Chapter Text
It was a time of day much too early, Albrecht found, as the door fell into its lock behind him. In fact, he felt it was quiet enough for the slam of it to echo through their narrow street, mirroring off still-lit lampposts and windows with their curtains drawn.
The world was still asleep—but only just almost, because the sky had already begun to turn a bright blue and there were birds flying overhead, chasing each other through the summer-morning air as they chirped to one another.
Albrecht took a deep breath, his shoulders rising with it. This time of day, it was undeniably his favorite, though he was barely ever outside when it came.
He'd lie in his room, already awake or still, or he'd sit on his windowsill with all of them wide open and relinquish in the softness of the breeze on his skin and in his hair, in the scent that undeniably meant freedom, sun and endless fields. That certain scent that meant six weeks of no school, no stress and no exams.
His quiet was interrupted by the low hum of distant bass and music somewhere down the street that was coming closer and closer at an alarming speed and reached its inevitable peak when a straight up unit of a car came to a stand at the curb in front of him.
Albrecht pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and bent down to pick his bag up. When he straightened back up, the car’s door had already slid open and poured out two young men; one tall and blond, the other not so much and almost brunet. In simpler words: Friedrich and Wilhelm, two of Albrecht’s closest friends.
Friedrich was quick to hug Albrecht in greeting and take his bag from him so Albrehct could climb into his seat in the very back, while Wilhelm rattled down a quick, exasperated summary of their drive to.
“—and we’re late because Christoph,” here, Wilhelm shot a glare at the sleeping man sitting in the seat in front of Albrecht, “wanted to have the AUX so bad but you know Siggi gets carsick when he doesn't sit in the front.”
Albrecht hummed.
“And now he's asleep.”
“Terrible, truly.” If you'd asked Albrecht, Christoph could sleep the whole way long.
“And he’ll wake back up and abuse the hell out of that audio system,” Friedrich supplied, climbing up into the car, “Don't get your knickers inna twist.”
Wilhelm continued to complain quietly to himself as he got back into his seat and slammed the door shut, but no-one really paid him any attention.
Albrecht let himself melt into his seat.
In the front, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, sat Tjaden. Why he had agreed to drive the six of them all the way to Amsterdam in his father’s car, of all things, was beyond him.
Beside him, huddled up into his seat and probably sleeping as well, sat Siegfried.
The car rolled to a start and Albrecht let himself lean back against the window, watching as his neighborhood passed by until they reached the turning point at the back of his street.
As they drove past his house, it lay as dark and silent as he had left it. His parents hadn't bothered to bid him good-bye.
As soon as they hit the Autobahn, the car’s dynamics shifted.
Five minutes into their drive, Albrecht had dug out his digi-cam from his pocket, rolling his eyes at Friedrich’s rushing to get it quickly, quickly because Christoph’s head had lolled over so abruptly it almost touched his chest. It was peak blackmail material, as much Albrecht had to admit.
However, Friedrich’s hassle was enough to wake Christoph up—just after Albrecht had pulled his arm back out of sight—and have him grumble and mutter until Wilhelm dug out something caffeinated from his bag.
Then, all hell broke loose.
If Albrecht had to decide, at gunpoint, on a word matching Christoph’s taste in music, he'd have to take a bullet to the head.
And the look Friedrich met him with did not help. Sometimes, Albrecht tended to forget that Christoph and Friedrich shared more brain cells that he'd liked.
Sometimes as in times like these, for example, when they were both scream-shouting the lyrics to some German Rap song Albrecht couldn't even imagine the name of. (And it certainly did not help that Tjaden was tuning in, and the whole car was now effectively awake.)
Yet his camera had never filled so quickly, except for maybe Friedrich’s birthday earlier this year, with photos of Christoph twisting in his seat and towards Friedrich so they could scream nonsensical lyrics in each other’s faces, of Christoph grabbing Wilhelm by the collar to do the same just as Wilhelm was about to absolutely devour a salami sandwich that did its very best job at stinking up the car in no time; photos taken just as Friedrich was reaching out to Albrecht, face lit brightly, photos of Tjaden’s grin-wrinkled eyes looking at them through the rearview mirror.
