The next few weeks were tiring.
Midway through May a big contingent of guys from the academy were chosen to participate in the May-Day parade, which was yesterday. I was supposed to be part of it, but I was given an exemption due to some important upcoming boxing matches that I needed to train for, including one tomorrow, and preparing for the May-Day parades was a week-long affair. I did, however, at least get the chance to watch the parade when it zoomed past the academy, and waved at the guys I knew who participated in it, though Albrecht wasn't in the parade itself. He stood next to his father on a platform somewhere along the main route of the parade alongside foreign dignitaries, watching the parade floats drive by.
I spent most of my free time practicing for the upcoming boxing match I had, rarely spending any down-time at home for anything besides sleeping and doing classwork. Preparing for matches always took a lot of my free time up; Coach would pit me up against every single one of the other boxers to try and prepare me for whatever fighting style I would come up against. I never knew if the person I was going to fight would be. There were endurance fighters, tricksters, the annoying-as-hell duckers, and dancers. At least that's how I referred to the last group.
Dancers were the ones who danced around you as you tried to knock them out, hoping to catch you off-guard, catch you pissed off, or last long enough to tire you out. They were sort of like endurance fighters, but more annoying. They were usually the smaller guys.
In my experience, boxing was really the art of counter-punching. You waited for your opponent to send out a jab, and right as he committed and couldn't pull back, you launched a fist straight into his face. You had to take hits, but you would exchange them for much worse. The more you baited them, the more tired they would grow, and thus the opportunity for a knockout hit would grow larger and larger.
I remember my favorite knockouts the best. I'm a self-described endurance-trickster; I worked as hard as I could to tire my opponent out, then I gave them a glimmer of hope, pretending to make some sort of mistake. Sometimes, I'd pretend to be seriously hurt, other times I'd act as if I were about to pass out. The trick didn't matter unless they studied videos looking for signs of my tricks; what mattered was that, in the end, that it worked. And it always did.
As they launched what they presumed was a knock-out, I threw the hardest punch I possibly could. I've broken five noses, blown out entire sections of teeth, and given seven concussions, all through that strategy.
All of this practicing left with almost no time for myself, but from time to time I'd be ambushed in the showers by Siegfried and the other guys, forcing me to go out after practice to whatever place they wanted to hang out. Usually it was a bar or restaurant, though sometimes they just wanted to hang out in one of their rooms and play video games or go out into the fields and play a sport.
Out of the blue a few weeks ago, I was offered a promotion to the rank of Unterfeldwebel, effectively the US's rank of Sergeant. It meant a few responsibilities that I wasn't used to having, like taking roll-call at morning athletics and during tips, but other than that it didn't mean much.
It did offer a pay raise, though. Initially I was going to send it all home, but the more frequently Siegfried and Albrecht dragged me out and into the city, the more I felt bad sitting there at a bar or restaurant just chatting while they drank and ate. I hated being the odd one out.
So for the first time in my life, I decided to keep a little bit of the money I made for myself. Soon after, I bought a cheap cell-phone; not a smart phone, but one of those cheap ones that flipped closed. I could use it for calls and limited texting, but that was it.
At least I had something in case of emergency, I guess. And it was admittedly nice being able to talk to the guys without having to see them face-to-face.
The guys
In the past month, I had found myself going out more than I ever had in my life. Siegfried had dragged me into a group of guys that I didn't really fit in with, in the grand scheme of things. They were all sons of important figures and would grow up to some high-profile job serving their country. And here I sat the son of a farmer who only got into this school for his ability to fight in a one-on-one.
I had to admit, though; they tried their best to erase those concepts from my mind. Within a few weeks, it felt like I had known these guys for years. They talked about the most private things imaginable around me, and even about things that I probably didn't have security clearance for. Albrecht's father having secret meetings with the US President, Drew's aunt becoming Prime Minister, and more. All the while they seemed to figure out pretty fast that my family backstory probably wasn't the best thing to ask about; you could ask about basically anything else, but not my family and not Erik.
I guess, when you boil it down, they treated me like I was anyone else. And for the first time in awhile, I started waking up looking forward to the day. Spending all that time around Albrecht and the other... admittedly gorgeous guys, didn't help my trying to keep my cool, but I tried my best.
