"Do you ever miss being part of a group?" Momo asked me.

It almost seemed out of the blue. We were having lunch in one of the restaurants by the old harbour. The weather was pleasant enough for us to eat outside, and it seemed like most people felt the same. Maybe it was in this environment, surrounded by people did Momo decided to bring that up.

"Not really," I said, picking up my glass of wine. "I don't really think I was a part of a group, other than the time with Rafel and Amélie. . . and Ferran I guess."

"Me neither," Momo said, shrugging. "I was just thinking because the other day I met this guy who told me he has never been to a museum because his friends didn't want to."

I raised my eyebrow.

"Can you imagine living like that?" Momo said, tilting his head to the side. "Dictated by your friends' whims and wills?"

I only shrugged. I mean, what else could I do? When Momo goes off on his little tangents there was little else you could do really. He can be rather staunch in his own opinions, and I hadn't the energy to argue.

"What were you like in school?" Momo asked.

"Eh," I mumbled. "Apathetic."

A smile crept up Momo's lips, as he adjusted his hair.

"I guess not much has changed then," he said. "Well, maybe in how you see yourself."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "I am apathetic to most things."

"Or that's what you'd like to think," Momo remarked.

I shrugged, as the waiter served us our meal.

"You're the most caring man I've ever met," Momo said as he picked up his fork. "If you were apathetic you wouldn't have done the things you've did for me."

"Come on," I replied. "I did that because I love you. Anyone would've done that."

"You said would've killed him for me."

"And I'd do it."

Those words just blurted out of my mouth without a second thought. Without me realising it, my hands were gripping onto my fork, my flesh squeezing onto the cold metal. I looked into his warm hazel eyes, but he averted his gaze.

"You're afraid," Momo said as he started cut into his food. "Of what passion can do. And that's why you have this veneer of apathy that you try to maintain."

"You wouldn't want me to go to jail now would you?"

"That's because you're speaking out of rationality," Momo said. "Being rational and apathetic are not the same thing."

"What are you getting to?" I asked, getting a bit irritated.

"I'm just saying that you're not as apathetic as you think you are," he said.

I only grunted.

"Introspection is always nice," Momo muttered. "I hope you don't take it like I'm trying to offend you or anything or picking apart at your flaws. It's just. . . something I do."

"Like an inquisitive child," I shot back with a smile. "But I like to listen to you speak."

"Even when you just grunt in response?"

I couldn't help but chuckle under my breath. Momo was right. He was always very sharp, and I guess he was right about me being apathetic just as a shield. That's what I really liked about him. He made me think. Like a mirror, he helped me discover things about myself as I looked into those eyes of his. Things I wouldn't even have thought about otherwise.

As he lay beside me that night, I couldn't help but admire his pretty face in the moonlight. I brushed my hand against his cheek, feeling his skin against mine.

I could see what he was doing. He had opened up to me, and was trying to coax me into doing it too. He was making an effort to bring us closer together. Personally, I didn't really know if I even wanted to, but the small corner of me that wanted it eventually won me over. Besides, weren't I searching for answers? Including Momo into my own little pursuit could only serve to be helpful.

"I've been meaning to tell you something for a while," I said.

"What is it?" he asked, without even opening his eyes.

"I'd like you to meet Ferran," I finally blurted out.

It was what I've been wanting to say for days, but I've always kept pushing it away. I didn't know why I felt that way. Maybe I was just afraid that it would hurt him. Maybe I was afraid what bringing these two worlds I had grown so comfortable keeping separate would entail. But I had to do it – the thought had been gnawing at me at the back of my head.

"Sure."

Maybe Momo was just tired, given that we were in bed after all and it was late. But I couldn't help but notice that he didn't seem to take it like it was a big deal. But then again, what could I expect his reaction to be even?

"You want me to meet him," Momo said. "Yet I still barely know a thing about him."

"I think it's best you discover him for yourself," I replied as we packed both of our bags. "He's hard to put into words."

"Alright," Momo relented. "I trust you, so."

The planned meeting was a short weekend getaway to Fontaine de Vaucluse, nestled deep in the valleys north of the city. It was an hour's drive from Marseille, located just slightly to the east of Avignon. I've never been there before, but Amélie said it was a nice place for a quick weekend getaway, and I took her word for it.

Momo and I searched it up and looked at the things that we could do, and Momo really was enthusiastic about having a picnic by the waters. It was much too cold for a swim in the river, otherwise we would've gone. Momo planned what to bring for the picnic whereas I dealt with the car rental and booking the accommodation. For a while, it seemed like a getaway for just the two of us, and that Ferran just happened to be tagging along.

For a while, I thought Momo might tap out at the last moment, but the idea of having a nice weekend away from everything seemed to made sure that he was on board, whatever the outcome of him meeting Ferran was. Honestly I was worried about what would happen when they first met, but Momo seemed content planning and packing.

The day arrived, and that Saturday morning we drove our way to Ferran's apartment where we agreed we'd pick him up. Momo sat beside me in the passenger seat, in his maroon sweater. He had worn his hamsa necklace today, the little amulet hanging on his chest. He never usually did that.

As we approached the street in front of the apartment, we both saw him standing at the pavement in his cream turtleneck, a black luggage bag beside him.

"Did you tell him to bring a luggage bag?" Momo asked.

"I just told him to pack something for the weekend," I said.

When I brought the car to a stop in front of him, Momo immediately stepped out of the car, even though I intended to be the one helping Ferran with his luggage.

"Ferran right?" Momo said as he extended his arm. "I'm Mohamed."

Ferran took his hand and shook it, nodding.

