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"Come on, Fritz, you ready?" Matthew shouted under the window. "We’ll barely manage to get a place to sit if you don’t hurry."
"Yeah yeah, I’m ready." Fritz appeared in the doorway, clothed in his better shirt, the one not usually used for work or regular boozing at the tavern. A subtle embroidered motive embellished the chest.
"Damn, I haven’t seen this shirt in a good while! Now I’m gonna look like a sore loser next to you," Matthew chuckled lightheartedly. His father’s old shirt was the best he got, hanging loose on his thinner frame. He had rolled up his sleeves and tied a simple belt around his waist in an attempt to fix it.
"No, no, you look good," Fritz assured him. Setting out toward the tavern, he pondered out loud, "I really wonder why Master Tobias is throwing such a grand feast, dance and all."
Matthew waved it off and scoffed. "Ah, who cares. The important part is we get to drink and eat our fill, spin a few skirts dancing, and all of it without spending a single Groschen. That’s all I need to know," he pointed his thumb at his chest.
Upon reaching the tavern, the folk had already begun flocking in, the irresistible smell of roasted meat pulled them closer, and a small band of musicians were about to get the people moving. Matthew and Fritz found themselves a good spot right at the entrance into the courtyard, getting a good view of everyone and everything. Soon Henry stopped by with a tankard while waiting for Bianca to serve the guests, and Matthias showed up too, still sipping on his first mug while the three were already ordering their third. The mood was getting merrier, and whenever Matthew laughed, Fritz’s heart skipped a beat, especially if it was his joke to get such a reaction out of him.
As darkness fell upon the world, leaving only the flickering fire and oil lamps to accompany the villagers through the young night, the whole scene shifted. More and more folk gathered to dance together, the music became livelier, couples paired up and warmed each other in their arms in the chilly spring air. Fritz got up from the table to go inside the tavern to stretch his legs and have his tankard refilled while Matthew was finishing his serving of roasted pork loin. Coming back out of the tavern, Fritz was expecting to return to their table and pick up where he and Matthew had left off, instead he found his friend was already being entertained, dancing with a girl amid the other pairs circling around. He seemed so carefree and joyous, laughing along with the lucky lass.
Fritz tried to smile, as seeing Matthew happy meant the world to him, but the weight of grief he was alone to carry curved his lips the opposite way, no matter how hard he fought it. Bound to the spot by the sight, Fritz didn’t continue on his way to the table, instead he retraced his steps into the dark behind the tavern, hoping nobody would notice. Just he and his tankard, and a moment to breathe. Leaving the merriment behind his back, he stared emptily into the stillness of the night and took a small sip of his ale to let the bitterness soak into his tongue. As he mindlessly wiped the foam on his upper lip into his sleeve, he heard a muffled sniffle from within the barn beside him. The unexpected sound brought him from his wandering thoughts back to reality. Whatever it might have been, he decided to follow and investigate. The inside of the barn was darker than a charcoal burner’s lungs, he couldn’t discern whether he was staring at a pile of hay or a person.
"Fritz?" a girl’s shaky voice sounded from within. The large shadow towering in the entryway could’ve belonged to one person only, recognizable even through a veil of tears.
"Theresa?" The voice in the barn was the only giveaway, but Fritz was convinced it belonged to her. Only then did he realize he hadn’t seen her the whole evening. "What are you doing here?" He came closer and sat down beside her carefully so as to not spill his drink.
She quickly pressed the tears into the sleeves of her new beautiful dress and inhaled sharply to still her quivering breath. "I’m… hiding." Her heavy head couldn’t come up with a single excuse. "And what are you doing here?"
Fritz shrugged and stared down into his dark ale, taking a few seconds to finally speak. "Suppose I’m doing the same."
"How so?" she sniffed, "I thought you enjoyed feasts and dances." The distant jolly melody carried into the barn, accompanying the otherwise dense silence.
"I do. Well, I’m mostly here for the ale and a good brawl afterward when everyone’s proper shitfaced. I don’t really care much… for the rest," he muttered quietly to his tankard, then turned his head Theresa’s way. "And what’s with the tears? Did some fucker hurt you? Tell me who it was, and I’ll fuck him up while I’m at it."