I was pacing in place the night before the big match, trading jabs with Coach Edgar as Siegfried, Drew, Tjaden and Albrecht stood by watching. The room was dimly lit, designed as such to try and keep the audience dark so the fighters could focus on each other. The only things in the room that were brightly lit besides the ring were the flags of Alte-Koniggratz and the schools flag.
Dotted around the walls were posters championing the Lions Guard Academy and other academies like it, statue-like guys holding the countries flag, marching forward to whatever victory was next, the slogan "Jugend kennt keine Gefahren" or "Youth knows no fear" in bold font across the poster. They hung slanted; the time-bleached brick walls didn't take kindly to whatever was used to attach them.
"His name is Josef. He's a big guy, so he's going to take awhile to wear down, but he isn't too smart. His coach knows that, so you'll need to keep on your toes; he's going to try and take you out quickly." my coach said as we traded blows; Edgar had participated in the Olympics, and won us a Gold medal and two silvers.
"But not only are you as strong as him, you've got the brains he hasn't. So you'll just do fine, just remember what we practiced?"
I relaxed, taking a step back and putting my arms down. "Yeah, should be good"
I smirked; even Edgar had fallen for my tricks. In the time that i'd put my arms down, he'd gone in for the Jab, and by the time he realized what I'd done it was too late. He was halfway through his swing by the time I'd launched a glove straight into his stomach, and he took a few steps back, breaking away from his jab.
The guys hanging on the sides of the ropes laughed, watching Edgar hunched over catching his breath. I smiled.
"Jesus Christ kid" he remarked between short breaths.
"Come on coach, you literally said that I needed to remember what we practiced, and five seconds later you're getting tricked by someone half your age?"
He righted himself, smirking. I watched as he put his gloves up, and we went back to trading blows with each other.
"Now, they've already arrived and are staying in the guest hall, so don't think you'll have the element of discomfort on your side. He isn't arriving tomorrow morning, he'll be well-rested."
"Alright" I remarked mid bait "So you're saying we should make sure he isn't?"
He laughed, catching one of my jabs with his gloves.
"No no, you know better than that." he scolded. "The last thing we need is them crying about foul play"
Drew spoke up, his arms danging over the ropes; "So whotcha sayin' is that someone uninvolved needs tah do sometin'?"
Coach Edgar didn't turn, knowing I'd probably knock him in the side of the jaw the second he did that, but returned Drew's statement with a firm "No, don't go stringing the guy up by his ankles. Its gotta be clean."
"Aw comeon" Drew complained.
Albrecht shoved him by the shoulder and off of the ropes of the ring. I watched as Drew stumbled over, catching himself just as he was about to fall over. Edgar rolled his eyes and turned around to stare at the two fighting beneath us. "Drew, Albrecht..."
Albrecht.
He confused the hell out of me more and more as the days went by. As we spent more time together, I began to see that there were two distinctly different personalities in him.
On the one side, there was the Albrecht in front of instructors and officers, as well as in public. He carried himself with that air of royalty that you expected someone in the royal family to have. He came off as knowing his place in the world today and his place in the future of this country, often giving people he didn't know the cold shoulder. We'd walked past a group of girls in their Military-Nurse uniforms who recognized him and asked for a picture and autographs. He ignored them and kept walking.
That strange, stoicism about him that arose when he was in public was intoxicating, and so was his strength. He always seemed.
He wasn't always like that, though, and there were times when he'd suddenly let his guard down and show me that side of him that he usually kept inside. He'd be open to earnest discussion, jokes, and even pictures. He'd discuss the great writers of our country, the great historians, stories from centuries gone past; it was all things I didn't understand, but he seemed so passionate about it, so much more than the sports he claimed he was forced to play to appease his father. The side that would stand and watch me practice boxing with Coach Edgar for hours, or sit with Siegfried, Drew and I while we did coursework he'd finished days before. I think the more time I spent around that side of him, the more I fell for him.
The real him. Not the plucked-and-groomed version. The Albrecht combing his hair eight times in the bathroom before he went out for an academy photo shoot. The Albrecht who'd sit in his undershirt and shorts like all of the rest of us as we screamed at the tournament on the TV.
'Fuck, I need to get over this crush...' I thought to myself.
