“None of them are real to me.” He paused again, placing a hand flat against the door. “You are the only real thing in my life.”Radu gasped with the sheer physical pain the words sent through him. But the sound of his agony was covered by that of the door opening. Mehmed reached in and pulled Lada out to him, and then his mouth was on hers and his hands were in her hair and he was holding her so tightly, so tightly, and they stumbled back into Lada’s room and closed the door.Radu tripped forward, feet dragging, until he stood outside the room. He wanted to be inside it. He wanted to be the only real thing to Mehmed, just as Mehmed was the only real thing to him.He wanted—No, please, no.Yes.He wanted Mehmed to look at him the way he had looked at Lada.He wanted Mehmed to kiss him the way he had kissed Lada.He wanted to be Lada.No, he did not. He wanted to be himself, and he wanted Mehmed to love him for being himself. His question, the question of Mehmed, was finally answered, piercing him and leaving him shaking, silent, on the floor.He did not want this answer.”
— Kiersten White