If there was one thing that Pelham would never take for granted, it was April's impartialness. Despite being the one to end things with her because he couldn't withstand the confinement that was the closet, despite having had lied to her and himself for seeing their relationship as intimate when he was, in fact, chaste about it, April was considerably forebearing.

Sometimes, Pelham couldn't help but think that April - like himself - had faked their entire relationship. It was too much to ask for, especially from a girl. But that was simply his brooding mind going astray. Pelham believed that everyone was unique in their own way, including how they perceived the function of actuality. Of course, there was also the fact between partiality and impartiality in people, and those who stood on no-man's land.

If he were to draw it out, April and his father - as well as Lucio - would occupy what he referred to as the "Land of Partiality", while his mother and Roshon - and probably Miguel - would stand on "Land of Impartiality". And he would fill "No-Man's Land" - probably along with Oris. Adrift, he thought, for two coastlines stood on either side of him, leaving a vast sea in-between, where he floated, carried by the tide, unananchored. Adrift.

A couple of days had passed, and Pelham could feel his guts beginning to constrict at the lack of interaction between himself and his mother, who seemed to grow more and more occupied, yet actually seemed to enjoy it. Pelham didn't, of course. Besides that, he was beginning to think about Roshon. It struck Pelham as funny on how just last month they were the archetypal pair of best friends who were both geeks and played video games together every evening.

Funny, he thought, on how fast things could change in just a short period of time. It was like missing a very relevant scene on a show by simply blinking. Afterwards, you were left to ponder over the whole plot.

Perhaps that was exactly what was happening in Pelham's life at the moment; where things had escalated to their maximum. Rollercoasters, he thought meditatively. Like rollercoasters. The only issue was whether any of it was ever going to descend.

His only anchor now was Lucio. If Lucio could stomach it, surely Pelham could as well? They stayed up late almost every night, talking to each other on the phone rather than texting. Most of the time, they talked about Lucio's life, but when Pelham sensed that the boy didn't feel like chewing over the topic, he simply asked what the boy did in his free time.

"Playing the piano," Lucio had replied once, after shying out of the question.

"Just playing?" Pelham had pried then, feeling himself smirk; he had seen the piano around when he was over at Lucio's house, but he hadn't really paid it much attention.

"What else am I supposed to do, eat it?"

"You can take it out on a date or something,"

"You're so full of wit, aren't you?"

"I always know I'm funny. People just rarely notice."

Lucio had snorted back then; Pelham could distinctly see him rolling his eyes. He wasn't sure why, but there was simply something appeasing about being on the phone with Lucio in the wee hours of morning.

Now that he thought about it, there was always something appeasing about Lucio - something about him that tranquillized Pelham in a way that nobody else ever had, yet he couldn't get a proper explanation out of it. It just existed; like a plant growing from a seedling in the soil. It was there, all right, only he never saw it until it emerged.

Perhaps that was the reason why Pelham couldn't decipher the feeling when April, after school hours had ended, and she had sent him a text message asking whether he would like to join her at a nearby food parlour, added that Lucio was with her. If there was a faint flip in his stomach at the mere mention of the younger boy, he paid no heed to it.

Pelham: so you and him hang out now?

April: jealous?

Pelham: would it please you if I was?

April: so you're jealous that Im now buddies with your boyfriend?

Pelham: He is not my boyfriend.

April: the absence of contractions and the presence of a dot in that sentence do seem sceptical

Pelham: whatever

April: anyway i met him on the way out. u know me, a prying person. so i asked him where he was heading. said he was gonna grab some food. then i asked whether i could join him. he was ok with it. and then i asked whether we should invite u as well. pretty sure he blushed.

April: so now im asking, you bastard: are you two in a relationship?

Pelham had to rub both of his temples with his thumbs before replying;

Pelham: for the last time, April. we're friends. cant two gay guys be friends?

April: well yes, they can. but with you two? absolutely not.

Pelham: he's not my type, remember?

April: let's see how that goes.

