This moment in 1920

This moment in 1920 {EN}

[This story is in 1920 in Germany]

When we were young, we were always together, laughing, aventuring, talking with each other. I started having feelings with you. It was.. weird. But I loved it. I loved you.

I remember when I confessed my feelings to you. I aprehended. I was scared. Scared that this would affect our friendship, scared that you would say no. And if you would have said yes, scared of the judgement if others.
How would they reacted if they knew there was a gay couple in their village? Probably badly.
But I took this risk at two hands,
I will kiss my certain mistake, or my certain happiness. Outside, under our favorite tree.
" Bebert?
It's how I called you before, or it's how the village, called you before.
- Yea?
- I have something to tell you...."
Your brown eyes stared at me, hungry to know more about what I was about to tell you. You didn't respond, knowing at my voice that it was really important.
- I tought of this for a few months now... and...
- And...?"
I didn't dare to do this. I didn't want this. My voice paralysed itself, but my heart screamed to do so.
" You scare me Dimitri, goddang it what's happening?!"
Your voice was sad, your eyes searching to read into mines.
" I LOVE YOU!! Dang it Albert, I love you, okay?!"
You didn't respond, you just stared at me with surprised eyes.
You went closer to me and put your lips on mine. I was surprised, you didn't reject me!
And it's how, at 15 years old, we started to hang out.

Because of this relation, I wanted to tell my parents and friends. But you were septic.
" It's great to tell them, but they're probably homophobic and our friends have a lots of chance to be homophobic too! I don't want to be separated from you..."
It was your advice. And to be honest, you were right. A sad smile was on your face while you were carefully leant on my stomach, during this cold spring. I put my arms aroud you giving you an encouraging hug.
**

December 19th 1926. We were 21 now. We loved each other like the first day, and, even if the wedding between persons of same gender was greatly disaprouved and forbidden, I wanted, from all my heart to be your husband. Lise, a childhood friend, conscious of my relation with Albert and actually daughter of a priest, helped me organizing this wedding. We could marry each other! Illegally, of course, but we could. I was so happy that I cried. And so did you.

But all this happiness got away from a day to another. We went drinking at the village's bar, like all Friday of a boring week. How many beers did we had? I don't know. I don't remember. I was too drunk to know. You weren't that drunk, actually.
I will always remember of your laugh, when I yelled, half drunk, a big "I love you" in front of everyone in the bar, with, -because of my level of alcohol high- my russian accent thickened. The friends with us also laughed, but I only heard your laugh, and your response; a quiet "I love you too" almost whispered. It started to be very late, and the bar got us out because of this. And also because of the tons of liters of beers that we drank. You accompanied me home, or better, you dragged me home. You went out after that, but I should have protested.
The morning after, the police officers found you dead, stabbed 14th times with a knife, and the fingers wearing our ring, cut off. I almost vomited, tears running down my faces by hundreds. My parents and yours wanted to confort me, but they thought that I only lost a best friend, a "brother" , but the truth is worst. I lost my husband, and the love of my life. But they will never know.

And here I am, on my couch, crying out loud a photo taken with you, reminding me of the times you were here.

****
Yikes. I like depressing stuffs !