1.
(your promises, they look like lies)

The beginning of May was a wonderful period when Josh enjoyed his life more then ever before. He had nearly lost what was the most important to him, yet he'd managed to get it back. Alain's illness - and everything it had brought about - made him understand once again how fragile his happiness was. It shook him so much he had trouble believing the crisis was really over. As long as he'd focused on acting... on moving forward - towards Alain's recovery - he wouldn't let any doubt bother him. However, when Alain did really return home, safe and sound, his all inner strength seemed to dry up. After that first evening of passion, Josh waked up in the middle of the night in the dark bedroom to frantically search for Alain's hand, frightened it had all been just a dream. His relief upon finding that Alain was really there, right beside him, was so strong he burst out crying - as if it was only now that the tension of the last weeks got to him. He couldn't even explain that spell to Alain since speaking was beyond his abilities, but Alain probably understood it anyway, for he gathered him into his arms and held like that until Josh calmed down. All of that was embarrassing on one hand, very sweet on the other, and... Well, he had to admit that in the last few years he'd become pretty much over-sensitive. Not that it bothered him; surely there were much worse things in a human life.

In any case, Alain was here again - at home, in his life, with him. And everything was just like it had been before. They could spend time together, could make up for that difficult time that was already past them. They would go out quite a lot and enjoy the spring - their first spring together, not counting that one in high school. Alain got a new tan - the one from their February trip had already vanished during his illness - and cut his hair. He contacted his employer to inform him he was still on a sick-leave but should soon return to work. As for Josh's duties... he'd rather not think about his studies, especially that he had only one exam left, some time in the next week; he'd already passed the developmental psychology, and with flying colours. He focused on being with Alain; everything else receded into the background, as it used to.

Two appointments with Dr Sellier proceeded without complications. To tell the truth, it was with some reluctance that Alain headed for Saint-Maurice Hospital - he probably feared he would be kept there again - but Josh didn't even assume they didn't show up. He had taken Alain's illness to heart and wanted to make sure that treatment was concluded according to the plan, and besides he believed that one should meet their obligations. The doctor was obviously contended with Alain's condition, that Josh described as perfectly normal, and him complying with her instructions, that was pharmacology. Josh assured her that Alain took the medication as prescribed - he gave it to him personally, just in case. The symptoms didn't recur, and on Monday Dr Sellier announced that Alain fully recovered from psychosis and could discontinue his medication in one month. She thanked them for their co-operation and wished all the best as well as hoped they would never meet again, at least not in hospital surrounding. Josh hoped for that, too, although - looking around the ward, he'd already acquainted himself with - he mused whether the clinical psychology wasn't worth some thought. He could at least try... have some residency or training... and he really liked this place. That was, as much as one could like a psychiatric ward anyway.

During the Friday meeting, they would talk more about Alain's diagnosis. Well, it was already established; however, the doctor wanted to cast light on some background issues. In the end, Alain wasn't diagnosed with a paranoid personality disorder, but the doctor pointed at something she described at dissociative traits. Josh had never heard about it and wasn't sure whether he understood the concept after the doctor's explanation either, even with the personality psychology course already completed. Generally speaking, even though a person had just one psyche, in some people - mostly owing to traumatic experience - a disturbance in functioning of its parts could occur. The most extreme form, the doctor continued, was what many used to call 'a split personality', when a person thought, and was somewhat - but only somewhat - right that there were two or more people inside him, each of them behaving in a different way. However, there were numerous dissociative disorders and they could appear with various intensity, but their common trait in almost every case was more or less severe amnesia.

At that point Josh already knew what was coming - and one glance at Alain's face told him he wasn't the only one. The doctor said that dissociative traits, too, could make a person susceptible to psychosis and that the best way to avoid it was to correct them with psychotherapy. She hypothesized that in Alain's case the main problem was his childhood adversities, that had never been worked out and as long as they didn't - and the mechanisms binding his psyche weren't strengthened - there was a risk both of another psychosis and untypical, seemingly unexplained changes in his behaviour. On the other hand, she added in a more gentle manner, stable life conditions, healthy lifestyle, and little stress acted as protective factors, which shouldn't be forgotten. That was all she had to say, but they could elaborate the topic on Monday if Alain felt like doing so. Alain didn't, and when they left her office commented instead, "Now she really made a complete nut of me," but his voice was somewhat downbeat.

