Made in Heaven

MADE IN HEAVEN by Stefan

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Chapter 12: Scare myself to death

"Sigmund Freud described it as "green monster" nobody was immune to. Jealousy is not only a dangerous feeling but countless offences of passion, crime and murder results from jealousy. Jealousy doesn't bother with logic. Many murder did, paradoxically, their deeds out of despair: they killed NOT the rival but their woman because they didn't want to lose them."

Tim scrolled down the text he read on the monitor of his computer. "Pathologic jealousy contributes nothing to the solution of a problem, and is not related to a real situation. It doesn't wear off, but exists permanent or flashes once and again with old tempestuousness, without a concrete cause."

It was dark in his room except for the screen that illuminated Tim's face. He had his windows all opened like he had the door to feel some air moving, but it didn't help much. It was too sultry this evening. He stood up to gather his thoughts, went to the window and peered through the fly screen Moritz had attached on each window in the house. He knew that the mosquitoes were keen to slurp Tim's sweet blood as he always stressed with a winking eye. Tobias always added that it wasn't sweet blood but sexual hormones, which would mean that Tim was VERY sexy... Tim grinned. A second later it vanished. He pondered the content of the scientific websites. "Meaning pathologic jealousy, the psychiatrists are speaking of the "Othello-Syndrome"." Typical for them was the constant "checking" because there were doubts about the faithfulness of the partner. Letters were opened, telephone calls were made, digging in pockets, and private detectives were used. Oh gosh, this all sounded so over the top. Tim had his doubts that Chris was such a maniac. Although he remembered well his spying when Tim and Maxim had been out to Joost's performance.

He breathed deeply and returned to his computer. "Psychoanalysts give these reasons for a pathologic jealousy: First: not enough love, warmth and security in childhood, second: doubts of self-esteem, third: a not effective mastered, normal jealousy of a child to his following siblings."

Hm. None of this seemed to fit Christian. Tim didn't know enough about his childhood. Wasn't he loved enough by his parents? Did they reject him? Why should they?

Was Christian jealous of Martin because his twin was receiving more love from his parents? Perhaps.

Christian should have inferiority complexes? Impossible with his brilliant look and with his successful job. There must be a fourth aspect. Tim leaned back. He wished Christian would never read Killing me softly. He didn't know what he was writing there, it was dynamite in wrong hands, and Christian certainly had the wrong hands. How odd Tim had been able to express the actions of a sick person so well without consulting those websites or get psychological advice. But what would happen if the real Christian would copy the actions of a fictive Carsten? Surely Carsten wasn't a murderer. But there was little that decided him from being one.

But all this presupposed one thing: Maxim had to fall in love with another man to get this machine going. And so far there was no reason to worry about that. Sure, today Maxim was somewhat depressive, but this could just be a temporary tiff that meant nothing, and, if there would ever exist a chance for Tim, he would have sensed it. The signs were clear: there weren't any.

There was a knock at his open door. "Come in", Tim said and turned upon his chair. Moritz stood in the door frame. Behind him he could make out the figure of Tobias. "We'd like to speak to you", Moritz started.

"What is it? Serious problems?" Tim's heartbeat quickened.

"Serious yes, problems no", Tobias said, sitting on Tim's couch, Moritz leaving a space between them. "Sit down, hon", he said and patted the seat of the couch. Tim went slowly over, trying to read their faces before he sat between the two men. "Do you think our little household is working well?" Tobias started. "I mean, not that you're influenced. You live your own life."

Tim looked at him. He had a good face, trustworthy and unflappable. He was strong, not just physically. Tim nodded. What did he want to say?

"We live in the damned seventh year", Moritz started and grinned at both. "And so.... We have decided to make nails with head and marry."

It was like the hit of a bombshell for Tim, but very quickly joy replaced the surprise. "You dare to marry? Oh my god!" he screamed almost. He jumped up from the couch and stood in front of them, looking alternating into their faces.

"Yes, why not? It means security, for all of us. Well..." Moritz hesitated, "of course there's your mother, so you won't be alone if something should ever happen to us."

"I'd liked to adopt you," Tobias chimed in, "but I don't think Ellen would allow this. Anyway, you can keep your name of course. I'll take over Moritz' name." He grinned. "This means, we all will be family officially."

"When?" Tim said breathless. This idea had come so unsuspected and surprisingly.

"At your birthday in October?"

Tim nodded stupidly, making the men grin. They rose. Tim vanished almost in their embrace. "You've lost weight", Tobias noticed, feeling

his body. "Trouble?"

"Let's go out", Tim said instead.

"Now? It's after 10."

"So what?" Tim's eyes sparkled. "I know a posh bar with piano music. You both can dance and get mushy and I'll watch. Say yes."

Tobias and Moritz looked at each other. And agreed finally. Passing the computer Moritz looked at the monitor and caught some words. He stopped. "Stuff for your new novel?"

"Sort of. Well, actually no. You know I've worked the theme jealousy already into a story."

