Wolfgang crawled on his belly across the filth-covered floorboards of his apartment, holding his breath to prevent any noise escaping his lips. He scooted silently down the hallway with the flickering light. The view of the giant, hulking figure of his slumped father filled his young eyes, a sight he'd seen countless times before. The television set blurred in and out loudly across the room from where his father slightly swayed in his chair. Good. A distraction. Little Wolfgang slithered along the wall, still a bit behind his father, but approaching the kitchen wall quickly. His goal? Go to the kitchen, fill up a cup with water, bring it back to his room, give it to Felix, never get caught. Felix hadn't been feeling well that day at school, and he'd started coughing later on in the day. He was tired and said his chest hurt. There had been countless times where Wolfgang had been sick and Felix was always right there to be the doctor. Now his best friend needed him and Wolfgang was willing to do anything for him.
Wolfgang was about to round the corner into the kitchen when suddenly he heard the heavy mass he called Father grunt. He froze on the ground. Anton banged his fist on the table, swung his head slowly, and rubbed his eye with a beastly fist. "How do you like your fucking morphine now?" he growled loudly. With that, he hurled an empty beer bottle at the wall across from him. Glass shards rained everywhere. A few made it to where Wolfgang hid, stinging his bare arms and shoulders. He bit his lip and held back a wince. After a moment, his heart sank as Anton rose from the table, giving it a shove away from him as if it was a paparazzi asking a movie star a sensitive question. "Put your family into fucking debt with your spending! 'Meine Medikamente, meine Medikamente'—bullshit!" he shouted again. He was stepping closer and closer to the kitchen. Closer and closer to where Wolfgang was lying. Anton threw his fist at the wall, leaving yet another gaping hole in the chipping, peeling drywall of their dingy apartment. Wolfgang sprang up from his position, running almost silently back down the hallway to his bedroom. He managed to get in and close the door just as Anton turned around.
Felix sat up in the dirty bed, looking at his shaking friend with wide eyes. "Did he catch you?" he asked hoarsely. Wolfgang shook his head. He climbed into his bed beside Felix, allowing the familiar arms to wrap around him. He dropped the empty cup onto the sheets. "I'm sorry, Felix." he whispered. "I'm just a coward." Felix gasped, pulling Wolfgang in closer to him. "No, no, no! Shhh…you're no coward, Wolfie. How could you possibly think you're a coward? You're the bravest man I know. You live here every day." he murmured. He moved to lay down and pulled Wolfgang with him. Having sleepovers all the time accustomed them to sharing a bed. It was rare that sleepovers were held at Wolfgang's apartment for obvious reasons, but tonight was an overtime shift for Felix's mother, so Wolfgang had offered to let Felix stay for the night. It was just unfortunate that he wasn't feeling well. Wolfgang shrugged Felix's hand off of his shoulder. "I need to do something about it. It's not fair that you're staying overnight and yet you're going to sleep sick, thirsty, and hungry." he muttered. Felix moved his knees up to pull Wolfgang near again. "Wolfie, this is just one night for me. But this has been every night for eleven years for you. And that's why you're the bravest man I know." Wolfgang stared into Felix's chocolate eyes, searching for any hint of a joke or a laugh. But when Felix was serious, his eyes had a grave look to them. The kind that Wolfgang was peering into now. He was about to reply to his friend, tell him that he would be dead without him, that he probably would've found a way to kill himself or run away from everything by now if it wasn't for him, but suddenly there was a rough bang against the wood of his door.