I don't know if it was just me, but we seemed to be spending time together more frequently in the past few months. At first, it was terrifying; I had this absurd schoolboy crush on him that I knew would never turn into anything, and it kept me from getting to know him when. In retrospect, that really hurt the first few weeks of our friendship, because now that we've known each other closely for a few months it was clear that he was trying to get to know me on purpose.
There were even times when he'd actively seek me out, which was a challenge in and of itself considering I didn't have a phone and if you wanted to find me, you actually had to go looking.
"Quit with the bullshit" Coach said sternly, interrupting my daydream. I watched as he glared at the guys watching ringside, but he was quickly returned with a group-wide boo. He sighed, turning back to me. Just as he turned, I knocked him in the side.
"You son of a bitch" he bellowed out, holding his side. I smiled, and soon enough we were back to practicing. I'm not sure what time we ended, but it was pretty late. In all honesty, I think we only ended because Coach Edgar was tired of being hit.
Once he called it quits, I rushed out of the ring and to the showers, trying to get home and to sleep as fast as I could. I raced through my shower and was half-way though dressing when something, rather someone, shoved my shoulder.
I turned surprised, yelling "Hey, the fuck?"
"You couldn't take any longer to shower, could you? I've been waiting for like 20 minutes" the voice behind me remarked. I looked; Albrecht.
"Waiting for what?" I questioned
"I mean, you're just standing around takin' your damn time!"
"Why are you even waiting for me?"
"Because you're the best boxer in the whole school and Siegfried and I aren't about to let you get your ass beat the night before the fight"
I gave him a confused look. The fuck was he talking about?
"What?" I questioned
"I'm not about to let you get hurt before the match tomorrow."
"I'll be fine dude"
"I'm sure, but I'm not taking any chances."
"Dude, you can go"
"Nah" he waved me off, sitting down on one of the benches between the lockers.
"I mean, if you insist, but I'll be a bit."
"That's fine." He sat quietly, waiting for me to get dressed, but broke his silence a few minutes later;
"So, when are you going to spend some of your promotion money on your clothes?" he questioned, pointing at my shirt.
"What do you mean?"
"I feel like I see you wear the same four shirts when you're not in uniform."
I shrugged.
"I mean, I'm not really in casual clothing more than two days a week, whats the point?"
"What do you do when you're on holiday?"
"I... don't really go on holiday... my parents, you know? I just wear my uniforms around the academy"
"Oh..." he said quietly. "Sorry I brought it up..."
"Its fine" I waved him off.
We chatted while I got dressed about little things. I tried to inquire about what the May-Day parade was like, but he just seemed bored with it all.
"Things that seem exciting get pretty boring when you have no choice but to be there" he muttered.
I tried to cheer him up by making a joke;
"Well, I mean with all those girls in the crowds staring you, you must feel better knowing you can get it whenever you want?"
He smiled. It wasn't one of those manufactured smiles for the cameras; it was gentle and long, and it lasted through our conversation
"I mean, you know what they say about per-marital sex" he remarked
"And the ones who say it are the ones who couldn't get any when they were young because they were ugly as shit."
"So what, you think they were trying to force others to go what they went though?"
"Probably" I said as I pulled on my pants.
"I mean, you probably wouldn't have any problems getting some either if you weren't so shy and reserved" he remarked. My face went flush, and I let out a small smile.
"Eh, there aren't my..." I paused
"Your what?"
"My kind..."
"Your kind?"
"My kind here, you know?"
We were quiet for awhile.
"What do you mean 'your kind'?" he questioned, confused.
"You know... guys.."
"Guys?"
"That... like other guys."
"Oh"
He seemed to understand now.
"Yeah..."
"I'm not so sure of that."
I looked up at him earnestly.
"You'd be surprised" he insisted.
"Oh?"
"You're just not looking hard enough. That, or you're ignoring the signs."
"I don't know about that."
"Get to know people, I'm sure there are guys like you looking for someone as good-looking as you."
My ears were ablaze.
"I mean, come on, look at you. Talented boxer, six... what, six two? Blond, built as fuck, and humble. You'd make a great husband for any woman, I know that much"
I smiled.
