. It almost seemed to him as if the world had nothing more to offer him than the dreary everyday life he lived in.
The shops were in the midst of the general rush-hour bustle when Paul decided to end his foray. Is Tom home already?, he wondered as he turned into a narrow side street that was mostly illuminated by bright neon lights. Paul looked around. He had never been in this street before and had no intention of visiting it that day. He couldn't do anything with the people standing on the side of the road selling their bodies. Prostitution was something that was far outside his realm of imagination and had nothing in common with his view of love.
Shaking his head, he turned around and followed the main street again; the street of normal people. If he had been more attentive, he would have seen that the side street was constantly being entered by “normal” people and left by prostitutes. He probably would have noticed the boy who had left the side street just a few moments after him and was now walking right behind him. But that's how everything passed him by.
When he unlocked the door to his apartment, it was quiet. Either Tom hadn't come back yet or Jane had calmed down and forgiven Tom, whatever it was. It didn't really matter, Paul thought. As long as it was quiet, he wouldn't complain. Then he could still enjoy a little peace and quiet and rest. After all, he had to go back to work the next day after two lonely weeks of vacation.
Paul's charges were visibly thrilled the next morning when their carer approached and, on top of that, brought breakfast with him. The small, otherwise shy squirrel monkeys from the municipal zoo came running up to him from all sides of the enclosure, clinging tenaciously to every scrap of cloth they could get hold of until they had something edible in their hands. The other inhabitants of the monkey house were no less boisterous. But that was nothing new for Paul. In fact, it was the only exciting thing in his dull life. The lively little monkeys were the opposite of him. So why complain about their behavior? It was just their nature.
With slightly tousled hair, Paul left the zoo around noon to get some change for his lunch from his car, and was promptly alerted by his rearview mirror to his ruined hairstyle. While he was still busy removing the wood chips from his hair, someone unexpectedly spoke to him.
“Don't worry. You'll look great again.”
Paul turned around in shock and saw the face of a boy who was lighting a cigarette. It was the same boy who had followed him the day before, but now there was no sign of the kind of work he did for a living. He was not wearing any conspicuous clothing and his face looked like that of a normal person. Paul quickly recovered from his fright when he saw who he was dealing with. In this city, you never knew. Somewhat annoyed by this blunt remark, he returned the cheeky manner of his counterpart.
“What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school?”
“I haven't been to school for years. Is that all you wanted to ask? If not, I'd like to move on.”
“What would I want to ask you?”
“You tell me.”
Paul looked at the boy, who obviously enjoyed this game. He drew on his cigarette without missing a grin and blew out the white smoke shortly thereafter. His put-on expression revealed nothing about his personality or what he thought about Paul. He was surely still a child, and yet his eyes and posture spoke of a certain experience. Every movement seemed to be well thought out and coordinated with the actions of his counterpart. To Paul, it looked like a protective mechanism. The more self-confident the boy appeared, the more insecure he seemed.
“I have to get back to work now,“ Paul said after a short pause.
“Yes, all right, I'm going. Have fun with the monkeys and take care of your hair.” He dropped his cigarette, kicked it out, and walked past Paul towards the main road. The noisy city traffic could always be heard at the zoo. There didn't seem to be a quiet place anywhere in this city. Everything was characterized by hustle and bustle and stress, and yet Paul had forgotten the noise during the previous conversation.
The boy moved away step by step and Paul caught himself looking after him. He quickly turned his gaze away and walked towards the large stone zoo portal. The noise of the traffic in his ears and the smell of exhaust fumes in his nose.
A strange guy, he thought. How did he even know about the monkeys? He certainly didn't enter the zoo and I didn't mention it to him either. Confused, Paul entered the zoo grounds, showed the gatekeeper his ID, and strolled on towards the monkey house. Once he was here, he would surely show up a second time, and then Paul had a few more questions. This boy had fascinated him in a very unusual way.
The next day began like any other. Paul got up, got ready for work, had breakfast and drove to the zoo. It was only when he arrived at the parking lot that he noticed the difference. He looked around, but there was nothing to be seen far and wide. Nothing and no one. Paul tried to suppress his disappointment, but was not very successful. It was only when his lunch break came to an end and nothing unusual had happened that he scolded himself inwardly and resolved not to think about the boy anymore. He was nothing special. Even if he did reappear, Paul would pay no attention to him.
