I step into the crowded building they call the auditorium. It's a long building much like the barrack's only at the front there is a small raised platform that is now partitioned off with a bed sheet. There are a few rows of hastily made wooden benches near the stage; the rest of the room is open, where hundreds of prisoners smash together.
To the left of the stage the Germans sit, about 30 of them in all, talking happily, casually with one another, not paying attention to the prisoners. I push my way through the crowds to get a better spot near the front. It feels as if every single prisoner is crushed into the auditorium tonight.
I squeeze myself with a kind smile onto the end of one of the benches to the back of the rows. My eyes roam the German bodies, searching heads for the unmistakable head of curly auburn hair. I didn't see him, but no worry, lots of people continued to pile into the auditorium. Even with all the bodies smashed together, there was still an open perimeter around the German benches, as if they had set up an invisible electric fence that everyone knew not to cross.
With nothing else to do with myself, I fold my hands neatly in my lap and look down at them. Noah, the only one I know in the camp since I've only been here for a few hours and most of those were stuck standing in a line being counted, refused to come to the play. He said it was a disgrace for prisoners to put on plays for their captors, that there should be no laughter or enjoyment when being held prisoner. He said he longed for the old days when you were chained up and beaten. I kept my mouth closed, shook my head at his stupidity, and left him in the barrack by himself.
From what I could see the other Americans were chatty and friendly, goofing off with each other and laughing as we waited for the play to start.
The doors finally close, inside the auditorium it gets relatively dark besides the few glowing cracks in the wood panels where the moonlight shines through. A hush falls over the crowd and men begin to rearrange themselves for a better view of the stage.
The curtain is pulls back revealing three men dressed in pajamas. It's hard to hear what they are saying since the acoustics in the room are next to nothing and hundreds of men rustling and breathing distort the air. Apparently I am the only one having hearing problems as the crowd erupts in laughter and another prisoner dressed in a tutu and an elephant head appears on stage. My mouth falls agape and I can feel saliva starting to creep out as I stare at his hairy legs peeking out from under the skirt. I look over to see the Germans laughing their heads off, falling over each other, slapping each other on the back, clearly enjoying themselves. There are hoots and hollers from the crowd that nearly disturbs the flow of the play, but after a few beats the crowd settles down and the play continues as intended.
A strip of light breaks through the otherwise dark room as the back door opens. I look behind me to be caught by the unmistakable form of Reid. Even out of his doctor clothes I knew by the mess of curly hair, slim body and long gentile fingers that the figure is Reid. Instead of blue scrubs and a white doctors coat he wore skin tight black jeans, a maroon button down, and a beaten up brown bomber jacket. Holy hell, I groan inside my head and shift in my seat, my pants becoming uncomfortable. I watch Reid take a seat at the back of the German section. I suddenly wish I had binoculars to get a better look at his ass and crotch in those jeans.
An eruption of laughter makes me jump in my seat, sucking in a sharp breath and finally blinking my eyes. He's here. I smile to myself, the grin growing wider and pulling at my cheeks. He's here; he came. His eyes are focused to the front, his legs slightly parted, feet flat on the floor, hands folded in his lap. He keeps his eyes straight ahead, not looking around searching for me. There are cat-calls around me, the play goes on, but all that fades into the background, Reid and I end up being the only two people in the room. It feels as though there is a big empty expanse between us. I want to close the distance, stand up and sit beside him. I know I can't, so I settle for watching his face. Watch his mouth twitch as he fights against laughter for the play. I watch his hands rub against his thigh or twitch beside him as if searching for a scalpel, not feeling secure without the instrument in his hand. I watch his eyelashes, I can see them from across the room they are so long and dark, or I'm remembering what they look like from our close encounters in the hospital, either way I watch them flutter over his eyes as he blinks, his eyes emotionless as he stares straight ahead. There is tension in his neck and shoulders, as if restraining his self from turning around. From searching for me, I grin like an idiot again with the thought. Yes, of course Luke, he's hopelessly in love with you and decided to come to watch this play hoping you'd be in the room so maybe he might be able to breathe in some of your exhale. I roll my eyes at myself and turn back towards the stage, but I can't keep my eyes from flicking back to Reid every so often. Thankfully the play is a comedy and not a tragedy or else the wide burning smile on my face would look oddly out of place.
When the play ends, and then applause died down, people standing to leave, I look back behind me and find Reid gone.
