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The ice groaned beneath the weight of the boys as they stood in a rigid line, shivering in the bitter grip of winter. The lake stretched out before them, a white cast broken only by the gaping black hole in the ice. As the wind howled low and drowned out almost all other noise, the trainer’s bark cut through the eerie stillness.
“Swim to the other side!” the man snapped, his voice devoid of sympathy, his eyes sharp on the face of the brown haired boy before him. Albrecht stood at the edge in only his underwear, clothes discarded to the side, his pale face taut with dread but also an unsettling calm. A few steps away, Friedrich’s breath puffed visibly in the cold air, as he got out of the water just moments earlier, and quickly put his old brown uniform on again. His wide eyes darted to his friend, who seemed so still he could have been carved from the ice itself. The short boy stepped forward with a deliberate slowness, his thin frame trembling not only from the cold but also from the weight of something unseen, something heavy. Still looking over to his friend, a terrible feeling made home in the blonde boy's chest.
Friedrich’s voice was a soft whisper, barely heard over the wind: “Albrecht, don’t.”
Albrecht couldn't have heard him, but he took one last glance at the boy who stole his heart the moment he stepped foot into Allenstein, and their blue eyes met. His lips barely moved as he exhaled, taking a last deep breath of air. Then, without hesitation, he slid into the black water. The surface swallowed him in an instant, and nature seemed to hold its breath.
***
Under the water, time slowed, each second stretching into eternity. The icy darkness surrounded Albrecht, numbing his skin, his body, his racing thoughts. He began to reach for the thick rope Christoph had swam to the other side of the hole with, using it to slowly push himself towards the other end. Only a few more movements and he’d resurface again, but suddenly the boy stopped.
“What was the point in all of this? All this pain and endless suffering. Those poor children they shot in the woods who were just as scared as he was himself, the war that would kill so many more innocent men.” The boy thought to himself, the air in his lungs becoming less and less with each passing second.
In the darkness of the water, unbeknownst to the men above, Albrecht made a decision. His hand let go of the rope, the cold water claiming him as if it knew his darkest secrets, pulling him deeper into the quiet abyss. For the first time in forever, he felt peace.
Albrecht’s mind began to drift as his body sank. He thought of his father’s stern face, the disapproval etched into every single line. Heinrichs angry voice as he ordered his son to meet him in the office, the fear of not knowing what he’d do to him after he read his essay, and the order to fight on the eastfront. He had never been strong enough, never been the son his father wanted, even when all he desperately wished for was his approval. The shame of not being perfect was a weight heavier than the water pressing in on him now.
He also thought about his friends. Of Hefe, with his booming laugh and delicious food, and Christoph, with his sharp wit and reckless daring when he sold pictures of his sisters to the other boys. They belonged to this world in a way Albrecht never could. He had always been the outlier, the weak link, the one who didn’t fit.
And then there was Friedrich.
A sharp pain pierced Albrecht’s chest, more potent than the cold, as his thoughts turned to his friend. Friedrich, with his unwavering determination, his strength, his rare kindness. Eyes as icy blue as the temperature of the water, with hair as golden as the ambient of a sunset in summer. The feelings Albrecht harbored since they met beside Friedrichs bed were a secret too dangerous to keep, a poison that would destroy them both, even get them killed, if it ever surfaced. Here, in the icy embrace of the lake, he could finally let it go. He could finally admit to himself what his mind had told him from the start.
He closed his eyes, the last flicker of warmth in his mind the image of Friedrich’s handsome face, strong and steady, just how the perfect soldier should be like.
From above, the shouts of boys and the bellow of the trainer were muffled, reduced to nothing but distant echoes.
***
Friedrich froze. For a moment, he stood paralyzed, the scene before him stretching unnaturally, like time itself had stopped. Albrecht’s head disappeared beneath the dark surface, his delicate features consumed by the black water below. There was no thrashing, no struggle. Just silence.
