Get Out Your Damn Umbrellas

Chapter 10

The apartment was still and silent. All of the lamps were on, casting light against the dark window. Phil always made sure to leave them on during the new nightly routine of taking a short walk with Dan before bed. They couldn't go outside, obviously, and so Phil led him from room to room, up the stairs to gaming room and down the stairs to the laundry room. Phil hoped this brief bit of exercise would help Dan get to sleep a little easier. Plus, lately it was the only time Dan would allow Phil to hold his hand.

They circled back to Dan's room, and Phil gave the boy's hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. Dan walked inside alone and sat on the edge of the bed while Phil hovered near the doorway.

Phil cleared his throat and said, "I washed the sheets earlier, so they still should be warm from the dryer."

Dan murmured a small, "Thanks," and crawled under the covers. He used to wear only boxers in bed, but now he never changed out of the black sweatpants and oversized gray t-shirt that he wore all day. That is, he never changed in front of Phil.

Not daring to step any closer without permission, Phil leaned against the doorpost. "If you want, I could stay with you," he said quietly. "Just until you fall asleep."

Even under the blankets, Phil could see Dan's arms move to wrap themselves protectively around his stomach. "That's okay," Dan said in a tense, high-pitched voice, "I'll be fine. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Phil whispered back, his heart stuck in his throat.

Please don't be scared of me.

Phil set about the task of turning all the lights off in the apartment, though he left a lamp on in the living room where the air mattress still lay in the middle of the floor. He'd covered the plastic, air-filled cushion with enough pillows and blankets to build a fort, but that didn't make it any easier for him to get used to sleeping alone. Phil stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Then after admitting defeat, he sat up and grabbed the box of tissues sitting on the coffee table so that he could do the one thing that would help his brain shut off.

To Phil's knowledge, there was absolutely nothing sexy about masturbating for medical reasons. Sure, it releases endorphins and helps lower the heart rate, but Phil wasn't really in the mood. He couldn't bring himself to indulge in any fantasies, not when the only person he wanted to fantasize about flinched at the slightest touch. Instead, he tried to keep his mind blank while his hand did all the work. After a few minutes of applying friction and stimulating thousands of nerve endings to send a signal to the hypothalamus so that it would release some feel-good chemicals, it was over.

Phil grabbed a Kleenex and cleaned himself off. Then he rolled over onto his side and hugged the nearest pillow to his chest as the endorphins faded away. It was painfully obvious that what Phil really missed, more than anything physical, was emotional intimacy, so much so that he found his muddled mind drifting back to when he and Dan first met.

The anticipation Phil experienced every time he stood waiting at the train station for Dan to arrive was overwhelming. In the latter part of 2009, Dan braved the four-hour train to the north to come see him basically every other weekend. Phil wished that he didn't live so far away. Texts and calls and talking on Skype made the distance somewhat bearable, but as soon as they came face to face again and Phil saw Dan's wide brown eyes light up, he felt as if his feet had left the ground.

Phil's parents were usually out of town whenever Dan came to visit, and so they had the whole house to themselves. It was like they were newlyweds on a honeymoon even though they'd only just met. They stayed up late, had breakfast in the afternoon, played video games and watched movies, spent hours cuddling on the couch or in bed, and just enjoyed their own little world.