Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Newt waved to the baker, Herc, with one hand, the other cradling a basket of fresh bread, which he was to deliver to the grouchy mayor. Herc Hansen was always nice to him, and had given him one of the rolls he was making that was just slightly overcooked, not enough to be burnt but too much so to sell. Newt stuck it in his mouth and chewed as he trotted towards the mayor's house, careful not to drop the basket or any of its contents. After this he would have to clean the windows of the mayor's house, then he was finally free to head to the library until dinner. The thought was enough to fuel Newt's friendly smile in the face of the sour expression the mayor always wore especially for him.

Just as he was on the way to the library, though, he heard a voice call his name. Holding back a sigh, he turned to see who it was and what they wanted him to do. It was Mrs. Ainslie, the sweet but often flustered woman whose husband had passed away a year ago, leaving her to raise three kids on her own. Newt rolled up his sleeves and headed over to her with a cheery grin.

An hour and three squeaky-clean children later, Newt looked at the slowly setting sun and sighed. No time for a library stop today. He dragged himself home and all but collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table. Smiling gratefully as his dad placed a bowl of soup in front of him, Newt said, “What I wouldn’t give to have consistent work like you. I’m so sick of running around getting as many things done as possible in one day because I never know when I’ll have more than one errand again.”

“Careful what you wish for, Newt.” His father gave him a sympathetic smile. “Hey, it’s not all bad, hm? At least you’re not cleaning stables anymore.”

“Only because none of the stables in town need workers,” Newt grumbled, “but I see your point.” He picked up his spoon and started pushing around the chunks of vegetables. “I just want something stable, you know? Every day it’s ‘Oh Newt can you do this for me’ and ‘Newt, dear, do that’. I would like something where I can wake up in the morning and know everything I have to do that day and how much time I’ll have to myself.” He shook his head slightly. “And almost everyone here treats me like I’m not worth the dirt beneath their feet, except Herc.”

“I’m sorry, son.”

Newt blinked then looked sadly at him. “No…dad, that’s not what I meant.”

His father frowned. “It is my fault, though. And you’re being punished for my own mistake.” Newt’s parents weren’t married when he was born, and his mother had left soon after. She’d left for a town that didn’t know her past so she could try to make a life for herself. Newt used to be mad at her, but by now he sort of understood, it was her best chance. However because of the circumstances of his birth, Newt was treated like an outcast by most of the town. Some were civil to him, but only because they needed him to do work for them. Mrs. Ainslie was as nice to him as she was to everyone, but only Herc took the time to really talk and get to know him.

Newt reached a hand across the table to put it over his father’s and said sternly, “I don’t blame you. So neither should you.”

His dad managed a little smile. “Thanks. I’ll keep looking for a place for you to work permanently, though.”

“Thanks, dad.” Newt smiled back reassuringly and started on his soup. “I’m sure something will turn up soon.”

The next day, Newt returned home early with new drawings and notes in his sketchbook, one of his most prized possessions from a past birthday. The librarian wouldn’t let him borrow any of the books, because she didn’t trust him, so he had to settle for taking down what he could in his own book to bring home with him. He wasn’t a great artist, he knew that, but he knew what his scribbles meant and that’s all that mattered. He was excited because he had found a book all about unusual animals and how they differed from more commonly known species. Newt had always been interested in studying animals and just life in general, even plants and such.  He was humming some little tune he made up as he entered the kitchen to find his father reading while he watched over their cooking dinner.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” his father commented.

“Got a few jobs in today,” Newt said. “Enough to help make this month’s rent, and since no one else needed me, I managed to spend the rest of my time at the library.” He tapped his sketchbook. “Even had the time to start writing a song.”

“That’s wonderful!” His father smiled. “I have some news, too. I hope it doesn’t spoil the day for you.”

Newt raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“I found a job opportunity. Something with a steady schedule. You could still run errands for Herc, but that’s all you’d have to do otherwise and you’d be set with some money left over.” His father shrugged. “You might even be able to bargain for a higher pay from this new job, considering you’re the only one who might want it.”

“Okay, so what’s wrong with the job that no one wants it?”

“It’s a delivery of groceries and other such things twice a week,” his father said slowly, “to the house just outside of town. Mr. Smith.”

Newt stopped short. “You mean the foreign guy? Oh.” He refused to call him Smith since the moment he found out it wasn’t the man’s real name. No one knew his real name, but Newt sure wasn’t going to call him some stupid alias. In any case, the man had blown in from goodness knew where about half a year prior, and struck a deal with the mayor: groceries and supplies were to be delivered to the man’s doorstep twice a week unless otherwise requested, which he would pay for, and in return for not being disturbed he would provide what services he could without personal contact with anyone. Those were things such as translating books from the couple of languages he knew into English, grading papers for the local school teachers who didn’t want to take the time to do it themselves, and helping the mayor and the townspeople who could pay with their finances. Since he settled in the little house a short walk away, the town had prospered because of his services. The library had gotten quite a few books from the man already, out of the ones he had brought with him, and started purchasing a few in German or Russian cheaper than they could the same books in English, knowing that he could translate them in a week or two if he focused on the task. The help with their finances also meant the town was smarter with its money and trading, and prospered in that respect as well. The man was a Godsend, if it weren’t for his horrible attitude and shutting himself off from the entire town. Only the mayor had spoken to him once, when he first came to town and they made their agreement. Even then, the man had kept his face hidden for the entire conversation. It was uncertain who he was, where he came from, or what he was hiding from. There were rumors that the mayor had an idea of the last one, and many theories about what it could be, but nothing was known for sure. As for his personality, there were stories that the man could be heard grumbling inside, and if he caught anyone hanging around his home longer than the time it took to make a delivery or put a letter in his mailbox, he would rap on the window with a cane and tell them, "Go away!" No one dared to stay long enough to find out what he'd do next.

"You don't have to do it," Newt's father said, dragging his son out of his thoughts. "It was just something that came up when I asked around today."

"No, no!" Newt didn't want to give up this great opportunity. His dad was right, because of how undesirable the job was Newt could get away asking a little more to do it himself. "I'll do it."

"Alright, then clear it with the mayor tomorrow and you can start with the next delivery on Friday."

Three days later, Newt was carrying a box of fresh vegetables out of town to the little house that sat on a nearby hill. He admired the plain but quaint building. It was rather boring to look at, but any house was a nice one to Newt, who had been living in the same small place with his father since birth. With the extra income, he might just be able to save enough to buy a new residence for his father and him. It would take years to do it, but it was more of a possibility than it had been the previous week. Dragging himself out of his daydreams, Newt approached the front door. He knew he was supposed to knock twice to tell the man it was a food delivery, then leave the box on his doorstep and walk away. Once he had put down the box and knocked, though, he couldn't help but get distracted by the plants growing under the window. They might have been wild, and were not exactly something to admire in their early stages of growth, but they looked different from the plants around town. Newt crouched down to make a closer inspection and only realized what he was doing when there was a sharp rapping noise from above his head. His head snapped up but he didn't see anyone at the window, though the curtain was waving slightly from recent movement.

Then a voice snapped, "Go away!"

"I'm sorry, man, I was just taking a minute to look at these plants under your window," Newt called back. He probably didn't have to talk so loud when there was really only a pane of glass between them, but his inability to see the man made him try to compensate with volume as though he were further away. "They're really neat, like nothing I've ever seen before. Are they native to the land outside of town or did you plant it?" The question came out before he remembered who he was speaking to. He was a naturally curious type who tended to speak before thinking.

There was a short pause before the voice from inside said curtly, "Leave. Now."

"Alright, just asking." Newt shrugged and turned to leave. "Enjoy your vegetables! Though I would watch out for the potatoes and cook the good ones soon, I'm pretty sure I saw a little sprout coming out of a couple." He didn't wait around for a reply, just kept walking, starting to hum again. He would stop home first to grab his notebook before heading to the library. Maybe he would try to draw the plant from memory and look for it in the books about plants.

Monday arrived and it was time for another delivery, this time including bread from Herc. Newt stopped a few steps from the door and peered at the window. Leaning on it from the inside, which certainly hadn't been there before, was a little drawing of the plants that were growing under the window, but in full bloom instead of just starting to bud, and its name and place of origin scrawled in the handwriting he knew from the translated books in the library. Newt couldn't contain his grin as he set the food on the doorstep and rapped twice on the door. He waited a moment before speaking. "Those flowers are going to look great when they're done growing. It'll add some nice color to the place, too." He wasn't expecting an answer, so he kept talking to the door. "I looked through the book on plants at the library and couldn't find them, but it was small and just showed ones in the area so that explains it." He waited. Just in case.

"Now you know," came the voice. "Leave."

Newt only tilted his head. "Is that a German accent? Sure sounds like it. I know you speak German. And Russian. I know some German too! I'm not very fluent, though."

"Go away."

"No."

An irritated voice growled inside. "I'll stop your pay if you don't leave!"

