"What is this, Pelham?"

Lucio's voice sent reverberations against Pelham's shoulder when he asked that, angling his head to the side and tilting his chin up while doing so to gaze up at him. Charcoal eyebrows. Iridescent eyes. Lips pink as ever. Cheeks flushed. Pelham stared down at him, musing on where Lucio had gotten his looks from.

"I don't know," Pelham murmured in response, his fingers absentmindedly running through Lucio's dark fringe that was tickling at his jaw.

Lucio merely nodded. He didn't say anything else after that, and Pelham felt him duck his head, nuzzling Pelham's neck while doing so, as if to seek for warmth. Lucio shifted closer to Pelham on the bed, as though they weren't already close enough - what with their arms around each other and their legs entangled, they were basically cuddling. Not that Pelham minded. If he could, he would stay on the bed with Lucio forever; lying on their sides, facing each other. Neither of them had even bothered to move out of their positions, let alone to proceed with their revisions. They had been too worn out to shift away, after being far too entwined in each other's arms, hair tousled, shirts ruffled.

It wasn't that Pelham didn't know what to call it, what to conclude. Rather, he was trying to see what Lucio was calling it - this. Though, it didn't look like either of them was going to label it any time soon, even if Pelham could personally assume what he wanted. It was only a matter of the other one's outlook. And Pelham wasn't one to spoil that. He was, as everyone had always said about him, the open-the-door-to-let-someone-in-first kind of boy.

Lucio was twiddling the topmost button of Pelham's polo shirt, his long delicate fingers working over the disc-shaped material. Every now and then, he would unbutton it, and then he would button it back up. For all Pelham knew, Lucio was feeling apprehensive. He didn't know what it was, but he didn't want to push either. So he let time do its work.

Eventually, Lucio spoke, "I'm gonna see my parents this summer."

That drew Pelham's attention. He moved his head to get a better look at the boy. "You're ... going home?" his chest was tight and heavy all of a sudden.

"I need to see my parents," said Lucio, pushing himself up on his elbows and staring down at Pelham. "So yes, I'm going home."

"Oh,"

"It's only for a couple of weeks or so,"

It wasn't helping Pelham whatsoever. "Okay,"

Lucio seemed to notice the apparent change in Pelham's expression, because he then leaned closer and touched the base of Pelham's neck, his fingers faintly fitting into the indentation just above his collarbone. "You - um, do you wanna come along?" he murmured, eyes downcast. Pelham had a good view of the way his eyelashes swept at his cheeks, and fought the urge to touch them.

"Thought you'd never offer," he said, grinning.

"Well, do you?"

"Of course," he shrugged. "Not because of you. I've always wanted to go to Spain myself, see."

Lucio snorted.

"I mean, I've always wanted to see the Belém Tower," Pelham continued.

"That's in Portugal, Pelham,"

Pelham paused. "It's not in Spain?"

"It's not in Spain,"

"There goes my childhood wish. Guess I won't be coming with you,"

When Lucio brought his hand up to hit - punch - slap - he couldn't tell - Pelham caught him by his wrist and pulled, so Lucio collapsed on top of him with a small "Oof!". That being so, Pelham regretted ever doing it the instant it happened, for the impact itself had pushed all the air out of his lungs that he wheezed.

And Lucio, whose cheeks had gone a deep shade of crimson by this point, wasn't giving Pelham any chances to regain his breathing pattern by pressing his lips against Pelham's. The latter's head went blank for what seemed to be the third time that evening. Conflicts shoved to the very back of his mind, Pelham cupped Lucio's face and kissed him back, at the same time becoming more aware of the feeling of Lucio's roaming hand travelling from his neck, to his torso, to his stomach-

"So is this what you kids call 'revision' nowadays?" Aunt Fabia's voice sent Lucio springing off Pelham's body, like a cat leaping in utter fright.

"Dios," Lucio was panting - either from making out with Pelham or from the sight of his aunt standing in the doorway with a look of utter amusement etched all over her face, Pelham couldn't tell. Either way, his face resembled a tomato. "Can't you knock, at least?"

