Perception

This is a work of gay erotic fiction. It contains very explicit sex scenes between consenting male adults. If this type of material is illegal to view where you live, or if you are under 18 years of age, read no further.

This story cannot be copied, used, distributed or charged for by any other party, without express written consent of the author.

I would be glad to receive feedback via the email address: Hasimir.Fenrig@gmx.de This story has been published before under the title "Dumb." "Perception" is a revised and polished version thereof.

Please note that English is not my native language. Moreover, this is a work of fiction. Any inconsistencies with real life facts are fully intended. At least, most of them... ^^

Chapter 1

I stood pressed against the wall, my heart pounding fast, my breath coming in short gasps. I dared to peek around the corner into the now deserted break hall of the Albert Einstein Gymnasium. Dumb was nowhere to be seen. I relaxed. Our chase had begun in the rec room for the Oberstufe. When he had entered the room, his gaze had fallen on me and I had known what was about to come. I had taken the coward's option: flight. Unconsciously, I rubbed the left side of my stomach where the last bruise he had given me was still healing. This hadn't been the first souvenir and wouldn't be the last one.

Dumb... Tim... I tried not to call him by the nickname all the other pupils were using. Sometimes, it was just too easy to forget about this. His academic record was abysmal. He had had to repeat two classes in the Mittelstufe. As a result, he was two years older than most of us. His grade average was always close to failing. I didn't hold that against him. What really warranted his nickname was the fact that he was Nicholas Vormann's puppet. Nicholas was every teacher's darling and the undisputed ruler of our school. His reign was one of intrigue and deception. Most pupils didn't even know that he was in charge, but I knew him from kindergarten on, knew of his manipulative ways.

That was the reason why I had made his blacklist. The fact I was the chief editor of the school newspaper didn't help, either. In his world of plans and counter plans, that position gave me enough potential power to damage him. Moreover, I outperformed him in every single subject, putting him in second place which enraged him beyond reason. To the outside, he was very keen on presenting our relationship as being one of friendly competition. Behind the scenes, he was pulling the strings of Dumb-Tim to get back at me. Though Tim wasn't really to blame, it was his fists that reminded me of my position.

I took another look around the corner; still no one to be seen. I almost jumped out of my skin when a hand touched my shoulder. I spun around. It was Christina, whom I considered one of my best friends. She was small, even for a girl, and her pudgy face was framed by curly, blonde hair that reached down to her shoulders. Her green eyes were magnified by the glasses she was wearing, giving her an owlish look.

"Never do that again!" I glowered at her.

"What are you doing here, Marcel?"

It was almost impossible to irritate her, which in return was very irritating.

"I'm playing hide-and-seek with Tim."

"Oh. Again?"

"Not much of a choice."

"You're seventeen years old, turning eighteen in two months. Don't you think there are other ways to deal with Dumb?"

"My mind agrees; my body begs to differ. It just loves being unharmed too much. Nature obviously forgot to give me the equipment to fight the local dim-witted soccer hunk."

I was tall, but lanky. Tim was my height, but more muscled by far. Besides soccer, rumors had it that he spent much time in the gym. My idea of having a nice afternoon didn't include any iron but a good book, a pen, and paper.

"I wasn't talking about whacking each other's lights out."

"I doubt that Tim 'Dumb' Eschner is willing to sit down with a cup of herbal tea to discuss the wrongs of physical violence."

"Who's playing dumb now?"

I didn't want to admit it, but she was right.

I looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry, but in less than a year, school's over. I'll just evade him as much as I can, and then I'll never see him again just to live happily ever after."

"Stop your brown-eyed puppy dog look. You know it doesn't work on me. If that's what you want.

But a year can be a long time in a school like this. Being a coward doesn't really suit you." Christina turned around and left me standing at the corner.

I didn't give much credence to the opinions of others, but coming from her, it hurt. I lay back against the wall and closed my eyes. If there was anything I could do besides running away, it hadn't occurred to me. I opened my eyes and checked the break hall again. No Tim there. A hand touched my shoulder.

I turned around. "I've told you not to..."

Tim stood before me, his hand grasping my shoulder.

Chapter 2

Tim's fingers pressed into my flesh, causing me increasing pain. I looked into his eyes. What took me by surprise was the emotion I saw in the piercing blueness: not rage, but sadness. In the light of what Christina had said before, I studied Tim, hoping to find a hint, an idea, an alternative. I had never realized it before, and it was a most mistimed observation, but Tim was quite handsome. He was tanned, though it was September. His chin and his cheeks were angular, very manly. He had barely tamed his dark blond hair, adding to the male and adventurous impression. Tim's build was athletic, but not too extreme. One could clearly see the muscles bulging against his clothes.

"Why do you keep saying such things about me?"

"Tim, I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"I know I'm not as clever as you are, but why do you go around school and tell everyone that I'm dumb?"

"I never..."

"Don't lie to me! Nicholas told me everything."

"Nicholas." I almost spat his name. Terrifying, how much contempt I was feeling for him. "Nicholas is the one lying here. I've never said a word about you."

"Don't call my best friend a liar!"

Without intention, I had pushed Tim over the edge, the edge I had intended to keep him away from.

He drew back his fist and hit me hard on the right lower side of my abdomen. The impact pushed the air out of my lungs in a fierce cough. Before my eyes, little white bubbles formed and burst in bright flashes again. I sank to my knees, holding my stomach. For some terrible seconds, I couldn't breathe, panic rising in me.

Tim dragged me to my feet. "Why do you say such bad things about people?"

I was glad that I could breathe again, but answering him was still impossible. His fist hitting my left side was the reply to my silence. Gasping for air, I held my abdomen.

"Mr. Eschner! Stop it at once!" The voice of Dr. Vogel, the school's vice principal, boomed through the corridor.

I looked at Tim. The sadness in his eyes had been replaced with sheer panic. The portly frame of Dr.

Vogel was looming over us. Tim and I were quite tall, but the vice principal towered well above us.

His mere presence made all pupils think twice before violating the school rules.

"Are you all alright, Mr. Ritter?"

Speaking was still difficult for me, so I simply nodded.

"Okay. To my office, you two. Now!"

We followed Dr. Vogel. Tim looked devastated. Though I had all reasons to gloat, I felt pity for him.

My problems may have been solved, but not the way I would have liked them to.

In the office, Dr. Vogel gestured at two chairs standing in front of his desk. The desk was littered with files and records. I wondered how he could find anything in the mess, but the vice principal produced Tim's file without the slightest hesitation. When Dr. Vogel let himself slump into his own chair, it moaned audibly.

He opened the file and his frown deepened even more. "Mr. Eschner, do you have the courtesy to explain to me why you assaulted Mr. Ritter?"

"He... he was saying things about me and my friends..."

"Mr. Ritter, did you spread rumors about Mr. Eschner and his friends?"

"No, sir," I said in a low voice. I may have been the victim, but being questioned by Dr. Vogel made me feel guilty nonetheless.

"And even if Mr. Ritter had bad-mouthed you, beating him wouldn't be the solution. I hope your teachers and your parents have told you so."

"Yes, sir." Tim's voice was as low as mine.

"Your file on my desk isn't a coincidence, Mr. Eschner. We checked your grades. If you don't improve significantly in at least three courses, I'm afraid we cannot admit you to the Abitur exams."

I wished I was somewhere else. Having such a message delivered to you was hard enough, but being told that you would eventually fail in the presence of the person you loathed the most was almost torture. I commiserated with Tim.

"We wanted to offer you the possibility of repeating the twelfth grade. I think we'll refrain from this option. Your attack on Mr. Ritter gives me severe doubts whether the Albert Einstein Gymnasium is the right place for you."

Tim swallowed hard. His eyes were glistening. My sense of pity deepened. Christina's words echoed in my mind.

I gathered all my courage to speak up to the vice principal. "Dr. Vogel, I don't think it's appropriate to expel Tim just because of a... misunderstanding."

Four eyes were staring at me - one pair in utter disbelief, the other one in annoyance.

"Even if you don't press charges, I can't ignore what I witnessed. If Mr. Eschner doesn't pass, he'll leave."

"But if I pass, I can stay?" It seemed as if my boldness to speak had encouraged Tim as well.

The eyes of Dr. Vogel went darker, giving away that his annoyance with us had just gone up a notch.

"We are talking about three courses here. You have to pass them with at least ten points, a B-minus.

You will need a lot of help to get there, Mr. Eschner." Dr. Vogel's eyes fell on me. "Mr. Ritter? Don't you have a straight fifteen point average in history, physics, and mathematics? Physics and mathematics are your majors, aren't they?"

"Yes, sir." I didn't like the way this conversation was heading.

"Excellent. Since you're so concerned about Mr. Eschner's school career, you'll tutor him in these three subjects, Mr. Ritter. Perhaps learning together will also help you overcome your differences."

He opened a drawer in his desk and took a key from it. "This is the key to one of the spare rooms. It's not large, but there's a table and two chairs. You can work there." He handed it to me. "And listen, Mr. Eschner. If I happen to hear that you only looked the wrong way at another pupil, you'll leave this school faster than you can say 'Sorry.' Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"The next written exams will take place in four weeks. Make good use of this time. You may go now."

Tim and I jumped up from our seats and left the room as fast as possible. I couldn't help but have the feeling that we both had been punished. What had I gotten myself into? Teaching the very person that had made my life miserable seemed so unreal. On the other hand, I wouldn't have to feel responsible for Tim's expulsion, however illogical this sentiment was. I turned to him. Tim had slumped against the wall just right of the vice principal's office and was sitting on the floor.

He pulled up his legs, and his head rested on his knees. "That's it. I might as well leave school right now."

"But we've still got time."

"Why should you tutor me? You haven't much reason to, have you?"

I knelt down beside him, putting my hand on Tim's arm. It was a bad habit of mine to touch the people I was talking to.

"First of all, you may think of me as a rotten, lying asshole, but I keep my obligations. And I do believe in second chances. We didn't have the best of starts, but that doesn't mean we can't get along."

Tim had been looking into my eyes, but now his gaze wandered to my hand on his arm. I retracted it.

His eyes found mine again. "Do you think it'll work? Can I catch up?"

"I don't know."

"You're more honest than I thought." He extended his hand. "Second chance?"

"Second chance!"

We shook hands.

I got up and helped Tim to his feet. "Let's start tomorrow. I'll talk to your teachers for some hints."

We didn't have any of these courses together, so I wasn't sure what they had covered so far.

"Okay. What about three?"

"See you then."

Usually, I went home by bus, but 'usual' wasn't the correct word to describe today. Walking home would take me three quarters of an hour, time I longed to spend thinking about today's events. My first attempt at not being a coward had produced different results than expected, but thinking about it, those results weren't too bad. While tutoring Tim, I was off limits to him. If we succeeded, I could expect enough gratitude to be left alone. If we failed, the problem would solve itself.

Plans and counter plans. Sounds like Nicholas.

I wouldn't let Tim down and would give my best to help him. Unlike Nicholas, I didn't see him just as a tool to achieve my goals. Still, he was the one who had roughed me up time and again. Despite my high-spirited words about second chances, I wasn't sure I could forget about the pain and the bruises so easily. Those conflicting feelings - the wish to help and the fear of Tim - accompanied me on my way home and kept coming back as variations on a monotonous theme.

When I arrived at the door of our flat, I hadn't reached a conclusion yet. Of course not. I had just entered home when Mom's head appeared in the door to the kitchen.

"Hi, Marcel-darling. You're late." She beamed at me.

I wasn't used to her new short haircut yet. All my life, my mom had had long, blonde hair. Some four weeks ago she had decided for a change.

"What's up, dear? Something happened at school?"

To my mom, I was an open book. She had demonstrated the ability to tell me what I was thinking countless times, and still it shocked me.

"Nothing important, Mom."

"You know you can talk about everything with me."

"And you know I don't want to talk about everything with you."

She laughed. "For me, you're still my little baby, but if you need some privacy, I'll have to accept it...

grudgingly."

I nodded.

"Oh. Give me that sweater you're wearing. I was about to start the washing machine."

I didn't even have the chance to object. She crossed the distance between the kitchen and the entrance door while talking. Now, she was tugging up the sweater.

She froze. "What's that?"

Two large, black bruises had formed where Tim's fists had made contact with my stomach.

"Nothing." I stepped back and pulled down my sweater.

"It was that Eschner boy, wasn't it?"

"It won't happen again."

"Once a bully, always a bully."

"I'll teach him." I immediately regretted that I had said it.

I had intended to tell my parents about the tutoring, because I'd be late from school for the next few months and there was no way they wouldn't inquire, but using it as an argument in a quarrel wasn't the best way to do so for sure.

"You will what?"

"I'll teach him. If he doesn't pass three courses with good grades, he'll have to leave school."

"That would be bad because...?" She was fuming. The friendliness that always shone from her eyes was gone.

"You and Dad taught me about second chances. I want to help him because it's the right thing to do."

My mom's lips curved into a smile. The rage in her eyes had made place for friendlier emotions.

She touched my cheek. "I'm so incredibly proud of you. Of course, it's the right thing to do. I just want to be sure that you won't get hurt again."

"Getting to know Tim is perhaps the best way to make sure."

Her smile deepened. I touched my mom's hand on my cheek.

"When did you get so wise beyond your years? I can still remember you crawling around here on all fours."

"Mom!"

She let out a laugh. "Give me the sweater, darling. In the bathroom, there is some ointment that should help with those." She removed her hand from my face and gestured toward my abdomen.

I got rid of the pullover and handed it to her. "Thanks, Mom," I said softly.

Telling Dad was easy with Mom on my side. The two men in this household knew who was holding the reins.

It was difficult to fall asleep that evening. Too many thoughts were struggling for my attention. In addition, a tingling nervousness had settled in my stomach. How would I fare as a teacher? How much was Tim willing and able to learn? What would my friends say? For the last question, I had a simple answer: I wouldn't tell them. At least, not immediately. Was this the coward Marcel speaking again? Questions within questions within questions. After some three hours, my body gave up and tried to silence my mind in a drowsy half-sleep... with dubious success.

Chapter 3

On Wednesday morning, I thrived on cola and coffee. The last night hadn't been exactly restful, but with every hour that passed, more of the nervousness returned and replaced the exhaustion. I had talked to Tim's teachers. They had all been very sympathetic. All three of them had told me that Tim was shy and silent in class. That was unexpected. I wondered how many of the things I 'knew' about Tim were actually preconceptions. In addition, the teachers had stressed how much difficulty Tim had in grasping abstract concepts. A nagging feeling of doubt crept into my mind. The teachers had studied to educate and had failed. How I was supposed to do better was beyond me. I still had a half hour, but I was too excited to do anything useful, so I went straight to the room with some books under my arm.

Dr. Vogel hadn't exaggerated. A table and two chairs filled up almost all of the space. I wasn't sure what the original purpose of this room had been. Since there was no window, my best guess was some kind of storage compartment. A fluorescent tube illuminated the room with a cold, artificial light. The smell of old paper hung in the air. The prospect of spending the afternoons over the next few months in this cell didn't help my mood. I put the books on the table and sat down on one of the chairs. I checked my watch, which told me that there were still twenty minutes left. Patience and waiting definitely weren't my greatest talents.

At five minutes before three, a knock on the door made me jump up. It opened and Tim's head appeared. For the first time I could remember, I saw him smile. And that smile suited his face much more than the anger and grief it normally bore when he was around me.

"I wasn't sure you would come," Tim said with a weak voice.

His smile deepened, reaching his eyes. It was impossible to be mad about the implied doubt of my motives when looking into his face.

"Why shouldn't I?"

He shrugged. Tim was wearing a shirt that he hadn't buttoned up completely. His smooth and muscled chest peeked through the opening. He had rolled up the sleeves over half his biceps. There was no doubt left whether he was a regular gym attendee. Tim sat down, as did I.

"I've talked to Mr. Schmidt, Mrs. Grawe, and Mr. Koenig about your courses. They told me what you have covered so far and pointed out additional material we can work with." I hinted at the books on the table.

"Did they tell you how dumb I really am?"

I sought his eyes and expected to find sarcasm in them. It shocked me that I saw sadness instead.

"No. No one said something like that about you."

"But you think I am dumb?"

Anger welled up in me, directed at Nicholas. I could only suspect what kind of lies he had come up with, but this time, I would be more diplomatic about that special subject.

"Please listen. I don't know how Nicholas could misunderstand me so completely, but I never said I thought you were dumb."

"You never said it, but you do think it, don't you?"

"Performing well in school and intelligence are two different things. True, you're failing your courses, but I don't think that's because you aren't clever enough."

His blue eyes locked onto mine. He was looking for something inside of them. His gaze felt piercing and I had a strong urge to look away, but I knew that this was a crucial moment. It was necessary to show him that I really intended to help him. If he didn't trust me, we couldn't succeed. So I endured those long moments of being measured.

His face relaxed. "You do mean it." That sentence wasn't directed at me, but at himself.

I acknowledged it with a nod only and opened one of the mathematics books that Mrs. Grawe had suggested. A dark brown strand of hair fell into my eyes, and with an automatic motion, I put it behind my ears.

"Mrs. Grawe said we should start with differentiation and its applications." I looked up at Tim, who made an uneasy face. I grinned, trying to encourage him. "We'll take it slow."

And slow it was. I tried multiple times, using different approaches, just to get the basic definitions and calculation methods into him. He was cooperating, as far as I could tell, but after two hours, we still hadn't accomplished much. Perhaps, mathematics had been a bad topic to start with.

"We'll try history tomorrow." I grinned again.

It hurt me to look at Tim, who was showing the same desperation I had witnessed after leaving Dr.

Vogel's office.

"It won't work."

"Listen. I'm too stubborn to give up just like that. It was our first try. What did you expect? You need to be a little more patient!"

The sentence had just left my mouth when I remembered whom I was talking to. It wasn't the best of ideas to piss off a person with anger management issues. When Tim moved his right arm, my instincts insisted on moving back. It was just a fraction of an inch, but noticeable. He stopped his arm. I looked into his face. Once more, I wasn't prepared for the sadness.

"Are you afraid of me?"

"You can't blame me for that." My voice was barely louder than a whisper.

Tim finished the movement of his arm. He had just extended it for a hand shake. For a long moment, I just stared at his hand. I felt sheepish for my over-the-top reaction.

"No, I can't." He was looking at his own hand now. "But I can promise you that you don't have to fear me. Your willingness to help me alone shows me what kind of person you are."

Integrity. I had always had great difficulties with defining this old-fashioned term, but it was the only word adequate to describe Tim's reaction. Eventually, we shook hands. It was nice to see Tim was smiling again.

"Since my teacher won't give up, I won't either."

We settled on three P.M. for the next day and parted. Today's events warranted another walk home.

I wondered how many victims had the opportunity to meet their bully and find out there was more to him than just one side. It was strange to see other facets in your former nemesis.

During dinner, Mom and Dad asked many questions about the lesson with Tim, but my monosyllabic answers of 'Good,' 'Don't know,' and 'We'll see' quickly discouraged them to inquire further.

Though I wasn't nervous anymore, that night didn't bring more sleep than the last. My mind kept racing for the ultimate teaching idea, but it never even came close to the finish line.

The second restless night in a row showed in my face and hadn't helped my mood.

Christina's brows furrowed. "You look like hell. Even worse than yesterday."

"Thanks, Mrs. Reitermeyer. You're looking absolutely stunning, too. Too kind of you."

She didn't even blink at my sarcasm. "Is it about Dumb?"

"His name's Tim. And yes, it's about him. I'm worried."

It was the truth. I had just left out the fact that I was worried for him and not about him. The difference between these two sentiments was merely forty-eight hours of eventful time.

"I told you to find a way of dealing with him. Do it for yourself."

"I will, Christina, I will."

That calmed her, but not me.

I left early for the tutoring room, which I had officially christened the Cell. I stared into the history book in a last-ditch attempt to find educational enlightenment there, but the revelation failed to appear. Tim came five minutes early, like the day before. And like the day before with calculus, I broke down the French revolution into the tiniest bits of information possible, but Tim's progress was as tiny. When we had the facts straight and tried to interconnect them, Tim started to mix them all up. That meant starting all over again. After two and a half hours, we both had enough for the day.

Our mood was even more down than on Wednesday. That left physics for Friday. It would be short of a miracle if that session was more productive. I closed the history book in front of me and stared at the cover. Without thinking, I raised my sweatshirt and scratched the bruise on the left side, which had itched the whole afternoon.

"I'm sorry." Tim's voice was meek.

I looked up from the book. "It's not your fault."

"Those are my fault." He pointed at my stomach.

In a quick motion, I pulled down my sweater and chastised myself for being so careless. Our spirits were down enough, no need for further complications.

"You're trying so hard to help me, and all I ever did was hurt you. I feel like shit."

My hand reached for his upper arm, touching half of the sleeve of his t-shirt and half of his bare biceps. His skin felt smooth and firm at once. His muscles tensed and relaxed when he adjusted his position to look at me. For a moment, I was lost in those sensations. It took me a second to remember what I had intended to say.

"I accept."

Tim's forehead wrinkled in confusion. Since the sentence had lost some of its more important parts on the way from my brain to my mouth, that was a natural reaction.

"You said that you were sorry. I accept your apology."

"Can you forget so easily?"

"No. Not easily. But I can forget."

From what I knew of Tim, honesty was the right way to deal with him.

He put his hand on mine and gave it a short rub. "Thanks." His sadness had been replaced by gratitude.

I spent that night like the one before, still to no avail.

I was sitting in the Cell again, waiting for Tim. Today, we would have only one hour to learn together.

Tim had to attend additional soccer training because on Sunday he had a match, while I was meeting with the school choir to decide what project to do next. By tradition, the pupils of the thirteenth grade got the solo parts. I was looking forward to that.

"Hi, there. Sorry for being late."

It was two fifty-nine. Tim had an interesting concept of punctuality. I chuckled, and he grinned.

"Oh. I've got something for you." Tim opened his backpack and rummaged through its contents. He produced a small, white aluminum tube. With a smile, he gave it to me. "We use it for soccer training, for all the bruises and small wounds. It's really good stuff."

A warm feeling spread in my stomach. It was a small gesture, but it showed me he had spent time thinking about what he had done and that he wanted to make amends. He was still smiling. His smile had a boyish quality that was interestingly contrasted by his powerful frame.

"Thank you very much!"

"It's the least I can do."

We started to work then - Newton's laws and basic notions about force. My fears unfortunately came true. Like the two days before, we didn't accomplish much. I tried to advance by small steps, but even those seemed to be too large for Tim. It was an incredible feat to hide the despair that welled up in me.

"It's not going well, is it?" Seeing his sad eyes hurt more than the bruises.

"I'll come up with something."

Though I had all intention to keep that promise, I wasn't sure how to do it. At least, I would have the entire weekend to work out a plan.

"Thanks. See you on Monday." Tim was looking broken again when he left the room.

Forgotten were the smile and the warm feeling.

"Good luck Sunday!" I called after him, not even knowing whether he heard me.

Christina and Daniel were already waiting for me in the music classroom together with all the other members of the choir. Where Christina was small and pudgy, Daniel was tall and skinny, even taller and skinnier than me. His straight, blond hair was gathered in a pony tail that reached down to the middle of his back. As always, he was wearing black jeans and a t-shirt with the name of a heavy metal band on it. If I had to name my two best friends, it would be them.

"Hi, Marcel. Any plans for the weekend? I've got a new survival horror video game. US import, uncut..." Daniel grinned slyly.

We spent many nights playing such games together and had lots of fun, but I wasn't in the mood. The situation with Tim had crawled under my skin. There wouldn't be anything else on my mind this weekend. A teacher should be more emotionally detached, but I couldn't help it.

"Sorry. Not this weekend. I've got so many things for school to prepare."

Daniel shrugged. "Your loss." He pretended to hold a shot gun and fired some shots at imaginary zombies.

Christina was looking at me but kept quiet, her eyes speaking volumes. The arrival of Mrs. Jasinsky, our music teacher and director of the choir, saved me from further embarrassment.

"Hi, pupils. Very good news first! Do you know Martin Burdner, ex-pupil of this school?"

I had read about him in a computer magazine. He had invented a control chip for batteries that was used in virtually every portable device. That little chip had made him a multi-millionaire almost overnight.

"Mr. Burdner participated in this very choir and has donated a substantial amount for it."

A murmur went through the pupils.

Mrs. Jasinsky was beaming. "That means we can finally buy the cordless mikes."

We pupils applauded. We had always hoped to get those high tech gadgets, but given regular school funding, it had seemed as if future generations of pupils would have this dream too.

"Moreover, we have enough money left to pay the GEMA for almost everything."

Applause again. So many times we had wished to perform certain songs but hadn't been able to pay the royalty fees. This year we had absolute freedom of choice.

"I ask all of you to think about some project over the weekend. Please put down some lines about what you would like to perform. You can give it to me on Monday or Tuesday. Have a nice weekend and be creative."

This meeting had been shorter than expected. I had been sure that Mrs. Jasinsky had already selected affordable pieces and that we would choose among them that afternoon, but the generous gift of our rich ex-pupil allowed for an unprecedented creativity.

"Best of Heavy Metal. That's what I'll suggest." When Daniel was grinning, the question was not whether that grin was sly but what quality of slyness it had.

"Dream on, metal-head," Christina said. "Besides you, no one likes that music here. I'd prefer a musical. Not yet sure which one."

It took me some moments to realize that my friends were looking at me. They were expecting me to share my idea as well. My mind kept straying back to Tim and how to teach him instead of thinking about music. My lips curved up into an apologetic smile, but I didn't say a word. Daniel didn't seem to mind, but Christina's forehead wrinkled.

"I have to go. See you on Monday."

I chose flight again because I couldn't stand a fight with Christina. Even less, if telling her the truth wasn't an option. I almost ran out of the school building and to the bus station. I wanted to get as far away from this place as fast as possible, but leaving your worries behind was a trick that seldom worked.

Chapter 4

I ate dinner with my parents in silence and excused myself immediately afterwards. I lay in my bed, thinking until I couldn't keep my eyes open.

I woke up early on Saturday morning. The sky was bright red, the color of dawn. No cloud could be seen. It would be a wonderful fall day, but I didn't intend to leave my room at all. I kept staring at the poster of Albert Einstein on the wall, the one where he was poking out his tongue. After some time, I had the impression he was mocking me. I got the tube of salve that Tim had given me and kept playing with it. Holding it brought back that warm feeling of the day before, but it didn't last long before despair took over again. I had skipped breakfast because I wasn't hungry at all. Of course, Mom asked me to come out of my room, but I sent her away as politely as I could manage. Same procedure around noon: not hungry, sending Mom away, lying in bed, thinking. In the afternoon, my dad came into my room.

"Marcel, are you alright?" he asked, worry in his voice.

"It's okay, Dad."

"Wanna talk with someone about it?"

My first impulse was to thank Dad and ask him to leave. I looked at him. The worry I heard in his voice was also in his eyes. I didn't have the heart to send him away. I patted the empty space beside me on the bed.

We couldn't deny that we were father and son. Looking at my dad was like looking at a future version of me. The hair at his temples had already started to turn grey, but his face could still look boyish, especially when he was smiling. The grave look he was bearing now betrayed his true age. He joined me on my bed.

"It's about Tim."

"Is he hurting you again?"

"No, no. Actually, he's quite nice to me." My fingers traced the outline of the tube. "I just don't know how to get through to him, how to teach him. I broke down everything into chunks so small that he should be able to understand them."

"Doesn't sound unreasonable, but there are different types of learners."

"How do I find out what Tim's type is?"

My father didn't say anything for a long minute. His gaze was absent. "What is he really good at? Something where he truly shines."

To my knowledge, Tim was struggling with every subject. Except sports.

"Soccer. He's quite talented at soccer."

"Have you ever seen him play?"

My interest in watching sports was even less developed than my interest in doing sports. That was especially true for soccer.

"No, never."

"It's just an idea, but watching him doing something he excels in might give you some clues about how Tim ticks."

I couldn't deny the logic in my dad's suggestion.

"He'll play tomorrow."

"Then go and watch him."

I looked down at my hands, which were still holding Tim's gift. "I don't have a clue about soccer," I said in a low voice.

"But your old father has. Shall I come with you?"

I looked up into my dad's face. "You'd do that for me?"

"Obviously, teaching Tim's very important for you. So it's important for me." Dad smiled.

While I was the image of my dad, I mirrored my mom's character. So, my hug and kiss on his cheek caught him off guard, but he recovered quickly, returned the embrace, and patted my back. I felt energized by this idea, felt more confident. The despair that had haunted me for the last twenty-four hours was swept away by my newly found enthusiasm. Dad left my room, but not before he made me promise to join them for dinner in an hour. I wanted to make the most out of watching the game tomorrow morning. I decided it was time to learn as much about soccer as was possible until then. I booted up my computer and began my research. With a little help from my dad, I could even compile an article about the game for the school paper. That would fill the hole that was still gaping in page three. Everything was falling into place. After dinner, I continued my research but called it a night early. I intended to be awake and alert for the game. Though I was excited, I slept well, dreaming of defense lines, penalty kicks, and offside traps. And Tim.

I woke up at seven. The match would be in four hours and the stadium was only a five minute walk away, so there was plenty of time. I continued reading about soccer tactics. Around nine o'clock, my mom came to my room to ask me for breakfast.

She put her hands on my shoulders and looked at the monitor. "Soccer? Are you ill?" I could hear the smile in her voice.

"I'm a German, male teenager. It'd be weird if I was not interested in soccer."

"Yes, of course, darling." It was clear that she didn't believe me. "It's really touching to see how mature you've become. You're taking teaching that Eschner boy very seriously, aren't you?"

Mom had an unparalleled skill in embarrassing me with comments like that.

"Yes. And his name's Tim."

I just had to add a small defiance, couldn't let that remark stand unchallenged.

Mom kissed me on the top of my head. "Please, don't get too involved with that Eschner boy... Tim.

He has already hurt you enough."

I didn't know how to answer her since, in a certain sense, she was right, but at the same time, her advice felt absurd now that I had glimpsed Tim's other side. I opted for a little more resistance.

"I'll watch out for myself."

"Come. The scrambled eggs are getting cold."

I joined my parents, but I can't eat when I'm nervous. I wasn't exactly sure why I was feeling that anxious. I'd got nothing to lose. Still, the idea of finding the deciding clue during the match made me tingly all over. After breakfast, I spent a long time under the shower. I enjoyed the feeling of the water cascading down my body, loved the sensation of peace that accompanied it. On this Sunday morning, the calming effect wasn't as strong as I had hoped for. I dried myself, my hair, and brushed my teeth. I was fully dressed and ready at ten. Once again, I noticed how much I detested waiting. To my relief, my dad came to my room at quarter past ten.

"We'll need good seats for watching. Let's go," he said.

I knew we were leaving that early because of me. An exhibition game of soccer by some youngsters would not attract masses of people. The gratitude for that small act of kindness by my dad made me feel a little less queasy. I didn't speak during our way to the stadium, while Dad chatted away about soccer. I didn't listen, but just hearing him talk relaxed me even more.

My estimation had been accurate. Some hundred people had found their way to the stadium, most of them parents and friends of the players, I assumed. The stadium could have hosted at least two thousand spectators, so it looked quite empty. I wondered whether Tim would see me. I'd have preferred if he was unaware of me, though I didn't know why I felt this way. My nervousness took a notch up again. I tried to distract myself by recalling some facts I had learned. The field in this stadium had the standard measures of one hundred five by sixty-eight meters. They could do international matches here, but it was most unlikely that this would happen in my provincial home town. Despite being a lower division stadium, the grass was in very good condition, and it had been cut neatly. The goals at the short ends of the rectangular field had a width of seven point thirty-two meters and a height of two point forty-four meters. A standard match took ninety minutes, split into two halves. Being a match of youngsters, there would be two halftimes of thirty minutes each.

The teams entered the field to the applause of the spectators. Tim's team wore blue jerseys with white stripes running from top to bottom; their opponents had plain red tricots. As usual for soccer, the shirts had short sleeves and the players were wearing shorts. The outfit gave Tim an even more athletic look. His strong legs, like his arms, were absolutely smooth, with not a single hair on them.

Though the match had not started yet, he looked focused, already concentrating on the upcoming game. Tim did some stretching exercises. When he bent forward, I couldn't help but notice the well rounded shape of his rear. I shook my head. It was Tim I was looking at. I had forgotten about this for a second. The teams now lined up on their side of the field. The referee tossed a coin. Tim's team won the toss and they were the first to kick-off. Tim played on the left center position. The referee's whistle marked the beginning of the match. I concentrated on watching Tim. One of the first things I observed was how smooth Tim's movements were, showing an almost feline grace. To my dismay, I didn't recognize any of the tactics I had studied. Learning about soccer by reading wasn't as effective as I had hoped. I was so absorbed in looking at Tim that I missed some of the decisive moments of the match. I hoped that my dad could fill me in on those gaps for the article I wanted to write. The first half went by in no time. My enthusiasm had waned because I hadn't seen anything useful yet.

There was so much happening, and in so rapid succession, that I was overwhelmed. I had to admit that my opinion about soccer had been wrong. I had always thought it boring and without tactical finesse, a bad excuse for twenty-two men to show each other how manly they were. Its complexity took me by surprise. After the first half, there would be a fifteen-minute break. I looked at Tim, who was standing in the middle of the field. His skin was covered with sweat, beads of moisture glistening in the sun. His damp hair stuck to his head, but even then it looked untamed. He breathed fast, though he wasn't actually panting. Tim drank from a plastic squeeze bottle and small trickles of a clear liquid ran down the sides of his mouth.

"What do you think?" The voice of my dad got me back to my senses, which had been completely focused on Tim.

I turned to my dad and made a sour face. "I haven't recognized any of the plays I've read about. I think I didn't find out anything."

"You are a better observer than you think. You didn't recognize any plays from the book, because Tim didn't use a single one of them. It's not as if his team comrades didn't try." Dad chuckled. "Many of the offensive moves have been directed through Tim. In my opinion, he's really good, but his playing style is reactive; you could even say it's creative. He takes into account the entire situation on the field, not his isolated piece of it. His teammates have some difficulties with it. Ah, look." Dad pointed at the field.

A middle aged man had joined Tim on the field and, given the angry face of the man and the jerky movements of his arms, was berating him. That had to be their coach. Some of the team members were standing around the two, nodding from time to time. If I had to guess, Tim was playing in his own style and kept ignoring the team's tactics. The coach wasn't all too fond about it.

"For the second half don't concentrate on Tim too much. Try to look where he is looking. Does that make any sense to you?"

I faced my dad and nodded while my lips curved up into a small smile. Of course, it was making sense what he had said. My spirits had risen again. Now that I had a clue what I was looking for, the second half promised to be more informative.

The whistle marking the beginning of the second half brought my attention back to the field. Only five minutes into the match, I witnessed what my dad had tried to explain to me. Tim was in possession of the ball. The two center forwards on Tim's team were standing obviously unguarded, and it would have been a standard play to pass the ball to one of them. Problem was that they were more guarded than it seemed. The defense players of the other team were well in reach of them and were just pretending to leave them alone. In addition, the defense of Tim's team was in quite a disorder at that moment. If the pass failed, the counter offensive was very likely to succeed. Tim was trying to stall for time and passed the ball to another player in the mid-field. This one wasn't aware of the situation, aiming his pass at one of the forwards. The ball was intercepted, and in a quick push back, the other team attacked the goal. The goalkeeper barely touched the ball with his fingertips but deflected it enough to keep it clear of the goal. Tim had been aware of the whole situation, while his teammate had based his decision on the small section in front of him. Another five minutes later, the coach yelling at Tim from the sideline confirmed my suspicion that Tim wasn't sticking to the plans. Scenes like this repeated several times, giving proof to my analysis. The second half went by even faster than the first. In the end, the game was a two to two tie. The spectators cheered at the teams, who left the field, waving to their fans. For a moment, Tim looked in my direction, but he didn't seem to notice me.

Dad and I left the stadium and walked home unhurriedly.

"Any insights?" he asked.

I had the impression that I was close to something, but it was still evading me, just out of reach.

I summarized my thoughts aloud. "Tim likes to play his own game. He pissed off his coach by not following the tactics."

"True, but just don't say 'pissed off' in front of your mom." Dad snickered.

"Tim's very observant. He was watching the entire field at once. He was looking at the match as a whole..."

It struck me like lightning.

"Too small!" I merely aspirated those two words.

"What?"

I had lost my dad, and his forehead creased in confusion.

"The information, the knowledge I try to get into him... it's broken down too much. Tim hasn't got much sense for isolated details; he is thinking in the large." I knew I had hit bull's eye. "I reduced the scope, but I had to enlarge it." I thought about his rejection of the coach's plans. "And I have to let him discover it by himself. He only trusts his own assessment."

I realized that my dad wasn't beside me anymore. I turned around.

He was standing some steps behind me and was beaming at me. "I hope you got your brains from me. Your ideas absolutely fit what we've observed today. Any plan how to make use of that?"

"Actually, yes." The smile on my face nearly hurt. "And regarding the brains: remember whose idea it was to watch that game." I laughed out, and he joined in.

We resumed our way home. What I've got in mind for teaching would mean more work for me, but if it helped Tim, it was a small price. I was glad that I had already finished my own homework on Thursday evening, so I could spend the whole afternoon preparing for Tim's lessons. By nine o'clock in the evening, lunch and dinner being the only interruptions, I had finished. My elation outweighed my exhaustion, and I had a very good feeling that our next lesson would yield different results than the previous ones. After applying Tim's salve to my bruises, I went to bed and fell asleep at once. This night was even more restful than the night before.

Chapter 5

The day at school went by in a blur. I felt so lighthearted that even my teachers noticed. I was smiling the whole day and had a friendly word for everyone.

"Whatever you are taking... must be good stuff," Daniel commented, bearing a grin ranking high on his personal slyness scale.

For once, Christina didn't sermonize me and just returned my smile.

At two thirty, I went to the teacher's lounge. Mrs. Grawe answered the door.

"Hello, Mrs. Grawe. Can I borrow a flip chart and some thumbtacks for the session with Tim?"

"Of course, Marcel. How's Tim doing?"

She had been my class teacher in the Unterstufe and kept calling me by my first name. I didn't mind, quite the contrary.

"I'll try something different today. I'd prefer not to comment before that." I grinned.

"Sounds very mysterious," she said, laughing, before getting the flip chart and a small box.

"I'm very glad that you are taking care of Tim. He's such a quiet pupil, always polite, always shy. I hope you can help him with his schooling problems."

I nodded. "I'll give my best. See you later, Mrs. Grawe." I took the chart and the box.

"You can keep the flip chart in the room. See you."

It was difficult to handle the bulky thing in addition to my notes and the books. I was struggling to get up the stairs.

"Let me help you, Marcel."

I startled as I recognized the voice and stopped dead in my tracks.

I faced the person who had offered help. "Thanks, Nicholas. I can handle the situation alone."

He was smiling, but that smile was far from being genuine. The coolness in his grey eyes betrayed his true feelings for me. Nicholas' light blond hair was as tidy as always; not a single hair seemed to be in the wrong position. The clothes had been chosen with the same sense for perfection. I had to think of a haughty noble from a Jane Austen book every time I saw him.

"I insist." He snatched the flip chart out of my hands. "I assume this is for teaching Dumb?"

I tried not to let the shock show on my face, but Nicholas was a master of his trade.

"No need to deny, Marcel. It took me some effort to find out."

"Tim didn't tell you?"

"No, he kept your little secret. Let me put it this way: His reactions to my newest rumors about you were not as expected. Moreover, Dr. Vogel is quite receptive to flattery."

He continued to ascend the steps. Like a sheep, I followed him.

"And now you're gonna sabotage the teaching?"

"But, Marcel, why should I?"

"I thought..."

"You are such a clever boy, Marcel. But na‹ve, almost pathetic! I am sure that your efforts will fail.

Dumb is just too dumb. It will be almost too easy to turn him against you then. You will suffer more than a few bruises, for sure. And when he has literally destroyed you, he will pay for his disobedience. You see: minimum effort, maximum result." His smile didn't waver.

"Tim calls you his best friend."

"That is the cherry on the cake. Ah, that is the room, isn't it? It was my pleasure to help you, Marcel.

See you." He handed the flip chart back to me, turned around, and, in a slow stride, moved away.

My hands formed into fists around the things they were holding. My face turned red and my heart was racing. I wanted to scream, to get lost in the rage, to hurt him. As fast as these thoughts came they were gone. That wasn't me, not at all. The only way to thwart his plans was to prevent the premise they were based on: my failure. If his little speech had been meant to discourage me, it had backfired. I was more determined to help Tim than ever.

In the Cell, I put up the flip chart and sat down. I had to calm down. Tim would never know about that conversation with Nicholas. He wouldn't believe me, either. I concentrated on the task ahead: putting my new teaching method to the test. I reviewed some of the notes I had taken. Immersing myself into work helped me to relax. When Tim showed up at two fifty-five, I had pushed the encounter with Nicholas to the darkest corner of my mind.

"Hi. How was your weekend?" Tim was smiling.

I hoped that he would still be smiling after this lesson.

"Very good, very productive." I beamed at him.

"Then it's time to ruin your mood with my stupidity." His face was sagging now.

I touched his arm, avoiding his bare skin this time. "Don't, Tim. Don't do this to yourself. I promise: Today will be different."

"I still can't believe that you're doing all this for me."

"To be honest, I can't believe myself."

That cracked him up, a small laugh, but a laugh it was.

I got up from my chair and moved to the flip chart. "Listen. The only thing you've got to do today is to sit there and to watch what I'm doing. Okay?"

"Okay." He didn't sound very convinced.

Nevertheless, I began the lesson. The subject was differentiation again. Instead of explaining anything to him, I solved problem after problem. No basic stuff, but full-fledged applications of the things he was supposed to learn. I kept the explanations to a minimum. When a page on the flip chart was full, I tore it off and affixed it to the wall. He should be able to see all the previous problems, to find differences and similarities by himself. And that was what he did. Many times I saw his head move to one of the pages, just to return some moments later to the problem at hand. For two hours straight, I kept doing so. Those two hours had taken their toll on me. My concentration was down, and the symbols on the pages started to blur.

"Marcel? I think you made a mistake."

"What?" I turned to Tim.

