The Moon's Boy

Chapter Eighteen

On his way home, Kadir let his mind wander. There was comfort in the repetitive movement of riding a bike that kept most of the bad thoughts at bay. He couldn't hear the voices of fear or worry when his ears were filled with the sound of the wind rushing by. He thought vaguely of Clementine and her honest, gentle smile; Tsubame's oddly eased demeanour and the way Neptune's apricot and feta salad had tasted at the picnic. He didn't try new things all that often but he couldn't refuse the cool, knowing look she'd given him when she said that he should try it. He chuckled at the idea of a thirteen-year-old knowing him better than he knew himself.

He came to a slow stop on a street he recognised, pulling up to a familiar gate. He trusted his muscle memory to take him home. He disembarked, walking beside the navy blue bike, and winced when he realised whose house he'd pulled up in front of. His grip on the handlebars tightened.

In his mind, he saw himself climb back on his bike and cycle home but his feet were glued where he stood. The house was the same as it was the last time he'd been there. It was as if time had skipped this place while washing over the rest of the world, Kadir included. Suddenly this household wasn't his anymore.

He knew those curtains hanging drawn in front of the living room window. Kadir had been there when the family was picking them out of an Argos catalogue on their long green sectional. He'd chimed in his opinion on the colour and fabric and Mr Alric had ruffled his hair, telling him he had good taste. He remembered the time Jonathan had gotten the two of them locked out because he left his key inside so they sat together on the bench in the front garden until his mother came home, asking Kadir why he didn't use his own key. His face grew warm at the memory of Jonathan grabbing him close with an arm around his neck and gently nuzzling his head with his fist, asking him why he hadn't mentioned he had one earlier. There was no way he could have said it was because he wanted to watch the sunset with him. His heart ached.

He stared at the pavement beneath him, feeling his face begin to sting. He couldn't tell if it was from the chill in the air or something else. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a movement from one of the first floor windows; he glanced up and staring back at him was the brown-haired cherub of a boy he knew and loved, had loved, holding the curtains at either side of him. Kadir had forgotten his bedroom looked out on the street. His aching heart splintered. Oh, the things that they'd done in that room — things of friendship and bonding, of gentle, tender, boyish love. Neither of them moved for moments that felt like months until Kadir scrambled back onto his bike, the sting having migrated to his eyes, and peddled as fast as he could back to his house.