Battle of the Rhine

Michael had to behave a little better, because from the look on Quincy's face, it was estimated that this was the last meal between them.Rubbing his hands together primly, he asked Quincy to order.This brand new Italian restaurant should be decent, if you come here at night, there will probably be candles on the table——

"What are you doing here?" Quincy asked suddenly, flipping through the menu.

"I... well, I'm shopping around." Michael glanced at the paper bag at his feet, "Stuttgart is very famous."

Quincy stared at a page of the menu, seeming to consider the menu. "Want to eat?" Michael rubbed his hands, "Any order, I invite you."

"Need not."

"Let me please, let me please, thank you."

That thank you sounded really weird.Quincy called the waiter, pointed to the menu and whispered something, then turned to Michael, "What do you drink?"

"I don't drink," Michael lowered his head, "I'm going to quit drinking...you see, I'm getting fat."

Of course, college students dismissed him.Michael regretted that he didn't put on the most appropriate clothes when he went out today. Although it was not as good as Quinnessy's crisp black long coat, at least it was a coat, not this kind of rough wool sweater with a baggy jacket—— The jacket's zipper pulls were missing, making it look shabby.Michael looked at his fingernails. Fortunately, they were barely neat.He licked his dry lips, "What are you doing here?"

He vowed to use the gentlest tone possible—as he should have done, to be as gentle and sweet to his college students as Elvis Presley sang.But he didn't. That sinful night in 1945 sealed their relationship: full of violence, sex, hatred and pain.How could he do that to Quincy?Michael curled his fingers, stretched them again, abominable war... If there had been no war, if he had met Quincy by chance in peacetime, he would have bought him a drink—that was the right way to start. "Who can separate us from the love of Christ? Is it tribulation? Is it distress? Is it persecution? Is it hunger? Is it nakedness? Is it danger? Is it a sword?..." Michael thought silently This passage, love, the love of God, the love of man...

"What are you thinking?" With a glass of water in front of him, Quincy took off his coat, revealing the collar of his gray sweater and white shirt.Michael looked carefully, the college student still looked the same, with blond hair as if kissed by the sun, blue eyes like the deep sea, fair and clean skin.

"I was thinking, there is a passage in the Bible..." Michael smiled, "The Lord is my Shepherd—"

Quincy smiled sarcastically, his beautiful lips twisted into a sneer. "Here we go again," he said, wrapping his hands around the glass. "Here we go again, Bible. What did you promise? Why, are you going to go to Rome next, go to the Vatican to convert, and become a real priest?"

"I can't be a priest, I'm guilty of—"

"Oh, is the Holy See as innocent as it is made of marble... I heard that the priests of the Catholic Church like molesting little boys the most—"

The appearance of the waiter interrupted Quincy's angry whispers, his handsome face flushed slightly, "...why did you go back to Germany?"

Michael didn't have much appetite, "Well, believe it or not, I came back because I wanted to see you."

"Meet me?" said Quincy, clutching a fork. "Mike, how are the girls in New York? They're smart, aren't they? See you're a fake liar, a shameless porno—so you didn't get any of them. "

"Let's eat," Michael said, "Let's eat."

"Then you thought of me? A stupid, lowly, undignified wretch who survived the war only by your charity...you can bully, trample, and walk away without any burden ...Right?" Quincy tremblingly broke open the bread and pressed it into the vegetable soup, "I didn't expect the poor thing to learn to resist and stop being bullied so much, Mike, how does it feel? Did you run away in fright again?"

"Feels bad," Michael said, eyes downcast, "I'm sorry, but, I wanted to tell you—"

"—what's it like to be a deserter?" Quincy was still tearing the bread, "run away, you'll always have a place to go anyway. America's so big, ha! Run anywhere...you tell me about me Dear comrade yet? That Oliver, oh, Oliver, right? Tell him triumphantly, how you play with me - quietly, pretending to care, watching me break down bit by bit...is it fun ? Very fulfilling? Tell me, what do you guys say about me? 'That Germany—'"

"I didn't tell anyone about you," Michael braved, "and I didn't play with you, Carl, I—"

"Fuck you, Fiennes," Quincy said through gritted teeth, "why don't you go to hell?"

"There will be a day." The word "hell" calmed Michael somewhat, "I was already ready to go to hell."

Quincy ate the bun and the small half of the steak.Michael took a few mouthfuls of spaghetti.They sat in their seats and fell silent together.Looking at the blue sky outside the window, Michael recalled the old days in Munich: he invited Quincy to a restaurant for dinner on weekends, and Quincy sat across from him as he is now.College students at that time often smiled with the corners of their mouths pursed, and their blue eyes shone like real gems.They talked passionately, about everything, and for a long time about everything...

"I'm here on a business trip." Quincy said abruptly, without looking at Michael.

"Are you going back today?" Michael asked.At this point, he was completely at peace.

"none of your business!"

"take care."

"Stop writing to me," said Quincy, with a little light in the corner of his eye. "I don't want to see you, or hear from you. Thinking of you makes me—"

"Okay." Michael nodded, "No problem."

He paid the bill and the two left the restaurant one after the other.Quincy walked very fast, his back straight.In the afternoon, the sun slanted westward and the wind was colder than in the morning.Michael noticed that he was bare-handed, the careless college student, and he forgot to put on his gloves again.

"Carl." Michael chased after him and grabbed Quincy's arm, "This is for you."

"I don't need it." Quincy pushed Michael's hand away. "I don't fucking want your stuff, you bastard!"

"It's a glove," Michael said as he unwrapped the beautiful wrapping paper. "Put it on, it's warm. I've tried it...it's very comfortable. Come on, put it on." He took Quincy's hand forcibly, and carefully Slip it over the left hand, then the right hand.Buying a size up was the right thing to do, and Quinnessy fits just fine.

"Remember to wear gloves and a hat." Michael said, "If you don't like this pair, remember to wear something else..." Then he suddenly brushed the hair off Quincy's forehead, no scars, no marks, smooth skin, he relieved.

Michael smiled and took two steps back, "I'm leaving, goodbye."

Quincy had said goodbye by saying "goodbye" as if they both cared a lot about the relationship—he said goodbye twice as sincerely as he could, waved his hand, and left.After walking a few meters, Michael turned his head, and Quincy had already gone far.

Michael's high blood pressure had an attack at the station, and he was dizzy, uncomfortable, and his head was buzzing.He was in so much pain that the pain in his heart was no hallucination - never to see Quincy again, never to see his college students again.Michael had envisioned this day, hadn't he planned it when he fled Germany in 1952?But he wasn't so sad then, maybe deep in his heart, he envisioned that one day he would go back to Munich and the university student would still accept him without resentment—yes, Quinnessy loved him, even though he was a man, for a man A man shouldn't be in love, but this kind of love is still sincere, clear, and like gold...

He clutched his aching chest and got off the train.Passing the church, it was dark, and Michael slipped in.Naturally, no one was in the church at this hour. He knelt down in front of the cross and muttered.

"There is no fear in love. When love is perfect, it casts out fear. For there is punishment in fear. Those who fear do not find it in love..."

God, what is love?Michael raised his head, the surroundings were dark and quiet, and he longed for divine revelation.

Love... the love between men, he admitted for the first time that he loved a person of the same sex so deeply.Where does this false love come from, and why is it so raging?He has tried so many times to escape from this hopeless love, but love is still deeply rooted in his heart——

"Please, what should I do?" Michael cried and fell to the ground, "Please tell me..."

There is no revelation, no angels, lights and music.

God forsaken him, a sinner, hopelessly astray.

"I love him." Michael curled up. "I want to be with him...God, I love him."