Lucio was a mess.

There was no denying it. There was no getting out of it. There was no way he could get him out of his head. The longer he tried to keep his mind detached from everything else except for his studies - now that his GCSE's were drawing nearer - the louder he became. He was just there, constantly crashing down the walls that Lucio had built around himself. The more Lucio pushed, the more he persisted, as though there existed some kind of a counter force whenever he exerted one.

Lucio had sworn to himself to keep things at bay, told himself even that he was no longer infatuated with Pelham. But that was all what it was; words of repudiation, as though they were enough to shroud the truth.

Justifying his actions as impulsive had not entirely been correct. It was true that Pelham was rather endearing. But there was more than that, something simply enigmatic about him that captivated Lucio in ways that he couldn't decipher. There was no point racking his brain to come up with a plausible explanation, for the thought of Pelham was just perpetually there.

As it happened, there were times when they were both up late talking on the phone, Lucio nearly blurted out the words. They were always at the tip of his tongue nowadays, causing Lucio to either speak up or shut up. And when Pelham asked whether he was okay (after noticing how quiet Lucio had gotten as of late), Lucio simply said that he was trying to soothe his head from all the revisions he had been doing.

Though, when his Aunt Fabia asked the same thing, she seemed to have more on her mind. It was as though Lucio's answer wasn't fulfilling enough.

"C'mon, you weren't like this last year," Aunt Fabia persisted when they were in the kitchen, having asked Lucio why he was very quiet for the umpteenth time that week.

"Like what?" he asked absentmindedly, chopping down carrots while doing so.

"Like very quiet,"

"Aren't I always?"

"I mean, you usually talk a lot about ..." she sighed. "You know who I'm referring to."

"I do,"

"Did something happen?" she asked gently.

"No, I guess not," he shrugged. He gnawed on his bottom lip, holding it in.

"I don't believe you," said Aunt Fabia. "The last time you were like this, it was because of your mum and dad-"

"Can we not discuss that?" he said, finally looking up at her. "Please?"

"Okay,"

"Cool,"

"But Lu, I'm serious," Aunt Fabia proceeded. "One of the reasons I took you with me was because I wanted you to feel comfortable enough to express your feelings even though I may not understand you. I want you to have someone to listen to you. I want you to open up. Be comfortable."

"I don't know how to be comfortable nowadays,"

He felt Aunt Fabia lay her hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He glanced sideways and met her benign gaze. In her eyes, will power was burning. He knew how much she loved him as though he were her own son. There were times where he almost referred to her as his own mother.

"Spill," she said softly.

So Lucio told her of the things that kept him awake at night, of the bugs that buzzed in and out of his ears, demanding for his attention. He told her about Miguel, who had been contacting him for the past few months but still couldn't resolve whether they were friends or something between acquaintance and stranger. He told her about how much he longed to see his parents even though they were fairly hostile towards him ever since they discovered the truth about their son. He told her about the bullies at school; how Bryce would pick on him until he was provoked enough to fight back, and when he did put up a fight, they would always beat the living daylights out of him. And he told her about Pelham; how he had kissed the boy twice; how he said he'd merely acted upon impulse when really, he wanted to do it again.

And throughout the time he was talking, Aunt Fabia was intently listening to him. Never once did she interject. She waited until he was finished, until he was quiet again. When he was, she asked whether Lucio wanted to go outside and eat instead of cooking. That was, perhaps, one of the reasons why Lucio loved her so much. She never acted as though she completely empathised with someone's feelings, for she was well aware of the unequalled patterns within each individual.

Of course, Lucio didn't mind that she couldn't feel the things he was putting up with. Even Lucio could acknowledge the labyrinthine paths that emotions created, how they were hardly ever aligned with one's selfhood - especially when an individual was still discovering who they truly were. After all, he merely needed someone to listen to him.

He would probably tell Vanessa - he owed her much -but like him, he knew she had her own issues to contend with. There was Pelham, but there was also the trepidation of opening up to him. Lucio couldn't fathom out why he was so afraid.

"Lucio," Aunt Fabia spoke, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Yeah?"

"Do you ..." she shifted from one foot to another in a rather apprehensive manner, which was quite rare for her. "Would you like to visit your parents this summer?"

Lucio blinked. "Do you think they even want to see me?"

"We could try," she shrugged. "How long has it been since you last spoke to them? Either of them?"

"Months. Years. I've lost count," he replied. "Neither of them has ever replied to any of my e-mails."

"Have you asked Miguel about them?"

He nodded. "He said they're doing fine," he answered. There was a long pause before Lucio proceeded; "He said they never mentioned me-"

It was the dry croak in Lucio's voice that made Aunt Fabia pull him into a hug. His shoulders shook, and he could feel the familiar burn at the back of his throat and eyes, indicating that tears were about to well up. But he wouldn't let himself tear up. Not now. He needed to focus.

"We don't have to go if you don't want to," she whispered.

