Cuddle Buddy

amidst the veins of a small town, canopied by high of the smoke exploring the sky, phil was sitting on a wooden bench broken and banal, mirroring how he felt about himself. there lay a boulder over his head, stubborn and undisturbed over the sea of reproval. he wished he could drown in it. almost involuntarily his hand reached for the blue box, a boon and curse that he’d reached out to for help for years now, his neck rolling back and his lips parting as he clenched the cubes of ice in his hand, physically feeling the cold rush up his skin and clogging every feeling in his body, swallowing up whatever emotion he had left in him. every inch of him was numb. void of esteem.

he wanted to cry.

despite how much he wanted to break down completely right in the middle of that park, he didn’t. he didn’t because he wanted to prove to everyone, to himself that he was strong. strength doesn’t equal emotions. boys don’t feel anything.

boys don’t cry.

he never did anything right, if there was one thing he could live up to, he thought to himself, was his morals. so he corked up the urge to let himself go, and took a deep breath. the ice in his hand had melted by now and he straightened out his back and stretched his neck, letting it lean on a side. he brushed his hands against his legs and stood up, closing the lid on the bin of ice and keeping it under that bench where he always left it. he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he let his hand reach out to grab it.

“hey babe,” he vocalised a smile and said. it was his girlfriend. she was quite literally his world. they’d been best friends for as long as he could remember, and it was only a few years ago that they’d gotten together. she’d been the only constant in his life, and he appreciated it the most. although he often wondered why she’d stuck around, he couldn’t name a single thing about himself that would make him worth the time and attention she’d given him.

“phil, where are you?”

“nowhere important, what’s up?” phil said, nervously tapping his foot on the ground. eyes puffy, face pale and lips almost purple, the tone with which he spoke felt out of place with his expression.

“i made dinner, you’re coming over right? i miss you.” she said. she hadn’t seen him since the previous night, since phil had to go out of town for an internship interview for a job he really wanted. he knew he wouldn’t get it, he wasn’t qualified enough but in reality he knew everything that was required for the job. he worked extra hard and always pushed himself out of his comfort zone. he liked to challenge himself.

“i miss you too, sweetheart. i’ll be there as soon as possible. you need anything?”

“not really, no. please try and not get any more drunk than you already are? please?”

“i’ll try.” he said, although he knew he would fail. alcohol got him a different kind of solace, the peace he required to live through his days. it was his lifeline.

“see you soon, then. i love you.” ashley said. a warmth crippled inside phil’s heart. he loved hearing her say that. he hated the fact that it was a lie, but it still felt good to hear it. he knew it would be soon that ashley would realise phil wasn’t worth it and leave, and phil did everything he could to stop that from happening.

“love you too.”

phil forced a gulp of scotch down his throat when he heard a muffled sob echoing through the bushes that separated the back of the school from the ground. phil ignored it, thinking it was a dog and just pressed his lips to the mouth of his flask, allowing the toxicity to take over his brain. his eyes lingered onto a little hole in the middle of the ground.

oh, how he wished it would swallow him up.

he heard a sound again, an abstract of a sweet hiccup that almost drew him towards it. he very casually walked through the passage that led him to where he wanted to go, simultaneously finishing whatever was left of the gold blight in his flask. his blue eyes landed upon a small figure, legs pulled up to their chest and head buried between what appeared to be small palms.

“hey you okay? phil asked as he walked over and sat down in front of the boy. the boy just backed up further, his sobs dying down as he did so. phil tried to grab hold of the boy’s wrist so he could see who it was but he got a reluctant response as the brown haired boy pushed back further. finding no other alternative, phil grabbed hold of the boy’s wrist and pulled them away from his face.

“shit, who did this to you?”

“i d-did it to myself.”

