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melchixr · 7 years

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How To Gain a Cat’s (or Cute Boy’s) Trust in Seven Easy Steps by Ernst Robel

Anon said: Ernst is a sucker for animals and has owned a cat for years. Hanschen moves to their school, Ernst draws parallels, and breaks down Hanschen's walls using cat techniques.

This is SO FUCKING LONG and I’m sorry but I loved writing it so I hope you like it. you can also pinpoint the exact spot (Step 6) were i become so tired i can’t write. Feat: introvert hanschen, tiny boy ernst, butch ilse, emo moritz, and angry engaged couple wendla and melchior

Words: 4881

Step One: Set Nurturing and Comfortable Environment

The night had started out fine enough, with a small crowd of just enough people to comfortably fill up Melchior’s living room. Ernst noticed, as he sipped his drink, that Hanschen had sat himself in the center of the room. He was perched on the ottoman with a beer in his hands. He wasn’t saying much. Instead he was laughing at all of Otto’s jokes and adding in just enough quick, witty comments to get everyone’s attention for a few seconds at a time.

As Ernst watched more, he observed how Hanschen’s blue eyes would lace around the room. He would sweep those bright, intense eyes around the room and examine each face with precision and attention. Every once and awhile, his eyes would lock on someone. But never for long. Even as he sat lackadaisically in the dimly lit living room, he was fully alert.

But time ticked on and more people began to trickle in. By the time the sun had gone down, they had managed to fit about 30 people in the already small house. And Hanschen’s ease began to melt away. He had moved to the corner of the room, right next to the front door, and sat on the arm of the couch that Ernst was sitting on.

His knee was tucked up to his chest with his chin resting on the denim covered joint. His back became hunched and his muscles were tense and flexed. It was as if he went from alert to attack. As if he was making himself as small as possible so that he just folded into the background. This was unlike how Hanschen usually was, begging for attention. Now. he begged to be left alone.

To anyone’s untrained eye, he was just another wallflower. But Ernst wasn’t just anyone.

After a few minutes of this behavior, it dawned on him that he was displaying the traits of fear and nervousness. And if his time at the shelter had taught him anything, Ernst hopefully knew exactly what it took to help.

Getting up with the fake intent to go to the kitchen and refill his drink, Ernst instead went further down the hall to the small back porch. Normally, this is where Melchior would kick out everyone who wanted to go out for a smoke so that his whole house didn’t reek of weed and nicotine. Well, at least, not anymore than it already did with just him and Wendla living in it.

But it was mostly empty. Now, besides Georg and Melitta, sharing a cigarette like teenagers. He was surprised that they hadn’t made their way up to the spare bedroom yet, like they always tended to do at these get togethers.

“Hey, can you guys...go away…” Ernst asked bluntly, interrupting their half drunk flirts. Georg looked up at him with a crooked gaze. “I’m uh… trying to help out a friend.”

“By kicking us out?” Melitta scoffed in defense.

Ernst, puffing out his small chest as much as possible, decided to take a much more offensive tactic. “Well I’m surprised you two aren’t off sucking faces in a linen closet then swearing it will never happen again like every other time. Or is it REALLY just friends this time?”

The pause might have been a sign that Ernst had taken it too far. But Melitta then laughed and stood up, putting her cigarette out in the filthy ashtray. “You’ve got us pinned, Ernie. Have a good night.”

Although Georg looked much more willing to stand up for their spot on the porch, the ever pacifist Melitta dragged down the steps and around the side of the house, probably to go make out in her car.

At least it’s not here.

Step Two: Be Sure to Give Space and Time for Exploration and Safety

“Hey, Hanschen,” Ernst whispered when he got back to his seat. He watched the blond’s head whip around at the speed of light, eyebrows raised and expression almost blank. Ernst stopped himself from almost instinctively saying ‘you’re hair looks like a 90s pretty boy in a teen magazine’ when a few loose blond strands fell in front of Hanschen’s eyes. “Can you uh… follow me.”

“Sure, Ernest.”

Instead of correcting him, Ernst just nodded. Hanschen slid off the arm of the couch and followed the other young man in smooth movements. It was as if he were personally in charge of every muscle in his body. Everything moved in perfect unison, with precision and exactness and deliberate grace. It was a lot unlike Ernst, who looked and moved like a newborn giraffe.

