When I think back today on all the events that play a role in this story (and that happened not so long ago), it almost feels like I'm reading someone else's story. Many things seem so foreign to me. Perhaps it's because there were so many moving events in a very short period of time, and I never had a chance to properly process everything that had happened.
I'm Sebastian, 19 years old, 1.82 m tall, short black hair, brown eyes, and... well, that's probably enough of an outside perspective for now. I had just started my community service with the German Red Cross and was working in the emergency services. It was more or less a coincidence that I got this particular position, but I haven't regretted it. The work was very varied and interesting. I also met a lot of new people there. One of them was Nils.
Nils was two years older than me, and we got along really well from day one. He played table tennis at a sports club and asked me if I'd like to come along every now and then. Of course I was. I knew there were a lot of guys my age there, and that made the decision pretty easy. Less than two weeks later, I was a member of the club. I really enjoyed playing table tennis, and I didn't do too badly in my first few competitions. Of course, I still needed a bit of training, but I was pretty happy with myself.
Mark was also a newcomer to the team. He had only moved to the city six months earlier, and since, like me, he didn't know many of the other guys, we quickly became friends. Mark told me that he had moved to the city with his brother, who was two years younger than him, and his mother because his parents had separated.
Mark was a really sweet boy. He was 19 like me, a bit taller, had short blond hair, blue eyes, and a smile that could melt icebergs. We often sat together after training. I could listen to him for hours as he talked, somewhat shyly in his quiet voice, about his past and the problems with his parents. You could tell how good it did him to talk about all of these things with someone. He also told me that he met a girl here at the disco and that he was madly in love with her.
Great, I thought, it would have been wonderful if this lovely guy could feel even remotely the same for me as I now felt for him. Yes, I really was a little bit in love with Mark, and yet, the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about Julia, I couldn't help but be happy for him.
It's just like always, I thought, you dream about someone, you hope and then - "bang" it's all gone.
Mark soon began meeting with Julia more often and coming to training less often.
I thought that our friendship was no longer so important to him, but the exact opposite was the case. He would always call me and tell me how things were going with Julia and ask me for advice on what I would do in one situation or another. He was really very happy and always said, "You'll experience all of this soon enough, believe me." Oh Mark, if you only knew. I wasn't sure if I would ever experience something like that, and I couldn't tell him that I didn't necessarily want to experience it with a girl, but would much rather have it with a boy. At that point, I still thought he would never understand, and I only came close to confessing it to him once.
It was my first time visiting Mark, and we settled into his room until dinner. I was very excited because he had spent the previous night in a tent with Julia and had promised to tell me everything. It was their first night together.
"Now tell me, Mark, how was it?" I asked curiously.
"Oh, Bastian, it was pure horror," he said. "I was way too excited and totally messed it up."
It was strange; anyone else would have bragged about it as if it had been a great experience, but Mark, somewhat sadly, told me that it wasn't actually that great. I was just about to tell him that it would definitely be better next time, when someone burst open the door and yelled, "Hey, come on, come eat, I'm starving!" The boy standing in front of me shook my hand briefly and said, "Hi, I'm Tobias," and disappeared again in the same moment.
"My little brother is always a nuisance," laughed Mark. I was about to get up when Mark stopped me. "Bastian, will you promise me something?"
“What?” I asked, surprised.
"Well, don't tell anyone about what I just told you. I'm only telling you all this because you're my best friend." I would have loved to hug him, but I was afraid he might misunderstand (or rather, misunderstand). We'd only known each other for a short time, and the fact that he said "my best friend" made me very happy.
"Of course I won't tell anyone about it. What do you think of me?" He was so open and honest with me, telling me everything, and I almost wanted to confess to him what I'd always wanted to tell at least one person: that I'm gay, but I was afraid and just said quietly, "Come on, let's go eat."
How many times have I wanted to tell someone, but I was probably the only gay person in my circle of friends, and who would understand me? How many times have I wished I could talk to someone about it, but every time I was almost there, new concerns popped into my head. It's like opening a door, but instead of entering the next room, you find yourself standing in front of another door.
But who would understand that? It often seemed to me as if I was the only person in the world who had these problems.
I spent a lot of time at Mark's house next week. We played PlayStation with his brother or had small table tennis tournaments. Tobias wasn't bad at playing either. Julia was at boarding school during the week, and I let the two of them have their own time on the weekends.
When I visited Mark and Tobias again, I had some news for Mark: "My parents aren't here next weekend, and I thought it was time for you to meet my other friends. So, I'm having a little party at my place."
"A party, great!" Tobias shouted. "Can I come too? Please!" I was about to agree, but Mark waved me off.
"This isn't a baby party, you're staying home with Mum." Tobias's expression suddenly darkened. He didn't argue, just looked sadly at the floor. I'd never seen Tobias argue with his older brother before. He seemed to trust him completely. Mark stood up, stroked Tobias's hair, and said, "Hey, little one, of course I'll take you with me. What did you think?" Tobias immediately beamed again, and Mark left the room with a broad grin. "I'll get something to drink, guys."
Now I was alone in the room with Tobias and asked him, "You really like your brother, don't you?"
"Sure," he said, "he's the best brother anyone could wish for. I love him very much." Tobias told me that they hadn't always gotten along so well, but since they found out their parents were getting divorced, that changed, and they now stick together. They didn't want their little family to fall apart any further.
I never asked what was wrong with their father and why they never visited him, but I don't think they wanted to talk about it either.
The following week, I had to complete an internship on one of our ambulances. It was the final part of my training as a paramedic. The work was very interesting, and I learned a lot. I was assigned to work with Nils, and even when we had a less than pleasant callout, where I was confronted with death, he always found the right words.
Plus, I was in a good mood. My party was four days away, my parents weren't here, and work was fun.
It's nice to be able to help people, maybe even save lives. I was "just" the volunteer, but I felt important when I got into the ambulance with the others.
It was Tuesday evening. Half an hour left and I was off work. Nils was sitting at his desk, doing paperwork, when the phone rang. It was the fifth call today.
"VKU in the southern part of the city," said Nils. "A teenager on a moped was hit by a drunk driver and is unresponsive." So I quickly got into the ambulance, flashed the blue lights, and off I went. During the ride, I checked everything that might be needed: IV drips, syringes, bandages, and I checked the oxygen tank. By the time I arrived at the scene of the accident, it was already quite busy. The paramedics were already there, and the police were just arriving. There were so many onlookers that I couldn't even see the injured man. I took the emergency case from its holder and was just about to get out when I heard Nils: "Leave the case, Sebastian, bring the vacuum mattress." So I put the case back and got what I needed.
I had to push through a few people before I got to the injured man, and when I saw him, I couldn't believe my eyes. My knees went weak, and I couldn't move for a moment. "Mark," I stammered quietly.
"What's wrong with you, Sebastian? Do you know him?" Nils asked. I couldn't answer; it was really Mark, lying on the ground, being examined by the emergency doctor.
"Come on, Sebastian, he needs to get into the ambulance quickly," I heard Nils say. From then on, I can't remember anything. It all happened so quickly. I only remember stroking Mark's hair in the ambulance and quietly calling "Mark" over and over. He didn't hear me. He wasn't conscious.
In the hospital's emergency room, I tried to make sure everything went even faster than usual and that Mark got to the treatment room quickly.
I told Nils I wanted to stay. I was off work anyway.
It hadn't been three months since I met Mark, and now I was terrified for him. I tried to control my thoughts, but I couldn't.
Only now did it occur to me whether someone had informed his mother. But the nurse told me she was on her way here.
When she walked through the door, she immediately bombarded me with a ton of questions. She was shaking with excitement, and I was glad the ward doctor arrived at that moment, because I wasn't sure what to say to her.
"Mrs. Müller, I can't tell you much right now. We're going to take your son to the intensive care unit." And then he disappeared into another room. I told Mark's mother what I knew about the accident.
Tobias was visiting his grandmother at the time and had no idea about the accident.
Shortly after midnight, the doctor on duty came to us again and said there was nothing new. Mark was still in a coma, and it would be better if we went home and got some sleep. We couldn't do anything here right now anyway. Although neither of us wanted to, we let ourselves be persuaded.
The next morning, I first thought I'd dreamed it all. Unfortunately, not. Since I had to go back to work that afternoon, I went to the hospital that morning and was told that the situation hadn't changed. My request to see Mark was reluctantly granted because I wasn't family and Mark already had visitors. I could at least go outside the room and see him through the glass; his mother would be there too.
I walked slowly down the hallway, images of the accident flooding my mind again. Mark's mother was standing outside a room. We greeted each other quietly, and she pointed into his room. I saw Tobias kneeling in front of the bed, holding his brother's hand and crying. Tears welled up in my eyes, too.
The next two days passed in slow motion. There was no change in Mark's mood. My party was tomorrow. What should I do? I felt like anything but partying, but all my friends were looking forward to it. They didn't know Mark.
That evening, I spoke to his mother, and she said, "Have the party; it will distract you. Especially Tobias. He hasn't spoken a word since the day before yesterday."
"Well, I'm here because of Tobias," I said. "I wanted to see how he was doing." I went upstairs to his room and knocked on the door. No one answered, so I slowly opened the door.
"May I come in?" Tobias sat on his bed with his head resting on his hands.
"Yeah, sure," he sighed quietly. I sat down next to him on the bed.
"Hey, little warrior, how are you?" I asked.
"And you?" he answered, looking at me questioningly. Of course, we both knew how the other felt. I said, "What do you think? Should we throw the party tomorrow for Mark? We don't have to party like crazy, but I definitely want to tell my friends about Mark, and I think Mark would want that too. Are you coming?" He hesitated.
"I was really looking forward to it, but now? I'd just spoil your mood," he said. "I'm worried about Mark, too. Please help me a little tomorrow. It'll definitely be easier for us together." As he said this, I put my hand on his shoulder. I could see he was hesitant, but after a while he said, "Okay, if you say so," and he even tried to smile a little.
I thought he got that smile from his brother.
The next evening, the little party went quite well. I had given Tobias plenty of work to do. He had to get drinks and do this and that, and that probably distracted him a bit. After all, there were all new faces to him, so he probably wasn't thinking about his brother the whole time. Sometimes I even heard Tobias laughing. A few people were still missing, and every now and then the phone rang, reporting that someone was late. I also tried to reach Julia, but her parents told me she had to stay at boarding school for the weekend.
I didn't know how she'd taken it. We'd only seen each other twice before, and I didn't really dare ask her about it. What should I have said?
Maik, a school friend, called me: "A Mrs. Müller is on the phone and wants to speak to you." Mark's mother? Maybe Mark is feeling better and has woken up from his coma, I thought. If I could tell Tobias, that would be great.
"Yes, Sebastian here." She spoke very quietly, and in the background I could hear my guests talking, and of course, music playing. I couldn't even realize what I had just heard so quickly. I hung up the phone and headed toward the kitchen. I heard Tobias laughing again.
"Come here," I said to him.
"Yes, what is it?" We were alone in the kitchen.
"Your mother just called; she was at the hospital. Mark had another operation this afternoon." Tobias looked at me, perplexed.
"So, is he feeling better? I'm awake?" he asked impatiently. I couldn't say anything else; my throat felt like it was closing up. I burst into tears and hugged Tobias. It was as if I only now understood the words I'd just heard on the phone. It was like a stab in my heart with a hot needle, and the next words were hard to come out.
"No, Tobias, Mark died an hour ago." I felt Tobias start to shake. He was struggling. I held him tightly, and we just cried. I wanted so badly to comfort him, but no matter how hard I searched for words, I couldn't find any.
A little later, I took Tobias to my room. It had been agreed that he would stay overnight with me anyway, and I wanted to sleep on the sofa in the living room. I tried to explain the situation to everyone else and said I'd rather be alone right now. My friends were really worried and understood.
I went back to my room. Tobias was lying in my bed, crying.
"Hey Tobi, are you okay?" I asked, sitting carefully on the bed.
"I need him so much, what should I do?" he cried. I stroked his hair, and he said even more quietly: "Please Sebastian, don't leave me here alone tonight. Stay with me. Please."
"OK," I replied.
Ten minutes later, we were both lying in my bed, cuddled up close, each holding the other tightly in my arms, crying. How often in my dreams had I wished to lie in bed like that with a boy. And now? Now everything is different. I'm just deeply sad and would give anything for this story to have turned out differently. I would give anything for that.
I couldn't sleep for a long time, thinking about Mark, thinking about the hours we'd spent together, thinking about his openness with me and his smile that I would never see again. I was angry with myself for not being with him today.
Why Mark? Why him?
I felt bad because I'd never told him the whole truth about myself, and now I was sure he would have understood. Definitely.
For the next few weeks, I spent almost every free minute with Tobias. He often stayed overnight with me and even had his own guest bed in my room. His mother was happy that I had managed to distract Tobias from his great loss, and even though I couldn't replace Mark, I enjoyed being with Tobias. I enjoyed it a lot, in fact, and I did feel a bit guilty about it. I thought Tobias was really looking for a substitute brother in me. He liked to hold me in his arms, sought my closeness, and told me a lot from deep within himself. Why did I feel a bit guilty about it? For me, it was more than just a good friendship by now; I loved being with him, being close to him. But I was also afraid of abusing his feelings about his brother's death.
I realized I'd fallen in love with him without ever noticing that he was actually really cute. What used to be so important to me about other boys, I didn't notice at all about him at first. I liked his personality, his character, regardless of his looks. Nevertheless, he was very "cute" – about 5'9" tall, with short dark-blond hair, blue-gray eyes, and the same sweet smile as his brother.
One evening, when he stayed over at my place again, he was acting very strange. Tobias was going on a school trip the next morning, and I was supposed to drive him to the train station first thing in the morning because his mother had to work. He barely said anything the entire evening, and I had the feeling he was desperate to get something off his chest. We had both already lain down and wished each other 'good night' when he suddenly came to my bed.
"Can I ask you something, Sebastian?"
"Well, always. Go ahead." I could tell the words weren't coming easily to his lips and that he was very agitated inside.
"I mean... Well... Um..."
“Come on, tell me what’s going on?” I encouraged him.
"Well, I mean... do you think it's really bad when a boy loves a boy?" The question surprised me a bit, but I didn't have to think about it for long and said, "When two people love each other, it's always something very beautiful and wonderful, no matter whether it's two boys or two girls or just a boy and a girl." Now he seemed to be getting a little braver.
"And if I love a boy, what would happen then?" He looked at me completely uncertainly.
"Then it's time, my little Tobi, that you introduced me to this lucky fellow." I sat up and more or less whispered the last words into his ear.
"I don't need that, you know him well. But he doesn't know anything about it yet," he said.
"So?" I asked, puzzled.
"Who is it?" He smiled again at that incredibly sweet smile, but there was also some uncertainty in it.
"It's you, Basti. I love YOU." He came closer to me and looked deep into my eyes.
Wow, of course I had hoped that this conversation would end like this, but he had really kept me in suspense and I wanted to keep him waiting a little longer, so I didn't say anything for the time being.
“And now?” he asked, almost fearfully.
"Do you still want to be my boyfriend now that you know this?" I had to grin a little, but said very seriously, "Well, Tobi, now that I know this, you'll probably never sleep on the guest bed in my room again." He wanted to reply, but I covered his mouth with my finger and continued, "If you sleep here with me, it will only be in my bed." He wanted to reply to that, too, but didn't get the chance. I was quicker, held him tightly in my arms, and gave him a long, tender kiss.
"I love you too, you idiot."
"Basti, I've never felt so comfortable with anyone. I want to feel you close to me."
“I love you too,” and we lost ourselves again in an endless kiss.
While we kissed, we caressed each other, never leaving a single spot untouched, and slowly undressed. Soon we were both lying naked in my bed, so close to each other. His hands conjured up a wonderful feeling on every part of my body they touched. A little unsure at first, but soon he lost all inhibitions. The warmth and security he gave me almost made me lose consciousness. My hands felt every inch of his warm, soft skin, like a fire that doesn't burn you. I felt his arousal and I enjoyed touching the parts of his body that I had only ever dreamed of touching on another boy. I felt his body and heard his soft moans. We didn't speak anymore, we didn't need to speak anymore, we were one.
Everything I had imagined so many times was nothing compared to this feeling and I wished it would never end.
It's a shame he has to leave for two weeks the next morning, I thought. I could hardly wait for him to be back.
But that's a whole different story.

