Chapter 5 MOOR:

Everything in life must be taken care of, because in every little corner reside the emotions of each person, containers that keep memories, sad or happy anecdotes, which are parts of our life, of the highs and lows, of every safe step we have taken and the falls we have had to endure.

Therefore, feelings are like soil, they can be cultivated, they must be cared for and strengthened with dedication and enthusiasm so that they can germinate and bear fruit.

For years one of the biggest mistakes is to take for granted the fact that planting the seed will surely bear fruit, and that is the problem.

Now, with years of neglect to his hearts, feelings and self-worth, Alexandre is discovering that his fields have become barren and his flowers withered, he devoted so much, body and soul to someone else's garden and fruits, that he neglected his own, to the point that now he does not know what to do with the wasteland that is presented to him.

His life could be described as the spite of a hurricane and the fury of an earthquake together, leaving only devastation in its wake, pain, anguish and above all, loss, the lacerating loss that is not calmed by anything, the feeling of abandonment that will not let him go for a while, even the tears of mourning, because more than losing anyone or anything, nothing like the pain and unhappiness of losing yourself, of knowing that even when others wanted to hurt you, that they stuck their knives in your chest and burned the garden of your soul, the guilt, that it was only you who allowed it will bury you alive, will manage to gnaw from deep within, erecting a wall to protect you and you will finally realize that everything, is lost.

CHAPTER IV: MOOR

'When the soul is broken, it is as beautiful as a moor.' EDHEN BLAQUE.

The darkness seemed too much, the apartment dreary and the light at fault, the evening falls upon London, and the snow threatens to fall.

He opens his eyes and looks into nothingness, the incessant sound coming from the kitchen, where the poorly turned off sink faucet let out a drop of water that echoed through the place, reminding him how lonely his life was right now.

And the pang comes with the same force as a week ago, Alexandre still could not get out of the complete stupor, it seemed that the fact of understanding was difficult.

'Too much', he thought

He had left the hospital a fortnight ago, he went straight to his apartment, he locked himself in there as if it were a fortress and the only thing capable of keeping him safe, he didn't want to talk to anyone, he didn't listen to a word.

Once Leonel was led out of his room in the hospital, he locked himself inside and his mind seemed to go blank for no apparent reason, some people call it a defense method.

Alexandre didn't want to think, because it hurt, he didn't want to remember, because it burned, he didn't want to feel, because he could die, he really could, all this until he arrived at his apartment.

By then it seemed that he was going through some stage of mourning, Alexandre went through it with total bitterness and falling apart, the pain, the guilt, even going so far as to put his head against the wall calling himself an idiot and crying.

Alexandre kept his expression stoic, wrapped between sweaters and blankets that appeased the cold he felt, it is not the body, but the soul, his mother had once told him while caressing his hair and explaining why Mrs. Rosbelt, his neighbor, seemed to have no desire for anything after Mr. Rosbelt went to heaven, Alexandre was small at the time, and with total innocence he tried to make Mrs. Ros smile, as he called her affectionately, she had looked him in the eyes and put herself at his height leaving a kiss on his forehead, with wrinkled hands she caressed Alex's little face and left, Alexandre knew a month later that Mrs. Kim had gone to heaven, after so many years together with Mr. Rosbelt, her death, were not easy to bear.

And now he was remembering it at the worst moment, because it gave him a terrible urge to cry and literally throw himself to die like a damsel in Victorian times, while he thought how could he have been such an idiot and how was it possible that after knowing the bitter reality of their friendship and the kind of man he had loved for years, still, still, still, he could not hate him at all?.

He looked to the side, sitting on the sofa, in the living room of the apartment, in the darkness as exactly three hours ago, next to him, one of the armchairs, close to the balcony door, the one where for years Leonel took as his personal possession and used as a sanctuary to smoke his sacred cigars in moments of stress during adolescence.

Alexandre lived alone since he was eighteen, so for a long time his life was reduced to Ellian, Dean, Lucius, the university, then work, and above all those things, Leonel.

Alexandre wanted to believe he had reached a consensus with himself, the first few days after leaving the hospital, he took special appreciation for taking long soaks in the tub and breathing deeply as he sank in and out again taking long breaths of air, patiently waiting for the cold waters to provide him with escape and answers, Alexandre felt the coldness sink in, his skin practically split open and the tears fell relentlessly as the only question his mind could ask.

'What did I do wrong?.'

The million dollar question, the one that torments and makes you stay up until the wee hours of the morning crying, the one that has put women and men practically praying on their knees for whoever is to blame for the outburst of emotions and the fragmentation of the soul to be taken away from their path, because they have been mistreated, so broken that they just want to walk away with their hearts trembling, begging to just be left alone, while those who don't understand take it upon themselves to shout that you are wrong, that it's no big deal, that you shouldn't just get that way for someone who doesn't value you.

But think that you did, you valued him enough to give him your dreams, to include him in your goals, you valued him enough to want to make him happy.

