From Bastian's diary
When I think back today on all the events that play a role in this story (and that didn't happen all that long ago), it almost seems as if I'm reading someone else's story. A lot of it seems so foreign to me. Maybe it's because there were just so many moving events in a very short time and I never had a chance to properly process everything that had happened.
I'm Sebastian, 19 years old, 1.82 m tall, black short hair, brown eyes and..., well, that may be enough for the time being for the outside view. I had just started my community service with the German Red Cross and worked in the ambulance service there. It was more or less by chance that I got this job, but I didn't regret 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 in a sports club and asked me if I would like to come along from time to time. Of course I wanted to. Especially since I knew that there were a lot of guys my age there too, which made the decision pretty easy for me. 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 little more training, but I was quite happy with myself.
Mark was also a newcomer to the team. He had only moved to the city six months earlier and, like me, didn't know many of the other guys yet, so we quickly became friends. Mark told me that he had moved to the city with his two-year-younger brother and his mother because his parents had separated.
Mark was a really sweet guy, he was 19 like me, a bit taller, had short blonde hair, blue eyes and a smile that would melt icebergs. After training, we often sat together. I could listen to him for hours when he shyly told me about his past and his troubles with his parents in his soft voice. You could tell how good it made him feel to talk about all these things with someone. He also told me that he had met a girl here at the disco and that he was madly in love with her.
Great, I thought, it would have been too good if this nice guy could feel almost the same for me as I felt for him by now. Yes, I really was a little in love with Mark and still, the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about Julia, I could only be happy for him.
It's always the same, I thought, you dream of someone, you hope and then – »bang« – it's all gone.
Mark soon started seeing Julia more often and came to training less often.
I thought that our friendship wasn't as important to him anymore, but exactly the opposite was the case. He always called me and told me how things were going with Julia and asked 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 that soon, believe me.”” Oh Mark, if only you 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 much rather with a boy. At that point, I still believed that he would never be able to understand that, and I was only close to confessing it to him once.
It was my first visit to Mark's house, and by the time dinner was ready, we had made ourselves comfortable in his room. I was very excited, because he had spent the last night in a tent with Julia and had promised to tell me everything. It was the first night they had been together.
“Well, Mark, how was it?” I asked curiously.
“Oh Bastian, it was pure horror,” he said. ”I was way too nervous and totally messed it up.”
It was strange, anyone else would have bragged about a hot experience, but Mark told me a little sadly that it just wasn't that great. I was about to tell him that it would definitely be better next time when someone opened the door and shouted, “Hey, come and eat, I'm starving.” The boy standing in front of me gave me a quick handshake and said, “Hi, I'm Tobias,” and was gone in the same moment.
“My little brother, always causing trouble,” Mark laughed. I was about to get up when Mark held me back, “Bastian, you promise me something?”
“What?” I asked in surprise.
“Well, that you won't tell anyone about what I just told you. I'm only telling you all this because you're my best friend.” I really wanted to hug him, but I was afraid he might take it the wrong way (or rather the right way). We had only known each other for a short time and he saying, ‘my best friend,’ made me very happy.
“Of course I won't tell anyone, 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 had always wanted to tell at least one person: that I was gay. But I was afraid and just said softly, ”Come on, let's go eat.”
How often had I wanted to tell someone, but I was probably the only gay guy in my circle of friends, and who would be able to understand me? How often had I wished I could talk to someone about it, but just when I was about to do so, new doubts would come to mind. It's like opening a door, but instead of getting into the next room, you're standing in front of another door again.
But who would understand that? It often seemed as if I was the only person in the world who had these problems.
I often spent time with Mark. We played together with his brother on the Playstation or had little table tennis tournaments. Tobias wasn't bad at it either. Julia was at boarding school during the week and I left them to their time together at the weekend.
When I visited Mark and Tobias again, I had some news for Mark: “My parents won't be home next weekend and I thought it was time you got to know 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 refused.
“It's not a party for babies, you'll stay at home with your mom.” Tobias's expression suddenly darkened. He didn't contradict him and just looked sadly at the floor. I had never seen Tobias contradict his older brother either. He seemed to trust him completely. Mark stood up, ran his hand through Tobias's hair and said, ”Hey kid, of course I'll take you with me. What did you think?” Tobias' face lit up again immediately 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 I asked him, ”You like your brother very much, don't you?”
“Of course,” he said, ‘he's the best brother you could ever wish for, I love him very much.’ Tobias told me that they hadn't always got along so well, but since they knew that their parents were getting divorced, that had changed and now they stuck together tightly. They didn't want their little family to break up even more.
I had never asked what had happened to their father and why they never visited him, but I don't think they wanted to talk about it either.
The next week, I had to complete an internship on one of our ambulances. It was the end of my training as an ambulance attendant. The work was very interesting and I learned a lot. I had asked to be assigned to Nils, and even when we had an assignment that wasn't so nice, so I was also confronted with death, he always found the right words.
Besides, I was always in a good mood. Four days to go before my party, my parents were out of town and work was fun.
It's nice when you can help people, maybe even save lives. I was “only” the conscientious objector, but I felt important when I got into the ambulance with the others.
It was Tuesday evening. Another half hour and I was off duty. Nils was sitting at his desk doing paperwork when the phone rang. It was the fifth callout today.
“MVA in the south of the city,” said Nils. ‘A teenager on a moped has been hit by a drunk driver and is unresponsive.’ So, quickly into the ambulance, blue lights on and off we go. During the drive, I checked everything that might be needed: infusions, syringes, bandages and I checked the oxygen device. When we arrived at the scene of the accident, there was already quite a lot going on. The emergency doctor was already there and the police had just arrived. There were so many onlookers that I couldn't even see the injured person yet. I took the emergency case out of the holder and was about to get out when I heard Nils: “Leave the case, Sebastian, bring the vacuum mattress.” So I put the case back and fetched what he wanted.
I had to push my way 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 the matter with you, Sebastian? Do you know him?” Nils asked. I couldn't answer, because it was really Mark lying on the ground, being examined by the emergency doctor.
“Come on, Sebastian, he has to get to the ambulance quickly,” I heard Nils say. From then on, I can't remember everything. It all happened so fast. I just remember stroking Mark's hair in the ambulance and calling out ‘Mark’ quietly over and over. He didn't hear me. He wasn't conscious.
At the hospital emergency room, I tried to make sure that everything went even faster than usual and that Mark quickly got to the treatment room.
I told Nils that I wanted to stay. It was the end of my shift anyway.
It had been less than three months since I met Mark, and now I was terrified for him. I tried to get my thoughts under control, but I couldn't.
It only now occurred to me whether someone had informed his mother. The nurse told me, however, that she was on her way here.
When she came in the door, she immediately bombarded me with questions. She was shaking with excitement and I was glad that the ward doctor appeared at that moment, because I didn't really know what to say to her.
“Mrs. Müller, I can't tell you much at the moment, we'll take your son to the intensive care unit,” and he had already 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 no news. 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 at the moment anyway. Although neither of us wanted to, we let ourselves be persuaded.
The next morning, I thought I had dreamt the whole thing. Unfortunately not. Since I had to go back to work that afternoon, I went to the hospital right away and was told that the situation had not changed. They reluctantly agreed to my request to see Mark because I was not a family member and Mark already had visitors. I could at least go outside the room and see him through the glass, his mother would also be there.
I walked slowly down the hallway and had the images of the accident in my head again. Mark's mother was standing in front of one of the rooms. We just silently greeted each other and she pointed to 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 with Mark. My party was supposed to take place tomorrow. What should I do? I didn't feel like doing anything other than having a party, but all my friends were looking forward to it. They didn't know Mark.
That evening I spoke with his mother and she said: “Have the party, it will take your mind off things. Especially Tobias. He hasn't said a word since the day before yesterday.”
“Well, I'm here for Tobias too,“ I said. ‘I wanted to see how he's doing.’ I went up the stairs to his room and knocked on the door. No one answered, so I slowly opened the door.
”Can I come in?” Tobias was sitting on his bed with his head in his hands.
“Yes, sure,“ he sighed softly. I sat down on the bed next to him.
”Hey, little warrior, how are you?” I asked.
“And you?“ he replied, looking at me questioningly. Of course we both knew how the other was doing. I said, ‘What do you think, should we throw Mark a party tomorrow? 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 would only spoil the mood for you,” he said. ‘I'm also afraid for Mark. Please help me a little tomorrow. We'll probably find it easier together.’ I put my hand on his shoulder as I said this. I could see that he was undecided, but after a while he said, ‘OK, if you think so,’ and he even tried to smile a little.
He got the smile from his brother, I thought.
The next evening, the little party went quite well. I had given Tobias some work to do. He had to get drinks and run this and that, which probably distracted him a bit. After all, they were all new faces for him, so he probably didn't think about his brother the whole time. Sometimes I even heard Tobias laugh. A few people were still missing and now and then the phone rang and someone reported that they would be late. I had also tried to reach Julia, but her parents told me that she had to stay at the boarding school over the weekend.
I didn't know how she had taken the news. We had only met each other twice before and I didn't dare to ask her about it. What should I have said to her?
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 better and has woken up from the coma, I thought. If I could tell Tobias, that would be great.
“Yes, this is Sebastian.“ She spoke very quietly and in the background I heard my guests talking and of course there was music playing. I couldn't even realize what I had just heard. I put the phone down and went towards 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. They operated on Mark again this afternoon.” Tobias looked at me, at a loss.
“And, is he better, is he awake?” he asked impatiently. I couldn't say anything more, my throat was like it was tied up. I burst into tears and took Tobias in my arms. It was as if I only now understood the words I had just heard on the phone. It was like a stab in my heart with a glowing needle and the next words were difficult for me to say.
“No, Tobias, Mark died an hour ago.” I felt Tobias start to tremble. He was struggling with himself. I held him close and we just cried. I wanted to comfort him so badly, but no matter how I searched for words, I couldn't find any.
A little later, I took Tobias to my room. It was agreed anyway that he should stay with me and I wanted to sleep on the sofa in the living room. I tried to explain the situation to everyone else and said that I would rather be alone now. My friends were really very worried and understood me.
I went back to my room. Tobias was lying in my bed and crying.
“Hey Tobi, are you okay?“ I asked and sat down carefully on the bed.
”I need him so much, what should I do?“ he cried. I stroked his hair and he said a little more quietly, ‘Please, Sebastian, don't leave me alone here tonight. Stay with me. Please.’
”Okay,” I replied.
Ten minutes later we were both lying in my bed, cuddled up close to each other, holding the other tightly in our arms and crying. How often had I wished in my dreams to lie in bed with a boy like this. And now? Now everything is different, I am just deeply saddened and would give a lot for this story to have turned out differently. I would give anything for that.
I couldn't fall asleep for a long time, thinking of Mark, thinking of the hours we had spent together, thinking of his openness towards me and of his smile that I would never see again. I was angry with myself for not being with him today.
Why Mark of all people? Why him?
I felt bad because I had never told him the whole truth about me and I was sure now that he would have understood. Definitely.
During 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 glad that I had managed to distract Tobias a little from his great loss and even if I couldn't replace Mark, I liked being with Tobias. I liked it very much and I felt guilty about it. I believed that Tobias really sought a kind of brotherly substitute in me. He liked to hold me, sought my company and told me a lot from his innermost thoughts. Why did I have a guilty conscience about it? Well, for me it was now more than just a good friendship, I loved being with him, being close to him. But I was also afraid of abusing his feelings, which were connected to the death of his brother.
I realized that I had fallen in love with him without ever noticing that he actually looked totally cute. What used to be so important to me with other guys, I didn't even notice about him at first. I liked his nature, his character, regardless of his appearance. Nevertheless, he was very “cute” - about 5'9” - short dark blond hair - blue-gray eyes and the same loving smile as his brother.
One evening when he stayed over again, he was very strange. Tobias was supposed to go on a school trip the next morning and I was supposed to drive him to the train station early because his mother had to work. He hardly said anything all evening and I had the feeling that he really wanted to get something off his chest. We had both already gone to bed and wished each other good night when he suddenly came to my bed.
“Can I ask you something, Sebastian?“
”Sure. Go ahead.“ I could tell that it was difficult for him to find the words and that he was very nervous inside.
”I mean... well... um...“
”Come on, tell me what it is,” I encouraged him.
“Well, I mean... do you think it's really bad when a boy loves a boy?” The question took me a bit by surprise, 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 if they're two boys or two girls or a boy and a girl.’ Now he seemed to be getting a bit more courageous.
“And what if I love a boy?“ He looked at me, totally unsure.
”Then it's about time, my little Tobi, that you introduce me to the lucky guy.“ I sat up and more or less whispered the last words in his ear.
”I don't need to, you know him well. But he doesn't know about it yet,” he said.
“So?“ I asked, puzzled.
”Who is it?” He put on that eerily sweet smile of his again, but there was also a hint of 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 turn out that way, but he really kept me in suspense, and I wanted to keep him on tenterhooks a little longer and didn't say anything for now.
”And now?” he asked, almost anxiously.
“Do you still want to be my friend after you know this?” I had to grin a little but said very seriously: ‘Well, Tobi, now that I know this, you will probably never sleep here in my room on the guest bed again.’ He wanted to answer something but I held my finger over his mouth and said, ”If you sleep here with me, then only in my bed.” He wanted to say something to that as well, but he didn't get the chance. I was faster, took him in my arms and gave him a long, tender kiss.
“I love you too, you fool.”
"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, without leaving out a single part of the other, and slowly undressed each other. Soon we were both lying naked in my bed, very close to each other. His hands conjured up a wonderful feeling on every part of my body that they touched. At first a little uncertain, but soon he lost all inhibitions. The warmth and security that he gave me almost took my breath away. My hands felt every inch of his warm, soft skin, like in a fire in which you don't get burned. I felt his excitement 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 groans. We didn't speak anymore, we didn't need to speak anymore, we were one.
All the things I had imagined so often were nothing compared to this feeling, and I wished it would never end.
It was a shame that he had to leave the next morning for two weeks, I thought. I couldn't wait for him to come back.
But that's a completely different story.

David
1
David had been gone for a long time. I was still sitting on the bench. I could still smell him on me. I didn't want to let go of him. Eventually, I pulled myself together. For the first time, I was content with myself and the world and came home. The prospect of possibly finding a friend again, which seemed impossible to me after Tim's death, made me see the future a little rosier. I couldn't wait to tell Oliver and Rasmus about David. I also wanted to ask Petra if David could stay for dinner the next day. I arrived home full of positive energy. However, there was a lot of tension in the air. As I came in, I heard Johannes' loud and agitated voice:
“You must have lost your mind! You've lost the last shred of your sanity! I won't go over it again with you! I hope this was a lesson for you!"
It was Rasmus who was being put down by Johannes. He stood there looking very dazed and listened to Johannes' tirade. Oliver explained to me what had happened.
Rasmus had been caught smoking hash at school. Johannes had pleaded with the headmaster in order to avoid expulsion. While he had stood behind Rasmus at school, Johannes was now giving him such a roasting that it was enough to scare you. Even Oliver was finally cowed. I had never seen Johannes like this, not even when Oliver had beaten up a classmate who had called him “Knasti” at the beginning.
Finally, he sent Rasmus to his room. Oliver followed him. When the two had left the room, Johannes exhaled noticeably.
“Was that really necessary?“ I asked him. I thought his reaction was a bit over the top. After all, Rasmus hadn't taken heroin or any other hard drugs. I had also smoked a joint or two in my earlier life.
”Yes, Rafael, it was necessary,” he replied, ”even though it hurt me at least as much as it hurt Rasmus. It's not about this one joint. That's not a big deal. But he had to get the stuff from somewhere. And whoever's selling the hash is also selling other things. And Rasmus, all of you aren't yet stable enough to be able to resist the temptation in every possible situation. And our still young family wouldn't be able to withstand a junkie. That's why I had to react so harshly, even though it wasn't easy for me.
Now go comfort Rasmus and cheer him up a bit. I'm counting on you,“ he added, winking at me.
I followed them to their room. Oliver was standing somewhat helplessly at his desk. Rasmus was sitting on his bed, howling with rage.
”I'm leaving,” he snarled at me. ”Nobody wants me here anyway.”
“Yes, I want you,“ I replied and sat down on the bed with him.
”Me too,“ murmured Oliver.
”But Johannes doesn't. He hates me.“
”That's not true. Believe me, he really loves you more than you know.“
”Then why does he treat me like that? I haven't done anything bad, have I?”
“Because he's afraid for you. He's afraid that you'll slip away from him and fall back into your old life or worse.“
”But I just wanted to try it out...“
”Some things you just don't try out.” Rasmus, you've experienced for yourself how dangerous certain things can be and how quickly you can get yourself into something.”
“What should I do now?“ Rasmus asked tearfully.
”First of all, you calm down and then you apologize to Johannes.“
”But I'm afraid he'll yell at me again, and anyway...“
”Don't worry. He won't do that,” I interrupted him. ”I'll go with you, too.”
I held Rasmus until he had calmed down. Then we went to Johannes.
“Sorry,” Rasmus mumbled, giving Johannes such a sad puppy dog look that I, at least, would have forgiven him for something much worse. And of course Johannes couldn't resist him either. He held him very tightly in his arms.
“Don't you ever do that again,“ he whispered in his ear. Rasmus shook his head violently.
”Sweetheart, I'm so worried about you,” he added.
Rasmus started to cry again, and so did I. We were both thinking the same thing. We had only known the feeling of someone worrying about us for half a year. It still wasn't something we took for granted.
Because of the story with Rasmus, my experience took a back seat for the time being. Besides, Petra wasn't there yet, so I postponed the whole thing until dinner. The evening meal was sacred to us. While breakfast and lunch were taken whenever it suited, we always sat down at the table for dinner. That was also the time when all the important events of the day were discussed.
Rasmus was naturally afraid that his faux pas would be mentioned again, but I had a good diversionary maneuver.
“Petra, I'm getting a visitor tomorrow afternoon. Can I ask him if he wants to stay for dinner?” I started.
“So, who's coming?”
"Oh, just David, a classmate.”
“Classmate or friend?“ Johannes asked, grinning.
”Friend or friend?“ Oliver shouted, which earned him a kick from Rasmus.
”Ouch, you're allowed to ask,“ he complained.
”I don't know either,” I replied, blushing bright red.
“But you would like to be more than just a classmate,“ Petra concluded. ‘Of course he can stay for dinner if he wants.’
Fortunately, Johannes spared me further discussion by saying,
”That's enough, leave poor Rafael alone, otherwise we'll have to discuss other incidents from this day."
Rasmus immediately stopped all teasing.
When we had cleared the table and I wanted to go to my room, Petra gave me a quick hug and whispered in my ear:
“I wish you lots of luck, my big boy. I'm so glad you're getting your mind off things.”
“Thanks, I can use it.”
I had barely entered my room when Oliver and Rasmus stormed in.
“Come on, tell us,“ Rasmus started right away.
”Don't be so nosy. I didn't ask about your Bettina either.“
”But you could have.“ The boy was quick-witted.
So I told them what had happened at noon.
”You really told him everything? Even what we did in jail?”
“I had to, otherwise the whole story wouldn't have made sense.“
”I don't think that's so great,“ grumbled Oliver. ‘Now every time he looks at me, I have to think about the intimate things he knows about me.’
”I don't think it's so great either, but Rafael is right, without the intimate details you can't understand the story at all,” said Rasmus.
“Is he gay?“ Oliver asked.
”I don't know, we didn't talk about that.“
”If he hugged you so hard after the story, he must be gay,“ Rasmus concluded.
”We'll find out,” Oliver said.
“You won't do anything. This is none of your business. And you will both promise me now that there will be no ambiguous comments or questions tomorrow. Is that clear?“
”If it absolutely has to be. But we're good at matchmaking. But if you absolutely want to do without our services...”
“Stupid,” I laughed and threw a pillow at his head. That was the signal for the two of them to pounce on me. I could easily have dealt with one of them, but with two it was much more difficult, and before I knew it, I was on the floor and the two of them were sitting on me so that I could hardly move.
“You win,” Oliver shouted. ‘Do you surrender?’ And to emphasize his demand, he began to tickle me.
“Yes, I surrender,“ I managed to gurgle. Oliver stopped tickling and smiled at me. I think we all had the same thought at the same time. Oliver gave me a kiss and then stood up. Rasmus let me go too.
”We haven't been this close to each other in a long time,” he said.
“I'm so glad that I have at least you two,” I replied. I took them both in my arms and we cuddled for a while before they went to their room.
I went to bed, but I was much too excited to sleep. I hoped so much that I would have a little luck this time. Some power steers everything in the right direction, Johannes had said back then. I hoped so much that he was right. I was simply hopelessly in love.
2
I had never gone to school with such happy anticipation. I met David just outside the school. He looked great with his medium-length black hair. I wondered how I had been able to ignore it for the last six months.
“Will it work this afternoon?” I immediately asked him.
"Sure, that's what we agreed on.”
“Can you maybe stay for dinner, too?“
”I'll have to check with my folks first, but I'll probably be okay.“
Of course school didn't end that day. I was going crazy. When the final bell finally rang, I sighed with relief.
”See you later,” I said to David in the park.
Fortunately, he arrived on time that afternoon. When the doorbell rang, I rushed to the door. As I looked into his green eyes, I wanted to hug him right away. But before I could make any move, he held out his hand. A little disappointed, I shook his hand. I would have liked to have smelled something on him. Well, maybe I should take it a little slower.
“Wow, you have a great room,” David marveled when we got there.
I liked my room too. It was quite large. After all, it should have been enough for two. The decor was bright and friendly, even if it wasn't designer furniture. Johannes and Petra didn't have that much money after all. They did get money from the youth welfare office for us, but we cost them quite a bit. At least they had bought us all new furniture. And since it should have been enough for Tim, I had everything twice.
David was exactly on my wavelength. We had a great conversation, of course, about school at first. First, we went over all the teachers, then we got to our classmates. David had practically no contact with them.
“They're all just too stupid for me,” he said.
I found that a bit harsh. I hadn't wanted to fool around with them either, but I didn't dislike them that much.
At some point we came back to me:
“And you really lived on the streets and worked as a prostitute?” he asked, looking at me almost admiringly.
“Yes, I told you.“ I was almost a bit embarrassed now.
”But why, you had a home, didn't you?“
”I wouldn't call it home now. It was hell for me."
David nodded thoughtfully.
“In comparison, life on the street seemed like heaven to me. No one to tell you what to do, no one to put pressure on you, no one to beat you up. It was pure freedom. Maybe there was also a bit of a sense of adventure. It was so nice to feel like an outlaw. But it was only when I met Tim that I realized that it wasn't all that great after all. And since I've been living here with Johannes and Petra, I've been quite sure that I had swapped one hell for another.“
”But if that hadn't happened, you would probably still prefer the street to life with your parents?“
”Absolutely.“
”Actually, you've been pretty lucky,” David said, smiling a little tensely.
“If you look at it that way, maybe,” I said.
The afternoon flew by. However, David visibly kept his distance from me. While I was keen to touch him, he tried to prevent it. I thought that was a shame, but maybe I was too quick. I should just be more patient.
Dinner went without a hitch. Oliver and Rasmus kept their distance as promised. Johannes and Petra were friendly.
As soon as David was gone, Oliver and Rasmus came to my room.
“So?” Rasmus asked.
“Nothing, we had a good chat.”
“Haven't you shagged yet?”
"Oliver, you're a dirty old fool.”
“But it was different with Tim.“
”That was a completely different situation."
Well, I would have liked it to be a little different too. But that could still happen. I just couldn't be too impatient.
In any case, I now spent every free minute with David. We either met at my place or went into town, to the movies or shopping. Unfortunately, we couldn't go to his place. His little sister would be such a bitch about it, I wouldn't enjoy it. His sister was two years younger than him and went to our school, two years below us. I had never seen her and David made no effort to introduce me to her. Their relationship must not have been that great. From his description, she must have been a real creep. I would have liked to have met her. But I didn't push him either. I wasn't interested in his sister, after all. But I was all the more interested in her brother. I almost went crazy in his presence. I would have liked to have scurried through his long hair, I would have loved to have nibbled on his sweet earlobe, I would have loved to have absorbed his scent, not to mention other things.
But unfortunately he still avoided any kind of physical contact, let alone making any move to touch me. He wouldn't even allow a simple hug when saying hello or goodbye. I didn't know how much longer I could keep this up.
“You just have to be more responsive,“ advised Oliver. Great. I didn't feel like risking everything right away. But it couldn't go on like this for much longer. I would have to think of something.
3
”Hi Rafael.” It was Martin, a classmate who approached me during a break. I had talked to him a few times before. He was actually a very affable guy.
“Hi,“ I replied.
”Well, you're hanging out with David all the time now.“
”Is it that obvious?”
“Well, for the first six months you practically didn't talk to anyone, and now you're almost inseparable. It's none of my business, but if I can give you some good advice, be careful with him. There's a reason why he doesn't have any friends here. We've all had our experiences.”
What was that supposed to mean? Had Martin gone completely mad? Why did he want to put me off being friends with David? David was probably right after all, that the rest of the class were all assholes.
Before I could say anything, Martin left me standing there. I wanted to go after him, but the break bell forced me back into class.
I couldn't figure out why Martin had spoken to me. Was it resentment, jealousy, but of what? Or was there a grain of truth in it? Shit, he's got a screw loose. I wanted to talk to David about it carefully that afternoon. But today of all days, he had to give his bitchy sister math tutoring. His parents had insisted on it. I was beginning to hate his sister.
At least I had time to think. I decided it couldn't go on like this. Tomorrow I would be more direct, at the risk of him rejecting me. I had wet dreams about him at night. Well, admittedly, I often helped nature along. But I didn't want to just dream about him anymore, I wanted to hold him in real life.
The next day everything was back to normal. We hung out in my room and talked about everything. At some point David brought up my time as a hustler again. I didn't know why he was so interested in this topic. It was slowly getting on my nerves. But this time I was fine with it.
“Do you remember when I first told you about it?” I started.
"Hm.”
“After that, you held me in your arms and comforted me. I thought that was great. I never wanted to let you go again. I enjoyed it tremendously. I wished you would do that to me again...“
”But I'm not gay. I think it's all perverse and disgusting,” David interrupted me harshly.
That was worse than ten slaps in the face. No one had ever cut me down like that before. I couldn't help it, I started to cry. I didn't want him to think I was a crybaby, but it hurt so much.
David was also shocked, probably also by his own reaction. He suddenly looked at me very kindly, almost like he did in the park.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm so sorry. I really like you, Rafael. But I'm just not gay. I just can't do it.” He said that now with a very soft, loving voice.
But even though it was now formulated much more kindly, the result remained the same. David couldn't and didn't want to be my boyfriend.
“But I've fallen terribly in love with you. I can't think of anything else, day or night.“
”Rafael, before I met you, I wouldn't even talk to a gay guy, I found it so perverse, abnormal and disgusting. But when I met you, I found you sympathetic, empathetic and lovable. That's why I approached you. When you told me that you were gay, I thought that you would still be the same person. But I still find tenderness and sex between boys disgusting. Rafael, I like you a lot and would like to keep you as a friend, but just as a friend.”
I had no idea how this would work. But I didn't have the courage to break off contact completely either. Maybe I secretly still had hope that...
“I'll pine away next to you, but I also want to keep you as a friend,” I replied through my tears.
“Thanks,” and then he added, more to himself: “Since I have such a hard time finding friends.”
I sat somewhat depressed at dinner. Oliver also looked unhappy. His girlfriend had broken up with him. However, this was already his second and the heartbreak didn't last very long with him. Rasmus used to say that the girls were lining up for him and almost tearing each other's eyes out over who would be allowed to comfort him.
But with me it was over before it even began. And unfortunately no one was lining up to comfort me. Well, Rasmus and Oliver and Johannes and Petra tried to comfort me. But all they could do was hold me and say that I would surely find my great love. But that didn't help much. I had already found my great love. The problem was that my great love didn't want me. I spent another sleepless night. In my thoughts, I broke off contact with David at least a hundred times, but a hundred times I thought of strategies to get him after all.
4
David was strangely reserved the next morning. During the first break, he told me that he felt sick and that he was going home. He said that he had to tutor his sister again that afternoon, so we wouldn't be able to see each other. Somehow, that was fine with me. I had to deal with myself first.
That afternoon I went to Tim's grave. I had only been there once before, when Johannes had a small stone put up. I didn't associate any memories of Tim with the place. The body that was being eaten by worms down there had nothing more to do with Tim for me. That had been clear to me since the kiss in the morgue. The memory of him was connected to our cell. But of course I couldn't go there.
Somebody had laid a white rose on his grave, strange. The stone was already overgrown with moss.
Tim Breker
*27.2.1981
+15.10.1997
That was all that was written on the stone. Although nothing reminded me of Tim here, there was a strange solemn atmosphere over the place, as there is in a cemetery.
“Dear God, Johannes always says that you are steering everything in the right direction. You gave me a new family, too. I'm grateful for that. Can't you give me a friend, too? You took Tim away from me, which I still can't understand to this day, and now you probably don't want me to have David either. Have I done something so bad that you're taking away all my friends? Please give me some happiness.”
