Level Two for Two Hearts: A Femboy Story
I hadn't been able to get Jona out of my head since we first met.
That was a bit inconvenient because my head was actually supposed to be busy with other things. Shopping. Working. Sleeping. Not constantly looking at my phone as soon as it vibrated. But since that day at the gaming flea market, my brain had decided to play Jona on repeat. His pink hoodie. His crooked smile. The way he nervously tugged at his sleeves. The kiss on the bridge, where Pixelbert, my new plush dragon, had heroically gotten in the way.
Pixelbert was now sitting on my shelf next to the console, looking at me every evening as if to say, „Well? Thinking of him again?“
Outrageous stuffed animal.
Jona and I had been texting every day since then. Not always big news. Sometimes just a meme. Sometimes a screenshot from a game. Sometimes a „are you awake?“ way too late at night, followed by conversations that were funny at first and then suddenly got soft. About insecurity. About clothes. About feeling strong sometimes and fragile other times. About that strange fear of being found cute as a femboy but not really taken seriously.
With Jonah, I didn't have to explain everything.
That was dangerously beautiful.
On Friday, he wrote:
„Second meeting? My place this time. Gaming, snacks, no flea market chaos. Maybe fewer plush dragons in the way.“
I stared at the news for a full minute.
Then I wrote:
„Pixelbert feels left out.“
Jona answered immediately:
„Pixelbert is invited. But he doesn't get a controller.“
So on Saturday I'll be standing in front of my mirror again.
This time it wasn't quite as bad as the first time. Not quite. Just medium bad. I still tried on three outfits, discarded two of them, stood in front of the mirror for too long from the left and right, and wondered if I looked too cute or not cute enough. In the end, I decided on a soft black hoodie with small white stars on the sleeves, shorts, dark tights, and my boots. I also wore the silver necklace that I had worn on our first meeting.
I looked at myself and thought, Okay. This is you. And he likes you like this.
This thought didn't make me any less nervous.
But warmer.
Of course, I packed Pixelbert in. Not because I was being silly. But for reasons of emotional continuity. Very serious.
Jona lived in a small apartment on the third floor. As I stood at his door, I heard soft music from inside. My heart was pounding, but not as frantically as the first time. More with anticipation. As if it had already gathered a bit of trust and wanted to test if it would hold.
I rang the bell.
The door opened.
Jona stood there in an oversized cream-colored sweater, black shorts, and striped socks. His hair was still a little damp, as if he had showered shortly before and then lost the battle against his hairstyle. In one hand, he held a controller.
„I wanted to look cool,“ he said by way of greeting. „Then I realized I was opening the door with a controller in my hand.“
I smiled. „Very charismatic.“
„Thanks. I call the style: Gamer with dignity remaining.“
„Brave.“
His gaze fell on my bag. „Is he in there?“
I lifted Pixelbert out.
Jona placed a hand on his heart. „Our son.“
„Please don't exaggerate.“
„Our dragon.“
„Better.“
He stepped aside. „Come in. Both of you.“
His apartment was just as I had imagined it. Not perfectly tidy, but cozy. A sofa with far too many cushions. A small desk with two monitors. Shelves full of games, figurines, and manga. A string of lights above the television. On the coffee table were bowls of chips, chocolate, and sour gummy worms. Next to them, two glasses and a bottle of soda.
On a pillow lay a small blanket with a star pattern.
„You've prepared,“ I said.
„No.“
I looked at him.
He looked back.
„A little bit,“ he admitted.
„Sweet.“
Jona’s face immediately turned red. „You can’t just say that.“
„Why not?“
„Because then I forget how to stand normally.“
He actually stood there a bit strangely, half in the hallway, half in the living room, as if he had to decide whether to be a host or fluffy chaos.
I took off my shoes and put Pixelbert on the sofa.
„He is watching us.“
„Good,“ said Jonah. „Then we'll behave ourselves.“
We kept that up for about seven minutes.
We started with a co-op game that was supposed to be „relaxing.“ It had colorful landscapes, cute characters, and music that sounded like a peaceful Sunday afternoon. Within no time, we were both yelling at the TV because a digital platform moved before we were ready.
„Jump!“ shouted Jonah.
„I'm jumping!“
„Not backward!“
„I'm panicking!“
My character fell into the abyss.
Jona briefly put the controller on his lap and looked at me. „I say this with love: You're a danger to any mission.“
„I am emotionally valuable.“
„That's you.“
He said it much too softly.
