It was a perfect night. The breeze was soft and cool, and the leaves cast flowing shadows over the vineyard. Hanschen sat with his eyes closed, letting the air and his thoughts wash over him. All he had to do was wait for the sound of the bells.
"Hanschen?" He heard the timid voice behind him, the voice he knew so well. Ernst was early.
He turned and looked up at the boy, flashing a smile.
"Come," he said, gesturing to the ground, "Sit down." Ernst obeyed, but he positioned himself a good six feet away from Hanschen. They sat together for a moment in awkward silence, Ernst deliberately staring at the ground while Hanschen looked on him with hungry eyes. Then the bells began to ring. Hanschen took the opportunity to let his eyes trace the delicate shadows cast across Ernst'ss body in the gentle glow of the moonlight. The quivering lip and the wringing hands did not go unnoticed.
"Those bells," Hanschen sighed, looking over at Ernst, "so peaceful."
"I know!" Ernst cried, perhaps a little to eagerly, turning to face Hanschen. Hanschen smiled as the boy finally met his gaze and held it, the intensity building between them with every moment.
Ernst gulped and turned away. Hanschen couldn't help being amused as he saw Ernst resume ringing his hands and determinedly staring off into the distance. This was going to be harder than he thought. But there was nothing Hanschen liked more than a challenge. He could feel his own heart quickening with the rush of adrenaline. Or was it just lust? Or could it even be…nerves? No, that was ridiculous. Hanschen didn't get nervous over something like this. It was only Ernst. Heartbreakingly beautiful, wonderful Ernst.
Hanschen mentally slapped himself. Going romantic wasn't going to help him win Ernst over. Or was it? No, best to do it the Hanschen way. He immediately began trying out various innuendos in his head, and his heartbeat calmed. Yes. A smirk settled onto his face as he mused over the most suggestive phrase he could get away with. But Ernst surprised him by breaking the silence first.
"Sometimes," he began, in a far away voice, "when it's quiet in the evening like this, I imagine myself a country pastor. My red cheeked wife, my library, my degrees. Boys and girls nearby give me their hands when I go walking."
Hanschen groaned inwardly. Another one of Ernst's childish fantasies. But Ernst's face shone with a glorious, radiant light whenever he talked about them, so Hanschen usually let him babble on. But not tonight.
"You can't be serious."
Ernst looked back at him, surprised. Now was the time he set Ernst straight, brought him over to his view of the world.
"Really Ernst, you're such a sentimentalist. The pious serene faces you see on the clergy, it's all an act. To hide their envy. Trust me." He paused for a moment to slide a little bit closer towards Ernst. "There are only three ways a man can go. He can let the status quo defeat him, like Moritz. He can rock the boat like Melchoir and be expelled. Or he can bide his time, and let the system work for him. Like me." Hanschen skillfully slid closer once again, till their knees were almost touching. Ernst, hanging on his every word with captivated attention, was too enraptured to notice. "Think of the future as a pail of warm milk," Hanschen drawled, "One man sweats and stirs, churning it into butter, like Otto for example. Another man frets and spills his milk and cries all night, like Georg. But me," he paused, delighting in the suspense he was dangling Ernst in, "I'm like a pussycat." He licked his lips and gave a wicked smile. "I just… skim off…the cream." Ernst tilted his head to one side in confusion.
"Just skim off the cream?" he asked, innocently uncertain.
"Right," said Haschen, smiling. He had Ernst eating right out of his hand.
"But what about the—" Ernst stopped as Hanschen began to laugh. The poor boy didn't have a clue what he really meant, and yet he was trying so hard to understand. That's what Hanschen loved so much about him. All that sweetness, no, all that energy he put out trying to learn. Trying to please other people. Hanschen just had to redirect him, get him to put that energy to the proper use.
"You're laughing," Ernst said, his confusion growing. "Hanschen?" Ernst had leaned forward ever so slightly. Hanschen could feel the hairs rising instinctively on his skin. A flush of heat surging through his body. He knew that feeling, the moment just before the pounce. He knew what it meant. Hanschen wanted him. He wanted him more than he'd ever wanted anyone before. He wanted to lean in close and whisper softly in his ear. To sing to him.
"Come cream away the bliss. Travel the world within my lips." As he continued, he stood up and circled around Ernst, like a hawk circling around its prey. "Fondle the pearl of your distant dreams." Hanschen bent low behind Ernst and whispered over his shoulder, "Haven't you heard the word of your body?" Ernest sat frozen, like a deer in the headlights. Hanschen circled back around and kneeled on the ground before him. "Oh, you're gonna be wounded. Oh, you're gonna be my wound. Oh, you're gonna bruise too. Oh, I'm gonna be your bruise." His face was inches from his cheek. He could hear the rapid beating of Ernst's heart, matching the frenzied beating of his own.
It was now or never.
He leaned in and kissed him.
He felt Ernst gasp and squirm with surprise beneath his warm mouth, before pulling back.
"Oh God!" Ernst panted, looking away. Their faces were still only inches apart.
"Mm...I know," Hanschen mused, his own face flushed with excitement. "When we look back, thirty years from now, tonight will seem unbelievably beautiful." He leaned back only to slid forward, skillfully entwining Ernst's legs with his own.
Ernst met his eyes shyly. "And in the meantime?" he asked.
"Why not?" Hanschen suggested. Did Ernst finally understand what he'd been trying to get him to see? He reached out towards Ernst's cheek and pulled his lips to his, kissing him once again. Fuller, deeper. And this time Ernst leaned in too. He felt him pull in closer, wrap his fingers through his hair, eagerly press his mouth to Hanschen's own. Hanschen relished in the pleasure of his tender lips, those lips no one but him had ever touched this way before. He wanted to touch every part of Ernst's body. Letting his hands trail down Ernst's arms, chest, legs, body, he felt his nerves tingle with an unbelievable sensation.
A few moments later, Ernst pulled back again. Hanschen, unwilling to let him go, kept his hands pressed to his body. But he didn't need to worry; Ernst wasn't going anywhere. He was gazing back at Hanschen with a look of such daze and rapture that even the stubbornly unsentimental boy felt light-headed and dizzy in its presence.
Laughing nervously in disbelief, Ernst said, "On my way here this afternoon, I thought perhaps we'd only talk!"
"So are you sorry we-?" Hanschen said, becoming defensive.
"Oh no!" he protested, "I love you Hanschen! As I have never loved anyone!"
Hanschen smiled. The little butterflies inside his stomach were dancing with happiness. He'd done it, finally done it—he'd finally won over Ernst. Not that he'd ever doubted he could. "And so you should," he said smugly. His confidence was returning a hundred times over. It was time for Ernst's proper education to begin. And when it came to teachers, well...Hanschen knew he was the best.
"Oh, I'm gonna be wounded. Oh, I'm gonna be your wound."
"Oh. You're gonna bruise too. Oh, I'm gonna be your bruise."