Chapter 5
It had become a habit to meet up with Berwald in the waiting shed. They always had time to spend it together, right after work. Sometimes they'd only spend an hour, in a coffee shop, in small cafeterias, in parks, in streets that would wind up God-knows-where. If their workload was comparatively lighter, they could kill so many hours with business, politics, jokes and tidbits of their childhood, until the stars have shown up.
More exchanges of snippets of their lives were unfolded and shared over a cup, over a snack, over a glorious break from the strenuously mundane employee life. A table for two in the late afternoon had soon become their favourite part of the day. Both blondes always looked forward to it, and couldn't get enough of each other's company. They couldn't even tell that weeks had gone by. Or that the months had faded away. Soon, years, had already collapsed.
It wasn't enough. To them, they only had begun. Five years couldn't have possibly be over already.
"I'm so sorry…" Berwald kept on saying this, but it didn't help the German to feel any better.
His day couldn't have gotten any worse. He tried to fake a smile and nodded in full understanding. "Okay." Then he leaned against the tree, looked up at the cloudy sky. Huge clouds hovered above the park and threatened to rain. With arms crossed, he asked, "D-do you… really have to go?" He kept his blue eyes away from the Swede's face and asked with a slight tone of annoyance.
"It's in my contract, Ludwig. I'm very sorry."
The rain fell abruptly, without any warning. It hammered on their briefcases, their sophisticated clothes, their blond locks, their sad faces. These drops were the tears they could neither shed in public, the unspoken emotion that raged through a violent storm of cloudy denial.
All of a sudden, Berwald wound his arms around Ludwig, and he found himself in an embrace. He didn't push him away, he didn't move an inch. Only the quiet tears streaked down his cheek.
When Berwald pulled away, their hands were still connected. They gazed into each other's crystal blue eyes and in that moment, they only wanted to stare forever, to drown in the pool one another's blue irises. They would never forget such sad eyes. They would never forget the heartbreaking sound of the rain drumming against their bodies.
Berwald lifted their hands, then asked, "Do you tango?"
"Why would I?"
"You see, in Sweden, we celebrate something called queer tango. And I-I'm not saying I am gay, but... dancing... in such a gloomy weather... seems like a bright idea." And he held the German in position, ready for a dance. "What do you say, Ludwig?"
"Lead me," Ludwig whispered against the storm.
Their legs swung to and fro, synchronized and rhythmical. Their wet torsos rubbed against each other. Whilst Berwald bore his eyes on the German, Ludwig couldn't help but look down. He was unsure about the moves. He had never danced before. Clouded with shame, he looked up at the Swede and muttered apologies as he swayed along the movement of his partner. Berwald held him tight and he tried his best to follow along, sliding his feet, pointing a bit his toes, bending his knees. They went around, locked in the dance, in a stare, in a moment that suddenly ended as it had just begun.
His first dance. With a stranger. Beneath the sheet of rain. A bitter cold farewell.