But whatever had driven him to the zoo no longer seemed important. He didn't come back. Paul had looked around the parking lot every day, hoping against his better judgment to hear the smoky voice, but there were only the zoo visitors, talking excitedly.
“What the heck,” he thought. He's just an ordinary boy who wanted to play games with me. Nothing special.
“I'm going shopping,” Paul called to Tom before he closed the apartment door behind him. It was a strange feeling to leave the apartment, even though it was quiet. All the better, then he didn't have to stay away for long and could just quickly get something to eat. However, the grocery store he trusted was still a short walk away, where he had never noticed anything unusual. Not so on this day.
Immediately after he had left the house, a very flashily dressed man followed by a group of teenagers came towards him. Flashy was actually an understatement. The seven people were more naked than clothed. And that in these post-winter temperatures. Paul looked after them in disbelief. He had never met a male prostitute before, let alone a whole group. He had his first encounter right on his doorstep, which wasn't even close to Neon Street, as he called it. What are they doing here? he wondered. He could have done without the sight, and yet he couldn't take his eyes off them. How could you get involved in something like this at such a young age? Were they possibly being forced into it? None of them seemed happy and carefree. They giggled and waved at Paul for fun, but when the older man turned to them, it quickly became quiet.
Paul stared at the group in horror. He didn't want to imagine how these boys lived. He couldn't even find words for it.
The group passed by and Paul also went back to his original plan. He simply blocked out what he had just seen and wouldn't think about it any further. For him, there was no reason to deal with the problems of others, especially not when these problems were so far outside the acceptable range. One last look back and the shopping, which hadn't even started yet, could be continued.
Listless and completely soaked from the rain, which had started quite unexpectedly, Paul trudged along the street, sometimes looking into a shop window and getting annoyed at the drivers who drove recklessly through all the puddles at a rapid pace and covered pedestrians with water if they didn't jump aside in time.
Finally, shivering, he reached the grocery store and swore to himself that next time he would drive. Of course, not in the manner of the Raudis, to whom he owed some of his soaked jeans. Were there no decent people left in this city? Certainly not in recent times. Where had all these strange people suddenly come from? he wondered. Hustlers, rascals, cheeky and precocious boys who besiege animal keepers in parking lots, and the rest, whom Paul fortunately hadn't yet come across. But enough of that.
Take another deep breath and then into the evening hustle and bustle of a big city for the weekend shopping. Two liters of milk, fruit, cheese, bread and a few treats for in between loaded into the car and quickly to the checkout, where the next shock in the person of a boy lurked and grinned at Paul from afar.
“Hey, out and about without a car today?”
“As you can see.“ Paul was too shocked by his sudden appearance to ignore him. It was obviously not a good day for him.
“Admit it, you've missed me already, haven't you?” the boy asked in his usual cheeky manner.
“Yes, absolutely. I couldn't sleep at all and kept looking around for you.“ Just play along and then home as quickly as possible, Paul thought.
“Yes, I saw that.”
“What did you see?” Paul asked, bored.
“That you were looking around for me.” When he saw Paul's questioning expression, he added, ”In the parking lot in front of the zoo. Every day.”
This boy was clearly creepy. Creepy, but still, he had something fascinating about him. Paul tried not to think about it. It was better to stay calm and not show anything.
“Okay, kid. What do you want from me?”
“Me from you? What do you want from me?”
“You're obviously following me!” Paul was speechless and loaded his purchases as quickly as possible onto the conveyor belt of the checkout.
“I just bought cigarettes here. Tell me, how could I have known that you wanted to shop here at that moment?”
“How did you know that I work at the monkey house? I didn't tell you.”
“I used to go out with the doorman. He let me in for free and I saw you with the monkeys. Happy?”
That was it! The day was finally ruined. Paul just wanted to leave. He gave the cashier fifteen euros, took his shopping bag and stormed out of the store.
“Your change!“ the confused woman called after him.
“I'll take it for him, thank you,” said the boy, and followed Paul, who was already out of sight. He had actually sat down in the nearest doorway and hoped that a certain person would not see him. He was lucky. The boy walked purposefully past him. Paul waited a moment, then turned around and headed back.