One leg stretches out behind me as I bend over my other knee, resting my hands down on the cold dirt. My ligaments and muscles stretch and burn as I bounce against the ball of my feet. I look beside me to see Noah in a similar lunge.
It's a day after the play and the Germans have decided to declare that since this is forecasted to be the last good day of the year that they will hold a mock-Olympics. Every prisoner must sign up for one of the activities. Sadly for me, basketball was not on the docket so Noah and I decided to sign up for the mile run. At least I knew how to put one foot in front of the other, and during basic training I had a pretty good mile time.
The Germans have marked off a course for us and set up a ribbon at the end for us to break through. Other prisoners and off duty Germans line the make shift track betting on which runner will win.
I shift my body to stand and reach my arms up over my head, stretching my shoulders, twisting my hips back and forth.
"I put 5 Reichsmark on the curly haired one," a German through a coin into the pile. Everyone was betting for Noah. In his shorts and tank top, every muscle in his body shows ripped and strong. Some of the other runners also had bids placed for them, but so far from what I hear no one has bet on me.
"Give me 10 on the skinny blonde kid." I look over to see Reid, squat down on the ground next to the man taking bets.
The other Germans start laughing at him, 'Don't be ridiculous Dr. Oliver, you are throwing your money away! I can't accept such a bet, you must be under the weather."
"I know what I'm doing, take my money." Reid says with a hard edge. He throws the coin back into the pile and stands up. Our eyes meet and I blush, tucking my chin down, feeling naked in his gaze standing in my shorts and tank top. Not that he hasn't actually seen me naked, and that thought only makes me blush more. He smiles at me and gives me a coy wink. His small wink goes right through me and turns my legs to jelly, which is really not what I need before I run a race.
"You ready?" Noah's hand slaps my back with a crack.
"Uh?" I break the gaze with Reid and look over to Noah.
"Try not to beat you too badly, Snyder."
"Alright, line up!" The German barks orders. Noah and I along with the few other runners line up with our toes at the line drawn in the dirt. The German raises a pistol in the air and I flinch at the bang. When I open my eyes the other runners are already ahead of me, and I hurry to get my feet moving, wanting to prove Reid right. I push myself to my limits, my thighs screaming at me before I reach half a mile, my lungs burning as I force air inside them. I can barely make out Noah's body bouncing ahead of me as he rounds the corner into the home stretch. I can feel my legs slowing, my body trying to give up but I push through it. I'm not going to win, that was obvious to everyone, but I can at least finish so Reid doesn't look like a complete idiot. I hear cheering and know that Noah has already broken through the finish line. I round the corner to see the Germans laughing and shoving each other in celebration. When I get to the finish I slow my pace, no one noticing my appearance. Even Noah is getting high-fives and praise from the Germans for his athleticism. Everyone, German and American alike are grouped together, grabbing at money and chiding the ones who lost. I double over resting my hands on my knees and suck in breaths, glad that no one is paying any attention to me.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and whip around to be met with piercing blue eyes. "Not dying on me are you?"
"Uh, wha?" I swallow my breath.
"I knew you weren't going to win, you didn't have to push yourself so hard."
"Oh right, ya know. Wait, why bet on me and lose your money if you knew I wasn't going to win?"
Reid shrugs without an answer. "You look good in your outfit." My jaw drops, my brain short-circuiting, and I know I must look like an idiot gaping at him. "I need to go. Meet me by the latrines later after night roll call," he whispers the instructions calmly and then walks away. I watch his ass wiggle in his skintight black jeans that I didn't get to appreciate from this vantage last night.
"I won." Noah crashes into my jokingly, a genuine smile on his face.
"Huh? Yeah, congratulations." I pick my jaw up from the ground and try to get my face back to normal.
"Let's go back to the barrack and celebrate, I have some food stored in my bag for just such an occasion." Noah wraps his arm around my shoulders and walks me towards the barrack.
I think if it weren't for Noah pressing me ahead and guiding me that I wouldn't be able to find my way back to the barrack. All my mind could repeat in my head was latrines, tonight, Reid. Why did Reid want to meet me at the latrines of all places? I mean really? They reek, and there are flies all over, so not romantic. Romantic? I think you're getting ahead of yourself, Luke. Besides, there is nothing romantic about a POW camp. Well, maybe one thing, I grin. Noah bumps against me, laughing as we make our way to our barrack. Tonight, I smile, tonight.