A/N: This chapter contains scenes and discuss themes that may be disturbing for some readers.

As much as I tried my best to keep my two romances separate, they, somewhat inevitably began to blend into one another. I suppose it was bound to happen, just like the sun and the moon appearing together in the sky, during the twilight of a long summer's day.

It all began when I brought back home a bouquet of aster from the florist. I had intended for them to be for Momo. It was nothing out of the ordinary, we were getting into the habit of buying things for one another – affirmations of our love perhaps. The other day he had bought me a box of pralines, so I suppose it was my turn to return the favour. But don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I thought it was a chore or an obligation. I just wanted to make him happy.

Recently, Momo had been troubled with developments with his family. Momo had told me about his grandmother when he was growing up, and her health was beginning to deteriorate. That was why he was kept so busy that he never had the chance to let me know during the whole time he was gone, extending our break from the original two weeks to almost a month.

"It's really hard watching someone you love deteriorate like that," Momo had said. "You just feel so helpless. With absolutely nothing that you can do."

Miraculously, she recovered. Yet, the death scare certainly shook him. He would visit her weekly now, telling me he didn't want to regret not using the time he had with her to the fullest. It was great for me too; once she was well enough Momo never fails to leave her house without at least a container of food, that he would share with me.

Today was one of those days. Seeing that he wasn't home yet, I placed the bouquet in the vase on the dining table with some water to keep it fresh, before hopping into the shower. When I came out of the bathroom, Momo had finally returned having gotten groceries on the way home. I helped him take out the fruits and vegetables from the paper bags in the kitchen, while he made himself a cup of coffee. I was waiting for him to mention the flowers, which he did eventually.

"Those are some pretty flowers," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "I got them for you."

Momo stood in front of the dining table, admiring the blooms.

"I like how you saved me the trouble of putting them in a vase by doing it for me," he chuckled.

"What can I say?" I replied. "I'm a very considerate boyfriend."

Momo reached out to the vase, brushing his fingers against the petals of the flowers.

"You know it's funny," Momo said. "Months ago you wouldn't even let me touch this vase, as much as I wanted to fill it with flowers. And now suddenly I come back home to this."

"Times change," I shrugged. "People change."

"But that's not all there is to it isn't it?" Momo said.

I turned to look at him. The boy just stood there, leaning over the chair. Maybe I had narrowed my eyes, or raised an eyebrow that gave away how I felt, for Momo backed down almost immediately.

"Forget it," he said, dismissing everything with a curt flick of his wrist. "I didn't mean to probe."

That was the thing with Momo – his attention to detail always so keen, noticing things about me that even I failed to do. And it was true, admittedly, that I bought him the flowers in part due to how beautiful Ferran's balcony garden was.

The fact that Momo needn't even say what he wanted to say attested to the fact that no matter how difficult I tried to keep them separate, my feelings and relations with Ferran and Momo would eventually collide into one another. I can only hope for it to be mild.

"I didn't mean to sound so pointed earlier," Momo said later that evening, as we lay in bed in nothing but our underwear, preparing to go to sleep. "I even forgot to thank you for getting me the flowers. They're lovely."

"Come here," I beckoned him, reaching my hand out.

I held him close to me, his head rested against my bare chest, his thick, rough hair brushing against my cold skin.

"It's a bit silly," he said. "I know I trust you completely, and maybe it's even hypocritical of me to feel this way since I go out with other men too, but. . ."

"You're jealous of Ferran."

"Not exactly," he replied. "I respect that you and him have something together. I know you loving him doesn't mean you'll love me any less. But I just can't help but feel envious of how attached you are to him."

"You want me to spend less time with him?"

I felt a sharp pinch on my side.

"Will you fucking listen to me and stop jumping to conclusions?"

"Okay, okay, fine."

Momo sighed.

