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Chapter Text

Ander had reached that point where he didn't know what to do to push him away. He had reached that point where almost nothing he had tried was left.

He lied to him over and over again. He had implied over and over that he no longer wanted him. He had implied that he was tired of him. He said their relationship were no more than a lovemaking. He said that they didn't know each other well enough, it was a compulsion that they were to be together. 

But none of them worked to push Omar away from him.

Maybe he could tell more painful lies than these if he really wanted him to go. Maybe he should have told him the facts in an even more painful way. He could tell him more painful facts than these. He could say that it makes no sense to be with a dead man. He could say that he couldn't have sex with a dead man, or that loving a dead man would gain him nothing.

Yet he had said many things like that.

I don't want you to carry a burden that doesn't belong to you, that's all.

Don't spoil the little time I have left.

Despite all this, he didn't know why he hadn't gone by his side, despite all his insolent behavior. He didn't know why Omar still left him or not.

Was it just an obligation perverted by love to undertake such a heavy burden? Ander didn't think Omar had anything but an obligation to be with him. 

After talking to that man, he couldn't imagine that, after seeing those messages, it was nothing but an obligation for Omar to stay with him.

He hadn't seen him inflicting such pain on Omar. He hadn't seen that he felt captive to him. He didn't really care how exactly the man he loved was feeling. Clearly, he didn't care about anything other than pushing him. He had used the path he had chosen to save him from his own illness, he had done a lot of things to get him out of his head, to push him away. He used words most of all while doing this. He had used all the words he thought could hurt him. How would a person say those words to the man he fell in love with? 

Ander had said it. Ander had said all the insults to the man he fell in love with. No one knew how Ander felt when he said those words. Because Ander had closed himself. He closed himself thinking that each time Omar would return to him. Omar had chosen Ander. Ander was used to this fact.

But Omar hadn't chosen him out of gratitude to Ander.

He had seen Ander's desire to protect him and had chosen him. He chose him because he saw how precious he was to him. He chose him because he fell in love with him every time. As Ander thought about these, his guilt became unbearable.

But he was in the final point now. On the borderline. He could not continue to live -living the remaining time- thinking that Omar lived a life of prison next to him.

It was foolish to think that he wouldn't walk away even if he told him all the bitter things, bitter lies or truths. He knew that if he told him that he was in love with someone else, Omar wouldn't stay with him.

He knew that if he told him that he had cheated on him, that he had cheated on him during that crappy sick time, he would no longer stay with him.

He would have lied if he said he was't hurt when he spoke to that man. He didn't know whether he would have spoken to that man so calmly if he hadn't been dying in the disease. If it wasn't for that terrible disease, he wouldn't have said those painful words directly to Omar. He wouldn't leave him in another man's arms. He wouldn't have given him a prison life. He wouldn't give him the life he lived with his family. He wouldn't hurt him.

He felt his face burn as he sat by the fireplace. The burning sensation on his face had stopped his tears. During this time, he had plenty of time not to cry and repeat his lies to himself. At least he thought he had plenty of time.

Before long, Omar appeared at the entrance door of the room. There was a slight anger and reproach in his voice.

"Where the fuck were you?"

Ander sighed when he heard this. He felt the fatigue of his feet, the tiredness of thinking about what he had to say, as if everything was together. He was tired.

"You could at least reply to my fucking messages."

He was still not ready to look at him when he straightened up from the sides of the fireplace. He was still not ready to see his face. He was still not ready to say those words. He just wanted that fire to burn his face for a long time. He looked into the fire. A few more seconds.

Ander felt him approach to himself. He felt right there, he felt there he was standing next to the bed. He couldn't turn his back. He couldn't look at him. 

He couldn't hear what he was saying. Or he could hear but could not understand. His brain was too tired to think of two things at once. Or many things. If he responded to what he said it would be a lie. What he said would be a lie.

For a moment it seemed to be turning to him. But he hadn't looked into his face. He couldn't look at his face. He took his tired steps towards the bed. He wanted to have that conversation and set him free as soon as the burning sensation on his face wore off.

"We need to talk." 

Ander said before putting his body on the bed. He still couldn't believe his mouth was opened. This was proof that he was still strong. It was proof that he could speak, no matter how hard it was. No matter fatigue or pain, he could still speak. Such things would not make you mute.

He felt Omar slowly approaching. He felt as if Omar was stepping into that short distance.

He did not lift his face. He couldn't see what Omar would experience. He wasn't a man arrogant enough to look at the face of the man he fell in love with as if nothing. He looked at the fire on the floor, even in the fireplace.

Maybe that fire would burn him from this distance.

"So?" 

When Ander clumsily opened his mouth, he heard his voice again. His mouth, which opened a few millimeters, was ready to be closed.

He turned his head. Maybe he was looking for a place to escape. He was looking for a place where he could escape his illness, facts and lies. Although his mouth was open, he could not speak.

Ander could feel Omar looking at himself. Or he just fleeing his face.

There was no point in thinking. There was no point in seeking an escape route. There was no point in wanting to take shelter in the inanimate around him.

"I've been with Alexis."

His mouth is closed. It was an irony that what he said and his mouth shut at the same time. But then he had to swallow to open his mouth. He had to swallow or adjust the words he was going to say. To persuade him, he had to say damaging words.

"I'm with Alexis. I have been for a long time."

He thought of the lie he was going to tell so well that he knew that if he got a fake person involved, Omar would understand. He had thought so well that he had told his lie, he told the person that Omar was uncomfortable with his presence. He thought of his lie so badly that he didn't think Omar knew from the very beginning that it would be a lie.

