Page 20 of Someone Like You

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On Tuesday morning Phil was up before sunrise to escort Abby to her cab to the airport.

“I want pictures every day,” she demanded with a hand on the door and one on Phil’s cheek. “And I expect to see some mud on that bike when I come back.”

“Promise.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself if it doesn’t work out right away, okay? We’re here to take iteasy.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Text when you arrive.”

Abby stamped a kiss on Phil’s beard. “See you on Sunday.”

Phil stood there in his robe and pyjamas, watching the cab drive away with a strange melancholy creeping under his skin. Abby had enough faith in him to leave him alone, unsupervised for days… He couldn’t disappoint her. Dragging himself back inside, anxiety started mounting in his chest. He sensed the beginning of an incoming panic attack when it was just a hint of dizziness and a slightly faster pulse; he reached the kitchen with a swimming head, poured himself some water, and took small sips between deep breaths, which he sucked in through the nose and slowly released from his mouth. The attack tailed off. Phil gradually regained control of himself and the space around him slid back into focus.

He was hungry, but just putting a bowl of cereal together sounded like climbing a mountain at the moment, so he decided to do what Doctor Raji had recommended he did when he felt overwhelmed: find a small task and reward himself once he completed it. The small task he chose was changing into proper clothes, which he managed to fulfil despite the extra challenge of climbing up the stairs. His reward was collapsing on the couch tothinkabout taking the bike for a ride around the neighbourhood, maybe as far asLa Dolce Vita, and make the most out of the day, but when the night came all he had achieved was emptying the dishwasher and finally making himself that bowl of cereal for dinner after skipping breakfast and lunch. Functioning was hard without the moral obligation to meet someone’s expectations.

He was careful not to miss any steps of his nighttime routine before going to bed, as neglecting just one out of laziness would make him lose track of all the others. Like a robot, he washed his face, slapped some moisturiser on, brushed his teeth, folded his clothes, and got his pyjamas from under the pillow. It felt like everything that had happened between stripping them off in the morning and slipping them back on that night had been so irrelevant he might as well have stayed in bed.

He met his own gaze in the window, tired and dejected, and reprimanded himself for indulging in such dangerous thoughts.

It was still lurking, the apathy that had transformed him into a breathing corpse for months, sucking all the will to live from his soul. He couldn’t fall back into it, not after all the hard work he’d put into scrubbing it off himself like sticky grime. A wise man had told him ‘You chose to fight’and that had reminded Phil of the unimaginable strength he’d managed to summon to get himself through his darkest days. He couldn’t succumb to the demons in his head again.

Hewouldn’t.

He had the most wonderful fianceé, his runs with Ian, and life was finally starting to taste likesomethingagain. He had too much to lose: fucking up wasn’t an option.

When he climbed into bed, he felt even more tense than usual. He rolled to the other side and closed his eyes, bracing for another sleepless night, but the next thing he knew he was in a park at dusk, and Ian was there, fixing the wiring of a lamplight while humming a song to himself. Shirtless. Dream Phil was reading out instructions to him from a sheet and Ian kept saying‘I don’t care about that shit, Ifollow my gut!’and Dream Phil insisted rules existed to be followed, while Conscious Phil couldn’t understand the meaning of any of it.

‘Forget about this shit.’Ian pried the sheet out of Dream Phil’s hands, balled it up, and threw it away in the shapeless darkness.‘Do things your own way, ye feartie!’

And they were close —dangerouslyclose. And Dream Phil was intoxicated by the heat radiating off Ian’s half naked body, his now empty hands yearning to reach out and…

A stab of sunlight blinded him.

Phil groaned, shielding his eyes. It took him a second to be fully awake, his mind still fogged by sleep. He’ddreamed. He couldn’t remember what, but still. He hadn’t been able to remember any of his dreams in a while. He’d also got a decent sleep, apparently.

Odd.

Awesome, but odd.

Yawning, he pushed himself up, threw the blankets aside, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and froze.

He washard.

His nails dug into the mattress as he glanced down at his crotch with his jaw hanging open. He hadn’t had a full hard-on in overa year.

His heart jumped in his throat. Shock mingled with elation in the blood pumping faster and faster through his veins. He knew this had to do with the dream, because he could still feel the arousal it had left behind, but his memory was blank, offering nothing more than vague impressions he couldn’t piece together: a park, darkness… A piece of paper? And heat. A heat that had triggered a desperatewantinside him.

A jolt of electricity coursed across his body, pooling rightthere.

He chuckled, amazed. It was the closest to arousal he’d experienced in ages, and it feltgood.

There was nothing left of the sullen man who’d gone to bed the night before when he stepped into the shower. The morning wood was gone by the time he got out, but the elation didn’t subside.

He’d just wrapped himself into a towel when the bell rang. Trotting downstairs, he cursed Abby and her skincare addiction: they were getting more deliveries than a mail office. He didn’t even check before opening, used to meeting the same delivery guy every time, but it wasn’t Boyd from Evri.

“Took you long enough,” said Ian’s gruff voice.

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