After that, we must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up in Phil's arms, the room was flooded with sunlight. I felt Phil's hand go through my hair and I lost myself in the feeling.
"Good morning." He still murmured in a sleepy voice and I couldn't help smiling. He sounded hot when he had just woke up.
"Morning." I mumbled back and wanted to lean on something when reality hit me in the face. I was naked, in Phil's bed. Naked.
Nothing to hide, to hide it. For a fraction of a second, I stared at my arm until I pushed it reflexively under the blanket.
Phil noticed it, of course he noticed. He stopped his movement in my hair and sighed. It sounded almost sad and I hated it.
"I'm sorry, I- I don't know." I mumbled to myself and dropped onto a pillow next to Phil. He stared at the ceiling and I didn't know what to say. He almost looked sad and somehow this oppressive silence hurt. He didn't say anything but just started at the ceiling, but his eyes moved. As if he would scan every inch of the ceiling. But he didn't look at me.
"Phil." That shouldn't happen. Our morning after that shouldn't be like this.
"I hate it." He said softly at some point and I swallowed hard. "I hate that you think you have to hide it from me. I don't want you to think that, because it's not like that. I don't want you to hide anything from me."
"It has nothing to do with you."
"I know." And then he looked at me and he wasn't mad or anything, he was just sad. And I hated it because I was the reason. He stroked my hair again until he put his hand on his chest.
For a while, we just looked at each other while lying on our backs. It took me an eternity to convince myself to put my hand on his. An ugly arm he could stare at. At first he looked at me in astonishment until he gently squeezed my hand and smiled at me.
He ran his thumb over the back of my hand and it felt okay.
"I don't want to hide anything from you."
And I was serious. It wasn't like my dad or Addy. I didn't want them to see it, I didn't want to hear about it, I didn't want them to have anything to do with it. But I trusted Phil and Phil wouldn't say or stare. He would just accept it and I knew that. Deep in my heart, I knew it, but my brain couldn't make friends with the fact.
Somehow, I thought Phil knew that.
He closed the gap between us and put his lips on mine. And somehow I thought he was making a point and this conversation was over now. Because when we broke away, he smirked at me.
"Well, last night." He started.
I had to laugh for a moment, because how quickly can you change your mood?
"Last night." I said as well, hoping he would continue this conversation.
"Was it okay?"
"Okay? Seriously? I think it was more than okay." I clarified and Phil grinned. He blushed and I never expected Phil to blush. It was cute.
"So you're not afraid to do more of it."
"Absolutely not."
"Good." he said, and then took my hand and led it under the blanket to his erection.
"Jesus Christ, Phil." I laughed and Phil only raised his eyebrows.
An hour later we made pancakes. Phil wasn't as good as his grandma, but I could live with it completely. And only when I snuggled up behind him I noticed the scars on his back and shoulder. There were not many and you couldn't see them immediately, but I saw them.
I knew where they came from, so I didn't ask questions.
So that was our morning after: more sex and pancakes and I didn't mind getting used to it.
***
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I'm so fucking sorry, this chapter is so short. Please don't kill me, thank you.