He looked at me and then at the flip chart again. "When there is one function-thingy in another function-thingy, and you do this reduction stuff, then there has to be the reduction of the inner function-thingy put before the reduction of the outer function-thingy. And into the reduction of the outer function-thingy, you have to put the original inner function-thingy again. You did it this way, there and there and there." He pointed at three of the previous problems. "The reduction of the inner function-thingy is missing. There should be another cos in front of the exp."

I looked at the calculation I'd been working on and started to laugh.

"I'm wrong then?" Tim asked in a flat voice.

I turned around. "You're absolutely right."

His eyes gave away his disbelief.

"Tim, you're right. I've forgotten the inner derivative."

Though his vocabulary had been completely off, Tim had given a flawless description of the chain rule. Moreover, he just hadn't learned how to do it, but he had seen when to use it.

"When I now want to calculate the minimum and the maximum..."

The squinting of his eyes told me that he hadn't understood those words.

"When I want to calculate where this function is high and where this function is low, what should I do?"

I had indicated the positions of those points on the graphs of the functions in the previous problems, so high and low made sense for him.

"Ah. You find the numbers where the reduction is zero, and then you test those in the next reduction."

"Can the exp function become zero?"

"Um, no. In those two problems, you said it couldn't." Once again, he pointed at two of the pages.

I sat down and looked at Tim.

My lips curved up. "You know more about derivatives and their applications than most of our fellow pupils."

"But, I..." He looked at all the pages around him.

"We have to get the vocabulary straight, but the concepts are all there." I touched his forehead with my index finger to make my point.

"Teach me the words, I want to know them."

It just took us half an hour and reductions had become derivatives; function-thingies were functions; high and low were called maximum and minimum.

We sat silent for a minute. Tim's gaze alternated between the pages on the wall and me. The muscles in his face kept working. He still couldn't believe the progress we had made in this session.

"How did you come up with this?"

"Let's say, I observed a very extraordinary soccer player."

"I don't understand."

"My dad had the idea I should watch you doing something you are good at. We watched your game yesterday."

"You watched the match and knew how to teach me afterwards? You're even more of a genius than I thought."

I turned red.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Tim lunged forwards, and before I could react, he had me in a bear hug while we still were sitting. His grip was firm, but gentle. His hard muscles felt warm when pressed against me. The stubble on his cheek grazed the skin of my face. All of this came to me in a state of hypersensitivity while time crawled to a halt. If someone had told me a week ago I would feel at ease in the arms of Tim Eschner, I would have thought he lost it. Eventually, Tim let go of me.

"You're welcome. But this was just the beginning. I've prepared similar stuff for history and physics.

And there will be more things we have to cover, many more things."

"Of course."

My wish had been granted: Both of us were smiling at the end of this lesson.

We left the room, and I locked the door. Together, we were on our way to the school's main exit.

"What do you think? About the match, I mean."

"Thrilling. But to be honest, it was the first soccer game I've ever watched in full length. Not much to compare it to."

I felt Tim looking at me, but I didn't return the gaze.

"You don't even like soccer and watched my game nonetheless? I've to thank you again."

I turned to him. Tim's handsome face was showing an infectious grin.

"I actually liked it, and I'm going to write an article about it. I hope I won't embarrass myself too much with it." I laughed.

"I can help you."

I was still looking at Tim. I could now understand his wariness about my previous offers of help, but his face gave no signs of ulterior motives, only friendliness. Though my judgment was based on a small time span only, Tim seemed to be a person true to his heart. It sounded weird, but even knocking me around had been an honest expression of his feelings. That didn't make it right.

Nevertheless, it took some of the edge off his former actions.

"Sure. I could need some expert's advice."

It was of dubious journalistic ethics to have a member of one of the teams help me with the article, but if my impression of Tim was accurate, the neutrality of the story wouldn't suffer. For some reasons that were beyond me, my acceptance of his offer made Tim even happier than he had been before.

There was a bright gleam in his eyes. "Cool. When and where?"

"How about Saturday afternoon at my place?" My mouth had been faster than my brain again.

Meeting with Tim at school was one thing; inviting him home was something different. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I still had second thoughts about letting Tim into my private space. Those feelings contradicted what I had thought mere moments ago. The difference between Tim the Bully and the person walking at my side was so vast I couldn't blame my mind for some paradoxical thinking. At least, Mom and Dad wouldn't be at home on Saturday due to an all-day birthday party of a good friend of theirs. Mom had accepted me teaching Tim, but face to face with him, I didn't think she could hold back her anger.

"I'm looking forward to it. See you tomorrow then for history," Tim said.

I hadn't thought it possible, but his smile had deepened even more when I had invited him home. I felt ashamed of my doubts. He turned to the left and unchained his bike from the school's bicycle stand.

"See you," I called after him.

He turned around, gave me a short wave, and mounted his bike. Once more, I admired the fluidity of his movements. For me, it was walking time again. I wondered what had brought me more worries: Tim hurting me or Tim being nice. I laughed out loud at that thought, earning me a strange look of a couple passing by.

At home, I realized with a start that I had completely forgotten about Mrs. Jasinsky's request for project ideas. I wasn't late yet; she had said we could deliver it by Tuesday, but I felt exhausted and wasn't in the mood for creativity. Thinking about Tim and observing him on Sunday had used up my whole weekend.

Observing Tim. Observing. Observation. Perception.

Perception. I was on to something. Songs about perception. How we perceive ourselves, how others perceive us, how we perceive others. It would be a coherent theme, but still broad enough that every pupil could select a song of his or her liking. I put down some lines around this idea. It wasn't a masterpiece of a project plan, but for fifteen minutes of work, it was good. At least, I had something to turn in to Mrs. Jasinsky.

Chapter 6

The week went by quickly. Tim and I were able to repeat the success with the new method. For history, I had made up recounts of the French Revolution by different imaginary persons. Each of those covered another aspect and gave different evaluations of the situation. After reading them to Tim and posting them all on the wall, he would point out the differences and the common things in those recounts. By the end of that session, he had memorized the facts and could give plausible interpretations for the course of events. For physics, I imitated what I'd done with mathematics, just solving problem after problem.

He had just left our Friday session, and we had settled on Tim coming to me by three on Saturday. I arrived at the music room. Christina and Daniel were already waiting for me.

"Ah. It's Mr. Busy," Daniel said. "I called you at home three times this week, but you weren't there.

Your mom said something about tutoring."

I hadn't seen him the whole week. The courses we had in common had all been canceled because the teachers had been attending conferences. We hadn't met in the rec room, either. I was angry at Mom. She had remembered to tell Daniel what I was doing, but had forgotten to tell me that he had called. Daniel was oblivious to the existence of cell phones. You could almost say he was on a crusade against them.

"Sorry. Didn't know you called."

"Who is it?"

I knew perfectly well what Daniel was asking about, but stalled for time. "What?"

"Who are you tutoring?" He looked annoyed.

"Sorry. I'm bound by professional discretion." Pure innocence on my face.

"What kind of friend are you? But you can make up for it on Saturday." That was sly grin no. 21.

"I'm sorry. I'm already up to something on Saturday."

"Okay."

I had never seen Daniel that hurt. Seemingly ignoring his calls and putting him off the second weekend in a row; he was in the right to be mad at me. Tim was interfering with my life, but I couldn't blame him for that. My own cowardice was the true culprit. Once again, the arrival of Mrs.

Jasinsky saved me from further alienating my friends.

"Hello, pupils. I want to thank you for sharing your ideas with me. There were so many excellent projects that it was very hard to choose only one. I've also talked to Felipe and together we selected one of your proposals."

Felipe, that was Felipe Sanchez Seguera, a choreographer from Argentina and a good friend of the Jasinskys. He had staged some of our previous projects. It was always fun to work with him. He demanded a lot of dedication from us, but the results were breathtaking.

"All ideas were very interesting and creative, but we'll do the project 'Perception' proposed by Mr.

Ritter."

I was still thinking about Daniel, and it took me some seconds to realize what Mrs. Jasinsky had said.

The other pupils in the room clapped their hands. I was at a loss how something that had been scribbled down in mere minutes could have been selected.

"Don't be shy, Mr. Ritter. Please tell your fellow singers what you have intended."

I got up from my chair and turned to the choir. In clumsy words, I paraphrased what I had in mind.

Though my presentation was lousy, the others liked the idea. One of the twelfth graders proposed to link the songs by poems dealing with perception as well. Mrs. Jasinsky took to that addition. After the discussion, we did some general singing exercises.

"That's it for today. For the thirteenth graders: Please choose the song you would like to perform until next Friday. It'll take a little time to organize the sheet music and to get the legal stuff done, so please stick to that deadline."

Mrs. Jasinsky came to me and congratulated me for the wonderful idea again. From the corner of my eye, I saw Daniel and Christina leave. I thanked Mrs. Jasinsky and excused myself as quickly as good manners allowed. I hurried after the two. Panting, I touched Daniel on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Daniel." I looked down at my pudgy friend. "And I'm sorry, Christina." I was still gasping for air.

"It'll take a little more than a simple 'sorry.' You fucked up pretty much this time," Daniel said.

"I know. Just let me explain."

The two looked at each other for a long moment. Then they turned to me and they both nodded.

"I can't tell you his name, but my tutoring pupil really needs a lot of attention. He was the reason I was busy the whole weekend. We have daily teaching sessions and those are necessary. It's no excuse for neglecting my friends, but it's important for me to help him. This weekend is also packed to the brim with work for me, but I promise you next weekend I'm all yours."

Christina's features relaxed, and in excruciating slowness, a grin formed on Daniel's face.

It was him who spoke up first. "Marcel the Good Samaritan. That's one of the reasons why we're friends."

Christina nodded. "We were really worried about you. We thought that Dumb was giving you a hard time. We're not angry because you make yourself scarce. It's because you aren't talking to us. We're friends and you can talk with us about everything."

I was about to choke up and swallowed hard. "I don't deserve such good friends. And I promise you another thing: I'll tell you who my pupil is, just not now."

The slyness in Daniel's smirk increased. "We know it's a boy. That rules out half of the school."

All three of us laughed out. Knowing that my friends would stand by me countered all the other stuff that didn't run well in my life.

Chapter 7

On Saturday morning, I was nervous again. Tim, without knowing it, made me anxious all too often.

Even my parents had noticed, and it took many soothing words to make them leave as planned. I had told them that I was expecting a guest but had been successful in deflecting any questions regarding his identity. My cowardice's only merit was giving me increased cunning.

Time was playing a prank on me by passing much more slowly than usual. I literally counted the minutes between two o'clock and three o'clock. Nevertheless, the doorbell made me jump up from my bed when it rang at two fifty-five. Five minutes early again. Some of the clich‚s about Germans were true. I pressed the door opener, opened the door to our flat, and listened to the steps getting louder. Almost insecure, Tim looked around the last corner of the staircase, a friendly smile on his lips. He was wearing large sunglasses, suiting him well. When he moved around the bend, I couldn't suppress a small gasp. He wore a tight pair of blue jeans adorned with a stylish buckled belt. Under a white jean jacket, I saw a grey long sleeve shirt with a floral tattoo pattern. The shirt was like a second skin, outlining his athletic torso. He looked like one of the models of the posters a big clothing store chain kept plastering all over the city. If I hadn't known better, I would have said he had dressed up for me. I looked down at myself. I was wearing a pair of baggy, black track pants and a shabby white sweater two sizes too large. For the fraction of a second, I considered redressing but discarded this idea as ridiculous. Tim was now standing before me, a bottle of diet cola in one hand and a bag of potato chips in the other.

His smile widened. "If you let me in, I'm willing to share." He raised his arms with the snacks.

I hadn't noticed how much time I had spent staring at him.

I grinned myself. "Sorry. Come in." I stepped to the side.

Without being asked to, Tim removed his shoes before entering the flat. The more time I spent with him, the more difficult it got for me to merge his two sides into one person: the shy, modest, and polite guy on one hand and the violent brute on the other. Tim Eschner was a challenging puzzle for sure. He took his jacket off. I inhaled sharply because the shirt didn't leave much to the imagination, revealing the full extent of his definition. In silence, I accepted his jacket and put it on a hanger.

He hooked the sunglasses on the front of his shirt, reinforcing the model impression. "Thanks."

I smiled for an answer and led him into my room. It wasn't very large. On the left side, my bed occupied most of the wall. Opposite of it, beneath the window, my desk was standing with the computer monitor, keyboard, and mouse on it. Some scientific magazines, an open book on astronomy, and a sketch pad with some notes regarding the soccer match lay scattered on its wooden surface. An office chair made of imitation leather was positioned in front. Beside the desk, a shelf brimming with books and CDs extended almost to the corner where I'd placed a small TV set and hifi-system with integrated DVD player. The last wall was filled with my wardrobe. The only decoration was the Albert Einstein poster over my bed.

"Nice."

That wasn't exactly true. My room was simple and functional, but I liked it that way. I thanked him anyway.

"Sit down." I gestured at the chair. "I've scribbled down some notes about the match." I got the sketch pad from the desk and handed it to Tim. "I'll get some glasses and another chair from the kitchen. You can take a look at it."

"Sure."

On my way to the kitchen, I realized with relief that my anxiety was gone. With the chair in one hand and the two glasses clumsily grasped in the other, I made my way back to my room.

"For not being interested in soccer, your notes are terrific."

"Half of the interesting stuff must be missing."

Tim had the courtesy to take the glasses from my hand before I could smash them. I sat down on the second chair.

"Some details, some plays I'd mention, but the rest is okay."

I couldn't help but feel proud, and it had to show on my face, for Tim looked amused. The heat on my skin told me that I had turned red. I bent down to boot up the computer and was hoping that Tim hadn't noticed my embarrassment. I started the word processor and, with Tim's input, connected my notes to an article. I hadn't been that close to Tim before, not even during our lessons, and I realized how much I liked the way he smelled. He wasn't wearing any cologne or aftershave, but a pleasant mixture of washing powder, his shampoo, and, well, his very own aroma surrounded him. Moreover, Tim was radiating more heat than any other person I knew. I wondered whether this was due to his muscled build. Though I had to fight with those distractions, it didn't take long to finalize the article.

We were limited to five hundred words, plus or minus a few, because the gap in page three didn't allow for more. After an hour, I hit the save button for the last time.

"I'm gonna go then."

Was that disappointment resonating in his words? "My parents left me twenty euros for pizza. That's more than enough for two of them. And I hate eating alone. Don't you wanna stay?"

"Sure. But..." He didn't finish the sentence, and the tortured look on his face made clear that he was already regretting the but.

"But what?"

He hesitated for a moment. A nod, almost too faint to notice, marked the making up of his mind. "I thought you wouldn't want me to hang around... given our past."

I had asked myself that very thing the whole day, to no avail. Now that he was here, I had found out that I didn't mind him being around me. It had been a great surprise to discover that.

"Hey, the good thing about second chances is that you can choose to ignore the past. If our past isn't to become our future again, perhaps we should get to know each other a little better."

My little speech had changed his mood for the better. Moreover, it was true: Besides learning together, we hadn't talked much yet.

"Marcel, one thing for sure, you're absolutely different than I thought." He was beaming at me with boyish sincerity.

"Same here, Tim. Same here."

We postponed the pizza, because we weren't hungry and we still had Tim's chips. We sat on my bed to talk, at first upright, but soon we were lying on our sides. We began with basic facts. Tim's birthday was May twentieth, and he would turn twenty next year; I was born on November eleventh. My eighteenth birthday was coming up. Tim had a younger sister, Diana, age fifteen. I was my parents' only child. We found out that we had visited the same kindergarten, though we couldn't remember each other. We had been in different groups, and Tim, being older, had left for school before me. Tim had joined his soccer team when he was seven. Curious as I was, I asked whether he worked out at the gym. With pride in his voice, he told me that he has been training there three times a week since he was fifteen years old. My only hobbies were reading and astronomy. I had a small telescope but was saving for a better one. We had attended different elementary schools because Tim's mom had wanted him to be closer to her workplace. At the beginning, he had been struggling there, too. Then his class teacher had given him different learning sheets, and he had improved significantly. Like me, she had discovered how to teach Tim but somehow had failed to get this across to Tim's parents. It made me sad that his misery on the Albert Einstein Gymnasium could have been mitigated, perhaps even avoided, if this teacher had communicated her findings more clearly.

It was seven now, and we decided it was pizza time.

"How about some music?" Tim asked around a large chunk of his pizza tonno.

"Most of the CDs I own are classical music." It sounded like an apology.

"I've got some music here." He produced an mp3 player out of his pocket. "Can you connect it to your stereo?"

"Sure."

"Those aren't the most recent titles, either, but they are my favorites."

I knew most of the songs from the radio, but some of them were new to me. Overall, it was a nice selection. With the music playing in the background, we continued our chat about this and that.

Around ten P.M., our talk slowed down. We hadn't said anything for a minute, but the silence wasn't bothersome. We had exchanged so many facts that a little break to sort them was very welcome.

Tim looked at me, worry creasing his forehead. "Can I ask you something? Something personal?"

"Shoot!"

"There is this rumor at school..."

I snickered. School rumors meant that about any question was possible. Once, a fellow pupil didn't come to school for two weeks. After three days, it was established fact that he had been committed to an asylum. When he returned, it turned out that he and his family had visited his dying grandma in Russia. So much for school rumors.

"Why are you laughing?" He furled his brows in irritation.

"Sorry. Go ahead."

"And, please, don't be mad at me."

I mock-flexed my arm. "Even if I get mad at you, you don't have much to fear."

He ignored my attempt at being funny. "Marcel... are you... gay?"

My lighthearted mood from moments ago was gone with a vengeance. "And if I am?"

My gaze involuntarily moved to the muscles in Tim's right arm, then down to his hand. It was all too easy to imagine it becoming a fist again.

"Please don't think that I'll hurt you. Please don't."

The pleading tone in his voice made me look up into his face again. With haunted eyes, he was looking back at me. I had forgotten how keen an observer Tim was. Of course, he had noticed where my eyes had wandered.

"Yes. I'm gay."

I wasn't exactly out and proud. My family had been the first to know; soon after, I had come out to Daniel and Christina. But coward or not, I had sworn to myself to never deny it. It had been too hard a fight to come to terms with me being queer.

"Thanks." His voice was barely audible.

Tim had the unique ability to surprise me with his unorthodox reactions, but I understood that he was grateful for me being honest with him.

"Can I ask you another question?" His tone was still hushed.

"Sure."

It couldn't get much more intimate.

"Have you ever made it with a man yet?"

Okay, it could get more intimate.

"This spring. It was a wedding of some friends of my parents. His name was Rainer, one of the guests.

He was twenty-seven and not even my type, but I desperately wanted to have sex, wanted to know what all the fuss was about. We made it on the toilet."

"How was it?" His face communicated pure interest, but no filthy intent was to be found there.

"Let's put it this way: It was good enough that I want to do it again, but the next person I'll have sex with I'll have to be in love with. That's pretty prim, isn't it?"

I couldn't talk about Rainer with Daniel, and I had only hinted about him with Christina. Moreover, I would never discuss my 'vow of chastity' with them, but confiding in Tim was no problem. He was so honest and honorable that trusting him with those details felt natural.

"No, it isn't. I see it exactly the same way."

"You? I thought you are quite the lady-killer!"

He laughed, but a hint of bitterness was in his laugh. "With casual sex being a no-go, no girl wants to have the school moron as her boyfriend."

He hadn't shared this with anyone else. I was sure about that. My hand was faster than my brain and was already touching Tim's shoulder. Second thoughts followed suit, but Tim didn't flinch, didn't retreat, though he knew.

"We've proven that you're not the school moron. Confidence, Tim, confidence." I stressed my point with a smile.

Tim reached for my hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. When he let go of my hand, I took it off his shoulder. My attention was drawn to the song playing in the background. I had heard it before, had liked it, but didn't know its name. I asked Tim.

He listened for a moment. "'Castle Builder' by 'The Galois'."

I concentrated on the lyrics and let the music flow over me. A soft tenor voice asked his counterpart to let go of the illusion of reality and imagine a place where they could be close to each other: their castle in the air.

"Perception!"

"What?"

I looked at Tim and couldn't suppress a short laugh. I told him about the choir project and that I had to find a song to perform. This one would be a perfect match.

"Sing it."

In disbelief, I looked at Tim.

"Please, sing it."

I had no problem singing to a room full of people, but with one listener only, I felt ashamed to do it. I braced myself and sang a one line fragment I remembered. I was a tenor myself, and the timbre of my voice resembled the one of the original singer. His mouth open, Tim was staring at me.

"That bad?"

"That good! As good as the original, even better."

"You're kidding me."

"I swear not. You must sing this song."

The pulsing in my cheeks told me I had blushed again. Tim chuckled when he became aware of my reaction. The chuckle was so friendly and heartfelt that I couldn't help but join in.

"I'll hold you liable if it doesn't work out." I pointed a finger at Tim.

"I'll risk it."

We snickered again.

Soon after, Tim left. He already feared he'd be grounded for the rest of the year for staying away that long without phoning his parents. He had said it with a wink. I looked out of my window and watched him ride away on his bike.

I couldn't remember why I had been nervous about his visit.

Chapter 8

The next week's tutoring lessons gave Tim and me more confidence that we'd succeed. Both of us had become used to the new method and were employing it more effectively than the week before. I wondered whether the bond we had formed on Saturday was helping as well. The next weekend, I spent with Daniel and Christina, as I had promised. For the first time, after what seemed like an eternity, I was free of worries. I indulged into this wonderful feeling, enjoying the company of my best friends.

It was Tuesday. Tim and I had just finished our math lesson. He had been in a hurry and had left as soon as we had been done. I was still removing the flip chart sheets from the wall when a strange buzzing noise caught my attention. It took me a moment to locate its origin, but under the table, a cell phone was slithering across the floor, propelled by its own vibrations. My face twisted when I saw the caller's ID. It was Nicholas. To my relief, the buzzing stopped and the display went black again. This was Tim's cell phone. It must have dropped out of his backpack. I considered what to do.

He would be worried once he noticed it missing, and the little detour to his house wouldn't take very long. Furthermore, I was curious to see where he lived.

Some thirty minutes later, I had arrived at the address Tim had given me. I was standing in front of a luxurious bungalow-style house. A red clinker brick fa‡ade gave it an aged look, though it was in such good condition that it had to have been built not too long ago. A polished brass plate with 'Eschner' engraved into it confirmed that I was at the right place. The house was surrounded by a wall, which wasn't higher than my thigh. I opened the small gate embedded into that wall and followed the cobbled path to the entrance. A well-kept garden extended left and right of the trail and around the house. With trembling fingers, I rang the doorbell. Tim's home was impressive and intimidating. The door opened, and a woman the same age as my mom smiled at me. She had the same chiseled features as Tim, but what gave him a manly look made her appear regal. Her shoulder-length hair had been dyed a dark red, which effectively contrasted with her green eyes. Though her demeanor was friendly, she had an air of authority surrounding her. That impression was intensified by the simple but elegant grey ensemble she was wearing.

"Can I help you, young man?"

"Good evening, Mrs. Eschner. My name's Marcel Ritter. I'm a fellow pupil of Tim. He forgot his cell phone." I showed her the small, black gadget.

"Marcel? You're the one tutoring Tim, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"It's so nice to finally meet you. Tim is talking nonstop about you. It's 'Marcel did this' and 'Marcel said that' all day long."

It took some moments to take her words in. It hadn't been clear to me that I had made such an impression on Tim.

"Thanks, ma'am." My eyes were directed at the ground.

"You're too modest. Considering what Tim told us about your lessons, you're short of working wonders."

The blood had shot into my head again. For an answer, I simply nodded.

Mrs. Eschner laughed out. "Too modest, Marcel, too modest. Do you want to bring him his phone yourself? He's at the animal shelter right now. Just down the street, on the left side." She emphasized her words by pointing in that direction.

"Animal shelter?" It had been intended as a silent question, but it just burst out of me.

"Tim hasn't told you? He helps out there regularly. That's the only other subject besides you he's talking about. Just visit him."

"Okay, ma'am. Have a nice evening. Bye."

"You, too. Bye." She smiled once more at me before closing the door.

The riddle that was Tim had just gained another level of complexity. After five minutes of pondering this new information, I arrived at the shelter. It was a grey two-story building made of naked concrete. One could see parts of a chain-link fence that surrounded a large compound. I caught muted animal noises, mainly dogs barking, coming from within the fence and the house. The entrance door wasn't locked, and I entered the building. The animal voices were louder inside.

"Hello there, boy." A grey-haired lady in her sixties was looking around a corner at the end of the hall. Her face was as wrinkled as it was friendly. "My name's Elke. Can I help you?" She had crossed the distance between us and was extending her hand.

I shook it and noticed how calloused it was, hinting at hard work.

"Marcel... I'm looking for Tim."

"Marcel? Sounds familiar. Timmy has told me something about a Marcel at school. Again and again."

The grin on her face gave her even more wrinkles.

The second person telling me that Tim had talked about me. Repeatedly.

"That's probably me."

"Timmy's with Laika's puppies. Just down the hall and then to the right."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Elke. Call me Elke."

"Thank you, Elke."

"No problem. You'll find it alone, won't you? The donkeys are waiting for their supper." Though I hadn't answered her, she was already on her way.

For some seconds, I just stood there and couldn't help but feel amused by this woman. I followed Elke's instructions. A large window gave view to the inside of the room she had described. Tim was lying on the floor, laughing. Five puppies were romping around and over him. I wasn't an expert on dogs, but they looked like a mix between a Golden Retriever and a Siberian Husky. Two of them had the former's long fur, but the latter's coloring. For the other three, it was the other way round. One of them had the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen on a living being. That rascal was chewing on the lower rim of Tim's hoodie and finally succeeded in lifting it enough to get under it. A little bulge was moving around Tim's front side. Tim's laughing intensified. In one corner of the room, a basket was standing with a Golden Retriever lying inside. From time to time, a lazy eye opened and checked for the puppies. This was Laika, obviously. Overall, she gave the impression of a mother who enjoyed a well-deserved break from her maternal duties. Tim was gently guiding the little intruder with his hands toward the neckline of his sweater. The head of the puppy appeared, and it licked away at Tim's face. With utmost care, Tim grabbed it with both hands. He nuzzled the tiny dog and nestled it against his cheek. Tim and the puppy had shut their eyes, enjoying the closeness, the contact of fur on skin. He hadn't noticed me yet, and I felt reluctant to disturb this scene. It was Laika who made the decision for me. One of her one-eyed scans, or more likely my smell, had revealed the presence of a stranger. She barked. Tim's head turned to the window. It was astounding how many emotions could be crammed onto a single face. Surprise, insecurity, embarrassment, but also relief and joy coexisted in Tim's expression. I gave him a wave, and he got up to his feet.

Tim opened the door. "Hi. What are you doing here?" Insecurity won out.

I produced the phone. "It fell out of your backpack in the Cell."

Though the tentativeness was fading from Tim's face, one piece of the puzzle was still missing.

"Your mom told me you were here."

He took the phone out of my hand. "Ah, okay... Watch out!"

Laika had risen from her basket and was now pressing her head through Tim's legs into the corridor.

She sniffed at my hand and gave it a short lick before trotting back to her resting place.

"Wow. Laika is very picky about whom she likes. Usually, she's quite aggressive toward people. That was a declaration of love in her book. You must be a very special person."

The last sentence felt awkward, but to my own astonishment, it lifted my mood even more.

"She likes you, too."

A shy smile raised Tim's lips. He slipped out of the room, taking care not to let the puppies out, and closed the door. I could have sworn that I heard Laika sigh when Tim left. My supposition was solidified when her puppies chose her as their new playground, and she punished us with a reproachful look. We started our way back to the entrance hall.

"You must think this is ridiculous." Tim's voice was frail, and he wasn't looking at me.

That I had witnessed the tender moment with the little dog seemed to embarrass him.

"Not at all, Tim. You're spending time with creatures not many other people care for. This is wonderful and definitely not ridiculous."

Tim turned to me, his blue eyes shining with gratitude. "I like to spend my time with animals. They don't judge you, don't laugh at you. I've been coming here for ten years, almost eleven. No one knows but you."

How much had he suffered from the words and actions of other people? Again, Tim had trusted me with details about his life he hadn't shared with anyone else. I felt honored. That feeling manifested itself as warmth spread in my stomach.

"I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks," he said softly. "And thanks for bringing me my phone."

We arrived at the entrance.

"I'll help Elke feed the animals. See you tomorrow." He extended his hand.

I had the impression that this was more than a simple gesture of farewell. If I had to guess, Tim wanted to reaffirm the new level of understanding we had reached.

I shook his hand. "See you."

With another smile at each other, we parted. From here I could walk home in twenty minutes. Given the things that had happened, the additional thinking time was most welcome. The idea that I had once thought about Tim as a threat felt absurd now, his violence against me a dim memory only. I felt dizzy by how much change three weeks could bring.

Chapter 9

The rest of the week, we worked hard in our tutoring sessions, often extending them to three hours.

The exams would take place next week: math on Monday, history on Wednesday and physics on Thursday. We covered all the topics the teachers had recommended. I suggested to him to relax over the weekend. He was fit in all three subjects, and more learning would only make him nervous. A wedding on Saturday and a family birthday on Sunday would keep him busy anyway. We also decided to have a break from tutoring for the whole next week, but I promised to meet him after every exam, so he could tell me about it. The prospect of not really seeing Tim for the upcoming days dampened my mood. I registered that emotion with curious incomprehension.

Mrs. Jasinsky was still taking care of the legalities regarding our project. The choir meetings wouldn't take place before that was finished. I intended to spend all that extra time in the editorial office of the school paper. I had neglected my duties there over the past few weeks. For the weekend, Daniel and I planned a twenty-four hours non-stop gaming marathon beginning on Saturday afternoon. On Saturday morning, I would buy some new clothes, something I really hated to do, but Mom had finally talked me into it. I was glad about all those distractions, for I was almost as nervous as Tim about next week.

The time of the math exam was almost up. I had walked in circles in front of the room for ten minutes and checked my watch numerous times. Finally, the door opened, and my fellow pupils filed out. I greeted most of them with a curt nod, but the one guy I was waiting for took his time. When the stream of chatting pupils ebbed without Tim showing up, I peeked inside the room. Tim was still sitting at his desk. Mrs. Grawe was standing before him, reading his exam, her forehead wrinkled in concentration. My heart sank and my mind raced: What had happened? Tim saw me and waved me to come closer, his face tense. Shaking, I crossed the distance between the door and them. When Mrs. Grawe caught me from the corner of her eye, she looked up.

"Oh. Hello, Marcel." She studied my face. "Nothing to be worried about. I've promised Tim I'd immediately take a look at his exam."

I relaxed, but not too much. The verdict had not been returned yet. Mrs. Grawe's gaze wandered back to the exam. She turned another page. Tim stared at the table before him, but he was looking through it, his eyes unfocused. Mrs. Grawe read the last page of Tim's test.

She looked at Tim. "Apart from some minor calculation errors, I can't find anything serious. You'll get at least twelve points, perhaps even thirteen for it. I have to look at the exam more thoroughly, but that's what you can expect. And if you continue your active participation in the lessons, you can easily get twelve points as an overall grade for this course."

Tim looked bewildered. His gaze switched between Mrs. Grawe, the exam, and me. The muscles in his face kept working. What Mrs. Grawe said couldn't find its way into his head, because it was too different from all of Tim's previous experiences. Mrs. Grawe had to fight the urge to laugh. I saw her swallow down her amusement.

"Tim. It's true. You'll pass my course with a good grade if you keep up the excellent work, and I don't see any indication why you shouldn't. I'll leave you two alone now."

"Thanks, Mrs. Grawe." Tim still wasn't convinced, but dawning understanding illuminated his face.

Mrs. Grawe put the exams in her briefcase, waved us good-bye, and left. I turned to Tim, a feeling of pride tingling in my entire body. Tim jumped up from his chair, lunged toward me, and grabbed me with both arms. Though our weights were roughly the same, Tim lifted me up with ease and made a full three hundred sixty degree turn. He put me down again and embraced me in a tight bear hug. His cheek rested on mine. Like the puppy the day before, I closed my eyes, reveled in the sensation of nearness. I wondered whether Tim's eyes were shut as well.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." Tim breathed into my ear.

The gentle draft made a bolt of electricity shoot down my spine. The intensity of my reaction scared me. I hadn't been aware of how much I missed the proximity of another male body. My mind abstracted him into a symbol for all men and didn't allow me to think of him as just Tim.

"You're welcome. My pleasure." My voice was weak, breaking.

I had no idea how long we remained in that embrace, but eventually Tim let go of me. A feeling of loss surged into my mind. Tim looked shaken, too. The mood had tilted. The elation we both had felt transformed into something different, an emotion I couldn't name.

"I... I have to go. My next lesson..." I made a step back and almost stumbled.

"Me, too."

Tim seized his bag and we parted without another word.

I blocked this event out, played it down during school. By the end of the day, I had convinced myself that my reaction had nothing to do with Tim. I had been carried away by the happiness I had felt for him. I was obviously missing someone to love or someone who loved me. I just hadn't allowed myself to acknowledge it. Tim was a mirror showing me the things lacking in my life. This had to be the explanation. It sounded more probable than feeling something for Tim. I was relieved. Almost.

Tim and I didn't meet on Tuesday in school. On Wednesday, I waited at the room where the history exam was written. Like Mrs. Grawe, Mr. Koenig scanned Tim's exam right after the test was finished.

Mr. Koenig had a very stiff demeanor but was one of the most popular teachers at our school. His explanations were precise and interesting at once. Now, his face was inscrutable, not giving away any hint about what he was thinking. Tim was trembling, barely visible, but I noticed. When Mr. Koenig finished, he looked over the rim of his glasses at Tim, who shrunk down into his chair.

"Very unconventional, Mr. Eschner, but logical in itself and well-founded. This exam will be graded with eleven points."

"Thank you, Mr. Koenig, for taking your time to read my exam."

"No problem. It's very pleasing to see your progress. Mr. Eschner, Mr. Ritter, excuse me, please."

I put my hand on Tim's shoulder. "I knew you could do it." I couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you again." Tim beamed back at me.

Neither Tim nor I mentioned the incident after the math exam again. I felt relieved because nothing had changed between us.

On Thursday, Mr. Schmidt followed the example of his two colleagues.

"Very nice. Here in the fifth task, you used a method I hadn't even thought about. But absolutely correct. Some minor errors in some of the other tasks, but overall very nice. Twelve points."

"Thank you, Mr. Schmidt."

Tim and I didn't have another course and were on our way out of the school.

"Um, Marcel. Will you continue to teach me? My parents said they would pay you."

My sensibilities were offended.

I stopped walking. "Of course, I'll tutor you. And I don't want any money."

Tim came to a halt some steps in front of me and turned around. "My parents have enough money.

It's no problem..."

"I don't take money to help a friend."

Once again, my mind was lagging behind my mouth. I hadn't called Tim a friend yet, not even in the privacy of my own thoughts, but it was true. No other term would fit the bond we had created. Tim took a single step toward me but stopped again. Insecurity showed in his face; the same insecurity I had seen after leaving Dr. Vogel's office or after learning about his excellent math exam.

Tim's brows furrowed. "What?"

Now, I was feeling anxious. Perhaps I had crossed a line that Tim wasn't ready to pass yet.

"You're my friend, Tim. But if you..."

He closed the gap between us and grabbed me by my shoulders, but his touch was careful, the strength he applied moderated. Not for a fraction of a second had I felt threatened.

"You're worried about what I'm thinking? I was the one hurting you. I was the one causing you pain.

You calling me a friend is so awesome."

"Then you..." Two words, but my voice had broken on both.

"The first day of our tutoring. That you kept your promise and showed up. That you told me I wasn't dumb and didn't give up that very day. From that day on, I thought of you as a friend. See how simple I really am?"

I felt light, almost like floating. I didn't have a clue.

"There aren't many persons more complex than you."

It was bear-hug time again. This one didn't cause a sexual tumult, but being close to Tim still felt good. My mind started to wander and I laughed. Tim let go of me, question marks in his eyes.

"It'll be difficult to sneak you past my mom. I don't think she'll be too delighted about our friendship.

She's still having a hard time because of... our past. I just imagined you in several disguises." I laughed out again. "Sorry."

A hint of a grin appeared on his lips. "Do you think that'll be a problem?" Though he was grinning, the question had a serious tone.

"I'm a little too old for my mom to choose my friends, but I think she'll give you a rough time."

"I deserve it and accept the sentence." The grin deepened.

"Christina and Daniel will come over on Saturday, just to hang out. Wanna join us?"

His grin was gone. "Um. Nicholas invited me to a party."

I had completely forgotten about Nicholas. Tim considered him his best friend, and I had no idea what Tim was thinking about my friends. Tim's and my friendship existed outside of our social networks, a separate entity with no connections to established links. It was impossible for me to deal with Nicholas on friendly terms. Based on Tim's reaction, he had come to the same conclusion.

"What a pity," he said. "On Sunday, we'll visit my aunt. Perhaps another time."

"Yes, another time."

We both had decided to ignore the situation, but I was sure that this problem would rear its ugly head again.

"See you on Monday then. The Cell, same time as always?" I asked just to break the silence "Looking forward to it."

We both smiled, but the joy of our newly-found friendship was tainted by the circumstances surrounding it.

Chapter 10

"Can you say that again, please?" Christina asked.

The feat of irritating her normally warranted a healthy dose of gloating, but I didn't feel like it at all. It was Saturday afternoon. Daniel and Christina were sitting on my bed, while I was resting in my chair.

"The pupil I'm tutoring is Tim." I was fighting to keep my voice as calm as possible.

"Tim who?" Daniel asked.

He was a clever boy, but the idea that I was referring to that Tim was too absurd to be considered.

I took a deep breath. "Tim Eschner."

"You're teaching Dumb?" Daniel was beyond grinning. For him, that was a true sign of trouble.

"His name's Tim. And yes, I'm teaching him."

"Tim I-rearranged-your-inner-organs-repeatedly Eschner? Does he threaten you to help him?"

"No, he doesn't threaten me to help him. He isn't all violent, you know?"

"Did he offer to wear silk gloves before punching you?"

I glowered at Daniel. Christina hadn't said another word after her initial question. Now, she was looking at me, and with a voice that made clear she hadn't the slightest idea, she asked: "Why?"

I retold the story of our encounter with Dr. Vogel and the punishment we both received for our insolence. Although, I had to remark that it didn't feel like a disciplinary measure any more.

After a minute of silence, it was Daniel to speak first. "Did it work?" His curiosity had won out against his anger.

"At first, it was difficult, but then I found out how to tackle that problem. He passed all the exams with at least eleven points."

I gave a recount about how watching Tim during the soccer match had given me the right ideas.

Now, it was Christina to ask a question. "Is he leaving you alone now?" The worry in her voice was genuine.

"I know you probably won't understand, but Tim and I get along very fine. We've become, well, friends."

Daniel jumped up from my bed. "You're kidding us, aren't you? You use the same word for us as for him? Sounds like some fucking Stockholm syndrome to me."

"Sit down, Daniel," Christina barked out.

Daniel's and my head turned to my unexpected ally.

"Unlike some other males in this room, Marcel is quite reasonable. If he comes to the conclusion that Tim is trustworthy, I'll believe him."

Daniel sank back to my bed, mumbling under his breath and shooting daggers from his eyes.

"Tim has a very gentle and friendly side. He," I almost blurted out that he was working at the animal shelter, "really has. Some of his friends are a bad influence." Venom dripped off my last words.

I knew for sure that Daniel and Christina understood the reference.

"Let's hope that his... friends... won't turn him against you," Christina said.

To say that I was absolutely sure about this would've been a lie, but Tim and I knew each other well enough now that Nicholas' potential points of leverage were almost non-existent. I gave a nod as an answer.

"So when is the tea party where Dumb can entertain us with his stories about how fun it was to punch the living daylights out of you? Ouch."

Christina had grabbed my pillow and had smacked Daniel hard with it.

"Shut the fuck up, Daniel. You're not helping here." Christina used cuss words so sparsely that each and every of those had a dramatic impact.

"I actually thought about the four of us spending some time together." My voice was meek.

Daniel opened his mouth but shut it at once when Christina's glare bored into him.

Still staring at him, she answered, "That's a good idea. To know is to understand."

"You'll have a three-week grace period anyway. Next week we won't have time, and both of you leave me alone here for Fall Break."

After the next week, a two-week break would start. Christina was doing youth work in the Catholic Church and had volunteered to accompany the altar boys and girls on a trip. Daniel's parents were divorced. He had spent the holidays with his mother in the summer and had promised to visit his father in the fall. Both of them would depart on Friday evening. That reminded me of another thing.

"Moreover, you traitors, I have to attend the school party on Friday evening alone."

"Just say no." Daniel's sly grin had returned.

He was a hothead but came down again pretty fast, and 'resentful' wasn't even part of his active vocabulary.

"However tempting that sounds, I have to attend in the official function of school mag reporter."

That had been my offer for making amends to the other pupils working for the school news. Since large parties weren't exactly my cup of tea, I wouldn't mind doing some interviews. And it was the first opportunity to test the new mp3 recorder I had bought for such occasions.

"Yeah. That's the burden of being the most important person at school... Ouch!"

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Reitermeyer."

"My pleasure, Mr. Ritter."

We all laughed.

Chapter 11

On Tuesday, Tim had the official grades for his exams. Mrs. Grawe had even given him thirteen points; Mr. Koenig and Mr. Schmidt had stuck to their first impressions of eleven and twelve points, respectively. By now, everyone in the school knew about the tutoring lessons and their amazing results. I was glad that I had told my friends on Saturday, so they hadn't heard it through the grapevine. Someone came up with 'Clever and the Dumb.' I just hoped that my fellow pupils had enough brains not to let Tim hear this. I received strange looks by some pupils, but others approached me and told me how nice it had been to help Tim. These were mostly girls who didn't fail to emphasize how attractive nice guys were. I just smiled, thanked them, and fled.

I was on my way to the Cell. I had just reached the last flight of steps when I saw Nicholas standing at the top of it.

"Marcel, my friend. What a coincidence. You do not mind if I accompany you on your way, do you?"

"Of course not, my old pal."

Though my retort had been brazen and untypical for me, his fake smile didn't waver at all. Having thwarted his plans gave me courage.

"Congratulations, Marcel. As a sportsman, I have to acknowledge your accomplishment. That someone would succeed in getting some wits into Tim seemed impossible."

"Just a matter of the right incentive. For this, I have to thank you." I bowed slightly, mimicking his false smile.

