It was nice to be comforted. And Lennon's apartment had been very comforting lately.

Socks was awake now, making all kinds of desperate noises until the boy cut up some cantaloupe and left some in its bowl. It mewled, going straight to its meal.

"I thought cats eat fish and cat food," Kieran remarked, propping himself up on a kitchen stool.

"Cats can eat melon too." Lennon placed the rest onto a plate and fetched himself a reusable plastic toothpick. "A lot of vitamins A and C. Also meat. Socks likes eating meat."

"Another reason why I think it's plotting my murder."

Both of them turned questioningly towards Socks, who couldn't be bothered to look at them, munching away at its cantaloupe.

"Well, you're already unalive, so," Lennon laughed, sticking a piece of melon into his mouth, "No further damage Socks can do."

"Unalive," Kieran repeated, amused.

"You know what I mean. Hm, want some?"

The ravenhead watched the boy push the plate of fruit towards him. "I don't exactly eat, Len. Remember?"

"Ah yes." Lennon slapped himself on the forehead. "My attention span and my memory are horrid. I'm sorry."

Kieran shook his head, chuckling. "You're talking to the guy who can't recall half his life. No need to apologize."

A comfortable silence enveloped the pair, the air permeating with the sweet, musky smell of melon and the tapping of Lennon's fork against the plate. Cream-colored walls and cactuses by the windows. Scratch marks across the bottom of the couch. The coffee table with dark circular stains. Cat fur tangled into the lattice rug.

Lennon looked so natural in this home, hair tousled, posture relaxed, happily eating his cut-up fruit.

Perhaps Kieran had been away from home for too long to remember what it was like.

"Kieran, can you be honest with me?"

God, every time this boy says his name he swears his lifespan increases. Figuratively. Kind of.

The ravenhead placed his hand dramatically over his heart. "I'll be honest."

"Do I talk too much?"

Kieran's heart sank to his stomach and the same second the boy put his fork down. "Lennon, no."

"I need you to be honest," the boy insisted, as if the right answer was yes, "I'd rather you just tell me if I am so I can stop second-guessing."

The ravenhead leaned his body weight forward, seeking Lennon's full attention. "I promise you, Len, you do not talk too much," he said earnestly, "You can talk to me all day any time."

But Lennon's smile was wobbly, uncertain. "Someone said that to me once."

Confused as to what that means, Kieran fell silent and let the chestnut boy continue on his own.

With a quiet sigh, Lennon pointed down the hallway. "I was supposed to share this apartment with her. My studio was supposed to be her room."

"What... what happened?"

"She left," the chestnut boy revealed, arm falling limp, "Moved away with her family. Her mom found a job outside of town." There was a tang of bitterness in Lennon's tone that threw Kieran off guard.

Lennon and bitter didn't go well together.

He glanced at the closed studio door. "I have a feeling you're not friends anymore."

"I dunno." Lennon shrugged, sliding off his stool and discarding the dishes into the sink. "We didn't end on good terms." He rounded the kitchen counter towards Kieran and offered his hand. "Can I show you?"

Kieran reached out, pretending to hold it. Their hands warped through each other's. His breathing hindered at the sight, disappointment clotting in his throat. "Yeah," he whispered, getting up.

When Lennon entered the studio, he went straight for the pile of shoeboxes. And to Kieran's surprise, he picked up the one labeled PRECIOUS and planted it on the floor with a thud.

"Precious. Her name's Precious."

Oh.

Precious was a person. Not an adjective in this context.

"I used to sit with her during lunch breaks. She's a bookworm. Reads both fiction and non-fiction." The smile that graced Lennon's lips was uncontrollable, packed with pride. "And she always had answers. Always. That's why she liked my questions. That's why I trusted her when she said she didn't mind how much I talked." He hesitated. "That was the early stages."

He lifted the lid off.

Pictures of this beautiful dark-skinned girl with a dazzling smile that heightened the bronze glow of her cheeks were unveiled. Her face was nuzzled into younger Lennon's neck in one of them.

Kieran didn't know why he was so stunned when another picture caught his eye— one of Lennon kissing her on the lips.

This certainly wasn't the early stages.

"You dated," he observed.

"We dated," Lennon confirmed, eyes trailing over the photographs, "First and last girlfriend."

