I am very aware of the slight continuity error within the story (that this takes place in summer, when we all know a rather important event takes place somewhere near late winter), but I'm not one for nitpicking :). The story was just a little something that festered into my mind after watching the movie for the 3,00th time. It's just a little story, that's all :). If the thought of Friedrich and Albrecht being attracted to each other makes you sad and angry, it's not too late to turn back! I am currently in the process of translating it into German as well, but that could take a bit. It's not the best piece I've written, and I normally NEVER write fanfiction, but hey, let's give it a go!

Friedrich always harboured a ceremonious respect for nature and its timely four seasons. The only certain, anchored parts of a world that thrived on change and inconsistency, Friedrich saw them as the perfect underlying thread to an existence that otherwise seemed so foreign to him.

Complimenting each other impossibly well, their ever changing sway and dictation forcing him to change alongside the unconquerable and yet theoretical force, Friedrich was thankful for each extremity each time of year possessed.

He generally loved it, unlike the others, the browning and oranging of earth tinted leaves, their crunch underneath his manly jackboots, signaling a long lost modifier lodged deep in the smell of autumn, forgotten memories of his childhood. He loved the freezing snow that would pile up nearly to the height of the window, ice threatening to crack and snap, branches freezing under their own weight, looming above their heads, waiting to fall upon an unlucky victim, the smell of burning leaves and Christmas pies numbing the frozen tingle of limbs that had been outside much too long.

He loved even more the timely deus ex machina spring provided when it's rainy hazes banished the cold to the other end of the earth, growth and dirt and pollen clinging to his hair and fingernails...

It was the rebuilding of the Earth, as humans were not the only ones with redoes and new beginnings horseshoed into their time lines. The blossoms and grey skies and the rain, Friedrich loved it too. He had to; he had to love all those rotating seasons had to offer, if only due to the knowledge that they would return next year. Yet perhaps that year would be the year in that winter was not to come; nothing lasted forever.

Yet this particular summer nearly causes Friedrich to take it all back, anything he'd thought or said or mused over the bitch that was nature. He sighs with a furious exasperation, one that doesn't mix well with his light headed, sleep catching mind, red nearly rising comedically from his aggravated body (following suit from the poor boy's heated, flushed, sunburnt skin).

The windows to the room were all open, inviting, desperate for the temperature to lower, for the wind to move, live, and breathe. And yet the very little breeze puffing teasingly outside does not overstep the boundary of the sil, almost afraid of committing the heinous crime of intrusion...

The humidity transformed the room into an involuntary sauna, the air stagnant, hot, and debilitating. Each inhalation only made Friedrich breathe harder, his lungs warmer, as if they were filled with steam, and not a hint of the precious oxygen needed to keep his heart flowing and thoughts iron bolted in a plausible reality.

The other boys had kicked their blankets to the ground too, yet somehow many of them manage to curl up into a desperate position, pleading for slumber, and having their wish granted to them. Friedrich remained unlucky in this regard, and was forced to silently curse the week long heatwave, brow furrowed, eyes fixed at the fluorescent white ceiling, augmented by the blue light flooding in from the moon. He counted each crater, recounting the memory of his feud with Albrecht earlier that evening.

The shy poet insisted that he wasn't in love, despite the gaping silences and pensive stares aimed at anything far away. Friedrich knew better; he knew quite well the small framed, delicate eyed German had someone on his mind. He was generally a talkative boy; Friedrich knew his thoughts were longing for someone when he watched his friend, who sat watching the moon, perched some several thousands of miles away, domineering, as it had reached its highest potential that evening; its brightness certainly didn't help conceal his desperate glances, his strained longing, his watery tears...

A jolt of embarrassment shoots through him as he remembers the way he wiped the falling tears from Albrecht's full cheeks, the brunette rushing away, afraid of his own emotions, his apparent inability to keep it all hidden; he wouldn't cry if he had it all under control.

Friedrich moves to kick his pillow out of aggravation, but becomes more disgusted by his sweaty condition, his chest, shoulders, underarms, forehead, and inner thighs drenched with unpleasant smelling excretion of salt and water. He could smell the intensifying sweat of the others, but their battered and uneven breaths begged for him to leave them be; that they had only just received a bit of unconsciousness, to wake them up only to tell them they smell would be torture.

Lying there brought nothing. Friedrich knows his racing mind and heart was as steadfast as the drought itself, refusing to let go as if life depended on the throbbing heat, and that he had to find some way to occupy himself until morning.

