Jens sat on the edge of the bottom bunk, waiting silently next to the other two men sitting beside him. His leg bounced anxiously as he watched the door, not taking his eyes off it for even a second. He was waiting for Peter to walk back in, late but okay. But he didn't.
He hadn't been there at dinner, had never returned from working. In fact, none of his group had.
There was a deep worry eating away at him as the minutes ticked by. Soon, the hour or so of free time they had would be over and he'd have to accept that Peter wasn't coming back. If he didn't return back for the night, he was probably dead.
He was about to give up when the door opened and Max walked in, pushed harshly by the guard behind him. He scowled and walked into the barracks, completely ignoring Jens as he limped past him.
Jens jumped up from the bunk and reached out, grabbing Max's wrist.
"Hey, where's Peter?"
He'd never got on with Max in the 2 years he'd known him. He considered Max unnecessarily violent and confrontational, and Max considered him pretentious and too privileged compared to the other gay men living in the camp- and he'd also made it no secret that he saw him as a whore as well.
Max ignored him completely and tried to shake him off, but Jens persisted, only tightening his grip on Max's sleeve.
"Tell me. I need to know where he is."
"Jens, fuck off," Max snarled, twisting around to swat at his hand, finally managing to get rid of him. Jens only followed him though, asking repeatedly as Max dragged his feet over to his bunk.
"If he's dead, just tell me he's dead. Tell me what happened," Jens whispered, staring down at Max as he flopped face down into the pillow, putting his hands over his ears to block Jens out. "I need to know, Max. Please."
"Jens!"
Jens looked up when he heard his name called from the other side of the barrack and saw Friedrich standing there, arms crossed as he stared down the row of bunks at Jens before beckoning slowly.
"Daddy's calling," Max mumbled, turning his head to glance up at Jens, glaring darkly.
The other men in the room were staring, a couple wolf whistling as Jens trudged slowly towards Friedrich, refusing to keep his head down as he walked, flipping off anyone he caught whistling. His cheeks flushed pink but he didn't care.
He forced a small smile when he reached Friedrich's side, expression strained as his arm snaked around his waist. Usually he wouldn't care, but he was not in a good mood, what with Peter not coming back, and he didn't want more relentless bullying from the others because of Friedrich's public affections.
The arm around his waist steered him away from the main room and to Friedrich's, keeping him close and secure.
"What was that?" Jens snapped as soon as the door was closed, spinning around to lean his back against it, pointing at Friedrich accusingly.
"What was what?" He said, taking a small step back from Jens who could be pretty scary when he was angry.
"You, showing me off in front of everyone out there!"
"Jens, they all know already," Friedrich tried to reason. "What's the harm in this? They treat you better this way, knowing you're under my protection."
"No! They don't! Sure, no one can beat me up but they all hate me! No one would help me if anything happened to me out there. I don't have their support."
"You don't need their support. You've got me," Friedrich said, walking forward and grabbing Jens' wrists, pinning them in to his body and leaning in close. He kissed him quickly, trying to comfort him. "You don't need them."
Jens shook his head and pushed Friedrich away, holding his head in his hands. "I do. I do. It's why we all die, all of us here. We all hate each other. None of us are friends, and we don't help each other. We'd all leave each other to die- hell, if it came to it, we'd probably all kill each other if it meant saving our own skin."
"Shush, Jens, don't worry about this. You're safe with me," Friedrich said, walking back to him and gripping his hand, his smile not able to hide the anger and ice in his eyes as he pulled him down to sit on the bed. "Don't move. Stay right there."
He got up and lifted up the edge of the mattress which was where Jens knew he hid all his special items. He pulled out a lighter and a half full case of cigarettes and then put the mattress back down again.
"Food?" Jens asked quietly. "I'm starving, my love. Please," he added in a whisper as Friedrich sat opposite him and put a finger to his lips.