"And now you search for a confirmation that everything is right with what you've written?" Moritz grinned. "That's what I call good research!" He laughed high-spirited and dragged his son down the staircase. Tobias stood already half naked in front of the wardrobe and examined his clothes. Tim peered around the corner, admired Tobias' arse cheeks and withstood the urge to pinch them. His father wouldn't be amused.

Tobias dragged him beside and Tim pulled out - as to the manner born - a pair of cream-coloured cotton trousers and a loose, falling, matching shirt. He stuffed it into the trouser, and opened its buttons once Tobias had closed them all. "Give the guys something to goggle", he smirked.

Dario goggled indeed when Tim turned up with his father and his lover. But as much as the barkeeper asked Tim didn't give away his complicated family situation. He snorted. Complicated, huh! Tobias and Moritz loved each other and wanted to get married, wasn't that clean and old-fashioned enough? Dario mixed him a cocktail which name he didn't give away and examined the younger man. His company of older men seemed to enjoy the bar and the music. Too bad, Maxim wasn't here tonight. He had promised to come tomorrow, because his birthday was on the weekend. Dario had tried to persuade him to celebrate here; Maxim hadn't refused yet, but neither had he accepted. He leaned over the bar "Still fancy our piano player?"

"Huh?" Tim grabbed his drink and sniffed. "What's this? Cucumber with radish?"

Dario had to laugh. "Just the best for you. No, you can drink it, it's not poisoned."

"How do you know I fancy your piano player?" Tim said a little aggressive.

"'Well, I have eyes to see'-- as Shakespeare said, 'I can see a church by daylight'."

"So he said? Oh well... Maxim's happy. Nothing what I can do for it."

"Well..." Dario wiped a glass. "There's always something you can do when you're hot for somebody."

"I'm not HOT for him", Tim stressed and finished his cocktail. "You forgot the alcohol in there", he complaint.

"Are you allowed to drink in presence of your father?" Dario teased him. When Tim wanted to say how would he know about his father, Dario grinned. "I'm right. I've eyes to see. You have the same eyes and lashes. I'd die for your lashes." Dario fluttered with his own.

"You don't try to flirt with me, eh?" Tim said, turning his back on him and searched for his parents. Yeah, in two month they would be his real parents. Abruptly he turned again. "What did you mean with the 'things I can do' when I'm in love?"

"Well, it's not that difficult to get a man into bed, is it? Just continue to flutter with your eyes."

Tim looked him up and down. "Can you mix me something real? And then tell me how to get a man into your bed who's so in love with another. It's impossible."

Dario laughed heartily. "Oh honey, that's the easiest exercise of all. If he's in love he's permanent horny. Make him close his eyes, go into his pants and he won't notice the difference."

"Pants and bed aren't the same."

"Right." Dario pondered while mixing apricot juice with Southern Comfort. "Make him drunk. But without getting drunk yourself like the last time."

Tim sighed loudly. "Forget it. I don't want to make him drunk. He wouldn't know it's me. How could he fall then in love with me?"

"What high intellectual conversation you're leading", Moritz leaned against his son and looked at Dario. "Can I have a cola please?" And to Tim: "Whom do you want to make fall in love with you? Maxim? It's still him?"

"Where's Tobias?"

"Toilet."

"Do you remember the treatise about jealousy?" Tim asked suddenly and as low as it was possible with the dance music. "After work we've been with Gregor. That's Christian's ex-lover. He told us some things regarding their relationship. I fear Maxim's in danger."

"What?" Moritz groped for his cola glass, drank and wiped his wet fingers at his trousers. "Why danger?" Moritz remembered their first and only meeting at Tobias' birthday some weeks ago. Per incident he had had the pleasure to meet them both: the dark Maxim and the fair Christian. A pair not possible to be more different. Christian left a good impression.

"Are you sure Gregor isn't exaggerating to appear important and perhaps raise your interest?"

Tim looked at him with surprise. Well, this possibility he hadn't considered so far. But it might be. But would a student of the law lie? Crap, of course he would if he'd had advantage. Tim shrugged. "To us it sounded all credible. Why should he invent those horror stories?"

"Who's telling horror stories?" Tobias had returned and looked now at the barkeeper who was busy with filling some drinks.

"Gregor said Chris suffers from pathologic jealousy."

"Wait," Moritz lifted his hand. "It reminds me of "Killing me softly". The guy got mad when his love cheated on him. This was also sort of a pathologic jealousy. That's the reason you've searched the net?"

Tim nodded.

"I have an idea", Dario said suddenly. "Tell Maxim about this lunatic and he will be yours."

All three turned to the bartender, swinging a towel over his shoulder, looking innocently. "Who said you should perk up your ears", Tim said miffed.

"But, listen, honey", Dario leaned closer. "You can't be that cruel to leave your beloved one in the house of a madcap, can you. I know jealousy, and my experiences are the worst ever, I can tell you. They've thrown beer glasses after me, I've had to

jump out of the window to escape, I had to move into another town, change my name and my telephone number! It's not fun, believe me." His lion eyes were surprisingly serious.

"What shall I do?"

