Eli woke up to the sun streaming in through the wide bay window opposite their bed, the light turning the white sheets golden as it danced over the sleeping couple. The windows were open slightly which made the billowy curtains rustle slightly in the gentle breeze. From outside, the city was beginning to wake up and the sounds of distant traffic far below on the ground mixed in with the soft sounds of their apartment.
Eli sat up and rubbed his eyes sleepily. He kept his eyes shut to block out the light but he could still see the shifting yellows and whites through his eyelids, the colours pulsing in his head. He dragged his hand up from his eyes over his forehead to run through his bedhead. His back cracked as he reached his arms high into the air and arched like a cat. He sighed and flopped back down on the bed, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling.
To his left, Peter was sleeping right on the edge of the bed, his arm hanging off so his curled fingers just grazed the floor. It was like that every morning. They'd fall asleep right next to each other, limbs entwined like vines that had been twisted and conjoined for centuries, but Peter always said Eli moved too much in his sleep, plus it was too hot in the Summer to be cuddling all night. And it wasn't like Peter was particularly hard done to when he was banished to the edge of the bed since he always stole all the blankets during the night, leaving Eli with none.
Eli noticed that yet again, Peter was wrapped up in a bundle of sheets and that he could see the corner poking out from under his shoulder. He grabbed a hold of the corner and was about to tug harshly to get some blankets back before hesitating. Peter looked too peaceful in his sleep to wake him up. It was still early - he could push him out of bed and steal the blankets back later.
His feet padded softly against the shiny wooden floor as he crept out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, closing the door softly behind him as he left so he wouldn't wake Peter. As he looked around the silent apartment he remembered the day they first moved in. The walls had been barren and bare, the floors scuffed and splintered. It had taken several months of work but eventually their new home felt almost as perfect as the one back in Berlin. It was a lot more modern, and a lot smaller, but it was theirs. Their new safe space, and this time they weren't just pretending like the outside world didn't exist. They were actually safe.
They'd left Berlin almost immediately after the war ended, and after a lot of paperwork that confused them both, Peter claimed his inheritance that he'd never officially been written out of. It wasn't huge, but between that and the small amount of compensation they received, they were able to make their way via several buses and trains to Paris.
The streets far below were already teaming with the hustle and bustle of the early morning rush. People were on their way to work, dodging the cracks in the pavement and the puddles from last night's rain. He grabbed his usual mug from the cupboard that his uncle had given him for his 30th birthday. It was much too big to be sensible and was decorated with little modelled sheep that encircled the painted grass at the bottom and grazed on the rim of the mug. They kind of got in the way but Eli loved it all the same.
He poured his coffee, still being careful to not bang the mugs too hard on the counter so he wouldn't wake Peter, and then walked back to the large window above the sink. The sun was slowly rising higher into the sky so it breached the tops of the buildings opposite, the shadows shrinking back in on themselves. He reached over the sink to grip the handle of the window and opened it with a short and sharp twist.
The tiny balcony outside of the window was completely stupid and completely impractical. Some idiot had installed the kitchen counter right in front of the only way to get to it so you had to clamber over the sink which was hard enough when carrying hot drinks for a bit of early morning fresh air, let alone in the dead of night and pissed. Eli was actually banned from going onto the balcony after consuming even a drop of alcohol after the time he put his foot in the sink, tripped and almost fell over the railings. It nearly gave Peter a heart attack but Eli was more concerned about his wet socks than his near death experience.
Eli wasn't often sober, so he liked to enjoy the time he was allowed on the balcony when he was. He sipped his coffee slowly while watching the traffic through the wrought iron bars, his head leant against the cold metal. His legs dangled out over the space through the gaps in the bars. Despite the faint sounds of chatter and cars, it was incredibly peaceful. He obviously loved Peter but it was nice just to spend some time alone sometimes. Alone on his own terms. Never lonely. Just alone.