He sits up, pulling the white undershirt from his chest, the cotton clinging to his drenched back, the undershirt very much soaked like his sheets. He grimaces, letting it drop to the ground, landing with an unpleasant and uncharacteristic wet plop against the hardwood floor. He lets his fingers rake through his moist, unparted blonde hair, his mind debating on what the next appropriate course of action was.

"Friedrich..." a voice calls, the blonde jumping softly, recognizing it as none other than Albrecht. Why would the brunette be calling his name at this hour? Perhaps he was being too loud?

"Sorry, it's just so hot..." Friedrich whispers, the brunette mumbling and shifting, a soft moan of inattentiveness wafting into the blonde's ears.

"Friedrich..." he calls again, Friedrich stiff and somewhat reptilian like, waiting for Albrecht to mutter his name again before responding, to make sure the heat hadn't turned him delusional just yet.

"Albrecht...?" Friedrich whispers, climbing from his bunk slowly, the metal creaking the way beds often do. He sighs, Friedrich's feet suctioned to the floor, the arches of his feet using the sweat like a headstrong adhesive, clamping against the humid hardwood floor. He stands quietly next to the Albrecht's bunk, confused as he doesn't respond back; he'd called him twice, Friedrich was sure of this. He brings his foot to begin climbing the short ladder to reach his top bunk, scoffing at the feel of his underpants clasped to his wet legs.

"Albrecht..." Friedrich whispers quietly, leaning over the railing and peering at the brunette, who lies still fully clothed under his blankets, the sight alone nearly causing Friedrich to pass out, the mere idea absolutely unbearable in these conditions.

He shifts, asleep but still barely conscious, reacting to the sound of his voice. He lies still once more, however, obviously having fallen back asleep. Friedrich sighs, knowing full well the poor thing must be burning up. He unwraps the blanket from around him, tossing it to the ground, brushing the hair from his red, moist face.

Placing the back of his hand against his forehead, he nearly groans, pulling his hand back instantly; his forehead was burning, poor thing, and Friedrich lets himself fall, grabbing his washcloths for the communal shower, slipping to the bathroom and soaking them with cool water. He tries his best to make as little noise as possible upon coming back seconds later, crawling quietly up the ladder, the small bunk barely big enough for the both of them.

He places a freezing rag against Albrecht's face, bringing it gently across his cheeks, across his pouting, full lips...his breathing eases, Friedrich placing the rag on top of Albrecht's forehead, brushing his brown hair from his face softly with his fingers.

Albrecht shifts again, as if unaware that Fredrich'd long since done away with the blanket. He breathes a bit harder, his lips parting slightly, Friedrich furrowing his brow from concentrated confusion, for Albrecht's back arches slightly, calling Friedrich's name softly before falling back against the bed, groaning and flushed.

Friedrich looks around, relieved that none of the other boys seem to be awake and aware of the strange situation, for a barely clothed, sweaty Friedrich to be lying next to a flustered and blushing Albrecht in his own bunk would most certainly provide fodder for a particularly cruel and assumed rumour.

"Albrecht, hey...what's...?" he asks, quiet and gentle, patting the brunette awake, his blue eyes opening slightly, breaking their fleshy concealants. He sits up, Friedrich shifting so as to give Albrecht a bit more room, the boy bringing a hand to his forehead.

"Friedrich...!" he gasps quietly, his face, turning a deep pink as his eyes widen, etched with ethereal shock as Friedrich once again begins glaring at him from confusion, Albrecht averting his gaze.

"What're you doing up here-?"

"I came to see what all the fuss was about, you were calling MY name!"

"What?" Albrecht blushes further, shaking his head no, tearing his gaze away as Friedrich follows his flustered eyes, a smile spreading on his lips.

"Yeah, MY name!"

"No, that's impossible-why would I be calling calling you?"

"Look, why don't you tell me? And a thank you would be nice while you're at it, you know, I saved you from combusting in your blankets, you were so hot-"

"Shush, I don't have time for this! Go back to sleep before you wake the others-"

"What're you blushing for-?"

"I'm not! I'm just-I'm hot about to combust, you could say-you'll wake everyone up, now go!" Albrecht snaps nervously, Friedrich shaking his head, bringing Albrecht's gaze back to his own, tilting his chin-

"No, you're always so pink when you blush, and it's only your cheeks like now..." Friedrich argues, Albrecht silently giving in as his rosy cheeks deepen, his flawless eyes gazing into Friedrich's like a helplessly cornered child, his soft features relaxed in a tempting shock.