Of course, Pelham - who had been stuck inside the house for days - didn't turn down the challenge. Besides, he missed seeing April in person. He hadn't seen her since the day he was suspended from school for starting the brawl. She had been reasonably angry with him - again, he couldn't blame her. So, in the end, Pelham shrugged on his jacket and checked himself in the mirror - the latter being a rare habit, for it was either because of the fact that he hadn't bothered looking proper for the past couple of days or it was merely because of something else entirely.

It was only when April told him that the food parlour that she and Lucio were in was the one he had went over days previously did his nerves start to kick in. For what exactly, he wasn't certain. But he wasn't going to turn back now, not when he had said that he was already on his way.

Lucio and April - still in their school attires - were both seated in the tub chairs situated near the counters when Pelham entered. Lucio was poring over some papers - homework, no doubt - whereas April had her laptop opened on her lap. They didn't see Pelham when he approached. Only when he pulled the empty chair in front of them out from under the table did they look up.

"You know," Pelham addressed April, leaning back in his chair while doing so, "you can just put your laptop on the table. It's more comfortable that way, in case you need some enlightenment."

"It's called a laptop for a reason," she said. "And if I put it on this table, it will be called a desktop."

"I hadn't thought of that," Lucio commented.

"She has her facts. They're narking, mind you. She makes you feel thick in the head," said Pelham to Lucio, as though April wasn't there.

"I have my facts. You have your wide range of vocabularies. It's a win-win game," she noted.

"I have some dignity," Pelham countered. "What's left of it anyway."

"She's right about you and your wide range of vocabularies, actually," Lucio pointed out.

"Here I thought we were on the same side,"

April grinned, though her eyes slid over Pelham to somewhere behind him. She then folded her arms on top of the table and leaned across it. "Why is that guy staring at you, Pelham?" she asked in a discreet manner.

Lucio, cleary hearing it, frowned. Pelham, however, snorted. "I don't know which guy you're referring to. There's a lot here," he said casually. "And anyway, pretty sure he's looking at you."

"No, he isn't. You don't get it," she shook her head and leaned back. "His eyes have been trained on you for a while now, not me. It's like he's eye-fucking you or something."

Lucio, who had taken a sip out of his drink, choked.

"Cute blond one behind that counter. The cashier," April proceeded, cocking an eyebrow as if to indicate the place where the boy should be.

Something clicked in Pelham. "Oh," he said, nodding, as he racked his brain for a memory. "Errol."

"Errol?"

"Who's Errol?" Lucio wondered aloud, narrowing his eyes at Pelham. "And how did you know him?"

"We uh ... kinda talked a bit when I went here a few days ago," said Pelham, shrugging in an offhanded manner. "Nice bloke."

"Oh ..."

"So ... Errol like the Weasleys' owl?" April mused.

As if on cue, Errol came to their table, eyes landing on Pelham with his pen and small book ready. His blond hair was tousled, and dark circles were visible ringing his bright eyes. He seemed to be working all morning, and anyone paying close attention would notice just how jaded he was. Otherwise he remained looking flawless.

"W-we were just talking about Harry Potter," Pelham stuttered, feeling warm all over - not that anyone asked.

"Not a fan," Errol commented. "Orders?"

"I'll just have tea,"

"No waffles this time?" Errol smiled, his pen moving across the paper whilst his eyes remained fixated on Pelham.

By now, Pelham was certain that his cheeks had gone crimson. "No, I just ate," he said.

"You sure?" Errol cocked an eyebrow. "I'll put it on the house."

"Pretty sure he said he just ate," Lucio chimed in, leaning across the table so his hair just barely tickled Pelham's cheeks.

"All right, then," Errol said. "Good to see you again, er ..."

"Pelham."

"Right. Still suspended, I take it?"

Pelham nodded.

When Errol had walked off, Pelham could feel two pairs of eyes burning holes in his head. "Just how bit was 'talked a bit'?" April enquired

"He likes to talk," said Pelham. "That other day I was the only customer around his age. So he started chatting away. He simply likes to talk."

"You mean he likes to talk to you," Lucio stated, who had gone back to finishing his work. Pelham noticed that it was Mathematics - the usual.

