Adrik walked the shortpath to Hans’ cottage with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, trying to look casual, even though his pulse had been climbing since he left his place. The sky had a soft winter-blue tint, the kind that made everything feel sharper, more immediate. He kept touching the side of his thigh as he walked—a restless habit he couldn’t shake tonight.
He knocked once.
The door opened almost immediately, and there was Hans—warm light behind him, hair a little mussed, shirt hanging just right. Gorgeous unintentionally and that always hit Adrik harder than he expected.
For a second, Adrik forgot every German phrase he’d practiced.
“Hi, Hans,” he managed, the words coming out low and a little rough.
Hans’ grin was small but unmistakably pleased, like he’d been waiting for that.
Hans stepped aside, and Adrik slipped in. The door clicked shut behind them, and something in Adrik snapped into place like the space between them had been stretched too thin all day.
He removed and hung up his jacket, then reached for Hans without thinking, guiding him back against the wall with a gentle but certain pressure. Hans let out a soft breath, surprised but not resisting. Adrik leaned in, brushing their mouths together in a light kiss at first—testing, savoring—before deepening it when Hans tilted his chin up in invitation.
Hans’ arms slid to Adrik’s shoulders, fingers curling slightly, pulling him closer. The warmth of his palms bled through the shirt fabric, grounding and electric at the same time. The tension Adrik had been carrying all day loosened in one long exhale.
“I missed you,” he murmured against Hans’ lips.
Hans’ forehead rested briefly against his. “Missed you too.”
They lingered there for another heartbeat, breathing the same air, before Hans nudged him gently toward the living room.
Adrik followed and then stopped short.
The place looked completely different. Immaculate. Organized. Nothing was out of place. The faint scent of lemon and florals hung in the air.
“Did you clean all this by yourself?” he asked, stunned.
Hans laughed. “Hired a cleaning service. Like you suggested.”
Adrik turned slowly, taking it all in. “Es sieht fantastisch aus.”
“Thanks. And I love you speaking German.” Hans moved toward the coffee table, picking up a small envelope. “I purchased our tickets to Munich. We leave Saturday morning.”
That was fast. And… nice. Really nice.“That’s great. I can pay for my ticket.”
Hans shook his head immediately. “No way. This is my treat.”
Adrik followed Hans into the living room, still feeling the ghost of Hans’ touch on his shoulders. Hans was the only thing Adrik could focus on.
Hans sat on the edge of the couch, watching him with that assessing look he always had when something was bothering him. Adrik could feel it before Hans even opened his mouth.
“So,” Hans said, folding his arms loosely. “You have a motorcycle.”
“Uh… yeah.”
Hans’ eyebrows lifted. “And you didn’t think to mention that?”
“It just… never came up.” Adrik rubbed his chin, suddenly aware of how stupid he sounded.
Hans let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Never came up? You ride it everywhere.”
Adrik shifted his weight, feeling oddly caught. “I just got the registration today.”
Hans gave him a look that saidyou absolutely were hiding something, even if he didn’t say it out loud.
“Amelia knew,” Hans added, voice tightening just a little.