I know exactly how the man of my life will meet me.
He'll collide with me. Collide in the middle of the street. We'll apologize with our heads bowed, then look each other in the eye, and—BOOM—we'll both know exactly what's going on. We'll feel it.
He'll be incredibly cute. Black hair, green eyes, a dimple, soft lips, and incredibly beautiful hands, a velvety voice, and everything. Just thinking about him makes me feel warm inside.
The stupid thing is, I don't know WHEN he'll bump into me. It's really bothering me because I just turned sixteen and everyone else has a boyfriend or girlfriend except me. It's really disgusting. No matter where you go, everyone's in pairs. Not me. It's annoying.
Of course, I do a lot to see my sweetheart. I walk through the streets every day after school and hang out wherever there are lots of people, which I actually don't like because I prefer peace and quiet. I'm more of the quieter, more sensitive type.
Saskia always says I'm uptight, but she's lying. Saskia is remarkably fond of lying, especially to her boyfriend, Martin. For example, I know that she's seeing Phillip on the side, which Martin doesn't know and isn't allowed to find out because he'd throw a nasty tantrum and yell at Saskia. But Saskia wants to stay with Martin because his parents are filthy rich, and he's constantly giving her expensive clothes, CDs, and so on, and he always pays for everything they go somewhere.
I find Saskia kind of annoying, but since we've known each other since we were four, I don't say anything about it.
She, on the other hand, says all sorts of things, even though I don't ask her to. So I'm uptight, and anyway, given how I look, I shouldn't be surprised that I don't have a girlfriend yet. I always have to secretly grin, because I don't even want a girlfriend.
Oh, maybe I should mention that my name is Konstantin and I'm kind of gay. I mean, I don't know exactly, but the fact that I don't want a girlfriend, but a boyfriend, certainly suggests that, doesn't it? Nobody knows that this is the case, and I don't think anyone should. So, maybe my parents will ask my father for my hand in marriage sometime later, when the man of my life shows up at the door with flowers and sweets. But there's still time for that. My parents are actually quite understanding. When I once ended up in the hospital with Saskia, Martin, and Phillip after a hash tea party because everything was going downhill, the closet was closing in on me, and I felt terrible, my father came over and brought me pajamas and everything else I needed. Afterwards, when I got home, he explained to me that I should stop taking drugs because I'd realized they weren't agreeing with me, and if I got into trouble again, he'd kill me.
But he certainly didn't mean it like that about killing. My father isn't inclined to murder. He can't even kill a spider crawling on the wall. He then grabs it by the leg and carries it outside.
With my mother, I have carte blanche anyway, as I'm the youngest and the only one who still lives at home. My sister is already engaged and lives with her boyfriend, and my brother lives in a strange shared apartment.
What else is there to say about me? I have a lot of trouble with girls at school and elsewhere because I'm kind of really cute. At least, that's what everyone says, except for Saskia. I don't think I can complain about my looks. Okay, I'm not exactly tall and rather slender, but that doesn't bother me. Who wants to be a muscular, athletic type? Certainly not me. The man of my life must definitely not exercise excessively or be a fitness freak. Fitness freaks can't enjoy themselves, can't just sit in front of the TV and eat caramel ice cream because they're always watching themselves and counting calories. The latter in particular is by no means a girl's monopoly, as is always assumed. The man of my life must love caramel ice cream. Caramel ice cream with whipped cream and brittle pieces.
Uh...back to me.
My hair is short. Dark brown with a reddish hue, depending on the light. My eyes are hazel brown—doe eyes—girls love them. I'm constantly being hit on at parties, which makes me sweat because my friends naturally ask me why I never sleep with any of them. Then I make up something like, not my type, or too stupid, or my tits are too small...sometimes all of the above.
Oh, why can't a handsome boy just hit on me? I mean, it can't be wrong to gain some experience before I meet the man of my life. What if he doesn't even live here yet and only shows up in, say, ten years? Then I'll be a twenty-six-year-old virgin. How embarrassing! No, I'd rather know beforehand how to give a blowjob and have sexual intercourse and everything. I've never kissed a boy. But I suppose it won't be much different than kissing a girl (only much, much nicer and more exciting!), and I've done that before. It wasn't fun, but whatever. I just wanted to show my friends that there's nothing wrong with me, which makes me a little embarrassed, because that would mean there's something wrong with me just because I like boys.

The demonic pianist

I'd been standing here for half an hour at the entrance to a large hall, listening to the sounds of the young pianist playing obediently for a whole horde of pensioners. Somehow, it actually sounded really good. Nevertheless, I wanted to move on. Maike had said she'd finish work at the box office at 6 p.m. sharp. Now it was already 6:30 p.m.! Women. If she weren't my best friend, I would have left long ago. I hate waiting. But whatever. She just wanted to earn some money alongside her studies, which I thought was fine. Living solely at the expense of the state was stupid, too.

Actually, that's what I was planning to do. Earn money alongside my chemistry studies, but I hadn't found anything suitable yet. I didn't want to be constrained, which is why most jobs slipped through my cracks. I just wanted to enjoy my life while I studied. I'd be able to toil nonstop for a long time afterward.

Leaning against the doorframe, I continued to listen to the piano's sounds, which were now slowly fading away. There was loud applause; some even stood up. The young pianist stood up, stepped in front of the grand piano, and bowed slightly to the crowd. He was certainly no older than sixteen, had his black hair gelled back heavily, and was wearing a smart suit. A grin crept onto my lips. I hoped I'd never have to wear such stiff clothes. Loose shirts and slacks with side pockets on the legs suited me better.

My slightly mocking smile immediately vanished when the young pianist looked directly at me. He was practically staring, and I could only look back, my eyes widening. A thousand tiny flashes of lightning shot through my body, making any movement impossible. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, as if electrified, and my heart began to pound loudly against my ribs. Although I couldn't tell the color of the boy's eyes, that eerie gaze through his narrow slits made me shiver.

"Here I am!" someone suddenly called out to me from the side, giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder. I thought I was dying of a heart attack.

"What's wrong with you? You're not usually so jumpy," Maike grinned at me amusedly.

Trembling slightly, I turned my head back to the stage, but the pianist had already left.

“Thilo?” Confused, I turned to my friend, who began to look at me worriedly.

"Let's go," I simply said, heading for the exit of the small opera house. Maike didn't ask any further questions, as she knew I didn't like to talk about what was going on inside me.

“What exactly were you planning to do today?” I asked her to get my mind off things.

“I need a dress for this charity event Markus is taking me to this weekend.”

You're probably wondering why Maike doesn't just drag a friend along and go shopping with her, after all, that's such a girl thing. The truth is, Maike had no one else. She was completely absorbed in her medical studies. She was simply born for this job, which is why she gave it her all. On top of that, she worked as a receptionist at concerts at the small opera house. Somehow, she was always on the go.

We met by chance because our bikes were parked right outside the university. So, she crashed into my side, and because she felt guilty, she invited me for a cappuccino, where we realized we really hit it off. We were on the same wavelength. Funnily enough, she wasn't my type, and I wasn't hers. I wasn't necessarily into super-skinny blondes, and she wasn't into long-haired guys with goatees. And what happens when a man and a woman aren't attracted to each other? That's right! They become best friends.

We both loved our studies, which is why you could often find us at university. We either ate lunch together in the cafeteria or sat in the library working on our presentations. Markus had met her at some "Save the God knows what" event. He was studying law, was good-looking, and had enough money thanks to his dad. Maike didn't really need to work anymore, but she vehemently refused to accept anything from her boyfriend. Markus, of course, was incredibly impressed.

So the two of them had been dancing together at every charity gala for half a year (you have to make a name for yourself, after all) and were as in love as ever. Jealous? Me? Maybe just a little bit. Who wouldn't want to fall in love? I was happy for them both; after all, Maike was my best friend, and Markus was okay too.

Just as we left the small opera house and descended the few stairs in front of it, Maike's cell phone rang.

"Speak of the devil," she said with a smile after briefly glancing at the display. "Hey, my love," she purred through the little communication device and took two or three steps away from me.

I sighed theatrically with a grin and strolled up and down the building. The whole thing would take at least ten minutes. It's really awful, these newly in love people.

