The sky was grey and overcast when I looked out of the window. It was just as grey and cloudy as the last twenty or thirty times I had looked out borededly in the last quarter of an hour. The view from the second floor onto the school grounds was pretty dismal. From my position, only a narrow strip of the deserted, grey-paved playground was visible. Further back, the weathered facade of our school gym towered up. In between was a narrow flower bed. In a few weeks, a rather modest display of flowers would unfold there, but only if no one trampled everything down beforehand. Now in March, however, the puny bushes and the other small plants were still bare and just as bleak as everything else.
At some point, Mr Mautner, the head of our history class, noticed that I was staring out the window most of the time. ‘Lennart!’ he called to me. ‘I can't imagine that anything more exciting is happening out there than in here in my class.’
I didn't dare to contradict him, although I was pretty sure that looking at the ornate decorations on the gymnasium's façade was at least marginally more entertaining.
Normally Marius sat next to me, but that morning his chair was empty. I was used to killing time with non-educational activities with him. Our teachers often noticed this, but we had never received anything worse than a reprimand – similar to the one we had just received – for it. Without Marius, I was miserably bored. Of course, I wondered what was wrong with my best friend, whether he was ill or just didn't feel like going to school. Normally, Marius didn't skip school, so an illness seemed more likely to me.
I let my eyes wander around the room without interest and was suddenly taken aback when I saw Julian, who sat at the front of the classroom in the opposite corner, suddenly cast a shy glance over his shoulder, exactly in my direction. Was he really looking at me? When I raised my eyebrows in wonder, he jumped in fright and quickly turned away again. Now I was quite sure that he had looked at me.
There are a few things you need to know about Julian. For one thing, he insists that his first name be pronounced in English, so ‘Dschulien’. However, most of the rest of us still call him ‘Julian’, if only because we know that you can annoy him very easily by pronouncing his name in German. Only the teachers and a couple of girls who always sit near him always honour Julian's wish. The latter are also the only ones who are friends with him. Whenever possible, they form a protective barrier around Julian with their bodies to shield him from the rest of us. But they can't prevent him from overhearing the snide remarks that the rest of the class occasionally makes about him. An angry ‘Just leave him alone!’ is the standard reaction of Julian's friends. If their looks could kill, at least half of the rest of us would have died a miserable death by now. The girls around him are not exactly the kind of girls I'm usually interested in. By that I mean that they are not exactly the most attractive. One of them definitely weighs a few kilos too many and the one with the glasses is a total nerd. But you can't call Julian a nerd. His academic performance is probably around average. Besides, he rarely raises his hand in class. But he doesn't stutter or have any kind of disability. He's also not ugly or fat, doesn't wear glasses and doesn't dress in cheap clothes. No, quite the opposite! He's actually quite good-looking, but somehow different from us normal guys. He dresses quite extravagantly. You could put it this way: every detail about him is always styled to perfection. I'm pretty sure he even uses make-up. What I'm trying to say is this: Julian is gay. He's never really come out in public, but somehow everyone knows. You can just tell by looking at him.
He usually only chats and giggles with his female followers and completely ignores the rest of his classmates, as if we don't even exist. When he does turn to his female friends sitting behind him, he always does so with his eyes cast down, so as not to have to look anyone else in the eye. So why had he stared directly at me in the back row earlier? Now I also noticed that it was quieter than usual in his corner at the front today. It was really noticeable that the usual chatter and giggling between him and his foot soldiers was missing. Instead, they were whispering to each other seriously, really huddling together so that no one else would hear what was being said. I was about to turn my gaze away from the group again when suddenly one of Julian's friends looked back at me. I couldn't quite read the expression on her face. Was she looking at me angrily? Or somehow at a loss? I wondered what was going on up front. Were they whispering about me? I couldn't remember attracting Julian's attention in any way in the last few days. Hopefully he didn't think I'd gone over to the other side just because I'd broken up with Jasmine last week. If that was the case, I would have had to make it very clear to him that I had had my eye on Franziska for quite some time and was pretty sure that I would end up in bed with her by the end of April at the latest. When Julian stopped paying attention to me, I turned my attention back to other things. A few minutes later, I had almost forgotten the whole thing.
In the afternoon, I was lying lazily on the couch in my room, the Playstation controller in my hand. In the hour I had been home, I had tried to contact Marius twice by mobile phone to find out what was wrong with him, but only ever reached his voicemail. He hadn't responded to three text messages either. He was probably really sick and needed rest. I was just about to get myself together, put the controller aside and take care of my homework when the doorbell rang. My parents were both at work, so I was alone in the house. Of course, that also meant that it was up to me to see who was ringing. So I rolled off the cushion, quickly turned off the screen and then trotted leisurely down the stairs to the ground floor. I wondered briefly whether Marius was even waiting outside the entrance. But I had least expected the person who was actually standing in front of the door.
Meanwhile, light rain was falling outside and his otherwise neatly styled hair had already suffered a little from it. He was still wearing the same extravagant, tight-fitting long-sleeved shirt as in the morning. I still remembered the golden glitter print on the front very well. Now, however, the fabric was quite damp in some places. He didn't seem to have a jacket with him. The usual female companion was also missing. He had probably come here all alone.
‘What are you doing here... Juuliaan?’ I asked him when I had recovered from my surprise. I deliberately pronounced his name with this emphasis. I didn't really want to annoy him with it, because I wasn't really one of those who bullied him. But a few times he had also heard me say something stupid. I didn't really like the way he was treated sometimes. However, my pity was usually limited, after all, there was never any physical assault. Besides, he always had his defenders around him. I had often been annoyed that hardly any of the teachers seemed to be bothered by the constant cackling in his corner, while Marius and I had been reprimanded countless times for talking to each other during class. Of course, I wondered what he wanted from me. I immediately remembered our exchange of glances that morning and suspected that his visit was somehow related to that.
Julian seemed undecided about whether to say something or just leave. Finally he said, ‘Just forget it. It wasn't a good idea for me to come here.’
I thought I detected a hint of desperation in his voice. As he had already turned away from me again and was walking with his shoulders slumped the few steps to where his bike was parked under our carport, I called out to him: ‘Just wait a minute!’
He hesitated, stopped and turned around to me. A few raindrops were running down his face. Damn, were those perhaps even tears? Was he crying?
‘Now tell me what's going on!’ I shouted at him. My voice sounded more annoyed than I had intended, so I added in a slightly friendlier tone: ’Come inside for now. It's getting pretty wet out here.’
The rain was actually just picking up and the wet patches on Julian's shirt were getting bigger. Without a word, he followed me into the house.
‘Are you going to tell me what you're doing here?’ I asked him after I closed the front door behind us. When he hadn't responded after a few seconds, I addressed him again: ‘Dschulien?’
This time I tried to pronounce his name the way he liked it. I even gave him a brief smile, even though it took a little effort because I was still rather annoyed by his unexpected appearance.
‘It's about Marius,‘ he replied hesitantly, his head bowed. He spoke so softly that at first I wasn't sure if I'd understood him correctly.
’Marius? What about Marius?’ I asked back.
I immediately felt a sense of fear rising up inside me. Had something bad happened to Marius? Was that why he hadn't been at school? Had he perhaps been in an accident with his scooter? But how did Julian know about it and why was he telling me?
Instead of giving me an answer, he shyly replied, ‘He's not here with you, is he?’
‘Do you mean Marius?‘ I replied, perplexed. I didn't understand anything anymore. Julian looked at me quizzically and seemed to be waiting for me to react. So I said, “What makes you think Marius could be here with me?”
’He wasn't at school today,’ Julian replied hesitantly, without making any sense to me, let alone answering my question.
‘Yes, well, I noticed that he was absent today too,’ I snapped at him. When I saw how violently Julian winced, I immediately regretted my short-tempered reaction. He seemed on the verge of bursting into tears.
It slowly dawned on me that Julian hadn't been so interested in me that morning, but rather in the empty chair next to me where Marius usually sat.
‘Hey, it's okay,‘ I tried to calm him down. I tried to make my voice sound as friendly as possible. “Just say what's wrong. What do you want from Marius? What's wrong with him?”
’I can't just tell you that,‘ Julian hemmed and hawed.
’Did something happen to him?’
Julian shook his head and said, ‘No, not exactly. Damn it, I don't know! Maybe.’
‘What is that supposed to mean? What is this all about?’