I murmured to myself. I didn't believe that anyone would hear me, but I felt a little relieved. I even got a bit of a positive attitude. Even if I couldn't have David as a lover, I wanted to keep him as a friend at least. After all, he had accepted me as I was, considering what a gay-hater he must have been before. And I still had a tiny glimmer of hope that he would change his mind. After all, this was all completely new to him. I thought back to that afternoon in the park. I had been quite sure at the time that there was more to his embrace than mere consolation. But here, wishful thinking had probably done more than its father.
The next day David was back to normal. We spent the afternoon together as if nothing had happened. But at some point he came back to my time at the station. It was slowly getting on my nerves.
“What's with all the questions and prying about my life as a hustler?” I asked him annoyed. “You're not gay. Why do you want to know so much?”
“Maybe I want to understand you better,” he replied, equally annoyed.
Was that what was standing between us? He certainly found it disgusting that I had sold myself to men. But I didn't dare to ask for fear of the answer.
In any case, the good mood was gone and David disappeared pretty soon.
The next few weeks were a rollercoaster ride. Sometimes it was like it used to be, then, without warning, there was a change in mood and he was suddenly extremely cold to me. But one thing didn't change: in his presence, I still had a tingling sensation, an almost irresistible urge to hold him. If I had hoped that this would fade over time, I was mistaken.
However, our meetings outside of school became less and less. Sometimes he had to help his sister with her homework, sometimes he just didn't feel like it. But what worried me more was that he disappeared more and more often during school hours. At first he apologized with nausea or headaches, but later he just disappeared without saying anything. The next math test was a complete failure, even though math was actually his specialty. When he also failed the English test two weeks later, I was seriously worried. I wondered again whether it was because of me. Maybe he couldn't handle having a gay friend. If that was the case, we would just have to end the friendship. Even if I didn't want to imagine it, I didn't want to be the cause of him getting into trouble at school. Then I would just have to suffer and hopefully it would have passed at some point. I almost threw up at the thought.
Nevertheless, when David wanted to sneak out of school again the following Monday, I grabbed him by the arm and tried to pull him into a corner.
"I really need to talk to you.”
“Let go of me, you fagot,” he shouted at me. ‘You're just disgusting.’
I let go of him, frozen with shock. No one else had heard, but no one had ever insulted me so badly. Without saying another word, David turned around and ran away.
That was the last straw. I didn't have to take that. I had done everything I could. I hated him. I never wanted to see him again.
On Tuesday, David didn't even show up at school. 'Hopefully he ran in front of a car,' I thought.
He didn't show up on Wednesday either. 'I hope he stays lost.'
On Thursday, he was still missing. 'He'll see what happens to him.'
On Friday, he was still missing. 'If I were him, I'd slowly start turning up again.'
He didn't turn up the next Monday either. 'I'll have to ask Martin if he always does this.'
'Hey, Martin, can I ask you a question?'
“Yes, of course. Is it about David?“
”Exactly. How did you know?”
“Well, you can see that. You're experiencing what we all experienced with him. At first he's really friendly and you think he's the nicest guy there is. And then, at some point, he suddenly has blackouts, yells at you or even wants to beat you up. All out of the blue. That's how it was with you, wasn't it?”
“Yes, exactly.“ So it probably had nothing to do with me being gay. After all, it was unlikely that the whole class was gay. Somehow that calmed me down a little.
”Did he always skip school?“ I asked.
”No, this is the first time he's done it.”
Immediately I felt a sense of guilt again. Damn, I hadn't done anything to him. Why did I feel guilty again?
When David still hadn't shown up on Tuesday, I decided to do something. I wanted to go and see him at home and find out once and for all what was actually going on. Damn, I didn't even have his address, let alone his phone number. I realized that David had always avoided talking about his home or his parents. The only one he occasionally mentioned was his sister, who seemed to get on his nerves. I could actually ask her about David. But I didn't know her either and I didn't even know exactly which class she was in. Finally, I had a bright idea. I could just ask for his address at the office. During the big break, I went there.
“Good morning, Ms. Weber. I'm Rafael Schumann. I'm in class 10b. I'm here about David Jendralsky. He's been absent for a week and I'd like to visit him at home, but I don't have his address. Could you possibly give it to me?”
“Being absent is good, skipping is bad. I just wrote a letter to his parents,” replied Ms. Weber. ‘Unfortunately, I can't give you his address. We're not allowed to give out any student information here.’
I must have looked completely disappointed. Anyway, she continued:
“But I can give you a tip. The parents' representatives usually make class lists with the names, addresses and phone numbers of all the students. Why don't you ask your parents? They probably have a list like that."
That was true; I had received it at the beginning and given it to Petra. But there might be another possibility.
“Ms. Weber, David also has a sister here. I think she must be in 8a or 8b. Maybe you can tell me which class she is in.“
”David doesn't have a sister, at least not at our school."
I must have misheard that. That couldn't be right. Completely stunned, I looked at her. That's probably why she added:
“Definitely not, I had looked for his file to write the letter to his parents."
5
What was that now? Was I on ‘Hidden Camera’? I looked around, but nothing happened. Damn it, why is this asshole lying to me like this? What was love a moment ago has now finally turned into hatred. I had never been so betrayed, so deceived. What did this shit think? Now I was finally done with him. But I wanted to throw that at least still personally in his face.
So I asked Petra for the class list as soon as I got home. It really existed and it did indeed contain all the addresses and phone numbers. All except one. There was nothing for David Jendralsky, no address, no phone number. Damn! Now there was only one option left. I grabbed the phone book. Fortunately, David's name wasn't Meier. At least there were five Jendralskys. Three of them had an address. I got the city map. It couldn't be too far from me. At least you had to be able to reach it on foot. Two Jendralskys were immediately ruled out. She lived at the other end of town. That left one and the two without an address. Of course, there was also the possibility that David's parents were not listed in the phone book at all. I thought about it for a moment. I didn't want to call, but to talk to him in person. But two Jendralskys didn't have an address. Before I set out in vain, I wanted to clarify the two. So I dialed the first number.
“Jendralsky,“ a woman's voice answered.
”Hello, I'd like to speak to David,“ I began.
”We don't have a David here. They must have dialed the wrong number.“
”Please excuse the disturbance.”
There were still two left. Unfortunately, no one answered the phone at the next number. All right, then I would visit the third address first: Humboldtring 84. Armed with the map, I set off. It took me a quarter of an hour. Then I stood in front of a huge apartment building. There were at least 100 names on the front door. It took me at least 10 minutes to find Jendralsky. Fortunately, it said “5th floor, on the right”. I was about to ring the bell when I realized: he probably wouldn't let me in, and then I would be standing here and all would have been in vain. I had to somehow get into the building and ring the bell at the apartment door directly. Then he could no longer escape me.
Fortunately, a couple left the house a short time later. I took the opportunity to slip into the house. I took the elevator to the fifth floor. The apartments were all located on a gallery that opened to the outside. After some searching, I finally found the right apartment. I took a deep breath and pressed the bell button.
A two-tone gong sounded. At first nothing happened. Then I heard a crash, like a chair falling over. Next, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. Finally, the door opened.
I saw a woman, not particularly tall. She was wearing a housewife's smock. If she had been beautiful, she was no longer, at least not now. Her face looked haggard. Her hair was unkempt and stood out in all directions from her head. Her eyes were glassy. She somehow looked right through me.
“What do you want?“ she slurred.
No doubt about it, the woman was drunk as a skunk. I must have come to the wrong address. Just to say something, I replied,
”I'd like to speak to David."
Instead of answering, she burst out laughing hysterically. I was completely horrified.
“What's the matter? Who is it?“ I heard a deep voice from the apartment. A short time later, a giant of a man in stained trousers and a ribbed undershirt appeared.
The woman stopped laughing.
”Someone wants to speak to David,” the woman whispered.
“David doesn't live here anymore,” the man began, almost whispering. ‘You can look for him at the train station, where he belongs.’ His tone increased. ‘That cocksucker, that backstabber. And if that bastard should dare to show his face here again, I'll carry him back to the train station myself, after breaking every single bone in his body.’ The man was almost screaming now. Then he looked at me penetratingly and began again in a threatening voice:
“And you? Are you also part of this troop?” His face took on a disgusted expression.
I had only one thought: just get out of here. I turned around and ran, ran down the 5 floors, just out of the house. I didn't even stop outside. I ran without looking left or right, and kept running for about 15 minutes before I finally stopped, completely exhausted. Coincidentally, it was exactly the park where I had sat on the bench with David. My lungs hurt when I inhaled, I was so out of breath. I sat down.
It was as if the scales had fallen from my eyes. Suddenly everything was clear. It all fell into place like a jigsaw puzzle: the invented sister, the mood swings, the constant questions about my time as a hustler – I had told him about the initial feeling of freedom, but he probably didn't want to hear the rest – his truancy and ultimately his disappearance.
I burst into tears and cried and cried. And as if fate wanted to mock me even more, I sat exactly on the bench where everything had started not too long ago. Only this time there was no one there to hold me and comfort me. And just today I was sure that it was more than just comforting. But this realization only made me cry even more.
6
At some point, I made my way home. At home, I ran right into Johannes. When he saw me, he immediately pulled me into his study.
“Hey, big guy, what's wrong?”
“I'm just bad luck for everyone. Anyone who gets involved with me can make their will,” I said through my tears.
“What's the matter now?“ he asked, shocked. ‘Now tell me everything in order.’
I told him what had happened in the last week, up to my visit to David's parents.
”I only want the best. But everything I touch turns to evil,” I ended.
Johannes took me in his arms.
“You overestimate your infernal power, my boy. What happened to Tim was an unfortunate chain of circumstances in which you had no part at all. And now, the story with David, that would have happened sooner or later anyway. Maybe you accelerated it by a few weeks, but you couldn't have prevented it. If you had known beforehand how much emotional stress David was under, if he had said anything, you might have been able to arrange something.
“I just misread all the signs,” I whined.
"Now stop blaming yourself. You couldn't have known. In retrospect, it always seems as if you could have known. But that's not the case.”
“Yes, I should have recognized it. I experienced it all myself,“ I whispered.
”Cheer up, maybe we can still help your David. I'll contact the youth welfare office and see what can be done,“ Johannes promised.
”Is it any use if I forbid you to look for David?” he then asked.
“Please don't do that, I don't want to have to lie to you,“ I replied.
”You know why I have concerns?“
”Don't worry. I've found something here that I've never had in my whole life: a real home. I'm not going to risk that."
Johannes hugged me and whispered in my ear, ”I hope you're strong enough.”
I just nodded my head slightly.
The next day, after I had finished my homework, I went to the train station. I arrived around 5 o'clock. That was just the right time. Before that, there were usually no boys there. It was a strange feeling going back there after more than a year. The number of addicts seemed to have decreased a bit. Otherwise, not much had changed. The area where the prostitutes stood was still as unsightly as before. Some guys were already there. David was not there. I didn't know any of the others either. Maybe he came later, maybe he wouldn't come at all. I used to take time off more often when I had enough money. So I stood in a corner as inconspicuously as possible and watched what was happening. Automatically, I began to see the scene through the eyes of a hustler. The people were divided into colleagues/competitors, potential clients and cops. Everyone else fell through the cracks and was practically unregistered. All the boys at the station did it this way. Of course, the other boys here too. It wasn't long before one of the other boys, about three years older than me, came over to me.
“Hi“
”Hi,“ I replied.
”You're new here.“ That was a rhetorical question for him. That's why he didn't wait for an answer, but continued directly:
”Do you know the rules?"
The rules were: no price dumping and no hitting on punters that another guy was already on. I still knew everything exactly.
“Hey, I'm just waiting here,“ I replied. The boy just looked at me uncomprehendingly.
”I'm looking for someone,“ I explained to him. It seemed to sink in.
”Well, I'd do it for less with you too.” I had now fallen into the category of a client for him, even though I was still so young myself.
“No, thanks, I'm looking for a specific one,“ I tried to explain further.
”Why, I'll do you better,“ the boy persisted. I almost had to laugh now.
”I don't want sex, I'm looking for a buddy.” Now he finally understood.
“Oh, I see. Do you maybe have 5 marks for me?“ That was the usual tactic when a client didn't want you to get at least something out of it. It had probably become so ingrained in him that this question came automatically.
”Hey, you have more money than me,“ I replied.
”How do you figure that?“
”I was in the business myself once.”
“And why aren't you anymore?“
”I've got something better.“
”Do you live with a guy?” That was always a comfortable situation for a hustler. To have a client with whom you could live. Then you had already solved the biggest problem, namely accommodation and meals, and at most you needed to earn a little extra from time to time.
“Nah, I've got a foster family.“ Of course, that didn't impress the boy.
”Pffff,“ he made contemptuously and was about to leave.
”Wait a minute.“ The boy turned around again. ‘Do you know a David, long black hair, green eyes?’
”What do you want with him?” the other asked suspiciously.
“He's a buddy of mine. I heard he's working here.“
”Oh, I see. He was here yesterday. Haven't seen him today. Maybe he'll come. What's his name, anyway?“
”Rafael. And you?“
”Tim.“ Oh, no!
”I'm going to move on,” Tim ended and left me standing there.
At least I now knew that David was really here. I just had to wait for him to show up. I was already thinking about how I wanted to approach him. Hopefully he wouldn't run away again. I would suggest to him that we could look for a solution together with Johannes. There was no way he could go back home. I was so lost in thought that I didn't pay attention to my surroundings. So I was really shocked when a man spoke to me.
“Are you new here? What do you do?” Of course, he meant what sexual practices I offered.
“I'm just waiting here,” I said firmly. No thanks, that was really over now, it really didn't have to be. The guy mumbled something about “waiting somewhere else” and left.
From then on, I was more attentive and changed my place as soon as I noticed that a guy was staring at me or looking for eye contact. I waited another two hours, then I had no more hope that Tim would come and went home.
7
Johannes caught me right at the entrance and pulled me into the study.
“And,” he asked.
“I didn't find him, but I found out that he was already there. I'll keep looking for him.“
”And what are you going to do when you find him?“
”I want to tell him that the path he has chosen is a dead end. And I will tell him that there is another way without him having to go back to his parents.”
Johannes nodded: “I haven't reached anyone at the youth welfare office yet, but there are certainly possibilities. But now it's time for dinner. We waited especially for you.”
Only Johannes and Petra knew about this latest development. We hadn't told Oliver and Rasmus anything. Nevertheless, the two of them realized that something was wrong and came to me later.
“What's going on now? You're totally out of it,“ Oliver started.
”Oh, I'm still sad about David.“
”Forget that jerk. If he doesn't want you, it's his own fault,” Oliver advised.
“There's something else. That David doesn't want you isn't everything,” said Rasmus. The boy had an almost uncanny sensitivity. He sensed immediately when something was wrong.
“Come on, Rafael, you've always told us everything before. Don't you trust us anymore?“ He looked at me so sadly that I couldn't do anything else. I told them what had happened. They were shocked too, of course.
”That's terrible. What are you going to do?”
“I'll go to the station every day until I find him. And then I'll have to try to convince him to look for another solution.“
”We'll come with you and help you look,” Oliver offered. ”And if you can't, we can look on our own.”
“Absolutely not. Johannes didn't want me to look for him. If I take you to the station, he'll kill me,“ I defended myself. Johannes couldn't even know that the two of them had this idea at all.
”All right,” the two of them submitted, somewhat sadly, ‘but if we can help you in any way, you'll say so.’ I promised.
The next afternoon I went to the train station again. I waited for almost three hours, but David didn't show up.
On Friday I didn't have to do any homework. I postponed that until Saturday morning. So I was already at the station at three o'clock. Maybe I had always been too late to meet him. Despite the early hour, two boys were already there. I already knew one of them and asked him about David. But he hadn't seen him for a long time. So I waited some more. I was approached by more and more men, but I always said that I was just waiting here. Of course, that became less and less credible. Some guys who had approached me the day before tried again. Maybe they still hoped to be successful. My answer was a bit stupid, of course. No boy waits day after day at a certain place, and certainly not at the train station. But I didn't want to tell the real reason. That was none of their business. So I kept waiting and watching the scene. At some point I saw him. I had to look twice. But there was no doubt about it. It was him. He was the only one I was afraid of meeting. If I had met the guy who had raped me, or the sadist who had beaten me up and then thrown me out of the car without paying, I wouldn't have cared. I would have spat in their faces. But him! I really hoped he wouldn't come here anymore. I briefly considered running away, but I was paralyzed. My past had caught up with me.
8
Gerhard had been one of my regular lovers. He came almost every week, even when he didn't have time to take me with him. He always brought me something, sometimes without asking for something in return. He often took me out to dinner. And he also helped me as much as he could when I had problems. He was the only one I had emotional contact with during that time. He was almost a father-substitute for me. However, he also wanted to go to bed with me. And that didn't quite fit. Nevertheless, if he had asked me at the time if I would stay with him, I probably would have done. I couldn't imagine that I would find a real family again. But Gerhard never asked me either, because he was married and of course didn't want to give that up. My feelings swung between gratitude and hatred. I really didn't know how I should behave towards him.
Of course, he had spotted me immediately and came over to me beaming with joy.
“Hi, Rafael, I didn't think I'd see you again,” he began.
“Me neither,” I thought, smiling painfully.
“I've been looking for you for months. Where were you?“
”I messed up. I was in jail.“
”What did you do?“ he asked.
”I stole something from a client.“ Gerhard looked at me reproachfully.
”Was it worth it?”
Yes, I thought to myself, it was. “No, probably not,” I replied.
“But now you're back,” Gerhard said.
“I'm not...” I started, but Gerhard wouldn't let me finish.
“I missed you a lot. But after you disappeared, I looked for someone new. But I couldn't find anyone who was like you. A few weeks ago, I found someone who reminded me a lot of you. But unfortunately, it seems that he has also disappeared again.”
I hardly listened to him because I knew what was coming. I feverishly thought about what to do. It didn't take long before he asked:
“Would you like to come with me?”
Shit, shit, shit, I just thought.
I didn't answer him, but almost as if under duress, I nodded.
He took me, as before, to this hourly hotel. The same sleazy owner was still sitting in the entrance, where you paid 25 marks for the room. The stairs were still as dark as ever, with the worn carpeting, and the room was still as shabby. The furnishings consisted of a bed, a table with a chair and a sink. Otherwise, you didn't need anything. The furnishings were perfectly adequate for what I was doing there.
I functioned, yes, that was probably how you could put it, I functioned, no more and no less. Afterwards, though, I felt like shit. Gerhard sensed that something was wrong.
“What's the matter?” he asked.
“I'm not on the game anymore.”
“What?” He looked at me blankly.
I told him what had happened, that I had found a family through prison and was actually happy there now. Gerhard turned pale.
“Why didn't you tell me that? And why did you come with me at all?”
If only I knew myself. I just shrugged my shoulders.
“And anyway, if you're not on the game anymore, why are you hanging around here at the station?“
”I'm looking for someone here,” I replied. Gerhard looked at me questioningly.
I told him the broad outlines of David's story: that I had fallen in love with him, but that he was not gay, that he had difficult family circumstances and that he had probably ended up here.
Gerhard grew paler and paler as I told him my story.
“David is the boy I told you about earlier,” he whispered almost.
I didn't think I was hearing right. David, the new hustler of my former client? I, who loved him, wasn't even allowed to hug him and Gerhard was allowed to fuck him for 100 bucks. I felt the anger rising in me.
“You pig!“ I shouted at him. ‘Why are you doing this to him? He's not even gay.’ Gerhard flinched.
”Now give me a break. I didn't force him to do anything, you know that very well. He was here on the stroll and I wasn't even his first client.”
He was right. I couldn't say whether this was a comedy or a tragedy. David and I had never even kissed, let alone had sex with each other, but we let ourselves be fucked by one and the same client.
“But still,“ I began.
”And as far as being gay is concerned, he's at least as gay as you are, believe me,“ he concluded.
”But he...“ I started again.
”If I may remind you of what you always told me: that you always think of a horny chick when you do it, otherwise you couldn't do it at all. Have you already forgotten that?”
I blushed. He was right. I had already made my coming out as painful as possible. But why was David doing exactly the same shit now? He knew what had happened to me. I couldn't understand that at all. However, a solution was slowly forming in my mind. If he really was gay, he just needed someone to help him with his coming out. And that should be feasible. Gerhard probably realized that I was thinking.
“If I may give you some advice. If you want to help your friend, you have to hurry. He has started snorting cocaine. And the last time he told me that a client had offered to move in with him. The client would then supply him with cocaine. And since he hasn't shown up since, I'm afraid he accepted the offer.”
Oh no. As if one thing wasn't enough already. But that didn't change the solution I had come up with.
“I have to go then,” I said. I didn't want any money from Gerhard. Nevertheless, he put a 100 in my pocket.
“You never know when you might need it,” he said. I couldn't imagine what for, but I kept the money anyway. I would put it in my desk. Whatever I bought with it, it would always remind me of this hour in this sleazy dive. That's why the money could go moldy in my desk for all I cared.
“Take care,“ Gerhard said goodbye, this time probably goodbye forever.
”Take care."
This chapter of my life was probably finally closed after this relapse.
At least I now knew exactly what I wanted to do.
9
As soon as I got home, I rushed to Johannes in his study.
“Hello, what's going on? You've got a lot of energy,“ he said.
”I have a lead on David. I think I can find him within a week.“
”Well, get started then,” he urged me.
I told him what I had learned. But I kept quiet about the 100-mark bill, which was crackling in my pocket, and how I had come to have it.
“And how do you think you should proceed?” he asked.
“Well, first of all I have to find him, and then I have to help him to accept himself and then...“ I hesitated and looked at Johannes with my favorite dachshund eyes.
”Look, Tim was supposed to live with us too, and there's still a bed available in my room. I thought David could maybe come to us."
Johannes looked at me sadly and then shook his head.
“I'm sorry, but that's not possible.“ A world collapsed inside of me.
”Please,“ I begged him, ‘why can't it be possible?’
”Well, for starters, I don't know if he's ready to accept himself like that.”
“Let me worry about that, I can do it,“ I interrupted him.
”Then I don't know if he fits into our family,“ he continued.
”We'll manage. We'll bend him so that he fits. Rasmus and Oliver will certainly help me with that. If he only has a family again, everything will be fine.”
“And the third and worst thing for me is that he is a drug addict. You saw for yourself not too long ago that we still have to be careful about that. I don't want to take in an addict and risk our whole family because of him. David needs one hundred percent care now, if he wants it at all.“
”But he would have that with us.”
“But then our family will go to the dogs. The risk is too great for me.“
”You wanted to take in four guys from jail. You didn't think the risk was too great then,” I desperately interjected.
“I had several months to observe you. I was able to assess that. Besides, none of you were drug addicts. The only small risk - and I never wanted to tell you this - that I saw was, strangely enough, the relationship between you and Tim. I wouldn't have known what we should have done if you had reoriented yourselves in the changed environment.”
“Fortunately for you, that was spared,“ I said cynically. He was probably out of his mind.
”I just wanted to tell you that I'm also willing to take a risk if it's assessable."
I didn't even hear that anymore.
“You just don't want me to be happy. You only talk about risk when something doesn't suit you. You begrudge me my happiness. You should have left me where I was. At least that would have been more honest,” I shouted at him.
“I hate you all,” I added, rushing out of the room, slamming the door behind me and running straight into my room, past the horrified Rasmus, who was just passing by. I threw myself on my bed and wept bitterly. I would not stay here any longer. Once again I had been so deeply disappointed. I cried so hard that I didn't hear the door to my room open quietly. I only jumped when someone gently stroked my head. It was Rasmus, who sat on my bed
and wanted to comfort me.
“Get lost!” I shouted at him. “You all don't want me.”
“Yes, I do,” he said quietly.
“Maybe you do, but Johannes doesn't. He does everything to make me unhappy.“
”That's not right. Johannes does everything for us.“
”If he loved me, he would allow me to get David here.“
”Maybe he doesn't allow it right now because he loves you.“
”That's nonsense.”
“Maybe he doesn't want to have to watch you go under because you can't get a grip on David.“
”But what else can I do?“
”Haven't you talked to him about other ways to help David?"
I shook my head. ”I don't know of any others.”
“And just because you don't know of any other options, there aren't any other options?“ ‘Why don't you ask Johannes? If there is any possibility, he will surely help you.’
I had probably focused so much on this one solution that I was not open to anything else.
”What should I do now? I yelled at Johannes so badly.”
“The same as I did then. You go and apologize. I'm sure he'll look for a solution with you."
So I crept back into Johannes' study with my tear-stained eyes. He was sitting at his desk, and his eyes were also red.
“Sorry. I must have behaved very badly. I was so focused that I didn't want to see anything else. Will you forgive me again?“ He came up to me and took me in his arms.
”That really hurt me. Believe me, my big boy, I don't want to do anything that could harm you. I love you very much.”
“I know that. But I was so desperate.“
”So desperate that you didn't even want to look for other solutions.“
I just nodded.
”Do you want to look for possibilities together with me?"
I nodded again.
“Well, originally I thought David could go to a supervised living group. He would have been able to go to school normally again and everything would have developed further, wherever it was going. I had already made some inquiries.
If he takes cocaine, it's more difficult. He can't get rid of it on his own anymore. He needs professional help.”
“Yes, I remember. When the junkies were going through withdrawal, they were in agony.“
”With cocaine, it's a bit different. You don't suffer any physical pain when you stop taking it.“
”So withdrawal should be a lot easier.”
“That's not quite right. Cocaine is insidious. It makes you feel great and very active. But when the effect is over, you fall into a hole. And the more often you take the stuff, the worse the depression is afterwards. And to fight that, you need more cocaine. You don't feel any pain, but that's almost worse than with heroin.”
“And what can be done?“
”It can almost only be done in a closed environment. But the most important thing is that David wants it at all. If he sees no need for it, it's no use. If he starts again where he left off after the withdrawal, he'll quickly be back where he is today.”
“And what can I do?“
”You probably know that best yourself. You can try to make him realize that he is maneuvering himself into a situation that is just as bad in the end as the one he fled. And if he really is gay, you can try to help him with his personal coming out to take away this mental tension from him.”
“That's pretty difficult,“ I mused.
”Well, I think so too.”
“But I have to at least try. I owe it to him and to myself.“
”You still love him?"
I nodded. Not a day went by when I didn't have to think about that one scene in the park. That was the only time David was naturally towards me. And I loved that David. And it devastated me that he wasn't anymore. I got teary eyes again.
“Take care of yourself, big guy. I know I can't stop you from looking for David. But be careful. It won't help anyone if you go to the dogs in the process. Promise me.“
”I promise,” I concluded.
10
I continued to spend all my free time at the train station. By now I was well known there, both by sex workers and punters. But I was no longer harassed. I also met Gerhard again. He asked about the success of my search, but no longer asked me if I wanted to come with him. He was still looking for a replacement for me. I almost felt sorry for him.
One day I finally got the first sign of life from David. One of the boys told me that he had been there an hour earlier. He had apparently really been staying with a client who had practically doused him with cocaine. But the client had apparently had enough of him by now and had kicked him out. He had not been in a good mood and would soon have disappeared again.
Well, at least something. Maybe he would show up again. I waited as long as I could, but David didn't show up. Of course I was late for dinner and got punishing looks.
“How long do you want to keep this up?” Petra asked.
“I have to have at least one conversation with him.” At least I could report that it probably wouldn't take that long anymore.
The next day, I ran into Tim at the train station. He immediately started giving me a hard time:
“I think you can forget about your buddy.”
"Why?”
“He was here again last night, totally aggressive. He was hassling people and almost started a fight, the idiot. In any case, he got into trouble with the cops and they banned him from the premises. I went out with him to calm him down. We ran into a client who was looking for one or two guys for a trip to Berlin over the weekend. I don't do that kind of thing, even though the guy sang the praises of Berlin: the stuff is cheaper there, the scene is much bigger and, in general, everything is much cooler. This place is pure provincial in comparison. Well, like I said, I don't do that kind of thing, I've already had bad experiences. But David pricked up his ears. He had to get out of here for a while anyway, and he could just as easily sell his body in Berlin. Besides, he had always wanted to go to Berlin. And then he left with the guy."
Oh shit, that was it then. I had to give up the search. Johannes would never allow me to go to Berlin. I thought feverishly. Maybe he hadn't gone with him after all. Or he would come back after the weekend. I decided to look for him again at the beginning of the following week. And if I hadn't heard from him by Tuesday, I would follow him to Berlin. It was crazy and I probably had to leave without saying anything. Johannes would never have allowed it. But otherwise I wouldn't have been able to find any peace. It would be even more difficult to find him in Berlin, but on the other hand I could search for him all day and not just a few hours like here.
I didn't find David on Monday or Tuesday. Nobody else had seen him either. On Tuesday, I started asking about train connections to Berlin.
The trip would cost 70 marks. I hadn't even thought of that. Fare dodging was out of the question, the route was too long for that. I had no chance. My pocket money supplies were also pretty much used up. Then I remembered Gerhard's hundred-mark bill, which was still sitting in my desk, going to waste. Yes, that would work. I could use that.
I wondered whether I should tell Rasmus and Oliver about my plans. But I decided against it because I didn't want to get the two of them into a conflict. I would have to ask them to keep quiet, while Petra and Johannes would surely grill them about where I was.
I finally decided to write a letter to everyone.
Dear Petra, dear Johannes, dear Rasmus, dear Oliver,
I know you might be disappointed, but I can't act differently. I found out that David has left town. I also found out where he went. I just have to find him and talk to him, no matter what the outcome is. Otherwise, I can't get closure. I promise I'll be back by Sunday at the latest. Please don't worry. I hope you can forgive me.
