Chapter 4: Questions

Phil didn't come home for three weeks.

By then, the flat was the cleanest it had ever been. Even the baseboards had been scrubbed to gleaming perfection. Every tin in the cupboards was aligned perfectly with the label facing outward. All boxes in the cupboards were arranged by type of food, then ordered by height.

Three weeks. No contact lens case had sat on the tap, Dan had always found the expected amount of cereal waiting for him in the morning, and not a single cupboard door had been left open. For three weeks.

It was driving him insane.

When Phil texted him from Gatwick to let him know he was getting into a taxi, it was the first Dan had heard from him in those entire three weeks. In his marriage proposal, he'd said that Phil had made him laugh every day since they'd been together, and he had been telling the complete truth at the time.

The streak was finally broken.

He heard footsteps coming up their stairs, but he determinedly held his browsing position on the sofa, refusing to jump up and run to the door as it opened. He couldn't help turning his head to look, though.

Phil came in looking haggard and radiating dread. Did he dread seeing Dan again? Was that why he'd stayed away so long? But when Dan let himself meet Phil's eyes, he could tell immediately that the dread wasn't about not wanting to see Dan, it was about what kind of reception he'd get. Dan's heart went out to him. He didn't know what had been going on in Phil's head for the last three weeks, but right now he looked deathly afraid of what Dan was going to say to him.

So Dan didn't say anything. He just put his laptop down on the coffee table, walked to the doorway, and took Phil in his arms. Phil sagged with relief immediately, clutching his arms around Dan like a drowning man clinging to his only source of safety. His head dropped, his forehead resting on Dan's shoulder, and he whispered brokenly, "You don't hate me?"

Dan sighed. "Phil, I could never hate you. I love you. More than anything else in the entire world." He wanted to kiss him, but Phil's head remained lowered, his cheek now pressing to the side of Dan's neck in a touch more intimate than it had any right to be. The vulnerability so obvious in Phil's posture made that touch of his cheek seem like a silent, tenuous reach for connection, a fear of asking too much and so asking as little as possible to avoid rejection. Just the slightest bit of skin against skin, just the slightest intimacy.

Phil didn't say anything else, just stood there in Dan's arms, holding him as tight as he ever had, until Dan finally teased gently, "Can I get a kiss hello?"

The question was so normal, so casual, that it seemed to surprise Phil into looking up, which had been Dan's intention. Dan smiled at him, and Phil smiled tentatively in return before nodding, and then Dan leaned forward for the gentlest, most reassuring of kisses. A kiss that said yes and forgiveness and love and forever and everything. When they pulled apart, Phil's face looked a little less like he'd been through a war and less like he was expecting another at any moment.

"Hungry?" Dan asked. Sure, there were big questions that needed to be asked, big issues that needed to be discussed, but first there were the basics, the simple things, the problems they could solve without any heart-wrenching conversations. "Maybe just some beans on toast?" Phil nodded again. Dan wondered what he'd been doing these past three weeks to leave him so silent and hollow.

They walked together to the kitchen and Dan set about making Phil a bit of food. The flight from the Isle of Man wasn't a long one, but he knew Phil always got hungry when he traveled, and they were never really ones for regular mealtimes. Phil stood by, watching, just letting Dan take care of him. He seemed almost stunned. Dazed. Dan wondered if he had expected to be greeted with immediate demands and accusations and recriminations. Did he have that little faith?

Phil obediently took his plate of food out to the lounge and sat on the sofa to eat, while Dan resumed his seat in the sofa crease and just waited. Phil would talk when he was ready, and Dan had resolved a thousand times during the past three weeks that he was not going to push. He knew that Phil was a kind person, the kindest person he'd ever met, and that Phil loved him—he didn't doubt Phil's love for him for a single second. So whatever had gone wrong, whatever miscommunication or misunderstanding or mistake had occurred to lead to that horrible day on the beach, they would work it out. They always did.

The topic of the marriage proposal lay between them like an unexploded bomb, but Dan was content to let it lay unexploded for a little longer.