My thoughts drifted again. I'd like to be in a relationship again. I could barely remember the last one. I wanted to fall in love again. Really, with rose-colored glasses and butterflies in my stomach. But I'd been kind of confused lately. Suddenly, I didn't think the guys from the basketball club were so bad after all, and the cheerleaders were getting too arrogant. It completely threw me off track.

I was just strolling past the corner of the house and was about to turn around when I heard a faint clinking sound and then someone cursing. I turned the corner into the small side alley and saw a woman picking up her lighter, trying in vain to light a cigarette.

"That's unhealthy," I said, recognizing my chemistry professor. She looked up, startled.

“Oh Thilo, you here.” Nervously, she tried to push the cigarette back into the pack.

My goodness, I'd never seen that woman so jumpy. She was usually the picture of calm! Honestly, she was the coolest professor I knew. She had a sense of humor, was good-looking (and she was in her late thirties!), and had a real brain, which she was able to convey brilliantly. She made the most boring topics into a spectacle.

I gallantly took the lighter from her hand and clicked it on with a quick click. Mrs. Schmidt exhaled helplessly and lit the cigarette.

"Thanks. I actually stopped, but whenever I get excited, I just can't stop."

“Like biting your fingernails?”

She giggled.

"Yes, something like that. But tell me, what brings you to this area? Tell me, you've discovered your love for classical music?"

"Oh my God," I laughed. "Maike works here. I'm just picking her up."

"You mean our smart medical student? Respect for her working on the side."

Did I mention that Maike was absolutely good at her subject and therefore well-known throughout the university?

"You're right. I'd love to follow your example, but somehow I haven't found anything suitable for me yet."

The professor began to look at me from the side with interest.

“But you could use the money, couldn’t you?”

"Who does not?"

“Perhaps I have something for you.”

I looked at her in surprise.

"It just so happens that at the last conference, my colleague, Professor Regner, was constantly nagging me about how you were supposedly such a math genius, but he just couldn't convince you to take his class. You must have impressed him quite a bit on the last general test."

She let her words sink in for a few seconds before she continued.

"Well, my son is currently finishing tenth grade. He's having some trouble with math. He's got exams coming up soon, and since he might want to attend college afterward, he needs a good final report card. You see, it's extremely important that he doesn't fall behind."

“So I should tutor the little rascal in math?!” I concluded from her explanations, to which she nodded.

"At least three times a week, three hours each. Paid, of course. I'd say ten euros an hour?"

Hmm, that sounded really good. Math was in my blood, so I didn't even have to put in much effort for this job.

“Twenty euros and I’ll do it.”

Mrs. Schmidt looked at me in surprise at first, because I had the nerve to double my pay. But then a small grin crept onto her shapely lips.

“Twelve euros.”

"Eighteen."

"Fifteen."

“Deal!” We both hit our ‘pact’.

“You are a tough negotiator,” my professor laughed.

"I'm just a poor student. Besides, professional teachers would probably cost twice as much," I joked, to which she just waved it off.

"That too. But my little darling doesn't get along with them. Maybe someone younger would be a better fit."

I was about to ask what exactly his problems were (apart from that—who knows what kind of disturbed child I was dealing with) when I heard my name called. Maike was standing at the corner of the alley and was now walking toward us.

"Here you are. I thought you'd stood me up," she said reproachfully. "Oh, hello, Professor Schmidt."

"Hello Maike. Okay, Thilo. Here's my address. I'd say 3 p.m. tomorrow? I have to leave right away for a meeting, but my son is a little angel. You'll be able to handle him on your own." She gave me her business card and said goodbye. My professor flicked her cigarette into the nearest manhole cover and then disappeared through the side entrance of the building from which I had picked Maike up.

Of course, my friend wouldn't leave me alone until I had told her in every detail what had happened between me and Mrs. Schmidt.

"I guess someone's hoping for better grades," she laughed when I was finished. Meanwhile, we walked toward the city center, where the shops were open until 10 p.m.

I just poked her in the side, which ended the conversation for now, because Maike had discovered the first clothing store. There were many more to come. Women were really terrible when it came to shopping. I would never have let myself be persuaded to run this marathon voluntarily, but a huge Subway sandwich with twelve of those delicious chocolate chip cookies was enough bribe.

Stupidly—or, from her perspective, cleverly—the reward came at the very end. I was already happy that after half an hour we'd found the perfect dress, but of course we still needed the right shoes, the right hair accessory, necklace, bracelet, ring, bag, suspenders, and underwear. Okay, I found the last one funny—and no, she didn't try it on and show it to me. null

Even the next morning, my feet still hurt and I felt weak. Okay, part of it was because of my dream the night before, which made me feel a bit underwhelmed. The young pianist's cold eyes and unblinking stare had haunted me until the morning.

I had barely gotten through the day with my studies. Now it was just before 3 p.m. I stood in front of my chemistry professor's apartment and rang the bell.

"Oh, you're on time. Great, great. Come in first," Mrs. Schmidt greeted me, and I entered the large hallway of the condominium.

Although "big" was a huge understatement, it was enormous! Right next to the door, it curved slightly and continued backward, where I couldn't see the end. It continued forward for at least another ten meters and ended at a door. The ceiling was covered in stucco, and large double doors led off most of the sides.

"My son's room is straight ahead. He already knows," my professor snapped me out of my astonishment as she frantically put on some earrings and slipped into her pumps. "Your money is over there on the dresser. You can tell me tomorrow whether you want to continue teaching or not. Right, I have to go. I'm already running late. Well then. Have fun," she said goodbye and disappeared out the door.

“I’ll have that one,” I said quietly to myself.

My goodness, I felt completely alone in this 'hallway.' I took a deep breath and then walked toward my new student's room. 'Okay, three times six is eighteen, a² + b² = c², and the cotangent of an angle is equal to the ratio of the length of the adjacent side to the opposite side. Yup. I've still got it.' Strengthened by these thoughts, I knocked on the boy's door. When there was still no response after a second knock, I slowly opened the door and stepped inside.

The room was quite dark. Gothic posters hung on the walls, black furniture, and candles. Then I turned to my right. There, someone was sitting at a computer with his back to me, the monitor the only source of light in the room. He had large headphones over both ears and was bobbing his upper body to a beat. Now I knew why he hadn't heard me.

I was just about to approach him to make myself known when he rolled his chair back, turned slightly to the side, and reached for the shelf that stood against the wall to my right. He was at least as startled as I was, because I stumbled backward two steps and he jumped up from his chair. In doing so, he ripped the cable of his headphones out of his stereo, and loud music by Beseech suddenly blared through the room.

Heart pounding, breath held, I looked into cold, turquoise eyes. 'Wait a minute. Wasn't that the pianist from yesterday?' The same eerie aura surrounded him, making me shiver. His black hair was gelled up in small spikes, and a piercing protruded from his full lips on the right side. He wore a short-sleeved, black shirt that reached just above his hips and wasn't buttoned at the front. This gave me a clear view of his flat torso, his chest piercing, and his stomach, where I could see a slight flex of his muscles. Loose black pants hugged his narrow hips and legs, and he was barefoot. Again, little flashes of lightning shot through my body, making my skin tingle as if it were being electrified.

"Are you nearly done?" he asked me, looking at me with a bored expression. I barely managed to close my mouth and looked at him in confusion.

"Do you need to keep staring at me? You can have a photo, too. For home," he continued, turned around a bit, and turned off the music.

With a bit of a start, I realized exactly what he'd just said and what it meant. My cheeks burned, and I wanted to sink into the ground with shame. Shit—the last time I'd blushed with embarrassment was five years ago, when a girl had immediately offered to give me a blowjob. Now I was standing there, twenty-something, feeling like a teenager going through puberty again.

The boy threw himself into his large leather armchair and clicked away on his PC. With wobbly legs, I sat down next to him on a smaller, leather stool with wheels.

"Sorry, I just had a moment of déjà vu. Yesterday I saw a pianist in the small opera house who looked awfully like you," I tried to explain.

My new student looked at me with a raised eyebrow, glanced briefly to the side, and then back at me. Surprised, I followed his gaze and spotted a large keyboard on the wall diagonally opposite the door. Why was everything so dark in here? That was the second time that day that my cheeks burned, and each time I felt them getting hotter.

"So that was really you?" I concluded uselessly, to which my counterpart just nodded loftily. "Now I know why your mom was there. You're a really good player, by the way. I was honestly impressed."

"So that's where she picked you up," he replied, snorting disparagingly and shaking his handsome head. "You can stop all that lying hypocrisy, by the way."

I frowned.

"How do you mean it now?"

"Just like I said. You stood there bored at the entrance the whole time and didn't even have the time to applaud at the end. You know, that's what you usually do at the end of a concert if you enjoyed it. But you didn't move an inch. You could only stare at me stupidly. Just like before."

Wait a minute, what did that little bastard think he was doing? He had absolutely no idea how I express my enthusiasm. He didn't even know me! During all that chatter, he didn't even look at me, he just kept clicking around with the mouse on his computer. I was really pissed off.

"Maybe I was so overwhelmed that I couldn't move," I snapped. He turned his head toward me and frowned.

“I don’t believe you.”

"I don't give a shit," I said more calmly, at which the boy looked at me strangely. Apparently, he didn't really know how to take that. I couldn't care less what he thought of me. I was here to teach him math, not to befriend him.

"Turn off the computer slowly and give me your math books. I need to get an overview of what's being discussed," I said, shifting the focus to the actual topic.

My student pouted, grabbed the thick book lying next to him, and threw (yes, threw!) it into my lap. If I hadn't caught it in time, it would have ended badly. I bit my tongue and refrained from making any comment.

“Can you tell me which side you’re on?” I asked as neutrally as possible.

"Man, how am I supposed to know?!" he grumbled, annoyed, but didn't even make an effort to look in the book. His behavior was really getting on my nerves.

“Could you please take a look?!”

"I could. Maybe. If I were merciful."

I lost my temper. I really didn't feel like dealing with this shit. I slammed the book down on the table, pulled his chair around to face me, put both hands on the armrests, and looked him deep in the eyes.

"You can pull that childish crap on someone else, but I absolutely don't want to. You're going to turn off your damn computer, grab a notebook and a pen, and study with me. Got it!" I hissed angrily.

The little one looked at me, wide-eyed and startled. His breathing quickened, and every breath that brushed my cheek caused a pleasant tingling sensation in my stomach.

"Fine by me," he said meekly, avoiding my gaze. I remained in that position for maybe three or four seconds before slumping heavily back onto my stool.

Without further ado, he turned on the overhead light, turned off the computer, and showed me what he needed to practice. We sat there for a good hour and a half, cramming math together. I actually found the material quite easy, but I was good at this stuff, too. My student listened attentively and really tried to understand everything. Unfortunately, his way of thinking was completely different from mine, which is why we often talked past each other in the beginning. He wasn't stupid when it came to the subject. He just needed a little more explanation. After we were about halfway through the lesson, I stretched so comfortably that I could hear a few bones cracking.

“How about a little break?” I offered.

"A lot. I'm going to get something to drink. Would you like something?"

Wow. So he could be nice too.

"Sure. It doesn't matter what, as long as it's not water or some healthy multivitamin stuff."

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, then he stood up and walked to the door.

"Tell me, what's your name?" Only now did I realize I didn't even know his name. He turned back to me and looked at me strangely.

“Lys,” he answered quietly.

“Lys?” I really wasn’t sure if I had understood him correctly.

“Actually Lysander, but Lys is enough.”

"Okay. I'm Thilo."

Now he really smiled and gave me a slight nod. Then he disappeared from the room. I took a deep breath. The little one had really thrown me. Especially just now. I mean, when he pulled a face or squinted his eyes when he was concentrating, it looked incredibly cute. But when he smiled just now... Wow. My heart did three somersaults at once.

Mo... Wait a minute. What was I thinking? I didn't really like that 'rascal' with his way too big mouth. Was this final proof that I was really... gay? Why does this shit always happen to me?!

“Hey! Your glass!”

I was so lost in thought that I hadn't noticed Lys come back into the room and had been holding a glass of Fanta under my nose for at least half a minute. Brilliantly, I was so startled that I jumped up, slipped on a caster on the stool, and fell backward onto my bottom, arms flailing wildly. I hit my head so hard on the shelf behind me that I saw stars for a few seconds.

When I could see somewhat clearly again, I recognized Lysander looking annoyed. In my fussing, I must have almost knocked a glass out of his hand, spilling its contents all over his torso. Shaking his head, he put both glasses down, then completely removed his shirt, dried himself with it, and dabbed the little Fanta he had left on the carpet.

