"You don't have to come all the way here, you know,"

"What am I supposed to do, play with street dogs?" Pelham huffed. "Actually, playing with street dogs sounds kind of fun. Not that I see any of them around here ..."

Lucio let out meek laugh, and it looked like he was merely releasing a shaky breath - which Pelham doubted he was.

The sun beat down on their necks as they walked along the pavement that wove through the suburbs of Lucio's old neighbourhood. They had reached Lucio's hometown by train from Aunt Fabia's old apartment - resided now by her friend. Throughout their entire journey, regardless of their mild jokes and conversation exchanged between one another, Pelham couldn't help but feel the seemingly tangible apprehension that radiated off Lucio. It had hung in the air between them, dense as the rays of sunlight in the middle of July. And when Pelham asked whether the boy was okay, Lucio had simply nodded.

Not that he believed it.

Lucio had suggested that Pelham wait around the record store near the train station when they arrived earlier. The only justification that Lucio had provided was that he "needed to do it alone". But Pelham knew better. As far as he was concerned, Lucio was still deluged with anxiety at being seen walking together with another boy. After all, Pelham knew the whole story. It was embedded in his brain, after all of those whispers exchanged between them in the middle of the night when Pelham sneaked out of the house to go to his, added every now and then with another layer of detail, followed by brushed tears, ones that Lucio was initially too afraid to reveal.

All in all, there was no way Pelham was going to let Lucio be dragged back into the ghastly memory of his own home. If there was one thing that needed to be done, it was that Lucio Alves needed to return in a more resilient form; one who was not afraid of who he was; one who wouldn't attempt to veil himself. And if the boy - though denying it - couldn't do it all on his own, then Pelham was going to do his part by being there and opening up things.

Furthermore, if there was one thing that Pelham had learned - after being confined in the closet for a long time - it was that nobody deserved to live in fright.

So here he was, having abandoned the record store to tear across the street to catch up with Lucio.

Said boy didn't look too pleased to see Pelham falling into step beside him, but he didn't look disenchanted either. If any, his look of trepidation had at least faded at the presence of Pelham.

"Besides," Pelham continued, "don't you wanna introduce me?"

He had meant it as a joke, but he could see Lucio biting on his bottom lip in discomposure. "I don't think they'd like that," he said.

"Like what, precisely?"

"You know ..." Lucio fluttered his fingers in the air in a dismissive manner. "Me having a boyfriend."

There was something about the sentence - focusing on that particular noun - that caused something to detonate in Pelham's stomach. He badly wanted to take Lucio's hand, but the mere perception of their environment - along with Lucio's history, and how Pelham respected the fact that the boy didn't have an amicable time back then - held him back.

"What can they do about it?" said Pelham. "They know you're gay. So what? That we all go to hell instead of heaven? That we can't have a soulmate? A family? A career?"

Pelham could see the corner of Lucio's lips twitch into a small smile. There's that, he thought.

They had reached a rather large house on top of a hill after walking along an incline, towering over many other residential areas, conspicuous enough from a distant. It wasn't a mansion, but it wasn't a plain house either. By the looks of it, Lucio Alves came from an affluent family. Chancing a sideway glance, Pelham could see the strips of events flashing across Lucio's eyes like a flimstrip as he looked towards the colossal building. It reminded Pelham of himself whenever he returned to school after the summer holidays.

Almost out of the blue, Lucio paused short. Pelham could just touch the hesitation that was beginning to radiate off him. He didn't need comfirmation that they had arrived at their destination. The boy was vacillating, all right.

"Hey," said Pelham, placing a hand on the side of Lucio's face, "you just wanna see your parents. Right?"

Lucio closed his eyes and nodded. "Right,"

"Just your parents,"

"Just my parents,"

"Not a homophobic junta,"

Lucio laughed. "Not a homophobic junta,"

Pelham smiled and dropped his hand. Lucio then began walking down the narrow lane that led towards the ebony double doors embedded inside the portico of the house. Pelham slowed down until he was only two steps behind Lucio, keeping the distant between them in such a way that Pelham was merely trying to protect his boy should anyone see them together like this. Not far enough to make Lucio feel frightened, and not close enough to make him uncomfortable.