Friedrich didn't know if it was right to mention it, but that night was not the first one in which he heard Albrecht calling for him there had been countless others, dispersed throughout all the beautiful seasons, on nights as comfortable as nature could possibly allow herself to be.

Every once in a while, Albrecht's soft calls for him would jolt him awake, the brunette typically calling, nearly begging for him, the call of his name growing less and less sure, as if something were stifling his sense of emotions, his voice straining from what Friedrich hesitantly identified as pleasure too embarrassed to actually assess the situation, he mostly just lied there, eyes wide as he listened to his friend call for him mysteriously, only to hear the begging die out some five minutes later.

Tonight, in his sleeplessness, Friedrich thought it an appropriate enough night to investigate the situation. Yet here he was, leaning, closing Albrecht against his own bed, Albrecht gazing warily at the handsome blonde, Albrecht pushing him softly.

"You smell..." Albrecht grimaces, Friedrich lifting up an arm and contorting his face from the rancid stench.

"Yeah well, I'm only human..." Friedrich jokes, Albrecht drawing his knees to his chest, Friedrich stroking his cheek softly, dropping his hands from against it seconds later.

"Calm down. Don't be so flustered, there's nothing wrong-unless you're blushing because you're hiding something..." Friedrich grins, Albrecht, however, much less than amused.

"Frie...go to bed," he snaps, reaching as if grabbing for the blanket, gasping softly as he leans over the railing, the uncomfortable cotton square lying in a heap next to the bed.

"Hey, I didn't say you could move that-!"

"Sorry, you looked so uncomfortable-!"

"Don't just don't just touch my things!" Albrecht whimpers, Friedrich scoffing, staring at his best friend disbelievingly.

"Calm down, Albrecht, what's gotten into you?" he snaps, Christoph groaning out of irritation the boys obviously growing a little loud.

"Get out of my bed, Friedrich!" Albrecht commands, the blonde jumping to the floor, Albrecht watching his smelly friend moodily as he grabs a towel, opening the bedroom door and slipping through it, closing it irritably behind him.

"Psst...hey," Friedrich whispers softly in Albrecht's ear, the brunette shifting himself awake, eyes opening once more.

"Oh Lord, what...?"

"I wanna tell you something..."

"Frie...can't this wait 'till morning?"

"Guess who I just saw?" Friedrich whispers, Albrecht, who's now wrapped under his blankets once more, shifting closer to Friedrich, leaning his head against the palm of his hand, hoisting himself up by his elbow.

"Who?" Albrecht sighs impatiently, Friedrich's gorgeous features expanding into a blissful smile.

"Katharina,"

"Oh..." the bruenette sighs, falling silent. Friedrich extends a hand, which trails along his cheek again, trying to coax him out of his moody irritation, but Albrecht turns away from him, Friedrich hurt as he attempts to bring Albrecht's gaze to meet his, the bruenette defiant and sniffing emotionally.

"That kitchen girl, right?"

"Yeah she didn't tell me to go to bed and she blushed the whole time we talked I think she may like me..."

"Great..."

"Albrecht, what's wrong?" Friedrich whispers with a caring sincerity, the brunette sniffing again, shaking his head no.

"Nothing...go to bed, Friedrich," he whispers, Friedrich all too aware of the strained tears held back in his voice, the blonde stroking his best friend's hair caringly before climbing down the ladder.

"You can tell me anything, Albrecht," he whispers up to him softly, Albrecht however silent, save a quiet sob that finally breaks through his soundless breech moments later.

He heard it again; Albrecht calling his name. His eyes opened swiftly, as if he'd been lying there, ready for the brunette to call his name longingly. The temperature had begun to let up, thank God, and Friedrich reads 4:30 upon the wristwatch that lies against his bedside table.

For the third time that night, the blonde slips from his bunk with a formidable, untraceable silence, glancing up at the brunette who lies wrapped in his blankets atop his bunk, Friedrich's name echoing softly, barely audible; frankly, one would probably not notice the name calling if they didn't know to listen for it.

"Friedrich !" Albrecht calls somewhat desperately, Friedrich looking up with a sudden jolt at the boy above him, whose face contorts pleasantly, as if under the influence from some inexplicable source of careless, time stopping joy or ecstasy, Albrecht moaning quietly as his muscles relax once more.

Friedrich remains rooted, captivated by the brunette's heavy breathing, soft moans slipping past his lips, the muttering of his name nullifying Friedrich's thought process. It takes another ten minutes for Albrecht's breathing to even out, and sure enough, the boy is asleep once Friedrich finally dares to steal a glance at his slumbering best friend.

