L'Allemand et l'alliée (Englisch, Reylo)

chapter 6

Sighing, I sit at the lunch table and drink a glass of wine after Florille has left the house. It's suddenly so quiet here, all alone, but I know how to enjoy it. I look down at the glass that is still half full and now look around the room again, but suddenly the front door is opened and someone falls in.

"Hello, who is there?" I ask confused and stand up, but leave the glass standing. I walk carefully to the door and see Ben who is just closing the door. There is a distinct purple spot on the side of his lower jaw, and his lip is bleeding too.  I stare at him, a little shocked, but he only smiles modestly.  "It is not so bad." He licks the blood away. "Yes, come on." I go ahead into the kitchen and grab the wet rag from just now.  "Sit down." I point to a chair and pull my chair over to him.  I quickly sit down in front of him and carefully dab the wound. A distinctly small crack that wouldn't stop bleeding.

"What happened?" I ask him quickly. "Got one on my mouth," he just laughs at it again, but I'm just staying serious. "I already noticed that." I look sarcastically in his eyes. "Because of the hat, my captain said I should take better care of my things. He was really pissed off," he explains quietly. "Your hat is back there, by the way." I point to the kitchen counter and he immediately turns his head in that direction. "It's great that it's lying there," he laughs sarcastically and looks back at me.

"There should be a plaster on it." I push the rag into his hand, but he refuses. "No, that's not necessary. It's not that bad." I turn to him suspiciously. "Are you sure?" I dig into it and he nods reassuringly. "Yes, definitely. May I?" He points to the wine glass and I nod indistinctly. He quickly leaned over and reached for it to take a long sip.

I go backwards carefully and quietly go up the stairs again. I knew it was wrong, and I had gotten into trouble for it the day before, but I walk briskly towards his room door with the piano key. But it was locked.

"I knew you would be back."  But suddenly Ben stood behind me. "I uh ... I'm sorry. I just wanted ...", I tried to justify myself, but he opened the door. "I know what you wanted, you can play, right?"  He read me out and hesitantly I stepped inside. Without having said anything to his question, I sit on the piano stool and put the key in the lock. He had put his hands in his trouser pockets and just watched with a grin as I tried not to appear untalented. I open the piano and look up first at his sheet music and then at him. His smile is getting smaller. "I can't play," I mumble, barely audible. "But you've tried it before, haven't you?" He asks and I shake my head. "No, Florille won't allow me. She doesn't like the piano." I look down, but he sits down next to me. He put his fingers motionless on the keys and looks at me from the side, but I only had eyes for the keys. I'm waiting to see what will come next.

One light tone sounded softly after the other. A quiet melody now surrounded us and I loved to listen to it.

"I want to learn too," I whisper quietly so as not to interrupt him. I heard him exhale, smiling, and he nodded. "Yeah, of course," he stopped and turned to me. He grabbed my hands and carefully placed my fingers on the keys. "It's actually very easy to start with because it's slow," he explains, looking up at me again. But he leaned cautiously towards me, as he too notices how my eyes bind his.

Hesitantly, he puts his lips on mine. However, he lets go of me again and looks questioningly into my eyes.  "Ben ...", I was just about to point out that neither of us should do this because it's wrong, but he interrupted me.  "Let the others fight each other", was the only thing that came from him. "But you belong to them. You are at war with the others too," I object.  "But you too, and your mother-in-law. You hate us and your husband," he noticed and he sits up straight again. "And your wife," I add and he nods.  "What did you want to say?" He chops quickly and distracts from our two married couples.  "That that is wrong." I tilt my head "Then let's do it because it's wrong. Exactly because the others don't want it," he begs quietly. "We're not a made-up play by Shakespeare. We're in a real war," I countered, but his argument was just more influential than mine. I quickly pressed my lips to his again.