"You are welcome, but do not think that I will give up that easily. Now that I have to invest more time into this endeavor, its results will be even more unpleasant for both of you. That is a promise, Marcel."

"You've underestimated me once, Nicholas. Isn't the villain supposed to learn something from his failures?"

For the fraction of a second, I could see rage on his face. I had penetrated his defenses.

"Listen, Marcel. You may be smart, but I am more apt at this game than you are. It will not hurt to tell you that I am now targeting you and Tim." His grey eyes sparkled. "I will start with the weak link of the chain."

"Leave Tim alone!"

Indeed, I was no good at playing this game. When he threatened Tim, I couldn't keep the cold fa‡ade.

"That is more like you, Marcel. The white knight in shining armor. And your good intentions will be your undoing. See you, my friend."

We arrived at the room and I stopped. Nicholas kept walking without looking back at me. Once again, I felt angry and had the urge to rip that smile off Nicholas' face. If he had the ability to make me feel like that, how easily could he manipulate Tim? I sat down in the room. I was considering telling Tim this time, but he wouldn't believe me. It was frustrating. Tim arrived some five minutes later, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"You remember when I told you no girl was interested in the school moron?"

"Of course..."

"Thanks to your help, that has changed."

I hadn't thought it possible, but Tim's smile deepened even more. A hollow feeling spread in my guts.

Something was wrong about this.

"Lisa Kaczmarek asked me to go with her to the school party."

The void that had formed in my stomach absorbed all warmth from my body, drained all blood and color from me. My intuition had not failed me. Lisa Kaczmarek was part of Nicholas' inner circle. She wasn't interested in Tim; she was a mere tool in one of Nicholas' schemes. Now, everything made sense: My encounter with him hadn't been by chance. Nicholas wanted me to know that he was up to something. I should be immediately aware that he was behind Tim's date and should suffer from my inability to do something about it, but I had to try at least.

"Don't go with her. Nicholas is behind it. He talked to me not ten minutes ago. He's planning to hurt you."

The sentence blurted out of me, much too fast, without thought. I regretted not planning what I should say in more detail and not choosing a more diplomatic approach. It was too late.

"Why are you doing this?" Tim looked hurt; his eyes were glistening and filled with sadness. "I thought you were my friend. I thought you were happy for me. Instead, you make up some shit about Nicholas. You're just bitter and jealous." He jumped up from his chair and stormed out of the room.

His last sentence had felt like a dagger to my heart, but being honest, I was jealous; not of Tim, but of Lisa. I buried this thought as deep as I could.

Tim ignored my calls on his cell phone, and he didn't show up to the tutoring lessons. I couldn't even blame him. If it had been the other way round, if Tim had told me Daniel was about to frame me, I wouldn't have believed him, either. What hurt the most was that Tim thought I was capable of inventing such a story just to pay him back. Still, I felt compelled to help him since I was the only one aware of Nicholas' plan.

The white knight in shining armor.

Perhaps my attempt to come to the rescue was part of the intrigue.

And your good intentions will be your undoing.

I couldn't handle this alone. Daniel and Christina weren't available on Friday. Moreover, I didn't dare bring them to Nicholas' attention. The more they knew the greater the danger would be for them.

Mom wouldn't understand and would assign the blame to Tim. I heard her voice, saying something like 'Who dances with the devil...' That left only one person.

I waited until Dad was sitting in the living room alone that evening, scanning today's newspaper. I approached the armchair in silence.

My dad looked up. "If what you are gonna tell me is half as bad as the expression on your face, don't tell me."

He often tried to defuse dire situations with a joke. That this method seldom worked didn't stop him.

"I need your advice."

"Of course." His tone was serious now.

"If a friend of yours was walking into a trap with open eyes and refused all help, what should you do?"

"Sometimes people just need to find out for themselves. There isn't much one can do then."

"But I can't stay back and watch him rushing headlong into disaster. Though, my meddling could also be part of that trap."

"That's even more difficult. Just stay close enough to that friend so you can help him. Trust your guts when it comes to what you should do and what you shouldn't do."

Once again, Dad had pointed out the obvious, but I had been too close to see it myself. I would be at the party and would have an eye on Tim. That was about all I could do.

"Thanks, Dad," I said softly.

"Tim can be glad to have a friend like you."

"How did you..."

"Trust your guts, Marcel. That's what I do." Dad winked at me.

Chapter 12

"The music is so cool. And the decoration is so cool. And the people are all so cool."

I kept smiling at the eighth grade girl I was interviewing. In a certain way, her enthusiasm was cute, but she was about the tenth person whose only actively used adjective was 'cool.' "Thank you for the interview. And have some cool fun," I said.

She didn't even notice I was mimicking her. I pressed a button on the mp3 recording device to stop it.

"You're so cool." Giggling, she returned to the cluster of girls I had extracted her from.

She pointed in my direction and gave me a shy wave. The giggling spread through the entire group. I answered her with something that could be described best as a wave-smile-shrug, and then I sought refuge in flight. For the next party, I would do the article with invented interviews. If I used the word 'cool' often enough, no one would notice the difference. Though I wasn't a party animal, I really liked what the committee had planned here. A professional DJ took care of the music and he knew what he was doing. The theme of the evening was 'Spirit of Autumn.' The decorations consisted of pumpkins, leaves, kites in various colors, and scarecrows. It was borderline tacky, but still tasteful.

The assembly hall was large enough to accommodate all pupils when the chairs were removed. It was the same room where we did the shows with the choir. Among the many pupils, some teachers were playing watch dog, but they stayed in the background.

With the mp3 recorder ready in hand, I moved through the masses, looking for someone who could express his opinion without resorting to 'cool.' I stopped dead in my tracks. There he was standing with her. Though Tim was one of the reasons I was here, actually seeing him affected me, brought up the worries again. He had dressed up like he had that Saturday afternoon when we had worked together on the article. I recognized the jeans and the belt. His black and white checkered shirt wasn't buttoned up completely and gave view to his chest. Both of them were standing not ten meters away from me. Lisa was talking and batting her eyelashes at Tim. Tim's back was to me, so he hadn't noticed me yet. A flash of green and red light caught my attention. I looked down at the mp3 recorder. The level meter was indicating that the device was recording. It was pointing in Tim's and Lisa's direction, so the microphone was even better than I had thought. A glance at the timer confirmed that the recording had been running for ten minutes straight. Obviously, I hadn't stopped the device as planned after interviewing the eighth grader. I was about to press the stop button for real when a loud slapping noise and a scream made me look up again. Lisa had backed up from Tim, and tears were running down her cheeks. She made a further step back before running away from him, directly into the arms of Nicholas. I was watching his plan unfolded. Lisa cried into Nicholas' shoulder and pointed in Tim's direction. Tim was still standing where she had left him, his face contorted in shock. I looked down at the mp3 recorder. Perhaps... I snatched the ear phones out of my pocket, rewound two minutes, and listened to the recording.

Meanwhile, Nicholas crossed the distance to Tim and pushed him backwards. Tim was still trying to comprehend what had happened and didn't resist.

"Tim, what kind of pervert are you? ... Touching a girl when she repeatedly told you not to is plain sick."

Nicholas was screaming. He had made a deliberate pause between his question and his statement.

He wanted to make sure everyone was listening. He had succeeded: A ring of spectators started to form around Tim, Nicholas, and Lisa, who was still crying and clinging to Nicholas' side. The music had already stopped, and I saw three of the teachers making their way through the pupils.

"Nicholas, I didn't..." Tim was stammering.

"Oh shut up, you psycho. I didn't think that even you could be that dumb."

Tim cringed at the last word. The hurt in his eyes surpassed everything I had ever seen there. I cleaved a way through the pupils who were gawking at the spectacle. Nicholas started to advance on Tim when I reached the opening.

I stepped between the both of them. "Leave him alone." The cold hardness of my own words amazed me.

"Marcel, you're not trying to defend this groper, are you?"

Nicholas had never used contractions before. Every detail of that performance had been meticulously planned and made clear how righteously enraged he was.

"Tim is your best friend."

"Such a sicko isn't my friend."

"Tim hasn't done anything!" I raised my voice.

"His little faggot teacher here is a little biased, isn't he?"

"Mr. Vormann, watch your mouth!"

Mr. Haberle, one of the English teachers here at school, arrived at the opening.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm just so angry about what has happened."

"What exactly has happened?"

"Tim has touched me... I told him no... but he..." Lisa was good. The tears hadn't stopped flowing; she looked shaken and distressed. I would have believed her.

Before Mr. Haberle could address Tim, I spoke up, "The little faggot teacher may be biased, but this little friend of mine definitely isn't." I raised the recorder. "Those 1.5 megabytes of compressed audio file have a slightly different recollection of the events, Lisa."

Her crying stopped immediately. For the first time I could remember, Nicholas lost his poise. The masquerade of anger was replaced by a more genuine version of horrified disbelief. I removed the ear phones, cranked up the volume, and pressed the play button.

"I want you to touch me, Tim. Touch me everywhere with your strong hands."

"Lisa, you're a nice girl, but..."

"Don't be shy, Timmy-boy."

"Lisa, I... let go of my hand. Let go."

"This should be enough."

The sound of Lisa slapping Tim was heard, followed by her scream. I switched off the device. In a jerky movement, Lisa moved away from Nicholas and ran for the exit. Her tears now were for real.

"I can't understand why she did this horrible thing." Nicholas had recovered enough to start cutting his losses.

"Because you told her to," I said, for this time I wouldn't hold still.

"How dare you..."

"For Tim being your best friend, you denounced him a little too quickly, but the benefit of the doubt wouldn't have worked well with your plan. And why did Lisa run directly into your arms? There must have been ten other men standing between you and her. Quite picky for someone in shock."

Circumstantial evidence at best, easy to rebut, but everyone was staring at Nicholas now. Without another word, he turned around and strode out of the hall. No one bothered to stop him, not even the teachers. Nicholas would bend the truth so far, would reinvent tonight's events in a way that he could emerge from this disaster almost unscathed, but I had dented his image, had given everyone a glimpse at his true nature. The silence was broken by Mr. Haberle, who mumbled a quite audible 'Those youngsters today!' Now that the show was over, the ring of spectators quickly dispersed. The mass of people condensed into small groups, discussing agitatedly what had just happened. Everyone moved away from Tim and me as far as possible, trying to avoid association with the most recent school scandal. I felt a warm presence behind my back. I turned around. The muscles in Tim's face were working; he was figuring something out. His gaze was locked onto my eyes, and I had a d‚j... vu feeling of my mind being searched.

"I hit you. You worry I'll get expelled. I hurt you. You find a way to help me. I give you bruises. You call me a friend. I insult you, call you a liar. You stand up for me. Why? Why do you keep doing this?"

I had to think about that for a moment. I realized that regarding Tim I had always adhered to the advice of my father: I had trusted my guts. It just felt right to help Tim. I tried to give my hunches a voice.

"You're the most honest and honorable man I know. You deserve to have a friend who respects that, who respects you. What makes it even more interesting to know you is the fact that you are literally flowing over with emotions, violent and kind. I've seen both sides of you. It's true, you hurt me, but when you were holding that puppy, it was obvious how much love and kindness you can give. You're a person I want to call my friend. And I stick to my friends, no matter what."

The next moment, I was in the tightest embrace I had ever been in. I knew that Tim was strong, and it felt as if he was putting all of his strength into this hug. His cheek was firmly pressed to mine. Tim's warmth surrounded me like a blanket. The familiar smell washed over me, soothed me.

He whispered into my ear. "I'll never give you reason to not call me a friend again. I promise." He let go of me.

The intensity of his words made me shiver, as did the sudden loss of the warmth around me.

Tim's lips finally curved up. "You seem to believe in third chances, as well."

"Nah. Because you're a friend, it's still covered by the second chance."

We laughed, releasing the rest of the tension that had built up during the scene with Lisa and Nicholas.

Soon after, Tim and I left the party together. Nothing held us there.

I had just missed my bus. At this late time, the next one would come in an hour, so I decided to walk.

Tim insisted on accompanying me, wheeling his bike.

"Nicholas' parents have a vacation home on the North Sea Coast. The clique had planned to spend the Fall Break there."

"You won't go, will you?"

"If I ever tell you I'm talking to Nicholas again, punch me as hard as you can."

"I don't hit people, especially not friends."

"You could punch me many times before we'd get even."

In a quick movement, Tim turned his head toward me. He wasn't sure whether he had crossed a line with his comment. I laughed. His features softened again.

"I'll keep that in mind." I mock-punched him on his shoulder.

He grinned at me.

A worrying thought entered my mind. "What'll you tell your parents? They'll wonder why you stayed at home."

"The truth. Okay, the truth minus some details about sexual harassment. Nicholas and I had a fight where he showed his real face. Actually, my mom was never very fond of him. She works in the human resources department of Acxillion Industries, the electronics manufacturer. I should have listened to her. It's her job to assess people. Oh, by the way, she's really nuts about you." The grin had returned with a vengeance during the last sentence.

Once again, I turned beet red. There was no street lamp where we were walking, so the darkness of the clear fall night hid my embarrassment well.

"Thanks, I suppose."

Tim chuckled. "You're welcome. What are you up to this break?"

"Christina and Daniel are both gone on vacations. No real plans, to be honest."

"Wanna spend it with someone who wants to make good for everything to his teacher, friend, and guardian angel?"

"Guardian angel?"

"Sure. One with high tech thingies pointing at the right place at the right time."

We both laughed this time.

"And? My question is still standing."

I looked into his face. His eyes were imploring me to answer 'yes'. I couldn't help but be reminded of the puppy in the shelter.

"I'm really considering spending some quality time with my pupil, pal, and prot‚g‚."

It took Tim some moments to figure out that my answer was an affirmative in disguise. The grin, which hadn't left his face yet, transformed into a wide smile.

"Cool."

"Ah, not that word again."

Chapter 13

We spent almost every minute of the break together. I watched another soccer game with Tim on the first Sunday. Though I didn't need to observe him anymore, I found myself looking at Tim more than at any other player. During the week, we made tours with our bikes and visited many of the points of interest in our region. I had been to most of them with my parents or school, but rediscovering them with Tim was extraordinary fun. We stayed clear of our homes because we didn't want our nosy parents to intrude into the private space of friendship we had built. For Friday evening, the amateur astronomers club I participated in organized two free tickets for the planetarium for every member. A presentation on star formation was planned. It took some effort to persuade Tim to come along, but he finally gave in.

We had just taken our seats. Tim's features were sagging.

"What is it?" I asked.

"What if I don't understand it?"

"Tim. It's supposed to be entertainment, not school. Think of it as cinema. Moreover, I do think you will follow the lecture just fine."

The uneasy look on his face hadn't gone away. The lights went off, and they started to project stars on the inside of the cupola. A narrator with a sonorous voice explained some of the most prominent constellations first. Images and animations were added to the projection of the stars. In layman's terms, the birth, life, and death of a star like our sun were explained. I had already read so many books about astronomy that I didn't learn anything new, but when the light came on again, Tim's mood had changed for the better.

"Wow. I didn't have a clue how interesting physics could be."

"I told you it would be fun." I grinned at him.

"If I hang around with you a little more, I'll get really clever." He was grinning back.

"Tim. You are really clever. Not many people learn how to differentiate in two hours' time."

Once more, I felt scanned by his eyes.

"You mean it, don't you?"

"If I say yes, will you crush me again?"

"Definitely." His grin changed into a smile.

"Okay... yes."

That very moment, I jumped up from my seat and ran toward the exit. We were among the last visitors in the circular room, so my way was clear.

I turned back to Tim. "But first, you must catch me."

It had been a bad idea trying to outrun an athletic soccer player, even with the element of surprise on my side. I didn't make it to the exit of the room before two relentless arms hugged me from behind and brought me to a halt. Firmly pressed together, Tim laid his chin on my shoulder.

"Got you." He wasn't even breathing harder than before our sprint. "And thank you. I think no one has ever used the words 'really clever' to describe me."

"I have to add 'really fast' and 'really strong.' I'm getting a little jealous of you."

"If someone is to be envied, then it is you."

My comment had been lighthearted, but a sadden sincerity had found its way into Tim's voice.

"You envy a lanky, unpopular geek who could be called Joe Average as well?"

"You're the most big-hearted, kind, and caring person I've ever met. You're smarter than everyone I know. If someone calls you anything else, I'll punch his lights out. And this includes you."

To make his point, he mock-punched me on my cheek three times. Though it was a simulated act of violence, the gentle touch of his fist on my skin gave me goose-bumps.

I shivered. "I have to thank you. That's about the nicest thing someone has ever said to me."

"You deserve it. You truly do."

He let go of me. I didn't know what to say.

"You do have a telescope, don't you?"

I was glad about the change of subject. "Yes. It's not that big or that good."

"Would you mind showing me some more astronomy? Some live astronomy?"

It had been cloudy the last few days, but the forecasts were predicting some clear and crisp nights for the next week.

"Of course. Would be nice, if we could get out of town, away from the city lights. What you see is more impressive then."

"I can borrow Mom's car, as long as we return it before six in the morning."

We would have to wait for the right weather, but we were both looking forward to it.

On Monday, we went to the indoor swimming pool at the outskirts of our home town. It was one of those imitations of a tropical paradise with fake palms, over-priced French fries, and a penetrant chlorine smell, but I loved to swim and hadn't been here for a very long time; such a long time that I had forgotten about the common changing room and its lack of privacy. We were the only two people in there because it was too early for the masses. The idea of seeing Tim naked and, even worse, he seeing me naked was disturbing. Since he knew I was gay, I wondered if he was comfortable getting undressed in front of me, but I seemed to worry more than he did. He just dumped his bag on the wooden bench before he started to unbutton his shirt. Tim was talking about the Wikipedia article on stars he had read this morning. I was only half-listening, for coping with the situation kept my mind busy enough. Tim removed his shirt. The tight long sleeve on that Saturday afternoon hadn't left much to the imagination, but actually seeing his bare skin, smooth, tanned, and hairless, had a different impact. The view of his ripped torso was stunning. He unbuckled his belt and opened the button fly of his jeans.

"Marcel? Yoo-hoo, anyone there?"

Panic welled up in me, showing in my eyes for sure.

"Everything's alright?" Tim's forehead wrinkled.

I slumped down on the bench and covered my face with my hands. Speaking through them, my voice sounded muffled. "I'm sorry, absolutely sorry."

His hands grabbed mine and moved them aside, gently but decisively.

He knelt before me. "It's okay. You like my body. I know this. I noticed on that Saturday afternoon we worked together on the soccer article. To be frank, I dressed up on purpose to find out." He smiled, almost apologetically.

"But me being gay, I thought you..."

"First off, you're my friend, gay or not." He gestured at his body. "I know you don't only like that. You also like me here." He put his hand on my heart. "And that's why I don't mind. I trust you. I know you'll never do anything I don't want. By the way, being looked at that way is quite flattering." Tim removed his hand, and his smile changed into a sly grin.

Combined with the tension of before, that cracked me up.

"Much better." He joined my laughing.

"Tim Eschner, you keep surprising me."

"I hope that's good."

"Sure."

We then changed into our swimming trunks. Tim had the modesty to turn away from me when he got rid of his underwear. I suspected that was for me and not for him. He wouldn't have cared. Now that I had permission, I took a good look at his rear and truly enjoyed what I saw.

On Thursday night, the weather was finally right for some astronomy. The night was chilly, but no cloud or haze obstructed the sky. Tim picked me up with my astronomy equipment at eight o'clock. It had become more and more difficult to avoid the questions from my mom about whom I was seeing all the time. I hadn't told my father, either, but he had a hunch that it was Tim. My dad helped me out by distracting my mom at some of the more critical situations.

Tim and I drove for an hour. We had left the city behind, and in this rural area, it was much darker; no stray light from the houses or street lighting spoiled our observations. We parked at the rim of a small band of trees. Behind the trees, a large, flat field stretched out. I found a nice place with a good view to the south. A fallen tree, which hadn't been removed yet, could be used for seating. While I had struggled to get the telescope and the accessories out of the cellar, Tim carried most of the stuff with ease from the car to the site I had chosen. I brought some blankets, thermos jugs with tea and hot chocolate, and some snacks, too. While setting up the telescope, I kept explaining to Tim what I was doing. He listened with interest and occasionally asked a question. By ten o'clock, everything was ready. I showed him some of the more popular objects. We began with the Andromeda galaxy, which could be seen even without the telescope on such a dark night like this. We continued with the globular cluster M15 in the Pegasus constellation. Tim especially liked the open clusters of chi and h in the Perseus, but the Hyades and Pleiades were just as impressive. I wanted to show Tim the Orion nebula as well but decided to wait until it had risen high enough. We took a little break and sat down on the log. I poured each of us a cup of hot chocolate, and we ate some of the sandwiches. Both of us were dressed in winter clothes, but the cold had found its way to my skin. Though I was wrapped up in one of the blankets, I kept shivering and my teeth were chattering. Tim had only loosely draped the blanket around him, but he seemed to be unaffected by the low temperature. My eyes had adapted to the darkness as good as possible, but Tim was only a black contour against the grey background. This contour expanded.

"Come here, before you freeze to death." He extended his arm and was waiting for me to join him under the blanket.

I hesitated, for I had second thoughts whether Tim would feel uncomfortable so close to me.

He chuckled. "I wouldn't have offered if it bothered me."

"Are you reading my mind?"

The chuckling continued. "Something like that. Come on."

I moved close to Tim, and he laid his arm with the blanket around me. Almost immediately my trembling stopped. Though I hadn't asked, Tim explained to me why he wasn't shivering.

"My body temperature is always way over thirty-seven degrees Celsius, though I'm not feverish. As a child, I was checked from head to toe by all kinds of doctors. I'm healthy as a horse. Just a little hotter than other men."

I had to chuckle. He joined in.

"Okay. Not the best choice of words," Tim said.

The cozy warmness made me drowsy. I closed my eyes and dozed a little. I awoke with a start, realizing that I had fallen asleep for some minutes. My head had slumped on Tim's shoulder, and I was cuddled against his side.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"What for?"

The sound of his soft voice made it clear that he had no clue what I had apologized for.

"I don't know too many straight jocks who feel okay about snuggling with another boy."

He laughed. Since my head was still resting on his shoulder I heard the low rumble resonating through his body.

"Not six weeks ago, this straight jock was giving you quite a hard time. Now, you trust him enough to fall asleep by his side. He's not only feeling okay about this, he's just one lucky dog."

I looked up at him but couldn't discern his features in the darkness. Tim wasn't posing any kind of threat to me anymore. Quite the contrary: I had never felt safer than here beside him.

"Thank you. Just for being who you are," Tim said.

"I'm the one who's grateful for the chance to get to know you."

His answer was a slight tightening of his arm around me.

I showed him the Orion nebula as I had promised, but shortly after we decided to leave. During the drive, we both were silent, but it was the silence of two close friends.

On Sunday evening, we were returning from our last bike tour. The next day, school would start again. For the first time, I wasn't happy to return to school after a break. Even the prospect of seeing Daniel and Christina again didn't help much. We made a final rest by the bank of the channel which passed by our home town. We were lying on our backs in the grass on the steep artificial embankment leading down to the water.

It was Tim who broke the silence. "When Nicholas called me dumb at the dance, denouncing me before the entire school, the first thing I thought was 'You never had a true friend.' Being accused of being a molester; and that's what comes to my mind. Pretty strange, isn't it?"

"Pretty human, I'd say."

Tim turned to his side and looked at me with the clear blueness of his eyes. "I may never have had a true friend before, but now I do have one. A best friend who deserves to be called just that. It's okay if you don't feel the same way. You've got Daniel and Christina..."

"Are you kidding me? My heart is big enough to have three best friends. And don't you dare think that you mean anything less to me than Christina or Daniel. I'll have to punch your lights out if you do."

I softly hit his cheek three times with my fist as he had done in the planetarium. On the third time, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it. Tears had welled up in his eyes but didn't start to flow. My friendships with Christina and Daniel had built up gradually; the friendship with Tim had formed in fast forward, but the intensity of the things we had lived through together didn't make any more time necessary.

"These were the best two weeks in my entire life. I don't want them to end tomorrow," Tim said.

"We've still got the tutoring and the weekends."

"I don't think Christina and Daniel wanna spend much time with me."

"They've got no choice. Or I'll punch their lights out, too."

Tim laughed out. "My habits are rubbing off on you. Seems like you've already spent too much time with me."

"And I've enjoyed every minute of it."

"You're lucky you're lying on the ground."

"Huh?"

"Can't get my arms around you. This hug would've been the mother of all hugs."

It was my turn to laugh. "Just in case you forgot, my birthday is on Friday. No big thing, just my best friends and me. I hope you'll come."

"And Daniel? Christina? Your mom? They'll..."

"They'll just have to be resigned to the fact that we're best friends now."

"On the ground or not, I don't care." He threw himself upon me, pushing the air out of my lungs.

As soon as I had filled them again, I started to laugh along with Tim.

Chapter 14

I had wondered whether the scene at the party would still be a huge topic in school, but during the two weeks of the break, things had cooled down. Daniel and Christina didn't know about it, and I preferred to keep it that way until Friday. Moreover, I didn't tell them about the bond that had formed between Tim and me. Tim's and my time tables were so different we didn't meet in school at all. Two months ago, that had been fantastic; now I was regretting it. The tutoring lesson was the only time he and I spent together in school.

It felt like the blink of an eye and it was Friday. Mrs. Jasinsky informed us that the work on the project would start next week. So everything had worked out perfectly for my birthday party. Tim and I skipped the lesson, and I got home by two o'clock. Mom and Dad had congratulated me in the morning and had given me my present - money for a new telescope. After Christmas, I would have enough to finally buy it. Dad was still at work, but Mom was at home and had prepared two cakes for my friends and me. Like Christina and Daniel, she had no idea about Tim. I had taken a page out of Nicholas' book: No one would give me trouble on my birthday, so this was the perfect time to introduce my new friend. Christina and Daniel arrived together with my father at four thirty. Daniel, in his never ending attempt to convert me to his style of music, gave me a heavy metal compilation CD as a present. Christina, as the pragmatist she was, opted for a gift certificate to a book store in town. I was happy about the presents, but more so about both of them celebrating my eighteenth birthday with me. Tim had let me know he wouldn't make it before six o'clock and had smiled mysteriously. Christina and Daniel had much to tell about their journeys, and I was just glad to listen.

By five thirty, I decided it was time to drop the bombshell.

"I've got to tell you something."

"You've already told us you're gay." Daniel was grinning.

"Very funny. No, it has something to do with Tim."

"He hurt you again, that bastard."

Though he was completely off, I was moved by how concerned Daniel was about me.

"No, absolutely not. I have to tell you what happened at the school party first."

I recounted the events of that Friday night.

"Wow. Nicholas Vormann gets trapped in one of his own schemes. I'd have paid to see that," Daniel said.

"How did Tim take it?" Christina looked really worried. She was so good hearted.

"That's the real thing I want to tell you."

"There's more to come?" Daniel blurted.

Christina was already grabbing for the cushion. I made a placatory gesture with my arms, and she let go of the pillow.

"Tim and I spent the break together. We've become really good friends. He calls me his best friend...

and so do I."

Daniel looked flabbergasted, while Christina only gave a short nod. She had seen it coming. Daniel was just too stubborn to consider this possible. The doorbell rang, making me jump up.

"That's him, isn't it?" Daniel asked.

Given his expression, Death himself had just asked for entrance looking for him. Christina was just her nonplussed self. By the time I got to the door, my father was already there, letting Tim in.

"Good evening, Mr. Ritter." Tim smiled amiably at my father and extended his hand.

"Good evening, Tim."

They shook hands. Dad glanced in my direction. I knew then that it hadn't been a coincidence he had opened the door. I felt grateful for having a dad like him. Tim had dressed up once again. The jeans weren't as tight as the ones he had worn on that Saturday afternoon, but they flowed around his hips and legs just about right. He was wearing another long sleeve shirt, which seemed to be even more of a second skin than the one I already knew. His hair had been partially tamed with styling gel.

The hairstyle looked great on him.

"Have fun." My father was already on his way back to the living room.

"Thanks," Tim said.

I grinned and pointed at him.

"Yeah. This is one of the gifts for you." Tim smirked back.

He produced a small rectangular box out of his pocket, wrapped in colorful paper.

"But before you get it... Happy birthday, Marcel." He embraced me and patted my back.

I returned the hug. It felt natural now, no doubts or worries about us being so close anymore.

He let go of me and gave me the small parcel. "I hope you'll like it. It's the reason why I'm a little late.

It had to be ordered and arrived just in time."

I removed the paper. Inside was a deep sky filter, an accessory for my telescope. Since it was of normed size, it would also work with the new one, even better so. I had casually talked about it on the night we had observed the sky together and had remarked that such a filter would improve the sight considerably. The one he had bought was among the best filters on the market, and its price reflected this. Joy, guilt, and confusion fought a fierce battle in my mind.

"It's perfect, but it's much too expensive. You..."

"Hush." He put his finger on my mouth. "It's a selfish present at best. I hope we'll repeat our observations some night soon."

"Of course, but..."

"No buts. I'm glad you like it." He smiled at me.

"Thank you very much." Now, it was me embracing him as hard as I could.

"You're welcome."

"Time to enter the den of lions."

Irritation spread on Tim's face.

"Daniel and Christina are already here. I've told them about the school party and... us."

Understanding replaced irritation. "Didn't go too well?"

"Christina is okay with us. Just stay clear of Daniel at first, okay? He's a little difficult sometimes."

We entered my room. Christina got up from my bed and, with a friendly face, approached Tim.

She extended her hand. "Hi, Tim. Nice of you to join us."

Tim gently returned her handshake, his expression as friendly as hers. "Hi, Christina. I'm glad to be here too."

Daniel hadn't moved at all. With arms folded on his chest, he lay on my bed and glowered at Tim.

Tim turned to Daniel and, with an uneasy look, extended his hand. "Hi, Daniel."

Daniel looked at Tim's hand. "All those muscles are quite useful when roughing up some innocent fellow pupils, aren't they?"

Tim let his arm sink down. His eyes betrayed how much Daniel's comment had hurt him. His shoulders sagged; he lowered his head. Christina rolled her eyes at Daniel. One thing I have to say about Daniel: He got guts.

"How many times have you made fun of my weight?"

Three pairs of eyes stared at Christina, but her focus was on Daniel.

"What?"

"How many times have you made fun of my weight?"

"I don't understand..."

"There are other ways to hurt someone, other than using your fists. Another question: Are we friends?"

"Of course, we're friends."

Understanding dawned on Daniel's face. He looked at Tim. Daniel unfolded his arms and put forth his right hand.

"I won't take back what I've said, but if Marcel can forget what you've done to him, so can I. We aren't friends, but weirder things have happened."

Tim shook Daniel's hand, a little firmer than Christina's. "Thank you. That's more than I've expected."

I looked at Christina, and our gazes met. With a curt nod, I told her how thankful I was for her help.

Her eyes lit up. Christina always knew the right thing to say. I wouldn't be surprised if this country had a Chancellor Reitermeyer one day. Tim took a place beside Christina on the bed. Seeing my three best friends together made me smile inside. That was the ultimate birthday gift.

Tim turned to Daniel and pointed at his sweatshirt. "You like Deathwish? I loved their first album, but the second one was even better."

For a long moment, Daniel just looked at Tim, his mouth gaping open. "Which song do you like best on the second album?"

"Everyone says 'Shattered' is the best, but my favorite is 'Ouroboros'."

"Yeah. That bass line in the bridge is fucking awesome."

"The guitar riff in the intro. That does the trick for me. Do you know 'Cherlindrea'?"

Daniel's grin returned. "Dusseldorf, 2010. First row. Camped two nights at the entrance."

Christina and I looked at each other.

"We've lost them. This will take a while," Christina said, shaking her head.

"Yeah. I'm afraid it will."

Tim and Daniel hadn't even heard what we had said. In an unending dialogue, they exchanged band names, song titles, and an occasional "Fuck, yeah" or "Damn right." Later that evening, we ordered pizza. By then, Daniel and Tim had talked about their entire heavy metal collection and had agreed upon exchanging an awful lot of CDs. I lost interest in counting when they had reached twenty CDs each. They joined Christina and me again in conversation. My friends left at three A.M. Daniel commented how glad he was that he had finally found someone with good taste in music. Christina told me that she thought Tim was a fine guy, and Tim was overjoyed to have met my friends at last.

For me, this had been the perfect eighteenth birthday.

Though it had been a late night, I joined my parents for breakfast at nine Saturday morning.

"Good morning, darling." Mom was smiling at me. "Oh. Who was this buff young man? I had only expected Daniel and Christina."

The time had come. My body was prickling all over. I was eighteen years old but was still afraid of my own mother.

"That was Tim."

"The Eschner boy?" The smile was gone and anger built up in her face instead.

"Yes. Tim Eschner."

"He dares to come here? Did he threaten you? Does he hurt you again? Are you still tutoring him? This ungrateful son of a..." She stopped short of calling him that... barely.

Dad entered the kitchen that very moment and seemed to be shocked by her reaction as much as I was.

"Agnes!" Dad said sternly.

Mom was terrified by the intensity of her retort, too, but the anger persisted.

"It's completely different. I wanted Tim to come here. I invited him," I said in a soft voice.

"Why, Marcel? He didn't do anything but hurt you."

"That's not true." My voice had gained in strength.

"What?"

"We've become friends. Yes, he did hurt me, but he has a different side. A caring, loyal, and friendly side."

"How do you know? You only see him two hours a day for learning."

"Tim and I spent much time together during the Fall Break. I know him." Much more defiance than I had intended found its way into this sentence.

"You met with him behind our backs? I'd have never allowed this."

"I knew whom he was seeing," Dad said.

Mom's glowering gaze turned to him.

"Yes, Agnes, I knew. And obviously, it was the right choice not to tell you."

Mom turned back to me. "You'll stop seeing him."

"He's an adult now. He can choose his friends alone. If we have raised him right, we have to trust his choices."

"Are you both crazy now?" Mom stormed out of the kitchen and slammed the door.

Dad and I stared at the shut door.

"She'll come down. She always does," Dad said.

"I'm sorry."

"You've done nothing wrong. Moreover, you didn't give us any trouble during your puberty. You've still got one or two rebellions for free."

Looking at my dad, a memory surfaced, a memory which was one of the first I could remember.

Furthermore, it was one of the most vivid memories of mine. In kindergarten, a boy named Peter had been my best friend from the first day on. On that first day, I was standing in one corner, crying, missing my mom. He took me by the hand, led me to the carpet with the construction bricks, and we played together. That noon, I cried again when I had to leave. One day, we quarreled about some sandbox toys, and Peter hit me with a shovel. I had already forgotten about this when my mom picked me up, but the kindergarten teacher told her about the incident. My mom screamed like a banshee. In the end, she got Peter removed from my group and instructed the teachers not to let us play together. I didn't understand where Peter had gone. Recalling that my mom was capable of reactions that extreme made an acrid nervousness creep into my stomach.

Mom didn't talk to either of us for the rest of the weekend. On Monday, she decided to simply ignore the subject. For the moment, I left it at that.

Chapter 15

In the following weeks, a little routine finally came back to my life. Tim and I did the tutoring together and we had more fun than ever. On weekends, we met on neutral territory, like Daniel's or Christina's home. Daniel and Tim had found common ground in their music, and their friendship slowly developed from there. Christina and Tim came along just fine because their personalities complemented each other. I hadn't talked with Tim about the Saturday morning after my birthday, but he had been aware my mom wasn't too happy with the idea of us being friends. Knowing how touchy it was, he refrained from asking about that special subject. Our friendship deepened with every passing day, with every minute we spent together. Nicholas avoided us. I supposed he was waiting for the events at the school party to be forgotten before taking a shot at us again. He wouldn't give up. Not after I thwarted his plans twice.

It was the second week of December, a Thursday, and I had just arrived in the Cell. Just as I was putting up the flip chart, my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a message from Tim.

Come to the shelter. Pls hurry. Tim.

My heart sank. Tim wouldn't have stayed away from the tutoring if there wasn't a real reason. I locked the room and moved as fast as I could without running to the main exit of the school. A glance at my watch showed me that I had just missed the bus. I checked my wallet: I had twenty euros with me, enough for a taxi ride. Some fifteen minutes after Tim's message, I was standing in front of the grey concrete building and entered. In the entrance hall, Elke was standing together with a man in his forties, who seemed to be from southern European or Turkish descent. She looked sad; additional wrinkles had formed on her face.

"Hello, Elke. Tim texted me..."

"Hello, Marcel. This is Dr. Guentuerkuen, our veterinarian."

We nodded at each other.

"It's about Laika. Dr. Guentuerkuen was about to explain her condition to me."

"You know, Mrs. Salinger, Golden Retrievers are prone to suffer epileptic episodes. Laika has never shown symptoms before, but last night she seems to have had an extraordinarily severe seizure. The seizure can directly cause brain damage, intensified by a possible oxygen deficiency due to breathing obstructions. It's difficult to tell without further diagnosis, but from the tremors she is showing and the general state she is in, she must have suffered extreme neurological damage."

Tears were flowing down Elke's face. "Do we have to put her to sleep?"

My vision got blurry and my heart cramped in pain.

"I've given her an anticonvulsant and a strong analgesic. She isn't in pain now. Nonetheless, I fear she will die within the next few hours. We can spare her further suffering."

"Okay," Elke said.

My tears flowed freely now. "Where is she?" A sob followed my question.

"She's with Tim in the observation room."

I began to run. When I had reached the windows to the room, I stopped cold. What I saw broke my heart. Tim was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Laika's head was resting in his lap, and with both hands, Tim was caressing her. His eyes were red and swollen. Tears ran down his cheeks in a quiet stream. In silence, I entered the room. Tim turned his head toward me.

"You've come." His voice was frail and breaking, full of sadness, but also relief.

I knelt down beside him. I laid one arm around Tim and petted Laika with the other. She opened her eyes, but her gaze was empty. She sniffed at my hand and gave it a short lick, like on the day I had first met her. Her head sank back onto Tim's legs. Time and again, her entire body shook. The door opened again. Elke and Dr. Guentuerkuen came in.

It was Elke who addressed Tim. "Laika is suffering. She deserves to go in peace."

She was talking to him as she would to a child. Given the state Tim was in, everything else would have overburdened him. He looked up at Elke and nodded. Dr. Guentuerkuen had already prepared a syringe and carefully gave Laika the injection. Tim and I continued to pet her. After some thirty seconds, Laika took a deep breath and, with a sigh, let go of it again. Her features relaxed; the shaking stopped. With utmost care, Tim laid down Laika's head on the floor. He turned to me, desperation on his face.

I extended both of my arms. "Come here, Tim, come here."

With a force that almost knocked me back over, Tim threw himself into my arms and rested his face on my shoulder. I closed my arms around him. Elke and the doctor left the room, giving us the privacy we needed. Uninhibited, Tim let go of his emotions. His sobbing rocked my body. His warm tears dampened the fabric of my shirt. With my hands, I caressed Tim's back. Time stood still. In that moment, I realized that Tim had lowered all his defenses. His feelings were sweeping over me and through me with undiminished intensity. I was looking at the very core of Tim's soul. My consciousness shattered into thousands of shards, shards of thought, emotion, image, and sound.

Like motes in the sunlight, those fragments floated through my mind. It was confusing; too many impressions at once to sort them out. Something had changed. A cataclysmic event had ripped me apart and was now recreating my own self, the result unknown to me. I would have to wait 'til the soul dust had settled. Time sped up again. For some heartbeats, I didn't know where I was. Tim's sobbing subsided.

He whispered into my shoulder. "Thank you for being here."

I patted his back in answer. He moved away from me. Once again, a feeling of loss accompanied our separation. Tim looked as shaken as I felt.

"We'll have to bury Laika," he said.

Though it violated every German regulation possible, a small patch of bushes on the compound of the shelter served as a pet cemetery. Everyone knew about it, but no one cared. We wrapped Laika's body in her favorite blanket, which had many holes from her constant gnawing on it. Tim, Elke, and I moved to the cemetery without speaking. Tim and I dug a hole large enough to accommodate Laika's mortal remains. We placed her inside and covered her again with earth. In silence, we returned to the shelter. Elke thanked both of us and told us to go home.

"Can we take another round around the block?" Tim asked meekly.

He didn't want to return home yet.

"Of course."

We didn't speak, but just having each other's company was enough. When we had finally reached his home, we embraced once more for a long time. We parted in silence.

At home, I went to bed at once, but I couldn't sleep. Shortly after nine o'clock, my cell phone buzzed again. It was another text message from Tim.

Thank you, my friend.

That simple message caused me happiness beyond reason.

I kept tossing and turning in my sheets. I tried to convince myself that Laika's death was the reason for the state I was in, but I knew more than that had happened today. The strange experience when I had comforted Tim was the key. Still, I was none the wiser what it could mean. The hours on my clock kept ticking away. By three o'clock, exhaustion won out. I drifted into a state between sleep and wakefulness. In a never-ending loop, my mind replayed the events of the afternoon: Laika's last breath, Tim in my arms, the burial. In each repetition, I watched out for changes, looked for something missing. What had shattered in my mind? What had been destroyed? I was in despair.

Tim's second message came back to my mind. Something felt wrong about it. What was it? One word kept returning to me: friend. Tim was still my friend, perhaps even more so after sharing our pain.

What could be wrong about being friends? I shot up in my bed, panting in heavy gasps. Impossible. That couldn't be true, mustn't be true. I had been looking for something amiss, but the change had been an addition. Tim being my friend felt wrong because Tim being my lover felt right. Everything clicked into place. There had always been sexual tension between Tim and me, at least for me. I had explained it away with my general desire for a partner, had detached these feelings from Tim. When I had glimpsed into his inner self, had seen the vulnerability, the kindness, and love within, the cage made of rationalizations had been obliterated. The puzzle was solved, but sleep didn't come. Tim could never know; he shouldn't even notice that something had changed. Our friendship was at stake. I noticed how difficult it was to call my newly found emotions by their real name, even in the privacy of my thoughts.

I love Tim.

Thinking it gave my feelings for Tim a finality I wasn't able to cope with yet. I found solace in the fact that after another week of school, Christmas Break would begin. Tim had told me that he and his family would visit relatives in southern Germany over Christmas and New Year. They would return by the third of January; school would start again on the seventh. Not being able to see Tim for almost two weeks had felt awful before, but now it would give me some time get over him. My alarm clock rang; it was seven o'clock, and I hadn't slept at all.