I was slowly running out of patience. My voice was getting louder again, too. Because I couldn't make sense of any of it, my mind was searching for possible explanations. Had Marius and Julian had an argument, maybe even a physical one? Had Marius possibly lost and been given a black eye? Was he not at school because he was ashamed of being physically inferior to a gay man, or had he even been seriously injured? Did Julian perhaps want to apologise to Marius now that he was apparently looking for him? None of this made any sense, though. Marius was just not the type to beat someone up. He was one of the most peace-loving people I knew, and had never done anything to Julian before. I hadn't heard a single stupid thing about gays from his mouth either.
Julian started to explain again: ‘He wasn't at school. He's apparently not at home either. And his phone has been off all day.’
Now I was completely confused. Julian's statements still didn't shed any light on the matter and only raised new questions for me.
"How do you know he's not at home? And how did you get his mobile number in the first place?’
‘I drove by his house right after school. Nobody answers the door, even though I rang the bell at least ten times. And his mobile phone always goes straight to voicemail. I've already left a few messages and sent loads of text messages, but he doesn't seem to be checking his phone.’
I shook my head uncomprehendingly and interrupted him: ‘Sorry, but I really don't get what you're doing here. Can you maybe explain to me what you have to do with Marius? And why did you come to me at all?’
He looked up at me shyly and asked, ‘You are his best friend, aren't you?’
‘You could say that,’ I replied, nodding.
‘Then you must have noticed that he hasn't been feeling well lately, right?’ he said hesitantly.
‘Huh?’ I replied, confused. ’What should I have noticed? You don't even know Marius, and now you're telling me that he's not doing well? What makes you say that?’
‘Man, you're really totally insensitive!’ Julian suddenly snapped at me angrily. Now it was me who flinched because I hadn't anticipated this abrupt outburst of emotion. “He's been feeling like crap for months and you haven't even noticed!”
Something in his words made me think. If I thought about it carefully, there actually seemed to be some truth to his claim. Marius had really been quieter than usual lately, and sometimes I had even had the impression that he was somehow depressed. He had mostly faked being in a good mood and thus repeatedly convinced me that I was imagining his mood swings, but in fact I had somehow noticed that he had changed. It was just that I had never thought about it for very long.
Julian and I were still standing across from each other in the hallway. By now, all my annoyance at his sudden appearance and his opaque behaviour had vanished. I walked a few steps up the stairs that led to my realm – the converted attic – and squatted down on one of the steps. I slid a little towards the wall and gestured towards the free space next to me.
‘Okay, have a seat first,’ I addressed Julian again. ’What do you care about Marius anyway? You don't even know him.’
‘I definitely know him better than you think,’ he replied grimly. However, he did not comply with my request to sit down next to me. He seemed to prefer to remain standing. And then he added, almost aggressively, ’Maybe I know him even better than you!’
‘Hardly,’ I replied poisonously, after all, Marius and I had played together in the sandbox since we were little children. Since then, nothing had ever been able to separate us. ’Okay, you've noticed that he's not in a good mood. I just didn't notice that. Still, I don't understand what business it is of yours anyway.’
Julian snorted contemptuously and said, ‘Man, we're just wasting time here. I just wanted to know if you could think of anywhere he might be, not have a long discussion with you.’
"Then just say what's actually going on here!’
‘Man, I'm worried about Marius!’ he shouted at me, wiping away a tear that had just run from his eye with the back of his hand. “Something happened yesterday afternoon and after that Marius was totally devastated,” he began to explain. He could only just suppress a sob. ’And now I'm afraid that he might have done something to himself or something.’
With growing horror, I listened to what Julian was telling me. Marius wanted to kill himself? Why? Julian now broke down completely into tears. I went to him, put my hands on his shoulders and shook him slightly.
‘Hey, you have to tell me what's going on now,‘ I insisted energetically. “What happened yesterday? Why do you think Marius might want to hurt himself?”
’Timo saw us,‘ Julian replied quietly, looking down. He had now regained some control over his sobbing.
’Who did Timo see?’ I asked.
‘Marius and me.‘
’Yes, and then?‘
’Marius was just leaving and as we were standing in the front door, I gave Marius a hug goodbye and that's when Timo passed our house on his bike. He doesn't live in the area at all. No idea why he was passing by there. Anyway, he saw us and looked quite surprised, and when I noticed that, I quickly pulled Marius back into the house, closed the door and then I told Marius that Timo had just seen us.’
The words now just poured out of Julian, but still didn't really make sense to me. I wasn't surprised that Julian was afraid of Timo. Timo was pretty much the most homophobic guy in our year. He was the one who talked the most shit about Julian and bullied him the most. To be honest, I thought Timo was a real arsehole, even though he was also in the gang that Marius and I belonged to. After all, our gang consisted of a lot of people, so inevitably there were a few who couldn't stand each other.
Once I had digested Julian's words to some extent, a number of questions arose in my mind. Why was Marius at Julian's house? What did he want there? I would also like to know what Julian was thinking when he put his arms around Marius. And why the hell did Marius let him?
For the time being, however, I held back and just wanted to know from Julian: ‘Why was Marius at your place?’
After some hesitation, my counterpart replied: ‘Marius can talk to me about his problems.’
He looked at me accusingly, as if it were actually my job to take care of Marius. And somehow he was right, after all, I fancied myself as Marius' best friend. The cogs in my head kept turning. By now I had a vague idea of what could have disturbed Marius so much that Julian was now so worried about him.
I told him what I had worked out: ‘Okay, so Marius is now afraid that Timo might think that he might be... gay?’
Julian just nodded after listening to my hesitant conclusion.
‘But Marius isn't really gay, is he?’ I added after thinking about it for a few more seconds.
Actually, it didn't even seem necessary to ask the question. My best mate was definitely not gay. It just couldn't be. But Julian just stared at me. He didn't nod this time, but he didn't shake his head either, and he didn't say a word. For a few seconds, we just looked into each other's eyes.
‘Marius is gay?’ I suddenly blurted out, half in disbelief, half in surprise.
Julian turned his gaze back to the ground and said softly and hesitantly, ’I think he'd better tell you that himself.’
Actually, Julian had already answered my question, and the way he looked me in the eye again, he knew that the situation was now completely clear to me. He seemed to be waiting for a reaction from me. He probably wanted to see how I dealt with the new knowledge. At the moment, however, I simply couldn't believe that my best friend was really gay. I wondered whether Julian was just trying to wind me up. He seemed completely credible to me, though.

Oliver is sitting at his desk and watching his computer's screensaver. Normally, he would be out and about with his friends right now. It's not the weather that's keeping him at home. It's not raining, but it's not sunny either. Today, he just doesn't feel like it. Oliver has been sitting there like this for almost two hours now, gazing out of the window and at his screen, lost in thought.
Today at school, he was really annoyed by one of Bülent's stupid comments. Oliver has been playing handball in the sports club for a long time. Bülent, on the other hand, plays in the football team of the same club. During the big break, he simply announced loudly in front of the entire student body that handball is for girls and real men play football.
Oliver was furious straight away and it would have taken just one more word in this vein and Bülent would have had one of his own. Oliver had to make a real effort to keep himself under control.
Why did this saying annoy him so much? Bülent has always been known for his macho sayings. Oliver has never really taken him and his talk seriously. Except today. That's when he made him boil. Did his Italian genes, which he got from his father, come into play?
Oh yes, his father. He never got to know him, as he left for his native Italy immediately after his birth. Since then, he only hears or reads from him at birthdays or Christmas. He never missed him. He has always been able to talk to his mother about everything. She always has an open ear for him and sometimes even one or two useful pieces of advice.
However, there is something that is now causing him concern, but he somehow can't discuss it with his mother. What is bothering him is too intimate to discuss with a woman. This has been going on for quite a while, at least since he decided to start shaving regularly about a year ago. He has found that his beard and sideburns have become a bit too silly for him. It was then that he realised for the first time that there are some things he can't discuss with his mother – or doesn't want to.
Anyway, he just got some blades and shaving foam and practised. In the meantime, a few hairs have appeared on his chest. He just shaves those away too.
Recently, however, he noticed Giovanni in the shower after handball training. Giovanni was born in Italy and only came to Germany with his parents and sister a few years ago. For the first time, he noticed that he has quite a lot of hair on his stomach and chest. And that, even though Giovanni is barely half a year older than Oliver. Giovanni must also shave his face more often. Oliver seems to have inherited his mother's genes in this respect: He probably won't be able to grow a full beard for a long time yet. Oliver also has much lighter hair than Giovanni and it's not as thick either. Giovanni has a blue-black mat on his head.
While Oliver was still looking at it thoughtfully – always careful not to attract too much attention – Sven came out of the shower into the changing room and posed in front of the mirror, examining his muscles.
