Chapter Text
Desperately not wanting to be late, Dan arrived at the clinic nearly half an hour too early the following Wednesday morning. He wasn’t going to chicken out. He considered it and even dialled the clinic’s number at least twenty times during the past week. But then he got angry. He wasn’t even sure why, but he fumed and stomped for two days, repeating all the moments when Phil didn’t acknowledge knowing him in his head. And he made up his mind to go back.
He stood outside the locked door for a while until the smiling receptionist from the other day turned on the lights inside and unlocked the door.
“We haven’t expected you this early, darling,” she said briskly and stepped aside.
“Oh, I just–didn’t want to be late. I can wait outside,” Dan said.
“No, no, come in. Phil is already here, he didn’t want to be late either,” Emilia giggled. “You can go right in.”
Dan smiled. “Alright, thanks.”
I want to reconcile the violence in your heart
I want to recognise your beauty is not just a mask
I want to exorcise the demons from your past
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart
There was music and muffled singing coming from Treatment Room 4. Dan chuckled. It was one of Phil’s favourite songs – one they listened to together a lot. He knocked.
“Come in, doll,” Phil called cheerfully from the inside.
“Doll?” Dan said, grinning sheepishly as he walked in.
“Oh, sorry, Daniel! I thought it was Emilia. Didn’t expect you yet,” Phil blurted and turned the music off, blushing but smiling. He was wearing pink scrubs and a black polo shirt today. “But I’m almost ready for you. Did you bring clothes to change into?”
“I did,” Dan said. Truth be told, he went shopping a few days prior. For the first time since he’d started gaining weight. He tried to put on the old shorts and top again, but the idea of Phil seeing him like that sent him spiralling. He bought two pairs of jeans, a pack of underwear, and a few t-shirts. Having clothes that fit comfortably again felt almost good.
“Fantastic,” Phil said, cleaning the treatment table with a disinfectant spray and covering it with a thin sheet of paper he pulled from a thick roll. Then he left the room while Dan changed into his new black shorts and a black sleeveless top, and they both sat down in the armchairs.
“So. How are you feeling today?” Phil prompted. Dan could tell from his expression and the energy in his voice that he had coffee in the back room while he waited.
“W–well, I did that jaw exercise you told me. And I think it’s better.”
“Good, good.” Phil smiled. “What about the rest of your body?”
“Not so good,” Dan admitted. “My hip is killing me; I slept on it last night and–and in the morning I almost couldn’t get up. And everything else hurts, as I told you. I’d say the hip is a strong eight and the rest about six.”
Phil hummed with concern, looking Dan up and down. “Alright. Let’s focus on your muscles today. I’m going to ask you to sit down on my table and let me examine you. I’ll be touching you a lot, so again, you can tell me to stop at any moment if you get uncomfortable or need a break. Are your no-touch zones the same as last week?”
Dan nodded. “Yeah, um, could you–could you also not touch my stomach?” He wanted to add a few more zones, but he hoped that those were off-limits by default because he couldn’t get himself to name them out loud.
“Of course,” Phil nodded. Then he pressed a button on the table to lower it a few inches for Dan to sit down comfortably.
“I’m going to watch your breathing as well while we talk, okay?” Phil said. “Can you take a few breaths for me? Slow, long inhale… good… now hold it… hold… and slowly out. Good. Now do it on your own, please.”
Phil watched Dan’s muscles as he walked around him for a few minutes, not touching.
“Okay, easy now, easy,” he said then, voice low and tone almost intimate. Dan was left panting as if he’d run up the stairs.
“So what I’ve noticed, and we’ll work on that, is that you breathe with your shoulders, so to speak,” Phil said. “That means a lot of extra lifting for your body. It strains your muscles, and it’s a part of the reason why you’re in so much pain. Now I want you to breathe calmly, like you normally would, while I take a closer look at your muscles. I want you to rate the pain from one to ten as I go.”
Dan nodded. “Okay.”
“How long have you been experiencing this pain?” Phil asked as he started touching Dan’s shoulders, searching for tension and knots, and massaging with skill and precision.
“I think… that’s a five… uh, since I was a teenager. But it wasn’t nearly this bad or frequent back then. Six now. Then it got better, then worse, then better again…” Dan shrugged. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. But in the past three years, it got really bad. Still six.”
“I see,” Phil acknowledged, slowly moving his fingers down Dan’s arms, sliding his fingertips and tapping the same spots repeatedly, watching the reaction.