At first, Omar's reaction was dull. Unresponsive and soulless. However, he later laughed at this. An emotionless smile that sounds just like breathing.

Ander would later even apologize to convince him. In fact, he would apologize to Omar for a man he was not with, while apologizing to him for so many things completely different from his heart.

He would apologize for lying to him, for hurting him, for giving him a life of prisoner, and more.

Before he could even touch his knee or hug him, he would say goodbye. It's as if everything they had ever lived through was nothing. He would pretend it was nothing for Omar to stand next to him until that day. As if Omar didn't matter to him.

He simply could no longer adjust the control of his voice as much as he wanted. While it seemed easy to lie, it was one of the most difficult things for him. The reason he contracted this terrible disease was that he was sinking into his own lies.

He was drowned in lies.

Lying to his loved ones was always a punishment for him. But this punishment wasn't enough. He was sick. He had lost his health. Now he was losing him too.

With the burning sensation of the fire on his face, the burning sensation of tears ready to flow was replaced. When he could no longer hold back his tears, his back turned to Omar.

He didn't need to see this sight. He didn't need to see this face of Ander.

With Omar's weight still in bed, Ander heard a deep sigh. It was like some sort of laughter breath.

He heard Omar cursing at him before getting out of bed. He felt he deserved it to the fullest. He was to blame for everything.

He would do this when there was plenty of opportunity to cry until tomorrow. He would cry until he fell asleep, his tears tired. He would cry quietly so that no one could hear.

So tomorrow, Omar would no longer be at his bedside, his pillow, in his room, at his home. When Ander thought he had lost him completely anymore, he would realize that he was actually not prepared for another possibility.

Chapter Text

Omar was in bedroom. The bedroom that once belonged to both. It was the bedroom of his and his lover — the ex-lover — who opened his home for him. It was their bedroom until a few minutes ago. It's no longer Omar's, it's not theirs anymore. It was just Ander's bedroom. Maybe over time, it would become his bedroom with someone else. Alexis.

Omar was aware. He was aware for a long time that their relationship was deteriorating. But he never thought. He had never given any possibility. There would be someone that Ander wants more than himself —Omar.

He was either too stupid or too selfish. Maybe he was very in love. He didn't think Ander could love anyone but himself —Omar.

He didn't know at the moment whether he was angry with himself or with Ander. In fact, he seemed angry at Ander for showing his anger to him on thinking. But he was angry to learn that he was no longer loved. Knowing that he was no longer loved made him angry. He was sad and angry that he could no longer make sense to anyone. He no longer had a family — Ander was no longer belongs to him.

Omar could distribute things around him so that he would let out his anger. He could break and spill things. But that house no longer belonged to him. Omar had never had a house of his own that could break things down. He never had a home where his family would not be angry with him. In fact, he owned a house until a few seconds ago. He had a house in which no one assigned him duties, loved him the way he was - at least Omar thought so. Omar thought he was someone who loved him unconditionally.

Even if there was such a person once, he was no longer.

And Omar actually realized he hadn't lost him a few seconds ago. He had lost him a long time ago. He didn't even know that he had lost him. He didn't understand that he had lost him. He didn't realize that he didn't love him anymore.

How long did Ander not love Omar the way he used to be? How long has Omar lived with his lies? How long before he told him that it wouldn't be a problem if he was with others, he loved that guy —Alexis?

These - These questions no longer mattered. Just like Omar's presence no longer matters in that home.

So what do I do now?

He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do first.

Should he pack his stuff? Or should he have informed Azucena that he was leaving home? Or should he find a place to stay? Should he have called someone and told that person to stay with?

What if Ander needs something...

Whatever happened, he had to get out of there as soon as possible. He had to get out of that house before his anger suffocated him, his sadness suffocated him, and the pain of love suffocated him. He couldn't stay there any longer.

He had to get the out before he had to make a statement to Azucena. It was best not to talk to her. It was best not to talk to anyone. He had to get out of there as soon as possible without confronting anyone - he doesn't know what his face has become. He had to get the hell out of that house as soon as possible.

He didn't know that he had too many things to fit in a small bag. He took his clothes out of the drawers with a grudge. There was a strange fire - the temperature - in his body. He thought this fire came from that grudge. But he didn't know that there were tears ready to flow in his eyes. He felt his body burning, thinking that this burning was coming from any part of his body. However, his eyes were burning. His eyes were sore, turning into bloodshot to cry - perhaps because he was already crying.

He must have left that house as soon as possible.

He didn't want to leave what he had put in his dirty basket, but he had already forgotten that there were those clothes. Toothpaste, toothbrush, perfume, lotion didn't even touch any of them. With a small bag and a few clothes inside, he was ready to go.

He had to take the first step down the stairs.

He didn't go down slowly as he descended the stairs, but quickly.

He thought he was doing the hardest thing. He had collected his belongings, had gone downstairs. But... But he couldn't get out outside. He was in the room next to the exit door. Ander was there.

If he look at him at least one last time... 

He couldn't stand. No matter how humiliated he felt, how angry he felt, how disappointed he felt, he should have seen him.

He had to see if he was okay. He didn't think Ander could feel bad. He heard how he spoke. He saw him lying on his bed as if nothing had happened. Still, he should have seen what he was doing, even from the edge of the door. He needed to see him ever since cancer destroyed his body - ever since cancer destroyed the man he loved.

Omar still needed Ander — even though Ander didn't need Omar. 
Omar needed Ander to live — safe and sound.

He thought how reckless he was when he looked down from the door of the room. Although he was often cold at night - whether it was day or night - he didn't put a cover on him.