How could he have found this nuisance fascinating? There was really nothing great about him, rather a lot of things that were off-putting. Starting with his constant, inappropriate appearances, his cheeky manner, his looks that seemed to pierce everything, to this tendency, which Paul didn't even want to think about in detail. It was all not normal. The whole boy was so strange that you just had to avoid him. Paul didn't want anything to do with him. He was far too afraid of all the new, abnormal things that could come into his life as a result.
Lost in thought, he entered the apartment and stowed the groceries. He just couldn't get that face out of his head.
“Hey Paul.”
“Hello Jane.”
“Did you remember the yogurt?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Oh great. Oh yes,” she added, frowning, ‘someone just called here, but hung up immediately. Were you expecting a call?”
Paul's face turned white. ’No.”
“Strange. Maybe it was just a wrong number.”
“Maybe.”
“Say, have you heard anything from your ex lately?”
This unexpected question made the horror visions disappear from Paul's mind for a moment. He looked at Jane, confused, wondering why she brought it up now.
“No, why?”
“Well, Tom and I were just wondering why you've been so quiet and restless for a few days. We thought it might have something to do with it.”
“No, it's nothing.”
“Well, if something should be...” She gave Paul a meaningful look.
“Yes, I know.”
“Thanks for the yogurt.”
After she had disappeared into her room, Paul went into the living room and dropped onto the couch.
“I can't believe all this,” he sighed.
The next morning and the night that had preceded it had been terrible. Paul was plagued by a lot of sleep-depriving thoughts that just wouldn't leave him. Particularly nasty ideas took hold of his mind when he entered the zoo and had to show his ID to the gatekeeper. Paul hadn't expected something so reprehensible from him, and so the poor man was greeted with a scowl instead of the usual smile.
Still lost in thought, Paul began his work. It was simply unbelievable what that little brat had told him yesterday. He hadn't even been embarrassed to admit something like that in public. He should be put with the apes, they would certainly get along well together. Their level of development seemed to be at about the same stage.
But eventually even Paul ran out of insults and the outrage subsided. At least he had had a day and a night to come to terms with what the boy had told him. And now curiosity came out again. The boy had so much about him that Paul had always pushed far from himself, but it was precisely this fact that seemed to attract him now. Of course, he didn't care if he ever saw the boy again, but... No. He didn't want to see him again. Who could say what would happen then? In the end, the little boy would have it in for him too. Paul didn't want to take that risk. It was bad enough that the boy knew where he worked and seemed to be constantly following him. Maybe he had even followed him home. Paul could already hear the smoky voice behind his front door: “Paul, let me in.”
It was a good thing that no one would do him that favor. It was frightening how much influence the boy had taken on his life. A child. Ridiculous! But it was so, at least as long as Paul played along. And that would now come to an end. He wanted his quiet, normal life back and there was no room for an obviously disturbed teenager in it. So back to life, back to work. After lunch, of course.
Paul walked towards the exit, directly towards the gatehouse, knocked lightly on the glass and, with a friendly smile, motioned to the man behind it to go to his car for a moment. The man smiled back in confusion and turned to his newspaper as soon as Paul was out of sight.
Paul had arrived at his car in the meantime. He had looked around briefly, but otherwise paid no attention to who was in the parking lot. Even his little, annoying appendage should have realized by yesterday that Paul didn't particularly value his presence.
“Hey, Paul! Hungry so early today?”
There was no need to turn around. Paul would now recognize the voice from thousands.
“How did you know my name?”
“Oh, well, your buddy at the front desk told me. Strange guy, isn't he?”
“Yes, he is, if he has anything to do with you.” This can't be true. Paul's good mood evaporated as quickly as a splash of water on a hot stove.
“You have something to do with me, too, so...”
“No!” Paul turned around and looked at his counterpart, annoyed. ”I have nothing to do with you and that won't change, got it?”
“All right. I just wanted to give you your change from yesterday.”
“What?”
“Your change.”
“I got that.”
“You're a strange guy, too, you know that? I told the cashier that I'd give it to you, so I'll give it to you. What's your problem?”
“It's right in front of me. I don't like it when someone stalks me.”
“I'm not stalking you at all,” the boy said, stunned. He had never met a more complicated person before.
“No, of course not. You just happen to be here at the zoo when I take my lunch break. And what was that phone call about?”
“What phone call?”
“Yes, what phone call?”