Your Rafael
Then I took the school books out of my school backpack and put some things in instead. That should be enough until the weekend.

‘Ladies and gentlemen. As you have probably already noticed, we are already on our descent. We therefore ask you to fasten your seat belts and put your seat backs in an upright position. We will land in Amsterdam in about 10 minutes.’
Arno looked out of the window a little worried. Although he was almost fifteen, it was his first flight, so he was a little afraid of the landing, but of course he didn't want to show his neighbour.
Away from home for the first time. For three weeks. Still, he had mixed feelings, especially when some of his friends had made fun of the trip the day before. It was a ‘bum trip’ with nothing but kids without money, they said, whose parents couldn't afford a holiday. Sure, they weren't wrong... Arno really did come from a poor family, and his father was also a well-known drunk? 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 football pitch, which got him into trouble again shortly before leaving for the airport when the friend's father called his mother. Arno took it in his stride. He had learnt early on from his father what it meant to be a real man. Although he wasn't the tallest, he never missed a fight and usually had the last word. He was a well-respected lad among his friends, even though he often had the impression that many only followed him out of fear, which made him even more proud. He didn't want to come across as a wimp, especially since he had been fighting with himself emotionally in the last few months. He felt something deep inside that didn't belong there, wasn't supposed to be there.
While Arno was brooding again, the plane touched down almost unnoticed at the airport. So, here he was now? Holland. In fact, the trip was organised by a non-profit organisation that wanted to offer children from socially disadvantaged families the opportunity to get to know a new country, new people and new families.
‘They're so sweet,’ he heard a woman say to his mother at the airport in Vienna, patting the plump daughter's head. “Melanie is going for the third time and it's strange that your son hasn't heard from his host parents yet. They usually write beforehand and introduce themselves.”
Arno pretended not to have heard. His mother always has to talk to complete strangers. But he was still worried. What if no one came to pick him up? Or what if they were perverts who would do all kinds of experiments on him? Shortly before boarding the plane, Arno wondered whether he should lock himself in the airport toilet so as not to have to go? But now he was there.
From Amsterdam, he travelled by bus to a collection point where numerous parents and a few children were already waiting for their guests.
The names of the children were read out in order, and one child after another left the bus and was warmly welcomed outside.
‘Great. They really forgot about me. This is off to a great start,’ thought Arno.
‘Arno Stifter? To the de Bleeker family!"
Arno grabbed his luggage, adjusted his sunglasses and climbed off the bus.
‘Hello Arno, I'm Jan. How are you?’ 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 bit. The journey was very exhausting. I'm Arno? but I'm sure you already know that!"
There was silence in the car for the first few minutes? before Jan bombarded him with questions. What he was into, whether he likes football, what music he listens to, whether he has a girlfriend, etc.
Yes, he played football, he liked to listen to rock music and no, he didn't have a girlfriend. The question about the girlfriend almost made him brood again, if Jan hadn't already entertained him further.
‘So my wife Wilma and I, we have a son. He just turned one!’
‘Oh nice. A little rug rat,’ thought Arno, and somehow he was disappointed. What could you do with a one-year-old? It would be a lousy three weeks. Barbecues in the garden, Sunday afternoon coffee, visits to relatives and all that crap. When Jan finally stopped talking, Arno looked thoughtfully at the slowly darkening landscape. He almost fell asleep when the car suddenly stopped.
‘Well, here we are! Everybody out!‘
’So you must be Arno. Welcome!‘ A tall, pretty woman gave him a warm hug, which Arno didn't like at all. He had never been able to handle such caresses.
’You must be very tired. It's best if we show you where you can sleep right away. Tomorrow we can get to know each other better!’
Wilma and Jan showed him to the attic, which was small but very cosy. There was even a small fridge and a TV of his own. He didn't have anything like that at home.
After they had brought him a bottle of coke, they wished him good night. ‘You'll meet Thys tomorrow, he's already asleep.’
Thys, so that was their son's name.
Arno quickly went to bed and thought he would fall asleep soon. The journey was really very exhausting. But now he lay there and was awake. As always, he then brooded over this and that. So they had a son, it would have been nice if he had been his age. They could have done something with him, played football or whatever? and again those strange feelings came over him, something was still there? a boy his age...
‘Oh, asshole,’ Arno thought to himself and then fell asleep.
The first few days were relatively uneventful: sometimes Arno helped Jan in the garden, then he went shopping with Wilma, and here and there Arno caught himself playing boisterously with little Thys, who he? whether he liked it or not? had immediately taken into his heart. He also caught himself looking around anxiously while playing with the toddler, as if one of his friends could see him. ‘Arno the wimp. Playing with little kids!’ But Arno was away from home... and it did him good. He had a family around him who seemed to like him. There was no arguing, no shouting, and he fell asleep easily every night. At home, he often woke up with a start, especially when his father came home drunk from the pub...
‘On Saturday we are going to an amusement park. I hope you like that and oh yes, you will also meet Jeroen. He is my sister's son and?‘
’Please, not a year old,‘ Arno thought to himself.
’And he is about your age. A little younger than you,’ Wilma continued.
Arno couldn't think of anything else until Friday evening but this Jeroen. Who could he be? What would he look like? He felt a little queasy again. Why was he worrying about the appearance of another boy? And then even more thoughts came to his mind, which were also approved by a certain body part! Oh man, what was that about? Since it made him feel increasingly insecure, he decided to eliminate this name from his thoughts for the time being. Jeroen. He couldn't even pronounce the name properly, and he wouldn't understand it anyway, and anyway, shit.
Saturday morning.
Arno stood in front of the mirror in the small attic room. Somehow he wanted to make an impression on Jeroen; after all, he couldn't come across as a full-fledged farmer. He took his favourite jeans out of his pocket, a pair of faded blue Levis (his mother had bought them at a flea market without his knowledge). He put them on with a simple, pitch-black T-shirt. He didn't need anything else; it was July and mercilessly hot. He stood in front of the mirror for a few minutes. His black, medium-length hair stood on end in all directions. Some gel had to be worked into it, so it was slapped back on the left and right, and up in the middle. Except for a small strand that hung over his forehead, only because it covered a huge pimple that had to sprout on this day of all days. Actually, Arno liked himself quite a bit: black hair, dark eyes, fair skin (Arno hated lying in the sun). Normal height for his age, not too muscular, but quite wiry and the strongest when it mattered.
‘I'll show Jeroen,‘ Arno heard himself say, and blushed like a turkey. There it was again, that thinking. “Man, pull yourself together! You wimp!” Before he got too angry, he ran downstairs, where Wilma and Thys were already waiting in front of the car.
’Isn't Jan coming?’ Arno asked.
‘No, my sister Anne and her son are coming. His name is Jeroen, you'll get along well together.‘
Why did she say that? Had she heard him in front of the mirror? Did she see something that wasn't there? Arno was beginning to feel quite paranoid.
’We'll pick them up on the way. Come on! Get in, you'd better sit in the back with Thys.’
Off they went. About 20 minutes later, the car stopped at a farm. ‘Great, a farm boy?’
"My sister recently split up with her husband and moved back in with my parents with Jeroen. They own this farm. Please wait with Thys in the car, I'll get the two of them and then we'll be on our way!’
Wilma seemed to understand everything he was thinking, because he thinks ‘farm boy’ and she immediately tells him that only her parents are farmers.
Arno watched Thys, who was peacefully gurgling and playing with a stuffed lion. Damn, where were they? Arno was an extremely impatient boy and the five minutes seemed like an hour to him.
There, footsteps. The side door opened and to his left, a boy with blond, medium-length, straight hair took a seat next to the baby seat. He hid part of his hair under a black wool cap (in this heat!).
"Hello. I'm Jeroen. I speak pretty good German!’
He held out his hand to Arno, who hesitantly took it. Their eyes met briefly before both shyly looked away.
Arno was struck by lightning, his heart pounded, he sweated. He would have liked to get out and run away so as not to have to admit that he liked this boy immediately. In a way that was becoming more and more uncanny to him.
‘Stupid farmer's cap!’ he thought defiantly, not wanting his feelings to get the better of him.
So he tried not to pay attention to Jeroen at first and played the loudmouth for a while, as he was used to at home. He started talking: he would ride the roller coaster until he threw up and, as an aside, he said to Jeroen, there would definitely be a lot of women around. When he said that, he was embarrassed again and he blushed even redder than Jeroen, who was apparently overwhelmed by this news.
‘Yes, sure, a lot,’ he said, turning his head to the other side to look out the window. Wilma glanced in the rearview mirror a few times. Her expression towards Arno seemed to say, ’Don't bother! I won't buy the tough guy from you.’
‘Damn. I've had it with him,’ Arno thought to himself when Jeroen looked away from him. The blush on his face still hadn't gone away and he was ashamed of what he had said. So he decided to keep his mouth shut for now and looked out the window as well.
He was angry. At himself and at that farm boy with his stupid woolly hat. Still, he kept glancing in his direction to take a closer look at him. He really must be a year younger than him, almost 14, maybe a bit older. He could just see his nose from the side, the rest was hidden by his seemingly freshly washed hair, the smell of which Arno absorbed. The whole car seemed to be filled with it.
Jeroen was younger than him but almost the same height, although he was a bit thinner. His knee-length trousers revealed parts of his legs that were covered by a few hairs. Arno enjoyed the sight, it warmed his heart. He had never felt anything like this before? once again, total confusion.
Suddenly Thys started to scream. He had lost his lion.
‘Now I can make up for my loudmouth,’ Arno thought to himself. ‘If Jeroen sees how lovingly I take care of Thys, he might look in my direction again. Maybe then he'll talk to me too.’
Arno found the lion immediately, held it in front of Thys's face, growled and kept nudging his nose at him. It seemed to help; Thys's crying immediately turned into a contented gurgle. And it did help: Jeroen looked at him again? and actually gave him a smile, a smile like he had never received before.
‘He likes that lion.‘
’He likes you,‘ Jeroen replied.
’And I like you,’ Arno would have liked to have answered, but that would have seemed embarrassing to him at that moment.
Instead, he smiled back. He never smiled, being the ‘tough’ boy. Jeroen seemed to have forgotten the chav chat from earlier. He didn't say much, but his eyes showed that he really wanted to get to know Arno. Both boys now tried to outdo each other in clowning around for Thys. He seemed to enjoy it. When they started tickling his belly, their hands touched. Lightning! Both drew back, looked at each other and then turned back to the little boy.
‘Something is happening to me,’ Arno thought, ‘and Jeroen must feel the same.’
Playing with the baby was just a pretext, because now Jeroen also scrutinised Arno from top to bottom. He seemed to like what he saw. Finally, both ‘left’ Thys and leaned back in silence.
Arno's heart was pounding, and yet Arno felt calmer and more secure than ever before. Suddenly everything else seemed so far away; only now had he really arrived in Holland.
___________________________________________________________________________
About half an hour later they had arrived at their destination, a permanent amusement park, similar to the Prater in Vienna, where Arno often hung around. After Wilma had paid for everyone's entrance, she gave the boys another 10 euros each and said goodbye with the words: ‘So, see you here at the car at 4 o'clock!’ ‘Great,‘ thought Arno, “so they're not coming with us?”
At first, the two of them walked around rather aimlessly without saying much, before Arno tried to break the ice.
’How come you speak such good German?’ he asked him.
‘Oh, we lived in Germany for a long time. My father had a job there and so I went to school there for a few years.‘
’So now you're back here?‘
’Yes, my father not only has a new job, but he's also found a new wife. Great, isn't it?‘
’Sounds like he was quite an asshole.’
‘Nah, he's actually a great guy, apart from that. I get along well with him and visit him often in Hamburg. And how's your family?’
‘Oh, I get along with them.’ He didn't want to say anything more. He didn't want to say that his father regularly got drunk and then took his anger out at home - sometimes on him. He didn't want to say that his mother was too weak to do anything about it. He just didn't want to come across as a wimp.
‘My father drinks, but he's okay.‘ That wasn't a complete lie, because Arno didn't hate his father, which he found strange himself, especially when his father beat him black and blue.
’Why are you wearing that wool cap in this heat?‘
’Why, do you think it's silly?’
‘No, I just thought it was very unusual to wear something like that in summer.‘
’It reminds me of my best friend. I got it from him two years ago for my birthday.‘
’I see? And it reminds you of him because he still lives in Germany, right?’ At least that's where Arno wanted him to live. For some reason, he was immediately jealous of this unknown boy.
‘Not really,’ Jeroen continued. “He doesn't live with us anymore. He died a year ago of a rare heart disease. We came back to Holland shortly after that. It wasn't easy.”
Damn, with every question Arno asked him, he made him sadder, first reminding him of his father, now of his dead friend.
Jeroen obviously found it difficult to talk about, but he must have been very fond of him. Arno put his arm around his shoulder and was most surprised at this gesture himself, because he would never have dreamt of doing something like that.
‘I'm really sorry. Sorry I asked.‘ He took his arm away, although he liked playing the comforter.
’It's okay, you couldn't have known. He was just a damn good friend and I still miss him. I think it's terrible when someone has to die at that age. Imagine if something like that happened to your best friend? It feels like you've been left all alone.’
The words ‘best friend’ gave Arno a shock? he realised that he didn't have anyone like that. Sure, he always hung around with a bunch of guys, but a best friend, someone you could talk to about anything, who would listen, he never had anyone like that. Arno suddenly felt quite lonely.
‘Well, then? The rollercoaster!‘ Jeroen tried to distract him, having noticed immediately that Arno had started brooding. “Shall we go?”
’Yeah, let's go!’
They both managed to get a seat at the very front of the car. As the train lurched forward and began to crawl up the first incline, Jeroen suddenly grabbed Arno's hand and said, ‘I'm always a bit scared. You don't mind, do you?’ He gave him a sweet smile. Arno felt very strange: at home, a guy like that would have been punched in the face immediately, but with Jeroen he allowed it, and not only that, he enjoyed it.
‘Go ahead, I don't feel very comfortable in these things either,‘ Arno admitted and returned the handshake. He also tried to give Jeroen his best smile, which the other received with a grateful look.
’I'd love to kiss you!’ Damn, where did those thoughts come from again? He almost said it!
The next three minutes were thoughtless? the train rushed up and down, made three loops and both boys screamed their heads off. It was marvellous! Arno particularly enjoyed it when the ride took a sharp turn and Jeroen was pushed completely to his side. Every time this happened, Arno squeezed Jeroen's hand even harder to say: Don't worry, I'm here!
After the wild ride, the boys checked out all the attractions before they had a portion of French fries around one.
‘You Dutch are a strange bunch: you eat white bread with chocolate sprinkles for breakfast, you eat apple sauce with your bratwurst, and you smear mayonnaise on your chips!’ Arno said to Jeroen with a laugh.
‘You Austrians need to: sit around all day in your lederhosen on some mountains and yodel. Come on, yodel something for me,‘ Jeroen said, and his laughter became even louder when Arno actually tried it.
’Haha, sounds like a cow with diarrhoea,’ Jeroen said, still laughing.
‘Asshole,’ Arno replied shortly, playing offended. He did it so badly, though, that Jeroen didn't buy it. In short, the two were having a lot of fun and enjoying each other's company. Arno was amazed at himself: a boy reaches for his hand and he does? nothing! Another boy laughs at him and he does? nothing! Was it the environment or just this enchanting, blond boy who suddenly made him feel feelings he had never felt before? He just felt? good! And there was no one around who knew him. No one to whom he had to prove what a tough guy he really was.
The afternoon passed quickly and they had tried all the attractions one or more times when the boys suddenly came across a carousel that had escaped them so far. It was a kind of rollercoaster and after a few laps, the wagons closed completely, like the roof of a convertible.
‘It looks boring, but okay, let's ride it,’ said Arno. When they got in line, Arno found it strange that only couples were waiting in front of them. Jeroen also suddenly became visibly nervous. Either Arno was completely out of it, or he really didn't know that this was a carousel for lovers and that the ‘top’ closed to give couples the opportunity to smooch.
After they had both taken a seat, the merry-go-round started moving and after a few rounds the roof went down. Another round, another... and suddenly it happened: Jeroen turned to Arno and kissed him on the right cheek. After that, they both finished the ride in silence! So this Dutchman had actually done it? Arno was totally confused and didn't say a word. Jeroen didn't really know how to deal with the situation either.
‘Sorry,’ he said sheepishly after they both got out. ‘I just thought you...? Oh, I'm an idiot,’ Jeroen was close to tears.
"It's okay, I was just...? Surprised, honestly, it's okay.’
Arno looked at Jeroen again and now he slowly realised what he felt for him. He had fallen head over heels in love with Jeroen. The kiss showed him that he must feel the same way.
Arno now put all his eggs in one basket by saying, ‘Let's go again. Now it's my turn. I'll show you how to really kiss.’
Jeroen looked up in amazement, because at first he thought Arno was just messing with him. But after a few moments, he saw the seriousness in Arno's eyes. He nodded solemnly and a few minutes later they were back on the merry-go-round.
The top went down and Arno began to tremble: ‘I can't do it, why do I always have to open my mouth?’ But then he looked over at Jeroen, who smiled and turned his face towards him. ‘How cute he looks,’ Arno thought to himself, ‘oh, screw it.’
‘Open your mouth halfway,’ he ordered Jeroen in a shaky voice. Jeroen did as he was told and seconds later Arno felt Jeroen's lips on his. Jeroen breathed heavily and clutched Arno's right upper arm. Arno's trousers moved a bit as he felt Jeroen's tongue on his. He was also extremely aroused. Arno had kissed girls before, probably only because the others expected him to, but he had never felt like this before. He put his arm around Jeroen's neck and stroked his hair briefly. The smell of it, as well as the warmth of his soft skin, almost drove him crazy. He would have liked to sit here with him forever. They were still holding each other when the top had long since been opened again.
‘Get out,’ someone said, and only now did the two look around in confusion. But nobody seemed to mind; on the contrary, an older lad winked and said, ‘Happy birthday, boys!’
When they had both got out, Arno's knees were still shaking and Jeroen was no better. Both were speechless and when they slowly came to their senses, they just grinned at each other.
‘Ice cream?’ Jeroen asked and before he waited for an answer, he had already joined the queue to an ice cream stand. Arno sat down in the shade first, where he finally came to his senses. From there he watched Jeroen order, he watched the other people and finally gazed dreamily, but also thoughtfully, at the sky.
‘Here. What's up?‘ Jeroen asked, returning with two ice-cream sundaes, one of which he handed to Arno.
’Was what we just did right?‘ Arno wondered.
’Well, I liked it,’ Jeroen replied and now looked up at the sky as well.
‘But I mean, you're a boy and I'm a boy and now I'm sitting here in Holland and suddenly I realise that? I mean, you?‘
’Yes?’
‘My father says it's wrong for two boys to love each other. And everything that goes with it? He thinks they should just have their cocks cut off. When he sees two homos on TV, he really lets rip. My God, does he know?’
Arno interrupted himself. It was as clear as day, his father HAD to know about it, otherwise why would he keep talking about it? And in retrospect, Arno had given him enough ‘motives’: Arno liked to draw, he took pride in his appearance, he often sang along to songs in the car, which repeatedly earned him punishing looks from his father. All the things his father always called ‘gay’. And the most important clue: Arno had never brought a girl home, let alone spoken to one at home. He had kissed enough? now he realised that he only did that to distract, to show the others: Hey, look, I'm the top teaser!
And then Arno did something he hadn't done since he was five or six: He began to cry softly, while the ice cream Jeroen had brought him slowly melted in his hand.
‘Shhh. It's all right,’ Jeroen said comfortingly, pulling Arno's head to his chest. Now Arno cried even more: never before had anyone been so kind to him, so concerned about him? He couldn't even remember when his mother had held him like this. ‘Except for my T-shirt, you just smeared ice cream on it,’ Jeroen continued, smiling at Arno, who suddenly had to laugh, just as little Thys had done a few hours earlier when he had consoled him with the rediscovered stuffed lion? it was the total confusion of feelings.
Arno raised his head from Jeroen's chest and wiped his eyes. Jeroen put his arm around his shoulder, as Arno looked at him, no longer crying, but still sad.
Jeroen had also become pensive. His face, which had previously looked childlike, now had serious, adult features. ‘I would tell your father. You're his son, he has to realise that he's hurting you by doing this. I hope you have friends you can talk to about it.’
‘Yes, I do? You! I have to admit that I have never been able to talk to anyone like I can to you. When you were talking about your best friend earlier, it became clear to me that I have never had a person like he must have been for me. For a moment I was even angry with him before you said that it was... well...’
‘Now you have someone like that. You can trust me, with me you don't have to pretend to be someone you're not. I like you the way you are.’
Jeroen gave him another hug and kissed him on the cheek.
‘But the main thing is yet to come,’ Arno continued, ‘I think that I? Well, I think you're great and that kiss earlier?.that was the best thing I've ever experienced and I think, I think I'm?..in love with you.’ For a moment, Arno hesitated to say the word, it sounded too much like a Hollywood love film to him, but: it was the truth.
‘When I got into the car, I thought at first: what a jerk,’ Jeroen replied, ’honestly, you were talking some pretty rubbish, but somehow I realised then that there was more to you. Rough around the edges, but soft inside, is that how you say it? And now? I'm glad you're here, since we've been living in Holland again, well, I can't really connect with others anymore. My mother was thinking about taking me to a weird psychologist. At least that's what she told Wilma. I overheard them. She's worried I might lose touch. Whatever she means by that? Well, I have to come to terms with this too, like you? But again: I'm glad you're here.’
Arno swallowed, looked around briefly and then kissed Jeroen on the cheek as well. ‘Thanks for the ice cream! Another ride on the roller coaster?’
‘Screw it, okay!’
‘Yeah, screw it!’
They stood up and joined the queue for the roller coaster again.
It was almost four o'clock.
As soon as Arno got back in the car, he fell asleep. The day and all its events had made him tired. He had a strange dream: he was back home in Vienna playing football with his mates. However hard he shouted, he couldn't get the ball. What was even stranger was that he only saw them from behind. One of the players looked like Jeroen, so he shouted his name? The boy didn't turn around. He said he was there for him? ‘You arsehole!’ he shouted. Then he suddenly saw the red card in front of his face. ‘You're not allowed here anymore!’ said the referee, and when he looked at his face, he recognised his father.
Arno started. Everything was fine, Thys was playing with his toes and Jeroen looked mischievously at him.
‘You have dreams. Who was meant by “asshole”?’ he asked. Great, now he was talking in his sleep too. Arno didn't answer and looked out the window while Jeroen seemed to pepper his mother with questions. Since they were speaking Dutch, Arno dropped out quite quickly. He didn't understand anything except for a few word fragments. His name was mentioned several times, but that didn't seem to bother him, given how tired he was. Sadness had also caught up with him again, this time for a different reason: what would happen after this day? Would he see Jeroen again?
Now Anne and Wilma were talking to each other, and both seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Jeroen blushed a few times while they were talking.
‘Well, I don't see why not, and I don't think Jan would mind either. But have you actually asked Arno what he thinks about it?’ he heard Wilma say, again in German.
Jeroen's mother seemed very happy; the outing had done her son a great deal of good. He hadn't been this cheerful for a long time, especially since they had returned from Germany to the Netherlands.
‘Go on, ask him! He's just awake, quickly, before he falls asleep again!’ Anne urged him.
Jeroen cleared his throat, turned to Arno and began solemnly: ‘Hey Arno! I had an idea and I'd like to know what you think of it. You're still here for another two weeks and I'm on holiday too. So I asked Wilma if she would mind if I came to you, to Wilma and Jan. Oh, and you too, of course. We could do so many things together. What do you think?"
He didn't seem to want to hear the answer? Jeroen was visibly nervous. And Arno? If Thys hadn't been there, he would have jumped his neck on the spot. The day couldn't have ended any better. Yes, yes, of course he wanted that. He wanted to spend every free minute of the next two weeks with Jeroen. Savour every hour? Because he knew only too well that after those weeks everything would be over again. But he quickly pushed those gloomy thoughts aside. Instead of the hug, he gave Jeroen a grateful look and he had to pull himself together to stop himself from bursting into tears again - this time with joy.
Soon they were back at the farm? Jeroen's home? Anne had promised Wilma a cup of coffee, and Wilma wanted to call Jan to let him know that they now had two guests to take care of. Meanwhile, Jeroen showed Arno his room. It was clean and tidy? In the corner leaned a guitar, which Jeroen immediately grabbed and took out into the hallway. It absolutely had to come with them. A cat purred, and Jeroen immediately lovingly picked it up, stroked it, kissed it on the head and set it down again. ‘Mina,’ he said casually to Arno, who had taken a seat at Jeroen's desk. ‘Take a look around, I'll pack my things together in the meantime."
There were some photos lying around on Jeroen's desk: one showed him and his family, his father was also visible, a not unfriendly-looking guy. In another photo, he was seen with another boy, who must have been his friend.
‘What was his name?‘ Arno asked into the silence and took the photo in his hand.
’Patrik,‘ Jeroen replied briefly.
’Was he... I mean, were you?‘
’Together? No, I don't think he knew. I don't even know if I was aware of it myself at the time. You forget so quickly.’
He stopped packing for a moment, took the photo from Arno's hand and placed it on Arno's knee.
Arno thought for a moment about what to do next. He decided to put his arms around Jeroen's waist and his head on his shoulders from behind.
‘He looks very nice? I think he would have understood you!‘ Arno said.
’100%!’ Jeroen said very briefly and put the photo back in place. Nevertheless, he stayed a little longer, enjoying the embrace and the closeness of his newfound friend. But eventually he had to continue packing. Man, the things he packed, the stuff he had, it was incredible. Arno had the feeling that his suitcase had been the lightest of all when he checked in in Vienna, the few rags he had with him.
Arno glanced at a DVD shelf (Jeroen seemed to be a Steven Spielberg fan) and a bookshelf before turning towards Jeroen in a flash. He had just decided to change his T-shirt and was standing in the room naked from the waist up. Besides, it was the first time Arno saw him without his wool cap? his blond hair reached well below his ears. Unfortunately, Arno only got to see his back, but he liked it too. As already mentioned, Jeroen was slight, but not scrawny, his upper arms seemed to be strong? you could tell that he must have just had a growth spurt. Arno desperately tried to see if he already had some armpit hair, but by then he had already put on a new T-shirt. Jeroen decided to change his trousers as well. Arno only saw the back view again. He was wearing white, tight-fitting shorts that revealed a well-shaped bottom. Of course, Arno got a stiffy immediately and was seriously considering whether he should quickly go to the toilet. But at that moment, Jeroen was already ready.
‘Let's go downstairs,’ he said, brushing Arno's crotch deliberately as he passed. “I knew it,” he chuckled. The little guy knew exactly what he was doing and seemed to enjoy tantalising Arno. “You owe me one,” Jeroen whispered in his ear before leaving through the door. Arno needed a moment? then he came after him.
‘Hi Jan, we're back!‘ Arno shouted, hopping out of the car. “This is Jeroen!”
’I know, we've met!’ Jan replied, while Wilma freed Thys from his baby seat and Jeroen also got out.
‘Oh yes, I'm a stupid ass. Of course, you're related,’ Arno laughed, slapped his hand against his forehead and grabbed Jeroen's bag to take it to the attic.
‘What's wrong with him?’ Jan asked in amazement, looking at Wilma, who shrugged and pointed in Jeroen's direction without being noticed. Jan gave her an “I see” look and smiled as well. Jeroen immediately came into the room where Jan had already put an air mattress and bedding.
‘You can have my bed, I'll sleep here,‘ said Arno, who was just about to jump into the shower. Now Jeroen got to see him in almost all his glory. There was the one, dressed only in underpants? and the other, his mouth wide open.
’See you later,’ Arno whispered to him and disappeared into the shower.
Jeroen looked around curiously? Arno didn't seem to be as tidy as he appeared, and some of his clothes hadn't even been put away: they were either still in the bag or scattered on the floor. For a moment, Jeroen considered snooping around in Arno's backpack, but in the end he refrained from doing so? he had too much respect for him to do such a thing. He couldn't help smiling, though. Underneath the mountain of clothes, the ears of a crumpled stuffed rabbit peeped out. No, this tough guy still had a soft toy. Jeroen sniffed the rabbit and put it on Arno's pillow, wondering what he would say. Then he started to clear out his clothes, there was enough space in the small closet, since Arno didn't seem to use it. Jeroen smiled again and realised: he too had fallen in love with the boy. The only thing he didn't like was that sad look in Arno's beautiful dark eyes? it made him sad too, what must this boy have experienced, he wondered thoughtfully.
‘I hope I can take his mind off things when we're together,’ Jeroen thought to himself, skipping down the stairs whistling and helping to lay the table.
The shower refreshed Arno and breathed new life into him? When he entered the room, he had to smile when he saw his rabbit sitting on the pillow, even though he blushed slightly and felt caught. He put on his AC/DC T-shirt and looked at himself in the mirror again, but he wanted to get downstairs quickly. Jeroen had to see him with wet hair? because Arno himself was in love with his dark, wet, tousled hair. ‘It's a shame that they always stick out when they're dry. If only they could be wet all the time,’ he thought to himself and laughed at his own vanity.
They ate in the garden? and when Arno looked at his plate, he had to laugh: there were sausages with fried potatoes and? apple sauce. Jeroen understood immediately and laughed along, but Jan and Wilma looked surprised again, especially when Arno briefly began to yodel! Arno was very hungry: he had thrown half of his chips away in the amusement park and, as is well known, the ice cream ended up in Jeroen's T-shirt.
