"I need to talk to you."

Tim looked up at me, the light from the television shining in his eyes. Every time I look at this boy, his beauty takes my breath away.

"Okay," he replied with a shrug, his features portraying the innocence that I often debated he had.

Moving around the table beside the sofa, I lifted his feet from the end of the sofa and sat down beside him.

"You didn't get elbowed when you were out at the club," I told him. "I did it, you came home and told me you had kissed someone and I hit you," I went on slowly, trying to gauge his reaction.

Tim avoided my gaze and pulled his feet from my lap, drawing his knees up to his chin. He looked so small and vulnerable and I could feel my insides twist horribly.

"I can't stand that I've betrayed your trust and lied to you, I should have told you straight away. I shouldn't have done it."

A car drove by outside and cast a light through the darkness of the living room, illuminating Tim's pale features for a brief moment. My heart was in my mouth as he half opened his mouth to reply.

"I thought you loved me," he whispered, his eyelids fluttering closed and tears began sliding down his cheeks.

Had I not been sitting down I think I may have collapsed.

It was entirely illogical that emotions and psychological events could cause actual and physical pain but nevertheless I certainly felt pain right at that moment.

"I do," I stammered. "So much, you have to know that," I responded, incredulous. He sat quietly for a few moments. I could see his mind evaluating things in the way he so often did when he was trying to make a story.

He looked up at me suddenly from beneath his lashes, something coy and out of context. It caught me off guard.

"It's okay, I forgive you," he said breathily, a smile playing across his lips.

"You do," I asked, confused by the situation.

"Of course," he smiled delicately at me. "I love you."

Reaching across the sofa then, he clambered into my lap and nuzzled into my neck, his hands stroking at the soft fabric of my jumper.

I smoothed my fingers through his soft and shiny hair, bewildered but grateful.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me Tim Cornish, you really are," I whispered in his ear as I squeezed him tighter to me.

He gave a soft sigh.

"You're the type of bad boy my mother warned me about," he laughed.

"Your mother warned you about boys," I asked a little sarcastically.

"It was a joke, Ivo," he replied, rolling his eyes from where I couldn't see.

We sat there for a while in a thoughtful silence.

"When you told me how you'd missed kissing women, I panicked," I confessed. "It's one of my worst fears; that you'll finally come to your sense and realise that I'm too old for you, or too dull, or that you are really straight and run away from me. I've had nightmares about it," I told him.

When he looked up at me, I gasped. I'd forgotten just how mesmerising his eyes are that close. The deep purple around his eye made me feel ill.

He frowned.

"But I don't miss it, that's what I was telling you."

"What do you mean?"

"I was saying how disgusting it is when you get covered in lipstick and your hand gets caught in their hair, it was weird because I forgot what it was like until then and I hated it because it wasn't you," he replied softly.

"She came up to me in the club and started dancing with me, after she kissed me I left and got a taxi."

My stomach dropped about six feet.

I tried to think back to that night, attempting to remember if he had been taunting me in the way I had first thought. Was he lying to me now to try and make himself sound better? He seemed genuinely upset.

"Oh my god, Tim," I cradled him in my arms and began to sob. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

He placed his arms around my neck and hugged me.

"It's okay," he laughed. "Ivo, it's okay. Let's just forget about it," he smiled at me and gave me a soft kiss on the lips.

I nodded, determined that from that very second on I would create nothing but happiness in Tim's life. He moved from my lap to turn the TV off and removed his t-shirt and trousers, motioning for me to do the same.

Confused, I followed suit and he lay back down on the sofa with me, pulling the blanket strewn over the back of it over the two of us and lifting his book from the table. Opening it at the right chapter he handed it over to me and snuggled into my chest, expecting me to read to him as always.

I smoothed my hand over his skinny form and kissed the top of his head.

"The rainy night had ushered in a misty morning, half frost, half drizzle," I began. "and temporary brooks crossed our path, gurgling from the uplands. My feet were thoroughly wetted."

Tim brought his hand up to trace his fingers along my own hand that held the book. I paused for a moment.

"I love you Ivo," he said dreamily in a hushed voiced so as not to break the beauty of the moment. I went on.

"I was cross and low, exactly the humour suited for making the most of these disagreeable things."

"Mmm," he sighed and snuggled closer.

"We entered the farm-house by the kitchen way, to ascertain whether Mr. Heathcliff were really absent: because I put slight faith in his own affirmation."

I read until I felt him fall asleep beside me, his beautiful face relaxed and peaceful. I kissed him on the forehead and untangled myself from his sleepy grasp. Wrapping him up in the blanket I carried him to the bedroom and laid him down. He squirmed and fidgeted but I persevered until he was tucked into bed and snoring softly.

Crouching down beside him I kissed him gently.

"I love you so much my sweet prince."

I smoothed the hair back from his forehead before closing the door softly and heading to my office to get some work done. I needed time to think.