Protected Abroad [AmazingPhil / Danisnotonfire]

Twenty: Poetry

I emerged from the steam filled bathroom, dressed in my PJ's for the night. I had dressed my stitches, which didn't look too bad after my fall in the shopping center, and had made use of the feminine products. Daniel was found to be in the same spot he was, with his laptop in front of him, but no television was on. I turned to return to Phillip's room. As I entered, Phil spoke that he was going to get a shower too, and then head for bed. It was still early. The digital clock beside the double bed read a quarter to nine. I folded my dirty day clothes to be washed at some point, and made a pile in my suitcase. I wondered when I would have to get a dresser, or be sanctioned a portion of a closet.

I didn't know, nor did I worry. I wouldn't be here long anyways, right? Once I was eighteen, I could go off on my own and do... Something with my life. That, I would have to figure out.

A vague thought came to mind: what books did the officers pack for me to take? I imagine not all of them, as I had many. Too many to bring with me. Kneeling beside my bright suitcase I brought out the pile of paperbacks and hardcovers, sorting through them. One caught my eye, one that I hadn't read in a few years: a softcover poetry book. It was only a few tens of pages long, but had marvelous poems of well known authors, and lesser known. Walt Whitman, Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, Carl Sandburg, Melvin B. Tolson, and many more.

Infatuated with it, I began to read it. I moved and sat up against the head board of the single bed. The covers were in disarray from the previous night, and the subtle, sweet smell of a deep musk of man emanated from the sheets. I propped up the pillow to make it more comfortable, and pulled the duvet up to cover my legs. After a while of reading and interpreting poetic words, Phillip entered his room with wet, spiked hair and dressed in a variation of last night's sleeping clothing.

"You're in that bed, now?" He asked as he approached. I was going to say something, but was cutoff by a continuation. "What are you reading?"

"Some... Poetry?" I answered hesistantly. I didn't know if Phillip loved, or hated poetic verse.

"Would you..." He trailed off. As if not really sure if he had enough courage to speak his mind. "Would you read some poems to me?"

I thought about it for a brief moment, and decided to accept the audience of one. If he didn't like me reading he could always request me to stop. Phillip made the double bed neat with the covers. He got under the covers and proceeded to lift the other side's covers.

"Won't you join me?" He invited with a cute, pearly while smile. It struck me as so very odd. What was happening? Phillip began, I assume and can only guess, to use his 'puppy dog eyes' as I had never seen his eyes so large and blue. After another moment to debate with myself, I gave into the will of the fully grown man using kid tactics to persuade others. Phil covered me with the duvet, and laid his head on his pillow, but also leaned against my upper body while I sat up with my back straight against the headboard.

"Have anything in mind?" I questioned. Since when did I become so open and willing? I was changing, and it was odd. What was this? Phillip next to me, me reading to him. Was this... Cuddling? Is this how people do it? I could feel heat radiate from Phillip, even with as little of his body that was touching me. Being under the covers, together. What if... He's trying to do something else? What if... There's too many of those. Might as well ask him. "Phillip?" He made a noise that signaled that he was listening. "You aren't... Trying anything, right? Not with both of us under your covers and all..."

He sat up quickly. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Never. I'm not that sort of person. Besides..." Phillip trailed off. "This is practically as far as I've ever gotten with a girl. And we're not even dating." Yet. What? Why did my brain immediately think of that? No, no, brain. You've got it all wrong. Friends. Not romantic interest. Yes, but... What about that wink? Friendly humour, you think? I shook the thoughts from my head and skipped to a random poem. The title In a Station of the Metro was given to an half rhyming couplet written by Erza Pound. I spoke the words calmly. "The apparition of these faces in the crowd; / Petals on a wet, black bough."

A moment went by when I didn't say anything. Phillip had once again assumed his position of leaning against my body, his head almost in my lap. It was comforting. Like having a warm cat sleep on you, except, human. I continued with another shorted poem. The next poem was titled Buffalo Dusk and was my favorite by Carl Sandburg. "The buffaloes are gone. / And those who saw the buffaloes are gone. / Those who saw the buffaloes by thousands and how they pawed the prairie sod into dust with their hoofs, their great heads down pawing on in a great pageant of dusk, / Those who saw the buffaloes are gone. / And the buffaloes are gone."

Without pausing for Phillip to say anything, I continued and read The Raven written by Poe followed by The Road Not Taken authored by Frost. Both quite long poems. Once I finished the latter Daniel knocked on the door. He seemed surprised when Phil didn't move from his spot, and deducted him asleep. On me? Daniel simply stopped by to say that he was filming. He also wished me luck with the sleeping Phillip.

I set aside my book for the night, and put my mind to work on how to move the sleeping giant on me. The easiest would simply to scooch down and sleep where I am, next to who I am. It wouldn't be that bad. Right? It would be okay. We were friends, that's all. Like a sleep over. What would Daniel think? The most appropriate would be to move Phil gently in attempt not to wake him, and sleep in the single bed, the male and female separate.

I mentally debated for a long while. Against what I should do and what I wanted to do. Did I really want to sleep... Cuddled next to Phillip? Was he alright with that? If he wasn't, he wouldn't have invited me to his bed with him in the first place. Daring. That's what I was going to be.

Moving Phillip's head smoothly and gently back to his own pillow, I slid under the already warm covers and rested my head. I was really going to sleep here. I wasn't kicking Phillip out of his bed, nor was either of us in the single. I must have had a long day, or the jet lag somehow still affected me. I listened to the deep, even breathing of the man next to me. Maybe not totally believing what I was doing. Or feeling. Even with such thoughts scrambling through my head, I fell asleep quickly.