“Oh, just forget it! Here's your money! I don't have to listen to such nonsense.“ The boy took a few steps away, then turned around again. ‘Even if you're not interested, my name is Chris, not ’little one'.” With that, he left the parking lot. Behind him, he left a confused and very insecure Paul, who, as if in a trance, locked his car and trudged back to the zoo. He didn't even notice the gatekeeper, who had been pleased a few minutes earlier by Paul's return to good humor and now smiled politely at him. The poor man sat in his little house, newspaper in one hand, the other still raised in greeting, and didn't understand the world anymore.
The doorbell rang. Paul went to the door, opened it and wanted to slam it again immediately. A broad-grinning and obviously very cheerful Lisa stood before him.
“What do you want?” Paul asked annoyed and already saw himself swallowing a whole box of aspirin late at night.
“I wanted to see you.”
Oh great. She couldn't have picked a better time to get rid of her guilty conscience. How long had it been since he had seen her? A little over a year? If only Jane hadn't mentioned her. Maybe then she wouldn't have shown up?
Obviously someone wanted to play a trick on Paul and that just when he thought his life would be quieter from now on. He couldn't actually remember having led a balanced, carefree and, above all, happy life for a long time. Since he had left his parents' house, he had been pursued by someone or something, starting with the trouble surrounding his grandfather Georg's will, which had been a kind of matchmaking attempt. The two people involved were Paul and Lisa. Lisa had been chosen because she was the granddaughter of a very old friend, Georg's first great love. Of course it was obvious that the two grandchildren belonged together, and Paul was also completely overwhelmed at the beginning by these significant words such as love, destiny and family. He had accepted the role of the exemplary grandson and family heir without paying attention to his inner feelings, which had already told him at the time that he was taking the wrong path.
He and Lisa became a couple, the whole family was happy, and from that point on, everything went wrong. There were frequent arguments, which were not exactly reduced by moving into a shared apartment, and therefore inevitably led to a separation. A separation that was necessary, but for which the cause was still missing. There were certainly many reasons that spoke for it, but the last spark that had prompted Lisa to take this final step was hidden from Paul until today. For no apparent reason, Paul suddenly found himself without a flat and without a girlfriend. But the worst thing about the situation was the subsequent break with his family, because in their eyes he had violated his grandfather's last will.
Completely confused and insecure, Paul had set out to find a place to live and had eventually met Tom, who had offered him a room in his apartment. At that time, Tom and Jane were not yet together. Paul would probably have moved out again immediately in that case.
A few more or less quiet months followed, during which he took the job as a zookeeper and Tom seemed to invite a new girlfriend to the flat every other day. Since breaking up with Lisa, Paul had become somewhat allergic to couples who enjoyed each other's company for a few days before looking for a new partner. Deep down, he still held the old ideas about love that his family had taught him, and which had made him yearn even back then when he listened to his grandfather's stories. He no longer believed in fate, but he did believe in the feeling of security and inner peace that comes from finding true love.
Tom seemed to have found it, because he invited a certain woman over again and again until she finally moved into the shared flat as the third member. But it turned out similarly to Paul and Lisa. The arguments increased and Paul already saw Tom looking for another place to live on the street. Wrong! Every argument was followed by a reconciliation and every reconciliation by the next argument. A simple principle, but unfortunately extremely annoying for a third roommate, who didn't react well to this kind of relationship anyway.
And now? There was hardly any arguing left, the apartment was pleasantly quiet, and what was the catch? Of course there was one. Strictly speaking, he answered to the name Chris and turned out to be more of a nuisance than Tom and Jane or Lisa had ever been. Haunted by a child! A gay teenager! Paul still couldn't believe it, but at least this problem seemed to have vanished into thin air. But the next one was already on the doorstep. Literally! There had even been a doorbell and it seemed reluctant to go away.
“How about a 'come in' and a 'nice to see you'?” Lisa asked.
“What do you want me to do, lie?” Paul replied with a feignedly shocked expression.
“Very funny!”
“But your ‘I wanted to see you’ wasn't bad either.”
Without saying another word, Lisa pushed past Paul into the apartment.
“What's going on here? Are you trying to chase me out of this apartment, too? I've got enough stress, so what do you want?”
“I've already told you.”
“I don't believe you.”
“But it's true.”
Maybe this woman was even more of a nuisance than Chris. At least he seemed to have finally crept out of Paul's life, unlike Lisa, who had just entered it again. And with trumpets and drums and all the trimmings.