When they arrived at the back porch, the shorter of the two turned around look at Hanschen. His expression was confusion. His small, and very nicely shaped, mouth fell open a little bit. “What did you want to show me, Ernest? And if you wanted to know, I only do anonymous sex, not acquaintance sex.”

“That’s not it at all!” Ernst insisted immediately. He could feel his face grow bright red as he continued. “You just uh…. You looked kinda tense in the crowd. So I thought you should come back here for a breather…”

The other’s expression turned to a soft surprise. “Oh. Wow. Thank you, Ernest. That’s awfully sweet.”

Ernst could see the hints of a smile arriving on a normally stoic face. And it wasn’t like his usual smile, cold and crafted. This one was warm and fuzzy, no matter how slight it was. “No problem. Oh, and it’s ERNST by the way. Not Ernest. No extra E.”

“I know.”

Step Three: Offer Positive Reinforcement

“Where the fuck is that little bitch,” Melchior hissed, looking at his watch again. This was the second time this week that he had been late to one of their get togethers. The first time it was for the game night at Ilse’s house where he showed up three hours late. Now it was for a concert that Ernst had somehow managed to be invited to. “Moritz and Ilse are already there! And if we don’t get there in the next ten minutes, we will have no chance in getting a good spot.”

The concert was in a small venue across town, one of those underground places Melchior was always talking about. He always told people that if he and Wendla’s coffee shop didn’t work out, he’d buy a venue and rent it out for little punk gigs like this. Not the “bullshit” they play on the radio.

Wendla, in her ‘out on the town’ hair curls, peered out of the small eyehole of Ernst’s apartment. “Did you text him, Melchi?”

“Yes, of course I did, babe,” The skinny man replied, adding the ‘babe’ to oppose his exhausted and frustrated tone. “And like always, he isn’t responding.”

“He probably just isn’t responding because he doesn't want to. You can’t make him do anything, he has to do it of his own free will,” Ernst suggested from his spot on the couch. Immediately, the couple turned with their own respective glares.

Melchior was the first to say something, scoffing loudly before turning to the mirror in the hallway and fixing the thick and strictly bottom lid eyeliner he had Ernst put on him. “Since when have you been an expert on Hanschen Rilow?”

Ernst didn’t reply, partially out of embarrassment, and partially because Ernst’s apartment door had suddenly opened, almost hitting Melchior in the process. Standing in the hallway was Hanschen wearing a pair of jeans ripped to high heaven, a white tee shirt like he hadn’t tried at all, and holding a tray of starbucks coffee.

“Hey, guys,” he stated with a blank expression and looked the other three over. “Melchior, I’m digging the eyeliner. Wendla, your hair looks nice. Ernst… Cute jacket.”

“Oh,” Ernst muttered and looked down at the worn down denim jacket he had had for years. The back and arms were almost completely covered by various patches he had found on Etsy, garage sales, and a dozen or so he got on his trip to San Francisco pride last year. “Thank you, Hans-”

Melchior suddenly attacked , glaring dangerously at Hanschen. Damn, Ernst thought to himself, if looks could kill. “Where the Hell were you? We’ve been waiting for an hour!” He barked in a voice much lower and more aggressive than it usually was. “And if you’re gonna be an hour late, at least check your fucking phone, ok?”

Hanschen nodded in an understanding way. He seemed to know what was happening, but it didn’t even seem to affect him. It was as if he didn’t think the consequences would actually happen.

Why was that so hot to Ernst?

“I brought coffee. Melchior, you like your coffee black, right?” Hanschen held out the cups. “And Wendla, I’m sensing that you’re a white chocolate mocha girl. Am I wrong?”

“Hanschen, go get in the car,” Wendla ordered with soft desperation. “Your coffee isn’t going to stop us from being late.”

“God, god, I’m coming,” Hanschen muttered. His mood had seemed to drop at Wendla’s anger. She stormed out of the front door after grabbing her keys from the kitchen table. Her fiance was close behind her, casting a final glare at Hanschen before taking off down the hallway.