I quickly looked back at the screen.
My heart did that stupid little thing it always did when Jona suddenly made something real out of a joke. It stumbled. But it was beautiful.
After a few rounds, we found our rhythm. Not in the game. We remained mediocre at that. But with each other. We teased each other, laughed, blamed each other, and passed snacks back and forth without much thought. Eventually, we were sitting closer to each other than we were at the start. His shoulder touched mine. At first, it was accidental. Then, it wasn't accidental anymore.
Nobody said anything about it.
Sometimes the most beautiful things are those you don't immediately comment on.
After a particularly chaotic round where we both fell off the same bridge at the same time, Jona sank backward into the sofa cushions.
„We are bad.“
„We are consistent,“ I said.
„Consistently bad.“
„Team Identity.“
He turned his head to me and grinned. „I like our team.“
I held his gaze for a moment longer than I normally would have.
„Me too.“
The game menu flickered in the background. Pixelbert sat on the sofa next to us, as if he were passing a very stern judgment on our performance.
Jona reached for a rubber worm and held it out to me.
„Peace offering.“
„For what?“
„For all future crashes.“
I took the gummy worm. Our fingers touched. Briefly. Then again, because neither of us pulled our hands away right away.
Jona looked at our hands.
„May I?“ he asked softly.
I didn't know exactly what he meant. Or did I. Maybe he meant everything. Holding my hand. Coming closer. Not turning this moment into a joke again.
I nodded.
He took my hand.
Not dramatic. Not serious. Just warm. His fingers intertwined with mine, and suddenly the living room became even quieter. Not really. The TV was still making noise, a car drove by somewhere outside, and a door slammed shut in the hallway. But between us, it became quiet.
„I was nervous this week,“ said Jonah.
„About today?“
„Yes.“
I looked at him, surprised. „You invited them.“
„That's exactly why.“
He laughed quietly, but it didn't sound entirely like a joke. „The first time we met, I could still tell myself it was a coincidence. Flea market, coffee, all casual. But today... today I wanted you to come.“
My heart melted.
„I really wanted to come too,“ I said.
Jona looked at me. „Good.“
„Very.“
He squeezed my hand lightly. „Even better.“
I leaned back, without letting go of his hand. We didn't say anything for a while. I liked that. This silence that wasn't empty. Rather, it was full of things that didn't need words yet.
Then Jonah cleared his throat.
„I have something.“
„A gift?“
„Maybe.“
„For me or Pixelbert?“
„Difficult. You are very emotionally connected.“
He stood up, walked to his shelf, and took something small out. When he returned, he was holding a tiny figure. A little pixel knight with a heart-shaped shield.
„I saw him yesterday,“ he said, suddenly looking embarrassed. „He suits Pixelbert. Like a... companion.“
I took the figure carefully.
She was really tiny. And painted a little crooked. And absolutely perfect.
„He has a heart shield,“ I said.
„Yes.“ Jonas pulled his sleeve over his hand. „I thought Pixelbert needed someone to protect him.“
I looked at the figure first, then at Jonah.
„That is unfairly cute.“
„I know.“
„You planned that.“
„Maybe.“
I placed the little pixel knight next to Pixelbert on the sofa. „Then he is officially part of the crew now.“
„Name?“
We thought about it for far too long. Suggestions like „Sir Herzelot,“ „Klaus von Liebe,“ and „Knight Kisshold“ were rejected for various reasons. In the end, we decided on Sir Button.
„Pixelbert and Sir Button,“ Jona said contentedly. „A strong team.“
„Better than us in co-op.“
„Clearly.“
I looked at the two figures side by side. A plush dragon and a small knight with a heart shield. So silly. So unnecessary. So very us.
And then I realized I was happy.
Not loudly happy. Not perfect. But quiet and deep. As if something inside me had stopped defending itself for a moment.
Jona sat down next to me again. Closer this time. Our knees touched.
„I'm really liking it here right now,“ I said.
„Here on my messy sofa?“
„Yes.“
„With Pixelbert and Sir Button as supervisors?“
„Precisely.“
Jona smiled. Then his gaze became a little more serious. „I like you here.“
I looked at him.
He swallowed slightly. „So... not just here. But especially right now.“
I wanted to make a joke. Really. It was on the tip of my tongue. Something about sofas, dragons, or bad flirting skills. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Because the moment was too honest.
