Page 45 of Someone Like You

Ian bit the inside of his cheek. What he was considering was a bad idea. Bad,badidea. He and Phil, alone again… It was thin ice to trample on so carelessly. But despite claiming he was immune to it, Phil looked lonely and Ian was only human: he was learning every day that there was very little he wasn’t willing to do for that kicked puppy look.

“Do you likethai?”

* * *

They could’ve had the food delivered, but Ian proposed a stroll to the restaurant. He needed to move and be somewhere his forbidden daydreams would stay put. Beinghomewith Phil made him want things he couldn’t have.

They walked side by side in the cool breeze of dusk, comfortable with their closeness, even when they swayed into each other.

“How was the gym?” Ian probed. Phil’s uneven gait gave away how tired he was, but his hands were leaning slackly in the pockets of the White Sox jacket, back up straight and proud.

“Good. I mean, I’mwrecked, but…” A little self-conscious laugh. “Feels good. My shrink says post-workout dopamine can do wonders for depression, long term. If I manage to stick to a regular schedule, we’re gonna try to taper the drugs and see how it goes.”

Ian halted in the middle of the pavement. Phil did too, with a couple of steps of delay, and turned back around to check on him. Half of Ian’s mouth was curved up while inside a cocktail of emotions made him lightheaded.

“That’s great news.”

“Isn’t it? After two years of downs, we’re finally seeing an up. It’s not much, but it’s something, right?”

“Not much my arse. What did we say about giving yourself flowers when they’re due?”

“Alright, alright.” Phil broke into a shy, touched grin. “I’ll admit I’m kinda stoked.”

“You better be.” They resumed walking. “Did you tell Abigail?”

An invisible weight set on Phil’s shoulders. “Not yet. Don’t wanna get her hopes up in case I screw up. I’ve already got enough to atone for.”

Ian scoffed. “Like what?”

A blue shadow darkened Phil’s expression. “Never mind, I just…” His eyes shut as a clipped sigh grazed up his throat. “Everything’s so fucked up these days.”

“You just said you’re doin’ better.”

“Yeah.” Phil’s puff of laughter was meek and spiritless. “The two things are related, funnily enough.”

“I’m confused.”

“Oh, me too, believe me. Never been so fucking confused in my life.” Sad hazel eyes locked into Ian’s, knocking the air out of his lungs.

“Want to talk about it?”

Phil inhaled sharply, like a sniffle, but angrier. “If we talk about it, shit gets real.”

A wary glance laden with guilt and a silent apology laid on Ian, who let his gaze fall to the ground with an understanding nod. His heart was pumping faster against his ribs, deafening in his ears. He thought he knew what this was about and Phil was right: if they talked about it, there was no way back.

They got spring rolls to go, which Phil insisted on paying for, and walked back to the flat under a powdery drizzle. The atmosphere was still comfortable as they ate and chatted about the books, but something was off. The easiness was dented, festering at the edges, spoiled by a sentiment that couldn’t stay buried for much longer without blowing up in their faces.

“I think,” said Phil, leaning back in the chair with his hands contentedly splayed over his full belly, “these were the best spring rolls I’ve ever had.”

Ian arched an eyebrow. “You scoffed them down so fast I doubt you even tasted them.” He still had a roll in his dish and pushed it towards Phil, who eyed it hesitantly. Ian retreated his hand. “Take it. I’m full.”

“You’re not full, you just want me to have it.”

“Ach. No foolin’ you, is there?”

Phil scowled at Ian’s devilish smirk, but, instead of arguing, he grabbed the roll and bit a huge chunk off it. “Fuck you,” he mumbled with a full mouth, then washed the morsel down with what was left of his Pepsi. “I’d kill for a beer right now.”

Ian didn’t need to be told twice. He reached back to the fridge and pulled out two cans, placing one in front of Phil and popping the other for himself.

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