Chapter Text
Michael grumbled to himself as he walked home from a Hitler Youth meeting that had gone on too late. He hated attending these meetings, but it was mandatory.
It was after curfew for regular civilians, and Michael was completely alone. The January chill bit at his legs, causing a shiver to run down his spine.
“Why am I even out here,” Michael mumbled to himself, rubbing his hands together and shoving them into his coat pockets. It didn’t help that his pants were dirty and needed to be washed, so Michael had to make do with shorts in the middle of winter.
As Michael rounded the corner, soft cries were heard from a nearby alleyway. He got closer, and the sniffles and sobs got louder.
Michael knew what this was. It was probably an Edelweiss Pirate who had been beaten up and left to die in the cold. Michael knew he should leave the kid alone. Let him crawl home in pain—or better yet, let him be found by authorities.
“Hey,” Michael whispered, kneeling down next to the shaking body. His morality had won out. “Hey, are you alright?”
More whimpers fell from the curled up boys lips, and Michael could see in the faint moonlight that he was wearing a Hitler Youth uniform.
The boy was thin, small, and was littered with scars—new and old. His sleeves were torn and his knees scraped, his short blond hair sticking up in tufts due to the blood from cuts on his head.
“M-Michael?” The boy whispered, opening his eyes to reveal they were a brilliant blue. Michael squinted—the kid seemed very, very familiar.
“Fritz—Fritz, is that you?” Michael asked, the recognition finally clicking. Fritz nodded, still shaking.
“Fritz, what the hell happened to you?”
Fritz unfolded his small limbs, wincing as he sat up against the alley wall. “I was just walking home from the meeting, and…and…”
Michael already knew the rest of the story, it was hard not to put two and two together. He was surprised Fritz wasn’t dead—he was a small boy, and barely five feet—and the injuries on him were immense.
“Are you close to home?” Michael asked, sitting up on one knee. Fritz shook his head. “I’m 5 blocks away,” he whispered.
Michael shook his head. Fritz was terribly irresponsible to be walking home alone.
Leave him, Michael told himself. Leave him to learn his lesson.
Fritz, in Michael’s eyes, deserved it.
~~~
“Watch your step,” Michael grumbled to Fritz as he struggled to make his way upstairs. Against his better judgment, Michael had taken pity on the small blond.
“Thank you,” Fritz said quietly as Michael locked the door to the embassy. “Really. You didn’t have to do all this.”
“You’re right,” Michael replied. “I didn’t. But you’re here now, and you need help.”
Fritz gave Michael a smile the latter didn’t notice as they climbed the stairs towards the second floor, trying to be as quiet as possible. Once upstairs, Michael dragged Fritz to the bathroom.
Michael pointed to the counter. “Sit there while I find the first aid kit.”
Fritz nodded, wincing as he hopped up onto the marble. Michael reached up to the cabinet, opening it and digging around for the kit. Fritz kicked his legs, looking around the large bathroom.
“You’re really rich,” Fritz blurted as Michael grabbed the disinfectant. “You’ve got a really big house.”
Michael carefully grabbed Fritz’s arm, pouring some disinfectant onto a cloth and wiping his arm. “That’s what happens when your parents have good jobs. You get a big house.”
Fritz bit his lip, clenching and unclenching his fists at the stinging feeling on his arm. Michael noticed, looking at Fritz with a plain expression. “Does this sting?”
Fritz nodded. “Y-yeah, a little.”
“Toughen up,” Michael replied coldly. Fritz whimpered when disinfectant touched another wound, taking a deep breath. Michael sighed, running another cloth under the sink and gently dabbing it to Fritz’s arm.
“Do you feel any better?” Michael asked, and Fritz nodded.
“Alright, good.”
Michael continued cleaning Fritz’s wounds, responding to anything Fritz said with “mhm” and “that’s nice.” Michael wasn’t trying to befriend Fritz by any means, and the longer he helped Fritz, the more annoyed he was with his decision.
“You’re all done,” Michael said, washing blood off his hands in the sink. Fritz smiled. “Thanks. This was really nice of you to do.”
“Don’t mention it,” Michael mumbled. “It was the right thing to do.”
“You don’t think you could walk me home, could you?” Fritz asked, blushing in embarrassment. “It’s a stupid thing to ask, but I don’t want to risk getting jumped again.”
Michael sighed. “Fine. Let’s go before anyone notices I snuck you in here.”
Michael rolled his eyes—though there was no venom behind the gesture. He waved a hand, and Fritz followed him on his heels, still talking rapidly in a hushed tone.
“My sister, Lina, is certainly a gumshoe,” Fritz exclaimed as they ducked out onto the cold Berlin streets. Michael did a double take. ‘Gumshoe’ wasn’t something a German would say. Especially a potential Nazi.
“She took down my plane drawings,” Fritz continued. “And replaced them with stupid drawings of rainbows and puppies!”
“Why didn’t she hang the stuff in her room?” Michael asked. Fritz shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. She’s weird.”
Michael could agree with that. He always spotted Lina when she and Fritz walked home, and her blue eyes were even brighter than her brother’s. They were wide and unyielding, staring at Michael from the sidewalk across.
“I stole her diary yesterday,” Fritz kept talking. “That’ll show her. She’s been destroying the house looking for it.”
Michael tilted his head. “Isn’t…isn’t that going a little too far?”
Fritz shook his head. “She stole my journal last week, so it’s only fair.”
“Wow,” Michael said. “You two are pretty cutthroat.”
Fritz shrugged. “That’s just how siblings are.”
Michael nodded, and Fritz immediately went back to rambling. As an only child, Michael had always wondered what it’d be like to have a sibling; little or older, brother or sister.
~~~
“Oh, there’s my house right there.”
Michael was snapped out of his thoughts when they, in fact, were stopped in front of Fritz’s two story row house.
“Alright,” Michael said. “I’ll see you at school then.”
Fritz smiled, his chipped tooth glinting in the moonlight. “See you!”
Fritz ran into his house, opening the door and shutting it again quietly. Michael turned on his heel and began walking home, his thoughts wandering.
Fritz reminded Michael of his younger self. The small, defenseless, weak little boy who just needed someone to help him. To stick up for him.
Michael decided then that he’d protect Fritz the best he can. Help with his injuries, walk him home after late night Hitler Youth meetings.
Michael hated Nazis more than anyone, but maybe Fritz could be different. Maybe whatever Nazi class that had poisoned Fritz’s brain could be beat out of him with just a helping hand.