Hanschen, with a slightly dejected look, began to follow them. He now held the coffee with much less pride. Ernst sprinted after him, not even bothering to lock the door to his apartment, “H-Hanschen!” He called after a few moments of hesitation. When the blond turned to look at him, Ernst could not help but smile. “Thanks for the coffee, that’s really thoughtful of you.”

Hanschen’s expression suddenly changed to another subtle smile. He held out the tray to his companion. “Here. I assumed you were a Strawberry Refresher with lemonade kinda person.”

Ernst took the drink graciously, smiling as wide as he could without looking like a serial killer. “You know me well. And I’m glad you’re coming along. Are you into this kinda music?”

“No, I’m into pissing off Melchior. You should try it sometime,” He responded in a voice Ernst could only describe as charming and jogged with the grace of a ballet dancer to the elevator. “I’m coming, your majesty Queen Gabor.”

“Fuck off or I’ll slam your face into the control board.”

Step Four: Encourage Contact but Do Not Force It

A pizza place designed for children didn’t seem like an appropriate place for a group of twenty-somethings. But it was far better than Ilse’s first suggestion of Chuck-E-Cheese. The booth was sticky and the whole place smelled like essense of body odor and bleach. But the four didn’t mind as they devoured the large, greasy slab of meat, cheese, and bread in front of them.

“So I turn to her and I say ‘hey, babe, is this guy your husband?’ and she says no and I say ‘well cause he’s giving you eyes like he’s seen you naked’ THEN I go, ‘let me buy you the next drink’ and before I know it, she’s asking me when I’m getting off work so I can ‘get off’, if you know what I’m saying…”

Through Ilse’s loud, snorting laughs, Moritz rolled his eyes. Although, you could barely tell for the atrocious amount of eyeliner and eye bags on the guy. He looked a lot more like the bassist for a 2003 emo band than an aspiring YA novelist. “It couldn’t possibly be that easy, Ilse.”

“Oh really?” She scoffed. “I bet I could get this waitress to go home with me.”

Moritz, almost spitting out his Sprite in shock, opened his mouth to let out some sort of exclamation on how ‘impossible’ that was. But as the first surprised syllable came out of his mouth, Hanschen cut him off with a swift hand motion and an abrupt, stern tone. “Ilse, how could you possibly assume she’s a lesbian? It’s almost impossible to tell.”

Ilse’s brown eyes looked across the restaurant to the woman in question taking an order from a very exhausted couple and their first grader. People with children are out this late? Ernst felt like there should be a law about that. Her gaze dragged up and down the woman’s form. Finally, she spoke again. “Side braid with a single pink stripe. Tinted lip balm. Short nails with chipped polish. Nose ring. Tan line on her knees.”

“Tanlines?” Ernst asked. “What the hell do knee tanlines have to do with anything?”

“They’re the tan lines of knee pads. Roller derby knee pads.”

Ernst shrugged and gave Ilse a quick applause as Moritz spoke. “Roller derby doesn’t make you a lesbian!”

“Moritz, do you roller derby?”

The pause around the table spoke for him before breaking into loud laughter. The waitress heard the commotion and looked at the four over her shoulder, smiling softly.

“But you’re dead on, Ilse,” Hanschen finished his piece of slimy pizza. “And I’m glad the uniforms here allow shorts. Her thighs are godly.”

Ilse reached across the table to ruffle Hanschen’s already slightly misplaced blond hair. It still looked perfect even after that and a full day of hiking the hills outside of the city. “Keep your eyes of my prize. Bi people are so greedy.”

Shrugging, Hanschen stood. “I guess I’m just your everyday stereotype. And I think I’ll be paying for our meal instead of placing a bet…”

As he pulled out his wallet and placed a twenty on the table, Moritz groaned. “Are you leaving already, Hansi?”

“I ACTUALLY work at a nine to five unlike you lucky assholes,” Hanschen smiled and patted Ilse’s shoulder affectionately. “Just make sure she sees YOU put down the tip.”

“Are you sure you’re going, Hansi. I don’t think there are many Uber’s around here this late…”

“I’ll take him.”

All three looked over to the very diminutive boy sitting in the corner of the booth. He anxiously continued. “I’m getting tired. But I will put a ten dollar bet down that Ilse will get the girl.”