Omar wanted to cry with what he remembered at the time.

---

"What the hell are you doing out there?"

Omar spoke when he opened the window that saw the garden of the home. He had just gotten back from work and was a little worried that he couldn't see Ander around. Even though there was a possibility that his boyfriend, who was not going out on the weekends, went out unaware of him, Omar didn't think so. He definitely had to be somewhere in the home. 

He didn't know why he had the idea to look upstairs first. After examining every place upstairs - even the cabinets - he came straight to the kitchen when he went downstairs. When he noticed that there was a man standing outside the window - and noticing that this man looked like the silhouette of his boyfriend - he turned straight to the window.

That man was exactly him.

Ander answered Omar's question by showing the cigarette in his hand and without saying anything.

Omar continued to speak, rolling his eyes.

"You can smoke it inside too."

Ander raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"Are you sure? Because the last time I remembered, you didn't want me to smoke."

Omar spoke quickly.

"Yes, you don't look like you would quit smoking and it's worse if you smoke outside. You can get a cold or something like that. So, get the fuck inside."

Ander turned his back to Omar again when his back slowly disappeared. It's kind of like "I'm not coming in." Omar thinking he meant to say, he got angry.

"Okay then. If you're not coming, I'm coming."

Ander quickly turned his head to Omar.

"What?"

Omar had already had turned his head inside and searched for the blankets that Ander was using. There were those blankets - thin ones - in the living room. But he specifically wanted to go upstairs and find the thick ones.

When he got out he saw that Ander was still holding the cigarette and standing.

"You can't get cold while I'm with you, baby."

Ander was grinning as he took the blanket in Omar's hand.

---

Omar glanced. He saw the thin blanket in one of the single seats. But his foolish brain - his foolish heart - said that wasn't enough.

Ander slept in that short sleeve t-shirt, he slept in the clothes he went out to. At least he should wear something suitable for sleep. But Omar knew he could not do this, he could not wake him up and tell him that he should change what he was wearing. He wouldn't be so stupid.

But he was stupid enough to go upstairs again.

He was stupid enough to bring a pair of sweatpants for him and put them on those seats. He was stupid enough to cover a thick blanket over him - he is in love.

He knew that Ander often woke up at night. If he was lucky, he took off those clothes at night and over- Omar was pissed off himself still thinking about him.

When he saw how red his face was, he thought he had a fever and he was angry at himself for worrying about him. He hated the hand that went to his forehead to control his fever. He even waited a while with his hand on his forehead. He had noticed that heat but knew he couldn't do anything. He was lucky that he didn't wake him up.

Regardless, Omar could no longer take care of him. He had no no right to stay there anymore. He should have left there. He should have gone.

---

Omar finally got out of that home. He could now let that thought echo in his mind; he was thrown out again.

Someone who he love -loved- kicked him out of home again.

He was homeless again.

He didn't want to go through the same things again. He didn't want anyone else to open his house for him and throw him out again. That's why he didn't call a person to go.

He thought from the very beginning that Ander would kick him out of home. So he got any job and started working there. He didn't throw aside his first job chance and worked there. It didn't matter whether he loved that job or not, he had to have his own money from work for it. He had to work so that no one would kick him out, he wouldn't be homeless again.

He had to find a new home before Ander kick him out.

But he didn't. He couldn't leave him. He had made an attempt to leave, to leave him forever, but he couldn't.

As a result, the person who threw him out of the home again became his loved one. The person he saw as his family, the person more precious than his family, had thrown him out.

Although he knew this would happen to him, he did not know why he had not left him. That way he wouldn't have felt that disappointment inside. That way he wouldn't have felt this unbearable pain in his heart. That way he wouldn't have the fear of losing him, which he had lived for days.

Omar wonder, what Ander was thinking when he woke up from his nightmares? Did he ever feel guilty?

I felt guilty about cheating on you. 

Omar had found an answer to his own question. He said he felt guilty. He said he felt guilty for cheating on him.

Omar thought at that moment... Did he feel guilty? So, did Omar ever feel guilty? He cheated on him... Omar didn't know if he felt guilty. But he felt a pain spreading throughout his body. Sitting on the pavement, putting his head on his two knees and crying, he felt a cold spreading in his body. He felt a ruthless cold spread against the heat of the anger in his body. He ignored what that feeling was. Ander had priority in everything. If he had to feel good, Ander had to feel good first. And even with bad things… Ander felt it first.

Ander was the first to experience guilt in being cheated on. Omar felt so confused that he didn't even know why his body was suffering. He had already forgotten to feel his heart when he put the blanket on Ander. But he felt a very strong pain in his body. Maybe that was the guilt.

Maybe Ander also suffered too much.

The disease was already suffering his life, and he should not have suffered because of his cheating on Omar. No matter what happen, no matter what he's done; Ander didn't deserve to suffer that much.

Perhaps Ander should have gotten rid of Omar from the very beginning. Before Omar was the source of his pain, Ander should have gotten rid of him.

If you think you'll get rid of me just because of this, you're very wrong.

Perhaps he should have gotten rid of Omar from the very beginning. Perhaps he was selfish for Ander to stay with him thinking he needed him. Perhaps he had misunderstood him from the very beginning.

Omar didn't know why he began to feel all the blame as if it was his own. He had to get up off the pavement without feeling any more humiliation. He should have to wipe the home from his field of view to breathe and stop his hiccups.

Otherwise, people would give him strange glances or ask if he was okay. Or at that moment the worst would happen and Azucena would come home. He knew he was too contemplative to lie. He knew he would look pretty bad on the outside.

