by Andrew Grey
“During the war, the palace itself suffered little damage. A bomb fell through the ballroom ceiling and lodged in the floor but didn’t explode.” Fabian pointed to the top of the hill on the far edge of the grounds. “The Gloriette didn’t fare as well, but has been restored.”
Jonathon continued looking around until he heard music. “What’s that?” Jonathon asked, looking for the source.
Fabian leaned close. “That’s the surprise.” Fabian practically vibrated. “Once a week, they have a small orchestra that plays here, with dancers.” Jonathon listened to the beginning chords and rhythm of an unmistakable Strauss waltz. “They give lessons.”
“Don’t you have to pay?”
“More than that, you need reservations.” Fabian smirked and winked. “I called yesterday and got the last two spots.” He held out his hand. “Shall we dance?”
Jonathon felt his eyes widen. “Here? Us? Won’t everyone be shocked?”
Fabian shook his head. “I specifically asked, and they said they get a lot of same-sex couples. The girl on the phone actually laughed about it. So, are you game?”
“To learn to waltz with you? Absolutely.” Jonathon smiled as Fabian took his hand and led him off to the side to a small courtyard, where the orchestra played and men in tuxes and women in long formal dresses whirled around a raised dance floor. People stood nearby watching, and Fabian led them to where a small group of people had congregated.
“They’ll start the lesson after they’re done dancing, in a few minutes,” Fabian said as they joined the group.
Jonathon watched the dancers until they were done, with the audience clapping and filing away. “Guten Tag, meine Damen und Herren, good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Helmut, and I’ll be your instructor this afternoon, along with my partner Greta. What we’re going to do is demonstrate and teach you the basic steps of the Viennese waltz.” He motioned with his hand, and the orchestra began to play, and the two of them flowed around the dance floor, accentuating the movement of their feet and bodies. “We’d like each couple to come out onto the dance floor, and we’ll start by talking you through the steps.”
Fabian took his hand, and Jonathon followed him out onto the dance floor. “Who’s going to lead?” Jonathon asked with a wink.
“I will, but only because I’m taller. Besides, I already know how to waltz.”
“So you just wanted to dance with me then?” Jonathon said as he felt Fabian’s hand on his waist, and they followed the instructor, moving one step at a time through the dance. The instructor had them repeat the moves, and then the orchestra began to play. Couples began to move around the floor, a little clumsily, but they were doing it.
“Do you want to give it a try?” Fabian asked when Jonathon didn’t move.
“You mean dance? Sure. Keep time, don’t step on my feet, and follow along.” Jonathon began swaying to the rhythm of the music and then stepped right into the dance, twirling Fabian around the floor, smiling at his partner’s open-mouthed surprise.
“You didn’t tell me you could dance,” Fabian said as they danced by one of the other couples.
“You never asked,” Jonathon replied with a smile as he guided them through the steps, looking into Fabian’s eyes. “In college I had a roommate who needed to take dance lessons for her wedding, and we took them together. It was so much fun that we continued them for almost a year. The waltz was one of the things I learned.”
“Obviously,” Fabian retorted as the music ended, and Jonathon found himself pulled into a hug. “Dancing with you is really hot.”
The instructor began giving instructions again, and they listened until the music started once more. This time the tempo was slower, the notes making longer lines, dictating smooth, flowing movement. Jonathon saw Jeana and Inge standing near the dance floor, watching them. Then Jonathon felt Fabian’s gaze on him, and everything around them faded away. Nothing existed but him, Fabian, and the music, their bodies responding without words, the movement of one dictating the movement of the other.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Fabian said softly, and Jonathon missed a step before he could catch himself. “Your eyes waltz when you’re happy, and right now they’re dancing more than we are.” Fabian smiled and took up the lead, guiding Jonathon around the floor, bodies flowing, eyes locking, energy flowing between them wherever they touched.
