'Cause when I'm with him I am thinking of you
What would you do if you were the one who was spending the night?
Ernst made it to the top floor of the house avoiding the other art students that hung around the corridors of their flats by the river during the day, drunk or still drinking, painting canvases or each other's bodies, scrawling deluded love songs on the drab bathroom walls. He wrenched his bedroom door open and sank down beside his bed, out of habit he pressed his hands to his mouth to prevent his sobs from being heard by the people in the rooms around him. Already he could hear the footsteps that had followed him back through the streets of Vienna pounding up the seven flights of stairs. He turned away from the door, hastily wiping the dampness from the space beneath his eyes.
"ERNST?"
A fresh wave of tears, he didn't want him here, he didn't want to talk about it. Not now. His eyes were drawn to an old photograph of two boys, one fair, one dark, lying in the shade of a vineyard, even through the faded black and white it was possible to tell how exceptionally happy they had been.
"ERNST?"
The door flew open and Nicklaus burst in, dark brown hair still slicked into place. Ernst wondered if it was ever messy when he got out of bed in the mornings, the thin man that stood before him in his crisp suit was always perfectly put together, he never gave anything away.
"For God's sake Ernst how can you dare refuse?!" Nicklaus slammed a hand angrily down on the old wooden desk covered in streaks of charcoal, chalk and paint; he wiped his fingers on his thin trousers.
Ernst stood awkwardly across the other side of the room, his words caught in his throat, "I'm sorry I-" tears stung his eyes again.
"Come on," Nicklaus sidled across to him, snaking his arm around Ernst's slim form, Ernst felt his skin crawl "you know you love me don't you?"
Ernst closed his eyes, several more tears leaked out from beneath his lashes. He was dimly aware of someone pushing him back against the bed. The cold metal frame dug into his neck and he heard Nicklaus mumble something into his ear.
"You know you love me don't you; you know that this is what you want."
He lay beneath the dozens of paintings tacked to his walls and ceiling, it hurt, his muscles ached and his stomach squeezed. He closed his eyes, trying to picture a time when this would all be over.
*
Some hours later he stumbled unsteadily up the hill on the border of the city. His head swam; the alcohol that Nicklaus and then later Nicklaus's friends had plied him with made the landscape fuzzy, Vienna's night illuminations blurred into one hideous swirling mass of light. He looked away to the inky calm of the lake, it reminded him of home. Drawing his thin woollen sweater closer around his body he lightly stroked the spot on his cheek where Hanschen had kissed him that one last time, before he left for Berlin.
Touch me, just like that, and that oh yeah now that's heaven
Now that I like, God that's so nice
Now lower down, where the figs lie…
His mind hurtled back to the other first time.
"Ernst?"
A fresh wave of tears, he didn't want him here, he didn't want to talk about it. Not now. He didn't understand how to- How could anyone want him like that? But he wanted it too, didn't he?
"Ernst?"
The door swung open and Hanschen crossed the room rapidly until he was just inches away.
"Ernst look at me" Hanschen whispered, taking his hand gently.
Ernst turned around awkwardly, his words caught in his throat, "I'm sorry I-" tears stung his eyes again.
"Shhhhhh," Hanschen lightly pressed a hand to Ernst's cheek, staring straight into the darker boy's warm brown eyes. "It's ok to be scared."
Ernst nodded shakily, he met Hanschen's gaze again feeling the heat radiate from his body. The blonde boy sat down on the floor at the end of the single bed strewn with Ernst's school books. Without hesitating Ernst sunk happily down beside him relishing the comfort of Hanschen's arm around his shoulder. They lay like this for some minutes, The questions that had raged through his head seemed to fade away and Ernst began to make a game out of syncing his breathing with Hanschen's who still gently rubbed the dark haired boys arm. The room was perfectly still, for all his confidence, when it mattered, Hanschen's touch; the subtle movements of his body still seemed to give away everything he really felt, no matter what he did or didn't say. Ernst reached up and kissed the very corner of the blonde boy's lips. He moved back a fraction, Hanschen's gaze was softer somehow, Ernst looked into his eyes and nodded, he lay back on the carpet, watching as Hanschen removed his shirt. Closing his eyes he felt and felt and felt.
'Cause when I'm with him I am thinking of you
What would you do if you were the one who was spending the night?
I wish that I was looking into your eyes.