"No, no," Theresa chuckled faintly through the dissolving sobs, "nobody did. You are kind." She said no more, only brought her knees closer to her chest, signalling the opposite.
"What’s wrong then?" Fritz gently nudged into her arm with his shoulder. "You can tell me."
There was no point in keeping it a secret any longer, as everyone would find out the minute the news would reach the village gossip anyway. "I have learned I am to marry. It was all arranged behind my back." Saying it out loud brought a new wave of tears into her eyes despite her doing her best to keep them at bay.
"Damn, that blows. Uh... do you want a drink? It always helps me." Fritz had never had to comfort a weeping girl, and offering her his ale was the best he could come up with.
Theresa sniffled and smiled. "I do. Thank you." She gratefully took the tankard from him and quaffed from it heartily. She had been sitting there for hours without a bit to eat or a sip to drink. Upon returning the half-empty mug, she wiped her mouth into the back of her hand, not caring if she stains her dress anymore. "You still haven't told me why you are hiding though." Any sort of distraction from her situation was a welcome one.
Fritz chugged more of his remaining ale, but even after swallowing the numbing bitterness he didn't answer immediately. He peered at his legs stretched out in front of him. "It’s stupid," he mumbled eventually.
"It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you, Fritz." Theresa peeked at the sad silhouette of a man beside her. She had never seen him like this. Only a few possible reasons crossed her mind, and she dared to voice the loudest one. "Is there… someone you like?"
The sudden subtle flinch of his head betrayed him. Fritz looked away from her and turned his gaze to the dark. "How do you know that?" he grunted.
Theresa chuckled to herself shortly before empathy colored her tone. "I haven’t seen you struggle like this before, truth be told. You typically handle stuff, even if your usual solution is muscles and fists. But this is an entirely different matter, isn’t it?"
Fritz sighed quietly, mumbling to himself poutily, "You girls and your mind reading."
"Come now," she returned him the earlier bump into his shoulder with a gentle smile. "Who is it? You tell me yours, I’ll tell you my… soon-to-be groom." Her smile withered.
He glanced her way and considered his options, mulling over all the possible words to say, then shook his head. "I can’t. I don’t wanna bring him any more trouble."
Theresa’s lips parted in mute surprise. She put her hand on Fritz’s shoulder to bring his attention back to her and waited for his head to turn in her direction. "Him?"
"Fuck," Fritz cursed under his breath, withdrawing from her friendly touch. "I knew I shouldn’t have drunk this last one." He seethed inside and felt like he had just brought about the end of the world. His first instinct was to get up and run, but he was already quite drunk and paralyzed by what he had just uttered.
"Is it Matthew?" Theresa spoke with as much tenderness as she could, aware of the turmoil boiling within her friend.
Fritz faced her way, pondering whether she was indeed a witch with some insane capabilities, still filled with anger, but then hung his head in defeat. And nodded. "Is it really that obvious?"
"You two are basically inseparable," Theresa smiled softly and leaned closer to speak in a hushed voice. "But you needn’t worry. I’m not the local gossip, I am not going to tell anyone. I swear." She glanced at him, and while she couldn’t make out the smaller movements in the dark, she believed he smiled back at her.
"Thank you," he exhaled, although still disappointed in himself. "But now your part of the deal, remember?"
"I do. Well..." she nervously wiped her palms into her knees, "my future husband is the one… throwing this dance."
"What? Master Feyfar?" Fritz could barely believe his ears. For a moment there he thought she was joking. "But he's old."
Theresa smiled through the grief, her reddened eyes burning again. "I know. Pa just wants me to be safe. But I can't bring myself to do it." She hugged her knees to bring herself at least some comfort and warmth in the chilly evening. "I was sent here to go meet him, since he's waiting for me. He had all of this prepared just because of me. But the moment I saw him standing there, I..." Theresa began crying again.
Fritz listened to her shaky breathing and stifled sobs, putting his hand on her shoulder in hopes it would help her calm down. "I can't imagine what I'd do either if my hand was promised to such an old man."
The mental image of Fritz being married off to some rich man, dowry and all, made Theresa giggle quietly, even though he didn't fully understand the reaction. "Then you're lucky you don't have to deal with such a thing."