Dan’s breath hitched, and cold shivers ran through his body when Phil’s fingers brushed the jagged, dark pink scars on his right wrist, and he couldn’t help the urge to yank his arm away from Phil.
“I’m sorry,” Phil said. “Do you want a break?”
“No, I’m good,” Dan said quickly. Phil moved his hands to Dan’s ribs and then back, testing Dan’s reactions for different levels of pressure.
“Hmm. Did you feel that? I barely touched you, but your body reacted as if I’d hit you,” he said when Dan finally squirmed away from Phil’s fingers touching his lower back, agitated by the pain and sweating.
“Sorry,” Dan muttered. “That was eight.”
“No, Daniel, I’m not scolding you. I’m telling you that your body is convinced that it’s under attack while it’s not. Look, I’m not a GP, so I can’t formally diagnose you, but what I’m clearly seeing here is central sensitisation. Next week, we can try doing some meditation and calming exercises together. Any idea what could be causing your body to feel this way, aside from stress and anxiety? You mentioned in your questionnaire that you experience intense muscle pain in the mornings. I’m assuming that’s not a mattress issue.”
“Erm, no, I… I… I get nightmares often. It’s always worse after them,” Dan stuttered and noticed something shift in Phil’s expression.
He recognised him.
He acted like he didn’t, but he fucking did. Dan was sure now.
Back when they were together, Dan would sometimes wake up screaming and crying. And Phil would cuddle him and whisper comforting words in his ear. It must’ve been exhausting for him. Dan blinked rapidly to suppress the burning behind his eyes.
“I see,” Phil said softly. “That’s a tough one, Daniel. I’m not qualified in that area, unfortunately, but I can still do a lot on my end.”
Phil mentioned a few meditation and light exercise apps that Dan could start with before the next session, and Dan just nodded, feeling a bit awkward. He remembered how Phil used to tell him what his psychic grandmother had to say about dreams and went out of his way to cheer him up. Now he wasn’t allowed.
“Let’s take a look at your hip, shall we?” Phil said. “How is the pain different here?”
“It’s like, um, a sharp, throbbing pain. Not always, it comes and goes, but when it gets bad, I can’t even walk. It’s like my leg is refusing to cooperate.”
Phil nodded the whole time. “Alright. Can you lie on your good side for me, please?”
It took a few minutes of Phil feeling around Dan’s hip, digging and pressing with his fingers, and having Dan move his leg in different directions before Dan couldn’t take the pain anymore and asked for a break, shivering and breathing shallowly.
Phil stepped away, watching the reactions of Dan’s body, letting him relax for a few moments. “Daniel, if you’re comfortable with that, I’d like to do an ultrasound now. I have a pretty good idea, but I want to be sure. I promise I’ll be gentle from now on.”
“Yeah, okay,” Dan nodded, gulping.
“Okay,” Phil echoed softly and moved one of his machines closer to the table. Then he opened one of the cupboards by the wall and pulled out a white sheet and a small pillow. “Now, I need you to remove your shorts and underwear. You can cover up with this sheet and position the opening over your hip. And please put this pillow between your knees. I’ll step out to give you privacy.”
Phil left the room, and Dan took a steadying breath. He could do this. He unfolded the sheet, seeing that it was more than big enough to cover and completely hide the parts of his body he was newly insecure about.
“Alright,” he whispered to himself, pulled his shorts and underwear to his knees and did everything Phil asked him to do.
“Ready?” Phil called from the other side of the room.
“Yes,” Dan called back, by far the loudest sound he’d made so far. Phil returned, set up the machine, grabbed a few things he needed from a wired basket underneath and walked around the table.
“I’ll be standing just here behind you, if that’s okay,” he said. Dan hummed in agreement and turned his head at the sound of a bottle popping open.
“This will be a little cold,” Phil said and poured some gel over Dan’s hip.
Dan couldn’t help but smirk, remembering how Phil always wriggled and whimpered when Dan didn’t warm the lube sufficiently between his fingers during foreplay, and how he always affectionately called him Princess Phil.
“What’s funny?” Phil asked with a smile, spreading the gel over Dan’s skin with the probe. Dan muttered incoherently, his face turning beet-red.
The screen came to life, and Phil didn’t press for an answer. Dan couldn’t make much sense of the black and white smudges, but Phil watched them with intense focus, slowly moving the probe across Dan’s skin.