Newt raised his eyebrows. "There's no call for that attitude. I was only making some casual conversation." He hesitated before asking, "Can I at least get a name?"

"It's on the mailbox. Or can you not read?"

Newt rolled his eyes at the mailbox stuck in the wall next to the door. "I know that's not your real name. Come on, I'm not calling you Smith. That's horrible. What's your real name?"

"Leave me alone."

"Nice to meet you, Leave Me Alone, I'm Newt."

"What the hell sort of a name is that?"

"It's not my full name. And it's brilliant!" Newt protested.

"What is it short for?"

"Oh no. You won't even give me a real surname, I'm not telling you anything."

"It's Newton, isn't it."

"Maybe."

"Newton," the voice warned.

"Don't call me that. It’s Newt."

"I will not call you that, now go away."

"Oh come on!" Newt whined. "I thought we were getting somewhere, we're already on a first-name basis. Or you are, since I still have no idea what your name is. It's probably something German."

"You are very annoying."

"I'll take that as a confirmation. It isn't Heinz, is it, because I never liked that name."

"Go back to town."

"Dietrich?"

"Why are you still here?"

"I don't have any chores left to do or errands to run."

"Good for you. Go do something fun like, I don't know, anything but this."

"Hm, well this is kind of fun."

"For you, maybe. I am close to opening this door and hitting you over the head."

Newt huffed. "Okay, I can take a hint. I know when I'm not wanted. I'll be back Friday." He turned and headed back into town.

“That man is very rude,” Newt told his father when he got home.

His dad lifted his head from his book, not looking remotely surprised. “You talked to him?”

“Yes. And he’s really rude.” Newt sat down across from him. “Meanest guy in town.”

“What happened?”

“He put a picture of the flowers I asked about on Friday in his window so I would know what they were.”

“That doesn’t sound very rude.”

“And then he refused to tell me his real name and threatened to stop paying me and to hit me over the head.”

“Ah.” His dad closed his book. “Well he is a very private man. I think you’re lucky to get so many words out of him. No on else has been able to do that.”

“Oh, I feel really special,” Newt said sarcastically and sighed. “Why, though? I just want to know why he’s like that.”

“Don’t ask him.”

“Why not?”

“If you want to have any chance at making friends with this man, do not ask him about his identity or his past. Stay away from topics like that.”

“So what do I say to him?”

“Anything else.” His dad shrugged. “Talk to him about plants and animals, complain to him about your day if you want. Just try not to ask him too many questions and if you do, keep them light. I might start out small, though. Instead of forcing him into a conversation, maybe just exchange a few words and then leave.”

“You’re not going to try to convince me not to bother him?”

“Would you listen if I did?”

“No,” Newt admitted.

“Then, no.” His dad smirked. “You remind me a lot of my brother.”

Newt beamed. He considered it high praise to be likened to his uncle.

Friday, Newt saw the little box of groceries he was to deliver and got an idea. Consequently, he was late to actually arrive at the house just outside of town. As soon as he placed the box on the step, before he could knock, the man inside spoke up.

“You’re late,” he snapped.

Newt couldn’t help but grin. “Did you miss me?”

“No, I wanted my groceries, you dolt.”

Newt clicked his tongue. “If it makes you feel any better, the reason I was late was because I was writing down the recipe of a stew you could make with the mushrooms you got. They have a strange flavor, and I didn’t want you to toss them because of it, I mean they’re perfectly good mushrooms. So anyway if you follow the recipe, they’ll taste better I guess, or at least a lot less weird.”

There was a pause, and Newt wasn’t sure what to do. Then came, “Don’t be late again.”

“You’re welcome.”

The next day, Newt was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the same page in his notebook without making any markings on it. He was having trouble writing the tune he’d been working on. He was at the point where his frustration at his inability to write was keeping him from being able to write, and so on. His dad was still at the schoolhouse, teaching, and Newt was bored. Finally he couldn’t take it, slammed his notebook closed and carried it with him as he headed out of the house. He was considering visiting the bakery, where Herc was sure to have a little time to spare for a chat, but his son, Chuck, would be there too. Chuck sometimes didn’t come to work simply to spite his father, but recently they had been getting along a little better. They still weren’t exactly a family to each other, but they were civil enough to get through the day’s work without starting a fight. However, Chuck didn’t like Newt. Actually it would be more accurate to say he detested or despised Newt. And though the kid was still in his teens, he already towered over Newt. So Newt decided he was better off avoiding the bakery unless he had to run an errand for Herc. Without thinking, Newt turned down the path that led out of town. Once he had ruled out the library and the bakery, there was really only one other place he could think to go.

As he approached the house, he noticed the front window was cracked open. Curious, he bent over to try to sneak up without being noticed. The curtains were still closed, so he couldn’t see anything, but he could hear. And smell. He took a deep breath in through his nose and could tell what was cooking in the kitchen just past the window. Mushroom stew. He smiled as he stood upright and chirped, “Smells great!”

There was a clatter inside and the man cursed in German. “Newton! What the hell are you doing here?”

Newt turned to lean up against the wall between the door and the window. “Just stopping by. How are you?”

“I don’t care—what was that?” he asked, startled.

“How. Are. You?”

“Why do you want to know?” He sounded suspicious.

“So I can use the information against you,” Newt said sarcastically. “Why do you think I want to know, man? Come on. I’m trying to start a conversation.”

“I don’t want to have a conversation with you.”

“Why not?”

The man growled in frustration. “Six months! I figured after six months all the stubborn idiots in town would have tried and given up on getting me to talk. I thought I was safe and then you showed up!”

“Are you about to ask me where I’ve been all your life?”

“No!” he snapped. Then he asked, “Why haven’t I heard you come around here before now?”

“Close enough.” Newt shrugged. “I was busy most of the time. Before I had this job, I had to do any job the others in town would give me. I started out cleaning stables because that’s all they thought I could do. Eventually I got moved up to doing basically anything they didn’t want to do. I’d wash windows, clean floors, watch over kids, make deliveries, once or twice I was actually paid to wash the dishes after someone had company over. Anyway, I never really had time to myself and when I did, I spent it at the library. Sure I was curious about you, but lack of time plus my dad always discouraged me from coming this way meant that it just didn’t happen.”

“Until delivering to me became the job no one else wanted to do.” It wasn’t a question, but he didn’t seem offended.

“I guess? I don’t know what happened to the last delivery guy. Do you?”

No answer.

Newt fidgeted. “Well, the good news is that now that I have this job, I don’t have to run anyone else’s errands except for the baker, Herc. I make all his deliveries for him mostly just because he’s nice to me.”

“I see.”

There was an awkward silence before Newt asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

“Can I ask you another?”

“There you go again.”

Newt growled in frustration. “I was just wondering why you talk to me.”

“You won’t leave me alone.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to talk to me. If you just ignored me, I’d probably get bored and leave.”

“Now you tell me. I suppose it’s too late for that to have any effect, hm?”

Newt chuckled. “Yeah.” He remembered his original question. “Seriously, though. I’ve heard the others talk about you sometimes, and as far as I know you’ve never said more than two words to anyone except the mayor. So how come when I showed up the second time, you actually talked to me? I mean you were yelling at me, but it still counts.”

The man seemed to hesitate and think before answering. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Newt raised an eyebrow at the window next to him.

“Perhaps you’re just that annoying. More so than the entire rest of your town put together.”

“I don’t know about that, they can be pretty annoying.”

“I think you underestimate your own abilities at being a nuisance.”

“Everyone’s a nuisance sometimes.” Newt shuffled his feet a little. “I’ll leave you to your stew, then.” He turned to leave.

“Thank you,” the man said quietly.

Newt stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Huh?”

“For the stew recipe. I haven’t tried it yet, but it does smell nice. So, thank you.”

“My pleasure!” Newt smiled. “See you on Monday.”

“So I can’t tell if the guy hates me or not, but oh well I guess I can’t expect much.” Newt let out a little sigh as he carefully stacked loaves of bread into a basket. He had just finished updating Herc on how his new job was going. Chuck wasn’t around for once, which meant that Newt could stay a little later than usual to talk for the first time since he had started it.

Herc shook his head slightly. “I’m still baffled you got him to talk to you in the first place. I think you should count yourself lucky you haven’t left there with a bump on your head yet.”

“I know what you mean.” Newt rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you have any, I don’t know, advice or anything?” He never asked for advice if he could help it, but if he trusted anyone other than family to give him advice, it would definitely be Herc.

Herc considered. “I think you’re doing alright on your own right now. It seems to me like having you open up to him might help him feel more secure about you. Don’t force your life story down his throat, though.”

Newt nodded. “I can do that.”

“Make sure he knows he can trust you with anything he does choose to reveal about himself.”

“Should I try not to argue with him so much?” Newt asked, thinking back to what the man had said about him being an annoying nuisance.

“No.” Herc shook his head. “Sounds like sometimes that’s the only way he’s comfortable talking to you, so the arguing can stay. Just make sure not to hit a real nerve.”