Chapter 16

In school, Daniel and Christina asked what had happened, for my face betrayed me. I told them that a dog of an acquaintance had died. They didn't know about Laika or the shelter, and I wanted to keep the promise I had given Tim. Still, I felt terrible for using Laika's death to hide behind.

Tim and I met for the tutoring, but we both decided that we should skip it. We hugged again and I tried to shut out all emotions.

Observant as he was, Tim realized something was different. "What is it?"

"I didn't sleep all night. Thinking about Laika's death kept me awake." Not a lie, but not the truth, either.

Tim embraced me again. "With a heart as big as yours, you feel the pain threefold."

Same was true for love.

"Thank you."

He let go of me and gave me a weak smile. "See you tomorrow in the park."

Tim wanted to show me the fitness trail because I had remarked that I intended to do more sports.

Seeing Tim in a track suit and glistening with sweat would be close to torture for me. I smiled back nonetheless.

On Friday, the choir practiced for the first time on stage in the assembly hall. Felipe had outlined some vague ideas for choreography but wanted to see them in action before committing himself to them. I would be blindfolded during my song, dressed in a white suit. I loved the idea, but today I couldn't relate to my song in any way.

"Marcelito! You're singing the correct words; you're singing the correct notes; you're doing the correct movements. But your coraz¢n, your heart, isn't in the performance."

I removed the blindfold. Felipe was looking sternly at me.

"Sorry. I'll try again."

The second time wasn't much better.

Afterwards, Christina approached me. "Come for a walk."

Given her tone, I hadn't much choice in this matter. We left the hall for the school yard and began to circle it.

"There is something more going on than the death of a dog, isn't there?"

I faced her. She was looking over the rim of her glasses into my eyes. There was no need to lie anymore.

"I've fallen for someone. Someone I shouldn't have such feelings for."

"Tim?"

I nodded, unable to admit it aloud.

"Will you tell him?"

"Of course not! That'd be the end of our friendship!"

"I'm not so sure about that. Tim's very smart when it comes to emotions. I don't know him as well as you do, but I think he would understand."

"You're probably right, but right now, I can't tell him. I can't."

"It's difficult to hide emotions as strong as love."

I knew her well enough that I understood.

"Daniel's an idiot not seeing what he could have."

"Yeah, Daniels's an idiot. But a cute one."

We arrived at the gate.

"We're the strong ones. We'll come over it," I said.

"Sometimes I want to be weak, want to be held."

We hugged each other and said good-bye 'til Monday.

I met Tim in the park at eleven o'clock. As I had feared, he was wearing an outfit that looked gorgeous on him. Grey track pants and a white t-shirt, plain and simple. Still, he looked like a pin-up fantasy from a high-gloss magazine. I was friendly and hearty, but at the same time, I tried to retreat into myself. I avoided looking at him, did my best not to touch him. Tim pretended not to notice, though I was sure he was seeing the difference. Perhaps he couldn't put his finger on it yet; however, he was aware that something was off. We spent the whole Saturday together, but I wasn't able to enjoy being with Tim like before. It was wonderful to be close to him. At the same time, it was exhausting to keep myself in check the whole day, knowing that every glitch in control could reveal my secret. We didn't see each other on Sunday because Tim was supposed to spend some time with his family. The rest of the week felt the same, like that Saturday in the park. During our tutoring, I was giving kindness without heart, friendliness without soul. I created physical and emotional distance between us while pretending to do the opposite, hoping that Tim wouldn't pick up what I was doing. When I was alone, all those restrained emotions returned with a vengeance. In that regard, feelings seemed to follow the same physical principles as all forms of energy did: they could be stored away temporarily, even transformed, but they couldn't be destroyed.

On Friday, we met for the last time before Christmas Break to do the tutoring. Tim's next exams would take place during the week right after the break, all three of them. We had already covered all the topics. Tim had improved even more, building on the base we had created. He would fare well in the upcoming tests, but Tim didn't seem to be as sure as I was.

"I've talked to my parents, and they are thrilled about my idea, too. Would you like to come to my home for the last weekend of the break for some night-overs? We can repeat the stuff for the exams.

I'll learn during the break for myself, but having you around would give me even more security. You can come on Friday afternoon until Monday morning. We can go to school together then."

He was so enthusiastic that I couldn't help but smile. My mom had stuck to her policy of 'ignorance is bliss,' so no problems were to come from that side. Additionally, I would have almost two weeks to get a grip on my feelings.

"Of course. I'm looking forward to it."

Happiness radiated from every square inch of his body. "I know it's not Christmas yet, but I want to see whether you like it." Tim produced a rectangular, flat package out of his backpack. It was wrapped in paper with comic reindeers on it.

"It's a very strange coincidence, but I've got something for you, too."

My present for him was a scroll made of two sheets of hand-made paper. A blue ribbon tied in a bow secured it.

Tim's face lit up. "For me?"

"For you." I genuinely smiled at him for the first time after that sleepless night.

I opened my present. It was a bookmark made of sterling silver. The head of it was a depiction of a spiral galaxy, like the Andromeda nebula.

"It's beautiful, Tim. I love it."

Tim's happiness went up another notch.

"Now you."

Excruciatingly slow, Tim removed the blue ribbon. He opened the scroll and read out aloud, "Marcel Ritter has bestowed upon Tim Eschner a star."

The coordinates and the star's number in various star catalogues followed. A small sky map marked its location. I had chosen a star that could be seen from our location with the unaided eye if conditions were good. The second sheet was a voucher for another astronomical night, including Eschner's star in the night's observation program.

"You had so much fun watching the sky that I thought you would like a star of your own."

I hadn't seen this look on Tim's face for a long time, that look of astonished disbelief combined with delight.

"Thank you. It's awesome."

Of course, I was in for another bear hug. This time I didn't shield my emotions, indulged in the closeness. For once, I didn't mind how much pain I would feel when this moment was over.

We said good-bye, wished each other a good time, and parted. Since it was the last Friday before the break, Mrs. Jasinsky had cancelled choir practice. At home, I lay down on my bed and held the bookmark, moving my thumb back and forth across its smooth surface. I wanted to relish this afternoon's feelings as long as possible. All too soon, I became aware how moot that notion was. The idea of not seeing Tim for almost two weeks was painful. My intentions to find a way to un-love Tim were ridiculous. The prospect of spending a whole weekend with Tim gave me hope and despair in equal parts.

Chapter 17

The mood of that Friday evening persisted throughout the holidays. Everything felt hollow and uninspired. I had attached a mechanical smile to my face. I smiled through Christmas Eve and gift giving. I smiled through family feasts and get-togethers. I smiled through New Year's Eve and fireworks. No one noticed the difference, not even Mom and Dad. Two text messages from Tim, one on Christmas and one on New Year's Day, pulled me out of this dullness, connected me with my feelings again, but not for long. Ordering my new telescope, something I had waited for one and a half years, felt as irrelevant as the rest of this break. During Christmas Break, family duties kept Daniel and Christina busy, too. So meeting them for distraction wasn't an option, either.

On Friday morning, I packed my bag for the weekend. I would see Tim again soon. This had finally broken the spell. I didn't allow myself to think about the restraint I would have to exercise; I just cherished the expectation of being near him. My dad drove me to Tim's home by three o'clock.

There I was standing on the path leading to the house, torn apart by contradicting emotions. I hadn't been able to suppress the doubts for long. I looked at the house and couldn't find the courage to move on. The door opened, and Tim stood in the door, smiling an impossible smile. He must have waited for me, must have seen me lingering on the cobbled path. Tim looked breathtaking. He was wearing track pants and a t-shirt as always, but this simple clothing accentuated his athletic build so perfectly. His handsome face with the shining, blue eyes and his wild hair captivated me. The joy and kindness in his features made him appear even more attractive than I had remembered. I still hadn't moved. It was Tim who crossed the distance between us in a short sprint. He embraced me, his grip tender and firm at once.

He whispered into my ear. "I've missed you."

For some heartbeats, I couldn't answer. The sensation of his warmness and his smell filled out my mind, consumed it fully.

"I've missed you, too." I had closed my eyes and fought back the tears, for this had too much resemblance to a reunion of lovers.

"Come in, please."

I followed Tim inside. The luxury of the outside was reflected in the inside of the house. Light grey marble tiles covered the floor, extravagant wallpapers caught the eyes and a wardrobe made of beechwood was as practical as it was beautiful. I removed my shoes and put them on a rack especially set up for that purpose. Tim led me down a spiral staircase into the basement where his room was. 'Room' was definitely the wrong word. The whole basement had been made into a flat.

There was a bathroom, a working place with a computer, a combined living and bedroom. Even a small kitchenette had been installed. This flat was as large as ours, and Tim lived here alone. We entered the living room. At one end of the room, a large futon-style bed had been placed. The middle of the room was dominated by a couch and an armchair, both made of beige microfiber cloth.

Opposite of the couch, a large LCD TV had been mounted to the wall, complete with 7.1 sound system. All next-gen gaming consoles available on the market flanked the TV on two glass racks. Shelves full of CDs and other stuff filled the walls, but books were not to be found on them.

On the walls, posters of soccer players, whose names I didn't know, were the only decoration. The lighting consisted of pairs of steel cables crisscrossing the ceiling with halogen lamps attached to them. The same tiles as in the entrance hall made up the floor. The warmness under my feet revealed that floor heating had been installed. Tim's scent was hanging in the air, subtle but noticeable.

"Wow. Can I move in forever?"

"Sure."

I wished that this hadn't been a joke, but laughed nonetheless.

"Do you mind sharing the bed? I can get a sleeping bag for me from the attic if you do."

Being this close to him would mean sleepless nights for me, but I didn't have the heart to turn his proposal down. Looking into Tim's eyes, innocent and friendly, I simply couldn't.

"Of course not."

His eyes lit up. "Terrific. To be frank, no one in my family remembers where we put the sleeping bag.

Would've been quite a search."

We chuckled.

Tim's parents seemed to be very serious regarding our tutoring since they had bought a flip chart and some panels to fix the sheets to.

"I've promised my parents that we'd start today with the tutoring. They are still shopping for the weekend, but we'll have dinner by seven o'clock. My mom's pasta casseroles are legendary.

Afterwards, we can do whatever we want."

Tim was having so much fun already. It was infectious despite my ever-present worries.

I smiled. "Sounds like a plan."

We began the session recapping the math we had covered so far. As I had expected, Tim wasn't really in need for a revision course, but if he required the additional confidence, I would help him with it. At first, the distraction of Tim's presence made it difficult to teach. I retreated emotionally into myself again, brought a little more distance between us, avoided looking at him. Those were the hardest things to do, but I couldn't have functioned without resorting to them. This time, no doubt was left whether Tim noticed. When I looked at him, the muscles in his face were working and his eyes asked silent questions. I carried on since I didn't have another choice.

"Tim, dinner's ready. Come up here, you lazy ass."

The voice of a teenage girl sounded down the staircase. This had to be Tim's sister.

"You've heard the lovely words of my sister." Tim rolled his eyes.

Sometimes, I wished I had a brother or sister, even if he or she would call me lazy ass. I felt nervous because I was meeting Tim's family. Technically, I had already met his mother, though exchanging three sentences at the door step didn't qualify as meeting. I followed Tim up the stairs, and he led me into the dining room. Tim's dad and his sister were already seated at a large rectangular table made of a dark wood. When I entered the room, Tim's father got up from his chair and gave his daughter a reproachful look. With as much defiance as a teenager could muster, she rose, too. I blushed, embarrassed by so much attention.

"Hello, Marcel. It's so nice to finally meet you. Tim has told us so many things about you. Good things, of course."

Tim's dad was as tall as me. His light blond hair had already receded and had made place for a bald patch. Tim had his father's eyes and complexion. His face was friendly, but his demeanor showed that he was used to leading others. Tim had told me that his father worked as a project manager in an engineering business.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Eschner."

We shook hands.

"And this charming young lady is my daughter and Tim's sister, Diana."

She snorted and got another stern look from her father. She was the embodiment of a rebellious girl in puberty. Diana had dyed her hair pitch black and seemed to refrain from using brushes or combs.

A silver ring had been pierced through her nose. Her clothes were all black and torn in many places.

Like her mother, she had green eyes, which lit up with contempt now.

"You're the one who got some brain into Dumb, aren't you?"

From the corner of my eye, I could see Tim flinch at the cruel nickname from school.

"Tim isn't dumb at all. Quite the contrary. He just learns a little different than most other people do.

So don't call him that."

My retort had been reflexive. My voice had been much more intense than I had intended. When I remembered where I was, I turned beet-red again. Tim's grateful eyes fixed on me didn't help that condition. Diana made a sour face, while Tim's dad grinned.

"No one in this family dares to talk to her like that. Well done."

Tim's dad winked at Diana, and she grunted for reply.

Mrs. Eschner entered the room with a steaming casserole dish in her gloved hands. "Hi, Marcel. Take your seats, please."

"Hi, Mrs. Eschner."

She had changed the color of her hair to a dark brown with only the slightest hint of red. We all sat down. Tim's mom served the casserole while Tim's father filled small bowls with salad. The plates were made of fine China and the cutlery was silver. Placemats manufactured of an exquisite fabric I didn't recognize and white cloth napkins added to the formal mood. I wondered whether this was their everyday dinnerware or whether they saw me as an honored guest. Both possibilities felt strange. Tim's dad and mom sat at the ends of the table, Tim and I were seated on one side, Diana alone on the other.

"Enjoy your meal!" Mrs. Eschner beamed into the round.

I tasted the pasta dish, which was made with different kinds of vegetables, cream, cheese, and, unsurprisingly, pasta. It was excellent. I loved the texture and spiciness of it.

"This is really good, ma'am."

"Thank you." It was obvious from whom Tim had inherited his smile.

"Tim has told us about the night with the telescope. Is astronomy just a hobby or do you plan to work in that field?" Mr. Eschner looked at me with sincere interest.

"Actually, I'm thinking about studying physics. I'm very interested in the theoretical aspects of astronomy."

"I'm working together with many physicists in our projects. Very versatile thinkers."

"If someone is clever enough to find out how the universe works, then it's Marcel," Tim said.

I turned my head to face him. He had meant what he had said, though the rest of his family was laughing.

"Thank you," I whispered in Tim's direction.

"You see? Tim thinks very highly of you," Mr. Eschner said.

"He found out how to teach my dear brother. The world formula can't be much more difficult."

"Diana." Mrs. Eschner glared at her daughter, who just shrugged.

Mr. Eschner addressed me. "By the way, how did you find out how to teach Tim?"

It was strange that Tim hadn't told them. I recounted how my dad had come up with the idea of watching Tim during a soccer match and how I had puzzled out the correct teaching method.

"Interesting approach. Would be a nice topic for one of our HR seminars." Mrs. Eschner was serious about that. "Tim had many tutors, private and in school, but no one has ever bothered to find out how he's seeing things. Many times, we have asked Tim whether he wants to stay at the Gymnasium.

He was quite stubborn about it."

Tim squirmed in his chair when his mother talked about this sensitive topic. I had wondered before why he had not left school, but had suspected his parents pressured him to stay. Now that I knew it had been Tim's own decision, I liked his parents even more. During the rest of the dinner, we small talked the time away. After some ice cream for dessert, Tim's parents relieved us from kitchen duty, and we returned to the basement.

Chapter 18

Tim was half-lying on the couch, while I sat cross-legged in the armchair. Soft music played in the background. We talked for nearly two hours, bringing each other up to date. I left the talking mostly to Tim, for my break experience hadn't been that great. Furthermore, it took considerable effort to keep my emotions under control. That was one of the reasons I chose the armchair: It allowed a greater physical distance between Tim and me. My gaze wandered around in the room but avoided him. We had been silent for some minutes. I felt Tim's attention directed at me.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice wasn't as resolved as it used to be, but now that he had started, he wouldn't back out.

"You're my best friend." Not exactly an answer to his question, but Tim got the gist.

"Have I done anything wrong?"

I turned to him. His face was strained, his eyes intently looking into mine. Though he was almost prone, his body was tense.

"Of course not."

"You don't touch me anymore; you don't even look at me anymore. You're here now, but at the same time, you're not. It's not making much sense what I'm saying, is it?"

Unfortunately, it made perfect sense. I closed my eyes. The coward in me was screaming at me to get the hell out of there. This time I wouldn't give in. It had to stop right here and now.

"I'm not sure whether you want to hear the truth."

"You're my best friend."

All heat drained from my body, and it felt like ants were crawling everywhere inside of me. "You've done nothing wrong. It's me who should be ashamed." I paused.

My eyes were still closed and the darkness allowed me to pretend that I was somewhere else... that I was not telling Tim what I was feeling for him.

"We're friends, but I want us to be more, much more than that. You're right. I'm not touching you; I'm not looking at you, and I'm shielding me from you. But those are the only things that keep me from falling for you head over feet." I took a deep breath. "I'm standing on the brink of an abyss.

Letting down my guard means taking that last step."

Though I hadn't dared to open my eyes yet, I knew Tim was standing in front of me. His heat penetrated the coldness inside of me, his aroma magnified by his proximity.

"You think you're protecting me by retreating like this?"

I nodded since my voice didn't obey me any longer.

"Marcel, I beg you to stop it, stop it, please. You're keeping away from me the only thing I really need - you."

I opened my eyes. Tim had fallen to his knees.

Tears flowed down his cheeks and pain marred his face. "You want us to be more than friends. For me, you're already much more than that. I love you."

I couldn't breathe and felt dizzy. I trembled all over. My brain was unable to process what Tim had said.

I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. "But you're straight!"

"Straight, gay. These are only words. You know, I'm not good with words, but I'm good with emotions. I know what I feel for you. It scared me out of my wits when I discovered my longing for you, but I've never been so sure about anything in my life." Tim laid his head on my lap. "I've never dared to think you could feel like this for me after all the things I've done to you. And here you are, saying you have those feelings. Believe me. You have to believe me."

"Tim, are you sure? If I take that last step and you change your mind, I'll fall to death. I truly will."

Tim raised his head from my lap and fixed my eyes with that deep blueness. He put his hands gently onto my cheeks. "I'll catch you. I won't allow any harm to come to you."

I rested my hands on Tim's, which still kept holding my face. Our eyes locked. It was easy now to say it.

"I love you."

I let go of all the barriers I had erected around me. There was no need for them any longer. I wanted Tim to be as close as possible, physically and emotionally. I couldn't hold back my own tears any more. With his thumbs, Tim wiped them away, so gently, that more of them followed.

"Don't cry."

He took his hands off my face and closed the distance between us. He kissed away the tears before lowering his lips on mine. I tasted the salt of my own tears, but I was soon overwhelmed by the sensation of his soft kiss. His tongue found mine in a tender search, and they caressed each other in a delicate dance. I lost track of how long we kissed. Eventually, Tim moved back. In a slow movement, he got rid of his t-shirt. His smooth skin shimmered like velvet in the dim light of the room. The muscles in his arms and chest worked when he discarded the shirt to the side.

"Touch me... please." Desire resonated in his voice.

My hands still remembered the restrictions my mind had imposed on them. It was an act of will to bring them close to Tim's chest. I laid my hands on Tim's pecs. I'd never felt such an intensity of touch. Too many impressions asked for my attention at once. Tim was soft and firm at the same moment, a lustful paradox. The heat was almost searing. My palms brushed against his nipples, causing Tim to gasp sharply. Without hurry, I moved my hands outwards and down the front side of his arms. My fingertips worked like magnifying glasses, taking in every detail of his defined musculature. At his wrists, I brought my hands to the back side of his arms and slid back up over his triceps to his shoulders. Tim had closed his eyes and a blissful smile formed on his lips. I continued my discovery tour of his torso by gliding down to his abs. Tim had a well-developed six-pack, which I petted with my hands. He sighed with delight. Tim's body was hairless, a subtle treasure trail leading down from his navel into his pants the only exception. I wasn't bold enough to follow it yet. Tim opened his eyes and, still smiling, reached for the edge of my sweater. I laid my hands on his.

"I feel ashamed of myself." Almost too soft a whisper to be heard.

Tim put his index finger on my lips. "Shhh. You're beautiful in every regard."

I kissed his finger and lifted my hands. Tim removed my sweater in one smooth movement. He touched me on my shoulders and massaged them in circling motions. Waves of pleasure rippled through my body. I panted. With eyes shut, my head slumped to the right while I pulled up my shoulder. I rubbed my cheek over Tim's hand. His other hand slid down my body. It stopped on my lower abdomen, and I felt how he tensed up. I opened my eyes. Tim was looking down at his hand, which was resting on the exact spot where he had given me my last bruises. The sadness in his eyes tore my heart apart. I lifted up his chin.

When our eyes were on level, he spoke with a broken voice. "Forgive me."

I intertwined my fingers with his resting on my belly.

"I once feared the touch of your hands. Your touch meant pain. Now, your touch means more pleasure than I've ever felt. There is nothing to forgive anymore."

"Come."

The sadness had been replaced by gratefulness, the very gratefulness which had already moved me so many times. Tim got up from the floor, pulling me from the armchair. He took my hand and led me to the bed. Tim opened the button-fly of my jeans. Most carefully, he removed them before getting rid of his track pants as well. We left it at that, still wearing our underwear. I didn't mind, because this evening was about closeness, not sex. We had all the time in the world to discover everything at our pace. Tim got down on the bed, gently tugging me along. We kissed while our bodies entangled with each other. I was aware of every detail surrounding me: the softness of the sheets beneath me, the warm weight of Tim upon me, his fragrance filling my perception, and his tongue exploring me.

My lips were getting raw, but I didn't want it to stop. Holding fast to each other and with our mouths locked, we drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 19

When I woke up next morning, I marveled at the wonderful dream I had. Then I realized that Tim's legs were still wound around me. I was lying on his left arm and his right arm was draped around my waist. His body was snuggled up against my back. Tim's breath brushed over my neck, giving me shivers now that it had come to my attention. It had been for real then.

"Good morning," Tim said.

He had felt my trembling. I turned around. His face was pure bliss.

"Good morning. Sorry for waking you."

"Actually, I've been awake for two hours. Just spent them watching you and being afraid that if I let go of you, the illusion will end."

"There's nothing imaginary about this." I gave Tim a small peck on the lips.

When I moved back, Tim had shut his eyes and was showing a faint smile. "Absolutely not illusionary."

We were both lying on our backs, looking up at the ceiling. My happiness, which had been lost for the past weeks, had returned. Even more of it than there had ever been before.

Still, a question was nagging at me. "What now?"

"I don't understand."

"We're more than friends, more than best friends. What are we?"

I knew the answer I'd like to hear but wasn't sure whether Tim was ready for it. He chuckled. Once again, not the reaction I had expected.

"Now it's you who can't believe that it is for real."

Tim propped himself on his arm and looked at me, his gaze full of sincerity. "I meant what I said. I love you. I want to laugh with you. I want to cry with you. I want to be your boyfriend. I want to be your lover." His eyes became even more serious. "I hope you feel the same."

I took his face in my hands. "Of course, I feel the same. There's nothing else I want."

After a moment, I added meekly, "Sorry for asking, but this is all new for me. I just had to be sure."

"Then I hope this will clarify everything." He lowered his lips down on mine.

I got lost in the careful touch of his tongue. Tim let go of me.

"I'm not yet convinced." My eyes were twinkling.

Laughing, he resumed his persuasion.

Our lips were still connected when Diana's voice frightened me close to death.

"Hey, you two fags. Breakfast is ready."

I had completely forgotten we were not alone in the house. In terror, I looked toward the door, but no one was standing there.

"Calm down. She's just pulling our legs. No one ever comes down here. They respect my privacy. At least, when I've got a guest." Tim was smiling.

When the first shock had worn off, I grinned back.

Tim came close to my ear. "I wouldn't mind if she saw us like this. Perhaps she'd shut up for an hour or two then."

I laughed. "One of the many advantages of having a boyfriend."

"My boyfriend... still sounds too good to be true." Tim's gaze turned misty-eyed.

"You better believe it, big boy. Now, you're stuck to me."

"Well, that's handy because I wouldn't let you go anyway."

It had started as friendly banter, but I had a pleasant, tingling feeling all over me now. With a benign smile, Tim made a small movement with his head toward the door.

"Let's go. My parents don't like waiting."

We dressed and joined his family in the dining room. The table was full with things that looked absolutely delicious. Fresh rolls, different sorts of bread, various types of ham, salami, and different German wursts filled the air with mouth-watering aromas. Coffee, tea, and orange juice were offered as well.

"Good morning, you two. What is it? It seems like both of you are glowing." Mrs. Eschner was beaming at us.

Her innocent question had brought back the terror I had felt before. Tim looked shaken, too. I decided it was best not to lie, but to creatively tune down the level of detail.

"Tim and I had a very interesting evening. We brought each other up to scratch. There were so many things we didn't know about each other."

Tim was biting on his lower lip, barely holding back a fit of laughter. I was a little proud of myself for this imaginative summary of last night's events.

Mrs. Eschner was oblivious. "We're so glad that Tim has finally found a friend like you."

"Thanks, ma'am."

"So what are your plans for today?"

"We've got six hours' worth of material to review in history. For the evening, we don't have any plans."

"You two are taking the tutoring seriously. That's wonderful. You can have the car for tonight. Young people like you shouldn't stay at home on a Saturday night, and I think we can spare some euros for that cause."

Mr. Eschner acknowledged her proposal with a nod and a smile. Diana had just opened her mouth when he addressed her.

"Of course, you'll get some money, too, Diana."

She gave another of her grunts, which seemed to express her gratitude this time.

"Thank you, Mom and Dad."

"Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Eschner, thanks a lot."

We had been actually sent away by his parents on our first date. Tim and I looked at each other, grinning like we lost it.

After the breakfast, we went down to the basement again.

"There were so many things we didn't know about each other?" Tim was cackling. "Oh Marcel, by the way, did you know I love you?"

"What a coincidence! I love you, too, Tim."

We snorted with laughter. When I could breathe again, I wanted to get ready for the tutoring.

"I'd like to take a shower before we start. Okay?" I said.

"I had thought about showering, too."

"No problem. Wanna go first?"

Tim directed his eyes to the ground. "What about going together?" He looked up again with a shy look in his eyes, his head tilted slightly to the side, his arms pressed to his sides.

His suggestion was tempting and terrifying at once, but that look was so cute he could have asked me to run around the house naked and I would have agreed.

I extended my hand. "Let's go."

Tim grasped my hand and pulled me with him to the bathroom. Shyness had made place for desire.

We stood in the middle of the white-tiled room. Tim looked at me with a tender gleam in his eyes, but I was torn apart by apprehension and playful curiosity. Objectively, I was the one with more experience in man-to-man sex, but this was so different than my encounter with Rainer that it qualified as another first time.

With a soft expression on his face, Tim addressed me. "Don't worry. Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"See? I'll let no harm come to you."

Tim closed the distance between us and embraced me with utmost gentleness. He put his cheek on mine, and for a long moment, we stood just like this. The closeness we shared drove away all my doubts. Whatever was about to happen, it was nothing to be worried about but something to be welcomed with open arms.

Tim's breath breezed into my ear. "Do you want to undress me?"

Putting it as a question showed me how much he was respecting my sensitivities, showed me how much he cared. If there had been any concern left, it was swept away by the strength of my emotions for him.

"Yes," I whispered.

Tim made a step back. His friendly expression deepened. Like me, Tim was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. I put my hands on the lower edge of his white t-shirt and pulled it up slowly. He raised his arms to assist me. I discarded the piece of cloth to the ground. I would never grow tired of looking at Tim's body because each time I discovered a new detail in this powerful perfection. I couldn't resist touching his pecs, adding to his delight as much as to mine. My hands slid down on his front side. I grabbed the waistband of his grey track pants and, while going down on my knees, pulled it down with me. I had marveled at his strong legs when watching him play soccer the first time.

Close up, the impression was more intense by a hundredfold. Tim stepped out of the pants, and I shoved them to the side. Once again, I couldn't fight the urge to touch him. I laid my hands on Tim's wiry thighs, exploring the structure of his muscles with my fingers. His breath came in short gasps and he closed his eyes. My hands followed down the line of his legs and moved backside to his calves. While his skin felt like silk, his muscles felt like iron. The realization of this sweet contradiction gave me goose-bumps all over. I reached his ankles and removed his socks, one after another. I noted in a curious tangent thought that I had never touched another person's feet before, but these were Tim's feet and holding them didn't feel strange at all. Only one piece of clothing was left. I had avoided looking at the white briefs. It wasn't exactly fear that had kept me away, but the knowledge I was about to cross a last boundary. The impressive bulge in front of me left no doubt that Tim had enjoyed that striptease so far. I bought a little more time by reaching around him and grabbing his butt cheeks through the fabric. He tensed them, groaning softly. I moved my hands up to the small of his back before tracing the waistband of his briefs to the front. Leaving my left hand in position, I lifted my right hand off and put my fingertips back on him just below his navel. My fingers followed down the treasure trail, accompanied by Tim's continuous moaning. I arrived at the edge of his briefs. My other hand joined the slow descent and finally freed Tim's cock from its woven prison. It was fully erect and stood away from Tim almost straight with only a hint of an upwards bend. It was uncut and slightly longer, as well as thicker than my own. Like every male teenager in puberty, I had taken my own measures: eighteen centimeters long and four centimeters in girth. Estimating from there, Tim's dick was something like twenty by five centimeters. Thick veins ran across it and its color was a notch darker than his tanned skin. It was surrounded by short, curly pubic hair of the same dark blond color as the rest of his hair. Below it, two full balls dangled, the left one hanging a little lower than the right one. Like his body, his nuts were hairless and had a velvety shimmer. I was overwhelmed. For some heartbeats, I just knelt there and stared in awe. Tim's crotch was perfect, down to that triangle shape formed by his muscles. I noticed a different quality to Tim's scent down here, which was muskier and more male. That aroma aroused me more than anything ever had in my life. With trembling fingers, I reached out for Tim's member and brushed the whole length of the shaft with my fingertips. The paradox of softness and firmness hit me again with even greater intensity.

A muffled cry escaped Tim's mouth. "Slow, slow. Or it's over before it has started."

Though Tim was chuckling, I felt empowered by the thought of how much pleasure a simple touch of mine had brought him.

"Get up, please. It's my turn."

With reluctance, I complied. Tim's face was shining with lustful expectation. In the same teasing pace, Tim mirrored what I had done before. He removed my hoodie, my jeans, and then my socks.

Where I had touched him again and again on my way down, he had quick pecks for my whole body.

The result was the same: Inside my briefs, I had become rock hard. Ripples of pleasure accompanied each touch of his lips. Tim's approach in removing my underwear involved his mouth as well. He grabbed the edge of my briefs with his teeth and dragged them down. When my cock sprang free, it rubbed against the stubble on Tim's cheek. Now, I understood his previous reaction. Though that touch lasted for a fraction of a second only, I came within a whisker of spurting cum all over Tim's face. A sharp moan accompanied that sensation.

Tim got up and breathed into my ear, "Your fingers did the same to me."

Tim refrained from embracing me for once. If his cock had touched mine, we'd both have been pushed over the edge for sure, and neither of us wanted it to end too soon.

"Come." Tim took my hand.

We both entered the half-round shower stall, which had been installed in the right corner opposite the door. It was large enough to comfortably accommodate both of us. Tim turned on the water and the warm stream flowed over us. The drops of water glistened on Tim's body, giving him an almost supernatural sparkle. He handed me a washcloth and was holding one himself. Tim applied a small amount of shower gel on both before we started to clean each other. Arms, torsos, legs, and backs, keeping clear of the more sensual regions of our bodies at first. Tim's hand with the washcloth rested on the small of my back.

He looked into my eyes, the water cascading down his face. "May I?"

That simple question took my breath away. I nodded, unable to form coherent words. Tim lowered his hand down on my ass cheeks in circling motions. Then, he moved the washcloth down the crack of my butt and gently scrubbed its whole length. The intimacy of this act was almost more than I could bear. Tears coursed down my cheeks but went unnoticed in the myriad of water drops. I wanted Tim to feel the same, to feel my devotion. I mirrored his movements and watched his face.

Since I knew what to look for, I saw his tears. With the thumb of my other hand, I wiped them away.

We didn't say a word and smiled at each other. Our crotches hadn't been taken care of yet. Knowing the result of that, we shampooed our hair first. Simultaneously, we put one arm around the other's neck. We started to clean our balls, both of us moaning and panting. When the fabric of the washcloth touched the skin of our cocks, it took only one stroke and we both started to shoot cum onto each other's belly. Never in my life had I come with such force before. Load after load hit Tim's muscled abdomen. I had to hold fast with my hand around his neck, because I felt dizzy and stars were bursting before my eyes. Waves of tension propagated through my body, starting in my crotch.

My dick had become hypersensitive; even the drops of water falling down on it caused sensations of unparalleled strength. The tightening of Tim's arm around my neck made it clear that he was experiencing the same turmoil of emotions. When I was able to see clearly again, I watched the last strands of our semen mingling in the whirl of the drain, washed away by the stream of water. Tim and I looked up at each other at the same moment. Tim's face echoed my own feelings: sensual exhaustion combined with indescribable bliss. We pulled each other into a tight hug and kissed almost violently. We let go of each other. Tim shut off the water. Unable to talk, we stepped out of the stall. Tim stood behind me and draped a towel around me. With tender motions, he dried me, kissing my neck time and again. Then it was up to me to return the favor. We dressed in fresh clothes, track pants and t-shirts for both of us. After brushing my hair, we left for the living room. We still hadn't found our voices again.

We sat down on the couch together. At first, opposite of each other, but soon Tim invited me to rest in his arms by spreading them. I turned around and leaned against him. Tim kept playing with my long, damp hair, while his other hand rested on my stomach.

He broke the silence. "That was amazing. I didn't know that my body was capable of having feelings like this." He kissed the top of my head.

"I'm a little afraid. If undressing and touching our cocks can do this, what will real sex do with us?"

Never before had I spoken about sex so openly, but after sharing this experience with Tim, there was no need to keep anything unsaid between us.

"In my book, that was real sex." Tim sniggered like he was twelve years old.

It was infectious and I joined in.

He was the first to speak again, "But I know what you mean. We'll just take it slow, one step after another. Holding you like this, that's all I need for the moment." He planted another kiss on the top of my head.

I intertwined my fingers with his resting on my belly. "Yeah. I could spend the whole day lying here and wouldn't miss a thing." My gaze fell on the flip chart and I sighed. "Business before pleasure?"

Tim's answer was a low rumble of laughter that I felt more than I heard it.

"Of course, Mr. Ritter, teacher, sir."

Chapter 20

In comparison to the session on Friday, our tutoring lesson was a pleasure. Now that I could relax again in Tim's presence, more than in any other lesson before, teaching him was real fun. Tim was more focused than ever, though I had feared that we'd distract each other. Despite repeated touches, kisses, and a sandwich break, we were finished with the material at five P.M.

"I was a good pupil, Mr. Ritter. Do I get a reward?" Tim was sitting in one corner of the couch and was grinning at me.

I got onto the couch on all fours and deliberately crawled toward him. "Mr. Eschner, we've indeed made great advances today. A special commendation is only appropriate."

Tim lay beneath me; we were at eye level.

He made an innocent face. "Mr. Ritter! Are you taking advantage of me?"

"Mr. Eschner, I was hoping you'd take advantage of me."

"If that's what you want."

Tim slung his arms around me and, in a swift motion, rolled me on my back, pinning me to the couch with his weight. He fixed my head with his hands before he lowered his lips on mine. I welcomed his tongue, letting it continue the exploration it had begun last evening. After a while, Tim got off me.

"I must have been crushing you, sorry." He caressed my cheek with the back of his hand.

"For me, it felt wonderful."

I looked at my watch. It was some minutes past six. We had made out more than an hour.

"Wow. You can really make one forget time." I chuckled.

"Speaking of time. Do you have any idea where we should spend the evening and my parents' money?"

We chuckled together. A sudden realization made me stop cold.

"What's the matter?" Tim asked his voice thick with worry.

"Outside of here. What are we outside of here?"

Tim looked thunderstruck. Like me, he had forgotten about the rest of the world. The muscles in his face were working hard. I gave him time to consider this, though I was afraid of his answer.

"This is our private thing. It's nobody's concern."

Tim looked at me and shock formed on his face when he saw my disappointment. He drew me close to him and held me tight. "That has nothing to do with you. I love you! I love you more than my own life. I'm proud of you being my boyfriend." He lowered his voice. "But I'm not ready to tell anyone.

Especially not at school."

A trembling boy had replaced the powerful man. I put my arms around him, and now it was me holding him.

"It's okay." I tenderly rocked him. "Tim, listen. I do understand. It has taken me over three years to come to terms with me being gay. Even today, I feel insecure at times. Take your time. Take as much time as you need."

The shaking subsided.

"But sooner or later, we've got to tell our families. Christina and Daniel are trustworthy, too. Not today, not next week, but we owe them to be honest."

Tim looked up at me, his eyes ablaze with affection, and he nodded. "Not today, not next week, but we'll tell them. I promise." He cuddled close to me again. "I don't deserve someone like you."

"You do. Of course, you do." I gave him a small peck on his head.

"Strangers!" His head shot up.

"What?"

"I wouldn't mind being seen by strangers. We've got the car. We can get as far away as we like."

"Still, someone from school could see us."

Many of our fellow pupils had a driving license. Some of them even had their own cars.

"No risk, no fun." Tim looked into my eyes and grinned slyly.

He hadn't given the answer to the original question I had liked to hear, but for the time being, I could live with this arrangement. I kissed him on his lips to get that grin off his face.

We still had to decide where to go. Tim had made up his mind about a safety range and settled for a minimum drive of one hour. We quickly ruled out the cinema because the movies playing at the moment didn't interest us. Going out for dinner felt a little too formal. Neither of us was much into drinking. Moreover, alcohol and the car would be a no-go anyway.

"Wait a moment!" Tim hurried off.

He returned with his laptop. He booted it up and started surfing the Web, keeping the computer turned away from me.

"What are you looking for?"

"Patience." Tim smiled at me. "Ah, here. Come."

I sat down beside him. He had opened the homepage of a gay party that took place on every first Saturday of the month.

"'Queer & Go'? Are you sure? Don't you think a gay party is a little too, well, gay for you?"

"You're cute when you're worried about me." He patted my knee. "But think about it. How many openly gay pupils do you know in our school?"

"Umm. None?"

"Exactly. Additionally, the party takes place a one-hour drive in the opposite direction of Cologne.

Going to Cologne does take as long as going there. So if anyone wants to do gay partying, Cologne will be the first choice. And if we meet someone we know, that someone is likely to be interested in some discretion too."

"Hiding in plain sight."

"Cool, isn't it? If this place isn't gay friendly, no place will be. Sounds like the perfect proving grounds for me."

"Shouldn't I be the one persuading you to try some gay entertainment?" I was jesting, but Tim's features were serious.

"I want to prove to you that I'm really trying to accept being gay."

"That's the sweetest thing someone has ever done for me."

"You're worth it."

I crooked my finger and motioned Tim to come close. I kissed the living daylights out of him, putting all of my passion into those kisses.

Chapter 21

We had planned to leave at ten P.M. and started to dress up half an hour before departure. The decision not to shower together had been easy because we both feared we'd never leave the house if we did. Tim used his parents' bathroom upstairs, whereas I spruced myself up in the basement. My mom held the superstition that washing clothes between Christmas and New Year brought bad luck.

So I hadn't had much choice for the clothes to bring here. Among those were two pieces of clothing which I had bought months ago but hadn't had the nerve to wear yet. Their style was so untypical for me. Most of my clothes were at least one size larger than necessary, but the new ones were perfect fits. I was staring at my reflection in the mirror. The pair of dark blue jeans with a shiny effect snuggled firmly to my rear and flowed smoothly down my legs. The grey t-shirt with maroon text on the chest clung to my skinny torso, a straight shape from my shoulders down to my waist. For once, I hadn't parted my hair in the middle but had moved the part to the left. I couldn't say whether I liked what I saw or not. It was just too different from what I was used to. Since I didn't have another choice, I'd have to stick with it. With a sigh, I left the bathroom and made my way to the living room.

Tim had already returned. With his back to the door, he was rummaging through one of the shelves.

He had chosen another one of those tight jeans and long sleeve combinations that I loved on him.

"I want you to hear this CD on the way to the... holy shit!" Tim turned around and dropped the CD cover to the ground.

My heart sank. "It's awful, isn't it?"

Tim just stood there for a long moment, mouth gaping open. A smile found its way to his lips. "You look absolutely breathtaking."

"Stop making fun of me!"

Tim crossed the distance between us in a swift motion. He took my face into his hands and made me look into his eyes. "I'm not mocking you. You look nothing but gorgeous." The sincerity in his eyes was for real.

"Sorry," I said with a subdued voice.

"It's my fault. I should have told you how handsome you are. Should tell you over and over again."

"Tim, it's..."

"...the truth. Nothing but the truth." He caressed my left cheek with his hand. "Time to rub the gay community's nose in the glamour of my boyfriend."

I smiled at him. "I love you."

His kiss contained all the answers I needed.

The party took place in an old factory building somewhere in the middle of nowhere. A patch of brownfield had been declared a makeshift parking lot with much more cars in it than I had expected.

The muffled beat of dance music hammered through the night. Of all possible feelings, anxiety had won out. I had to be the most boring eighteen-year-old queer in Western Europe since I was about to visit my first gay party ever. Tim had been so enthusiastic about coming here that I hadn't had the heart to tell him. If it hadn't been him chatting away happily by my side, I'd already be on my way back.

"Time for my first lesson."

"What do you..." Before I could finish my question, Tim slung his arm around my waist.

"Lesson one: public touching." He chuckled.

I put my arm around him as well. "You're such a devoted pupil."

I chimed in with laughter. We entered the building. The party was hosted by a youth organization that offered many spare-time activities for gay youngsters. Behind a table with different flyers on it, two members of the organization collected the entrance fee. With hearty smiles, they welcomed us, placed a stamp on our hands, and told us to have fun. With my heart beating fast, we stepped into the large hall.