"Looks like we're both fucked though," he summarized his findings.
Theresa straightened her back and took a sharp breath in. "You know what? No. We aren’t." The sudden resolved tone of her voice surprised Fritz just as much as herself. "I will go home now. I’d much rather face my Pa’s disappointment than marry Master Feyfar and spend the rest of my… well… his life at his side. But you, Fritz," she turned in his direction, "you make good use of tonight. However you wish. May Fortune smile on you." She patted his shoulder, got up and brushed the dirt and stray straws of hay off her expensive dress. As she stepped toward the entrance, she peeked at her friend one last time. "And thank you for talking to me, Fritz. Good luck."
Like a fleeting shadow, she disappeared in the night, setting off in the opposite direction of the melodic ruckus. Fritz remained seated on the ground, replaying the conversation in his head. His mind wandered off to Matthew again, curious if he was still dancing with the girl, or if they maybe even had gone together somewhere more quiet. He shuddered at the thought and poured the rest of the ale down his throat to wash the sickening idea out of his brain. Whether it was the booze or confiding in a friend, Fritz did feel a bit lighter about his uneasy situation now. However, the debilitating fear of losing Matthew was a whole another matter, which kept him nailed to the ground and staring into the abyss of his empty tankard, face souring up with misery. He could still hear the cheerful melody and the people laughing but couldn’t bring himself to join them again despite repeating Theresa’s parting words to himself.
Not too long after, another sound accompanied the commotion in the background. Someone’s footsteps were slowly getting closer, then drifted further away again, stopped for a while, then drew nearer once more. Despite the unpredictable motion of the noise, to Fritz it didn't appear the person was a disoriented drunkard. The pace seemed light and steady enough without losing balance or threatening to topple over. Soon a pool of flickering orange light poured on the ground outside the barn as the lamp swayed in the bearer's hand. The lone wanderer eventually strolled closer to Fritz's hideout. First a lantern appeared, then a man followed. And not just any man.
"Fritz! Here you are!" Matthew cheered, clearly relieved, and threw his free arm up in confusion. "What the fuck are you doing here? I've been looking for you all over the place like a madman."
"You have?" Fritz's heart swelled with warmth in the cold of the night. So he hadn't been spending time with wenches after all. "I'm sorry. I just wasn't in the mood for anything and wanted a moment away from it all."
Matthew stepped closer. "Why? Has something happened? I was fully expecting to find you lying somewhere with a broken bone after a fight, not drowning in melancholy."
Fritz shook his head and shrugged. "Just a bad day I suppose."
"Perfect timing, we can remedy that. I haven’t seen you dancing today yet. I bet the moment you get that blood pumping, you’ll start feeling better right on the spot. So get your ass back there, and let’s have some fun," Matthew’s arm swung in the feast’s direction.
"You know I’m useless at dancing. I dance like a log thrown into the river. Especially when I’ve had this much ale," his friend protested and averted his eyes sullenly.
"Nonsense," Matthew decided and placed the lantern atop the nearest barrel to free up his other hand as well. "Get up," he motioned with his hands while walking closer to Fritz. "You’ll have to prove that to me first. Come on."
Fritz’s stomach shrunk to the size of a sand grain at the unexpected proposition. "What? Like, together?"
"Yes. I’ve seen you do some insane shit so many times, Fritz, so don’t tell me you’re suddenly afraid of dancing now." Matthew wasn’t giving up. He walked up to him, took the empty tankard from him and grabbed his hands to pull Fritz up. Even though he lacked the strength, his sole dedication to lifting his friend’s spirits did the job, and Fritz eventually stood up on his own, with the symbolic help from Matthew.
"And we can even still hear the music here, ideal." Matthew wasn’t letting go of Fritz’s hands as he dragged him to the center of the barn, where there was a minimal probability they would end up tripping over something. The faint light from the lantern allowed them to only see so much, but it had to do. Fritz could already feel his own palms starting to sweat, and they hadn’t even begun yet. Matthew purely holding his hands already did a number on him, and now he was also to dance with him? Fritz just stood there for a second facing him, frozen in his tracks.
"Come now, don’t tell me you’ve actually forgotten how it’s done," Matthew chuckled and put Fritz’s hands on his waist, then he threw his own arms around Fritz’s neck. "Don’t worry, nobody’s going to see us."