After dinner, everyone sat together comfortably in the garden. Although Wilma didn't like it, Arno and Jeroen were allowed to share a bottle of beer. ‘They're not little kids anymore,’ Jan said with a wink. After that, the boys talked about their day, omitting the kissing scene and other emotional turmoil, of course. When it got dark, Wilma lit some candles after she had put Thys to bed. Jeroen got his guitar? not only could he play excellently, he also sang beautifully to it. He had a pleasant, not yet fully developed deep voice, but tried to sound as smoky as possible. Arno listened devoutly, especially when Jeroen sang ‘Patience’ by Guns'n'Roses, one of Arno's favourite songs. It gave him goosebumps down his spine. Unfortunately, he was sitting right next to Jeroen, who was looking devoutly into the candlelight. Jeroen noticed and gave him such a deep look at the end of the song, full of love. Arno looked bashfully to the side, afraid Jan or Wilma would have seen it.
Jeroen took advantage of this brief moment of tension and started singing ‘Hey Baby’, but he was terribly out of tune.
‘That DJ Otzi is Austrian, isn't he?’ he said, laughing at Arno.
‘Spare me, you ass!’ Arno shouted and gave him a loving poke in the side. Jeroen had already got used to Arno's swearing, he didn't mean any of it, it was just his way. Wilma and Jan always gave him a (feigned) stern look when he used such language.
‘Brush your teeth, it's bedtime!’ Wilma finally said. It was almost midnight. A few minutes later, Arno was lying on his air mattress and Jeroen was in bed. Arno was nervous. He really wanted to lie with Jeroen, but didn't dare to ask. Jeroen stared at the ceiling. He felt the same way. He kept thinking about that afternoon when he ‘accidentally’ brushed against Arno and briefly felt his bulge in his trousers. He swallowed and looked over at Arno.
‘Arno? Are you asleep?’ And without waiting for an answer, he asked, ‘Isn't this air thing terribly uncomfortable?’
‘It's okay. I hope it doesn't lose air,‘ Arno answered, shaking his head at the stupid answer.
’Well, if you want,’ Jeroen continued, “you can sleep here in bed if you want. It's wide enough!” The last words were more of a grunt, given the expected proximity of his friend, and his voice sounded almost boyish.
Arno didn't need to be asked twice and a few seconds later he was lying in bed next to Jeroen. It was still very warm, so they both didn't have more than their boxers on. The first few minutes dragged on, both hardly daring to breathe, full of excitement.
Finally Jeroen put his head in his hand, sat up and stroked through Arno's hair with his other hand, before lovingly and gently caressing his cheeks. Arno enjoyed it to the full, especially when he felt Jeroen's warm fingers on his lips. A little later Jeroen pulled Arno's head towards him, to ‘bed’ him on his chest. Arno could feel Jeroen's heart beating like crazy? and he felt his hot breath on his face, which came closer and closer. That afternoon, he thought there couldn't be a better kiss? but he was proven wrong. Jeroen played around with his tongue in a way that made Arno feel dizzy. Meanwhile, Jeroen's hand stroked over Arno's upper body, gently massaging his nipples, moving towards his navel and back again. Arno nibbled on Jeroen's ear, which made him giggle. So he's ticklish, the little one, let's see what he thinks of this, Arno thought to himself and blew with full force into Jeroen's belly button. Jeroen giggled, but in the same moment he was busy again, pulling Arno's head towards him to kiss him. Slowly but surely, Arno wanted to go all out and his hand wandered towards Jeroen's boxer shorts. He would certainly not let it happen, Arno thought, but he was wrong. Jeroen's hand was now also wandering towards Arno's underpants?
It didn't take long before both of them were lying in bed, completely exhausted, still gasping for air. After a while, they both giggled at the immense mess in their underwear. So they got rid of it without further ado and it flew across the room. Arno was still completely exhausted. He had been masturbating for several years, but he had never experienced an orgasm like that before.
‘And that's wrong?‘ Jeroen asked at that very moment.
’It was beautiful, Jeroen,‘ Arno just said and blew a kiss on his cheek. “Good night, my love!”
’Good night, Arno. Sweet dreams? Of me, haha!’
Jeroen fell asleep a few minutes later, contentedly, and Arno was alone with his thoughts again. But this time they were not bad ones. He felt neither fear nor anger nor sadness this time. Only happiness, especially when he looked at Jeroen, whose chest rose and fell calmly in his sleep.
Arno was anything but a late riser, so the first rays of sunlight at half past four already woke him up. For a moment he thought that last night had been a dream, but then he saw Jeroen sleeping peacefully next to him. ‘My God, what a sight,’ Arno thought. He knew? it was one of those small, perhaps insignificant moments for some, that you remember for a lifetime. Jeroen was lying on his back, his head to one side, resting on his right upper arm. His hair almost completely covered half of his face, only his right eye and his lovely, pointed nose were visible. His mouth was half open. Arno knew what he wanted now. He hopped out of bed and got a drawing sheet and a pencil out of his backpack. ‘I have to capture this moment,’ he said to himself.
He sat down at the end of the bed very carefully and started drawing. ‘Just like in Titanic, Leo di Caprio and Kate Winslet,’ he thought, ‘that shitty film, haha.’ But he had seen it often enough, hadn't he? Arno had to make a real effort to stop himself from giggling; he wouldn't wake Jeroen for the world.
He drew and drew, the belly button was just uncovered, the rest covered by the thin blanket. But that didn't bother Arno? he thought little about sex at that moment, it was just this moment of beauty that Arno savoured. It seemed to him as if he were the only person awake in the world? and he was in harmony with himself as never before. Two hours after he had started, his drawing was finished? As impatient as he usually was, he was a perfectionist when it came to drawing. In his opinion, it was simply the best drawing he had ever made. He called it ‘Sleeping Beauty’!
He carefully stowed it in his backpack? and then decided to get some sleep after all. He carefully put his left arm around Jeroen's chest, who instinctively accepted it with a small groan. He felt Jeroen's heart again, but this time it was beating evenly and calmly. Arno let out a satisfied sigh before he, too, fell asleep.
He woke up again around nine? and was greeted by Jeroen, who was just as awake, with a kiss that Arno passionately returned. They decided to leave it at that, however, because they could both hear that little Thys was already awake? in fact, they had their doubts as to whether last night had perhaps not gone unnoticed after all. So Arno tried to make the bedclothes on the air mattress a bit messy? it should make it appear as if he had really slept in it.
Wilma and Jan were already sitting at breakfast when Arno and Jeroen also came into the kitchen.
‘Well, did you two sleep well?’ Wilma asked, grinning mischievously? at least that's what it seemed to Arno.
‘Yeah? It wasn't that uncomfortable on the air mattress,’ Arno lied and promptly blushed. So he tried to distract him and took the happily squealing Thys in his arms.
After breakfast, the two boys lounged around on the couch, watching a little television. Meanwhile, Jan got two bikes from a neighbour and gave them to the boys. It was around one o'clock when Arno and Jeroen decided to take a little bike ride.
They rode behind each other for a while before turning onto a cycle path that ran right next to an artificial canal. There was space there and finally they were undisturbed again. They chatted about this and that, the kind of things that boys their age talk about.
They had already left the city behind them and the landscape was becoming more rural. On the left the canal, on the right trees. At a small pond they decided to take a short break.
‘A beautiful spot. Come on, let's sit down over there,’ Jeroen said, pointing to a weeping willow. No sooner said than done? and no sooner were they sitting than Arno gently put his arms around Jeroen to nibble on his ear. Jeroen kissed Arno's cheek before both lips met again and exchanged tender kisses. Since they were completely alone and unobserved, it didn't take long before they were lying naked next to each other. For the first time, Arno could see Jeroen in all his glory. Like Arno, Jeroen was already hard? but in contrast to Arno, Jeroen had very little pubic hair.
The two caressed each other all over, Arno covering just about every part of Jeroen's body with gentle kisses, while Jeroen moaned with relish. When he approached the ‘lower region’, he cast a questioning and, as it were, pleading glance in the direction of Jeroen, who just nodded briefly and closed his eyes in joyful anticipation? A few minutes later, both came so violently that they groaned loudly.
Somewhat guiltily? someone could have seen them after all - both quickly dressed again, but remained seated.
‘Tastes disgusting,’ said Arno.
‘We have to tell Wilma and Jan,’ Jeroen steered the conversation in a completely different direction.
‘Do we have to? I don't know about that,‘ Arno replied, becoming restless. “They'll separate us because of it and I'll never see you again.”
’Nonsense. I think they'd understand. It's okay what we do, isn't it? And I don't want to do it in secret.‘
’Do you plan on telling your mother?’ Arno wanted to know.
‘I think she suspects already. But of course, when Wilma and Jan find out, she will too.’
‘Give me a few more days. I still have to think about it, okay?‘ Arno pleaded, sensing that Jeroen didn't quite agree.
’I love you so damn much,’ Arno continued in a low voice, “I don't want anyone to destroy that, okay?”
He kissed Jeroen's forehead and they both sank into a silent embrace.
Since the afternoon was already coming to an end, the two decided to go back. Dinner was held in the garden again? since it started to rain lightly afterwards, the family sat down on the couch to watch TV. They chose the film ‘Billy Elliot’ - a film in which the son of a miner discovers his love for ballet and initially meets with little approval. In one scene, Billy is kissed on the cheek by his friend Michael... at that moment, Arno felt Jeroen's gaze on him.
‘I have to go to the toilet,’ said Arno, who had become visibly nervous, and went to the bathroom. Had Jeroen revealed something with that look? Did Wilma and Jan already know? And above all: was he really ready to come out, so to speak? Arno realised that he was trembling all over. He was really scared, but then returned to the couch.
‘The roast chicken needed to go,’ he lied, stroking his stomach as if he had actually relieved himself.
When they were both lying in bed a little later, Jeroen said: ‘You don't have to be afraid at all, I mean earlier, you didn't really have to go to the toilet, did you? I love you too, you're the best thing that's happened to me so far and I won't do anything you don't want me to?’
Arno was a bit relieved: ‘I feel the same way, I've never had anyone like you before.’ After that, he became very quiet because he had to think about how limited their time together was. Jeroen realised that something was wrong with his friend: ‘I know what you're thinking. But let's just enjoy the here and now.’
Arno was amazed at this mature statement from the fourteen-year-old. He gave Jeroen the biggest hug he could manage, kissed him deeply on the mouth, and a little later they were both asleep in each other's embrace.
The next morning, Wilma asked Arno if he would help her with the shopping.
‘OK. I'll get Jeroen,‘ Arno replied.
’No, that's all right. Jan needs some help in the garden. You help me and Jeroen will help Jan, OK?’ Wilma replied.
Somehow Arno sensed that something was wrong. Was Jeroen involved? He felt quite sick as he took a seat next to Wilma in the car. They stopped in front of a huge supermarket in an even larger car park. When Arno wanted to get out, Wilma stopped him.
‘Stay seated for a moment, Arno. I want to talk to you,‘ Wilma said lovingly. “You and Jeroen have become good friends, haven't you?”
’Yes, he's all right.’
‘Just nice? Jan and I think you are more than friends. He was in your room last night to bring you a bottle of water, but you were already asleep, in the same bed?’
Arno couldn't listen anymore; he yanked open the car door and ran away. But where did he actually want to go? Realising the senselessness of this action, he stopped after about fifty metres in a meadow. He didn't dare to look back towards the car; he felt like crying, but he could still hold it back. Only when he felt Wilma's arm gently on his shoulders did all his defences break down. He sobbed in her arms without uttering a word.
"Shh. It's okay. I mean, it's okay for us what you and Jeroen do. You don't have to cry just because we know. It's not forbidden what you do.’
Arno could now find the words: ‘Yes, it is! My father says it's not normal and everyone who does such things should be punished. I'm just a big pile of shit. I don't want to be like this, but I can't help it and Jeroen...’
When he mentioned Jeroen's name, his words were gone again and the next bout of crying began.
‘Jeroen? He loves you,’ Wilma said comfortingly, ’and your father doesn't realise what a great boy he has. You're not a pile of shit, you're a great lad and we're all very happy you're with us.’
She fell silent after that. She had probably realised at that moment that time would not stand still for Arno in her house. ‘Come on, let's go back to the car. You're not going to the supermarket looking like that, are you? Let's go.’
When they arrived home, Jan was sitting in the garden with Jeroen, and of course they had also talked about it together. Arno was again amazed at Jeroen's maturity, because in the garden it was far less emotional than in the car park. Jeroen seemed relaxed, took a step towards Arno, hugged him and kissed him on the lips in front of everyone.
‘Great. I'll be crying again in a minute,’ Arno thought to himself, but the opposite was the case? he felt liberated from a heavy burden and returned Jeroen's kiss.
After that, Jeroen disappeared? he wanted to call his mother and tell her that he and Arno were together.
‘If you want, you can use my mobile phone, if you want to call home as well,‘ Jan said.
’No, that's okay,’ Arno replied. He really wasn't ready for that yet.
The next few days were the best Arno had ever experienced. They went on trips, played a bit of football with other boys (although Jeroen was a terrible footballer?), lazed around and enjoyed incredible hours together.
One day, the family took a trip to the capital, Amsterdam. Arno was enchanted by the charm of this city; the people there seemed so much more relaxed to him than in his hometown. They took a canal cruise, visited the Anne Frank House (which touched both boys very much) and had a picnic in the large Vondel Park.
As mentioned, Arno was impressed by Amsterdam's easy-going attitude, especially by the fact that no one seemed to care who was walking with whom. He saw several male and female couples strolling hand in hand through the streets, without anyone turning to look at them.
Jeroen could once again clearly see what was going on in Arno's mind. As another happy-looking same-sex couple passed them, Jeroen risked reaching for Arno's hand, looking nervously at how Arno would react. Everyone saw it. Wilma and Jan were walking behind them? they saw it too. Arno didn't care; he returned the gesture with a firm handshake. If he had thought a few weeks ago that he would be walking hand in hand with another boy in public, he would have shaken his head. That day ended far too quickly, and more and more often the two of them delayed going to bed, wanting to savour their time together.
It was the last week of Arno's stay, and his mood swings became more frequent. Jeroen, the calmer of the two, always managed to distract Arno.
‘Come on, let's go and play football,’ he would say, although he hated football himself, but knew that Arno loved the game. They had already made friends with a few other boys on a small square not far from Wilma and Jan's house, and they regularly played football with them. Arno loved Jeroen, but when he played with him in a team, unfortunately he couldn't help thinking “he's totally useless”. This was also the case on this Wednesday, which was to end badly?
Arno ended up in a team with Jeroen, Klaas and Hans. Klaas was similar to Arno in character – a great player, but also a loudmouth and a natural leader. In the game against four other guys, nothing worked: Jeroen stumbled around, lost almost every ball and they quickly fell behind 0-3 (they usually played until the first team scored 10 goals). At this score, Arno played a - admittedly sloppy - pass towards Jeroen, who was the last player in front of his own goal. He promptly fumbled the next ball and it was 0-4. Klaas had had enough and swore at Jeroen, who immediately blushed and looked to Arno for help. Arno had only understood the word ‘homo’ from the snippets of Dutch he'd heard. He immediately stormed towards Klaas, seething: ‘What did you say?’
‘That bloody homos like you and your friend shouldn't play football!’ Klaas snarled at Arno. Arno was now completely freaked out and before Klaas could react, Arno had rammed his fist into his face. Klaas stumbled and fell, and blood immediately started running from his nose. Hans, apparently Klaas's best friend, now wanted to attack Arno, and Arno immediately stood in front of him too. Jeroen intervened, put his arm around Arno's shoulders and said: ‘Come on, let it go Arno!’
It was all too much for Arno: ‘Don't you dare touch me, you fucking fag!’ he snapped at Jeroen, who didn't know what was happening to him. It was a shock. Jeroen staggered as if Arno's fist had hit him too. Tears welled up in his eyes, he couldn't believe what his beloved Arno had just said.
Arno ran to his bike and rode off. Aimlessly and still raging with anger. How could he even begin to think that these weeks would change him, make a good person out of him? And Jeroen? He really thought he could make a fag out of him, a fucking queer! His father was right? they all belong dead!
And so he cycled along, convincing himself of all this nonsense. He would have liked to go back to Vienna by bike, never to see any of these people again. It's all shit! He hated them all and they could all go whistle for all he cared! Most of all, or so he tried to convince himself, he hated Jeroen! Now Arno stopped, Jeroen! He knew it was a lie, that he didn't hate him, but loved him. But now it seemed to be all over. Slowly Arno calmed down again, at least as far as his anger was concerned.
He continued on his way, though he no longer knew where he was. There was a motorway underpass ahead of him. Arno thought, ‘What would happen if I just rode across the motorway on my bike? I'd close my eyes, let go of the handlebars. Some truck or car would catch me. No one would mourn an asshole like me. No one!’
Just a few hours ago, Arno seemed to be the happiest person in the world. Now he felt alone as never before in his life. And he had pushed away the only person who really loved him with all his might.
Jeroen walked home in a trance. Jan was sitting in the garden and immediately sensed that something was wrong.
‘What's wrong?’ he asked Jeroen (of course they spoke Dutch) with a worried look.
He still couldn't talk, so Jan decided to take him in his arms for now.
Jeroen now started to sob, punching out at Jan, who had a hard time calming him down.
‘Please call my mother,’ he sobbed, “I want to leave here!”
It took a good 10 minutes before Jeroen had calmed down. In the meantime, Wilma had also come and they all sat down on the couch to talk Jeroen through it.
‘You know, Arno has probably overreacted. A lot has happened in his emotional world in the last few weeks,‘ said Wilma.
’Still, he shouldn't talk to me like that. What about my emotional world?’ Jeroen said somewhat defiantly.
‘You have nice people around you, even if your father lives in Germany. He is always there for you. You have everything he didn't have. I spoke to the headmaster of his school. He was the one who nominated him for this trip. He told me a few things. Some very unpleasant things,‘ Wilma sighed.
’What kind of things?’ Jeroen asked curiously.
‘His father is a real bad guy, who beats both Arno and his mother and drinks all the money. It has been going on forever. When Arno was eight, his father beat him up so badly that he had a torn lung and was in hospital for weeks. And Arno, the poor guy? He feels he has to protect his mother and is hopelessly overwhelmed by the task. Especially since his mother has long since given up. So she is of no help to Arno either. He is the only one who is still trying to fight? Among his friends, he plays a tough guy, and he has had run-ins with the police before, but it's hard to imagine what he is really like inside. And now he comes here to us? has people who like him, a friend who loves him. Today, it probably all came up again.‘
Tears rolled down Jeroen's cheeks. Now he felt helpless and he was very scared. Afraid of what would happen when Arno was back home in Vienna.
’Can't we help him?’ he said sadly. ’Why don't we just leave him here with us? He could stay with us, couldn't he?’
Jan shook his head sadly: ‘It's not as simple as you think. If we were to leave him here, it would be something like child abduction.’
‘But we have to help him,’ Jeroen said again, each word squeezed out with difficulty because the lump in his throat just wouldn't go down.
‘Believe me,’ said Wilma, whose eyes were also filled with water, “you have helped him more in the last few days than anyone before. You showed him all the beautiful things he probably didn't even know existed.”
Jeroen got up silently. “But okay, you can call home if you want,” said Jan.
‘No,’ Jeroen shook his head, went into the garden and swung himself onto his bike. He had to find Arno.
Arno had now left the city far behind him and was riding along silently. He slowly realised what he might have done to Jeroen. “I've ruined everything with my selfishness, as if I were the only one in the world who had problems,” he thought to himself. He was terribly ashamed and overlooked the stone lying on the path in front of him. He flew off his bike and landed roughly on the ground.
‘Ouch, fuck!’ His head hurt, but on the whole he was okay? except that the bike was pretty much wrecked, unfit to ride, so to speak. So he decided to walk back towards town, which turned out to be quite arduous, because his right knee had also taken a beating? and pushing a broken bike around wasn't really that easy either. When, to make matters worse, it began to pour with rain, Arno sought shelter under a tree to rest. His knee and his head ached as he huddled together. One thing became clearer and clearer to him: what his future would hold was entirely up to him. He had to stop blaming his problems on other people. The thought that he recognised some of his father's traits in him made him feel sick. The hurtful way towards others, the immediate hitting? That had to stop. And that's exactly what he swore to himself under this tree, as the rain pelted down on him. ‘Enough of this? I'm not a child anymore,’ he swore to himself, speaking half aloud. He decided to wait out the rain and then move on. He was still afraid, though: how would Jeroen react when he faced him? Would he forgive him? What could he possibly say to him? A simple ‘sorry’ would never be enough to make up for the damage, he felt. Arno was exhausted, sad and closed his eyes? maybe a little sleep would help him.
He had barely fallen asleep when he had a strange dream: he found himself in the air, flying over the road he had travelled by bike as he approached a motorway bridge. He saw from above that the traffic on the bridge had come to a standstill. Ambulances with shimmering blue lights were standing in each other's way. In the middle of the road, three paramedics were kneeling over what appeared to be a seriously injured person. ‘Great, so now I'm really in trouble,’ Arno thought to himself as he approached the scene from above. One of the paramedics strangely looked like his physics teacher? what was he doing here? Just a few more moments? then he would see who was lying on the road. The paramedics shook their heads and pulled a silver aluminium blanket over the battered body. Everything was quiet, no one seemed to be breathing. Arno walked slowly towards the victim, he needed to know who was under the blanket. He fully expected to see himself, but when he slowly lifted the blanket, he saw a tuft of blonde hair peeking out from under a blood-smeared, black wool cap. He removed the cap and stared into Jeroen's face, into two lifeless eyes. ‘I love you,’ Arno heard from somewhere as he woke with a start. He trembled all over: the dream was worse than all his other nightmares. He was also freezing, although it had stopped raining, but the drops had somehow found their way through the canopy of leaves onto Arno's body. He decided to continue on his way, since it would also be getting dark soon.
Jeroen didn't really know where he was going either, of course he wanted to find Arno, but more than anything he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Silently, he rode through the streets. He felt so sorry for Arno. And on Sunday he would have to go back to Vienna, without anyone being able to do anything about it. Lost in thought, he didn't notice that suddenly another bike was riding next to him. It was Klaas.
‘Fine, he'll want to get back at me now,’ Jeroen thought to himself, but immediately saw that this would not happen. Klaas had stuffed a handkerchief into his nose, which was quite swollen. With a guilty expression, he looked at Jeroen: ’I'm sorry for what I said. Please forgive me.’
‘Thanks,‘ Jeroen said appreciatively, he hadn't expected that, “you can help me look for Arno. He just left earlier.”
’He's got a hell of a punch, your friend,‘ Klaas said and tried to laugh. He didn't succeed? the mood was too tense.
’How did you know that Arno and I were together?’ Jeroen asked.
‘Well, it's obvious to anyone: the way you talk to each other, the way you look at each other, the way you interact with each other. Again, I'm sorry. I don't have anything against you two, on the contrary: you're both nice guys, I was just so upset about the game that I... I mean...’ Klaas stopped, got off his bike and held out his hand to Jeroen.
‘Friends?‘ he asked.
’Friends,‘ Jeroen replied and shook hands with Klaas.
’Come on, let's get going. It'll be dark soon,’ Jeroen said and they both swung themselves back into the saddle.
Arno had covered a few kilometres in the meantime, and the area now seemed a little more familiar to him. Yes, of course: he had been here with Jeroen a few days ago, and from a distance he suddenly saw the distinctive weeping willow appear – where he and Jeroen had made love. He decided to take another break there.
Since Jeroen really didn't know where to look, he instinctively followed the route he had taken with his friend a few days ago. Both boys took turns calling out to Arno.
‘There! There under the tree! Is that him?’ Klaas suddenly shouted.
Jeroen's heart was in his throat. It really was Arno? He had been worried about him, but now he didn't know what to say to him. After all, he had hurt him quite a bit.
Klaas stopped with his bike on the path. He knew this was between Arno and Jeroen, and he could always apologise to Arno later.
Jeroen approached Arno, who had also realised who was coming towards him. His throat also felt tight.
Both stood facing each other, about a metre apart. Neither of them was able to say a word. So it was once again the more level-headed Jeroen who dared to take the first step. He slowly approached him, embraced him and, crying, buried his head in Arno's shoulders.
‘I'm so sorry for what I said,’ Arno managed with difficulty before he too began to cry. Over and over again, he stroked Jeroen's hair and told him how much he needed him.
‘I always hurt the people I love the most. I would never have forgiven myself if you had just walked away now. I'm nothing without you!’
‘I always hurt the people I love.’ ‘Because you are always hurt by people who should love you!’ Jeroen only thought this sentence to himself, he didn't know how Arno would react if he told him what Wilma had told him. At least this was not the right moment for it.
After a while, the two of them broke away from each other and only now did Arno realise that Klaas was with them. He looked at the ground in shame as Klaas approached him.
‘He's bound to give me a smack now,’ thought Arno, ‘I wouldn't blame him.’
‘Sorry for calling you a fag,‘ Klaas said, “you're a great footballer!”
’Sorry for punching you? That was absolutely crap. Inexcusable,’ Arno said.
The two shook hands.
‘Forget about it, Mike Tyson,‘ Klaas said with a wink, picked up Arno's broken bike and said, “Let's go home!”
After saying goodbye to Klaas, they arrived back at the de Bleekers’ house. Wilma immediately rushed outside and hugged them both.
‘Now, you're going to take a shower first. You're frozen, ‘ she said to Arno and ruffled his hair. ’But afterwards we'll talk. It's not okay to just leave. That was very stupid of you. Now, don't cry, go take a shower!’
He took the little scolding lying down and thought of his mother, who was always hopelessly overwhelmed in such similar situations. She never scolded him, even when it would have been appropriate sometimes. Nevertheless, he missed her for the first time since his arrival at this very moment.
Arno climbed into the shower with wobbly legs before the hot water ran down his body? how good that felt to him now. After about 20 minutes he came back into the living room.
‘Nah, your knee looks lovely,’ Wilma said. ‘Come and sit down,’ she ordered Arno and began to tend to the wound on his knee.
Then she started talking? Arno listened in silence.
"You know that you have hurt Jeroen very much. He is a decent guy and I don't tolerate such things. He actually wanted to leave, but then? I hope it's all right with you, I told him about your home? About your family, especially your father.’
Arno remained calm. Under different circumstances, he would have shouted, ‘None of your damn business!’ But he sat there and listened sadly.
‘All this must be very hard for you, but it's not your fault! Do you hear me? It's not your fault!’ She stroked his face lovingly, and Arno wondered where all the water in his eyes came from, because tears were flowing down his face again.
‘But you should also know that you have a second family here. Whenever you have problems, call us and we'll put you on a plane. You'll have to come back on Sunday, but that's not the end of it. We'll always be there for you. But you have to promise me something too: don't do anything so stupid again, and above all? keep fighting! Finish school and in two or three years, the world will be open to you. Others have done it before, and they had it much harder than you do. We all love you very much. You are not alone? and you never will be."
Wilma looked into Arno's eyes? she was visibly moved when she saw simple gratitude there. Then she hugged her big one: ’From today on, I have two sons!’
‘Isn't she great?‘ Jan said to Jeroen, putting his arm around his shoulder. Both had watched the scene at a safe distance. Jeroen was grateful and he was sure: his love for Arno would last forever!
’Go on. Run along,’ Jan nudged him, which he didn't need to be told twice.
A few moments later, they were alone in their room. Arno was terribly exhausted, so Jeroen moved to the air mattress to let his friend the bed. Arno had caught a slight cold, sniffed and sneezed from time to time.
‘Thanks for everything, Jeroen,’ he said into the silence. “You are undoubtedly the sanest of us two!” He went to his backpack, rummaged around and took out an envelope.
‘Here! I had intended to give it to you when we parted, but I think today is a better time. I made this drawing after our first night together. It shows you as you are to me: perfect!‘
Jeroen accepted the drawing with a shaky hand.
’It's? beautiful,’ he said haltingly. “But don't you want to keep it as a souvenir?” he asked.
Arno shook his head. ‘It's already stored in my brain. I'll carry it with me always. I love you and I miss you already.’
Jeroen went over to his bed again and kissed him. ‘I wish Sunday would never come,’ he whispered, trembling in Arno's ear. ‘I'll miss you too, so much that it hurts just to think about it.’
He held him in his arms. There was no reply. Arno had gently fallen asleep in his arms.
Jeroen looked at himself in the drawing again. Arno could not have done him a greater favour. He had long since forgotten the insulting words of the afternoon.
The next day was spent very quietly. Arno had caught a cold, and the weather was terrible. It was raining and didn't look like it would stop during the day. So they decided to spend the day lounging on the couch. They played card games, watched TV and listened to music. Jeroen picked up his guitar again and sang some ballads for Arno, who kept dozing off.
In the afternoon, Arno was feeling a bit better after Wilma had prepared him a tea (based on an old family recipe). Since Arno slept most of the time anyway, Jan took him into the city centre in the late afternoon? he wanted to run a few errands?
The tea? which contained a good shot of rum? made Arno dizzy and when he woke up after another nap, he had no idea for a moment where he actually was. It took a few seconds before he realised that he was in Holland? at least for a few more days? That's when he became sad again. Where was Jeroen, anyway? Were the last few weeks just a dream? He looked around helplessly, only to fall asleep again shortly after.
