Momo left early that evening. I wouldn't blame him.

The situation had been quite tense the moment Hasan said what he did. In fact, not even five minutes after he left, I decided it was time for me to go too. Amélie walked me to the door.

"I'm really sorry about that," she said in a hushed tone.

She really didn't need to – it was Hasan's turn to be on the balcony and I doubt he could hear us.

"Well, glad to know your boyfriend's a homophobe," I replied, shrugging.

"I promise I'll talk to him afterwards," she said. "What he said wasn't right."

"Yeah," I answered. "You should. Because you wouldn't know who he might hurt if he says these kinds of things again. You wouldn't know who's listening."

Amélie gave a slight nod.

"Thanks for coming, either way."

"Thanks for having me."

I left the apartment and started walking home. The last reddish glows of the evening sun had all but disappeared, shrouding the entire city in darkness. It was unpleasant, that exchange earlier, and I just tried to shrug it off. As I approached a bus stop, I noticed a familiar figure, shifting its weight from one leg to the other.

It was Momo.

"How are you getting home?" I asked as I approached.

He looked up from his phone and looked at me, his lips curled into a tired smile.

"Well, my luck today seems to be running out I guess," he chirped back. "I left my keycard in my dorm room, and the office is closed for the day. I'd have to go wake the warden up and let's just say this isn't the first time I've had to do that."

"Don't you have a roommate to let you in or something?"

"Well he's not on campus today and will only be back tomorrow morning," he replied. "What a shitty day, huh?"

I could only nod empathically.

"Good luck then," I said, patting his shoulder as I began to walk past him. "You certainly need it."

I didn't know what made me do it. Maybe I felt bad for him. Maybe I just felt like doing something kind. I was only a stone's throw away from him when I stopped and turned around.

"Do you want to come crash at my place instead?" I offered. "It's not too far from here."

"Oh no, please don't trouble yourself," he replied, somewhat bashfully.

"It's no problem at all," I assured him. "We could hang out or something, and to be honest I really like spending time with you."

"Fine," Momo said. "If you insist. Just don't murder me or anything."

"And why would I do that?" I asked, raising my eyebrow. "Do I look like a murderer to you?"

"Hey, you never know," he replied. "Looks can be deceiving."

I only chuckled.

We got to my place in no time. As we walked through the streets, Momo just kept quiet most of the time. He was still upset – well, who wouldn't be? I, on the other hand, just said nothing. I didn't want to overstep.

"Do you want something to drink?" I offered the moment we walked through the door.

"I'm fine with anything," he shrugged.

He headed over to the dining table and sat down. Meanwhile, I busied myself in the kitchen. I took out a carton of milk from the fridge and had it simmering in a saucepan, while I rummaged through my cabinet, while occasionally stealing glances at the boy seated on my dining table.

Momo had folded his arms on the table and buried his face in them. Poor guy.

Eventually I managed to scour through my kitchen for the most presentable thing I could serve him. I had put a few petits-buerre I've gotten from the local grocery onto a saucer as well as a punnet of strawberries into a bowl. Once it was done, I poured out the hot chocolate from the saucepan into two mugs.

"Woah," Momo said as I lay out the spread in front of him. "I can't tell whether it's summer or winter. Hot chocolate and fresh strawberries?"

His lips parted into a grin, but his eyes were red. His smile quickly dissipated when he saw that I didn't reciprocate.

He had been crying.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about," I assured him.

He picked up his mug and took a sip of the hot chocolate.

"It hurts honestly," he sighed.

I could only nod. Momo had stopped talking, all he did between sips of his hot chocolate was let his eyes wander around the room.

"I just don't get it," he finally said after a while. "I've been a good child, a good brother, all my life. I keep telling myself that so I wouldn't lose myself even though the truth is that I'll know they'll never accept me. And it gnaws away at me every day. I try to forget about it but every now and then something like this would come up – a snide comment, or something so minor. And I tell myself that I'm used to it. But there's only so much that I can take before it gets to me.

"I keep telling myself he loves me. I know he does, right now, at least. But the thought of him finding out makes me so terrified. It makes me think about how love is unconditional until its not."

I could only nod.

"The thought of me losing the only people who'd ever loved me makes me feel so lonely. That one day if they find out, I'm no longer their son. I'm no longer their brother. That I no longer deserve their love. I try to forget about it, but time and time again I'm reminded of a very possible reality that keeps staring at me in the face."

Momo took another sip of his hot chocolate.

"What if he hits me?" he continued, his voice trembling slightly. "What if he tries to kill me?"

"Don't say that," I said, trying to comfort him. "Don't think about that."