“You’re totally clumsy, you know that?” the boy reprimanded me calmly and threw his shirt into a laundry basket.

“Sorry,” I said rather meekly this time and gently touched the back of my head.

"Whatever," he waved his hand. "Just be glad the CDs didn't fly off the shelf."

Lys stood on tiptoe quite close to me and pushed the CDs, which had slid forward due to the shock, all the way back onto the shelf. The fact that I had his cock right in front of me during this action didn't seem to bother him much.

"Yeah, I guess I was really lucky. A sharp CD case like that can really hurt," I stammered instead.

"I didn't mean it like that. These CDs are sacred to me. One scratch and you'd be dead." In the calm tone he said it, it wasn't until three seconds later that I realized how scathing he really meant it.

"Oh, how sweet. Don't worry so much about my health," I grumbled weakly. The whole thing had really hurt!

“I won’t, don’t worry.”

"True, I wouldn't have thought you had that much compassion." Grumbling, I got up and slumped onto the stool. "You're a real little poisonous mushroom, you know that?"

Lys sat back in his office chair and grinned broadly at me as I said my last words.

“You’re just noticing this now?”

Now I had to smile too. We both hung out again over the math problems and enjoyed the leftover Fanta from the same glass. The only thing that made me a little nervous was my student's bare chest, which was practically begging for me to touch him.

Not to mention that I caught myself staring at his nipple piercing a few times, and when I did notice, my cheeks would burn hot and I'd have trouble getting back into the material we were studying. I just prayed Lys didn't notice.

In the end, we managed to get through the three hours quite well and accomplished quite a bit. I stood in front of the front door again, putting on my shoes, while Lysander watched me from his leaning against the doorframe.

“You’re a really strange guy,” he began.

“You just said that,” I replied.

“No one has ever yelled at me and gotten away with it so easily,” he continued.

"Oh, so I guess I can be proud of myself now?" I asked with a grin, tying my second shoe. Then I stood up and put away the envelope containing my earned money, which my student handed me.

"More like your butt. If it wasn't so small and tight, I would have punched you a few times. So, see you tomorrow," he said, and closed the door in my face.

I stood in front of the closed apartment door for a good two minutes, staring at it with my mouth open. 'No. I just imagined that last sentence. Exactly. That's it. Absolutely.' With shaky legs, I walked down the stairs and went home. Once I got to the dorm, I spent a little time catching up on my studies, cleaned my room, washed my dirty clothes at the laundromat, and tried to reach Maike at least ten times. Shit, I was so confused, and all because of such a... kid!

I tried everything to distract myself, but in the end, my thoughts wandered back to Lys, his sweet mouth, his delicate torso with that sexy nipple piercing... Shit!!! What was I even thinking?! I tried calling Maike again, but again she didn't answer her phone. Man, I really needed to talk to someone about this. Sure, I had a few other friends, but I couldn't possibly talk to them about SOMETHING LIKE THIS. If I was going to reveal my emotional chaos, then it should only be to my best friend.

Annoyed, I took my laundry out of the dryer, packed it reasonably neatly into my large duffel bag, and trotted back to the dorm. The next morning, I promptly missed the first reading. Half asleep, I must have turned off my alarm, which is why I completely overslept. That's what happens when you're haunted by turquoise eyes at night and a pierced body presses itself lustfully against your own. I barely noticed the other readings. Although I desperately tried to stay awake, I still kept dozing off—much to the annoyance of my professors.

At exactly 3 p.m., I stood in front of the door of my (nightmare???) dream and pressed the bell. Nothing happened for a good two minutes. Only after ringing the bell a second time and pressing it for a longer time did I hear someone stumbling around inside and muffledly grumbling, "Yeah, man, I'm already here!" When the apartment door swung open, I was speechless for a few seconds.

Standing in the frame was a completely sleepy-looking Lysander with messy hair, sleep marks on his skin, and only wearing boxer shorts! God, he looked disgustingly cute and—what scared me most—damn sexy.

"Shit, you're on time," he said, turning around and heading toward his room. Meanwhile, I tried to calm my poor little heart, which was pounding like crazy against my chest.

“You shouldn’t swear so much,” I babbled as I took off my shoes to regain control of my thoughts.

“Yes, I know, otherwise my education will go to hell,” he replied lamely.

When I entered his room, he was buttoning his trousers and sitting wearily down on his bed.

“Man, you can hardly see anything in here,” I noted, looking for the switch for the outside blinds.

“I can’t handle the brightness right now,” Lys yawned and fell back onto his soft mattress.

“Honestly, I don’t care,” I replied, flicking the switch with a wicked little grin.

The system hummed into motion, letting the sun gradually into the room. Lys grumbled, somewhat annoyed, and pressed a pillow to her face.

“Come on, just three hours, then you can go back to sleep,” I said, nudging his with my foot.

My student, however, just gave me the middle finger. Man, does he always make such a fuss now? I propped my knee on the edge of the bed and leaned forward enough to steal his pillow from his hands. Lys groaned at the sudden brightness and then glared at me angrily.

I was just about to take a breath to yell something stupid at him when he quickly leaned forward, grabbed my arm, and pulled me onto the bed with a yank. Before I could react, he was sitting on top of me, pressing my back against the mattress, holding my arms by the wrists. His face was so close to mine that I almost thought I was touching the tip of his nose.

“Nobody tells me what to do or what not to do!” my student hissed venomously, but I was not impressed.

“Except me!” I replied.

His turquoise eyes bored deep into my core, sending a pleasant tingling sensation, and not just in my stomach. God, how much longer was he going to stay sitting on my hip? The last thing I wanted was for him to notice how much this situation was turning me on. Then, all of a sudden, his lips moved ever closer to mine. I was so startled by this, and by my desire to want exactly this, that I roughly pushed Lysander away from me, directly onto the carpeted floor.

"What the hell is this?" I yelled at him, jumping up. He just looked up at me innocently.

“I wanted to kiss you,” he said calmly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"But I'm not gay!" I barked hysterically, at which Lys just started giggling like an idiot. "What's so funny all of a sudden?!" I asked, pissed off.

“If you’re not into guys, I’m Mother Theresa,” giggled my student.

"What do you mean? You don't even know me!"

"True, I don't know you. But I have eyes in my head. Like you were drooling yesterday when I was studying shirtless next to you..."

“I… I didn’t drool!”

"Right," he agreed, standing up and moving closer with each word. "You would blush in a cute way and start stuttering in embarrassment whenever you caught yourself staring at me."

"That's not true," I denied weakly, turning bright red. Shit, he really did notice yesterday.

He pushed me against a high CD shelf, and I stared at him fearfully, wide-eyed, as if I were a tiny rabbit sitting in front of an evil snake. Lys was half a head shorter than me! Again, his lips moved closer to mine, and again I was so scared that I roughly pushed him away. Only this time, I grabbed my backpack and stormed toward the door.

I couldn't stand being in that room for another second. It was all too confusing for me. The fact that I found this boy absolutely hot, that my body longed for his touches, that these very touches made me stagger, no matter how slight, as if I had some kind of fever—the whole thing was completely overwhelming.

I had already opened the door a crack when Lys threw himself against it, slamming it shut. I glared at him angrily, my breath gasping as if I'd just run a marathon.

"I'm sorry," my student said, uncharacteristically gentle. "I really didn't mean to scare or offend you. Please stay here."

He gave me the worst dachshund look I'd ever seen, and I melted. I slumped heavily onto the stool and looked down, irritated. My legs wouldn't support me any longer, and it was only with difficulty that I suppressed the trembling in my hands. Man, I felt like I was going through drug withdrawal. Maybe I was. My 'dealer' sat down in his leather chair with a sigh of relief.

"Phew, that was really close," he said. I looked at him with a huge question mark on my face. "You'd be the seventh teacher I'd scared away."

“You turned on your teachers?” I asked incredulously.

"I'm not perverted, of course!" he snapped, but his features immediately softened again. "Either my lovers picked me up too early or they were waiting for me here," he nodded toward the bed. "Most people couldn't quite handle that," he explained innocently.

“So your mom knows?”

"Of course. She's my mother. Luckily, she doesn't have a problem with it. I'm just not allowed to bring friends anymore when I have tutoring. She's really stressing me out because of the cram."

“That’s why you stopped me.”

“Not only,” he looked at me again meaningfully, which sent a warm shiver through my entire body.

"I'm not interested," I said defiantly, but in reality I meant the exact opposite. I just didn't want to tell him, let alone admit it to myself.

"Yes, yes, I know—unfortunately," Lys groaned in disappointment, digging out his math materials. For the next two hours, we actually studied the material quite diligently, but then my student went on strike.

"I can't take it anymore," he whined, laying his head on the table. "This is just too much input."

Unfortunately, I didn't even manage to contradict him because I could barely keep my eyes open and my temple on my forehead was throbbing annoyingly.

"Fine by me. Let's call it a day," I gave in weakly. Two turquoise eyes looked at me in surprise.

“Are you serious?”

“Why not,” I shrugged, suppressing a yawn.

"Man, you look really exhausted. What were you doing all night?" Lys asked me, and I almost thought I could hear a certain uncertainty in his words—if he even had such a thing.

“Bad dream,” I evaded him and packed my things.

“I hope not,” joked my counterpart, jumped up, went to his large wardrobe and picked out a rather tight, black shirt that barely reached over his stomach.

Meanwhile, I prayed fervently that he didn't hear the pounding of my heart or notice my red cheeks. With a few deft moves, he quickly packed his large keyboard into a suitable bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“Where are you going with this?”

“For rehearsal.”

“Is there another concert coming up soon?”

"I don't know. I'd have to ask my mom for that. She manages everything for me. I'm in a band. We practice as often as possible in the old catacombs of the southern part of the city. Wait a minute."

He rummaged briefly in a drawer, then pulled out a business card and scribbled something on the back before handing it to me with a slight smile. I examined the piece of paper, which advertised super-cheap, soundproof practice rooms, and then turned it over. On the back, 'Lys' and a phone number were emblazoned in cursive handwriting.

“In case you ever miss me,” he commented, blew a kiss on the tip of my nose, and disappeared from the room.

I sat there frozen to stone, trying to fight this feeling of helplessness. 'Why does my body react so intensely to his touch?' Everything around me spun, and I had to take a few deep breaths before my circulation calmed down again.

“Thilo? Are you okay?” My student had come back into the room and was looking down at me, a little worried.

“Nah… yeah… I just need some sleep.”

I slowly pushed myself to my feet and left the room with Lys. I paused briefly at a dresser in the hallway and reached for the envelope containing my money for today. I was about to fish out fifteen euros when my student took the envelope from my hand, packed all the money back in, and stuffed it all into my backpack.

"Look around. My mom has plenty of money. Just consider it a bonus that you're doing pretty well so far."

“More like a bribe for having to put up with you.”

“That too, if you like,” laughed Lysander, finally finishing lacing up his Rangers.

How can anyone wear shoes like that outside in this warm weather? We walked down the stairs together and said goodbye just before the front door, as Lys had to go in the opposite direction from me. It all happened so uneventfully that I turned around once or twice, expecting some kind of nonsense, until Lys disappeared around the next corner – uneventfully.

Was that making me melancholy? Why was I suddenly disappointed? I shook my head to get rid of this apprehension, but it would stay with me for the next few days. Tomorrow was Thursday, so Lys had piano lessons and I was 'off' – apart from studying. So I wouldn't see him again until Friday afternoon. Why was that making me sad? What was actually wrong with me?

I rummaged through my bag and pulled out my phone. The conversation with Maike was long overdue. Luckily, she answered this time, and we arranged to meet Thursday evening. Once I got to the dorm, I jumped into the shower to relax. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw that turquoise glow, that pale skin, those full lips. A desire was building up inside me that I could no longer resist.

Half an hour later, I collapsed onto my bed, exhausted but considerably more relieved. I hadn't gotten so excited after jerking off in ages. Could it really all be because of that brat?

I tried a few times to pull myself together to do some more work on my studies. But after the third attempt, I simply snuggled under the thin covers and fell asleep within seconds. The night passed relatively peacefully, largely due to the fact that my dreams weren't quite as vivid this time. Still, they didn't completely disappear.