As he took a few steps, he felt he was ready to go. He felt that sensation for a few seconds.

---

"If you think you'll get rid of me just because of this, you're very wrong."

Omar said against Ander's face, which he held with both hands. He could see that his face had suddenly changed. He could already feel how wet his face is, and still he was able to put a small smile on his face. Omar thought he was able to relieve him a little bit by what he said.

He already knew he couldn't go. He just needed a few words of it. Ander needed to say something to Omar that he could understand what he wanted it to do. Omar needed to know that he still loved him in order not to go.

Although he didn't say he loved him at that time, he did say he didn't deserve him. It was very different from this love sentence, but it was very valuable. He could clearly see that he was suffering. And even in his that state he said that he didn't deserve Omar.

He knew that he could not leave him in that state.

Learning what it was to be abandoned by his family, Omar couldn't leave Ander. He couldn't leave him with the pain he was forced to go through. He couldn't give him the pain of being abandoned by everyone.

At least he should have felt that Omar is there.

Even if Ander told Omar to go, he would not go. He would not leave him alone.

He wrapped him in both arms. He felt Ander's arms hold onto him, and he knew now, he knew he didn't want him to go.

He caressed his neck slowly. He was gently caressing him to calm him cry, to calm him down a bit. And each time he felt Ander was holding him tighter. His hiccups were silent on Omar's shoulder, but it was also evident from his holding tight. He was very broken.

Omar hugged him, not caring that he was the only one there to take his suffer. He hugged him, not caring that he was the only one who could fix his chagrin.

But he was the only one. He was next to him, and he was the only one who could stand next to him.

When he thought it didn't matter that all, Omar remembered that Ander was actually the only person he had. He hugged him more.

---

Omar was sitting on a bench. He was watching the dark landscape before him with a cigarette in his hand. Maybe he would finish off a few bottles of beer afterwards. He would suffer an ordinary separation. And that period of separation pain would end in an ordinary way. After all...

After all, Omar was an ordinary person anymore. He was an ordinary person to Ander.

Omar didn't want to refill his barely standing tears. But he couldn't help thinking.

The people passing by, even that dark sight by, reminded him of Ander. It reminded him of the man who had his boyfriend -his love of his life- until a few hours ago.

There was someone else to cleanse Ander's pain. There was someone else who could love him. There was someone else who could keep him out of trouble. There was someone else who could hug him. There was someone who could make him forget everything. There was someone who understood him.

Everyone except Omar.

How would Ander say that Omar didn't understand him? Not having cancer wasn't his fault. It wasn't Omar's fault that he didn't have that shitty disease. It wasn't his fault that disease that imprisoned that person was not in Omar.

But he had already chosen to be a prisoner with him. Even if he didn't understand, he wanted to be a prisoner.

These thoughts was causing him to light a second cigarette.

It was impossible to forget his words, his face- him. Smoking couldn't make Ander forget. Maybe he could drink. If drink couldn't enough, maybe he could get some pills. He could relax a little bit.

Still, he would be content with just cigarettes. He would sit there. He would try to hide what he had just live - everything he lived with Ander - with a cigarette left under smoke and he may trying to think where he should stay.

He didn't want to call his friends -Samuel- and give any explanation. He wanted to keep quiet. He wanted to listen to the chaos in his brain and his heart. He wanted to be alone. At least he wanted to spend that whole night alone. Then he could stay at his friend's house for maybe a few days - until he found a new home.

He thought of staying on the street. It would be cheaper than hotel or other things. He would just feel a little cold, but lucky him it was spring month, it wouldn't be as cold as he thought.

For some reason he felt cold ever since he left that home.

Still, he knew he couldn't stay on the street. Omar couldn't hug it, no matter how much the street opened its arms to him. Its arms weren't as soft as his mother's, not as hard as his father's. The street couldn't hold him like his family. But the street wouldn't throw him away, it would let him sleep in its lap.

What about Ander's arms?

No one could hug Omar as his arms were. No one could have had the tenderness in his arms. No one could have the fire in his arms, no one wouldn't have that warmth.

Ander's arms are always warm for Omar, despite the cold that disease has given him.

Nobody had embraced Omar like Ander.

But... But Ander embraced Omar with those arms only when he needed him.

Omar didn't know why he kept thinking about bad thoughts. He felt torn to pieces, even thinking that Ander had hugged him. He knew it was difficult to break up, to be abandoned, to be thrown out. He knew that it hurts not to be loved or valued. He knew it all. But feeling was different. The feelings that all those things made his body feel were very different.

He wanted to be embraced by someone again to forget all. It was also his right to be loved. To be loved unconditionally. To be loved without expecting anything in return. It was his right to be hugged too. Finding peace in the warmth of someone's arms.

He had chosen Ander for all those things. Why didn't he choose Omar?

Omar thought he needed a drink and got up from the bench.

He was walking slowly from the pavement. Even without a drink he felt his body was drunk. His thoughts could have got him drunk, or the cigarettes he smoked more than he should - he used - have been might have gotten him drunk. He didn't feel dizzy, but his body was wobbling. He was clearly shaking. Although his crying stopped, he didn't know why his body was shaken so violently.

He put his hands in his pocket. Maybe that way he could stand upright and stop shaking. But it got worse. He remembered something he had forgotten when he reached into his pocket. The cold metal circle in his pocket reminded him of everything.

---

"The earring in your ear looks like a ring."

Omar said while occupied in doing with Ander's ear. When they lay side by side in the couch, Omar was on the side that saw Ander's earring.

"A little."

Ander, whose eyes were closed, giggled to what Omar said.

"Why don't you change it?"