Giovanni just spoke to him in his funny German: ‘Hey, what are you looking at? Nice muscles, but not even hair on your chest.’
Sven laughed briefly and just replied laconically: ‘Don't worry. Nothing grows on steel.’ He pounded his chest with his fists.
Giovanni just looked stupid. The others started laughing.
Oliver likes Sven. He is almost always in a good mood and he always has a cool saying ready for every stupid remark. And Sven has muscles, short blonde hair and steel-blue eyes. He is the eye-catcher.
That day in the changing room, Oliver noticed something. Giovanni didn't just change his clothes. No, Giovanni showed Oliver his hairy body, his hairy legs and his slightly darker skin. Oliver was not left cold by this.
Sven didn't just show off his muscles either. Sven also made him want to touch those muscles, to stroke his belly and...
It was only Sven's clearly slightly amused look into Oliver's body that recently made him realise that the sight of his two naked sports companions had aroused him. He quickly put his trousers on and just smiled mischievously.
Oliver reflects. Photos of boys and young men with bare chests, in swimming trunks or tight jeans and open shirts flit across his computer screen.
Before that day in the changing room, he had not realised what a naked boy's body triggers in him, what desire suddenly takes hold of him. Yes, all at once he feels a great desire not only to look at his friends, but also to touch them. What would he give to be allowed to kiss Giovanni, his full, dark red lips? Or to simply take the light-skinned Sven in his arms and hold him close?
As much as he longs for the touch of his two friends, as much as he wishes to feel their warmth, to touch them, to let them caress him, to kiss with them – he is just as afraid of rejection. Even though homosexuality is not rejected in principle in his club, it is repeatedly the subject of ridicule. He does not know any gay people in his club. What if his own desires become known among his comrades? What if they think he is gay?
He has to think of something. The sight of his naked friends in the shower turns him on. And nobody must notice it. How should he do that? How should he prevent himself from getting a hard-on? What would they think of him otherwise? How would they react?
Should he even dare to shower with the others at all?
He likes playing handball. This team sport is his whole world. The hugs after every goal scored, the pats on the back when a throw misses the target. So far, everything has been sporty and friendly. Now Oliver feels more when he just thinks about it.
He is currently thinking about the pros and cons of not going to handball for the time being when he hears the front door: his mother is coming home.
Manuela calls out a cheerful ‘Good evening! Anyone at home?’ into the apartment and closes the door.
Oliver answers: ‘Hello. I'm already here.’ With a mouse movement, he quickly stops the slide show on his screen.
His mother opens the door, sticks her head into the room and says: ‘Hello darling, I'll go and make dinner.’
He nods at her and smiles. ‘Darling’ is almost as bad as ‘Olli’.
‘Oliver, can you give me a hand? Dinner's almost ready,’ he hears her call for him after a while.
He shuffles into the kitchen and sets the table. His mother comes in with the bowls.
‘How was your day?’
‘Okay.’
‘And at school, everything okay?’
‘Yep.’
‘And? Was everything good?’
‘Yep.’
‘For God's sake, can't you ever talk in complete sentences?’
"Yep.’
‘Oh Olli... uh... Oliver, look, I'm just worried. You hardly say anything anymore, we don't talk at all, you always seem so absent-minded, and I have no idea what's going on in your head! Do I have to worry about something?’
‘No, it's nothing, it's nothing at all, okay? I've been a little tired and tense lately from school, it's not getting any easier, all this studying!‘
’Wasn't there also handball training today?‘
’No, it's not until tomorrow, but I'm not going then."
She looks at him in astonishment: ’Why not? Is something wrong?’
‘Nooo! We're doing maths soon. I still have to study for that."
Manuela sighs. She realises that he doesn't want to talk and gives up. She is tired and exhausted too; the day was stressful. If he doesn't want to talk now, she won't make him.
Oliver helps her clear the table. She tidies up the kitchen, then lies down on the sofa with a book and is asleep a few minutes later.
He gets another glass of lemonade from the kitchen, sees her lying there, and a slight, wistful feeling takes hold of him. In the past, when he was little, he would always snuggle up to her for a few more minutes, they would talk quietly about the day, then she would send him to the bathroom, read to him as well, even though he could already read himself, but it was always so nice and cosy.
He shrugs his shoulders and goes to his room.
Once there, he lets the computer boot up again. He wants to surf a bit more. One topic keeps coming back to him: is he gay? Is it a phase? How do you actually know that you're gay if you've never been with a boy except for looking and dreaming?
When can you be sure if you are gay or just going through a phase? Oliver is now 17 years old. He celebrated his birthday with his friends that evening. Friday night was just asking for it. The next day, when he got up, he asked his mother not to call him Olli anymore. After all, he is very mature now.
She simply replied, ‘OK, Olli,’ and gave him a knowing smile.
He doesn't really like calling her ‘Mutti’ either. It's kind of childish. But how? By her first name? Manu? Ela? Or even Manuela? Kevin does that with his parents. It's kind of weird, so different, so unusual.
Kevin has been his best friend at school since year seven. They even sat next to each other until the last summer holidays. Now Kevin sits next to Sabrina. The way they keep looking at each other, they must be a couple now. During the long breaks, the two are always invisible. She is no longer with her girls and Kevin is no longer with Oliver and his clique.
Oliver broods. What bothers him about it? He is actually happy for Kevin that he has fallen in love. Nevertheless, he has a strange feeling between sadness and anger. Jacqueline, who is now sitting next to him at school, says that it is clearly jealousy.
Jealousy? Of whom is he jealous? What would he change if he had the chance? One thing is clear: he misses Kevin. His friend Kevin. His smile. His funny sayings. The things they always did together. His eyes. He would love to be in Sabrina's shoes.
If Kevin were in his handball team, he wouldn't even think about not going anymore. He's always felt comfortable around Kevin.
On Oliver's screen, the images of boys from his screensaver are already scurrying again. It has become quite late by now. Actually, he is tired, but still doesn't want to go to bed. So he sits motionless at his desk and watches the naked and half-naked bodies in front of his eyes.
Suddenly, he hears a noise behind him at his room door. He quickly reaches for his mouse, which he can't find right away, and ends this particular slideshow. When he finally moves and furtively glances at the door, he only sees it slowly closing from the outside.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit, he thinks, did she see what my screensaver is? Oh God. I have to pay attention and close my door. Or better yet: set an innocuous screensaver.
Tired, he turns off the computer and gets ready for bed.
The next morning, he gets up faster than usual, tries not to make any unnecessary noise, and makes his way to school. He lets his mother sleep; she is probably on late duty today, otherwise she would be awake by now.
Later that morning, she looks at herself in the mirror with amusement and then shakes her head. What strange thoughts must have flashed through her mind!
Okay, when she came back from the toilet last night, she noticed that Oliver's door was only ajar. She just wanted to admonish him to finally go to bed, since he had to go to school. She quietly opened the door further and saw all the pictures of naked young men on his computer screen, and she was shocked. Oliver didn't seem to notice anything, so she quietly retreated and went to bed, totally confused.
Well, this morning the world looks different again. Smiling, she brushes her hair and applies a subtle make-up. She should hurry, work is calling, Oliver is already gone.
The boy must be in love, she thinks to herself. And it's only natural to make comparisons, isn't it? She doesn't know, and now she has one of those rare moments when she misses Oliver's father; she could have asked him. Should she email him?
Oh well, better not. They have managed well without him all these years... although... she lets her hand with the brush drop... they have managed well all these years, but has Oliver too?
Of course, she never had the feeling that he missed a father who left for Italy right after Oliver's birth because he was so homesick for his country. So he said! Anyway, since then he has been paying regularly, otherwise he stays out of their lives, as agreed.
Oliver, who knows the whole story, once said that he didn't need a guy like that.
But now she wishes there was a father who could have a... a... yes, should she call it a man-to-man talk? ... with the son.
She looks at the clock in alarm: she has to go, and right now!
On the bus, she reflects a little more: her boy has been an uncomplicated child, her Olli! Yikes, don't think Olli! On his 17th birthday, just half a year ago, he urgently asked her to call him Oliver from now on, and she promised. In return, he wanted to call her Manu instead of Mutti. Good friends call each other that too. Well, she can be glad that he didn't insist on her full first name, Manuela.
They were able to talk about everything. It's just not always easy for a single mother with a job to raise a child, keep the household in order and not lose herself.
His adolescence was actually quite easy too. Well, there were a few arguments, but that's normal.
But lately... what is going on with him? He seems so introverted, sometimes he is really dismissive towards her. It can't be because of school, okay, he's not an overachiever, but he's doing quite well, and the fact that he doesn't yet know what he wants to do after graduating... that will work itself out.
