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There was no way of describing it, really.
That feeling, no, the knowledge, rather, that you have met your soulmate.
It creeps up on you, happiness.
One person, predestined to sit there at your small kitchen table, smiling and smiling.
Martin was pretty in the dim light, so fucking pretty. Godawfully pretty to look at, really.
Otto was being silly, he knew that.
But ask just about anyone who’s ever met Otto and they would promptly attest that Otto was simply a very silly person.
And Otto felt he was probably entitled to a little silliness.
After all, there was a war on.
Being in love in times like these felt like his own act of radical rebellion in a way.
Not that he had chosen to be, exactly.
More so given in.
But one shouldn’t get pedantic about these things.
There he was. There they were.
It was Christmas.
There were eggs, bread, butter.
A pretty boy and a silly boy under a dim kitchen light.
Ever since they had left the Dohnanyis family to their own little celebration Otto felt giddy.
Spurred on by the spirit of Christmas, all that talk of love and hope, he had made it his challenge of the evening to see how many times he could make Martin laugh.
“Have I told this one? It’s the summer of 1941. Alright. So it’s 1941.”, Otto prepared another joke. There was a glint in Martin’s eyes, a high Otto was glad to keep chasing.
“Two men meet in a KZ. They get to talking and one of them asks the other-“. “You’ve told that one already-”, Martin interrupts, grinning anyway.
Otto knew how much it delighted Martin to have someone to speak with. Here in secret, just the two of them, giving voice to all that was unjustly forbidden.
Yes, Otto had told it before.
But he also wasn’t a quitter. Not when Martin was smiling.
Otto jabbed an elbow in the general direction of Martin’s ribs, before continuing to speak. “So one of them asks ‘Why did they take you here?’. And the man says ‘On the 5th May I said Heß was crazy.’“ A hard jab back at Otto’s ribs, dodged a little too late. A groan and a chuckle.
What an agile man, that Martin.
“The first man replies swiftly: That’s funny-“ “-on the 15th May they arrested me when I said Heß wasn’t crazy.”, Martin finishes the joke for him, “You really did tell it before.”
Pretending to take issue with having his joke stolen, Otto crossed his arms in front of his chest, sulking.
Martin shrugged,
“You’ve told it before.”
“You still laughed, didn’t you?”
Not a single day went by where Otto did not earn at least one majestic Martin Schelling eyeroll.
Usually quickly followed up by a valiant effort to suppress a smile.
“Well, Otto. You’re quite a ridiculous person.”
Otto marveled at how good it felt to see Martin smile. The war naturally took a toll on all of them. Being a man who could ease the suffering, little by little, that was Otto’s calling.
Otto suspected one of the reasons Martin liked to keep him around was Otto’s talent, of making everything just about a little more light-hearted.
Someone who could say something funny after Martin had said something clever.
That’s what it meant, having a soulmate, Otto thought.
Someone to feel with you. Someone who would keep the light on for you at night.
There was no inherent romantic notion to it. Not inherently, no.
The romance had happened rather on accident.
A romantic afterthought of sorts.
One day he woke up, went to do his round of the ward.
Martin had been there and Otto was smitten.
Otto had been in love before, yes.
With quite a few men, not to brag.
He was good at the game.
Make hints, cover your tracks, have an alibi. Laugh it off if questioned.
“You just haven’t met the right girl for you yet.”, Mother says and Anni parrots her.
Scratch the yet. Otto is unchangeably different, and he knows.
Meet discretely. Flirt. Bat your eyes. A smile. A wink.
Otto has not exactly figured out, why this feels so different.
It never really mattered before, the game.
This however, it does. The stakes matter.
Otto always leaves, there is no other way to play this as far as he knows.
But this time it feels like leaving too early.
Being pulled from the pitch before the match has begun.
Somewhere in some office there is a file with his name on it, ready to be stamped, marking him ready to go back to the front.
Who were they to decide if he was ready to go back.
He was not ready.
If one semester was all he was granted, he decided it was his turn to make the first move.
The words had come to him last week. Then again differently a few days later. Then last night and yet again this morning. Now, they all felt wrong.
What was there to say?
“I am a delinquent sodomite and I rather hoped you might be too.”
Not exactly living up to the heritage of the country of thinkers and poets.
The words would surely come to him, he decided, if he had a few more bites to eat.
Otto chopped another egg, deep in thought.
Only when Martin teased “That is how you recognize the well-versed surgeon.”, did Otto notice he was relying on muscle memory chopping the egg in unnecessarily thin slices. He shook his head a little.