„I like you too,“ I said.
Jona exhaled slowly, as if he'd been holding that sentence in for a while.
„Good.“
„Very good,“ I said.
He laughed softly. Then he raised his free hand and very carefully brushed a strand of hair from my face. His fingers touched my forehead only lightly, but I felt a warmth spread to my ears.
„Okay?“ he asked.
„Yes.“
His gaze drifted to my lips.
I had to smile. „You're going to ask again soon, aren't you?“
„Probably.“
„You may.“
„I haven't asked yet.“
„I answer efficiently.“
Jona grinned. „Very practical.“
Then he kissed me.
It was different than the first time. Less surprising. Not less exciting, but more familiar. Gentle, warm, a little smiling. His hand held mine, his other carefully on my sleeve, and I felt his sweater under my fingers. No flea market, no bridge, no plush dragon between us. Just us on his sofa, in a room full of fairy lights, games, and far too many feelings.
As we pulled apart, Jona looked at me so softly that I almost didn't know what to do with myself.
„High score?“ he asked quietly.
I snorted. „You're ruining the moment.“
„But romantic.“
„A little.“
„So, high score?“
I pretended to think. „New personal best.“
He threw his head back and smiled at the ceiling. „I'll take it.“
After that, we kept playing. At least, we tried. Our concentration was completely gone. I kept forgetting which button to press, Jona ran into digital walls, and once our characters just stood next to each other while we were both far too busy finding our hands on the sofa again.
„We'll never beat this level,“ I said.
„Maybe that's not bad.“
„That's very bad gamer mentality.“
„I just have other priorities.“
Ich sah ihn an. „Sir Button ist enttäuscht.“
„Sir Button versteht Liebe.“
„Pixelbert nicht. Pixelbert will Effizienz.“
„Pixelbert soll sich entspannen.“
Wir lachten beide, und ich dachte, dass ich mich selten so leicht gefühlt hatte. Nicht, weil alle Unsicherheit weg war. Sie war noch da. Natürlich. Aber sie saß nicht mehr am Steuer. Sie durfte hinten mitfahren und ab und zu skeptische Kommentare machen, während mein Herz endlich mal die Route bestimmte.
Später kochten wir Nudeln. Oder besser gesagt: Wir versuchten es. Jona behauptete, er könne eine „legendäre Tomatensauce“ machen, und ich glaubte ihm ungefähr drei Minuten lang. Dann stellte sich heraus, dass seine Legende hauptsächlich aus passierten Tomaten, Knoblauchpulver und Optimismus bestand.
„Das ist keine Sauce“, sagte ich und rührte im Topf.
„Doch. Minimalistische Sauce.“
„Sie schmeckt nach warmem Mut.“
„Thank you.“
„Das war keine Auszeichnung.“
„Ich nehme sie trotzdem.“
Wir verbesserten die Sauce mit allem, was seine Küche hergab: Kräuter, ein bisschen Chili, ein Rest Frischkäse, von dem er schwor, dass er noch gut war. Am Ende schmeckte es erstaunlich lecker. Vielleicht, weil wir Hunger hatten. Vielleicht, weil man Essen mehr mag, wenn man zusammen darüber gelacht hat.
Wir aßen auf dem Sofa, weil sein Esstisch von „wichtigen Dingen“ belegt war. Diese wichtigen Dinge waren ein offenes Paket, zwei Manga, ein Ladekabel und eine einzelne Socke.
„Die Socke ist Teil eines Systems“, erklärte Jona.
„Welches System?“
„Chaos mit Absicht.“
„Of course.“
Nach dem Essen wurde es ruhiger. Die Konsole war aus, die Musik lief leise, und draußen hatte es angefangen zu regnen. Nicht stark. Nur dieses sanfte Klopfen gegen die Fenster, das einen Raum automatisch gemütlicher macht.
Jona saß neben mir, die Beine angezogen, sein Pulloverärmel über der Hand. Ich hatte Pixelbert auf dem Schoß und Sir Button daneben gelegt.
„Darf ich dir was Ehrliches sagen?“, fragte er.
Ich sah ihn an. „Ja.“
Er schaute kurz zum Fenster, dann wieder zu mir. „Ich hatte Angst, dass du mich nach dem ersten Treffen vielleicht doch nicht mehr so spannend findest.“
„Why?“
Er zuckte mit den Schultern. „Weil online alles leichter ist. Und erste Treffen haben diesen Zauber. Manchmal ist das zweite Treffen der Moment, in dem man merkt, dass da doch nicht so viel ist.“
Ich streichelte gedankenverloren Pixelberts Kopf.