“How will I know?” Newt raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’ll know.” Herc patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it too much, okay, son? You got this far on your own, right? I understand the guy just about as much as anyone else in this town, but if anyone could, my bet’s on you.”

Newt smiled. “Thanks, Herc. I hope you’re right.”

Chapter Text

A few days later, Newt rapped lightly on the partially open window of the house just outside of town.

“It’s Tuesday. You were just here.”

Newt pouted at the door. “I know, but I didn’t get a chance to stay and talk yesterday. I had to make a few deliveries for Herc. Which, okay, I was supposed to do them before I came here. But I was writing out the new recipe I gave you, and I didn’t want to be late again. Did you make it yet?”

“No,” the man admitted. “I haven’t had the chance. I don’t have any bread left, anyway. Used the last of it this morning.”

“Oh, you should have told me you were running low, I could have brought some. Want me to come back tomorrow with some bread? Or I could probably run back to town and get it now.”

“You don’t have to do that,” came the quiet, almost unsure, reply.

“It wouldn’t take me very long,” Newt insisted. “You don’t have to pay me or anything. Herc owes me for the deliveries.” He added, “I don’t mind.”

“It isn’t necessary—”

“Okay I’ll be right back.” Newt dashed off before he heard any more protesting.

Ten minutes later, the bakery door swung open and Newt looked around inside. “Where’s Herc?”

Chuck looked up from behind the counter with his usual scowl. “Out.”

Newt hesitated in the doorway, less willing to come in when it was just Chuck. “When will he be back?”

“I dunno. What d’you want?”

“I just wanted to see if I could have some bread as part of my payment for doing the deliveries for you guys today.” Newt tried to make it sound less like a question, in the hopes that it would keep Chuck from the opportunity to give a smart answer.

Chuck rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just take it and go. Don’t want you driving away paying customers.”

Newt grinned triumphantly and strolled in, selecting a loaf of bread and heading back out with a quick, “Thanks!” He just barely kept himself from running back to the house.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” the man told him when he returned, as though it would change the fact that he’d already done it.

“It’s fine, just take it.” Newt looked from the door to the window. “I don’t want to put it on the ground, so can you open this window more or the door or something?”

The man hesitated. “Why don’t you just leave it on the windowsill and I will come collect it later?”

“Look, I don’t have germs or anything,” Newt said. “And I won’t even see your face because of the curtains, just your hand. So the window thing will work. Come on, I promise I won’t bite.” He was trying to keep it light while still coaxing the guy to trust him, at least a little.

A sigh floated through the window. “Very well. Only because you already went to the trouble to get it for me.” A pale hand slowly reached through the curtain and unlatched the window so it could be adjusted, then gently pushed it open.

Newt couldn’t help but watch the hand with interest. The only visual he had of the person he’d been slowly trying to get to know. It took him a moment to remember what was going on and hand over the loaf of bread. He felt the urge to touch the hand, to reassure himself that it was real, that he’s been talking to a real live person and not an empty house this whole time. “You know you can trust me, right?” he said before thinking, his voice sounding softer even to his own ears. “I mean, I’m not going to tell anyone anything that you don’t want me to tell them. Or anything at all. The only people in town who listen to me are Herc and my dad, and I won’t even tell them if you tell me not to.”

The hand, and with it the bread, disappeared back into the house. The window remained wide open, though. There was nothing for a moment, and then the voice inside said quietly, “Hermann. My name is Hermann. I can’t tell you my surname.”

A smile tugged at Newt’s lips. “Nice to meet you, Hermann I Can’t Tell You My Surname. I’m Newt Geiszler.”

Hermann scoffed. “Very amusing.” Then he added seriously, “If I find out you told anyone—”

“You’ll have me drawn and quartered, right?” Newt finished. “It’s fine, I understand. And I’m serious when I say I won’t tell anyone. Though I have to admit I’m curious why it’s a secret.”

“It just is.” Hermann’s hand came back through the curtains, to close the window more if not completely.

Newt hurriedly said, “Okay, then. I don’t need to know. It’s fine. I’m just naturally a really curious person, but you don’t have to answer any of my dumb questions.”

The hand hesitated and dropped out of sight without touching the window. “I would just rather not let anyone know such information about me.”

“Understandable.” Newt paused before asking cautiously, “Is there any kind of information about you that’s okay to know?”

“I suppose there’s a bit, but they’re just boring details.”

“No,” Newt protested.

“No?” Hermann echoed, and Newt could practically hear the raised eyebrow that was surely there beyond the curtains.

“The details aren’t boring,” Newt clarified. “They’re probably more interesting than the more ‘important’ stuff. Like my name’s Newton, right? But there’s probably a bunch of people in the world with the name Newton, so that’s not interesting. It’s the details that make me different, like the fact that I need glasses to see farther away, and I’m kind of short and I like to pretend I’m still growing but I know I’m stuck like this. My favorite color is blue, and I like things that are blue like berries, flowers, birds, the sky, water. I also really like nature, but especially how it works. Biology of animals and plants, things like that.” He tried to think of more facts to say that were an important part of him. “My parents are both musical, not that it matters in my mother’s case, but my dad taught me to play the piano and violin. He also taught me how to sing but apparently I’m not so good, I personally don’t care and sing anyway. That’s all I can think of right now.”

“That’s quite a lot of information about you,” Hermann commented like he wasn’t sure what to do with it all.

“Yes, it is. Your turn.”

“What?” Hermann asked. Then he said firmly, “No.”

“Come on, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to tell you anything at all.”

“Okay let me revise that. You don’t have to tell me anything that would reveal who you are, where you’re from, and the like. Just do what I did, tell me a few of the little details. They might seem boring to you, but they’re not to me.”

Hermann sighed and offered, “I like tea.”

“Good. Tea is good, I can agree on that.”

“This is stupid. I have work to do.”

“No, no, no!” Newt sounded like he was pleading but he didn’t really care. He didn’t want Hermann to draw back into his shell. “Please.”

After a moment, Hermann spoke again. “I prefer translating books from Russian to English, not for lack of love for my mother tongue, but because it’s something different that I’m happy I learned when I was young. It reminds me of a couple of friends I used to know, who helped me learn it and spoke it with me often.” He paused to think. “I am not exactly a morning person, but I prefer getting up early to staying up late.” And, because he couldn’t think of anything else to add at the moment, “I am rather fond of sweet things, though I rarely indulge it.”

Newt nodded along even though he knew Hermann couldn’t see him. “I see. Neat.” He grinned. “You’ll have to try some of the cakes that Herc makes, they’re the best.”

“Perhaps, one day.”

Once Newt decided to let Hermann get back to work, Hermann peered between the crack in the curtains to watch him leave. “What a strange fellow,” he muttered to himself, closing the window and turning away to return to his desk.

If Newton was going to continue visiting more often than delivery days, Hermann should really put a chair by the kitchen window so he didn’t have to stand. Then he shook his head as though attempting to shake the thought off. Being so long without any company must be getting to him, if he was thinking of ways to make it easier to visit with Newt. The man was annoying and more energetic than he had any right to be, talked constantly, and couldn’t seem to understand when he wasn’t wanted somewhere. Hermann glanced at the notebook sitting on the counter that he had put the recipes Newt gave him in, and next to it the loaf of bread, and sighed. Perhaps there were some qualities about Newt that weren’t unbearable. He did seem very eager and genuine, which was nice. Refreshing.

Hermann shuffled the papers the local schoolteachers had left for him. He spotted one with a note attached. They rarely came with notes other than which teacher to return them to. Upon closer inspection he recognized the name at the bottom of the note:

I can usually manage grading on my own, but I wanted a second opinion on this one. It’s an English paper, not sure if you’ve graded those before. I’d be grateful for any notes and suggestions you’d care to make. Just let me know what to pay you and it’ll be in your mailbox soon.

Regards,

Jacob Geiszler

P.S. Be good your new delivery boy. He means well.

A quick glance over the actual paper told Hermann that Mr. Geiszler had simply used it as an excuse to contact Hermann, and the post-script wasn’t an afterthought at all. A little smile replaced his usually passive expression. To think that Newt’s father, he presumed, was willing to pay Hermann just so he could send him a note telling him to be nice to Newt. It was sweet. It also made a bit of jealousy curl in his stomach, but he pushed it aside as he quickly made a few notes on the paper before writing a note back and attaching it:

I have little to say on the paper, a few pointers here and there but nothing major. As for a fee, it is my treat. Newton brought me some bread, which I believe he took out of his own pocket, so consider it repayment if you’d like.

He didn’t want to say anything more on the subject of Newt, guessing that anything he said for or against him would be shared with the man. Placing the papers in a new envelope, he found the one they originally came in, copied Jacob Geiszler’s address from there, and placed both envelopes aside for later. The young boy who always collected the mail came early in the morning, knowing to check all the mail just to be sure Hermann had gotten his already, so he would put it in the mailbox with anything else he was sending that evening.

