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They were lying in Phil’s bed, facing each other, fully clothed with only a single dim lamp providing a light. There was a chill in the late fall air as the world tucked itself in with the promise of the coming winter. Dan had his eyes closed, and even closed, his eyes were beautiful. His lashes, so long and dark, gently fanned in such a pretty way. Phil’s own eyes danced over Dan’s face, mentally connecting the freckles on his cheek, making up a new constellation. Was there a cat in the sky? Maybe. He remembered reading there used to be one. Well, the stars still had to be up there. Phil wanted to touch them, touch him. And so, he did.
Dan startled, and Phil drew his hand back. “Sorry.”
“No. It’s ok,” Dan said, wriggling into the bedding a bit more with a soft shuffling sound. He took Phil’s hand and put it back on his cheek. Like Phil was just another part of the comfortable surrounding, like the duvet and the sheets.
Phil touched him, ghosting the pads of his fingertips over his soft skin, that high part above his cheekbone where only a fine apricot fuzz grew. He wanted to draw the sky cat. Brushed his fingers over the freckles. They didn’t feel like anything, but Phil liked them. Liked Dan. Liked his hand on his skin. He laid it flat, warm and relaxed. With his hand spread, he could cover most of them. Under his palm, Dan’s cheek dimpled. “What are you doing?”
“Touching your freckles.”
Dan opened his eyes slowly. And oh, if his eyes were pretty closed, they were a treasure when open. Mocha-colored, with a dash of honey. Or caramel.
Dan blinked. “I can pretty much with one-hundred percent assuredness say that no one has ever touched my freckles. On purpose.”
“On purpose,” Phil repeated, and drew a finger in a line down Dan’s face. “Not by accident.” He stroked his cheek a few more times, then settled his hand onto the bed between them.
“Can I touch yours?” Dan asked, his dark eyes not wavering from Phil.
“Sure!” The word said a bit too quickly, his voice a little too loud, a little too intense in the otherwise quite dimness of the bedroom. Phil gulped, shut his eyes, and rolled onto his back, crossing his arms, mummy-like, over his chest. At times like these, when the edges of him seemed a bit too odd, his only route forward was to press on through.
But Dan. Dan didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t care. Didn’t care in a way that felt comforting. In the darkness now, Phil heard the rustle of fabric again as Dan moved closer. He felt Dan’s knees press against his side, and he jumped just a little when he felt a touch to his face. He tried to picture what Dan was doing, and his brain wasn’t providing him with much help, so he cracked an eyelid open and peeked.
Dan’s face was very close.
“You don’t have much for freckles actually,” he said, stroking a thumb over the one Phil knew he had right above the corner of his mouth.
“No you’re right. Not actually on my face. On my arms and my shoulders sometimes.”
Dan touched his face, running his fingers up along his jawline. He seemed to be concentrating. Phil swallowed and let him continue. Dan brushed the hair at his temples back, following his hairline up to his fringe and very carefully, meticulously, pushing it back.
“Just checking your forehead,” Dan said. He leaned in a bit, and the mattress creaked. Phil honestly wanted to grab him. Wanted to pounce. Wanted to… he closed his eyes tightly again. Dan stroked his hair and it felt so good. Maybe if he didn’t say anything, then time would stop and he could just lay here and continue to feel this good. He’d take it. He really would.
There was a feeling in the air then, like a compression of the barometer. It made Phil’s ears ring and he wasn’t quite sure why. Then, he felt the softest lips he’d ever felt press briefly to his forehead. He hugged himself tighter, feeling like he might shake to pieces if he wasn’t careful. Dan’s voice came so close it was if it were in his own head.
“Found one.”
Phil smiled. Then he laughed once, swallowed. He felt Dan smooth his fringe carefully back into place and flop back onto the bed. Phil reached over and turned off the lamp, sinking the room into the darkness so that he could open his eyes and pretend they were still closed. He felt for Dan and squeezed his arm. “Are we going to fall asleep now?”
“Probably. We have to get up in a few hours don’t we?”
“I don’t want to. I want to stay here forever.”
After a long pause, Dan whispered, “me too”.