|Warm Hands, Warm Heart
Author: Babydracky PM
Friedrich thinks about Albrecht and their friendship, coming to a conclusion.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Friendship/Romance - Words: 495 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 2 - Published: 05-15-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8118663
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
It has rained for days so it feels so good to be sitting in the wild grass under the sun now.
They've trained in the rain and the mud for weeks, today they'll learn to fly in the bright sky, learn how to become better soldiers. Friedrich loves this school, he has already learnt so much here. He does belong here.
He slowly looks at Albrecht who is sitting next to him. They're always together nowadays. The boy has become a part of him in a couple of days. He is so very nice and smart and unexpectedly Friedrich thinks his place isn't here. Though, he likes that he is, that he is being his friend.
- What is it? Asked Albrecht, his eyes still closed, his smiling face facing the sun.
- What? Answered Friedrich.
- You're staring, said Albrecht matter of fact now looking straight at him.
- I was just thinking that you were certainly composing a song in your head, that's all, smiled Friedrich.
- You're teasing me! Laughed Albrecht.
- Nope! I think your songs are beautiful.
Albrecht smiles to him but doesn't answer and turns his face towards the sun.
They sat in silence for a while. They came early and they'll wait for the others for an hour at last but it feels good to be outside and together.
When Friedrich feels something warm brush his fingers he slowly turns his head. Albrecht has lied on the grass and closed his eyes once again. One arm was on his eyes, the other gently lies next to his.
It is so smaller than his own, paler too.
Friedrich can't help himself to look at that hand with clean nails and so frail fingers. Friedrich would never question Albrecht's virility but his place isn't here. He shouldn't hold weapons, shouldn't learn how to fight. He is born to be kindness, a doctor perhaps.
- You're staring again, says Albrecht, barely a whisper.
And he is right; Friedrich was looking at his delicate features once again.
Like a butterfly's wing, Albrecht's fingers carefully brush against his hand, they gently but nonetheless shyly caress his skin. Friedrich shivers at the queer touch. The boy's hand is warmer than this sunny day. Friedrich remembers a saying his mother told him as a child; to warm hands, warm heart.
This is so very true. Albrecht is the very best person Friedrich ever had the chance to meet. He is so grateful to have him in his life and in this moment he promises himself he will do anything for this boy, anything.
Slowly he turns his hand, palm against palm, feeling Albrecht's warmth spreading through his veins. They stay like that for a while knowing that they'll have to break apart as soon as someone will arrive. Until then, their entwined fingers make them belong to each other like never before.