I moan grumpily. I like winter usually — well, I prefer it to summer. I'm not built for that heat. I love snow, the Christmas season with all its lights and carols, skiing, ice skating, and the tingling sensation on my cheeks when I step outside the door on a frosty morning. But where most days there is an energizing chilly breeze, today it’s an unbearable, icy wind that seems to make its home in Vienna. And that’s something I don’t like at all.

As much as I prefer winter, I must confess that January is always a somewhat bleak month. Christmas is over. The weather is usually miserable as hell, and in the city we rarely have snow — it's just plain cold.

I quickly take the last few steps to the ornate late-nineteenth-century building where I grew up. My eyes are subconsciously drawn to the corner room on the second floor. My parents' apartment faced the inner courtyard so our windows were not visible from the street, but my best friend's family owns the entire second floor of this building. The corner room I’m gazing at now was Michael’s.

Not that either of us still lives here — we grew up and moved out long ago – but Michael's parents still live in this apartment. My parents, on the other hand, moved to the country a few years ago. They wanted a little more peace and quiet in their old age. This thought makes me shiver almost as much as the wind. It’s wonderful to visit my parents’ little house about an hour away from Vienna with its unobstructed view of the wide fields around it — but only for the odd weekend. You couldn’t drag me away from the city myself.

And why is that? I push this thought aside as quickly as it pops into my head.

Lately, my subconscious seems determined to make me face certain truths. It won’t win. Over the years, I have become a master of repression.

Decisively, I press the familiar bell, and after the briefest pause, the whirring door opens at my touch. I run up the wide steps, taking two at a time — some habits die hard.

Michael and I were always far too energetic to take one step at a time. As soon as our legs were anywhere near long enough for us to take two at a time, we did — and we haven’t stopped since. At least I haven’t. I have no idea how Michael climbs these steps. Since my parents moved away, I've only been back a few times. For a moment, I wonder whether it bothers me that complete strangers now live in the apartment where I grew up. I decide the answer is: Not really.

Reaching the first floor, I find the white double door in front of me is already open and the man who’s been dominating my thoughts standing waiting for me, grinning.

Michael is one of the most attractive people I know. A good head taller than me and slim as a rake, his blue-green eyes sparkle cheekily at me. His playful expression is enhanced by his wild light brown curls. That's why, even as a child, I always referred to him as my Fuzzball, a nickname that’s stuck with him to this day. Plus, I can sneak a possessive pronoun on it — he is my best friend after all! Although, it doesn’t make me feel much better that I’m not allowed to use my in front of the words I’d like to. My Michael. My man.

The polite thing to do would be to focus on his face, but Michael makes it damn difficult. He’s wearing a tight-fitting, dark blue shirt with a slight sheen that emphasizes his slim figure, and his beige pants look tailored. They fit him in all the right places.

Damn! Why does he have to be so sexy? And worse, so damn straight?

I’m in love with my best friend — there, I said it. I’m a walking cliché. I’ve loved him since … forever, and yet, we can never become us. A fact I’ve tried to come to terms with ever since Michael introduced me to his first girlfriend when he was about fifteen. He’s not into men. Unlike me.

"You're late!" My secret great love signs with a fake annoyed look. Michael was born deaf. It was quite a shock for his parents, but I can't imagine him any other way. He’s perfect just the way he is.

We played together in the sandbox in the courtyard of this very house, and that's how I picked up sign language — the same way kids pick up any other skill. I wish that learning a new language would still be as easy for me nowadays, but since I outgrew the sandbox, my talents lie more in mathematics than in language.

"Have I missed the cake?" I ask as urgently as if the answer is what's bothering me deep inside — and not my hidden feelings for my best friend.

"Of course not!"

Michael seems indignant as if he’d never let a slice of cake pass his lips if I wasn't there. And it’s not far from the truth. While I have a very sweet tooth and could live off the wonderful pastries that all the Viennese bakeries tempt you with, Michael prefers savory. Another clear difference between us.

"Where are you guys?" a voice drifts from the living room making me smile. Clearly, Michael's mother is as eager to cut the cake as I am.

I step into the apartment, take off my thick coat and scarf in the hall, and hurry into the dining room. Everything looks as if they had actually been waiting for me. The birthday cake is already on the table. However, the candles are not yet lit.

Mmm, chocolate cake! Or to be more precise, Sacher-Torte, a specialty of Vienna.

Seated at the table are Michael's parents and the birthday boy himself, Linus. Michael's older brother is forty years old today. The fact that I’m late doesn’t bother him in the least as his smile is firmly fixed on the man sitting next to him.

