#advent 19

Phil remembers exactly how hot his cheeks felt in that moment. It was written all over her face. She knew. As he thinks back, he realizes she knew more than she let on, more than maybe even Phil knew at that moment in time. He was falling for Dan, so fast and so completely that he didn’t even realize it until Dan had boarded the train once again. The absence made it clear in a way that holding Dan close couldn’t. All that skin was distracting. All those kisses and sighs and whispers in the dark were simply too real. He knew he’d found something, that Dan was his and he was Dan’s and that just wasn’t going to change. He didn’t need a word for it, he was in it.

And then he wasn’t. Then Dan was gone and the void was palpable. He had held Phil’s heart in his hand and gently, so carefully, put it in his pocket and left. That hollow in his chest had to mean something and the word played on a loop in his head. This time, he did share with his mum because Phil is the kind of man that tells his mother when he falls in love for the first time.

She didn’t tell him it was too fast or to be careful. She didn’t echo any of the fears that were swirling in Phil’s stomach. When he said he was looking for his own place, she didn’t look surprised.

“A man needs a place of his own.” She had said. He knows now that she was probably growing tired of hearing them through the wall.

Now, there have been countless nights shared in the room Kath set up for them in the Isle of Man. She bought bright blue linens for the bed and a sumptuous dark grey duvet. She stocks the kitchen with lots of vegetarian options for Dan even though she knows he’ll have a sausage with his breakfast. And she always plans an evening out for Martyn, Cornelia, herself and Nigel so Dan and Phil can just sit by the fire and let the house be theirs for the night. She conspires with Dan when she plans Phil’s birthdays and he comes to every family celebration other than Christmas. It isn’t even mentioned, it’s assumed, because he’s family. He was from the very start.

All of this plays over and over in Phil’s mind as he changes his jumper for the third time. He’s stood in their room in the Isle of Man, stuffed full of Christmas breakfast, staring in the mirror. Dan smiles sweetly from the screen of his laptop on the desk to Phil’s right.

“What was wrong with the last one? You love that cactus Christmas jumper.”

“It’s too casual,” Phil says, pulling on a sensible grey cable knit, “and this is boring.” He growls with frustration and Dan laughs.

“Phil,” Dan asks, sounding tinny through Phil’s laptop speaker, “It’s going to be okay. You’ve been here dozens of times.”

Phil sighs as he tears off the grey jumper and pulls on a black one with glittery threads woven all through the knit. “Never like this Dan.”

***

The flight is just long enough to watch a movie, though Phil’s mind is so busy, he doesn’t really follow. He walks over the tarmac and through the airport, eyes scanning. Being away from Dan for a week still feels like too long. Not so desperate as it did all those years ago but he’d still avoid the separation if it were up to him. When he exits past security, he sees Dan standing there, grinning ear to ear. He’s happy. He’s been with his family for a week and he’s happy, wearing a ridiculous Christmas jumper with a rainbow tree on the front and bouncing on his heels as he watches Phil approach.

Everything is different. This is his Dan, bright and deep and gorgeous, but he’s smiling in an airport on Christmas and everything is different. It takes everything he has to not embrace Dan right here, kiss him through tears and laughter, and tell him he loves him and he missed him. They aren’t there yet. It’s not that different.

He settles for a shared moment with wet eyes and quiet words. Dan takes his bag and they head out. They’ve got an hour long drive in the back of a car where they can hold hands under Phil’s coat and have a conversation via text. It’s not that different.

The car pulls up in front of Dan’s mum’s house and Phil is flooded with prickling nerves. He stands and watches as Dan gets his case from the boot.

“Is she gonna put me in the guest room?”

Dan watches the car drive away before he moves to stand with Phil. “Of course not.”

“I’ve always stayed in the guest room.”

“We both know you never actually stayed in that guest room.” Dan says, waggling his eyebrows.

Phil doesn’t notice. His eyes are fixed on the front window of the house. A glittering tree shines through the slightly fogged glass.

“Babe, It’s gonna be great. Everyone is really excited to see you.” Dan takes his hand. Phil looks down as their fingers weave together. They’re standing on a public street holding hands and he instinctively looks over his shoulder. “Come on,” Dan says, “I want my family to meet my boyfriend.”

It feels like it takes minutes to reach the door. A wreath hangs there, lit up with multi colored lights. It doesn’t feel so far from his own family’s front door and he feels some sort of shock at the warmth of it all. He shakes his head, wondering what he was actually expecting.

Dan lifts his hand to knock but Phil stops him. It doesn’t feel right to him, having to knock on your mother’s door. He knows, in this moment how lucky he is. Every small gift in his life suddenly feels large and all encompassing and he feels his eyes prickle with tears. He can’t catch his breath.

“Dan, wait.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else.

“Look at me,” Dan says, moving a hand to rest on Phil’s chest. “Breath with me. You’re ok. It’s just us.”

He feels his heart slow. Gratitude replaces just enough anxiety to allow him to breathe. Phil’s eyes close for a few seconds and Dan waits, like he has so many times before. Sometimes it’s just that simple.

“Do I look okay?” Phil says, grounded now.

“You look great Phil. I’d be thrilled if you were fucking my son.”

“That’s not helpful,” Phil says but his lips curl around a tiny smile.

Dan reaches up to smooth Phil’s hair. He picks a piece of fluff off of Phil’s jumper and straightens the hem. And then he leans in and kisses Phil, on the doorstep to his mother’s home. He kisses Phil softly and sweetly like he has every day for ten years.

“Ready?”