But she will think more about it tonight; for now, it's time to work.
When he arrives in the classroom, Oliver drops onto his chair and rests his head on his forearms. He only casually registers how his classmates come in, greet him and take their seats. So he hardly notices Jacqueline sitting down next to him.
‘Morning Oliver,’ she says as usual.
‘Hello Jäckie,’ he mumbles without looking up.
‘What's the matter with you?‘
’Huh? – Oh, nothing, I just slept badly.’
Jacqueline has long since noticed that something is wrong with Oliver. No matter how often she has asked him lately, she has not been able to get anything out of him. She actually likes him. He is so different from the other boys, though she can't quite put her finger on it. She has decided to grill him on the matter. He always reacts dismissively to her questions. She has a plan.
Then the history teacher enters. All conversations stop. After a welcome speech, he returns the corrected exams. For Oliver, it's all a blur. He's too absorbed in his own thoughts. Finally, the exam is thrown next to him.
The teacher addresses him: ‘Oliver, what were you thinking? You can do better than that. What's been going on with you lately?’
Oliver just looks at his teacher with disinterest. He has heard the sentences, but their meaning has not reached his brain.
The teacher moves on. Oliver opens the last page with displeasure and holds his breath.
Oh crap, a four in history! And that even though I studied so hard for it and actually know the material. I'm messing up my grade right now.
He struggles to follow the lesson for the entire period. When the bell rings, he packs his things into his rucksack and leaves the room for the courtyard. He doesn't even notice Jacqueline bumping into him.
When he arrives in the courtyard, Oliver rummages through his backpack. He actually doesn't have his English homework with him. Instead, he finds a light blue envelope with Jacqueline's name written on it. He recognises this handwriting too well; he has copied from it often enough since they have been sitting together. He had actually intended to ask her for the English homework so that he could copy it.
Why is she writing him a letter now? What does she want from him? She's usually not tongue-tied and always says what she wants and thinks outright. A letter from Jacqueline.
‘Will you go out with me?’ It probably won't be that, he thinks and smiles briefly.
He goes to a corner of the schoolyard and carefully tears open the envelope. Then he pulls out a postcard. On one side there is a colourful flower printed on it and a short text: ‘And there came a day when the risk of remaining in the bud became more painful than the risk of blossoming.’ - Anaïs Nin -
What is this supposed to mean?
He carefully turns over the card. There is only one sentence in Jacqueline's neat handwriting: If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me. J.
The backpack slips out of his hand. He lets it slide onto the gravel of the courtyard. Then he reads that one sentence again and the quote on the other side.
The risk of blossoming crosses his mind. Does she mean that I don't blossom, or that I should blossom? What does risk mean here? What does it matter to her anyway? ... Does she suspect something? What does she suspect and I'm not even sure?
At the beginning of the school year, Oliver was disappointed when his friend Kevin simply sat down at Sabrina's table and made no move to sit down with him again. Oliver still hoped that it would only be short-lived. Kevin never talked to him about it. How can it be that his new flame Sabrina is obviously so bewitching him that he simply forgets his best friend.
Sabrina doesn't seem to have spoken to Jacqueline either, who sat in Kevin's usual place before the holidays. Oliver was very disappointed in Kevin.
Now Jacqueline has sat next to him. It could have been worse for him. In any case, she has never been unappealing to him.
However, she started making a pass at him immediately after the holidays. In class, she sat too close to him, he felt. He slid further away with his chair. The next day, she sat so close to him again that he slid away again. After a few days, she probably realised.
She was obviously not only seeking his company in class. Since Kevin stopped standing with him and the other boys during breaks, she often appeared suddenly next to him and forced conversations on him.
Oliver liked her and still likes her. It was just the way she approached him and sometimes even put her arms around his shoulders that somehow made him feel uncomfortable.
On the other hand, they were able to talk to each other about all sorts of things. Jacqueline is no fool. It's just that she obviously felt more for him than he did for her. Oliver liked her as a friend. She probably imagined more.
Once, during a break, she hugged him again, pressed her hip against his side and tried to kiss him. He just tensed up and pulled away from her. Unfortunately, she didn't let up and tried a second kiss. This was too much for Oliver. He felt only anger and fear at the same time, released himself from her grip and just walked away. She called something after him that he didn't understand. He didn't come to class for the next hour so he wouldn't have to sit next to her.
Over the following days and weeks, they ignored each other or only exchanged the barest of words. Oliver no longer dared to look her in the eye. Jacqueline was certainly a little offended. He was annoyed with himself. But what should he have done?
At some point she approached him again and spoke to him. However, she did not touch him again. She certainly did not kiss him. So they became something like friends.
Oliver is standing in the corner of the schoolyard holding the envelope and postcard. He stares into the distance. Bud. Risk. Bloom.
From the side, he sees Bülent and Giovanni coming towards him. Well, it looks like two have found each other.
Bülent calls out to him as he arrives: ‘Well, Olli. Are you going to the girls’ gym again today?‘
’Oh, just shut up and leave me alone,’ he replies testily.
Giovanni holds Bülent back when the latter makes a move to go up to Oliver and give him a smack.
‘Ruisch, Bülli, ruisch. You know how he reacts,’ Giovanni tries to calm him down. ‘Olli, aren't you playing handball later?’
"Nah, Gio, I'm not coming today.’
‘What's up? Heartache?‘ Bülent interjects again.
’Oh, just leave me alone. I don't feel like it."
Oliver turns away, grabs his backpack and walks to the bike racks. After unlocking his bike, he leaves school. He doesn't feel like English either.
He rides aimlessly through the city for quite a while. He doesn't want to go home yet. He wants to think. So he decides to go to his favourite place at the small bathing lake. He should be undisturbed there at this time of day.
Oliver heads for the small sunbathing area and rides to the water's edge. There he lays his bike on the grass and puts his backpack next to it. Then he sits down in the grass and looks out over the water's surface. A pair of ducks comes flying, cackling, and lands on the lake. The two birds swim around each other for a while and then disappear into the bushes on the opposite shore.
Bud. Risk. Bloom.
Oliver takes the postcard out of his backpack and stares at it.
Jacqueline offers to talk to me. But what should I talk to her about? I can't possibly tell her why I can't kiss her, why I don't feel the same way about her that she probably feels about me. Why can't I kiss her, really? She's nice. You can talk to her, laugh with her, but also be serious with her. She's already told me so much about herself. And me?
What can I tell her about me? That I like her but can't kiss her? That I can just about hug her but can't hold her close? That I don't love her because she doesn't turn me on?
Maybe I'll also tell her that I get a hard-on when I watch the guys shower and that I'd love to tickle Giovanni through his chest hair. No, I can't possibly do that. What should she think of me then? Should she think I'm gay?
Am I gay? I've never had sex with a boy. But I haven't had sex with a girl either. It's the same for others. He has somehow never really believed their boasts about the oh-so-hot sex with girls. When can you say that you're gay?
OK, he dreams of kissing a boy. He dreams of having sex with a boy. When he masturbates in his room, his thoughts revolve around one boy or another. He likes to imagine what it would be like if it wasn't his hand that was working his erection, but that of Sven or Giovanni or Kevin, that traitor.
What is that Kevin smooching with Sabrina for, leaving me hanging like this?
Oliver wipes a few tears from his eyes. How he would love to be sitting here with Kevin right now, just chatting. Maybe he would even tell him how he feels. Would Kevin understand? They have always got along so well. Would he still want him as a friend?
Oliver lies on his back and folds his arms under his head. He looks up at the blue sky and watches the birds and clouds pass by.
And then came the day when the risk of remaining in the bud became more painful than the risk of blossoming.
Why did Jacqueline send him such a card? Why did she think it would hurt him, that he can't get out of his skin, that he has no one to talk to? Why doesn't he talk to... yes, to whom? To his mother? He loves her very much. She is more than a mother to him. He also sees her as a friend. As long as he can remember, they have both mastered their life together. They are a team. He knows that she loves him no less.
Will she still love me just as much when she finds out about this? Will she understand? This changes everything!
He is currently destroying all the hopes she has placed in him. He wants to do right by her. But how is that possible? Will she understand what he himself does not understand, what probably no one understands?
He sits up, kneels down and hides his head between his arms and thighs. He remains motionless for a few minutes. He is alone. He cries.
A cool wind rises, the leaves rustle. Summer is slowly but surely coming to an end.
Oliver lifts his head and looks up at the sky. It is getting cooler, but it will probably stay dry. He doesn't want to go home yet.
He reaches for the postcard again. If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me. J.
