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70 rue de Chronosaurus

21:30

Why must all good things come to an end? The bad days seem to last a lifetime, whilst pleasant moments, good days, and the brightest of smiles, morph back into the sheer distaste for this journey called life so quickly.

Enjoyment is like a high, walking on clouds carelessly before plummeting thousands of meters below, arms rowing forward, gripping at air; vanity. Eyes stuck upward, watching as the clouds form back, as other unsuspecting victims of joy leap through the collected droplets of water before meeting their own demise.

And then you'd find yourself wondering if it even makes sense to complain, to fear your back hitting the ground for a split moment before your vision goes black, and everything has ended. Because it happens to everyone, doesn't it?

Everyone touches the clouds, smiles, and revels in the gifts that life would spoon-feed before prolonged seasons of starvation. So, what's any different about a personal case? Does it even make sense to bother? To complain about the inevitable?

Will tears lift the helpless human body back up to an unrealistically sturdy cloud? Keep it up there forever, safe and content, immortal? Wouldn't accepting a situation for what it is, and nothing more or less make the process of endurance and confrontation better for everybody else?

The mindset of a realist is more sacred as passing thoughts than a so-called outlook on life. Because no matter how much you prepare yourself, brace your mind for what you perceive to be the inevitable, it never truly becomes real until you are standing in front of it. Until the consequences pushed to the back of your head as I can handle this are actually knocking at your door, demanding that you open and handle it like you claimed you could.

Decisions made in the moment might bring momentary happiness, a feeling like an ecstasy, something that is so thrilling and gratifying that it feels like nothing else matters. Like the orgasm that had Felix seeing stars, but when he looked properly noticed that it was only Chan's eyes, his pupils dilated like a night sky, fragments of silver scattered all over.

And those fragments of silver were Felix's uncoordinated interpretation of the freckles that Chan was admiring above him. That moment when their eyes were locked, they could live different versions of their lives together in their minds, happy ones, not the unfortunate conditions that were their realities.

"I think I love you, with everything that I have." The words of a man with so little yet so much to give. The words from a life so fragile, yearning for something to stay for, yet being tugged at to give up already, to not bank on what could never be.

But Chan meant it.

He meant it with all his heart and soul and mind.

He meant that he loved Felix, as unconventional and unacceptable, age-wise, society-wise, and moral-wise it seemed. And Felix was beginning to love him too. He was working his way up the ladder of devoting his youth to loving this man whom he knew he could never fully have, considering the laws and norms, and exceptions of their time.

But that was just love, wasn't it? Taking and taking. Demanding and demanding. Sacrifices upon sacrifices. Vanity, fantasies, unavailing moments to feign unrealistic forevers.

The ride back to Paris was an almost nostalgic one, ironically. Perhaps it was due to all of the films that Felix had the pleasure of watching, where the woman would sit in the passenger's seat with her head outside, her arm folded where the window was rolled down, her long, curled hair dancing with the wind as her eyes feasted upon the nature passing them by, her man driving her with a content smirk on his face, proud to be treating his woman like she deserved.

Felix wanted to imagine himself as that woman, with his man driving but with a grin rather than a proud smirk. A grin flaunting his dimples, a hand squeezing Felix's thigh every now and then, a reckless kiss meeting the corner of his mouth whenever the urge for intimacy grew too much for Chan to resist.

They laughed and they talked, their dreams floating within their conversations through I wishes and imagine ifs. So happy, they were. But with joy comes a time that passes as quickly as no other. So, in no time, Chan was nearing the Lees family home, and tension slowed their breathing, quivering their smiles down to nervous frowns.

Chan held Felix's hand after packing a short distance from the house, and brought his face closer, gently, with his other hand. He brushed his thumb over the freckled skin, leaned in, and kissed Felix. Kissed the young boy that he was falling so hopelessly and helplessly in love with. So carelessly and selfishly in love with.

"I'm sorry," Chan said, half sincere and half as protocol. Because even if he could do the day all over again, he would still take Felix to that beach. He would still indulge in their carnal want for each other. He would still confess to Felix the love that was brewing for him. "I know that lying to your father won't be easy. But I trust that you will be okay, my love. And then we can meet again soon, okay? I promise I won't disturb your classes again. I just needed to see you today. Needed to take the risk with you."

"I- I am very nervous, Chan. And my father- my father can see through my nervousness quite easily. And I- well- I didn't prepare a lie in advance," Felix, confronted by the consequences of his hasty, supposedly worthwhile decision to be carefree with Chan. "I'm not prepared," he admitted, resting his palm on the back of Chan's on his face. He could feel the tears coming, and his shoulders dropped.

"Tell him you had a late project," Chan said, trying to sound confident but ever so apprehensive himself. "Make it convincing At least it should be able to get you through the night?" Even a practiced liar like himself was struggling to come up with something believable, adding fuel to the fire that was Felix's distress.

"I will try," Felix said, meeting Chan's lips with his repeatedly for short, suggestive pecks before pulling him in for a deeper kiss, taking as much of Chan in as he could with the possibility of never being able to see him again in such close range. "Thank you for today, Chan. Thank you for everything."

