Battle of the Rhine

Michael had no time to find Oliver for drinks on Sunday.In the morning he got up and cooked, and then took Quinnessy to church.In the afternoon they went to the choir where Charlie was. Although Quinnessy still refused to accompany the chorus, he sat by and listened to the rehearsal quietly. Michael believed that this was a noble enjoyment that would help cleanse and repair the soul.

"Amazing," was Michael's only word of admiration, "Awesome, Charlie! Your singing is like, like—I can't say, but it's awesome!"

"Thank you," Xia Li said, lively and happy like a bird, "If you are interested, you can join in too!"

"I can't sing, my voice is hoarse like an angry bull." Michael rubbed his chest, "And, you didn't sing in German, did you? If I hear you right...not English, I'm sorry Sure."

"It's Latin." Charlie smiled. "It's okay, my Latin is not very good, just so-so. Karl can speak Latin fluently. If you want to learn, Karl can teach you."

Quincy was indeed teaching Michael, not Latin but German. "Your German is poor," he said suddenly after dinner on the second night when he sneaked into Michael's bed, eyes lowered, "there's an accent problem."

"My German teacher didn't take it seriously," Michael replied, carefully hiding his surprise.Quincy didn't flee back to the third floor, didn't scold him, and didn't go crazy. This was a good start, "I know that my pronunciation is wrong, and anyone can tell that I'm from a foreign country."

Quincy raised his head slowly, blinking quickly.He likes to wear that shag coat, the color, in Mary's words, "you have to have very fair skin and very red lips to wear it."He is so good-looking, Michael stared at the haggard but handsome face in a daze, and quickly looked away after a few seconds, "Sorry, I just saw outside—"

"I can teach you."

"What?"

"I can teach you--"

Michael put the plate in the sink, "Will you teach me German? Yes, yes, no problem, please teach me, but I'm stupid..."

Quincy covered his coffee cup with both hands and sniffed.Michael cleaned the dishes, and Quincy's left wrist was injured and bandaged.Michael couldn't ask the cause of the injury, and didn't dare to talk too much. "Start today? Or tomorrow? Do you want to take a break?"

"Let's start today."

Quincy was a strict teacher, and he corrected Michael over and over again when he read incorrectly.With so many repetitions, Michael even felt that he was going to get angry.But Quinnessy only corrected him, pointed out his problem seriously, and wrote the German alphabet on a piece of paper for him to copy.Michael folded the piece of paper carefully and put it in his notebook, and put it together with the rental contract.

"Latin is hard, isn't it?" Michael said, staring attentively at the rearview mirror as some young people walked hand in hand by the Isar River. "It must be hard."

"It's okay." Quincy said in a low voice, "It's not that difficult."

"Are you hungry? Hold on, we'll be there soon." Michael steered the steering wheel.He bought two cookbooks and learned to cook a little German. "I want to cook some milk porridge."

"Ah."

"Do you want chocolate? I have one in my pocket."

"No, thank you."

"Eat some candy."

"No thanks."

"Eat, eat." Michael took out a handful of hard candies.Quincy was always so pale that Michael suspected he was anemic.People with anemia are prone to dizziness, it is best to eat a few pieces of sugar.He stuffed the candy into Quincy's hand. "Can you speak some Latin?"

Michael was very curious. In their town, although there were French courses in the middle school, there were no teachers who could teach them.The class was eventually canceled.When he was in France, he learned a few French words, "Hello", "How much money", "Goodbye", "I'm American", Tim said it was very useful, and it was enough to know these few words when walking in the kiln .

Quincy peeled off the candy wrapper, and the candy and the candy wrapper stood sticky together. With a candy in his mouth, he slowly spit out a few words.Michael felt familiar, he had heard it!Definitely heard... strange languages ​​that are neither German nor English...

"What do you mean?" Michael asked as kindly as possible, his hairs bristling with nervousness.Quincy hadn't gone crazy for more than half a month, and he didn't want to cause him to collapse again because of Latin.

"A few useless words," said Quincy quietly. "No one speaks Latin these days except the Vatican Church."

"Uh, uh, okay." Michael let Jeep slide across the intersection, "How about milk porridge? Would you like something else?"

After dinner, Quincy taught Michael German for 10 minutes as usual.At eight o'clock he went upstairs, showered and changed.Michael held the pen to copy the words, his heart pounding.He found a rule: if Quincy was wearing pajamas, he would sleep on the third floor tonight; if he put on a nightgown, it meant they would sleep in a cot on the second floor tonight. "Lathes, parts, engines," Michael grasped the military badge and muttered, "the definite article is—"

At 08:30, he went up to the second floor with his notebook in his arms.Quincy sat on his bed with the tips of his hair plastered to his forehead.Michael didn't ask him why he came here to huddle to sleep. Maybe Quincy simply felt cold, or he couldn't sleep because he was afraid of the dark, or he was planning to kill Michael while he was asleep... just a few reasons.The first few times, Quincy lay beside him stiff as a statue, and then became "normal."Michael stuffed the book into the drawer, turned on the wall lamp, "Dry your hair before going to bed."

"wipe it up."

"No, it's still wet."

Michael took his own towel and wiped it for Quincy, and the orange light cast a warm color on the German's pale skin.Michael scrubbed his skin and hair vigorously, and by the time he came out, Quincy was lying down, the covers pulled tight, revealing a handful of hair.

The quilt is warm, smells of soap, the fragrance of milk and Vaseline.Michael turned off the light, and a naked body was quietly pressed against his back. Michael turned over, took the body into his arms, and gently stroked Quincy's neck.

"What do you want to do?" Quincy whispered, "If you want to do it, come on."

Saying that you don't want to is a lie, and your physiological reaction can't fool you. "Don't use that word," Michael changed the subject to cover up his embarrassment, "You are a college student, and a college student should be gentle."

"Do you want to have sex?"

"It's not an elegant word either."

Michael couldn't think of any elegant words to define "do that." "Doing that" has nothing to do with elegance.He kissed Quincy's forehead, touched his chest, sniffed his neck.He quickly freed himself by masturbating, being careful not to squirt the cum all over Quincy.

"I'm going to wash up," Michael kissed Quincy's face again, "Go to sleep."

When he came back from washing, Quincy had indeed fallen asleep peacefully.