"Dad...?" I called out nervously as I entered the kitchen. I could feel Phil trailing behind me, I could hear the tap of his feet as they left the carpeted living flooring and entered the laminate flooring of the kitchen. The noises he was making, little as they may be, were the complete opposite of comforting. It was like a woodpecker was drilling into me with every step, making my brain hurt. Questions spun around my head, feeding my anxiety.
Tap. What would happen when my dad saw Phil? Tap. What if he begins asking questions? Tap. Will they accept him? Tap. What happens if they all hate each other?
The tapping stopped but the thoughts didn't.

My dad was stirring something in a pot and he hadn't noticed us entering. I cleared my throat, not sure that I could say actual words. I noticed, even from the back, there were stains all over his apron and water had spilt from the pot and onto the stove. I watched it drip down onto the floor, my dad still not noticing. He kept stirring like his life depended on it. I had never known him to get so stressed by cooking but it wasn't just that he was stressing; his whole aura was different somehow. I could sense it as soon as I walked in, something had happened... probably something involving my mum. 

"Dad?" I repeated, a little louder that time.
"OH!" My dad turned around too fast and I expected the pot to go flying. "I didn't hear you come in," he looked at me with a dulled confusion in his eyes.
He looked at Phil, no through Phil. He seemed to be memorising the pattern of the kitchen wall behind Phil's head. Eventually, his eyes focused on the stranger in his house. "Ah who is this? This must be Phil!" He was talking too fast, his words blending into each other. 
"It's nice to meet you," Phil smiled sweetly and added a "sir" onto the end for extra effect. It was lost on my dad who started to talk over him before the first consonant had even left his lips.
"It's so nice that Dan has a new friend, I hope you treat him right," my dad's voice was deeper than usual and he sounded like there was something stuck in his throat.
"I plan to," Phil nodded earnestly. He wasn't smiling anymore.
"Good, good, that's what I like to hear," my dad said as he nodded repeatedly.
Phil looked at me, concern etched on his face and a crease formed on his forehead. I wanted to stroke it away but I didn't, of course. Phil reached out and gave my hand a squeeze.
"Do you need any help with tea?" I asked and turned back to my dad who had spilt more liquid over the side.
"No, no, I'm great here, boys. You go and enjoy yourselves," he replied without looking back.

I pulled Phil into the dining room, mum was nowhere to be seen (thankfully).
"Is he usually like that?"
"No, he's usually more together," I told him. But that was a lie, anything could tip my dad over the edge. He was constantly on the edge of crazy.
"Is it because I'm here?"
"No," I confirmed.
He had barely noticed Phil at first. The only time I had seen my dad so dazed, so focused on everything but the thing that was important, was when my mum left him. It wasn't because Phil was here, it was because she was here. Somewhere. I looked around to make sure she wasn't in earshot.
"He seems nice, though," he told me with confidence in his voice.
"I think he likes you," I said.
"More than your mum does that's for sure," Phil said.
We heard footsteps somewhere in the house.
"You can't even use the same scale there."
"Is dinner not ready yet?" My mum's voice could be heard in the kitchen and then a moment later I could hear plates being knocked about.
"Speak of the devil," I said and rolled my eyes. 