"I like to interrupt people," she stated a matter-of-factly. "Anyway, it's not like that wasn't bound to happen any time soon."

She sent a knowing smile in Pelham's direction. This time, it was his turn to have a tomato for a face. Did Aunt Fabia know, somehow? He could only deduce that Lucio had told her about them at some point before.

"Well, we were - we ... uh-" Lucio began to splutter.

"I made tortilla," said Aunt Fabia, seemingly lukewarm about Lucio's attempt of clarifying his actions - their actions, precisely. "Do you like tortilla, Pelham?"

This woman couldn't be any more chill, he thought. "Sure," he said. "But I have to head home now. Unfortunately."

"Don't worry, I have them packed specially for you!" she said brightly, producing a food container that contained freshly made tortillas, which still looked warm, judging by the condensation that had fogged up its transparent case.

Pelham felt himself smile. "Thank you, Aunt Fabia,"

"Fab," she corrected him.

"Right. Aunt Fab. Of course," Pelham slid off the bed, feeling reasonably dazed as soon as he was on his feet. He packed his books, all the while feeling two pairs of eyes burning holes into his back. He took the food container from Aunt Fabia as he passed her, once again thanking her. "Er, see you ... Lucio."

Lucio, who was trying to flatten his hair on his head, gave a small wave along with a closed-lip smile in Pelham's direction. Looking almost embarrassed, in fact, now that they were five feet apart instead of five millimetres. It had just dawned on Pelham that they didn't revise that much throughout the entire time.

"Good luck for your exams!" called Aunt Fabia as soon as he was in the corridor, heading downstairs.

Good luck with life, more like, he thought.

*

Pelham was still feeling dazed later on as he walked his way home, the food container warm in his hand even now, while his books weighed down his other arm. His lips still tingled, as if they itched for another touch. Another press. Another warmth. Besides that, his skin was practically crawling, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was going to face yet another negligence by his mother. Really, he had long since gotten over it.

That was what he thought, at least.

He was very well aware of what had happened back in Lucio's room. And he honestly didn't regret every single moment of it. Yet, there just had to be that one particular feeling that simply gyrated his mind, altering his focus. That one distinct sensation that was simply hauling him to the depths of the sea, to the extrimity of his realm. The feeling where he was about to be catapulted into the mystique of life, where he would be completely astray; a lost boy.

There was no other way than to describe how frightening reality was. What had he done, exactly, to be in this specific way? What had he gotten himself into? Here he'd thought that he had complete faith in his subconscious, that he trusted his inner voice. What is this, Pelham? Lucio's voice echoed in his head. Now that he thought about it, they were all as off-track as him. Adrift, he thought.

With nothing to hold on to, unless there was someone - anyone - to pull him out of his own muddle. It hadn't occurred to him just how much of a dependant he was. He felt downright pathetic, hinging on people for guidance.

Like the lost boy he was.

What was there for him to search for, when he was basically walking in a void, blind to the world? Was it really like that, or was he - like always - simply walking with blindfolds on?

It was already dusk by the time Pelham reached his house, his legs aching from the long walk. He made a mental note to ride his bicycle to Lucio's house next time - or asking his father whether he could borrow the car some time in the future.

A figure sitting on the front porch caused Pelham to come to a halt. It didn't take him long to recognise the person, especially in the way his back was hunched. It was all too familiar.

Roshon looked up at the sound of Pelham's approaching footsteps - tentative, almost lumbering. He rose to his feet, but he didn't move. They were both wary of each other's presence, Pelham was aware of that.

"Your dad said you were out," Roshon spoke once Pelham was standing a few feet before him.

"Really?" Pelham replied, neither sounding surprised nor inquisitive. "Hasn't it occurred to you that he might be lying to you because I told him to?"

"Couldn't say it didn't cross my mind,"

Pelham felt one corner of his lips quirk upwards. "But I was out. Obviously," he said.

"Or you might've climbed out of your windows and walked from your backyard and around the neighbourhood until you reached the pavement just to make your dad's lie credible,"

Pelham shrugged.

