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Pedro's POV

Seeing Marco weep like that shattered my heart into a million pieces. Being in the cemetery brought back a lot of sad memories and I fought to hold my tears back too. Nineteen years had passed but it still felt like it was yesterday. It was like standing at my mom's funeral for the second time. The few neighbors and friends, watching father weep like a child, watching the earth being covered after she had been placed in it, the flowers, everything came flooding back so hard that when Marco started crying so hard, I had to cut through the crowd and take him away to the car, not just to console him but to also console myself. I haven't cried in over fifteen years and I wasn't about to break down in front of all those people.

When I asked Marco if I should take him home, I didn't really want to take him home. I needed to be around him just as much as he looked like he wanted to be with me. I didn't want to force my needs on him if he wanted to just head home instead. And when he said he didn't want to go home, I was happy. I placed my hand on his, craving his touch.

Seventeen long years and I haven't felt this vulnerable. Now all I wanted was a hug too.

I drove till I got to the place I had promised my father and my therapist I wouldn't visit again.

It was an old abandoned warehouse that was already falling apart. It was in another slummy part of town and the company that had the warehouse had left a long time ago. The place hadn't changed much from the last time I was there except for the few homeless people around. Once I killed the engine of the vehicle, I suddenly felt like I shouldn't have come in the first place.

Just looking at the gloomy dark walls, I suddenly felt like a ten year old grieving child again. At first Marco looked confused but then he looked at me and I sure looked like hell. He squeezed my hands gently and smiled and that gave me enough strength to get out of the car. He entwined his hand in mine again and we began to walk in. I was hesitant and he dragged me along. The vulnerability hit me strongly again and I stopped.

"I think this is bad idea"

"I don't think so. You drove us here because you want to let go of something" Marco said looking into my eyes. His green orbs scanning my face and reassuring me with a small smile.

"I don't want to let go of anything" I replied trying to keep a strong face even though I knew that this place seemed to hold a large part of me like he had said.

"Then what is this place?" he asked and I looked away so he wouldn't see the sadness in my eyes.

"You don't have to always be strong. Sometimes showing a little weakness is what makes you human. Besides I need to distract myself and I think this place would be the perfect distraction" he said pulling me again.

He didn't know the warehouse like I did so I allowed him take us round in circles and after the fourth time we burst into hard laughter.

"Are you seriously going to let us keep doing this?" He asked holding his stomach as he laughed.

"You were the one being iron man" I replied stopping to admire his smiling face.

"Well, I don't want to be iron man anymore, so please take the lead" he said

The afternoon sun was filtering into the dark dusty room through a broken window and it's orange rays were on his smiling face. He didn't look like the sad boy I had dragged away from his mother's funeral a few hours ago. He needed to be distracted and somehow this place had successfully done that like it used to do to me years ago. His green eyes, still with a layer of sadness within, was shining in the sun and his brown hair added to the aesthetic beauty. The black shirt he had on was a bit small on him and they hugged his small torso tightly giving a perfect outline of the body within. He had stopped laughing and was staring at me too. His lips were slightly parted and I just wanted to kiss them. The hungry look in my eyes must have been obvious because a deep red began to stain his face and neck as he looked away but not fast enough for me not to see the hunger in them too.

"Let's go" I said taking his hand and leading him, not trusting myself enough to keep looking at him without trying to devour him right there.

We passed the corridor and entered a door he had been missing all the while. The door led to a set of stairs which we gently went up because they were no longer strong and had broken off at several points. We kept going up till we got to the door that opened up to the roof.

Immediately we stepped on the open floor of the roof, I was hit with the emotions again and my feet became heavy. He squeezed my hand again and that gave me confidence again and I pulled us to the edge, my favorite spot. The metal bench that I used to sit on was still in it's position although rusted from age.

"This is beautiful" Marco squealed excitedly.

It was indeed beautiful. With the view of the rest of the city and the busy streets, it would be a perfect place for one of those beautiful aesthetic pictures. The sun was high in the sky giving everything a glow. We sat on the bench and looked at the beautiful scenery, Marco certainly distracted and lost in it's beauty while I was anything but happy. I never came here when I was happy. As a child, I would come here when I wanted to be alone or when I was really sad. The place held a lot of my sad memories and they had come rushing back the moment I set my foot on the roof. I didn't know the tears that I had fought to hold back for so long had already started spilling till I felt two cold drops on my palm and just before I could wipe them Marco turned. The relaxed look on his face turned into a frown and once again I felt vulnerable. And I hated feeling vulnerable.

"What's wrong?" He asked, concern in his voice.

"Nothing" I replied wiping my face.

My reply seemed to have annoyed him and he turned back to the view but this time he didn't smile and I doubt if he was lost in the beauty anymore.

"You don't have to pretend to be okay everytime" he said and I didn't know what to reply.

"What's this?" He asked looking at me again. His green eyes were filled with sadness again and I hated myself for being the reason.

"Why did you bring me here?" He asked again, this time angrily.

"I don't understand you most of the time. One minute you are my boss at work and the next, you are dragging me for lunch, dinner and the rest. One minute, I don't know you and the next, you are acting like my friend. I......."

I couldn't let him finish before smashing my lips on his. He gasped from surprise, creating enough room for my tongue to go in. He recovered from the shock quickly and started kissing me back as hungrily as I felt too. My hand flew to the back of his head pulling him closer while his hands rested on my chest heating my skin up where they rested. He moaned into my mouth and it sent a tingling sensation to my brain which in turn sent a good amount of blood to my waist. I pulled away from the kiss because I knew that if I waited a few more minutes, I might not be able to stop.

His eyes were glazed with lust when he opened them and I knew he wasn't satisfied too. His hands left my chest and mine left his neck but our eyes were still locked on each other, communicating.

"I'm sorry" I said in a voice that was embarrassingly needy.

He didn't reply and just looked away. I looked away too, my heart aching with need and sadness.

"My mom died when I was eight. She died of cancer" I began before I could stop myself. I felt his eyes back on me but I didn't turn. I might not be able to continue if I did.

"I loved her so much, I couldn't handle her death. I broke down completely, wouldn't eat, wouldn't drink, I did nothing but come up here all day. I always felt closer to her whenever I was here. I was so messed up, I was diagnosed with clinical depression two months later. My father had to work two jobs and also run our auto shop to take care of I and my brother. I was feeling so much pain inside and the only way I could show it was to become a nuisance. I would fight a lot even at the least provocation and my father had to pull me out of school when I almost stabbed a boy with a penknife. I was angry at everything and everyone. The doctors said it was a kind of PTSD. All I wanted was my mom. I would run away from home and come up here, sometimes for days. I started seeing a psychiatrist four times a week. At first I was rebellious but when I saw it was straining my dad to pay the bills for the sessions, I decided to give it a chance and here I am, nineteen years later and I still feel like crap inside" I said and brought my hands to my face not being able to control the tears anymore.

I felt Marco lean into me and pull me into a hug I needed so badly. The tables had turned and it was my tears soaking his shirt this time.

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