Omar straightened up a little from where he lay. To better look at Ander's face and speak directly against his face.

"You know, I don't always wear the same earring, Omar."

Ander opened his eyes a little and answered. His voice sounded angry but sleepy.

"It wasn't what I meant." Omar said while trying to smile. "You should wear earring in a different style. You always wear earrings in the same way."

Ander curled his lips.

"I don't like change very much."

Omar didn't reveal it to Ander, although his smile changed with strange thoughts.

"Yeah, I know that best." He continued to speak more lovingly, changing the lifelessness of his voice. "I'll buy you a new one."

Ander closed his eyes again and started to laugh.

"No thanks, I don't want it."

Omar hit him softly before leaning his head against Ander's chest.

"You rude! I'll buy you one and you will have to wear it as it's a gift."

Omar listened to the timbre in his voice as Ander's giggling chest rose and fell slowly.

---

There was an earring he bought for him in his pocket. He should have bought that earring months ago. He should have taken it before he got sick. When he was healthy, he should have gotten it for him when his only concern was the shitty secret his friends gave him. But... He even forgot to buy him a gift ...it's just been one thing after another. Whereas he could buy and give him an earring at any time. Now even though he want to, he couldn't. It wouldn't mean anything.

That is how worthless Omar is. Because he didn't know how to care for people, how to interest for people and they were leaving Omar. 

Omar didn't know how to interest for them, why would are they interest to Omar?

His body shaking had gotten worse. Moreover, there was a group walking on the pavement and one of them hit Omar's shoulder.

Everything happened suddenly.

As Omar fell to the ground, the earring he had been holding for minutes was thrown into the asphalt road. When Omar followed the place where the earring fell with his eyes, he couldn't see the cars on the road. He was able to take a few steps forward when he quickly got off the pavement to pick up the earring on the asphalt road. When the second car that came toward him hit him, he would no longer reach the earring.

He couldn't remember the impact, but he remembered he moving towards the dark.

In fact, he didn't realize that everything was turning into darkness. He didn't realize that everything he saw was buried in darkness.

The darkness might have been his new home. Maybe this darkness, this coldness, this pain or painlessness would be his new home.

Maybe he could be embraced by the darkness when he closed his eyes.

But… Still… When he closed his eyes, when he joined that darkness, all he could think of was being able to give him that earring.

Chapter Text

Ander fell asleep when he rested his burning eyes as he sapped. It hadn't been like the deep and unique slumbers he had been experiencing for days. His eyes weren't quite rested either. He had a pain he isn't ready to experience. A pain he isn't ready to know, a pain he isn't ready to learn; there was a pain in his depths that still didn't manifest itself.

Before long - a few hours later - he woke up from what seemed endless sleep. The first thing he felt wasn't his burning eyes, but the warmth he felt above him. The warmth radiating from the blanket.

He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember whether he had covered himself with the blanket on before going to bed or not. But he was grateful for the warmth that penetrated him.

The warmth emanating from the blanket suppressed the strange pain he felt in his bones and gave him some relief. The ailments chemotherapy inflicted on his body seemed less deadly than he thought at that moment. Maybe it was pointless to be as hopeless as he thought. Perhaps even warmth would cure him.

He realized how much he needed even a warmth. He remembered that he needed his warmth.

That's when he understood what the pain he felt while sitting in bed. Heartache. Ache that feels like a hundred years of pain.

He wanted him to be there for a moment. In order not to feel this heartache, he wanted to feel him next to his own side. He wanted to feel his warmth, not the thing radiating from the blanket. He wanted to feel the real warmth.

He wanted the warmth that he could afford to melt in. He wanted him to lie down beside him, to hug Ander with his arms enough to leave him breathless, to breathe towards his neck and to made to feel that breath all over his body. Ander wanted to be with him all his contrasts, all his similarities and all his experiences. But he knew it was too late to ask him for these selfish things.

He couldn't have asked him to stay his own side after his worst lie to push him. He couldn't punish him with decay next to this useless body. He couldn't have convicted him in this prison.

Again, he felt his guilt burning his body, his eyes. But he felt that his eyes was too dry to cry tears.

When he got up, he saw his sweatpants in one of the single seats. He knew he wasn't putting them there himself, and clearly he was too tired to go upstairs.

That was indicative of two things; Either his mother had come home or Omar put them there. He didn't think it was possible, knowing that Omar was angry after what Ander said. 

But it was real that the person who scolded him the most about his clothes was Omar.

---

"Don't lie on the bed that way!"

Getting dressed from the bathroom, Omar said aloud. Ander had been in bed for half an hour while Omar was getting ready for work.

"In what way?"

Ander spoke in a low voice. He was sleepy and quite tired. He didn't even put his head on his pillow, he was just lying on the bed.

"In this way!" Omar said while taking Ander's shoes off his feet. Ander's eyes widened as he pulled hard on his shoes.

He was seriously surprised that he didn't even realize that he was coming out of the bathroom.

"Can't you be a little nice?"

Ander said while making his voice sound angry, but he couldn't do it very well because of his sleepiness.

The orbit of the hands he felt on his feet had changed. He felt his hands, slowly rising to the front of his pants, meeting with the zipper.

"I can be nice if you want." Seeing the sneaky smile on Omar's face, Ander slowly swallowed. He couldn't believe that his hands were beginning to forget the effect on his body, that those hands are things that keep his body alive.

He saw Omar make very slow movements when he felt his zipper open slowly. Perhaps knowing that his body had lost its vitality had really made him gentle.

But Omar didn't do what Ander thought - he hoped.