“I spoke to your mother,” Lisa said, sitting down on the sofa in the living room.
“Oh, she talks to you and avoids me. Am I the only one who has violated Grandfather's last will? You did, after all, break up with me.”
“Actually, she didn't want to talk to me either, but I somehow managed it.”
“Yeah,” Paul snorted. ”I know you! You always get what you want.”
“You didn't even want to let me in the door.”
“Yeah, why do you think that is? Think about it.”
“I know what you think of me, Paul.”
“Oh yeah? Then you also know that I never understood why you broke up with me, right?”
Lisa's presence was becoming increasingly unbearable. Paul didn't like the direction the conversation was taking. Lisa seemed so different to him. Sure, they hadn't seen each other in a long time, but something was still different. It even looked like she really only wanted to see him again. But why?
“Yes, I know that, but if you still haven't found out after all this time, I'm not going to tell you now. It's up to you. I wouldn't be doing you a favor if I told you. You probably wouldn't believe me anyway and hate me even more afterwards.”
“Please go now, Lisa,” Paul said with a shaky voice. He didn't like the whole thing.
“Paul...”
“Please.”
Lisa stood up and actually left. At the door, she turned around one last time and it seemed as if she wanted to say something. Her lips moved, but Paul didn't hear anything. Then she opened the door, stepped into the hallway, and closed the door behind her. Paul remained motionless, staring at his still-clenched fingers. What was that now? How was he supposed to know why she had broken up with him? Why couldn't she just tell him? He stood up and walked a few steps across the room. Was it possible that he was to blame for the breakup after all? Lisa's words swirled through his mind and came up against old, buried memories. Would they help answer some questions? Paul hardly remembered the time before the quarrels had begun. He remembered Lisa as the woman who had thrown him out on the street and hadn't even given a reason for doing so. He should eventually find that out on his own. What movie had he ended up in?
Dull murmurs and the clicking of the door lock brought Paul back to the present.
“Hey Paul, did you have a visitor? We almost bumped into a woman on the stairs who was muttering your name.”
“Yes, that was Lisa.”
“The Lisa who threw you out?”
“Exactly the one.”
“Didn't go so well?”
“Yes, perfectly,” Paul hissed sarcastically. ”I'm going to bed.”
“To bed? It's nine o'clock and tomorrow is the weekend.”
“All the better, then I can sleep late. Good night!”
Weekend. A beautiful word. If only he could enjoy it.
Sleep late? I wish! He had racked his brains half the night and when he finally fell asleep, the birds outside his window were already chirping loudly. Why did Lisa have to come to him now? Couldn't they have had this conversation a year ago? Maybe Paul shouldn't have sent her away. Maybe he would have gotten some more answers if she had stayed. Ifs, ands, or buts. It wouldn't have helped him any.
When he woke up the next morning, his mind was free of these tormenting events, which had been plaguing him lately, for a very brief moment. He opened his eyes, squinted at the bright sun, turned to the door and... pulled the blanket back over his head.
“You've got to be kidding me! What do you want?“ he mumbled from the heap of clothes.
“I'd like to talk to you.”
“Well, I don't want to talk to you,” Paul thought, but was surprised by the formal way of speaking.
“This is my bedroom, and I'm sure you have no business being here. So piss off!”
“Someone's grumpy this morning, Mr. Fleming.“ Chris closed the door behind him and sat down on the floor next to Paul's bed.
“You're still here.” Could it get any worse? Definitely not! After all, his gay stalker was visiting him in his bedroom.
“I need to talk to you, Paul. I know you don't like me, but it's important.”
Why did everyone want to talk to him? Had someone placed an ad in the newspaper: “Please contact Paul Flemming”? And anyway, who had let this boy in the door?
“All right,” Paul sighed, pushed back the blanket a little and leaned on the headboard of his bed. ”What's up?”
“It's about me.”
“Oh, come on!”
“I wanted to ask you if I could stay with you for a while.”
“Very funny, really. Now tell me what you want.”
Chris didn't answer, he just looked at Paul. His look was serious. A little too serious for this otherwise so lively boy. Paul felt queasy when he looked into his staring eyes, in which he could see no sign of a joke.
“You're not serious about this, are you?”
“Yes.”
“And why, if I may ask?”
“I ran away.”
Great! A runaway teenager!
