A million thanks to my one reviewer so far! Let me know what you think and the next chapter will be up soon!
Standard disclaimers apply!
Ernst manages to avoid Hanschen for as long as he possibly can in such a small town, which turns out to be just under forty hours.
It's not that he has no desire to see him — really, he spent the entire previous day shut away in his room, scared his feet will lead him straight back to the clearing if he takes so much as a step outside. But he needs Hanschen to miss him, to realize that he has made a terrible mistake. Hanschen's love for him is equal to his own, and once he understands that — or, rather, admits it to himself — they will be even closer than before.
That's what he tells himself, anyway. It's certainly not his wounded pride forcing him into this stubborn isolation. Perhaps Hanschen would have such a foolish reaction, but he is obviously far more mature.
The other boy sits stiffly upright in the pew next to his father at church Sunday morning, careful to avoid eye contact with Ernst where he's perched across the aisle. His pale hair glows in the light from the window behind the altar, as if some unsuspecting deity had allowed a halo to be projected above his head. Erst can barely contain ironic laughter that he's sure would turn quickly into tears.
At least one of the other altar boys is serving today, a younger one with mercifully dark hair and tanned skin. Ernst couldn't bear it if he was forced to watch Hanschen stand before the congregation for the duration of the mass, with that lazy, barely-attentive smirk playing across his lips. This way, he can focus on the priest as an excuse to look away. He stares with an intensity he's sure others would find alarming, if anyone was actually paying attention to him. He's not sure if his sudden feeling of invisibility is a blessing or a curse. He feels inconsequential.
He knows it's ridiculous — he and Hanschen had only been together for a few weeks — but it's hard, now, to remember a Sunday where the other boy didn't spend the entire mass silently undressing him with his eyes.
At any rate, the sermon seems especially passionate today, its intensity perhaps heightened by the acute force of Ernst's focus. The priest's face is fixed in a fervent scowl as he gestures grandly to the heavens. Ernst can sense a feeling of otherness in the air, some power bigger than himself and the troubles with which he's been plagued of late.
It would be magical, if it didn't feel so distant from the boy he's become recently. Unfortunately, he fears that nothing will ever again feel as real as the warmth of Hanschen's embrace on the soft grass of their clearing. It almost makes him miss, in a way, the days when his simple dreams of a life in the clergy had been all he needed in order to be happy. He used to hang onto every line of these readings, letting himself imagine the ways he would someday reach people with God's word. He wanted nothing more than to save people, to help them to love, to inspire the children.
Today, despite his attention, he somehow doesn't hear a word the priest says.
He's so wrapped up in his thoughts that it takes him several minutes to realize that the service has even ended. When he finally becomes aware of the fact that the people around him have stood up and begun making their way to the door, his father has vanished. Ernst locates him a moment later across the chapel, conversing with Frau Zirschnitz.
He forces himself to his feet, about to traipse after him, when he is stopped by the sharp elbow of Hanschen thrust suddenly into his path as the other boy exits his pew. Ernst stares, unsure if it was an accident or a predictable, slightly pathetic cry for attention. Hanschen's father, hovering behind his son, glares at the interruption. Hanschen winces.
"Ernst," he says, something unreadable in his eyes. It almost resembles a warning, though of what, Ernst isn't sure. He shakes his head. He can't do this now.
"You didn't serve today," he mutters instead, the same way one might comment about the weather. In retrospect, perhaps a comment on the weather might have been wiser. He might as well admit he's thought of nothing but Hanschen since their last meeting.
The corners of Hanschen's mouth tighten almost imperceptibly. "My father decided I should take some time off. Focus more on the teachings." He shakes his head, focusing on something over Ernst's shoulder. "I'm told we live in a godless time. Apparently I'm to reflect on the virtue of my contributions to society."
There's something off about his expression and his tone, and Ernst puts aside his hurt feelings for a moment to really study him. "Are you alright, Hanschen?" His voice drops to a whisper, keenly aware of the boy's father standing nearby. "Are you in trouble for something, or—"
"Everything is fine, Ernst," Hanschen says, brushing past him. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."