Both boys startled. Wolfgang leapt out of bed, wanting to prove to Felix that he was braver than just surviving. "Open the door, boy." Anton sneered from the other side. "Hide, Felix." Wolfgang begged. Felix tried to argue but Wolfgang threw the ragged sheet over his friend and mussed it up to look like an unmade bed. Wolfgang opened his bedroom door. Immediately Anton grabbed him by the neck, earning a strangled choke from the small boy he was dragging. By the time he was thrown against the rickety kitchen wall, he already had tears in his eyes. "Think you're so smart, boy?" Anton jeered. "Sneaking around here like I wouldn't notice?" he punctuated his last two words with blows to the side of Wolfgang's head. The boy let out a cry and held his hands up to block any further punches. Anton grabbed the pair of tiny hands and held them high above Wolfgang's head; he then pinned him to the wall. "When you're home, I don't want to see you—" a punch to the stomach, "hear you—" another punch to the chest, "or have to fucking deal with you!" A heavy blow right to Wolfgang's groin, making him let out a yelp of pain. He immediately bit his lip though and wished he didn't make that sound. Because now he'd have to start counting. Anton let out a wiry, grinding laugh. "Are you going to start crying?" he asked. "Like a little bitch? Tell me, Wolfgang. Tell me what the five things in life are." He tightened his grip on the boy's sore wrists. Panting and gasping in pain, Wolfgang struggled to find his voice. One sharp tug on the hair reminded him where it was though. "E-E…E-Eating…" he whispered. A rough smack to the side of his face. "D-D-Drink…ing…" Another sharp blow. Tears ran down his face freely now, his hoarse throat beginning to clench with choked sobs. Suddenly he heard his father let out a shout and the meaty hand pinning his wrists slackened. Wolfgang yanked them away. The huge man turned around with the balance and accuracy of a troll and revealed Felix standing behind him, an angry look on his face, a box of matches in one hand, a freshly emptied bottle of beer that had been used to douse his father's back in the other. One of the matches was against the grain of the box in preparation to strike.
Anton let out another low growl of a laugh. "Look who came to save you, little bitch." he snarled. "It's your boyfriend." Felix's cheeks tinted pink slightly but he moved the match farther down the box. "I wouldn't say much else," Felix warned.
"Why is that, boy? You think I'd stop because of you?"
"Well, I'm not the one doused in alcohol and practically begging to be lit up in an instant."
"…What?"
"Alcohol burns. With how much I just poured on you and how much you've already drunken inside of you I expect you'd burn pretty fast if I were to light a match around you."
"…And then you and your pretty boy friend would be thrown in jail for murder."
"A burned body is nearly unidentifiable. They never find fingerprints on a burned body."
Wolfgang's heart leapt. His Felix was two steps ahead again! Here to save him as always. He remembered the crime movie they'd recently watched, where one of the victims was burned after being shot to death. It was true, identification was nearly impossible. Not that his pea-brained father would understand. Wolfgang just noticed that Felix had his backpack slung over his shoulder already. "Wolfie and I are leaving. So let him go or I strike a match." Felix bargained. Anton, still baffled by the science behind the boy's offer, stood swaying slightly. "Go, Wolfie." Felix murmured. Wolfgang was too afraid to move. What if his father lunged at both of them? What if he hit Felix? What if Felix lost the matches? What if they couldn't make it out? As he got lost in his thoughts, he suddenly felt a hand slip around his and start pulling him towards the door. And sure enough, Anton lunged. But Felix had his hand out in a second, making direct contact with Anton's nose. The beastly man howled. "Go!" Felix shouted. The two boys ran down the dirty apartment hallway towards the staircase, flying down the steps at a faster pace than they ever had before. Anton raced after them, staggering and crashing into walls. But for his size he was quick. And determined. Felix and Wolfgang linked hands at the bottom of the stairs and took off through the front door. They dashed out into the open, zigzagging through the streets. Anton was on their tracks. "The alleyway!" Wolfgang panted to his friend. "We can confuse him!" The pair ducked into a hidden alley just as Anton rushed by shouting. They leaned against the brick wall, heaving rasping breaths and shaking. Felix looked awful now. Wolfgang was sure that if he had a thermometer under his tongue, it would read that Felix was boiling a fever. "Go home, Felix." he gasped out.
"What? No way!" the other boy replied immediately.
"Just go. I have to do something. You need to go home though. I'll meet you there."
"Wolfie, I'm not leaving you. He could catch you!"