“wh-why would you do that?” phil asked, a frown pooling itself on his forehead. he hadn’t seen this boy’s face yet, but what he did see was a big cut across his cheek. it was a crimson scar on what otherwise looked like perfect skin, a pallid, honey brown that now along with the scar looked like the boy was hurting way more than what he led on. the sun had set now, and faint light of the stars was fighting its way through the fishnets of the tree above and dancing on the ground below in a careful, neatly carved out fashion.

“i don’t have to tell you,” the boy said bluntly, his annoyed tone inconsistent to his voice, that was smoky and controlled, modulated but almost husky. it was intriguing, and sweet, and it fell and rose in staccatos. phil wouldn’t describe it as girly, but it wasn’t particularly boy-like either. it was right in the middle where it was soft enough to fool anyone, but it was also deep in its own way, how an ocean viewed from a coral reef appears shallow and inviting, an ephemeral violet that seems calm and soothing but is actually deep like a chasm that has no end, and one could go on and on exploring it.

the boy’s words though engrossed phil in the conversation because of their mellifluous appearance, also irritated him a little. the toxicity flowing through his veins, had as it is replaced his consciousness with a persona that could con anyone into believing that he was sober, when it was actually his heart making his decisions instead of his mind. alcohol made phil particularly sensitive and short-tempered. it wasn’t a very ideal pair.

“fine, don’t.” phil said, clearly bothered that this boy wasn’t giving him any attention. phil was used to all the attention being on him, and this boy wasn’t even throwing him a bone. it messed with him a little. he clenched his jaw and sat back against the tree along with the boy. he noticed something he hadn’t before; the boy was wearing a skirt. a rather pretty one at that. it was a pink skirt that reached barely halfway across his thighs, and along with it was a sleeveless white top with a matching satin jacket. his attire was oddly colour coordinated and phil thought it was cute how it complimented the roses under his cheeks.

“um, why are you wearing a skirt again?” phil asked.

“i like skirts.” the boy said, a little dimple carving itself on his cheek. a shriek escaped his lips at that, smiling hurt.

“why don’t you just let me help you? that cut’s gotta sting, and i have some alcohol i could clean it up for you.” phil said, instantly wishing he hadn’t. it hit him that he had to be at ashley’s probably fifteen minutes ago, and if he was going to stay here he would get even more late than he already was. he didn’t want to upset his girlfriend, but this boy, or girl as phil was confused now, looked like they could use some help.

“why should i trust you?” the boy asked turning towards so he could look at him. phil’s eyes dilated, the blue in his eyes resembling the stormy skies right before a storm, awaiting the rain that would drown you in it. the boy’s face was caramel and sun-damaged, but in the good way where the golden rays had taken shelter under his rubicund cheeks, escaped under his skin and given rise to the roses that were blooming on his cheeks, with little brown spots under his eyes that looked like the stars shining unaffected on the sky of his face.

his eyes were brown. not the ordinary brown of the mountains, it was the brown of that soft chocolate that melts with the softest of touch and the littlest of love, but grows harder under the exposure of the cold reality and hardships of this life. they were the rich brown of the earth’s soil after the rain, fresh and calm but tinted with a ring of mischief on the umber that lined his iris. it was the warm cup of coffee that heals to his hiraeth expression, one indicating a longing to return to a home that never existed and was like the dust cover of an old book consisting of a thousand untold stories, honey flaking his eyes with raw emotion that phil could so easily detect that it almost gave him an insight into the thoughts that flowed through the boy’s ominous mind.

“b-because i’m the only one here?” phil asked, rendered speechless by the sight that was right before him. he suddenly wanted to know everything about this boy, about why he was crying under a tree after sunset, about why he’d given himself a cut across his face, about why he was a boy that likes to wear skirts and about why he seemed to intrigue phil in a way nothing ever had before.

“i guess that’s true,” the boy said.

“give me a second,” phil said. he left and returned with his bag in one hand and a flask in the other. sitting down in front of the boy, phil poured some of his whiskey on the handkerchief he had in his bag. the two boys were sitting face to face now, crosslegged about half a feet of space between them. phil pressed the tip of his finger against the piece of cloth and gently placed it against the boy’s cheek, running his finger down the cut as softly as possible. the boy flinched, more from how cold phil’s hand was than from the pain.