"You give me life, Felix," Chan said, smiling, pushing Felix's head away slightly so that he could kiss his forehead, a long, moist, loving press. "I will see you soon, OK? Soon. I love you. I'll stay here until I see that you've gone inside."

"OK."

Felix struggled to walk, with the way that his knees felt so slack and sensitive, his joints lubricated by fear and apprehension. He took a deep breath in before inserting his house key into the front door, twisting the knob, and entering, closing the door quietly behind him. If he was lucky, his parents would have retired to their bedroom by now, considering the demand for rest imposed by their middle age.

But if the light on in the living room that he could see from the doorway was anything to go by, Felix concluded that luck was simply not his portion. He swallowed thickly, taking slow, cautious steps to the more open space, palms sweating as he took note of his mother, father, and slumbering sister on the sofa. Louise lay with her head on her mother's thighs, her feet held lovingly by Florian on his own lap.

Felix froze in place when both of the adults' eyes landed on him, disappointment laced into the creases on their aging faces, Florian's bushy eyebrows furrowed, Caroline's thin lips inverted to her commonly automatic smile. Felix didn't know how to begin, whether he should drop to his knees and start confessing to his father, promising to never commit such abominations with a man ever again, or to maintain his composure, wait for his mother or father to make the first move.

His knees buckled, and he considered heavily, flowing with the obligation that anxiety bestowed upon him, but he stood still, silent, lips parted, the scent of oats and hoary carpet reassuring his sense of smell that he was still alive, and in fact at home.

Caroline moved first, lifting Louise with her strong arms, and glancing at her husband knowingly, communicating in a way that Felix could only assume an interpretation. She was leaving him to his father, her disappointment tucked away in her bosom. This was a case for Florian, not the warm, motherly nature that would inevitably seek Felix's side of the story and consider cutting him some slack.

"Felix," Florian stood up abruptly, walking up to Felix, towering over him with his broad shoulders, thick arms, wide chest. "Felix Lee." He wasn't smiling, and Felix shivered at the depth of his voice that was only manifested when Florian was truly angry about something, displeased with his son.

He remembered when his father had first found out about Jisung, the lecture that he had received in that same tone. The threats and promises falsely backed up by twisted scripture. He remembered the fire in Florian's eyes when he searched for some form of fatherly love, for mercy. Felix could swear that he could see it at that moment, and he was almost sure that that wasn't solely due to the dim yellow lighting that the bulb provided.

"Father," Felix answered, almost breathless, looking down at his feet. Perhaps making his case right away would be better than standing beneath his father, awaiting accusations that might be too accurate for his lie to sell. "I know I'm late, and I apologize, sincerely. I- I had a project-presentation, to continue working on. For religious studies. I have a new professor and although classes have begun only recently, he insists that we begin the harder tasks early. I got carried away and- and Seungmin and-"

"Just stop, Felix. Stop it. Stop with the damn lies," Florian closed his eyes, unable to even look at his son. He found Felix's attempts to avoid the truth to be pathetic, upsetting. "The next time you speak, ensure that you tell the truth. Do not lie to me, boy. I know that you were not with Seungmin, or Jeongin. You've been gone for the entire day, and you think that they wouldn't be the first people I'd ask? What do you take me for, Felix? Some fool? Is it because of my age? Because I let you off the first time?"

"I don't know... I don't know what you're talking about, father." Why even try? Maybe because of the all too slim chance that Florian was making all that up to probe some truth from Felix. Maybe he had spoken to neither Seungmin nor Jeongin. Maybe that first time he mentioned wasn't referring to Jisung as Felix assumed right away. Maybe. But very, very unlikely. "What first time are you talking about—"

Felix didn't see it coming. One second his mouth was spewing futile questions to build on his pitiable lie, and the other, his head was pushed to one side, his cheek stung, his left hand flew up from his side to soothe the burning sensation that he knew would linger for a while.

"You disgrace me, Felix," Florian spoke sternly, and Felix could feel his father's rage running through his veins. He cringed at the droplets of spit that landed on his nose and beneath his eyes, his ears rung with the force of the slap followed by his father's volume. He hoped that Louise could sleep through that. "Tell me where you were, Felix! Tell me who you were with! Because I don't think you understand just how much money goes into your damn education! This is unacceptable, Felix."

"No," Felix muttered, tears running down his cheeks as he looked up at his father. The rage that he was feeling now belonged to him, sourced by Florian. "I won't tell you." Insult to injury. "I won't tell you, father. All I will say is that I am sorry, and it won't happen again." What was he really getting at? Where did he expect his outburst to lead him? It would have been much better to remain silent, wouldn't it have been? Innocent until proven guilty. Florian would have had nothing on him.

"It's Chan."

"W-what?"

"You think I haven't noticed, Felix? Since he's come around, you've been- you've been different. I went to look for him today, to ask if he knew of your whereabouts. But I could not find him, either. What are the chances, Felix? What are the chances that you've been running around, allowing yourself to be negatively influenced by him?" Florian scoffed, pacing a small expanse of space in front of the couch, gesticulating his arms with his words. It was as though he was speaking to himself more than Felix, scolding himself for not having pieced the puzzle earlier.

