A/N: I am back. I had/hate writer's block, but today it suddenly, luckily, disappeared. Today I am horny for ( Is that even right?) writing good quality stuff while listening to Mozart. Haha. I even found out how to format things. Amazing. Praise me!

In Germany there are three types of schools you can go to after primary school. They all differ in their niveau and offer therefore a different type of degree.

I have made out the by all means discriminating and horribly generalizing assumption that your "level" of education equals your sexual experience. But it weirdly fits to most of my surroundings.

"We", the Abiturienten (comparable to high-school graduates), are most of the time ridiculously inexperienced in sexual and also life terms. We are the theorists. We can do route mapping theoretically, but we don't know how to do our tax declaration. And some, sadly, don't even seem to have developed social skills…

Why don't they teach us to be nice to each other?

I'm sorry, Chopin makes me sentimental. I should switch back to Mozart… Wait a moment.

So, where have we taken leave of our lesson?

Ah. Most of my friends, especially the "good" students (including me… cough.), didn't even have sex yet (the thing you always wanted to know…for sure.).

The ones who left the "Gymnasium" earlier for the real life, mostly already had.

We were so busy with our education and grades we didn't even have had time to do fun things :D. And were left to be "innocent" dorks. And this is where our "story" begins…

Bachelor Boy

Ludwig finally, eventual had his degree. He wouldn't have to go to school ever - well, if he wouldn't become a teacher that is. He was free now. He could do anything he wanted now.

Anything.

What was…

Well, that was actually the problem: He didn't know.

On the first days after finishing school, he lazed around on his couch and didn't move. He even let his room become a mess. His brother had thought he had maybe become seriously ill, so the disorderliness had only lasted for one day or so, until Ludwig heft to his feet to tidy up.

His brother had gifted a car to him. A car he had bought cheaply and repaired and it was driving wonderfully. His brother was a "simple" mechanic, even though he was highly intelligent. Ludwig had asked him one time, if he had given up his further education for him, after their parents had died, someone had to pay for their living – but Gilbert had always denied. Gilbert had gotten request from big automotive-companies to work for them in differing positions – he had always declined the offer. Ludwig had asked him so many times "For god's sake, why?" and he had explained always in the same way:

"Why do they want me to work for them? Because I am the genius they are searching for, they are needing to have, like they're preaching to me in their letters? No. They want me, because I promise the possibility to rake in money and they do know it. I know that my ideas would be in better hands in our chimney than in theirs. The german economy needs workers. But when you die, they will exchange you. So don't work for them."

But what should he do else? An inspector? A doctor? A lawyer?

The whole internet was built of entries in forums with reasons, why he should not do something. And his whole mailbox was made out of letters with reasons, why he, with his outstanding degree, should do something.

He thought he would feel satisfied after his degree. He had a good one. An exceptionally good one. That was mostly what "they" cared about. That his head and heart felt somewhat empty, no one cared about.

Admittedly he did not know that his brother prayed every night for him to make the right decisions in his life and be happy. But he assumed that his brother had given up going drinking with his friends for a few months to purchase the car and turn it into a navigable vehicle.

And that was why he felt so guilty that it had stopped now being navigable on some shady corner street of their town and that he didn't know why. It had rattled weirdly and he had barely managed to drive it onto the road shoulder. He had to call a mechanic. Better not his brother though. He needed a phone book and, of course, a phone.

Luckily there had been a bar. It didn't really look decent, but it had the few things Ludwig was in need of at the moment: the phone, the fitting book and a restroom.

He hadn't noticed that men only were present here. If he had realized into which "establishment" he had gone, he would have most likely ran out blushing.

The mechanic had said he had a hardship of a case right now, if Ludwig could wait for a bit. Of course, not only could he, he also had to. His brother was at home and if he noticed that Ludwig would come home in a cab… oh dear. If he would just stay away into the night, Gilbert would maybe call him, but then he would assume Ludwig had met someone, a nice girl or so, like his brother hoped for him, since a lot time.

One time Gilbert had even asked Ludwig if he was possibly more into… men.

"What are you saying, Bruder?", Ludwig had exclaimed and stared at him horrified.

He was not homophobic, no, by all means not, but he was not gay. Definitely not.

Even though most of the surrounding men thought differently for obvious reasons?

Normally men didn't stumble into a gay bar on accident.

And Ludwig was quite attractive, a new one and so shy and unexperienced. If not to say: Completely clueless.

"What can I get you, mon cher?", a blonde waiter asked him.

"A lemonade, please."

"A lemonade you say…", Francois smirked, "As you wish, mon cher."

"Don't hit on him, Francois,", Antonio, Francois friend at the bar, hissed, "maybe he is underage."

"One needs to find out.", the blonde one laughed, "He wants lemonade."

"Francois, I don't believe everybody talks in sexual metaphors like you.", Gilbert sighed. He was sitting with his back to his brother and didn't care much about Francois "interests", so he didn't turn around.

"Hi.", a widely smiling, tanned boy flopped onto the bench seat towards Ludwig.

"Uh, hello.", he smiled back, "Can I… help you with something in any way?"

That was the time for something bold. And Feliciano was so totally going for it.

"Well…", he glanced innocently at the ceiling, wetted his lips and curled them into a pout, "You could…", he spoke quietly, so Ludwig had to lean in to understand him, "come with me to the bathroom and fuck me raving.", he tried to let his eyes glow seductively, when Ludwig spit his lemonade, that had in the meanwhile arrived, all over the table and began to choke on the leftovers in his trachea.

"Oh my god! I'm sorry, I'm sorry~!", Feliciano jumped to his feet and hit the blonde man right between the shoulder blades to make the coughing stop.

After both had calmed down, a blush exploded over Feliciano's face. He'd swear, he never had been that red in his face before.

Ludwig opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Feliciano gestured wildly with his hands, while staring at the floor and said something about having to go.

Ludwig just sat there dumbfounded. What the heck had been that?

"Oh… Feliciano was seemingly turned down…", Antonio frowned.

"What idiot has done that shit?!", Gilbert angrily remarked.

"I don't know. He sits at a corner table. Get up and see for yourself. Blondehead or something."

"No,", Gilbert grumbled, "I'm drunk and I'm lazy, I will not get up for that loser."

Feliciano had stormed of for the bathroom, locked himself in one stall and began to cry. He had never been so humiliated and embarrassed in his life ever. His self-confidence had dropped from 99,9% to zero. He had taken his mouth too full. Also that muscular blonde sexiness was probably a level too high for him. He hadn't been flirting with men for a long time. He knew all about girls, but that was mostly useless knowledge since he had realized, he was gay. And that sexy guy probably knew other sexy guys and they would meet up for a sexy-man-drinking-evening and he would tell them that such a tiny skinny twink with a mouth big enough to take in 6 dicks, but not enough brain to figure out what was in his league and what was not.

A/N: As you can see I am planning to go on with this. I am actually surprised how patient and concentrated I have been while writing this today. Mozart is recommendable.

I am asking you to please tell me your opinions, I am so greedy for reviews :D.

Stay healthy and happy, x, C.