"Let me get that for you," Momo said, as he took the luggage bag and walked over to the boot.

Ferran wordlessly entered the front passenger seat and shut the door behind him. I could only look at him as I sat behind the wheel, before looking at the rear mirror to see if Momo had noticed. As Momo shut the boot I noticed him narrowing his eyes before just shaking his head slightly.

Ferran on the other hand, never said anything. He barely even acknowledged me as he leaned back into his seat, looking in front of him. He held a small wine bag on his lap, but he never said anything about it. Momo only quietly entered the backseat, shutting the door behind him. We looked at each other in the rear mirror, not really knowing what to say.

I was the first one to break the suffocating silence.

"You've got everything you wanted to bring?" I asked Ferran, before driving off.

The boy only nodded.

The drive out of Marseille was painfully silent. I had considered putting on some music, but my hands remained glued to the wheel. As we drove through the north of the city to get onto the main motorway, we passed the many apartment blocks of the quartier nords. In the rear view mirror I could see Momo looking outside as he wore headphones. Ferran in the front seat however, leaned back and just stared at the road in front of us. Nobody said a word – it was almost like the three of us were in three different worlds.

We drove north up the Autoroute du Soleil, heading towards Lyon, passing by Vitrolles on the shore of the Etrange de Barres, as well as the more inland Salon-de-Provence. As I exited the motorway and entered Cavaillion, Ferran finally broke the silence.

"Can we stop by somewhere here?" the blond boy said. "I need to use the restroom."

I pulled over into a small rest stop with a gas station, a few small restaurants and an intermarche.

"Well we'll be right here," I said, as Ferran left the wine bag on his seat and left.

The moment he closed the door behind him, I let out a deep sigh. I turned to Momo, who had just taken out his headphones.

"I'm really sorry about that," I apologised. "I don't think he meant anything bad by it."

"Eh, it's fine," Momo shrugged. "I'm going for a smoke, care to join?"

"Why not?"

We left the car and stood on the pavement nearby. Momo took out a cigarette from the box, tossed it in the air and caught with his lips. He looked at me with a boyish grin, a glimmer in his bright hazel eyes.

"Do you want me to clap?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He just rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling nonetheless.

"Fine," I said taking a cigarette for myself. "It was kind of impressive."

Momo only chuckled triumphantly as he lit his cigarette. It was honestly such a relief to be out of the car. It was getting suffocating and I didn't know how else was I going to take it any longer just driving in awkward silence.

"So what do you think of him?" I asked Momo.

A stream of white smoke wisped out of his lips.

"If I'm being honest," he said. "Kind of a bitch."

"I assure you he's not trying to be stuck up or anything," I replied, defending him. "It's just that . . . he's just had a difficult time opening up to anyone new that even him agreeing to come with us is a miracle."

"Maybe I judge too quickly."

"You do."

Momo narrowed his eyes at me, before chuckling.

"Is that what you really think of me?" he asked playfully.

"Maybe."

I was glad I took the time to smoke with him. A part of me was afraid that he had been uncomfortable, which I'm pretty sure he was, but I'm glad I managed to ease the tension.

Across the parking lot, I could see Ferran stand, looking at something. We couldn't really see much from where we were standing, but Momo noticed him too. The boy knelt down, disappearing from view behind a car.

Momo and I looked at each other, and with a wordless nod, we stubbed out our cigarettes and walked over to him. A part of me was glad Momo and I were on the same page. He knew how concerned I was about Ferran, and immediately picked it up. As we both walked across the lot, I reached out to hold his hand, and to my surprise he squeezed my palm in return. I guess it was in that moment I realised that he was truly meant for me.

We let go of our hands as we reached Ferran. It turned out we didn't really need to worry at all – Ferran had to stopped to play with a cat. The boy was smiling sadly, stroking the cat's white fur as it purred. Momo immediately joined him, kneeling beside him. The cat, meowing, turned to Momo and started to rub against his leg.

"I think he really likes you," Ferran said.

Momo only chuckled, as he reached out to run his hand down the cat's back, while Ferran scratched the cat's neck. The cat seemed to be the one enjoying all the attention it was showered with, while I just stood back and watched. In a sense it felt quite endearing to see the both of them bond over petting a cat. I guess I shouldn't have worried if all it took was a cat for them to start interacting.

"I used to have a cat just like this one," Momo said.

At first I was unsure whether he was talking to me or not, but it soon became clear he had been talking to Ferran.

"Me too," Ferran replied.

Momo gently scooped up the cat with his arms and snuggled it close. Maybe he got too close, or the cat has had enough of the attention, but a loud shrill meow pierced the air, and before I knew it, the cat leaped over his shoulders and landed on its feet behind him. Momo gasped in surprise, but soon it was replaced with a chuckle.

He was still kneeling there when he looked at me. I could only smile back. It was nice seeing everyone finally relaxed, even if it was for a brief moment.

It was then when Ferran slowly reached out, his dainty fingers picking out some fur that the cat had shed on Momo's sweater. Momo only turned to look at him, his lips parted ever so slightly. But his eyes were looking directly at Ferran's face. I noticed him inching ever so slightly forward as the boy wordlessly dusted him clean, working upwards to his neck, where he brushed the last few strands fur on Momo's skin with the back of his thumb.

But it wasn't just Momo who was staring. I traced Ferran's gaze following his fingers, trailing from Momo's chest, to his shoulders to his neck, until eventually Ferran was looking into Momo's eyes.

I hadn't seen that fiery look in Momo's eyes ever since I went to his dorm room and we made love for the first time. Not again after all these months did I catch that look in his hazel eyes ever again.

Without a word, I turned away and walked to the car.