The volume of the music was overwhelming. My gaze fell on the large, rectangular dance floor first where a mass of bodies wafted in harmonious disorder. I hadn't seen so many attractive young men in one spot before, and a strong feeling of being in the wrong place tied up my chest. Around the dance floor, like satellites in orbit, small groups of guys were standing at tables, laughing, chatting, and flirting. On the left hand side, a long counter served as a bar. Three men were tending to the wishes of the guests. On the right hand side, two more members of the organization took care of the checkroom. After leaving our jackets, Tim pulled me gently to the bar, still arm in arm. If he hadn't been guiding me, I'd have stood rooted to the ground. Tim's smile betrayed him. He was proud for having come so far, but something was on his mind. Tim ordered two diet colas.

He turned to me, still smiling. "What do you think?"

"I've got the urge to run away, but overall it's very nice."

Tim laughed. "Yeah, that sums it up pretty well."

That he was feeling the same gave me a little peace. I mustered a small smile myself. Our colas arrived.

Tim raised the glass. "To the daredevils we are."

"To the daredevils."

We both snorted with laughter. Sipping on our drinks, we watched the scenery together. I had just turned back to Tim when a light blond guy our age shoved himself into the space between Tim and me. His t-shirt dangled from his belt, and his well-built torso glistened with sweat. He wasn't as massive as Tim, but he had a swimmer's build. He was handsome, with a face that could smile back at you from a magazine cover. The guy was facing Tim, and though he hadn't actually touched me, his closeness felt uncomfortable. I moved back a step.

"I saw you standing here and thought such a hottie like you could need a little company." The blond boy tilted his head to the left.

"My boyfriend is all the company I need," Tim said with a dry voice.

The guy didn't turn away from Tim. So, he had been aware of my presence before.

"You can do better than this skinny nerd, much better." He drew his fingers over his own chest.

Tim moved close to the ear of the blond but was looking directly into my eyes. "In school, I'm on probation for violent behavior. I think I'll be thrown out of school if you don't piss off at once. Got it?"

"Your loss, bitch." He went on the run.

Tim's eyes told me he felt miserable. "Such an asshole. I'm sorry."

"First, it's not your fault. Second, I've learnt an important lesson: I'm not jealous at all. That's because with you as my boyfriend, there is no reason to be."

My words had replaced the misery in his eyes with joy.

"To be frank, I'm jealous, though I know I can trust you without reserve... but I don't trust them." He indicated the room. "If anyone looks at you the wrong way, I'll make a jigsaw puzzle out of his bones."

"I shouldn't think so, but that's incredible cute. In a Neanderthal kind of way." I planted a quick peck on his cheek.

He grinned.

"Given the experience with blondie, you won't have much need to be jealous." I had no hard feelings about my sentence, for it was the truth.

"You still don't have a clue, do you?" He grabbed me gently by my shoulders, turned me around, and pointed at three different gorgeous guys. "This is my top three for a facial reconstruction treatment.

And there are many more."

"They're staring at you."

"They're definitely not staring at me. Remember, I'm quite good at observing."

I faced Tim. For the second time that evening, his eyes left no doubt that he was serious about what he had said. The idea that someone was interested in me felt strange, but to be honest, I hadn't been in any situations to find out; to be even more honest, I had feared to find out.

The corners of my mouth rose. "Let them stare. For me, there is only one man in this room. And this man looking at me with that gleam in his eyes is the only thing that counts."

Before I knew what was happening, I was pressed against Tim's body, his arms slung around me.

"Marcel," he breathed into my ear.

The world faded away. The loud music, the hundreds of other people, the mixture of different colognes and sweat had retreated to give Tim and me a space of our own. For a few moments, I was at peace with everything. Even when reality forced its way back into my perception, some of the calmness remained. Tim released me. I was sure my face had the same dreamy expression as Tim's.

While my mind was at peace, my body was electrified.

"I need to dance or I'll burn up." I grabbed Tim by his hand and pulled him along.

I turned to him and saw him chuckling, the sound swallowed by the dirty bass of the music. I grinned back. On the dance floor, Tim and I kept close to each other, our bodies touching more often than not. For the first time, I understood what Felipe meant by 'following the music.' I lost myself in the beat and let it dictate my movements. I had noticed the grace of Tim's body before, and it transported well to the dance floor. Without words, we had found harmony, a way to complement each other's motions. When I looked at my watch the next time, it was three o'clock. With short nods, we decided to leave. On the way to the car, I snuggled against Tim. Even in the car during our one-hour trip back, I rested my head on his shoulder. When we had arrived at Tim's home, we both were exhausted. With no clothes at all this time, we ended up in bed like the day before. Holding each other, we kissed until we fell asleep.

Chapter 22

When I awoke shortly before noon, the question whether I had been dreaming was obsolete. Tim's erection was poking into my belly and very effectively eradicated all possibilities for doubt. I stifled a laugh. Tim was still sound asleep. I backed up a little, pausing when he stirred. The view of his bare chest with the velvet skin inspired the raunchier parts of me. I lowered my lips on his left nipple and gently nibbled at it with my teeth.

"Don't stop!" Tim gasped.

He obviously didn't mind my wakening method. With soft kisses accompanied by caresses, I made my way to his navel. Tim was almost purring, the sound vibrating through his body. I followed his treasure trail, but this time I used my tongue. I folded back the blanket, my lips never losing contact with his skin. I arrived at the base of his cock. Tim's musk filled my nose and I inhaled it deeply. That odor alone was capable of sending me into frenzy. I tilted my head toward his body and let my tongue glide over the length of the shaft while gently breathing on the moist trail. Tim's body tensed and the purring became a groaning. At the head of his dick, the aroma in my nose and on my tongue was so intense that I nearly lost my mind. I continued my roaming around the entire girth of the mushroom shape.

"You don't have to..." The last part of his sentence was lost in a gurgling sound.

I had swallowed Tim's cockhead while he was speaking. I didn't need to, but I wanted to. I pursed my lips and in a bobbing motion I let them slide over the soft skin. Avoiding to touch anything with my teeth, I wrapped my tongue around the tip. In my mouth, Tim's cockhead seemed to be so much larger, like viewed through a magnifying glass. I didn't dare to take much more than the head, but that was no problem for Tim. His moaning increased by leaps every minute. I realized my hands had continued stroking his body without conscious thought. Though I was rock hard myself, my foremost desire was to please Tim. I grew bolder with my exploration, trying multiple angles, adding suction and experimenting with different positions of my tongue. I found out that Tim was most sensitive at the very rim of the head. Every caress there made him shudder all over. All too soon, I felt how Tim's body tensed up.

"I, I..." He pulled out his cock.

Just as it was out of my mouth, Tim shot his first load and hit me square on my cheek. To my own amazement, it didn't feel gross. I even had considered letting him cum into my mouth. The thought had lingered for the fraction of a second only, and I was glad I hadn't done it, but still the idea was intriguing. Given more time... the wetness and the sharp smell of the second and third wad of sperm landing on my face brought me back to reality. Tim threw back his head. With eyes shut and an exhausted expression on his face, he panted. Two more spurts, as powerful as the first ones, followed. His breathing deepened and he brought his head up again.

After two more breaths, he opened his eyes. When he saw my face, he was close to panic. "I'm sorry, sorry. I, let me, I'll..."

"Tim. Everything's alright." My hands found his. "It's okay. Much more than okay." I grinned and couldn't keep the sauciness away.

"You love me that much that this mess is okay?" Tim looked puzzled.

As always when he was thinking, his facial musculature worked overtime.

"Of course, I love you that much. Even more."

His expression softened. "Let me clean you, okay?"

I nodded. Tim produced a tissue from a box by the bed. With gentle wipes, he removed the remnants of his lust while holding my other cheek with his hand. When he was finished, he drew me into his arms and huddled his head against mine.

"Thank you. For everything," Tim said in the faintest whisper.

I patted the back of his head and nestled even closer to him. There was no need for further words.

By one P.M., hunger had won out, so we went upstairs for a late breakfast. Tim's parents had refrained from waking us up earlier, and both of us were grateful for that. After our meal and a little freshening up, we started our lesson. Physics was the subject. The learning session was effective, and we progressed quickly through the topics, but many times I caught Tim looking at me and not at the flip chart. When he realized that I was aware of his staring, he smiled apologetically and his attention returned to the problem at hand. Despite the interruptions, we finished just before dinner at seven.

The last meal together with Tim's family was as nice as the ones before, but I wondered whether they would be as friendly if they knew about Tim and me.

Back in the basement, I lay in Tim's arms on the couch again.

"I wish that this weekend never ended," I said.

We wouldn't be able to spend as much time together after that day. We'd have the afternoons, evenings, and the weekends, but sleeping together in one bed, waking up together would be a rare feat. As much as we wanted to, I couldn't stay here every weekend, and Tim visiting me was out of question.

"We'll find ways. I know we'll do." Tim's confidence was contagious, but knowing how it could be wouldn't make things easier.

I pushed those thoughts aside. Worrying about the future was moot when just right now everything was perfect. I just enjoyed Tim's presence for some minutes. My mind strayed around, without purpose, but came up with an interesting point.

"When did you know that I was more to you than a friend?" I turned my head to look at Tim.

"Good question. I knew that we had something special going on after Fall Break, but I had no name for it. Not yet." He pondered over it a little more. "To be frank, I thought we had a very deep friendship at that time. No one has ever treated me with so much respect and friendliness. When you started to retreat, I realized how much I missed the touching, your admiring looks, and your closeness. These feelings got stronger over Christmas and New Year. I finally admitted to myself that I wanted to touch you as much as I wanted you to touch me and that it was me who needed you.

Please don't be angry, but this was quite a shock."

I squeezed his hand to show him I understood.

His smile was also carrying in his voice. "The shock was gone quickly, but the nagging doubts whether you could love me back replaced them. I wondered whether that was the reason for you shying away from me: the realization that you could never forgive me."

I brought his right hand to my lips and kissed it with tenderness. I wanted to reassure him that our past was just that.

Tim let his hand slide down my chin. "When you were standing there in our garden, it was almost too much for me. I thought you'd know my feelings the first moment you saw me."

So it had been a reunion of lovers then.

"You telling me that you felt the same here in my room was the happiest moment in my life."

We kept silent for a minute.

"When did you know?" Tim asked.

"There has been a certain sexual tension almost from the start. Though, I didn't recognize it as that.

Do you remember the hug after the math exam?"

"Of course. Something happened there."

"I denied my feelings, explained them away. The moment I really fell in love with you was right after Laika's death when you were resting in my arms. There I saw your true self and couldn't help but love you. It took another sleepless night to find that out."

Another minute of silence.

Tim glided from the couch in a flowing movement and knelt beside me. Before I could ask, he had planted his lips on mine. With our mouths still locked, Tim got up and put his arms beneath me. He lifted me off the couch, never breaking the kiss. I felt the flexing of his muscles, felt their strength.

That demonstration of power in unison with the soft touch of his lips caused me arousal beyond anything I had experienced so far. Tim lowered me down on his bed with infinite tenderness. He straddled me and his hardness was pressed against mine. Tim raised his upper body, finally ending the kiss, and removed my t-shirt in one smooth motion. His hands began to massage me, in lines, circles, and curves getting more complex over time. I closed my eyes. The heat radiating from his hands was soothing and stimulating at once. When his fingers lost contact to my skin, I inhaled sharply, a feeling of withdrawal rippling through my mind. I opened my eyes. Tim was taking off his own t-shirt. He lowered himself down on me and continued the massage using his entire body.

Centimeter by centimeter, Tim moved down, kissing my chest, my belly, my navel. When his mouth was over my crotch, he nuzzled my dick through the fabric of my pants. The sensations that streamed through my body expressed themselves in a low-pitched groan, gaining in intensity while Tim continued that sweet torture. The removal of my pants and underwear felt like an act of mercy. With fleeting kisses, Tim explored the whole length of my cock. Each touch sent a searing gush up and down my nerves. My spine liquefied and turned into a churning sea of emotion. Tim's mouth engulfing my cockhead plunged my entire body into tumultuous currents of desire. I gave myself over to the experience. Tim's presence ousted all other sensations. The build-up of my own climax snapped me out of this trance-like state. The impending orgasm brought back the awareness of my corporeality.

"Tim!"

He retreated, and I surrendered to my pleasure. Each contraction propagated like a wave through me, was reflected and interfered with itself. My eyes refocused, and with my cum in a criss-crossing pattern on his face, Tim smiled at me. Now, he understood how incredible that feeling was. I reached for the tissues and cleaned his face with tender strokes. Tim's track pants were still showing an enormous bulge. I reached out for it.

To my surprise, he intercepted my hand and softly shook his head. "This evening is all about you."

The love in his words made a prickling joy course through my body.

"Then, you'll have to let me touch you. My fingers making contact with you give me as much happiness as your fingers on my skin."

'Lovestoned' was the only word that could describe the expression in Tim's eyes. He guided my hand to his crotch and let his own hand rest on mine. I gave his hardness a slight squeeze. In a motion too fast for my eyes, Tim pinned me to the bed and kissed me.

The whole evening, we didn't do anything else but make out and fondle each other. That alone was enough to make us come three more times.

Chapter 23

Never in my life had I been that reluctant to leave bed, but ultimately, I complied with the demands of a Monday morning. Tim and I used different bathrooms. During our small breakfast, we decided to leave early and walk to school. This would buy us a little more time alone, as alone as one could be on a public street. Tim wheeled his bike beside me, my travel bag on the carrier.

"Math exam tomorrow, history on Wednesday, and physics on Friday, right?" I asked.

"Yup. This time, we won't skip tutoring for the week, will we? I do need all the extra learning." Tim's face had a mischievous grin plastered to it.

"Of course not. That would be irresponsible." I tried an innocent expression but couldn't keep it for more than a few moments. "What about this evening?"

"I'll be at the gym from six to eight, but afterwards, I'm all yours."

"There're actually things I don't know about you. You've told me you visit the gym three times a week, but I never bothered to ask when. What kind of boyfriend am I?"

Tim snickered. "Usually on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. During breaks, I often go in the morning. That's why you didn't find out in the Fall Break."

After a small pause, he added, "By the way: my shoe size is eleven; my favorite color is blue; and my favorite dish is pasta. And regarding your question: the one and only I ever wanted."

I had to chuckle. "If you don't want to be eaten alive right here on the pavement, you should stop being so incredibly cute."

"You think I'm cute?" Tim was mocking me with a heart-melting look.

"You're really determined to get ravaged in public, aren't you?"

We snorted in laughter again. After crossing another street, we arrived at the school's bicycle racks.

Tim chained his bike and put the bag around my shoulder, letting his hand rest there for some moments, grasping it slightly. That was more tenderness than I had expected him to show outside, and I thanked him with a cordial smile.

His face picked up that smile. "See you later." With a subtle wave of his hand, he turned around and walked toward the main building.

"See you later."

I watched his powerful stride, his graceful movements. Though I could still see him, I was already missing him. Not before Tim was out of sight, I left for one of the side buildings. My first lesson would be English, a double lesson. Only the knowledge of seeing Daniel and Christina there kept me going.

"Hi, you two." I hugged them one after another.

"What has happened? Someone proved your favorite string theory?" Daniel's grin had left the slyness scale.

"You're such a wisecracker. Just happy to see my friends and already regretting it."

I blew him a raspberry, and Christina laughed. Either I was getting paranoid or I had seen something in her eyes before humor had replaced it. Because I had confided in her, it would be difficult to keep Tim's and my relationship from her, but I was determined to respect his wish for discretion. Even if Christina suspected something, she wouldn't mention it when all three of us spent time together, and once more I was grateful for her tact.

The day crawled by, but finally I was sitting in the Cell and counting the seconds. When the door flew open, I jumped up from my chair. Tim closed the door as fast as he had opened it. Without a word, he advanced toward me, rested his hands on my cheeks, and kissed me with such force that stars started to burst before my eyes. He didn't stop his forward movement 'til he pinned me against the wall.

He broke the kiss and put his forehead against mine. "I've missed you. I couldn't have endured another minute without you."

I placed my cheek on his and held his head with both hands. "I need you, too."

I ended up sitting against the wall with Tim's head resting in my lap. I kept stroking his hair while one of his hands lay on my thigh and the other one was draped over his own belly.

"Christina knows that I fell in love with you. You know how adamant she can be when she's worried, but I won't tell her about our relationship. I promise."

"It's okay. I'd have wondered if she hadn't found out." He chuckled.

Tim didn't know her as long as I did, but well enough to read her correctly.

He continued in a more serious tone. "Have you seen how she looks at Daniel? She has feelings for him. Don't you think so?"

There was no need to deny.

"She told me so right after I had confessed my love for you. Wow. You should consider a career as a psychologist if you can find out such things by just looking at people."

He laughed. "I don't think that I'd keep many of my patients. I'd threaten to punch them if they didn't listen to me."

We both chuckled.

"I think you are much more caring than you want to admit. However, what's the job you've got in mind for yourself?"

Another fact I didn't know about the man resting in my arms.

"But don't laugh, okay?" His eyes had that pleading look again that saw right into my mind.

"Of course not."

"It's childish, but I'd like to become a professional soccer player. As if that would ever happen."

"Why not? You've got talent. You're an excellent tactician. With a little determination, that's something very likely to come true."

His gaze searched the inside of my head again, looking for discrepancies between my words and my thoughts. He didn't find any.

"You really think I can do it."

Once more, this sentence had been directed at himself and not at me. Nonetheless, I caressed his cheek with my hand to reassure him.

He gently grabbed and kissed it. "I'd like to show you my favorite place to eat this evening."

One look into his eyes and I knew that this was important for him.

"I'd love to see it."

The joy on his face was heartwarming. "How about meeting in front of the gym at eight o'clock?"

"Sure."

He gave me the address and directions from the nearest bus stop. It wasn't far from his home. We left together at five thirty, but not before passionately kissing good-bye in the Cell.

At home, I set in motion the plan that had formed in my mind after he had told me of his dream. I collected data from the Internet to compile statistics about Tim's accomplishments in soccer. A little more research produced the name and telephone number of Tim's coach. I politely asked him to write a letter of endorsement for Tim. He was reluctant at first, but I was able to convince him about the sincerity of my motives. He even agreed to keep it a secret between him and me. I investigated further on the Web for articles about Tim. They unanimously applauded his unconventional but effective playing style. After one and a half hours, I had enough raw material. It'd take some more days, but I was sure I could create a nice portfolio for Tim. It was time to leave for the gym.

Energized, I was on my way.

Chapter 24

When Tim came through the enormous glass swing door, his sports bag casually draped over his shoulder, it required so much restraint not to devour him right there. Given the fire in Tim's eyes, he had similar thoughts about me.

"Missed you even more this time." He grasped my shoulder and massaged it slightly.

Since I was unable to keep my hands from him, I did likewise.

"It's only a five minute walk from here." Tim's expression was torn between contradicting emotions.

His factual statement had been a try to hide those from me. He needed to find his own pace for his coming out, and I wouldn't interfere with that. I loved him too much to pressure him. So, I played along.

"Lead the way, big boy."

The flash of gratitude was concealed by his affectionate smile. "You'll love it. I'm sure."

I asked him about the training to further distract him. He chattered about his last session, using many words I hadn't heard before to describe the exercises, but it was interesting nonetheless. We arrived at a small fast food restaurant, and looking through the shop window was like peering into the past.

Inside, time had stopped in the sixties or early seventies. It was no retro style, but the genuine stuff.

Though the interior was well kept and clean, one could see that the red plastic covers of the benches were worn, the checkerboard floor had suffered from decades of use, and the glass display had become dull. A neon sign made of milk glass announced in a red and loopy writing that this was Kuehne's Diner. This place was full of charm, and Tim had been right: I loved it.

"We refer to it as Mama Kuehne. The diner was already around when my parents were teenagers.

Let's meet the sisters."

When we entered, a little brass bell mounted on the door frame rang. Moments later, two gruff looking ladies came out of the kitchen, an ancient plate above the door labeling it as such. Both of them appeared to be in their seventies, and their permed, greying hair had been styled in an elaborate way. They were wearing white coats over clothing that was much too elegant for a place like this. The air was filled with the aroma of fried food. In the display, various types of salads, schnitzels, and burgers had been arranged and looked mouth-watering.

"Ah. It's the muscle boy," one of the sisters said in a voice suiting her grumpy appearance.

"And he brought someone as skinny as a rake," the other one added.

The second sister didn't sound much friendlier, but it was impossible to be mad at them. One could feel the affection behind the sullen fa‡ade.

"Ladies, this evening you look amazing." Tim was radiating charm from every pore and smiled cordially.

If I hadn't loved him already, I'd have been lost right then.

"Pah. Sweet talker. Same as always?"

"Of course."

"And the bean pole?"

Before I could answer, the other sister decided for me. "He'll get French fries and a schnitzel. We have to put a little flesh on his bones."

"That sounds great. Thank you."

"Hmph. Another apple-polisher."

Tim and I took place in the little booth closest to the back wall. We both fought not to laugh.

"Most alluring," I whispered and winked at Tim.

He snickered under his breath. "I can't help but love them."

"It's the most charming diner I've ever been in."

"Yeah, it is."

Our meals arrived. Tim had French fries and currywurst. With shock, I looked at my plate. I had never seen a schnitzel that large, and it was buried under a heap of fries.

"You won't leave before you're finished. Got it?" With a sour face, she moved back behind the counter.

Tim grinned at me. "You heard her."

Tim was already finished when I was half-way through my meal and more than full-up.

"I could eat a little more." Tim used his puppy-eyed look.

I chuckled and fed him with a fork full of French fries. He reciprocated by cutting off a large chunk of schnitzel and shoved it gently into my mouth. We continued that game. My gaze wandered to one of the sisters standing behind the display. She was smiling at us until she remembered to look gruff again. At last, we emptied my plate together. I was sure I wouldn't need to eat for the rest of the week. We spent one and a half hours in the diner, though it didn't feel that long.

"You've cheated, bean pole. Next time, you're on your own." The sister who had smiled at us took our money and put it in an old fashioned register.

"Sorry, ma'am. Of course, ma'am. Good-bye."

Her farewell to us was a noncommittal grunt. We left the diner.

"We have to come here again." I chuckled while looking at Tim.

He was beaming, glad about our shared liking for this place. We passed a back-alley and he drew me into the darkness. His lips found mine and his tongue asked for entry. My hands wandered over his powerful form, caressing my lover. Tim broke the kiss and moved his mouth close to my ear. His breath tickled me. I shivered all over.

"One day, I'll kiss you in bright daylight. I swear." His words didn't leave the shadows around us.

My tongue tied up. I pressed him against me with all the strength I could muster.

Since his math exam would be the next day, we called it a night early. He waited with me at the bus stop. I wished him good luck and told him I would see him right after the exam. We waved at each other 'til we were out of sight.

Chapter 25

As expected, Tim fared well in the exams. In the three courses, he passed with at least twelve points, exceeding Dr. Vogel's threshold by far. We decided to continue the math tutoring in preparation for the Abitur exams in May. Math would be his third subject where a written test was mandatory.

By Wednesday, his trainer had prepared the recommendation letter, and on Friday I had finished Tim's soccer portfolio. I sent it to all major soccer clubs in Germany, hoping that someone would take to the unconventional method of application. Though I hated waiting, there was nothing left to do regarding this project.

Tim's parents invited me for dinner to express their gratitude for helping Tim with his schoolwork. At first, they suggested going to a high class restaurant, but Tim and I had succeeded in talking them out of it since both of us would have felt misplaced in a gourmet temple. Laughing, Mrs. Eschner agreed to prepare the meal. We settled for the Saturday four weeks after our first night-over. Tim's parents had asked me to stay for the night, and I had no reason to object.

By one P.M., I stood on the cobbled path again. Everything around me was covered in snow. The previous night, winter had finally decided that the white powder was overdue. During my bus ride, I had seen many children with their sleds in tow, laughing with glowing faces. Unlike a month ago, I didn't feel anxious, and no doubts tainted my happiness. The door opened, and Tim stormed out.

Before I could brace myself, I was already in a bear hug. Tim's cheek felt hot against mine after the short walk through the chilly February air.

"I know I keep repeating myself, but I've missed you," he said.

While Tim's body warmed me on the outside, his words warmed me on the inside.

"I understand all too well. Each day we're together has made it more difficult for me to be separated from you."

His hug tightened around me, and for a few heartbeats, I had the sensation that Tim and I had become one being. It was a feeling to revel in. We entered the house, and after greeting the Eschners, we went down to the basement. As soon as we had arrived there, we came at each other, kissing like there was no tomorrow. Entangled, Tim and I ended up on the couch, but by an unspoken accord, sex was delayed to the upcoming night. After three hours of caressing, kissing, and holding each other, Tim looked into my eyes, his own filled with a gentle gleam.

In a subdued voice, he spoke to me. "I want to show you something. A special place, my special place. We have to leave the house, but it's worth it."

"Of course, big boy."

The sparkle in his eyes flowed over his entire face. "Come."

We dressed in our winter coats and left the house.

"It's a twenty-minute walk from here." The joy illuminating him had not diminished.

Though we didn't touch, Tim stayed close to me. It was nice to see how he got more comfortable in public. I just had to be a little more patient. He was determined to keep our destination secret as long as possible, but after a quarter of an hour, we arrived at one of the mining waste tips which were abundant in this region. Those tips were the remnants of the local black coal mining activities.

The artificial hills had been greened up and changed into parks with playing grounds, walking trails, and lookouts. We ascended a steep path, and at the end of it, I could see a small gazebo. It was quite difficult to reach.

As if Tim had read my mind, he said, "No one ever comes here. It's perfect to find some peace."

We arrived at the gazebo. Its hexagon shape was surrounded by wooden pillars carrying the pointed roof. It was the highest point of the tip. To the west, where the sun had started to set, two foothills formed a valley. A slight breeze wafted from there, channeled by the man-made obstruction. I spread out my arms and let the cold air blow over me and under my coat. Chills crawled up and down my spine. One could see almost the entire city from there. The snow-covered houses looked unreal, like a painting of a wintery landscape.

"Tim, it's beautiful."

"Just wait a little longer."

Tim stepped behind me and crossed his arms over my chest while his head rested on my shoulder.

The sun, which was already half-hidden behind the horizon, changed its color to a shade of crimson.

A fiery hue filled the valley, millions of snow crystals reflecting and intensifying the fleeing light. From the far end of the dale, a shadow crept toward us. The approaching darkness didn't feel intimidating but wrapped everything into a velvet coat of tranquility. Moments before the shadow surrounded us, the last ray of sunlight flashed up in a multitude of colors as if it had been refracted through the purest diamond. Tears coursed down my cheek. Tim wiped them away with his thumb. A simple gesture, but it spoke of affection and love.

"I want to tell my parents about us this evening."

My whole body tensed up.

Tim answered my question before I had put it into words. "Yes, I'm sure. What we've got is more than a simple crush. I must tell my family."

I seized Tim's hands, which were resting on my belly. The hidden declaration of love hadn't escaped me.

"I love you, too. And I'm so proud of you."

His hands squeezed mine and he kissed me on my cheek, his soft lips merely brushing my skin.

"It's getting cold. We should get back," he said.

During our way back, we didn't speak. Tim's face musculature was working, as always when he was thinking about something. He was planning what to say to his parents, and I didn't want to distract him. Furthermore, my mind was busy, too. I admired his courage to take a big step like this after such a short time. There was a true chance that Tim's home would become a safe haven for us, a place where we wouldn't have to hide anything. Coward Marcel had a different version of this story. We could as well lose the only retreat we had. Tim could lose even more. I looked at him. He was exploring his own thoughts, but his mere presence had the curious effect of silencing the coward.

Whatever happened this evening, we still would have each other, and more wasn't necessary.

We arrived at the house. I had a d‚j... vu feeling when we paused on the path leading to the front door.

"Must be something in the cobble stones that makes people stop here," I said.

Tim chuckled. "Forward ever, backward never."

We both chuckled. Gallows humor at its best.

Inside, we put our coats on the hangers and changed our shoes for slippers. We nodded at each other and made our way to the living room. The room was large, but the furniture made of beechwood had been placed sparsely. Tim's parents sat on the couch and watched a documentary about an ambulance service for animals on TV. Diana was sitting on the floor, leaning against one of the ends of the couch. However rebellious her attitude was, she spent much time with her family.

She would never admit it, but I was convinced she even enjoyed it.

"Hello, you two. Been for a walk? Dinner will be ready by eight o'clock." Mrs. Eschner's face had been friendly, but when she looked up at us, worry creased her forehead. "Is something wrong, Tim? The expression on your face frightens me."

Mr. Eschner and Diana turned their heads toward us.

"Mom, Dad, Diana... I'm gay."

With a jerk, I faced Tim. I knew that subtlety wasn't one of his strengths, but this bluntness surprised even me. Without looking at me, his hand sought mine. I grasped it and held fast to it.

"And Marcel is my boyfriend."

I turned back to Tim's family, for I wanted to see their reaction. The tendency for unusual responses seemed to run strong in this family, because Mr. and Mrs. Eschner both laughed out, while Diana's face didn't move at all. My head sprang back to Tim, who looked as flabbergasted as I felt.

"It's about time!" Mrs. Eschner said, still chuckling. "Knowing when someone has a secret is part of my job.

"And I've learnt a thing or two about people during my projects," Mr. Eschner added.

"When did you know?" Tim wasn't able to understand what was happening here yet.

Mrs. Eschner fought to hold back another chuckle. "I think we knew before you knew. Every time you talked about Marcel after the Fall Break, your eyes lit up. When we visited Aunt Monika over Christmas and New Year's Eve, you thought something over and made up your mind. Let me guess: You two came together during the night-over, didn't you?"

Tim and I simply nodded because both of us were beyond talking.

Mrs. Eschner's expression got serious. "We're very glad that you trust us enough to tell us. Diana and you can come to us with everything, even if you think we don't understand. Your old parents are cooler than you think."

Tim was trying to believe what had happened here, but with dubious success. His eyes mirrored the confusion that was going on inside him.

"It's okay for you? Me being gay? Being together with Marcel?"

Mr. Eschner answered Tim's question, his face showing a mixture of pride and parental joy. "You've never been happier. Since Marcel has become your friend - and your boyfriend - your restlessness is gone. That's all parents want for their children: a happy life."

"We want to thank you, Marcel, for what you have done for Tim." Mrs. Eschner's words made me blush again.

"Thank you, Mrs. Eschner." My voice was so meek that I wasn't sure whether she had heard me.

"One thing has to stop."

The blood drained out of my body and I started to shiver, expecting nothing good.

"Stop calling us Mr. and Mrs. Eschner. I'm Brigitte and this is Gerd."

"Okay, Mrs. ... Brigitte."

They laughed again. It would take some time to get used to it because they were the first adults, except my relatives and Elke, I called by their first name.

Tim turned toward his sister. "What do you say?" It was important for him to know what she thought about him.

"You being a faggot is the single most cool thing about you. No complaints from me."

Brigitte and Gerd looked sternly at her for using the word faggot, but when Tim and I chuckled, they joined in. A small smile flickered even over Diana's face.

We talked until ten o'clock, enjoying the dinner and helping to clean up. Tim's parents wanted to know everything about us. They learned about Tim roughing me up, which earned him a roasting by Brigitte and Gerd. When I took his side and made clear that I didn't hold it against him, they let it rest. We told them about the incident with Dr. Vogel and Nicholas' schemes leading to the events at the school party. Tim recounted what we had done during the Fall Break, and I described what had happened after Laika's death. With glee, we rubbed in the fact that they had sent us on our first date. Brigitte and Gerd claimed that they had been aware of this. Of course, the question came up whether my parents already knew. I told them about my mother's sentiments toward Tim. I was moved when they offered to let us spend as many weekends together in their house as we liked.

Tim's decision to come out to his parents had been right. I sneaked a glance at him and his face was lit up. Proud was too weak a word to describe how I was feeling.

Chapter 26

By ten thirty, Tim and I were lying cuddled together in his bed, stripped down to our briefs.

"That worked out better than I had dared to imagine in my wildest dreams," Tim said.

Eventually, he had been able to apprehend this evening's events.

"Parents are always good for a surprise." I pondered about my mom. "I want to tell my parents as soon as possible, but I don't think the welcome will be as hearty as by Brigitte and Gerd."

"I do understand that you wanna let them know. I'll support you however you decide."

I pulled Tim into a kiss, showing him how much I appreciated what he said.

"I've already thought about it. I'll tell them as soon as I'm home. It'll be better if you're not around, but I want to introduce you at the earliest opportunity. Is that okay for you?"

Tim had already declared his support no matter what, but excluding him from such an important moment felt strange.

He planted his lips on mine for a short peck. "That sounds like the most reasonable thing to do. Of course, it's okay for me."

We had worried enough about other people for one day.

"Oh. I've got a present for you." I put what I thought to be a mysterious smile on my face.

"Present? What for?"

"Just for being the best boyfriend on this planet."

Tim's lips curved up. I got out of bed and produced the wrapped gift out of my bag.

"Here. Happy one month and one day anniversary!"

We both chuckled.

"I don't have anything for you."

"If you accept the present, I think you will."

Tim furled his eyebrows. "Why shouldn't I accept it?"

"Just open it and tell me whether you like it."

To be honest, I wasn't too sure about Tim's reaction. With careful movements, he removed the paper, looking up at me time and again while doing so. Finally, he was holding the contents of the parcel in his hands: a pack of condoms and a dispenser bottle of a water-based lubricant.

"You mean, I... you..." His expression was one of shock, which wasn't the reaction I had hoped for.

"If you're not ready, we needn't..."

His head shot up and his eyes locked onto mine. "Of course, I want to, but I've never... I don't know how... you may be disappointed..."

My experience was limited to a single incident but was complemented by vast theoretical knowledge. A physicist's approach.

"There's nothing to be afraid of. We'll discover it together, take all the time we need. In everything you do, I feel your love for me. There's no way you could let me down."

I had been standing before the bed, but the next moment, I was lying on my back with Tim on top of me. His hands held my head in place while his lips explored my whole face. When his tongue entered my mouth, it did so with greatest tenderness. I knew then that we wouldn't have only sex, but we would make love. The contact of our bodies, the touch of Tim's burning skin on mine was like an aphrodisiac for me.

"Time to get properly dressed," Tim said.

His face was close to mine and bearing a secretive smile. He began to descend down my body, pecking it here and there, nibbling at my nipples, licking at my hot spots, which he had discovered over the last four weeks. Teasing me, he spent much time exploring the region just above the waistband of my briefs. My breath was already coming fast, and my cock longed to be free. In a deliberate movement, using both hands, he pulled down my underwear. With the corner of his mouth, using more his cheek than his lips, he traced up and down the entire length of my dick. My body arced up, driven by a primal energy. This energy kept building up as a pulsing ball of raw desire filled up my lower body. Tim's restraint was wearing thin, too. He got rid of his own briefs in a movement so forceful I feared he would tear them apart. At times, I still couldn't believe that such a handsome hunk of a man had fallen in love with me.

"Be my teacher again. Teach me how to become one with you in every possible way," Tim said.

His words of trust added another quality to the vibrating energy inside of me. The physical lust had become enriched with the longing for the intimate unison I only experienced with Tim.

"Place a cushion below the small of my back."

A simple but effective trick for easier access to my butt. Tim lifted me up gently, his strength making my cooperation unnecessary. He put the pillow beneath me and lowered me down on it.

I grabbed for the bottle of lubricant and handed it over to Tim. "The inside of the ass is very sensitive.

It's much more pleasant when you prepare me by stretching and lubing my chute. You can do it with your fingers, entering them one at a time, if that's not too gross for you."

"Nothing about your body is gross for me."

The longing intensified, placing a hint of a smile on my face. "Put a little lube on my hole and your finger and give it a try."

I grabbed my legs and relaxed as much as possible. The gel-like substance felt cold when Tim applied it generously, but soon after, the warmth of his index finger lingered at the entrance. Even this first tentative touch caused a turmoil of sensation throughout my body.

"Ready?" he asked.

I nodded. Tim pushed forwards and my hole gave in to the intruder. With careful movements, he scouted the unknown surroundings.

"It feels like your ass is massaging my finger." Tim's voice was filled with amused surprise.

"Think about what it can do with your other 'extremities'."

My raunchier parts had gained the upper hand, having the desired effect on Tim. With a saucy grin on his face, he grew bolder in roaming around my butt. He had curved up his finger and was now groping the upper side of my interior when a sharp bolt of lightning fired along my nerves. My body tensed up. A short cry escaped my throat. Before my eyes, white stars were bursting.

"You've found my prost... Whoa."

He had brushed it again, yielding the same results as before.

"Has the shape of a walnut. Seems to cause some nice feelings." Tim's grin deepened.

"If you touch there again, I'll shoot right away."

"We don't want that, do we?"

He refrained from moving close there again.

"You've relaxed. It's tight, but the muscles aren't clamping anymore. Another finger?"

"Please!"

I was still recovering from the onslaught of sensations the stimulation of my prostate had caused and couldn't keep the imploring tone from my voice. Tim's middle finger joined his index finger. He twisted and turned them carefully, preparing me for more. Neither mine nor Tim's erection had wavered, quite the contrary.

"A third one?" His voice was hushed.

"Yes... and then the real thing."

Tim simply nodded and a trace of impatient desperation showed on his face.

I reached for the condoms and opened the box. "Put it on, a little more lube and then..."

With shaking fingers, Tim unwrapped a rubber. I watched him rolling it over his length when he suddenly burst out laughing, only half finished.

"I put it on inside out."

I chuckled with him. The laughter had broken the tension, but not the desire. This was sex, not a state funeral. So approaching it a little more playful was absolutely okay.

"We'll take another one. Let me put it on for you."

"Yes," Tim whispered.

My suggestion had kindled a lustful shine in his eyes. I unpacked another condom, double-checked whether it was turned the right way, and sat up. With my free hand, I caressed Tim's dick, just brushing over the shaft with my fingertips. He closed his eyes and moaned. His member was hard, despite all the distractions. I placed the condom at the head and rolled it over his cock. While softly rubbing over Tim's full length, I got the bottle with the clear liquid and greased his dick up. I lay back on the bed and adjusted my position on the cushion.

"Take it slow, please. You're quite big. Gimme time to adjust."

He nodded, his face glowing with desire. Tim moved closer to me, grabbed my legs and pushed them back a little more. He brought the tip of his dick in position before my hole. It felt many times more massive than his fingers had. This impression intensified when Tim increased the pressure. I knew it was important to stay relaxed, but having something of that size rammed up my ass made me nervous nonetheless. I calmed myself by telling me over and over again that it was Tim who was entering me, but I couldn't stifle a cry when the cockhead penetrated me, causing a searing pain flashing through my groin.

"I'm hurting you!" Tim panicked and pulled out his cock again.

"Tim. Tim! It's okay. It's a good hurt. Just give me time, distract me... kiss me!"

I opened my arms, inviting him, and Tim bent forward. While holding him tight, eyes closed, our lips found each other. I traced the muscles in his back, which flexed with his movements. The pressure at my hole returned. This time it didn't feel as bad as before when the head forced its way in. I allowed my mind to experience Tim's tongue in my mouth and the touch of his skin only. I used those sensations to oust the pain beyond the reach of my perception.

It took me by surprise when Tim broke the kiss and whispered, "I've been fully inside of you for quite a time now. Is it okay?"

I dropped my guard, sought for the pain, but it wasn't there. I found a pleasant fullness, a feeling of connectedness instead.

"More than okay. It's wonderful. Do it, Tim. Do it."

Tim began the slightest of motion, pulling out his dick only a little bit, just to push it softly in again.

The added dimension of the friction made me moan out in pleasure. He hesitated.

"More, more," I purred.

He resumed the movement. Each time, he removed more of his cock before shoving it in again. After a short while, only the head remained inside of me. Then he started to increase the pace. His thickness kept brushing over the walnut-shape of my prostate. At first, this had caused bolt after bolt of electricity shooting up and down my spine, but when the rhythm had gained more urgency, these bolts had changed into a continuous current almost short-circuiting my mind. My own cock was trapped between our bodies, rubbing against our skin. Tim was glistening with sweat. Drops of it continued to fall down on me, accompanied by the musky smell of his, which I craved so much. He was in a frenzy. Tim pounded me so hard and fast that his balls kept slapping against my ass cheeks, adding to my arousal. He locked lips with me again, and I felt how his body tensed up. Moaning into my mouth, he came. The pace reduced, but the intensity of his thrusts increased even more. The strength of Tim's orgasm pulled me along over the threshold, and I started to shoot cum on our bellies. Load after load, until the warm slickness seemed to be everywhere between us. Finally, the pounding stopped and Tim's body went slack. Panting, he sank down on me, his warm breath brushing over my shoulder. I slung my arms around him and pressed my cheek against his head.

Something hot was dripping on my shoulder. Tim was crying silent tears.

I wanted to comfort him. "That was unbelievable. I can't put into words how awesome that felt."

He raised his upper body until we were on eye level. The tears were flowing, but he wasn't ashamed to let me see them.

"Overwhelming is one word that comes to mind. I can't stop weeping." He started to chuckle.

The chuckling gained in strength until it had grown to a full out laughter. It was infectious and I joined in. When we had composed ourselves again, I wiped away his last tears. Tim was still inside me with his now semi-hard cock. He lowered himself down on me, and we just lay there in silence, me caressing his back.

After a while, Tim whispered into my neck, "Thank you for this gift, the best gift I've ever gotten." He kissed me.

"I have to thank you. You call me teacher, but you've taught me as much about love as I've taught you."

He kissed me once more. We spent another quarter of an hour in quiet togetherness.

I had to chuckle. "The drying semen on our bellies is starting to tickle me. What about cleaning up and then going back to bed?"

Tim rose up and grinned at me. "Sure." He fixed the condom with two fingers and pulled out his cock.

A feeling of loss spread inside of me.

He removed the rubber. "I have to learn to put those on, but I think there'll be plenty of occasions to practice." His grin held a good dose of teasing.

Though he had been joking, his words had given me an idea. "I second the notion of many repetitions. But what do you think about getting rid of the latex?"

"What?" His grin was replaced by confusion.

"Let's get tested for STDs. Just to be sure. I've got absolute trust in you and your faithfulness. If we're negative -and I'm expecting nothing else- we could forget about the condoms."

His grin returned. "I trust you just as much. No rubbers? Nothing separating you and me anymore? A very enticing thought."

"Obviously." I pointed at his dick, which had a full hard-on again.

We both guffawed.

"I can reschedule my training to Tuesday. What about right on Monday? We talked about STD testing in biology. We can do so at the public health department for free."