He slowly lowered the pants off Ander's legs and turned around. He spoke as he continued to button up his shirt, still not fully dressed.

“I have to go to work now…” He turned to Ander, making the solemn expression on his face amusing. "…and you too be a good baby and take out your own clothes."

Ander, lying in bed, half undressed, cursed as he threw the first pillow he could reach, against Omar's back.

"You fucking asshole!"

---

Ander felt sick once again with what he remembered. Although he knew that his body was always enchanted by his touch, he could only show him his tired side. He showed his eyes ready to close at any moment and his body that didn't react to him. Although he knew all this, although he knew that he was not happy... he could not want him to be with him. No matter how much he wanted to be with him, he couldn't tell that...

When he took a few steps to go to the bathroom, he heard the sounds from the kitchen. He hoped he could see his face or the view from behind. He could look from afar. He know if he managed not to make his presence felt, but he could look at him. He could see him in his house once more... before his presence flew past him.

It didn't take long for him to feel disappointed. Seeing his mother's back in the dimly lit environment, the enthusiasm to see him disappeared in his eyes.

As he took a few steps to get away from the kitchen, he heard his mother's voice.

"Do you need something, honey?"

Him. Omar.

He thought he felt like a puppy that lost his owner. Or someone who lost a dog he had owned for years. He was just realizing how miserable the first night of the break up had made people feel. Even if he's the person who wants to break up...

"No, mom."

He said in a low and reluctant voice. He didn't want to tell his mother what happened. He would keep everything to himself again, but he had to live that way. He already had a few weeks to live, or not. He didn't need to involve anyone in his problems. It didn't mean anything.

"Thank you."

He was finally ready to walk away with the expression of gratitude he said, hiding his face.

"Ander..." 

When he heard his name, he had to stopped. He could not get away from his mother.

"What?"

He said like he exhaled. He didn't want to turn his face to his mother much.

"Have you seen Omar?"

Ander could not stop his face from turning to his mother. He was staring at his mother, with a frowning eyebrows and a very fragile feeling.

"He was here before I fell asleep."

Ander began to speak with the power of his voice. He suddenly felt like he was filled with energy. He also runs out of energy when his sentence is finished.

"Could he have gone out or something?"

Azucena was forcing her son, and Ander didn't know where these conversations were going. He was quite tired for that.

"What do you mean, mom?"

Ander was scared. It was not tomorrow yet. It was not tomorrow yet. They hadn't spoken yet. He couldn't be leave. He couldn't be gone. He was sure he was sleeping upstairs. Upstairs... To avoid seeing Ander... Omar must be in the upstairs.

"I just made coffee and thought he might want it too. He wasn't there with you, and I looked up and he wasn't there too."

Ander swallowed. He didn't expect it to go so quickly. He couldn't have gotten away from him that quickly. Not so early...

"Maybe he's taking a shower..." 

He knew his voice was strange, but he didn't care. That might make his mother feel that something was going strange, but he didn't care.

"I've looked over there too, Ander." 

Ander was silent without saying any new possibility. His lips are closed. As his gaze bowed, he searched for a seat.

He went. Ander couldn't touch him yet. He couldn't hug him yet. They couldn't say goodbye each other yet. For the last time... After that shit talk... He went.

As Ander sat in one of the chairs next to the kitchen table, he was unaware that his mother was approaching him.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't open his mouth. He looked at his mother's face. He felt the burning sensation his face felt before going to bed. Although he wasn't near the fireplace, he could feel his face burning in flames. He also knew that he couldn't cry while seeing his mother face so close him. Ander could not shed tears while his mother could see his face clearly.

"Where is Omar?"

He isn't here. Ander's inner voices would be the cause of his death. They were saying things in his brain he wouldn't want to hear. What the words they spoke in his head were turning into nails and sinking into his heart and aggravating his heartache. He won't come back here anymore.

"Ander, you're scaring me… Did something happen?"

He realized that he could no longer be silent. Not responding to his mother made matters worse and worried her too. But his mind was not working fast enough to lie so easily. And Ander was never good at lying.

Even though he pushed him away with the lie he told his lover -the ex-lover-.

"I guess he will stay with his friend anymore."

Ander didn't know why he started the sentence with 'I guess'. At least he was happy to be able to speak. At least he had told one truth among all the lies he said.

"Why? What happened?"

His mother asked persistently. She tried to reach out to Ander's face. When Ander noticed this, he hurried away from his face. He directed his gaze somewhere he hoped his mother had not seen.

"Nothing happened..." He answered with a hoarse voice. 

He felt the lumps in his throat hurt as much as when he talked to Omar. He was trying to distract himself and find better lies as he put his hand to his neck.

Lies that make him believe he loves someone else.

"...I thought a little relocation would be good - we thought."

Ander wanted to believe his lie. Perhaps that was what would have been good for them. A little change for Omar. But he knew best that it wasn't true.

"Are you sure? Because I don't think Omar will leave you alone on such a day."

He wasn't the one who left him alone. Ander wanted to be left alone. He had stopped being with him.

Ander didn't think it hurts to lie. It hurt to know that his lies weren't true. Still, he wanted to be glad. He wanted to relief that he got him out of his own mess.

But… Ander's mind got something. What did his mother mean by saying 'such a day'?

"What's wrong with today?"

He looked directly into his mother's eyes. He clearly saw the doubt on her face. Even when he brought Omar home, he was sure he didn't ask that many questions.

"Ander, we went to chemo. Did you forget that?"

He forgot. Ander even forgot himself that day. He had forgotten the cause of the excruciating aches and tiredness in his body in all that he had experienced that day. He had forgotten that he had spent three hours in that morning in the hospital and was sleeping in the bed downstairs for the first time. He had forgotten that the reason he broke up him was this sick state. 