When he woke up again, it was morning. Arno had slept for 15 hours straight and felt great, at least as far as his health was concerned. He still coughed, but the hot head and the scratchy throat were gone. He lay in his chamber, no idea who had brought him there. Probably Jan, he thought. Jeroen had slept on the air mattress again, but was already awake and immediately realised that Arno was feeling better. He immediately crawled into Arno's bed.
‘Good morning,’ he breathed towards Arno.
‘Good morning,’ Arno sighed. ‘Only two more days?’ That was what Arno had on his mind.
But he soon had other thoughts when he felt Jeroen's gentle hands on his body. The little one really went for it, kissing him all over. Arno's head immediately became hot again, this time with excitement. Jeroen's tongue gently caressed his nipples while he pleasurably jerked Arno off. Arno did the same and jerked Jeroen off. Both came almost simultaneously, before they collapsed into each other, exhausted. Jeroen lay on top of Arno for quite a while, too exhausted and too lazy to get up. Eventually, they both got up.
‘I'm going to take a shower. You coming?’ Jeroen asked, which Arno didn't need to be asked twice. Under the shower, things went further again? when Arno soaped Jeroen's back and saw Jeroen's magnificent ass, his penis swelled again immediately.
Jeroen just turned his head to Arno, looked at him lovingly and said, ’Make love to me!’
‘But only if you really want me to,’ Arno replied.
A moment later, he moved gently and carefully inside Jeroen, who moaned softly. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, concerned. ‘Go on, go on,’ Jeroen breathed. Arno almost lost his senses? it felt so good. He came for the second time in an hour, this time even harder, so hard that his knees went weak and he sank to the floor of the shower. Jeroen also sank to the floor and they both remained seated for a while, enjoying the water that pelted down on them. ‘That was definitely the best thing I ever experienced,’ Arno purred. ‘Tonight you can, if you want!’ he said to Jeroen, who, still confused, just nodded.
Late that morning, the whole family went to a huge shopping centre. Wilma, who was likely to be quite affected by the impending farewell, wanted to spoil Arno one more time.
‘And I don't want to hear any “no, that's not possible” from you, understand?’ she said to Arno.
First they went to Esprit. ‘Just choose whatever you like, okay?’ Jan said, and a little later Arno and Jeroen had disappeared between the shelves. After a while Arno found what he was looking for: he chose a black T-shirt with the word ‘No surrender’ in silver letters. ‘I hope that's okay with them,‘ he said to Jeroen, “after all, it costs 25 euros.”
Wilma just shook her head when Arno held the T-shirt up to her. “So it is too expensive after all,” Arno thought.
’I see I'll have to play fashion adviser,’ she said to Jeroen with a stern look.
An hour later, they were standing in line at the checkout and Arno didn't know what hit him: together with Wilma and Jeroen (Jan went to a toy store with Thys in the meantime), they had selected two more sexy T-shirts, a pair of dark blue jeans, and a black and white summer sweater.
‘I'll pay you back for all this sometime,‘ he said to Wilma, touched, “I promise!” Wilma just waved him off and gave Arno a big hug. “Don't get jealous, Jeroen,” she said cheekily to Jeroen, lovingly pinching his cheeks.
’You owe him one now!’ Arno said, winking. Wilma knew exactly what Arno really wanted: time alone to find a farewell gift for Jeroen. She wanted to slip him 50 euros without being noticed, but Arno waved it off gratefully. He wanted to spend his own money on Jeroen; he hadn't needed much of the 100 euros he had with him.
‘OK, Jeroen. I think Arno would like to buy something for his family. We'd better leave him to it, OK? So, Arno, shall we meet here in an hour?‘
’OK,’ Arno murmured. What a great woman Wilma was.
Arno went straight to a jewellery shop? he wanted to buy Jeroen a silver ring because he thought it would suit him well. He could also use it as a necklace. He had the words ‘Love Faith Hope’ engraved on the ring. With the change, he bought him a snow-white shirt with the word ‘Angel’ embroidered on the left breast pocket. After all, he was his angel too. He had both items gift-wrapped and went back to the agreed meeting place.
‘So, did you find anything?‘ Jeroen asked curiously.
’Yep, a bottle opener for my dad,’ Arno replied, not without a touch of irony, “and a blouse for my mum. With windmills on it, so typically Dutch.” Arno sounded very credible and Jeroen seemed to believe his every word.
Since the rain of the last few days had stopped and it was very warm again, they decided to spend the afternoon at the open-air swimming pool. Wilma must have taken a hundred photos that day: she thought it was just sweet how Arno and Jeroen took care of little Thys, who enjoyed being the centre of attention.
That evening they all went to a pizzeria – the mood was both celebratory and sad. Arno's time in Holland was numbered.
It was Saturday morning – the last full day for Arno in Holland. The very next afternoon, Arno would be back on the plane to Vienna. The previous night, Arno had also kept his promise, and it was just as great for Jeroen as it was for him the day before.
Arno was up early as usual. He went to the kitchen and wrote a note: ‘Don't worry, I haven't run away again. I just want to spend the next few hours alone. I'll be back for lunch. Love you all, Arno.’
Then he got on his bike, which Jan had had repaired in the meantime. He wanted to revisit all the familiar places from the last week, all alone, with himself and his thoughts, which were full of sadness and joy at the same time. Joy because he was able to experience all of this, sadness because the next day he would have to say goodbye to the person he loved most: Jeroen!
On the football pitch, he kicked the ball he had brought with him into the goal a few times. It was a place he didn't like to remember, but which he still had to revisit, probably to come to terms with himself once and for all.
‘Thanks again, Jeroen, for forgiving me!’ he said to himself and continued his tour. He cycled along the canal to the weeping willow, where he of course also stopped. A magical place! With a knife he had brought with him, he carved his and Jeroen's names into the bark. He didn't feel foolish at all when he kissed the tree goodbye. ‘Thank you, Jeroen, for loving me,’ he whispered, the big lump in his throat was back again.
One last look back? he saw himself and Jeroen lying there.
‘Goodbye,’ he stammered, swung himself onto his bike and rode off.
Since it was Saturday, it took a while for other people to appear, but slowly other cyclists or joggers came towards him, all of whom greeted him kindly. ‘It's incredible how friendly everyone is here. When I think of my neighbourhood,’ Arno thought, and again his thoughts turned to the next day.
Arno went to the swimming pool again; he could just about afford the entrance fee. He did a few laps, but decided to leave again very soon. After all, he had only been there the day before – the memories were still very fresh. It was therefore strange to be there alone.
With mixed feelings, he returned to the de Bleeker house at half past twelve. He couldn't believe his eyes: the garden was decorated and full of people. Thys squealed with joy when he saw Arno: he missed the little one terribly too. Jan was busy lighting the barbecue, while Wilma cut all kinds of meat into small pieces and put them on skewers. Jeroen had jumped up immediately, silently took Arno by the hand and led him to a secluded corner of the garden, where Anne, Jeroen's mother, was sitting. As a matter of course, she rose to embrace Arno. ‘Thank you for what you did for Jeroen,’ she whispered in his ear, and hugged him even tighter when Arno began to cry uncontrollably. “You've all been so kind to me,” he sobbed, “I don't deserve it!” ’But you do. You've helped Jeroen so much to get his life back on track, and with that, you've helped me too. You're welcome at my house anytime!"
Arno went to the bathroom to wash his face, so as not to scare the others with his tear-stained features. He looked out of the first-floor window: the party was for him, and him alone. Jeroen's grandparents were there, and two other elderly people, probably Jan's parents. Jans' brother was there, with his wife and twin girls. A few neighbours had also come. One of them would later take the bikes that Jan had bought for him and Jeroen two weeks earlier.
The boys he had often played football with had also come. Klaas and the others. So he stood there, silently gazing out of the window. It was only when he realised that Jeroen was restlessly looking for him that he decided to go down. It was his party, after all.
It was a great party. Arno's farewell was celebrated late into the night. There was eating, drinking, singing, laughing and crying. Jeroen had brought his guitar again and took turns singing love songs and funny songs. Another boy had brought his Playstation and a Singstar game, which was great fun when Jan tried to sing ‘Grace Kelly’ by Mika. A lamentable attempt? great fun for everyone else. As night fell, Jan surprised Jeroen and Arno by showing a slideshow of all the photos he and Wilma had taken of Arno during his stay. The film music from Jeroen's favourite film, Artificial Intelligence by Steven Spielberg, was playing in the background. These pictures made the garden go completely quiet. Everyone present was aware of the great friendship that had developed over these weeks and the difficult day that the boys still had ahead of them. Arno's favourite photo was from the day they had spent in Amsterdam. It shows him and Jeroen from behind, holding hands, heads bent in conversation, in the middle of Vondelpark. Jeroen's favourite photo was from the day they met, on the way home from the amusement park. It showed Arno sleeping in the car. ‘Sleeping Beauty,’ Jeroen said to Arno at that moment, wiping a tear from his eye with the flat of his hand.
Of course, both boys received a CD with all the photos on it. Arno also got some packages for his family in Vienna. Incredibly, they had even bought something for his father. At around half past twelve at night, the guests left, all hugging Arno goodbye, and he couldn't believe that even Klaas seemed to have tears in his eyes.
‘See you soon, buddy,‘ he said in broken German.
’See you soon!’ Arno said.
A little later, he and Jeroen went up to the attic for the last time.
Arno was packing. He laid out his new robe for the next day, while Jeroen did the same for himself. Both boys were silent. Packing was a welcome distraction, and they took an unusually long time over it.
When Arno had finished, he sat down on the wide window sill, still in silence, and gazed thoughtfully into the night. Jeroen came in a little later and sat down with his back against Arno's front. They sat there in silence for a while, gathering their thoughts.
‘We'll meet again, 100%!‘ Jeroen broke the silence. “Maybe you can come back for Christmas,” he continued.
’Yes, maybe,’ Arno replied, although he knew he couldn't afford it. Sure, they had offered him to come back anytime, but could he really take advantage of that?
‘What's next for you in the autumn?‘ he asked Jeroen.
’I'm going to a new school. One with a musical focus. Let's see how it goes. And you?‘
’Sixth grade, three more years until graduation.‘
’And after that?‘
’I don't know. Just away from home!’
‘You don't like to talk about it, do you? Wilma... I mean, she told me everything.‘
’Yes, I know, but it's something I don't want to talk about. I have to deal with it alone.’
‘You don't have to. I'll always be with you, even if only in my thoughts. Never forget that.‘
’What do you want to do?‘ Arno changed the subject.
’I don't know yet, maybe something to do with music. But above all, I want to be one thing: happy! As happy as I've been in the last few weeks.’
‘Yes, you have made me very happy too. In a few days everything will seem like it was just a dream. A wonderful dream. I love you very much,’ Arno whispered and kissed Jeroen's neck.
‘I love you too,‘ Jeroen replied and snuggled his head against Arno's chest, gazing out the window.
’Everyone is asleep out there,’ he said. “It's as if we're the only ones who are awake!”
Once again, Arno was amazed? as he often was? by his friend's mature insights.
It was already half past three, and Arno and Jeroen both didn't want to fall asleep, after all, these were their last hours.
‘Good morning,’ they both suddenly heard. It seemed to them as if they had only just fallen asleep, but a new day had already begun outside. Sunday. Arno's departure day.
It all happened very quickly. After a quick breakfast, Arno's luggage was stowed in the car and he had to say goodbye to the first person: Jeroen's mother, who had spent the night at the de Bleeker house. Unfortunately, there was no room for her in the car.
‘Remember what I said, you're always welcome, and thanks again,’ she said, hugging him and giving him a pat on the back. Arno's bones ached from the short sleep on the windowsill, but his soul ached even more. It all seemed so unreal to him somehow, like a film playing before his eyes.
A short time later, they were sitting in the car. Jan was driving, Wilma was on the passenger seat. Between him and Arno sat Thys in his seat, the only one who chuckled happily.
All the others were silent. Arno couldn't even look at Jeroen. He was wearing a black shirt, buttoned up to the top. A few strands of his hair were hanging in his face. He kept sniffing the air and was holding a plastic bag in his hand. Arno could see from the few glances he had exchanged with him that his hands were shaking. Jeroen was fighting hard to keep from bursting into tears. Arno was also overcome by fits of sobbing, which he suppressed by looking out of the window. The mood in the car was just plain sad, and Jan and Wilma hardly spoke either.
‘Well? here we are,’ he heard Jan say far too quickly. They had arrived at the assembly point, the place where this adventure had begun three weeks earlier. It seemed like yesterday to Arno.
The bus was not there yet, but most of the children who also had to say goodbye that day were there. The fat girl was there too, who had been on three holidays with them. She was also here for the last time. The children's holiday programme was only for children up to the age of fifteen, an age Arno was to reach in September.
You heard it everywhere, sniffling, but also laughter. ‘No one can have it nearly as hard as I do today,’ Arno thought to himself and was probably not wrong. He still didn't dare to look at Jeroen, who was standing close to him and was still shaking.
And then the bus arrived. The children fell into the arms of their host parents and were told to get on.
Arno said goodbye to Thys first, giving him a little kiss on the forehead.
Then to Jan? the tears were already flowing, then to Wilma, who was audibly sobbing.
Then? Jeroen!
They both cried bitterly as they held each other. Arno didn't care about anyone else, he kissed Jeroen on the lips one last time, unable to say a single word. Jeroen seemed to lose his strength for a moment and sank down briefly, but Arno held him up. He too couldn't utter a word.
Arno broke free of the embrace, reached into his backpack and gave Jeroen the two small packages that he had only bought on Friday. Jeroen gave Arno the plastic bag that also contained two small packages.
Crying, he kissed him on the lips one more time. He was the last to get on the bus. On the bus, everyone stared at him strangely, but Arno didn't even notice. He found a window seat so he could still see his ‘new family’. They all waved, and Jeroen leaned against Wilma for support, still sobbing, his face swollen with tears.
Arno pressed both hands against the windowpane – he was breathing heavily, it felt as if his heart was going to stop beating. There, outside, was the love of his life, and who knew when he would see him again.
The bus started moving? Jeroen tore himself away from Wilma. He ran alongside the bus and screamed, howling: ‘I love you! I will always love you! Always?’
The bus rounded the corner? and Jeroen was gone. They were all gone. Arno closed his eyes and cried? a counsellor took a seat next to him and tried to comfort him. Without success. Some other children cried as well, a few others just seemed to enjoy themselves.
Two hours later, they arrived at the airport. Arno's mood was still at rock bottom; he still felt as if he were in a bad dream. He wanted to wake up and realised that, unfortunately, it was reality.
Like three weeks before, he considered locking himself in a toilet to miss the flight. However, the thought seemed rather immature to him. Check-in went relatively quickly, the plane was scheduled to take off at 5 o'clock in the afternoon.
Arno had a window seat and watched the comings and goings on the surrounding runways to distract himself. But when the plane took off a little late, he started to cry again. Now he had definitely left Holland behind!
When the aeroplane reached cruising altitude, Arno suddenly remembered: the plastic bag! He rummaged around in his rucksack and took out Jeroen's presents. He opened the first one and found a letter and a CD. The CD contained some of Arno and Jeroen's favourite songs, sung and played by Jeroen himself.
With a shaky hand, he read the letter.
Dear Arno!
By the time you read this letter, we will have already said goodbye. I just wanted to thank you for the last few weeks? they were the best weeks of my life. After my parents' divorce, after Patrik's death, I didn't have an easy time? until you came along. You showed me what it means to be happy. I will always carry you in my heart and thoughts. I will always be with you and hope that we will meet again soon. I love you more than anything? and will always love you.
Take care? See you soon!
Jeroen
Jeroen had stuck a small strand of his hair in the bottom left corner.
Underneath it was written: P.S. Don't think I haven't noticed how much you like my hair.
Arno smiled. He was sad, but he smiled. Everything would be all right again.
Then he opened the second package, swallowed and again tears came to his eyes: it contained Jeroen's black woolly hat! There was a small note: Patrik will understand.
Arno closed his eyes and pressed the cap against his chest. Again he closed his eyes filled with tears. He missed him terribly.
He didn't know what the future would bring. What he did know was that it wouldn't be easy. That he still had a long, hard road ahead of him in every respect. That he still had a lot to struggle with, but, he thought, ‘Who doesn't?’
What he hoped was that he had enough love in his heart to make it, thanks to Jeroen, the blond angel. The boy with the black woolly hat.
The aeroplane touched down gently again in Vienna.
Arno was at home.

Lukas
So now the time had come.
My twin sister and I were on our way to the airport to start our new life. Well, it wasn't really that new.
Lara and I lived in the USA from birth until the age of eight. After that, the whole family moved to Germany because of my dad's job and now, nine years later, we were just going back. Our parents left a week ago. However, we still had to finish the rest of our schooling and in the meantime we were staying with our grandparents. I didn't even want to imagine what kind of scene they would put on at the airport when we had to leave.
Lara sat next to me and didn't say a word, which is really unusual for her. She was actually a person who liked to talk a lot. To be honest, sometimes a little too much for my taste. But don't get me wrong, I really love my sister more than anything. She's the only person who knows I'm gay. As twins, we trust each other unconditionally.
When we arrived at the airport, our grandparents weren't as bad as I had imagined. Actually, the whole farewell went quite smoothly, although I have to admit that I had a few tears in my eyes.
I was really glad that I could finally relax after all the formalities at the airport.
Lara, who was sitting next to me at the window, looked at me.
“So, do you already have any idea what it will be like when we come back after such a long time?"
I just shrugged.
I mean, sure, we've been in contact with my uncle and aunt, who live on a farm near Rapid City, but still, nine years is a relatively long time, especially at our age.
Lara grinned to herself, which could not mean anything good. “I'm curious to see what this Matt looks like. If you go by the children's photos, then he must be a real cutie now. Maybe he's something for you.”
Since I told Lara that I'm gay, she's been trying to set me up with almost every guy. Matt isn't really our cousin either. My uncle remarried about eight years ago and Matt is the son of his new wife, so he's our stepcousin, if that's a thing.
"Lara, just because he's cute doesn't mean he's gay.”
“What isn't can still happen. Who could resist you? If you weren't my brother, I would have thrown myself at you long ago."
Well, I really didn't look bad. Black shoulder-length hair, about 1.85 tall and relatively well-trained, since I was in the swimming club for a long time and took it really seriously.
Lara also had black hair that reached her hips, big brown doe eyes and, as far as I could tell, a really good body. In addition, Lara radiated joy to everyone she saw.
"Lara, I'll find someone for myself, don't worry.”
“If you keep up the same speed in finding someone as you have done so far, then I can keep waiting forever for the four of us to go out together, and you don't want to take that joy away from me. So it's better for me to give you a hand, just to be on the safe side."
In the meantime, the plane taxied to the runway.
“What do you think, is the ranch still the same as it was nine years ago?” I asked.
Lara smiled. ”Quite possible. I certainly hope so. I haven't been this excited in a long time. I couldn't sleep all night and had to run to the bathroom all the time.”
“I noticed. I'm actually surprised that Grandma and Grandpa didn't say anything about the constant slamming of the door during the night. Shame on you for robbing me of my sleep, poor little boy.“
”All right, I'll do it when I find the time."
At that same moment, she gave me a kiss on the cheek.
“I hope you know that I love you very much."
I just nodded. Of course I knew that, just as she knew it in return.
Lara leaned her head on my shoulder and slid a little back and forth in her seat to find a comfortable position in which she could stay for a longer period of time. I also tried to make myself a little more comfortable, but it wasn't that easy in economy class. I really didn't know how I was going to survive this hours-long flight without damage.
But somehow you get through everything, and that's how we did it here too. Lara and I slept through most of the time because of the last night, so the time passed even faster.
Unfortunately, our parents couldn't pick us up from the airport. But our cousin had taken on this task. Now the only problem for us was that we didn't know what Matt actually looked like.
After we finally had our luggage back and were standing in the airport hall after tons of security checks, Lara asked, slightly worried:
“Hey, does Matt actually know what we look like, or is it better if we quickly make a sign?”
"I think our parents are smart enough to have shown him photos.”
Lara's disbelieving look showed me that she was not yet completely convinced of this.
When we were still standing around alone after ten minutes, I also slowly began to have my doubts.
Now it was really getting to me.
"Let's just go around and ask all the guys who are about our age if they are Matt, otherwise we'll still be standing here tonight.”
Lara grinned. “It's a good thing the airport is so small. It's best if we go in separate directions, just shout when you've found him.”
So Lara and I went off in different directions to look for Matt. I hadn't walked more than two meters when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"What do you want now, Lara?”
But when I turned around, it wasn't Lara standing before me, but the dream of my sleepless nights. This boy in front of me had bright blue eyes, short blonde hair and mesmerizing lips. He was a little taller than me, so I had to raise my head a little to look him directly in the eye.
It was impossible for me to say anything. I felt like I was standing in front of an angel.
“Sorry, are you Lukas? I'm Matt."
It took me a while to understand what he had actually asked me. This couldn't be possible, this cute boy couldn't really be my cousin. How would I survive the next few years if I always walked around with a semi-erection in his presence. I didn't even want to think about it.
“Yes, I'm Lukas. I'm glad we finally got to meet.“
I held out my hand in greeting, but instead of taking it, he pulled me towards him and hugged me.
”After all, we're family now, so we might as well dispense with the formalities,” he said after he let go of me.
I was just about to cope with everything when I heard Lara behind me.
“Hey, you should be looking for Matt, not flirting.”
“This is Matt and he found me.”
Lara let out a small scream and threw herself into Matt's arms.
“It's nice to finally meet you,” she beamed at him.
“You kept me waiting for a long time.“
”Yes, I know, I'm sorry too, but I just left too late. I hope you're not too angry with me.“
”Nonsense,” I said, interrupting her. ”Now you're here.”
Matt smiled, oh God, and how he smiled. Actually, he would need a license for that. In any case, it almost bowled me over.
“Well, that's good. Come on, let's go to the car.”
Matt grabbed most of the luggage and went ahead.
Lara and I followed him.
“Well, isn't he something for you?” she whispered to me. ‘I mean, he looks totally cute and that smile, it should be illegal.’
I had to grin, Lara had had exactly the same thought as me.
“I'm not denying that he's cute, or that I don't like him, but like I said, that doesn't mean that he's gay. Even if he were gay, which I don't really believe, then Matt doesn't necessarily have to fancy me.”
“At least he hugged you. Not every guy would do that voluntarily, because otherwise he'd panic about being labeled as gay.“
”Lara, I think you're just reading too much into some things.”
“Hey, where are you guys?” Matt called to us from the front. ‘We should hurry to avoid the rush hour traffic, otherwise it will take us hours to get out of the city.’
We walked a little faster again to catch up with Matt.
When we arrived at the car, we loaded everything into the trunk, where it was quite crowded. It took some skillful packing to fit everything in.
“I thought your parents had already brought most of your things, so where did you guys get all the stuff from?” Matt asked, shaking his head, when we had finally stowed everything.
“You'll have to ask Lara about that; she kept bringing more stuff that absolutely had to come along. But you know how it is with women."
Matt laughed with me while Lara acted offended.
Before I could say anything, she went to the back door and got in.
“You can sit in the front, bro.”
The grin she gave me let me know that Lara had just started her attempts at romance again. Well, that could be really fun. Not only did I have to keep myself from falling over my cousin's dream, but I also had to deal with my sister, who had set her mind on literally marrying me.
“How old are you, Matt?” Lara asked from behind.
"Eighteen. I just finished school and now work on my father's ranch.”
“And, are there any young cowboys on your ranch that I could consider?"
Matt grinned and I felt queasy again. I quickly looked out of the side window to distract myself. Lukas, pull yourself together, after all Matt is part of your family, it doesn't look good if you throw yourself at him.
“We already have a few young cowboys working for us, but as I said, they work and that's what they should continue to do. It's not good if they get too distracted, then their work will only be flawed.“
”No problem, I can give you a hand with the work.”
“I think it's better if you distract them. I wouldn't trust a fence that you repaired,“ was my answer to Lara, which, however, earned me a light blow to the back of the head.
”And that's coming from the king of DIY. You don't even know how to hold a hammer properly.“
”I love you too, sis.”
“I know, brother.“
Next to me, Matt started to laugh.
”You don't have to understand your mood swings, do you? One minute you're fighting and the next everything's fine again, without any actual solution having been found.“
”Maybe I should point out that we never fight, we just discuss things. Actually, we've never fought at all.”
I don't think Matt has yet understood our logic; he just shook his head and grinned.
“By the way, you're both invited to a friend's birthday party tonight.
Maybe you won't need to look for a cowboy then, Lara.”
I looked at Matt blankly. “And why are we invited?”
“Well, probably because I've been pestering Seth for weeks about you moving in with us. I guess he just wants to meet you. Besides, it's the best way for you to meet people our age. When Seth throws a party, he throws it right.“
”Shouldn't we at least get him a small gift?” Lara asked from behind.
“Nah, it's not necessary. Then Seth would only think too much of himself. In my opinion, he already has too much self-confidence anyway.“
”I doubt, though, that Lara and I will grow old today.“
Matt looked at me questioningly.
”We've been up for about 26 hours. I'm already starting to feel tired.”
“Oh, you'll have plenty of time to sleep when you're old. If it's absolutely impossible, then you'll just have to get some sleep this afternoon. Your parents won't be coming to the ranch until the evening anyway. So you still have almost the whole day to relax.“
”We really don't get any rest,” Lara sighed. ”But what wouldn't we do for international understanding.
Do you actually speak German, Matt?“
”My dad tried to teach me a little, but I wouldn't say that I really know how to do it. I wouldn't starve in Germany, that's for sure.”
“That's not a problem with all the McDonalds and Burger Kings around us,” I replied. ”If you want, we can help you learn German a bit. But you can take us with you if you ever fly to Germany. We promise you will have a very comfortable life with us.”
“I can imagine that very vividly. I'll definitely take you up on the offer to learn German. By the way, Lukas, you'll probably have to sleep in my room for the first week. We didn't quite finish renovating your room. But it won't take too much longer.”
I was honestly shocked. I already found it hard enough imagining living in the same house as him, but now I'll also be sleeping in the same room. Images of him walking back and forth in front of me in just his boxers suddenly appeared before my eyes.
Just thinking about it made my little friend stir. I think I'm in for the hardest week of my life.
“Hey, why are you so pale all of a sudden? Is the idea of sleeping in a room with me so bad?“
”It's okay, I'm just extremely tired right now."
Suddenly my cell phone rang in my pocket. Surprised, I took it out.
“You can also crash at my place if it gets too hard for you. You know it's absolutely no problem,” it said on the display. The message was from Lara.
I really love my sister for understanding me so well. But here I had to go it alone. So I shook my head slightly, I knew Lara saw it, and put my phone back in my pocket.
I was extremely quiet for the rest of the drive. Lara and Matt talked about everything under the sun. I just stared out the window and slowly calmed down again. After all, I only had to sleep at his place for a week. And that doesn't mean we have to spend the whole day together. Somehow I would get through it, after all, I had Lara to help me.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of driving along a lonely, deserted road, we came to a stop in front of a huge house.
“Wow,” was the only thing that occurred to me at this sight.
“I didn't remember it being so big,” Lara said behind me.
"We've added on a few things in the last couple of years.”
Before we could say anything, a woman came storming out of the house. She was in her early to mid-40s, with long blonde hair that fell in waves onto her shoulders.
“That's my mom, she got up really early today to get everything ready for you. I don't think you can eat as much as she has cooked.“
”You don't know how much we can eat together,” said Lara as she jumped out of the car.
Matt's mom came running towards us with her arms outstretched, hugging me first and then Lara.
“Hello, welcome to our home. My name is Kaitlyn. I'm so happy to finally meet you. You must be totally exhausted after that long flight. Come with me to the kitchen."
As Kaitlyn was already on her way into the house, Lara and I were still standing in front of the house, frozen.
“I haven't yet realized everything she has told us, but I think it's best if we just go after her.“
”I'll take care of your luggage and then come,” said Matt, while he already opened the trunk.
When Lara and I were on our way to the kitchen, she asked me again:
“Hey, are you sure you're okay with sleeping with him?“
”I'll be fine, it's not for long.“
”Okay, if you think so. But you know you can always come to me, right?“
”What are you giving him, anyway? I'm in favor of an 8 ½.”
Lara and I have been in the habit of rating all male beings around our age for some time now. I know, it's totally lame, but this little game can really liven up a day at the park.
“Are you serious now? After all, he's our cousin.”
"We're not blood relatives, he's just married into the family.”
At that moment we arrived in the kitchen.
“Twelve,” was the only thing I said to Lara.
“Sit down first. I've cooked something so that you can regain your strength after the long journey.”
"Thanks, but don't go to so much trouble. Lara and I will sleep most of the day anyway today to get back to some degree of fitness.”
“Don't even try to avoid eating. According to my mom, you only get fit if you eat enough,” came from the direction of the kitchen door.
Matt came into the room and sat down at the table opposite me.
“And Mom, do I get something to eat too, after all I had to get up almost in the middle of the night to pick them up. I think I need to regain my strength too.“
”Oh, my poor boy, you're not going to fall off the face of the earth on me, are you? But don't gobble so much and leave some for Lara and Lukas.”
After dinner, Matt showed us around the house. Then we went to our rooms, Lara's first.