"You need some help on that?" he asked.

"No, I'm good,"

Pelham looked at April with his eyebrows raised, as if to ask Is he okay? But April merely shrugged in response. "So," she started. "Pelham. Have you caught up with school?"

"A bit," he replied. "Had to e-mail my teachers about some assignments that I've probably missed. Apparently, Rosh thinks I don't exist anymore."

April grimaced. "There's a party tonight," she said, changing the topic. "Not sure whose. But it's somewhere around your neighbourhood. Anyway, Rosh is coming."

Pelham frowned at the idea of Roshon going to a party. The boy, like him, hardly ever went out. Just what kind of people has he been hanging out with?

"Well?" April proceeded when Pelham didn't say anything. "I'm coming, of course. Wouldn't miss a party."

Pelham wasn't the least bit surprised by this. April was a mingler. All the parties that he had gone to - reluctantly - were just her dragging him out of the house. And even then, he never quite enjoyed them. The least he did was try to engage in a conversation with the host's pet parrot, squawking alone in the bathroom.

For some reason, Pelham averted his gaze to Lucio, who was now looking at him intently, as though the answer was all over the boy's face. Lucio looked insouciant - that was, if the tapping of his pen on his papers indicated any response.

As though reading Pelham's mind, Lucio said, "That's your choice, not mine."

But Pelham couldn't quite help the question pouring into his head; Is it okay with you? He wasn't sure why he needed Lucio's consent. It wasn't like he wanted to go anyway. Pelham hated parties, after all.

"You know I'm not into parties," he told April. "So no."

"Figured you'd say that," she sighed.

"Then why ask?"

"Thought you ought to know," she shrugged. She then turned her attention to Lucio. "You coming? Who knows if you wanna hook up?"

Lucio pinked, his eyes immediately travelling back to Pelham. Pelham felt his stomach flip, and knew at once what both of them were thinking - recalling, precisely. "No, I'm good," Lucio replied, fixating his gaze on his work. "Tons of homework to finish."

"You sure you don't want my help on those?" Pelham asked again.

"No, Pelham, I'm fine, thank you," he said, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. "Need to wash."

When Lucio was out of earshot, April frowned at Pelham. "PMS much?"

Pelham just shrugged.

*

When April had mentioned that the party would be held at someone's house around his neighbourhood, Pelham didn't expect it to be someone who lived only three houses away from him. He was adequately acquainted with the girl who threw the party, though not her name; it was somewhere between Paula or Pauline. Of course, he was always really bad with names.

Even in his room, Pelham could distinctly make out the pounding music reverberating down the street, as though it was his own heart hammering against his chest. Because of that, he couldn't quite concentrate on his assignment.

The party had been blaring for more than a couple of hours. Now it was well past midnight, and Pelham was still seated before his laptop on his bed, trying to finish off his assignment; a Psychology essay where he had to come up with an alternative study. The least he had come up with was the design. It was a trial for him; his attention simply drifted at the presence of music. His hair was dishevelled from where he had been running his fingers through for the past few hours. Stupid party, he thought bitterly, closing his laptop and collapsing on his back as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.

It wasn't long before his phone rang on his bedside table. Pelham stalled his time before he reached an arm out to grab it. April's name flashed on the screen, just beneath where the clock stated 1:24 AM. Pelham released a small sigh, knowing fully well what this was going to be.

"Drunk dial? Really?" he said the moment he answered the call.

A small giggle sounded on the line. Of course. This wasn't the first time it happened.

"I'm sorry," April said, her tone light. "I just wanna go home ... I'm not feeling well."

"April, you know you're a light drinker," said Pelham.

There was no reply, though Pelham could hear the music blasting in the background, and April's breath on the line.

"You there?" he continued.

"Oh! Sorry, I just ... kind of nodded at your statement," she said. "And realised you couldn't even see me."

At this, Pelham smiled a little.

"By the way, I'm on my way to your house right now," she said.

Pelham paused. The music could still be heard booming in the background. But then again, even in his room, he even knew what music was playing at the moment; Party Rock Anthem.

