If only I could love you

Chapter 14

(warning: strong homophobic slur and domestic violence here)

On the journey over to the boxing club, Dan ran through every possible scenario in his head. They all ended with Phil beating him up, or them not being friends. Anxiety began to close in when he exited the park and saw the club ahead of him. He sat down on a bench and took out a cigarette. He needed to clear his head, although that wasn’t possible, he was still pretty hung-over. He lit his cigarette and took a drag. But the nicotine didn’t help him to stand and face what was ahead of him. He let out a shaky breath. How had he fucked up this badly? He shook his head, looking down at his trainers. When he looked up, he saw the club door open, and Phil walk out. His heart quickened, he hadn’t physically prepared for this! He needed more time. But Phil had already seen him, and began to cross the street, walking towards him. Ok, deep breaths, Dan. Deep breaths. He stood up.

Phil stopped, opposite him. He didn’t punch Dan, so that was a good start. After a long silence, Phil said, “Hey.”

“Phil, I am so sorry. I’d had a lot to drink and-”

Phil interrupted him, “Can we go back to my place and talk? I don’t want to do this in public.” That was odd; they never went to Phil’s place, always Dan’s. More importantly, do what? Was Phil taking him back to his house to beat Dan up? Or did he not want to yell at him in front of other people. “My Dad’s not home, so…” Phil trailed off. Was that why they never went to Phil’s house? His father? Dan nodded and they set off.

—

It took about five minutes to walk to Phil’s house. Five long minutes, which they spent walking in silence. For some reason, Phil didn’t seem angry with him. Phil’s house was big, for a house in the centre of London. It was modern and semi-detached, with white and grey walls, and huge glass windows. Phil took out his keys and unlocked the front door which had an extravagant stained-glass window.

“Jesus, what’s your dads job?!” Dan asked, in awe.

“He’s a lawyer, or, was. He hasn’t been able to get a job since we moved here. But he inherited all this from his parents.”

Phil took Dan up a marble staircase to the first floor landing. Then they walked along to the right, before going up a second set of stairs. At the top of the stairs, there were two doors. Phil opened the one on the left, and went inside. Dan followed. The room smelt strongly of Phil, which made the butterflies in Dan’s stomach go crazy, until he remembered why they were here. There were a couple of posters on the wall, of MUSE, some anime, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. There were a few boxes in one corner; obviously he hadn’t finished un-packing yet. On the other side of the room was a double bed with black sheets. Over it was a shelf, which held a few trophies. Dan assumed they were boxing trophies. To the left of the bed was a door; an ensuite bathroom.

Phil pointed to his bed, “Please sit, we need to talk.” Anxiety rose in Dan’s chest, but he went over to the bed and sat. He took off his jacket and placed it next to him on the bed. Phil began to pace back and forth in front of him.

After about a minute, Dan spoke up, “Phil, again, I’m so sorry-”

“No, Dan. I’m sorry! I can’t believe I said what I did! I-”

“PHIL?!” a familiar yell came from downstairs, and the front door slammed shut. Phil’s eyes widened and he jumped up.

“That’s my dad…” Every step that his father took up the stairs echoed loudly. “He’s meant to be out!” Phil grabbed Dan’s hand, pulling him up from the bed. He looked around wildly, before pushing Dan towards the bathroom, throwing him in and slamming the door shut.