“Elbow. Right under the ribs. Asshole.” If he can curse like that, it’s not so bad.
“Do you want to take the penalty?” I’m supposed to take the penalty throws. At least that’s what coach decided before the game. Me or our right back. But I know Louis, and his penalty throws are mean and pretty much unstoppable.
“Markus will kill you if you let me take it.” Markus is our coach.
“Then you should score.” We stand facing each other, belly to belly. Too close. Way too close. But no one says anything.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
The hall cheers as he scores confidently. Coach just shakes his head, but I think he’s smiling. At least slightly, with the right corner of his mouth. I mean, we’re leading by ten goals, which is quite a lot in handball, and if we manage to keep up the pace for the last eight minutes, I don’t see a reason why we should lose the game.
And we don’t. We clap, and Louis hugs me again. This time, it’s not in the euphoria of the moment, but slowly and deliberately. He looks me in the eyes as he walks toward me, slowly puts his arms around my neck, and then squeezes. He pulls me in close, so close that I can feel his heartbeat, his breath on my carotid artery. My arms follow his lead, myhands rest on his back, and I never want to let go of him again.
I don’t mind that he’s wet with sweat, that the mixture of deodorant and sweat tickles my nose. I just want this to last forever.
“Well, if you’re trying to fly under the radar, you’re failing miserably.” No, I’m not looking at Finn. I know he’s right. We’re sitting together at breakfast the following morning and I’m poking listlessly at my cereal. The butterflies in my stomach are too wild to leave any room for food. Finn was at the game yesterday, so he can assess the situation realistically.
“No one except coach knows that we know each other from before.”
“But that’s not the point. As far as I know, you are not out. What I saw yesterday looked a lot like a first step in that direction. You’re too close to just be friends. You used to have better self-control.” Damn it, maybe I just don’t want to control myself anymore.
But as the thought takes shape in my head, it’s back again. The suffocating panic, my father, his judgmental gaze, the inevitable consequences. I want to be with Louis, I don’t want to hide us, but just the thought of going to my father and telling him takes my breath away. Panic runs through my veins like liquid nitrogen, freezing me, paralyzing me, and then a new fear arises. The fear of losing Louis a second time.
Chapter 39
David
25 years
It’s no longer dark in the morning when we’re on our way after Louis’s shift. Today we’re sitting on a bench by the Alb, watching a duck keeping her ducklings together.
“Do you want children?” Startled, I turn to Louis. Until now, we’ve always talked about the past, never about the future.
“Well, I’m gay, it’s not that easy, is it? You can’t just get pregnant. And I don’t think chocolate buns are healthy for baby ducks.”
“What? Oh, shit. Sorry. But if you could choose. If it were easy. Wouldyou want children?”
Phew, tough question. If someone could guarantee that I would do better than my own parents... I would love to see a few little dark-haired curly heads running around in the garden though. “If everything else fits, yes, I would. Would you?”
“I was an only child until I was twelve, which was okay, I didn’t miss having siblings or anything, but when Jannis came along, it was cool, even though we’re almost seven years apart. Today, we hardly notice the age difference, and the older we get, the better it gets. Same with Luca. I love my brothers, and if I had children, I would definitely want more than one. But as you said, it’s not that easy. I wasn’t Papa and Paps’s first choice either.”
I stare at him from the side incredulously. “But your parents love you more than anything.”
He smiles. “Definitely. And I’m super grateful they said yes when the call came. I know they wouldn’t trade me for anything or anyone in the world, but originally they wanted to foster a baby. Only when that didn’t work out they got the training to be able to take in traumatized children. That’s how I came along.” Neither of us says anything for a while. We stare silently at the water, Louis shifting nervously next to me. Gently I place my hand on his knee, and he immediately looks up. There is so much vulnerability in his gaze, even more than usual.
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re gay, aren’t you? You’re not into girls. You said so yourself.” I did say that, but not in the last few weeks or months, but right at the very beginning, on the night of our first kiss. It was true then and it still is now.
It takes me a moment to grasp the real meaning of the question. It’s the end of our game, and for the first time, oneof us is referring to a past that we’ve tried so hard to block out. Not by accident, not in passing or in a subordinate clause, but consciously. Because it’s there, it’s ours, and somehow we have to learn to deal with it.
“No, I’m not into girls. I’m gay.”
“Then why were you with her?”
Startled, I turn to him. “What are you talking about? I’ve never been with a girl. When...?”