"No. Not yet." Friedrich flipped open the cigarette case and put it between his lips, ignoring Jens' pleading look. "Sit up straighter, cross your legs like this."
Jens copied him and straightened his posture, hands folded in his lap.
"Now what?" He whispered, tilting his head as he watched Friedrich light the cigarette.
"Shut up." He said bluntly.
Jens bit his lip and sat in silence, staying completely still as Friedrich smoked, the strong smell filling the whole room. Occasionally, he'd pass it over to him but wouldn't actually let him hold it, treating him like you would a dog when you fed it off your plate.
When he was fed up of that game he took the cigarette from his mouth and smirked at Jens.
"Give me your arm."
"Huh?"
"Your arm," Friedrich ordered. When Jens didn't move immediately he sighed and shook his head like Jens was a toddler he was disappointed in and grabbed his arm forcefully, pinning it to rest over both of their knees, his fingers digging into the crook of Jens' arm. He took the still lit cigarette and pressed it into the soft skin of the underside of Jens' forearm.
He realised what was happening a second too late, and then pain coursed through his arm and everything was just burning. This intense, intense heat that took up all of his thoughts as he screamed and writhed, trying to pull his arm away from Friedrich. But he couldn't, and then harder he struggled, the harder Friedrich pushed into his arm. He fell forward so he was leaning against Friedrich, face buried in his neck as he sobbed, begging for him to stop.
"It hurts, it hurts, Friedrich, stop it," he choked out, words catching in his throat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just please stop burning me! You're hurting me!"
Friedrich removed the cigarette and held his hand to the back of Jens' head, running his fingers through his hair and holding him close.
"Shhh, it's okay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, darling," he whispered, brushing his hand across the circular burn on Jens' arm, watching him flinch as he touched him. "It won't happen again. Please forgive me."
"I-w-why?" Jens whimpered, trying to pull away so he could look at Friedrich's face and try and figure him out, but he kept pressing him closer into his neck so he couldn't do anything but lean into him, forehead fitted into the dip of Friedrich's collarbone. "Why?" He whispered against his skin. "Why would you do that."
"Forgive me," Friedrich said simply in response, breath tickling Jens' skin as he pressed tiny kisses to his shoulder and along and up to the side of his neck. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I love you."
Jens closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath, a tiny smile on his lips. It would all be okay. Friedrich still loved him, he'd just got caught up in the moment. He wouldn't hurt him on purpose. He loved him. That's all that mattered.
"I love you too."
Friedrich finally removed his hand from Jens' head, letting him move away. He scooted back a bit and crossed his legs again, holding onto his feet and rocking back slightly, watching Friedrich slightly warily.
"Peter's gone," he said after a long silence filled by just staring. "He didn't come back after work."
"Which one's Peter again?" Friedrich said with a yawn, leaning back against the wall, arm leant lazily over the headboard of the bed.
"My only friend. The blonde one. Bit smaller than me. You called him cute the other day," he said, his voice carrying a slight twinge of...jealousy? Anger?
"Ahh yes. I know who you're talking about. He is pretty cute."
Jens huffed and crossed his arms, knowing he was over exaggerating how annoyed he was but knowing acting like that would get Friedrich to pay attention to him.
"Shush you," Friedrich smirked, crawling along the bed towards Jens before sitting right in front of him and wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him into his lap.
As soon as Friedrich's hands met the bare skin of his waist, Jens just wanted him to get away from him. There was something there in his mind, telling him to get the fuck away, to not let him hurt him again. He tried to push the feeling down and looked up at the ceiling, focusing on a chip in the plaster in the corner of the room instead of Friedrich as he touched him, hands drifting lower until they were beneath the band of his trousers.
"Friedrich... c-can we not do...this right now? Please?" He stuttered, taking his wrist softly and pulling his hand away. "I want to talk about how we find out what happened to Peter."
Friedrich leant back and glared at him, pulling his hand from Jens' grip and returning it to brush the top of his thigh, ignoring him when he tried to stop him again.