"He's not going to. Just please, Felix. Please trust me. I'll be there soon."
"…Ok. But if you're not at my apartment in half an hour or less, I'm calling the police, yeah?"
"Deal. I'm going to need to borrow your matches, please."
Wolfgang grabbed the pack of matches that was handed to him and stepped out of the alley. Suddenly, he was pulled back towards Felix for a moment. He felt himself get wrapped in a warm embrace. "Please be safe, Wolfie." Felix whispered close to his ear. Wolfgang nodded in affirmation. When his friend let go of him, he set off down the street, trailing far enough behind his father to not be noticed yet close enough to be in range. He stooped to pick up a long cord next to a bag of rotting garbage. And then he snaked his way down another alley as a shortcut to get ahead of his father.
Felix sat on his bed, glancing at the clock on the wall every ten seconds. Where was Wolfgang? Five more minutes and he was calling the cops. He said he'd be here by now. A shiver passed through him—this cold was going to be a real doozy. He hoped and prayed that his friend would just return so they could both get to healing. And maybe play hospital as they liked to do when one was sick or hurt. Suddenly he heard the front door creak open and hurried footsteps patter in. Felix didn't feel well enough to get up and meet him at the door. Sure enough, Wolfgang came running into his room, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it. "Wolfie! Are you alright?" Felix asked, opening his arms to the nervous and panicked boy that had taken to pacing around the room. Wolfgang didn't answer. Felix tried to be patient, but he just had to know what happened. "Did he hurt you? Wolfie talk to me." he begged. Wolfgang froze where he was for a moment. He turned big green eyes up to Felix, and there were no tears, no redness, and no sign of bruising. "Felix," the boy whispered. "If I did a really bad thing, like something I'm going straight to Hell for…would…would you still be my friend?" Felix pushed himself off the bed with every amount of strength he had. The chills made his skin crawl and he cringed at the feeling. But he took Wolfgang's hands anyway and led him to the bed. "I wouldn't just be your friend." he assured. "I would be your partner in crime. Your coverup, your alibi, your bail money. I would stick with you to the end." Finally, Wolfgang's eyes welled with tears. He rubbed at them with his hands. "My father isn't ever coming back." he whispered.
Felix closed his eyes. He squeezed the crying boy's hands a little tighter. "How did you do it?" he asked. Wolfgang gulped air. "A rope. I tied it to his neck from behind. Once he was strangled I put him in an unmarked car and poured alcohol on him. You said it would burn. You said he would burn. So I lit him up. And now no one will know it was me. You have to promise me you'll never tell another soul, Felix. Swear to it. Felix, please, please promise me." the panicked boy begged. Felix pulled him into a hug. "I promise, Wolfie." he murmured gravely. "You and I are in this together. I've got you, Wolfie. Don't you worry about a thing. God, you're a saint for finally killing that sack of shit. Your Mama would be proud of you. And just because she's not here doesn't mean she isn't. Let me be proud of you for her." Wolfgang let out a heaving sob into Felix's shoulder.
When the police arrived later in the night looking for Wolfgang, the two boys had prepared an entire story, a "script" as Felix had called it, that worked amazingly. They arrived at the Bernner's apartment looking for Wolfgang Bogdanow, asking if he had any idea where his father might be on a night like this. Wolfgang answered that he would more than likely be at a pub. The officers exchanged worried glances, then asked to come in and speak to an adult. Felix explained that it was just the two of them there because his mother was working late and had asked Wolfgang to sleep over so that she knew Felix had someone around if he needed anything since he'd been sick for a while. Then they broke the news to Wolfgang. Someone had murdered his father and tried to destroy the body in a burning car. Wolfgang was "devastated". He asked many questions that an eleven-year-old boy would ask, he cried, he wanted to know who killed his father. The officers said they were going to look into it but it might've just been a random street shooting. Felix held Wolfgang's hand the entire time. He pretended to comfort and be completely shocked, he asked to go phone his mother at work, and he stayed near his friend's side as promised.
Because he knew those were tears of relief.