“I didn't know where to go,” Chris said, staring at the floor.
“And because we get along so well, you thought you'd move in with me.”
Again, Chris didn't say anything. Paul was confused. At their last meeting, he had had the impression that he had offended Chris, but obviously the anger about it had quickly faded. Or he really didn't have anywhere to live and Paul was his last chance.
And what should he do now? He couldn't let someone live with him who could attack him at any moment. Who knew what the little one was still capable of. Where should he sleep anyway? In Paul's bed? No way! And the food? That would also remain uneaten. The boy was not a bit independent. He certainly didn't have any money either. How did he imagine that?
“How do you imagine it? Where do you want to sleep? What do you want to eat? You don't even have clean clothes.”
“I have a little money. Not much, but it should be enough for the time being.”
“Yeah, right!” Paul rolled his eyes. ”And where did you get the money? Did you steal it?”
Chris looked at him in surprise. “I don't steal. And besides, I thought you knew how I made my money and that's why you don't like me.”
“How was I supposed to know how you got money?”
“I thought you saw me. That evening, before we met for the first time in the parking lot.”
“And where should...” Slowly Paul understood what Chris was getting at. But that couldn't be. Chris was one of them? Not that as well! That was why he had this strange charisma, this cheeky but at the same time insecure manner. He was one of them. Paul couldn't believe it. But at the same time, this knowledge triggered something else in his mind. He wasn't as disgusted as he would have thought. It was very strange, but suddenly Paul remembered his first impression of Chris. His movements and behavior, which had seemed so desperate to Paul. Maybe that was all there was to see. Maybe he had just fallen for this facade of the self-confident boy and hadn't paid attention to the person himself. Did Chris just want to ask him for help the whole time?
“You didn't know?” Chris' voice was barely audible, he spoke so softly.
Paul just shook his head absently.
“Oh.”
Neither of them said anything for a while. They just sat there quietly and thought, until Chris suddenly stood up and went to the door.
“Where are you going?” Paul asked, not really knowing why.
“Away. I know when I'm not wanted, and that's obviously the case here.”
“Then why did you come in the first place?”
“Because I thought that your opinion of me couldn't get any worse, even if I asked you to do something crazy like this. But as I can see, I was completely wrong. You didn't even like me before you knew what I was. I don't even want to know what you think of me now.”
“How old are you?”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“A lot. So?”
“Eighteen.”
“And how long have you been doing it?”
“About two years.”
Paul shook his head. A kid who made his money as a hustler. Unbelievable! Who came up with that?!
“What do your parents say?”
“They can't say much. They died in an accident when I was fifteen.”
“I'm sorry...”
“What's the point, Paul? You're not interested anyway! To you I'm just a pervert and dirty, aren't I? What difference does it make how old I was? A hustler is a hustler. Don't tell me you've suddenly accepted it. I don't believe you!”
Chris was still standing in the doorway, but he was no longer as calm as he had been a few minutes ago. Every word he said sounded to Paul like a cry of pain and a call for help that had been ignored for years. Probably Chris didn't even know what these two years had done to him, who he had become. And yet he seemed to have realized that it was destroying him and had fled. Paul looked at him. He was so different from the others on Neon Street. He had not lost his humanity and sense of shame. You could clearly see that he was ashamed, even if he tried to hide it with a loud voice and wild gestures. Maybe that's why Paul hadn't been able to read him.
'I don't believe you!' Chris's words buzzed through Paul's head. He was right, but somehow not.
“It's true. I can't deal with that way of life and I don't think it's normal either, but... oh, I don't know. You're just different somehow.”
“Oh, and what makes me different? Just because I was still a minor doesn't mean I didn't do the same things as the adults. How many kids do you think work there! That's what the whole business is built on!”
“But you're not there anymore. You understood what it means to sell your body. Or why else would you have run away from there? You realized that it was the wrong thing to do and that's what makes you different from the others. Believe me when I say that you wouldn't be sitting in my bedroom if I were to equate you with them.”
“Great! First you can't stand me and now? What's going on? You can't keep changing your mind.” Chris's voice sounded calmer. He dropped to the floor in front of the door and put his hands to his head. ”I can't figure you out, Paul.”
“Me neither,” he replied truthfully. ‘I suggest we agree to a truce.”
“And then?”
“Then we set the rules.”
