You're not gay, right?

What happens in the past, stays in the past.

One last time. I want to say goodbye, one last time. Then, I'm starting new somewhere else. It pains me to be around certain areas with unwanted memories clinging to me. I need something fresh to help me cope. I open the door to the outdoor park, I am welcomed by the brisk cold air that my body was just getting rid of when I entered the building. The warm thick air is being pushed to the back as I walk on out. I quickly grab my scarf to brush it against my mouth. I squint my eyes when a strong wind comes in contact with my face. 

I start to walk down the path, my feet leading me without my assistance. The crushing of snow is the only thing I hear. Feelings of nostalgia bombard my body and mind almost stopping me from my slow pace. I feel the need to turn around, but I am quickly reminded why I am here. 

'I need closure.'

My feet start to move again but this time with a slightly quicker rythm. I find myself imagining the days I was out here with you. How we would run around the trees with happy smiles and giggling voices. The passing people watching us with curiosity and amusement. I can never forget the genuine fulfillment I had running through me when I was with you. 

I felt so complete with you. 

A tall figure stands in the spot that leaves me with an aching sadness. I try not to fixate on it, but my eyes don't leave that spot. Even when the figure turns around and slowly walks up to me. I keep my eyes on the ground that you last put your feet on. 

"I had a feeling I would see you here." A deep voice breaks my gaze. My eyes adjust to a man who looks to be in his mid-forties smiling at me with such kind eyes. They remind me of your eyes, in-fact this man reminds me a lot of you, you both look the same. 

"Are you....."

"Leo spoke a lot about you." My eyes trail down to an item that he's been holding. The sounds of rattling and sliding come from within when he starts to move it around. It's a small shoe box, one that would have kids shoes residing in it. On the side of the box in bright pink letters, it spelled out 'The best son ever, Leo' 

A smile comes to my face. 

"I wish I could say the same thing."

His smile grows. "Yeah, Leo....was very conservative. I guess I'm to blame. Um...my wife was cleaning his room out today." He starts to clear his throat in a quick manner. "Um-she-um....sorry."

"It's fine." I squeeze my hands into fists inside my pockets. I watch him look up at the sky as the constant attempts of him holding in his cries weren't working. He sucks in a deep breath, letting it come out slowly. He places his teary eyes on me. 

"He made some things for you and um....he wrote you something uh- that I felt like I shouldn't read...um it-uh looked personal." 

He stretches out his arms, indicating for me to grab the box. For a few seconds, all I can do is look at it, confused. 

Why did he leave me such a thing? I don't want it. I want you, Leo. 

My hands come out of my pockets in a slow haste, as if they did not want to touch the last thing you had touched. I can see them shaking vigorously in front of me. 

'It's just a box.'

His father meets me in the middle, placing the box onto my palms. He brings one hand onto my shoulder and gives me a nice tight squeeze. 

"Thank you for loving my son." 

He doesn't say anything else. He leaves me alone with the box and his words. Does his father know what happened between me and Leo? How much does he know? When did Leo tell him?