"Fine. I hate waiting."

We had another fit of laughter.

After calming down, Tim looked at me with mock-innocence. "You said something about cleaning up and going back to bed. And... it would be a pity if those would end up in the trash unused." He gestured in the general direction of the open box of condoms.

"Sure, big boy. We can't admit such a willful waste." I gave his cock a gentle flick and we chuckled.

We cleaned each other in the bathroom, returned to bed, and by the end of the night, nothing was left squandered.

Chapter 27

Tim brought me home by car on Sunday afternoon. I had promised my parents I'd spend the night at home.

"You gonna tell them today?"

"Uh-huh."

I was lost in my own thoughts. My inner voice insisted on calling the upcoming talk with my parents 'confrontation.' I hadn't been as excited when I had come out to them.

"It'll be alright." Tim put his hand on my knee.

I looked up at him and couldn't keep the benign smile off my face. I covered his hand with mine.

"Thank you. For everything."

We arrived. We had already kissed good-bye in the basement and we only hugged now.

"Shall we meet at the school's main entrance at two o'clock tomorrow? We can go to the public health department by bus then," Tim said.

"Sure... I love you."

"I love you, too."

We let go of each other. I got out of the car and waited until Tim was out of sight. I turned toward the house and took a deep breath. Lingering before doors seemed to become a new hobby of mine. I turned the key and entered the hallway. I ascended the stairs to our flat. With each step, the burden on my shoulders felt heavier. When I entered our flat, I leaned back on the door and closed my eyes.

The nervousness I had experienced the day after my birthday -when I had recalled Peter- was taking hold of me. It ate its way through my whole body.

"Marcel?" The voice of my mom sounded muffled through the closed glass door to the living room.

"Yes, Mom. It's me."

"Can you come here, please?"

I opened my eyes again. This was it. I wouldn't back out.

Dad was sitting in his armchair watching a fantasy series on TV. Completely absorbed, he didn't even look up and just raised a hand to greet me. Mom sat on the couch knitting a scarf. She had been working on this project for two years. Though she didn't show much dedication to needlework, she refused to give up. Given the scarf's growth rate, it would be finished in one decade or two.

She turned her head toward me and smiled. "Grandma Gertrud is coming to visit us next Sunday.

She'll only be passing through for a trip to Spain and will have to leave by train for Dusseldorf in the evening. But for the afternoon, she'll be all ours."

Grandma Gertrud was my mom's mom. I loved her because she was the coolest grandma one could imagine. She had lived here a long time, but five years ago, she returned to Berlin. It had been her home as a teenage girl until her family had to flee here at the end of World War 2. We didn't see her that often, but her visits were always a highlight.

"I'll bake one of my favorite chocolate cakes for the afternoon." Mom's smile deepened.

"Awesome. I love her being here."

I had made up my mind. "Can I invite my boyfriend to meet her?"

Dad's head jerked up. He somehow succeeded in looking shocked and happy at once. It took my mom three seconds to put two and two together, because exactly after that time span her smile stopped and the color left her face.

"It's him." Her voice was hollow, without strength.

"His name's Tim. And yes, it's him." My voice was calm, not the slightest hint of defiance this time.

"How long?"

"One month. Since the night-over."

"Congratulations. Tim's such a fine young man," Dad said.

I appreciated his attempt at defusing the situation, but I knew he had chosen the wrong words.

Nonetheless, I mustered up a genuine smile for him.

"Thank you, Dad."

My mom rose from the couch. "I'm looking forward to meeting that fine young man next Sunday."

My smile was wiped away as abruptly as my mom's had been. Those were the right words, but everything else about this sentence was plain wrong. If she had been fuming, screaming, and threatening me, I'd have understood, but her reaction was so different from what I had expected that it gripped me to the marrow. I hadn't seen her behave like that.

My forehead creased. "You..."

"No, no, Marcel. He's your boyfriend and, of course, he's welcome here."

Every fiber of my body screamed at me, warning me of danger and deceit.

"I'll prepare dinner now." When she passed me, she smiled at me and touched my cheek.

The blood in my body had been exchanged for a freezing liquid. The door closed, and I turned to my dad, nodding toward the kitchen. Dad shook his head. His expression spoke volumes.

"I'm in my room." The ice in my veins had found its way into my voice.

"Okay."

I pitied my dad for he was caught between my mom and me. At the moment, this had to be the most inhospitable place on Earth.

In my room, I lay down on my bed. The situation had worked out in an unexpected way, but I was sure it was the worst outcome possible. This was nothing but a charade. I grabbed for my cell phone and hit the speed dial button for Tim.

"What happened?" Tim's voice was filled with worry.

"You are invited for a tea party next Sunday. You'll meet my grandma Gertrud." Even simply stating the facts raised my hackles.

"That's good, isn't it?"

I couldn't blame him for being confused.

"If you like being poisoned or stabbed to death with the cake knife by my mom, yes."

"Oh."

"Sorry. I'm just venting my frustration at the wrong person."

I gave him a detailed recount of the events.

"No problem. I'd be angry, too."

"My mom's up to something, but I've no idea what that could be. If she hurts you in any way, I don't know what I'll do."

Silence.

"Tim?"

"You love me."

"Huh?"

"What you've just said. It made me realize how much you love me."

Another one of those unexpected reactions typical for the Eschner family.

"Of course, I do, big boy."

"And in case you didn't know, I love you, too." Tim chuckled.

That little banter had calmed me more than hours of serious talk could have. Together, we would defy my mom's dubious intentions. I heard Diana's voice in the background but couldn't understand what she was saying.

"Dinner is almost ready. I have to hang up soon. Everything's alright?" The affectionate way he had asked me made everything alright.

"Sure it is. See you tomorrow then."

"See you tomorrow."

I switched off the phone and put it aside. I stayed in my bed, brooding.

An hour later, Mom called for Dad and me. I've never felt so reluctant eating with my own mother.

Nonetheless, I trudged to the kitchen. My mom's demeanor hadn't changed. With fake friendliness, she served the roast, the potatoes, and the peas. Without a stop, she chattered away. The charade continued.

"I hope Tim likes chocolate cakes."

"He loves chocolate." I kept my voice low and even.

"Does he prefer tea or coffee? Do I have to buy a special brand?"

"Tim prefers coffee and isn't very picky about the brand."

"Anything else I can do for him?"

"Why are you doing this, Mom?" I looked up from my plate and faced her.

The false smile was plastered to her lips. "Tim's your boyfriend. I want to do everything so that he'll feel comfortable here."

"I'm not hungry." I got up from my chair.

Dad was staring at his plate.

"I hope you're not getting ill. You're so pale. Perhaps, you should go to bed early. There's nothing a little sleep couldn't cure."

I didn't answer her and left the kitchen as fast as possible. My hands kept clenching into fists on the way to my room. Rage and sadness were fighting for my mind, the winner still undetermined. I just got undressed and lay down on my bed. By pure force of will, I pushed all thoughts aside except the memory of the phone call with Tim. Clinging to the warm feelings, I stared at the ceiling.

Chapter 28

Christina and Daniel waited for me before class.

Christina's forehead wrinkled. "Something isn't right, is it?"

"Yeah. You look terrible," Daniel said.

The urge to tell them about Tim and me was overwhelming. We had come out to our parents and our friends would be next. Since they had been busy with exams and private stuff, they hadn't noticed any difference yet. It still wasn't clear whether Christina suspected something, but I had promised Tim to let him decide the pace, and I would stick to that promise. It was time for truth minus some details again.

"My mom finally freaked out about Tim, but instead of having a fit of rage, she started to behave most scary."

I summarized the events, including me inviting Tim for Sunday. They knew about the dinner with the Eschners, so the idea of asking Tim to come for a tea party wasn't too farfetched, even without knowing about us.

Daniel shook his head. "If you can forgive him, why can't your mom? I don't understand."

"It's beyond me, too." That was the truth. I had no idea why my mom was so adamant about Tim.

"Could be connected to maternal binding issues," Christina said. "We've talked about those in the educational science course."

"You didn't learn how to fix them, did you?" I was half-joking and half-hoping.

Christina shook her head. The English course was about to start, so we had to leave it at that.

Tim and I arrived at the school's main entrance at the same time. Just seeing him put the day's first smile on my face. He looked left and right before grabbing and kissing me. Tim's boldness had taken me by surprise.

"No risk, no fun. Remember?" A grin found his lips.

At least, he had succeeded in making me forget all my troubles for a moment.

When I realized this, a flash of emotion surged through me. "You're all I ever needed."

The grin vanished. With grateful eyes, he caressed my cheek. Tim had just let his hand sink when the door opened and Mrs. Grawe left the building.

"Hi, you two. Have a nice afternoon."

"You, too, Mrs. Grawe," Tim and I said simultaneously.

Giving us a short wave, she continued her brisk walk toward the teacher's parking lot.

"That was close." Once more, a comment bypassed my brain.

Tim chuckled. "It was worth it. Let's go or we'll miss the bus."

I was proud of him, proud of the enormous progress he had made. With a trace of a smile, I followed Tim.

The waiting room in the public health center was the epitome of sterility. White tiles covered everything, making it difficult to discern where the floor stopped and the walls began. The seats were mounted to the wall and completely made of steel. I couldn't keep the image out of my head of someone hosing them clean like a dissection table in one of those TV series. The cold, artificial lighting completed the unnerving atmosphere. Tim and I had been waiting for an hour now. We would be next. At first, we talked about this and that. I finally had received a notice of dispatch for my new telescope. It would arrive next Monday, so we chatted about another night under the stars.

With every person being called to one of the consultation rooms, we spoke less until we sat side by side in silence. A gong chimed and our number flashed up on the display, prompting us to go to room 202. We jumped up and looked at each other in terror. We burst out laughing.

"We're doing this voluntarily, aren't we?" I asked.

"I think so."

Our laughing reduced to a chuckle. We arrived at the door and took a deep breath before entering.

Behind a glass desk sat a woman in her thirties. Her blonde hair had been gathered in a sloppy ponytail.

With shining brown, friendly eyes, she looked at us. "Hello. My name is Martina Habermehl. You don't need to tell me your names if you don't want to. Please take a seat." She gestured at the two chairs standing before the desk.

We sat down.

"What can I do for you?"

I realized with a start that Tim and I hadn't talked about what to say. I wasn't sure how much Tim was ready to tell. I turned my head to face him.

He was looking at Mrs. Habermehl and, to my relief, he answered her. "My boyfriend and I would like to get tested for STDs. We don't think we have any, but we want to have unprotected sex and we want to be sure."

"This is very responsible behavior for two young men of your age." Her smile deepened. "I know you don't want to hear this, but it's important to stay honest with each other regarding sex. If you practice unsafe sex with anyone else, tell each other and protect yourself again. Okay?"

Cheating was out of question for both of us. We nodded nonetheless.

"Fine. I'll give you some additional information material." After putting down different flyers on the table, she filled out two forms and handed them over to us. "Go to room 210. A nurse will take blood samples from you." She looked at her watch. "For your purpose, quick tests are sufficient. It's a close call, but you can have the results today if you come here shortly before six o'clock again."

"Thank you, ma'am," I said.

"Thank you," Tim added.

"You're welcome, you two."

We didn't have to wait for the taking of the blood samples. The nurse, who didn't seem to be much older than us, was as friendly as Mrs. Habermehl had been. I was first, and she was really good at her job. It didn't hurt at all. Tim sat down and rolled up his sleeve, but he was pale and shivered.

The nurse furled her brows. "Everything's alright with you?"

Tim directed his gaze to the ground and answered in a low voice. "I'm afraid of needles."

He hadn't said a word about this before and had carried it off well until now.

"I'm afraid of spiders."

Tim looked up at me.

"Yes. It's true. I hate how they move. I hate their legs. I hate their bubbly bodies. They terrify me."

"But they are harmless. At least, all German spiders are."

"So are needles."

We chuckled.

"Done," the nurse said.

Tim's head bobbed toward the nurse and then his gaze went down to the tiny hole in his arm.

The nurse looked at me and grinned. "And you, well done."

I grinned back.

"You framed me." The reproachful expression on his face was already changing into a smile.

"I really do hate spiders. When this simple fact distracts you that much, it's not my fault." I shrugged.

For the second time that day, Tim caught me unaware when he drew me into a kiss.

He let go of me and was smiling. "It's the only reliable way to silence you."

The nurse laughed out. "Here take that Band-Aid, and you'll need this."

Tim and I each got a card with a barcode on it from her.

"By using the codes, the counselor can retrieve your results anonymously from the computer."

We thanked her and said good-bye.

The public health center was situated in the city's downtown, so Tim and I killed the time by doing some window shopping. By five thirty, we sat down in a little caf‚ and indulged ourselves in hot chocolates with whipped cream. Tim was slurping it through a drinking straw, and I watched him.

"You love me," I said.

"What?"

"You called me your boyfriend in Mrs. Habermehl's office and kissed me in front of the nurse. You love me."

Tim's eyes showed an equal mix of amusement and emotion. "That's my line. So I can borrow your answer: Of course, I do."

An especially fidgety swarm of butterflies had settled in my stomach. My thoughts strayed to my mom, and I wondered why she couldn't see how much I loved Tim.

"You're thinking about your mom, aren't you?"

I nodded. "Are you sure you want to come on Sunday? I have a bad feeling about this."

"I don't know your mom as you do, but I think she will see that we are serious about each other.

Whatever she has in mind for me, I'll take it."

The butterflies did another set of loops. The gleam in Tim's face told me that I was transparent to him.

"Let's go. Mrs. Habermehl is waiting." He got up from his chair.

"Sure."

By five fifty-five, we sat in her office again.

"You made it. That's fine. Can I have your cards, please?"

We handed them over. She scanned them one after another with a reader and looked at her monitor.

Beaming, she faced us. "You're in the pink of health, as the saying goes."

Tim and I turned to each other, lips curved up.

"I'll make hardcopies for you... here they are. Have fun!" She winked at us.

I turned red at her innuendo, though we had already talked about sex with her.

"Thank you," I mumbled.

Tim's reaction was the same. We left the office and headed for the bus station.

"I'm really curious whether it'll feel different." Tim was in lewd mode again.

"Me too. But I've promised my parents to be home by six thirty."

"No problem. There's still the thrill of anticipation."

I eyed him with suspicion. "You know how much I hate waiting."

He shrugged with a twinkle in his eyes. "We'll renovate the soccer club house on Friday and Saturday.

Including a night-over from Saturday to Sunday." The look in his eyes changed and became stricken.

"For you, I'll be patient," I said.

He laid his arm around me and pressed me against him. Although we were on a crowded street, he held me like this until the bus arrived.

Chapter 29

The last chords of 'Castle Builder' played. I let the palms of my hands slide along each other before my face until the finger tips reached the elbows. The lights were turned off.

"Wonderful, Marcelito. Simply wonderful."

The lights were switched on again.

Felipe clapped his hands. "Now, you're feeling the music. Now, there is coraz¢n in the song and in the movements. Is there a nice chica you didn't tell us about?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

The other pupils laughed.

"Something like that." I winked and laughed with them.

The choir rehearsals had been real fun after the Christmas Break. The lyrics, the song, the atmosphere now made sense. The relationship with Tim had helped me discover all these things. It was astounding that my mood was that good after this week with my mom. I had avoided her on Monday. On Tuesday, I tried to ignore her constant babble about Tim, my grandma, and Sunday afternoon. By Wednesday evening, my patience had worn so thin that I started a counterattack. I talked non-stop about Tim, always smiling, always friendly. I concluded my filibuster by casually mentioning the STD testing on Monday. For a fraction of a second, she struggled to keep her composure. Her smile acquired an agonized quality, but she told me how happy she was for us. On Thursday, I avoided her again, skipping dinner and hiding in my room. My plan was to continue this hide-and-seek until Sunday.

Tim had done his best to put my worries to rest by talking, kissing, and cuddling. Multiple times he promised me he would endure everything my mom may come up with. Still, I had the feeling of something bad looming over our heads.

Sunday, eleven forty-five. Grandma Gertrud had insisted on using a taxi from central station.

Standing in our hall, she greeted everyone with a hug. She was eighty-one years old, but you'd never guessed if you didn't know. Grandma was the only woman of her age I've ever met who wears jeans.

Her grey hair was short and styled into little spikes. She always joked that she would wear flannel pants and her hair in a bun when she was old. Her brown eyes smiled regardless what the rest of her face was doing.

"Hug your old grandma."

"You're not old."

"That's what I wanted to hear."

We laughed and embraced.

When she looked at me, her laughing stopped and she raised her brow. "What's up? Something's eating you."

She had the same startling ability to look inside of me as my mom. Though, my mom had recently unlearned how to do it.

"My boyfriend's coming here today for the first time."

"And we're all so glad to meet him," my mother chimed in.

Grandma studied my mom and squinted her eyes but didn't say a word. She was obviously able to look inside her daughter, too.

Grandma deliberately turned to me and smiled. "Tell me everything about this young man who could win the heart of my grandson."

"Mama, you'll meet him later anyway. What about you? How's life in Berlin?"

"Agnes, darling, I've asked Marcel and not you." Grandma's voice showed no trace of unfriendliness, although she was reprimanding my mom.

My mother turned to me with that certain look in her eyes. It wasn't too wise to provoke her, so I backed down.

"His name's Tim. I know him from school, and he's one hell of a soccer player. But Mom's right. You can ask him later in person." I stressed my words with an amiable smile.

Grandma understood nonetheless. "You're right. I'm really looking forward to meeting him." She patted my shoulder.

We made our way to the kitchen where we would have lunch. Mom had decorated the kitchen table and had prepared a sauerbraten, my grandma's favorite dish. We ate, talked, and laughed, but the fewer minutes remained until three o'clock the more anxious I became. The queasy feeling in my stomach gained in strength. The trembling became more difficult to hide. I started to sweat.

I jumped up from my chair when the doorbell rang at two fifty-five. "I'll open the door." I was already out of the kitchen when I finished this sentence.

I pressed the door opener. It seemed to take an eternity 'til Tim appeared at the last bend of the stairs, each second stretching out infinitely, though my heart was beating fast. I had been so absorbed into my terror that I hadn't noticed my grandma and my dad joining me. I almost jumped out of my skin when Dad touched my shoulder. I faced him, and he gave me an encouraging nod. My mom had stayed in the kitchen, making clanking noises with the table ware. Tim was standing before our door, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He had chosen clothes somewhere between formal and casual. He was wearing blue jeans, but ones not as tight as most of his others. A white shirt was buttoned up with the exception of the last button, and a dark grey sports jacket completed the outfit. The clothes in which Tim didn't look gorgeous hadn't been invented yet. The welcome committee unsettled him, and with hanging shoulders, he just lingered before our door. He was cute when he was insecure. I took the initiative and kissed him on the lips, extending the notion of my mouth being faster than my brain. His eyes filled with panic, but when my grandma and my dad didn't show a hint of disapproval, he relaxed.

"This is my grandma Gertrud, Gertrud Wissmann. You know my father. Dad, Grandma, this is Tim Eschner, my boyfriend."

Saying it aloud gave me a warm feeling in my stomach. They shook hands and greeted each other.

"What a handsome young man. You don't have a grandfather who's single?"

The panic returned for a moment, but Grandma winked at him and he chuckled.

"Unfortunately, I don't."

"What a pity." She joined his chuckle.

That had been the easy part. The enemy was still waiting in the kitchen. Dad and Grandma went first; Tim and I followed suit. I patted his back lightly and gave him a smile, which he returned. My mom had set the table for coffee and cake. She was cutting the chocolate cake while the coffee machine gurgled in the background, filling the room with a caffeine aroma. My mother looked up at Tim, the fake friendliness that I had learned to loathe the last week engraved into her face.

"Nice to meet you, Tim. I've heard so many things about you."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Ritter. These are for you." He held out the flowers.

"Oh, how beautiful those are. Thank you. I'll put them in water at once. Take a seat." She produced a vase out of one of the cupboards, filled it with water, put the flowers inside, and placed it on the table.

Tim and I were sitting on one of the longer sides of the table, while Dad and Grandma were sitting at its ends. Mom took the chair opposite of us. She poured everyone a cup of coffee and served the cake.

"You're very athletic and exceptionably well built," my mom said.

"Thank you, ma'am." Tim smiled, but it was an uneasy smile. I could see.

"Comes in handy when you're the school bully."

Four forks made a loud noise when they hit the plates. Only Mom continued to eat.

"He's not the school bully," I said with a low voice, fighting to keep the anger out of it.

"Oh. So Marcel was the only one you roughed up?"

Tim nodded, almost imperceptively.

"I'm curious. Why did you beat my son and no one else?" The false smile didn't move at all.

"Mom. Stop it."

"I feared him." Tim answered my mother's question with lowered eyes and a breaking voice.

I turned to face him. I hadn't asked him, didn't have the need to know. His answer was surprising nonetheless. I put my hand on his knee and gave it a light squeeze.

"With all those muscles you feared Marcel? That's ridiculous." Acridity crawled into my mom's voice.

"Agnes," my dad said, "this is not the time to..."

"It's okay, Mr. Ritter. I'll answer." Tim looked into my eyes, begging for my forgiveness again. "Marcel is the cleverest person in school. I didn't stand a chance when confronting him about Nicholas' lies with words only. So I used my fists, knowing that violence was the one thing I was better at."

Tim had been as afraid of me as I had been of him. I gently rubbed his knee, reminding him of the fact that I had forgiven him and that these new revelations didn't change that. Tim's eyes could hold so much gratefulness it hurt to look into them.

"I see. What's that nickname of yours again in school?" Mom's mock friendliness distorted into a gloating mask of triumph.

"Mom!" This time I didn't bother to keep my voice low.

"Dumb. They call me Dumb."

I turned to him again. He was still looking at me with thankful eyes. It was his turn to show me that everything was alright.

My mom addressed my grandma, striking out for the last blow. "What does your grandma say when her only grandson is together with a mindless brute?"

"Uncle Ernst."

My mom looked at Grandma in disbelief.

"Don't look at me like I'm senile. You remember Uncle Ernst? I've told you about him."

"He's the one who stayed behind in Berlin when you fled with your family, but what does that have to do with this?"

"I think I never told you why he chose to stay."

"I always thought he was a communist."

"Ernst? He was a dreamer and a starry-eyed idealist. He may have sympathized with their ideas, but he was no communist. The reason why he didn't come with us was Aleksandr."

Everyone in the room was staring at grandma and hanging on to her every word.

"The Soviets had been in the city for three weeks before my mother decided to flee with us. She had organized tickets for one of the last trains heading for the West. Our last information was that Papa had been captured and was a prisoner of war. Mama wanted to get as far away from Berlin as possible because she feared for our safety. Ernst had stayed away from home for extended periods of time during these three weeks, not telling us where he went. When I was already aboard the train and my mother right behind me, he didn't join us. He apologized and said he would stay because he had found someone he truly loved: Aleksandr. Before Mama could answer, he ran away. I was fifteen and couldn't understand why my elder brother didn't want to come with us. But Mama had understood and didn't try to stop him. It was too late anyway because the train was already moving.

We didn't hear from him for a full year before a letter arrived. He had sent us tickets and travel permits, telling us that everything was alright and that he has never been happier in his life. We visited him. Aleksandr and Ernst had a nice little flat and welcomed us heartily. Though I was young, I could see how gently and caringly those two treated each other. And remember: Those were different times. Two men together was an abomination, even a crime, but I will never forget what my mother said when we had to leave again."

Grandma's voice normally showed no trace of her Berlin origin, but now, speaking with the voice of her mother, the dialect was thick in it.

"'You'll watch out for my boy,' she said and hugged Aleksandr. It was the last time we saw them.

Aleksandr died of cancer not five years after our visit. Ernst died shortly after. However cheesy that sounds, he died of a broken heart. He couldn't live without him." She paused and closed her eyes, recollecting herself. Living through these memories had taken its toll on her.

"I still owe you a real answer, Agnes. What do I say about Tim and Marcel? Your own grandmother could forgive a Soviet soldier, 'the enemy', and invite him into her family because she saw how much they loved each other. Just take a look at them." She gestured at Tim and me. "They love each other as much as Ernst and Aleksandr. The way they look at each other, the way Tim's enduring your inquisition, the way Marcel's touching him. My answer is a question: Why can't you accept Tim into your family?"

She turned toward Tim. "You get a different answer: You'll watch out for my boy."

Mom got up from her chair so fast that it toppled over backwards. With tears coursing down her face, she ran out of the kitchen.

"Marcel. You'll follow her now. She's waiting for you. Tim. You'll join them five minutes later. And Juergen. You'll serve me another piece of chocolate cake and another cup of coffee."

I entered the living room where my mom was sitting on the sofa, her face hidden in her hands. She was sobbing. I just stood there between the door and the couch, not sure what to do.

"Your grandma is right. I'm already too jaded to see the love my son is feeling." She didn't look up.

"That's not true."

"After what I've said and done I'm wondering why you're still speaking with me." She lifted her head.

I could see that her eyes were red from her tears.

"You're my mom. I love you no matter what. But can you tell me why? Why do you hate Tim so much?"

"I don't hate him. It's... he has hurt my baby. There's nothing worse for a mother: to see how someone hurts her child and to be unable to do something about it."

I made a step forward. "But, Mom, I've forgiven him. I had the chance to get to know him. Yes, he has hurt me, but he has another side. Tim is the gentlest, most loving, and caring person I've ever met. Once I saw this, it was easy to forgive him. You didn't allow him to show you."

"I was afraid... I'm still afraid that he'll harm you again. I've failed once to protect you. I mustn't fail again."

"There's no need for protection. If there's one safe place in the world for me then it's in Tim's arms."

I felt his warm presence behind me before he hugged me and rested his cheek against the back of my head.

"It's true, Mrs. Ritter. I'd rather hurt myself than let anything happen to Marcel. I understand that you don't trust me. Sometimes, I can't believe myself that Marcel loves me despite the terrible things I've done to him."

"But I do love you. With all my heart and soul." I touched his other cheek with my hand, brushing over it with my fingertips. His embrace tightened, and he didn't have to say the words. I knew what he was feeling for me.

My mom got up from the couch and extended her hand. "Marcel has learned my lessons about second chances better than I have, but it's never too late for a new trick or two."

Tim let go of me and took my mom's hand.

"I apologize for what I've said and hope that you can forgive me, too. Welcome to our family, Tim."

"I apologize for hurting Marcel, and I promise to take good care of him. He deserves it."

I lay my hand on theirs. Tears ran down my face, but they were tears of joy.

Mom gave Tim a smile. "To show you that I mean it, do you want to stay for the night?"

"I have to ask my parents first, but I'd love to."

We returned to the kitchen. The relief was written on my dad's face, and Grandma was beaming at us.

"You three, promise me to keep talking with each other. Grandma Gertrud is getting too old for this." She winked, and we burst out laughing.

The rest of the afternoon went exactly as a tea party should. Tim and Dad talked about soccer. Mom and Grandma brought each other up to scratch. I added here and there when I had something to say, but most of the time, I was just content watching them and being happy.

Chapter 30

By six o'clock, Grandma had to leave. Again, she insisted on calling a taxi. Before leaving, Grandma invited Tim and me to visit her in Berlin after the Abitur. That would be fun and we assured her we'd come. Tim had called his parents. After giving the short version of this afternoon's events, they didn't object to him staying over.

Tim stood at the window, lost in thought, when I returned to my room after getting something to drink and some sandwiches. He didn't even notice me entering. I put the food on the desk and took my time watching him. One question had lingered in my mind since all those confessions in the afternoon.

With a soft voice, not to startle him, I spoke up. "Tim?"

He snapped out of his reverie and turned around, a smile on his face. "Yes?"

"Deep inside of you, do you still fear me?"

His expression became earnest. He crossed the distance between us in a blur and drew me into a kiss, drowning me in its passion. Tim maneuvered us to my bed and we sank down on it. While I was lying on my back, Tim hovered above me. When our lips parted, his eyes fixed mine.

The smallest trace of a smile returned to his face. "No. Not at all. You've said to your mom that my arms are the safest place for you. Your presence gives me the same sense of security."

I touched his cheek. Tim closed his eyes and his smile deepened, but after a while, his forehead began to crease. The curve of his lips vanished and wrinkles formed around his eyes. Gently grabbing my hand, he rolled to the side until he was lying on his back beside me.

"What is it?"

He took a deep breath before answering. "I'm thinking about Nicholas... what he has done... how much he hurts people."

The mere mentioning of this name made me cringe, but Tim needed someone to talk to.

"Share with me, please."

His grip around my hand tightened. "It was in seventh grade when Nicholas came for me. Yeah, that's the best way to put it. Do you know those soccer sticker albums? You buy five stickers at a time in a small paper sachet, hoping to get the ones you don't have yet. Of course, I bought those albums and the stickers every year." A small chuckle followed this childhood memory. "In seventh grade, I was missing one single sticker to complete the album. All my fellow pupils traded cards with each other, but no one wanted to trade with Dumb."

Another deep breath.

"Then Nicholas approached me, offering me this very card in exchange for a much more common one. He asked whether I like to play soccer myself. You can imagine my answer. Then he wanted me to meet him in the afternoon for a little match. No one from school had ever wanted to play with me, so I was dizzy of joy getting this invitation." He paused for a moment. "Nicholas had been twelve years old then. And obviously he was already a scheming asshole. Knowing about the card, knowing about me loving soccer, twelve years old. That afternoon followed many more. He even introduced me to his clique, but he took care that no one got too close to me. By small stabs and intrigues he made sure that he stayed my only friend. I didn't realize it then, but in hindsight, it is painfully clear."

I squeezed his hand back, letting him know how much I cared.

"Of course, he supported me going to the gym. He even helped me to talk my parents into it. They thought I was too young at the age of fifteen to begin with muscle training, but Nicholas was in need of a mindless brute."

I flinched because he had echoed the exact words of my mom. Ever observant Tim noticed, of course.

"Yes, your mom was right about that part."

I kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "No, she wasn't."

With his other hand, he pressed me tight against his face. "Then came the fine tuning of his control over me."

The muscles in his face were working, and his body tensed up.

His voice acquired a strained tone. "He pitted me against the members of his own clique. At first, he tried lies about them bad mouthing me. That worked, but only to a certain degree. At last, he discovered the right button to press, the weakness he could exploit: our friendship. Adding to his stories that someone had hurt him made me angry beyond reason. No one was allowed to harm my only friend. He could barely restrain me from beating Chris to the hospital."

Chris, I supposed, was Christopher Pawlik, part of Nicholas' inner posse. I remembered that he had come to school with a black eye and slightly limping one day. He had told everyone that he had been ambushed in the park by some youngsters. Christopher had even pressed charges at the police. The level of control Nicholas possessed over his subjects made me feel cold inside.

"Having established the perfect method of control, he chose his next victim -you." Tim's voice broke on the last word. The tension of his muscles made him tremble.

I slung my free arm around him and turned on my back, pulling Tim along until he was half-lying on me. We stayed like that for some time while I patted his back. Telling me about Nicholas had been difficult for him, but I could see into him and knew that he hadn't shared the one thing that truly burdened him.

"You can tell me everything," I breathed into his ear.

He snuggled up against me even closer, allowing no distance between us. "I've said I don't fear you anymore and I meant it, but I do fear that you'll come to your senses one day and realize that you deserve better than me. I'm scared that you'll remember the pain my hands and arms brought to you, that you'll be afraid of them again."

With soft pressure, I rolled Tim off me and onto his back. I straddled him and started to unbutton his shirt. Soon after, his white shirt lay discarded beside my bed. My gaze locked onto his eyes, and nothing but longing looked back at me.

"Flex your arm and form a fist."

"What?" Panic was written into Tim's face.

I softened my expression, tried to let my love for him shine through my eyes. In a low voice, I repeated my request. "Flex your arm and form a fist... please."

Most slowly, Tim raised his right arm. The sinews and the muscles in his arm adjusted their position when he clenched his fingers. His biceps bulged out, one vein winding itself around the massive shape. With both hands, I touched Tim's fist, lowering my lips down on it. I kissed each of his knuckles, using a little suction. After following down the back of his hand, my mouth found the inside of his wrist. On my lips, I felt the beating of his pulse, steady but agitated. I lingered there for a moment and glanced sideways at Tim. He had closed his eyes and his breathing had accelerated. I continued my exploration of his forearm, pecking it time and again. My tongue traced the vein on his biceps. The stream of my breath flowing over the moist trail gave Tim goose-bumps, and he moaned.

So close to his armpits, his smell was different. It changed only by a nuance, became a little more male, but the effect it had on me was dramatic. My hands had somehow found their way to Tim's stomach. They charted the ripped complexity of his abs. Some small kisses later, my mouth was close to Tim's ear. For two, three breaths, I did nothing and just let a small current of air reach his ear. He inhaled sharply, and a whimpering sound escaped his lips. Tim's body arched up beneath me.

"You see." I merely modulated those words onto my breath.

It wasn't a question and didn't need an answer. I got one nonetheless.

"I want you inside of me."

The confidence I had felt moments ago, when showing my feelings to him, vaporized with a vengeance. I moved back my head, following the urge to look into his eyes. There was a lustful gleam in them, but there was something more, something deep, something profound. When he saw the expression on my face, a little twinkle joined the other emotions in Tim's gaze.

"Before you ask, yes, I'm sure. I'm absolutely, undeniably, irrevocably sure."

I couldn't suppress a small laugh.

Tim's demeanor changed. The twinkle vanished while the lust and the love took over. "It is you who I want. Nothing in my life has ever felt so true or real."

In a quick motion, I lowered my lips to his. My tongue followed its own will. Still locked in the kiss, Tim turned me on my back, reversing the straddle. His hands had found the lower edge of my sweater and pulled it up. When we broke the kiss, I didn't want it to end. My head followed Tim's retreating lips.

"Just let us get rid of this," he said.

My sweater joined Tim's shirt on the floor. He lowered himself down on me again, resuming the kiss.

My now-exposed skin felt like bursting into flames when it made contact with his. Tim's hands touched my shoulders and descended down my arms in excruciating slowness. His fingers intertwined with mine. Tim pulled up my arms all the way over my head. His hands began a descent down my arms, and his lips joined the journey, kissing my chin, my throat, my chest. Tim's mouth found my left pec and nibbled on it. The soft tucking of his teeth on the sensitive flesh set my spine on fire. I couldn't stifle a sharp groan, which was still muffled enough not to leave the room. Tim veered off toward my armpit. The sensations his tongue caused there were just as intense. I had the impression that every single neuron in my brain was fired, giving me the feeling of floating in emotions. I couldn't keep my hands off Tim any longer, burying my hands in his deltoids. I experienced their power in every one of his movements. My cock had been pressing against the inside of my jeans from the very moment Tim had straddled me. The pain was almost too much to bear. Tim shared my predicament, given the bulge of his trousers. Reading my mind again, he opened my button fly, his face still buried in my armpit. He got off me to remove our jeans and underwear.

The time without him stretched out to eternity. When he was standing before my bed naked, I knew I would never grow weary of looking at Tim's body. Nature had formed a perfect vessel and had filled it with the most interesting soul. My dick twitched.

With a grin on his face, Tim crawled on top of me again. "You truly hate waiting."

He placed my cock in his butt crack, rubbing up and down. I stuffed the edge of my hand into my mouth and bit myself. It was the only way not to scream out in delight. My cockhead gliding over the soft skin around Tim's hole caused reactions that made the experiences from minutes ago look pale in comparison. My spine had been exchanged for a thunderbolt electrifying everything within me.

Tim gently removed my hand from my mouth, replacing it with his lips and tongue. My eyes closed, just to snap open again. A warm tightness surrounded the tip of my dick. Tim moaned into my mouth. It wasn't a sound of pain, but of pleasure. He increased the pressure and more of my cock was absorbed into the narrow chute. The muscles in his ass tightened and relaxed, adding to the unbelievable experience. My dick hit a small knob in Tim's rear. This time he purred, groaned, and moaned all at once. I knew those sensations first hand, feeling humble and proud at the same time to give them back to him. Tim's butt cheeks touched my inner thighs. He had taken me completely, without lube, without preparation. Deep gratitude rose within me, a tingling warmth spreading throughout my body. Primal desire was added to this mixture when Tim began to move up and down in an accelerating rhythm. It wasn't long before I succumbed to the intensity of our emotions. Every muscle within me contracted when I came inside Tim. The last shot made me shudder before my body relaxed again. The gratitude had gained in strength. I had to let him know. Tim and I changed place when I turned him around in a swift roll. I pulled my cock out eliciting another moan from him.

Descending down onto his member with my mouth, I sucked him with unparalleled vigor, licked away at the sticky droplets of precum. I hadn't noticed before, had been too absorbed in my own pleasure, but Tim was dripping with sweat. The musky smell of his slick body drove me mad, and my hands tried to touch him in all places at once. I could sense Tim's approaching climax. The flexing of his muscles, the pace of his breath gave him away.

"I'm cumming... Marcel... I..."

He tried to pull out, but I grabbed him with both hands, holding him fast. The first shot of cum hit my tongue. I wasn't prepared for the sensation of taste. Salty and sweet, bitter and sour, spicy and mild.

No single word was able to describe what my tongue was experiencing. Each of his shots added a new detail, was a little different in texture than the one before. I swallowed all of them. I had wondered whether I would freak out having cum in my mouth, but knowing it was Tim's made swallowing the most natural thing in the world. Only when my tongue had found every single drop, I let go of his cock. Tim's strong hands grasped me by my shoulders. Effortlessly, he pulled me up until our faces were on level. Looking into Tim's eyes was like looking into his soul, which was made up of delicate mandalas of emotion. I got lost in them. With great tenderness, Tim's fingers wove into my hair and he pulled me close for a kiss. Now that the urgency of lust was gone, our tongues took their time, trying to exchange the things that cumbersome words couldn't express. Blissful sleep found us like this.

Chapter 31

It was six o'clock when the buzzing alarm sound ended the night. Our naked bodies were still entangled with each other. Though the room was only dimly lit by a street lantern, I could see the glow in Tim's eyes.

"Good morning." His voice was hushed.

Before I could answer, Tim had sealed my lips with another kiss.

His mouth moved along my cheek until it reached my ear. "I still can't believe how much you love me. I'm not as good with words as you are, but I want you to know that I love you as much."

"I love you for everything you are. Don't let anyone tell you anything else... that includes you, big boy."

He chuckled into my ear. "I'll do my best."

The rumble of my stomach made him chuckle again. We hadn't touched the sandwiches I had brought with me last evening.

"I think I'm in dire need for breakfast." I had to laugh myself. "Let's take a quick shower and see what the kitchen has to offer, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan."

I went to the bathroom first, Tim followed after I had finished showering. I dried my hair in my room and dressed there. Just when I left my room, Tim came out of the bathroom door, fully dressed.

A grin formed on his face. "When I see my cute boyfriend, I have to do this."

He slung his arms around my waist and pulled me close. I was in for another kiss. My stomach protested again, obviously not very interested in romance. Tim broke the kiss.

His grin changed into a smirk. "Let's find something to silence this grumbler."

His arms still around me, he shoved me backwards toward the kitchen. While doing so, he kept kissing my forehead, my cheeks, my nose... simply everything that was in reach of his lips. He opened the kitchen door, and after another short peck for my right eyelid, he looked up. The smirk faded away and was replaced by insecurity. I turned my head. Mom and Dad were sitting at the table. Both of them were looking at us, Dad holding the newspaper and Mom her cup of coffee. The expression on their faces was stern. I could almost feel Tim's insecurity flowing through me, infecting me.

Suddenly, Mom and Dad burst out laughing.

"The looks on your faces. Priceless!" Dad said.

He was enjoying this little prank of theirs a little too much. I turned back to Tim. His boyish smile was returning.

"Believe it or not, we've been young, too. And we've been lovebirds, too." My father's words were followed by another fit of laughter.

Mom was the first to recover. "Sit down, you two."

We took our seats. Soon after, we both had steaming mugs of coffee and toast before us. My stomach finally gave up its protest after the first few bites. Dad resumed reading the newspaper, chuckling time and again. Mom stared at her mug, absorbed in her own thoughts. In the background, the radio was playing as it always did in the morning. Though the mood was relaxed, neither Tim nor I dared to speak. Our hands had found each other under the table, and we held fast to each other. I helped myself to a second mug of coffee when my mom looked up and addressed Tim.

"I already did so yesterday, but I want to apologize again. I've said so many horrible things to you.

That's not like me. Not at all."

"I've called myself worse things than you did for hurting Marcel. He has forgiven me, but it'll take much more time before I'll forgive myself. I can't blame you for thinking about me the way you do."

I had the strong urge to grab Tim by his shoulders, shake him, and tell him to let go of his pain. Still, feeling it the way he did was so much part of him that I couldn't help but love him even more for doing so. I stroked his hand with my fingers.

"It'd be a lie to say I put all my worries to rest," Mom said. "But hearing you say things like that and seeing you two together... there's hope for both of us."

"Yes, Mrs. Ritter."

Tim and my mom were smiling at each other, a little act instilling confidence into me. Given enough time, they would find a way to clear up the last remaining resentments they had. Dad was still pretending to read the newspaper, but I knew he had followed every word and was now bursting in pride for his family.

Since we wanted to go to Tim's home first, we had to leave shortly after.

"I hope to see you here more often. Yes, Marcel, that invitation extends to you, too," my mom called after us as Tim and I were already descending the stairs.

We couldn't stifle a small laugh. The weekends I had spent home hadn't been too numerous in the past few weeks.

Outside, it was still dark. The sky was clear, but a subtle haze was hanging in the chilly air. Venus was shining brightly in the eastern sky. The goddess of love had truly smiled upon us the past few weeks.

That thought made me chuckle inside. Tim unchained his bike and held it with his left hand. He extended his other arm. I looked at it and then up into his face.

"At least until home, I wanna hold you."

He wouldn't dare walk like this to school, but it was another step on his way.

When I had cuddled up to him, his arm slung around me, he bent over and whispered into my ear.

"Soon, Marcel. I promise."

I turned to him. His eyes bore a trace of insecurity. He had sworn not to hurt me again, and he wasn't sure whether he was already doing so.

"It's alright. You've already come so far. I'll wait for you. That's my promise."

He rested his forehead against mine. I felt it more than I actually heard it, but his lips formed the words 'Thank you.' We didn't speak another word until we reached Tim's home. His parents had already left for work, and Diana was on her way to school. I followed Tim down the spiral case into his apartment. He changed his clothes and gathered some stuff for school.