To Albrecht’s luck (and utterly predictable prediction) the fun lasted for about half an hour before they ran out of songs in Christoph’s que and they could hear the grumble of his stomach in the sudden silence. In the time it took for Christoph to wolf down almost half of what Wilhelm had packed, Friedrich had fallen asleep, neck bent at an angle so unnatural Albrecht not only snapped half a dozen pictures but Christoph also dug out his phone (now visible in half of Albrecht’s photos) to take even more diabolical 0.5× pictures that they'd without doubt find as WhatsApp stickers in their grade’s group chat after the break latest, if not tomorrow morning in their very own chat.
The sheer power both Christoph and Tjaden held over every single one of them just with their WhatsApp stickers and saved Snaps was abolical.
Albrecht didn't even want to think about the ungodly posts he'd find on Instagram in a few days.
Almost an hour in and Albrecht had made himself a sizable camp of his seat.
There was the sun streaming in and wind slapping his face from Christoph’s open window, but he had a book in his lap he'd been struggling to read (some classics really required a willpower Albrecht feared he didn't have) and his camera passed around to somewhere else in the car. His free hand held the cream cheese pretzel he'd asked Wilhelm to pack, a black coffee in the cupholder next to him. He'd managed to pull his legs up onto the seat, now with Friedrich’s socked feet resting on his knees from how he had stretched out. At least he made a good book-stand.
Small successes.
Christoph had switched to a softer kind of music he swore was part of his girlfriend Katharina’s playlist. She was already waiting for them over in Amsterdam and Christoph, lovesick fool as he was, couldn't stop yapping about her. Albrecht had long since tuned him out, only the occasional exasperated groan reaching him when it was obvious Christoph was acting especially theatrical.
Albrecht, for his part, was convinced the playlist wasn't entirely Katharina's doing.
It was an odd sense of calm, this setting. One that Albrecht wished he could capture but knew no photo could do it justice, no words could begin to describe it.
But there was the way Tjaden was talking and gesturing as he wheeled the car around the highway, the way Siegfried had turned to lean against the door so he could look at him and listen, even though he wore half of his headphones. There was the way Wilhelm was working through a bag of chips as he watched a movie on his phone, on mute and with subtitles as he at least pretended to listen to Christoph's rants. And then, in the very back of the car, Albrecht mulled over a word he'd been trying to dissect in the free space of his novel in order to understand it before he'd have to cave and look it up on the internet, there was Friedrich all stretched out and way too long for the seats, limbs splayed everywhere.
There was the scent of ripe fields and summer air from the open windows—open because, about ten minutes ago, Tjaden had felt the need to demonstrate his title of The Farter™ and let loose for a topping nine seconds under the applause and affirmations of Wilhelm and Christoph.
He had found it gross, still did, but in reality his heart clenched in the cavity of his chest, already missing this very moment before it had even passed.
Albrecht snapped his book shut and stuffed it in the bag of Christoph's seat in front of him, now-empty hands immediately moving to rest on Friedrich's legs, absentmindedly massaging his calves as he shifted in his sleep.
Outside, fields passed by; green and yellow-ed crops. Farms and stables. Somewhere further ahead, Albrecht could make out a car he knew Friedrich would like, grabbing his camera from Wilhelm and Christoph's middle-console to snap a picture of it before he unlocked his phone and entered the city of the licence plate into his licence plate app—collecting cities and districts wherever he went. Unfortunately, it turned out to be one he had already logged but always failed to remember.
A snore of Friedrich's loud enough to startle Christoph into a sudden burst of laughter had Albrecht tearing his eyes away from passing cars.
Christoph had turned in his seat to watch the tangled way Friedrich lay across the bank, held up just barely by his seatbelt and seemingly pure willpower, and snoring his life away.
Albrecht had gotten so used to the sound of it he didn't even bat an eye at it anymore, ignored it, almost.
“How do you manage?” Christoph asked Albrecht, voice humorous but almost accusing.
Albrecht couldn't help his heart rate picking up rapidly. They knew, of course. About Friedrich and him; it was too obvious at some points as to not to, or so they had told them. But still, even months later, Albrecht's initial reaction to anything even hinting at what Friedrich and he had had him break out into a sense of fear.
Even if this question was not a single bit out of the ordinary—they all went to the same boarding school, after all, where Friedrich and Albrecht happened to share a room.
