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It happened four years ago. Four years ago I stole a car and ran off with Maik.
That fucking home could go to hell. I was 18 now and I could do whatever I wanted.
I parked the blue Lada in front of his old house.
It wasn't the same, of course, but it was a similar model. I had never really had a clue about cars but after the accident it was clear that ours wouldn't drive anymore.
I didn't even know if he still lived here, but it was worth a try.
I hadn't even thought about what to say.
That didn't matter in that moment though, when I heard two people arguing inside the house.
“I don't give a shit! I'm 18, I can do what I want!"
“Maik, good Lord! Others would kill for this possibility! Why don’t you fucking get that ?!"
"Fuck you!"
It was him.
That was clearly Maik.
That was the boy I ran away with 4 years ago.
The memories flooded me.
How I got him to go to Tatjana's party and give her the damn Beyonce drawing.
The day when I showed up in front of his door with the Lada and persuaded him to drive through Germany without a destination.
My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when the front door slammed.
And there Maik Klingenberg stood in all of his glory, trying in vain to light a cigarette. His lighter was obviously empty, but he couldn't give less of a fuck and stubbornly continued.
I rummaged in my jacket pocket until I found my own and walked up to him.
"Fire?" I asked and held it out to him.
He mumbled a low ‘thank you’, and lit his cigarette, and gave it back.
I, in turn, dug out my pack and lit one myself.
For a while we just stood opposite each other in silence and looked at each other.
He had grown quite a bit, but was still just as scrawny as he was back then.
His hair was very short and he looked tired.
His jacket looked strikingly similar to his old dragon jacket but it wasn't the same because it would probably be much too small for him now.
After a while I cleared my throat.
"Since when do ‘ya smoke Klingenberg?"
The question was stupid and might as well have come straight from a shitty Romcom but I didn’t care in the slightest.
He stared at me for a few seconds before his eyes widened and he hugged me so hard that I could barely breathe.
"Tschick, holy shit, Tschick!"
I wheezed, laughed and hugged him back.
He took a step back and held me by my shoulders.
“Man, I thought I'd never see you again! Holy shit."
Then he noticed the blue Lada behind me and looked at me and then back at the car. This went on for a few seconds until his gaze came to a halt on me.
There was silence for a few seconds.
Then he said "Ok."
And it was immediately clear what he meant.
“Here, in front of my place in 20 minutes.” he said before disappearing back into the house.
I crushed my cigarette and sat behind the wheel of the Ladas and started to drum my fingers on the steering wheel.
No matter what happened now, one thing was clear;
This time nothing would stop us.
--------------------------------------------------------
And it happened again
I ran off with Andrej again.
My father probably didn't even call the cops.
Why should he?
His 18 year old son ran away with a Russian fagot.
And when it came down to it, that wasn't even a lie.
Because if I thought about it seriously then there was a little more between me and Andrej. We both knew that, but neither of us would address it and that was set in stone.
It had been three days since we ran away together.
Today we both slept in the back of Lada and woke up in the morning with tangled arms and legs. Tschick had yawned, sat up and stretched, grumbled a good morning and climbed out of the car.
As if this were all completely normal.
We stopped at a bakery the evening we'd left and bought rolls to keep.
Now we were sitting in the open tailgate of our car on a rest stop parking lot and ate two of the aforementioned rolls.
I had laid my head on Andrej's shoulder and looked at the cars driving by.
The question was what now?
We couldn't live in the Lada forever, and we would run out of money eventually too.
"Maik, I gotta ask you something."
I sat up and looked at him. His tone was so serious that I was a little scared of what was coming next.
He turned to me and looked at me as if he was trying to read my mind.
"What?"
pause
"...do you have a girlfriend?"
another pause
"Nah ..."
"Good."
short silence
And then he leaned forward and his lips were on mine.
It was different.
The feeling of Tschicks lips on mine wasn't the same.
It didn't feel like kissing any girl I met 10 minutes ago at a party.
This kiss meant something.
And just then my fucking phone had to ring.
Reluctantly we both leaned back and I looked at the display.
‘Josef Klingenberg’
I hadn't had my father saved as ‘Papa’ for three years.
I looked at Tschick apologetically and took the call.
"Hello, Josef"
‘Maik, goddamnit, where are you ?! I've been trying to reach you for days! Why do you have your old phone with you for God's sake! I demand that you come home immediately! ’
“...”
‘Answer me boy!’
I could imagine his head turning red on the other end of the line.
"No."
'I beg your pardon?'
His tone was that type of soft that made it sound like someone was about to burst.
"You heard exactly what I said."
‘LISTEN TO ME TO YOUNG MAN. IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS BACK TO BERLIN IMMEDIATELY, I WILL- ’
Before he could continue with his screaming, Tschick interfered.
"Maik, can your old man please stop screaming, half the Highway is listening."
There was silence on the other end of the line.
‘Maik, who the fuck was that?’
"You know exactly who that was."
‘Maik, if I find out that you ran away with that fucking Russian faggot then I'll personally get in my car, drive out of the city, find you and run over both of you and if it's the last thing I do."
"Goodbye, Josef."
‘Maik, I swear if you hang up now-!’
I hung up and looked at Andrej again, and he grinned back.
And I realised just how much I really loved him.