"You're home!"

Pelham's mother, who had been feeding Oris, was reasonably startled to see her son appearing through the back door instead of the front. Not that Pelham was trying to sneak up and surprise everyone. As a matter of fact, the front door was locked, and Pelham knew that at times like this, his mother would be down in the kitchen to feed Oris while basking in the evening's setting sun.

"I thought you were going to call sooner," she observed.

"I did," Pelham said. "I told Dad - where is he, anyway?"

"He's at the market," she told him distractedly, for her eyes had adjusted to a point just over Pelham's shoulder as he brought his bags in, grinning at Oris, who was pointing her stubby forefinger in her step brother's direction. "Who's this?"

At that precise moment, Lucio stood planted at the threshold, looking unsure of whether he should enter or remain standing there. He looked relatively gawky, what with the strap of his duffle bag pulling at the collar of his shirt.

"That's Luc," Pelham answered, stepping aside to let him in. Pelham then paused, musing on his choice of words. "Lucio." he corrected himself, before adding, "His parents won't be home till tonight so I thought I'd invite him over for a while - if that's okay."

"So you've made a new friend?"

"Yeah, Mum, I'm quite engaging, see,"

His mother pursed her lips. "So where is Roshon?"

"New York," he replied flatly.

Both of Jody's eyebrows raised so high that they were at the verge of disappearing all the way into her hair. "I think I'll need a full story regarding Roshon," she told him, pointing a porridge-smeared spoon in his direction. She addressed Lucio; "How are you, Luke?"

"It's Lucio," said Lucio a little too timidly, sending a small glare at Pelham when he heard him snigger. "I'm good, er ... thanks. You don't mind, do you, Mrs Nixon?"

"Make yourself at home, dear," she said, beaming, thus exposing perfectly straight white teeth that stretched along her wide lips. "You can stay for dinner, if you want. Oris here loves new company."

Lucio, as though he had just noticed the infant's presence in the kitchen, eventually turned his attention towards Oris and smiled brightly at her. At this new attention she was receiving, Oris let out a shrill laughter as though her presence had been acknowledged by the queen of England. Pelham went over and picked her up from his mother's arms.

"Does she miss me?" he asked.

"She keeps saying 'plum', so I guess she does," his mother said coolly, busying herself with the dishes.

"I don't miss you!" Oris returned.

"Sure you don't," said Pelham, snaking his hands through Oris' corkscrew raven hair before setting her on the high chair, where she crossed her arms over her chest.

"'Plum'?" Lucio echoed, a grin stretching across his face, to which Pelham replied by sending him an exasperated look that said Don't you dare.

"You boys hungry?" Jody called out.

Pelham shook his head. He looked at Lucio, who told his mother than he wasn't hungry at all, but would eat anyway should she serve a meal. In the end, he resolved to stay over for dinner if that wouldn't cause an issue. Pelham was more than pleased that he would be having company with him, seeing as Roshon was usually the one to come over. Eventually, after a small row on whether Lucio should stay at the living room or Pelham's bedroom, the two boys proceeded to Pelham's bedroom.

Pelham noticed that Lucio was a little too hesitant as soon they stopped outside his bedroom; he was standing at the door frame, his duffel bag in one hand and a backpack in the other, while his eyes scanned the room as though he was trying to reassure himself that the room was clean of any sort of fiends. Like earlier, before he entered his house, Lucio looked uncertain on whether it was okay for him to enter, as though a sanction was required every time he came across a door. 

It looked more as though Lucio had come across a sign that bore the words NO FOREIGNERS.

If Pelham wasn't mistaken, he should be the one to feel fidgety about the thought of being alone together with Lucio in his room. Of course, he had Roshon come over for more than a couple of times, and he was always fine with it, regardless of him being an invert; a misfit of all the normal boys. And he thought that having Lucio over shouldn't be an issue as well - it would be fatuous if it did. It's not as if anyone knows about me, he thought to himself as he let himself in. Why should Lucio be any different?

Eventually, Lucio entered the room and placed his bags on the floor just near the study desk where Pelham kept photos of him and April, as well as Roshon. He noticed that Lucio was observing the pictures, looking somewhat broody. Avoiding discomfiture - especially seeing as Lucio had just become his friend the previous week - Pelham went to sit with his legs crossed on the floor where his game consoles lay, and patted the carpeted space next to him. Quite reluctantly, Lucio went over and sat down next to him.

"D'you play?" Pelham asked.

Lucio nodded. "Sure,"

"You wanna play now, or d'you wanna rest?" he asked again.

"We just got back, and you're thinking of playing a video game now?"

Pelham mulled this over. "Straight-thinking," he noted, and could hear the faintest of snort escape Lucio's lips.

That was how they ended up tossing a tennis ball idly to one another across the room. They didn't really say anything, but the silence was bearable - at least, to Pelham. The longer he sat there, the more reality was returning to him, like a forest mist that was starting to dissipate to reveal the ghostly thicket. He had believed that it would be erased from his mind entirely after the week's trip. Though, he always knew that there was no hope to it. He could feel something itching at the back of his mind, as though there were bugs there that needed his full attention. It was getting on his nerves; what could possibly be the exact case that made him endure the agony of internal conflict? 

Isn't the fact of accepting my sexuality enough? That was a question he had been asking himself everyday. He felt as though he knew the answer, yet he was refusing to let himself admit it. He was refusing to give himself the satisfaction that he himself was correct all along, as though there were two sides of him being hostile towards one another, never coinciding. There was a ceaseless war raging inside him - in his heart, and that his whole body was the battlefield.