After Phil had finished eating, Dan put the dishes into the dishwasher while Phil just sat on the sofa, looking limp and lost, his suitcase still abandoned at the front door. Dan came back and looked at him, but Phil didn't meet his eyes. "You look done in," Dan said bluntly. "Do you want to have a wash or just go to bed?"

Phil looked up at him and said softly, "I'm so tired, Dan. I'm just so tired."

Dan took his hand and pulled him to his feet. "Let's get you to bed, then. You can have a good sleep in your own bed, have a good wash in the morning, and then you'll feel more yourself." He was glad Phil always wore his glasses on flights, because he wouldn't want to have to wrestle Phil into taking out contact lenses right now. Dan just walked Phil down the hallway to the bedroom door, but then experienced a moment of sudden awkwardness, not sure how to say what needed saying without touching on subjects he really didn't want to bring up right now.

"Uh … I've been … I've been sleeping in the other room. I mean, that's where I keep all my stuff anyway, and I didn't know if you would want…" Dan gestured toward the doorway across the hall and shrugged, feeling suddenly sad and uncertain again, remembering what Phil had said in the dark, remembering that miserable night on the floor on the Isle of Man.

But then suddenly Phil was pulling him close, not kissing him but holding him very tightly and whispering, "Come sleep with me, Dan. Please." And so Dan did. And Phil whispered words of love to him as he fell asleep.

When he woke up, Phil was still sleeping. He had no idea what time it was, or even if it was morning or afternoon. He just lay there and watched Phil sleep for a while. His dark hair was mussed and there were faint smudges visible beneath his eyes. What had Phil been doing these past three weeks? Dan had assumed he was taking refuge in the loving support of his family, but instead he looked like he'd been hiding alone somewhere doing unnecessary penance.

Had their conversation on the beach really done this to him?

Had it been so terrible, Dan wanting to marry him?

Dan tried to avoid jumping to any conclusions. They needed to talk. They needed to talk a lot. And until they did that all he'd be doing was making assumptions, and that wasn't going to get them anywhere. So he just watched Phil sleep and let himself feel how glad he was that his love had returned to him at last.

A few days later, Dan couldn't take it anymore. Phil still hadn't brought up anything about the marriage proposal or anything else that had happened on the Isle of Man visit. Dan had been nearly killing himself, making sure not to push, not to bring up anything uncomfortable until Phil was ready, but … it had been days! They'd pretty much settled back into familiar patterns, but … was Phil just going to ignore it all forever? Did he expect to just go on as if Dan had never proposed, as if none of it had ever happened, as if he owed Dan no answer or explanation at all?

He waited until they were both hanging out on the sofa with nothing immediate planned. Normally, they would start watching something on television now, or suggest a video game. Instead, Dan braced himself.

"Phil," he began gently, "we need to talk."

Phil blanched, his normally pale skin going white. He looked like he had on the beach that day. "I need time to think," he insisted quickly, staring somewhere in the vicinity of Dan's sternum. "I told you that." His voice sounded a bit defensive.

Dan tried really hard not to get mad. "Phil, I understand if you need time to think about this, but we can't just pretend like it never happened. You don't have to give me an answer right away, but you do have to talk to me, let me know what's going on. You can't just shut me out like this. It isn't fair. I'm a part of this, too."

Phil's mouth had compressed to a tight line. "You want to talk about it right now? Even if I don't? Well, how is that fair to me? I've told you what I need, and you just ignore it like you always do."

Dan's eyes went wide. "What? You … I always ignore what you need? Since when? And why haven't you ever said anything about it before?"

Phil rolled his eyes. "That wasn't what I meant, exactly. You're twisting my words. I told you I didn't want to talk about any of this yet. It isn't going to go well if we talk about it right now, I know it won't. I'll say things badly and you'll get angry and I just … why can't things just go back to the way they were before?" His voice had gone from confrontational to plaintive by the end.

"You want to pretend that I never proposed?" Dan asked hesitantly, barely able to believe his ears.

