So It Goes

Date/Timing: 5 February 2006
Setting: Sabine's flat; Berlin, Germany
.
„I'm /totally gonna beat you this time,“ crows Bastien, plunking onto the sofa.
„He's /totally right, you know,“ adds Sabine, settling next to him.
Bastien preens.
„I'll believe it when it happens, Bunny.“ Dietrich smirks, inclining his head toward the chess board. „Do your worst.“
„Oh, I /will.“
Hermann sighs and curls up tighter in the flat's fluffiest armchair, a mug of tea on the side table and a letter from Manchester in his hand.
- Dear Hermann,
First, I hope your stuff made it to you in the same shape it left us. We were /really careful, whatever Bakshish said. I don't know /what your sister saw in that guy.
Anyway ...
Please don't hate me because I "misplaced" a couple of your shirts into my closet. I just wanted something that still smelled like you to help me through rough patches.
Like the last few days, honestly.
The semester starts tomorrow and I'm about beside myself. Rhys is threatening to sit on me so I stop fidgeting. I don't think it's help, but.
Grades came out yesterday, so I asked around the programme and, assuming you came out on top (which I'm /sure you did), I ended up about fifth. -
Hermann blinks.
- I messed up my exams. Big-style.
Like, I scored maybe three-quarters of what I should've-style. -
Hermann winces.
„Everything alright, Manny?“
„It's fine.“
„No, it's not,“ sniffs Bastien. „I can tell. What happened?“
„He botched his exams and lost his position at the top of the programme.“
Bastien wrinkles his forehead. „Is that bad?“
Hermann rest his hand against his neck. „Depending on his exact scores, he may have damaged his GPA too much to be accepted to the doctoral programme he wants.“
„Oh. So he might not be able to get into the same school as you when you go back.“
Hermann swallows, nods.
„But he's really smart, right?“
„Yes.“
Bastien frowns.
„It's like the Abitur, Bunny. It doesn't matter how smart you /actually are: you have to do well on the test or it doesn't count to the school people.“
„That's /stupid.“
Dietrich shrugs helplessly. „Maybe, but it's the way things work.“
„It's still stupid,“ huffs Bastien.
„I couldn't agree more,“ says Sabine.
Bastien beams at her.
„I'm sure he'll be able to raise his average,“ Dietrich assures. „He has plenty of time.“
Hermann shakes his head, mumbles, „Without me to help him with maths, though ....“
„He'll manage, I'm sure.“
Hermann grunts, returns to his reading.
- I still have my scholarship, which keeps me from limping back home with my tail between my legs.
I'm disappointed with me, but I /will make it up this term. I'm not letting you get /too far ahead of me. -
Hermann sighs.
- I guess I shouldn't assume you kicked ass on your exams considering how weird it must've been to write them on your own with a proctor breathing down your neck.
Who'm I kidding? This's /you. I'd be /amazed if you missed a /single point. -
Hermann's face heats.
- The rest of programme people I talked to all hope you're doing well and say they'll miss you this term.
Iggy pretty much smoked her exams. She'll be on the Dean's list when it comes out. (She wonders if she sent enough Hobnobs, by the way.)
Rhys did /just enough to keep his scholarship apparently. He calls it "efficiency in studies". I call it "underachieving".
I /was thinking of running for office in one of the LGBT groups on campus, but after the exam fiasco, I think I need to stick to studying. Especially since I don't have you to handhold me through the maths.
If I die this term, it'll be because of maths.
I expect you to avenge me.
Rhys is saying it's time for dinner, so I guess I have to sign off.
Wishing we were together to hold hands under the stars.
496 days and counting down.
Love,
Edan
Manchester
29 Jan. '06 -
Hermann wipes his eyes on his sleeve.
„What's happening?“ asks Bastien.
„Just ... just missing him.“
Bastien looks to Sabine.
„Think about how you felt when Manny left and multiply it by ten,“ she prompts.
Bastien ... slides off the sofa, pads over, hugs Hermann tight.
„What's this for?“
„I'm sorry,“ mumbles Bastien.
„It's nothing to do with you.“
„But you shouldn't have to hurt like this.“
Hermann squeezes, says nothing.
Bastien takes a deep breath, pulls away.