Dario pulled a face, saying nothing. "What exactly did Gregor say?" Moritz asked after a while.

"Stories about fights, suicide attempts, rape."

Moritz moaned. "Evidences?"

"Scars."

"That's no evidence."

"Hospital files and papers. Talks with a psychiatrist."

"You can't ask them. I mean, you can but you won't get answer."

"And Gregor's advice?" Tobias' asked.

"Wait and drink tea. Which reminds me, Dario, do you want to glue my teeth? That's so sticky." He pointed to the drink in his hands.

"At least it has apricot in it. I thought you're keen on vegetables."

"What things don't you know about?" Tim said more amazed than angry. Dario grinned discreetly.

Saturday and with it his birthday came sooner than he had thought. Everyone of his colleagues urged him not to come to work, but he did even if he was sent home after a bit to prepare for whatever type of party he had in mind.

His friends and colleagues didn't seem to fit very well to Chris. Somehow he had the certain feeling, nobody could stand his lover, and they seem just to tolerate him for Maxim's sake. Somehow it came down to this: Phil, Tim and Nadine OR Christian. He couldn't have all together. Maxim felt helpless.

He looked upon all the gifts, placed on the table. Joost and Rainer's tickets for Joost's chanson-evening. It was a new program he didn't perform as Zarah Leander but sang everything by Brecht and Weill. On the top lay Robbie William's biography "Somebody, Someday". Next to it "Hitler's Secret. Was he gay?", a gift from Tim. Maxim grinned when his eyes touched Nadine's present "Kamasutra for gays". Typical Nadine he thought lovingly. She thought perhaps he could learn here something.

Maxim had refused Dario's offer to celebrate in the bar, although he would have liked it. Christian was pretty secretive about his plans. Surely they would see Maxim's parents, it was out of the question not to celebrate with them first.

Absentmindedly he stroked Coco's fur, curled up in his lap. Tim's parents would marry, although everybody considered both Moritz and Tobias as his parents already. Maxim thought this was a courageous step, and he certainly did not mean the fact that the couple was two men. To Maxim's understanding one should marry if he was convinced it was for a lifetime. But who could say this? He couldn't read the future and to give a promise one was unable to hold to him it seemed was given in vain.

Christian came out of the bedroom and embraced him from behind. For his birthday he had given him all the little "nothings" that were so lovely and Maxim liked them more than one big, expensive present. Except one: he had given him a cellular phone and that was indeed something useful. "Tim's father and his partner will marry", he blurted out pretty unmotivated but he felt he had to say it.

"Do they? Great. I always wanted to marry, but couldn't."

Maxim turned and almost bumped with Christian's face. "Why would you do this?"

"Affection?" Christian suggested. "Show the world you're mine and will never belong to another?"

"Well, there's the possibility of a divorce still", Maxim said. "Whom do you wanted to marry then? Phil? You thought him unfaithful."

Christian went around him. His steps took room as if he would be angry. "It's just a piece of paper, isn't it", he said then. "But it has a special meaning. Look at us, why aren't we allowed to marry? Because the church says, faggots are dirty perverts and the governments took over this opinion, at least rulers aren't free from a Christly belief. Do you think it would had been possible to have an open gay mayor let's say twenty years ago? And then think about how long homosexuality exists. As long as humankind exists! I bet one of the first Neanderthal was gay too." He grinned, suddenly relaxed and happy. He kneeled in front of Maxim and stretched out his hand to stroke Coco. The cat's ears jerked in his sleep but he didn't wake up. "So, don't you think this is our time finally? Once someone said 'Love is love. It doesn't matter whom you love. There's too little love in the world anyway.'"

"And you want to state an example? Chris, you don't do it for the others."

"I know. Nonetheless." He rose. "Are you invited?"

"Sure, you too."

"Well, then we should look for a tailcoat; which reminds me, shouldn't we get ready for your parents?"

Maxim's parents had a flat at the outskirts of Berlin. It had developed

by and by into a quarter of Russian emigrants. Christian saw tower blocks, newly renovated and sprayed with ugly graffiti again, and balconies, overstuffed with plants. Before he got lost in the labyrinth of long streets, Maxim piloted him to the right place.

After the air-conditioned car, the heat met them with the strike of a wet cloth on the face. Teenagers hung around, not knowing what to do. Christian caught the guttural vocals of the Russian language. "Does your granny speaks German?" he asked. "You told me she's Russian."

"Sure she can, but not perfectly. My grandpa spoke German."

Christian felt nervous. He wasn't used to those 'presenting his credentials' with parents-in-law. Phil had never managed his coming- out and Gregor's he had only known as suffocating-caring people who had watched their little sunshine until he had met them again in court where he had to endure the charge of manslaughter. Suddenly he was cold.

He followed Maxim into the silvery tin of the new elevator. Maxim smiled at him. And tugged at his stark white shirt. "Nervous?" he asked and gave him a kiss.

"You bet."