That possibility hadn’t even crossed Fritz’s mind, as he was fully preoccupied by feeling the lovely warmth of Matthew’s body seeping into his hands. He swallowed and held him gently, tried not to press too hard, but also not to allow him to slip out of his grip at the slightest movement. Making eye contact with him became too intimate especially in that lighting, and so he only managed fleeting fragments of connection, one at a time. There wouldn’t be enough time for it anyway the moment they would start whirling across the room together.
Matthew waited for the song to kick off a new part, then counted down to the rhythm. "Four, three, two, and."
The moment they set off, and the world started spinning with them, Fritz already felt lighter. Having to focus on his legs so as to not kick Matthew or trample his feet took his mind off his initial worries, and soon the two were laughing together at the silliness of the situation and at themselves. The alcohol sloshing in their veins wasn’t much of a help during a dance whose sole purpose was to whirl in circles big and small, but at least they could hold onto each other for at least some sense of stability.
When they hooked an arm into each other to swirl in one direction and then the other, it reminded Fritz of their childhood play when they would spin together until they would feel like flying off or puking. He felt almost just as carefree as back then, in those blessed times before girls would start diluting their attention, especially Matthew’s. Fritz used to have him all to himself. But they were dancing together now, alone, and even though Fritz was aware of his own clumsiness and couldn’t match Matthew’s nonchalance, he could hold him for one more time, and that was all that mattered to him at that moment. Soon, as the melody was coming to an end, they would find themselves in the starting position again after having come the literal full circle, still chuckling like little kids.
"That was actually pretty fun," Matthew laughed softly one last time, slowly coming back to reality as a different tune was beginning in the background.
"It was," Fritz nodded, nervously glancing down at first, then at Matthew. Their hands were still holding the other, although they were already starting to slowly slide off. Fritz felt Matthew’s arms brush against his shoulders as they loosened their grasp and came back down. Fritz didn’t want to let go of him yet, he craved to pull him closer and soak in his warmth in a tight embrace and a kiss. To keep him pressed to his body and tell him all the things he had been bottling up the whole time. The internal battle he fought with himself tormented him all anew, dragging him to hell and hollowing him out until nothing but a sad shell would remain. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Eventually, even his hands had to let go, unwillingly bidding farewell to what he could’ve had.
He felt like a sore loser. Incapable of making one fucking move, he stood there frozen, his tongue and limbs tied by sickening fear. The inner wrath aimed at himself made him want to punch himself, just like he usually would solve any other problem. Fritz peered at the ground, jaw clenched, not saying a word. He hated having fallen for the only man who had ever cared about him.
The unspoken tragedy whirring within Fritz spilled outwardly even without him realizing it. When his hands slid off Matthew’s waist reluctantly, long seconds after Matthew had released him, and his gaze refused to connect with the other man again while visibly crumbling inside, a spark of realization glimmered behind Matthew’s eyes. Their dance didn’t mean just good fun to Fritz, even though Matthew’s initial intention had been none deeper than a wayside puddle when he suggested it. Matthew’s glance mellowed.
"Fritz?" he carefully brought his attention back to the present moment, still standing in front of him at arm’s length.
"Hm," he grunted, still punching himself mentally, barely looking at him at all.
"You know what?" Matthew continued in the tender tone, "I actually don’t want to go back there anymore." His eyes pointed in the feast’s direction. That sentence finally fully woke Fritz up, and he stared at the man in front of him, unsure what to make of it. Matthew made understanding it a bit easier, smiling softly, "Let’s get out of here, hm? That is, unless you’d rather stay and wait for the brawl to start."
Fritz shook his head immediately, "No, I can get into one tomorrow." He wasn’t letting his sight off Matthew, still somewhat perplexed whether he was just imagining things or if Matthew truly wanted to be alone with him. Either way he sensed a chance.
After they had left through the gate unseen by anyone other than two tired guards on night shift, they walked down the winding path to their homes, quietly at first. At one point their fingers brushed against each other on their own as they swayed side by side. Matthew used that to his advantage and sought out Fritz’s hand on his own, closing his grasp around it and smiling at him.