Lost in thought, Josh only nodded, deciding that he wanted to know more about that dissociation... but, by the time they got home, he already forgot about it, for it was reality with Alain that occupied him much more than any hypothetical reflection upon his lover's psyche.

Actually, it was the case with everything else, too. He didn't pay even one visit to Mrs Bonnet in hospital; he was reminded of her existence only when one day he saw her across the street, apparently recovered. He was glad, but at the same time remorseful that he hadn't spared her a single thought during last week. It was the same with Pierre Roland; he hadn't talked with the journalist, even though the man had helped him so much. He simply didn't keep those people in mind. His life revolved around Alain, and Alain filled his whole sight and obscured every other person. It was always like that... and would probably always be; he used to think about it without emotion, really. He was aware that such a way of thinking wasn't good - Mr Ageais would always notice that - but for him it was the most natural thing in the world.

Speaking of neighbours... To tell the truth, he was glad not to meet any of them. Well, maybe it was really some avoidance on his part; subconsciously, he was afraid to be told that Alain and he should get out of here and never show their faces again. It was a completely irrational fear; if they were really requested to leave here, it would happen through the administration or the owner... so it could be that Josh was actually anxious to meet the neighbours, was afraid of their questions and curious looks... He supposed they wouldn't settle for a dry information that Alain had been in hospital, especially that they knew - 'half of the tenement' knew - what kind of treatment was in question, and that was not something Josh wanted or planned to talk about, for it was Alain's business and no-one else's. After a few days, however, he came to the conclusion that maybe it wasn't him avoiding the neighbours only the opposite - but it could be his overly sensitive intuition, too; apparently, he couldn't believe that the whole event didn't affect other occupants at all. But if the others really chose to stay away from them, it was nothing he help. He could only hope that the situation be back at normal, sooner or later. And it was his only worry in those days of almost perfect happiness.

It was mid-May already. On Friday, Josh returned home from his last exam, trying to believe that he finally had holidays. True, there was still the practice coming in June, but it didn't really count. On the other hand... the whole May so far was more like holidays, so there was hardly any difference; nevertheless... he didn't need to study, at last, and it was a splendid feeling! He hoped he'd passed this exam of today, too... He'd solved every question, although some of his answers were miserably short. Last night, he'd stayed until very late - he hadn't felt like getting to the books earlier - but the exam had started no sooner than ten o'clock, so he hadn't been entirely unconscious during it. And now it was all over!

As he climbed the stairs - actually the positive energy filling him urged him to jump - he wondered how they could celebrate the beginning of his holidays... that was, except for their normal way. Well, for example, he could cook something good... something he hadn't cooked before... No, it was probably mutually exclusive, and besides he didn't trust his skills on this matter. He was under the impression he'd forgotten everything that Mrs Bonnet had taught him, which wasn't much anyway... Then, maybe they should go out? The evenings were even longer and warmer, and it walk by the Seine or in the park was a pleasure... But they'd been going out all the time, recently, so it wouldn't really make any difference... Reaching the fourth floor, Josh decided that apparently he lacked imagination, for he couldn't really think about anything. But it was also true that he simply felt good in Alain's presence; the scenery was of less importance.

"I'm back!" he called, shutting the door behind him.

He was answered by silence. He looked around; Alain wasn't there. He must have gone out for shopping or something. Now that he'd recovered, he no longer had any problems with spending time outside, which made Josh really happy and was only sensible during such a fine weather. Alain was still on sick-leave; Dr Sellier's note was due end of May; if it wasn't enough, he should procure a new one from his general practitioner later. Personally, Alain felt he didn't need any sick-leave at all - he felt completely normal - but Josh had said that of course they would follow the doctor's instruction. He'd explained Alain that a psychosis wasn't a flu and that he should take his time to get himself back to his full functioning. Alain's gaze had clearly indicated he'd known what had been behind that Josh's concern, but he hadn't objected.

Actually, Alain really might have not needed that sick-leave; he had no symptoms and suffered no side effects of medication (that might be countless; having read the long list of them on the package leaflet, Josh had started to have doubts about the safety of pharmacotherapy in general... and then had remembered it was exactly the same case with the antibiotic last March, which had reassured him a bit). He only slept like a log every night with hardly anything able to wake him. Well, it had improved after adjusting the dose. Nevertheless, the doctor must have known what to do, and thinking this way Josh tried to deaden his feeling of guilt because of using the situation to satisfy his own ends. At least now, in May, he wanted to spend as much time with Alain as possible. And when he started his practice, Alain could go back to work. Now that he thought about it, he came to the conclusion he was a terrible egoist.