The mail boy was good, picking up the mail silently while Hermann was having his first cup of tea in the morning. Never tried to talk to Hermann or disrupt his life at all, and if Hermann was the type to sleep in then he was sure he could do so without being disturbed when the mail boy came around. Unlike Newt, who felt the need to announce his arrival every time with some remark or another, and insisted on having a conversation every chance he got, with absolutely no regard whatsoever for the possibility that Hermann might be busy, disinterested, or unable to hear his nonstop chattering. Hermann wondered if Newt would be willing to take on the task of delivering Hermann’s outgoing mail as well. For convenience, of course. If the stubborn man insisted on being here on his off days, then he may as well take the mail with him. It was only logical.

“You want me to deliver your mail?” Newt asked a couple days later, raising an eyebrow at the window in confusion.

“It’s not that I want you to, I’m simply offering the position,” Hermann said. “You’re here all the time anyway, and you’d be paid better. It was just a thought.”

Newt nodded slowly. “Okay, sure.”

Hermann would deny that his mouth twitched up at all, because it definitely didn’t happen, but if it had, Hermann would have been glad for the curtains blocking Newt’s view. “Alright, then.” He wondered if he should tell Newt about his father’s note. He didn’t even know for sure if it was his father, it could be a brother or something. Maybe he could ask, without giving away that he’d written to him. “Newton,” he started. “What’s your family like?”

“What?” Newt wasn’t sure where the question came from, especially since he thought they were still a long way away from asking each other questions like that. Not that he minded.

Hermann realized it was rather out of the blue and said, “I was only curious.”

“No, it’s fine. Just caught me by surprise.” Newt leaned his head against the wall. “I’m an only child. I live with my dad; we split the rent on our house. My uncle lives in a bigger city a while away. I have no idea where my mom is, but it’s probably better than here.”

Ah, so it was his father who sent the note. “You don’t like it here?”

“I like it here. I’m not sure if I like it more than other places because I’ve never been anywhere else. I only said that because she left, to get away from the people here who shunned and looked down on her, so wherever she is it probably isn’t like that.”

Interested, Hermann commented, “You don’t seem bitter about it.”

“Should I be?”

“I would be,” Hermann admitted. “She left. When you were very young, from what I gather. She neither helped to raise you nor to improve your living situation so that you had the best chance in life. I would not be so forgiving if it were one of my parents.”

“And I’m sure your life is perfect,” Newt snapped. “You’ve locked yourself in your house, closed off from the rest of the world, and for what? There must be some kind of reason, something you’re trying to get away from. So you have no right to judge me or my mother when you’re doing the same thing as her!”

“I didn’t abandon anyone who needed me!” Hermann retorted. “You think I’m closing myself off from the rest of the world? They shut me out, so all I did was return the favor. I have no need for a world that doesn’t think I have any place in it.”

“Well you’re doing a great job at making a place for yourself here,” Newt said sarcastically.

“I have been helping your town prosper, what more must I do?”

“Care!” Newt threw his hands in the air in frustration. “It takes more than a calculated improvement to make this town your home. The people here respect your abilities but that can only take them so far down the path towards liking you, and everything else about you is keeping them from continuing down it!”

“I refuse to change myself in order to please others.”

“I’m not telling you to do it for them, Hermann, I’m telling you to do it for yourself!” Newt sighed. “Don’t you ever get tired of being disliked by everyone? I know I do.”

The last part was so quiet, Hermann almost didn’t hear it, but he did and it caught him off-guard. He felt his anger catch in his throat and start to dissolve. Memories of shouting at Newt for being a nuisance floated back to the surface, and though he still felt he was right at the time, guilt was starting to nag at the edges of his mind. Perhaps a different tactic was needed to approach the subject than his default of arguing. “I suppose,” he said slowly, “I am less willing to understand your mother’s side of things because that is also the side I find myself on.”

Newt nodded slightly. “It’s always more difficult to forgive yourself than someone else,” he mumbled. “Or at least that’s how it is for me.”

“I hope you don’t blame yourself for her departure.”

“Well it is sort of my fault.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

Newt realized he hadn’t even told Hermann the whole story yet. “I was born out of wedlock. The whole town knew about it, and they never forgave her, although they don’t give my dad a hard time about it. He was just a schoolteacher to them, on his way nowhere, but she had a life ahead of her. Could have made a name for herself. She couldn’t stay here, though, especially not after I came along.”

“I see.” Hermann wasn’t sure what else to say.

Newt let out a laugh. “Herc told me not to ‘force my life story down your throat’.” It wasn’t an apology, but about as close as Newt usually got.

“It’s fine,” Hermann assured. Before he could stop himself, he asked, “Is that why you come here so often?”

“What do you mean?”

“The others in town don’t like you because of the circumstances of your birth?”

“Oh. You’re asking if I come here because no one else will talk to me?” Newt chuckled a little. “Herc is my friend, and I have my dad. They’ve been company enough for me for the last twenty-odd years.”

That left the answer that Newt came here so often simply because he wanted to.

Newt realized this, but didn’t mind. Frankly, he was surprised it would have taken Hermann this long to figure it out. “Come on,” he said. “Have you ever met someone who went out of their way to visit someone he regularly argued with, who didn’t want to be there? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Hermann stayed quiet, trying to process it. He didn’t understand why Newt would want to be around him, after how many times Hermann had told him to go away and just generally acted like he didn’t want him around. Somehow the fact that it hadn’t deterred Newt from visiting didn’t bother him as much as it had the first couple of days.

At Hermann’s lack of a response, Newt continued, “I mean you’re grouchy most of the time, and like I said we do argue at least once a visit, but it’s fun? Fun isn’t the right word. It’s…” He frowned. “Maybe stimulating? I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter what word I’m looking for. You understand what I mean, right?”

 “I believe so.” Hermann hoped it wasn’t obvious he was fighting a smile. He’d never met anyone who argued with him the way Newt did.

“Good.”

A moment of silence settled over them, and it wasn’t uncomfortable like they would have predicted.

Newt broke the silence. “So, I’m delivering your mail,” he hesitated, “does that mean I’m coming here every day?”

“You don’t have to take the job,” Hermann said. “The boy who takes care of all the mail is fine. I’m not altogether sure why I thought it would be less trouble for you to do it.” He was starting to regret making the offer.

“No, I’ll do it,” Newt assured. “I was just making sure.”

Hermann will forever deny that Newt’s assurance did make him feel better or that he let out a little breath in relief. Of course, that only lasted the brief second before Newt spoke again.

“Maybe what you were thinking was that it would be less trouble for you,” Newt suggested carefully. “Because by offering me the job, you can ask me to come by more often without making it seem like you actually want me around.”

“That’s preposterous, “Hermann scoffed.

“Not really.” Newt added, “You could just admit you like the company.”

“I do not,” Hermann protested. Knowing Newt was right in his guesses only made him more determined to argue the point.

“You do. You like having someone to talk to, and you probably like me a little too. Just a bit.”

“Absolutely ridiculous. That is what you are.”

“I’ll be by tomorrow morning for your mail.”

“If you wake me, I will murder you.”

“If you’re still sleeping by the time I get here, you deserve to be woken up.”

Despite what Newt had said the previous day, Hermann barely heard him the next morning when he came for the mail. Hermann was leaning against the counter with his tea, remaining silent if only to see what Newt would do. At first he had worried the man really would try to see if he was awake, but he didn’t. Hermann heard the mailbox creak open and Newt hissed at it, almost making Hermann chuckle. There was some shuffling of papers as Newt checked to make sure there was nothing addressed to Hermann in it, which he had been told would be anything that wasn’t addressed at all, before the mailbox was closed again. Then, because of course leaving without saying a word was impossible for Newt, there was a whispered, “Good morning, Hermann!” before quiet footsteps indicated Newt’s departure. When Hermann heard the greeting through the glass, he was bothered by how much it made him want to smile.

Later, Newt was back to make his usual Friday delivery, humming some sort of short song.

“What are you humming?” Hermann asked, trying to sound annoyed but not really succeeding.

“A tune I’ve been writing,” Newt explained easily, placing the box on the doorstep and taking up his usual position of leaning against the wall next to the window. “Why, do you like it?”

“Not bad,” Hermann allowed.

“I haven’t been able to finish it yet, I’ve been working on it for a while now.” Newt huffed, frustrated with his inability to write music easily.

“Is it inspired by anything in particular?”

“No. Just got stuck in my head and wouldn’t leave until I wrote it down. It was never a complete melody, though.”

“Ah.” Hermann wasn’t an expert in music, and though he’d learned to play the piano as a child, he’d never pursued it further than his parents made him.

Newt didn’t like having nothing to talk about, so he asked the first question that came to mind, “When is your birthday?”

“I’m sorry?” Hermann wondered why Newt was asking. What did it matter?

“I was thinking, and you’ve been here about half a year, so either your birthday has already passed or it’s coming up at some point. So I was curious.”

“Oh. June.”

“June what?”

Hermann frowned suspiciously. “The 9^th.”

Newt tucked the new information away for later use. “Mine’s January 19^th.”

