He wanted to tell him how much he loved him, but it was too late. He had already packed his bags and was toying with his keychain, trying to get the keys to the house out so that he could leave them right where he first found them: all tied with a purple ribbon on the small table at the entrance where they used to throw unwanted mail, mobile phones, loose coins as soon as they arrived home. He wanted to tell him how much he loved him right from the moment he moved in, and now he was about to set off forever, to a foreign land. Chances were they would never meet again. Fine, they would keep in touch over Facebook, or any other online trick they could find; but then, their friendship would cool down, he would meet new people wherever it was that he was going, and one day he would catch himself sitting at his office desk in his colorless cubicle, checking his inbox folder every five minutes and there would be absolutely nothing. Worst thing was that he would forget about him; best case scenario, he would recall he once had a friend he shared a flat with, but would not be able to tell the color of his eyes, nor describe his smile. Worst thing was that it meant absolutely nothing to him, just another necessary step in life. He would never know. And all those feelings, all that energy, so much effort put into it would go to waste. Unspoken words would be swept away by the morning breeze. There would be one more secret lost to the world. It would turn into a dark, black, shadow that would hunt him forever, coming back at him unexpectedly at his dying bed. Long before that.