He poured himself some water in the kitchen, for jumping up to the fourth floor and the heat outside had made him quite thirsty. However, he barely managed to drink up when he heard knocking on the door. He raised his eyebrows, putting the empty glass on the table top. Who could it be? Alain had his own key, and no guests were coming... Yet, in such mood - summer! holidays! - he felt like conquering the world and didn't fear even Jehovah's witnesses, so he no longer thought about it only opened the door.

He saw neither Jehovah's witnesses nor tradesmen, only Mrs Bonnet, with whom he hadn't talked for - he counted quickly - nearly three weeks. He noticed that the old lady didn't look well: she'd lost some weight, seemed to have shrunk. Apparently, the illness and hospitalization had taken their toll on her; she wasn't a young person.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Bonnet!" he called cheerfully, though, realizing he was really glad to see her. His earlier reflection on the neighbours sank into oblivion. "What can I do for you? Please, come inside," he invited her; then, as she clearly hesitated, reached out to her.

She stared at him with some surprise. As if involuntarily, she stretched her hand and then stopped half-way. Josh took her by her elbow and gently yet firmly guided onto the couch. No, she definitely didn't seem well; there was some anxiety in her eyes, and she was breathing heavily. What disturbed him the most was her expression; he couldn't quite remember having seen her without a smile.

"Mrs Bonnet, are you all right?" he asked; then, never waiting for the reply, offered her a glass of water. "Drink it, please," he said with concern, giving her uncertain look, and sat next to her.

Her hand was shaking when she put the glass up to her lips; she took maybe two sips. Josh was glad it was still not too hot in the flat; the sun had only started to come inside the room, and the windows were closed. But could it even affect her condition? He doubted it.

"Did anything happen, Mrs Bonnet?" he asked when she still wouldn't say anything. "You shouldn't have climbed up here. Even I can tell you have yet to get your strength back... Or do you need me for something? Please, tell me, I'll help you as much as I can..."

She opened her mouth, but only a whisper came out. He had to lean over to understand her words. "I had to come here... Mr Alain..." she uttered, and Josh felt a sudden pang of terror in his chest. "Mr Alain... stopped by today... before noon..."

He squeezed her hands. "Has anything happened to Alain?" he asked, staring her in the eye; he sounded calm, but his heart was already racing.

"He... said he had to leave..." the older woman replied with difficulty, and Josh's heart stopped. "He left... and said you shouldn't... look for him..." She gasped for air.

Josh shivered. "Mrs Bonnet... Mrs Bonnet, what do you mean?" he asked in despair.

"He said... he had to leave," the neighbour repeated in a breaking voice, and the next moment her face contorted, her eyes rolled back in her head, and the woman slumped onto the coach.

Josh was sitting petrified, trying to control himself. His thoughts - like always in such situations - scattered all over, and he was only aware that his heart was painfully thumping in his chest, his head was humming, and his mind was frantically trying to flee from comprehending and making any conclusions... making any decisions. The next moment he snapped out of it and focused his gaze on the motionless figure in front of him. Mrs Bonnet required immediate help; this one thing was clear.

He jumped up to his feet, dashed into the staircase and hammered on the door to Francis' flat. When he wasn't answered in three seconds, he started to bang on the next door, the Bernards'. It opened right away, and when he explained the situation, stuttering and faltering, the neighbours called for ambulance. The lady - a retired nurse, it appeared - used his help to lay Mrs Bonnet down on the couch, but everything in her stance indicated there was hurry. Her husband got down in order to guide the medical staff. The ambulance came after a few minutes, but it seemed like the eternity. Josh was standing in the middle of the room, wrenching his fingers and wondering whether he was the only one having such an unreal impression. He stared at one woman taking care of the other, unconscious, on his couch... and then at the group of people wearing uniforms of health service entering his flat and swiftly undertaking emergency treatment... and felt as if he wasn't here at all... as if he was watching some film that had nothing to do with himself. Mrs Bonnet was put on the stretcher and took to the ambulance; at the same time one member of the unit wrote down information that Josh could give, although it seemed to him it was someone else talking - someone who was much more shocked and distressed by this situation.

