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ANDY'S POV
I was born in a beautiful family, my dad was always willing to help me and mom, every night they told me stories before going to sleep. My mom was the most beautiful and kind woman I've ever met, I don't say this just because she was my mother, I say it because it's the reality.
Unfortunately, however, sooner or later everything ends. My dad lost his job and started drinking every night, I don't remember a day he wasn't drunk.

When I was 16, my mom had a tumor discovered. The world has collapsed on me, the fear of losing the person I loved most in the world was assailing me. My dad had been gone for three months already, I tried to track him down but he seemed to have disappeared into thin air. I dropped out of school and got a job in a restaurant, I had to do cleaning, do the dishes, clear the table etc... the pay wasn't the best so I got another job in a cinema. I worked ten hours with an hour off and finally another three hours of work in the cinema. I also tried to sell everything we didn't use at home, in short, I did everything to earn some money. My mom's treatment was very expensive and then the medicines and all the rest of common use followed.
It was difficult, but for her I would have done even more if it was necessary.
Unfortunately she died after a year fighting that monster, I used the last money that was left to have her buried in a grave, but unfortunately it wasn't enough for the funeral. It was just me that day.
The pain was so much that I could not speak, eat, I just wanted to sleep to try to dream and live happy moments, but I couldn't do that either. The work contract had expired and they didn't want to renew it because they needed a parent's signature, and they knew my family's situation well, so they would never believe any of my attempts to fake anything.
I lived in that house as much as I could, selling the furniture I didn't use to pay bills and buy food below cost.

Now I'm 21, I'm alone in the world, I'm only 20, sometimes 30, pounds that men who want to fuck me pay me. I no longer know what it means to "love", for the simple reason that nobody loves me anymore.
Many people who see me on the streets, make fun of me or laugh because I am a guy who goes around with a woman's bag. The reality is that they don't know this bag belonged to my mom, it's one of the few things I have left of her. I had to abandon a lot of things in that house. In my bag I keep some of her dresses still with her scent, a photo of us and that's it.

At the moment I'm walking down the street to visit my mom at the cemetery, I do it every night when I see that there are no more "customers". It takes me an hour to reach the cemetery and the buses have finished their races. My thoughts are interrupted the moment I find myself on the ground.

"Sorry, sorry I didn't want to, I was lost in thought" the person holds out his hand to help me get up and I find myself face to face with the most beautiful boy I've ever seen. Brown hair with the tuft that tends to the right, clean face and eyes that remind me a lot the honey

"Don't worry" we're still staring into each other's eyes and I feel I can do it forever

"Nice to meet you, Rye" he holds out his hand to me and I look at it a little suspiciously, for years no one has been treating me as if I were a person

"Hi, Andy" I shake his hand and his contact makes me feel good, I don't know exactly how to explain it
RYAN'S POV
Wow, I've seen a lot of beautiful guys, but as beautiful as him, never! His eyes aren't just blue, they're ocean-colored, and that's different for me. These eyes say more than you imagine. His hair is dyed blonde, but his natural color is covering almost all of the dye. His lips give me the idea of being very soft and smooth. The clothes he wears are dirty and have some holes, but that doesn't take away from the fact that he's a beautiful guy.

I honestly do not want it to end here, I want to see him again, there is something in me that tells me not to let him go.

"Where are you going?"

ANDY'S POV
"Where are you going?" he asks out of the blue. I don't know what to answer. They have always taught me not to trust strangers, but I feel that he is not just a stranger, there is something more, I still don't know what but I will find out

"At the cemetery" his expression changes considerably, his smile has disappeared and I can see that the questions he is asking are many

"I can accompany you if you want" his smile appears on his face for the second time. It's the most beautiful smile I've ever seen, perhaps even the only one, after my mother died.

I decide to trust and accept it. Let's get into his car.

The cold outside is replaced by the warm inside the car. He puts the navigator because he doesn't remember the way. He talks to me about him and his life. It's different from mine, but it's still difficult. His dad doesn't accept that he is bisexual and therefore he had to leave home because he could not bear the situation. I too decided to tell him a little about myself, it's not something I usually do, but this time I feel I can trust him. This guy makes me feel weird.

We have just arrived at the cemetery and I immediately head to his tombstone as Rye follows me.
I sit cross-legged on the cold ground and look at her photo trying to hold back the tears.

"She was a beautiful woman" he sits next to me in the same position. He takes off his jacket and puts it on my shoulders, I didn't even notice that I was trembling "He looks a lot like you" I look at him and his eyes are on me, a smile makes room on his lips and a spontaneous a smile is born on my lips

"Why do you behave so well with me?" I didn't want to ruin the moment, but this question continues to whirl in my head and I can't give myself peace. I've been treated like trash for four years and seeing the way he behaves towards me makes me strange, despite the fact that it is the correct behavior to have towards other people

"What do you mean?" I see the confusion taking shape in his face and it's understandable

"Since my mom died I have had to earn money by selling my body to men who treat me as if I were a cigarette: they use me for their pleasure and then they throw me to the ground. Why are you different? " it's the real truth, many times they hurt me, others stole the money I earned from getting fucked by men who passed from the red light streets.

Without even noticing the tears wet my cheeks, he wipes them with his thumb and hugs me holding me tightly to him. His arms, his warmth, his scent, his simple touch instantly make me feel good. Why?