However that didn't make his smile any less wide when he heard the sounds of dirty dishes being moved out of the way, the tap being ran and then water being boiled. Eli had just lit a cigarette when he heard the window being opened and Peter's head popped out.
"Good morning, Schatzi," he said cheerily and swung his legs over onto the balcony.
"'Morning," Eli nodded in response.
Peter sat down next to him and Eli could immediately feel his gaze on the right pocket of his trousers where he knew he always kept his box of cigarettes and matchbook. He didn't turn to look at him, just stared forward at the creeping shadows on the building opposite as he handed Peter one and lit it for him. As he leant into the match, Eli felt Peter's warm breath on his cheek and it sent the usual shiver down his back.
That was another bad habit he'd picked up after the war, other than the drinking. He'd never got into smoking as a teenager like most people did- he didn't exactly have friends who'd peer pressure him into it. There was also no one he was trying to impress. He wasn't sure about Peter. He'd been popular enough to hang out with that crowd (Jens and Roland had always been smoking when they went around) but Eli had never really known anything about what Peter got up to with his friends. Now it had just become something to do, something new that distanced himself from the person he'd been in Berlin. After all, there was no mother around anymore to nag him about the awful smell. At least that was something he could count on. It was comforting to wake up after a terrifying nightmare about Peter shot full of holes, or Jens' bloodless corpse, or his mother on that train, or the girl with the baby, or Dolphi, or Tig... Anyway, it was nice to wake up and immediately recognise the smell as somewhere safe, somewhere far away from all that. Some mornings he'd wake up in a cold sweat, alone in the bed, but then he'd find Peter in the kitchen with a cigarette between his soft lips, his eyes closed and blond hair bobbing as he danced along to the music coming from the wireless precariously perched on the counter, scrambled eggs burning on the stove. It made Eli smile and that was enough.
"You're quiet this morning."
"Huh?"
Peter chuckled and took Eli's coffee mug from his hands so he could take a sip.
"I said, you're quiet this morning."
"Oh." Eli turned his head back again.
Silence stretched again. It was slightly awkward, but not entirely uncomfortable. They'd both grown used to this. They both had their moments. Eli had always been a bit unstable and after everything that had happened, Peter understood completely. Sometimes Eli would shut himself off for days at a time, physically if he could, emotionally if not. It often caused friction though since Peter's own psychological issues began presenting themselves in the form of never wanting to leave Eli alone. He didn't want Eli out of his sight at any point in time. He did it out of concern, and he knew at times he was overprotective, but he'd left a friend alone before and look what happened. As long as he was there beside Eli, nothing bad would ever happen to him again.
Eli looked over at Peter and sighed.
"I'm sorry. I'm not meaning to be. Just still waking up, y'know?"
"Mmm," Peter mumbled, handing Eli his coffee back. "How'd you sleep?"
"Pretty good. No dreams. You?"
"One dream that I remember."
"Oh?" Eli tilted his head and leant in closer. He wanted Peter to know he had his full attention. They spoke about their dreams a lot. They both had frequent nightmares and on many occasions they'd woken the other up screaming and crying. It was sort of embarrassing but at least they went through it together. There was a lot more to it than just nightmares but those were the easiest to discuss. They found it easier to admit what they dreamed about rather than the thoughts they had while awake. It was easy to dismiss the subconscious, the conscious mind was a lot more scary.
"Not bad as such. I guess it was kind of nice."
"That's good, right?" Eli nodded along. "What happened?"
Peter went quiet and didn't answer for a long time. When he did, Eli wasn't sure if he was still talking about his dream or had moved on to something completely unrelated.
"I feel like I'm getting old." Now he was the one not meeting Eli's eye.
"Well, you are old. Thirty three? You're practically a pensioner! Better sort out the will and-"
Peter shot Eli a look and he stopped teasing when he realised Peter was being serious.
"I don't mean like that."
"How else do you mean?" Eli asked.
"I don't know. I'm just tired, Eli. I feel like too much has happened to actually enjoy being young. I've seen that taken from too many people."