“Good to know,” Hermann said sarcastically, though really was a little glad. Or at least glad he didn’t have to ask now. Then he heard a thud, and held back from leaning towards the window. “Newton? Are you alright?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. I was just sitting down.”

“Oh.” For the first time, he felt a pang of wishing he could invite Newt in. “I suppose it must be uncomfortable to stay standing so long.” He was about as good at apologizing as Newt.

“I don’t mind.” Newt tilted his head back against the wall to look up at the window. “I’m used to spending days running around town. It’s being still while I’m standing that I’m not so used to.”

It made sense, going by the enthusiasm with which Newt spoke, that he would be the type of person who didn’t stand still too often. Hermann wondered at how Newt managed to be so energetic. Given what he’s heard, most of Newt’s life has been doing other people’s dirty work and still having them look down on him. His only company has been his father and the local baker, both of which have working schedules that kept them from having enough time to give Newt all the attention he might desire. It sounded like a lot of time spent in his own company, which Hermann understood. However, while being left to himself had caused Hermann to draw further in and become used to being quiet, it either had the opposite or no effect on Newt. While his exuberance could be a strain on Hermann’s nerves at times, he couldn’t help but admire that life’s hardships hadn’t dampened Newt’s lively spirit.

“What are you thinking about?” Newt asked.

Hermann realized he hadn’t said anything since Newt last spoke. Embarrassed at the answer to Newt’s question, he tried to find a believable lie. “My work,” he eventually settled on.

“Oh right. Should I go?”

There were shuffling noises and Hermann imagined Newt was standing to leave. “No, it’s fine,” he said a little too quickly for his liking. “There isn’t much I have to do.”

“Okay.” Newt sat back down. “What sort of work have you been doing?”

Hermann decided to challenge him. “You’ve been through my mail. Take a guess.”

“Not invasively,” Newt protested half-heartedly, already trying to remember to whom he’d delivered envelopes that morning. “Well you sent a letter to the library, but the envelope wasn’t nearly big enough or heavy enough to have been a translated book. Consultation on what books to look for, maybe?”

“Specifically on learning German,” Hermann replied. “I guess a couple of the students’ interests have been piqued, and they’ve been checking out the German and English translations of books for comparison.”

“Neat. And then I took a letter to Mr. Bradbury, which was probably about his finances, since he trades with the nearby towns.”

“Correct.”

“The last one went to the mayor, so it could have been finances, too.” Newt added jokingly, “Or possibly you’ve decided to send him a complaint about the new delivery boy who won’t leave you alone.”

Hermann let out a little laugh. “Hardly. It’s far too late to do anything about you now, you would still come by if you didn’t have work to do here.”

“You’re probably right.” Newt smiled, realizing he’d never heard Hermann laugh before. It was small and quiet, but still a nice sound. He would have to try to hear it more often.

“I was telling him that you were delivering my mail from now on, so the boy in town doesn’t have to come by here anymore.”

“That makes sense. I completely forgot about letting the kid know.”

“Luckily, I remembered last night and wrote a note to inform them of the new arrangement.”

“Good.” Newt added, “And let me know if you want me to do anything else for you while I’m here.” He couldn’t think of what Hermann might need him to do, but anything to help him out and spend a little more time here.

“Alright,” Hermann said somewhat hesitantly. “Thank you.”

“Newt,” Jacob Geiszler said after his son had finished reciting his most recent visit to Hermann’s house.

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you, right, son?”

Oh no. Newt never liked conversations that started this way. “Right…?” He raised an eyebrow at his dad.

“And you know that I accept every part of you, no matter what, right?”

“Dad, what are you getting at?”

“Well, you’re telling me about all these conversations you have with this Smith fellow,” his dad started. Newt hadn’t told him Hermann’s name, true to his promise, so that’s all his dad knew to call him.

“And?”

“It’s just sounding a lot like…” His dad hesitated. “Like you’re courting him. Or that you want to.”

Newt sputtered out laughter. “What?”

“And that’s perfectly fine,” his dad continued. “I’d just like to know ahead of time, and to make sure it’s not unwanted by the other party.”

“Dad!” Newt shook his head. “That is absolutely not what’s going on.” He stabbed at his food. “Definitely not.”

“If you say so.” His father let the subject drop without further comment.

Of course, Newt being who he was, the conversation followed him like a shadow well into the next day. The more time that passed, the more his amusement with the absurdity of his dad’s suggestion slowly turned into frustration.

“Can you believe it?” Newt grumbled to Herc the next afternoon after explaining the situation.

Herc remained silent as he kneaded some dough.

Newt looked up, incredulous, and asked seriously, “Can you believe it?”

That only got a mumble and a half-shrug out of the baker.

“Seriously, Herc? You too?”

“You do seem fond of the guy.”

“Wait, you agree with my dad because I like him? Of course I like him! We’re friends! Sort of. No, not sort of, we are friends. You have to like someone in order to be friends with them.”

Herc raised an eyebrow at him. “No need to get all worked up, Newt. There’s no shame in it, whatever the other folk around here might say.”

“Oh I don’t care what those idiots think.” Newt pouted. “But come on. Really?”

Herc smiled helplessly at him. “I don’t know what to tell you, son. Your father knows you better than I do.”

Newt crossed his arms. “There is no way that I have any desire to court that insufferable grump.”

“Alright, alright. I give.” Herc sighed and went back to work.

Chapter Text

Hermann noticed that Newt seemed distracted a couple of days after Newt started delivering his mail. He let it slide, figuring there were bound to be days when he wasn’t as alert as usual, and it could be due to a number of things such as simply a bad night’s rest. The third day’s visit passed in almost complete silence, which Newt also seemed not to notice until just before he left.

“Guess I’m not feeling so talkative,” Newt commented, as though it wasn’t something to be worried about, but just another fact about him. He joked, “Must be nice for you.”

Hermann let out a little ‘hmm’ and was about to ask if Newt was feeling well, but the man had already started down the path back home. He watched him through the crack in the curtains, as was becoming a habit recently.

By the next week, they had settled into a routine of only really having a conversation on the days Newt brought Hermann’s groceries, though they still greeted each other in the mornings. Newt still wasn’t as energetic as he had been, but Hermann wasn’t sure how to bring it up. He decided he had to try to do something to lift whatever mood had fallen over his friend. There was a difference between the silence that fell when they were simply enjoying each other’s company and the awkward, distracted lulls in conversation that started to occur more frequently. It was grating on Hermann’s nerves, and the fact that it was bothering him so much only frustrated him further.

Then one day, Newt came for the mail, letting out a chipper, “Good morning, Hermann!”

Hermann blinked at the curtains blocking the window. “Yes. Good morning.”

“Everything okay in there? Are you still tired? You could sleep in every once in a while, you know, I promise no one will die if you do,” Newt said conversationally as he flipped through the mail quickly.

“I’m fine,” Hermann grumbled. It was infuriating how Newt could completely flip sides and accuse Hermann of not being okay, when Hermann had spent the last week or so worrying something was wrong with Newt. “And yourself?”

“Pretty good. It’s nice out today.” Newt tucked the mail into his arm. “Well I’ll be back later to drop off your groceries and we can chat then, but I have some letters to deliver first. I’ll see you later!” And he was off again.

Hermann eyed him suspiciously through the curtains until he was out of sight. “What a strange fellow,” he muttered to himself.

When Newt returned, there was a wooden chair outside waiting for him. He stood in front of it and stared at it for a little while before sitting in it.

“I meant to put it out there before,” Hermann explained. “Over a week ago, really, but I forgot.”

“Thanks.” Newt sounded like he was drifting away from Hermann and back into his mind again, which was unacceptable.

“Newton, has something been wrong recently?”

Newt tensed up. “No.”

Hermann sighed. “Listen, Newton, I know I’m not the most openly friendly person in town, but I had hoped we were friends by this point.”

“We are!” Newt protested. “I’ve considered us friends basically since you stopped telling me off. More accurately, since that Tuesday I fetched you the bread from Herc’s.” He realized he was now high up enough to rest his head against the windowsill and did so.

“Good. As I was saying, I would hope that, as friends, you would tell me if something was bothering you, or if something was wrong.”

Newt sighed. “I’m sorry, Hermann. I just haven’t been feeling like myself lately. It isn’t anything that’s happened or gone wrong. Plus I get distracted easily, so if something’s on my mind then I can’t always focus on other things.”

“I understand.” Hermann stood up from his chair and placed his elbows on the counter to lean more towards the window. He glimpsed the side of Newt’s head through the crack in the curtains and tried not to get distracted by the thought that he could easily reach through and touch his hair. Unsure he wanted to know the answer, he asked quietly, “What has been on your mind, then?”

Looking up towards the window, almost expecting to see a face there, Newt answered weakly, “It’s nothing. Not important.”

“Well it’s apparently more important than anything I have to say,” Hermann tried to sound joking and he wasn’t sure he succeeded.

It only made Newt apologize again. “I’m really sorry. I’ll pay better attention from now on, promise.”