Albrecht shrugged, “You get used to it,” he said, “Hitting him helps sometimes.”
He pointedly did not mention how, over the years, the constant and even noise of Friedrich's snores had begun to calm him when his mind was too loud, had begun to bring him a sense of steadiness during nights that were too quiet to sleep.
Christoph snorted and turned back into his seat.
Albrecht, with his heart still going faster than the cars passing them on the left lane, couldn't help but stare at the sleep-slackened state of Friedrich's face, a version of him that seemed much younger than his eighteen years.
A breath leaving him, he fanned his book back open.
But with the wind in his hair and the steadiness of the car beneath him, the warmth of the sun on his skin, it didn't take long for him to lean his body back against the car's side and fall into a shallow sleep.
Albrecht woke with finality when the car began to tremble over uneven ground and turns that didn't belong to an Autobahn.
It was quiet, now, clouded over and gloomy; an hour and a half later to the last time he had checked the time on his phone.
Tjaden was working on pulling the car into a lot in front of a McDonald's, Wilhelm and Christoph were bickering, Friedrich had found an even more extraordinary position to sleep in and from Siegfried, Albrecht didn't hear a thing.
His joints popped as he stretched his arms above his head, pushing Friedrich's legs off his lap just in time to Tjaden killing the engine.
Outside, the wind curled Albrecht's hair around his head in unruly waves.
Friedrich blinked at him in disdain through sleepy eyes while Albrecht tried to light his cigarette in the wind-shadow of his hand.
“Y'know, maybe that's a sign for you to stop.”
Albrecht rolled his eyes, finally taking the first drag, “Since when do you believe in signs?”
“Since they tell you to stop smoking.”
“You should believe them when they tell you to study for exams,” Albrecht tutted, softly slapping his cheek.
As Friedrich and the others went inside to order, Christoph and Albrecht stayed behind in the shadow of the building, vaping and smoking in respective silence as they sat on the curb, Christoph tapping away on his phone and Albrecht tracking the flock of birds rounding a nearby church tower, chasing each other through the thickness of the clouds.
The inside of the McDonald's was warm and almost stuffy, filled with voices of various ages and volumes.
Their group sat somewhere to the back, crammed into a booth with two extra chairs, one of them already occupied by Wilhelm as Christoph let himself fall into the other and Albrecht slid into the booth next to Friedrich.
Tjaden was resting his head on the cross of his arms on the table, as quiet as Siegfried next to him as they waited in sleepy silence for their order to arrive. Why ever he had designated himself the driver for an at least seven hour drive was something Albrecht couldn't decipher no matter how many books he'd open. It was entirely beyond him.
Christoph was flicking through Albrecht's camera's roll, snickering at whatever photo he could find there as Wilhelm desperately tried to snatch it from his hands, hissing things like “You fucker” and “Oh my God delete yourself”.
Albrecht, for his part, didn't look forward to having to download all of those. He didn't at all, especially not when Wilhelm began literally jumping out of his seat in his attempts to grab the camera.
He'd have to keep that thing far away from Christoph the second they met up with Katharina.
It took them almost an hour to get back on the road.
Time they spent eating and consuming ungodly amounts of caffeine (Tjaden), nearly screaming their heads of playing Clash of Clans (Friedrich and Christoph), complaining about the long drive still ahead (Wilhelm) and whatever else one could do while stuck in the booth of a McDonald's.
When Tjaden, now pumped full of energy, finally maneuvered them back onto the Autobahn, rain had begun to pelt against their windows and Albrecht's eyes had started to burn in fatigue.
Four hours to go.
This time, they arranged themselves differently from the beginning—Friedrich and him.
While Albrecht again took his original seat in the far corner, away from the door and against the wall instead, Friedrich discarded his seat to lean his back against Albrecht's side, slumping into a position that looked almost liquid. Albrecht wound an arm around him, holding him steady and close.
Friedrich was out again before Albrecht even managed to really get comfortable in his seat, digging out his phone and his camera from his pockets and only then really leaning back, head against the windows as he watched raindroplets race down the glass.
In the seat in front of them, Christoph had connected his phone to the audio system again, singing along so loudly in a choir with Tjaden and Wilhelm Albrecht almost couldn't make out the music.
