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He knows Christoph knows. Christoph, coming in first, towel slung around his shoulders, had seen them and successfully diverted the other guys' attention by blocking the way, complaining loudly about how the water was always too cold and some other nonsense to give them time to straighten themselves out. Afterwards, when they filed out, Friedrich had sidled up to Christoph and mumbled 'thank you.' Christoph half-smiled, shook his head, 'it's nothing -', looking like he wanted to say something more, but decided against it, just nodding once, and then they were already in their room.
Albrecht is already at his bed, pulling the pyjama top over his head, and the slump in his shoulders is that visible that Friedrich wants to reach over, hug him and tell him 'it'll be alright it'll be alright it'll…' over and over again even if he knows that it won't be of any use, he will still be here at the NaPolA in a week when Albrecht has been sent to the East Front in the Ukraine, and he can't do anything to prevent it. He is helpless, and he hates it.
He watches Albrecht climb onto his bed, folding back the covers and burying himself under them, his back to him. Friedrich can't help thinking 'he's so small, he is so small…' and wishes they were back in the shower room, wishes he could have given him more comfort, wishes Christoph and the other guys never had turned up, wishes…
Wishes that he could have given Albrecht what he desired. He had seen the want in Albrecht's eyes, but until then, he hadn't realized what it meant, had thought it just to be something uniquely Albrecht, some odd quirk of the latter, these intense looks that made him feel light-headed, being the sole center of the attention that Albrecht lavished onto him.
But in the lavatory room he had seen the warring conflict in the other one's eyes and the despair overshadowing anything, and inexplicably, he had been angry at him to throw away everything that he was, that they were, in such a careless way.
Couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut, couldn't he just have spilled his soul's content to Friedrich who would've listened, secure in the knowledge that his friend's secrets were his also, and that he wouldn't betray him, ever, and that this was to be one more thing between them, one more thing that he could hold onto, something that made Albrecht the more dearer to him. And he would have comforted him, would have done anything to banish the dark ghosts from Albrecht's mind, just about anything.
Why couldn't he have, why did he have to read that damned essay out to the whole class, why did he… and then the fury had overtaken Friedrich's mind, and he had yelled, demanding an explanation, and when Albrecht just said, hopelessly, but with a steel core of determination, 'I helped myself' – it was like a blow – didn't he mean anything to Albrecht? Did the latter not hold their friendship in the same high regard as Friedrich did?
And, in his fury failing the words to explain this to Albrecht, he shoved him back, but Albrecht didn't retaliate, didn't say anything, just stared at him all the time, and it was all in his eyes, these expressive eyes, and he advanced on him, blindly shouting insults, and shoved him once more, to get him to realize what terrible mess he put himself in – and then Albrecht shoved him back, and they grappled at each other and ended up on the floor, still wrangling with each other, and then Albrecht broke down, crying raggedly, not fighting back anymore, and Friedrich fisted his hands into Albrecht's uniform, hearing a sob escape his own lips. And then Albrecht's arms tightened around him and he felt Albrecht's shaking sobs rack his entire body and held onto him, his head pressing into Albrecht's chest, feeling the utmost despair overcome him.
They cried for what would be, for what had been, and, most importantly, for what could never be. For their future, denied to them.
And this is how Christoph found them.