Betraying his goal of making Martin laugh, Otto let a rather glib joke cross his lips:
“A surgeon who is going to chop of limbs at the front.”
Martin looked up.
Otto continued carefully as form of explanation: “The exam regulations were tightened again. I have to do my examination at the end of this semester. And if I don’t pass I am going back as an enlisted soldier. Either way I am going back to the front.”
There they were, the words, tumbling out of his mouth.
Don’t be a coward now, Otto. No turning back now.
“That is why I have to tell you something…”, Otto said trying to keep his voice calm and steady.
Martin, all smiles mere seconds ago, stared at him blankly, unreadable, even for Otto, who spent hours studying Martin’s face.
In attempt to give his words the necessary significance, Otto took a gamble.
Carefully, he reached out for Martin’s hand.
It slipped into his like made to fit by the Great Sauerbruch himself.
“…I fell in love with you.”, Otto said.
He had spoken the words.
And within the next three seconds everything came tumbling down.
Martin abruptly let go.
The absence of warmth against his palm, the scrape of Martin’s chair against the floor.
Otto’s heart sank deep, deep somewhere into his intestines.
Did he just fuck up?
Did he really misjudge the situation so badly?
Martin had physically recoiled from him.
“Is that so bad?”, Otto pleaded, desperate to see some of the familiar Martin he had been sharing food with a minute ago.
That look in Martin’s eyes was so unfamiliar, it was dizzying for a second, Otto was having a hard time placing it.
There was fear.
Blank fear.
Otto’s heart and intestines twisted into some kind of uncomfortable knot that even Sauerbruch would have a hard time entangling.
“Don’t worry,” Otto attempted, “it’s not infectious.”.
Where was that talent for light-heartedness now?
Had Otto just lost all the smiles and giggles?
It was odd, tough, to see it in Martin’s eyes…
It was fear not disgust.
Fear from a man who was never afraid.
Martin was all hand gestures and nervous shuffling around.
He was trying to form words, Otto could tell, so he swallowed his own panic and gave Martin room to breathe.
Whatever he had to say, it would be better for Otto to know.
Knowledge was power, especially in times like these.
“I- I am a charged 175.”, Martin pressed from between his lips.
The complicated knot in Otto’s stomach immediately turned icy cold.
This could not be.
„When I was twenty. I had something going on with a man. We got denounced. Since then he’s been in a KZ as a seducer. I don’t even know if he is still alive…”
Otto swallowed, made an attempt to reach for Martin’s hand again, thought better of it and swallowed once more.
Otto had not been wrong. There was something. Something between them.
But how cruel once again, that he could never have it now.
If one thing was certain then it was that he would never do anything that would put Martin in jeopardy.
He gave a half nod through the beginnings of hot tears, beckoning Martin to go on.
“I got away with military probation because I was still underage. My lost leg might have brought me home from the front, but here-“ Martin sighed. A half scrunch then unscrunch of sorts ran through his feature.
“I have impositions by the police here.”, he whispered.
Suddenly Martin looked truly sorry. “I lied to you… It really was me, who you saw exciting the station house…”
“If they find out I’m with a man again-“, his words quickened as if spoken against a wave of panic, “then I’m considered a career criminal, a repeat offender. And that-“
A cool gaze now, almost resigned.
“That means KZ.”
Wells of tears instead of eyes.
Martin too far away to reach out for him.
No way out of this godforsaken country.
“I don’t ever want to endanger you.”, Otto managed to breathe.
And then there were lips.
Lips on other lips.
Silly lips on pretty lips.
Nothing clever and funny spoken.
Martin had bent over the table and grabbed Otto’s chin. Rough yet gently.
He brought together what could no longer be separated.
It tasted saltier than Otto had hoped.
But better than he had dared to dream.
Otto rose from his seat desperate to get closer yet to Martin and his lips, oh his lips.
An operation that promptly knocked Martin’s head into the low ceiling lamp.
He could feel Martin smile about it on his lips and thought of what an excellent time it would be to die now.
There was two of them and it was utterly perfect.
Two lips, exactly where they were meant to be, no question about if you asked Otto.
Martin really was different though.
The thrill of the catch for once felt bigger than the thrill of the chase, Otto noticed.
And what a catch Martin was.
Men at war, they kissed as if their life was pouring out of them at rapid speed.
In the midst of death, we are in love.
It was over almost as quickly as it began.
Martin pulled back. Still scared but newly flustered.
“We can never do that with each other again.”, he whispered.
They both knew he was right. They both knew he was lying.
Nervously he wiped his hands on his sweater vest, then shuffled out of Otto’s room.
The memory of Martin’s lips tingled.