"I want to,"

"You want to,"

"I need to,"

"Okay," she released him and a smile formed on her lips as she regarded Lucio with both her eyes. Her hands were still on his shoulders, as though contemplating on whether to pull him or let him go. "You sure have grown bulkier."

"Not really," he said, going pink in the face.

"Last year you were this skinny boy with sticks for arms," she said. "Like I could literally grip your entire forearm with my whole hand!"

"Oh, now you're exaggerating,"

"C'mon, like I never caught you doing push-ups in your room every morning,"

"This conversation is irrelevant,"

"If you say so," she said. "Now head upstairs and do your revision."

"Okay, Madre,"

Aunt Fabia paused. She pressed her lips together, but there was no mistaking the slight tremble on her bottom lip. Or the tears that were starting to pool her eyes.

"Oh, no - I didn't mean to upset-"

"No, no, I'm not upset," she shook her head, laughing. By now, tears had already streamed down her cheeks. When Lucio reached out to wipe them using his fingers, she caught his wrist and held it. "It's just ... the thought of being a mother ..."

"Aunt Fab," Lucio spoke slowly. "Are you pregnant?"

She looked, to an extent, amused. "You catch on fast,"

It took Lucio a few seconds to realise what her answer was. "Oh my God-"

"Now please do your revision. I'll explain everything tonight."

Once Lucio was in his room later on, he couldn't resolve whether he should start revising or to simply lie down on the floor to mull it over. He didn't know how to feel, or specifically what to feel. Aunt Fabia had had boyfriends in the past, and she had broken up with one just the previous month after discovering that he already had a girlfriend. She had refused to discuss it, no matter how hard Lucio tried to talk her in. In the end, the conversation had simply come to an end, and her ex-boyfriend was chucked to oblivion.

Of course, Lucio wasn't vexed by the news. After all, he had noticed Aunt Fabia looking so distressed for the past few weeks, though he never gathered the courage to ask her. It simply came out of nowhere, and he wondered when she was exactly planning on telling him had he not called her "madre" and caused her to tear up. Pelham, he thought, would come up with a germane word to describe the situation. The boy was like a walking dictionary.

Ignoring his Mathematics file and textbooks that were sitting and waiting for him on his desk, Lucio grabbed his phone from the bedside table and dialled the number that appeared at the top of his call history.

"Lucio?" Pelham answered after the fifth ring.

Suddenly Lucio was blank in the head. What was he going to say? He didn't even know why he called Pelham in the first place, as though his actions were all steered by his subconscious.

"Is someone there?" continued Pelham. "I swear if these revisions are making me hallucinate that I have a phone call, I'm gonna have to see a doctor or figure out a worst-case scenario-"

"No, wait - I'm here," Lucio said abruptly.

"So he talks," relief was evident in Pelham's voice. "Hi. D'you need something?"

"I still have a problem understanding Integration,"

"Oh. Well, like I said, it's basically like a reverse of-"

"I won't be able to understand your mathematical tongue unless you show me," he said. He paused, frowning. "That came out wrong. Forget I even said that. I meant unless you show me how to work it out. Uh ... on a paper. Using a pencil. And a calculator. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera ..."

"You know," Pelham was chuckling, "if you want me to come over, you could've just asked."

"Yeah, all right," said Lucio, flushing. "This call is pointless."

"I'll be there soon," Pelham informed. "Feeling like a stranger in this house is slowly ticking me off."

"Everything all right with your parents?"

"Let me just say that Mum is at one end of the spectrum while Dad is on the other,"

"Are they fighting?"

"Not necessarily," Lucio could hear the forced laugh when Pelham said that. "Look, let me grab my stuff and I'll be there in a few. I need to revise the same subject anyway."

*

Pelham was contented enough to finally have a decent reason to leave the house, even if it was just for a while. He clearly couldn't stand it, what with his mother refusing to interact with him even though he was only three feet away. Sure, there were brief glances she made every now and then. But the rest made him feel like dust.

So when Lucio called him up earlier, Pelham wasted no time in grabbing his books and heading outside. He couldn't concentrate in his own room anyway, for his mind kept wandering off every few minutes. The last thing he needed was to doze off on his desk and leave a map-like blotch of his drool all over his papers.

Besides, he liked studying with Lucio.

"I don't see why you need me to check your answers," Pelham said from Lucio's bed, skimming through Lucio's worksheet. "You're actually okay with this."

Lucio, who had just gotten up from his seat, shuffled one foot in a somewhat discomfited manner, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater as he did so. "Yeah, well ..."

Pelham had this sudden urge to pull the boy close to him by the sleeves that Lucio kept on tugging. Instead he handed Lucio back his work, and focused on his own revision.

He had been staring at the same paragraph for the past ten minutes, unable to take a word in. And throughout the time that they were occupied with each of their revisions, his eyes kept darting over Lucio's figure that was hunched over the desk, legs crossed on the chair. It was as if there was the unconscious part of him that simply wanted to steer him in Lucio's direction, no matter how hard the conscious part of him persisted.