In a perfect world Ernst would go after him, but his father blocks him from view and neither look back and so Ernst slumps to his own father's side, staring listlessly at the wall until the adults finish their conversation and turn to leave.
The sun is bright when they emerge blinking from the church, and it takes a moment for Ernst's eyes to adjust. When they do, he immediately wishes again for that naive blindness again, because what he sees when the spots clear from his vision may as well be the end of the world.
There, in full view of the people trickling out of the church — in full view of his father — Hanschen is kissing some girl in a flowing flowered skirt and pigtails.
The part of Ernst's mind responsible for his fight-or-flight response goes numb, leaving him with nothing to do but stand, mouth gaping, arms flopped loosely at his sides. Unfortunately, a rather unpleasant part of his mind remains perfectly active, whispering unpleasant truths directly into his consciousness.
She is so unlike you, so small and soft and pretty. Is this what Hanschen wanted?
He can be with her in public, at church, in front of all these people.
Someday, she could give him a family.
And then his poor brain jolts back to life, because Hanschen has broken away, his eyes flickering between his father and Ernst, and goddamn him, he knows exactly what he's done. Even from across the field, Ernst can see it written across his face.
It's not that he didn't think Hanschen was capable of moving on so fast. It was no secret that he has the sex appeal of a Greek god and the dangerous charm of a traveling salesman, not to mention an impressive list of conquests that Ernst had never asked about but had somehow learned of anyway. But even if what they had wasn't love, Ernst had still thought it meant more.
Apparently not.
For a split second his mind screams fuck the consequences, and so he storms right to Hanschen's side, earning an alarmed look from the girl and a cautiously optimistic look from Hanschen. As if he were going to congratulate him, or maybe ask for professional advice on how to pursue his own societally-approved Happy Ending.
Instead, he opts for a strangled yelp that's more like a croak than a scream. His limbs are flailing. His face is either terrifying, or dangerously close to tears. "What are you doing?"
Hanschen rolls his eyes perfunctorily, then grabs Ernst's arms, forcing them down by his sides before tucking his own hands safely into his armpits. Overall his posture contains significantly less swagger than normal, but Ernst can't bring himself to care. "Honestly, Ernst. You're making such a spectacle, and over what? A girl?"
The cause of said spectacle lets out an indignant squeak, even as Ernst stutters out a mostly inarticulate response. "You know it's more than that! The people— The church—"
He is not particularly concerned about either of these aspects, but he has to complain about something, and he can't very well publicly crucify Hanschen for his abandoned affection in good conscience. In his mind, he is still the protagonist of this story. Hanschen plays the villain all too well.
"Perhaps someday we'll be married in this very spot," Hanschen says stiffly, though it seems to appease his affronted companion. The girl lets loose a wild giggle, before ascertaining from both boys' expressions that their fight is a private matter between friends and hastily taking her leave. "Look around, Ernst," Hanschen continues once she's gone. "No one cares. In fact, it's as if God himself approves."
Ernst knows Hanschen isn't afraid of God, but for the life of him he can't conceive of an explanation that accounts for this, and so he snaps.
"Have you prayed today, Herr Rilow?" he says in a low voice, his tone uncharacteristically harsh. "Begged for forgiveness, for your many, many sins?"
Hanschen physically recoils at the formal designation, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Or maybe he's just afraid of what Ernst could say to ruin his image, to ruin him, here before what remains of the congregation. "Ernst–"
His quiet plea makes Ernst's stomach squirm in a way that's equally guilty and angry all over again.
"I'll let you get back to your company," Ernst says, gentle once more but cutting him off all the same. Maybe he can't stop this, but he's not obligated to listen, either. "Enjoy your afternoon."
Maybe, thirty years from now, this horrible aching pain will have faded to something a bit more manageable.
Reviews are confidence boosters!
Much love,
KnightNight