“Are you sure, Ernst,” Hanschen asked and shrugged on his coat. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

Ernst slid out of the sticky vinyl seat. “No, no. It’s fine. You don’t live too far out of the way.”

“Be careful, you two,” Moritz muttered under his breath. “And don’t crash.”

“Hanschen works for a law firm. If it does end up being your fault, he could fine an ibuprofen in the other guy’s car and send him to prison for life.”

“Nice hanging out with you too, Ilse,” the blonde said and turned to his ride. “Ready to hit the road?”

Step Five: Let Your Cat (or Cute Boy) Set the Pace for Contact

The car ride had been silent for the first few minutes. Just the pair rehashing some of the funnier things that had happened on their hike that day or talking over Ilse’s ‘bet’. But after that, the two sat in silence.

Ernst tried his best to keep his eyes on the road. But it’s really hard to do that when it’s eleven o’clock at night and quite possibly the most attractive man in the world was sat beside you.

Every once and awhile, he would steal a glance to his right and catch a glimpse of Hanschen. His face, leaning against the window, would be lit by the hazy blue or yellow light along the street. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep. But he looked much more peaceful than before. With long eyelashes on top of pale cheekbones and pretty lips chapped from the days outdoor activities. He looked liked an angel in the passenger seat of Ernst’s shitty car.

“What are you looking at?”

Ernst almost slammed on the brakes when Hanschen broke the silence. Ernst had been looking at the road at the time, but the shock still hit him like a bullet. “Wh-What? I’m looking at the road?” He said in a voice much more panicked than he would have liked to have sounded.

“Every time you look at me, you slow down a little bit. On our trip to LA you did that anytime you looked over at your passenger.”

There was a pause, filled with Ernst’s nervous sigh. “You… You remember that?”

“I remember everything, Ernst. Can I put on some music?”

He was very awake now, but his body and voice were still relaxed. Ernst knew that he was comfortable, which made his heart feel like it was going to burst like a glass bottle. But in a good way.

“Yeah, sure do whatever you want,” He nodded. “But my radio doesn’t work. I just have uh...Some mixtapes I made. They’re in the center console.”

He saw Hanschen move in his peripheral and heard the slightly younger man ig through the center console. “Hmm…” He made the noise from the back of his throat. “This one is called… ‘90s pop jammers’?”

“Oh yeah, ignore tha-”

“‘disco will never die’?”

“Yeah a few of them are kinda old,just-”

“‘my middle school emo phase’?”

“Actually, do you think you could just-”

“‘rappers that other people say are good’?”

“I actually think I like the silence so could you-”

“Oh, I like this one.” Hanschen reached out for the stereo, ejecting the disc already in there and putting in the one he had selected. “‘quiet time jams’.”

Santa Monica Dream by Angus and Julia Stone began to play from the tinny speaker. As the guitar intro began to play, Hanschen sighed. “Ernst, do you remember our trip to LA?”

“I remember falling asleep behind the wheel and almost driving us into a tree near Sacramento,” Ernst giggled. “Or Melchior making us pull over to pet that labrador.”

Hanschen chuckled a deep chuckle from his chest, muttering wistfully to Ernst, “I remember camping out under the stars in one hundred degree heat.”

“Or going into that Hot Topic and getting kicked out for laughing the shitty graphic tees.”

“Or going into that art museum and Ilse falling asleep on the bench.”

“Or getting Wendla drunk off of white wine and going to that playground.”

“Or breaking into the cemetery and meeting the two gay goth kids doing coke.”

Hanschen shifted his weight to lean on the center console now and let out a nostalgic sigh. “Why did we even drive seventeen hours to LA?”

Ernst turned down the street that Hanschen lived on as the song changed to Luna by Smashing Pumpkins. With a cringe, Ernst leaned over to switch it to Alone and Sublime by Mother Mother began to play. “Something about Coachella but we were a week to early and didn’t have tickets.”

Hanschen smiled. Ernst could hear it in his sigh. And a few moments later, he pulled into a parking space. For a bit, the two men sat in the car in a very comfortable silence, listening to the voice over the speakers.

This is a spilling of the heart, With no intent to fall apart. I don't feel like I'm even here.