"Where have you been?" Roshon asked.

"Out and about," Pelham answered. "Not that it's any of your concern."

"Okay,"

"I was at Lucio's place," Pelham explained, feeling like he owed Roshon at least one.

Roshon nodded. "Thought so,"

"Yeah? He needed my help solving some maths problems. Big deal," Pelham said. When Roshon didn't say anything, Pelham released a long sigh that he didn't know he'd been suppressing. "Look, what d'you want? I'm not in the mood for a row. Not with you. I'm tired, okay?"

"I just want to talk," Roshon stated. "Well, explain, more like. But if you don't want to listen-"

"I'm all ears," Pelham interrupted, sitting down on the steps that led to the front door. A part of him had been longing for this moment to arrive, so he wasn't going to chuck that opportunity out of the window now, was he?

Roshon, however, remained standing. He looked gauche all of a sudden. "Listen, Pel - Pelham - I don't have a thing against gay people," he began.

"You made a spectacular way of expressing it a few weeks ago,"

"Pelham," Aggravated.

"Roshon," Indifferent.

"All right, let me be straight here," Roshon said, clearly vexed now. "I was jealous."

Pelham blinked. "Now that's pretty paradoxical, don't you think? I mean, if you wanna confess your seemingly eternal love-"

"I'm not in love with you, damn it!"

Pelham allowed a snigger escape his throat. "So you were jealous," he said at last, prompting Roshon to proceed.

Roshon nodded slowly. "This might sound immature, but that's the truth. So yes, I was," he admitted. "It's that Lucio guy. You seem to be hanging out with him a lot than-"

"Really, now?" Pelham interjected. "One, I'm kind of his Maths tutor - without any payment. And two, where were you?" said Pelham. "If this is some kind of a rehearsed excuse, then you're being a fool."

Roshon flinched. "I'm not making any excuses," he admitted. "And I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm just ... trying to explain. And it's stupid, I get it. Immature. But I just thought you ought to know."

"You're not wrong there,"

Roshon looked genuinely defeated, but he was quick to cover it up. "I've been noticing that you like to be around him, even if you don't realise it yourself," he said. "But it's there. It's in your eyes ever since he was assigned with us in that cabin. And I was ... - God, kill me now - well, I was afraid that you were gonna leave me. Replace me. Get yourself a new best friend who's very cool and very calm. Told myself it's all in my head." It might be dark, and Roshon might have dark features, but Pelham could see that his friend was red in the face. "But after you told me you were gay, it all kinda made sense."

"What did?"

"That you really - I mean really - like that boy,"

"What - I didn't turn gay because of him!"

"Yeah, you told me. I heard you," said Roshon indifferently. "But he still drew your attention, didn't he? And all those weeks where I was away, I bet you two grew closer."

Pelham scoffed, but he didn't make any contradictions. "Even if that's the case, I still don't see why you had to turn hostile,"

"I told you, I was jealous," Roshon was clearly losing his patience. "That - as immature and selfish as this sounds - you were gonna spend more time with him than me. I mean, we've been friends forever."

"That I did. You know why? Because you were the one who-"

"I know, Pelham! I know," Roshon said, starting to pace back and forth. "Call me a tosser all you want. I get it. It was all me. Jealousy made me hostile towards you. Did what I did to see if you'll feel the same. But I'm being a bastard. I'm the immature prick here, afraid that he was gonna lose his best friend because his best friend is head over heels with someone. But you were just being you.

"I gotta be honest, Pelham; now that I think about it, it makes sense why your relationship with April wasn't that authentic. Why I wasn't as jealous when you two were together. You guys were like ... friends with benefits?"

"Where is this conversation going, really?"

"I'm just trying to explain here, damn it. Just hear me out, okay?" said Roshon. "Lucio kind of stands out to you, personally speaking. He's, like ... special."

"You don't know that," Pelham said, mainly in his considerably tactless defence. Really, he'd always known the truth himself.

"Fine. Okay," said Roshon. "So there were no other guys out there who pulled your attention?"