He feels somehow trapped. Trapped in his thoughts. He sits in his thoughts like in a bud. So far it has been very comfortable here. Here he feels safe. If he wants to be left alone, he just needs to close the bud leaves. He has done that far too often lately.
So far, that's been okay. But now he doesn't know what to do. He no longer feels comfortable in the security of his bud. What is he actually afraid of? What could happen to him if he came out and bloomed? Just bloom, as he wants to! What's the big deal? What's stopping him from blooming?
I want to talk to Jäckie. She will understand me. Otherwise she would never have given me this postcard.
Oliver looks at his watch. School is out, so it's time for him to go home too. He's hungry. Just as he puts the postcard in his backpack, a rhythmic humming sound can be heard. His mobile phone vibrates. Who could that be? He fishes it out of his side pocket and looks at the display: Jacqueline! Oh no. He doesn't want to talk to her right now and puts the device back.
He waits until the vibration stops. Then he shoulders his backpack, grabs his bike and sets off for home.
When he arrives home, he puts the history exam on the dining room table. His mother will ask him about it when she gets home anyway. Then he goes to his room, closes the door and sits down at his desk. He leaves the computer switched off.
His mobile phone beeps in his rucksack. He takes it out and reads the text message from Jacqueline: ‘Olli, you weren't in English and Biology. What's up? Please get in touch. J.’
Tomorrow. It can wait until tomorrow.
Manuela has done it, she really has done it! She grins to herself. The new colleague from the other department has invited her to an Italian restaurant for Saturday evening, and she has accepted! Yes!
She has liked him since he sat down with her in the cafeteria on his first day and they started chatting. He is divorced, took advantage of the situation to look for a new job, and got one at the institute where she works as an MTA.
And now they want to go out for a meal and have a nice evening. Would it go further? Of course there have been one or two men in her life, but they were little affairs, meant nothing but a change and sex. She never wanted anything permanent, no one was going to intrude on her little family and possibly play the substitute father, that was out of the question for her.
But now? Soon Oliver would have his A-levels, soon he would know what he wanted to do professionally, soon he would leave.
The normal course in the mother-son world.
And then?

1. Monday
Actually, it started like any other day. I mean, getting up early in the morning, as I always swung myself out of bed with so much vigour, so as not to miss a single French lesson, although French was already coming out of me anyway. But this time at school it was somehow different. Cathy, my secret love, came up to me and asked me about the maths homework again. As if I had done it! I have nothing better to do. Actually, she was a poor soul, it wasn't her fault she was bad at maths, somehow she was no good at anything. But although I was considered a nerd because I just didn't want to have anything to do with those idiot boys who had nothing better to do all day than plan their next party and hit on the next best woman, I wasn't the best at maths either. Somehow, these completely anti-social boys got on my nerves. I think they have no hobbies except for one or two things and have to vent their pent-up energies, which were built up because of their anti-social parents and siblings (if they had any), on other people (like me). It was obvious that I was suitable, the way I look: I just don't have the right appearance: long blonde hair, about shoulder length, blue eyes with a green jacket and black or white corduroy trousers; buttons with skulls and Vans.
‘Hello Cillian, are you still there?’ Cathy asked me.
‘Oh, uh, yes... no... sure...’
"Math????’
‘Oh, no, not me. Sorry,‘ I stammered, torn from my thoughts.
’Ok, I'll do my morning rounds. I'll see who has it.’
I winked at her and concentrated on what I had just thought. Something about anti-social people, but our teacher came in just then. Well, now it was time for biology – and it was a double period, too.
During the break, I was sitting on a bench when someone tapped me on the back. Surprised, I turned around and was about to greet Cathy, because she probably hadn't understood biology. We had covered some kind of model of a DNA molecule. But it wasn't her after all. Surprised, I looked up at a boy, quite skinny and shy, I would guess him to be 15 to 16, so a year younger than me. He had such blonde hair that it almost looked white again, a rather angular face with stark contours, like that of a hawk. He looked really super handsome, I already envied him.
‘Hi.‘
’Um, hi. Sit down.‘
He sat down next to me.
’What do you want?’ I asked. There's no need to be polite right away.
‘Oh, nothing. I just wanted to make conversation.’ Great, just when I wanted to eat my lunch. Probably some smart-ass who wanted money. I'd better stay on my guard, maybe he was one of those drug dealers. The little ones start swallowing and dealing this stuff in the 7th grade. All right, let's see.
‘Ok, go ahead.‘
’What kind of music do you listen to?‘
’All kinds, mostly rock.‘
’Do you know Tocotronic?‘ he asked.
’I've heard of them. Do you like them?’ People who listen to this kind of music don't usually deal drugs. I started to become a little friendlier.
‘I love this band. There's a song called ‘The Idea is Good, but the World Isn't Ready Yet’ and it's about talking to people on the street and inviting them in. Maybe they have a problem and want to talk about it.‘
’I see. I'm assuming that you have a problem?‘ I asked.
’What makes you think that?’
‘Oh, nothing. It's the same with a lot of people. I can put myself in other people's shoes.‘ That was really true!
’Yes, well... it's true, I do have a problem."
The bell rang. The break was over.
‘Call me, kid, here's my number, and just come by sometime, I'm always here. I live at 34 Dorothea-Erxleben-Straße. Bye,’ I said, feeling a little uncomfortable. What am I, a counsellor or something? He got up and left without saying a word.
And sure enough, that same afternoon at three o'clock he was standing on my doorstep. Strangely enough, he had made up his eyes – in black. It looked quite good on him, so I immediately asked him why he didn't do it at school.
‘Oh, the others would just push me away even more,’ he replied sadly.
‘That's where the wind blows. You want to be friends and you've picked me out of all people?‘
’You really can put yourself in someone else's shoes. I've watched you a lot. You stand around alone and read a book. You have just as few friends as I do,’ he said.
I was surprised that he mentioned it. Normally no one spoke to me about it. Normally no one spoke to me without a specific reason that had something to do with homework or school. It should be fine with me. Whatever.
"What's your name anyway? And how old are you? I think you should tell me.’
‘My name is...’ Before he could finish the name, I had already tried to guess it. I guessed that his name was Jannik.
‘Chris... and I'm...‘ he tried to continue. Well okay, I could be wrong about my knowledge of human nature.
’16 years old. And you?‘
’I'm Cillian and I'm 17 years old. Welcome to my room."
Somehow he was cute, quite shy, but still waters run deep. I knew that only too well.
2.
Tuesday
The next day Chris avoided me quite a bit. Apparently he was a bit embarrassed, he didn't even know what had made him just approach me. Yesterday was actually quite fun, we talked about pretty much everything and laughed a lot until he had to leave around 9:00 p.m. I also had something to do, but he became more and more relaxed and laughed more and more. Otherwise, the day had been normal, holidays would be soon. Finally. I had waited for too long, but it took so long. Fortunately, there were holidays next week. I was already counting the days, today was Tuesday. Nevertheless, it annoyed me somehow that he kept looking at me when he was just standing there like a drowned rat in the schoolyard and had nothing to do. He kept looking at me, his eyes almost devouring me. It was clear that I was annoyed; I need at least some peace and quiet when I'm reading. So I went up to him and greeted him.
‘Hey.’
"Hi.’
‘How are you? I'm fine. You weren't so shy yesterday either, were you? I mean, today you keep looking at me and thinking I won't notice!‘
’I'm... I'm sorry.’ He looked down in shame. My God, is he afraid of me or what?
Suddenly, two yobs, no older than he was, probably a bit younger, came up and slapped him on the back. He winced a bit because he was startled, but luckily it didn't hurt him. Then he looked at the ground.
‘Well, kid? Got another one?‘ They walked away laughing and I stood there totally dumbfounded, embarrassed for not having intervened. He almost started crying. You could see how hard he was holding back his tears.
’What was that about? Should I take care of them?’
‘Oh no, don't worry about it. They do it all the time. If you just do nothing, they'll leave me alone,‘ he said angrily.
’And what did they want from you?’
‘HAVE YOU NOT HEARD?’ he suddenly shouted at me and ran off towards the toilet. At first I wanted to run after him, but then I left it. I knew such a situation from myself only too well, when I was insulted with whatever. I wanted to be alone then too. Besides, the bell rang, I had to go in, because I still had a maths test ahead of me.