"Maybe I just. . . really missed being with you," Momo said. "And I guess I'm just afraid of losing out time with you. It's a bit silly to think about, given that I know that me and him are different people with different experiences so of course our bonds with you would be very different."

I held him tighter against my body. It was that rare reminder that underneath his wit and charm, Momo still had that side to him that was tender and vulnerable. Momo traced his finger on my chest, drawing circles on my skin. It's been quite some time since Momo and I had any form of intimacy.

"It's been a while since we've last done it hasn't it?" I said, as I played with his hair.

"Yeah," Momo muttered.

"Well. . ." I continued, as I leaned against his head. "Do you want to. . . do it now?"

There was a brief silence, before Momo finally spoke again.

"Mateu. . ." he began. "You know how I told you I trust you?"

"Of course."

"I've been thinking about this for a very long time," he continued. "And I've been meaning to try something out with you. . . But just promise me you won't ask me too many questions."

"Sure," I said. "What is it?"

***

The next day after I finished work, I paused when I reached the door of my apartment. I was hesitant to open the door, knowing full well Momo was in there. I couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy. I remembered Momo picking out an outfit for it that morning, standing in front of the wardrobe deep in thought. We had discussed everything from the start to the end, and honestly it all seemed a little daunting.

It was okay, I told myself. I was doing this for Momo.

Once I found myself inside, I found Momo seated at the dining table, working on something on his laptop. He was wearing his varsity jacket, the one he had worn when he left me.

"Hey, Mohamed!" I said, walking up to the seat beside him. "What are you working on?"

Momo turned to look at me with those hazel eyes of his, and a shy, awkward smile curled up his lips. He seemed different from his usual self, for some reason.

"Oh," the boy muttered nervously. "I'm just. . . trying to figure out how to code for the final project."

"Oh yeah," I chuckled. "That's why you called me over right?"

Momo nodded.

"What seems to be the problem?" I asked, pulling out the chair and plopping myself down in it.

I leaned in, stretching over him to take a look at his screen. He had certainly pulled up a python notebook and typed in some coding functions in it, but consistently had errors written all over. I could hear Momo let out a shaky breath.

He seemed shy and timid, a far cry from the Momo that I knew and loved. I paused momentarily, for a while my mind was clouded with vestiges of doubt.

"You sure you want to do this?" I asked as I turned, looking him in the eye.

"Yeah," he said softly, an awkward smile on his lips. "Just. . . go on."

I turned back to the screen.

"Well, actually it isn't that bad, you've already got the basis of everything," I said, trying my best to sound like I knew what I was doing. "All you need to do is just check carefully within your. . . uh. . . code. . . to see if you might've made some typos."

Momo leaned forward as he fixed the code himself, before finally pressing enter. Suddenly the code worked.

"Good job, dude!" I said, patting his thigh to congratulate him.

"Thanks," he muttered.

I could hear my heart thumping, I just couldn't tell whether it was because I was nervous or excited after not doing anything with Momo for so long.

"Now scroll down and look at the next problem set," I said, as I slowly inched closer and closer to him .

As the boy did that, typing away, I placed my hand on his thigh again. Momo paused, turning to look at me. His eyes looked down to the hand slowly rubbing his thigh, before coming up to meet mine again.

"What's wrong?" I said. "Come on, you should focus."

"No," Momo muttered. "I think. . . I think that's enough for today."

Momo tried to stand up, but I reached out to grab his wrist.

"Why don't you relax for a bit?" I recited the line. "Just go sit on the sofa."

Momo nervously complied, walking over to the sofa and sitting down, leaning into the backrest. He seemed anything but relaxed. I sat there on the dining table, watching him for a few minutes before finally joining him myself.

The truth was I trying to prepare myself for what was to happen next. I thought of Momo lying beside me, I thought of his smooth skin brushing against mine, I thought of the time he mounted me, his charming smile on his lips, his body moving up and down my shaft as our fingers intertwined. I kept doing this, playing all those scenes with him in my head as I stroked myself through my pants. Once I felt that I was hard enough, I walked over to him. My heart was thumping in my chest, together with a feeling of dread dawning over me.