There were, Pelham thought. Quite a handful of them too, including Gary Keith - as well as Errol. But they remained where they were. Pelham might be slightly enchanted with Errol, but that didn't mean he wanted to be with him. Pelham just didn't want to admit to Roshon how Lucio stood out amongst the rest of them, how Roshon's words carried some truth. Lucio Alves was simply conspicuous - he always had been.

And it was slowly driving Pelham mad.

"Well?" Roshon asked when Pelham was quiet.

"Sure. A few,"

"But?"

"But ..." Pelham furrowed his eyebrows. "But what?"

Roshon sighed. "But the problem is that you like Lucio a lot - like a lot," he said. "Or is that even considered a problem?"

Pelham shrugged. So April wasn't the only one who noticed. "Hey," he said, trying to deflect any more questions thrown at him.

But Roshon was talking again. "Look, man, if you're still angry with me, I get it. I'm not here to return to your good side and be your best buddy with some excuses. I'm just here to talk-"

"Hey," Pelham interrupted.

"What?"

Pelham allowed himself to smile. "I'm glad we're talking then,"

Roshon returned the smile somewhat hesitantly. "Yeah. Those numpties I hung out with didn't even have any high-vocab words. It's been dull,"

"Tosspot,"

"Nitwit,"

"Goon,"

"Buffoon,"

"Dolt,"

"Boy lover,"

Pelham laughed - he couldn't help it. "Jealous one,"

"I get that,"

"You said I was leaving you alone when it was the other way around,"

"Jeez, okay!" Roshon threw his hands up. He observed Pelham, and a small frown appeared on his forehead. "Your lips look really red. Kind of ... puffy?"

Pelham pressed his lips together almost absentmindedly.

"Didn't you say you were at Lucio's place before this?" Roshon asked knowingly. "Exactly how much actual work did you guys do?"

Pelham was thankful that it was dark outside, otherwise Roshon would be openly laughing at his face if he saw how red it had gotten by now. "Not much and very much at the same time," he admitted. "His aunt gave me tortillas, though."

"I don't like tortillas,"

"Your loss," Pelham pointed out.

Roshon merely shrugged before he sat down next to Pelham. Both boys exhaled. For a minute it felt normal.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry," Roshon said after a while, sounding genuinely penitent, "for calling you ... that the other day."

Pelham cocked an eyebrow. "You mean 'fag'?"

Roshon seemed to flinch. "Yeah. That,"

"Well, I didn't exactly break down into an ugly cry for a week because of that,"

"But-"

"But it was a jerk thing to say, especially to your best friend. Yeah, I get it," said Pelham. "At least you didn't call me 'fagissy'. That would've made me sound like a bloody ballerina or something. And I would've been very disappointed in you."

Roshon was laughing. "So ... we cool?"

"We're not freaking ten-year-olds, Rosh," Pelham remarked, not exactly answering the question, considering the fact that he didn't know where they stood at the moment. "I'm mature enough to apprehend the motive behind it."

"You're a good guy, you know,"

"So you're complimenting me now?" Pelham said. "Do stop before it gets cringey."

"I gotta ask," Roshon began, his tone serious, "are you and Lucio a thing?"

Not for the first time since that evening, Pelham felt a blush creep up on his neck. Now that the question was asked, out in the open, Pelham found himself beginning to squirm. "No," he eventually replied. "Why would you ask that?"

"I've been observing," Roshon said a matter-of-factly. "It's hard not to notice, you know; you practically tailing after him like some kind of lapdog."

"I'm not his lapdog,"

"That was a joke, Pel,"

"You remind me of April,"

"How so?"

"You two seem to notice my feelings towards him more than I do," he said, "as if it's so obvious."

"Well, it is,"

Pelham frowned, but didn't say anything.

"What about you, Pel?" Roshon asked, nudging Pelham lightly on the shoulder. "What do you think?"

What, he asked himself, am I so afraid of? He couldn't deny the fact that he'd been asking himself the same question over and over again. It was as though he knew what he wanted, but he was too scared to take a step, to make a move. Too scared to peek through the curtains.

Too scared of the truth.