“I think I'll be happy here,” was her only comment. “I hope you'll be able to manage without me for the time being. I have to get settled here first.”
Matt and I went on.
“I can tell you one thing: once Lara has settled in here, you won't be able to set foot in the room before the other one. She has an almost frightening penchant for chaos.”
“Do I have to conclude from this that you are more of an orderly type? Maybe I should make you wait outside my room for a while then. Unfortunately, I'm not so good at keeping things tidy either.”
“Don't worry, I'm not that fanatical. I just like to see the floor."
At the end of the hallway, Matt showed me the bathroom first. Then he opened the door opposite the bathroom and I just thought to myself: take a deep breath, you can do it.
My suitcase was already in the room, right next to a huge couch.
“I hope you don't mind sleeping on the couch. We can still fold it out later. If you want, we can swap, and you can sleep in my bed and I'll sleep on the couch. Whatever you want.”
“I think I'd fall asleep in the hay right now, I'm so tired. It's okay that I'm sleeping on the couch. I can't take your bed away from you."
Matt looked at me. ”Okay. I'll leave you alone for now. You know where the bathroom is. Get some rest, you still have a lot to do tonight.”
I had almost forgotten about this party. Then suddenly something occurred to me.
“Matt, when are our parents coming home?”
"I guess around seven, and we want to go to the party around nine. So you still have plenty of time to say hi to each other. If you want, I can wake you up around half past six so you can get ready.”
“Yes, that would be nice."
After I had showered, I went back to Matt's room wearing only boxer shorts. I was so tired that I literally collapsed on the couch and fell asleep almost immediately after closing my eyes.
Matt was lying next to me, wearing no more than his shorts. Slowly, his hand glided over my chest and to my stomach.
“Well, already rested?” he whispered in my ear.
He was so close that I shivered when I felt his breath.
He gently circled my belly button with his finger. His lips were on my ear and my neck at the same time.
Oh my God, my whole body was tingling.
Matt's hand moved under the waistband of my shorts. Now I couldn't suppress a soft groan.
I felt his hands on my shoulders...
“Hey Lukas, you should get up slowly now.”
Only slowly did I understand his words. Startled, I opened my eyes wide and sat up. I looked straight into Matt's grinning face.
“You should tell me about your dream sometime. It seems to have been pretty hot. I think I might like it too.“ With these words, he let his gaze wander meaningfully between my legs. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. The whole thing was so embarrassing for me.
”I'll wait for you downstairs.”
Matt was still grinning as he left the room. Would I be able to look him in the eye again after my performance? Why does my cousin have to be so cute?
When I slowly got up, there was no sign of my excitement. Just as I was about to go to the bathroom, I ran into Lara, who wanted to come into my room.
“Hey, not so stormy. Say, what did you do with Matt? He grinned like a Cheshire cat when he came to meet me.“
”Let's not talk about it.“
”Oh, so bad?“
”Worse. Much worse."
Lara looked at me with questioning eyes.
“I'll tell you later. I have to go to the bathroom first and get ready for this party. I'll see you downstairs.“
”Well, okay, but don't do anything stupid. I'll come up in half an hour if you're not ready by then."
So I went to the bathroom first. In the shower, I tried to calm down again. How could I stand being in a room with Matt for a whole week if I was already dreaming of him even though he wasn't in the room? I imagined his body wearing only shorts and immediately realized that it was a mistake. As soon as I had even the image in front of my eyes, I felt it starting to stir between my legs again. I really should get out of the habit of doing that. I quickly took a shower, wrapped the towel around my hips and went back to my, no, to Matt's room. As I stood in front of my suitcase looking for clothes, I realized that I had absolutely no idea what to wear. Sometimes I'm even worse than my sister when it comes to things like this.
There was only one solution to the problem. I took my cell phone and sent a desperate “help” to my sister. On the side, I sent a quick prayer to heaven that she had also taken her cell phone downstairs.
After half a minute, I heard footsteps in the hallway and Lara was standing in the middle of the room.
"What kind of problems do you have again, dear brother?”
“What should I wear?“
”And that's why you're driving me crazy with worry?” ”Reach into your suitcase and put on whatever you find. It's a simple birthday party, so what you wear isn't that important.
Are you going to tell me what happened with Matt?
“I dreamt about him,“ I said, while I put on my boxer shorts and my black jeans.
”And that can't be the problem?“
”He woke me up in the middle of the dream.” I pulled my red polo shirt over my head.
Lara was still looking at me questioningly.
“I dreamt that he was about to seduce me and that's exactly what I looked like.”
"Ouch...
But look at it this way, Matt doesn't know that you dreamt of him. When you think about it, it's not that bad that you had a hard-on and he saw it.”
“The problem is that I know I dreamt about him. Besides, he told me to tell him about the dream when the time was right. What do I do when he brings it up? I really don't know how I'm going to look him in the eye now.”
“Now don't make everything worse than it is. I'm still here to support you. You'll manage, you're not that weak.
Ready?“
I ran my hand through my hair again briefly so that it at least looked somewhat organized, and nodded.
”Well, come on.”
With these words, Lara pulled me by the hand out of Matt's room.
As we were about to go to the stairs, Matt came towards us.
"I was just about to get you, your parents just arrived.”
Lara let go of my hand and immediately stormed down the stairs.
Matt looked at me and could hardly suppress a grin.
“So?” he asked, “Have you cooled down a bit?”
I tried desperately to prevent my face from turning red.
“Don't worry, I'm fine,” I said more aggressively than intended.
“Are you sure you're all right? Did I offend you with what I said? If so, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.“
”It's okay. You didn't say or do anything to offend me. I'm always a bit grumpy when I haven't had enough sleep.”
Matt nodded. The way he was looking at me now, he was annoyed with me. This promised to be a wonderful evening.
“Do you think these clothes are okay for the party?” I asked Matt to lighten the mood a bit and looked down at myself.
"Yes, it's fine, you look really good.”
I can't say why, but somehow I immediately felt calmer when I had Matt's approval of my outfit.
“Thanks,” I said, grinning. “I'm going to go down and say hi to my parents. You coming?”
"You go ahead. I want to change quickly for the party. See you in a minute.”
I nodded and continued towards the stairs. Maybe it's better if Matt is offended. Then it may also be easier to deal with his attraction to me. But that doesn't matter now.
When I entered the kitchen, my mother jumped up from her chair and pulled me into her arms.
“I thought you didn't want to greet us at all. You don't know how happy I am to have you both back.“
”I'm happy to see you too, but we were only apart for a week.“
”You just don't understand how a mother feels. You'll understand me when you have children of your own.” With these words, Mom released me from her embrace.
I went to the table and greeted my father.
“Well, big guy, how are you doing?” my father asked, patting me on the shoulder in friendship.
“I'm okay, just a little tired.”
"Are you sure you still want to go to that party tonight? Wouldn't it be better if you got a good night's sleep first?”
I had to grin, only my mom would say something like that.
Before I could answer, Kaitlyn came to the table with plates and cutlery.
“You can start setting the table, dinner will be ready soon.”
Lara got up and helped distribute the food.
"By the way, where's my son, Lukas?”
“He went back to his room to change. He said he'd be right down.“
”Well, it may take a while for him to come back down. I think we can start eating.” With that, Kaitlyn placed a huge pot of chili con carne in the middle of the table and started putting some on everyone's plate.
While we were in the middle of eating, Matt came into the kitchen.
"You're being really accommodating. Would it have been too much to ask if you'd waited for me to eat first?”
“Matt, you knew very well that dinner was almost ready when you went upstairs to get them. Nobody asked you to change clothes.
Now sit down and eat something before everything gets cold.“
”All right, all right. But it's actually Lukas' fault that I had to change again,” with these words he came to the table and sat down with us.
I turned my head in his direction. ”What do I have to do with it all of a sudden?”
Matt grinned at me. “Well, I can't turn up at the party in my sluttiest clothes when you look so extremely good in yours.”
When I realized what he had said, I choked on a kidney bean. Help, I think I'm dying right now. Did Matt really say that I look extremely good? Lukas, take it easy, don't think too much again, good-looking doesn't really mean much, does it?
“After all, I still want to get a nice girl today. It wouldn't be good for my self-confidence if I were to stand alone in the corner while Lukas captivates all female persons,” Matt now spoke up again.
Okay, that's it. Now I'm really dying. Of course I had actually hoped that Matt might be gay after all, even though I didn't want to admit it to myself. But that's settled now. Great, now I'll spend the rest of my life with a cousin I'm secretly in love with, but who's absolutely straight. Wow, I've really always dreamed of something like this. How did I deserve so much luck?
Lara looked at me with her big doe eyes. I smiled sadly at her and shrugged.
Why was I so down, I mean, I've only known Matt for a few hours and I've slept most of the time. Besides, nothing is lost yet. After all, I'm still young and the world is open to me. There are bound to be plenty of cute gay guys here.
But unfortunately Matt is not one of them, it came back from my subconscious.
“Are some of our old friends going to be at the party tonight?” I heard Lara ask.
“Hmm...” Matt replied with his mouth full, “Mary has been asking about you a lot. She told me that you two used to be best friends. Otherwise, I don't know if anyone from your past will be there.”
“Oh my God, Mary. I haven't thought about her in years. But don't tell her that. When I think of all the nonsense we used to get up to. I'm looking forward to tonight more and more.”
“Not me,“ I replied. ‘At least when I think back to how much you and Mary always enjoyed teasing me.’
”Don't worry, brother, as soon as she sees what a cutie you've become, she'll be annoyed with herself for not being nicer to you.“
”I couldn't agree more,” Matt now piped up.
The guy is really driving me to my death. He's always making comments like that, and then he'll talk about some woman he's dying to pick up. Does he even know what he wants? My mood is getting more and more miserable.
Otherwise, dinner was pretty quiet. After everything was cleared away and put in the dishwasher, we sat down on the porch to talk for a while. I felt like I was in one of those kitschy Western novels, but it was actually really pleasant.
In the middle of our conversation, Matt stood up. “Okay, we should probably get going to Seth's party.” Lara and I also stood up, albeit very moderately.
“Why don't you two go to the jeep, I'll just quickly get the keys.”
We quickly said goodbye to our parents (my mom couldn't help but say, “And behave yourselves”) and went to the car.
“Can you please tell me what's going on with Matt?” I whispered to my sister. ”First he tells me and the whole family how good I look, and the next moment he's talking about all the women he wants to pick up. Do I have to understand that?”
“Have you ever thought that the chatter with the girls is just a cover? Maybe he hasn't come out to anyone yet.“
”You're the only one who knows I'm gay, and yet I don't tell Mom and Dad about some girls all the time."
We had now arrived at the jeep.
“Hey bro, don't worry about it too much and enjoy the evening. Maybe you'll find a cute guy at the party, then you won't need to worry about Matt anymore.“
”I'll never find another cutie like Matt. I mean, Matt is really the dream of my sleepless nights.”
“Well, we can go now,“ Matt called to us from the house after saying goodbye to his mother and our parents.
So we all got into the car and Matt drove off.
”How long will it take to get to Seth's?” Lara asked again from behind.
“About a quarter of an hour. If we were to drive cross-country, it would be even less, but I don't want to do that to you today. Your day was already exhausting enough without me introducing you to the gravel roads here.”
I feel sick just thinking about it. Maybe I should mention that I can't do long car rides without pills for motion sickness. But not even those help on some dirt or gravel roads. I just have a very sensitive stomach.
“If it's up to me, I can do without getting to know it,“ I replied to Matt.
”Unfortunately, the most beautiful places here can only be reached via such routes, but if you don't want to drive, then we'll just have to ride there.“
”Oh God, that's even worse. I haven't sat on a horse in ages. I don't even know if I can do it at all anymore.”
“Don't worry, Lukas, you never forget how to do something like that, and if you want, I'll be happy to give you a few lessons again.
That's Seth's house up ahead, the one with all the cars in front of it. It seems like the party's already in full swing."
With a skillful parking maneuver, Matt stopped in front of Seth's house. With a slight feeling of pressure in my stomach, I got out of the jeep. Lara took my hand in hers. As I looked up at her, she smiled encouragingly at me. Maybe I should also mention that I was always the reserved and shy one of the two of us. I guess that's not least because of being gay, I just can't approach people openly. But I'm glad that I have a sister who fully supports me and is always by my side.
After Matt had locked the car, he walked towards the house.
“Well, come on, they won't eat you right away. Although some of them will probably fight to be allowed to eat you.”
Was this going to be my life for the rest of my life? My cousin is my absolute dream boy and always makes such insinuations, but by the way he is totally heterosexual.
Matt went ahead and skillfully held the door open for us. Lara and I went into the house.
What we saw was really a party like the ones in the books. You couldn't exactly determine the number of guests because the masses were not limited to just one room. Wow, throwing a party like this has always been my dream, but unfortunately I had no idea how to pull something like this off.
Matt pushed us from behind to get us moving. We had barely taken two steps when a guy came towards us with a beaming smile.
"Hi, you must be Matt's mysterious relatives. It's great to finally meet you. Matt's been telling me for weeks that you're coming to the States.”
Since I still felt a bit overwhelmed by all the impressions that were coming at me, Lara did the talking for both of us.
"Hello. I'm Lara and this is my twin brother Lukas. And yes, we are Matt's relatives, even though I can't tell you what's so mysterious about us.”
“Well, Matt couldn't really tell us much about you. The only thing we found out was how old you are and when you arrive in the States. The only thing Mary could remember was that she and Lukas always teased him. So you'll understand that you both won't really be able to relax today.”
“I also remember very clearly how I was always teased,” I now piped up, giving my sister a dark look from the side.
“Oh, Lukas, that was ages ago. I hope you're not still holding that against me,“ said two arms that suddenly went around my shoulders from behind. Startled, I turned around and looked into a girl's face.
”Mary?”
“Of course. And I really hope you've forgiven us for the pranks back then, after all, we were all just kids back then,“ she beamed at me with a smile.
”It's no wonder you're throwing yourself at him now, Mary. You go after anything male and handsome,” Matt said.
Mary turned to him and allowed him a glance at her tongue. “You're just being so bitchy because you'd rather throw yourself at him.”
Matt's entire facial expression went haywire and before I could even react, he had already turned around and stormed off. There was an oppressive silence in the room until suddenly there was a thunderstorm. It was Seth shouting at Mary.
“Do you ever think before such shit comes out of your mouth! When I come back, I don't want to see you here anymore and I advise you to give me a wide berth in the near future!”
With these words, he turned around and stormed off in the same direction as Matt. I just stood there and didn't know what to do or say. There was just a huge vacuum in my head. I don't know how long I had been standing there when I felt someone take my hand in theirs. I looked to the side and saw the sad eyes of Lara.
Matt
Great, now it was all over before it even started. I really thought there was a chance that I could become friends with Lukas and Lara, but now...
Well, actually, I was hoping for something more than friendship with Lukas. I mean, even when his parents showed me the photo of the two of them, it hit me like a blow. The guy looked incredibly cute. And he was supposed to be my cousin. I kept hoping that he had just been well-photographed in the photo and didn't actually look too good in real life. Well, and I guess I had raved a little too much about the two of them to Seth, especially about Lukas. When we were sitting together again at some point, he just asked me,
“Tell me, Matt, could it be that you have a crush on Lukas?"
I can still remember exactly how I stared at him. My head was in total chaos. But Seth just took me in his arms and whispered in my ear that everything was fine. I just looked at him blankly.
“You didn't expect me to hit you and yell at you or something?"
I still wasn't able to say anything. I mean, it was just a shock to me that Seth had just said it.
“Hey, I'll always stand by you, whatever it is. You're like a brother to me and I'm not just going to abandon you just because you've got a crush on Lukas.”
“Thanks.“ That was the only thing I could say, then I threw myself back into his arms and started crying like a little kid. After Seth had calmed me down to some extent, he looked at me grinning.
”I'd love to see Mary's face when she finds out she's right about calling you a fag.”
Mary, that was another thing. Since I let her down once, she told everyone who wanted to hear it, and actually everyone who didn't want to hear it, that I'm just a fag, as she always says so nicely. However, there was never any real chance that anyone would believe her. But it hurt every time I heard her say something like that again. That evening, Seth and I sat together for a long time and I was finally able to really open up. It was a huge relief for me that he continued to stand by me. I'm really happy to have him as a friend. Just as I thought that, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I didn't have to turn around to know it was Seth. He sat down next to me.
“You like a big finish, don't you?“
”Believe me, it wasn't planned at all.“
”You're pretty shaken up. Do you want to talk?“
I shrugged my shoulders.
”You know,” I finally began, ”when I saw him at the airport today, I was really shocked. He looked even better than in that photo. At first I didn't dare to talk to him. I just stood there and stared at him. And when we finally found ourselves on the way to the ranch, I still had something on my mind that I had been chewing on a lot lately. Lukas was supposed to sleep in my room for the first few weeks. I just convinced myself that it wouldn't be so bad. But I wasn't really convinced. My good intentions were also pretty quickly gone when I found him in my room after he had showered. He fell asleep on the couch in nothing but his shorts. You really can't imagine how horny this guy looked. The worst thing was that his... well, his dreams seemed very stimulating for him. Man, my imagination really didn't have much to do with it. It really wasn't missing anymore, and I would have attacked him. And somehow Mary's saying was just too much for me. I don't understand why I didn't just ignore it like I always do.“
”Maybe because what she said was true? You would have liked to have thrown yourself at him.”
I had to grin wryly. “You're probably right.”
I was already afraid of my next question. “And how did Lukas react?”
Seth thought for a moment. “He didn't really react at all. At least not while I was still there. Even though he looked a little confused.”
“Well, great, so how are we supposed to proceed now? I can't face him anymore. Who knows what he thinks of me.“
”Matt, have you ever considered that he might feel the same way as you? I mean, if I may say so as your hetero almost-brother: You look pretty damn good.”
“To be honest, I've thought about it briefly, but I just don't want to get my hopes up too high. It would just hurt too much if I were to be disappointed. I'm just kind of afraid of what's going to happen now.“
”I hope you know you can always come to me.”
I nodded. “Can I crash at your place tonight? I don't think I can sleep in the same room with him tonight. I guess I wouldn't be able to close an eye.”
“Sure. But you know you can't keep running away from it all the time. At some point you have to talk to Lukas.”
"I know, but today I really can't do it anymore.”
“Come on, let's go back. I guess the party broke up after that scene.“
”I'm sorry I ruined your party. Today really doesn't seem to be my day."
Lukas
Lara pulled me away from the general unrest that was just developing. As my brain slowly started to work again, I found myself on the back porch.
“Matt is gay. My dream man is into guys.“
”So, do you have a plan for how you want to proceed now?"
I grinned at Lara crookedly from the side. ‘Seduce him.’
However, that only earned me a push in the ribs.
“Lara, can I ask you a question on the side? How are we going to get home now? I doubt that Matt will show up again anytime soon and the party seems to be over too.“
”That shouldn't be a problem. I'll just pick up some guy, beguile him with my charm and then ask him to drive us home on the side.”
“If I were you, I would start using my charm right away before there are no more guys left to beguile with it. I have another suggestion: we can just call Mom or Dad.“
”That's one option, but what are you going to tell them about why Matt isn't driving us back?”
“You know that they won't pry anything out of us if they realize that we don't want to talk about it. Besides, they would rather us call them than have us driven by some guy you picked up on the side."
Lara shrugged. ‘Yes, you're probably right. I'll call them in a minute.’ With that, she took out her cell phone.
While she was busy with it, I looked at the property behind the house and followed my thoughts. My dreams had come true in a single moment, and yet I couldn't really be happy. I don't know what it was, but I didn't really feel comfortable with the whole thing.
“Dad's already on his way. I guess we should go to the front, it probably won't take that long for him to get here."
We slowly walked together in front of the house.
“Hey kid, why are you so quiet all of a sudden?“
”Oh, I don't really know what to think about the whole thing. It all seems so easy to me now. I mean, Matt is my absolute dream guy and he's gay. Somehow... oh, I don't know either.”
Lara grinned at me. “Man Lukas, you can be really exhausting. Did you ever think that maybe fate is just being good to you? It's not like you don't deserve to have some luck.”
We sat in silence for a while, when I saw Dad's car, I had made a decision.
“I want to tell Mom and Dad. It's best to do it tonight. Will you help me?"
Lara looked at me from the side. ”You know I'll stand by you no matter what you decide to do.”
Dad had meanwhile come to a stop in front of the house. Slowly, Lara and I got up and went to meet him. Without saying a word, we got into the car and Dad drove off immediately.
“I guess you don't want to tell me what happened?” Dad asked after a few minutes.
"Not now. But... I'd like to talk to you and Mom today.”
Dad looked at me with raised eyebrows but didn't say anything. No one said anything for the rest of the drive. I tried to figure out what was going on in my head, but it didn't really work. It had actually been quite easy with Lara, because the whole thing hadn't been planned. I was on the verge of despairing. How did I actually come up with the idea of telling my parents everything? Okay, now take a deep breath. It's not going to be too bad. My parents aren't really stuffy or anything like that, and as far as I can remember, they've never said anything negative about gays. I was getting more and more nervous.
When we finally stopped in front of the farm, my Dad said that we should go inside and tell Mom, and he would take the car to the garage. Lara took my hand as we went into the house. Mom was sitting in the kitchen waiting for us.
"What happened? Why are you back so soon and why didn't Matt drive you?”
“There was a small incident, but I don't really want to say anything more about it.“ Ok, now take a deep breath. ‘Mom, I actually want to tell you and Dad something. Do you have some time for me?’
”Lukas, you know we always have time for you. So, what's up?”
“Can we wait until Dad gets here? I actually wanted to tell you together.“
My mother nodded and I sat down opposite her. Lara did the same. So we sat there in silence, waiting for my dad to finally arrive. He wasn't long in coming. He looked at us three in turn and then sat down next to my mom.
”So?”
“Well, I wanted to tell you something about myself that has actually been on my mind for some time. I guess you should give up on the idea of a daughter-in-law. So, what I really want to tell you: I'm gay."
It felt incredibly good to have finally said it. However, I also felt insecure because I still didn't know how my parents would react.
Matt
I lay in Seth's room and thought about the day. Actually, all of that would have been enough for half a year. Suddenly I started.
“Shit!”
Seth woke up from my scream.
"Hmm... Matt, what's going on?”
“I didn't think about Lara and Lukas at all. I drove them both here. I didn't even think about how they would get back.“
”Matt, it's just after three now. Don't you think they'd be at your place by now? They'll have called for sure, or one of the others will have driven them. So don't worry and get a few more hours' sleep.”
With these words, Seth turned to the side and pulled his blanket over his head. However, I was not at all reassured. That was typical of me again. As soon as I have a little problem, I forget everything around me. Hopefully they both arrived home safely. I don't even want to think about what I might have to listen to from my mother tomorrow. Maybe Seth was right and I should really try to get some more sleep. So I did the same and lay on my side, closed my eyes and tried to create some order in my head to get some more sleep.

The list of those I would most like to shoot into space, preferably without a spacesuit, top 3:
3. Ms. Sina Palm - my landlady, who constantly lurks around the house as if she expects me to burn it down, blow it up, paint it pink or do something similarly terrible to it at any moment. Since I once chased her out of my garden very forcefully, we have been at loggerheads.
2. Doctor Friedrich Lodenberg – my father, who never tires of emphasizing how incredibly disappointed he is in me. Since I quit my law studies, I am just as worthless in his eyes as all the jobs I change are like other people's underwear.
1. Alasdair Landon – my brother's best friend and my neighbor. He's gay, stubborn and arrogant. All of these are traits that I don't particularly like – and I'll be damned if I'm going to hide it! I'd much rather just ignore the guy, but unfortunately for me, that's almost impossible.
Until now, Alasdair was in fourth place on my list of the unloved, but that has just changed with a loud bang. The bang that accompanied the impact of a half-full beer bottle on my beloved garden table. I storm angrily onto the terrace and throw deadly glances at the balcony above me. “Hey, you completely stupid morons!” I yell against the party noise. Because the purest orgy is taking place above me, organized by my oh-so-highly esteemed neighbor. ‘This is a damn expensive table, you assholes!’ It actually only cost fifteen euros, but these idiots don't need to know that.
A face framed by dark hair leaned over the balcony railing. Alasdair. “The table only cost fifteen euros,” he stated coolly.
Damn it. I hate that guy! “And so you think you can use him as a garbage can?” I spat.
“I had nothing to do with the whole thing. Besides, it was probably an accident, so don't get so worked up.”
“This is your damn party, so you're damn right you have something to do with it!”
Alasdair sighs as if I were a defiant child and he were the long-suffering father. “All right,” he says. “I'll ask my guests not to throw beer bottles at you anymore.”
“And that's it?!“ I ignore the attempt to turn the situation into a joke.
“Of course not. I will identify the culprit, whip him, and ultimately force him to beg you for forgiveness by kissing your feet.” Alasdair gives me a look of forbidden innocence that makes me want to slap it off his face.
“Fuck you, asshole!” I snap and storm back to my apartment. The patio door slams shut behind me with a loud crash.
Ten minutes later, there is a knock on my front door. In the meantime, my mood has changed from “pretty angry” to “extremely angry”. The loud music and the noise of the party guests are constantly getting on my nerves. I open the door with some force and see my brother Lars standing there.
He stares at me in shock, but then immediately regains his composure. “Hey, little brother. I heard there was a little accident with a beer bottle.”
“What's it to you?” I actually like Lars, but right now I'd kick even Mother Teresa out into the street.
“I just wanted to make sure you're okay.”
“Shouldn't you be one floor up, drinking away the last of your sanity with your best friend and all the other idiots? Yelling? Raging a little?”
“Well, well. You're in a really great mood.”
Before I can say something that would certainly not have been friendly, I hear a clearing of the throat and Alasdair appears next to my brother. He must have been standing next to the door against the wall, so I couldn't see him.
I grab the door and slam it in front of them. Or rather, I almost do it. Alasdair intercepts the door and pushes it open again. He is bigger and stronger than me, so I don't even try to stop him. Instead, I fold my arms across my chest, position myself in front of the entrance like a grim guard, and glare darkly at Alasdair. In my mind, I picture strangling him. “Get out!”
“Not until I've apologized.”
“I couldn't give a damn about your apologies!”
“Didn't you just tell me a few minutes ago that you wanted an apology?”
“Didn't you claim a few minutes ago that you had nothing to do with it?”
“Oh, come on, Tom. Do we always have to argue? I apologize and you stop killing me in your thoughts. How about it?”
I stubbornly stick out my chin and size him up with narrowed eyes. Why did my brother have to become friends with this guy? I've hated Alasdair from the moment I met him. But since he and Lars realized how incredibly well they get along, I have to deal with his presence all the time. Even in my own four walls, I'm no longer safe, since Lars and I share the ground floor of the house.
“How about you crawl under the nearest bush and die there?” I reply, taking a threatening step towards him. He remains unmoved, raising only one eyebrow in a mocking gesture that always infuriates me. My hands clench into fists.
Alasdair watches me closely. “Are you going to hit me?” Again that raised eyebrow, again that mocking undertone.
“I'm not a brainless oaf who can only get his way with violence!” I hiss, my hands still clenched into fists.
“Well, I'm curious. How do you get your way then?”
Before I can answer, an arm comes around Alasdair's waist from behind and pulls him back. Simon. Alasdair's friend. Or current bed bunny. Or whatever. Do all the party guests want to gather in front of my door one by one? Do I have a tasty portion of rat poison hidden somewhere in the depths of my cupboards?
“You left me all alone up there,” the bunny whines.
Alasdair strokes his hair and kisses him on the mouth. ‘I'll be right there, sweetie.”
Immediately, Simon switches from whiny to erotic, or at least to what he thinks is erotic, and breathes, ’Oh yes, I like it when you come.”
I feel sick on the spot. For the second time that evening, I slam a door shut.
In the middle of the night, something wakes me up. In a remarkable mixture of disorientation and annoyance, I let my gaze wander around the room. It's dark. Of course. What else would it be at this time of night? And it's quiet. Very quiet. Obviously, even the last party guests have now drunk themselves into a coma. Or passed out in sheer joy at being able to enjoy the company of the great Alasdair. Whatever, I couldn't care less. As long as I have my peace.
But if it is dark and so quiet, what woke me up?
For some unfathomable reason, I suddenly feel very uncomfortable. Even more, all at once my hair is literally standing on end.
A touch of panic makes me freeze. I can't move a millimeter, even though everything inside me is screaming to jump up and run away.
What the hell is this again? Did I spontaneously lose my mind overnight? Little children are afraid of the dark. I certainly am not.
At least that's what I thought.
In my mind, I walk the path from my bed to the light switch. Actually, it's only three steps. A ridiculously small distance that suddenly seems infinitely large to me. As if I had to cross a dark forest full of dark figures.
I laugh. An ugly, strange sound.
Then suddenly I hear something else. A scraping sound, as if something big is creeping along very carefully and slowly. My breath catches in my throat. I listen almost compulsively, but at the same time I want to cover my ears.
A kind of soft whistling joins the scraping. Or rather – breathing.
Just a moment ago, these sounds were not there at all, but now they are mercilessly intruding on me. Scratching – inhaling – scratching – exhaling – scratching – inhaling...
This can only be a dream, I realize. Even if it is a pretty realistic one.
This realization should actually be followed by relief, but nothing of the sort happens. Instead, I watch with growing horror as the darkness in front of me thickens, as if all the darkness in the world were gathering in front of my bed. My whole body is shaking miserably.