“Thanks for the ride, Ernst,” Hanschen said slowly. His voice drawled on with a slight fry to it, as if he was hesitant to continue. “I had a lot of fun today.”

“You never seen like you’re having fun, Hanschen.”

“I am,” the blond assured him, but still didn’t move. It didn’t feel right to leave just yet.

Absentmindedly, Ernst sang along to the song he had heard a million times in a very soft voice. “Am I so wrong to cry only when there's something in my eye? Am I to die alone and sublime?”

“Your voice is really pretty, Ernst.”

The comment took Ernst off guard at first. It wasn’t like Hanschen to just dole out compliments like that. And by his far off expression, Hanschen felt the same way. His usually vibrant and focussed eyes were gazing out of the windshield of the car. It was like his mind was working but Ernst couldn’t see what it was working on.

“Thank you, Hanschen. You know, no one has ever said that bef-”

If Ernst didn’t know how to react to a compliment, he definitely didn’t know how to react when he felt Hanschen’s hand grab his arm and press his lips against Ernst’s.

At first, his whole body tensed up. But about a second later, as Hanschen’s hand moved to the back on Ernst’s head, the smaller man relaxed against the touch. He could practically feel himself melting into Hanschen.

Am I so awful, to stumble only when I'm walking with another? Is it a blunder to die alone and sublime? Sublime. Alone and sublime. Alone and sublime.

The kiss had a certain fire to it. There was something desperate about the way Hanschen’s rough lips were pressing against Ernst’s. But the kiss was fragile, like they were both kissing lips made of glass and resisting the urge to devour one another whole.

He was warm and cold and rough and soft all at the same time. And he was cradling Ernst as if this car were the only thing in the universe.

Ernst had just managed to move his arms up and around Hanschen’s neck when the embrace was suddenly broke. Hanschen had pulled away and was quickly backing away from Ernst.

“Hanschen...I…” Ernst gasped for air, realizing only now that he hadn’t been breathing that whole time. But his words fell upon deaf ears as Hanschen opened the passenger door and got out without so much as a look back.

And all Ernst could do was watch as he walked into his apartment complex.

This is a spilling of the guts. Without intent to make a fuss. I feel like I ain't even here. You may just watch me disappear.

Step Six: Give Your Cat (Or Cute Boy Who Abandoned You in a Parked Car) Some Space

“Do you know why he hasn’t been hanging out lately?”

“What?” Ernst asked, finally snapping out of the staring contest he had been having with his reflection in Moritz’s rearview mirror. “Oh, who?”

“Hanschen,” He explained with an exhausted tone. Just the name sent a shiver down Ernst's spine. Was it anxiety or arousal? He didn’t even know. “He didn’t come to the movies with us, he made an excuse to get out of going hiking last week, and he didn’t even respond when I invited him to Anna’s birthday party. Do you know what his problem is?”

Yes.

“No.”

Moritz parked his car and got out in a series of awkward, clunky movements. “Well if he shows up tonight I’m going to bash his head in with this plate of brownies. And that would ruin game night. Can you grab those for me, by the way.”

The two arrived at the front door of Melchior and Wendla’s house, with a cute little ‘Love Lives Here’ sign on the front door that Wendla probably put up and Melchior hadn’t bothered to take down or vandalize yet. They had hoped to be greeted with friendliness and graciousness, seeing that they had shown up with a plate full of famous Stiefel Double Fudge Brownies. But when Wendla opened the door, her face was angry and serious.

“Wendy, how are yo-” Moritz began, but her swift glare cut him off. The two suddenly realized how alike her and Melchior were becoming.

“You wouldn’t believe who just showed up.”

The pair entered the small house, peering into the kitchen to see a handful of others standing in a circle with beers in their hand and talking in hushed voices.

When Ernst bounced in with a happy “Hey, guys!” The whole room turned to look at him. “What?”

“Ernst, buddy,” Anna muttered and wheeled herself over to Ernst. “Have you seen the guest in the living room?”

Everyone else looked expectantly at the small man. He stared back in confusion before it suddenly dawned on him what was happening.

Lying on the living room floor on his back, was a tall, muscular man in a pair of well fitting jeans and a blissful look. He had his feet up on the seat next to him, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of a Scientific American magazine. If Ernst hadn’t known any better, he would have though Hanschen hadn’t noticed him. But he did know better. He also knew what it meant that Hanschen was openly lounging in front of him, exposed and vulnerable.

