????? & ??????? ???????????

ANDY'S POV
I closed the book, placing it on the bedside table immediately after. I was reading "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time," and, to be honest, it was one of those books that I had always avoided because they did not inspire me enough to be bought and then read.

The book wasn't mine, it was from Rye, he had lent it to me because he thought it was a book I would have liked and in fact he was right.

Before leaving the room, I checked that everything was in place, in the exact order in which I had placed the furniture and everything else. I hated when things were moved and when it was done without my control it was even more difficult for me to manage.

A sudden stench of cigarette smoke penetrated my nostrils insistently, making my throat burn. A few seconds and I started coughing. I hated smoking, the stench made me anxious, I began to sweat and, automatically, to try to stay calm, my hands began to rub each other compulsively. When I was little I screamed, I started screaming as soon as I realized I was in a situation where, to stop everything, screaming was the solution.

"W-what the-w-what -are you doing?" I looked slightly at the kitchen door, being careful not to cross that invisible line that separated me from the corridor to the kitchen.

"I'm smoking," he replied, taking a puff of smoke inside, letting it burn inside him for a few seconds and then throwing it back out.

"N-you-can't- s-"

"Why not?" he did not give me time to say anything that with three steps he approached me, the anxiety was sending me completely out of myself. "Do you want to?"

"N-no"

"There is always a first time"

"Please"

"I don't understand what you have against smoking..." he knew, he knew perfectly well what I had against smoking. Not only did I dislike the smell, bad for a person's health and passive smoking even worse, but it was what I suffered from that had resulted in a hatred for all types of smoke.

"Where is everybody?" I asked the moment I realized the house was incredibly quiet.

"They have gone out"

"It's impossible"

"Instead it's just like that"

"Why did you do that?"

"I wanted to be alone with my boyfriend"

"Sonny, we could have gone for a ride outside"

"Today we have been together for three months"

"I know" I swallowed a mixture of thick saliva and tense air. My heart was beating fast, there was too much information all together and I couldn't process everything. I felt like a computer on tilt.

"I think" he put out his cigarette under the water, throwing the butt into the trash, "it's time to" he approached me dangerously, and I took a step behind not wanting to touch him, I backed away until I hit the wall. I was trapped between the wall and his body, I couldn't breathe, I was sweating as if I had just been running for hours, my heart was beating in my chest with the same speed of light, my breathing was labored. "Have sex"

"N- no"

"No?"

"P- p-please, d-don't d-do"

"We've been together for three months!"

"P -please"

The idea of ​​being touched by someone other than him terrified me. The fear of being touched, even just a brush, was a symptom of my syndrome and I had no idea what to do and how to change.