I think during the thirty years after The Fight that Cyril and Balthazar don’t speak, Cyril doesn’t cry once. He lets the hatred and the betrayal and the hurt fester until it’s easier just not to think about Balthazar at all anymore.
At least that’s what he tells himself.
The truth is that not a day goes by that he doesn’t think about him. He wonders constantly where Bal is and what he’s doing. As he grows up, he thinks about all the milestones they’re missing out on spending together. He wonders how tall he’s gotten now. He wonders if he still chews bubblegum and if he still listens to Michael Jackson and if his laugh still sounds the same. Sometimes, even years later, he still finds himself reaching for the phone because he was reminded of an inside joke only to remember that Bal won’t be on the other end.
He thinks of him every single time he turns on the TV, so he doesn’t own one.
He tells himself he never thinks about Bal anymore but the truth is that he never stops. And he wonders all the time whether Bal ever thinks about him, too. And then he pushes it back down until the next time he hears a certain song or smells bubblegum or sees the color purple. And he pushes that down, too.