„Thank you,“ rasps Hermann.
„You're welcome.“ Bastien smiles, returns to the couch and his chess game.
Hermann sighs, eases to his feet (under Bastien's watchful eyes), leans on his cane, and retreats to the kitchen.
He pulls the box from its place in the pantry, extracts a handful of unicorn-bedecked paper and a pen, and settles into a chair at the table to write.
- 5 Feb 2006
Berlin, Germany
Dear Edan,
The two extra shirts which appeared among my possessions /more than make up for any "misplaced".
Vigsai's selection of snacks lasted two days because Bastien found them. I don't understand how someone so small can eat so much and not burst.
Fear not that I will go into withdrawal as Sente (one of Sabine's flatmates) has introduced us to a cornershop which stocks all manner of delicacies from Britain. We had to pry a case of Hobnobs out of Bastien's hands; there was very nearly a fight.
My exam scores came back as you predicted, so I end my career as an astrophysics major at the University of Manchester on top.
My congratulations to Vigsai on her achievement and I'm pleased Rhys will continue to be a thorn in your side for at least another semester. -
He taps the pen against his lips.
- Do you have an idea of what happened on your exams? Test anxiety? Problems with the maths? Perhaps there's a tutor available to take my place? (With regards to maths, not your affections.)
I sincerely doubt you will require avenging. I have confidence in your ability to rise to the challenge posed by anything standing between you and the stars. I suspect nothing short of a cometary impact could keep you away from your date with the Lovell.
While TU Berlin has an astrophysics programme, my heart doesn't seem to be in it anymore. Leaving Manchester like I have seems to have left a sour taste in my mouth. Maybe I'll switch to a straight physics or mathematics programme. I want the stars, but ... they aren't the same here. They're less entrancing, less /worthy somehow. I know that's not /literally true, but it /feels true.
I don't really understand.
I certainly /won't be taking up robotics as my father suggests. I have no interest in machines. Correction: I have no interest in designing machines; admiring and using them is a different matter entirely.
Have I mentioned how my grandfather and I used to assemble models for fun? There's an entire library of aircraft from WWII in the attic here. Many of them are British types, in fact—my grandfather having a special affection for the people who sacrificed so much allow his family to return to their ancestral home in Germany. How all of the minuscule parts fit together to make steel /soar fascinates me, as does the way they fly in a manner both so different and so similar to how a bird does. -
One of his wings struggles to flutter.
Hermann internally scolds the limb, shuffles it into a marginally more comfortable position against his back.
- Next week, to keep myself occupied until the start of the term (April!!!), I start intensive language tutoring: Russian three days a week, Japanese and French one day each. I'd add Gaelic, but I haven't been able to locate a proper teacher.
Agus mar sin tha e a 'dol, yea?
I'll keep looking, though.
Maybe if I advance quickly enough, I can begin electives or general requirements with transferable credits. I desperately want to finish my schooling here as close to my birthday as humanly possible so I can /get /out.
I'll feel terrible leaving Bastien behind again as Father seems even more harsh with him than he is to me (my current state of house arrest aside), but I have to consider my own health and sanity. Dietrich and Sabine will be here to protect him if I manage to escape until he can do likewise.
Why does life have to be so /complicated?
One thing that's not complicated?
How happy every message from you makes me. I can only hope you feel the same way about receiving mine.
489 days to wait.
All my love,
Hermann -
Hermann checks his words, sighs. He addresses the envelope to Manchester, tucks the note inside.
A silent ten-count and he hauls himself to his feet and back to the sitting room.
Category:Ficlet
Category:Berlin (setting)
Category:Hermann
Category:Hermann's POV
Category:Hermann has wings
Category:Hermann (ficlet)
Category:Bastien
Category:Bastien (ficlet)
Category:Sabine
Category:Sabine (ficlet)
Category:Dietrich
Category:Dietrich (ficlet)
Category:Edan
Category:Edan (ficlet)
Category:Conversations via snail mail
Category:Bakshish (mention)
Category:Karla (mention)
Category:Rhys (mention)
Category:Vigsai (mention)
Category:Sente (mention)
Category:Lars (mention)
Category:Klaus (mention)
Category:Ficlets with images