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What is senility? The relief of the spirit after decades of hard work or perhaps the further pain of existence, only romanticized with the idea of resting and playing bingo in a retirement house? Difficult to say. The answer will vary for everyone, based on how life has turned out for them. Some will breathe out, and others will barely endure.
Even if you were successful in your youth, nothing guarantees you pleasure in old age. On the other hand, those who did not enjoy the spring of life could finally sit back with a smile in a comfortable armchair.
Jean and Marco could easily get described as the latter. At night, they still had nightmares of their puppyhood, when they were too young and too immature to enter adult life, meeting more challenges than an average person. How demanding it was not to fit into the norm! But the worst was long behind them. Now they could savor the taste of fruit tea while watching reruns of old game shows from thirty years ago on tapes.
The doorbell rang in the humble single-family house. Jean was finishing his cigarette, foul smoke billowing out the window. He read the newspaper, searching for promotions, annoyed now and then by adjusting his glasses that were falling down his nose. He scratched his few days' existing stubble. There was something satisfying about such a mundane activity.
“I’m back home!” A well-known, soft voice resounded in the apartment, a smile on Kirschtein’s face forming almost on cue. Marco had such control over him for so long! He will never be immune to it. Next, a tall man entered the living room, holding two shopping bags. Jean timidly put the cigarette down in the ashtray. However, Bodt did not fly into a rage like the other time.
“Nice to see you! What did you buy?” Kirschtein put the newspaper aside, dejectedly getting up from his seat and walking over to his beloved. He hugged him, kissing him only on the cheek as he knew Bodt didn’t like the tobacco’s taste in his mouth.
“The same old stuff as always. Some food, some hygiene items.” He finished his answer with an awkward chuckle, the same one Jean fell in love with forty-eight years ago. “And, of course, there’s a new walking stick for you.” Finally, it came in the mail. Kirschtein’s grin widened. He’d waited long enough for it! He couldn’t walk long distances without help, and even at home, he had to lean against the wall. He grabbed the cane out of the bag.
“Thank you, honey.” He kissed his cheek a second time, a slight blush creating on his tanned skin. Bodt giggled. It was a sound in Jean’s life comparable to the return of spring after winter, like the buds on the trees or blossoming flowers. “And I’m sorry.” Marco rolled his eyes. He will not mock his husband’s remorse, after all.
“Your lungs are already coal. Just don’t smoke in front of me.” He ran his hand over his partner’s face, especially his scar, which he found charming beyond words. He placed the bags on the table, taking out the products absentmindedly. “And don’t kiss my lips until you wash your mouth.”
“Oh, sure, princess.” Jean stuck out his tongue at him, both laughing. Along the way, he took bathroom stuff. Yes, such boring activities also made his soul lighten up. That’s what he dreamed of decades ago.
He had nothing to complain about nowadays. Life went weirdly in his favor. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cursed over something, and even when the previous cane broke, he’d been incredibly calm about it. Has he lost his temper with old age? Nothing wrong with that, of course. He only felt strange when another person pointed out how they didn’t recognize him.
He sighed heavily, guessing it didn’t matter. He was alright with himself.
Jean laid articles all over the bathroom, from shampoos to cotton buds. Everything had a specially designated place, as Marco hated disorder. He learned neatness years ago from him. Then the man brushed his damn teeth, wincing at the aftertaste of the pipe. Kirschtein didn’t know why he smoked. Apparently, that was the course of events for seniors. At least toothpaste tasted better.
As Jean continued, he stared blankly into the mirror. He’d just cleaned it, yet there were already streaks of wetness. Having a moment to himself in peace when the tap of water poured, Kirschtein glimpsed at himself. He didn’t seem dire for his age, and being sixty-four wasn’t a joke either. He rejoiced all the girls’ hearts in high school for a reason! He would still capture them if he wanted.
However, some issues were irreversible, and he couldn’t escape them despite anything. It wasn’t even about tired bones and that he couldn’t walk long without a cane. His appearance stabbed him in the heart at times. He was stooping involuntarily, had bags under his eyes from fatigue, wrinkles on his face, tattoos crinkled with the skin, and his hair had an unnatural gray-brown shade. Marco’s turned nicely silver and thick as ever. What an injustice of fate!
Nonetheless, it wasn’t the worst part of aging. Jean moved closer to the mirror, running his hand through what got left of his hair. It felt like hell, and no lotions could stop it. He cursed under his breath as a hair or two got between his fingers. His hairline had gone so far back that it was embarrassing.
“You forgot one thing.” He shuddered as his partner walked into the room. Marco still had this sweet smile from ear to ear while putting the new towel down, although he kept his wondering gaze on him. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, why not?” Kirschtein tried to hide his nervousness. That’s only another time when he cares too much about nothing, about a natural process in human life, and Bodt can’t help him! There hasn’t gotten much left of a young boy from the 70s or 80s.
He still had somewhere the leather jacket from back then.
Marco hugged him, both staring into their reflections, reminiscing on the passage of time. They changed not only because of departing springs but also because of their experiences. Two lovers have been through too much. No one deserved such an ordeal in what was supposedly the best years of a person’s life.