Phil nodded. "Let's just … things are good between us, right? We're happy! We've been so happy for so long! Why would we want to change anything if we're already this happy?" He was gazing at Dan with such hope in his eyes, it broke Dan's heart a little more.

"So you didn't really need time to think about your answer?" Dan verified. Something was boiling inside him, but he tried to keep his voice level, but he could hear some of the emotion leaking out. "You just wanted time to figure out how to talk me out of it?"

"Marriage changes things," Phil said. "Why would we want to change something that is already working? I love you, Dan. You know that! Why do we need a piece of paper to announce it to the world? And how would that work, anyway? I mean, we've never even been out about our relationship, and suddenly we'd be married? People would find out, Dan! It would change everything."

Dan felt numb. So this was Phil's answer. He was saying no. He didn't want to marry Dan. It sounded like it wasn't even a question of timing—he didn't want to marry Dan ever. He just wanted everything to stay the same forever as it was now: the same closeted relationship, the same commitment that lasted only as long as their current lease, the same daydream conversations about a future that had no real substance.

"If we came out," Phil was continuing, apparently oblivious to the cataclysm taking place inside Dan, "it would create all these pressures on us that we haven't had to deal with before. And just those pressures alone might mess everything up for us!"

Feeling as if he was watching the scene from some great distance, Dan asked, "So … you not only never want to marry me … you also never want to come out about us being together? Not even sometime in the distant future. It's just … not something you want? Ever?"

Phil made a pleading face. "Dan! I don't understand why you want anything to change when it's so good now! Why take chances on ruining the best thing in our lives?"

Dan stood up from the sofa, not even really feeling it when his shin collided with the coffee table. He turned away from Phil and took a couple steps, then turned back around to look at him. It was like looking at a stranger.

"Okay," he said through numb lips. "Now I'm the one who needs time to think." And he trudged slowly to the other bedroom, the bedroom that was ostensibly his but which he had almost never slept in, the room where he had stayed in self-imposed exile while Phil had remained silent on the Isle of Man for three weeks. It no longer looked like exile—it looked like a refuge. He closed the door behind him and climbed beneath the black-and-white duvet, trying not to think. Thinking could wait until tomorrow. Right now he just wanted to forget all the hopes he'd had, all the bright things he'd thought awaited him and Phil in their future together, all the dreams he'd cherished and nurtured as they grew over the years. All the dreams he'd thought they shared.

Right now he just wanted to forget.

The next few days were quiet. Painfully so. Dan continued sleeping in his own room, because he needed space right now, space to try to figure things out, since apparently Phil had no interest in helping him do that. He ghosted around the flat, sometimes aware of Phil's eyes on him but never meeting his gaze. Phil didn't try to talk to him but would sometimes come into the kitchen when Dan was there and just lurk in the doorway as if waiting for something. Dan never reacted.

Once when they were passing each other in the hallway, Phil moved in a way that Dan knew was going to turn into an attempt at a hug. He subtly moved further away as he passed so that neither of them would have to face what it meant if he openly rejected the offer of affection.

Phil had taken three weeks on the Isle of Man for his supposed "thinking." He'd better damn well give Dan some time and space to do some thinking of his own.

He tried to put himself in Phil's shoes. Tried to see things from his perspective. Tried to connect all this with the loving, supportive, committed relationship he'd been sure they had for the past several years. Something didn't add up. There was more to this than Phil was saying. He just didn't know how to get Phil to talk about it, and until Phil talked about it there was nothing they could do to get past it. And if they couldn't get past it, then … they might really be over. Dan didn't want that, so he was going to do his damnedest to get to the root of what the hell was going on.

After so many days of avoidance, Phil looked surprised when Dan sat down on the sofa near him and waited for Phil to meet his eyes. Phil looked afraid, but also hopeful.

"I'd really like to talk to you. I miss talking to you," Dan said softly.