“Damn it, don't be like that,” I say to myself and realize that my voice is shaking too. It's just ridiculous.
The concentrated darkness comes closer, climbs over the edge of my bed, and takes over the blanket just in front of my feet. It devours it with a huge black maw. I can't help but wonder what will happen when the darkness reaches my body. I want to jump up, but I still can't move.
Like a hypnotized rabbit about to be swallowed by a snake. The thought is meant to be mocking, but it has a completely different effect on me. A scream of fear escapes from my throat.
Very loud and very piercing.
Damn, I hope I only screamed in my dream. It would be too embarrassing if someone had heard it.
The darkness is now so close to my big toe that a sheet of paper wouldn't fit in the space between. My breathing is racing and I feel drops of sweat on my forehead.
Then, completely out of the blue, the nightmare is suddenly over. No shuffling, no strange breathing, no abnormal darkness. My paralysis disappears and I jump up. Much too fast and much too violently. My feet get tangled in my bedspread, the yielding mattress offers little secure support. For a brief moment, I hang in the air, arms flailing wildly, then I fall off the bed.
A sudden pain shoots through my left hand.
“Shit! Damn!”
My swearing is followed by a loud rumble. This time not from my room, but from the one above mine. Alasdair's bedroom, as I know from painful experience. More than once I've been able to listen to the bastard during his sex games. Experiences I would have gladly done without.
Is he up there again? Or is he trying to tell me to be quiet? If so, he would deserve a good beating for it...
I refrain from swearing loudly again. Not out of consideration, but because I don't want to admit that I fell out of bed the next morning.
But that's exactly what will have happened to him.
This thought brings a smile to my face.
A little later, I am fast asleep again.
The next morning, still half asleep, I drag myself into the kitchen and am not pleased to find not only my brother there, but also Alasdair. This is unusual for three reasons. Firstly, I am not a late riser and am normally fit and well after getting up. Secondly, my brother never gets out of bed early at the weekend and, thirdly, Alasdair certainly doesn't.
I ignore them both and go straight to the kitchenette to get a glass from the cupboard. A sharp pain shoots through my right wrist as I open the door. I must have sprained it during the night.
“Coffee's on the table,” Alasdair says.
“Fascinating.” Carefully, not to put too much strain on my aching wrist, I pour myself an orange juice, keeping my back to the two of them.
“You look tired, little brother.”
What impressive powers of observation. I say my thoughts out loud and Lars answers with a laugh. He never holds it against me when I make snappy comments. Probably because he knows that I actually like him a lot. Which, of course, I would never openly admit.
“Did you sleep badly?” Alasdair asks, as if it were any of his business.
I remain silent.
“Or did you dream something bad and fall out of bed in fright?” he asks, proving that he has not failed to notice the noises coming from my bedroom.
I turn to him abruptly, spilling orange juice on the floor. ”Shit!”
While I clean up the mess with a damp kitchen towel, I avoid Alasdair's intense gaze. Two things worry me in a way that is hard to put my finger on. There is an expression on his face as if he knows something that I am unaware of. Something sinister. In addition, I suddenly notice the fascinating contrast between the strong blue of his eyes and his dark hair. What the hell do I care about the eyes of this asshole?
Guided by a sudden urge, I go to the kitchen table where Alasdair and Lars are sitting and wring out the orange juice-soaked cloth over Alasdair's head. Two pairs of eyes stare at me in complete disbelief.
“Uh... little brother...?”
“Well, Tommy...“ Alasdair uses the pet name I hate so much. ‘...if you think I should take a shower, you could just say so.’ He gets up and walks towards the kitchen.
“As if a shower would change your stench!” I spit at him and feel an aggressiveness in me that goes beyond the normal level. I fix Lars with burning eyes. “Do you always have to let this guy into our apartment? Can't you, damn it, meet at his place? Or even better, at the nearest dump?” I feel Alasdair moving behind my back and try to ignore him as best I can.
“Do you think that's a good idea?” asks Lars.
“Huh...? What...” I can't get any further. Alasdair is emptying the rest of the orange juice from the Tetra Pak over my head. At first I'm speechless. Then I'm overcome with rage. I turn around, punching at his face with my clenched fist. But Alasdair easily dodges me. I curse, punch again, and again I only hit air. “Fucking arsehole!” This time I aim for his stomach. He brushes my arm aside with a casual movement.
“Come on, Tom. Stop it. You're acting like a madman.”
His words only fuel my anger. But no matter how hard I try to hit or kick him, I just can't do it. Not only is the guy strong, he's fast too.
At some point, he has enough. Before I can react, he is standing behind me, effortlessly grabs my arm out of thin air, twists it behind my back and forces me onto my tiptoes.
“So, now what?”
I feel his breath on my ear as he speaks. Every hair on my body stands on end and I try in vain to free myself from his grip.
“Are you going to calm down now?” Alasdair asks again.
I bare my teeth. ‘Let me go and you'll see.”
“We can stand here all day if you like. I don't mind.’ Alasdair tightens his grip on my joints a little. It doesn't really hurt – he'd have to be much more brutal than this – but it's not pleasant either.
Once again, I push against the handle. Unsuccessfully. “It was obvious that you enjoy this kind of thing,” I hiss. All at once, I become very aware of how close our bodies are. Panic rises up inside me. “Let me go!”
“Only if you promise to be peaceful.”
“I'm not promising you anything, asshole!”
“Well, in that case...” His breath brushes my cheek, which almost drives me crazy.
“Is your little friend so bad in bed that you have to snuggle up to me?” I put as much venom into my voice as possible. ”I can definitely think of better ways to spend an evening than being pawed by a damn gay!”
“First of all, I'm not pawing you, secondly, my friend is neither small nor bad in bed, and thirdly, are you sure about that?”
I can almost feel Alasdair's grin.
Anger is raging inside me, along with another, more elusive feeling. Suddenly I feel sick. Very sick. Did I hit my head when I fell out of bed? And have I overwhelmed my body with all this tussling?
“That's enough, Alasdair. Leave him alone,” Lars interjects. His voice has the calm determination for which I have so often secretly envied him. And indeed, Alasdair wordlessly releases the grip on my arm, goes back to the kitchen table and takes a big gulp of coffee. He looks at me over the edge of his cup.
I just look back, stand frozen for a moment, my mind a complete blank. Then I storm into the bathroom and throw up.
There's a knock at the bathroom door. “Are you okay?” It's Lars.
I breathe a sigh of relief. Having to deal with Alasdair again would be too much. My fingers glide absentmindedly over the cool tiles and rough grout of the floor I'm sitting on.
“Can I come in?” Lars asks. When he doesn't get an answer, he carefully opens the door and peeks in.
I give him a pained smile. “Probably something I ate, or something.” The voice scratches unpleasantly in my throat.
Encouraged by my peaceful behavior, Lars enters and sinks down on the floor next to me. “Pretty cold, the tiles,” he says.
I shrug my shoulders.
“If there's anything you want to talk about, you know you can trust me, Tom.”
I shrug my shoulders again. “What would I want to talk about?”
“That's up to you.”
“Mhm. Ok.”
We sit in silence for about ten minutes before Lars speaks again: ”What bothers you about Alasdair?”
“Is there anything else we can talk about besides that ass?”
“See, that's exactly what I mean.”
“Do I always have to have a reason for everything? I just can't stand him!”
“Is it because he's gay?”
“I don't care what the guy does in his bed.” As long as I don't have to listen to it.
“Our father is not exactly tolerant in that regard.”
“Our father is not tolerant in any respect. But I'm not him. And I don't listen to him anymore either.”
“No, of course not. But sometimes...” Lars interrupts himself.
“Sometimes...”
Lars looks at me sideways. There is caution in his eyes. “Sometimes...” he continues. “Sometimes I wonder if his opinion is not more important to you than you want to admit.”
“Nonsense!” I clarify. “Would I have dropped out of law school, which was so important to him, otherwise?”
“One doesn't exclude the other.”
“And pigs can't fly. So what? What do you actually want from me, Lars?”
“I want to know if you're okay, little brother.”
“I'm six feet tall.”
“Kar. Tall, big mouth and absolutely determined to avoid serious conversations.”
“Isn't it nice how well you know me?”
“Sure. You're like an open book to me, and I can flip through the pages any way I want.”
“You wish.”
Lars sighs, then smiles. “You know what I'd really like right now? A delicious piece of cake at Café Bach.”
A little later, we're actually on our way to Café Bach.
I just lost my job. It's an inconvenience that happens to me again and again. My brother thinks I provoke getting fired. He's only partly right. In fact, I just don't make any effort to not get fired. And if I think my boss is a brain-amputated idiot, I'll tell him so.
Of course, I'll have to look for a new job. My father is insanely rich, but since I no longer live my life according to his ideas, I don't get any support from him – besides, I wouldn't have accepted a cent from him. Not anymore.
A few months ago, things looked different. Until I turned 22, I was an extremely obedient son. Obedient and successful. My high school graduation was as good as could be hoped for, and in law school I was among the best of the best from the very beginning. My father's clients already saw me as a competent new addition to his firm.
My father thanked me for all of this with a generous financial allowance. I lived in a luxurious loft apartment in the middle of the city and went to the most exclusive restaurants and clubs. My clothes were chic and expensive, and so were my friends.
Everything seemed perfect, that is, until I woke up in my huge mahogany bed on my twenty-second birthday and suddenly realized that I hated my job as a lawyer, that my friends were nothing more than money-hungry, superficial liars, and that my large, perfect apartment was filled with nothing but expensive furniture.
Of course, these problems had been looming for a while, but I had always been very successful at repressing any thoughts along these lines. That morning, however, I couldn't do it anymore.
I quit my studies, broke with my father, who refused to accept it, and moved into the apartment where we live now with Lars. My brother is still in fairly good contact with our father. After all, he is studying medicine. That doesn't make him a suitable successor for the law firm, but it is a respectable profession. Nevertheless, Lars does not accept financial support from our father. He never has. He has always been very strict and clear in his views on this.
Would I have a better relationship with our father today if I had followed my own path from the beginning, like Lars, and always stood on my own two feet? Do I even know what my own path is? Shifting from one uninteresting job to the next is not truly fulfilling either.
Whatever. I shake off my gloomy thoughts. I can have a good time at lunchtime. We are halfway through the month, the rent is paid and my account is not overdrawn at the moment. So it's enough if I don't start looking for a job until tomorrow.
I spontaneously go to the city park. Although it is autumn and already relatively cool, I lie down in the middle of the meadow, which is so popular in summer, stretch my arms and legs and stare into the cloudy sky. A bird is circling in the distance. My eyes follow it without too much interest. Nevertheless, I am aware of the animal's enormous size. Some kind of bird of prey? There is something disconcerting about the way it flies. But then, my knowledge of birds is pretty limited. Shrugging my shoulders inwardly, I close my eyes and try not to think about anything, which works surprisingly well for me.
At some point, a shadow falls on me and I squint unwillingly upwards. A woman is standing in front of me. Late twenties, long blonde hair, big eyes, full lips, self-confident charisma, very pretty.
She smiles and squats down next to me. “Hi. I'm Sara.”
I remain silent, but she is not deterred. A woman like her probably always gets her way sooner or later.
“Isn't it a bit cold to lie on the meadow like this?” She runs her fingertips over the grass, barely touching it. ”And a bit damp?”
“I like it when the moisture soaks my clothes and makes them slowly become clammy,” I say with a serious voice.
She laughs, straightens up again and holds out her hand to me. ”And I like to invite pretty young men to coffee.”
“That's probably great for the pretty young men.” And presumably any man she paid attention to would do cartwheels for joy or drop to his knees. Objectively, she is absolutely desirable. Yet I feel only the all-too-familiar indifference. Sure, I've had a few girlfriends and been in bed with almost all of them. But none of them really excited me. While other guys my age are crazy about sex, for me it has only ever been quite nice. The moment of climax is of course not to be sneezed at, but after that I have never really felt satisfied. And whatever the woman has to be like to awaken my passion, it is definitely not the beauty in front of me.
She looks at me with raised eyebrows. “You're not making it easy for me. Don't you like me?”
“You're a very attractive woman,” I say, and I mean it.
“But...”
“No buts.”
“Am I too old for you?”
“No, I like mature women.”
“Mature women?“ She playfully kicks me in the side. ‘I'm not that old!”
I get up after all, look at her face up close. ’You're right. Not a single wrinkle. Except maybe here...” I touch her very briefly next to her right eye.
Even if she is not the woman of my dreams, a little distraction wouldn't be a bad thing, I decide. Before she can become indignant again, I give her my best smile. “What was that again about coffee?”
We go for a drink. After that, I take her back to my place.
In the entrance hall, we meet Alasdair and his bunny Simon. The latter gives me a dark look, as if he knows exactly how I feel about him. He puts his arm around Alasdair's waist, kisses him and looks straight at me.
What's that supposed to mean?
Alasdair returns the kiss, but he doesn't seem very enthusiastic. Is the little one getting on his nerves too? I certainly hope so. I'm not interested in their relationship at all, but I'm more than tired of hearing them regularly at night. Maybe next time Alasdair will get one that doesn't squeal like a stuck pig. On the spur of the moment, I rename Simon from bunny to piglet. And I tell him right away. Including the reason.
His dark look turns into a deadly one. “You're just jealous because things are going so well between me and my Ally-babe!” he snarls.
Ally-babe... It doesn't get much more stupid than that.
“Right,” I snap back, ‘as if I'm interested in your relationship.’ Then I turn to Sara: ‘Let's go inside. Piggy and Ally-sweetheart will probably be fine without us.”
She looks at me with raised eyebrows. ’Yes, I'm sure they will. By the way, I don't squeal like a pig, but hiss and purr like a tiger. Is that better?”
I grin. “Much better.”
I simply leave Alasdair and Simon standing there and lead Sara to my apartment.
A little later, I realize that there is indeed something feline about her. My back is adorned with a few scratch marks, so passionately she pounces on me.
For me, it's the same as always: a brief climax, then a feeling of emptiness, as if something is missing. But now I have learned to hide these feelings very well, so that Sara finally lies happily and contentedly in my arms.
We cuddle a little longer, then she goes home. But not without giving me her phone number first. I promise to get in touch with her.
That night Simon squeals particularly loudly, which he is definitely doing on purpose. In between, Alasdair's distinctly deeper, rougher groans cannot be ignored either. Why does this damn apartment have to be so poorly insulated?
I pull the blanket over my head and try to fall asleep. In vain.
A rhythmic banging joins the groaning. Bed against wall, I suspect, and curse.
When an hour later there is still no peace, I've had enough. Enraged, I jump out of bed, slip into boxer shorts and a T-shirt, and march up to Alasdair's apartment like a threatening thunderstorm.
I ring the doorbell as if it were to blame for everything, and I don't stop even when I hear someone tampering with the lock.
The door is flung open and Alasdair stands before me. He is wearing nothing but skimpy boxer shorts that show more than they conceal. And for the first time, I realize how attractive this bastard actually is. About six feet tall. Well-formed muscles. Quite strong, but not excessively so. A rugged face, high cheekbones, straight nose. Full, boldly curved lips. Big, blue eyes and black, curly hair. Skin that looks so even and velvety that I am almost tempted to run my fingertips over it to see if it feels the same. Suddenly, an uncomfortable lump sits in my throat.
“You can stop sounding now,” I hear Alasdair's voice.
His strange undertone jolts me out of my reverie. I realize that I'm staring at him, feel caught, and involuntarily take a step back.
Damn! Angry and defensive at the same time, I fold my arms across my chest. “Did I interrupt something, Ally darling?” At least I manage the ironic tone perfectly.
“If you put it that way, yes, you did.” Alasdair doesn't even appear to be remotely embarrassed.
“And do you really think it's necessary to let the whole neighborhood in on your screwing?”
“Since the whole neighborhood is taking a keen interest in what I'm doing in my bed anyway, I'm just doing the good people a favor, don't you think?”
“No, I don't.” Of course, I understand his innuendo immediately and feel embarrassed, albeit unjustifiably so. ‘Can I help it if not everyone around here gets off when two guys jump each other?’ I add in a very aggressive tone.
“And what about you?”
“What?”
His next question is accompanied by a strange grin as he asks me: “Do you get off on two guys jumping each other?”
For a brief moment, I am simply speechless. Then, before I even realize what I'm doing, I give him a resounding slap in the face. The sound of the slap echoes in the empty stairwell, while I feel the urge to storm back to my apartment. But I must not do that under any circumstances. To flee now would be tantamount to an admission. And since I am certainly not gay, I don't want to give rise to such suspicions. As if I didn't have enough trouble with Alasdair already!
I glare at him angrily, he looks back silently. His eyes are large and unusually dark in the dim light of the stairwell. I try to interpret his expressionless face. I don't succeed. What is going on in that bastard's head?
“I don't want to know what you're up to and I certainly don't want to hear about it!” I return to the subject.
“Right...” Alasdair's voice sounds husky, which is something I've never heard him do before.
Are you getting sick, asshole? Poor, poor Ally-darling.
Alasdair clears his throat. ‘Maybe Simon and I have exaggerated a little.’ Now he sounds like himself again. So unbearably self-confident.
“A little exaggerated...? That seems to me...”
“...a little understated?” Alasdair interrupts me. ”Simon is angry with you. And he has every reason to be. You always go out of your way to insult him.”
“The little pig shouldn't be such a baby about it.”
“I'd like to return that to you, word for word.”
“Fuck you!”
“I would if I could.”
Alasdair and I look at each other. He's amused, as usual, I'm angry, as usual.
“By the way, we heard your beautiful girlfriend too at lunchtime,” Alasdair finally says.
“That wasn't my girlfriend.”
“But you had fun, didn't you?”
“So what? Do you mind?”
“Although... I didn't hear a peep out of you.” Alasdair tilts his head slightly and looks at me with a playful expression on his face. ”Didn't you like it with her? Or are you just a bit more reserved in bed? Although, to be honest, I don't think the latter is likely. Considering the passion with which you always go at me...”
Alasdair grins broadly. He winks at me and I would like to slap him again. Or better yet, punch him in the face. Meanwhile, the mention of Alasdair, me and passion in the same sentence strangely gives me an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I have no intention of discussing my sex life with you!” I hurl at him.
“Hm, no? Why not?”
“...
“Come on, Tommy.”
“Don't you dare call me Tommy!”
“Isn't it perfectly normal for men to talk about sex?”
“Except that our preferences are miles apart.”
“I said talk, not live it out together, Tom. But if you'd rather...”
“I'm leaving now!” I interrupt Alasdair. It's much too warm and stuffy in the stairwell. Extremely unusual for this time of year, but I can feel myself starting to sweat and find it difficult to breathe. It's definitely time to go back to my apartment.
“Too bad.” A slight smile plays around the corner of Alasdair's mouth. It creates a small dimple on his right cheek, which I just notice for the first time.
And which doesn't matter at all.
“I would have really liked to know what your preferences are.”
I tear my eyes away from Alasdair's lips and dimple and concentrate fully on my venomous reply: “I like feet, especially when they smell nice of sweat. I also like to sniff old panties and I'm crazy about nibbling on lower lips.”
“Really?” Alasdair laughs. ‘I even believe you about the first two things. The last one seems a bit exaggerated, though.’ As if it were just an unconscious gesture, he bites his lower lip. And to my shame, I can't do anything but watch him. Even as he continues speaking, I still stare at his mouth.
“By the way, I like athletic men with green eyes, blond hair and a beautiful voice.”
“I have green eyes,“ I hear myself say.
“No kidding.”
“And blond hair,” someone with my voice adds.
“Are you quite sure about that?” Alasdair takes a step towards me and is suddenly very close to me. Too close. I know I should step back, feel his breath on my neck like on the night of the party and hate it! Yet I can't move, I'm completely frozen.
Alasdair runs his hand through my hair. It's a careful but firm touch that makes my scalp tingle, then my entire body.
“Hm, actually. You are blonde,” Alasdair mutters. With one hand still in my hair, he puts the other on my shoulder and pushes me backwards with gentle pressure. On legs that no longer belong to me, I stumble backwards until I feel the cold, unyielding wall at my back. Alasdair comes even closer to me, although I can no longer retreat, trapped between him and the wall. I gasp desperately for air, feel my heart racing as if it wants to jump out of my chest.
I grasp Alasdair's shoulders to push him away, at least in theory. But instead of putting my plan into action, I cling to him even tighter, as my knees suddenly become so weak that they can hardly carry me anymore.
Alasdair puts a hand under my chin and forces me to look at him. As his mouth comes closer with excruciating slowness, his gaze pierces mine. The dark blue of his eyes is like a maelstrom I cannot escape. The pitiful rest of my mind screams first angrily and then in panic, as my body no longer makes any attempt to defend itself.
Then, all of a sudden, Alasdair stops, frozen in mid-motion. I wonder if he's just realized who he has in front of him? I breathe a sigh of relief. But to my horror, the sound I make sounds more like a disappointed sigh.
Alasdair lets go of me and steps back. His entire body radiates tension. He tilts his head as if listening for something.
Simon? – Hardly, he would have made himself heard with a loud screeching long ago.
“Go back to your apartment and close the door,” Alasdair says in a hushed voice. His tone is commanding and brooks no argument. Normally, I wouldn't have taken it, of course. But at that moment, I'm just glad to be able to disappear as quickly as possible.
Without saying a word, I turn away, hurry down the stairs and enter the apartment where Lars is sleeping peacefully, unaware of what has just happened in the stairwell. What would he say if he knew that his brother almost let Alasdair kiss him?
Almost kissed by Alasdair. And I wouldn't have resisted.
No sooner have I entered my room, this truth hits me with full force.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
In helpless rage, I beat on my old bulky waste couch until exhaustion overcomes me and I sink to the floor, completely exhausted.
Why did I let this happen? I'm not gay, I don't even like the guy. So what was that about? Why didn't I just smash his face in like he deserved?
A long-forgotten memory assails me. At the time, I was out and about in the city with my parents. My mother was still alive, so I couldn't have been older than eight years old. On a bench, I saw two men kissing each other openly. I was very irritated, but at the same time I couldn't take my eyes off the scene. “When two men kiss, they're homosexual,” my mother explained. “Just disgusting. Repulsive!” my father added. “The likes of them should be locked up!”
A tortured laugh escapes my throat. Maybe I should kiss Alasdair after all. Just to give my father another reason to loathe me.
What would his lips have felt like?
I push this thought away, but others, no less unwelcome, follow.
Why did he suddenly send me away? Did he just want to know if he could kiss me? A little bonus for my self-esteem? The chance to finally get the upper hand in our constant arguments?
“Shit!”
Suddenly I realize that it could only have been a trap. A trap that should never have been dangerous to me.
If I had been well rested and fit, none of this would have happened. Alasdair only had a chance because it's the middle of the night and I couldn't get a wink of sleep because of his damn fucking with his stupid friend!
Eventually, as dusk is already falling outside, I finally go to bed. I have myself more or less under control again and am determined not to let Alasdair take advantage of the almost-kiss. After all, strictly speaking, nothing happened at all. After all, I may have tested him too.
With these thoughts, I fall asleep 
With an elegant movement, I throw the phone in the direction of the couch, but miss the seating by miles and hit the wall instead. A crash, a crunch, then silence.
“Shit!“ Apparently I underestimated my strength a little. Maybe I should start a career as a professional wrestler. Tom Lodenberg – the destroyer, the terror of all electrical appliances, the telephone devil, the...
“What was that?” Lars peers into the living room.
“Our phone.”
“And why are you throwing it around?”
“Because I didn't have a grenade at hand?” I suggest.
Lars rubs his temples hard. ‘And who was it?”
“Our beloved daddy.”
“I see,’ says Lars, as if I had just given him the answer to all the unanswered questions in the world. ”What did he want?”
“To talk to you and disinherit me.”
“He would never disinherit you.”
“Of course not. Otherwise he would have to renounce his most popular threat.”
“He still cares about you, you know that, Tom.”
“He still cares a lot about the son he would like to have. By the way, I told him that you can't come to the phone because you're jerking off right now.” When I remember this part of the conversation, I giggle softly to myself.
Tom, on the other hand, doesn't seem to share my joy at all. He is rubbing his temples again. “Did it ever occur to you that I might actually have wanted to talk to him?”
“You can always do that. The phone is over there.“ I crane my neck, look in the direction I'm pointing, and correct myself: ‘Or at least part of it. But the rest can't be far away either.”
My apologetic grin is ignominiously ignored.
With a growled ’Fix this,” Lars disappears from my field of vision.
That same afternoon, I am sitting on the terrace, an exciting book in one hand, a cup of black tea in the other, which I am addicted to.
After spending the morning trying in vain to fix the phone, then replacing it with a new one, having a long argument with my landlady, Mrs. Palm, about the length of the grass in the garden and the size of the straw bale in her head, and finally seeing off my still disgruntled brother to his week-long symposium abroad, I am clearly entitled to some rest and relaxation.
Unfortunately, my esteemed neighbor seems to disagree. Alasdair. Can't the guy just vanish into thin air? Forever? Ever since he set foot on his balcony, I feel as if I'm being watched. And this is not just my vivid imagination.
Although I have my back turned to Alasdair, I can see his reflection in the large patio window. He has placed a sketchbook on the balcony railing in front of him and works the paper sometimes with small, quick movements, sometimes with sweeping, expansive ones, like the caricature of a masterful painter. In fact, he can't be that bad. After all, as an artist, he earns enough to make a living.
On the other hand... When you think about all the stuff that passes for “art” these days...
One of his pictures, a charcoal drawing of a crooked house in a no-less-crooked forest, hangs in our living room. Much to my dismay. Unfortunately, Lars stubbornly refuses to accept that the picture would be perfectly at home in a dark corner of our cellar.
But what concerns me even more at this very moment is a single question: what on earth is Alasdair drawing right now?
Unfortunately, there is only one plausible answer. Because whenever he lifts his eyes from his sketchbook, he meets me.
I strangle him!
“Hey, moron! Don't you have anything better to do? Throw yourself in front of the next train, for example?“ I snap over my shoulder, without turning to face him completely.
“So you think it's more desirable to take your own life than to draw you?” Alasdair laughs out loud. “Come on, you're not that horrible to look at. To be honest... not at all.”
“Oh, thanks for the compliment. I'll go find a vase to throw up in.”
Now I get to enjoy the mocking raised eyebrow as I shoot deadly daggers at Alasdair's reflection.
“Do you always respond so charmingly to compliments?”
“Can't you just leave me alone?”
“I was until just now.”
“Yeah... sure... are you delusional?”
“Every now and then I seem to be. A moment ago, I thought there was a nice guy sitting on the terrace. Now I realize that it's a small, venomous garden gnome.”
“Small? GARDEN GNOME?”, I say indignantly, turning around at last. Who does this guy think he is? I may only be almost 1.80m tall and he may tower over me by more than a head, but that doesn't give him the right to make such jokes at my expense.
Alasdair leans forward a little and gives me a conspiratorial wink. “And poisonous,” he adds.
That's not really worthy of a response. I get up and turn towards the patio door.
“Are you planning on fleeing to the living room?”
“No!” Of course that's exactly what I had in mind. But to nip any further remarks in the bud, I just get the phone from the apartment instead. The brand new phone that I'm going to test extensively now.
Actually, I had never intended to get in touch with Sara as promised, but now I dial her number. She is pleased to receive my call, without overdoing it, as I know it from some other women. So a casual conversation develops, which I hadn't expected at all. I might even really enjoy it if I weren't constantly aware of Alasdair's presence, who is now busy drawing again and has of course chosen me as his subject again. The bastard is doing that on purpose.
“You sound distracted,“ Sara notes at some point. Her voice can be heard clearly from the phone's loudspeaker, which I activated at the beginning of the conversation. Firstly, to disturb Alasdair's peace. Secondly, so that I could put the phone down on the table in front of me.
“It's nothing,” I reply.
“Would you rather we talk another time?”
“No!“ To interrupt the conversation at this point would mean conceding victory to Alasdair. ‘I just keep thinking about what it was like to touch your body,’ I hear myself say instead. Even though that's a lie. And even though Alasdair can hear every single word I say.
“That's outrageous,” Sara murmurs suggestively.
“And that's not even the worst of it...” I continue speaking without knowing exactly why. ”I'm imagining you sitting in front of me in a flimsy dress.”
“Hm...?”
“And how I slowly stroke up the inside of your thigh with my hand... Isn't that even more outrageous?”
“Absolutely. I'm shocked.” Sara pauses for effect before continuing: ”I would find it even more unforgivable if you were to run your hand up your thigh until you reached between your legs.”
I can't do that, I want to say. My hated neighbor is standing on the balcony watching my every move.
But instead of saying these words, I put my hand on my leg and let it slide up slowly. Involuntarily, my gaze flickers to the windowpane, to Alasdair's reflection. He has raised the pencil to the next stroke, but stands motionless, staring at me intently.
Our eyes meet in the window.
Blood rushes to my center so suddenly that I startle. An unmistakable erection bulges my jeans.
“So, have you been a good boy?” Sara's voice breathes out of the phone.
“No.” I clear my throat. ‘Not at all.’ All of a sudden, speaking is surprisingly difficult for me. I realize that I should disappear into the apartment as quickly as possible, now more than ever. Yet I can't bring myself to get up.
Instead, I watch motionlessly as Alasdair swings over the balcony railing and lands with a smooth leap on the terrace behind me, as effortlessly as if he had just crossed a low garden fence.