"Friedrich. Please," he said, scrambling away from him to the other end of the bed. "I don't want to do this. Can we do something else for one minute? We have all night," he snapped.
In reality, he didn't think he'd want to sleep with Friedrich at all that night. Every time he looked at him, he just pictured him hurting him, completely unfeeling and remorseless while Jens screamed in pain. He didn't want anything to do with him for a while.
"No, Jens," Friedrich said sternly, reaching out and grabbing his wrist, jerking him forward sharply. "You're lucky to be with me, so you do everything I say. Understood?"
"I don't want to," Jens whispered, words confident but tone unsure. "Let me go."
Friedrich pulled him forward again, hard enough this time that he lost his balance and toppled onto the sheets so he was lying face down on the bed. He immediately tried to get up but Friedrich was quicker, pouncing on top of him and pinning him down.
Jens groaned and tried to squirm out from under him, failing but managing to turn around so he was looking up at him, still writhing in an attempt to buck him off.
"Let me go!" He groaned, out of breath and already tired of fighting, aches in his limbs. He stopped struggling and sat up as much as he could, spitting in Friedrich's face instead.
Friedrich paused and slowly lifted his hand to wipe Jens' spit off his cheek. He looked down at Jens who probably could of got free with one of Friedrich's hands gone, but he was frozen in fear, the reality of what he'd done sinking in. Friedrich may also have been a prisoner, but he was a prisoner with power, and Jens knew he wouldn't hesitate to kill if people disrespected him. And Jens had spat on him.
"You little bitch," Friedrich hissed, grabbing Jens' skinny wrists, able to hold both with one hand, pinning them to the bed. "Don't scream. If you scream, they'll find us and we'll both be dead, you hear?"
Jens didn't reply, turning his head into the thin pillow to muffle a sob as Friedrich forced him back into laying on his stomach again, uniform now fully discarded in a messy pile on the floor.
When Friedrich was finished, he got up off the bed and Jens heard his footsteps across the room. He kept his face hidden in the sheets, eyes red and puffy from crying, cheeks stained with tears.
He didn't know how long passed until Friedrich walked back over. An hour or so at least of just long, stretching silence. Jens felt a hand brush his cheek and then trace down to grip his jaw. He pretended to be asleep, not reacting to Friedrich's touch.
"Jens, look at me," Friedrich whispered, kneeling down beside the bed, turning Jens' head carefully to the side, hand cupping his cheek, brushing his tears away. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I love you too much to do that to you. Forgive me."
Jens felt lips press softly against his own and then hands moving him gently, hooking under his back and legs and lifting him carefully before Friedrich laid him back down on the bed, now able to pull up the sheets over Jens who was still pretending to be asleep so he wouldn't have to look at him.
"I'm sorry, my darling. You don't deserve that. I shouldn't have done that to you."
'To you'
Like he'd done the same thing to others, like it was okay to do that to them. Jens hadn't deserved to be raped but Friedrich's previous victims had.
Maybe he was reading too much into his words, but maybe he wasn't. Max had tried to warn him years ago that Friedrich was dangerous. He'd pointed out that he wore a green triangle and not a pink one, so his crime was not the same as theirs. Jens had brushed it off since he didn't know what the green triangle actually meant and also because he didn't trust that Max wasn't just trying to sabotage the relationship he had with the kapo.
He'd been able to put aside all the little things Friedrich had done that hinted that he was dangerous up until then.
But now, the thought of returning to his room the next again night made him feel sick, and so did the thought of returning the night after that, and the night after that, and the night after that.
5 years.
5 years of just surviving in that terrible terrible place.
5 years of confusion and fear and compromising everything in exchange for survival. He'd given up everything just to see the sun rise another day.
He couldn't do it anymore. He was exhausted. So extremely and overwhelmingly exhausted.
He clenched his eyes shut tight as a singular tear trickled down his cheek and onto the bedsheets.
Everyone had to give up eventually.