"But it could very well be possible couldn't it?" he replied. "I can't take it anymore. Knowing that they can never accept me."

I didn't know what to say. All I could do was listen.

"But I'll cross that bridge when we get there," he sighed. "Let's just hope it never reaches to that point."

Momo took another sip before leaning back into his chair.

"Sorry," he muttered, as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "It's been a tough few weeks."

"Would you like to freshen up a bit?" I offered. "You can use the shower and I'll get you a towel and some clothes you can borrow for the night."

"Sure," he said, getting up. "Thanks."

I passed him a new towel and left him to his own devices, while I went to look for clothes for him to wear. Eventually I found a pair of fresh sweat shorts and a loose t-shirt which were comfortable to spend the night in. Momo was roughly around my size as well, so it didn't really matter what I picked out for him really. I also took the opportunity to tidy my room up a little bit.

I let out a deep sigh as it struck me how similar things were to that afternoon when Ferran arrived at my village house. Thinking about it filled my heart with a tinge of sadness. I sat at the edge of my bed as images of his arctic blue eyes and soft blond curls came creeping back, together with the salty scent of the sea and the sweet taste of his pink lips.

I had thought I had all but forgotten about him, but my own memory betrayed me. I wondered how he was holding up. To hear his voice again, just to see the sadness in his eyes once more. It pains me to admit that deep in my heart, I did miss him.

Because he was one of the few fragments of Rafel that I still had left in this world.

But that was my mistake. Ferran was not Rafel.

It was then when Momo stepped out of the bathroom. His damp hair was tousled, and beads of water fell down onto his chest. He was lean, and his toned body showed off his muscles. His eyes were no longer red, and he seemed to be in a much better mood. He was beautiful, and the towel wrapped around his waist barely concealed whatever was underneath.

He noticed me looking at him, and I immediately felt the blood rush to my cheeks.

"Well," I muttered awkwardly. "I've got you some clothes you can borrow over here."

"Thank you so much," he muttered.

"I'm going to be outside if you need me," I said sheepishly.

I was about to leave when he stopped me.

"You could stay if you like," he said.

I knew I should leave, but my feet rooted me to the spot. Instead, I closed the door behind me. My heart was thumping in my chest. I let my eyes wander across the ground. Away from his smooth skin and his lanky arms.

It was something that has been gnawing at me at the back of my mind ever since this evening. The way we talked on the balcony, the way we met each others witty remarks, the way I noticed the both of us standing closer and closer to one another. It was fairly obvious.

Was that why I invited him back? No, no, I told myself. I did it because I felt bad for him, nothing else. I could swear and tell myself that I did it out of kindness, but my body seemed to have different plans.

Momo turned around. I could see it in his dark eyes. The look on his face. The way his lips parted ever so slightly.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, unable to keep my eyes off him. "Come here."

He walked up to me, ever so slowly, maybe even hesitantly. I don't know. He seemed as nervous as I was.

We were inches from one another, our chests nearly touching. I worked down my top few buttons when I felt him grab my hands. His skin felt cold to the touch.

I shuddered as he slowly pushed my hands to the side, before gently unbuttoning my shirt for me. But then when he got to the last button, he stopped, taking a step back.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I-I should've asked first. I don't know what's gotten into me."

"No, no, it's alright," I answered, regaining a bit of my past composure. "It's something that I want."

A shaky smile set upon his lips.

"It's something that I want too."

'Want' was a mild word. The fact of the matter was that I needed it. And from what I could tell, Momo seemed to have needed it too.

There was a sort of loneliness and desperation in the way he pressed his lips against mine, or the way he squeezed me as our tongues lapped in each others' mouths, or the way our burgeoning erections rubbed against the other underneath our clothes. It was a familiar feeling, the familiar taste of sadness just wrapped in a different form. Warm, brown eyes in place of a frigid arctic blue, the damp smell of cigarettes instead of dry perfume, coarse black hair replacing a soft, golden blonde. The loneliness remained the same. It was all something I was well acquainted to.

It wasn't long before he had pushed me into my own bed, his tongue tracing circles on my neck. I craned my neck back, and he took the chance to suck on my skin – hard. A pathetic moan escaped my lips as a wave of pleasure washed over me. Or was it? Or perhaps it was just the desperation of a sad, sad boy who wants to forget about everything. But in that flurry of tangled arms and legs I didn't care. At least for the moment - I wasn't lonely.

Momo grabbed the towel he wore and tossed it aside. He wasn't hiding anything now.

Truly it was the prettiest dick I have ever seen, curving slightly upwards with a girth anyone would be envious of. It was long and veiny, but most importantly, it was dripping wet.

