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They talk a lot, most of them at least. They're trying to be friendly and welcoming, but his transfer to Task Force-141 has been harder than any mission he's been on so far.
König dislikes changes and interacting with people outside of his military comfort zone. He doesn't get social interactions, they make him anxious, so meeting new people proofs challenging every damn time.
It's not their fault though, he knows he's the problem; always is, and has been. There are reasons for his behavior and his intrusive thoughts, but he'll keep those to himself forever.
Captain Price means well when he introduces every member to him, one by one.
König forces a smile, an affirmative nod here and there, but meanwhile, he is sweating bullets without wearing his face cover. He feels so naked, so vulnerable without it, and people stare so much.
How do they have no problem keeping eye contact?
And then... there's you.
You somehow slip through and manage to avoid the introduction round altogether.
Price waves it off and lets you pass, and König wishes he could obtain whatever secret agreement you have with the Captain to avoid social interactions from now on.
"Don't mind it. She's a little antisocial, but nice if she lets you get to know her," Price tells him then, and that's it.
No more information about you.
Fair enough. You don't need to become his best friend; he's more than fine keeping a respectful distance anyway.
But within the next weeks, he notices how you behave around the rest of the members, your colleagues and teammates.
How you joke and laugh with Soap and the others, hold meaningful conversations with Price, spar and train with Ghost, and share lunch with Gaz nearly every day.
After another brief time of simply observing from afar, it's like a sucker-punch to his gut when König realizes how he longs for a connection like that... with you; how much he wants to be part of something like that.
One day, he's sitting on a bench in the corner of the base gym while the large punching bag in front of him keeps swinging on its chains.
His arms are sore from throwing punches, his right shoulder throbs with pain again. The bed in his room is far too small for his size and he has slept in a weird position.
"...wenn ich Glück hab, schaff ich's an Ostern nach Hause zu kommen‒"
His ears perk up at the familiar sound of his mother tongue echoing off the walls.
"...kann ich noch nicht genau sagen. Kommt ja drauf an ob ich die Tage frei bekomme‒"
Are you the one talking? Who are you talking to? Family?
He can't see you with all the gym gear and boxing/sparring ring in the way, and while the voice is without a doubt female, voices change with different languages, just the way his voice does whenever he speaks English or German.
Although it doesn't really matter what language he speaks, König doesn't like the sound of his own voice, no matter what. Especially on recordings. The thought alone is enough to make him cringe internally.
He starts fidgeting on the bench, closes the lid on the empty bottle of water in his hand, and ponders if he should take a peek, if he should risk catching someone's attention. His is already clenching even before he moves.
"Ja, sag Mama ich melde mich morgen bei ihr. Hab' noch was zu tun und wenn ich alles erledigt habe, wird sie schon schlafen‒"
It feels wrong to sneak up on you. Plus, he's technically eavesdropping on a private conversation. His heart starts racing in his chest, thudding violently against his ribcage.
He should leave, but he doesn't.
"Kann ich dir irgendwie helfen?" ("Can I help you?")
He nearly jumps out of his skin when you appear behind him suddenly. You have your arms crossed and an eyebrow raised appraisingly as you seize him up. König is taller than you, much taller (because he somehow always is), but right now, he really doesn't feel like it. His tongue feels twisted in his mouth as he fumbles with his next words.
"Du sprichst doch Deutsch, oder nicht?" ("You do speak German, no?")
König nods slowly and clears his throat awkwardly while he tries to hold your merciless gaze. Gosh, Germans always stare so much.
"I‒ I do... I mean ‒" he stutters and then sighs in defeat as he twists the empty plastic bottle in his mammoth hands, making it crinkle audibly. He feels some beads of sweat trickle down his temple and the back of his neck, and he rubs them away awkwardly as it starts to tickle.
"Äh, j‒ja... Ich spreche Deutsch." ("Uh, y‒yes...I do speak German.)
The corner of your mouth twitches and then you smile at him and it doesn't look... like you're mocking him, at all, and then something flutters in his chest at the sight of your smile.
"Hm, gut zu wissen." ("Huh, good to know.")
That's all you response before another smirk ghosts over your lips, and then, you turn on your heels, leaving König to his own terms again, who doesn't know what to make of the whole interaction.
Aren't you mad at him for eavesdropping and being nosy? Don't you think he's a creep? A weirdo?
"Huh." He hums to himself as he watches you leave the gym after grabbing your bag from the floor.
All he knows is that you're way more intimidating up close, you speak his mother tongue,
and he'd like to talk to you again.
It feels a little bit like home whenever König hears you speak German or, lord have mercy on him, you do decide to initiate conversation and talk to him.