Andris awaited them in front of his door. He pulled his son into his arms, hugged him and murmured into his ears. Behind his back Christian saw a woman with long hair, black like raven's wings. She smiled and he pressed a little bunch of summer flowers into her hand. "You must be Christian", she said, putting her long nose into the flowers. Like Maxim she spoke with a little hard accent. Then he had to shake Andris' hand before all of them were pushed into the flat and complimented into the living room.

"I'm sure you both have better things to do later than to enjoy a family gathering, don't you?" Andris said, winking. "But it's a pleasure for us you came." He spoke to Christian who didn't know what to say. He tried his charming smile at the mother that didn't fail its intention. His eyes followed her when she went into the kitchen that was attached to the living room, only separated by a colourful curtain of strings of pearls. She was large and slender and dressed in a black dress. Her son was her spitting image.

Maxim went straight to the large door that lead to the balcony. Christian heard chattering, and Andris motioned him to follow. Under a jungle of plants Maxim's grandmother sat, her grandson in her arms. Christian was somehow touched by the obvious heartiness of this family. He heard clattering of crockery coming from the kitchen, albeit the table here was already laid. The chairs vanished almost between nasturtium, pansies, begonias, hibiscus and amaryllis. At the walls climbed peas, beans and tomatoes; radish and cucumbers in big bowls. The soft blue umbels of a hydrangea touched his leg. It smelled intoxicatingly of Jasmine.

"Look, here's Christian", Maxim said and gave free the view of a stately woman with faded blond hair she had bound into a large bun. Despite the warmth she wore a coloured scarf around her shoulders, the fringes covering her respectable breasts. Christian shook her hand and put a small box of exquisite chocolates into her other hand. He thought it would be impolite to leave her out. She smiled and revealed several golden teeth. Her sapphire-stone eyes though pierced him carefully. Christian felt something deep in his stomach. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"Please sit down", Andris said behind him, holding a coffee pot in hand. "It's too hot outside, isn't it. But we say, drink something warm and you'll cool down."

Christian sat down in one of the very comfortable chairs. He still felt the eyes of the old woman. Maxim's mother arrived with a black and yellow cake. A thick candle was burning in the middle of it. "That's Russian Zupfkuchen", she said proudly. "The original recipe." And, to her son: "Blow out the candle and wish something."

Maxim hesitated for a moment, then locked his eyes with Christian's and blew the candle.

During the next hour Christian learnt a lot about the problems Russian emigrants had in Germany and about the problems Germans had with the Russians. Marija and Andris worked for the Harmonie-association that was sponsored by the national interior ministry. They helped people who had problems with the language, with forms and with the authorities. They worked also as translators and tried to integrate Berliner and emigrants by having kaffeeklatsches.

Christian's head swirled. Did he want to know all this? But Maxim's parents were too loveable not to be interested or just to claim interest. With the same enthusiasm they wanted to know everything that concerned himself. He told them more than he wanted. And, above all, shouldn't it be the way a marriage should work?

Christian looked into Marija's black, almond eyes and another face appeared before his inner eye. A long, stern face. Pale, the eyes of a hungry cat: his mother's face. She was warm hearted when she was busy with her children. He had laughed with her, had listened when she had read out children's books. And he was convinced that it always had been him - not Martin - who was the nearest to her heart. After all, she wanted to die with him, wasn't that proof enough for her big love? She wanted Chris to accompany her travel into heaven, not his twin.

Christian eyes veiled and for a second he swayed in his chair. Maxim next to him took his arm and held him. "Are you too hot?" he asked concerned. Christian blinked and found the dark blue eyes of the old woman fixed on him. "It's nothing. Indeed a little too hot."

Marija jumped up and bought him a glass with cool water. "Shall we go in?"

"No, please, it's alright." He felt embarrassed.

"Your gifts, darling", Marija said finally and gave her mother- in-law a sign. The old woman rose a little sluggish and went to the corner of the balcony. She beckoned Maxim to follow her. Christian saw plants in pretty bowls, decorated with ribbons. "That's for your home", she said. "Lemon tree, a date palm and a mango."

"Gosh! All self-grown?" Maxim bent down and lifted the bowls. "That's so great."

"Of course self-grown. You have a terrace, don't you."

"Mother has a green thumb as you can see", Andris said, pointing to the jungle around him. "She puts the kernels into earth and it grows so fast that you can watch."

Maxim unwrapped some other parcels, all needful things. Maxim would have good use of them.

Suddenly the rest of the family had vanished and Christian felt alone with the old woman. He helped her to her chair. "The back, you know," she said low. "Too much of hard work from my childhood on".

When she sat back she offered him one of her chocolates. Christian didn't refuse. They were silent for a while. From the streets came the noise of playing kids, and birds sang ardently in the trees. What could he tell her. He felt watched. But before it was getting embarrassing she said suddenly "You are haunted."

Christian started.

"You have had bad experiences. You still suffer." It wasn't questions but statements. "Will you make my grandson happy? He deserves to be happy."

The piece of chocolate in Christian's mouth tasted bitter. He didn't know what to answer. He couldn't agree she was right. That very moment he was determined to make her grandson happy. He always had good intentions.