There was a buzzer planted on the wall next to the door upon which Lucio pressed. Odd, Pelham thought, how even though this was where Lucio grew up, he still tried to enter the house like any other anonymous visitor.

What felt like a minute later, the door was swung open, revealing a petite woman in her early twenties, an apron wrapped around her waist and her auburn curls coming loose around her oval face. Her brown eyes landed on Lucio, and a small frown creased her forehead.

Pelham had expected some incoherent Spanish yelling, instead she said, "¿Puedo ayudarte?"

Lucio seemed taken aback. "¿Dónde está Jaime Alves?" he asked back.

Pelham, who had no idea what had come out of their mouths, touched Lucio's elbow. "What is it?" he murmured, knowing fully well that something didn't sound right.

But Lucio was shaking his head. "I don't know her," he answered. He cleared his throat, and spoke in English as he addressed the woman back. "Jaime and Sofia Alves? Don't they live here?"

She seemed to grasp that there was a foreigner here who didn't know how to translate their language. "Oh! Jaime and Sofia!" she said, her face splitting into a smile. "Yes, they sold this house a few months ago. I live here now! Who are you, may I ask?"

"I'm ..." Lucio looked genuinely lost for words, and if Pelham didn't know any better, the boy was shrinking right there on the threshold. If Pelham himself was surprised to hear it, Lucio must be beyond flummoxed.

Noticing that Lucio didn't look like any word was going to leave his mouth any time soon, Pelham decided to answer it for him. "He's their son, Lucio," he said, stepping forwards. The woman raised her eyebrows in question as she looked up at him. "He just came back from England to visit. He didn't know they sold the house."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, sounding artlessly sympathetic. "I thought they might have informed you, no?"

Lucio shook his head. "Must've changed their contacts," he said with a weak laugh.

"I have your father's contact, if you want," she offered. "In fact, he's going to come by pretty soon today. We still have some unfinished contract. Would you like to stay?"

Pelham glanced sideways at Lucio. "No, thank you," Lucio smiled.

"Are you sure? Oh-" her eyes lit up at the sight of something behind Lucio and Pelham. "Speak of the devil!"

Pelham followed her gaze and turned around, Lucio mimicking his movements.

A man with a raven hair and wearing a red short-sleeved flannel stood on the lane, one hand carrying what looked like a folder. He looked in his late thirties, and despite that, he was quite handsome (now Pelham knew where Lucio had gotten his looks). He seemed to have paused in his tracks, and was now squinting at Lucio.

"¡Su hijo está aquí!" she said to - there was no doubt who the man was - Jaime Alves.

He just nodded, almost nonchalant about the sight of his son. Pelham reminded himself instantly that Lucio hadn't seen his parents in two years.

"Hi ... Dad ..." Lucio began, sounding nervous.

"His friend is here too!" she continued, completely oblivious to the fact that the last time Lucio and his father had been in a room together, he'd been slapped across the face. "So ... I think it's best if we all speak in English." She paused to retrieve her phone - which had just started to ring - from her back pocket. "I have to take this. I'll see you inside, Jaime!"

As soon as she had disappeared into the house, blabbing away in her loud Spanish accent, Pelham could palpably feel the tension thickening in the air.

"What are you doing here?" Jaime Alves broke the silence as he addressed his son. There was no real emotion in his tone - almost as though he was talking to some other sixteen-year-old who wasn't his son.

"I didn't know you and Mum moved out," Lucio replied.

"I didn't know you were coming here with another boy," he almost spat the last word as though it was poison.

"I have sent you guys text messages, e-mails, letters," Lucio said, "none of which you replied."

Jaime seemed to flinch.

"You never bothered contacting me," Lucio proceeded, and though Pelham could hear the slight tremble in his voice, Lucio kept an unswerving bearing. "You or Mum. It's like I don't exist anymore."

"Fabianne took you away from us," Jaime finally said - a poor attempt of defence, Pelham thought.

And it seemed to tick Lucio off. "I'm glad she did," he said, almost huffing. "At least she listens to me when I need someone to talk to. She loves me like a mother would love her son. I don't know about Mum. Does she still remember my name? My face, at least? Or have you guys thrown that out as well?"