Karl came into our lives last summer, and it was a complete surprise, at least for me. Linus and Karl went to the same boarding school and were head over heels in love with each other back then. They never managed to get together, though, and even last summer, when they reconnected, they tried to brush it off as a fling.

I do a mental eye roll at the memory. What a drama that was! The two of them are just perfect for each other, but the way they overcomplicated it … sheesh! The main thing is that they’re happy now.

Michael watches me closely as I greet his parents and then Karl and Linus. His eyes narrow as I hug his brother. I pretend not to notice. Both Michael and Linus think that I’m one of those people who don’t really notice what’s going on around them. The truth is, I take in a lot more than they think, but what I see is often just too painful to acknowledge. At some point, I started pretending I existed in a kind of bubble, then I simply stuck with it.

Michael

Sebastian looks fantastic as always. His shoulder-length blond hair is gathered at his nape with a hair band — the very spot that haunts my dreams — his delicate skin is beyond tempting. Then there’s the enticing transition to broad shoulders, which I would love to nibble, given half the chance, even though they’re hidden under his black shirt today. A black silk tie and black pants complete the ensemble.

The outfit emphasizes his dark eyes. The blond hair and his cheeks, reddened by the cold, make a perfect contrast. I have to put my hands in my pants pockets to keep from reaching out to him. He looks so good.

It's rare that my best friend is dressed so formally. Normally, he's more of a "jeans and t-shirt" kind of guy, especially if said t-shirt has a funny saying on it. But today, he’s dressed up for my brother's birthday party, and I can only repeat myself — he looks positively edible.

My focus sharpens when Sebastian hugs my brother, but it's nothing more than one of those typical male greetings with back slapping and hips miles apart. Still, I can barely contain my jealousy.

A few months ago, I caught the two of them together. I’d known for a while that Linus and Michael were occasional fuck buddies. Neither of them ever made a secret of it. My brother even asked me if I was okay with it. But honestly, what was I supposed to say? No, you can't sleep with my best friend, even if I don't want to?

Okay, that last bit’s a lie. I knew I was bi when I was a teenager, but then Linus came out as gay, and as stupid as it sounds, I felt we needed a clear devision between us. Men were Linus's thing and women were mine, as if I was giving half of the world's population to my brother and keeping the other half for myself.

And what about intersex or non-binary people? my subconscious throws at me.

I was just making a point, okay? I throw back.

What I’m getting at is that I’ve never acted on my feelings for men. Did I miss out because of that? Maybe. But one thing’s become obvious to me: Now, I have no idea how I’d go about it even if I wanted to. What would it be like to flirt with a man?

I tried to watch how my brother did it, but his love life was so chaotic that I finally had to help him out myself! Although, he probably wouldn't see it that way. If anything, he’d say that my tactics were a little too in-your-face. I mentally shrug. He’s not entirely wrong. Subtlety has never been my strong suit. It worked, though. For him.

I squint over at my brother, who’s just giving his other half a gentle kiss on the cheek. Another flare of jealousy flashes through me. Not because I’m the least bit interested in my brother's future husband. Karl would be far too intense for me — that brooding look alone … I suppress a shudder. But I have to admit that I am jealous of what they have. The love they share is almost palpable. How I wish I could feel that for someone!

There is someone, my subconscious says.

I can't stop my gaze drifting to Sebastian. I swallow as I watch his full lips form words I can’t take in.

I’m not exactly sure when my feelings for him changed. We’ve been best friends since we were toddlers. Then, last May, when I walked into my brother's apartment early one morning — something I do every day, actually — there was a man in his bed. There usually was. Only this time it was Sebastian.

I was thunderstruck.

Was that the moment that changed everything? Yes and no. I think I’d started to see Sebastian differently some time before, but the moment he stumbled out of my brother's bedroom only wearing an extra-long T-shirt forced me to face the truth: I’m in love with Sebastian.

And I have no idea what to do about it.

Sebastian

The family celebration in honor of Linus's fortieth birthday is very lively. Just as it always is in this house. Karl suits the group well too. I like him a lot, although I've not had the chance to get to know him well. I really should spend more time with them all, but there's just been so much going on in the last few months.

Am I sad that Linus's relationship with Karl means our casual hook-ups are a thing of the past? Not really. It was great to have someone who was always up for no-strings-attached sex when the loneliness got too much, but otherwise ...

Sadly, there’s a price to pay for hiding my love for my heterosexual best friend for the last twenty-five years: I’ve never wanted a serious relationship with any other man. Even though my heart yearns for a lasting connection — of growing old with the man of my dreams by my side.