“Ah. There it is.” Phil pointed his finger at the screen, pressing the probe against Dan’s hip where it hurt the most. “Do you see this dark spot over here? That’s inflammation. It doesn’t look too bad, fortunately. We should be able to treat it here.”
Phil set the probe down and wiped the gel off with a paper towel.
“Now I’ll put some K-Tape on your hip. Today’s choice is…” Phil opened one of his drawers. “Pink, black, leopard print, or Bluey.”
Dan giggled into his palm. “I’ll take Bluey.”
“Alright,” Phil chuckled, glancing at Dan. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. A bit cold.”
“I’ll let you get dressed in a minute,” Phil said, returning to the table. “So what the tape does is that it lifts your skin away from the inflamed area, just a little, and allows it to heal without too much pressure. It should last for three to five days,” Phil said as he applied the tape and smoothed his palm over it, gentle yet firm enough to make sure it stayed in place.
Dan was secretly glad that his medication made it impossible for him to get an erection because that was the most intimate physical touch he’d had in over a year. He felt the familiar twitch and heat pooling in his lower abdomen, but he knew that nothing more was going to happen. He tried. Fuck, did he try.
“All done,” Phil said. “You can get dressed and turn on your back. I’ll show you an exercise I want you to do at home. And I also want you to try sleeping with a pillow between your knees. And on your good side, of course. We’ll see how it progresses by next week, and then we might do shockwave therapy or a corticosteroid injection.”
“Okay,” Dan said, pulling his shorts and pants back up, not bothering to wait for Phil to leave, and turning with a soft grunt.
“Are you feeling any pain or discomfort?” Phil checked, throwing the sheet into a laundry bin.
“No, no. Just tender. My–my hip.”
Phil nodded. “Okay. Now, please bend your knees. Good, not so close together, and like this, ” he said, and slowly pushed Dan’s feet closer to his butt. He placed a hand on the side of Dan’s knee. “Now I want you to push your knee into my hand, not too hard, just about twenty per cent of your strength. Stop if you feel pain. Good… now hold, hold… and relax. Excellent, Daniel. Let’s try that a few more times. I want you to do this exercise regularly three times a day, plus whenever you feel you need it. Ideally against something solid, like a wall. It will help the pain.”
When Phil was satisfied with Dan’s understanding of the exercise, he offered a hand to pull him back to his feet. Dan accepted.
“Oh, no,” Dan muttered, stumbling forward, but instead of falling over, he found himself in Phil’s arms. He looked up. The older man watched him, caught off guard and concerned.
“What’s wrong?” Phil asked, gripping Dan tightly.
“Nothing. Nothing, just got a little dizzy. Blood pressure,” Dan explained, remembering how Phil always tried to catch him when that happened back in the day and rarely succeeded.
“Okay. Sit down for a bit, then,” Phil said and helped Dan settle down on the treatment table. Dan took a deep breath and stared at the floor. Phil sat down next to him, keeping a respectful distance and smiling gently at the younger man. Silence fell between them, and Dan gripped the edges of the table. His thoughts were all over the place, turning his brain into a beehive.
“What’s wrong, Daniel? You’re tense,” Phil said, his voice low and tender.
Dan gulped, hesitating. “Phil, do you remember me?” he finally said, voice breaking.
“Yes,” Phil whispered thickly. Dan turned his head, finally meeting Phil’s eyes. They were just as deep and blue as they were sixteen years ago… only now they were swimming in tears.
“Can I give you a hug?” Phil asked, blinking rapidly. Dan nodded, his face screwing with emotion. He threw himself at Phil and squeezed him tightly.
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Phil said when he heard Dan barely stifling a sob by his ear and wrapped his arms around him. “Shh, please don’t cry, or I’ll cry.”
Dan took a shuddering breath and pulled away. Phil squeezed his hand and forced a smile.
“Why don’t we, um… pull ourselves together and… meet for lunch? To catch up?” he suggested, clearing his throat to get his voice under control.
Dan nodded, not trusting his own voice at all.
“Alright. I, um, have my next patient in a bit,” Phil said, getting to his feet and taking a deep breath. “I have your phone number on the file, so… I’ll text you, okay? I–I’ll let you change now.”