Since when did loving become such a horrible thing?

Since when did human beings become despicable enough to not care about ending someone's hopes?.

Alexandre does not know, but then he could not blame someone for being distrustful, for fearing to love again, and that the result is the same, he was one of them, he remembers judging those who claimed to suffer for love, something hypocritical coming from someone in love with his straight friend, but he did it on his own and because he had chosen it, but, when the suffering is caused by another, by someone you love, the equation changes, the result is distorted and everything seems to die.

Hell opens, the gates give way to the worst demons.

He was hurt, it hurt and burned, he felt broken.

All while hundreds, thousands of memories hit him hard leaving him terribly vulnerable. For years he was one of those who put any other's feelings over his own, Alexandre lived for others, and forgot himself, during his adolescence and adulthood.

"Alexandre."

Alexandre remembers to look up and look into his eyes, beautiful and dark, the ones he simply could never stop looking at and always tried not to lose sight of, he tilted his head to one side urging him to speak, that day Alexandre had cried a lot, Alexandre had cried a lot that day, hoping to meet a boy who would take him, if not to forget Leonel, then to appease the bitterness of not being reciprocated, but the boy knew it, and told Alexandre that with him, either he loved him or he would walk away, because he was not a second table dish or a consolation prize for anyone.

Alexandre at the time was upset enough to believe that the boy was an idiot, insufferable, even conceited, but now, years later, in solitude, he wasn't sure.

"Don't cry" Leonel had said after the blond had told him that Mark had broken up with him "I don't like to see you cry" he hugged him "I'm here, Al" he kissed his forehead "At the end of the day, I'll always be here, I'm the only one who could never hurt you."

"You fucking liar" he growled low, his voice thick and his throat sore from crying.

During the whole first week Alexandre had received hundreds of calls between the boys and....Leonel, first it was just one a day, it was like the subtle ringing of the doorbell to let him know of their presence, one that as the hours passed and by the fourth day had gone to another level, going from calls to voicemail messages on the answering machine that he like a total masochist listened to in the hope that someone, that Leonel would tell him that everything had been a fake, a horrible staging, something that never came, Leonel only shouted at him and blamed him for everything, he did not take responsibility for lying, outraging his feelings and sweeping them in the mud, Alexandre cried in a corner between hate, pain and guilt.

Because he knew he had given him that power, Alexandre gave the cards to Leonel to destroy him.

"He'll pay" Ellian had said coming in from the balcony and taking a seat next to him two days ago, the blond had looked up and looked, with his pretty wobbly smile, his slim and slender body embraced by dark pants and a matching lemon shirt with dress shoes "You'll be fine."

There was Ellian, beside him smiling and trying to keep him from giving up and it made him feel bad, sad, more than he already was because he knew she was trying her best to join him in his pain, yet Alexandre, he, just wanted to cry again.

"I'm not sure, Lio" he whispered, Ellian took a deep breath trying not to go just a little crazy, and lash out at Alexandre who was just a victim, but he just doesn't understand, or doesn't want to understand his friend's attitude.

"You've been like this for days, Alexandre" he growled trying not to sound harsh, failing miserably "You don't eat, you don't sleep, you look like a fucking dead man."

"So?" he asked low, almost barely audible, Lio wanted to scream and cry seeing Alexandre's eyes turning red and tears struggling not to come out, at moments like those he wanted to go to Leonel and hit him really hard "What do you want me to do?" said Alexandre, he looked really curious as if he wanted the answer, Ellian didn't like that.

"I want you to be happy."

But Alexandre had not taken it well, but as an imposition, and the pain spoke.

"I don't intend to smile and laugh to please you."

"I would never ask that of you."

"If you point out and criticize the way I'm behaving, it makes me think otherwise."

Ellian was gone, Alexandre had returned to his solitude, by the time night fell, only then did he spot the envelope on the table and inside it, airline tickets.

Now, Alexandre sighed, "stop dramatizing and let's talk", "why don't you answer?", "do you blame me?", "Alexandre, we are friends, this is nothing, just some nonsense, let's go back to the way we were."

"I'm tired."

And he looked up, finding the only patch of light in the whole place, that orange tone that burst from the balcony between the half-closed doors, Alexandre stood up and took a deep breath, slow and strong, letting his small hand rest on it before with his heart beating a thousand and a small flame of decision and courage he opened the window to let the wind and the light hit his face.

Alexandre cried, for how beautiful the sky looked, and because despite the cold and despite the dreary weather, there was the sun, beautiful and giving a last look at the earth, to give way to the moon, the light goes and the darkness falls, but at the end of the day, the light the halo of light l, how the hope that never dies, will return.

I think you should take a breath, start living, Dean had said, concise and short in a voice message left after thousands of unanswered calls.

Alexandre looked at the sky and told himself that moving forward is difficult and even impossible, but in the meantime, he could just breathe.