“You’re pretty fabulous yourself,” Jonathon murmured as the music continued. “I can’t believe you took me dancing.”
“We aren’t dancing—we’re waltzing in the waltz capital of the world.”
The song drifted to a close, and the orchestra began again, the familiar chords of Strauss’s “Blue Danube” floating around them, through the tree limbs, and filling the courtyard. Jonathon smiled as Fabian put one hand on his hip and took his hand in the other as they swayed through the introduction before stepping off and into the waltz. Intricately, flowingly, Fabian guided them around the floor, eyes never straying from his, gaze intense and full, attention focused on him and him alone. Jonathon felt as though at that moment the entire world consisted of just two people, and in that moment he felt his resistance fade, and the last of those bands around his heart fell away. Suddenly, he felt light, the weight of Greg’s death, the fight over his estate and will, the sorrow, the pain, the loneliness—all of that slipped away and it was just him and Fabian dancing in the Viennese sunshine.
The music faded and Fabian slowed them to a stop, and Jonathon looked around. All the other students, instructors, and bystanders watched them as they stepped off the dance floor, standing next to Inge and Jeana. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, it looks as though we had a pair of experts in our midst,” the instructor said to the group before beginning the music once again and continuing the class.
“You looked great, Dad,” Jeana said as she gave him a hug. “You both did.”
“Thanks.” Jonathon felt Fabian’s hand on the small of his back, and he was guided away from the dance lesson and out toward the main gardens. “Are we going up there?” Jonathon asked, looking at the gold building on the hill.
“Of course. It has one of the best views in all of Vienna,” Fabian answered.
Inge and Jeana began walking, staying close together, obviously enthralled with one another. “I’m so glad she’s happy. They seem good for each other,” Jonathon told Fabian as they walked along the wide garden path lined with flower beds that framed the large, formal palace gardens.
“They do.” Fabian ran his hand along Jonathon’s arm. “But what I want to know is, what is it that makes you happy?”
Jonathon didn’t know how to answer that question. After Greg’s death, he’d forgotten how to be happy and had spent his days merely existing. He hadn’t considered what would bring him happiness because the one person who’d given him joy was now gone. The last few days had shown him that he could be happy again—joy was his to experience once again—but he wasn’t quite sure how, and he felt he had to give an honest answer. “I don’t know. It’s been awhile since I was happy—since I’ve allowed myself to be happy.”
Fabian looked at him in a very curious manner that Jonathon couldn’t quite decipher. “I don’t understand. How can you not know what makes you happy?” Jonathon didn’t have an answer and just shrugged instead. “Your Greg must have been very special.”
“He was,” Jonathon answered softly. “He was the one person who loved me unconditionally, and that’s very rare, or at least it has been for me.” He still felt some of the loneliness, but talking about Greg didn’t hurt or leave him torn up the way it always had in the past. “You would have liked him. He was fun, loved life, and knew how to live. I was lucky.” Jonathon looked up toward where they were going. “You really don’t want me to talk about Greg here, do you?”
Fabian stopped walking, letting Jeana and Inge get further ahead. “You can talk about whatever you like.”
“Good.” Jonathon smiled, relieved that the still-sad subjec
t of Greg would be left alone for now. “Then let’s talk about where you went while you were gone. You must have seen some fascinating places.”
“Actually,” Fabian’s expression darkened slightly, “I spent much of the time in Innsbruck. I was able to find a job there, but then business slowed down and they had to cut back. Since I was the last one hired, that was me.”
“How did the job search go this morning?” Jonathon asked as they began climbing the hill to the Neptune Fountain.
“I’m hopeful. They seemed to like me and were impressed with my work. They said they would call next week.”
Stopping at the dramatic Neptune Fountain with its naked figures, seahorses, sprays, and waterfalls, Jonathon used the opportunity to take plenty of pictures of the palace and grounds, as well as of them. A pleasant woman from New Jersey agreed to take pictures of the four of them, and they stood in front of the fountain, mist wetting their backs slightly as she snapped the pictures. Taking back the camera, Jonathon thanked her, and they continued up the hill.