“That isn’t what I’m saying, Newton. I’m worried about you.” It slipped out without Hermann’s permission, but he’d said it, so he had to continue. “You’re right when you say you haven’t been yourself lately. It’s disconcerting, we haven’t even had an argument in days.”

“I’ve been trying not to hit any nerves,” Newt mumbled.

Hermann couldn’t help chuckling a little. “Really.”

“What?” Newt asked indignantly, though he was fighting a smile at having made Hermann laugh again.

“You. Trying not to get on my nerves.” Hermann chuckled again.

Newt smirked. “Yeah, well. I’ve done more amusingly stupid things than that.”

“Like?”

Newt opened his mouth. Almost said something. Closed it. Tried again. “I fell out of a tree once because Herc’s chicken was in the branches and couldn’t get out. I was trying to rescue it.”

Hermann laughed again, harder this time. “How on earth did a chicken get stuck in a tree?”

“Apparently his son stuck it there because he thought it would be funny. He still owes me for that one, I won’t let him forget it.”

Practically shaking with quiet laughter, Hermann tried to calm himself. “That is a rather ridiculous story.”

“I know. It’s one of my favorites.” Newt smiled at the window then let out a little sigh. “I missed this.”

“Hm?”

“While I was wrapped up inside my head, I did still notice what was happening around me. I knew things weren’t the same. With us. And I missed this.”

“So did I,” Hermann admitted.

Newt lifted an arm to rest on the windowsill and use as a pillow. “It’s sort of dumb but I wish I could come inside. I mean talking to you is great, but it lacks that thing friends always have where they can be at the same table and have tea. Or sit next to each other on the couch and just talk or something.” And then it came out before Newt could stop it, as tended to be the case with him, “I wish I could touch you.”

Hermann blinked in surprise. “What?”

Flushing in embarrassment, Newt said quickly, “I mean…” He wasn’t sure what to say after that, though, because he had already said what he meant. So he buried his face in his arm and moaned out, “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” Hermann offered.

“No, it isn’t. I’m such a moron. I’m sorry.” Newt stood and stumbled away from the house.

“Newton!” Hermann called, but Newt didn’t acknowledge that he’d heard him. Barely keeping himself from reaching for the door, Hermann waited for a minute before dragging himself back to his desk. Running through the conversation over and over in his head, Hermann kept getting stuck on the end. What Newt said…it didn’t only have a purely friendly meaning. It sounded almost as though Newt were pining. After Hermann, though? Certainly not. Then Hermann found himself asking, why not? Why not Hermann? He shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts and tried to focus on the work in front of him.

Halfway through the paper he was reading, Hermann started to worry again. What had Newt meant? Did it have anything to do with what had been bothering him recently? What would it be like the next morning? Or the one after that? Would they act like nothing had happened? Would Newt withdraw from Hermann again? Hermann wasn’t sure he could handle that. Finally he gave up on working for the time being and got up to make some tea. He would try again later.

The next morning, the local mail boy came right on schedule and silently took Hermann’s mail. Hermann almost threw his tea out the window.

The morning after that, the same thing. Hermann wanted to stop the mail boy and ask where Newt was but he was just a kid and Hermann didn’t want to frighten him. Perhaps Newt was busy. Doing what, he couldn’t guess. The possibility that Newt was avoiding him weighed heavily in Hermann’s chest.

The third day, he couldn’t take it. Just as the boy was opening the mailbox, Hermann cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” Hermann said. “Might I ask what’s happened to the man who used to take my mail? Newton Geiszler?”

“He can’t work,” the boy squeaked out. “Been stayed in his house for a few days now. I don’t know why.”

“Thank you.” Hermann sighed as the boy left. Well if Newt had been staying home the whole time, he could have gotten sick. It didn’t mean he was avoiding Hermann, as it seemed he was avoiding the rest of the town too. Hermann tried to act like that didn’t make him feel a little better. Only a little.

The next day, it still wasn’t Newt who took the mail. Hermann waited to see who would deliver his groceries.

It was a boy in roughly his late teens, and he stomped up to the house grumbling the whole way.

Hermann heard the box hit the ground and snapped, “Careful!”

There was only a grunt in response.

“Where’s Newton?” Hermann ground out through clenched teeth. His patience was already wearing thin after the past few days, and he didn’t have it in him to be patient with this boy.

“Home, whining about dying or something,” the boy griped. “I don’t know why he likes this job so much, but whatever.”

Hermann froze, fear seeping into him. “What’s happened to him?”

“Had an accident of some sort. I don’t know the details, but his dad’s keeping him at home.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“’Course I do.”

“Where?”

The boy heaved an agitated sigh. “It’s the nearest house to the school. His dad works there.”

Hermann nodded and headed to grab his cloak and mask, the disguise he’d been wearing when he first arrived in town.

“Are you comin’ out?” the boy asked, for once losing the permanently annoyed tone to his voice.

“If I must.”

“Right, then. When you get into town, head to your left, follow the road towards the school. It’s the biggest building, I imagine you can find it yourself.” And with that, the boy turned and left.

Tugging on the mask and pulling his hood up with one hand, the other occupied by his cane, Hermann waited until he was out of sight before opening the door, dragging in the box of groceries, and stepping outside. He hesitated on the doorstep. It was odd to be out of the house for the first time in months. Then he remembered Newt and forced himself to step onto the path that lead to town. He made his way as quickly as his legs would allow, and turned left as the boy had instructed.

There were many people milling about the town, and they turned to watch him, seeing a stranger and then recognizing him as the strange man who never leaves his house. Until now.

Hermann knew he was being followed by a few curious spectators, but he didn’t care. He continued determinedly to the school, then turned to looked around. Spotting a little house nearby, he took off again towards it. By this point there were at least ten people following him from a distance, wondering what was going on. Hermann knew this trip was putting him at risk of discovery, and somewhere in the back of his mind a voice mentioned the great possibility that even if he wasn’t found out by the other townspeople, Newt would surely figure him out. For right now, though, Hermann’s priority was to check on Newt. It was an impulsive decision, he knew, but he had already tried waiting for Newt to come back to him and it was getting unbearable. He had to make sure the idiot hadn’t done something ridiculously stupid, like fallen off of a roof or gotten impaled on a fence, or fallen off of a roof and onto a fence. The scenarios in his head grew worse the closer he got to the door. When he reached the doorstep he stopped, took a deep breath, and knocked twice.

The door swung open and Hermann’s gaze met that of a man wearing an apron, stubble lining his jaw and hair cut short. “Well,” the man said in a voice similar to one Hermann had heard earlier that day. “Think it’s safe to say I know who you are and why you’re here.”

Hermann nodded once.

“Herc? Who is it?” came Newt’s voice from the other room. “Is it Chuck?” Without waiting for an answer, Newt raised his voice and called, “How was the delivery, Chuck?”

The man, who Hermann had guessed correctly to be the local baker, sighed and shook his head. He stepped aside to let Hermann in. “You’d better come in already.”

Hermann walked in past Herc, and waited.

Herc shot a glare at the people who had followed Hermann and gathered outside the house. “This ain’t a show. Go on, get.”

The others snapped to attention and scattered as quickly as they could.

As Herc gave a satisfied smile and closed the door, Hermann couldn’t help a slight smile of his own. He could see why Newt admired Herc so.

“What’s going on?” Newt whined. “If you don’t tell me, I’m coming in there!”

“It was just a few people stopping by to gawp,” Herc lied. Then he nodded at Hermann and continued through the doorway. “Though one of ‘em wanted to come in and see you.”

There was some grumbling but Newt didn’t protest, so Hermann followed Herc into the other room.

Newt was sprawled across the couch, hair a wild mess and glasses crooked. Hermann couldn’t help but stare. He realized that, though he’d seen the back of Newt’s head many times, he’d never even tried to imagine what the front looked like. He had a soft-looking face and bright green eyes, and as he turned his head Hermann swore he saw little freckles for a moment.

When Newt saw him standing a few steps away, he sat up quickly. “Hermann?” his voice came out quiet but still somehow buzzing with energy. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Hermann was standing in the room with him. Newt still couldn’t see his face, which was frustrating, so he focused on the rest of him. Hermann was tall, but not as tall as Herc. Maybe as tall as his dad. His clothes looked nice; they were better quality than what could be found in the rest of town, including what the mayor wore. There was a cane in his hand, and Newt could tell it wasn’t just for decoration, though it did have a pretty design carved into it. Overall, not what Newt expected, though he hadn’t really speculated much. He wished he could see his face.

“Good afternoon, Newton,” Hermann replied.

Herc sat and watched them silently.

“What are you doing here?” Newt’s eyes went even wider. “You’re out of the house!”

Hermann rolled his eyes. “An excellent observation, Newton. And I’m here to see you, obviously.”

Newt turned slightly red. “I know that! But why?”