I spent most of the next day at university and in the library, working on some papers. Around 6 p.m., I finally met up with Maike in a small café and explained my entire, complicated situation. My friend was initially surprised that I wanted to talk to her about something personal, as I wasn't the type to vent my anger at every opportunity. But she listened silently until I had told her everything. Then she looked at me, very calm, and just as calmly, she began to speak.

"Okay. There are now exactly two options."

I looked at her expectantly.

"Either you're gay or at least bi." A brief pause followed. "Or... or you're just curious. Some people call it 'culture shock.' You're simply interested in his sexual orientation. This usually goes away once that interest is satisfied."

“And how can one satisfy that?” I asked hopefully.

“Kiss him!”

I stared at her with my mouth open for a while.

“I… I can’t do that,” I stammered, overwhelmed.

"Why not? The male and female bodies aren't that different. Aside from minor differences."

"No, that's not what I'm talking about. Just... when Lys kissed the tip of my nose yesterday, I felt so sick I could barely stand."

“That’s why I’m more inclined to choose the first option.”

“I’m not gay!” I said angrily, and had to restrain myself from jumping up.

"Maybe you're bi. It doesn't matter. I think it's all fine. As long as both of you want it, everyone can do whatever they want. But you, my dear Thilo, are head over heels in love."

I just shook my head.

"If that were the case, wouldn't I have butterflies in my stomach, be happy all the time, and see everything in rose-colored glasses? I, on the other hand, feel terrible. I'm constantly depressed, and the colors I see are black. Not to mention that I almost puke when Lys gets close to me."

"That's because you don't want to admit the truth. All that 'bad' word 'gay' is floating around in your little head. But how about replacing it with 'love'?"

“If this is what being in love feels like, I don’t know if I even want it,” I said defiantly, crossing my arms in front of my chest like a petulant little boy.

Coming from her mouth, it all sounded so simple, so clear, and transparent. So... so... so normal. But it wasn't! It was complicated, annoying, and strange. What pretty boy would fall in love with a lanky student with dirty blond, thin hair and smoky gray eyes?!

But wait a minute. Whether he liked me wasn't even up for debate. Sure, he'd hit on me a few times, but he'd given up pretty quickly. Was I really just worrying about whether he might like me or not? Maybe it really was just curiosity. But why did I always blush whenever I looked at him more closely?

"Man, Thilo. Even if you were gay, what's the problem? As far as I know, you have no relatives, and his already knows. And if some of your friends don't accept it, they can go to hell. So?"

Maike was right. The problem lay entirely with me. Of course, I wanted to fall in love again, but with someone who wasn't so overwhelming. With someone who would let me sleep at night and not haunt my dreams. But wasn't that part of it? My head was spinning wildly, and I ran my shaky fingers through my hair.

"Hey," Maike gently touched my cheek and briefly stroked my skin. "You're really exhausted. First, try to take a deep breath and calm down. It doesn't matter whether you're gay or not. The real question is whether you really like Lys or whether you're just curious. Just let the next few weeks come to you and stop thinking about it. Listen to your heart. Listen carefully. It will show you the right path for you."

She spoke to me lovingly, and I felt calmer by the second. She was absolutely right. And I was more than grateful. The next day, I went to Lys's feeling absolutely buoyant. This time, he was even prepared for the class, and I didn't feel as sick anymore. I still had no idea if it was really just culture shock or if I'd fallen in love with him. But I wanted to follow Maike's advice and just take it all in stride.

That day, I was really pleased with my student. He had retained quite a bit of what I had taught him and toiled through the three hours without complaint. Only at the end, after he had already packed up his things, did he look at me strangely.

“Do I have something on my face?” I joked ignorantly.

"Yes, you do. A cute, button nose, intelligent gray eyes, and inviting, thin lips." I stared uncertainly as he raised a hand and brushed a strand of my long hair from my face. When his fingertip touched my cheek, it burned hotly, and everything around me began to spin again.

“I like you, you know,” Lys confessed quietly, coming closer to me.

However, my panic was growing. I thought again of Maike's words: 'Culture shock.' Maybe I really just needed to let him kiss me, and once my curiosity was satisfied, I'd feel better again. Or maybe I'd discover I was completely in love with Lys, admit to myself that I was gay, and live happily ever after? That sounded way too easy. My panic got the better of me, so I took his hand in mine and gently but firmly pushed him away.

“I think I made myself clear enough on that point,” I said weakly.

"Your body language tells me something completely different," Lys contradicted, about to move closer to me again. But I stood up and reached for my backpack.

"I have to go. I have something planned for tonight," I evaded him and left the room.

"Haven't you forgotten something?" my student stopped me from the apartment door, and I turned to him. He was standing in front of the dresser, holding the envelope with my money in his hand. Only hesitantly did I move and then tried to take the envelope from him, but he held onto it.

“Why are you running away from me?” Lysander asked me, unexpectedly reproachful.

I was about to defiantly say, 'I don't,' but that would be a complete lie. After all, I was standing in the hallway, not five minutes after class had ended.

“I can’t handle your advances,” I finally answered truthfully.

"I wouldn't try to get with you if I didn't feel like you were into me too."

“Your feelings are wrong.”

"I don't think so. Even now you're blushing again."

"I'm not used to having conversations like this. How would you react if a good friend suddenly started hitting on you?"

“I certainly wouldn’t stutter as cutely as you.”

"You're just a boy. I don't know any other gay people. That makes me nervous."

Lys began to grin.

"Okay. So my aggressive attitude is making you nervous. Good. Then I'll hold back a bit in the future and take things slower."

“I don’t think it will be any better.”

"I think so. That way you can get used to me and overcome your unfounded fear. And when you're no longer afraid of me, you'll let me pet you." He reached out his hand to me, but I just swatted it away angrily.

"What's going on? Do I look like a dog or something?"

“More like a restless hawk, pecking wildly, untamed,” Lys answered gently, looking at me as if I were a being from another world.

My heart was pounding in my throat and I barely dared to breathe. His turquoise eyes bored deep into my core, rendering me unable to move. He slowly approached me and stood on tiptoe to be level with me. I could only see his lips, tantalizingly approaching mine, and I closed my eyes. But just as I could feel his hot breath on my skin, I heard someone unlock the apartment door. Panicked, I opened my eyes wide and jumped backward.

"Oh, hello Thilo. You're still here," my professor greeted me.

“Yes, but I’m just on the go,” I greeted back and took the envelope from Lys’s hand.

"Now that you're here, how are things going?" Mrs. Schmidt asked curiously, taking off her shoes at the same time. Thank goodness, otherwise she would have seen my anxious look and Lys's suggestive look.

“I feel like we’re making good progress,” I replied nervously.

“Oh, I think so too,” my student agreed, but he meant something completely different than I did.

"It's nice to hear you're getting along so well," said the professor, placing her briefcase on the bench next to the dresser. "My son didn't get along so well with other teachers."

“I’ve heard about that.”

Surprised, Mrs. Schmidt looked up and back and forth between me and her offspring. Then a small smile crept across her lips.

"I wouldn't have expected that. My little darling isn't usually one to spill the beans," she said, adjusting the collar of Lysander's shirt.

“Thilo is okay,” he said.

"Well, I won't disagree," she laughed. I just cleared my throat, embarrassed.

"Okay. I'll get going then. Have a nice weekend. See you again on Monday," I said goodbye and headed for the apartment door.

“And we’ll see each other on Tuesday,” my student called after me.

My hand immediately froze on the doorknob. Tuesday – a little over three days. Was that the first time I'd see him again? On the one hand, I was glad the three hours I had to spend with Lys were over, but on the other, I was actually longing for those hours.

“Yes… Tuesday,” I stammered and disappeared from the apartment without looking back one last time.

I quickly put on my sneakers and ran down the stairs. Out into the warm yet fresh air. Once there, I took a deep breath to calm myself down. He really had almost kissed me, and I hadn't resisted. Was that really the right thing to do? I listened to myself, listened to my heart, as Maike had advised me.

No matter how hard I concentrated, all I felt was a warm pulsing that gradually filled my entire body. Was that love? Or just an echo of the shock when I heard the key in the lock and realized what exactly I was about to do? Was it just the adrenaline still coursing through my veins?

"Ladies and gentlemen, as you've probably noticed, we're already on approach. We therefore ask you to fasten your seatbelts and recline your seats. We will be landing in Amsterdam in approximately 10 minutes."
Arno looked out the window, somewhat worried. Although he was almost 15, it was his first flight, so he was a little scared of the landing, but of course he didn't want to show it to the person sitting next to him.
It was his first time away from home. For three weeks. Still, he had mixed feelings, especially after some of his friends had mocked the trip the day before. They'd said it was a 'bum trip' with a bunch of kids without money, with children whose parents couldn't afford a vacation. Sure, they weren't wrong – Arno really did come from a poor family, and his father was a well-known drunk in the area – but no one was allowed to talk about him like that. So, he beat up one of his 'friends' on the way home from the soccer field, which got him into more trouble shortly before leaving for the airport when his father called his mother. Arno took it in his stride. He'd learned from his father early on what it meant to be a real man. Although he wasn't the tallest guy, he never missed a fight and usually had the last word. He was a respected guy among his friends, even though he often had the impression that many of them only followed him out of fear, which only served to build him up even more. He definitely didn't want to come across as a wimp, especially because he'd been at odds with himself emotionally over the past few months. He felt something deep inside that somehow didn't belong there, wasn't allowed to.
As Arno was pondering again, the plane landed at the airport almost unnoticed. So, there he was? Holland. The trip was actually organized by a non-profit organization that wanted to give children from socially disadvantaged families the opportunity to get to know a new country, new people, and new families.
"They're so sweet," he overheard a woman talking to his mother at the airport in Vienna, patting her chubby daughter on the head. "Melanie's already here for the third time, and it's strange that your son hasn't heard anything from his host parents yet. They usually write in advance and introduce themselves."
Arno pretended he hadn't heard. His mother always seems to be chatting up complete strangers. But it still worried him. What if no one came to pick him up? Or what if they were perverts who were trying to experiment on him? Just before boarding the plane, Arno briefly considered locking himself in the airport bathroom so he wouldn't have to fly—but now he was there.
From Amsterdam we took the bus to a meeting point where numerous parents and some children were already waiting for their guests.
The children's names were read out one by one and one child left the bus and was warmly welcomed outside.
"Great. They really forgot about me. This is off to a good start," Arno thought.
"Arno Stifter ? zur Familie de Bleeker!"
Arno grabbed his luggage, adjusted his sunglasses and climbed out of the bus.
"Hello Arno, I'm Jan. Everything okay?" Arno looked into the face of a man of about 30, who immediately took his luggage and gave him a friendly smile. "We have to drive for about 30 minutes. My wife is already waiting for you. Are you tired?"
"A little. The trip was very tiring. I'm Arno—but you probably already know that!"
The first few minutes of silence in the car were followed by Jan bombarding him with questions. What he was into, whether he liked football, what music he listened to, whether he had a girlfriend, etc.
Yes, he plays soccer himself, he likes listening to rock music, and no, he doesn't have a girlfriend. The question about his girlfriend almost made him think again, had Jan not already continued to entertain him.
"So my wife Wilma and I have a son. He just turned one!"
"Oh, nice. A little pants-shitter," Arno thought to himself, and somehow he was disappointed. What can you possibly do with a one-year-old? It was going to be a shitty three weeks. With barbecues in the garden, Sunday afternoon coffee, visiting relatives, and all that shit. When Jan finally stopped talking, Arno gazed thoughtfully at the passing, slowly darkening landscape. He almost fell asleep when the car suddenly stopped.
"So, here we are! Everyone out!"
"So you must be Arno. Welcome!" A tall, pretty woman gave him a warm hug, which Arno didn't like at all. He'd never been able to handle such affection before.
"You must be very tired. We'd better show you where to sleep right away. Then we can get to know each other better tomorrow!"
Wilma and Jan led him into the converted attic, which was small but very comfortably furnished. It even had a small refrigerator and its own television—something he didn't have at home.
After bringing him a bottle of Coke, he was wished good night. "You'll meet Thys tomorrow, he's already asleep."
Thys, that was the name of her son.
Arno quickly went to bed, thinking he'd soon fall asleep. The journey had been truly exhausting. But now he lay there—awake. As always, he brooded over this and that. So they had a son; it would have been nice if he'd been his age. They could have done something then, played soccer or whatever—and again, those strange feelings came over him: there was something else—a boy his age...
"Oh, asshole," Arno thought to himself and then fell asleep.