Maybe I should've stopped then and there, but I pressed on, knowing it was what Momo told me he wanted.

"I think. . ." Momo began as I began to feel him up. "I think you should leave. Please."

He tried to push me away, and that was my cue for it to begin.

I grabbed his hands and pushed him onto the sofa, the boy laying on his stomach as I climbed on top of him.

"I'm not leaving until I get what I want," I whispered into his ear, just as he had told me to.

The boy struggled and squirmed but it was all in vain. He tried to kick me away, but I hit him and pushed his face further into the cushions.

"Please," his shrill voice called out. "Please don't do this."

Ignoring him, I yanked his pants down, revealing his bare ass. The boy began to cry out, shivering as I fingered him deep and rough. Wasting no time, I quickly plunged my erection into him, using only my spit. My hands grabbing onto his body, I thrusted back and forth. I let out a moan as his warm, tight ass gripped around my girth. His breathing was heavy, and his moans of pain filled the room. But I kept fucking him hard, slamming into him with every thrust.

That was until he turned around to look at me. I could barely make out the side of his face, but even then I could see the unmistaken sheen of glossy tears on his cheeks.

It was that moment which it dawned at me that this was not merely a roleplay scenario of a fantasy that he had – the details that Momo had insisted on getting right, from the clothes that he wore, to the things that was said were just simply too specific. This wasn't a role play. This was a re-enactment.

The realisation hit me hard. It felt like the weight of the heavens and the earth had come crashing down on me with such oppressive force. That was the only way for me to describe it.

I never even bothered to say the safe word we had agreed on.

I immediately scrambled to get off him, nearly falling off the sofa myself and crashing into the coffee table. A visceral nauseating feeling rose like a tide within me, and I stumbled to the kitchen as fast as I could. Leaning over the kitchen sink, I hurled up the sickly contents of my stomach. All of it.

Momo had rushed to the kitchen after me. His eyes were still red, the tears still flowing down his cheeks. In that moment I felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest and smashed into a million pieces. I looked into those hazel eyes of his, glassy and puffy from all the crying. How could someone do something so cruel to him? To someone so sweet? To someone who has never even wronged anyone in his life?

I couldn't even tell disgust, anger and sadness apart anymore, all of them hitting me and overwhelming me in a huge wave of emotion. I walked up to the boy and wrapped him up in a tight hug, holding him close to me. My hands were trembling as I clung onto his jacket, my fingers crumpling the fabric underneath. All I wanted was for him to be safe.

The person that did this to him was a fucking monster. Beyond inhuman.

"Whoever did this to you," I said between tears, my voice raised, unable to contain my feelings anymore. "I'm going to kill him! I'm going to fucking kill him!"

But at the same time, the disgust that I felt at myself was even worse. It was too much for me. I couldn't believe it was me, doing the exact heinous thing that the poor boy had endured and suffered through. It was the last thing that I wanted to do. I never wanted to hurt him, and now I have, in ways I never even thought I was capable of.

My knees grew weak, and the two of us stumbled and fell onto the floor, two vulnerable, crying boys clinging onto one another. I shivered as I held him in an almost desperate embrace.

"I'm sorry Momo," I sobbed, as the tears began to soak his jacket and the mucus began to drip from my nose. "I'm so, so sorry. I can't believe I did that. I'm so sorry."

I could only apologise as the tears kept gushing. But what use was me apologising? It wasn't going to change anything. My words weren't going to change anything. It wasn't going to take away what happened to him. It wasn't going to take away his immense pain.

In that moment, I was hoping Momo could say something – to tell me that he was okay, or to tell me that he forgives me. I was hoping he would say anything. Momo, I knew, always had something to say. He always knew the right words.

But in that moment, all that the poor boy could do was cry.