He didn't say anything, though. What was there to say? Even if there was, would Lucio - the only company he had at the moment - even listen to him? Comprehend him? He was relatively certain that him rambling and raving about his personal life would be as wearisome and as pathetic as himself. For that reason, he resolved to just stay quiet.

Lucio's mother called him during dinner later that evening, asking him where he was. It turned out - much to Pelham's bliss - that his house was around the neighbourhood. Pelham asked whether he could accompany Lucio on his walk back home, but Lucio told him it that he would be all right all by himself.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" Lucio asked, rocking back and forth on his heels, clenching his fingers and unclenching them.

At that time, Pelham was sporting a runny nose, and he had been sneezing since five in the evening. He had, after all, been running in the rain earlier that morning. Instead of saying "yes", Pelham replied; "I'll see you at school."

After Lucio had left, Pelham's mother came bombarding him with questions about the trip and on how came Roshon was in New York. He filled her in with the details, and reminding her that should April or his father ask about it, she could fill them all in for him. He was far too worn out - not to mention how feverish he had gotten - that when he plopped down on the bed before nine in the evening, he dozed off right away.

Pelham woke up at the sound of soft knocks on his door on the following morning. Jody's head peeked through the gap between his door and the doorframe the moment he opened his eyes, adjusting to the seemingly dazzling golden hue in his room. His head pounded, and his joints ached.

"I've been checking in on you," said his mother, entering his room with Oris behind her, hugging her legs. "Had to skip work to look after you."

"'Been'?" Pelham repeated blankly, and his voice sounded as though it was stuck in his throat.

"For four times," she nodded.

Pelham blinked. "What time is it?"

"It's nearly eleven,"

He shot up from his bed, felt groggy, and collapsed back, his head sinking into his warm pillows. His mother approached him and rested her hand on his forehead. Pelham felt as though he was eight.

"You came home with a cold," she noted. "Were you playing in the water or something?"

"Rained," he murmured in a really hoarse voice.

"Eat your soup, Pelham," she said, jerking her head towards the bedside table. "It's been sitting on your table for an hour now."

Pelham grabbed his phone from his bedside table the moment his mother left. He had received a few text messages from April and a missed call from Roshon. He wouldn't admit it, but there was an itch of disappointment at the absence of Lucio's name. He shook his head; what was he thinking? Why would Lucio suddenly want to spam him with text messages, asking why he wasn't at school? What did Lucio care?

Pelham then mused on whether the students who had joined the camping trip even bothered to come at school at all that day. He reckoned that some of them had gotten ill, like him.

Pelham spent the whole day shuffling around the house in his groggy state, occasionally opening the fridge and closing it the moment the cool air engulfed him. He turned to the cabinets, then, trying to search for something that might fill his appetite. Eventually, he found himself sitting in front of the television - which wasn't even turned on anyway - as he waited for school hours to be over. He just wanted to talk to April on the phone.

April: hey im otw to ur house

He received that around three in the evening later on. He replied with an Okay and waited on the sofa in the sitting room, feeling utterly out of place, what with the hood of his jacket pulled low over his head, his sleeves pulled past his fingers. Twenty minutes later, April arrived at his front door. She grinned up at him the moment he opened the door for her.

"Not a lot of people came to school today," she said.

"Well, good," he stepped aside to let her in.

"Still cool?"

"Of course I am," he shrugged, and even in his state, he managed to send a small smirk in her direction. She responded by pressing her lips together, giving him an incredulous look. It ticked her off whenever Pelham responded her quip with something pawky. "School?"

"Fine," she simply said. "How's Lucio?" 

For some odd and unnerving reason, Pelham's felt his heart leap at the mention of the boy's name that he tensed. He didn't exactly know why, and he refused to acknowledge it. "He's a great lad," he said, his voice smaller than normal.

"Just great?"

"Perhaps more than great? He's probably a superhero in disguise, April, I can't tell." 

They talked for a while; about Pelham's week, about April's week, and about some random things that happened every now and then. Pelham was growing more conscious about the weights that were pressing on his shoulders, yet he didn't want to mull it over. The bugs were still itching at the back of his mind. It was as though he had been plunged deep into the ocean with no hope of trying to resurface.

If he wasn't mindful, he might as well sink into melancholy like he always did. April, fortunately, was some sort of his strength of will, where he could push away all of the thoughts that had been bugging him since his early adolescent years whenever he spent his time with her. But he could see, now that he was going to turn eighteen this year, that the control might as well break. That soon, he would have to come out of the closet to face reality.

The hinder was the fact that he was afraid. Too cowardly. Pessimistic.

Afraid of what the people he cared about might think of him, afraid of their judgement, afraid of how April - his long-time girlfriend - might act around him once she discovered his true self. For some reason, though, he knew Roshon would have his back if he told him about himself; about his sexuality. He was, after all, his best friend.

Still, as obstinate as he could be, Pelham resolved to just keep his mouth shut - for a while.

When April asked whether he was going to school on the next day, he said he wasn't sure. "I know you miss me, but I'll keep in touch," he assured her; a weak attempt at trying to cheer himself up.

"Whatever,"

"Unless you want to catch cold as well - I can give you that," Pelham grinned - he was sure he looked inebriated - mocking a kiss and spreading his fingers in the air, giving the impression of bacteria spreading everywhere.

"Gross."

When April went home later that evening, Pelham didn't have time to go upstairs to his room at all. His head was pounding so hard that he was sure his skull would burst soon. His nose was blocked - both nostrils - and he could feel his temperature rising. He slumped back in the sofa and finally turned on the television. He merely stared at the cooking show, not really watching it.