Our maths lesson went by relatively quickly. Our teacher, Mr Schöll, gave us a test and then, in his usual bad mood, said, ‘No questions’, in his oh-so-perfect High German, which he always raved about. And worms. Every lesson he compared the numbers with worms. Of course the test was a failure, but that didn't bother me. I could only think of Chris. What had those hooligans said again? It didn't matter, now I had music and then school was over. So I waited for the liberating bell, but I had already packed my things 10 minutes before, because I really wanted to catch Chris. He had told me where he lived, so I assumed that he would leave at the main entrance, because it was just closer to his street. That was trouble, because I had to unpack my things, which I then immediately packed up again. Our annoyed music teacher then also had to say:
‘Cillian, can you please stay here after class?’
As if I had a choice. Nevertheless, I tried.
‘But I have to hurry, Mr Wagner.’
"What's so important?’
I searched for an answer quickly. Sweat was beading on my forehead.
‘Um... I...’ But I couldn't get any further.
"Please stay after class.’
Just what I needed. Of course, the usual nonsense like ‘I'm disappointed in you’ and ‘Try harder!’ The whole thing lasted a full quarter of an hour. I walked out of the main entrance resigned and had no more hope that he would be there by chance. But there he was at the bus stop: I tapped him on the shoulder because he had his back to me. I started talking before he turned around.
‘Hey, what happened today...’
Shit! I hate confusing people. There's nothing more embarrassing.
‘Excuse me?’ It wasn't Chris standing in front of me.
‘Sorry, I confused you,’ I muttered and walked on.
Just as I was about to insert my key into the door, everything went black and I felt hands close in on my vision. Someone was playing a joke on me and covering my eyes.
"Well?’
‘Hi Chris.‘ Phew, I was glad that he approached me on his own. I carefully took his hands in mine and turned around. I didn't even notice that I was still holding his hands.
’Listen, about this afternoon. I mean, you know...’
‘It's okay. I won't ask any questions. I know the drill,’ I winked at him. He visibly let out a sigh of relief. He quickly kissed me on the cheek and only then realised what had happened. He immediately ran away. I stood there resigned and just looked after him for a very long time.
Wednesday
Chris wasn't at school. I couldn't stop thinking about him though. What did that mean yesterday? Ok, I'm not exactly the type to be affectionate with friends and kiss them on the cheek, but if some of them do it out of friendship, that's fine by me! It was just strange that he ran away then. It was probably all a bit too much for him. I went to his house in the afternoon and rang the doorbell.
A nice young woman opened the door for me.
‘Hello. I'm Chris's friend and I'm here to give him his homework.’
"Chris mentioned something like that, but he didn't tell me that he wanted homework from you. Tell me, are you new to Chris's class? I'm Alex, by the way, come on in. Chris is upstairs in his room. Right turn and then straight ahead.’
I was glad she forgot about the class thing, because I didn't really want to lie. But how else was I going to get in? With a cheese platter and say, ‘Room service, your brother kissed me?’
‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, and don't tell Chris I let you in, he doesn't want to talk to you.’
"You're welcome.’
‘Call me ‘you’. I'm not that old.‘
’Thanks, Alex."
I knocked on the room with the bright orange door. Someone called out “come in” and I slowly opened the door. His voice changed abruptly, became hoarse, and he began to tremble very gently and slightly. Nevertheless, he wanted to try to remain calm, which he did not succeed in doing.
‘What do you want?‘
’I want to talk to you,‘ I said.
’There's nothing to talk about.’
‘Yes, there is, and you probably know that better than I do.’ I sat down next to him on the bed and took a good look around. Dragons were painted on the grass-green walls of the room. It looked beautiful, there were three in total, one on each wall, huge and beautiful, almost perfect. A simple, somewhat wide bed stood against one wall. Only now did I notice that there was an angel on the blanket. One of those with a sword and shield in his hand, ready for battle, in crisp armour. It was the most beautiful picture I had ever seen. Otherwise there was a desk under a window and a few cupboards in the room. There wasn't really anything else to see. It was quite sparse, but the drawings made it so beautiful. He noticed that I was very surprised.
‘I drew that.‘
’It's... beautiful.‘
’Thank you.‘
I almost forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. But then I remembered.
’So, what I wanted to say...’
‘I already know. You don't want to have anything more to do with me. It happens to me with many. Suddenly, luck overcomes me and it's too late. Well, I'll just look for new friends.‘
’First of all, I'm really offended.’
‘Oh?‘ Suddenly he became really cold. But that was just his mask to hide what was going on inside him.
’I'm offended because apparently I'm just replaceable with some other idiots as a friend. And secondly, your previous friends must have been great if they freak out right away at something like that.’
He looked at me with wide eyes. Cute, those puppy dog eyes. He didn't know what to say, so he just started crying. The tears ran down his face without a sound. I held him in my arms. He must have had terrible friends if that made him cry!
‘Thank you,‘ he whispered shakily. I just enjoyed feeling his warmth. I had a friend. And now I had to cry too. Finally someone I could trust with everything.
’I want us to stay friends.‘
’Yeah, me too,‘ he replied. “You know what?”
’No, how could you?’ I laughed.
He bent over me to the bedside table and rummaged in some drawer. Somehow the feeling of him lying on top of me was both beautiful and oppressive at the same time. Then he pulled out a bound folder and handed it to me. When I opened it, I was thrilled. He noticed it and his eyes sparkled.
"You're the first person I'm showing it to.’
I was honoured. The folder contained such beautiful pictures. Entire battles of creatures, giant lizards, orcs, humans, dragons, angels. It looked breathtaking. Even the smallest person in the far corner of the battle was painted with such attention to detail that I almost fainted from enchantment. And that was just the first picture. The second picture was just as good: a huge castle made of diamonds, all in black and white, but you could still see the sparkle so well, as if it were real.
‘That's... beautiful,’ I said, as I had with the murals. Only now did I wonder how he could paint this angel on the ceiling! It must have been hard enough, but then so perfect!
‘You should send some of these pictures to companies that have something to do with magic and stuff. You'd be on the front page!‘
’Thank you.‘ He blushed a little because he wasn't used to it.
’You can keep them. I have several of them. It's my only hobby.‘
I was really flabbergasted. I could keep them!
’I can't accept that!’
‘Then I'll make you,’ he laughed loudly. Suddenly he pounced on me and tickled me. Then we laughed so hard that we would have laughed even if someone had thrown a toothbrush at us. After a quarter of an hour, we were doubled over on the floor, looking at each other. If we hadn't started laughing and giggling again right away, I would have said there was something romantic about the moment. Somehow I liked Chris more and more. With every second, I grew fonder of him.
"Ok, now it's...hehe...good...phew, that was exhausting.’
‘Laughing makes your abs...,‘ I giggled a little.
’Great, then you should come every day,’ he said, pulling up his T-shirt to show off his stomach. He already had a slight (slight!!!) six-pack. And a beautiful, tanned stomach. I almost lost my eyes. Of course, I had peeked at the other boys in the changing room and they had a much bigger six-pack and also browner skin, but his belly looked so beautiful and delicate. He realised that I was staring and pulled his T-shirt back down.
‘Oh... Um... well,’ I began to stammer, but he shook his head and just said,
‘Oh, never mind. We're even.’ As he said this, he winked at me. I smiled a little painfully.
‘Come on, it doesn't matter. And if it does, then you'll just think it's beautiful or who knows what.‘ He smiled, which made me smile too. To quickly change the subject, I came back to his folder. I looked at it again, and he noticed the sparkle in my eyes again.
’Listen, I really can't accept this.’
‘Don't talk such bullshit. I gave them to you, and a gift is a gift...‘
’...a gift. I know,‘ I finished the sentence. I was really glad that he gave them to me, because I don't think I could live without them.

It was one of those days when I just didn't care about anything... didn't care what I still had to do, didn't care if I was expected, I just had to get out of this eternal routine, these always same feelings that come up in me... I don't belong there, don't belong to this. It wasn't the first time that I had decided not to go home after school, but to take a side road instead and leave the city behind me. Sure, I was expected for lunch, and it's not that I didn't want to be there, but on this day I longed even more for that place, my place. Yes, somehow the open, lonely landscape was the only place where I really felt safe and somehow also secure - not that the city scared me, no, but somehow I didn't dare to be the person I really am there... Nobody wants people like that, I've been told that often enough so far. Without a word of farewell, I swung myself onto my bike, stopped at the bakery to pick up some provisions in the form of sandwiches and cold cocoa, and then I left the city as if in a hurry, on a path that became narrower and narrower and could ultimately only be described as a sandy road. The road led directly on a hill, the perfect vantage point - on one side was the entire city, others liked to say somewhat pejoratively ‘our village’, about 50 m below me - on the other side only hills and forest, occasionally interspersed with arable land, individual houses and numerous lakes. I wanted to go there, and I had planned to stay there until the sun disappeared below the horizon. It was late March, and the first day this year when it was really pleasantly warm, so that the jacket could finally stay at home... Winter had kept me from going to ‘my place’ for the last few weeks, where I had been every few days last autumn after I found it.