“What are you thinking about?” Marco wasn’t blind or an idiot. After all the time he’d spent around his beloved since their teenage years, he’d read him through and through, and not a single detail had escaped him. More so, there was one drawback that kept Jean away from sleeping at night. “We’re elders. You can’t–”
“I know.” The realization hurt, although he’d had so much time to accept it. Maybe a man didn’t have to be good with everything coming into his existence. “But that hairline is pissing me off! You remember what long, thick hair I used to have, and look now what got left of it!” He shoved his hands into his head again, recalling how he used to get praised. Everything passes, beauty above all. Marco simply chuckled. That was what he expected.
“You’ve been through so much and haven’t cried. Yet now you’re grumbling about your hair falling out?” Bodt laughed, pressing his partner closer. It was easy for him to talk when his genes didn’t damage him so much. “Jean.” He stroked his cheek. Kirschtein cared for way too trivial things. “It’s natural. It awaits everyone, so no one is going to ridicule you.”
“I know,” Jean grunted, grabbing his husband’s hand. What would he do without him? He was right. There was nothing to lament when everyone could look at themselves.
“I love you anyway.” They kissed briefly, Jean’s concerns fading into oblivion. Yes, he certainly bothered himself with nothing. “Don’t act like I haven’t changed too. Look how much weight I’ve gained since then,” Bodt added as he left the room. Kirschtein stared at him. Sure, he’s grown over the years.
He remembered how they met. During a scouting trip, they went to Italy. He might’ve considered the entire travel a failure. Not only has he gotten bored almost to death, but also the organizers expected way too much from them! And there were no cute Italian girls the leader had promised them. They were entertainment-hungry hormonal teenagers!
However, one sunny evening, his team went to a beach for a short rest. It was then that he unanimously decided that, for a divinity, it was worth getting away from home for two weeks. He noticed a boy walking barefoot by the water – tall, with tanned skin, long black curls, and a muscular body. Before that, he hadn’t even considered being attracted to guys, especially with everyone’s attitude towards not-straight people then. But he knew he would risk everything for that boy, doing just that later.
Nearly fifty years have passed since their first encounter, since Jean awkwardly approached Marco, greeted him, and introduced himself, asking if they could go out to the bar together the same twilight. It was a miracle that Bodt also lived in France, coming to his home country only for a few days to visit part of the family. They didn’t have to part soon.
After all this time, it got noticeable that Bodt had changed too. The musculature turned into a slightly protruding belly, and his face became plumper. But that didn’t alter Kirschtein’s feelings for him.
“More body to adore.” Jean finally replied jokingly. Marco blushed, not knowing what else to say. They were so damn corny!
They returned to the living room, snuggling on the couch. It was a warm summer afternoon, the sun was high in the sky, and a pleasant breeze was tickling everyone’s skin.
“Do you remember our first date? The one in the coffee shop next to your family house,” Asked Bodt, examining the wedding ring, reflecting the light so wonderfully in the sun’s rays. As soon as gay marriage got legalized, he didn’t think twice, kneeling in front of his lover.
“Of course! One of the best days in my life.” How could he forget? They may not have officially become a couple yet, but they were sure it was only a matter of time. “You wore that lovely yellow cardigan. It emphasized your eyes so prettily.”
“Don’t flatter me so much.” Could he have blushed more than he already did? “It was after you got your first tattoo. You complained that your parents grounded you and took your pocket money.” Kirschtein reddened, but with shame. Getting tattoos secretly and hoping no one would detect it was foolish beyond human comprehension. And it was all without proper sanitary conditions!
“Don’t judge me because I already do it enough.” They chuckled aimlessly. Perhaps their youth wasn’t the greatest, but that didn’t mean it was constantly, all the time, nasty.
When Jean’s father found out about their relationship, he reacted brutally, hence the scar on the man’s face, a permanent reminder of the crime. It didn’t let them forget. Fortunately, his mother was supportive, not leaving them alone in front of an unsure future. That was what they needed.
But it wasn’t time to dwell on the past.
“Do you want to go out to the coffee show now? You will breathe fresh air.” And being in front of the window or on the balcony wasn’t enough. Jean sighed merrily. After all, why not? He must try a new cane!
“Alright.” He kissed his husband's cheek as he stood up and straightened his ancient bones. They were stiff from being tired and sitting still.
“Just don’t frighten the neighborhood kids. They’re already scared enough of you.” Marco said jokingly, recalling how some individuals hid in the bushes at the sight of his lover. “Smile at them sometimes.”
“That’s your role.” It wasn’t his fault that they were irritating and wouldn’t shut up! “At least Yeager would agree with me on this.” Bodt rolled his eyes. They haven’t seen each other with Eren in a while, maybe three months. That’s what adult friendships were like when both parties were busy.
Getting ready, Marco glanced at Jean one more time. His expression was hesitant as if he was still pondering their earlier conversation. His mind was stressed.
“Seriously, don’t worry about your hairline. You will always be beautiful to me.” It got Kirschtein out of his thoughts. He stared at Bodt, who was smiling softly at him. Once again that day, because of him, he simply grinned too. It was so easy with a husband by his side.
But it was genuinely a fact. Jean was as gorgeous as ten, twenty, thirty, or forty years ago, and nothing will change Marco’s mind. Not that it ever mattered, neither hair nor body weight. Not past homophobia or loud kids next door. It doesn’t matter as long as his darling is still with him.
Oh, how he loved Marco!