Phil launched himself at Dan, hugging him in apparent desperation. "I've missed you so much, just living in the same house but not really being together. I love you so much, and I didn't want things to get messed up, and now I feel like I messed them up myself by not wanting to mess them up…"

Dan held up a hand. "Whoa there! Slow down." And he smiled. Phil smiled back. Dan reached out and took both Phil's hands, and they both instinctively scooted closer together, so that their knees touched. Phil squeezed Phil's hands gently.

"I want to understand. We've always been good at hearing each other out, talking things through. That's all I want right now, Phil. I just want to understand. That's all." He squeezed Phil's hands, just as Phil had squeezed his, then leaned forward for a soft kiss. It was their first kiss, first real touch, in days, and they both relaxed into it for a long moment. It was such sweet relief to find that connection again.

They pulled apart, and Dan waited patiently. Phil looked down at their joined hands lying on their knees. When Dan refused to jump in and the silence grew strained, Phil finally said, "I've just been so happy with you. Happier than I've ever been in my life! And I don't want to lose this, and I'm afraid that if we … change things … then it's all going to crumble … and I just don't want to lose this! Don't want to lose you!"

Dan leaned in for another kiss, a reassuring kiss, then asked his next question carefully. He tried to keep his voice even and without any emotional inflection, trying to suppress his emotional reactions so that Phil would feel safe to talk, "So … you never want us to come out or get married. Right?" He rushed to add, "I'm not trying to fight with you. I just want to understand." He kept repeating that, because it was true, and he thought it might help Phil open up. If he couldn't get Phil to open up, they'd never be able to get through this.

Phil nodded, looking uncomfortable, as if he was bracing himself. "I'm sorry, Dan, but I just … I'd rather not chance it."

Dan took a deep breath. "But, Phil. we've talked before about the possibility of coming out. We talked about the pros and cons, and you seemed to have thoughts on both sides. Thus far, we'd decided not to do it, but I never got the impression that you wanted it to stay that way permanently." Phil was squirming, but Dan didn't let sympathy deter him. "You talked about the good things that could come from it, how you would like to be able to be open about how we feel, and that meant a lot to me. I always felt like those conversations were about when we were going to decide to let everyone know, that we were on the same page about wanting it to happen eventually. Have I been misunderstanding you all this time?"

Phil sighed quietly. "No, it's not like I've been lying or anything." He looked up to meet Dan's eyes. "I have thought about it. I'm just scared."

Now came the big question. Dan was still trying to keep his voice even. Not a threat. Not a fight. Just trying to understand. His pain and anger were fighting to surface, but he ruthlessly suppressed them. "But I don't understand why you've suddenly made up your mind that you never want to do it … right after I proposed marriage to you. Is this even about coming out at all? Or is there something else going on? Because I feel like maybe there is, and I thought we could talk about anything. I trust you to be honest with me, Phil. Is something else going on?"

Phil didn't say anything for a long time, but he looked contemplative, and Dan gave him time to formulate his thoughts. Finally, Phil said slowly, "Okay. There is something else. But … it isn't important. We're happy together, right?" He repeated his earlier plea for reassurance, but Dan was relentless. Whatever this was, whatever Phil wasn't telling him: this was why he'd reacted to Dan's proposal the way he had. This was why Phil didn't want to marry him. He waited silently again. Phil let go of Dan's hands and ran his fingers through his own hair a few times, leaving it sticking out all over. He bit his lip. And then finally he spoke, but haltingly.

"Well … I've always been honest with you about the fact that I'm bisexual."

Dan was confused. What did this have to do with them? "Yeah, so?"

Phil's fingers were tangling in his lap like restless snakes. "So … well … I always sort of figured … if I ever decided to settle down and get married…"

Dan waited, but Phil didn't say anything more. Finally, after what felt like an age, he burst out, "Phil, you're killing me. Just … tell me! What is it?"

Phil looked positively ill now. His voice was tight when he stammered out, "Well, like I said … I'm bisexual … and I just … I always figured … if I ever got married … you know, if it ever happened … and that was a big 'if' … but if I ever did get married … I wanted it to be … well … I wanted it to be with … with a woman."