"I don't really know too much about, you know, but I'm sure you'd make a great husband for any guy whose looking, too."
"Thanks" I muttered, running my hand across the back of my neck. I stuttered trying to get another sentence out, and gave up.
After a bit, he questioned me.
"What were you gonna say?"
I sat down on the bench next to him and pulled my black socks on.
"I... just don't think I'm ready, is all. After everything..."
He put his arm around me, and looked at me earnestly, quietly saying "Take your time, but when you are, let me know."
I blinked a few times, looking up at him.
"Huh?"
My heart started to beat heavily; Did he... just say what I think he just said?
"What?" he questioned
"What did you say?"
"I said 'Take your time, I'm sure someone will let you know and you'll decide if you're ready then'."
"Oh..." I practically whispered. "Yeah, I'm sure..."
That... I could have sworn that wasn't what he said.
What did he say again?
My mind kept trying to go over exactly what he said, but the memory was different every time. I looked down and pulled my shoes on, quiet for awhile.
"Sometimes I just wish I could be like you" he remarked.
"What, gay?" I joked
He laughed like he hadn't in awhile, and I smiled. He looked so at peace like that.
"No, I wish I wasn't... who I was, you know?"
"The prince"
"Yeah..."
"How come?"
"All of the cameras, all of the events, all of the pressure... Sometimes I wish I could just let loose and go anywhere I wanted without having to deal with people in SUVs following me around and people asking for my picture."
I nodded.
"I wish I could just chill with a friend that happens to be a girl and the fuckin' papers wouldn't go crazy trying to figure out if I was shagging her."
I laughed, but he seemed serious. I wiped the smile off my face, apologizing.
"Its fine" he remarked.
We were quiet for awhile.
"I just... want to know what its like to be normal, you know?"
I nodded.
"To be able to do the things I really want to do without having to worry..."
I noticed his fist was clenched.
"Don't you get a vacation at least?" I questioned.
"I mean, yeah, but the only place I can go is our retreat up in the mountains. I wish I could just lay on the beach with a couple friends without being barraged."
I nodded.
"And every time a picture of me with a friend ends in the paper, its like all of a sudden the whole worlds eyes come down on them, people start investigating their shit..."
I blinked.
"Like... I'm sure if they saw you and I together they'd dig until they found..."
He fell silent. I nodded, grabbing him by the knee and shaking it.
"Its fine" I remarked "I know what you were going to say"
He sighed, looking straight into my eyes like he was looking for something. I looked back for a moment, but his glare was almost too much. His blue eyes seemed bigger than I remembered. After a moment, he looked back down at the ground.
"I hate seeing my friends hurt. Especially when I should have the power to protect them."
We sat there in silence for awhile.
"Come on, lets go. I'm sure Siggi thinks we're dead" he said, standing up abruptly.
My hand fell off his knee, and I rose up slowly, following him out of the locker-room and through the dimly lit gymnasium. I watched as he kicked a basketball in front of him like a rock or can, his hands deep in his pocket. He came to the other side of the gym and pushed the door open, the light of a lantern atop a pole outside the door illuminating the rest of my path to the doorway.
I stepped out and found Albrecht and Siegfried standing there chatting. As I reached them, they started walking.
It was quiet for awhile, before Siegfried spoke up.
"I'm pumped, its gonna be a great match".
"I'm just hoping the others do well besides me." I remarked quietly. I was always worried about how the others would do. My wins didn't matter if everyone else lost.
"Oh come on, no one beats a guardsman" Albrecht remarked confidently.
It wasn't true, but it sort of helped me feel better. Lots of Guardsmen got beaten in their sports. No one was undefeated. Even I lost a match last year; it was right in the middle of Erik's trial, and I wasn't thinking clearly. I hadn't gotten to practice as much as I needed to. And I got the shit beaten out of me.
They walked me across the campus and up the stairs of my building, stopping at the door to my room. I waved them goodbye, and watched as they walked down the hallway and disappeared down the stairs. As I shut my door, I could have sworn I heard someone mutter something under their breath outside my door. It sounded like Albrecht's voice.
I opened the door again, looking around for a sign of anyone, but there was no one.
I shrugged it off, not thinking anything of it as I slipped into bed. I was still too occupied trying to re-create exactly what he said.