You already knew that he's from Austria; Price probably told you, and in return, you tell him you're from West Germany.
You share your German goodies with him whenever you get a care package from home. Candy and foods from your hometown close to the border of the Netherlands.
König always listens intently whenever you explain something to him; a word in your dialect that he doesn't know, a place you've been to on your travels, a random story from one of the many missions you've been on.
Everything on your own accord.
You don't mind that he's quiet; never push his buttons too much or make him uncomfortable on purpose, and he appreciates it more than he could ever put into words.
"Du hast einen Akzent wenn du Deutsch sprichst. Man hört, dass du aus Österreich kommst," you tell him at some point and to his horror, it makes him blush. ("You do have an accent when you speak German. One can hear you're from Austria.)
You chuckle softly when he turns his head away, averting his eyes to hide the pink hue on his cheeks.
"Ich find's süß." ("I think it's cute.") You admit, adding fuel to the fire and he blushes even harder.
At some point, the other's take notice of the way your friendship has developed. You spend less time with Soap and Gaz in between work, you've started training with König instead of your Lieutenant, and Price keeps teaming you up with the Austrian on missions.
"You two work well together." Is the Captain's only explanation, though one can easily see the mirthful twinkle in the superior's eyes.
The team teases him for that, especially Soap, but you're always there to defend him if things start escalating. It's like you notice whenever he gets overwhelmed and uncomfortable. You're just that observant when it comes to him, always.
So much so that it makes König wonder...
Another day, you sit next to him during lunch and often times, you don't even greet him first. You simply sit down next to him, your elbow brushing his biceps whenever you lift your cutlery while you two eat in comfortable silence.
König enjoys your company. Perhaps even a little too much, and it gets to a point where he starts longing for it, because he's lonely and awkward, and you just know how to handle him so well.
Like an instinct of yours, you get his mood, his thoughts, his feelings with one simple glance at his exposed face; a face he doesn't mind showing anymore, as long as if it's in your proximity.
"Ich kann verstehen, wieso du die Maske trägst, aber rein optisch gesehen brauchst du sie gar nicht." ("I understand why you're wearing the mask, but from a purely visual point of view, you don't need it at all.")
König passes your comment off as you being sarcastic, you said it so nonchalantly after all, and he simply laughs about it. He's heard worse about his appearance in his childhood. Then again, he doesn't miss the look you shoot him, the slight pout on your lips, when he waves you off like that. There's just no way you'd give him a compliment like that.
No one ever has before.
Sometimes you even text him before starting a verbal conversation.
Texting comes easier to him; he feels comfortable enough to tell you that himself. You pick up on it immediately. He tells you personal stuff, lets you be part of his thought processes and it's easy. You don't ask unnecessary questions, you don't push him, only when you need to, and then you're direct, but not insensitive.
"Alles gut?" ("You alright?")
It's a meaningful question yet so simple and honest, because it's you who's asking him.
No one understands what you're saying. A quick, short question. König nods when the answer is yes, but he also nods when the answer is no until you tell him that you can tell whenever he's lying.
So, König stops lying to you, because you apparently truly care about him and lying to you feels useless and unnecessary, anyway.
And it actually lessens his anxiety whenever he's around you, until he realizes that this platonic, comfortable friendship bubble he's been carefully crafting around you two for months, has suddenly been pricked and popped by his own damn selfish feelings.
How can someone keep sabotaging their own life like that?
Everything is different afterwards, and König cannot help himself but overthink every little interaction with you from that point on.
There isn't much he hates more than overthinking, because it ruins things, and he cannot mess this up ‒ not with you.
One night, König lies in his bed.
The bedframe is still too tiny to accommodate his massive body, the mattress too soft for his back and the blanket too short to cover him completely, but he keeps enduring it, because it's easier than asking for a bed that'd actually fit his size.
König didn't leave his room all day and despite him trying to distract himself with his comfort shows, his mind keeps wandering to you.
He keeps checking his phone, checks it again. The message he has sent you is still left unread in your chat; it's a stupid meme and when he'd tried to delete it before, it didn't work.
König knows that you're out with friends and you did actually invite him to tag along, but he'd declined like the fool he is and now he's regretting it.
Why can't he just be normal for once?
If he was normal and not this terribly socially awkward, he could be with you right now.
What if another guy, an extroverted, confident one, comes up to you to flirt? What if he offers to buy you a drink? Hell, what if you accept?!
His stomach twists, his chest tightens, his heart clenches, and König knows he really is in deep trouble now.
This deeply-rooted feeling of helplessness, of longing, of unrequited love, pulls him down, makes him choke and leaves him feeling everything and nothing at once.
