Fighting For Love

XI - New Directions

    Hi, guys :)

    I know it's been quite a long time and I owe you an apology, so, I'm sorry.
   
    I just want you to know that I'm back writing my story, so it shouldn't take too long for me to post another one.

    As always, good reading to everyone and thank you for your patience.

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   Chapter 11: New Directions

May the 9th, 1940. 6:00

Warsaw, Poland

   After months in Warsaw, we finally received orders to move to a new target. This time, it's France, Germany's biggest enemy since the times of the Empire.

   I woke up earlier, as, unfortunately, the wake-up-before-sunrise routine was back for good. I opened my eyes and sat up, trying to find the strength to leave the warmth of my bed in that cold day. It's funny how it was almost summer and the mornings were still as cold as they were in winter.

   Otto was already up and with an enviable disposition, walking from left to right and humming a tune he heard on Natasza's pub a few days ago.

   "How can you possibly be so excited so soon?" I asked, still sleepy from the sudden change in my routine. "I'm half-alive at best!"

   "Soon? Why, the Sun is about to rise! we've done that before, haven't we? Now get up! I don't want to be scolded by Hünessdorf. I've been more than fine without that, thank you very much."

   I sighed and laid back in bed. "Just five more minutes."

    I rolled on my side to face the wall and not the open window, as I cannot sleep while it's bright.

   For a minute, all I heard was the sound of the wind passing through the trees' branches. Not even a single step from Otto. When I was about to fall asleep again, something jumped over me. It was him.

   "Get up!" He said, while tickling me. I started laughing nonstop.

   "That's not fair!" I somehow managed to say.

   He stopped tickling me and I noticed ours bodies were very close to each other. My breath almost synchronized with his.

   "I'm awake," I whispered, afraid that saying something in my usual tone of voice would ruin this moment. "Are you happy, now?"

   "Very much so."

    He was so close to me that I wish I could pull him for a kiss. And perhaps I can.

   After months living together, I would expect something to have happened between us; I would expect our relationship to, somehow, develop and grow past this excruciating status-quo of never being anything more than a drunken kiss on a rainy Frankfurter night. But here I was again: wanting him so badly and not being able to lock my lips on his.

   "Now, come!" He got off of me and sat up. "Let's grab a cup of coffee: I'm sure it will help you feel better."

   He tapped my thigh over the blanket and got up.

   "See you downstairs," he said before closing the door.

   There was no reason to postpone it: I'd have to get up sooner or later. I am not dismissed from my commitments to the country, so it's not like I have another option but to follow the rules.