I left the hill and rode through the forest on abandoned narrow paths, going up and down through increasingly dense pine forest, experiencing nature in Germany... I didn't meet a single person on these routes, and that was exactly why I wanted to be here. No, I don't hate people, if I did, I would probably have an easier time in life; it wasn't people per se, but what they did. At school, I was often in the middle of it, from the outside I was certainly not considered an outsider, I talked about the same nonsense from yesterday's evening programme on Sat1 and about the experiences at the last party... but in my mind I was somewhere else entirely. My circle of friends, yes, sometimes I called it that, this circle was no more than a provider of activities, if Matze wanted to go to the cinema, he just called the others to see if we wanted to come with us. But woe betide if Hendrik called us and told us about his troubles in the last few days, then it was ‘Leave us alone with your shit’... no, nobody said that, superficially we were there for each other, it was different.
Whoever caused grief, whoever showed themselves to be a spoilsport, was just not taken to the party the next time. But basically, the whole thing wasn't a problem, because apparently nobody had any grief... well, at least that's how it seemed. I can't remember a single occasion when we had any kind of in-depth conversation, when any kind of problem came up... no, our circle of friends was a circle of entertainment, the whole point of it was to have someone to chat with at school, to go to parties together on Friday nights, and now and then one or two activities in between, like a round at the café. In between, it's every man for himself again and you just have to see how you get your things done. And everyone seemed to accept that as a fact of life. Yes, really, that's apparently how it is.
I still remember the times of yore, when we were together like a family, I still remember the adventure games we used to play back then, we split into two groups and disappeared into the forest, the aim of the game was to secretly ambush the other group and scare them, and often it was the case that nobody really knew who the hunted was... It was actually a stupid game, but it was fun and you could really feel like you belonged.
Back then, it was just part of sticking together, it was just a real friendship - back then we were also too young to be infected by all the crap out there, we were just still people, children, not media zombies or economic robots. Yes, those times are long gone, at some point it started with television and magazines, soon people only talked about television, then computers came along, then you suddenly had to be cool, tried to get rid of all friends who weren't cool and instead looked for cool friends... back then I was one of the first to become unpopular, to no longer receive invitations because I wasn't cool enough. Even back then, I longed for the old games, for being together. I was criticised for not growing up, and at some point I identified with it. The old friendships, the togetherness, all gone, but now the social constraints took hold... To be cool, you had to have seen cool TV shows, the ones that mostly ran on RTL and SAT1, and then talk about them throughout the breaks. Of course, as a boy you had to go out to catch girls, but it should never come to actually falling in love. No, it was just part of it, to have one, she should be as pretty as possible and look good at parties. Well, you grew up and this youth cult came to an end, instead it was now about to secure a professional base, and so they all came with their study guides, stock market prices ... now you had to be no longer cool, but make a good picture. Just no planes in the classroom, maybe the teacher tells it to the future boss ... just do not attract attention, who attracts attention becomes unemployed ... Yes, that's how I interpreted it, I didn't know why standing out or falling out was so frowned upon, and I still don't know today, I just noticed that suddenly no one was talking about their previous interests. It started in the days of the youth cult and only got worse later. If you're not like everyone else, you're out of the game. If, to make matters worse, you also interrupt the endless entertainment and amusement with serious topics, you're out twice. Yes, the latter was the worst... don't even come to school without laughing for a day, otherwise you won't be invited again.
And at some point I had stopped laughing. It must have been a few years ago that I started to feel somehow alienated, no longer part of it. I couldn't understand why the others lived their lives the way they did, why the things that used to be of interest suddenly didn't count for anything anymore. Why friendship no longer really meant friendship. Somehow I no longer felt like participating, I cancelled more and more often when I was invited, it just didn't mean anything to me anymore.
So I just went along with it every day, chatted a bit, occasionally went along to the activities, always grinning. And there were quite a few days when I could have thrown myself at everything within reach. ‘Hey, don't we want to go to Hamburg for shopping?’... my answer was something like “No, I still have to study” and my thoughts were - what the hell am I supposed to do shopping in Hamburg, I don't give a damn about consumerism and I don't need to spend money to be happy... at the same time I thought about what it would be like to plan an adventure holiday together... no, I didn't say a word... otherwise I would have been out of favour. So I picked out the things that were still bearable, a visit to the cinema, for example, so as not to be completely left out. And the frustration rose in me, I drove through the city, and every stupidly laughing person my age I encountered only made it worse, because I knew what was behind this laughter... it wasn't laughter from the heart.
I saw all the damned concrete blocks where I would later work if I were a ‘marketing assistant’, for example – I didn't even know what that meant, I was standing in front of it, and I didn't even want to know what it meant. I didn't care about anything... and it wasn't long ago, last summer, I started feeling the need to just leave the city for a while, so I just rode my bike out, further and further, into the forest, no more ‘marketing assistants’, no more stupid laughter, no more concrete blocks, far away from it all, I suddenly felt really good again, yes, on warm summer days I enjoyed just riding into the forest, looking for a clearing, lying down in the sun and enjoying the warmth... not a soul in sight, and I liked it that way. Sometimes I would lie there for hours and enjoy the summer warmth. And while I was sitting there, I dreamt of how it used to be, dreamt of good friends, sitting together by the river, swimming down the rapids together, sitting around the campfire together in the evening, talking about the people ‘out there’, moving closer together, knowing that we belong together. Just us, the river, and our tents.
Forget all the same old drinking parties, where the more frustration the more drinking, until you've drunk enough to forget the frustration. Forget all the idiots who came to school in a suit to secure their place in the next largest office block, forget all the RTL afternoon shows where you could only tell the difference between people and puppets by their movements... Yes, and the whole thing was just a dream. A dream that I knew couldn't be realised, maybe I would have found someone who had similar dreams, but when it comes to implementing them, graduating from high school stands in the way, after graduating from university, looking for a job, and finally starting a family... Family, the institution where the ideal world is created every year at Christmas, only to be followed by the return of everyday life, which all too often is not an ideal world.
Yes, it was a self-deception on all levels that constantly wanted to be carried out around me, and I no longer felt like going along with it. I wanted to finally feel alive again, and the greatest feeling of being alive, of being human, I still had out here... and I was always drawn to places where I didn't meet ‘the others’, who didn't appreciate the atmosphere here at all. But at the same time, I hoped to meet someone here who didn't belong to the others, someone who was on the run just like me... yes, I longed for this person, imagined him, and enjoyed the idea of having found this person.
And somehow this longing also caused me difficulties, because it was more than the longing for a good friend, no, it was also the longing for a person I could hold in my arms, a longing for security, and I always thought of a boy, dreaming of holding this boy in my arms and being allowed to enjoy his closeness... was I gay because of that? I couldn't deny it, it was just the way it was, I was attracted to boys, yes, even at school I sometimes met one or the other whose gaze intoxicated me, like a rush, because on the one hand I really liked looking this person in the eye without attracting attention, but on the other hand it made me feel even more like I didn't belong, even more lost among the others. If I were like everyone else, with the same goals in mind, only with the difference of being attracted to boys instead of girls, I might face an obstacle, but I could overcome it. But I'm not one of the others, I can't find my way into it somehow, and I don't want to. At least I never wanted to, but since I clearly felt for the first time a year ago that I was attracted to a boy, since then I somehow wish I could just be like the others, belong, because it would just make life easier... but I know that would just be self-deception.
‘Gay’ – I couldn't identify with that, because this term simply stood for more than love of the same sex; a whole way of life was associated with it. And it was precisely the world from which I actually wanted to break away, a world of superficiality, conformity, relationships without real togetherness, love... that's how I perceived it, it may have been prejudices and probably was, but that was all I could experience, I didn't know any gays in my circle. Yes, I read stories, coming-out reports, ads, everything I could find on the internet, and never did I really recognise my feelings, no, there were one or two exceptions, individual sections of a story that I liked. Where love was also a deep friendship, where the feeling of togetherness was really conveyed, yes, I longed for that, just to have someone I could like, with whom I could share everything. Yes, and these feelings were only a part of me, not my whole life, I didn't have to reflect what people understood by ‘being gay’ because of that – no, I wasn't gay, maybe from the other side of the river, occurred to me one day as I was crossing the bridge of a wide river that connected two lakes.
