Chapter Text
6 am. The heart flutters its wings, quietly, so no one can see it’s beating for someone special
The lights of the Fernsehturm are blinking, tiny red dots still visible at sunrise. The air smells like night, but you can tell a new morning is breaking through its veil.
Janik is sitting on the club roof. A mere metres beneath him people are still dancing. It's like in a fairy tale when a spell is cast: outside, time passes, its rules are still valid, but in the enchanted world everything stays the same, untouched, immutable. A mere metres beneath him the beat goes on, the clocks have stopped and the night has no ending. He feels he is sitting on a pulsating heart, beating 120 beats per minute, almost as intensely as his own heart.
His legs hurt, so he gets up to take some steps around. The red bricks and green roofs of the city hall stand out in the light morning fog. The boy sitting next to him is looking at the city displayed around them. For a moment he casts his eyes down and a smirk blossoms on his face. Janik loves that smirk, a smile waiting to happen, rippling beneath the surface. But it is just a shadow that soon disappears, replaced by a sigh.
"I think I need to go now."
A light touch on his shoulder, steps shuffling to the door, a metal thud and he's gone.
Sadness and relief wash over him: he wants him back, but he is grateful he is still in one piece. The bruise on his own ribcage still hurts.
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7 am. When the object of desire is gone, the heart slows its pace, lies down and waits
Janik stays on the roof until the music stops. He stays there until he hears the metal thud of the door again and another touch on his shoulder, which makes him stand up and leave. He likes walking home with Robert, his flatmate who works as a promoter at the club: he always has plenty to tell about his working nights - the music, the intrigues, the money, the drugs.
Today he listens, but part of his mind is rewinding the night he has just spent with Danilo. Blonde hair, pale blue eyes, expensive clothes, stacked golden rings and that smirk, always teasing and leaving space for more. More blondness, more kisses, more sweat smelling like violets and gasoline on hot pavement, more gold reflecting on his own skin, more smooth consonants, shifting accents, words coming from the back of the tongue. Last night trickled away too quickly and left him unsatisfied.
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7.30 am. Deprived of rest, the heart functions pointlessly
Once home, they retreat into their own bedrooms. Robert can sleep all morning because he will be back to the club in the late afternoon, but Janik has got only one hour before going to the hospital where he works as paramedic.
His mind is tired, hazy from lack of sleep, and his heart is still beating like a drum, no more following the tune of the band, but alone. A random story comes to his mind - the British drummer forced to play his instrument on the roof of a studio, and left there to play after all his mates had left. He is that drummer: he still has a purpose but he longs for company, because what is the point in playing alone?
He tries to sleep but soon realises sleep won't come. He isn't coming down but there is something in his blood stream that makes him feel wired, his body almost buzzing. He could get up and go to work before his shift started, but he decides to stay in bed to try and sort his feelings. Sparse bits of conversation from the night before flash upon his memory, and shreds of sensations that haven't left him yet. The pressure of the Russian's stacked rings on his neck and "more" coming out in ragged whispers from his own mouth. Two massive rings on each hand ("Italian jewellery. This shape is inspired to the Coliseum" in rounded consonants), which is ridiculous because they hinder his movements, clanking against each other all the time. Or the key Janik wears as a pendant around his neck ("Is it the key to your heart, Doctor?" in raspy consonants and a smirk). Or the slowness of their kisses. Or the tension he feels in his belly, a tightly-tied knot which now is finally coming undone. Arrogant promises ("I will come and find you again. And it will take me less than five minutes") and scraps of ordinary life ("My brother is an over-controlling jerk").
He twists and turns on his bed until the alarm clock says it is time to go.