He sighed deeply after looking for one last time at the photographs he had taken with his camera and then lied with his dirty clothes on his bed exhausted and numb; his feet still touching the floor as he didn't have the strength to remove his shoes.

            He thought that today was a good day. There were many spirits in the cemetery he had visited for his photo shooting (by now he had figured that that was what the abnormal lights in his photos were) and each time he saw those lights, he felt like he was getting closer to reaching his goal: to find a way to communicate with them, and to search for his mother among all those lights. Agathocles had gotten so attached and obsessed to that idea, that he no longer remembered the things he wanted to tell his mother when he found her. After all, it had been three years since the car accident that led to his mother’s death and Agathocles had not, for a single moment, thought of letting his mother go. He knew that she was somewhere near him, roaming in their house although he didn't have the correct timing to snap a picture of her - or perhaps his house's strong lighting was to blame - but he also felt like she was keeping him company while being outside the house as well - perhaps protecting him from all the stupid things he did - and not for a single moment did he think that his mother had moved on.

            He knew that he hadn't. And he thought that his mother wouldn't simply abandon them like that.

            Agathocles had been extremely grateful when he had met Filotimos, his current classmate and best friend, upon entering a public school of trades & vocations, which he had chosen with the excuse of desiring to study artistic photography - although yes, that had been one reason for it; that had been the secondary reason. Neither his father nor his younger brother could ever know about the primary reason he wanted to study photography; but Filotimos could. Filotimos had a much longer experience in chasing spirits, although he had never considered doing it with a camera. Filotimos could completely understand Agathocles's desire to communicate with his mother and had never questioned it or said it was impossible. Agathocles learned along the way that Filotimos had lost his mother when giving birth to him (and something about his father being a terrible man; although Filotimos had never hinted at it, Agathocles could somehow tell) but Filotimos never seemed interested in trying to find his mother among all those spirits that roam the Earth. 'It must be because he never got to know her' was Agathocles's first thought about it, and he had never given it a second thought since. After all, Agathocles wasn't the kind of person to pry into other people's lives and although Filotimos was a chatterbox, he was difficult to open up (about things other than his ghost-hunting obsession), so they both understood each other's limits and would never push past that.

            However, there were certain moments when the two of them were alone together, when it felt like they were sharing much more than they should without uttering a single word. A gaze that lingered more than necessary, a touch on the shoulder that was unneeded, a look of content that seemed to hide more than genuine friendship... Those moments when Agathocles felt like his heart was about to break out of his chest and literally die, were the moments when he wanted to run away and hide and never speak to Filotimos again.

            There were too many things to consider but Agathocles was certain of one thing: he wasn’t scared of love. He really didn’t like that word. He was just being cautious. He didn't want to ruin their friendship (although Filotimos seemed more than willing to accept his touch) and he didn't want to trouble his father with his questioning sexuality (although he was certain that his father would accept him the way he was) and he just didn't want to change his Facebook status from “Single” to “In a Relationship” (was that still a thing?)...

            Agathocles just didn't want to open up. He was content with how he was, and how his relationship with his friends were, and how his goal to communicate with his mother had somehow sucked the social life out of him... After all, he didn't need to socialize more than he already did (as he had in the past, only to be abandoned when he needed his friends the most).

            Agathocles was actually quite proud of himself. He was a very unique person. He had a musical talent (he played electric guitar and even writing his own songs), he was artistic by nature (his artistic photographs were truly beautiful and as both of his parents had been architects, he could say that his talents were hereditary) and he was even running and cycling on a daily basis (the fact that he had started these hobbies in order to forget about the physical absence of his mother was something that no one needed to know). And Agathocles was good at running. He may have been trying to run away from his problems, but goddammit, he was good at it!

            Yes, he was proud of himself. He appeared to be composed and balanced - and a part of him was. The physical aspect of him was almost perfect. His creative skills were truly great for a sixteen year old guy like himself. He was also good with words, avoiding confrontations and he had a great relationship with everyone. He was likable by everyone, and he loved being a pleasant company for others. Despite him being proud of himself and trying a bit harder than necessary to achieve some kind of physical greatness, Agathocles had never been conceited. He might have had, at times, caught himself trying to better himself just so that he could look better in front of others, but he didn't really care about being better than others. He just wanted to fit in. He hated being an outcast. He knew that he often had odd ideas and he had been ridiculed many times in the past because of them (that was when he treated everyone he met like they were family) so now he was more cautious about the things he shared and the face he showed to others.

            But he didn’t need to be cautious while being with Filotimos. Filotimos could truly understand his passion about spirits and would never ridicule him for his desires and odd ideas. He was a person to whom Agathocles could talk freely and deeply just about anything and everything, philosophies about the afterlife, the reason of existence, art, music, movies, theater, the past and the present, the future and whatever may come with it - every little thing that existed in his mind, Agathocles could now express freely without any qualms and regrets - and Filotimos would always give his full attention to him and truly try to understand, or contrast if needed, Agathocles's thoughts and ideas.

            And at a belated moment, Agathocles realized that his defenses were off. His guard was down. And before he knew it, his emotions started acting up. His charisma with words was gone when talking to him, stuttering and biting his tongue; his physical 'greatness' was lost when meeting with him, sweaty palms and eye tics were something he had never even considered before. He was off. He was neither his true self, nor his composed social one. He had become something else. He had become something he was trying to run away from.

            He had become vulnerable.

            He had become weak and he hated it, he absolutely hated it. He had become what he had seen his mother became while talking to his father. He had become what he had seen his father became while burying his mother.

            He didn't want that. But he wasn't sure for how much longer he could resist.