“I can stay?’ Slightly skeptical, as if he didn't trust the peace, Chris looked over at Paul.
“But only on a trial basis. If you do anything funny, especially to me, you can leave again, okay? Oh God, I think I regret it already,” he murmured and threw the blanket back over his head. He probably just hadn't gotten enough sleep and had lost most of his mind overnight.
“Hey!“ he grumbled when Chris threw himself on the bed next to him and gave him a stormy hug. ‘That's also something weird.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ Chris just said and, to top it all, gave Paul a kiss on the cheek.
“And that even more so!”
“Sorry,” he said grinning.
“This could be something!“ Paul sighed and pushed back the bedspread.
“Who was the guy who opened the door for me?” Chris asked, seemingly in passing.
“Oh, that was Tom. He lives here with his girlfriend, Jane.”
“Oh. I thought...”
One look from Paul and Chris was silent. “Don't even think that, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“All right, then we'll find you a place to sleep and something to wear.”
“Something of yours?”
“Chris!”
“All right! I'm sorry.”
In the afternoon, Chris left the apartment again to pick up a few things. He said that he had asked someone to pack a backpack with the most important things and smuggle it out of the bar where he had worked. He himself couldn't possibly show up there again. That would be too dangerous because everyone was surely looking for him. Paul felt very strange when he heard all this. He had never had anything to do with this scene and didn't know his way around at all. What Chris said sounded so serious. It was inconceivable to Paul that this should be reality. You only know these stories from television or from the newspaper. And now he was directly affected by it. In a way, he was even in danger himself, because he offered shelter to someone who had simply run away. It was well known that this was not very popular. He hadn't thought about that at all. Actually, he hadn't thought about anything when he allowed Chris to stay. Except that he had to help this boy, nothing else had occurred to him. Very naive. But now it was too late. He couldn't throw Chris out the door. What would become of him then? Paul didn't want to blame himself if something happened to Chris.
Two hours later, Chris returned, without his backpack. He had the same amount of money on him as he had that afternoon and looked a little scared.
“What's wrong?” Paul asked. ‘Where are your things?”
“He didn't come.”
“The guy who was supposed to bring you the backpack?”
Chris nodded. ’I wonder what they did to him? If something happens to him, it's my fault.”
“You can't know that. Maybe he just couldn't get away. They didn't catch him right away.”
Paul was nervous. He had never been in such a situation before. He didn't know what to say. Comforting and reassuring were not exactly his strengths.
“Why don't you take a shower first. You must be cold from waiting so long.”
“Thanks,” Chris said quietly and disappeared into the bathroom.
Meanwhile, Paul looked for pajamas, bed sheets and a sheet from his closet. What had he gotten himself into? How could he get himself into such a mess of problems? Taking in a runaway without thinking it through was really crazy. But who else would have helped him? It was the right thing to do, Paul told himself. He still didn't feel much better, though.
A little later, Chris came out of the bathroom. He still looked quite tense. His hair was still wet and only a thin towel hid his delicate body. As he walked past Paul, Paul noticed for the first time the small tattoo that Chris had on the back of his neck. It was a sun.
“Do you have to walk around like that?“ Paul asked. Insecurity was spreading.
“Sorry.”
“Here.” Paul held out a pair of shorts and pajamas. “Put those on. Should be warm enough.”
Chris took the clothes and went back into the bathroom. Paul was surprised at his behavior. He wasn't being cheeky, but he wasn't his usual carefree and happy self either. He was so unsure of himself, almost shy, and above all, he seemed sad. Was it really the same Chris who had left the apartment that afternoon?
“You could have asked us,” grumbled Tom the next morning. ”I was almost scared to death when the guy was still there this morning. Who is he, anyway, and why is he sleeping on our sofa?”
Of course Chris hadn't slept in Paul's bed or in his room. So the only possibility was the couch in the living room.
“He's... I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that. He has to stay here for a while, he has no one else.”
“Yeah, all right, but ask us next time, okay?”
“Of course.” As if there would be a next time.
“But why is he sleeping here and not on the sofa in your room?”
“That...“ Paul's blood rushed to his head immediately, and he couldn't think of a suitable excuse either.
“Paul snores so loudly. I moved into the living room last night.” Chris grinned cheekily at him from the side. He was back to his old self. “Don't be embarrassed, Paul.”
“Haha, very funny! Come on, we'll find you something to wear.”