"Dad-"

"No!" Florian pointed at Felix, frantic, movements as stiff as stop-motion. "No, Felix. You do not get to regard me as your father right now. I cannot believe this. I truly hope that my thoughts are incorrect. But- but look at you." He approached Felix again, lifted his chin, focused on his lips. He wasn't a newcomer to this world, so Florian could tell when a pair of lips were swollen, and why a pair of lips might be swollen.

So many emotions. Disbelief. Disappointment. He didn't know if he was more upset that Felix was pursuing disobedience again, or that his own brother figure was responsible for leading him down that path, at his age. Such a thing was unheard of. Unacceptable. Florian wouldn't stand it.

"Tell me, Felix. Tell me. Tell me. Have you been sinning with Chan? Doing the unspeakable? Tell me! And tell the truth."

"We just went for a drive," Felix cried, terrified. But could he even blame his father? Not really, truly. Florian was being a father, and he had every right to be. There were so many deplorable factors that made up his and Chan's liaison, so which father would not be enraged by it? "Just a drive, fa- just a drive. I admit it was careless on both our parts, but I felt frustrated because I had a falling-out with Seungmin and Jeongin."

"So, why are your lips swollen, Felix? Answer this one thing. Why. Do. You. Have. Swollen. Lips."

"B-because... because." Felix could only cry harder into his palms. Nothing could bail him out now. No lie, no bending of the truth, nothing. He was standing face to face with the consequences of his actions, falling rapidly from the lovely cloud that was his and Chan's time together, nearing the hard, inexorable ground all too quickly for his sanity. It was up to his father now. Everything was up to his father. If only he had more independence.

"Do you know how old Chan is, Felix? Apart from the utter abomination, Chan is a grown thirty-two-year-old man. A grown adult. You are barely twenty, Felix Lee. If not for obedience, my goodness, at least that should have been a deterrent." Florian groaned, raking both hands through his hair. "Goodness me. Goodness Felix. Oh, my goodness. Of all the persons in the world, Felix. You've just ruined years' worth of friendship. I cannot even think about Chan without wanting to throw up now. Goodness!"

"Dad-"

"Just go to your room, Felix. I will confront Chan in the morning. Go to your room. Go pray. Repent for all the lies you've told."

"But-"

"Just ­go!"

And so, Felix left, with hurried steps, a heavy heart, and an aching chest. Why did such a good thing have to come to an end? He wished there was some way to warn Chan, to run to his motel room, embrace him like it was their last, because it probably would be their last. He wished that he could kiss Chan one more time, warn him to return to Australia where he would not have to face the wrath of his father.

But Felix could only crawl underneath his blanket after letting down his bag somewhere on his dark floor. He could only fold himself in a fetal position, blame himself, hate himself, drown in regret. What if he had kept his guard up from the start? Dodged every one of Chan's advances to avoid building on the inevitability of their hurt? What if he didn't hurt Jisung? Didn't put the months invested into that relationship to waste?

He just had to let Chan fall in love with him, had to let his own heart begin to beat in the direction of another man, an older man, his father's dearest friend. Years of friendship too weak to combat with a father's disappointment, warrantable betrayal.

+ + + + +

08:00

Felix was in no state of mind to attend classes this morning. Still, anything was better than lingering in bed all day, just waiting for his father to return from his confrontation with Chan to reprimand Felix even more than he had done the night before. Because it had to have digested more by morning. The blinding reality that his own friend had the audacity to lure his own son into such a trap. He'd never be able to look at Chan the same. And probably even Felix.

So Felix rose early from the light sleep that he was able to claim at most two hours of, and prepared himself for school, left early to make his own way to the campus. He didn't bother what his father would think; maybe that he was with Chan. Felix figured that since Florian would be visiting Chan later, he'd know for certain that Felix wasn't with him. No more harm to be done.

Florian woke with a headache, pounding at the back of his head, round to his temples, settled at his forehead. He woke up sweaty, a sigh heaving his chest when his wife's worried palm lay there, the coils of hair lumping together as she rubbed.

"Be wise," she told him, kissing his cheek before shifting to the edge of the bed, her nightgown descending as she stood to her feet. "Remember, he was once your friend. I understand how you feel, but don't do anything that you'll regret."

"Yes," Florian said. "Yes."

+ + + + +

Motel 3racha

08:30

Florian breathed in and closed his eyes, swallowing thickly as if nervous. He was so nervous. Nothing in him was pleased about having to confront his friend on such a topic. He could see flashbacks of him and Chan in his younger days, Chan a youth that he had taken under his wing. Rebellious, carefree, but loyal Chan. Florian would never think that he would do such a thing. Such a thing as prey on his son.

Please, anybody but his son. He wouldn't want to admit it, but he was more disturbed at the person with who Felix was sinning than the fact that Felix had landed himself in that same sin again. Because that was his boy. His son. His only son. How dare Chan taint his precious flower more than it had been in the past?

Florian knocked once, twice, three times. His breaths grew heavier, more distanced. He had to tell Chan how he truly felt, that he knew what was going on and would not tolerate it. Not then. Not ever. Definitely not as a father.