“Jealousy, turning saints into the sea, swimming through thick lullabies, choking on your alibis—”
“But it's just the price I pay, destiny is calling me, open up my eager eyes, ‘cause I'm—”
“Mr. Brightside.”
Albrecht tuned them out, but at least managed to take a picture of Wilhelm and Christoph screaming in each other's faces again, of Tjaden gesturing at the wheel in a frenzy of something Albrecht could only title The Vibe.
Despite the sheer volume and boom in the car, it was easy for Albrecht's eyes to droop again; fall heavy with the pitter and patter of rain at his ear, the steady weight of Friedrich slumped at his side, his even snores, easy as they came.
It was easy to fall asleep when Albrecht felt warm and safe; at home, almost.
By the time he came to the rain had passed and the heavy clouds had given way to an unkind sun and much too blue sky. As he still sat slumped against the window, he could see that both Siegfried and Christoph had hooked their arms out of the window; tapping their hands against the body of the car or just resting it on the seam.
A slow hum of German music sounded through the car, thinned with the wind that traveled through.
Albrecht closed his eyes again, listened to the gentle hum of the song and his friend's quiet voices; thought he could maybe hear the shutter of a camera.
Friedrich slumped deeper into his side, Albrecht could feel his face pressed into the fabric of his zip-up hoodie, warm and grounding.
The next time he woke was because it had become too still—only in the sense of movement beneath him, unfortunately, because Christoph was still boosting his music; German rap, again.
They had caught a traffic jam—had to have been at it for a while now because all around, doors stood open and people sat against the guardrail, some further behind on the meadow next to the Autobahn, petting the cows grazing there.
Albrecht picked his head up from against the window and squinted through the car.
The driver's and passenger seats sat abandoned, Tjaden and Siegfried leaning against the hood, talking about things Albrecht couldn't hear.
Friedrich must've woken up before Albrecht did and now sat leaning between Wilhelm and Christoph's seats, hands holding onto their headrests as he looked down at whatever it was they were doing.
From the sounds of it, Albrecht would guess they were invested in a game of Clash of Clans.
Albrecht sighed. A glance at his phone told him about a single new message in their group chat with Katharina asking their whereabouts and that it was just about eleven o'clock. Technically, they'd only have about one hour left to go, but stuck at this pace Albrecht heavily doubted it.
He dug his feet into Friedrich's side until he pulled back from his stance and could look at him, blue blue eyes filled with everything that could make them bright.
“What's it?” he asked, looking almost like an eager puppy.
Albrecht huffed, “Nothing.”
Friedrich crooked an eyebrow at him, catching his foot this time before Albrecht could kick him again and moved back to look at what Wilhelm and Christoph were doing, thumb tracing circles over Albrecht's ankle.
The traffic jam took another thirty minutes to clear and when it did, it was Siegfried who sank himself into the driver's seat and Tjaden who took the passenger, almost immediately slumping over into a sleep so deep not even Christoph and Friedrich's crooked singing could wake him. At least this time, it was a song Wilhelm could join in, sparing Albrecht the sight of his helpless face as he reached around his camera, laughing at the ecstasy on Friedrich's face as he nearly screamed his lungs out to lyrics Albrecht knew damn well he didn't relate to one bit.
It took them another gas station break to reach the Netherlands, a break during which Katharina called and they had to wait twenty extra minutes for Christoph to return from his little walk around the lot he always did when on the phone with her, all giddy and smiling.
As Albrecht sat on the curb, cigarette bobbing between his lips, he felt himself pretty grateful for living at a boarding school with Friedrich most of the time and only few streets apart the rest of it. He doubted he could manage a distance as far as Amsterdam on bad and one to Cologne on good days.
Siegfried sat on Friedrich's other side, but since the curb was curved he and Albrecht almost sat opposite of each other. Albrecht watched him quietly, the way he had his head turned to watch the distance and held it bedded on his angled knees.
Behind him, Wilhelm chased Tjaden across the lot as Tjaden held something far above his head, something Albrecht couldn't quite make out. But they were laughing and shouting and Albrecht really couldn't care less so long as it wasn't Friedrich.
There was the wind in his hair and the sounds of life in his ears and when Albrecht breathed in and back out, there was nothing in his chest other than fresh air and the feeling of silent security.