Sacrifices we make

Often Dan would find himself wishing that the cold would leave with the wind. It was no secret that it was always a struggle to cope with all the aspects that made up his life. One of the hardest things he had to cope with, though, was undoubtedly the cold -the metaphorical cold. For him every emotion was connected to a physical feeling:

Happiness as warmth on his cheeks and chest. Excitement as playful tickles in his belly. Anxiety as nausea and an unpleasant twist in his gut. Infatuation as a flattering of his heart (the first time he genuinely thought he was having a heart attack, no joke). Sadness as a constant looming headache, that most of the time was there and would sporadically fluctuate and could be an insignificant buzz or a paralyzing piercing through his scalp. And loneliness, well, that just felt like cold. Chilling, freezing cold. And even though he was surrounded by people most of his life, the cold never seemed to go away.

There was a time when the cold seemed to be going away. It was when he was starting to spent more time with Phil, his now best friend, back in 2009. He genuinely thought that he might never be cold ever again in his life. Phil was radiating heat every time he smiled- and he smiled all the fucking time. He was the personification of the sun and he gave Dan the best kind of tickles in his belly and warmth in his chest. So who would blame him when he though that he might have found the one?

Well, for one, the logical part of his brain wasn't too happy about this. Feelings are complicated and hard to deal with, especially when you're eighteen and basically hormones on legs. It's hard to differentiate between love and infatuation, or connection and lust. And he knew that. He also knew that Phil was important. He couldn't yet pinpoint exactly why, but he knew it wasn't just because he was somewhat of a cool boy. But everything about him and about this was uncertain and blurry. And he hated uncertain and blurry. So he did what he had to do to keep himself busy, and he smiled when he had to, but he never let himself get too carried away by whatever this was.

From his online research, the term that would fit best to their arrangement would be friends with benefits. Best friends with benefits. And it was fantastic. It was fun and it was exciting and easy and so fucking good that whatever drawback he initially had about the nature of this affair disappeared into thin air. The sex was mind blowing. The friendship was strong as ever. Commitment was nowhere to be seen. Things were good.

Until, of course, the inevitable doom. Dan realized he had caught feelings when he had caught the flu, in the winter of 2014. Their arrangement was going strong for roughly five years by then and everything was peachy. Until he sneezed, and then developed a fever, and at last remained in bed rest for two days. Phil made him soup and sat beside him, watching episodes from their favourite shows. It was nice. Too nice. Flattering-in-his-heart-and-warmth-in-his-chest nice. And that's when he knew he loved the man sitting beside him.

That's also when he realized he was absolutely and utterly fucked. Because he might love Phil, but he still hated commitment, and he still was scared of vulnerability and actual feelings.

And then there's also that Phil didn't love him back.

So he stayed silent ever since and he swallowed the words that threatened to come out of his mouth now and again. He held back his hands from doing gestures too sweet or too loving. Because that would be obvious and would eliminate everything he had cautiously built over the years.

Looking back, he still thinks that that was the wiser choice. Not necessarily the best, but definitely the wiser and safer. And safer is always better. (Right? )

"Phil", Dan was staring at his computer screen at something, he honestly couldn't remember what it was for the life of him.

"Do you remember when we first met?"

Phil was sitting on the armchair next to the window, which was starting to get kind of foggy. The temperature in the room was much higher than outside, and had he noticed the fog on the window sooner he would have been drowning a ballon or a smiley face on the glass by now. Winter could have its upsides.

"'Course I do. Can you believe it's been ten years?" He smiles to himself. Dan did too. It didn't really reach his eyes.

"Yeah, it's crazy. It's been great." His voice was low and sweet and sort of out of focus, and he really should watch those lumps in his throat because it's getting embarrassing.

"How come you were thinking of that? Don't tell me that Danny's getting all nostalgic on me on Christmas Eve." He said in a playful tone with a smirk on his lips. The spark in his eyes never left, Dan thought to himself. Maybe it never will.

"I'm not getting nostalgic. I'm just amazed that you survived this long. And I have tolerated you for this long. Honestly, it beats me." Dan's face was getting a teeny tiny bit pink, and he smiled whilst putting mock annoyance on his face. His freshly acquired playful mood though disappeared as fast as it came.

"Phil, do you ever think about the future?" He whispers, his voice much more gentle and cautious than his usual teasing tone.

"Like near future, like where-will-we-go-for-the-holidays future, or more far away future? Are we talking years into the future? Because if that's the question, I really am not up for brainstorming a new idea for a next tour, we just came home and all I want is to be swallowed by my bed. And I suspect you would feel the same if you didn't operate in such weird hours, like seriously, what sane person would have a 3-10 am sleeping schedule, Dan? We gotta fix this-"

"Phil you're going out of topic again, focus"

"Yeah, sorry, so what's the case?"

" I guess in the long run, how do you see the future? Like, who's in it? And what are you doing with your life? Roughly, what do you think?"

Phil exhales slowly and lowers his phone, putting it down on his lap. He looks tired right that moment, like a wave of responsibility and adulthood was dumped upon him, maybe not for the first time ( he's a thirty year old man, it'd be alarming if adulthood hadn't hit him yet), but it was certainly not an usual occurrence, that realization. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes for a bit, as he starts talking.

" I guess I'd want something stable and reliable, maybe I could start a part time job so don't have to be constantly worried about work. Being an independent creator has taken somewhat of a toll on me, even if I love every second of my work. The uncertainty that surrounds me can be a bit stressful at times. Maybe I'll have kids, I'd love to have kids one day. Have sleepless nights because the baby keeps waking up, and helping my baby take its first steps, reading books and putting it to sleep. And then the first day of kindergarten I'll probably cry more than the kid when the lessons start and I have to go. I hope I'll get all that one day."

He has a dozed off look on his face, not quite like daydreaming but not focused, and he's smiling faintly, but simultaneously his eyes look more sad than hopeful, and it breaks Dan.

He wants to cry. Dan actually wants to cry. Phil wants to have a family, with children, knowing him, he probably wants a dog and a house in the suburbs to complete the whole package, and it kills him. It kills him because that's everything he himself wants, and most of all he wants it with Phil. He wants a family, and he wants to settle down, and he wants to do all the lame, stereotypical things parents do with their children. He wants to hold them when they cry because they fell down while playing hide and seek, and he wants to play I Spy with them during long car rides, and he wants to pack them lunch to take to school. And he feels a part of him break inside him, because he doesn't want any of that without Phil by his side.

And that's when he knows that, no matter how hard it is to say the truth, he needs to say it, at least once, so he can have closure. So he stops this playing around that Phil and he have, this once wonderful and now torturing arrangement of theirs, so they can finally both move on. Or at least Phil can move on. Because even though he wants desperately this perfect family with Phil, he wants to see him happy even more. That's how he knows he loves him, truly and deeply. Because he's ready to let him go. Even if that means being alone.

"Phil, I think we should stop being friends with benefits."

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Hi,

This is the first part of a two part short story, I hope you liked it this far. English is not my first language so there might be grammatical or spelling errors. So, I would greatly appreciate it if you pointed out any mistakes I made, so I can improve myself.

Until next time,

Best regards

Sharline Nebula