The medical staff had long disappeared, Mrs Bernard went back, too, but Josh's hands were still shaking. He was sitting by the table, trying to calm down, but in vain. His mind seemed to be covered in a wool... as if the whole external world had ceased existing and only he was left, along with what was inside him. His heart, beating too fast. His lungs, that couldn't get enough air. His muscles, so tense he couldn't overcome the tremble. His insides, that got twisted into a tight knot. And his head, that didn't feel like working - detached from everything. He knew that state, as he knew that pain he didn't want to acknowledge, didn't want to accept - for he would fall to pieces. It always happened when...

He pressed both his hands to his face but couldn't contain the sob. He didn't want it... he didn't want to cry like a child... but this pain was stronger. That horrible feeling of loneliness, disappointment, abandonment... Being abandoned was the worst, it seemed to burn a hole in his chest and paralyse. He shrank in the chair, trying to hold back tears. For a split second, he wasn't even sure why he felt like crying.

Some voice in his head attempted to comfort him, saying that Mrs Bonnet was ill, had collapsed, that he shouldn't believe her, shouldn't take her words seriously, that it was some misunderstanding, some funny situation that would be cleared up in no time... but the rest of him, all his self clung to those words he had been told - and to their truth. To their reality. He had known right away it was true.

Why?

What happened?

His head ached, it was hard to concentrate... If he could find the answer to these two questions, maybe he would be able to understand... Why? What happened?

Alain had left.

His lips quivered again; he bit them hard, almost making them bleed. He couldn't self-pity. Not now. Not yet. It wouldn't do... and there were more important things. Yes. He must not jump to the worst option. There were surely another reasons, some explanation... He had to make his mind operate. Staying like this, a bundle of emotions, wouldn't help - even if he really wanted to shiver, sob, shout, give in to that feeling of loneliness and fear... sink into despair and surrender to belief that thinking would only worse his state and was pointless... He clenched his fingers on the fabric of his shirt so that they turned white, and force himself to open his eyes, then fix it on one spot on the carpet, until he was here and now again, not swirling in some dark emptiness... until he could form thoughts again, although each of them made him feel another pang in his heart.

Why? Was Alain discontented with anything? Had Josh said or done something wrong? Was being together no longer good for him? Or maybe he had a relapse? But no, yesterday Alain had acted normally... as had today morning, too. And he'd been taking the medication as ordered. Had anything happened in the time of Josh's exam? Had he received some sudden news?

Although it cost him incredibly much strength, Josh rose from the chair and went to the bedroom in order to look inside the wardrobe. Everything was in place... as if Alain had left just like that. That meant he'd been in hurry. Maybe something really had happened... to his mother, perhaps...

Josh clenched his fists. Even if it was the case, why hadn't he left any message? Well, he had: with Mrs Bonnet. But what kind of message was that? It didn't explain anything... He pulled his hand to his chest again. 'He said he had to leave... He said you shouldn't look for him.' Not one word about what had happened, about any accident, about any urgent matter. Not one word about... about coming back. About making a contact. About anything.

Josh bit his lips again, then approached the window and looked out, although he really couldn't see a thing - neither the yard, nor the doves, nor the sun. The next moment he ran down the stairs and to the phone box on the square. His hands shaking, he inserted the coins and dialled a number. He could barely hear the tone over the buzzing in his ears... one, two, three... and then suddenly engaged. Alain wasn't picking up...! He didn't want to pick up. Josh clenched his teeth and dialled again.

"The chosen number is unavailable..."

He shut his eyes tight and was standing with the receiver in his hand, trying to calm down his pounding heart, but to no avail. He felt like the most wretched person in the universe.

Alain didn't want to talk with him... Maybe he couldn't, maybe it was the bad time, yet... He'd turned off the phone. He had decided against talking with Josh. It was as if his heart had just been pierced with something long and sharp. It didn't matter that Alain couldn't know who'd called him; only that he hadn't answered mattered.

Finally, Josh lifted his eyelids, although he didn't really felt like watching the world - and his eyes caught the sticker next to the keyboard. Directory enquiries. He punched out the combination almost involuntarily...

"Directory inquiries, how can I help you?" he heard a nice female voice.

"I..." he started and gulped. "I'd like to know a certain person's phone number. Is it possible?"

