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After one, two, and three glasses of vodka, the movements of the people slowed down.
You could hear glass clinking and the people cheering; they were celebrating his victory.
But his stomach had knots in it.
He did it.
He beat Albrecht.
But was it really worth it?
He left his family.
Everything he knew, for boxing.
He should be happy, but why?
Why does he keep thinking about him?
This boy, named Albrecht.
Why does his heart race when he’s around him?
For what reason does he always agree with him?
How come he always notices Albrecht everywhere?
Always paying attention to his dark hair, those blue eyes?
Friedrich sighed, then he just stared at the transparent liquor. His chest tightened, replaying what he could have done differently in that match.
Could I have been gentler?
Should I have gone easier on him?
His head was clouded with those thoughts; he kept drinking one glass after another. With every drink, the world would wobble faster.
Every step would make the world shake.
Friedrich’s eyelids were heavy, and his cheeks were burning red.
His eyes blinked, then he was there.
At the fight.
The crowd yelled for them to fight, so Friedrich hit Albrecht.
Each hit just made his heart burn.
Seeing Albrecht’s face like that.
All bruised up.
He suddenly jolted; he was back at the table.
He barely stood up; he walked through the hallway, twisting and turning until he arrived at a door called “Albrecht’s Room.”
Without a second thought, he turned the doorknob. Lying inside the room was Albrecht.
Upon seeing him, the heavy burden weighing him down lightened up. The room had no posters or anything stylish. But it somehow felt comforting.
He took a step inside.
His eyes glued to Albrecht. Like he hadn't seen someone this elegant before—his blue eyes, that serious look.
Coupled with the fact that everything about him felt perfect.
Albrecht glared at him. “What do you want?”
Right, he’s still mad at him. But why does he look so good while being angry? — No, you shouldn’t think like that about your best friend.
He thought of what to say, but all he could muster up was, “Hey…”
The atmosphere of the room was awkward, but that didn’t matter to him. All he could think of was Albrecht. So he kept getting closer and closer.
The closer he got, the more Albrecht’s eyes would twinkle and the corner of his lips would ever so slightly go up.
Without notice, he sat on the bed. The pain annoying him in his stomach felt numb. Overwhelmed by this warm feeling.
It was silent; it was not awkward nor comforting and Friedrich smelled like the overwhelming scent of liquor. But Albrecht’s expression stayed relaxed.
He didn’t say a word.
While Friedrich, he had a radiant smile.
Friedrich’s eyes dilated. Without thinking, his lips moved slowly towards his.
The world slowed down, and stars brightened up the room.
Albrecht, he felt that too.
But he pushed Friedrich’s lips away with his hands. Suddenly, there was nothing.
The stars dimmed. This dreamy world?
It shattered into pieces.
Albrecht’s expression was grim, and he whispered, “No.”
Friedrich looked at him, not saying a single word, and instead he just hugged Albrecht; it gave him temporary relief.
But his hand trembled uncontrollably, and his chest felt shackled.
Because in a few weeks, they had to go to the battlefield. They learned how to throw grenades and shoot guns at Napola, but they were still unsure of the future.
During his few months at Napola, every guy would talk about girls. He did too. But when they met, no girl ever felt the same. The only thing Friedrich could think about was him.
His eyes shake uncontrollably.
Feelings like this aren't normal.
His breathing turned heavy; it isn’t natural.
I am probably just admiring him, right??— His looks, the way he smiled.
Tears rolled down his face; he knew he was lying.
At that moment Albrecht squeezed him; his hands were trembling as well. It made him kinda smile. He looked at Albrecht, he.
He was crying too.
After wiping away their tears, Friedrich lay beside him.
While smirking daringly. Albrecht looked at Friedrich from head to toe; as a matter of fact, Albrecht was grinning from ear to ear.
Albrecht pulled the blanket until it reached their hips.
His hands drifted towards Friedrich’s body. He felt chilly, but his hand made him feel warm.
While holding hands, Friedrich looked at Albrecht’s face—his nose, his blue eyes—and counted every single strand of his hair.
Albrecht touched him; his touch was electrifying, sliding up his body.
Then he stopped at his lips.
Albrecht was staring at him; he was staring too.
But Albrecht trembled, and he let go of his lips.
Friedrich felt his patience waning.
It’s better to keep it this way and just be best friends.
Friedrich wanted more, but he knew he would lose him if he did.
He just gazed at his lips, then a memory of the past popped up.
In the streets there were two men protesting about gay rights; sirens filled the air. The police came out. In a matter of seconds they were both in handcuffs, with bruises on their bodies.
Friedrich felt a deep pain in his heart from the thought of that happening.
So they both wished the world would just stop, no one expecting them to do something. Not being forced to do something you don’t want to do.
But the overbearing pressure of reality struck them.
But the world.
It just doesn’t stop.
Those memories were like thunderclouds, bothering him.
Albrecht seemed to notice, so he squeezed him tighter. And they cuddled while they drifted off to sleep. Their hands stuck like glue.
Because this could very well be the last time they slept this peacefully.