"Wait a moment."

He knelt down before one of his cupboards and pulled out the drawer. He produced a small wooden box, waving at me to take place beside him. The overall design of the box was simple, but the corners had been adorned with delicate brass ornaments. The padlock and the bolt it was attached to were also made of brass. The key dangled from the lock on a small silver chain. Tim opened the chest.

Inside was a small figurine of two cats, one black and one white, cuddled together. It had been made from a shiny stone with much attention to detail. The cats had distinct features, and even the texture of their fur looked different. He removed it from the box and with a small twist separated the two cats from each other.

"My grandfather... Mom's dad... carved these from soapstone. He made the box, too. These were gifts for my grandmother. Each of them kept one of the cats to remind them of each other." Tim's gaze wandered down to the statuettes. "When Grandma had died, he gave them to me. He told me that these two had always watched over them. I should share them with my true love."

Tim's hand closed around the black cat, and he extended his other hand with the white one.

He looked up into my eyes, his expression solemn. "I want you to have it."

For some heartbeats, I couldn't breathe. My vision blurred; my mind was in uproar. Without having actual control over it, my hand closed over the smooth surface of the cat. I brought it close to my heart. My other hand cupped the one holding the figurine. I looked down at it. I had entered a state of hypersensitivity again and drank in every detail of the shape resting in my hand. I was convinced that I could see Tim's love flowing through it.

"Marcel?"

I looked up.

On Tim's face, a benign smile was shining. "Then you do accept it?"

"Yes." That one word was aspirated only.

"Yes!" Much stronger than before.

I kissed Tim on his lips. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Tim grabbed my head and pressed his cheek against mine, his arms firmly around me. His voice was frail and it was brimming with emotion. "I can't imagine living without your love."

"You'll never have to."

On our way to school, we didn't speak, but every time our eyes met, and they did so quite often, a dreamy smile formed on both our faces. If someone had seen us like that, it would've been obvious what was going on between us, touching or not. At school, Tim chained his bike and we embraced.

"I can't wait until three o'clock. I'll visit your courses instead of mine." Though Tim was jesting, his voice bore a hint of desperation.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"I think that's impossible."

We laughed. Still in the hug, Tim planted the smallest of kisses on my hair. Even someone directly looking at us wouldn't have noticed. We let go of each other. Both of us looking back time and again, we separated and walked to our classrooms. When Tim was out of sight, I reached into my pocket and caressed the white stone cat in it. Though its surface was cold, touching it made me feel comfortably warm inside.

Christina and Daniel were waiting at the classroom. They looked worried, but as I got closer, their expressions softened. Daniel's trademark grin had returned when I was standing before them.

"Given the look on your face, Tim's still alive and has got all of his limbs," he said.

"With a little help from my granny, it worked out." I challenged Daniel with the slyness of my own grin.

"Do you mind sharing any details?" Christina's pudgy face gained an angelic touch when she was smiling.

"I'd like to tell you together with Tim. It's as much his story as it is mine."

It was almost impossible to tell what had happened without revealing the true nature of our relationship. Tim should decide how much he wanted to share with our friends. Christina and Daniel seemed to accept the reason I had given them, for their smiles didn't stop.

The slyness in Daniel's grin took a notch up. "Must be one hell of a story. I'm looking forward to it."

"Yes, you should be." I tried to look mysterious, but the result resembled a face cramp more than anything else.

The two snorted with laughter, and I couldn't help but join in. Still laughing, we entered the classroom.

The second hour of physics was canceled because the science teachers had their regular monthly meeting. So I was an hour early at the Cell. For the thirteenth graders, school would end by the end of March. Most teachers didn't give homework anymore, and I spent the surplus time reading a scientific article about star formation, but something about the mathematical models they used felt wrong. At first, I blamed myself for not fully understanding the concepts. Three quarters of an hour later, I had found a realistic set of data that yielded unreasonable results. I doubted that a pupil had seen what peer reviewers hadn't. I was still staring at my results when the door opened and closed almost too fast to see. I just had time to raise my eyes before Tim had pulled me up from the chair and into a fierce kiss. My head was already swimming before he let go of my lips and rested his forehead on mine. I was gasping for air.

"That was close. Another minute and I would have exploded," Tim said.

"Sure, big boy."

Once more, we chuckled together.

When we parted, Tim noticed the sheets of paper on the desk. "What have you been doing?" He gestured toward the article and my calculations.

"I think I've found a mistake in that astronomy article, but more likely, I'm wrong."

"I know you are right. You are cleverer than some wannabe scientist."

I knew Tim was serious about this, even before looking into his eyes. Confidence in my abilities wasn't an issue for me, but seeing his unwavering faith in me affected me nonetheless. I caressed his cheek with the outside of my hand. Tim hadn't shaved this morning, and his stubble grazed my skin.

He closed his eyes when he rested the weight of his head on my hand.

"Let's work first, okay?" My voice was soft, mirroring the mood of the moment.

"Yes."

We spent an hour studying math. These days, Tim often answered my questions before I had finished them. The tutoring wasn't necessary any longer, but it meant more time spent together. So we stuck to it. After the session, we often ended up cuddled together against the wall. My head lay on Tim's legs, my eyes closed and his hands playing with my hair.

"I've told Christina and Daniel that the situation between you and Mom worked out, but I left out the details."

"You're so patient with me."

"I've promised to be."

We spent a minute in silence.

"We'll tell them this weekend," he said.

I opened my eyes. Tim's face was upside down, giving it an alien look. Still, the softness and love were visible even from this strange perspective.

"It's another big step."

"No, it isn't. I can't keep my hands off you anyway. It's just practicality."

We laughed. I felt proud of him, despite his efforts to play it down.

"When is your telescope to be delivered?"

I shot up. "Oh shit."

I had completely forgotten about the telescope. My mom was home, so she could open the door, but delivery would be 'behind the first lockable door' only. Five bulky parcels would clutter up the staircase to the delight of our neighbors.

"My muddle-headed professor." Tim cackled. "I'll help you carry it in."

"But your training?"

"My boyfriend is a little bit more important than that."

He pecked the back of my head. One of those small gestures I enjoyed so much.

We arrived just as the delivery van stopped before our house. To my horror, 'bulky' had been a euphemistic understatement. Most of the volume and weight was protective material for the transport, the telescope and its accessories only making up a fraction of those. It didn't take long for the delivery men to pile up the boxes in the staircase. I signed the delivery note and tipped the two young men.

When Tim saw the desperate look on my face, he laid his arm around me. "Hey. Having a brainless muscle jock for a boyfriend can be quite handy in situations like this." He was smiling.

"You're not brainless."

"But a muscle jock." He winked at me.

His sentence had been a setup to crack me up. Tim had succeeded. Laughing, I kissed him on the cheek.

Not quite one and a half hours later, we had the boxes in the cellar, the telescope and the accessories unwrapped, and securely stored away in aluminum boxes. The delivery service would pick up the packaging material on Friday. Standing before the neat pile of cardboard and Styrofoam, I looked at Tim. He had rolled up his sleeves and was glistening with sweat.

"Having a non-brainless muscle jock for a boyfriend can be quite distracting in situations like this," I said.

"You like those, don't you?" With a mischievous grin, he flexed both of his arms, his pecs bulging out as well.

"Yeah, I like those... but I love you."

Tim lowered his arms. The grin changed quality, became an absentminded smile. "You do mean it,"

he said to himself.

My father's head appeared in the door. "Hello, you two. Already finished?"

"Yes. You've waited long enough to join us." My voice was flawless innocence.

"The insolence of it!"

We laughed.

"Mom asks whether you two want to join us for supper."

"Thanks a lot, Mr. Ritter. But I think my parents want to have a detailed recount of Sunday's events."

Tim looked at his watch. "And it's not too late for some bodybuilding afterwards."

That last remark was directed at me. Tim didn't want me to feel responsible for skipping his training.

"So it's just the three of us. I'll tell Mom. Bye, Tim."

"Bye, sir."

Dad left. Moments later, I was pressed against Tim's body; it was bear-hug time again.

"When you say things like this, I know what love truly is." He had claimed not to be good with words, but this sentence proved him a liar.

For an answer, I nestled up closer to him. We let go of each other. The feeling of loss I had encountered in these situations before was gone for good. Our love had grown so strong that I was sure of it even when Tim wasn't there. Each separation carried the promise of reunion in it.

"I'm looking forward to another night under the stars with you," he said.

"Me, too."

Tim and I kissed good-bye. I let him out of the front door and waited 'til he was out of sight. After eating with my parents, I lay down on my bed, the white cat resting on my stomach. Petting it like a real cat, I couldn't keep my eyes open for long. So many things had happened in the last thirty-six hours that it was okay to be tired.

Chapter 32

It was Wednesday. Tim had already left the Cell for his training. I was removing the flipchart sheets when my cell phone rang, buzzing in my pocket. The caller, using a landline, was unknown to me. I didn't even know the area code which was showing on my display. I flipped open the phone.

"Hello."

"Good afternoon. My name's Reinhard Mantrewitz, assistant scout for Fortuna Prussia. Am I speaking with Marcel Ritter?"

"Yes."

"Fine. We received the portfolio you created for your client, Tim Eschner."

I had to sit down since my legs refused to support me. I took a couple of deep breaths.

"Mr. Ritter? Are you still there?"

"Yes, of course."

While my voice was shaking, one could hear the amused smile in Mr. Mantrewitz's.

"Fine. Sending material like this is a very unusual method, but obviously it worked because you caught our attention."

"Thank you."

I swiped my forehead. Business talk wasn't one of my natural talents for sure.

Nonetheless, the amusement in his voice became stronger. "You're welcome. The reason why I call is that I'd like to take a look at Mr. Eschner playing. I'll be in Cologne this weekend, and according to the homepage of Mr. Eschner's club, there will be a match on Sunday, eleven o'clock. That's right, isn't it?"

"Yes, there will be a match on Sunday." Until now, that had been the most professional sentence I had uttered.

"Fine. I'll meet you before the stadium, main entrance, on Sunday, ten forty-five. Is that okay for you?"

"Of course, Mr. Mantrewitz." I scribbled down the time. As if I could think of anything else for the next few days.

"I'd like to ask you whether it's possible not to inform Mr. Eschner about my visit. That may be a strange request, but it's been my experience that the impression I get from a player's abilities is more accurate when he's unaware of me."

Since Tim hadn't the slightest idea of that special project, keeping it secret until Sunday suited me well.

"Sounds very reasonable. I won't tell Mr. Eschner about your visit." Another sentence that made sense. I was getting better.

"Fine. By the way, you sound very young for an agent."

"I'm not an agent." Face-palm time again. Cursing my fast mouth, I realized that I was even more abysmal at that game than I had thought.

This time Mr. Mantrewitz chuckled right out. "Then this application is even more unusual than we thought."

I had nothing to lose anymore.

"Please, Mr. Mantrewitz. I may not be a professional agent, but I know how dedicated Tim... Mr.

Eschner is to playing soccer. He's an excellent player who deserves to be given a chance. Please don't cancel your visit, just because I'm too dense to at least pretend to be a businessman."

He chuckled again. "You had me already hooked when you thanked me for the comment about the portfolio. I'm looking forward to seeing Mr. Eschner play... and to meeting the young man who so ferociously fights on his behalf."

"Thank you."

"You may not be a businessman, but you're polite. Sometimes that's more important than anything else. See you on Sunday. Bye."

"Bye."

I held the phone to my ear, even though Mr. Mantrewitz had hung up a minute ago. I still couldn't believe that this had worked out in spite of me. Moreover, Mr. Mantrewitz's comments about the portfolio made me realize how childish this move had been from the start. But fortune favors children and fools. And I was still enough of both.

Daniel and Christina were coming to my home this Saturday afternoon. We expected them anytime soon. Tim had arrived shortly after noon, and we had discussed the best way to tell our friends about us. Propped on our elbows, we lay on my bed, facing each other.

"I think it'd be best if you do the talking. I'm not very good at such things, and you've known them longer than I have."

It was quite an effort to hide my amusement: such a hunk of a man and afraid of talking to his friends. On the other hand, opening up to others about being gay had to be intimidating for him.

I had experienced those feelings myself, so I gave him my most encouraging smile. "Yeah. That's a good idea."

I was sure that I had heard a mute sigh of relief.

"I think Christina already knows," I continued. "At least, she very much suspects we're a couple. She knows about my feelings for you, and I haven't been exactly depressed the last weeks."

We snickered.

"I'm more worried about Daniel, too," Tim said. "He can be quite, umm, adamant about things. I remember meeting him here for the first time."

"My politeness is rubbing off on you. 'Bullheaded' is the word that comes to my mind first."

We laughed again. The doorbell ended the theoretical part of our plan.

"Rien ne va plus!" Tim said.

"And you say you're not good with words."

Another chuckle while we were on our way to the door. I had been calm the entire day, but when the two turned around the last bend of the stairs, a hole formed where my stomach was supposed to be.

For me, one look at Tim was enough to know he was nervous, too. His body was tense, and the muscles of his face worked overtime. Daniel and Christina either didn't see or had the courtesy not to mention it.

Christina was carrying a plastic container. "Hello. I've made that almond-sugar-cake you like so much." She lifted her hand holding the cake while beaming at us.

"You're too good to be true."

"I know."

"I've just brought myself. That's already an incredible honor," Daniel said, grinning of course.

"The word is horror, I think." I gave him a smile of questionable sincerity.

"Tim, do you mind roughing him up again for this impudence?"

I turned to Tim. I knew him, could read him, and still I wasn't sure about his reaction. This special subject was touchy for him. From the corner of my eye, I could see that Christina glared at Daniel, who was oblivious as always.

"I've retired from the bullying business, but Christina here is wielding a fierce pillow, I've heard."

I was feeling an equal mix of relief and pride. Tim had mastered this situation with bravura.

"The pillow is reserved for one special doofus only. I'm sorry."

"Hey!"

Still laughing, we settled down in my room. Daniel and Christina sat on my bed, while Tim and I made ourselves comfortable before them on the floor. I couldn't help it, but the difference in height reminded me of a tribunal. I wanted to get our confession over before I'd chicken out.

"Daniel, Christina. We want to tell you something."

The hole in my abdomen had filled with ants, which wasn't an actual improvement. The word 'tense' wasn't strong enough to describe how Tim looked right then.

"Every time we sit on your bed, you break bad news to us. Time to consider a change of place...

Ouch!" The pillow had hit Daniel square on the head.

"You're aware of the fact that not every thought that forms in your sorry excuse for a brain has to come out of your mouth?" The contrast between Christina's harsh words and the jovial look on her face was hilarious.

Daniel's answer was a grunt that would have turned the two diner sisters green with envy.

"Go on." Christina nodded at me while nonchalantly caressing her weapon of choice.

Normally, this whole scene would have given me fits of laughter, but at the moment, a tormented smile was the best I had to offer. I recollected myself.

"Tim and I have been a couple since the beginning of the year."

That approach had worked with Tim's parents, and I wasn't able to come up with anything wittier before courage would leave me.

"Oh fuck!" All eyes turned to Daniel.

He reached into his pocket, getting out his wallet. The corners of his mouth drooping, he removed a five euro bill and handed it over to Christina.

"Thank you very much!" Christina was grinning from ear to ear.

Tim's mouth was gaping open, and I was convinced I didn't look much cleverer. I stared at Daniel again.

"What?" he said, playing innocent.

I couldn't find the proper words, so I just gestured from him to Christina and back.

"I've said you wouldn't tell us before the Abitur, while Miss Know-it-all begged to differ. That was three weeks ago, wasn't it?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw Christina nodding.

"You made a bet about us talking to you about our relationship?"

Daniel shrugged. "Yes, of course. Somehow we had to bridge the waiting time."

I turned and fixed Christina with angry eyes. "You told him?"

Still smiling, she shook her head.

"Hey, a little more confidence in your best friend, please. There are metal love ballads, and I like them all. Moreover, I've got eyes in my head."

Tim hadn't said a word yet. I faced him; he was already looking at me.

"What do you say about this?"

"I'm seriously considering resuming my bullying career." Having said that, he jumped up, grabbed Daniel by his collar, and pulled him to a stand.

Panic rose in Daniel's eyes while Tim stared at him.

"On the other hand, I never had friends as good as you two."

Tim's gaze softened, and he pulled Daniel into a bear hug, pressing all air out of his lungs. Tim let go of him, placed him down on the bed again, and smoothed down the wrinkles of his collar.

"Got you," Tim whispered into Daniel's ear.

It took some moments before Daniel had fully realized what had happened. The return of his sly grin told me he had recovered. Tim turned to Christina.

"No smashing, please!" Laughing, she held the pillow before her like a shield.

"Many things can be said about me, but I'm not a smasher of ladies."

He knelt down, took the pillow out of Christina's hands, and grabbed her right hand. He placed a kiss on it. Christina turned red while Daniel and I snickered.

"At least, one of the persons here is a gentleman." Her lips changed into a mock-pout.

Tim took his place beside me again. He came close, laid his arm around me, and kissed me on the cheek. I had felt pride when Tim had taken Daniel's joke at the front door well. Now, I was almost bursting of it.

"Then there's only one question left..." Daniel was the center of attention again. "Where is the cake? I'm starving."

While eating cake and drinking coffee, we recounted our whole story: the overnight, telling Tim's parents, telling my parents, and the events starting it all. Tim even talked about the animal shelter and Laika. It was heartwarming to see how much more open Tim had become over the last few month.

Both of them had to leave by six o'clock. Christina was supposed to participate in the evening mass, while Daniel had promised to help his mother with one of her catering service jobs. When I was alone with Christina for a moment in the hall, I asked about Daniel and her.

She just shook her head. "This day is about you two. Don't worry for me today, okay?"

This time she couldn't avoid a firm hug.

Tim stayed the night again, yielding to the wish of my mom to see both of us more often. By nine o'clock, we lay cuddled together in my bed, watching an action movie. We talked about the unexpected turn of this afternoon. Tim was overwhelmed by the positive reactions we had received from all sides. Soon, I was sure, he would forget his previous worries about other people. We had been silent for half an hour, just enjoying the movie. I hadn't thought about Mr. Mantrewitz's upcoming visit the whole day. Our 'coming out' to Daniel and Christina had kept me distracted enough, but now that the tension faded away, the nervousness returned.

"Something's on your mind." Tim's gaze was resting on me.

"Yes. I don't want to lie to you: It has got something to do with you. It's a kind of surprise I can't tell you about yet."

"Good or bad?" A smile showed in the corners of his mouth.

"If everything works out as planned, a good one." I smiled back.

He kissed me on the top of my head. "I trust you. And I like surprises. At least, good ones."

We laughed together and resumed watching the movie. The hero of the movie, an athletic sergeant, only wore t-shirts to rip them off his body again in the next scene. He had just gotten rid of another white tee when Tim spoke up.

"He's attractive. Don't you think?"

"Sure he is."

"More attractive than me?"

I turned to look at Tim. He was joking, but a small part of him really wanted to know and, at the same time, feared the answer.

"For an unbiased comparison, you have to get rid of this hoodie."

Grinning, he complied.

With my fingertips, I traced his chest; then I followed the bulges of his six pack. "Mmmm. Very interesting." My fingers glided up and down his treasure trail, two times, three times, always stopping at the edge of his underwear. Tim gasped.

"Okay. I've got my answer," I said and turned my head to the TV again.

With tender hands, he made me face him. "Do you mind sharing your results?"

"Oh? Excuse me. The answer is: you. You're by far more attractive than Sergeant Topless."

I fixed his eyes because I knew what was about to happen. With anticipation, I waited for him searching my mind for nonexistent discrepancies. The softening of his gaze showed me he had come to that very conclusion. We never learned whether Sergeant Topless had saved the world or not.

On Sunday morning, I was restless. It was nine o'clock and time refused to pass. Tim and I had had a little private breakfast, but I hadn't been able to eat much. I paced up and down in my room while Tim packed his bag. Time and again, I looked at my watch.

"You don't have to come and watch the match, if you've got other things to do." The sadness in his voice was reflected in his eyes. It betrayed the true nature of his statement.

"For nothing in the world would I want to miss the opportunity to watch my boyfriend play soccer. It has been such a long time since I've seen you in action."

Merely watching the happiness forming on Tim's face filled me with soothing warmth and gave me absolute certainty I was loved. I rested my forehead against his. For a long moment, I relished in the sensation of his breath wafting over my face.

"What do I have to do to put your doubts to rest, big boy?"

"Just don't give up trying, okay?"

"I won't."

We lay down on my bed. In silence, we kissed, touched, and caressed each other. Time was mocking me again, now by passing faster than it should. Tim was supposed to be at the stadium by ten o'clock, so we left together at nine fifty. On our way, he told me about their opponents, their strengths and weaknesses, but I was only half-listening, for my thoughts were already focused on the upcoming meeting with Mr. Mantrewitz.

"Now, you have to wait for an hour. I wouldn't have minded if you had come later."

"I don't want to miss even those five minutes with you it takes walking here."

"Wait 'til we're home." He made a parody of an angry face.

"What have I said?" I played along.

"Just about the sweetest thing possible."

"They're waiting for you. Go and show them how to really play soccer."

Tim looked left and right before kissing me on the lips. "No risk, no fun. Remember?"

The expression on my face seemed to have warranted this remark. I watched him walking away to the changing room, his sports bag loosely draped over his shoulder, his stride powerful. Even doing something simple like moving from A to B he made look sexy. I decided to spend the remaining time in the park surrounding the stadium. Standing still for the next forty-five minutes wasn't possible. I tried to sort my thoughts since I was determined not to embarrass myself any further in front of Mr.

Mantrewitz. Though I had taken the longer round, I arrived at the main entrance ten minutes early. I forced myself not to walk in circles before the small flight of stairs leading to the swing gate of the stadium. Every time a single man approached the stairs, my heart skipped a beat, but each of them passed me by, ignoring me. It was ten fifty and there was no sign of Mr. Mantrewitz. My adrenaline level had left any reasonable scale. By ten fifty-five, a blond guy with a Mohawk-style hair cut hurried toward me from the direction of the parking lot. He was a twenty-something, but closer to thirty than twenty. The man was half a head smaller than me. When he came closer, I noticed the brightness of his blue eyes and his chiseled features. He reminded me of Sergeant Topless, and I had to stifle a laugh. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a grey hoodie. A clipboard was clamped under his arm.

"Mr. Ritter?" He was panting and still managed a genuine smile.

"Yes. Mr. Mantrewitz, I presume?"

He nodded and we shook hands.

"Call me, Reinhard, please."

"Marcel. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you. I apologize for being late, but the autobahns around Cologne are a pain in the..."

He hesitated, remembering that this was a business meeting.

"Ass," I said, completing his sentence. "Well-known fact."

We chuckled together.

"Fine. So despite being polite, you don't mince any words."

"Yes, that sounds like me."

We chuckled again. I liked him and, obviously, this sentiment was mutual.

"Please lead the way, Marcel. Before they start without us."

"Sure."

The players were already on the field when we arrived. I had chosen the same place where Dad and I had watched Tim for the first time. I wasn't exactly superstitious, but this place had been part of the chain of events bringing Tim and me together. It couldn't be an unlucky spot for sure. Tim saw me and waved at me. I waved back, following it up with a two handed thumbs up. I could see him grin from where we sat.

"You're taking much interest in Mr. Eschner's career."

I turned to Reinhard. He was holding the clipboard in his hands. A picture of Tim was attached to its upper left corner. I wasn't much of a business man, but I knew that this statement was already part of the scouting process. It hadn't been a question, but I was expected to answer nonetheless.

"Tim is a very good friend of mine. Good enough that I really care for his wishes and dreams. If my little stunt brings him closer to one of them coming true, it was worth it."

Reinhard had expressed how much he valued my honesty, so I had decided to stick with it.

"This is the most un-business answer I've ever got." He scribbled something down on the clipboard.

"And it's the best answer I've ever got." His lips curved up into a smile, which I returned.

The whistle blow by the referee made me look at the field again. Now that I knew what to look for, I was able to follow Tim's strategic decisions quite well. He was good, as always. Time and again, I turned to Reinhard. He was looking intently at Tim, taking notes. His face was inscrutable. After the first half-time, Tim's team was leading two to zero. Tim had been involved in both goals.

"What do you think is Mr. Eschner's greatest strength?" Reinhard asked.

This wasn't small talk to fill the pause either.

"Tim thinks outside of the box. His playing style is reactive, almost creative. He takes in the whole situation, not only the small isolated piece in front of him." I had borrowed most of the parts of this sentence from my dad, whom I thanked silently.

"Fine. And his greatest weakness?"

"He has to be absolutely convinced of a plan or concept. If not, he may opt to ignore it."

After writing a little more, Reinhard looked up at me again. I didn't know him well enough to be certain, but a hint of admiration for me showed in his eyes. I turned to the field. Tim stood there, his damp clothes sticking to him. The exhaustion of the first half-time hadn't been able to diminish the aura of power that always surrounded him. He was looking into my direction, and a frown formed on his face. He had seen Reinhard and me talking. Now, he was trying to figure out where to place him, but the teams had to assume positions for the upcoming second half-time, which demanded Tim's focus again. Ten minutes into the second half, Tim was the victim of a brutal foul. When the opponent's foot connected with Tim's shin, I jumped up from my seat.

"It looked worse than it actually was," Reinhard said.

I faced him.

When he saw the worry on my face, he smiled, trying to calm me. "Don't worry. Tim's alright. See for yourself."

Tim had already gotten up from the grass, shook hands with the offender, and continued to play.

"Thanks," I said.

Reinhard was still smiling at me. Ten minutes before the end of the match, Reinhard's cell phone rang. "Sure, Mr. Bassmann. I'll be on my way at once." He hung up and looked at me. "Unfortunately, I have to leave. My boss has called an important meeting in Cologne at one."

My face sagged. Tim wasn't interesting enough to watch him for a whole match.

"Don't look like that." He produced a brown envelope from the clipboard and handed it to me. "I'm not in the position to singlehandedly decide about contracting Tim, but I'll endorse taking a closer look at him. In this envelope, he'll find an invitation to a scouting weekend camp in May."

Without noticing, I had pressed the envelope against my heart.

Reinhard chuckled again. "He can phone us whether he plans to attend. All the details are in there."

"Thank you," I only dared to whisper.

"You don't have to thank me. Tim's an excellent player. I don't have any doubts that he'll be selected after the camp."

I had to fight back the tears that had welled up in my eyes.

"My husband will simply love this story." He winked at me.

"Your husband?"

"Yes. Tim's lucky to have a good friend like you."

It was impossible not to hear the emphasis in this sentence. I was beyond words and nodded for a reply.

"I have to leave if I want to make it in time. Good luck, you two. Bye"

My voice returned when he was already a couple of meters away. "Thank you again and good-bye."

He turned around and waved at me, but soon he was out of the gate and out of sight.

Holding the envelope with both hands, I watched the remaining match. In the end, Tim's team won three to zero. The two teams shook hands and left the field for their changing rooms. Tim didn't follow his teammates but trotted over to me.

"Good match, big boy."

"Thanks."

Tim's eyes wandered from my face to the envelope and back. He was torn: Reinhard and the envelope on one side, respecting my private space on the other. It was incredibly cute that he cared so much about it. He moved his fingers through his hair, hinting even more at his insecurity.

I extended my arms with the envelope. "Your surprise." My face was about to split into two halves.

Relief scurried over his face, just to be replaced by tentativeness again. He took the brown rectangular shape from my hands. Once more, his gaze moved between me and the envelope.

"Look inside. Please!"

My begging tone had put a grin on Tim's face. With deliberate movements, he removed the flap. It was a little late, but that was the moment when my second thoughts set in. I wasn't sure anymore whether I had overstepped a boundary, whether I had meddled with his life too much. Tim was absorbed in opening the envelope and didn't see my smile waver. Finally, he was holding a letter and a flyer in his hand. His forehead creased more and more the further he read into the sheet of paper.

My heart sank. The next things happened too fast for me to react. Tim jumped over the boards and made a lunge toward me. I didn't have a clue how he had managed it, but the impact on the ground wasn't as hard as I had feared. Well hidden from curious eyes, he covered my face with kisses. Warm drops landed on my skin. I gently shoved Tim away 'til I could focus on him. He was smiling, but more tears ran down his cheeks.

"It's crazy. I've to be the luckiest man on Earth, but I can't stop crying."

I wiped away the tears. "It's okay."

"How? When? Who? Why?"

"Why? It's your dream, so it's my dream. Simple as that."

He sobbed once more. His eyes shone, radiating the familiar gratefulness that was an inseparable part of Tim's nature. I could feel the dampness of his jersey seeping into my own clothes.

"I'll answer your other questions once you have changed into something dry. You have to stay healthy; no need for pneumonia."

"Yes, Mom." He snickered before planting one last kiss on my lips.

Tim got off me and helped me up. He picked up the letter and the flyer, which had landed beside us.

With utmost care, he folded them before putting them back into the envelope. He handled the two sheets of paper as if they were the most precious things in the world.

"Keep it for me, yes?" He held the envelope in front of me.

I took it from him. "Of course." I had to swallow down a lump in my throat, for this small act had shown me the extent of his trust.

Tim caressed my cheek, a smile lighting up his face. He jumped back over the boards and hurried over the field, turning back time and again.

We made an extended walk through the park after Tim changed. While I was telling him everything about the portfolio and Reinhard, he kept looking at me with eyes flowing over with emotions; so many emotions that it was difficult to name them separately. All my doubts were forgotten. I had made Tim happy. More justification wasn't necessary.

Chapter 33

It was March sixteenth, a Wednesday. In two weeks' time, school would be over for the thirteenth graders. Two more weeks after that, the written exams of the Abitur would begin. Each and every class had become a refresher course. The pupils' level of anxiety rose a bit more with every passing day. Despite the panic around us, Tim and I decided to skip the tutoring lesson that day and leave early. We wanted to help out at the shelter, something we had neglected over the past few weeks and something we'd have to neglect during the upcoming final exams. Tim had chained his bike at the schoolyard entrance because the bike rack at the main entrance had been full. Crossing the yard, we chatted away.

"According to the weather forecast, this weekend will be cloudless. It's finally time to test your telescope." Tim smiled.

I had complained over and over again about the clouds to him.

He continued, "The curse is broken. Rejoice whose patience is small!"

I tried to look angry at him, but knowing that he was right, I couldn't keep the amusement out of my eyes.

"If you stop mocking me, big boy, I might consider taking you for the maiden flight... uh... sight."

"Oh please! I don't want to miss the opportunity to cuddle to your shivering body. The starlight reflected in your hungry eyes... hungry for me!"

"You're still making fun of me, but the scenario is alluring enough to turn a blind eye to your brazenness."

With Tim's grin for a reply, we passed by Dr. Vogel, who was supervising the delivery of new tables.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Vogel," I said.

He acknowledged my greeting with a curt nod. Given the expression on his face, the delivery wasn't running as smoothly as he wanted it to. Tim and I grimaced at each other and laughed when we were sure to be out of hearing range.

"Disgusting!"

Tim and I turned to see who had made this comment dripping with contempt. It was Pascal Solnitz, who was a thirteenth grader, too. He was quite a talented photographer and had worked for the school mag on a freelance basis. Pascal was considerably smaller than Tim and me and skinny as a rake. The black clothes, he was never seen without, emphasized his wispy appearance. Pascal's blond hair hung down in greasy strands, covering most of his face with the notable exception of his pointy nose. I remembered him as a shy, withdrawn guy. That outbreak didn't really fit this memory. I looked behind me to see what he was referring to.

"I'm talking to you two, faggots."

My head snapped back, facing Pascal again.

"Sorry, that wasn't right. It's only one faggot who seduced a normal guy."

The unexpectedness of this took away my ability to think. I felt like falling. Movement to my left brought me back to reality: Tim was approaching Pascal with fast steps. I followed in suit. Half a meter before him, Tim stopped. He glowered down at Pascal. Pascal's posture, his face, his eyes betrayed that he was in fear, but he didn't move and stared back.

"Say that again," Tim said.

I laid my hand on Tim's shoulder, and with the softest voice, I spoke a single word, "Don't."

Tim broke the glare and turned to me. Hurt was written all over his face. Seeing him like this caused more pain than any of Pascal's insults could have.

"What a well-trained puppy. Doing his faggot master's bidding."

With a jerky movement, Tim's gaze returned to Pascal. Tim's expression, I knew it well, but I hadn't seen it for a long time. He had looked at me like this every time he had hurt me. The pictures came back, flooded over me, but they couldn't harm me. Not anymore. I felt nothing but love for Tim.

"I can only hope you'll come to your senses one day, Tim. You deserve so much better than being abused by this degenerated, perverted asshole."

My body reacted before my mind had the chance to comprehend. My instincts urged me to move into the small space between Tim and Pascal.

Tim's fist connected with my lower left abdomen, harder than any of his punches before.

Tim's face filled my vision. Looking into his eyes was like staring into an abyss of sheer terror. This image burnt into my mind and shattered my heart. He backed away from me. My lips had started to form the word 'no,' but the impact had prevented any actual sound. The metallic taste told me that the jolt had made me bite into my tongue. My surroundings became a swirl before my eyes, making me nauseous. My knees hit the ground. Using both hands, I stopped the fall. With a sharp, involuntary draw of breath, I aspirated the mix of saliva and blood in my mouth. I coughed fiercely.

The noise of something liquid hitting the ground came to me in terrifying clarity.

"Mr. Eschner? What the hell is going on here?" Dr. Vogel's voice roared in my head.

"Take me away from him," Tim said.

"I've asked you..."

"Take me away from him!" Tim had raised his voice to a shout.

Reality faded away. Silence. Darkness. Someone lifted me up.

"Marcel?" The voice of Mrs. Grawe reached me from far away.

"Marcel, I'll take you to the hospital. Don't panic."

"Tim?"

"Don't worry. He can't harm you anymore."

"No, he..."

"Don't speak! Come!"

I was told later it had taken five minutes to get to the nearest hospital in Mrs. Grawe's car. I never recalled those five minutes. I was in the hospital, and the examination was already finished when I came back to my senses. Tim's eyes. His pain. His suffering. Those were my first thoughts. I had to get to him, make everything right. I shot up and looked around: I was sitting on a bed, and a doctor was talking to Mrs. Grawe.

"Mr. Ritter has no severe injuries. The blood came from a small laceration of his tongue. Looked more dramatic than it was. The disorientation was the result of shock. This can be caused by blunt abdominal trauma. Physically, he's alright."

The door opened, and a woman in her forties entered the room. She talked to the doctor and Mrs.

Grawe, but I couldn't understand what she was saying. The doctor and Mrs. Grawe left the room while the woman took the chair beside my bed. Her dark blonde hair was tidily gathered into a pony tail. Her face, and especially her blue eyes, radiated calmness.

"My name's Petra Wollner. You have been the victim of a violent crime, and I want to offer you the possibility to talk about this incident."

I laughed right out. Irritation wrinkled Mrs. Wollner's forehead.

"Bullshit. I haven't been the victim of a violent crime."

"But," she looked at a card in her hand, "Tim Eschner assaulted you on the schoolyard."

Amusement transformed into petulance. "Tim didn't assault me. That was nothing but an accident."

"Did he tell you to cover up his deed?"

This woman was wasting my time. I had to get to Tim.

"Tim didn't tell me anything. According to the doctor, I'm alright. Good-bye, Mrs. Wollner." I got up from the bed.

She grabbed my arm, gently, but with determination. I looked down at her hand, my anger boiling up.

"Mr. Ritter. Repression is a typical sign of psychological trauma."

"If you don't want to get charged with unlawful detention, you'll let go of my arm immediately."

Her compassionate mask crumbled away to reveal frightened disbelief. I was already regretting the harsh way I had talked to her, but the threat didn't fail. She let go of me. I stormed out of the door, past the doctor and Mrs. Grawe. She had difficulty catching up with me.

"What has happened?" Mrs. Grawe asked.

"Nothing. But no one seems to believe me."

"Where are you going?"

"Back to school. Ending this farce. Making everything right."

"Get into my car."

I stopped and looked at her.

"Get into my car." Her second invitation was softer than the first one. "You'll be at school faster by car."

"Thank you."

During the drive, Mrs. Grawe looked at me time and again, but she didn't ask the questions that had to be bothering her. I was too angry and feared I'd say something I'd regret later, so I kept silent as well. The car hadn't stopped yet when I jumped out and ran for the office of the vice principal.

Without knocking, I yanked open the door and entered. Dr. Vogel was alone in his room, sitting at his messy desk. He cringed at my sudden intrusion.

"Where's Tim?"

"Mr. Ritter, I'm so sorry. It's my fault. I should've thrown him out of school the first time he attacked you. I..."

Was everyone determined to waste my time? "Where's Tim?"

"Mr. Ritter? He didn't say a word, and we sent him home. Don't worry! He has been suspended with immediate effect. We..."

I was out of his office before he could finish this sentence. Mrs. Grawe arrived, panting. I brushed past her but stopped some steps later. I turned around.

"Thank you, Mrs. Grawe. But I have to see him. He's in pain because of me."

Understanding was dawning on her face. I resumed my sprint, leaving her standing at Dr. Vogel's office. I stormed out of the front door of the school. It didn't even occur to me to take the bus. I started to run and didn't stop before I was standing before the Eschner house. My lungs were burning and the bruise hurt, but I had to talk to him, had to take away his pain. I hammered at the door, and Diana answered it. This wasn't a rebellious teenager; this was a frightened little girl.

"When he came here, he just smashed the door shut... ran down... locked his door... now he's playing heavy metal music at top volume." The words burst out of her in little gasps. She was close to tears.

"The look in his eyes. So sad, broken." Her tears started to flow.

I hugged her. "It's alright. I'll talk to him. Everything will be fine."

Her sobs shook my body. She was trembling.

"I called Mom. She's on her way."

Gerd was in Canada, supervising one of his projects. Brigitte could be here in half an hour. Diana stopped shaking, so I dared to let go of her. She looked at me and nodded in the direction of the spiral staircase. I touched her cheek before hurrying down. Diana hadn't exaggerated. Even through the closed door of Tim's living room, the music was far too loud.

Punching with my fists against the door, I screamed at the top of my lungs, "Tim! Let me in, please.

Everything's alright!"

I wasn't even sure whether he had heard me. Once again, I pounded his door and pleaded for entry.

My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. In panic, I tried to get it out, but my headless fumbling took forever. Tim's name was blinking on the display, telling me I'd received a short message.

This time you mustn't forgive me. I'll never bring anything else to you but pain. Save yourself from me.

I hit the dial button.

"The person you have called is temporarily not available. Please call again..."

I dropped the cell phone to the ground.

"I don't need to be saved!" Pummeling the door with my fists, I sank down on my knees. "I need you!" The pain in my heart took all the power from my voice.

I rested my head against the door, and silent tears coursed down my face. I didn't even startle when a hand touched my shoulder. It was Brigitte. She was talking to me, but her words were drowned by the monotonous hammering of the music. She gestured for me to follow her upstairs. I picked up my cell phone. A large crack had formed on the display, but it seemed to be still operational.

Brigitte had told me to wait in the dining room before leaving for the kitchen. I slumped down in one of the chairs. My feelings had short-circuited. There was nothing but dullness in me. After some minutes, she returned with two steaming mugs.

"Hot chocolate plus X."

I sipped at it and the fire of X made me cough.

"Scotch Whiskey. Good for your nerves."

The second mouthful went down much smoother.

"Thank you," I said in a throaty whisper.

"What has happened?"

I told Brigitte the whole story, but I felt detached as if I was telling the story of someone else. The alcohol burnt away the dullness and replaced it with searing emptiness.

"That's one hundred percent Tim. He's convinced he broke the promise he gave you. He'll be the last one to forgive himself."

"But it was my fault. I stepped into the punch. Deliberately. Nothing happened that'd have to be forgiven."

"You truly think that?"

I had a d‚j... vu. The piercing look that penetrated deep down into your soul had been an inheritance from his mother.

"You really do."

D‚j... vu again. That sentence hadn't been intended for me. The buzzing of my cell phone interrupted us. This time, I was much calmer. I blamed it on the whiskey. The caller id was a local landline number.

"Marcel Ritter."

"This is Margarete Grauert, school office. Your mother gave us this number."

With horror, I asked myself how much had they told my mom.

"I'm calling to inform you about a meeting of the school council on Friday, ten o'clock, room A12. The council will deal with the disciplinary actions against Tim Eschner. As the victim of his assault, you're required to participate. You're allowed to bring another pupil at your discretion. Principal Landau expresses his apologies for this meeting taking place on such short notice, but the upcoming Abitur exams demand a quick decision. Do you have any questions?"

My brain had shut down.

"Mr. Ritter?"

"Excuse me. No, no questions."

"You're excused from school tomorrow. You shall have time to rest and gather yourself."

"Yes, Mrs. Grauert."

"Okay. I'm very sorry that something so terrible happened to you."

I didn't have the power left to tell her off and said nothing.

"Bye, Mr. Ritter."

I put down my cell phone on the table and looked up at Brigitte. "That was Mrs. Grauert of..." The ringing of the Eschner's phone silenced me.

"Eschner."

A short pause.

"I'm his mother. I fear my son isn't available at the moment."

A longer pause.

"I'll tell my son. Bye, Mrs. Grauert."

Brigitte and I looked at each other. My mind chose this moment to reconnect me to my feelings.

Liquid pain circled in my veins, corroding away the last remnants of hope.

Chapter 34

I looked out of the car window at the entrance of our house. I had wanted to stay with the Eschners, but Brigitte had insisted on taking me home. Moreover, she had promised to call me if Tim came out of his self-created prison.

"Shall I come with you?"

I faced her. "No. It's probably not the best moment to meet my mom. Thank you anyway."

"Tim will come to his senses. I'm sure."

For a HR expert, she was a lousy liar, but I mustered a smile for her. Having a son on the verge of school expulsion was hard for sure. Additionally, she had to take care of the nerve wreck that was his boyfriend; the boyfriend who ultimately had caused this mess. I gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"I want you as my son-in-law. If Tim fucks it up, he'll be in for trouble."

I laughed. Whether appropriate or not, for me it had been the right thing to hear right then.

"Go and tell your parents. They're worried."

I nodded. "In any case, I'll come tomorrow in the evening to check on Tim. Okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Marcel."

"Bye."