"That's why we're here, Sir," the operator replied merrily. "If you could give me that person's full name along with their address..."

"Corail. Lilian Corail. But I don't know her address," he said in a low voice. "I only know she lives in Esperanto..."

"Let's see... Esperanto isn't that big. And Corail isn't a common name, either... You say Lilian Corail? I have the number." Josh's heart, that had been racing for a longer while now, leapt. "Do you have something to write it down, Sir?"

Josh looked around frantically and was relieved to see a pencil stub tucked between the phone and the shelf. "I do, please tell me."

He wrote the number on the board - just like many desperate men before him - then thanked and rang off. He didn't give himself time to think only dialled it right away. His heart wasn't slowing down.

"Corail," he heard the voice he'd never wanted hear again.

"Mrs Corail... It's Joshua Or... I don't know if you remember me, we talked on the phone the other day..." he stuttered.

"Who? Ah, Alain's self-proclaimed friend. What is it about?" she said impatiently, and suddenly Josh didn't know what it was he wanted to ask.

He clenched his both hands on the receiver and gulped. "Mrs Corail... Did... did anything happen? Alain disappeared, out of the blue and without a word, and... I worry about him. I thought that maybe something happened... in his family... and that's why he'd suddenly left and-" He paused. He felt like a total idiot, and he probably sounded like one.

"Nothing happened. I've no idea what are you talking about," Mrs Corail replied dryly.

"And you... are you all right, Madame? Everything is fine?" Josh asked unintentionally.

"Am iI/i all right? Now that's some impudence on your part, don't you think?" she bridled. "We don't even know each other..."

Josh cowered. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean..." he uttered. What had got into him to expose himself to her anger? She was perfectly right, he didn't know her... only had spoken with her once... and yet he didn't want to enrage her. Not today.

"Everything's fine with me," she replied unexpectedly. "As for that good-for-nothing son of mine, you shouldn't worry about him. He has nine lives. He's just known for running away whenever something's not to his liking. I'll never forget that he'd run away from his own wedding... But well, it was a good thing, wasn't it? He only would've ruined that girl's life. I'd like to see a woman who'd stay with him. And you know what...? You should keep away from him, too, for your own good," she said surprisingly. "But now it's too late for such advices, I think," she added with irony. "Apparently, he-"

Josh hung up with a bang... He didn't want to hear more! It was all the same whether Mrs Corail would be mad at him or not... the conversation only worsened his mood. Why ever had he called her? Well, at least he'd learned that there was no family matter responsible for Alain's sudden departure... but what did it give him? Nothing. All the worse, what Mrs Corail had said about Alain running away whenever something was not to his liking... His chest ached again. He swallowed and brushed his hair from his forehead. No, he wasn't going to think about that - although he felt he was sinking deeper and deeper in despair.

He took a deep breath. No, first he had... he had to learn the truth. He had to know what had happened... even if some voice in his head told him it was all too late. Think, Joshua, think... There was surely more, only Mrs Bonnet hadn't manage to tell him everything. Yes, that was probably so. And maybe... A sudden idea made his heart jump. Maybe Alain had left a message? Maybe it was somewhere, maybe it had fallen down, and that was why he hadn't noticed...? And he hadn't even looked for it, to begin with. Yes, first he needed to get home and have a good look... It seemed his energy was replenished when he headed back to rue Keller and ran up the stairs to search on the tables and the chest of drawers, in the wardrobes and the cupboards, under the bed and the couch...

Only to find nothing. No note, no the smallest strip of paper. Not in the kitchen, not in the living-room, not in the bedroom. Not on any door, not on any wall, not on the floor. There was no information, and there was no Alain. There was Alain's favourite coffee mug, and Alain's jacket in the hall he used to put on during colder days. His other pairs of shoes were placed under the rack. In the bathroom were his towel and toothbrush. Everything was there - except for Alain. As if he'd popped out, as if he were to come back any moment...

'He said you shouldn't look for him.'

Josh suppressed another crying spell that was already clenching his throat. It was as if Alain had suddenly gone out of his life... without taking anything with him, without caring about what he'd left behind, for it no longer mattered to him.

He put his hand from his mouth. Mrs Bonnet... she must have known more. He had to have her tell him. He had to speak with her. There must have been something in addition to what he'd been told. He would visit her in the hospital and ask... The medical unit informed where they'd planned to take her; it was the same facility she'd been admitted to earlier... and Josh hadn't paid her even a single visit...