He didn't even need to say anything. I flipped him over and the next thing I knew I was on my knees, planting kisses up and down his shaft. Despite his shower, a faint smell of sweat still lingered on his groin. I buried my face into his thighs sucking hard on his tender skin. He let out a soft moan as nuzzled my face into his balls. He liked it.

I took his entire dick into my mouth as I worked my way slowly down its length. I haven't gone down on anyone in a while, but he tasted phenomenal. The taste of sweat and precum left a gentle mild saltiness on my tongue.

Momo ran his fingers through my hair, rustling it as I slowly took more of him in me. It was then when he pushed me down hard, ramming his cock to the back of my throat. I was nearly overcome with my gag reflex and my eyes got teary, but I just let him continue pushing himself deeper and deeper inside me. The feeling was simply heavenly.

"Fuck, you're good," he said, under his breath.

I spluttered as he continued to choke me with his dick. I dug my fingers into his thighs as I held on, while he kept thrusting. I could feel him getting more and more excited, his legs wrapping around my back as he pulled me closer, making sure I couldn't go anywhere.

Eventually I had to take a break when my jaw began to hurt. I didn't know how long I had been going down on him, but he had been leaking pre-cum – loads of it. I needed a change, so I brought my lips up to his and kissed him hard and deep as I ran my fingers through his matted hair.

It was then when Momo decided that it was my turn. Yanking my pants down to my ankles he kissed my bulge through my soaking briefs. All the while he looked up at me with those hazel eyes of his, eyes I couldn't stop staring into. He wanted it, he needed it. But he wouldn't let me off easy.

He wouldn't stop teasing me – brushing his face against my inner thighs, planting kisses on my skin, nibbling against my erection. After what felt like forever, he finally peeled off my briefs, pushing his face against my throbbing cock.

We stared into each other's eyes for a bit, a slight mischievous smile on his lips. I could feel his breath against my erection, tickling it ever so gently.

Finally he swallowed me whole in one sudden movement. I let out a gasp as he wrapped himself around my entire length. I felt his tongue lap against my head, as I leaned back and gave into the pleasure. He kept changing up his pace, going slowly at times, and then pushing himself down, ramming my cock to the back of his throat. Feeling myself getting used to his rhythm, I ran my fingers through his hair and pushed his head down as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He went on like this for a while, until he finally looked up at me with those pretty eyes of his. He crawled up on my bed, on all fours as clambered on top of me. Reaching down, our lips met once again, his tongue pushing into my mouth.

I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he planted kisses below my jaw, down my neck and on my collarbone. It truly was the best I had felt in a long while, as a wave of euphoria washed over me.

His soft lips on my nipples, his warm touch grazing against skin. I lay there, my head leaning back as he continued to work my body, pushing his erection against mine.

I flipped him over and watched as a mischievous smile crept up his lips. I nuzzled my face against his neck as I landed kisses all over his skin. I looked into his brown eyes before making out with him again. I took in every sensation – the warmth of his hands as they wrapped around my torso, the wetness of his lips as they bonded with mine, the intoxicating smell of sweet perfume wafting through the room. The scent of roses with hints of the salty sea.

I lifted his slender legs and looked into those arctic blue eyes of his. Running my hand through his soft blonde hair I pecked him on his soft pink lips once more, as I positioned myself at his entrance. I missed him terribly. I wanted him back.

As much as I as afraid to admit it, I loved him. From his angelic features to his enigmatic distance, I loved every bit of him. He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. I would do anything to be in his arms again. To look into his icy eyes and peer into that sea of neverending sadness. To catch the whiff of the salty Mediterranean from his silky hair and velvet skin. To hear his sweet moans woven between the serene silence as I gently entered him, his pink lips parted ever so slightly.

With one thrust I could feel the familiar warmth engulfing my shaft. I went back and forth a few times, but I couldn't go on. A familiar pang of sorrow had hit me, knowing what I could have and what I had let slip through my fingers just out of my own callousness.

I wanted that sweet boy back. The boy who had gone through more pain than I could even imagine. I wanted to hold on to that boy and never let him go.

I wanted him to know how much he meant to me. At the very least he should know how I felt about him. But I never got the chance to tell him that. It was always like that – I never let my true feelings be known until it was far too late.

"Hey," a soft voice pierced my thoughts, bringing me back. "You alright?"

It wasn't Ferran. The silky blonde hair returned to a matted black, and those arctic blue eyes were replaced with a warm hazel. I couldn't help but sputter out a cough. A tight pain seized my chest as I clumsily took myself out of the sweet boy I had brought home that evening.

"I'm sorry," I told Momo. "I-I can't do this anymore."