Chapter Text
"There's nothing wrong with being gay!"
Those words rang in my ears like I stood too close to the church bell on a Sunday morning. But the cereal rolling off the table guided by the spilled milk and the smell of burning coffee reminded all of my senses that I was here. I was in my kitchen - our kitchen - arguing with my flatmate for a reason that I'm sure neither of us could put our finger on yet we continued to yell anyway. My eyes narrowed in on his once the shock of his words released my spine. I was responding without thinking, words knotting themselves to form a confession that my heart did not consent to.
"It's not just that, Phil! You don't get it! There is a graveyard inside of my body and I am haunted by its ghosts. My mind feels like a war zone and I am hung by the invisible noose around my neck that tightens and pulls me back every time I wander too far out of the dark... The dark always drags me back to my bed. You say I never leave my bedroom? Because I don't leave my bedroom because I can't leave my bedroom! It's not just my safe haven, Phil, it's my casket! And its wall are made out of voices telling me I am worthless. I am stupid. I am ugly. I am nothing! And some days when I have the courage to look in the mirror I find flowers trying to grow at the back of my throat and I want to get them out because how could something beautiful come from something so sick? I try every night, after every meal - I - no matter how far back I reach in my throat I can't get it out! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, Phil, I know - I know I messed up..."
I didn't realize Phil had grabbed ahold of me nor did I realize how violently I was shaking. My body racked with sobs, my face red and splotchy and wet. My throat was aching from my screaming that I could hardly bring myself to speak now.
"I'm so damn lonely, Philip." My voice a trembling whisper. "And I'm so scared."
"Dan, you don't have to be alone. I won't let you and I won't leave you," Phil spoke in a voice that was firm yet calming. "As for all those ghosts in your head, they better make room because my love for you is not afraid of anything. If you're not ready, if you're too scared, if you just want someone to be here or someone to guide you I am right here." His voice grew softer into a whisper; his thumbs brushing away my tears as he cupped my face. "I've always been right here."
My eyes searched his, though I don't know what I was looking for. Maybe for a hint of doubt, a glimpse of his strength and conviction wavering but there was none. In the sea of colors looking back at me, all I found was certainty. I placed my hands over his, closing my eyes for a moment before meeting his gaze again. Almost hypnotically he drew my face closer to his, meeting me half way. His lips brushed against mine and I gasped. I inhaled because suddenly I was lightheaded and the anxiety that shook me before was replaced with a nervousness that I haven't felt since I stepped off the train in Manchester almost 8 years ago.