Jaime looked beyond speechless. If this was Lucio going to rage, Pelham wasn't going to interfere.

"I came here to see you," Lucio proceeded, "because I still care. Because you and Mum have raised me well before things went downhill. I've always wanted to come back, but I was too scared. A few months ago I got the courage to plan this whole visit after my exams. Only to find out today - a few minutes ago, in fact - the house was sold. Do you hate me that much?"

Pelham badly - badly - wanted to hug the boy. When Jaime didn't reply, Lucio let out a dry chuckle. "I guess I'm still a dust," he said to nobody in particular. "C'mon, Pelham. I think we're done. Nos vemos, Papa."

Jaime was still staring at his son even as Lucio and Pelham made their way past him, not uttering a single word. Pelham could tell that Lucio was upset. He couldn't imagine the pain the boy had to stomach, despite nearly being in the similar circumstance himself a few months previously. It wasn't fair. Things were supposed to change by now, but Pelham felt as though he had travelled back in time to witness the rather lamentable event taking place in Lucio's life. No, he thought. Not happening.

"You're making a mistake," Pelham spoke to Jaime Alves as he passed him.

"Excuse me?"

"He's a nice guy," said Pelham.

"What are you doing?" Lucio, who had stopped walking a few feet before Pelham, hissed.

"I'm sure you have loved him all those years ago," Pelham continued, ignoring Lucio. "A small, wealthy family full of love. He's told me about you and Sofia. You two weren't like this. But that had to change, hadn't it? When you discovered that video? Him kissing a boy? You thought he was a disgrace. Different. And your prejudiced mind caused you to discriminate against him - against people like him. And this sickens me. Because he's not a disgrace. He has a pure heart. And I love him for that. Hell, I've fallen so damn hard. Maybe you should reconsider your thoughts and open your mind."

Pelham didn't wait for Jaime to reply before he turned and left with Lucio, who had gone silent.

Neither of them spoke on the way to the train station, but Pelham knew words were bubbling up in either of their throats, at the verge of gushing out of their mouths. Not once did Pelham regret ever talking to Lucio's father like that. After all, he was familiar with the impact of a stranger's words towards someone, because most of the time, they were harmless, yet could be embedded in their brain forever.

It was Lucio who first broke the silence after they had gotten on board, the two of them being straphangers at the sight of the full compartments. "You didn't have to do that, you know," he muttered, one hand clenched around the railing above them.

"No offence, but he was being the world's biggest crackpot,"

"He's my dad,"

"Yeah, well, someone needs to erase his prejudiced mindset if he wants to be a proper dad," said Pelham. He noticed that Lucio had his eyes trained on his red Vans, and nudged him lightly with his arm. "You okay?"

"I'll be fine,"

"You're not gonna give up, are you?"

The corners of Lucio's eyes crinkled, and Pelham knew he was smiling. "Nope,"

"So are you gonna haunt their new address and start a rainbow parade that says 'LOVE ME PLEASE' till you reach wherever their new house is?" said Pelham. "'Cause if you are, I'm totally down."

Lucio laughed. "Do so,"

A comfortable silence settled in, on which their bodies swayed along the motion of the train, the chatters of commuters and travellers alike droning away as the minutes passed by. There were many passengers who were standing just like them, hands clenched around the silver rod attached on the ceiling. While several of them - looking in their adolescent years, just like Pelham and Lucio - had their ears plugged with music, most of the other passengers were either conversing about banal terms or typing away on their phones. Lucio and Pelham did neither of those, yet it was actually soothing. A couple standing a few feet away from them had started kissing. Pelham averted his gaze towards the windows.

"It's 'te amo'," Lucio began after what felt like an eternity filled with silence.

Confused, Pelham looked at him. "What?"

"The other day when you came over, in May," said Lucio, his eyes still fixated on his shoes. "I said something, and you didn't catch it. I said 'te amo'."

"What's that?"

Lucio looked up at him with incredulity. "You seriously don't know what it means?"

Pelham shook his head.

"Like everyone knows what it means now!"

"I'm kidding. I know what it means," Pelham chuckled. "It's all over social media."

Lucio gave him a dull look.

"I just want to hear you say it," said Pelham, "in English."