Breaking with him up had everything stopped with his inside. And he forgot most things but not him. 

"We decided that way, mom..."

He got up from his chair. He spoke as he took quick steps towards the toilet.

"I'm tired, let's talk tomorrow."

He remembered saying the same to Omar as he left his mother behind. The fact that he hoped to be able to talk to him again... Hoping to be able to talk to him again, even though he knew that they no longer belonged to each other, struck him. It struck him in his face, his eyes, his body.

Whereas how well he remembered the night he came here. The night Ander learned the shitty secret.

---

Ander was taking quick steps towards Omar, who was waiting on his house outside the door.

He regretted ignoring the message from him. He had to know this secret from now on because he ignored him. Ander, who in great confusion, was taking quick steps towards his lover, who had a great mess on his face.

Nobody knew it was Ander who needed a hug when he quickly wrapped his arms around his lover. Ander seemed to have found the light with him in the dark secret, as he hugged him. Even though they had carelessly found each other, kissed and had fun a few hours ago, those moments felt like they had never happened.

Until just a few hours ago, while Ander's only concern was to be with Omar, now these seemed too far away.

Things seemed like to get worse when he heard about Omar's hiccups. While Ander cleansed himself by hugging him, he forgot that he was kicked out of his house.

Ander whispered to Omar's neck. He spoke while trying to prevent his voice from being heard as tearful as his lover's.

"It's okay..." 

Ander ran his hand slowly over Omar's back. He wanted to reduce his hiccups. At least he wanted Omar to be free of his emotions. But Ander didn't know how feeling being kicked out his home. He only knew the guilt of the secret he had drowned in. He had just learned that too.

"Everything will be okay..."

While trying to comfort him, Ander was actually relieving himself. He wanted to think everything would be okay. It seemed quite easy to believe it while hugging him. There was a comforting feeling that radiated from his arms - the arms shaken by crying - across Ander's body.

"I can't go back home anymore..."

Ander wanted to cry when he heard Omar's sobbing voice. He closed his eyes. He sought strength in himself and stopped the tears in his eyes. When he opened his eyes again, he was more determined. More hopeful. He started to speak, paying attention that there was no strange in his voice.

"Look at me..."

He used to take Omar's body away from his own. He fixed it with both hands to see his face better. The darkness prevented them from seeing each other's faces. Still, Ander felt Omar's tears with his hand. He could feel his shaking chinwith his hand.

"You can stay here as long as you want."

As he searched for the right words, he felt that the trembling in his chin stopped a little. He didn't think he could have such a comfortable smile on his face. He didn't think those words could convey that feeling of relief to him. But that was only specific to that moment. To comfort him. The weight of the secret he learned later would continue to strangle him.

"If you want, you can think of it as your home."

When Ander's smile widened, he knew he was saying these not only for his peace but also for his inner peace. He needed him to not be alone. He needed him next his side. His home could after this be Omar's home. It could always be his home.

Maybe they need to be each other's home.

"No need to be sad. I'll be with you."

Although he thought he had stopped his crying, he again felt his body shake. He pulled him towards him, hugged him.

When he gave Omar the words of relief in a whisper to his neck again, he felt his arms tighter in his body.

"I won't leave you."

---

It was supposed to be so.

Ander wasn't supposed to leave Omar. He must have kept his promise to him.

He told him to go, although he wasn't technically the side that left. He was the reason for their break up. He had done the same to him as his parents did. He had abandoned Omar. He had kicked him out of his home.

Omar could no longer go back to that home. That home is no longer Omar's. Just like he cannot go back to his family's home, Omar wouldn't go back there.

Ander was in the bathroom when he felt the facts struck in his face once again. As if it wasn't enough that he closed his mouth so that his hiccups would not be heard, he was biting his hand to forget his pain.

He only hoped that when he came out of the bathroom his mother wouldn't see his miserable face.

---

When Ander woke up the next day, he understood how he wasn't used to waking up in an empty bed.

Whereas, Omar was usually the first person to get out of bed. Ander learned this better in the days when he woke up without feeling Omar's hands on his body. He was the first to get up, and he was the first to get away from the bed. This situation changed only when his working days. And still, Ander had made it a habit to call out when he couldn't see him around.

He noticed that habit when he woke up, when felt his lips dry and when asked for water.

His mouth, which opened to call his name, was suddenly closed. He sighed as he gently droped his body backward.

He had forgotten that he wasn't there. His absence was more difficult than he thought.

He realized how lethargic he was to get out of bed. Even though he was thirsty, he was trying to hope that it wasn't enough to require him to stand up. So he realized that Omar was the one who made him get out of bed every day.

Ander woke up from his sleep when Omar got back from work. Ander woke up as he shifted in the bed. Ander woke up in the same bed, in the same house with him. He was learning how important this was to him from the worst way. The way he knows he will never be with him again.

He was learning that it was impossible to get used to his absence. Morever, this was only the first day.

After all, there were a few days left for him. Ander didn't have to get used to it. Before getting used to it, Ander's time would be over. So he wouldn't have to get used to being without him.

---

Ander was the third day he woke up without Omar. He awoke to the effect of his nightmares on his body. He was shivering and it was definitely not from the cold.

He didn't think he was used to being without him, but he didn't know why on the third day he woke up that way. As if he was a prisoner of his nightmare.

Before long, he got out of bed and moved to the kitchen. There was no point in spending a lot of time in bed and falling asleep again. Also, he didn't want to see horrible things and wear himself out.