Focused on his goal, he reached his destination and made his way to the room the older lady occupied, according to the reception staff. There, however, he saw a group of people, and guessed they were the family members... The middle-aged couple must have been Mrs Bonnet's daughter and her husband... And those two girls were probably no other than granddaughter Anne and her girlfriend. His sudden determination left him; however, as he was hesitating in the doorway, he was spotted by one of the girls. Her questioning look made the man and the woman turn back and look at him.

"I'm sorry, I came to visit..." he explained, abashed. "I didn't want to disturb you, I'm a neighbour..."

"Is it you who called the ambulance, Mister?" the woman asked, rising from the chair and wiping her tears. "I'm Sophie Moulin," she said, stretching her hand. "I'm so grateful. If not for you, my mother would-" She covered her mouth with a handkerchief again. "I'm sorry," she uttered. "Thank you so much. Please, come in."

Josh had no choice; leaving now wouldn't do. He exchanged greetings with the other people - and thus he also got to know Anne, the black-haired scrag with a lip piercing, and Fleur, a blond beauty with very blue and very sharp eyes. When he introduced himself, the girls exchanged meaningful looks, and Fleur gave him a subtle smile, so he guessed he'd been as familiar to them as they were to him.

Mrs Bonnet was lying still on the bed, her face very pale. She had a drip in her right arm; on her other side was a monitor emitting constant beeps. A nurse would check on her every few minutes.

"Her condition is very serious," Mrs Moulin said quietly. "She has yet to regain consciousness. And she didn't even manage to recover from the fists stroke, too..." Her husband touched her arm to comfort her. "She never complained, we didn't know she was ill..."

Suddenly, Josh felt really bad. He was under the impression that even greater load weighed on him - and if it had been mostly the burning pain filling him so far, now it seemed to him there was freezing cold spreading in his chest. He hadn't thought it could be worse than that - yet it was. How much of that would he bear...?

"It's my fault," he whispered dully, fixing his eyes on the floor. "In our house... in my flat... there were bad things happening recently. It must have shocked Mrs Bonnet a lot, she's been enjoying living there... and yet we, new occupants... That first time when she fell ill... she saw my... she saw one of the neighbours being assaulted... The police came... and... that was a very violent incident." He gulped. "And today... today something must have made her remember that... and she became very upset... and that's why she... That's my fault...!" he repeated and slumped on a vacant chair, burying his face in his hands.

He had no strength left; he wanted to disappear for good, vanish from this world for ever... so that he didn't need to feel so despicable... This moment, he didn't believe he would ever experience anything good again.

"But... what are you saying?" Mrs Moulin's words reached him over the humming in his head.

"A cerebral stroke isn't something to get just from being upset," a clear, resonant voice was to be heard. "Of course, a sudden increase in blood pressure can trigger off the attack of the disease, but it will never occur in a previously healthy person."

"Listen to her," he heard Mrs Moulin again. "Our Fleur is finishing her medical studies... she knows what she says. Please, don't reproach yourself, it's... It wouldn't do. The situation is sad enough."

"I don't think Grandma would lay the blame on you," now it was Anne speaking, and there was some caution to her voice. "She would be even less happy to see you accusing yourself like that. She often talks about you... It seems you're her favourite neighbour."

Josh, however, felt that, no matter what they said, it wouldn't ease his conscience. Actually, it was even worse now: 'favourite neighbour' shouldn't bring down such misery on people... If he wanted to be precise, the main culprit was Alain... but it didn't change the fact that Josh was involved, too... and with Alain absent... he felt responsible... And it hurt so much.

He got up and wiped his face with his sleeve; then he gave unconscious Mrs Bonnet one more look. "I'm sorry," he said, although saying something like that seemed a great misunderstanding. He was apologizing for what had happened, for his coming here, for his outburst - only that apologizing couldn't change a thing.

His gaze downcast, he left the room. He had nothing to do here; he might as well leave those people with their sorrow. It wasn't until he got down the stairs that he realized he hadn't learned anything... and his mood grew even worse. When he was in the main hall he felt someone's hand on his shoulder. He turned around to stare in Fleur's clear eyes.

"Please, wait a minute, I'd like to speak with you..." she said, standing next to him. He realized she was as tall as he. "It is you who explained to grandma... I mean, Mrs Amelia... how it was with me and Anne, isn't it? Well, maybe not 'explained', only helped her understand...?"