Minutes passed and the other boys began to murmur, their breath coming in sharp waves of fear. Breaking the nerve wrecking silence, one of them finally gasped, “He’s not coming up!.”
Friedrich’s heart seized. The words were distant, almost dreamlike, but they cut through his shock like a blade. Before the trainer could even shout, before anyone could stop him, Friedrich moved. He ran over to the gaping hole in the ice and dove into the water without a second thought, the cold hitting him like knives against his pale skin, stealing the breath from his lungs. The shock of it took his breath away for a second, but his strong arms moved instinctively, cutting through the icy water as he forced his body down in search of the brunette.
The silence was suffocating, broken only by the roar of his blood pounding in his ears. He opened his eyes and looked around frantically, his vision blurry in the dark water. Trying his best not to panic, he took hold of the rope he had just used to get to the other side earlier, now familiar with the way. Friedrich felt helpless, the weight and coldness of the water soon becoming too much to bear the longer he searched for his friend.
Then he saw him.
Albrecht drifted just below him, his blue eyes closed, his limbs loose and motionless, and his dark brown hair dancing like soft feathers around his head. His face was ethereal in the shimmering white light coming from above, drained of colour but strangely peaceful, so thought Friedrich. In an instant, he reached for him, his fingers wrapping around Albrechts slim wrist. He was immensely relieved to have found him, and the second their skin made contact, Friedrich’s heart burned with renewed urgency.
Now grabbing his friend tightly around his chest, he surged forward with all his strenght to the opening in the ice. The weight of his friend’s limp body dragged at him, his muscles and lungs burning from exhaustion, but nothing in the world could have stopped Friedrich from saving Albrecht. Above, he could hear the muffled cries of the boys, the trainer’s voice cutting through the surface like a whip. “Friedrich! Get out of there! Friedrich!”
Breaking the surface felt like being reborn. Friedrich gasped as the cold air hit his face, his arms trembling as he struggled to hoist Albrecht upward. Hefe and Christoph scrambled forward, hands reaching to pull them out, while the other boys were too scared to move and to provoke the trainer's anger even more. Christoph finally managed to pull them both out of the water entirely, dragging them away from the opening and towards a safer place. Meanwhile, the blonde boy wrapped an arm around Albrecht’s body, holding the still unconscious boy tight to his shivering chest and welcoming the body-warm clothes Hefe put over them, muttering a quiet thank you to both of them and a shake of his head. He would thank them properly soon enough, but right now all he could think about was Albrecht.
The world spun. Nobody dared to speak, to even breathe, as they all looked at the two boys laying on the ice with worry and fear written across their faces. Albrecht’s head lolled back in Friedrichs arms, his face pale as death itself. The blue of his lips no match to the shade of the wide eyes of the blonde which now started to fill with tears. For one terrifying moment, Friedrich thought he had been too late. He pressed a hand to Albrecht’s chest, to his beautiful face, feeling for a heartbeat, for life…
and then he felt it—a weak, stuttering breath.
Albrecht’s eyelids suddenly fluttered open. His lips parted, cold lake water escaping from his lungs as he coughed, his body shuddering involuntarily. The other boys gasped and some even shrieked, excitement taking a hold of them because Albrecht was alive. But Friedrich had no time to register what just happened before Albrecht lost consciousness again, his writhing body sacking back down into the taller boy's arms. All he felt was Hefes warm hands on his broad shoulders and Christophs soothing voice, providing him with the reassurance that he so desperately needed, and finally the usually strong Friedrich broke. The trainer’s voice, harsh and distant, barked orders, but Friedrich heard none of it. His entire world narrowed to the boy in his arms, fragile and alive, his pale skin slowly regaining warmth. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, a sudden reminder to the words he whispered to his little brother months ago: “German boys do not cry."
He didn't care for those words now, embracing the overwhelming sense of relief he felt despite the fear of punishment from his trainer.
And for the first time that day, Friedrich’s chest heaved not from the cold but from a sense of relief so sharp it left him breathless.