Cecilio Rossi tended to Franklin for six weeks. For six weeks, they never had sex nor so much as touched each other besides the casual comforting gestures and occasional forehead and hand kisses, only spending nights talking and talking.
Despite this, he had immediately become Cecilio's favorite customer. He looked forward to his visit every two or three days.
There is just so much melancholy inside this man that he felt like a gardener nipping at the weeds that had grown around. He picked them one at a time, enjoying the sense of satisfaction of being able to slowly get rid of them so the pretty flower could bloom.
"I just believe I can never amount to anything besides what I have now... The glory of my mother and father is too great to surpass." He would sigh, while leaning his head on his shoulder. "And all these people looking up to me.... Not knowing that such stares felt like they would turn into knives and pitchforks any moment, once I did something not to their liking."
