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Kaiser liked to smoke. It wasn’t something he hid, the scent clinging to his everyday clothes like a second skin, a lighter always visible in his pocket. He kept it separate from football, only taking a cigarette out when his uniform came off.
Ness kept a pack on himself as well, to pull out if Kaiser ever needed it. He rarely did, and so it went mostly unused. Only on the occasional long day, when practice would drag on into the night or he’d attend meeting after meeting, would Ness see the furrow of his brow as he dug into his bag and coat. Then he could reach into his own bag, grabbing the unopened cigarettes and handing them to Kaiser. The same brand he always got for himself, down to the same convenience store that he’d buy from.
He’d take it with a hum of acknowledgement, open it up with practiced motions, hand reaching for his lighter on autopilot. He’d flick the lighter twice before bringing the cigarette to his lips, lighting the end with unfocused eyes.
The smell would seep into Ness, who was well-practiced in hiding his reactions. Kaiser didn’t say a word the first time he wrinkled his nose, just glancing over with a raised eyebrow before turning his back. It was enough for Ness to never do it again.
In the evenings, he’d lean against the railing of their balcony, staring up at the sky. Ness would sit there with him, tucked into a deck chair. They wouldn’t speak; they didn’t need to speak. He had learned to love the silence. Kaiser didn’t like it when he spoke unnecessarily, rambling on about whatever topic came to mind. If he didn’t initiate the conversation, he wasn’t interested in having one.
Tonight, the moon was full, barely visible between the dark clouds covering the Munich sky. Ness shifted his legs closer, wrapping his arms around his knees. He tried to cover his nose with the fabric of his pyjamas, to no avail. Kaiser had been particularly restless the last week, between packing for Japan and the never-ending meetings they were forced to attend. He took to sneaking off in between their schedules, knowing he’d hear and be earful if he smoked in front of their managers.
Their apartment wasn’t an exception; the balcony was littered with cigarette buds that Kaiser would crush beneath his foot, still burning. He had almost finished the pack in just a few days, and Ness knew he had no more stashed away. He wondered if he should go inside and grab his own before Kaiser would even have to ask. Besides, the night was only getting colder, and Ness hadn’t thought to wear a jacket when he joined him.
Cars sped beneath them, the faint sound of music drifting in and out of his ears. The neighbours were enjoying a night in, wining and dining with their guests as they laughed loud enough to be heard through closed windows. Down the street, a few drunken men stumbled out of a bar, tripping over themselves and into the bollards.
On any other night, Ness would stifle a laugh into a sleeve, watching Kaiser’s face shrivel in disgust at the sight. Kaiser would shake his head, giving Ness a look as if asking, Can you believe them ? But they wouldn’t speak; they didn’t need to speak, not unless Kaiser wanted to.
He’d go inside after, clearing the dishes still left from their dinner. After that, he’d wait as Kaiser took a shower, their rose-scented body soap overpowering enough to get rid of any lingering scent. Ness would be up in bed, a lamp on to illuminate the room as he flipped through the pages of his newest book, a still-wet Kaiser joining him under the covers.
He’d shut the lamp off, wrap the blanket around himself, and wake up to the sight of blond bed hair and drool. And then their routine would continue, the same as it was every day.
Kaiser tapped the ash off the edge of the railing, and Ness watched it fall like off-colored snow onto the busy street. It was already down to the butt, and Kaiser flicked it onto the road, uncaring of where it landed. He was too deep in his own thoughts, his eyes glassy as he stared at the moon. The woman who lived beneath seemed to have been enjoying the fresh air as well, and Ness heard her click her tongue in disapproval before her balcony door slammed shut. For a moment, there was nothing more until he heard the faint beginnings of a piano piece, knowing she had gone inside to calm herself down.
He sighed, sinking into his seat and closing his eyes, trying to focus on the muffled music coming from below. She wasn’t particularly talented, at least to his knowledge, but her girlfriend let her use it to destress, having taught her a few basic pieces. Sometimes, when he and Kaiser would be leaving for practice in the mornings, he’d catch a glimpse of the two of them together, sitting on the piano bench. He didn’t know their names; he barely knew their faces, but he always let his eyes linger for a moment as their hands wrapped around each other and their smiles lit up at the sight of the other.
Ness wasn’t sure if Kaiser knew them or if he realized where Ness would steal tunes to hum from. Did Kaiser know how much they loved each other and how they existed in such a different world from the two of them but lived all the same?
Did he care?
Whatever she was playing, it was something classical, the type of music his father would put on in the late hours of the evening when he’d be alone in his lab. Ness only found out about his apparent interest in classical music after kicking his ball a little too close and hearing a peek through an open window. He never made a sound, but some nights he’d sit beneath the windowsill and listen to the music too. If his father knew, he didn’t say anything, but the window never closed.
Kaiser, seemingly done for the night, walked back into the apartment without a word. For some reason, Ness found it difficult to bring himself out from where he was sitting, instead just keeping his eyes closed as he listened to Kaiser busy himself around the apartment. The sink turned on and off, the door to their bathroom opened and shut, and the lady who lived below them kept playing piano. Her girlfriend wasn’t back yet, or she would’ve stopped by now. Despite his amateur ears, Ness could tell she had improved, though marginally. It wasn’t as ear-grating as it was all those months ago when the two had just moved in.
He and Kaiser had only moved in a bit before them; the second Ness had turned 18, they found an apartment close enough to their training facilities to rent. The interior designing fell to Ness, as Kaiser had a habit of buying whatever he found appealing in the moment and placing it on random shelves. Slowly, it became a place for the two of them, with Ness adding trophies and medals to a display case as their careers grew further and further. At some point, Kaiser had stopped buying trinkets altogether, leaving the decoration for Ness to deal with.
It was still theirs though, their apartment, their home, and nothing would change that.
The piano stopped, and all Ness could hear was silence. Like the world had stopped—no more music, no more muffled laughter, no more honking from down below. It was just Ness and the faint sound of Kaiser’s shower. If he strained his ear, he might’ve heard the jingling of keys and the sound of footsteps as his neighbours ran to greet each other.
He opened an eye, streetlights blurring through a sheen of tears. He’d need to clean up Kaiser’s cigarette butts, either now or the next morning, before some poor bird ate a mouthful. The air was starting to clear now, no longer suffocating him in the stench of smoke. Ness stood up, wiping invisible ash off his pants, and went inside.
Kaiser had left the balcony door open, at least.