„Ich hatte eher Angst, dass ich beim zweiten Treffen zu viel bin“, sagte ich.
„Du bist nicht zu viel.“
„Das sagst du schnell.“
„Weil ich es meine.“
Ich sah ihn an. Und diesmal glaubte ich ihm ein bisschen mehr als beim ersten Mal.
„Du bist auch nicht zu wenig“, sagte ich leise.
Jona blinzelte.
„Falls du das manchmal denkst.“
Sein Blick wurde weicher. Fast verletzlich. „Manchmal.“
„Dann denk es heute nicht.“
Er lächelte klein. „Okay.“
Ich rückte näher zu ihm und lehnte meinen Kopf an seine Schulter. Dieses Mal war es nicht testweise. Nicht vorsichtig als Fluchtoption. Ich blieb einfach dort.
Jona legte seinen Kopf leicht gegen meinen.
„Das ist gut“, murmelte er.
„Yes.“
„Very good.“
Draußen regnete es weiter. Die Lichterkette spiegelte sich im Fenster. Pixelbert und Sir Button lagen nebeneinander, als hätten sie ihre eigene kleine Mission erfüllt. Und ich dachte, dass Liebe vielleicht nicht immer mit einem großen Bekenntnis beginnt. Vielleicht beginnt sie mit Wiedersehen. Mit der Entscheidung, nach dem ersten schönen Moment noch einmal aufzutauchen. Sich noch einmal zu zeigen. Nicht nur als Zauber des Anfangs, sondern als echter Mensch auf einem Sofa, mit schlechten Spielkünsten, Tomatensauce aus Optimismus und einem Herzen, das langsam Vertrauen fasst.
Als ich später gehen musste, standen wir im Flur. Wieder dieser Moment, in dem keiner zuerst die Tür öffnen wollte.
„Schreibst du, wenn du zu Hause bist?“, fragte Jona.
„Yes.“
„Pixelbert auch?“
„Pixelbert bleibt heute bei mir. Aber Sir Button kann ihm eine Nachricht diktieren.“
Jona grinste. „Sehr gut.“
Dann wurde er stiller. „Ich würde dich gern bald wiedersehen.“
„I love you too.“
„Kein Vielleicht?“
Ich lächelte. „Kein Vielleicht.“
Sein Gesicht hellte sich so sehr auf, dass ich kurz vergaß, dass Abschiede eigentlich traurig sein sollten.
Er küsste mich noch einmal. Kurz, aber warm. Diesmal ohne Nervosität, die alles übertönte. Nur ein kleines Versprechen zwischen zwei Menschen, die noch nicht wussten, wohin es ging, aber beide Lust hatten, weiterzugehen.
Auf dem Heimweg hielt ich Pixelbert in meiner Tasche und den kleinen Sir Button in der Hand. Jona hatte darauf bestanden, dass Sir Button „zur Eingewöhnung“ mit zu mir durfte. Ich hatte nicht widersprochen.
Zu Hause stellte ich beide auf mein Regal.
Pixelbert, der Drache.
Sir Button, der Ritter mit Herzschild.
Dann vibrierte mein Handy.
Jona: „War schön mit dir. Also wirklich schön.“
Ich lächelte und schrieb zurück:
„Fand ich auch. Trotz Sauce.“
Seine Antwort kam sofort:
„Die Sauce war romantisch.“
I typed:
„Die Sauce war mutig.“
Then came:
„Wie wir?“
Ich sah lange auf diese zwei Worte.
Wie wir.
Nicht perfekt. Nicht sicher. Nicht fertig.
Aber mutig.
Ich legte mich ins Bett, zog die Decke bis zur Nase und sah zu den beiden kleinen Figuren auf dem Regal. Zum ersten Mal seit langer Zeit fühlte sich die Zukunft nicht wie ein unübersichtliches Level an, in dem ich allein herumlief.
Vielleicht hatte ich jetzt jemanden, der neben mir spawnte.
Jemanden, der lachte, wenn wir fielen.
Jemanden, der blieb, wenn es nicht perfekt war.
Und vielleicht war genau das der schönste neue Speicherstand von allen.
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