Haphephobia: the fear of being touched.
Blake, a second-year Psychology student, hadn't ever heard of such a phobia, until the day he was hired as a guide for Dean, the heir of a rich family.
Even though Dean had the appearance and behaviour of a ge...
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That was it. The day had arrived, it was here. And Dean felt like throwing up. He wasn't ready, he couldn't do it. He had barely eaten anything for dinner the night before and, that morning, he had to force himself to swallow some toast so he could take his medication. He had even almost passed a red sign on the way to the university because he was too busy repeating his presentation to himself.
Dean leaned back on the driver's seat, feeling his heartbeat on the back of his throat.
He should have listened to his mother at the beginning of the year and request the status of a special needs student, but he had refused since he was sure his grandfather wouldn't have liked it if he found out. According to the requirements on the university's website, he might have been accepted. Or perhaps not. He had tried to speak with his professor and the only thing it had accomplished was being accused of attempting to use his family name to his advantage.
The balloon of pressure inside his chest inflated with every thought, every pessimistic sentence that sounded in his mind, every image of a class full of people, looking at him, judging every little thing he did and said.
His body jerked upright, straightening his back with a violent inhale and his hand reached inside his pocket. He squeezed the keychain and looked outside through the window, searching for something he could focus on. There was a flock of birds passing by so he counted them, then he tried to decipher the partly-faded flier glued to a pool, followed by the abstract-looking graffiti scribbled under it. And it went on like that, keeping his brain as busy as possible with anything in reach until he saw Blake approaching the car, backpack dangling from one shoulder.
Before he could lock himself in the car for the duration of that class, Dean grabbed his things and forced himself out.
- You're early.
- I couldn't sleep and if I waited at home I don't know if I'd come. – he turned to Blake after locking the car. – How did you know I was here already?
Blake smiled. – Lucky guess.
Dean nodded, not because there was something to agree to but because his throat was too closed up to say anything. Blake noticed and his smile turned sweeter.
- It'll be okay. – he stepped towards him but didn't reach out to touch him, he just stood close enough to lock their eyes that way only Blake could. – You know that stuff by heart.