Yes, there were many days last summer that I spent in solitude out there, thinking about it, and somehow I lost even more touch with our old circle of friends, who had long since only existed in our language. And it was these doubts that sometimes took away the feeling of freedom out there, where I left everything that upset me. If I knew that I could find the people I was looking for, these clouds would surely quickly disperse, but how could I succeed?
Today, after the long winter, was unusually warm and the pine forest began to smell of rising essential oils and warmed sandy earth. I enjoyed the warmth, the smell and the light. Here, far from the city, I felt liberated and transported back to the old, carefree days when we were still playing warriors in the forest... Yes, I wished I could see everything again through the eyes of that time, without the eternal questions of whether and how my dreams could ever be realised.
I had travelled this route countless times, each time I headed for the same familiar place down by the lake, but today it was a small side path that had taken my fancy. I turned off and just wanted to see where it might lead, fully expecting that I would have to turn back anyway. The forest became quite dense and the path always seemed to run along the top of this sandy ridge, at least there were no more ups and downs.
At some point the ground became so sandy that the wheels spun and I had no choice but to continue on foot; I didn't want to turn back anymore, the distance already travelled was too long. And so it was already late afternoon when the path suddenly led steeply downhill. I had never seen such steep slopes here before, but well, there must have been a reason why this landscape was associated with Switzerland. In front of me, a view opened up into a wide, densely forested valley, bordered by trees on both sides, in which a small lake was hidden.

The day at the quarry pond was to herald a change in Julian's life. But the 14-year-old eighth-grader had no idea of what was about to happen as he enjoyed the tropical temperatures at the quarry pond with his friends.
In the late afternoon, most of the boys went home. Only Julian remained lying in the shade of a bush, enjoying the peace and quiet.
Suddenly, he was startled as he felt a hand that timidly touched his naked shoulder. Through his narrowed eyes, he recognised the black-haired girl from the 9th grade.
‘Hannah, you scared me. What are you doing here?’
"Oh... nothing, just a coincidence. Do you want to go out for ice cream with me?’
Julian didn't believe Hannah's story of chance, but he said, ‘Yeah, okay, let's do it.’ He put on his jeans, T-shirt and K-Swiss. Hannah watched him closely. Julian noticed it and felt uncomfortable, but didn't say anything. This uneasy feeling didn't go away in the ice cream parlour either. He sensed clearly that Hannah wasn't just there for the ice cream. But that seemed so strange and unreal to him. When they said goodbye to each other, he went home lost in thought. Thousands of thoughts whirled through his head. There was a girl who wanted to be close to him. Not a little girl who adored him, no, a self-confident girl who was more than a year older than him. And there was no doubt that it was a hard-hitting come-on.
Actually, he should be happy and proud of himself. Instead, he found the situation repulsive. The longer he thought about it, the more confused he became. Why didn't he jump at Hannah? He knew that some boys at school were after Hannah and were rebuffed by her. And he? He could get her, just like that, without much effort. Because she wanted him. So what was he afraid of? Fear? After half a night of waking and brooding, he was sure: no, it wasn't fear, but something else that was keeping him from pursuing Hannah. Was it Hannah? No, he had to admit to himself that he didn't find any girl attractive or appealing at all. There were some that he liked. Yes, liked, like many other people. Except for... Wait a minute... Some guys he found attractive, very much so. My God, was he... no, of course not, that would be ridiculous. Surely it was just a weird phase of puberty. He was sensible enough to realise that puberty had its ‘fringe phenomena’, which he too had enjoyed, but certainly didn't have to take so seriously... Or didn't want to take seriously?
Hannah avoided him as much as possible.
The months passed. A new girl came into his class: Sophie. She was so different from the other girls. She had such an open, buddy-like nature.
At school they sat next to each other and quickly became friends. He often forgot that Sophie was a girl, she simply didn't matter. He enjoyed the physical contact, the hugs, the lack of inhibition that he felt in her presence. They had been doing a lot of things together for a long time.
One day Sophie asked if she could bring her twin brother to the cinema with her. Julian had never met a pair of twins before and was very curious to see what it would be like. It was bound to be fun. Julian deliberately left a little early to pick them up.
Sophie opened the door and let Julian in. ‘Go on in, I'll be ready in a minute,’ she said. Sitting on the couch in the living room was a handsome blond boy with deep blue eyes. He held out his hand to Julian. ‘Hi, I'm Philipp.’
Julian returned the handshake. ‘Hey, I'm Julian.’
‘Yes, I know, my sister's friend,‘ he grinned at Julian.
’Um...yes, something like that,’ Julian couldn't say more.
Over the next few weeks, the three of them spent a lot of time together. Philipp and Julian became good friends. However, Julian quickly began to feel an affection for Philipp that grew stronger and stronger. This frightened him, very much, because he also remembered the thing with Hannah. The confusion of feelings that he had suppressed for so long. What was wrong with him? He was now 16 years old. This bloody puberty should have been under control by now. Was he really gay, which had often crossed his mind? No, that couldn't be, never! Again and again he had suppressed these thoughts.
For days and nights Julian brooded over his problem. Until Sophie approached him
‘Hey Juli, what's up with you?’
‘Oh, nothing.’
"Don't lie to me, I can tell you're not feeling well. What's going on?’
Julian would have liked to have had a good cry on Sophie's shoulder, but he made excuses. A full fortnight went by before he finally plucked up the courage. He told Sophie everything he felt, describing his confusion to her. He only didn't mention his feelings for Philipp.
When he had finished, Sophie took a deep breath.
‘Juli, you know, I've noticed for a long time that you're somehow different. I've also thought that maybe you're gay.‘
’What, how did you notice that? I'm not a fag or anything.‘
’No, of course not. But your behaviour towards girls is quite revealing.‘
’Man, I've been trying not to let it show.’
‘Of course, only someone who knows you as well as I do would notice.‘
’Shit, I don't want that...‘
’Juli, just accept it, otherwise you'll just drive yourself crazy. What's so bad about being gay? You're my best friend and you'll always be my best friend.’
‘You are, but what about the others, they'll chase me away.‘
’No one will chase you away, but you have to have the courage to admit it to yourself. That's the most important thing right now."
Sophie took Julian by the shoulders and shook him gently.
‘Hey, believe in yourself! I do.’ She kissed Julian on the cheek. He looked at her with wet eyes and said softly, ’Yes, thank you, I will.’
Julian spent the next few days organising his thoughts. Slowly, he realised that there was no point in lying to himself. He decided to involve one more person he could trust completely: his brother. Kevin was seven years older and the best brother in the world.
He waited until dinner.
"Hey Kev, I've got a few new CDs.’
‘Yeah cool, let's listen to them right now.‘
After dinner in Julian's room:
’Come on, show me the CDs.‘
’Um... well... I don't have any new CDs, but I need to talk to you.’
‘Man, when you look like that, you've done something wrong. So what's up? Did you forget the rubber while screwing and now the old lady is pregnant, or what?‘
’No, uh, well, it's kind of along those lines.‘
Kevin put his arm around Julian's shoulders.
’Ok, so it's about a girl, so go ahead.’
Julian hesitated.
‘No, it's not about a girl, rather the opposite. I... um, I think, I'm pretty sure... I'm... gay.’
Julian avoided eye contact. Kevin looked at his brother for a long time before answering.
‘Dude, are you really sure?’
"Yes, I think so.’
‘Ok, in that case. How do you think I don't care about this. You're my brother and I'm always there for you. Tell me, are you afraid?‘
’Yes‘
’Look, I can't take away your fear. You have to do that yourself. Face it. Be honest with yourself, otherwise you'll just mess up your life. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?’
‘Yes, but it's so easy to say.‘
’I know that, little one. I'll help you whenever I can. If you want to talk, I'm always there for you, I hope you know that. But you have to take the first step yourself. Do you understand?‘
’Hm yes, you're right.’
Julian lowered his eyes. Kevin tousled Julian's long hair.
‘But tell me, is there someone special?’
Kevin grinned at Julian with his winning smile.
‘Yes, Philipp, Sophie's brother.‘
’Great, go for it.‘
’It's easy for you to say. What if he doesn't want to and then brags that I made a pass at him? Man, if the others find out, I'm screwed.’
‘Kid, you don't have a choice. You have to take the risk, otherwise you'll be alone for the rest of your life. But people today are tolerant enough and your friends aren't freaks. It'll work out."
Kevin gave his brother a friendly slap and grinned. Julian looked at Kevin. ’Thanks, dude, I'll manage... somehow.’
He lay awake half the night thinking about Kevin's words and how he could make it clear to Philipp how he felt about him.
However, he did not come to any conclusion.
Over the next few days, he kept away from Sophie and Philipp to gain some distance and have time to think.