"What do you mean? You feel bad?"
"Yeah. Survivors guilt I guess. And just generally, I feel like everything's aged me. Physically and mentally. I'm exhausted."
Eli looked down at the last remaining drops of coffee and sighed. He stubbed his cigarette out in the dregs and put it down.
"Well, I know for a fact all our friends would want you to be happy in your youth. They'd want you to live the full life you've been given. They wouldn't want you to waste it."
The last couple of months had been difficult, for Peter especially. It was in May they'd received the call from Lotte and Evelin about Jens' suicide. Eli hadn't known Jens well but Peter had told him lots of stories of the times they'd shared, most of them happening before Dachau but there were some half told stories of a strong friendship formed in the darkness of the barracks.
Eli looked at Peter. He really looked at him, scrutinising every detail. Peter was right. There was definitely a physical difference after the six and a half years they'd been apart. He'd been so skinny, and he was only just putting the weight back on. Eli had always been the small and skinny one, like the runt in the litter of puppies which was his friend group. But Peter had been starved for years and after moving to Paris, Eli finally experienced what everyone else had around him for the past 29 years. He fussed over Peter, making sure he ate every meal, forcing second helpings on him at any chance he could. He was nervous whenever Peter knocked the table with his hip, or even just stubbed his toe. He seemed to fragile, so breakable. Eli was scared he'd shatter at even the faintest touch. And then there was that look in his eyes. God, it scared him so much. Is that what people saw when they looked at him, he worried. That scared, frightened look, like a deer caught in the headlights, or a small creature that was mortally wounded and needed to be put down with a rock. Had he always looked so helpless?
But Peter was not helpless-far from it. He got better and although he tired quicker Eli didn't have to constantly worry about him. Sure, that haunted look never truly went away, but Eli could deal with that. He'd dealt with it himself for 20 years hadn't he?
There were things about Peter that were still so beautifully familiar though. He'd recognise that smile anywhere, that subtle curve of his lips that immediately set dimples into his cheeks. For a long time there hadn't been much cause to smile but he knew there would be. The laugh lines, the crinkles around Peter's eyes had been there since his 20s. Eli didn't care if they made Peter look older. He loved them. It reminded him of better times when being happy came so easily. He hoped he had Peter long enough to watch them deepen as he smiled and laughed more and more everyday. Eli wanted to watch Peter grow old if it meant he was there growing old beside him.
There was still so much time. Peter may fear he was growing old but that didn't take away the fact they'd have enough fifty years if they were lucky. They still had so long. So much time had been taken from them but they still had so long.
"I'm not going to waste it," Eli whispered with determination.
"What?"
"I've lost so much. We both have. Time with you will not be one of them. An eternity with you wouldn't be enough. I won't waste any more time."
The years had taken their toll. So much had changed. Eli remembered that one date with Peter, in early March of 1933. He remembered how naive he'd been. How stupid. That boy had known nothing of the pain, the tragedy, the heartache that was to come. He was so incredibly wasteful. That boy had no idea how precious the joy he had was. He'd tried to hide it, tried to hide anything good because he feared it would be taken away. He'd flinched from the hand that helped, the hand that caressed softly and gently. He'd wasted it. No more wasting it. What he had was a gift. A treasure.
He stared at the man sitting next to him, waves of gratitude coursing through his body. That man. That beautiful, gorgeous, scarred, damaged man. He was everything. He was all that mattered anymore. He was all that was left. The treasure given to him. He wouldn't waste it. He wouldn't hide the love he felt. Never again would he flinch when Peter held his hand in public. Never again would he deny himself that joy. He wouldn't waste it.
Peter's lips touched his and Eli melted at his touch.
The worst was over. They had each other and they could be happy. They could be safe.
Eli had everything he needed. He was content.
He had his treasure.
His Schatzi.
THE END
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! Also did you know it's been exactly 2 years since I started this book and now it's finished.
26/12/2018- 26/12/2020
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-Finch