I was sitting in a café. In front of me was a large mug of warm cocoa with extra cream and a dash of Baileys . I always drink cocoa. Nothing else is an option for me. In this matter, I'm still a child.
I just didn't like coffee, even though I was 20 years old. But I miss the energy boost.
Can you say I miss that? Can you miss something you don't even know?
I asked myself these questions as I looked out the window into the darkness. The illuminated street was blurred by the rain splattering against the panes. The song playing through my headphones was perfect for me: Breakfast in America by Supertramp.
I was always a child of the 80s, at least when it came to music.
It has always been my dream, even when I was a little child and my father told me about the time when he hitchhiked through America as a young man, to travel to America, even if only once in my life.
I really wanted to experience New York in real life. This city, this country, simply fascinates me. I don't know why. I was probably influenced in part by the endlessly wonderful stories my father used to tell me when I was a little kid. Whenever my dad told me about his American adventures, we always lay in front of our fireplace. This makes me associate America with the smell and warmth of burning wood. I'm aware that America will have a completely different feel. Not as cozy, but much more exciting than a log collapsing.
Standing in front of the Statue of Liberty and saying how small I feel is something I often dream about at night, and I will definitely make that dream come true! But not alone, but only with the person who is the love of my life and who also has the desire to travel to America. That was a requirement I set for myself.
America was my purpose in life. I could literally feel it. I sensed that I would eventually be drawn there.
But I have n't found true love yet. In my mind, I pushed that dream back another ten years in my life and dejectedly spooned the cream off my hot chocolate. I changed the song: Mad World by Gary Jules .
I continued to look out the window at the dark and damp outside world, while I held the warm mug in both hands to warm them. For some reason, my hands are always cold. Many of my friends find this creepy and rarely shake my hand. They prefer to hug me. I don't call my friends friends either, but my brothers and sisters. They, on the other hand, affectionately refer to me as the living death , because I was quite thin. I was a mere speck of nothing. A line in the landscape. A collection of bones where you expect my skeleton to start rattling whenever I move.
I had black hair, and I almost only wore that one color, which officially wasn't even a color. I saw things differently.
Exceptions are festive occasions like weddings and holidays, or days when I feel supernaturally comfortable (which was rarely, if ever, the case). On those days, I practiced color blocking to the fullest. Which means there are no rules! Today I wore a simple black turtleneck sweater and black pants with countless pockets and studs. The only color on me today was the purple on my black and purple checked studded belt.
 
Outside, behind the raindrop-speckled windowpane, I noticed a boy. Or should I say, a creature who knows how to all the rules of art and color blocking . break
This boy had turquoise-blue hair peeking out from under a hood. The hairstyle looked like something from another planet. I'd even bet it glowed in the dark!
He entered the restaurant. Now I could see this fascinating boy—I couldn't think of a better word to describe this boy—much better. What was even better was that he was looking directly in my direction. He wasn't looking at me, but probably at someone sitting at a table behind me or something.
To match his blue hair, this boy also had ice-blue eyes. His features were soft. He had incredibly clear skin for his age. How old could he be? My age, or older? But definitely not younger than me, I thought to myself. He walked past me, glanced at me briefly. I thought I saw a small smile as he looked at me. But I told myself I was wrong. Suddenly, this man was out of my sight. What a pity.
I discreetly turned around a few times to look at him. He was sitting there with another boy. An inconspicuous but nevertheless attractive boy. I was ashamed to be stalking strangers so obviously. I drank my hot chocolate in one go, burning my tongue, which now felt quite furry. My goal was now the restrooms so I could cool my mouth and tongue with cold water. When I came back, I sat on the other side of the table so I could continue admiring him . I ordered another hot chocolate with extra cream from the waitress. I needed a new song! No turning back from Wolfsheim.
While I waited for my hot cocoa so I could wrap my now-cold hands around it, I looked outside, and looked outside, occasionally glancing at the two boys. In particular, I looked at the boy with blue hair and wonderful ice-blue eyes. They were obviously deep in conversation.
From one moment to the next, there was a huge commotion in the bar. Startled, I looked in the direction the noise was coming from.
The noise came from the two boys. The blue-haired one apparently jumped so hard that the chair he was sitting on fell back. The table was also no longer standing on its specially made legs. There were shards of glass everywhere.
It was obvious they were arguing. I became curious and pulled my earplugs out. Although... that wasn't really necessary, given how loudly they were shouting at each other.
"What's so bad about being free?" the blue-haired man shouted. "Why do you want to hide, why can't you show who you really are? You're not yourself! Not even now! You'll never be able to be." With that, he knocked over another chair and hurried out of the bar.
I couldn't help myself, and I followed him. I put 30 euros on the table. I didn't care at all that it was way too much money. I just wanted to go to him. I didn't know why, and honestly, I didn't really think about it. I've always been someone who listens to my gut first, and then to the thoughts in my head.
I rushed out the door of the bar. It was so wet and cold that I pulled my jacket tighter. I looked for the blue-haired boy. A regular thundering sounded in my ears. As if someone was kicking metal. That's exactly what it was. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the blue-haired boy kicking a beautiful old VW bus. It was my absolute favorite car. Just as it was standing there. In red and white. "What are you doing?" I asked calmly, but with a horrified tone in my voice. I couldn't believe he would deliberately damage such a wonderful car. I simply wouldn't allow that to happen!
"What do you want?" he barked at me. As he said that, he turned to me. "Oh, I didn't see it was you. I'm sorry!"
How? That it's me? What difference does it make whether it's me or someone else?
"Um... what's going on?" I asked cautiously. He looked at me as if I weren't all there anymore. He came over to me and held out his hand. "I'm Aaron, by the way!" Surprised, I hesitantly held out my hand as well. "Sascha. Sascha Mertens," I introduced myself, happy that I no longer had to think of Aaron as the blue-haired guy. "So Sascha, what is such a young and sweet boy like you doing here all alone in a bar, drinking cocoa with so much cream as if you were deliberately trying to get diabetes someday?" Had he been watching me the whole time, too? I felt myself blush. He came even closer to me. So much so that I could see he was shaking all over. He put a hand on my cheek and stroked me tenderly. His hand was ice cold. Nevertheless, I got goosebumps all over my body, all the way down to my toes. I tried to keep my composure and get back to the topic of why I'd followed him in the first place. "What was going on with you and that other boy?" He looked at me sadly. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could see him fighting back tears. For a while, neither of us said anything. "How about we drive around a bit and I find out a bit more about the boy who's been catching my eye all evening?" After a moment, I nodded hesitantly. It turned out that the VW bus belonged to him. Although I loved that car, it was the first time I'd ever sat in that bus, and I had no idea that in the not-too-distant future, I'd be spending entire days in it.
The owner of the bar rushed out, looking for us. Aaron flashed his headlights, which caught his eye. The owner, who reminded me of a rat, was obviously furious. The only thing missing was foaming at the mouth. Aaron blinded him by briefly switching on his high beams. Then he hit the gas, and we drove off into the darkness. This may sound corny, but I've never felt as safe as I did at that moment.
It's a Man's World by James Brown and Luciano Pavarotti blared from the speakers Aaron had installed in the bus. I was glad that a song I liked was playing. I was even more relaxed than I already was.
There was nothing for miles around except trees. Some people only see trees close together, but I... I see spaces and light!
I had no idea where we were. Honestly, I didn't really care! I found myself wanting this ride to never end. The only thing I was dying to do was find out what had happened in the bar earlier, and why.
“What does quality of life mean to you?”
I paused. This question caught me completely off guard, for one reason alone: I'd already prepared myself to tell him something about myself.
I looked at him. I couldn't see his face because it was so dark. I could only make out his profile. He stared intently at the road. At that moment, he looked like a silhouette. I also looked ahead, at the road, and thought for a while about the question and what he wanted to hear from me. Nothing came to mind. He seemed to notice this and expanded on the question:
"Suppose. Just suppose, because I don't want it to happen so quickly. Suppose you're dying. What trait is most important to you, the one you want to keep until your last breath?" I understood even less now. I looked like a wrecked car. Aaron had to laugh. "Look in the glove compartment! There's a notepad in there. Take it out."
I did as I was told. There were piles of notepads in the glove compartment. "Why do you have so much writing material? And why in your bus?"
"I'm a writer, and my best ideas always come to me while driving. It's not uncommon for me to pull over in the emergency lane and fill a whole notebook, jotting down my idea in detail, before moving on." I was impressed, and picked up the notebook on top and one of at least 30 pens that were also in that compartment. I opened to the first page. "Now what?" I asked.
"Now you're going to tear a sheet out of this pad and tear it into five pieces. On each of these pieces, you're going to write one quality that's incredibly important to you."
I wrote "independence" on the first piece of paper. I wrote "taste" on the second piece of paper. I also wrote something on the other three pieces of paper. "What's the next step?" I asked.
"Now take all the pieces of paper and hold them in front of you. On each piece of paper there is a characteristic or a skill that is important to you. All of them together represent your quality of life. Little by little you decide which skill you would be most likely to give up." I stared at the scraps of paper. Little by little I threw one piece of paper after another into the footwell. It became more and more difficult to part with a piece of paper. At some point I only had two pieces of paper left in my hand. What is more important to me? I seriously pondered which piece of paper had more value to me. On one piece of paper it said " To be clear in my head" and "The ability to express myself". For me they belonged together. What good is it to me to be clear in my head if I can't express what I think or what I feel?
Suddenly, Aaron snatched one of the two scraps I was still holding from my hand. I was shocked. My clear head was taken away from me.
"Do you now know what I mean by quality of life?" I had a hunch, but I didn't dare say it. I didn't even get a chance to say what I thought, because he continued.
"Quality of life means being free to decide and live as you see fit. As soon as you can no longer decide how you want to live so that you feel comfortable, you no longer have a single shred of quality of life. You are then trapped in a world as other people see it. Personally, I equate quality of life with being free because I was born to live my life, not a life for another person."
Now it became quiet between us again. I got a completely new picture of him. What was even more frightening: I got a completely new picture of myself!
"Thank goodness there's a gas station! The tank's empty." Aaron laughed mischievously. I was glad, because I desperately needed some fresh air.
We stopped next to a gas pump. Aaron turned off the engine and looked over at me. "Are you okay?" I nodded. "Really?" I nodded again. Aaron looked through the windshield again. "Why don't I believe you?" I looked out my window. I looked out the window, not through the windshield, so he couldn't see my face. I didn't want him to see that I wasn't okay. I definitely didn't want him to try to analyze how I was feeling, because I didn't even know myself.
"All right." He opened the door. Then he slammed it shut.
Relieved, I turned my head forward again and took a deep breath. I was startled to realize he was still in the car. I realized this the moment he took my face in his hands and... and kissed me. I opened my eyes in complete shock. But I quickly closed them again because I felt, and I was one hundred percent sure, that it was a good thing.
After at least a minute, our lips separated again. He kept my face in his hands, however, and he smiled at me. Despite the darkness, I could see that his eyes were shining even brighter than usual. It was such a wonderful blue that I decided at that moment that from now on, blue would be my favorite color, apart from the red that adorned the bus in which I had my first kiss today, with a boy. I suddenly realized this for the first time. My breathing quickened rapidly, and when I touched my chest, I noticed that my heart rate had increased. "Are you okay?" he asked me for the second time this evening. Now I knew that I would probably hear that question a lot, and I knew that it would really piss me off.
“Didn’t you want to fill up?” He let go of me and this time, without saying a word, actually got out of the bus and filled up.
Meanwhile, I tried to calm myself down and relax my circulation. I rolled down the window a bit to get some fresh air.
Five minutes later, he got back on the bus. "Where do you live? I'll drive you home." I was overwhelmed. Sure, the kiss threw me for a moment. But I still couldn't imagine getting off the bus again.
"How come?"
"Because I asked you!" he barked at me. His eyes sparkled again, but this time not with tenderness, but with anger.
I couldn't utter a word. I was too busy concentrating on keeping a tear from running down my cheek. He definitely didn't want me to be labeled a little sensitive! So I just looked ahead, observing what was happening in the gas station shop. "So?" Aaron asked. "Why do you want to know?" I asked. It was clearly audible that I had a frog in my throat. "Because I'm driving you home." His voice sounded less aggressive now. "I'm not leaving you alone, especially not here. We've driven at least 20 kilometers. And I'm just going to assume you don't have enough money on you to pay for a taxi."
To be honest, I found it disgusting that I had nothing in my hand to counter it, and I deeply regretted having slapped too much money on the table just so I could follow the boy who was now causing me such an insane emotional chaos.
“If you don’t answer me now, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to get out. I can’t and don’t want to stay at a gas station all night.”
I finally gave in. "You can drop me off at the restaurant; I live less than two minutes away."
Aaron revved the bus's engine, and we rolled out of the lit gas station and back onto the dark road.
We remained silent. Without saying anything to me, Aaron suddenly pulled over, turned off the engine, and turned on the car lights. Then he turned to me. "Are you okay?" I asked. "I feel bad." I wasn't expecting that, but it didn't bother me. "Should I drive the rest of the way back?" I asked, with a hint of hope in my voice. What would be better than driving my favorite car myself than just sitting there doing nothing as a passenger? "That's not what I mean!" He looked deep into my eyes, but I couldn't interpret his expression. "I'm kissing you, and I expect it's okay. Especially since it was your first kiss."
How did Aaron know? I didn't tell him. At least, I wouldn't know. But what reason would I have to tell him, a boy? Can you tell whether someone has already kissed you or not? I didn't know the answer to that. After a few moments, he continued. "I have no right to just yell at you."
“It’s okay!” I replied, trying to escape this awkward situation.
"To get back to your question: That was the reason I freaked out in the bar earlier. I'm gay."
It didn't bother me at all, he seemed to see it too.
"You can see it in my face, too, and I'm open about it. He just isn't. He's..." Aaron paused. "He was my boyfriend. We've been together for a good two years now. I'm just not someone who hides who I am. I live out who I am. I can't change it anyway. I need a partner who's as confident as I am, or I'd have to love him damn hard. I guess I don't love him enough..."
I didn't know what to say. It wasn't necessary, because he kept talking. "I actually thought I was serious about him, which is why I planned a huge trip to introduce him to my family. All over Europe. And finally to America. That's where I would have asked for his hand in marriage."
I felt goosebumps running down my back.
"Now I'm pedaling alone, and this old car," he tapped the steering wheel, "is starting the trip. I told all my family and friends that I wasn't coming alone, but that I wanted to introduce them to the love of my life. Now I can say that was all a mistake."
I could see a tear running down his cheek. Without being able to do anything about it, I simply kissed him away, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He smiled at me. "Karma!" he said. "You believe in karma?" I asked, surprised. "Of course!" Then we kissed passionately again. This kiss was even better than the first. My whole body trembled as he slowly and carefully pushed his tongue into my mouth. It took a while before we could pull away. He smiled at me. His eyes sparkled, but this time, thank God, with tenderness. He revved the engine again and drove on. After a few minutes, we were standing in front of the restaurant again, but it was already closed. "I hope to see you again!" Aaron said. "Sure, when?" I asked immediately. "In 6 months. Is Tuesday convenient for you?" Aaron laughed. I wasn't expecting that answer at all. I was completely perplexed. "I'm leaving in two days, and I have a lot to do before then. I'm sorry."
I could honestly say that I had never been so sad in my life, although there had certainly been sadder moments in my life.
"I'm going to the Harz Mountains first. To visit my grandma." I sobbed. It was unintentional, and I couldn't hold it back. Embarrassing! Aaron kissed me goodbye. When our lips parted, I said something I hadn't thought about. As I said, I react from my gut, not what my head tells me is reasonable. "Will you ask for my hand in marriage at the end of this trip? 
hand at the end of this journey “Will you ask for my ?”
 