“I didn’t know what happened to you!” Hermann griped. He noticed for the first time that one of Newt’s legs was wrapped in cloth bandages. “No one seemed to know a damned thing about what was wrong with you, so I had to come and make sure you weren’t dying or something!” It sounded a lot more pathetic out loud than in his head.

“Chuck knows,” Herc said quietly. “He should have told you when he made Newt’s delivery.”

Hermann stared at Herc. “He said he didn’t know. He said…” He turned on Newt. “He said you were complaining about dying!”

“I wasn’t!” Newt argued. “I mean I admit that I can be overdramatic sometimes, but no one mentioned anything about dying until you showed up!”

Chuck took that opportunity to peek in the window and shout, “Now we’re even for the stupid chicken thing! So you can stop telling everyone that story, yeah?”

Newt gaped at him.

Herc let out a chuckle.

Hermann glared and headed over to the window. “I thought he was seriously injured! Or ill!”

“What?” Chuck shrugged. “Idiot wouldn’t shut up about you! It was driving me insane. When you asked after him, I figured I’d take the opportunity to be rid of that stupid debt he seemed to believe he had over me!”

Hermann yanked the curtains closed over his face.

Chuck only grumbled and left them alone.

“The absolute nerve,” Hermann hissed as he turned away from the window.

“You asked about me?” Newt was trying not to smile.

Hermann stiffened slightly. “Yes. Well. You were already acting so strangely, and then you ran away and failed to show up for days. Add that to the fact that you are prone to doing reckless things and injuring yourself, I wanted to be sure you hadn’t made yourself even more useless than you already were.”

“Aw,” Newt cooed. “You were worried about me. That’s so sweet.”

“I was not.”

“You definitely were.”

“If you qualify frustrated and annoyed as ‘worried’, then yes. I was ‘worried’ beyond all reason.”

“You missed me,” Newt teased.

Hermann bristled. “Hardly.”

“You like the company.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You like me a little, too.”

Hermann let out a huff. “I can’t imagine why.”

Newt smiled at him softly.

Partly as a distraction from the odd tugging sensation in his chest, though mostly because he was impatient about not knowing the answer, Hermann asked, “What have you done this time?” He gestured to Newt’s wrapped leg with his cane.

Looking down at his leg, Newt laughed a little. “It’s a funny story.”

“I’m sure.”

“I ran into a cart.”

“You what?” Hermann frowned at him.

“On my way back from your house on Monday, I was sort of running and didn’t see the cart until I collided with it, and then it fell on my leg.” Newt picked at the bandages only to have his hand swatted away by Herc.

Hermann sighed and mumbled somewhat fondly, “You are a moron.”

“I already told you that.” Newt’s grin faltered. “Sorry about rushing off like that. I was worried you’d be upset with me.” He wouldn’t meet his gaze anymore.

“You startled me is all.” Hermann approached and sat in the chair closest to the couch. “I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to have been upset about.”

Newt fidgeted.

Herc took it as his cue to go, and stood. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me,” Herc offered before leaving them alone in the living room.

Recognizing the sign that what was coming next was serious, Hermann watched his friend carefully. “What is it?”

“I…” Newt couldn’t do it. He tried but the words wouldn’t come. Glancing over at Hermann, he saw the man had his hands resting on the handle of his cane. If he stretched his arm out, he could take Hermann’s hand in his. Before he could talk himself out of it, he did.

Hermann blinked in surprise but didn’t pull his hand away. Staring at their hands, he slowly pieced everything together in his head and let out a quiet, “Oh.”

Newt still wasn’t looking at him. “I thought I might accidentally scare you and you’d stop talking to me, so for a while I was always worried and distracted, especially when I came by your house. I didn’t want you to hate me. Then Herc finally pointed out that I was doing all right at being your friend before, so all I had to do was to keep doing that. So I tried, but all my thoughts had gotten to me and I said…what I said, and then I didn’t know what else to do, so I ran away.”

“And into a cart,” Hermann supplied.

A laugh escaped Newt. “Yeah. Rammed right into the side of it. You would think it would have had the decency to fall the other way.”

“Carts aren’t known for being courteous.”

Newt chuckled some more and tugged on Hermann’s hand a little. “Stop trying to change the subject. We can talk about what an idiot I am another time.” He added, “If there is another time.”

“I’m not sure the two topics aren’t inextricably linked to your idiocy.”

“Oh, thanks.” Newt tried to pout but couldn’t quite do it convincingly.

“It’s alright. I’ve become rather fond of idiots.”

“Then you must love this town.”

Hermann smirked. “Not the whole town. Apparently I only like short idiots who talk too much and like biology and things that are blue.”

“There aren’t too many of those around here,” Newt as casually as he could.

“Newton.”

“Yes, Hermann?”

“I think you are overqualified for carrying mail and delivering groceries. I’m going to have to let you go.”

Newt dropped back onto the couch, not letting go of Hermann’s hand. “Oh, tragic day. I’m out of a job. Again.”

“Fortunately, a new position has opened up for a job that I’m hoping you would be willing to start as soon as possible.”

Newt raised an eyebrow at him. “Do continue.”

Hermann smiled and leaned in, saying quietly, “It would require a change of address. I’m afraid the work is too demanding for you to live anywhere other than with me. Would you be willing to make that sacrifice?”

“Hm.” Newt pretended to consider. “I don’t know about that. I mean I don’t even know your last name or what you look like. You could be anyone!”

“A banished prince.”

“Exactly, you could be a banished prince for all I know—” Newt stopped and looked at him. “Wait, what?”

Hermann pulled away and tugged down his hood, pushing his mask up to rest on the top of his head. “I’m sure you’ve heard the story about the German prince who was disowned by his father.”

Newt’s eyes widened behind his crooked glasses. “Oh.”

It was bothering Hermann, so he reached out and readjusted Newt’s glasses to sit properly on his nose while the other man gaped at him. "I was permanently injured in a battle, and consequently my father decided I was of no use to him or the kingdom, and couldn't even rule should the responsibility be passed on to me." He was still sore about the whole incident, but he hadn't had a great relationship with his family. Leaving the kingdom had stung, but he had to live with his father's decision and move on.

"Oh," Newt said again. "Wow. You're--"

Hermann predicted where Newt was headed and continued, "Rich? Somewhat. My parents gave me a nice enough fortune to live the rest of my life comfortably."

Newt blinked confusedly at him and finished his sentence the way he'd intended, "Really attractive." Because he definitely was.

"Oh." Hermann could feel his face heat up.

Newt smiled weakly. "The other thing you said was good too, though."

Hermann rolled his eyes and grumbled, "You did that on purpose."

"No." Newt slowly shook his head. "I swear that was honestly the only thing I could think about from the time to took that mask off until now. Actually I'm still thinking about it. Wow."

"You're ridiculous." Hermann scowled at him.

"Scowling doesn't make you any less attractive."

"This is humiliating."

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” Hermann feigned innocence.

“I’ll come live with you.”

“Really. Well that was surprisingly easy.”

“It’s not every day the guy you’ve been hoping to spend the rest of your life with turns out to be a former prince and asks you to live with him.”

Hermann smiled. “I suppose that’s true.”

“I do have one condition.”

Hermann’s smile greatly contradicted his suspicious stare. “I knew it. That was far too easy. What do you want, Newton?” He tried to sound bothered by the very idea of having to go out of his way to do something for Newt, when really he knew he would do just about anything to get Newt to say yes.

Newt grinned. “You have to ask my dad.”

Hermann raised an eyebrow. “What, like asking for your hand in marriage? Newton, you know that can’t happen.”

“Of course I know that. I just,” he hesitated, “I think my dad would appreciate the sentiment. And the chance to meet you formally before you whisk me away on your trusty steed.”

“There will be no whisking or steeds, thank you very much.” Hermann’s lips quirked up. “However, I think you may have a valid point about meeting your father before any plans are made without the poor man.”

Newt nodded. “And I’ve got all the plans part of it figured out, too.”

“Have you, now?”

“Well yes, I mean, what do you think I was thinking about the whole time?” Newt looked at him like it should be obvious that he had been simultaneously punishing himself over his feelings for Hermann and planning their future together.

Hermann shook his head. “Honestly, I dared not even try to guess what was going on in that head of yours.” He leaned forward and gently kissing Newt’s forehead. “Now, I think we’ve tortured your friend the baker long enough, hm?”

“Oh, I almost forgot about him.” Newt leaned around Hermann and called towards the kitchen, “Herc? Are you still there?”

“Still here,” came Herc’s reply. “Everything sorted out between you two?”

Newt glanced at Hermann before answering, “Yeah, you can come back now.”

Herc returned to the room and looked at them before nodding to Hermann. “So you’re a prince, then?”

“So you were listening, then?” Hermann shot back.

“Couldn’t exactly help it, now, could I? There’s only so far I could go, and Newt’s voice carries.”

Newt snickered.

“Was a prince,” Hermann corrected. “Not anymore.”

“Right.” Herc eyed him. “I hope you don’t think your title earns you a free pass.”

“I’m sorry?” Hermann furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Herc, come on, can’t you at least leave this for my dad to do?” Newt complained.