Kieran's expression softened when he noticed the way the boy's eyes glossed over. "You okay?"

After a harsh inhale of breath, Lennon nodded. He took a random photo from the box and laid it down on the hardboard floor. "I wish I handled the news of her leaving better," he admitted, thumbing a picture of them hanging around a gas station one night, "It's just that— we've talked about it before. I can't do long distances. I'm— way too physically affectionate of a person to do long distance. It's like a boundary of mine."

Kieran ended up lying next to him. How he managed to end up here on the floor next to this human discussing his love life— which Kieran had zero experience on— was frankly beyond him.

"I don't blame her for leaving." Lennon raised his head temporarily to slip his forearm under it. "It's not her fault her moms move around so much. But she thought it was a good idea to tell me the night before her departure and we fought." He drummed his fingers against the shoebox. "I was so angry that I didn't show up at the airport to see her off. We never talked since."

Somehow, Kieran understood the feeling. Deep in his gut, he remembered a fight of his own. A fight that shook the foundation of his beliefs. But who did he fight? He couldn't remember.

"Lennon..." the ravenhead murmured, brows furrowed in worry.

"I try really hard to believe people are good." Lennon rolled to his side, facing Kieran fully as his voice thickened with emotion. "But sometimes life happens. And everything you thought would last forever turns to dust. I used to call Precious my person. She called me her person. I thought she was everything."

Kieran wondered if he ever had any forevers before this forever of a prison he was trapped in.

"It's not that I don't trust people. It's that I don't trust my own intuition anymore. I don't know where to draw the line with other people and how to form relationships when all I can think of is how it ends. And I'm so hyper-aware of how quickly people leave that I don't even bother to establish a starting point with them." Lennon sucked in a lungful of air after that long explanation.

Something clicked.

Kieran hummed his understanding. "That's where photography comes in, huh?"

The look Lennon gave him told him he was right.

"Your coping mechanism... for lost time."

"Photographs are proof that for once, even just for a second, everything was perfect. Nothing exists outside the frame. It's my bubble. I can just trap time in it and not worry about losing anything." Lennon chuckled awkwardly, jabbing his thumb towards himself. "Told ya. This guy is flooding with fears."

"I think it's good that you recognize them though," Kieran soothed, making careful eye contact, "And that you found a passion that keeps you afloat."

The chestnut boy shrugged his shoulders, smiling gently. "How about you? You're a dancer."

Kieran's demeanor changed so quickly, jaw clenching. "I dunno."

"Elaborate."

"I feel like a completely different person, Lennon. Sometimes I wonder if my personality was different, if my behavior was different. Because people are made out of experiences. And I have none."

Lennon opened his mouth to speak but held back.

"I feel like dancing is just gonna trigger me into another depressive episode. A nice painful reminder that I'm separate from who I was and have no idea who I am now."

The chestnut boy shuffled closer, holding himself up by the elbows and hovering over Kieran's. He lifted his hand, watching the ravenhead for any signs of discomfort. But Kieran was just confused and a little flustered at their proximity.

So Lennon drove his hand into the ravenhead's chest, right where his heart should be. And Kieran was too stunned to move, gaze not leaving Lennon's. Their eyes locked.

"What are you doing?"

"Wanted to be close to you," Lennon told him, honestly shining in his dark irises, "Wanted to let you know that I see you as Kieran. No more. No less. Enough." His words grew more and more in volume and certainty. "Perfect."

Kieran could feel his nostrils burn the way it does whenever he was on the verge of crying. Cause he swore he was nothing before this boy went and quite literally held his heart in his hands, gave him value.

"Lennon," he said in return, staring up at his cute freckled boy that turned his world upside down. He made a useless attempt to stroke his curly locks of hair. "No more. No less. Enough. Perfect little Lennon." The words rolled off his tongue with ease, seeing the way Lennon beamed at him. "Never stifle your voice for someone else's comfort."

Smiling wide, the boy removed his hand and collapsed on the floor next to Kieran. They laid there for a good while, being all giddy with laughter and soaking in each other's presence.

A flash of gold skidded across the wall to ceiling, but Kieran was too occupied with other thoughts.

Like how this was eons better than being alone on a filthy mattress in a parking lot. And that he hoped Autumn doesn't find out.