He said nothing. He just looked at me. Again, I couldn't interpret his expression. I wondered what he was thinking right now. I just noticed my breathing getting faster and faster. I covered my mouth with my collar. I didn't want him to notice how nervous this awkward silence was making me.
I slowly realized what I had just asked, and of a man, no less. A man with blue hair, steel-blue eyes, and a stunning smile with incredible, snow-white teeth.
I was about to say something. Say that I hadn't thought about it, that it was pure madness, and so on, but the moment I opened my mouth to revise my statement, Aaron beat me to it:
"I still have some things to do before I embark on a long journey. See you later!"
With these words, he leaned over me and opened the door on my side.
"See you!" I said in a choked voice. "Hopefully!" I added quietly. Then I got off the bus. Aaron closed the door behind me with a loud bang before I could even turn around.
I felt more alone than ever as the bus rounded the next corner. At that moment , I knew I was missing something! That . I was missing him
 
I stood on the street for a while , looking in the direction where the bus had turned into the wide world. I'll never see the bus, and more importantly , him , again.
As if in a trance, I put my headphones back in. Sehnsucht 's Schiller with Xavier Naidoo filled my ears.
After a few more moments, I slowly made my way home. I even wanted to take a detour. But really, I wanted to be completely alone. The only person I really wanted to see was... Aaron. The problem was: He apparently didn't want to see me anymore. And that was entirely my own fault. We hadn't even had a proper first date, and I asked him if he would ask me to marry him.
What would our first date have looked like? A trip to the movies or a romantic dinner? Would we have ended up in bed afterward? Would I still be a virgin after our first date?
I realized what I was thinking. He's a boy! My breathing became faster and heavier again. I realized that today, at the age of 20, I had my first kiss. With a boy!
I couldn't deny that I enjoyed kissing this boy . Nor could I deny that I wanted to be kissed again. And by a boy!
I felt like I didn't want to be kissed by just anyone. I couldn't even imagine a girl's lips on mine. Only those of a boy. By this boy! By Aaron!
More than anything, I wanted that right now. I couldn't think about anything else. Only the goosebumps that covered my body as our lips melted. And how I desperately wanted to feel that again!
 
Suddenly, I was torn from my thoughts. I suddenly had the feeling I was being followed. I turned around. Nothing unusual. I turned around again and continued walking. It took a few moments until I lost the feeling of being followed, and my hand, which had clenched into a fist, relaxed again. I unconsciously picked up the thread of thought again.
I could rightfully say that it had been the best evening of my life. The best evening so far, anyway. I could say this even though the evening had ended so sadly. I wonder what Aaron was thinking right now…
A hard blow to my side literally jolted me out of my thoughts. The blow was so hard that I couldn't breathe for a moment. I lost my balance and fell to the ground. I looked at the creature that had struck me. His face, however, was so dark that I couldn't recognize him. "Where is Aaron?" asked a boyish male voice.
It could only be the boy who had made Aaron so angry.
"I don't know," I stammered, gasping for air. Honestly, I (unfortunately) really didn't know. The boy kicked me in the side again with full force. I writhed in pain.
"Don't lie! Of course you know that! You were following him like a horny hustler!"
I was shocked. I had imagined the boy Aaron had argued with earlier in the bar to be completely different. I couldn't say exactly how, but he was definitely different from how he was acting right now. Not as aggressive. After what Aaron told me, I had imagined him to be a loyal puppy who did everything his master asked.
I got back on my feet, only to receive a hard blow to the face. I fell to the ground again. "You can say a lot of things about me," I gasped, "but not that I'm a horny hustler, is that clear?" I touched the spot where his fist had hit me. It was wet. Only now did I realize I had the taste of blood in my mouth.
"Then tell me what else I should call you? Dick-driven hustler or what do you think of...!" I didn't know what else to think of, because at the same moment I tripped him and he lost his footing. But he quickly got back on his feet. It seemed as if he had finally lost his temper. The boy started kicking me unrestrainedly, and not exactly timidly. I groaned loudly in pain. This seemed to incite this psychopath even more, and he kicked even harder.
When a light came on somewhere in a house about 50 meters away from us, the boy stopped and looked around. When someone shouted from the direction of the light, the boy kicked me really hard in the crotch and ran away. I writhed in pain. I heard footsteps rushing towards me. The voice sounded familiar, but I didn't have the strength to think about where it was coming from. The sounds around me grew quieter and quieter, and I couldn't hear anything anymore.
 
When I woke up, I heard a regular beeping sound. I carefully opened my eyes, only to close them again immediately.
Wherever I was right now, it was definitely pretty damn bright. I opened my eyes again, but this time just a crack so I could slowly get used to the new lighting conditions.
Above me was a large lamp. A bright lamp. And I was lying in a bed. But it wasn't my bed.
Suddenly, noises slowly reached my ears again. A cough from my left. I turned my head toward the coughing sound. A boy was lying there, staring with interest at the television mounted on the wall in front of his bed. I looked straight ahead again. There was a television there, too.
Only now did I notice that someone was holding my right hand.
I looked at my hand that was being held. With my eyes, I followed the arm that belonged to the hand, then the body that belonged to the arm, and then to the head that belonged to the body.
It was... Aaron! Aaron was sitting by my bed. He gave me a friendly wink. Concern was evident in his eyes. I felt faint, and my eyes were closing again. That didn't bother me, because for some reason, I felt safer than ever and was glad he was there. That he was with me!
When I woke up again—I must have been completely lost again—Aaron was still sitting there, his gaze fixed on me. "How are you?" he asked. "How am I supposed to be?" I asked quietly.
“Definitely better than three days ago,” he said in a serious tone.
Three days? Did he really just say three days ? I swallowed, which hurt.
“How was I doing three days ago?”
"It doesn't matter, you're feeling better now," he said. I decided in my mind that I probably didn't even want to know how I felt.
“How did you know I was here?”
Aaron laughed. "Simple! Because I brought you here!"
So he was the voice I knew.
"By the way, you owe me new seat covers for my bus. The old ones are so soaked with blood, I'll never get it out."
I stared at him, aghast. You didn't have to pick me up. Whose ex-boyfriend beat me up?
But I was too weak to argue now. And I didn't want to argue with him anyway. The time I spent with him was simply too precious to me. Who knows how long this time would last.
He saw that something was bothering me and said, "Hey, I was just kidding!" He smiled and stroked my cheek gently. I think I would have gotten goosebumps again, but the painkillers they must have pumped into me made me a little dazed.
“Where are my parents? Do they know?” He took my hand again.
"Yes, since yesterday. I heard you were here briefly. Because at the time, I was just at home packing the last of my things. I was actually just waiting for you to wake up so I wouldn't have to feel so guilty, and I know you're okay."
Aaron stood up, still holding my hand. He leaned down and gave me a gentle kiss on the mouth.
Then he turned around and headed toward the door. But I didn't want him to leave yet. I didn't want to be alone. What could I say now?
"This time I'm not asking you to marry me!" I said. I laughed to make it sound like a joke. At least, that was the plan, because Aaron turned to me and looked at me again with an expression I couldn't interpret. I gave another tentative laugh. "Okay, just forget it. It's probably the drugs they pumped into me. Don't take me seriously!" I laughed. But he was still looking at me with an expression that was now starting to scare me.
"How are you?" he asked me again after a brief silence. He seemed to be up to something. I sensed it. So this time I really thought about the question and listened to myself. I was fine. I felt fit. "Good! I'm doing wonderfully!" I stated with satisfaction.
"That's good! That's more than good, because we have no time to lose," said Aaron. He smiled. His eyes sparkled bright blue again. Then he turned and left the room. The door had just closed when it burst open again! A tall, slim, red-haired nurse came prancing into the room. "Good evening, Mr. Mertens. Are we back among the living? How are we today?"
I immediately got into a very bad mood! That's exactly what I hated about hospitals.
While I deeply admire the progress in medicine, you really shouldn't be a patient in a hospital unless you're so ill that you're no longer aware of it. But even then, you should have someone to ensure that you retain whatever dignity you still have.
"I don't know how they're doing! Honestly, I don't give a shit!" The redhead and the boy in the next bed looked at me in shock, open-mouthed, but didn't say a word. "But I guess they're more interested in how I'm doing! The answer: Good. I feel fine and would like to go home now!"
Her cheerfulness was wiped from her face. Through gritted teeth, she replied, "I'll inform the attending physician about your request, but I don't think he'll give the OK yet!" With those words, she left the hospital room and slammed the door behind her.
“What was that?” the boy asked me.
“What was what?” I snapped at him.
"Why are you talking to her like that? She's such a sweet nurse. She really doesn't deserve this. I like her very much!"
“Anyone who likes being treated like an underachiever likes her.”
He looked at me questioningly. "But she doesn't do that at all!" he replied.
"She talks to patients as if they were children. Not on her level. Just because I'm in bed doesn't mean I'm worth less or more than her. If she were a good nurse, she would treat me as if we were on equal terms and ask me, for example, 'How are you today, Mr. Mertens?' Not 'How are we today, Mr. Mertens?'"
The boy next to me didn't have an answer. He looked at me, bewildered. Satisfied, I lay back and closed my eyes. Man, those were really damn good painkillers, you had to give them that.
 