At the top, the Gloriette, with its colonnades and pillars, loomed over them. “This was built by the Empress Maria Theresa, and many think it was to celebrate a victory in war, but it wasn’t. It was built mostly as decoration to finish off the palace grounds,” Fabian explained. Jonathon turned around, looking down toward the palace and the city beyond. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Fabian stood next to him, an arm winding around his waist.
“Yes. Thank you for this. It was amazing fun.” Jonathon almost leaned forward but stopped himself.
“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Jeana said from behind him. “Just kiss the man.” Jonathon threw her a glare and then leaned to Fabian, kissing him softly and quickly.
Together, they wandered around, climbing to the roof to take in the view before heading down and back toward the palace. Then, leaving the palace behind, they made their way to the subway. “Inge and I are going into the city. Would you like to join us?”
Jonathon looked to Fabian before declining. “I think we’re going to head back. You two have fun.”
“Thanks,” Inge said with a smile when Fabian and Jeana were out of earshot, obviously interested in spending some time alone with Jeana.
At the subway station, they parted ways and boarded their train, waving as Jeana and Inge stood on the platform, waiting for theirs. “I know I said this before, but danke schön for today, it was special,” Jonathon said
“You’re welcome.” They rode quietly, the train speeding beneath the city. After getting off, they walked toward the apartment. As they got close, Jonathon stopped in front of the passage between the houses. Trash and even a few rags littered the stained concrete. Jonathon wasn’t sure if those were from the other day or not, but he couldn’t stop a shiver from running up his spine.
“Do you think it would be possible to find out how he’s doing?” Jonathon turned, but Fabian’s surprised expression made him take a step back. “What?”
“Jonathon, it’s admirable that you want to help him, but this is a street person who makes his living selling himself. It’s probably best if we don’t get involved. You helped him when he needed it, and that is pretty amazing, but….”
Jonathon didn’t stand around to hear what else Fabian had to say. Standing tall, he walked away, stopping only to open the gate before walking through the courtyard and into the apartment, closing the door. He made it as far as one of the dining chairs before his righteous indignation faded away, replaced by disappointment and hurt.
He should have known that things with Fabian were too good to be true. Granted, he’d probably overreacted, and Fabian’s attitude was probably what he should have expected, but the look on Fabian’s face had been so unemotional and cold. The thing was, Jonathon couldn’t help putting himself in that young man’s position because he knew what it felt like, and he knew he was lucky he hadn’t ended up nearly bleeding to death in some alley somewhere himself. Standing up, he went upstairs, putting his camera away. He needed to get food for dinner, and now was as good a time as any.
Leaving the apartment, he didn’t look around for Fabian but hurried out through the gate and down the street. Jonathon couldn’t help glancing down the passageway again before hurrying on to the small market a few blocks away. Continuing on, he did his shopping and carried the groceries home, making a light dinner before opening the balcony doors, sitting in his chair, opening his book, and settling in to read.
The fading light forced Jonathon to close his book, and he checked the time before carrying his things inside and closing the balcony door. Foregoing his usual evening snack, he got cleaned up and decided he’d go to bed early, figuring that things might be better in the morning. He was about to climb the stairs when he heard a soft knock. Huffing softly, he walked downstairs, pulling open the door. Fabian stood on his doorstep, his expression unreadable. “I called the police and the emergency services. They wouldn’t tell me much, but they did say which hospital he was taken to. It’s not much, considering we don’t know his name, but I’ll take you in the morning if you want.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did. I saw your face, and I knew I had hurt you. I did not mean that.” Fabian took a small step closer. “Yesterday I said you had a gentle heart, and I meant it, you do. I should know that it would not allow you to turn away. I should not have acted as a Dummkopf.” Fabian looked at his feet. “I should be more understanding and less like Oma.”