"Answer me."

"Well, of course. I love Maxim."

"Chris? Are you bringing the bowls?" Maxim called and Christian jumped up. "Gotta go", he said, "it was a pleasure to have met you."

She nodded.

Back in their car, Christian breathed a sign of relief. Maxim laughed. "Was it that bad?"

"No. But its always hard, to meet the parents of your lover the first time, don't you think." He started the engine. "How many parents have you met?"

"Not that many."

"Your parents are so... Relaxed. Aren't they upset you're ... different? My father is just ... he doesn't care. I mean he ignores me. Us. Martin and me."

Maxim next to him patted his thigh. "And your mother? Would she have ignored you then?"

Christian started. "I don't know", he whispered. "She loved me without a reason."

"Like all mothers do. Granny's pretty fond of flowers and plants. She cared for the vegetable garden back at home. Although we hadn't such a luxurious stuff. It was rather potatoes and leek."

Christian again felt the blue eyes piercing his mind. Perhaps she had Bohemian blood, although she didn't look Bohemian.

"Mother said she likes you", Maxim chatted away. "We should return the invitation soon, what do you think?" He looked at Christian whose face was pale under the tan. "Don't you feel well? It's been several times now lately you seem to faint. Perhaps you should see a doc."

"Nonsense", Christian said sharply. "It's just the heat. Now, could you please hold your mouth for a minute or two?"

Maxim was miffed. Christians changes of mood was getting on his nerves. He didn't say a word until they arrived at their home. Wordless he removed the plants from the backseat and carried them up.

Coco sat by the door and sniffed at the lemon tree. "That's nothing for you, sweetie", Maxim said. He went straight up to the roof and pondered briefly where to put them. He heard footsteps behind him. Christian was there, standing forlorn.

"Sorry, Maxim. I just had to think."

"It's ok." Maxim sat the bowls next to the swimming pool. "Do you think they look good here?"

"The love for plants comes from your granny, right?"

"Right." Maxim examined his work and then opened his shirt. He stripped down naked and sat at the rim of the pool. "Come, it's really too hot."

Christian shed all of his clothes too and followed him. At the far horizon the sky turned into a leaden grey. The day had been unbearable sultry. Still the sky over Berlin was without any clouds. Down in the flat, Coco ran from one room to the other, alarmed, and vanished finally under the blanket of the bed.

When night fell Christian appeared with burning candles upon the terrace, placing them on the table next to the pool and putting a white rose on Maxim's place. Glasses and a bottle of wine followed. When Maxim appeared he grinned. He watched him taking up the rose, smelling its scent. "White with dark red rims at the petals", Maxim said and his heart melted away. "How nice of you."

"Happy Birthday." Christian said.

Something was attached to the stem. A little parcel. Heavy. Maxim plucked it and removed the paper. It was a dark blue box. He gave Christian a look before he opened it. A pair of silvery rings shone softly in the candle light. Maxim breathed in sharply. Those rings he had seen before. In Chris' glass case.

Christian leaned forward. "I know how you think about marriage and all, Maxim. I've understood your point. You need more time. All I want is you to wear this ring. It gives me hope."

Maxim looked alternating at the ring in his hand and at Christian. He looked serious and he didn't blink. How could he strike off his plea. He cleared his throat. "Does it mean we're engaged now?"

"If you like to call it this way." He nodded.

Without thinking Maxim took Christian's hand and shoved the ring over his left ring finger. It was a perfect fit. Christian stared at it and did then the same . "I love you", he said with rough voice, then he lifted his glass and clinked it with Maxim's.

In the distance thunder rumbled. Both didn't notice. Their fingers were intertwined. Maxim wished this night would never end. He wished Christian would always be like now. Not submerged in a land where he couldn't follow.

"A pair shouldn't have secrets", he said low. "Are you ready to tell me about your family?"

"You are haunted"... the voice of the old woman echoed in Christian's ears. "We were a happy family", he started then uncertain. His glass was empty . He refilled it. It was a lie anyway. They were unhappy. His mother was unhappy. "My mother was the heir of a factory here in Berlin. She met my father at an annual do. She fell in love with him instantly. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Maxim shook his head.

"My mother did. He was assistant in a laboratory. She wanted just him, only him. My grandfather wasn't amused. But she was persistent and so they married. My grandfather had insisted on separation of property. So he could be sure he didn't want just her money."

A first cool wind was blowing; the candles flickered, and little waves ripped the surface of the water in the swimming pool. Christian opened another bottle and filled the glasses. "Of course he wasn't after mother's money. Her dad made sure he had a career. First he was leader of the department." Christian washed away his glass and filled it again. "Then he was on the board of directors and later partner of the enterprise. Then he spent more time on golf-places than at his office."

At home, although the twins weren't exactly involved, they did feel a bad vibration that made them stick together when hearing their mother's screaming and hysterical shouting, when the father came home, but what it was about, they didn't know. In their innocent seven years old hearts they couldn't grasp what it meant when Martin had caught the father in bed with a foreign woman. Christian didn't grasp when he saw his mother viciously checking the pockets of her husbands clothes. What was she looking for there?