“But I thought...”
“Do you want to walk around in your pajamas all day?”
“No, but...”
“Well, there you go.”
“I thought you didn't want me to wear any of your clothes.”
“That's right, but try to buy something in town on Sunday.”
“I'm not complaining. I'd love to wear your clothes.”
Paul just sighed briefly and opened the door of his wardrobe. “Here, this could fit you and now into the bath.”
“Ok,” Chris said and did as he was told.
“And stop sniffing my stuff!”
“And if I don't?”
“Then I'll take them off you and you'll have to walk around naked.”
“If that's what you want...” Chris laughed.
The guy's going to kill me!, Paul thought and stomped into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. A short time later, he heard the splashing of the shower. How long do you think Chris would stay? He had no family, no apartment and no money, or at least not very much. How did he want to continue living when he no longer lived with Paul? Was there even a possibility for him to lead a normal life? As far as Paul knew, he didn't even have a proper school-leaving certificate. How did he imagine doing that?
The coffee machine wheezed in the background while Paul continued to dwell on his thoughts.
“Hey, brooding will give you wrinkles.”
Chris had sat down at the table with Paul without him noticing and smiled cheerfully at him. He probably hasn't even thought about it yet, Paul thought.
“No comment on your clothes?”
“Yes, they look good on you.” They looked more than good on him. Paul found himself eyeing Chris and finding him... attractive. He quickly turned to the coffee machine, which had just let out a final sigh, and filled two cups with the steaming liquid.
“We still have to get you something of your own, though, don't we?”
“Do I look that bad in your clothes, or do you still think it's gross when I wear something of yours?”
“I never said it was gross, and just for the record, it looks really good on you, okay? I just don't have enough clothes for two people in my closet.”
“All right. But we have to shop around for bargains, otherwise I won't have any money left.”
“Sure.”
“So what do we do today?” Chris asked, taking a sip of hot coffee.
“I don't know, you suggest something.”
“We'll make ourselves comfortable here. I don't want to go out in case... you know.”
“Yeah, sure. So cook something tasty and watch TV, right?”
“Exactly. Of course, only if you don't mind.”
“If I don't mind what?”
“That I'm in your bedroom. At least that's where the TV is, isn't it?”
“Assuming you don't get on my case.”
“What do you think of me? Besides, you're not my type.”
“Then I can be reassured,“ Paul said coolly, and yet Chris' last sentence still buzzed loudly and clearly through his thoughts. He had triggered something in Paul. It felt strange. So unfamiliar. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. It was a feeling similar to excitement, nervousness or fear.
“What is it now?” Chris asked, confused.
“Nothing, I'm going to shower now. Can you put the things back into the fridge?”
“Sure, but...”
Paul went into the bathroom without paying attention to the question marks in Chris' eyes and closed the door. As soon as he was alone, he felt more comfortable. Simply because he was unobserved. Here he didn't have to hide anything and didn't have to pay attention to whether his face revealed too much. He took a deep breath and then got into the shower. He didn't even know what was on his face and why. His feelings had become so alien to him that he didn't want to risk laying them bare in front of Chris. He might misinterpret them.
All Paul knew was that suddenly everything had changed. Whatever happened to the old Paul and his normal life? He couldn't explain how everything could have changed so quickly and so unnoticed. Now it had come to the point that he had to hide in his own bathroom in his apartment. And all because of a single sentence from Chris. It seemed so absurd and it scared him that nothing seemed safe anymore. And his reaction made even less sense. Whether Chris liked him or not was not his concern, and it wasn't. But why did his body react like that? It was completely exaggerated.
The warm water flowed over Paul's body, soothingly. With every second that passed, he felt more like himself again. The strange throbbing had gone, but he still had a funny feeling in his stomach. He wondered if it was all just because Chris was always around him. Just a few days ago, the mere idea of having to live with someone like that would have put him off, but now he had to deal with it somehow. Maybe he had unintentionally imagined that they had a much closer bond because he really wanted to help Chris. That had never happened before and could have triggered these strange feelings.
When Paul felt he had wasted enough water, he turned off the tap and got out of the shower. He was completely satisfied with his explanation, but decided to avoid Chris as much as possible. After all, he didn't want to risk his mind playing tricks on him again. He didn't yet know how he was going to do that while watching TV together, but he would have plenty of time to think while cooking.