“Well, thank you. I know it’s hard for you to understand why I want to do this, but I need to know if he’ll be okay.” Jonathon tried to explain as best he could.
Fabian shook his head. “You are hoping you can help him. Maybe do for him what your Father Joda tried to do for you.” His hand touched Jonathon’s shoulder, fingers lightly massaging the muscle. “I don’t know if you can, but I think I understand your need to try.”
“Do you want to come in?” Jonathon asked, stepping back.
“Yes, very much, but I won’t.”
“Oh.” Jonathon didn’t understand that at all.
Fabian stepped just inside the door. “I find you very attractive.” Jonathon felt Fabian’s hand on his cheek, stroking softly. “If I come in, I will not be able to not touch you. So I will say good night, Gentle Heart, but I will come get you in the morning.” Fabian brought their lips together in a scorching kiss that had Jonathon forgetting his own name and gasping for breath. Then Fabian backed away and disappeared into the night.
JONATHON woke in the morning, wishing for sun to dispel his dreams, but he got only clouds and drizzle. To say he hadn’t slept well was an understatement. Whenever he’d closed his eyes, his dreams became a muddled mess of Fabian and Greg, with him lying in an alley, gasping for breath, reaching to one and then the other but never getting any help. More than once he’d awakened gasping for air, patting his body to make sure he was okay.
Throwing back the covers in a dramatic whoosh, he got out of bed, trying to will away the unsettled feeling that remained from the night. It wasn’t working. His mind felt like it was floating, detached, and he walked downstairs, turning on the television before lying on the sofa. Almost instantly, he fell back to sleep.
“Johnny,” he heard someone say his childhood nickname, not sure if he was awake or asleep. A hand brushed over his forehead, and he leaned into the touch, opening his eyes, seeing a pair of deep-brown ones shining back at him. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer, but I could hear the television. Are you well?” Fabian asked, his voice soft and caring. “You were talking in your sleep.” Jonathon tried to sit up, but Fabian touched his shoulder, and he relaxed back on the sofa. “I like you like this.” He felt Fabian nuzzle his neck. “You look very good.”
Jonathon remembered that he’d only been wearing his boxers when he’d moved to the sofa, and that became crystal clear as he felt a warm hand stroke his stomach and chest, lips touching his. “I should definitely get up.” Part of him already was, but it had been
so long since he’d been touched, and Fabian’s hands felt so good, he lay back and closed his eyes, letting the sensations of warmth carry him for a while.
When the hands disappeared, he opened his eyes and saw Fabian standing next to him. “You make me want you very much.”
Jonathon reached around Fabian’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. For most of the night, he’d been trying to figure out why he’d been holding back with Fabian, and he could never give himself an answer. But now he realized he didn’t want to hold back any longer. Denying himself the affection and attention of someone he liked wasn’t doing either of them any good. “I want you too,” Jonathon gasped between kisses, his hand slinking beneath Fabian’s shirt.
“Good.” Fabian pulled away slowly. “I want this, but not here on the sofa. With you, we need to make love on a bed, not play around in the living room.” Fabian seemed to be searching for his words, and Jonathon beamed for a second, because he’d found the perfect ones. But then he couldn’t help wondering if it was just an accident. He wanted to believe Fabian knew what he’d said and meant the words, but he couldn’t be sure.
Sitting up, he found himself kissed hard again before the lips backed away and Fabian helped him to his feet. “I’ll go get dressed.”
“Please do. Those don’t leave much to the mind.” Fabian smirked as Jonathon looked down, his boxers tented.
Rolling his eyes, Jonathon beat a hasty retreat up the stairs. “I’ll just be a few minutes.” Going to the wardrobe, he pulled on a pair of slacks and a shirt before finishing getting dressed. Once he was reasonably presentable, he went back downstairs, using the bathroom to finish getting ready.