Now, twenty one years later, he knew. He knew that his father had betrayed his mother and that she was unhappy. Her feeling transferred to him and so he wasn't mad with her when she wanted to die with him. The pain would be over then.

"And then?" he heard Maxim ask. The thunder rumble came closer. The stars had vanished. Christian shivered. His glass was empty again and he felt dizzy in his head. That night he had sworn to himself he wouldn't allow this pain evermore. He would keep his lovers. That he hadn't succeed so far made him mad at himself.

"You'll stay with me, don't you?"

First drops of rain splashed to the ground and extinguished the candles. Maxim quickly gathered the glasses and his rose, took Christian's hand and ran with him downstairs. "You think the plants will suffer?" he asked.

"Not that badly. Perhaps the little ones you got today."

Maxim went instantly up again and returned soaked with the bowls. "Cloudburst", he panted. Water dripped from his hair.

Christian's eyes were glazed from wine. Maxim looked so sexy - the wet clothes clung to his body like a second skin. This awoke desire in Christian. Quickly he took away the plants and peeled off all of Maxim's clothes. He licked the drops from Maxim's brows, from his earlobes, like he licked the rest of his body. Maxim moaned surprised and didn't stop him.

"Say you'll never leave me. Say it." Christian's movements were urging and somewhat brutal, his hands all over Maxim. He then pushed Maxim to the carpet and opened the fly of his trousers. "I want you so badly. That's what you wanted to hear for longer than a year", he hissed into Maxim's ear, "Isn't that the truth?" His hand opened Maxim's legs. Careless he pushed a finger into his anus and Maxim yelped. "You have me now and I want you to stay."

Maxim struggled.

"Say it! Say you love me. Say you will stay with me."

"Christian! Stop it!"

Christian lay with his whole bodyweight upon him. "Say it", he hissed. Maxim pushed him away. "What's the matter with you?" He came to his feet. "Are you drunk?" He looked down on Christian, his face flushed, trousers open. His stiff cock peered out.

Maxim left him without a word. His legs wobbled when he vanished in the shower and washed away Christian's brutality. Was this his way to make him stay for ever?" The ring blinked at his finger. He was close to removing it. What a birthday.

The door opened and a flush of cool air streamed in, steam filled the cabin. Maxim made an involuntarily defensiveness, but Christian took him tightly into his arms and tolerated no struggle. His erection had gone and his eyes were clear again. "I'm so sorry. It's the heat and alcohol. And your body. And yourself. I can't stop wanting you."

"But not that way", Maxim said coolly. "I'm not keen on hard sex."

Christian kissed his neck and shoulder. "I'll make up for it. Do with me what you want."

Maxim found Coco deeply buried under the bedcovers. Outside thunder and lightning alternated with each other. It was light enough to see the stark white fur he pressed to his naked body. "Are you afraid, sweetie? Let's stay here."

Christian didn't object. He cuddled as close as Maxim allowed. Maxim was still too shocked. Was this the man he had fallen in love with? In the flash of a lightning Maxim saw his profile. The antique profile with the long, straight nose, the elegant lips, the tight chin. The delicate curve of the cheekbone and the eye lashes moving. Christian didn't sleep. He lay awake like Maxim himself, listening to the thunder over Berlin and the incessantly drum of rain upon the roof. On his side he felt the cat's purring. At least he felt safe. One thing Maxim couldn't maintain of himself. Not anymore. Not after Christian's outburst.

A hand came furtively over. He touched his skin and stroked his genitals. "Come on, I said sorry already." Christian's voice was soft and tender. Dripping with honey. But Maxim couldn't bring himself to forgive him, let alone that his body could react to Christian's fondling. The purring at his side had stopped. A quick movement and Christian left out a small cry. "Ouch, damn!" He looked at his hand that showed four long scratches, blood red.

"Bloody cat." Christian swung his legs out of the bed and went around it to the bath room. His hard cock was about to shrivel. Maxim heard him rummaging in the shelves. Sighing he followed him. Coco meanwhile made himself comfortable in the middle of the bed.

Maxim sat at the rim of the tub and watched Christian searching for plaster. "Shall we talk about it or leave it?" he asked finally.

"What do you want to talk about?" Christian had found the plaster. "You won't make reproaches that I find you sexy and lose my mind over you? I thought you'd know I need a lot of sex."

Maxim stood up and went slowly over to him. "Exactly. YOU need a lot of sex. You don't ask me if I need the same."

"You haven't left the impression you're frigid."

"I'm speaking of now! Right NOW I don't want sex. You have to respect it."

"Pah." Christian tugged at the protection stripe with his teeth and put the plaster over the wound. "You act like a little, nagging virgin." He guided his light eyes to Maxim. "I really thought you'd feel the same." Suddenly he laughed. "What we are doing here actually? I'm naked and you're naked. I'm still horny like hell. You aren't a woman wanted to be conquered and pleaded and showered with pralines and flowers and jewels before I can get bed her." He grinned. "That's the fortune of being gay. You must know, you've slept with them."