Clasped in his hand, a picture of Friedrich he must've stolen from the archives, the blankets kicked off his body, Friedrich's eyes frozen at the sight of his calm friend, who sleeps, unaware of Friedrich staring.

He shifts and mutters something, startling Friedrich just enough so he crawls back into his bed, his mind filled with the memory of all the confusing emotions swimming inside him, his eyes closing shut as they overload his thoughts, unable to comprehend them any longer.

Albrecht could feel the rising sun upon his face; he loved the warmth it provided, even after nights like the previous one, where his skin baked mercilessly under summer's influence. He loved those singing birds, the doves that seemed fit to call only him back to consciousness. He didn't want to wake up. Not yet. The peace within him was still circulating throughout his fibers and bones and soul and being, and to be ripped away from it in that very moment seemed unrelenting for sunrises.

The room was cool, the air dry and cleansing, the sweaty stress of the night before gone completely. He knew part of his serene mood was due to the various dreams he experienced in the few hours of sleep he actually got, proof of their existence crusted against his abdomen, where his self restraint gave way in the name of Friedrich Weimer.

The aftermath of the dreams were worse to him than flat out masturbation; even if he DID ever choose to masturbate over Friedrich, it was at least of his own accord, of his own acceptance and acknowledgment of a sexual attraction. Seeing as dreams were simply uncontrollable manifestations of one's deepest, unspoken desires, they left him in a particularly pensive mood, unable to run away from the truth; no matter how much he denied it whilst awake, his body, mind, and soul knew the truth, expressing himself only when his barriers were shut, his wants and feelings the only ones in control. He wanted Friedrich; he wanted him badly-what he didn't want was to admit it.

The crusted feel against his body served as an embarrassing reminder about these truths and realities Albrecht tried for many reasons to repress and ignore. He would continue to repress and ignore them until the next night, when calling Friedrich's name, and namely without his consenting knowledge.

Albrecht shifts, pinned down by an unidentifiable weight, causing him to spring awake and gasp, his eyes locking with Friedrich's. His heart begins to race violently, the blonde, who straddles him, pinning him with his hips, their lower bodies concealed under the cotton blanket.

"Morning," the blonde winks, stroking him into a complacent shock with one hand, the other doing away with the buttons of Albrecht's pajama shirt. Spreading the fabric so Albrecht's chest is displayed in all it's glory. Friedrich's smile grows suggestive as he lies atop his best friend, their glistening chests pressed together.

"Frie..." Albrecht whispers, the blonde grinning as he kisses the corners of Albrecht's mouth, Albrecht's hands clenching themselves in Friedrich's sleep tousled hair.

"Sounded like you were having quite a dream last night..." Friedrich growls in an uncharacteristically suggestive tone. His right hand moves to push a few strands from Albrecht's eyes, the brunette's irregular breathing, wide eyes, and flushed face implying either a deep fear or a serious suppression of sexual need.

"Friedrich..." he whispers, looking around left and right at the other boys, a couple of their snores loud enough to mask the blonde's deep, seductive voice.

"Oh Frie..." he moans, his back arching, his breath faltering, eyes closing shut as he moans once more, Friedrich grinding their hips together teasingly.

"You should tell me what it was about," he winks, Albrecht gasping as Friedrich's right hand moves from his hair and into Albrecht's underpants, the brunette jumping nervously.

"I think I already know..."

"They often say it means quite a lot when best friends dream about the same thing..." he whispers, Albrecht blushing before Friedrich lies him flat against his bed.

"We have ten minutes left to finish this dream before Jaucher wakes us up..." he whispers, Albrecht swallowing before running his hands across the blonde's broad chest, pulling his lips so they press softly against his own, their kiss breaking with a soft, echoing smack that stifles all other sound amongst the other sleeping boys.

Albrecht moans quietly as Friedrich begins to make love to him, but they do so soundlessly, as not to disturb the sleeping others around them. It was amazing, he could feel himself climax just as the sun peaked from beyond the bottom of the horizon, as the sky transitioned from a light pink to a powder blue, a premonition of the wonderful summer day that was before them.

Albrecht panted against his blonde lover, his semen spent, Friedrich collapsing his weight onto that of his best friend shortly after him, their stomachs doused in proof of their desire for the other. They kissed deeply, pulling apart just as a loud knock ruptured their peace, Albrecht stroking Friedrich's face within the same second he plopped down from his bunk, a whistle blowing signaling for the start of their day.

No one knew anything of the last ten minutes, as it was typically the best part of a dream; only the dreamers could remember the blissful imagery their mind concocted of their heart's deepest desires.