“Newt, we both know your dad is about as threatening as you are,” Herc said calmly. “And I love you both dearly like you were my own family, but intimidation is just not in your genes.”

“What is this?” Hermann asked, glancing at Newt. “Is he threatening me?”

“Yes.” Herc pointed at him. “This is the part where I tell you in gory detail what happens to you if you do anything to hurt Newt.”

“Mr. Hansen. With due respect,” Hermann said, rising to his feet to meet Herc’s gaze. “While I appreciate the sentiment behind this and how much you care, I would like to point out that Newton is not only a very resilient person perfectly capable of handling himself, but also far more likely to hurt me by doing something careless and getting himself mauled by a wild beast than I am to harm him.”

Herc stared him down for another moment, then grabbed Hermann and pulled him into a hug. “Welcome to the family, mate. You’ll fit in just fine with the rest of us misfits.”

Hermann, not used to the affection, took a minute before carefully returning the embrace. “Thank you.”

Herc let go and stepped away. “I’d better get back to the bakery. I just wanted to make sure Newt wasn’t cooped up in here alone for too long, or goodness knows what he’d get up to.”

“All sorts of trouble, I imagine,” Hermann commented with a slight smirk.

Newt made a noise in protest but didn’t deny it. “Come back tomorrow?”

“Sure, son.” Herc gave them one last smile before heading for the door.

Once Herc was gone, Newt struggled to scoot over to one side of the couch. “Come here.”

“Newton, don’t. You’re going to hurt yourself more.”

“No, it’s fine. Come here.” Newt reached for Hermann’s hand again.

Hermann sat in the space Newt had made for him before taking his hand. “Better?”

Newt rested his back against Hermann’s side. “A little.” He turned his head and shifted until his nose brushed against Hermann’s neck. “There." It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but he was happier. When Hermann spoke, he could feel the vibration the sound made.

“Are you always going to be this…” Hermann wasn’t sure how to finish.

“Clingy?” Newt supplied. “Probably not. Unless you don’t mind it.”

Hermann lifted his free hand to do what he’d wanted to do for a while, which was to run it through Newt’s hair. It was soft. At the noise of approval from Newt, he continued carding his hand in Newt’s hair and replied, “No, I don’t mind. It’s just something I’m not used to. However I think I could become accustomed to it.”

“Okay good, because I’m not sure I could hold myself back for too long.” Newt had the decency to act somewhat embarrassed.

They remained this way, occasionally talking or bickering, until the door opened. Jacob Geiszler was home. “Newt? Why are the curtains drawn?”

“Hermann’s allergic to sunlight!” Newt answered, receiving Hermann’s elbow in his back for his troubles.

Hermann gently shifted Newt over so he could stand to greet the other man. “I am not allergic to the sun, I just didn’t want any passersby to be able to look in whenever they like.”

Newt’s father stepped into the room. “What’s this? Company?” He smiled. “You must be the evasive Mr. Smith.” He stuck out a hand. “Jacob Geiszler.”

“Hermann, actually.” Hermann took the hand firmly. “Pleasure to meet you at last.” He noticed the similarities between Newt and his father, though there were only a few.

“Likewise.” The man tilted his head slightly. “You look familiar.”

“Yes, I’m—”

“I saw your picture on a piece of paper,” Newt’s dad continued as though he hadn’t spoken.

“Yes, it—”

“It was something official. Handed out to the town by someone trying to get the news out about something.”

Hermann sighed and waited for him to figure it out.

When he did, his eyes widened in a similar fashion to how had Newt reacted. “Right, then. I see.”

“And now, if I might ask, I would appreciate a word in the other room for a moment.” Hermann gestured to the kitchen.

Newt’s dad nodded, still somewhat in shock. “Sure, sure.” He turned and led the way into the other room.

Hermann turned to give Newt a little smile before he followed.

“You want to what?” Mr. Geiszler asked.

“I believe,” Hermann explained, “that both my and Newton’s lives would be greatly improved were they to be woven together, and with your permission I would like to take action by moving Newton and his belongings into my own home.” He tried not to seem as nervous as he was while he waited for a reaction.

Mr. Geiszler blinked a few times before breaking into a grin that could only be beaten by his son. “Sounds like you’ve already had it sorted out.”

“In a way, but Newton suggested I ask you formally first.”

“Would I be able to visit?”

“Of course.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Hermann smiled. “Wonderful.”

“You can’t move him until he’s healed, though.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Mr. Geiszler glanced at the doorway. “I’ll set up Newt’s room for you to stay in.”

“I’m sorry?” Hermann shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, I should be perfectly content to wait for him to get better in my house.”

“Yes, but he won’t be.” Mr. Geiszler nodded towards the doorway. “He’s been in something of a mournful rage since he found out he would have to stay here for at least a couple of weeks. I say he’s lucky he didn’t break it, or he’d be here for months, but you know him.” He shrugged. “I imagine two weeks will feel like two days if you’re around.”

“I see. It’s hardly proper, though, for me to stay in Newton’s room.”

Mr. Geiszler chuckled. “Oh he won’t be there. He’s been sleeping on that couch for the last three days.”

“Ah.” Hermann hesitated. “I believe I’m out of objections to the idea.”

“Good. I’ll go set up Newt’s room.” Mr. Geislzer turned and headed down a little hallway.

It was really only a week or so before Newt was able to get off the couch and onto his feet again. As his father had predicted, it went by fairly smoothly with Hermann there to keep him company. Newt laid out the plan he’d formed for their future living situation. They agreed it would be better if the rest of the town were not told about the exact nature of their relationship. Also that Hermann’s identity should continue to be a secret from those who didn’t already know, in case the word spread about him. Hermann would continue his work, as he liked to keep busy, and Newt would see if the school would allow him the job of his father’s assistant, for something to do. Once Mr. Geiszler decided to retire, his son could then take over his full position as teacher. Newt would still fetch the groceries while he was in town. Hermann had tried to protest this one, saying they could hire someone to do it, but Newt was as stubborn as him. He was also right that it would be much more convenient and that he might as well if he was going to be in town every weekday anyway. They hadn’t settled on a story to tell the rest of the town, the reason for their odd living arrangement, but they eventually decided to be vague about the whole situation and have Herc and Chuck glare at anyone who tried to pry.

Once Newt’s leg was healed, they quickly moved the few belongings Newt was actually attached to into Hermann’s house.

“I love it,” Newt said upon entering Hermann’s house for the first time. He placed the box in his arms off to the side to sort through later, and looked around. “It’s so cute.”

“I’m having trouble seeing how a house can be cute,” Hermann replied, close behind him. “But thank you.”

After Newt had brought the last of his possessions into Hermann’s house, and they had organized everything into a blend of Newt and Hermann’s things, Hermann made dinner for two for the first time in a while.

“So,” Newt said as he washed the dishes after dinner. “Any routines you’ve settled into that I need to know about so I don’t interrupt them?”

Hermann blinked at him from the kitchen table. “What?”

“Like Herc and Chuck have this routine of sorts, where either they’ll eat breakfast together or not, and that indicates whether Herc should expect Chuck to show up for work that day or not.” Newt shrugged. “I was just thinking you might have gotten used to certain aspects of living alone, and I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“I see. That’s very considerate.”

“No need to sound so surprised, Hermann.” Newt chuckled.

Hermann smirked and stood to stand behind him. “However, I don’t have too many unusual habits. Such things as preferring not to be interrupted while I’m working, but other than that nothing comes to mind that I think I should mention. Anything important, I’m sure we’ll discover fairly quickly.”

Newt nodded, shifting closer to Hermann. “Alright. The same goes for me, too, then.” He finished the dishes and turned to Hermann, hands on his hips. “I imagine I’ll be sleeping on the couch?”

Hermann raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a very good imagination.”

“I might cling in my sleep,” Newt warned.

“Then maybe your warmth will counter how cold I usually am at night.”

Newt grinned and leaned up to kiss him.

Having someone to sleep next to was one of the best parts of Newt moving in with Hermann. It was odd at first, and Newt squirmed a little more than necessary to get comfortable, but once he had settled at Hermann’s side, it was cozy and warm. Hermann had never in his life thought he could fall asleep with another holding onto him as though he were a stuffed toy, but he quickly found himself wondering how he’d ever gotten a good night’s rest before without Newt pressed up against him, an arm and a leg thrown over him, face buried in his neck.

Newt had never clung to anything or anyone in his sleep before, and usually took an hour just to find a position he could fall asleep in, but when he realized Hermann was inviting him to share a bed with him, he couldn’t resist. He had always been one to test and push boundaries, including his own. So he would allow himself to try to make up for how long he hadn’t been able to see much less touch Hermann. It turned out the only position he was almost immediately comfortable in was next to, and partially on top of, Hermann.

Then, just as the two were starting to fall asleep, came the question:

“You don’t snore, do you?”

There was a pause. Then came the reply, “I don’t know.”

“We might have a problem.”