Even if Karl hadn’t entered our lives, I doubt my thing with Linus would have lasted much longer. Not after Michael showed up at Linus’s apartment one morning and found us together, anyway. They both started acting totally weird after that. At first, I felt like Linus was trying to hide me from his brother, which was strange enough, then Michael ghosted me for days afterwards. The whole thing stressed me out so much I set a new record in spin class that week.

I pretended not to notice that they were acting out of character, and to this day, I have no idea what was going on. Whatever it was, though, it was nerve-wracking enough that I vowed never to go through it again, and Linus must have felt the same way. We were never particularly close outside of our bedroom shenanigans, but from that one day on, I felt like he was actively avoiding me. He’d never done that before, and I have to admit, it hurt. It may have been Michael I was best of friends with, but a short and sweet conversation about not hooking up anymore is the least I expected from a lifelong friend like Linus.

I take another look at the happy couple. Linus and Michael are teasing Karl for using a sign from Terengian sign language that has a humorously ambiguous meaning in Austrian. A wry grin crosses my face as their banter edges its way through my thoughts. It doesn’t seem to bother Karl at all, but then the big man grabs the back of Linus's chair, tilts it backwards, and kisses his partner with everything he has.

Linus's mother throws a napkin at them playfully, and his father asks if they’d like to go and play in Linus's old nursery.

I grin contentedly. This family is a blast. I’m an incredibly lucky person that, as Michael’s best friend, I’m an honorary member.

Best friends for almost forty years ...

I can hardly believe that one of us has already reached the big four-oh. It's my turn in five months and Michael in two years’ time. We're going to celebrate big time!

But two years is a long time to wait, and Michael has no idea that I have something up my sleeve for him already. Today.

***

We’re bursting at the seams by the time Michael and I leave the party a few hours later. As we make our way to my apartment, the bone-chilling cold prevents any conversation. Neither of us want to lose our fingers and noses to frostbite, so we hide them inside thick gloves and behind scarves. It’s a comfortable silence, though.

One of the things I've always appreciated about Michael is that he doesn't have to fill every pause in conversation. We can just be. It’s a quality I love about him. This trait may stem from the fact he can't hear. Far too few people know sign language, so there are often long stretches where Michael has to be self-contained because he can't randomly start a conversation with a stranger.

Smartphones are a blessing. They’ve opened up his world a bit wider. Now, a catch-up with a friend who knows sign language is only a video call away, and text messages are a great way for him to communicate too.

Many years ago, I asked Michael if he wished he could hear. He thought about it for a moment but then shook his head. I love my life as it is, he signed. After that, nothing more needed to be said.

My apartment is only a five-minute walk from Michael’s parents’ place. And Linus only lives two streets away. Michael's apartment is eight minutes in the other direction. That’s as far as any of us have got from our childhood homes. Our Grätzel, which is what the Viennese call a neighborhood, is simply wonderful, and I consider it a great privilege that we’re all so close to each other.

Before the party, Michael and I agreed that he’d come round to my place afterwards. Or rather, I made up an excuse to lure my best friend over. Since Linus and Michael manage several apartment buildings belonging to their family, he knows everything about house maintenance. Although it's usually Linus who takes care of small repairs, tradesmen, new tenants and so on, Michael can step in anytime there’s an issue.

Michael is actually the financial genius of the family. He doesn't talk about it very much, but if I'm interpreting some of his recent remarks correctly, he's quadrupled the family's wealth in the fifteen-plus years he's been managing their real estate. I pride myself on being very good with numbers, but what Michael does is on another level. He's really something!

When he was still a student, he told me that his professor said to his assistant that it was a shame that Michael was deaf because, if he could hear, he’d be as rich as Croesus with his intuitive understanding of money and how to make it.

Michael smirked when he told me about it. It amuses him intensely when people forget that he can lip read and talk about him as if he isn't even there.

After he told me the whole story, I asked him if it was true — was he really that good? He just shrugged and said that if he was willing to work in high finance, becoming super-rich would be easy. Almost all communication there is done via tech anyway. But then he said that wasn’t his goal. He only ever wanted to learn how to continue building his family's wealth, and that would be enough for him.

When I look up, I see we’re standing in front of the newly built apartment building I rent a flat in. Why have I been wallowing in old memories? I have no idea. Michael’s financial skills are not important right now. Today, I have something else in mind.

Excitement builds in my stomach. I can hardly wait to see how Michael reacts to my surprise.