"What about this then?"

Pelham was fairly startled to see Lucio standing just beside him, shoving more worksheet under Pelham's face. "What about it?" he asked.

"I don't know, Pelham, you're the one with 'Distinction' for Maths,"

Pelham resisted the itch to roll his eyes. I'm not that smart, he countered in his head. Surveying the papers, he suddenly became aware of their satisfactorily close proximity. The heat radiating off Lucio was spreading all over Pelham's body, causing the latter to have more difficulty in trying to comprehend Lucio's working.

"My answer is right over there," Lucio stretched out his hand and pointed to a particular question on the paper, "is correct. But I don't know how to work it out."

"So I'm assuming you copied this from your classmate?"

Lucio extracted his hand from the paper. "You say 'classmate' as if I don't have any other friends,"

Pelham merely grinned in response. "Well, you just have to work it out backwards," he explained, tracing his finger over some values, "then you figure out how you actually solve the problem to reach this value."

"Okay,"

"You don't understand it, do you?"

"I do!"

"You look distracted," Pelham observed.

Lucio sat on the edge of his bed, right in front of Pelham. He didn't say anything for a while, simply gazing into the distant. Eventually, he spoke, "I think - no, not think. But Aunt Fab's pregnant."

Pelham raised his eyebrows. "Oh ..."

"I don't know how or what to feel,"

"When did she tell you?"

"Around an hour ago," he shrugged. "I kind of asked her, actually."

"What'd she say?"

Lucio exhaled and began recalling the events; how Aunt Fabia had told him to head into his room to do his revisions; how he had referred to her as a mother ("I was only joking, you know!" Lucio added); how she'd started to tear up and say something about being a mother; how Lucio had asked whether she was pregnant, and her simple answer that indicated he wasn't wrong.

"Is this what's been bothering you?" Pelham asked when Lucio was finished. He found the courage to push his books aside just to clear the distance between him and Lucio before scooting closer.

Lucio shook his head curtly and looked at Pelham. He really looked at him; his piercing blue eyes speaking louder than words, clear and unwavering. Pelham couldn't help but feel trapped and exposed at the same time, like being shot out of nowhere.

"There's a lot that's been bothering me," Lucio spoke in barely a whisper, eyes downcast. "The things that I told you? My parents, my 'friend', that guy I kissed? I may have left them behind, but that's where they all are. Behind me. Like ... shadows. They never go away."

"They'll never go away," Pelham agreed. "Unless you do something."

"Like what?" Lucio's eyes flickered upwards.

"Like ... accede to it," said Pelham, daring himself to lock gazes with Lucio. "Admit your own feelings. Accept yourself. Accept the world and how foul it can be at times. Open the door so they stop banging on it, you know? Be it good or bad."

Really, Pelham was describing himself.

Lucio shifted closer, fixing Pelham with the same unwavering gaze. Pelham became aware of how fast his heart was hammering against his chest. The air between them suddenly felt compressed. Dense. Thick with a clamorous silence. He found it adequately difficult to breathe. And when the boy brought up his hand and touched Pelham's cheek, Pelham's stomach exploded.

It was faint, yet steady. It was cold, yet warm. It was hesitant, yet full of conviction. "Is this okay?" Lucio asked, eyes darting everywhere on Pelham's face now; forehead, cheek, jaw, nose, lips. But never his eyes.

Pelham nodded, leaning into the touch as if to corroborate it.

"Are you okay?"

Pelham shrugged.

"Pel, say something,"

"Lucio,"

"Hmm?"

"Quit stalling,"

And then Lucio was kissing him. Measured at first, almost vacillating. But in the end, his lips met with Pelham's. Heads tilting, breaths inhaled, chins moving, lips pressing. Unlike last time, which had simply felt raw, this one carried a sense of urgency despite the sedate way in which they were doing it. Unlike last time, by which Pelham merely went with the flow, this time he was really responding to it. Kissing Lucio back because he wanted to, because he'd always wanted to do it, because he'd never acknowledged his feelings. It was as though after coming out, he had simply left what was important behind.

Pelham pulled Lucio closer by the waist, and felt Lucio's palm move from his cheek to rest at the base of his neck, sending tingles all over his body. The boy smelt faintly of vanilla and carrots. "What are we doing?" Lucio whispered when he pulled back, becoming aware that he was gingerly pushing Pelham against the headboard.

"Revising," Pelham breathed, before pulling Lucio in for yet another kiss.

And it lasted longer, with faint touches here and there, Lucio occasionally running his fingers through Pelham's hair, tousling it up. And Pelham quite liked it. He gave up his ego for the time being, for he knew that it was starting to cloud him from himself. And he had already grown sick of it, sick of putting a transparent barrier around himself, knowing fully well that he could pellucidly see what he was supposed to see, feel what he was supposed to feel, be where he was supposed to be.

Though, he knew that wasn't all about it.