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It was date night, and Dan was out of clothes.
…That wasn’t exactly true. The truth was that it was date night, and the one black sweater that Dan had planned on pairing with his wide-leg black trousers was conspicuously missing. It wasn’t until that morning that he remembered finding it shrunk from the wash, with the sleeves ending well up his forearms. Too small for him and the perfect size for a normal person, it ended up in the donation box.
Of course, Dan could have been normal about the setback. He could have just planned another outfit. But instead, he embarked on a quest to Harrods to find himself a new sweater. Admittedly, while Dan was not as much of a diva as he could be, he had his moments. He tried on two sweaters in the fitting room, settled on the solid black one – classier and more versatile, just like him – and then he headed to the checkout.
On the way there, he passed the plus-sized aisle of the women’s section and something caught his eye. It was a flowy skirt, black with a layer of… tulle, Dan thought. Maybe. He wasn’t exactly an expert on the topic of fabrics generally used in skirts. On top of the flowy material, there were darker, more opaque flowers of black velvet. It was nice. Pretty. Dan couldn’t help but think about how the last plus sized women’s clothing he’d bought fit him perfectly.
The thing about the nun costume was that it was supposed to be a joke. It really was. He hadn’t meant to look fantastic in it, and he definitely hadn’t meant to feel fantastic in it. When Dan posted pictures of Sister Daniel on Instagram after Halloween, he’d been thankful that it was Halloween. That way, if people threw tomatoes at him and called him a freak, he could laugh, and agree with them, and say that he was never serious about it to begin with.
But that was decidedly not what happened. Instead, people said that he looked good. Half the people who said that he looked good meant that he looked hot. Which was true. The other half meant that he looked happy. That was also true.
This felt different somehow. Buying a Halloween costume was different from buying women’s clothing at an actual store and wearing it like he would wear anything else in his closet. The part of Dan’s mind that was still owned by a terrified fifteen year old boy told him to turn around, keep walking, keep his head down.
The part of Dan’s brain that belonged to him told him to do whatever the hell he wanted. And he knew what he wanted.
So he split the difference and folded the skirt along with his sweater, hiding it from prying eyes. He avoided eye contact with the cashier – who couldn’t have given less of a shit if she tried – fumbled with his card, and speed walked out of the store as soon as he got the chance.
On the way home, Dan tried to just ignore the presence of the skirt in his Harrods bag. He bit his nails and occupied himself by worrying about the weather – was the night clear enough for him and Phil to go on a walk after their date? Was it going to rain while they were waiting for a taxi?
Once he got home, though, every frivolous thing that he tried to distract himself with failed him. He called out for Phil and received no answer. He was alone in the house.
Dan went up to the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Then, he lowered the blinds, which was a reflex from their apartment days, when they were terrified of being watched, but was also a way of stalling what felt like the inevitable.
He laid the skirt out on the bed before he even considered putting it on, half-afraid that it had turned into some hideous, monstrous thing while he wasn’t looking. Like it was going to reach out and bite him in response to his transgressions. But it was still nice. Still pretty.
Dan sighed. “Alright, fifteen year old Dan,” he mumbled aloud, “Enjoy your heart attack.”
He put on the sweater, then the skirt, then some gold jewelry, then a pair of shiny loafers just for good measure. Then, and only then, he looked in the mirror.
Whatever earth-shattering moment he’d been expecting, it didn’t come to pass. He just… looked like himself. And somehow, that was so much more meaningful than any kind of rebirth.
Right as he exhaled for the first time since the department store, the door to the bedroom flew open, knocking the wind right out of him again.
“Are you already dressed?” Phil said casually, too casually, “Didn’t we say 6:00? I still need to take a shower, and… Dan, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Maybe Dan had seen a ghost. He hadn’t turned around when Phil walked in, just stayed with his eyes locked on his own shocked reflection and the familiar sight of Phil moving around behind him. Dan knocked one word free: “Fine.”
He shouldn’t be nervous. This was Phil, his Phil. So much of the self-discovery that he’d done in his life had been with Phil’s encouragement. But this felt different somehow. More fundamental. How could something so natural feel so dramatic at the same time?
Dan knew that Phil liked Sister Daniel. Phil thought Sister Daniel was hot, which again, was objectively correct. But how would Phil feel now that it wasn’t just a costume? Would things be different? Did Dan want things to be different?
Slowly but surely, understanding dawned on Phil’s face. When he spoke, it was gentle and slightly high pitched, the way one might ask a lost child for their name. “Is that a new skirt?”
“Yeah,” said Dan, “Just bought it today.” If Dan’s voice had been working even slightly, he may have added, and then I proceeded to ignore it for two hours like someone had thrown up on it because I’m normal and sane and I understand myself perfectly, the way an adult should.
“It’s nice,” Phil offered. It was almost nothing. It was more than enough.
“I was thinking…” Dan’s throat seized up. He breathed in, and out, and tried again. “Could I wear it out tonight?” He sounded a bit pathetic, asking for permission, but it wasn’t his fault that he felt like he needed it. Wasn’t Phil’s fault either. It was really just the world.
Suddenly, Phil looked strangely, indescribably sad. He came up behind Dan and wrapped his arms around Dan’s waist, playfully pinching the fabric of the skirt between his fingertips. “Do you want to?”
Tears sprung to Dan’s eyes. He blinked them away, and breathed out a simple, “yes.” Now that he wasn’t alone in the mirror, it felt easier to admit.
Phil leaned forward a little bit and planted a kiss on Dan’s cheek. “I think you look beautiful,” he said, “But you don’t need me to feel anything about it. Not really. Because this isn’t about me.”
Dan reached up, pulling one arm out of Phil’s hug to wipe his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Phil spun him around so that they were face to face and finished the job of wiping Dan’s misty eyes. “I mean that if you want to wear a skirt, you should do it. Don’t let anyone stand in your way. Okay?”
“Okay.” Dan nodded. “Okay.”
Phil grinned. “And now you have to sit around like that, because I’m not even slightly ready to leave yet.”
Dan laughed. He could physically feel the relief roaring behind his ribcage. “That is more than fine by me.”