One could say Leroy spent the next few days in a mini trance, replaying what Zachary had said to him in that one moment. Every time he thought about it, his chest felt light, and his heartbeat picked up its pace. He wasn't really sure what to think of the whole ordeal, or what to do, especially since Zachary had proceeded to continue things business as usual as if he hadn't said something worth dwelling over.

     He loves you. Leroy said to himself, blinking as he stared down at his bowl of cereal. No, he said he thinks he does. He reminded himself, being anal about the specifics. He could barely think straight, and even when he was in meetings or trying to get through work his mind would conjure that intense look on Zachary's face, and the hairs on his arms would stand when he remembered what he said.

     Zachary loved him—or thought he did, and Leroy wasn't sure how to react.

     No one had told him that before, and he'd never really been in a long-term thing enough for those feelings to develop.

     He started wondering how he felt about Zachary—wondering if how he felt about the older man with long tight curls and the most sculpted face counted as being in love. He felt sick thinking about how much he cared about Zach—how his world would turn upside down if even the smallest thing were to happen to him. He clearly cared a lot about him, but the fantastical somewhat obsessive descriptions of love were not really what he thought he was feeling.

     "You've been sitting there for over an hour."

     Leroy looked up when he heard his mum's voice.

     "Hmm?" he muttered, frowning a bit when the older woman took a sit at the table across from him. She was holding a steaming mug, probably nesting the tea she liked to drink.

     "Is something the matter? I'm pretty sure cereal is soggy right now," she said, and Leroy looked down at the bowl, and sure enough, it was. It was probably cold too. It didn't matter. It wasn't like he was thinking straight enough to even be hungry.

     "It's fine," Leroy said, pushing the bowl aside. "I wasn't that hungry anyway," he declared, resting back on his seat as he spared his mother the faintest of smiles.

     "You don't look too good," the woman said, pursing her lips before bringing the mug of tea to her lips. "What's on your mind?" she probed, setting her mug down.

     "It's nothing," Leroy said, shaking his head. He wasn't sure he was ready to share his dating woes with his mother. She would just make everything depressing by bringing up his dad. She always did.

     "Are you sure?" the older woman asked, not letting it go. "You know, you can talk to me."

     Leroy sighed, folding his hands across his chest. "It's just dating issues."

     "The person you're seeing?" his mother asked, and Leroy narrowed his eyes at her. He hadn't told her he was seeing anyone, had he?

     "Err..." Leroy trailed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not exactly seeing anyone, more like a general issue—"

     "What about your friend?" his mother asked, cutting him off. "The one that stayed over the other day."

     Leroy blinked, and his mother stared at him with her icy blue eyes. "Am I correct?" she asked, and Leroy could only manage to blink again.

     "How did you...?" he trailed, off, narrowing her eyes at her.

     "I listen. I pay attention," his mother said, taking another sip from her mug. "You didn't tell me, and don't worry, your sister didn't either. I just picked it up. It's the way you looked at each other, and how you fused over him. I just... I don't know at first, I was unsure, but over time it just got hard to deny."

     "The way we look at each other?" Leroy asked, focusing on that sentence. "What does that mean?"

     She shrugged, licking her bottom lip as she hummed. "I don't know. It's a soft intense look—you just stare at each other as if you care about each other a lot," his mother added. "I can feel it because I know how it feels to look at someone like that, and how it feels to be looked at like that," she said, smiling down at her cup as she circled the brim with her fingertip.

     "Did you two, fight?" she asked, changing the subject.

     "No," Leroy said shaking his head. "He just said something that's given me a bit of a shake I guess," he muttered, sighing to himself. "Mum—err—how did you know you were in love with our dad? I'm just curious."

     Usually, Leroy wouldn't bring up his father at all. It often led to long one-sided convos about his mother's time with him and how he was gone too soon. Sometimes she would even start crying, and Leroy would just have to awkwardly sit there until she picked herself up again. At first, it had been easy to sympathize with her—when things were fresh—and he and his sister were still grieving, but when one year turned to two and three, it started to feel daunting and made Leroy feel guilty for having moved on.