As if hypnotized, I watch his reflection.
“Tom? Tell me what you're doing right now,” Sara demands.
But I have no words. My head is frighteningly empty.
Then Alasdair is standing close behind me. Very close. I feel the warmth of his body and see the shadow that falls over me.
“My right hand glides slowly over your shoulder to the neckline of your dress,” he whispers in my ear. He prompts me as if I had no idea what to say.
And I don't.
“Tom, my darling? Are you still there?” Sara again.
And although I feel more like fleeing at once, I actually repeat Alasdair's words.
Sara rewards me with a contented sigh.
I gasp loudly. For no sooner have I spoken the words than Alasdair's right hand glides over my shoulder to the neck of my T-shirt. His fingers literally burn into my skin and my heart is racing as if I had just finished a marathon. Helpless and bewildered, I sit on the chair.
Get out. Now! my mind advises me.
Again I hear Alasdair's whisper: “Very slowly, I slide my hand lower, circling your nipples, but not touching them. Not yet.”
In the silence that follows, I can only hear my wildly beating heart and my heavy breathing.
Alasdair bides his time. If I repeat his words, he will put them into action, as he has done before. I am fully aware of that.
So I just have to keep my mouth shut. Then he will understand that I don't want him to touch me.
“Very slowly, I slide my hand deeper, circling your nipples, but not touching them. Not yet,” I hear myself say, horrified.
I completely miss Sara's reaction. I am far too preoccupied with my own to feel Alasdair's hand on my chest. He moves gently, carefully and so agonizingly slowly that it seems almost unbearable to me. My head sinks powerlessly back, finding support on Alasdair's stomach. It is hard and yielding at the same time, rising and falling with my rapid breathing.
Our eyes meet and I see a sparkle in his blue eyes. Challenging and filled with a wild hunger.
Then his index finger almost casually brushes my left nipple and for a brief moment, everything goes dark before my eyes.
“I want you to touch your thighs again,” Alasdair whispers to me. His tone of voice brooks no contradiction and I obey almost automatically.
“Caress yourself.”
I do as he says.
“Keep going up.”
I follow his instructions. Even though a part of me is still shocked by my violent reaction to Alasdair.
My hands continue to move upwards and my hips involuntarily stretch a little higher. I have almost reached my erection, longing for this touch with a desire I have never felt before. Nevertheless, I force myself to move slowly.
“Stop,” I suddenly hear Alasdair again.
This time I don't do what he asks. So he grabs my arms and holds them tight.
“Let me go!“ I demand breathlessly, but he just laughs softly.
“So you want to touch your cock?” he finally asks. His tone alone sends another wave of arousal through my body.
I can only nod weakly.
“Then unzip your fly and pull your jeans down to your knees!”
Alasdair releases my arms. His right hand finds its way under my T-shirt again, his left caresses my neck, my chin, touches my lips, which involuntarily part. A throaty groan escapes me as he pushes his thumb into my mouth.
With trembling fingers, I rip open my belt, unbutton the top button of my jeans and pull them down over my legs.
“And now the boxers!” Alasdair's thumb enters my mouth with steady movements, moving between my lips in a provocative gesture. Which only serves to heighten my arousal further. I suck on it and circle it with my tongue. The last remnants of reason are swallowed up in a truly overwhelming sensation.
Without hesitation, I pull my boxers over my knees as well and expose myself to Alasdair. My cock is so hard that it hurts.
Again I try to touch myself and again Alasdair grabs me before I can do it. In one unstoppable movement he pulls my hands behind the back of the chair and holds them there. I groan in agony and frustration.
“Do you want to touch yourself?” Alasdair asks and his voice sounds like pure temptation.
“Yes, damn it!“ I gasp.
“And do you know what I want, too?”
“What?” I bite my lower lip and push against his grip. But I have no chance against him.
“I want...” Alasdair breathes. ”...you to come. Now!”
His words pierce me, more intensely than any touch.
Surprised, I gasp. Then I come so hard that I almost lose consciousness.
I don't know how much time has passed. Beneath me, I feel the unyielding surface of the chair like a saving island. I feel Alasdair's belly at the back of my head, feel the breath flowing through my throat and my heart, which is slowly calming down again.
My mind reemerges from the whirlwind of lust and passion. And the clearer my head becomes, the more horror spreads within me.
I try to connect with what has just happened and can't. Don't want to!
I sit bolt upright and reach for the phone. The connection is still active. I press the red receiver, reflexively and without thinking, without asking if Sara is still there.
What has she heard? The thought whirls through my mind until I realize that Sara is the least of my problems.
I jump up from the chair, tripping over my trousers, which are still hanging around my ankles. Hastily, I pull them up, ignoring Alasdair, who is saying something, and storm into the living room, slamming the patio door behind me.
I stand in the shower, letting the hot water pour down on me, and soap myself for the fifth time, as if I could wash the memories away. Which is, of course, completely pointless. The telltale traces of semen have long since disappeared from my body, but again and again I feel Alasdair's fingers. On my chest, my neck, my arms, in my mouth. And it's not an unpleasant feeling. Not at all. I've had an erection again, which is getting bigger and harder.
Anger and despair bring tears to my eyes.
“Shit!” I yell against the pattering of the water and sink to the floor along the tiled wall. Burying my head between my knees, I start to cry. For the first time since – I can't even remember anymore.
The doorbell rings repeatedly. Even louder and more persistently than before.
As if that would change anything. I'm certainly not going to let you in.
Finally the doorbell stops ringing and I'm alone with myself again. At least I think so. Until there's a knock on the bathroom door.
I hold my breath in shock and pretend I'm not there. Which is completely nonsensical, since the water is running and my bitter sobs must have been clearly audible until just now.
“Tom?” It's actually Alasdair.
How the hell did he get into the apartment? I continue to play dead.
“Are you okay?”
Of course. Never better. Now get out.
Silence.
“Can I come in?”
Silence.
“Tom?”
“Get out!”
“I just want to make sure you're okay.”
“You've done that. Now... Get out of my apartment!”
I scream the last words, after which silence descends again. I am beginning to hope that Alasdair will finally leave me alone. A hope that is almost immediately dashed.
“I can't just leave, Tom. Either you come out now, or I'll come in after you.”
“You wouldn't dare!” Suddenly I become very aware of the sight I present: naked, aroused and huddled in the shower, crying. ‘I locked the door!’ I lie.
“You didn't.”
“Stay out.”
“Sure – when you come out.”
“Fuck you!”
“Tom...”
“What, no mocking reply this time?”
“I don't want to fight with you, Tommy.”
“Then don't, Ally darling.”
In a way, I even feel better after my 'conversation' with Alasdair, I suddenly realize. With the anger, my spirits return. I get up and turn off the water. “Give me a few minutes,” I say. “And if you take even one step across that doorstep, you'll regret it bitterly!”
I hear Alasdair laughing. Nothing new. And I feel the urge to wipe that laughter off his face. Also nothing new. If only everything else could stay the same.
If I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that I fear the moment when I will have to face Alasdair again. “Stand“ is a good keyword,” my malicious inner voice remarks, and I mentally slap it. “Pull yourself together,” I order myself. And stop thinking about that unfortunate little accident on the terrace. Or about Alasdair's fingers. Or his voice. Or his body. Or...
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Enough of this.
I splash cold water over my face at the sink. But of course that doesn't do much. My eyes look terribly swollen and will probably continue to do so for a while. I briefly consider simply barricading the bathroom door. However, this is a futile undertaking since it opens onto the hallway. I'd have to tie it down somehow, and that would make me look like an idiot.
I let out a frustrated sigh, hold my hand under cold water again and then slide it between my legs.
The effect is hardly better than with my swollen eyes. So I get dressed, take another deep breath and leave the bathroom, as I am. If Alasdair says a single word about this, I'll strangle him!
My unwelcome visitor is leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom. There is something very casual about his posture, but to my great surprise, there seems to be a hint of insecurity in his usual self-confident expression.
Damn right he should be. The guy had better apologize to me.
I say my last thought out loud – only to regret it immediately.
Because Alasdair asks in a calm voice: “And what exactly should I apologize for?”
I start to give an angry answer and suddenly don't know what to say.
Should I apologize for successfully seducing me?
That you made me drop my pants in front of you?
That I had an orgasm because of you without even touching my cock
...
Finally, I silently rush past Alasdair into the living room. Of course, he follows me, albeit much more slowly.
“You practically broke in here!” I remember a reproach that I can easily hold against him.
“Your brother gave me a key for emergencies.”
“You can hardly call me taking a shower an emergency.”
“To be honest, I wasn't sure about that at all, Tom. You just took off. And you didn't look like you were doing well.”
“Of course I'm not fine. You just pawed me!” I finally break out. Only when my words fade away do I realize that I was shouting. All of a sudden I feel dizzy.
Before I can react in any way, Alasdair is with me, has grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to the sofa. “Sit down,” he orders and pushes me with gentle force onto the leather sofa. Since my legs can hardly carry me anymore, I don't protest.
Fortunately, Alasdair doesn't sit down next to me. Instead, he sits down on the living room table, which is right in front of me. That doesn't make it any better. Our knees almost touch and when he leans forward, his face is suddenly very close to mine.
It takes all my strength not to flinch. But I don't want to show any weakness again. My teeth grind together as I stare fiercely at Alasdair.
“You look like you'd like to smash my skull in,“ he says with a slight smile.
“Don't even tell me,” I growl. “By the way, I don't just look like that.”
“You're pretty unruly.”
“And you're damn intrusive.” I deliberately press my knees against his, even though it almost makes me break out in a sweat. ”Do you have to get so close to me? There's a chair over there. Sit down, or I'll throw you out of the apartment!” I am secretly proud of keeping any shivering out of my voice. Yes, I even think I sound quite convincing and self-confident.
Unfortunately, Alasdair is completely unimpressed. He leans in a little closer to me and tries to catch my eye. I avoid it and stare instead at the small hollow between his collarbones. A place where I am particularly receptive to gentle touches. Damn it! My gaze flickers to his chin. As expected, it is unshaven and for a brief moment I am tempted to run my fingertips over the dark brown hairs. Then my mind comes back to me. Just in time to prevent the worst.
“We should talk about what happened on the terrace,” my unloved neighbor states.
I slump into the back of the sofa, emphasizing the gesture with a sigh that is as exasperated as possible so as not to give the impression that I just want to avoid being close to Alasdair.
“Oh, please tell me you're not one of those guys who have to talk about everything,“ I grumble.
“Not everything, but the essentials.”
“That's excellent.” I put my head back and leave it there. “In my opinion, it is more than necessary to discuss the design of the living room ceiling,” I claim.
Unfortunately, Alasdair simply ignores this remark. “I'm sorry if I took you by surprise on the terrace, Tom.”
“This white is a bit too boring overall, isn't it?”
“But if you claim not to have enjoyed it, you're lying.”
“A few small blue elephants could spice things up a bit. And a sun in each corner of the room. With orange rays.”
“Tom!”
“Do you think the rays are over the top? You could leave them out. Or color them black. There are so many possibilities...”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alasdair getting up from the table. Isn't that exactly what I wanted? Then why do I have such a bad feeling?
The answer to that question comes immediately. Because Alasdair doesn't leave the living room, but leans on the back of the sofa to my right and left.
Not good at all.
His jaw muscles twitch and his eyes shoot angry lightning bolts in my direction. “Sometimes I would love to plunge your stubborn head into a bucket of ice-cold water to bring you to your senses!” His voice sounds strained, laboriously controlled. A steep wrinkle has formed between his expressive eyebrows, and I now stare at it as if hypnotized.
“Thank you, the same to you,” I stammer, clearing my throat. ”Only in your case, I'd throw a couple of hungry piranhas into the water.”
“Piranhas don't like ice-cold water.”
“Perfect, so their mood will be all the worse.”
“You don't need cold water to drive someone to white heat.”
“I'll take that as a compliment.”
“Mh, how about a real compliment?” The steep wrinkle disappears, Alasdair's entire face suddenly looks different.
More relaxed, softer, more sensual. A hoarse croak escapes my throat. Sensual? More like a failed attempt at appearing sensual. If anything. Rather embarrassing. Repulsive!
“What's the matter, Tommy? All of a sudden speechless? Don't you want to enlighten me a little more about the design of the living room ceiling?”
“You don't appreciate my ideas anyway.”
“Even if you don't believe me, I do appreciate a lot about you.“ All at once, Alasdair's voice is also... revolting!
“Probably my irresistibly good looks are part of it,” I try to joke. Unfortunately, the words come out in an embarrassingly hoarse tone of voice.
Alasdair's mouth opens slightly and the tip of his tongue slides across his upper lip in an absent-minded gesture. Fascinated, my eyes follow the moist trail.
That bastard actually has beautiful lips. Of course, they're no match for Sara's, I immediately clarify. And of course, the mere thought of her is enough to make my whole body tingle and my breath fly heavily and jerkily through my throat again.
“Your irresistibly good looks are certainly not to be sneezed at,” Alasdair replies gently.
“Sara thinks I'm damn hot!” I tell him, and he laughs softly.
“I dare not doubt that.”
I feel his breath on my skin.
“And I think she's damn hot too!”
“Is that so?”
“Of course! She's one of the most beautiful women I've been to bed with. And I've had some attractive girlfriends. And affairs and one-night stands with beautiful women.” I notice how strongly I emphasize the word ‘women’ and how ridiculous that sounds. Way too forced. But there's nothing I can do about it now.
So I just keep talking: “I had my first girlfriend when I was fifteen. Of course I wanted one much earlier. But I was a bit reserved back then. Almost shy. Can you imagine? Well, in any case, I then met Isabelle when I was fifteen. She was nineteen. Somehow I always end up with older women. Isn't that strange? Isabelle was great. Beautiful. A bit loud maybe. But still sweet. And not nearly as distant as all the other girls I knew. My friends all thought she liked me. So I kissed her on our third date and...”
The words come out of my mouth as if by magic. I know very well that I'm babbling, but for some reason I can't stop.
Until Alasdair's hand suddenly makes me stop.
At first, I'm too perplexed to react in any way. Then I jerk my head to the side. Or at least try to. But Alasdair is holding me.
“Shh. Hold still and be quiet!” He hisses at me.
I bite his hand as hard as I can and taste blood.
With a suppressed curse, Alasdair lets me go.
I squirm out from under his arms and jump up from the sofa. My self-control is almost at an end. Torn between the desire to beat the bastard in front of me and the desire to just storm off, I stand there, my hands clenched into fists so hard that it hurts.
Alasdair straightens up as well. His eyes glance past me, meeting something that makes him turn pale.
Then reality takes a back seat.
He grabs my shoulders and pushes me aside. Something dark hisses past me. A burning pain shoots across my face and suddenly I am filled with the same sense of threat that I felt in my bedroom on the night of the party. But this time it is so powerful and overwhelming that my scream of panic gets stuck in my throat.
The light in the room begins to flicker, as if the sun were not shining into the room, but an old, half-broken light bulb. And with each flicker, the darkness becomes more intense.
I am frozen with terror.
Alasdair, on the other hand, is moving step by step towards a goal that I can only guess at. A dark goal without form or shape. A being of pure darkness. A thing that no reasonable person would ever approach, not even close.
Alasdair has obviously lost his mind completely. Or I have. Because what is happening before my eyes right now cannot possibly correspond to reality.
Maybe I'm just dreaming.
The thought is extremely tempting and would explain so much. An obvious answer. Obvious but wrong.
Words fill the room. Incomprehensible and strangely distant, as if I were listening to a muffled conversation. But at the same time, every single sound fills me with an almost unbearable intensity. I am tempted to cover my ears with my hands, and at the same time I know from an inexplicable instinct how futile such behavior would be.
You can't shut out these words.
It takes a long time, or at least it feels like it, before I realize where these sounds are coming from.
Alasdair.
As he approaches this thing, this darkness, he mutters incessantly to himself. Invoking. Like the dark, eerie man in a dark, eerie movie.
And just when I thought I knew everything there was to know about surprises, the darkness around the something or other lifts and a young girl, no more than twelve years old, comes into view.
Scene two... Enter the sinister, gloomy child... the first... aaaand action!
Her eyes are large, almost huge and completely black. As if all the darkness is now resting in them. The rest of the girl, however, seems alarmingly normal. A blue dress, slightly dirty at the hem, patent leather shoes with butterflies on the straps and a carefully tied ponytail that starts to come loose here and there.
For a brief moment, the childlike appearance of the creature wipes away any sense of threat, and I feel the urgent need to throw myself protectively in front of the girl, who looks fearfully and confusedly at Alasdair.
Then her gaze meets mine and wipes away any chivalrous impulse.
She contorts her childlike mouth into a horrible smile, sending a shiver down my spine.
Whatever is lurking in my living room is neither in need of protection nor harmless.
Alasdair is now standing directly in front of the creature, but it ignores him. The terrifying gaze has found me and will not leave.
Faster than my eyes can follow, the girl has circled Alasdair and is storming towards me. A surge of icy coldness engulfs me, paralyzing my body. Small, delicate hands grab my shirt, and where they touch my skin through the fabric, sudden pain strikes me. I scream and instinctively lash out at the girl. I hit her in the face. Rosy, delicate skin. Young and innocent. A breath full of regret and terror. Then the pain seizes me again. And this time it feels like someone is piercing my palms with a burning knife. Over and over again. Mercilessly. I roar and stumble back helplessly.
The girl follows me. While I was looking at it with disbelieving shock before, as if it was something terrible but unreal, my fear is now real through and through. How can I defend myself against something that is so unbearably painful to touch?
As I step back, my hands search for something I could use as a weapon, but all I find is the sofa cushion. I reach for it and hold it protectively in front of me. It's a pretty useless shield that may look pretty ridiculous. But at least I don't care about the latter right now.
The girl is still smiling, as if to show me the absurdity of my behavior. She smiles even when a hand is laid on her shoulder from behind and the other under her chin. A short, powerful movement is followed by a sickening crunch as the creature's neck breaks.
It happens so fast that I don't even realize what's happening at first. The small, childlike body collapses like a marionette whose strings have suddenly been cut.
Alasdair lets his hands drop again.
“You killed her!” I stare at him, unable to think straight. The lifeless body on the living room floor no longer seems threatening. It's a little girl in a blue dress.
“Not her, but it. And not killed, but destroyed.”
“Whatever that was, you can't just break the neck of that creature!”
“You're right. It wasn't that easy at all.”
Before I can even begin to say something that would have been neither nice nor conciliatory nor even understanding, Alasdair utters a single word. It is of overwhelming clarity and beauty. Incomprehensibly perfect. A word that describes or represents nothing. It needs no reference point and is not subject to any rules. It is constantly changing, without ever being different. It explains itself and yet is inexplicable.
For a tiny moment, I understand all this. The next moment, I have forgotten it again and see only how the girl's body transforms. The contours blur, darkness erupts. She floats in the room for a moment and then disappears like a wisp of smoke in the wind. The sight is frighteningly fascinating.
“That wasn't a girl,“ I hear Alasdair's voice again. This time he uses normal words.
I still don't answer.
“I had to destroy her,” he adds.
I'm still silent.
“You probably want to know what that was.”
I'm not at all sure about that. “How did you do that?” Apparently my mouth decided to say something after all.
“What exactly do you mean?”
“That word.”
“You heard it?”
“Uh... yes?”
“Really?”
“No, of course not. I'm sorry. I was just guessing. How could I possibly hear something? After all, I'm completely deaf. Haven't I mentioned that yet?”
“Well... that's...”
“What? I can't hear you. Deaf, remember?”
“Tom? Shut up.”
“Mute too? Unbelievable. I really am pitiful.”
“Please sit down on the sofa.”
“Am I also blind, or did I just see a remarkably gloomy girl in my living room?”
Alasdair grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me to the sofa.
“Shouldn't your other hand be under my chin?” I object, and hear the terrible sound of a breaking neck echoing inside me.
“I would put my hand under your chin for completely different reasons.” Alasdair seems to immediately understand what I am alluding to.
However, I try to deliberately ignore what he is alluding to. ‘You owe me an explanation!’ I clarify and shake off his hands.
“You will get it. If you sit down and listen for once.”
“I can understand you very well even without hearing you out.“ Stubbornly, I fold my arms across my chest and take another step away from the sofa – even though I would have liked nothing more than to sit down.
“Fine, then like this.” Alasdair sighs and rubs his temples. A gesture that reminds me of Lars. Has he arrived safely in …? I falter and furrow my brow. Where exactly is the symposium taking place again? Somewhere in England? Lars must have told me about it. In fact, I'm pretty sure he must have done so more than once. I'm equally sure that I haven't listened to a single one of his stories with any attention.
What a shame.
“What are you thinking about?” Alasdair interrupts my brooding.
“To your death.”
“I will die falling off a snow-covered skyscraper because someone up there has lost a banana peel that I slip on with my ballet shoes.”
“... ”
“Or choke on a pea whose seemingly perfect green skin has a barely visible defect in the shape of a unicorn.”
“...
“Or be smothered by you from behind with your pillow.”
“That sounds much more realistic.”
“Does it?”
“Indeed.”
“And how do you lure me into your bed to smother me from behind with a pillow?”
For a moment I consider using the sofa cushion for this purpose. Right now. But a glance in the appropriate direction suddenly brings me back to reality, which I would prefer to block out and forget like a fleeting dream.
But that is not possible.
With a heavy sigh, I finally sit down and stare past Alasdair to the opposite wall. “Tell me!” I demand.
Alasdair sits down next to me and begins to speak. I listen to him without taking my eyes off the wall.
“That thing with the appearance of a girl was a creature called a shadow. Once upon a time, it was human. Until another shadow came along and made it one of them.” Alasdair pauses, expecting me to object or at least ask a question. When neither happens, he continues, ”I know this must sound strange to you. Like something out of a fairy tale or a movie. But you saw the creature. These shadows really do exist.”
“Shadow. What an imaginative term. Truly creative minds must have been at work here,“ I now interject.
Even without seeing it, I know that Alasdair is raising his eyebrow.
“I can also call it Egeas-Nevren Enielk. If that meets your requirements.” His voice sounds a bit irritated, which I like very much.
“Sure, why not?” I reply and smile at the wall. ”Although designations or names really don't matter in this case.”
“Egeas-Nevren Enielk,” Alasdair repeats, as if it does have a meaning. ”Whatever. There are many of these creatures. Most of them are relatively harmless, though. They prowl around in the dark. Unrecognized and unaware of their own existence. It can only become truly bitter when a master binds them. That is, when someone with special abilities submits them to their will. Then they feed on other living creatures, preferably humans, and thereby give their master strength. Vitality.
There are masters who don't want to do any lasting damage to their sources. And there are those who don't shy away from murder. Because when a shadow kills its victim, the master's life is extended immensely.”
“I see... And what do you have to do with all this?”
“I hunt those masters who have become murderers.”
“And if you find one? What then?”
“Then we hold hands and I persuade him to please, please not be so angry in the future. What do you think?”
Now I look at Alasdair after all. There is an undertone in his voice that I have never heard from him before. He sounds dangerous. And for a brief moment, I think it makes perfect sense not to incur his displeasure under any circumstances. “Okay...” To my dismay, my voice also carries unfamiliar emotions: caution and restraint. I clear my throat and hastily add, “Obviously, you're not a very good hunter. Or did you invite the girl here to play tea drinking with her and your other imaginary friends?”
“Obviously I stopped the shadow from killing you.”
“And now I owe you thanks for the rest of my life?“ You'd like that.
“Of course.”
“And I have to do whatever you ask?” Damn it, I'm talking myself out of a job again.
“Of course. Always and absolutely everything.”
“I might as well throw myself off the nearest skyscraper.”
“But please make it a snow-capped one.”
It is now dusk and Alasdair is still in my apartment. Even less than this fact, however, pleases me what I have learned during the last hour. According to Alasdair, it is as follows:
A particularly draconic master named Malgis has unleashed his shadows on a victim who they will pursue until he is dead. The first attack was carried out by a very weak shadow, the second by a stronger one, and so it will continue. Normally, the first attacker does not fail, unless someone like Alasdair stands in his way. But each time it will be more dangerous.
Alasdair has known about the threat for some time. Only one question has been answered today: Who exactly is the victim? He suspected Lars and me. But after the girl's attack...
“Why me?” My eyes fix on Alasdair as if he were to blame for everything.
“That's the really interesting question.”
“As if you really care.”
“Oh, but I do.”
“I can take the piss out of myself alone.”
“I realize that, sweetheart.”
“Call me that one more time and I'll throw you out of the apartment!”
“I would strongly advise against that, given the circumstances. When the next shadow appears, I should be near you.”
“To be honest, I'd rather have one of those murderous things here than you.”
Alasdair sighs. “Much as I enjoy these little sparring matches with you…” He nips my protest at the bud with such a commanding hand gesture that I automatically refrain from making a snappy retort. “Much as I enjoy them, we have more important things to discuss now. This is about your life, Tom. Damn it, make sure you realize that!”
“Okay.“ I press my lips together into a thin line. No matter how hard I try to imagine it, the thought of being killed by a creature that shouldn't even exist, at the command of a human who shouldn't exist, seems strangely abstract to me. I feel the danger, and then at the same time I don't feel it at all.
“So what now?” I finally ask.
“Now we will get to the bottom of why you are the victim. For the ritual that fixes its shadows on you in this way, Malgis needs not only something of your body, such as blood or hair. He needs the same from someone who betrays you as a victim. This third person is the key to your salvation. We have to modify the ritual so that they become the target of the shadows.”
“You can do that?”
“If I have something of the person's body, yes.”
“Okay...” The true meaning of Alasdair's words has settled over me like a poisonous haze. ‘You're serious about all this, aren't you?’ I ask, following the tiny spark of hope that it might all be a bad joke.
“I'm serious.”
“So someone wants me dead?”
“Yes.”
Alasdair's simple answer gives this truth a terrible irrevocability that feels like a punch to the gut. I stare at the wall again and try to keep my composure.
“I'm sorry, Tom.”
“Spare me the pretense.”
“I can well imagine how you feel right now.”
“You don't know what the fuck I'm feeling!“ I yell at Alasdair. He doesn't even flinch.
“You probably think this is all funny!” I continue to snap.
“Do you see me laughing?”
“No, I don't. Ever thought about a career in acting? You seem to be quite talented at it.”
“Have you ever considered a career as an unqualified hotline employee? You are a master at getting on my last nerve and talking rubbish most of the time.”
“Oh, I'm sorry about that. In the future, I'll put all my energy into meeting your demands.”
“Fortunately, you certainly won't do that.”
“Oh, so you like garbage?”
“I like you.”
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale...
Alasdair's last words hang heavily in the air. It's actually the perfect opportunity for a mean remark or two. Actually. But first of all, I can't think of anything, and second... I don't know. My head is simply empty.
Once again, silence reigns in the apartment. Until Alasdair suddenly laughs out loud. “Now I definitely know how to shut you up,” he says. His eyes are still twinkling with amusement.
I clear my throat. “When it hails, elephants fly especially low.”
“Oh. And I thought that only applied to raccoons.”
“What makes you think that? The critters only have two beaks.”
We look at each other. For a long time. And suddenly I have to laugh. It starts as a slight tremor in my stomach, climbs up my throat, takes possession of my face first and then of my whole body. I laugh so loudly and so persistently that my stomach cramps and tears well up in my eyes.
When I finally calm down, my head feels incredibly light. I feel dizzy. But at least I can think clearly again. “I don't want you to turn me on,” I make clear, already bracing myself internally for the objection that will inevitably come.
But to my surprise, Alasdair concedes immediately. “All right.” He purses his lips and locks eyes with me. “I won't do anything you don't want.”
“Ok... Just to avoid any misunderstandings right from the start – I do NOT want you to turn me on, flirt with me, touch me, ogle me, jump me, or whatever else your twisted brain comes up with.”
“If you say so.”
“I'm not just saying it. I demand it!”
“Good.” Alasdair winks at me. ‘Or rather bad. Let me know if you change your mind.”
I reach for the sofa cushion and hit Alasdair over the head with it. An admittedly childish behavior. But it feels damn good. ’No damn chatting up!”
“My esteemed Tom. That was just a simple statement. If I were to hit on you, you'll know...” Alasdair puts the pillow aside and carefully smoothes the cover.
I decide to ignore his last remark. The battle lines have been drawn.
“Why were you able to touch the shadow?” I ask, although I'm not comfortable with this topic at all. ”I mean, why didn't the touch hurt you?”
“What makes you think it wouldn't have?”
“What?”
“The touch of a shadow in its human form is terribly painful for anyone. Even more so the more powerful the shadow is.”
“But you didn't even flinch!”
“I knew what to expect. And I had no choice. First I forced the shadow into its human form with true words and then I destroyed it. There was no other way I could have harmed it.”
“True words?”
“That's hard to explain. They are incantations whose power lies in the nature of things.”
“I see...”
“As I said, it's hard to explain.”
“You'd make a terrible teacher.”
“You've heard these words, haven't you?”
I have indeed. With an uncomfortable feeling, I remember dark, elusive sounds and that one that was so incredibly perfect.
I shrug my shoulders. “No idea... No. I didn't.” For some reason I don't want to admit the truth.
Alasdair doesn't believe me. I've now learned to read his facial expressions well enough to recognize this immediately. Fortunately, he leaves the subject alone.
“And now?” I ask for the second time this evening.
What now...?