Step Seven: Be Patient

“Hanschen.”

“Ernst.”

Silence. Hanschen didn’t look up from his magazine. But he remained in that position, stretched out and comfortable. But Ernst refused to cave. He planted his feet firmly in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes locked on Hanschen.

“I don’t like you staring.”

“Where have you been?”

Hanschen finally looked up, tilting his head back to stare right back at Ernst. “Around. Are you going to come in?”

Finally, Ernst moved from the doorway and sat on the ground a foot away from Hanschen’s head. In well planned movements, he reached out and took the magazine right out of his hands. “So. Where have you been these past two weeks.”

“What do you mean?” Hanschen drawled even though he knew what Ernst meant. He just wanted Ernst to continued.

With a sigh, Ernst reached down and laid a hand on Hanschen’s shoulder. The contact made Hanschen open his eyes a bit wider, and shift a bit closer to Ernst. But that’s exactly what Ernst hoped for. “You’ve been ghosting us for the past two weeks.”

“I haven’t been ghosting you.”

“Cause I haven’t been trying to contact you.”

“Why not?”

Ernst’s hand slowly moved up to the side of Hanschen’s neck. He moved his fingers in tiny, soft circles. Hanschen pressed against his hand gently. “Because I just guessed that, by the way you acted that night, that you didn’t want to see me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Hanschen’s eyes fluttered closed and his chest began to move up and down deeply. Ernst noticed yet again how broad and strong Hanschen’s chest was. And the insane urge to just bury his face in it right then and there on the Bergmann-Gabor living room floor. Instead, he listened to Hanschen’s deep voice coming from that chest. “I just didn’t have anything else to say. “

“So you just dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks?” Ernst asked expectantly. “What happened in my car that made you want to just disappear?”

“I didn’t leave. I’ve been at my house.”

“Why?”

“Cause I wanted to.”

Ernst’s thin fingers moved up to Hanschen’s hair. The shaggy, straight strands of hay colored hair that normally fell around his face with such careless and wild abandoned were softer than Ernst imagined. Almost as soon as Ernst touched Hanschen’s hair, the boy on the ground rolled onto his side, facing Ernst of course, and laid he head in Ernst’s lap. He looked serene and calm as the fingers played with his hair.

“Well you shouldn’t do that. We were worried about you. We were mad at you.”

“Were you mad?”

After a pause, Ernst responded, “Not really.”

Blue eyes opened quickly, looking at Ernst with a gaze full of muted wonder. “Who are you to tell me that I can’t do that?”

“Your boyfriend.”

Hanschen’s body suddenly tensed. But he didn’t move. He stayed right there in Ernst’s lap. And after he relaxed again and a soft smile spread on his lips, Ernst continued. “Well, that is, if our date goes well.”

“Who said we’re going on a date?”

“Me,” Ernst stated plainly. The tone of his voice made Hanschen’s stomach feel all fuzzy and made him want to just wrap around Ernst for the rest of the night. “I mean, I’m assuming by your actions in the car that you’re ok with that?”

“More than ok with it,” Was all Hanschen replied with and let the silence hang in the room. If Ernst had learned anything, he learned that Hanschen didn’t mind the silences. If anything, he liked them more than talking.

And he liked laying in Ernst’s arms.

“Are you two…okay?” Melchior’s voice came from the entrance of the kitchen. The two in question looked up from one another to see the rest of the group behind him, waiting with baited breath.

“Yes,” Hanschen said and sat up, keeping his back to the others. “Ernst and I were just talking about the car incident.”

“The car incident?” Ilse asked, taking a small step into the living room.

“The car incident?” Echoed Ernst in a much smaller voice.

Standing, Hanschen responded in his Trademark nonchalant fashion, “The incident where we made out in Ernst’s car to some emo indie song and how I’ve been avoiding you since I left Ernst sitting there with a hard on and more high school angst than an actual teenager.”

The disbelief in their friend’s faces looked like a shot from the cheesiest sitcom ever made. But all Ernst could do was chuckle.

“Well, you’re not wrong. But that could have been said with a BIT more consideration.”

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