Dan got dressed slowly, hoping to say a proper goodbye, maybe get another hug, but Phil didn’t come back. Dan walked out of the building as if in a hazy dream. His mind was buzzing, and he felt restless. He couldn’t go home. The silent, empty flat would only upset him. His watch showed nearly 10 AM. What time would Phil go for lunch? He forgot to ask. His first appointment was at 2 PM, but was that something to go by?
He sighed and sat down at a patio table of a nearby café. He wasn’t supposed to have caffeine; his therapist advised strongly against it, but every cell in his body was screaming for it.
Speaking of therapy. How in the fuck was he going to tell that good woman about his reunion with Phil after she talked him out of trying to contact him multiple times in the past?
How. In. The. Fuck.
Dan sipped his coffee, closing his eyes in pleasure for a moment. That was exactly what he needed. Decaf just didn’t hit the same. He fidgeted with his phone for a few minutes, wondering when Phil would text him, and what to tell his therapist, and what he’d talk about at lunch with Phil, and… and… he huffed and unlocked the phone. His breath quickened, and his heart raced as his fingers ran across the screen.
Dan: Hi Annie, can we please skip today?
While he waited for the reply, he did a few breathing exercises. He noticed looks from other people at the patio but tried to ignore them, already regretting the coffee. Yet he took another sip between exercises.
Annie: Are you ok Dan?
Dan: Yeah I’m just really tired and sore after the PT. My head is good enough. I’m thinking about taking a client soon.
Annie: Ok. Take it easy. I’m proud of you for going, big step! Can’t wait to hear all about it. Is next Tuesday at 11 AM good for you?
Dan: Yes thank you
Annie: 👍
Annie: Take care Dan. Call or text if you need to.
Dan finished his coffee and headed home. He tried to walk as far as he could, but his hip started acting up after less than fifteen minutes, so he called an Uber. He kept checking his phone, but there was still no message from Phil.
At home, he changed into his pyjamas and crawled into bed. He didn’t lie – he was exhausted. He pulled his legs up and pressed his knee against the wall, trying to do the exercise Phil taught him, testing his body’s reactions. He felt the muscles work; he noticed exactly where the pain was located, which he had never focused on before, and as he pushed, he thought that it actually worked. He smiled to himself, stretched his leg, then continued the exercise for a few minutes longer. By noon, there was still no message from Phil, and Dan was getting agitated.
Why didn’t Phil give him his number?
Why did Phil rush him out like that?
Was there really another patient, or was he trying to get rid of Dan?
Why would he promise to text him then?
Why would he even want to meet him?
Dan’s heart raced, and his chest tightened. He ran his clammy hands over his face, finding cold sweat there.
“Oh god,” he whispered and scrambled out of bed as his stomach started cramping. He staggered towards the bathroom, clutching the walls. He made it just in time, emptying his stomach the moment he lifted the toilet lid. He coughed and groaned, retching long after there was nothing left. There wasn’t much to begin with – he hadn’t eaten since before he left his flat that morning, and even then, he’d only had tea and two slices of buttered toast. He crossed his arms over the toilet seat and rested his head on them, breathing shallowly and feeling weak.
He must’ve dozed off because suddenly he found himself on the floor, his head hurting from hitting the cold tiles.
“Shit,” he muttered and pulled himself up. He retched again from the nasty taste in his mouth and quickly rinsed it and brushed his teeth.
Back in the bedroom, he checked his phone again. Nothing. It was half past one in the afternoon. By then, Phil must’ve had time to text him, and probably even had his lunch break. For a moment, Dan even considered calling the reception, but… that was just pathetic, wasn’t it? Needy. Childish and clingy. Many people called him all of those things. But Phil liked the way he was back when they were dating. He pampered Dan and went out of his way to make him feel wanted and appreciated. And Dan loved giving back just as much. Only when he was with other men did he realise that the standard he had grown used to with Phil was foreign to most people.
Dan rolled onto his good side and stared at the wall. He told Annie he was considering taking on a new client. He said it to sound more okay. But maybe he was ready? He scoffed at the thought. He just threw up because his ex hadn’t texted him, and then fell asleep on the toilet. Fuck, apparently he couldn't even breathe correctly. He sighed and reached for a small pillow he used when reading in bed, pushing it between his knees. Phil was right – it did make his hip feel better. Took some pressure off. And the tape didn’t strain his skin as much. Phil… he looked so good. The blond hair suited him. So did black, but… there was something whimsical about the blond and the transparent glasses. He always adored Phil’s whimsy…
*
Dan woke up with a start to a ping from his phone. He sat up groggily and reached for it. It was nearly 4 PM.