"Wait-" he began.

"I think I'm gonna run,"

"April - wait-"

But she had already hung up the phone. Without further ado, Pelham hopped off his bed and rushed out of his room, down the stairs and out of the house. The cool night air bit at his face the moment he stepped outside, the stone pathway feeling like a thick sheet of ice under his bare feet. Pelham wished he had shrugged on his hoodie and slipped on his sneakers - or worn socks, at least.

Running footsteps could be heard slapping on the asphalt, and soon April's figure emerged from under the golden pool of light cast by the streetlamp. She looked breathless, her hair coming out in loose strands from her braid, her denim jacket askew. Otherwise, at the sight of Pelham in his T-shirt and pyjama bottoms, her face split into a grin.

"You made it!" she said, her voice louder than necessary.

"No, you made it," Pelham said reasonably. "For someone who claimed to be feeling sick and ... well, inebriated."

"I meant you made it downstairs," she said. "For someone who locked himself in his room."

"You won, then," he said. "C'mon, let's get you some water, yeah?"

Pelham led her inside and stirred her to the couch in the living room, careful not to make a noise. It was fortunate that April wasn't the type to make any disturbances when inebriated. He then brought her a glass of water and some blankets. She pushed the blankets away, telling him she was already warm.

"My hair is itching my scalp," she complained after she took two large gulps of the water, and setting the glass on the coffee table afterwards. "I told Joanne not to braid my hair. But she did. Dimbo."

"But you love your sister," said Pelham airily, settling on the couch next to her and tenderly unwounding the rubberband from her braid.

"Of course I do. She's a dimbo sometimes. I love her, though," April agreed. "Like you love Oris."

"I love Oris," Pelham said, almost absentmindedly.

"And I love you,"

Pelham finally pulled the rubberband off April's hair and brushed his fingers through the intertwined auburn mane. She sighed. "I know," he replied after a while.

"No, you don't," she sat up straighter, facing Pelham so her hair slid out of his fingers. "I mean, I love you."

"Yeah, I know," Pelham chuckled. "I love you too."

"You don't understand," she shook her head wearily, leaning back on the couch. "I'm ... like, in love with you. I always have."

Pelham stared, feeling his heartbeat accelerating.

She continued; "I've never really stopped, you know. I just stopped showing it. When you came out, I was mildly disappointed - not because of who you really are. But because ... well, it's unreciprocated, see. Funny how that sounds, don't you think? April Francis, in love with her gay ex-boyfriend. It's messed up - I'm messed up. These feelings ... they don't go away. I wish they're gone. They're driving me mad. Sometimes I just don't want to see you, Pel. But sometimes I just want you back, even if it's kind of impossible ... or I don't know. Anyway, it's obvious that your feelings have always been platonic, now that I think about it. Mine wasn't - isn't. You love me like how people love their best friends. I appreciate it, really - all those things you did. But I wish it's more than that. I wish your kisses were real rather than you pretending to be someone else, to be telling a false truth about yourself. I wish you can't control your feelings like I can't control mine. I thought ... when we first dated, that was just puppy love. But for me, it wasn't - never is."

April was staring off into the distance, her eyes unfocused even in the darkness. Pelham knew she was still intoxicated. But then that was it; unfiltered expressions. The sad truth. "April ..." he began to say, but trailing off. What was he going to say? Wasn't April correct about him and his feelings? She had somehow stripped him off his vulnerabilities by using words. Truth kills, he thought as if it was a reminder.

"I know, it's stupid," she said after a while. "You know, sometimes I get jealous when Lucio's with you. And I mean really jealous. He's a great boy, honestly. Hot even. And really kind and soft and strong, by the looks of it. I get why he stole your heart already. I get why you love him."

"I don't love-"

"Don't lie to yourself, Pelham," she said, fixating her gaze on him. "The way you look at him ... you've never quite looked at me that way before. And this whole thing with that Errol guy ... he's damn fine, I agree. Your type. You clearly swooned back there, don't deny it. But I don't think you're that infatuated with him as you are with Lucio."