Maxim nodded briefly. His anger blew over. That was Christian's expression of passion - perhaps. "I like the tender Christian better", he said then conciliatorily. He stretched out his hand with the platinum band around his finger. "The Christian who gave me this ring, telling me about love and hope."

Christian took his hand and kissed it. "Let's go to bed."

"Why you don't want sex?" he asked once they had Coco pushed aside and stretched out under the blankets. Again Christian's fingers crept between Maxim's legs.

"You were in the middle of your home story", Maxim said. "I'd like to hear the end. Your parents married, your father made career and cared for golf. Then you both were born I suppose."

"Listen, honey. You don't want sex and I don't want to tell you about my parents. Ok? We are quits. And now let's sleep."

Thunder and lightning. The room was sometimes light as by day. Coco purred again at his side. Maxim couldn't sleep. This was definitely unmistakable: Chris didn't want to speak about his family. What had he to hide there? If he'd try it with Martin to learn more? Philipp? He'd asked him before and Philipp had been loyal. Or he knew nothing more than he himself. Or Philipp didn't want to tell him about the reasons he left Chris.

Another thunderclap. Coco jerked at his side and he stroked soothingly his fur. Christian's deep breathing told him he had fallen asleep finally. But he lay there and the minutes dropped away. Suddenly he felt that he didn't want to know what was wrong with the Kramer family. If the twins liked to keep it until all eternity so be it.

He was thirsty, so he sneaked out of the bed, took the cat and went into the kitchen. He filled a glass with water and stood at the window. The sky was somehow lit by grey, torn clouds from them it poured down with a vicious power. The rain came down almost horizontal. Trees were shaken and leaves swirled through the air. The colourful balloon of the TV-sender was pressed to the ground and the Reichstag had vanished behind a curtain of rain. Coco, laying over his shoulder stared with big eyes through the window pane. He blinked when another jagged lightning tore the skies. Maxim was cold.

He looked for his bathrobe, put it on and sat with the cat into the leather armchair. Neither he liked this nor the couch. It was too cold and uncomfortable to sit on. Oddly Coco had chosen it for his favourite place, but only because Maxim had put a woollen blanket upon the seat.

"You can't stand my new lover, is this right?" Maxim said to the cat. "Apparently all of my friends are reserved, except my parents may be. But nobody knows him as well as I do".

Coco's blue eyes looked directly into his own as if he wanted to remind him that Philipp knew Christian pretty much longer and better. And altogether... Maxim did know nothing about Christian except the things he wanted to see. For instance Christian's generosity, his enthusiasm when he was busy with things that were of his interest. His fantasy. His talent to speak poems. And he was a good lover. Maxim had the best sex ever.

Coco still stared. Was this really all? What about the important things? Loyalty? Magnanimity? Care, truth, sincerity? And what if he would stand behind your back, embrace you, whisper 'I'm sorry, Maxim', carry him to bed and fuck him as compensation? Like he has already done several times? Have you forgotten the small, warning voice within you? The voice that appeared when Christian and Philip had their quarrel and when he - Christian - danced with you? Have you forgotten the intimidating- dominating aura? Now this small voice is surpassed by the rosy glasses you wear.

The thunderstorm had passed leaving only the torrential rain. Maxim thought briefly what it would do to his oleander, but then he didn't care. They would either survive or not. Perhaps this was the final break in weather and cooler day would follow.

He wished he could take his holidays to travel far away with Christian. This would do them good. Bored he took his cellular phone and played with the functions. After a while he got the idea and started to store all of the numbers he knew. Coco had fallen asleep and it didn't take long before Maxim followed him, softly accompanied by the rain, drumming on the window sills.

Christian surprised him with a sumptuous breakfast but with no mention of the past night. Maxim let it be. He was too tired to find out if Chris just had a short memory, or if it was the alcohol - although he hadn't left a drunken impression - or if it was just pure ignorance. He tried to answer him as normal as he could. But down low, very low, a guest had joined their relationship: mistrust.

Of course Christian hadn't forgotten a single word that had been spoken last night. He felt a wall coming up on him, or like the pendulum in Poe's story. With each swing and with each second that passed, it approached more and more the place over his heart. First it ripped the surface of his clothes, then his skin and then finally there was a clean cut, parting the bones of his ribs, protecting that what was under them. His heart would lay open, unprotected at the mercy of all mishaps and all misunderstandings.

Maxim asked too much, probably stirred up or spurred on by Philipp. Philipp wanted to sow discord, a whiff of mistrust that would only have to be lit with skilful words in low doses until it would burn with the power of a forest fire. Yes. Philip had sneaked into Maxim's to now begin his work of destruction. He must be stopped.

The first thing he would do was to talk with him. Tomorrow. While he was smiling into Maxim's face his mind started to work out a plan. There was no way Philipp would separate him from Maxim. This time he would keep his lover. Meanwhile it didn't matter who the lover was, as long as Christian succeeded in keeping him. There was too much he had to make up for. For the death of his mother for instance, and he had to prove his twin that he was able to lead a happy life. He had to prove to Gregor, his parents, Maxim's grandmother.