“Fuck,” he huffed, tossing the phone aside. It was just an offer from the phone company. Still no message or call from Phil. Maybe he had it wrong and his phone number wasn’t in the file? But it had to be – it was one of the things on the questionnaire, and he had to enter it when booking the appointment. Phil must’ve never actually planned to call him in the first place. But why, why, why would he say it?
Dan stared at the window near his bed, watching the sky slowly darken shade by shade. He couldn’t see anything else from that angle, not from the 6th floor. If he was honest, he hated living so high up. At first, it seemed like a great idea. It gave him an extra layer of privacy and put more distance between him and the people outside. But when he was feeling low, that part became the problem. The isolation was messing with his mind.
He glanced at his phone again. Half past five. Even after the nap, he felt exhausted. And hungry. Starving, really. His stomach rumbled loudly, as if scolding him. He was beginning to feel nauseous again.
“Alright, let’s order some food,” he muttered to himself, his thumbs running across the screen. He ordered his usual – a BBQ chicken pizza with olives and sweetcorn, a bottle of Coke, chips, cookies, and four different dips. That ought to cheer him up, right? If nothing else did, chips and dips usually did the trick. While he waited, he forced himself out of bed. His hip hurt, and he tried to stretch the muscles carefully as he shuffled around the bedroom. He tidied a thing or two here and there, with no real plan or goal, just trying to keep himself occupied.
As he moved around, his fingers brushed a tape dispenser on his desk. It was a heavy, sturdy one with a rubber base and a row of triangular metal teeth. He’d had it since Uni, and the cold metal was still perfectly sharp. He ran his thumb over it, pressing lightly as if in a trance. There was no tape in it, hadn’t been in years. He slowly picked it up, calculating. Then he lifted the corner of his t-shirt at the side of his good hip, yanked his sweats lower, and pressed the teeth against his squishy skin. Even with all the weight he’d put on, the metal cut into the flesh with the same sense of satisfaction. The pain he inflicted on his body himself was the only thing he felt in control of. His breath hitched, and his heart fluttered at the first touch. Then he flicked his wrist to the side, hissing and exhaling shakily.
He watched a few beads of blood pool along the cut, sliding down his skin and soaking into the black fabric of his pyjama bottoms. He moved the tape dispenser slightly higher and repeated the motion. And again, and again until he felt the weight crushing his shoulders lift slightly. At least for a little while. He set the dispenser back on the desk and wiped the metal part with a tissue before tending to his own skin. There wasn’t much blood. He was now careful not to cut too deep.
Dan’s stomach rumbled again, cramping so bad it made him bend over and gasp.
“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered.
Three blood-soaked tissues later he was satisfied with the clean-up, fixed his clothes and headed to the kitchen to get ready for dinner as if nothing had happened.
*
Feeling so full he could burst after eating everything he’d ordered, he shuffled back to the bedroom. He felt sick, but he couldn’t help himself. After not eating all day, he kept stuffing food into his mouth as long as there was any on the table. He already regretted it. He started regretting it about halfway through, and by the end, guilt was firmly settled in his chest, squeezing it in an iron grip.
He stood in front of a mirror, pulled his t-shirt up, and let his hand slide down to his stomach, rubbing it roughly, pinching the squishy skin and jiggling it in all directions, pushing it up and watching it fall heavily. Then he pulled the shorts up and pinched his thigh painfully. He felt disgusting. He probably looked pregnant. His fingers crept up his throat and to his lips. Should he? His jaw was on fire after all that chewing, and throwing up always made the pain even worse, but… maybe it was worth making that heavy feeling go away?
But before those thoughts went too far, he noticed his phone screen lighting up in the reflection. He forgot all about his stomach and lunged for the phone.
Unknown number: Hi Dan, it’s Phil. Please call me back when you can.
Dan’s eyes widened. He had two missed calls from a number he didn’t know. It was nearly 8 PM. Why did it take Phil so long to call? Maybe he didn’t care as much as Dan hoped. Maybe he had other plans for lunch and after work. Maybe he realised that seeing Dan was a bad idea and wanted him to find another physiotherapist. Dan took a shaky breath. He didn’t want to hear the truth if it was anything like his thoughts. He didn’t want to hear a rational explanation either, because how could he trust it?
After long minutes of staring at the screen and weighing up all possible options, he set his phone down on the bedside table and switched off the lights.