"Wait, let me just make Siri say it for you-"

"I'll have Siri say it back, then,"

"Dios," Lucio shook his head, though he sounded exasperated, Pelham knew he wasn't. "I love you. Happy?"

Pelham grinned. "You know, I kinda dig it when you speak in your native language," he said.

"Cool. Because I'm planning to say stuff about you that you don't wanna hear," said Lucio. "And I'm gonna let you think I'm saying good stuff."

"At least you won't be making innuendos in front of me,"

"Don't give me ideas,"

Pelham's eyebrows rose. "You haven't been watching stuff on the internet, have you?"

"Just videos on baby goats,"

"You mean kids?"

"No. Baby goats,"

"Yeah, that's what they're called," said Pelham, holding back his laughter. "Kids."

"English is awful,"

Pelham shook his head, laughing. Looking ahead, the couple still had their faces pressed against one another. Heteros and their privileges, he thought. He leaned his head down to whisper to Lucio. "Do you think kissing someone out of the blue is unethical?"

"What do you mean?"

When Lucio turned his head, Pelham planted a soft kiss on his lips. Faint and slow, startling the latter nonetheless. When he pulled back, Lucio's face was scarlet. The fact that they were both currently in a public transport full of people didn't seem to concern Pelham, however. "I meant that," he said.

"People are watching ..."

"Hey, that couple up front has been snogging for God knows how long." Pelham remarked, sending a smile at a plump man beside them, who merely had his eyebrows raised.

*

"You guys left just like that?"

"Not really. I talked to his dad, though,"

"Yeah? What'd you say?"

"Stuff ... stuff ... stuff ..." Pelham said, waving his hand in the air in a dismissive manner as he adjusted his position on the bed, trying to get as comfortable as possible in front of his laptop screen, especially when April and Roshon didn't look like they were logging off any time soon.

"Like what, whether Lionel Messi is his favourite footballer?" Roshon said, receiving a slap on the arm by April.

"More like saying 'I'm gonna kick your Spanish ass if you don't start being nice to Lucio' in the most polite way possible,"

"Protective, aren't we?"

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," Pelham shrugged, grinning.

"So basically now that you're eighteen, you're a man?"

"I mean, I can't be called a 'woman', can I?"

Roshon rolled his eyes, while April guffawed. Roshon's eyes flickered briefly towards April, before focusing back on the camera. "Where are you anyway?" asked Roshon, changing the subject. "That doesn't look like a hotel room to me."

"That's 'cause it's not a hotel," Pelham answered. "Me and Luc are staying over at his aunt's old apartment. Actually, it's his aunt's friend's apartment now - you know, since she lives in the U.K. anyway - but you get what I mean."

"So you two share a room?" April asked, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"I know where this is going," Pelham noted.

"Just asking ..."

April grinned, and Roshon looked at her again - not that she noticed it. Pelham couldn't resolve whether April had fully forgiven Roshon for what he did to Pelham a few months back, even though he himself had long since gotten over it. All he knew was that at least April had started being less hostile towards Roshon at the beginning of summer, and he could only deduce that things were just progressing.

Progressing. He loved that word.

Other than that, Pelham couldn't help but notice the way Roshon's gaze would briefly flicker towards April whenever she wasn't paying attention to him. The three of them rarely ever hung out together, especially this year, and perhaps Pelham had missed something obvious about Roshon - the one thing that he hadn't bothered focusing on.

So when April announced that she needed to go to the toilet for a while, leaving Roshon alone, Pelham didn't hesitate to say it aloud. "I saw that," he said.

"Saw what?"

"You,"

"I ..." Roshon looked perplexed. "What?"

"Checking out my ex,"

"I'm not,"

"Promise?"

Roshon sighed.

"Busted,"

"This is a secret both of us will swear not to speak of,"

"Last time I checked, you just turned eighteen last month, not eight,"

"She'll kill me," said Roshon, sounding genuinely petrified.

"Oh, she will," Pelham agreed. "See if you can keep that secret crush of yours to yourself forever."

"Hey, I have been for a while," Roshon pointed a finger at him - at the screen, really.

Pelham's eyebrows rose. "You have?" he said, patently astonished. "How long?"