Josh nodded, although it was the last thing he might think about now. He was too tired, he just wanted to leave here... "It's what she wanted from the beginning. It only took her a while," he replied.

"Anne and I, we are very grateful. You really helped us a lot," she said, giving him a kind look. "Please, tell me, what can we do for you?"

Josh averted his eyes. He didn't feel like having this conversation, but the girl - actually, a women older than he - wouldn't give up. "I can tell you have some trouble..." she added.

He decided her self-confidence was incredible. He thought involuntarily that it must have originated from her looks. She was tall, with that mane of fair hair and unusually blue eyes. It could be she was used to have things always go according to her will. And now, in addition, she was in love, was loved back and was accepted in a relationship.

"I'd like to do something to help you," she insisted.

"No-one can help me," he replied more harshly he'd intended to. "Sorry," he added in a lower voice and looked down, for there was too much understanding and compassion in her eyes he could bear right now.

He turned back to leave. He was fed up with her; she was the last person he wanted to hang with. Her happiness, that made her nearly perfect, hurt him too much.

"In any case, thank you. Please, let us know if we can be of any use," her voice reached him, but he could hardly hear it.

He had no idea how he'd managed to get home - he hadn't boarded the wrong train, hadn't missed his change and hadn't got off too early or too late - but when he was already inside, when the door had shut behind him, he thought he didn't really want to be here... in this empty flat that all life had vanished from. But where could he go? There was no other place for him... and every other was as good - as bad - as here. He fell on the bed and covered his face with one arm. Everything seemed so pointless... He tried to once more gather all facts, find some solution, some explanation - but everything just swirled around one thought.

Alain had left.

Pain was so strong it stopped his breath and brought tears to his eyes.

How could that be possible? Only a few hours ago, in the morning... everything had been fine. Or maybe it was Josh who'd thought everything to be fine? He realized something that not so long would simply be impossible: now he could be deceived so easily. Before, he'd used to be vigilant, to always know the situation, and to look out for his benefit. No-one could beat him; no-one could trick him. But nowadays... he used to be blind to anything as long as he was happy. Such was the reality. With Alain by his side, he didn't care about anything, wasn't bothered by anything. Maybe Alain... had taken advantage of it? Maybe he'd just faked that intimacy, that love, that happiness - in order to deceive him and disappear without a word? Josh wouldn't have noticed... hadn't noticed until it had happened.

Yet, he just couldn't believe that. Anyone else could act that way - but not Alain. Alain would vanish exactly like this, without any tricks, without intentional cruelty, without rows, without anything, if something was not 'to his liking'. Josh pressed his eyelids tight, as much as he could. In the end, Mrs Corail knew Alain better, even though during the last year... and many years of high school they would only occasionally talk on the phone. But she was his mother; she'd given birth to him and brought him up, had been learning him right from the start... And Josh had known him only one year.

Why? What it was that he hadn't liked about Josh? And even if something really wasn't to his liking, why hadn't he said anything? Why hadn't asked about anything? Hadn't suggested anything? Hadn't trusted? Why it was that there was still no trust between them? Why it was that Alain still didn't know he could tell Josh absolutely anything? They had been doing those things together, for God's sake! Alain should realize that Josh was all his and accepted him, Alain, in the whole. Then why...?

Did he really not want him any more?

If so, then the promises like 'I will never let go of you' didn't matter. If you stopped loving someone... then you could as well forget all about it. Then it was no use asking and explaining, suggesting or demanding - then there was really nothing left. One could go out of one life and enter another.

'He said you shouldn't look for him.'

Josh pressed his face into the pillow and swallowed bitter tears.

His happiness had lasted one year. One year of happiness in twenty years of his life. Surely, some people probably didn't even have that... but this time it couldn't console him.

Josh lay like that for a very long time, until it turned dark. Sleep wouldn't come; maybe it was driven away by the realization that after he waked up in the morning, tomorrow... Alain still wouldn't be there, wouldn't be back... The new day couldn't bring any change, any comfort, any relief... It wasn't a problem he could sleep through; when he waked up, it would still be as difficult and painful as it was now. He couldn't believe like children do: that the bad dream would end and everything would be just fine.

He was afraid of that morning to come.

30 Seconds To Mars, "Attack"