He fists the all too small blanket in his hands, tries to hold back the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, even clasps one large hand over his mouth muffle the sob bubbling up in his throat, though it's useless and König ends up crying himself to sleep that night.
He hasn't done that in a while.
The realization of the power you hold over him, knowing that you've managed to steal his heart without even trying, leaves him feeling worse, drained and mentally exhausted.
König tries his best to hide it, but he feels like you already know the moment you lay eyes on him the next morning.
"Du siehst aus als hättest du nicht geschlafen. Hast du geweint? Ist was passiert?" ("You look like you didn't sleep at all. Did you cry? Did something happen?")
König shrugs his broad shoulders in response, shakes his head and pouts like a little boy who had to put back a toy that he'd snuck into the shopping cart, because his mother said no.
He's mad at you‒ no, actually, he's mad at himself. He could never be mad at you.
And then, you shoot him a look that shakes him to his very core; calling him out on his bullshit. You manage to make him crumble with one sharp gaze, but once again, you're too mindful of his feelings. He grits his teeth, swallows down the words forming on the tip of his tongue, because he's too anxious, too scared to spit them out.
Why does he keep standing in his own way?
"Are you mad at me?" You ask him tentatively, biting your lower lip, and he's more than confused to hear you speak English. It's like a stab to his heart and he hates it.
It feels like you're trying to expose‒
Expose what exactly? The special connection he thinks you have with him and only him? Because he has unconsciously claimed you already like the fool he is?
"Niemals." ("Never.") He answers sharply, shaking his head.
You take a step closer and König takes a step back, because he didn't expect that at all. His breath hitches when you reach up to gently grasp his chin as you peer up at him, and then your pretty eyes soften and your thumb nearly brushes his bottom lip.
It makes his knees weak and his heart flutter, and he prays that you don't notice the way he's trembling.
"Deine Augen, König... sie verraten dich immer." ("Your eyes, König... they always betray you.")
His heart skips a beat at your words.
The way you look at him, so vulnerable and gentle‒
How can someone look so radiant, so effortlessly beautiful in the morning?
His mouth goes dry like he ate a bowl of oats without milk and when he inhales to say something, anything to fill the heavy silence, you stop him immediately.
"Du musst es mir nicht sagen, wenn du nicht willst." ("You don't have to say it, if you don't want to.")
But he wants to. Oh Gott, he wants to, he wants to.
So badly.
However, it's the fear of rejection, of losing a friend, one of his only friends, that keeps König from pouring his patched-up heart out to you right this second.
And then, Captain Price walks into the break room, oblivious to the intimate moment happening around him, and it's König who swiftly pulls away from you, driven by his anxiety, ruining the moment once and for all.
He didn’t mean to.
König is a mess after the kitchen incident and there is no way he'll ever be able to fix that.
Confessing his feelings to you would've been easier in hindsight.
How can he possibly apologize for his behavior without explaining the why first?
He cannot lie to you; you're too good at exposing his lies.
A soft knock at his door makes his heart jump and his stomach churn. He's not capable of handling more spontaneous socialization today, unless it has got to do with work. Perhaps he could stay still and act like he's not there, but then another firm few knocks force him to react.
König runs a hand through his short blonde hair and rubs a hand over his neck, self-soothing himself, before he eventually opens the door‒
To find you standing at the threshold.
"Hi ‒" He manages to croak out and his voice cracks embarrassingly so.
"Hey,"
The silence kills him every time, no matter if he's involved in the conversation or not.
Meanwhile, you have your hands behind your back while you shuffle on your feet. It's an odd sight to him, a new one. You look... nervous, awkward even. He's never seen you act like this before.
"Ich, äh, also ich hab mir gedacht... wenn du es nicht sagst, dann sag ich es ‒" ("I, uh, I was thinking... if you're not going to say it, I will ‒")
It's your turn to clear your throat awkwardly and all König wants to do is pull you inside his room, slam the door shut, and hug you close to his chest.
Perhaps then, neither of you has to say it.
"Ich mag dich... sehr gerne." ("I like you... a lot.")
While his heart feels like it's going to explode with happiness and relief, it's breaking simultaneously, because why are you looking away?
You never avoid his eyes. In fact, you're the one who is always forcing eye contact on him as an exercise.
König acts instinctively, though a little clumsy, perhaps.
Always a little too strong, a little too eager, as he pulls you in for a hug.
You giggle when your face is buried into his buff chest and he's sure you can feel his heart thudding violently against his ribcage, though this time, he really doesn't care.
His heart flutters rapidly and an unfamiliar warmth blossoms and spreads through his torso when you stand on your tiptoes to wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him closer while König allows himself to embrace you, too.
"I like you, too." He mutters, nuzzling his crooked nose into your hair.
They can all hear it if they want.