“still not going to tell me why you did this to yourself?” phil asked, raising his brows as he looked up at the boy from his very focused position of cleaning his wound. phil noticed that dan’s eyelashes were unusually pretty, and it confused phil even more.

“why don’t you go first?” the boy said.

“what do you mean?” phil asked monotonously, concentrating solely on the boy’s face. “you’ve been crying yourself, maybe you can tell me why?” the boy asked. phil dropped his handkerchief and angrily darted his blue eyes at the boy. he suddenly didn’t want to help him anymore. phil never let it show that he’d been upset, and it was never noticeable that he’d recently had one of his anxiety attacks, but the fact that this boy could tell how he’d been feeling pissed phil off.

“listen, i’m trying to be nice to you, and you’re being rude and invasive. you’re no one to say i’ve been crying when i haven’t. so simply tell me why you got hurt or don’t. i couldn’t care less. i don’t even know you. you’re nobody to me.” phil said bluntly, and suddenly he saw the soft brown of the boy’s eyes dissipate into a dark amber that cloaked his eyes in a melancholic veil.

“i’m sorry, you’re right.” the boy said, choking on a sob. he caught his bottom lip between his teeth and got up immediately, and without a second glance at phil he turned around and left. when phil realised what he’d done. he’d made the pretty boy cry.

“shit, wait!” phil said, stood up and immediately ran after the boy who’d disappeared into the streets by now but somehow phil’s instinct led him to the right road and he could see the boy walking straight. when he caught up to him, phil pulled him by the arm to stop him. tears were racing down the boy’s face, and bottom lip was trembling, shoulder’s heaving and bushy brown curls falling over his forehead.

“i’m sorry.” phil said. his face was unusually close to the other boy’s with his nose directly aligned along the shorter’s cheek. his eyes dropped shut and he heaved sigh with his pulse racing because of the mini marathon he just ran. his hand was still holding the boy’s satin covered wrist, the other one now on his arm.

“you don’t have to be, it’s not your fault. it’s mine. i get in over my head sometimes. i’m sorry for bothering you,” the boy said in between hiccups.

“you were right, i-i had been c-crying, i just d-don’t like to admit it.” phil said, his expression changing to that of a troubled one, eyes flinching and lips twisting. he couldn’t believe he’d just admitted that. never once in his life ever since he was six years old had he ever admitted to crying, over even cried in front of someone. he hated that he cried sometimes. he hated that he was weak.

“it’s alright to cry. it’s unhealthy to bottle everything up. i’m glad you could admit that. i’m still sorry about what i said, i’m not in any position to make a comment like that. you’re right, we don’t even know each other.”

“can we?” phil asked, opening his eyes and looking down at the boy.

“can we what?”

“get to know each other? i m-mean you seem really nice, and i would love to get to know you a little more. only of course, if you don’t mind. do you?” phil asked shyly. his confidence had vanished into the cool air around him, and suddenly he was apprehensive about everything he said. he as it as couldn’t handle the thought of someone being upset because of him, the sight was a totally different matter. and given how sensitive this boy seemed and how careless phil always, he knew he was bound to make him upset.

“i don’t mind at all. i’m dan.” dan said and extended his hand for phil to shake.

“i’m phil.” phil smiled and shook dan’s hands, surprised at how small it was. phil’s hand practically swallowed dan’s hand. quite literally.

“i know.” dan said, letting his eyelashes droop over his cheeks as he looked down at the ground. “oh god, you don’t go to my school do you?” phil asked. dan giggled and nodded. of course he knew who phil was, everybody knew who phil was. he was the heartthrob of their school.

“well there goes my first impression. anyway, um my girlfriend’s waiting for me at home and she’s probably already very mad at me. i’ll, um talk to you tomorrow, yeah?” phil asked.

“yes, that would be nice,” dan said.

“i’ll see you,”