When I woke up again, it was dark. I looked at the phone on my nightstand, which also showed the time. It was 12:03 AM. I closed my eyes again, but opened them again when I heard the door gently open. Through the light coming through the door, I could see a wheelchair being pushed into the room. Unfortunately, I couldn't identify the person pushing the chair on wheels into the room. He turned on the light. Aaron was standing in front of my bed, beaming at me.
“Are you fit?” he asked.
"Yes!" I exclaimed like a shot. I looked to my left, but the boy who was lying there a moment ago was gone. I looked back at Aaron. He, too, saw that the boy who liked being pitied was no longer there.
"So much the better!" he said to me. Then he went to my closet and opened it. I could see that my travel bag was in there; my parents must have brought it to me.
“Can you sit in the wheelchair?” he asked me.
"I can try." I slowly threw back the covers and sat down on the edge of the bed. I carefully slid further down until my feet touched the floor and tried to stand up. Only then did I realize that I had actually been given a catheter. A really nice transparent pee bag that was already half full of my urine. My face was now more like a tomato color. As I stood up, the tube that was stuck in my fuse slipped out a bit. I cried out briefly. I was already unsteady on my feet, but the pain that spread through my lower back made me fall back into bed.
At least I would have been, if Aaron hadn't caught me and thrown me into the wheelchair with one swing.
That was quite an effort and I needed a few moments to recover.
"What are you doing?" I asked as he wrapped a warm, cozy wool blanket around me and pulled my shoes on. He was obviously thinking about what he was going to say next.
"Take you on a journey, at the end of which I'll ask for your hand in marriage!" I looked at him in surprise. "Trust me!" he added as he tied my shoes.
I did, and I knew I wanted to do that for the rest of my life. I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up to me and kissed him. That was the first time I kissed him and he didn't kiss me. I got wonderful goosebumps all over my body again. The sedatives must have worn off.
 
With my bag on my lap, Aaron pushed me out into the hallway. Not a soul was in sight. He wheeled me slowly and quietly toward the elevators.
"Where are you going?" a voice called, breaking the dead silence as Aaron was pushing me into the elevator. I just caught a glimpse of the red-haired nurse running toward us as the elevator doors closed.
"Watch out," Aaron said to me, "when the doors open, I'll have to push you to the bus real fast. As soon as we get there, I'll lift you in and throw the wheelchair in the back. Then I'll hit the gas. I hope you don't get sick from the high speed and the fast maneuvers!"
“Not normally!” I said.
“That’s good!” With these words, the elevator doors opened and Aaron pushed me at a tremendous speed through the large entrance hall of the hospital.
 
Considering it was the middle of the night, there was quite a lot going on here. Many people who saw us managed to jump aside at the last moment. We almost killed an elderly lady and her stroller. But only almost.
We were heading straight for the exit when a voice from behind shouted: “Stop them!”
It was undoubtedly the red-haired, incompetent nurse who had never heard of human dignity.
Aaron sped up even faster. We were less than 10 meters from the front door. I just hoped the sliding doors would open quickly enough, otherwise there would be a huge crash. I turned around and looked past Aaron, whose sweat was beading on my face.
Several people were chasing us. We had no chance. I turned back to the front. The door was getting closer and closer. I closed my eyes and prepared myself for pain. But nothing happened. Aaron hadn't stopped either.
He abruptly steered me to the right. My pee bag slipped off my lap and fell to the floor. The hose ripped from the bag, bursting open. Aaron slipped on my bodily fluids and fell sprawled on his back, letting go of the wheelchair, and I continued rolling. Right into a wall. I braked carefully and steered around it. The hose was still stuck in my crotch. It burned terribly, but I couldn't deal with that right now.
Aaron was back, taking over again. "You stink of piss!" I said with a huge grin on my face. "Very funny!" he grumbled. I looked up at him. He smiled, too.
He drove back to the elevators. No, not at all. He drove past them, too. Because what I hadn't seen—how could I?—was that there was also an exit next to the elevators. Someone kindly held the door open for us. Apparently, he saw we were being followed and was on our side for some reason. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a cute old man. He took off his hat to greet us. I smiled as we drove toward him and thanked him with a smile as we sped past.
As soon as we were out in the fresh air, Aaron pulled me around again. "We have to get halfway around the hospital really quickly! The parking lot is on the other side," he panted.
Our pursuers couldn't have been so close to us anymore. At least I couldn't see them anymore.
We raced through the ambulance ramp. We just managed to pass a seriously injured patient being wheeled into the emergency room on a stretcher.
Shortly afterward, I saw Aaron's van. For some reason, the trunk lid opened by itself. "I knew this would pay off someday," Aaron laughed.
A few moments later, I was able to experience just how much strength Aaron truly possessed. He lifted the wheelchair, which I was still sitting in, into the trunk without a moment's notice. He slammed the door behind me and climbed into the front of the car. The engine roared, and with squealing tires, we sped off the hospital grounds.
Only when we got onto the highway did I dare to breathe loudly again.
 
“Where are we going?” I asked from behind.
Our eyes met through the rearview mirror. He was smiling, I could see it from the sparkle in his eyes.
"We'll drive a few kilometers now so I can make sure no one is following us. Then we'll drive to a rest stop where we'll spend the night. You need to rest, and I desperately need a shower!"
We both had to laugh. "You're right, though!" I said to him, grinning at him through the rearview mirror. Now his gaze had a tender quality. "I love you too, my darling."
These words caught me off guard again. It was still new to me. But I didn't want to behave the way I did the night I met him. How long ago had that evening been? It doesn't matter!
“I love you more!” I replied happily and blew him a kiss.
 
Two hours later, freshly washed and without a pee bag tube, I lay in a freshly made bed, watching my soon-to-be fiancé strip off his clothes and then lie down next to me. Snuggled in his arms, with a sharp burning sensation in my best part, I fell asleep.
 
When I woke up, I was still lying in his arms, just as I had fallen asleep. I turned to him. He was already awake and smiling at me.
“When we met, I never would have imagined that a few days later you would wake up in my arms.”
I smiled at him and gave him a kiss. For some reason, it felt like the most normal thing in the world, and I knew I wanted to always wake up to his smile in the future.
"How are you feeling?" he asked. "Good, but still a little weak." He stroked my cheek. "Okay, then we'll stay here for another day. You rest, and I'll get you some clothes. You didn't really have much in your travel bag. Just a pair of underwear and socks. Your parents didn't even pack a T-shirt and pants for you. They don't seriously think you would have gone home with your clothes covered in blood, do they?" Aaron worked himself up into a rage. But why? "No offense, but your parents are disgusting!" Unfortunately, I couldn't respond to that, because he was right.
I looked at him silently and continued listening. "You could have died, you almost did twice, and all they're thinking about is that your father's company is about to celebrate its 10th anniversary."
I knew about the anniversary, and that my parents hadn't been thinking about anything else for weeks, but I didn't know that I'd almost died, and not just once! I looked at him, shocked. "Were you with me the whole time?" He put his hand in mine. I squeezed it. "Well, not completely, but most of it."
I smiled at him. Honestly, I was actually glad I wasn't alone. At least not during the moments when I was awake.
"After they had your surgery, I quickly went shopping for clothes for the trip. After all, I needed to distract myself somehow. I also bought a few things for you, but they're still not enough, because we're traveling for even longer than originally planned."
I was surprised. "What? How can you afford that?"
I couldn't help myself; I had to ask him that too, even though I knew it would ruin the mood. "How much money are you actually getting from me?" He looked at me intently and took my other hand in his as well.
"Where did I get the money? That's my concern," he paused briefly. "And you? You're my fiancé... Well, soon enough, anyway. I invited you on this trip. You're not paying anything!" I opened my mouth to say I'd definitely contribute something, but I never got that far. "No arguments! Is that clear?" He looked me straight in the eyes and then kissed me. Once again, I was completely under his spell. I enjoyed it and closed my eyes as our tongues wrestled.
"Now, you rest, get some more sleep, and I'll get what we need." He went to the door. "For our adventure," he said over his shoulder.
When he had the door handle in his hand, he turned completely to me once more, looked me deeply and firmly in the eyes, and said, "I love you!" I smiled, slumped back against the pillows, and heard the door close. Now I was alone! I love you too!
 
When Aaron returned in the early afternoon, clutching dozens of plastic bags, I was lying wide awake in bed. I couldn't sleep. But why not? I felt dead tired, but no matter how much I tossed and turned, I just couldn't fall asleep.
It might sound silly, but I suspected it was actually because Aaron hadn't been with me.
He put the bags on the floor, lay down in bed with me, and gave me a kiss. The next moment, I was asleep.
 
When I woke up again, I immediately noticed that I felt better. My groin was still burning terribly from that stupid pee bag.
I sat up. No more dizziness. I looked at the clock radio on the nightstand. It was four in the morning.
The faint light cast by the moon through the window made me realize Aaron was awake again. I could see his body sitting on the edge of the bed. I slid closer to him and reached under the T-shirt he had already put on. Immediately, I felt goosebumps spread across his back. He turned to me. "Did I wake you?" he asked me quietly. He was almost whispering. My hand was still under his T-shirt and on his back. I pushed him down to me, and we kissed.
When our lips separated after a short eternity, he asked me, “How are you today?”
I gave him another quick kiss. "Better, I'd almost say fantastic."
I could see his white teeth showing his beautiful smile even in the dark.
“Then let’s get started today!”
Now it happened again. The feeling of shock overcame me. Reality caught up with me.
Until now, this was all just a dream for me. Admittedly, a more than beautiful dream, but one that began with a nightmare, bloody on a street.
What about my parents? I didn't have any friends, but still? Would anyone miss me? Would anyone even notice that I wasn't there anymore, but instead, I was on some sort of world tour, at the end of which I'd be in America and even get engaged? This all sounds like a cheesy movie where everything goes perfectly. Now all we need is the mafia on our tail to turn the whole situation into a thrilling action thriller.
No, this is all one big joke.
Sweating overcame me. I threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. I paused for a moment, but my legs held up. I didn't feel dizzy either. I ran to the bathroom and took off my boxer shorts. Who put them on me?
At that moment, I didn't care at all. I jumped into the shower, set it to ice cold, and let the cold but refreshing water splash down on me.
I hadn't been in the shower for ten seconds when Aaron knocked on the door. "Are you okay?"
There it was again. The question of whether everything was okay. I decided not to answer. Instead, I slowly turned the water flow up and up.
There was another knock on the door. "Sascha, is everything okay?"
No reaction from me.
There was another knock. "May I come in?"
I froze, but didn't reply.
Knock-knock. "I'm coming in now, okay?"
Not a word. The moment the doorknob swung down, I quickly turned off the water and wrapped the towel, which thankfully was hanging over the shower wall, around my waist. Aaron stood in the doorway, staring at me with a look I couldn't interpret.
At that moment, I realized how much I hated that expression on him. "What's wrong?"
Oops, that was a new question I wasn't at all prepared for. This time he asked me directly. He took a step toward me, naked except for a thin towel around his hips. "No...nothing!" I said quickly. So quickly that I couldn't suppress a tremor in my voice.
"Secure?"
I nodded quickly, clutching my towel tightly. He noticed this and grinned. Then he looked me straight in the eyes.
"Are you sure?" With those words, he stood very close to me. I was a bit taller than him because I was standing in the shower tray. I thought I had the advantage, but I was wrong.
He unashamedly reached under my towel. I could tell he was by no means a novice in these matters.
Pulses of pleasure shot through my body as he ripped the towel from my hips.
Now I stood before him completely naked. I blushed. "Believe it or not, but this isn't the first time I've seen you naked." Aaron grinned.
I was startled. Reflexively, I placed my hands over my core. "Who do you think has washed you and changed your underwear in the last few weeks?"
My facial expression would have rivaled any tomato.
Somehow, I liked the situation. I pulled Aaron into the shower stall with me, clothes on, closed the doors, and turned the hot water back on. We kissed as the warm water cascaded down on us.