Maxim wanted to take a drive. The weather had cooled down indeed and the blue heaven was sprinkled with white clouds, and a pleasant wind blew from the East. But Christian was lazy. He had to think about what to tell Philipp, and so he used the excuse that he wanted to finish Tim's story. With the manuscript in hand he sat next to pool in a deckchair with his sunglasses on his nose. Maxim had taken up Coco and watched him like a mother watched her baby when he sneaked between the several bowls. But Coco never attempted to nibble at them; he was still a clever cat and had learnt his lesson well.

Christian thought perhaps he should mix something from the leaves under Coco's food to get rid of him. But he couldn't bear Maxim's grief should Coco die. Then perhaps he would get another cat which couldn't stand Christian either! And anyway... Coco wouldn't eat the poisoned food anyway. Perhaps he would whisper into Maxim's ears what a brute Christian was. He grinned. Sometimes he had the feeling this cat could speak.

"Killing me softly

But he no longer made a fool of himself. Carsten had decided if the soft tour didn't work, it had to be the hard. Sascha hadn't reacted to all of his endeavours, although he was constantly friendly to Carsten, as if he would feel a lot of pity. But to hell! Carsten didn't want pity. He wanted back the old Sascha who had spent each single minute with him, each night. He wanted sex with him! What was this game for then if not to satisfy your needs with somebody you like? It had been mutual and now Carsten couldn't understand what had changed and why Sascha begin giving Denis priority. What had he that he - Carsten - hadn't? Was it the dark skin? The exotic look? Well, he could paint his skin then. He could dye his hair, made curls in it, paint his teeth stark white and still he would remain the old Carsten. Shit.

When he woke up from his trance the furnishings of their flat lay in ruins. Astonished he looked around, not knowing if it had been him, nor that he was able to do this. But to hell with the furniture. He wanted his lover back.

Carsten sat down at the carpet and closed his eyes. He had never loved anything before as he loved Sascha. And he didn't even know why exactly. Sascha didn't look special, he wasn't interesting or exciting . Just an average guy he hadn't paid attention in those old days. Old days? What were those old days about? Somehow everything that belonged to former times - before Sascha - was faded out, paled, vanished. Just his inexplicable love to Sascha stayed. He couldn't think of anything other than if Sascha was gone there was no reason for Carsten to live on. Sascha WAS his life and all he had left. What shall he do?

A key turned in the lock. Carsten woke up with a start. It was morning and he still lay upon the carpet. Sascha cursed when he saw the rooms. Carsten looked like a puppy with a bad conscious as if he would await a fight. Of course Sascha didn't dream of hitting him. He once had loved him, had been mad about him and so long for him, but now? His love had evaporated, and it was as if it had never exist. What could he tell him? That there was just two month and Carsten would be free? Then everything would be like before. The fairy godmother would lose the spell. He couldn't wait for this.

"Did you drink?" Sascha bent down to Carsten and helped him up. "Or what does this mean?"

Uncontrollable anger grew again within Carsten. "What does it mean?" he aped Sascha. "What does it mean, eh? I'm pissed! You leave me alone and fuck with those ... coffee cream! Is he good? With a long, fat cock?"

Sascha hit his face. Carsten looked at him with a mixture of despair and fury. "Sorry", Sascha said. "I'm going. You can clean up meanwhile. See you at work."

Sascha's heart broke. But could he help it? How could he not understand Carsten? Please, Carsten hold on for just two month, he whispered when he was on his way to Denis.

And what if he would play the game with Carsten? Convince Denis it was just for his best? But who would believe his story of a fairy godmother that came to grant him a wish, huh? He had told nobody about the fateful meeting ten month ago.

Perhaps he had to be nicer to Carsten. It was not his fault that he was so deeply and never ending in love.

Denis looked indeed at him as if he had lost his marbles. There was no point for Sascha to continue his story then. Nobody would believe him and Sascha couldn't blame them. But after Denis had heard what Carsten had done with the flat he insisted Sascha to stay here. Sooner or later they would have to change the working place too. There was no way all three could work together as if nothing had happened.

Sascha though thought this luckily would not be necessary after Carsten had snapped out of his spell-caused enchantment. He just hoped that he wouldn't carry memories afterwards. But actually it was impossible. The fairy godmother would turn back time, wouldn't she.

All of a sudden Sascha stared through the front shield of the car, not seeing anything. This would mean ... this would mean... he didn't dare to think it. It would mean, Denis had never found the job in the bookshop. They had never met. They never fell in love with each other. The status quo would re-established: Sascha was in love with Carsten as ever. Hopelessly.

What if he would place a note between Denis' stuff. But would he follow a note from a guy he never had heard of before?

But wait, Denis had nothing to do with the events caused by Sascha's wish. Denis would come. They would meet and Sascha would be cured from being lovesick. Without the help of a fairy godmother. If he just could be sure of this."