"What is love in this temporal life, if not just a distraction from the pain that doesn't seem to end."
After losing his best friend to an unexplained suicide, Mateu finds himself left to pick up the pieces with his best friend's younger brother, Fe...
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I had a great time with Momo that day in the calanques. Before we parted ways at the bus terminal, he offered to bring me upstairs to hang out in his room but I politely refused. Instead, he waited with me at the terminal until the bus back to the central station arrived. It wasn't that I didn't find him attractive or that I didn't want to have sex with him. On the contrary, I was afraid that I might ruin it all again, like what happened the last time. I told him that I loved to, but I was running short on time. We agreed that we'll probably see each other again.
Momo was a great guy, and he didn't deserve to be held back by my own emotional baggage. Things were going great with him, and I loved to pursue whatever we had further. But first I had to get myself in order.
I archived all chats with Ferran so that I wouldn't see them – not like we texted much anyway. Ferran was not much of a talker both in person or over text. The few photographs I had of him, and the both of us together, I put in an album and hid it. Sure, I didn't delete it, but I was sure ready to move on. I guess I was just the sentimental type.
The following Sunday I finally texted Momo again. I asked if he'd like to hang out. I could see that he had read my message, but he didn't respond. Perhaps he was busy. I didn't think too much about it.
He finally responded to me three days later. I had all but forgotten I even asked. I found texting him really strange, since it was always a toss up between thinking if he was deliberately ignoring me or not. I wanted to ask him about it, but felt like we had such a good time that I didn't want to ruin it with what seemed like such a confrontational question. Nevertheless it irritated me, but I still didn't make a fuss about it.
We agreed that I would come over to his place. He told me he had the place free the next weekend with his roommate going away on a short trip. It was fine by me, I didn't mind travelling. But first, he asked me to get ourselves some shawarma from a particular shop in the Noailles district. It was a few blocks from where I lived, so I didn't mind at all.
Noailles was crowded as usual, and I made my way through the old buildings and down its narrow streets, past spice shops and hookah bars. I finally arrived at the shawarma shop at the corner and got us two chicken shawarmas, and fries. It was a small shop, and the burly Syrian man behind the counter readily packed up my order.
Momo gave me instructions on how to get to his dormitory from the bus terminal, and he met me at the lobby downstairs.
"Ah, you brought the shawarma," he said, beaming.
"You seem to be more excited for the shawarma than seeing me," I said, teasingly.
"Well," he replied. "Can't I be excited for both?"
I could only smile in return. Momo led me up the stairs to the fourth storey, and we walked down a long corridor until we reached his room. I counted about five doors that we walked past before we finally got to his.
