His flat was full of things that held some sentimental value—and they’d traveled with him across the ocean and to this new place he planned to call home. But it was only sitting there with Emilio watching the sun set behind the trees that he realized he’d never let anywhere actually feel like home. He’d worked, he’d studied, he’d socialized. He ate, he drank, he fucked. He was spiritual, and he was all-too human, and he was so, so bloody lost.