It was at the same time that he entered the kitchen and saw his mother. She was preparing to go to school, and Ander certainly had no enthusiasm or energy to go to school.

"Mom..." 

He could only call his mother. He didn't know what to say or what had to say behind her. His mother might have seen his indecision, and she continued to speak.

"Good morning, honey." 

She took a few steps towards Ander as she put the handbag on her arm.

"How are you today?"

Ander thought of a polite way to express that he felt like shit. He didn't think he found it.

He curled his lips. He muttered when he realized that he could not show that he had nothing in reply.

"Not fine enough..."

He saw his mother's smile of understanding on her face. It was comforting to know that this kindness was still with him when one hand went to Ander's face and gently caressed it.

"It doesn't matter, whenever you feel good then you come."

She swallowed when she withdrew her hand on Ander's face.

"But wouldn't you want to call Omar next to your side?"

Ander knew his mother would say that sooner or later. And he knew he would not be ready to answer this question. He turned his gaze to the ground, feeling pressure in his heart. When Azucena realized that he would not speak, she continued speaking.

"At least he can stay with you for a few hours, right?"

When his mother's speech later turned into a pleading voice, Ander felt great guilt over the lies he had told. But he didn't think he wanted to tell the truth, either.

"You have to call him, honey, so you don't be alone."

Ander ignored how much he needed that. He knew but he ignored how much he needed to call him to not be alone, to not without him. He knew he had to deprived from Omar.

He tried to look determined when he looked at his mother. He should have said something to make his mother know for sure that Ander would never call Omar back home again, but he didn't know what it was.

"Mom, please..." 

When Ander muttered something in his mouth, he heard the door knocking violently. When his mother and he returned to each other nervously, they both wondered why the person knocking on the door was so persistent. Moreover, it was a very early hour.

Azucena prioritized to open the door, she wanted to Ander to relax, saying that Guzman was the one who came by the peephole. But Ander felt, on the contrary, even more nervous.

The last day he checked his phone was the day he left Omar. He didn't even know where his phone was at that moment. And if Guzman said anything about it, he didn't know what to do. He was tired of lying.

Guzman came in with great resentment. He took swift steps towards Ander, ignoring Azucena standing in front of the door. He was yelling.

"Where the fuck are you? What good excuse do you have for not picking up my fucking phone?"

Azucena followed Guzman and soon they were both standing in front of Ander.

"Take it easy, Guzman. Ander was just resting."

Guzman turned to the woman standing next to him. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. He spoke, taking care that his voice was not loud.

"Yes, I understand Azucena. But..."

He turned to Ander, his terrifying gaze cast over him.

"...He didn't answer not only my calls, but Nadia's."

He moved closer to Ander as the terrifying of his gaze began to fade. He started talking like a whisper. 

"I don't know what the fuck was on your mind."

Ander knew that something strange was happening as soon as Guzman came in, even when the door was knocked. He felt a deep pain in his heart. Heartache.

"What is the problem?"

He spoke, hoping that his uneasiness would not appear his voice. But it wasn't possible. Ever since he had heard his sister's name, he knew he could not quell in his restlessness.

Now he started to get even more startled when he saw that Guzman's movements had changed. He changed so much that Ander noticed that change right away. He became even more startled when he saw that his hands were running around his neck, looking at his mother instead of himself.

"What's wrong, Guzman?"

While Guzman was still trying not to look at Ander, he didn't care how pitiful the voice of him sounded. He didn't seem to be begging, he was clearly begging Guzman.

"What happened?"

Guzman stretched his arms towards Ander. When he stretched out his arms to his friend, he wouldn't think he looked so weak.

"Why didn't you pick up the fucking phone?"

It was Guzman's turn to speak as if pleading. He didn't expect Ander to become so fragile without hearing what had happened. He might not have scared his friend that much if he hadn't entered more aggressively than he thought.

When he tried to wrap his arms around Ander, he heard Azucena's questions at least as curious as he was. But Ander's curiosity was forced him.

Perhaps Guzman shouldn't have been the person who came to say what happened.

"Tell me what fucking happened, Guzman!"

As Ander shook him, he seemed to forget the fact that he had been weak for days, lacking energy. As he shook Guzman's body, it actually seemed like he was shaking himself -his own body. Ander was sure of just one thing. There was a strange resentment in him.

Resentment at himself for what he did wrong somewhere. Resentment at himself that thinks something is wrong.

"Omar had an accident... He's been in the hospital for a few days."

Ander drew his arms from Guzman.

He could see that Guzman was continuing to speak and even his mother was making some sounds when he looked into their mouth, but he couldn't hear. His ears could only hear some sizzle. It's a sizzle that doesn't want to convey to his brain that Omar was involved in any accident. It's a sizzle that denies this is true.

He hadn't noticed that his mouth was tightly closed until he took a deep breath through his nose. He was not gritting his teeth, but he was pressing his lips together. As if he could somehow prevent him from breathing.

He could feel power being drawn from his arms, legs, knees. He could feel that no energy could remain in his body.

He could not feel some arms were preventing him from kneeling, but he knew they were preventing him from falling to the ground.

Although Ander knows that he will no longer be with him, that he must live his time without him anymore; he could not handle it. He could not bear that he had suffered. Ander was the only person to suffer. Ander supposed to be the only person to suffer.

He felt pain as deep as his body was torn to pieces, but dull as numbed. He felt the breath in his lungs drying out.

He was as dry as he was in the desert, cold as if he had remained under an iceberg but had his body punished only by freezing, and as hot as roasted in the fire.

He was too lifeless to feel all of them.