I got out of the car and watched her drive away. Taking a deep breath, I entered the house.

The door to our flat was just closed when Mom and Dad charged into the hall. I raised my hand, palm toward them. Both stopped. Insecurity spread on their faces.

"Before you say anything, you have to listen." I raised my sweater.

Mom covered her mouth with her hands. Dad stared, unable to comprehend. Her hands sinking down, Mom's mouth opened.

"Just listen. Please."

Her mouth closed again.

"It was Tim's fist that gave me that, but it was my decision to take that punch. It was aimed at someone else. To protect me..."

All that was left of my strength had been consumed to ashes in those three and a half sentences. My legs gave away beneath me. I tumbled backwards against the door and slid down. Mom and Dad crossed the last meters between us, taking me in their arms. Their love surrounded me, bearing more solace in it than any word could have.

Sitting on the couch in the living room, I recounted the story for the second time that day. Repeating something didn't make it necessarily easier.

"Mrs. Grauert only told us that you'd been assaulted. She didn't tell us by whom." Mom answered my unspoken question when I had finished.

I silently thanked Mrs. Grauert for at least being that tactful.

Mom's eyes were resting on me. "Don't worry. Everything will work out. He truly loves you."

My mom had found the ability to look inside me again. However sad the circumstances were, I had to smile at her. To my confusion, the doorbell rang. Mom got up to answer the door.

"I thought you'd prefer to talk to people of your age," Dad said with a benign expression on his face.

I jumped up from the couch. I was almost out of the living room when I turned around, nodded at my father, and smiled at him.

For the third time this evening, I repeated the events. Christina and Daniel occupied the bed, as usual. I had taken place on the floor again. They listened until I finished, though I was sure school rumors had already covered all important and not-so-important facts.

"Tim's taking that 'not-hurting-you' thing quite seriously, isn't he?" Daniel asked.

His audacious approach to human feelings was irritating on normal days, but this evening it helped me to get a little more perspective. I could see the grin forming on his face when he noticed the effect his sentence had on me.

"Any plans on how to get through to him?" Christina's pragmatic side had taken over.

"Knowing Tim, he'll avoid contact with me. That's his idea of protecting me."

"And punishing himself." Her insight was a stab to my heart, but it was the truth.

My eyes fixed the ground. "I'm not even sure whether he'll attend the school council meeting."

"I think he'll go."

I looked up at Christina.

"Being sentenced before your eyes, being humiliated, that's part of showing his repentance."

The dagger in my heart was turned around. Still, her words carried a grain of hope as well.

"The school council meeting is my chance then." I remembered the phone call with Mrs. Grauert.

"I'm allowed to bring another pupil for moral support."

"Take her. My only contribution would be abusive language for the teachers, in marked contrast to Christina, who could talk Jack the Ripper off the gallows."

"How charming! But if you want me to come with you, I'll accompany you." Her gaze had wandered from Daniel to me.

"I'd be glad to have you with me."

She caressed my head. "I know you're too much of a scientist to appreciate it, but I'll pray for Tim...

and for you."

I grabbed her hand and pressed it against my cheek.

Daniel slid off the couch and hugged me. "You'll rock that show. I know you will."

Once more, my friends had taken the mess around me and cleared enough of it so I could hang on.

For a short moment, I felt at peace.

Daniel and Christina had to leave much too early. It'd be a school day for them the next day. In a reversal of roles, I sent my parents to bed, assuring that I was alright.

Back in my room, I approached my desk, on which the white cat was resting. Most carefully, almost reverently, I picked it up. The smooth surface should have felt cold, but the memories radiating from it made it warm to the touch. My fingers followed the patterns of its fur. It was vibrant of energy...

no, love... that was what I felt. I opened the drawer of my desk. 'Ragman.' That was what my mom jokingly called me for the inability to throw away stuff, but I was glad that I had kept the things in there: the tickets to the planetarium and the swimming paradise, the receipt for Tim's star, and the tube of salve. Looking at them gave me comfort. I took the salve out of the drawer. Moving to my bed, I got rid of my sweater and lay down. The bruise was larger and darker than any of the many ones before, yet it hurt less. I applied a small amount of the white, creamy substance to it. With circling motions, I massaged it into my skin. I closed my eyes. For a short moment, the illusion that it was Tim's hand touching me took hold of me. Tim's eyes, moments after his fist had connected with my body, flashed up in my mind. My tears were silent, but intense. The cat in my right, the salve in my left, I waited for the night to end. It was my body that succumbed to its exhaustion at five o'clock in the morning.

I woke up from a dreamless sleep shortly after noon. Dreamless wasn't exactly right. I had been stuck somewhere between sleeping and being awake. Incoherent images and sequences had changed before my inner eye with breakneck speed. I couldn't remember a single detail, but it wasn't difficult to guess the overall theme. The night's tears had helped. My mind felt like hundreds of pounds were weighing down on it, but the sadness was gone. The cat and the aluminum tube were clenched in my hands. I shoved them into the pockets of the jeans I was still wearing and left my room. Our flat was silent. I looked into the kitchen. A small note lay on the table.

I'm buying some things for a nice, little three-course menu this evening. Will be back soon. Love, Mom.

The note, simple, just basic information, reminded me how many people cared for me and loved me.

That thought was like a seed, bearing great potential in its tininess, but it required nurturing. A lick and a promise later, I left the flat, but not before writing a note for my mom.

I'm searching for some clarity. I'll be back for dinner and looking forward to it. Love, Marcel.

I checked once more for the white cat resting in my pocket. "You're supposed to watch over us. Go and earn your living."

I let my feet decide where to go, only looking up from time to time. The area I was walking through looked familiar, and still I wasn't quite sure where I was; not until I was standing in front of a shop window that couldn't be mistaken. The brass bell announced my entry, and one of the sisters came out of the kitchen.

"It's the bean pole. Where have you left the muscle boy?"

In this place, even this obscure reference to Tim made me inhale sharply, and I had to close my eyes.

It was as if mentioning him here invoked his presence.

She sighed. "Sit down and wait a moment!"

The gruff tone in her voice allowed no space for arguing, and I obeyed. One minute later, she returned with a dessert bowl. It was full to the brim with chocolate pudding drowning in vanilla sauce.

"That's our emergency dish." She produced a spoon out of the pocket of her apron and placed it with force on the table. "This time you're on your own." She took the chair opposite me.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Eat!"

Resistance was futile. I shoved the first spoonful into my mouth. It was delicious, not too sweet, and a strong cocoa note contrasted with the smoothness of the sauce.

"That douchebag left you?"

I dropped the spoon into the bowl, my eyes wide open in astonishment.

"Oh, boy, don't be ridiculous. After more than forty years of working in a diner, two men being a couple is still one of the most decent things I've seen."

"No. I mean, no, he didn't actually leave me. Not yet."

She rolled her eyes. "Longer story? The earlier you start, the earlier you're done. And don't forget to eat."

I hadn't expected it, but telling our story -the bullying, the tutoring, the night-over, the punch- to a stranger was liberating. The weight on my mind wasn't gone, but what was left felt easier to endure.

When I had finished the story, I had also finished the pudding.

"I have three things to say and I won't repeat them, boy."

She fixed me with her eyes, and I nodded.

"First: You're an idiot to get involved with a rowdy in the first place. Second: He's an idiot to doubt your love for him even for a moment. Third: You're both even greater idiots if this nonsense ends your relationship. As I've said, I've seen many things in those years working here, but I haven't seen many couples as made for each other than you two."

I couldn't help but smile.

"At least, you're not bawling your eyes out. Apropos: out. There's the door. You've wasted enough of my time."

"Thank you, ma'am. How much for the pudding?"

"You'll pay when you're here with muscle boy again. Don't think, I'll forget. I'm not that old."

"Of course not, ma'am."

"Love-sick liars. It's finally time to retire." She was already on her way to the kitchen when she mumbled that sentence under her breath.

I left the diner, the bell sounding again. Outside, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Well done, white one. Further suggestions?"

I resumed my blind walk. I passed by the back-alley where Tim had kissed me. Two hours ago, this place would have pulled me down. Now, it had become a source of strength.

"You can do even better, whitey. I know."

I had stayed clear of Tim's home, but somehow my steps had led me to the animal shelter.

"You cunning little beast!" I caressed the figurine in my pocket and entered the concrete building.

I found Elke in the observation room. Mickey was with her, the last of Laika's puppies that remained in the shelter. The very one who had crawled beneath Tim's sweater on my first day here. After Laika's death, all of her offspring had been thoroughly examined for signs of epilepsy. Mickey was the only one who had been diagnosed with increased risk for seizures. He had to take one pill a day, costing less than ten euros a month, and still people lost interest in this mischievous, little rascal when they learned about his condition.

I entered the room. "Hi, Elke."

"Hi, Marcel."

Mickey couldn't move his legs as fast as he wanted to come to me. With wagging tail and barking, he jumped around me. I sat down cross-legged and let Mickey put his muzzle under my sweater where he licked away at my gut. He would never lose this habit for sure. His sapphire eyes were transfixed on me. I shifted him to the other side, so he wouldn't eat the salve. The rim of my shirt rose, revealing the bruise.

"That was Tim, wasn't it?"

My mouth dropped open.

"If you know someone for ten years, you sometimes confide in her." She chuckled.

"Yes, that was him."

Her wrinkled face turned serious again. "Do you want to tell me about it? And you don't have to leave out the part where you two are a couple."

"Tim told you as well?" I'd never learn not to say what was on my mind.

"No, Timmy didn't say a single word about that." She chuckled again. "In this town, I may be known as the crazy animal lady, but I've learnt one or two things about humans, too."

My surprise turned to gratefulness. I told her what had happened on the school yard the day before and about the upcoming school council meeting. While I was speaking, I caressed Mickey, who enjoyed every minute of it.

"You love Mickey, don't you? Despite him being an obtrusive, stubborn little pest."

I was confused about her question but answered it nonetheless. "Of course, I do."

"An animal neither knows nor cares about its flaws or yours. So it can receive and give love with ease. Humans, oh Lord, humans spend more time thinking about flaws than about anything else."

"But I love Tim for all that he is."

"Marcel, darling, you're not the problem here."

Understanding placed a grin on my face. Mickey barked once as if he wanted to reassure me.

"I have to go, Elke. Can you give me a pen and paper, please?"

"Of course." It always seemed that the number of her wrinkles doubled when she smiled. Elke showed me out.

"For a crazy animal lady, you're one hell of a counselor. Thank you."

She laughed. "You're welcome. And good luck!"

I waved her good-bye. There was one place left that I wanted to visit before going to the Eschner house as I had promised.

"Thank you, kitty. This last destination is my choice, okay?"

Standing on the artificial hill, looking down into the man-made valley, I took stock of my emotional state. What was left of my burden was carried away by the breeze drifting around me. With curious amusement, I realized that one more thing was amiss: Marcel the Coward. I had no use for him anyway. This time, I'd put up a fight. If there was one thing worth fighting for, it was Tim. I sat down on the naked earth, paper before me and pen in my hand, and wrote. Those words would do the trick. I looked up just before the flash of light marked the setting of the sun. Even without the snow, it was an incredible sight. It was time to visit the Eschners.

Brigitte opened the door. She looked tense and dark rings had formed under her eyes.

When she saw me, bewilderment joined her worries. "You're looking... energized."

"A little determination works wonders."

That didn't help her confusion. "Oh, sorry. Come in."

We sat down in the dining room again.

"I left a note for him about the council meeting. I'm not even sure whether Tim has left his living room since yesterday." She stared at the cup of coffee before her.

"I didn't expect him to."

She looked up. "That confidence suits you well. I wished the circumstances to find it would have been different."

"I found it just in time. That's good enough for me." I took Brigitte's hand. "I won't give up on Tim.

Never. Tomorrow, I'll show him how much love for him is in me."

She squeezed my hand and a single tear ran down her face.

I had to hurry to get home in time, but not before delivering my message to Tim. Ear-shattering music was still roaring through the door. It was like time hadn't passed down here, but it had in the outside world and had changed a great many things. I knelt down. After accurately folding the note, I pushed it halfway under the door. Some moments later, it vanished.

The fight isn't over yet. Don't you dare not come to the meeting. Marcel.

The cat firmly grasped in my pocket, I walked home. The seed had sprouted and had become a sturdy little plant.

Chapter 35

I enjoyed the evening with my parents. Mom prepared all of my favorite dishes: onion soup, roast pork, and chocolate pudding. When she served the dessert, I struggled not to laugh out. In times like these, you couldn't eat too much pudding. After dinner, I called Grandma Gertrud because she deserved to know what was happening.

With a wink in her voice, she offered me advice that obviously fit any situation. "Watch out for your boy!"

I decided to sleep well that night. Blindsided by my newly found audacity, my body and mind complied.

I waited for Christina at the main entrance of the school. My determination persisted, but nervousness had joined it; a nervousness that crawled into my guts and twisted them into Gordian knots. I reached into the pocket of my jeans and traced the texture of my faithful companion. Every bump, every edge, every angle represented a landmark of Tim's and my journey. I shook my head. It was too easy to get lost in thoughts like this.

A hand touched my shoulder, and I turned around. "I've told you to never do this again." My smile countered the hardness of my words.

Christina's lips curved up. She had dressed in a black ladies' suit with a white frill blouse. The heavy cloth of her skirt flowed down in elegant folds. Its blackness absorbed the sunlight, while the silver buttons on her blazer shone like small suns themselves. I had never seen pumps on her before let alone a pinned-up hairdo.

"Wow. You look amazing. I'm pretty underdressed, I fear." I looked down at myself. A sweater, a pair of jeans, trainers, and a letter jacket.

"No. I'm overdressed. Eighteen years old and I accept clothing tips from my mom. I wore this for my confirmation. I look like a lawyer." She made a sour face.

With my thumbs, I raised the corners of her mouth. "That's what you are today. And the best Tim could have." I removed my fingers; the smile stayed. "Lead the way, Defender of the Innocent."

"Hey, that's contempt of court."

"No, it isn't."

Laughing, we entered the school building.

The light mood got lost somewhere between the entrance and room A12. It was the largest classroom in school, mainly used for exams since it allowed a generous amount of space between pupils. Moreover, it served as a room for special occasions like unfair expulsions of innocents. I closed my eyes. I had to stay calm, an endeavor endangered by thoughts like the one before.

"Everything will be alright," Christina said.

I opened my eyes and looked down at her. "We'll make it alright."

We entered together. Six large windows, reaching up to the ceiling and rounded at the top, gave the room the intimidating look of a gothic chapel. Sunlight flooded through them, reflected and refracted by dust, swallowed by the dark wood on the floor and the walls. Most of the tables and stairs had been moved to either sides of the room. Two tables had been placed directly before the rostrum, a single chair in front of each; plaintiff and defendant. Two more tables stood behind and to the side of the former; joint plaintiff and defense. On the rostrum, three teachers, a member of the parent's council, and a pupil would take their places. Dr. Vogel and Principal Landau, playing with his glasses, stood behind their desks, absorbed in discussion. Mr. Landau had been principal of the Albert Einstein Gymnasium for more than twenty years. He was sixty-three years old and, when asked about his upcoming retirement, would laugh and remark they would have to remove him with force from his office. Where Dr. Vogel commanded respect by size and intimidation, Principal Landau had garnered it with understanding and guidance. His hairstyle and clothing mimicked the one of Albert Einstein, whose picture hung on the wall. On this one, Mr. Einstein had kept his tongue in. The parents' representative, a man I didn't know, had already taken place and looked a little lost, a sentiment I understood all too well. For the pupils, Sandra Gabler participated in the meeting. We took the same German course, and I respected her for her thoughtful and balanced way. Besides the course, we didn't have much to do with each other. Standing at the left rear table, she was talking to Pascal, who was clad in black and greasy haired as always. I froze. Pascal had been allowed to bring another pupil, too. A thousand pupils to choose from and he had selected Nicholas. More likely, Nicholas had made Pascal select him. He wouldn't let slip the opportunity to watch Tim's demise close up.

"I've seen him, too." Christina's smile hadn't moved a bit.

She had what it took to be a lawyer. Sandra looked up, smiled, and waved us over.

Christina put her hand on the small of my back and pushed. "Time to master the art of dissembling."

My admiration for this girl reached a new level. We moved over to the small group. Sandra extended her hand and I grasped it.

"Hi, Marcel. I'm so sorry about what happened to you."

Before I had the chance to answer, Nicholas chimed in.

"Marcel, my friend. Have I not warned you about Tim? But not even I would have expected him to be that... dumb." He savored that last word, a flash of delight flaring up in his eyes.

I let go of Sandra and shoved my hands into my pockets, for they'd end up in his face if I didn't.

Still smiling, Christina locked gaze with Nicholas. "I've heard he has been with... let's say... not the best of company for a long time. Corruption spreads so easily."

"Christina, you cannot always blame society. People choose for themselves what they do and for whom... to whom, I mean."

Pascal, like me, hadn't said anything. He stared at the ground with empty eyes. His body had retreated from me and he had turned away, subtly, but I noticed.

"Hello All."

I spun around at the voice of Mrs. Grawe. I hadn't expected her to be the third teacher.

Her eyes fixed on me. "I'll support you in any way possible."

With this sentence, innocent for the bystanders, she had pledged allegiance to me. I took a deep breath and swallowed down the lump in my throat before I answered her. "Thank you, Mrs. Grawe.

I'll need all the support I can get."

She nodded, a hint of a smile showing on her lips.

"Can you please take your seats? Mr. Ritter right there." Principal Landau gestured at the front left table. "Mr. Solnitz, Mr. Vormann, you can stay where you are. Miss Reitermeyer, would you please take a chair at the other rear table. Thank you."

On her way, Christina clapped my shoulder and murmured, "Good luck."

After sitting down myself, I looked at my watch. It was nine fifty-eight. Uncertainty welcomed his good friend nervousness. I wasn't sure anymore whether Tim would come.

"Ah, Mr. Eschner. Would you please close the door and sit down?"

A jolt went through my body when Principal Landau said his name. Relief, shock, happiness, and gloom mingled into one indeterminate feeling. I resisted the urge to jump up and run to him, but my head turned on its own accord.

"Tim!" My mouth formed the word, but the sound didn't come.

Tim was pale like a spectre, his face sunken. His eyes had lost their piercing curiosity; they had turned dull and lifeless instead.

So sad, broken.

Diana's words echoed within me. With the back of my hand, I wiped away the tears that had welled up in my eyes. No one noticed but Christina... and him. Each of his steps loaded more weight on his shoulders until he dropped himself onto the chair to my right.

"Despite the delicate nature of today's meeting, I want to welcome you all." Principal Landau continued by introducing all the persons present, but I didn't listen.

I couldn't stop looking at Tim. He stared through the table in front of him and didn't allow himself a single glance at me.

"Mr. Eschner. You're charged with assault on Mr. Ritter..."

"Repeated assault," Dr. Vogel added.

"Okay, Hubert. But today we're dealing with the incident on Wednesday."

Dr. Vogel, Hubert, crossed his arms and pouted.

"Mr. Eschner. Did you attack Mr. Ritter last Wednesday?"

"Yes, I did."

"No, he didn't."

All eyes turned to me, including Tim's. I held his gaze for some seconds before facing Principal Landau. He had taken off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"It's usual for the victim and the suspect to be of different opinion regarding the circumstances of the offence, but the distribution of opinions in your case is quite unusual." He put his glasses back on.

"Mr. Solnitz, you're an eye-witness of the events. Did Mr. Eschner beat Mr. Ritter?"

Pascal was still staring at the ground. "Yes, Tim hit Marcel right in the gut, but I think the punch was directed at me. Marcel caught it by accident."

"Is that true, Mr. Ritter?"

"No," I paused for dramatic effect, "I deliberately caught the punch."

"To protect Mr. Solnitz?"

I folded my hands and massaged my knuckles. One more deep breath to calm me. "No. To protect Mr. Eschner."

Principal Landau sighed in place of all attendants. "This is anything but the easy case I was promised."

He looked at Dr. Vogel from the corner of his eye.

Dr. Vogel wiped away the sweat, which had appeared on his forehead, with a dotted handkerchief.

"Let's summarize the facts. Mr. Eschner directed a punch at Mr. Solnitz, but Mr. Ritter intercepted it.

That's correct?"

I nodded.

"Okay. Why did you attack Mr. Solnitz in the first place?"

Tim lowered his gaze again. "Pascal insulted Marcel. It was even verbal abuse."

"What did he say?"

Tim remained silent, his eyes closed.

"Mr. Solnitz?"

"Mr. Solnitz does not have to incriminate himself," Nicholas said.

My fists clenched by the sound of his voice.

"That's not a court, Mr. Vormann. But alright. Mr. Ritter?"

Marcel the Coward would have said nothing, too, but he had withered and died. It was time to put up a fight.

"At first, Mr. Solnitz expressed his displeasure about Mr. Eschner's supposed and my actual sexuality.

At least, I remember the words 'disgusting' and 'faggots.' He then excluded Mr. Eschner again because I had used my evil gay-powers to turn him. The next remark concerned the jinx I'm using to enslave Mr. Eschner. In a heroic attempt to save him, Mr. Solnitz uttered the only known counter spell: 'degenerated, perverted asshole,' but to no avail."

Dr. Vogel forgot to breathe for some seconds. Mrs. Grawe had to fight not to laugh. The parents' representative wished to be somewhere else. Sandra's mouth was gaping open. Principal Landau watched me with narrow eyes.

"I've got the impression that the verbal abuse of Mr. Solnitz didn't affect you much."

I gathered myself for the last feint. "It did affect me, devastated me. Then. Now, this farce here enrages me more than hundreds of insults could." I tilted my head in defiance. "'Much ado about nothing.' What a pity that this title has already been taken."

"I've hurt you. That's not nothing." Tim's voice was the audible extension of his brokenness.

I jumped up from my chair and lifted my sweater. "You think you hurt me by giving me this? This doesn't hurt at all."

His eyes flowed over with grief. He extended his hand toward the bruise but shied away before touching it.

"I promised." He was justifying his own punishment.

"You, retreating from me, hiding from me, that hurts."

He looked into my eyes, pleading me to stop. I couldn't. Not yet.

"That's my own pain. If you decide to leave me, I have to live with it." I made a step toward Tim. "But seeing you like this, knowing that you're suffering because of me, this is more than I can bear. That's your pain, and I want to take it away. The reason why you attacked Pascal is the same why I stepped between you. We both did it for our..."

Bound by my own promise, I couldn't finish that sentence. I owed him to keep it. My head sank down. I closed my eyes. I was defeated.

"Love."

My head shot up. I looked at Tim, then at the other people in the room.

"I don't mind if they know, because it's the truth. I love you, Marcel."

"I love you, Tim. Not in spite of what you did, but because."

My mind hadn't time to realize that Tim had gotten up from his chair when he was already kissing me and pressing me against him. The tension of the last days left me with such an abruptness that I trembled and tears rolled down my face. Tim wasn't in much better shape. We both were just glad to relish in the closeness of one another.

"Mr. Ritter, Mr. Eschner. May I remind you that you're still in a school council meeting?" Principal Landau was grinning from ear to ear.

Chuckling, Tim and I made a step back, drying our tears. We sat down. Tim's hand sought mine and I grasped it, intending to never let go of it again.

"You are not falling for this wonderfully enacted charade, Principal Landau, aren't you?" Nicholas stood up, his hands resting on the table. "Fact is that Tim attacked a pupil. That must not be forgotten because of some sugary professions of love."

I faced Principal Landau. The grin faded away. I turned back. Pascal was still staring at the ground while Nicholas was crowing over his near victory. Rage and despair fought a lethal fight inside of me.

Trust your guts, Marcel. That's what I do.

The words of my father were the eye of the storm inside of me. Serenity, nothing but serenity remained.

"What did he offer you, Pascal?"

He tensed up even more.

"Clutching at every straw, Marcel? That..."

Pascal interrupted Nicholas. "Twenty-five hundred euros."

The silence spread everywhere, trickled into every crack, filled every gap.

"One thousand euros in advance; one thousand more if Tim gets expelled; five hundred bonus if you are involved somehow."

"Why?" My whisper roared through the room.

"I want to attend the Academy of Fine Arts in Munich," Pascal said. "My family can't afford such a prestigious school. To get a scholarship, I need a professional portfolio for application. And such a portfolio is expensive." The whole sentence died away in a diminuendo.

"Mr. Solnitz, for me, even more important than the why is the who. Who offered you that amount for framing Mr. Eschner?"

"Nicholas Vormann."

"That is not true, sir, I..."

Principal Landau raised his hand. "In more than forty years of school service, I haven't said these words to a pupil, Mr. Vormann, but shut the fuck up!"

Nicholas sank down on his chair, flabbergasted.

Principal Landau took off his glasses and massaged his nose again. "I recommend you don't attend school until the Abitur exams, Mr. Vormann."

Nicholas' face was distorted by fury. "Are you suspending me? My parents..."

"No, I'm giving you paternal advice." Principal Landau shoved his glasses back on his nose. "I promise you, not quite five minutes after this meeting, the whole school will know what you've done.

Whatever the media report about lacking solidarity among today's pupils, I don't want to be in your shoes when facing that mob. Your heinous deed would warrant an expulsion, but I like this punishment better."

Nicholas' rage transformed into horror when imagination translated the principal's words into pictures.

Principal Landau turned to Pascal. "I recommend you also accept the advice I gave to Mr. Vormann."

Pascal's nod was almost too faint to notice.

"You don't have to answer this question, but what brought about your change of mind?" Principal Landau asked.

For the first time, Pascal looked at Tim and me. "Nicholas lied to me. He told me Marcel was using Tim, but there is more. If an artist doesn't respect true love, he hasn't the right to call himself that."

Tim squeezed my hand.

"Wise words. Despite the circumstances, we still have to deal with Mr. Eschner's attack on Mr.

Solnitz." Principal Landau had aged during this meeting. He looked tired and spent.

"May I speak, sir?" Christina asked.

"Of course, Miss Reitermeyer."

"It's not clear whether Mr. Eschner would've finished his attack. There was still time to abort it. The heroic, but awkward, intervention of Mr. Ritter changed the course of events."

Pudgy, owlish, imperturbable Christina. My Christina. Not exactly Jack the Ripper and not exactly the gallows, but close enough.

The grin on Principal Landau's lips formed muscle by muscle. "I recommend to this council to follow the charming logic of Miss Reitermeyer and to clear Mr. Eschner of all charges. Any dissenting votes?" He fixed Dr. Vogel with a sideways glance.

Dr. Vogel swallowed down any doubts he may have wanted to express.

"None? Then I close this meeting."

Tim got up from his chair. "There's one thing I have to do. Stay by my side, please."

"Of course."

Holding my hand, Tim led the way to the table where Nicholas and Pascal were still sitting.

Nicholas glowered at us, while Pascal avoided eye contact.

"I forgive both of you, especially you, Nicholas," Tim said. "I forgive you for all the things you've done."

Nicholas jumped up. Only centimeters remained between his face and Tim's.

"I do not want your forgiveness, you weakling. I made you strong, and you have thrown it away for a na‹ve freak as weak as you are now."

Tim's reaction surprised even me: He smiled. "That'll never work again. This is a lesson you've taught me well. And I want to thank you for that."

Nicholas' breath came in heavy gasps, and his grey eyes burned with contempt. Without another word, he turned around and stormed out of the room.

"I want to apologize for what I've done to you," Pascal said in a low voice.

When Tim's hand touched Pascal's shoulder, Pascal went rigid.

Tim's expression softened even more. "No one has to ever fear these hands again."

Pascal relaxed and looked up at both of us.

Tim continued, "I want to thank you, too. That wasn't the easiest way to learn, but for someone as dumb as me probably the only one." His smile changed into a grin. "You're free to contradict me."

It took Pascal some moments to realize Tim was joking, but then he mirrored his grin.

"Let me answer for you, Pascal, okay?" I said, looking at Tim.

Pascal nodded.

"It took you an eternity of constant reassuring, reminding, and demonstrating to see that I love you without reserve, with all my heart, and with all my soul. You're stubborn and cross-grained, but no, you're not dumb."

Seeing Tim's grateful eyes, diving into their endless blue depths, I never wanted to miss that again.

The council members approached us.

Principal Landau shook Tim's hand, then mine. "I fear the rumors about your relationship will spread as fast as the news about Mr. Vormann." He winked at Sandra and Christina, who both portrayed perfect imitations of exasperation.

"That's no problem, sir. At least, not for me." Tim looked at me, innocent and concerned. He was as good at showing mock-feelings as the girls.

"Whom are you trying to fool, big boy?"

We couldn't help but laugh, infecting the whole group.

"Before I forget, you don't have to attend any lessons today, pupils. I think you've learned enough for one day."

Laughter again. After shaking hands with Dr. Vogel and the parents' council member, I hugged Mrs.

Grawe and whispered a 'Thank you' for her ears only.

Christina, Tim, and I stayed behind in room A12. We stood there for a minute in silence. I wouldn't find the words, so I borrowed a page from Tim's book; I crossed the distance between Christina and me and embraced her in a tight bear hug. Moments later, Tim closed his arms around the both of us.

Chapter 36

Tim and I descended the stairs of the school's main entrance arm in arm. Christina had already left for her home because she wanted to get out of her formal clothes. When we reached the small open space before the school, Tim placed both of his hands on the back of my head and pulled me close, kissing me.

He moved his mouth to my ear. "If there have to be rumors, there should be at least some substance to them." His lips covered mine again, but kissing was difficult since I was laughing.

"And that's really okay for you?" I moved my head back to look into his eyes.

"No more hiding. I love you and everyone shall see."

I rested my cheek against his before we resumed walking, snuggled together.

"Tonight, we're gonna watch the stars with your new telescope."

It hadn't been a question. I looked up into the sky. The weather was perfect and promised an interesting observation night.

"Are you sure? I thought of a cozy evening at home after all this fuss."

Tim looked at me, his face ablaze with happiness. "I've spent nearly two days in a dark cellar. A night under the stars is very appealing."

I snickered.

Tim continued in a low voice, "Everything we can do at home, we can do outside."

"Of course, we can."

We laughed together.

"We have to do some errands before."

Tim's confusion was almost tangible. "What errands?"

"Telling your family about the meeting. Telling my family. Then there's Elke." I reached into my pocket and produced the white soapstone cat.

Tim grinned and got out its black counterpart. We combined them. Holding the couple of cats in our hands, we kissed.

"Thanks to Mr. Whitey, I made a strange journey that included a pudding that still has to be paid for."

With a short twist, I separated the two figurines and walked some steps, leaving behind a puzzled Tim. I turned around, extended my arm, and invited him with a nod of my head. "Come here, big boy.

It's a long story..."

Smiling, Tim closed the distance between us.

Tim's sense of directions proved to be excellent because he found the exact spot where we had observed the sky in the Fall Break. I showed him Eschner's Star as I had promised. The open star cluster Praesepe in Cancer and the galaxy cluster in Leo followed. The new telescope in combination with the deep sky filter surpassed all my expectations. The experience was enriched by all the fleeting and not-so-fleeting touches, the kisses, and the mere closeness. Tim had brought a large bag and made a big secret about its contents. Around one A.M., we decided to demount the telescope.

One aluminum case remained at the observation site.

"Can you please take that last case to the car alone? It'd be nice if it took you about ten or fifteen minutes." The way he stood there in the shine of my flashlight, hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted to the left, summoned words like 'secretive', 'cryptic' or even 'rascal' to my mind.

"Oo-kay!"

I took my time getting to the car and back. I still didn't like waiting, but Tim possessed the ability to fuel my anticipation to a point I savored it. I passed through the bushes, separating the opening from the band of tress, and stopped dead in my tracks. The whole site glowed in the warm light of many candles, which Tim had placed in glass jars all over the place. In the middle of this sea of light, a single sleeping bag invited us to tuck in. Between the jars, he had spread phosphorescent stars, moons, and comets. Their faint glow was drowned by the flickering candles, but once those burned down, these stars would rival with the sky above. Among all those things, Tim stood naked. I had picked up the term 'skyclad' somewhere, and it made perfect sense for me now. The light of the candles played on his body; shadows were born, grew, and faded again. With the constellations as background, the comparison with a figure from Greek mythology imposed itself. There he was: my Orion, my Hercules. It wasn't as cold as in fall, but it wasn't warm either. Tim didn't shiver at all.

"Come here," Tim whispered and I complied. He embraced me and planted kisses on my neck.

"It's wonderful."

"Not as wonderful as you."

He pulled up my sweater and dropped it on the tree trunk we had used as a bench. Tim's mouth journeyed down my body. He traced the outline of the bruise with his fingers, and his lips brushed over the darkened skin.

"I've already promised you to never hurt you again. I want to promise you something in addition." He kissed the bruise once more. "I'll listen to you. The voice telling me I don't deserve someone like you... it'd be a lie to say it's gone, but now it's muted, coming from far away, so I'll hear you. I always will."

I dropped to my knees and clutched Tim.

He caressed my back before drawing me even tighter. "I always will."

He pulled me to a stand. Tim opened the button of my jeans, pulled down the zipper, and removed it. My underwear followed. He went behind me. Nibbling on my neck, he moved my body to the side until I was more resting in his arms than on my own legs. The touch of his smooth and blazing skin over the entire length of my backside filled out my mind. Everything except the two of us had ceased to exist. He lifted my legs off the ground and carried me over to the sleeping bag.

The last candle had died. The green gleam of the self-luminous stars around us created a mystical mood, eerie but soothing. Entangled with each other, we alternated between looking at each other, kissing each other, and touching each other.

"It's a pity that the opening night of your show is the very Friday I have to leave for the scouting camp."

I put my hand on his chest. "But you can visit the show on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday."

"You mean: Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday."

Being that cute warranted a little more making out.

"Have you ever thought about what will happen if they really contract me after the camp?"

"When, big boy, not if."

Tim obviously shared my views on cuteness and kissing.

"I'll be in Goettingen then. And you?" Tim asked.

Fortuna Prussia was based in Goettingen, a major city in Lower Saxony. It was only after the match that Reinhard had watched that I had thought about looking up details about Fortuna Prussia. They played in the premier Bundesliga but were mediocre at best. Dad had assured me that such a club was Tim's best chance to establish himself as a professional soccer player.

"I'll attend one of the best universities for astrophysics in Germany, I think. That'd be the Georgia Augusta."

Tim looked devastated. "That's where?"

"What's the name of that town again? Ah... Goettingen."

One... two... three heartbeats. That was the time it took Tim to realize what I had said. I learned then that it was possible to be bear-hugged close to breaking a rib in a lying position. When he let go of me, I just looked at him, his eyes, his boyish smile, his hair as untamable as himself. And I knew: I'd spend the rest of my life with this man.

Epilogue

EIGHT YEARS LATER

"Here, in the lovely outskirts of Munich, Tim and his husband will move into their love nest today.

After the transfer of the first openly gay..."

I switched off the TV that we had purchased for our first flat and had jokingly christened 'the stamp' due to its size. Tim's LCD TV had been promised to Diana, and we had rejected any offer to get another one from Tim's or my parents. 'The stamp' would stay here for the next renter. Besides the cardboard box with memorabilia, it was the last thing here. This was our second flat, and despite being superior in every regard, it couldn't rival with the first one. There were so many memories connected with it.

The countless nights Tim and I had spent in the sleeping bag because the heating had stopped working yet again. On those nights, he had promised me that I'd live in a villa one day, and I had answered that I had all I ever needed. The time we lived on the unsold fast food my boss slipped to me after closing time. The years of uncertainty before Tim had become a member of the regular team.

"Love nest? What do you say about that, gramps?"

Mickey answered my question with a single bark, not even raising his head off the floor. At the age of eight and a half, he may have been ripe in years, but he hadn't lost that mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

I opened the box and nostalgia poured out of it.

The letters from Tim's fans -we hadn't been able to keep all of them, but those were the ones most precious to him. The PR department of Fortuna Prussia had tried to shove Tim back into the closet. I had called him stubborn and cross-grained once, but the words the PR people had hurled at him hadn't been that decent. Still, they had misjudged the German soccer fans: Most of them were more interested in good soccer than in the private lives of the players, and they'd fight for a player giving them just that. Tim had been elected player of the year three times in a row, silencing the opposition within the team once and for all.

There would never be a Chancellor Reitermeyer. It'd be a Chancellor Gruber, Daniel's family name.

The photo of their marriage stood on our sideboard normally, but we kept a second copy in the box just in case. Daniel would never grow tired of telling the story how Tim had literally threatened him into asking Christina out. She always emphasized that with a guy like Daniel this had been absolutely necessary. Christina had become a lawyer.

"That's all your fault. I tasted blood in that council meeting."

Daniel was working as a band liaison for a heavy metal record label. There were only a few people as content with their job as him.

The picture of our own marriage. It had been an intimate ceremony, our families, Christina and Daniel only. Grandma Gertrud had died before, but we had put up a candle in her memory, letting it burn the whole day. The three of us had spent fantastic weeks in Berlin before she died, and those memories were among my fondest. She wanted to be remembered as the lively woman she had been, and we honored that.

A postcard from India.

"Namaste. The well is finally working, and the vaccine deliveries are on their way. My colleagues and I cannot wait for the medical equipment to arrive. There is so much suffering to be eased here. Oh, the children bubbled over with joy about Tim's autograph cards. They love the 'German football buddha'."

The card was signed by Nick. He had stopped using his full name after his parents had cast him out right after the events of the school meeting.

"They did not kick me out for the things I have done, but for getting caught." He'd laugh saying that.

He had lived with his aunt, a devout Buddhist and another family outcast. She had paid for his medical studies, and at least, some of her beliefs had rubbed off on him.

"My experience at devious scheming comes in quite handy when dealing with the various aid agencies. 'Demons sitting on treasures' that is what the locals call them." His grey eyes would glow with zest. "And it was me who ultimately made you a couple. This should count on the credit side of karma, shouldn't it?"

The framed photograph of Tim and me at the premiere night of the singing show came next. Tim in a black suit, me completely dressed in white. He had talked Mrs. Jasinsky into surprising me in the middle of my song. They had switched off my mike, and Tim had sung the second verse. Both blindfolded, we had finished the song as a duet. Afterwards, he had kissed me on stage, causing a hail of catcalls and a standing ovation by the audience. He had had to leave almost immediately afterwards for the scouting camp. Those two days of being without him had been the hardest, but the reunion had outweighed the wait. A small sheet of paper was tucked into the frame, the Walt Whitman poem I had selected as introduction for my song.

"When I heard the learn'd astronomer; When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me; When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them; When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room, How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick; Till rising and gliding out, I wander'd off by myself, In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars."

Mr. Whitman had tailor-made this poem for Tim and me. I had to chuckle, the sound echoing through the empty room and making Mickey's right ear twitch lazily. I was one of those learn'd astronomers now.

"... the department of Physics of the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich invites you, Dr. Marcel Eschner, to continue your research as an assistant professor..."

I didn't like to hear it, but my doctoral thesis had 'stirred up some interstellar dust' as my dissertation supervisor, Prof. Dr. Langner, had put it. Funny thing was that it had been Eschner's star that had provided the evidence for the validity of my theoretical model.

The doorbell rang; the taxi had arrived. I put my hand in my pocket, touching the textured surface of the white cat which never left my side.

"Come, gramps. New memories are waiting for us."

Glossary (in order of appearance)

The responsibility for the school system in Germany lies primarily with the states. There are significant differences from state to state regarding the regulations. This glossary mainly describes the situation in North Rhine-Westphalia, where the story takes place.

The given explanations are not considered complete and are not guaranteed to be one hundred percent correct. They are hints for understanding the German terms used in the story.

Gymnasium A Gymnasium is a type of secondary school comparable to a British grammar school or a prep school in the United States. It covers grades five to thirteen (now: twelve). At the time of the events of the book, the grades are further divided from grade five to ten (secondary I) and grade eleven to thirteen (secondary II). Nowadays, the division has been adapted to reflect the twelve-year school model.

Graduating from a Gymnasium (cf. Abitur) qualifies for attending university.

Oberstufe In the story, a name for the grades eleven to thirteen, also called secondary II. Nowadays, secondary II refers to grades ten to twelve, reflecting the twelve-year school model. In the Oberstufe, courses can be selected by the pupils to some extent, though some compulsory subjects have to be attended, e.g.; German, mathematics, foreign languages etc. Secondary II includes approximately the first year of higher education in the USA. The final exam of secondary II is the Abitur exam.

Mittelstufe Not an official term in Germany any more. It refers to grades eight to ten in the story. The official term secondary I refers to grades five to ten (now: nine), but the term Mittelstufe is still used in colloquial German. Normally, the teachers change from Unterstufe to Mittelstufe.

German grading scales >From grades one to ten (now: nine), the following grading scale is used: sehr gut (very good, approx. A), gut (good, approx. B), befriedigend (satisfactory, approx. C), ausreichend (sufficient, approx. D), mangelhaft (inadequate, approx. F), ungenuegend (fail, approx. F).

Those grades are colloquially referred to using numbers only (sehr gut=1, gut=2 etc.). A grade can be modified using + and -.

Both mangelhaft and ungenuegend indicate a fail, but ungenuegend implies that there is almost no chance that the pupil can catch up in reasonable time.

For secondary II, a number-based scale is used. Those grades are labeled 'points'.

15= sehr gut+, 14= sehr gut, 13= sehr gut-, 12= gut+, 11= gut, 10= gut-, 9= befriedigend+, 8= befriedigend, 7= befriedigend-, 6= ausreichend+, 5= ausreichend, 4= ausreichend-, 3= mangelhaft+, 2= mangelhaft, 1= mangelhaft-, 0= ungenuegend.

Grades 5 to 15 indicate a pass, while grades 0 to 4 indicate a fail.

Abitur The designation of the final exam at the end of secondary II. The term is also colloquially used for the academic degree itself. It consists of written and oral exams. The exact combination of these types varies between the German states. In North Rhine-Westphalia, the pupils have to pass three written exams and an oral exam. All grades of the last two years of secondary II are combined with the results of the final exams to calculate an average grade. The Abitur degree is the most frequently used qualification for attending university, though it is not the only one. It is also required for an apprenticeship in some jobs.

Unterstufe Not an official term in Germany any more. It refers to grades five to seven in the story. The official term secondary I refers to grades five to ten (now: nine), but the term Unterstufe is still used in colloquial German. Normally, the teachers change from Unterstufe to Mittelstufe.