     Leroy's mother seemed to think about his question for a bit as she left her fingers to tap against the smooth sides of her mug. "It's just something I knew after a while," she said, smiling to herself a bit. "I would look at him and just know that I wouldn't know what to do with myself when he was gone. I wanted the best for him, even though sometimes it meant me being a little uncomfortable. If he was happy, I was happy. If he was upset, I was upset. I just knew he was my everything. He gave me purpose. He made my life better—" she paused, looking over at Leroy. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you didn't want me to go on a tangent like that," she sniffled a bit. "It's just hard you know. I look at you guys and I see him. I find something in the storage that belongs to him, and I just fall apart. I don't know when I'll be better and I can't promise anything," his mother, said, looking down at her mug of tea. "Did I at least answer your question?" she asked.

Leroy nodded. "Yeah." He knew what she was talking about. How she felt. Meeting Zachary had been pivotal for him. All the subconscious anxiety about how he was behind in life just wasn't there with Zach. He felt useful around the man, safe, secure—relaxed—comfortable. Zachary understood him. Zachary sometimes made him feel more impressive than he actually was. The man adored him, and he adored Zach similarly too.

     The thought of Zach just not being in his life anymore sent alarm bells in Leroy's head. He felt confused, a little lost, and a deep discomfort. Maybe he could understand why it was so hard for his mother to move on now. He'd only known Zachary for a bit, and his mother had known his dad for years. She'd build a family and life with him. Of course, it was devastating beyond comprehension. Now he felt a little silly for giving her such a hard time for not getting over things or refusing to bury her hurt as he and his sister did.

     "I understand how I feel now," Leroy muttered, before looking up at his mum. "I'm also sorry," he added, making his mother's eyes go wide a bit. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you when you needed it. I'm sorry for acting irritated and just letting you cry without comforting you... I don't know how I even thought you were doing it just to make me uncomfortable..." The words just started to flow out as Leroy began to understand the lengths to which he pretty much ignored his mother and let her deal with her emotions alone. She'd needed someone to talk to—someone she knew to listen to her and comfort her, and all he'd done was pat her awkwardly, and recommend she see a therapist.

     "I can't even begin to really tell you how sorry I am," Leroy continued as the wave of memories washed through him. He'd never yelled at or physically pushed away his mother, but he'd been so cold to her in his own grief that the guilt was starting to eat him alive. "I knew you were having a hard time, but I guess, I just felt that things would be better if you let things go and didn't talk about him. I was tired of hearing about him all the time and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."

     His mother's grey-blonde hair fell forward as she rested her face on her propped-up hands. "I'm sorry too," she said, letting out a small sigh. "I shouldn't have put that much pressure on you too. I'm the parent. I should have helped you guys work through things too..."

     The dining area was silent for a bit, except for the sound of the ticking clock. The light that was making its way past the cotton fabric of the kitchen curtains was withdrawing, leaving the room that was once bathed in evening sun gold, a dull blue with the fluorescent white light above them.

     "What time is it?" Leroy's mother asked.

     "It's around seven now," he said looking at the clock before looking over at her. He'd only gotten home from work about two hours ago. "Making dinner?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Where's your sister?" his mother asked, and Leroy racked his brain for a bit. "I'm pretty sure she had a home service call. She's doing someone's nails."

     "If you can text her and ask if she'll be home for dinner, I'll know just how much to make," his mother said, getting out of her seat before taking her glass to the sink.

     "Okay," Leroy said, nodding to himself as he fished for his phone in his pocket. He texted his sister and she responded right away, saying she would be back in an hour. He let his mother know, before getting up from the chair and heading to his room. He fidgeted with his phone all the way up the stairs and stared at the message screen between him and Zachary that he'd opened while standing at his door.

     He thought about things for a bit. What his mother had said. How he felt. What he wanted Zachary to know. They had talked sparingly in the last few days, and things were a little awkward, but he wanted to clear the air. It wouldn't be the most romantic way to go about it, but he could barely contain himself.

     Fuck it. He thought, sighing to himself as he typed and sent the following message.

Message to: Zachary.

I love you. I really do.

Wednesday, 7:13 PM.