Adrik let out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t want another state. I wanted distance. Like… wipe-the-slate-clean distance. I don’t want anything to do with them anymore.”
Hans studied him, face unreadable. “So… what’s your real name?”
“Adrik.”
“Adrik what?”
A familiar knot tightened in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He looked away. “I can’t give you my last name. Not because I don’t trust you—I just… it’s not safe. For me. Or you.”
Hans stared at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you could speak Russian?”
“Because it connects me to things I’m trying to stay away from,” Adrik said. “Speaking it feels like leaving fingerprints.”
Hans leaned back a little. “And the German? Sometimes you sound like a native, and other times you pretend you barely know it.”
“I don’t like speaking German around you. I don’t want you to look at me like I’m stupid because although I’m fluent, I sound like a foreigner.”
“How do you think you’ll improve if you keep speaking English?”
“Speaking in German makes me homesick too. I was happy you could speak English, and that made me feel okay with living in Germany and not home in New York City.”
“I get that.”
“Ask me something else.”
Hans’ voice barely spoke above a whisper. “Did you… do something that could get you in trouble?”
Adrik’s throat tightened. He stared at the floor. “I can’t answer that.”
Silence stretched between them. Not angry—just heavy.
“What was your family’s business in New York?”
“Property,” Adrik said. “Lots of it.”
“I see.” Hans took another sip, set the bottle down, and then out of nowhere he said, “Show me your nipple piercings.”
Adrik laughed under his breath. “Seriously?”
Hans didn’t smile, but something in his eyes flickered. “Yes. Seriously.”
Adrik smiled and slowly lifted his shirt over his head. A cool breeze swept across his skin. Hans moved closer, just a little, curiosity flickering across his face.
“Do they hurt?” Hans asked.
“Yes,” Adrik admitted. “A little.”
“Why’d you get them pierced?”
“Because I’m free to do what I want now.”
Hans’ gaze lingered on his nipples. “Can I… touch them when they heal?”
A quick, bright flutter went through his chest—the kind that felt almost like catching sight of a light turning on in a room he thought was dark. “Hans,” he said, voice low, “I want you.”
He leaned in before he could lose his nerve. Hans didn’t pull away. Their lips met—slow, hesitant at first, then warmer, deeper, full of everything they hadn’t said. Hans’ hand brushed his shoulder, gentle, careful, like he wasn’t sure he could want this.
Adrik kissed him again, afraid that if he stopped, Hans might change his mind. Afraid that honesty might still drive him away. Afraid of losing him before he ever really had him.