Tea was ready not long after. It was awkward sitting across from my mum. I noticed how she still ate her food so neatly, I didn't even know that was a neat way to eat spaghetti bolognese (even the name - spag bol - sounds messy.) Neither Phil nor I were too fussed with twirling the spaghetti carefully around our forks but I still couldn't eat as freely as Phil. I could feel my mum glaring into me; I could almost hear her snide voice telling me to "eat more ladylike." Every time she opened her mouth I expected her to say it. She'd said that to me, once, and for months that followed, I tried to watch how she ate so I wouldn't disappoint her again. 
I realised I had always been living under her shadow. At a young age, I would only do what she wanted me to do. When she left it was like my whole world was breaking down around me, crumbling into nothing. I would spend all day in my room dancing even when no music was playing. I danced for so long that my feet began to blister but I kept going. Maybe to distract myself or maybe to feel something. Anything. Maybe pain would bring her back... but turns out she only ever came back when things were finally going right in my life. 
"So, will we be seeing a lot of your new friend?" Mum asked me. I wondered if she wasn't addressing me by a name on purpose, I decided she was.
"Of course," I said confidently. A slight undertone of bitterness filled my voice, followed by a humourless laugh. "He is my boyfriend after all."
I didn't realise I'd said the word until it had already passed my lips and by then it was too late to pull it back in. Somehow it felt right. Phil was my boyfriend and I wouldn't let my insecurity ruin that.
"B-boyfriend?" My mum choked on the word.
"Problem?" I asked, making my voice sound as sweet as the desserts my mum used to make (you know, before she left and became a complete bitch... or before I realised she was a complete bitch)
"Not at all," she said manner of factly and began to stand up. "Excuse me, I need to use the restroom."
"Take your time," I heard Phil mutter.
He said it so quietly that I wasn't sure if he had even said anything at all until he flashed me a knowing grin.
"So, boyfriend?' My dad asked, his eyes clearer than I'd ever seen them in months. All his energy was going into evaluating the situation. He chucked in a few hums and stroked the scruff on his chin, he'd recently shaved. I felt the pasta turn to rocks in my stomach. I didn't care what mum thought but damn did I need my dad's support.
He stuck a fork into his mound of spaghetti but then dropped the fork back down like he was only doing it to be doing something. He glanced at Phil across the table.
"You'll take care of him?"
"I plan to," Phil replied. "I won't let anyone hurt him..."
"Good answer!" My dad smiled.
"Are you okay with us?" I asked my dad.
"Why wouldn't I be? He said he'd look after you and the boys got a face I can trust." He nodded encouragingly before digging into his food. He pointed his filled fork in our direction."Besides you two are so cute together!"
"Dadd!" I complained, feeling heat crawl up my neck and spread across my face.
"I... what would you call it? Ship you guys!" He said and tried hard not to laugh. Phil didn't try hard enough and burst out whilst I tried to get rid of the redness, only to blush harder.
"I can call it that but you can't," I got out over their laughter. Feeling utterly embarrassed but also happy that Phil had the chance to see my dad in all his glory without mum holding him back with a lease hung around his throat.

"Can I speak with you?"
I snapped out of my embarrassment. My dad stopped laughing. Phil stiffened up next to me.
"I don't know, can you?" I asked; she hadn't been very good at speaking to me lately.
"May I speak with you," she corrected. 
"Speak to your mother, Dan," Dad told me and I stood up for him. Only for him.
She led me out into the hallway. Her face looked dull and bored like I was the one who made her have the conversation and not the other way around.
"You're going out with... a boy?"
"It would seem so," I said easily because it was an obvious answer.
"Why?"
"Because I like him? Although I assume you wouldn't know what that feels like."
"I assure you that I loved your father," she tutted. "I'm not a robot."
"You sure had me fooled," I scoffed and leant against the wall.
My mum looked at me sternly but shook her head, like everything was just too much effort for her.
"Why are you going out with a boy if you're trying to be one?" Her tone was steady but sharp, it pierced through my ears and made my brain ache.
"I'm not trying to be anything."
"Don't give me that," she sighed.
"You think I'd choose this!? That I'm doing this because I want some attention or because I want to be oppressed and bullied for the rest of my life!?" My face was hot again, but not out of embarrassment.
I pushed myself off the wall. Anger filled me, hot like the tears that were threatening to spill out.
"I just don't understand what you're trying to do! You say you're a boy but then you date another boy..." she sighed and shook her head again. She squeezed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes sharply for a brief moment. I wished she kept them closed, I didn't want her to look at me with those eyes that looked so familiar and yet were on a stranger's body. "Why not just stay a girl if you're going to go out with guys?"
"I..." I couldn't bring up the words.
"First you tell me you're trans or whatever and now you're saying you're "gay"?" She scoffed. "Give me a break."
"It's not all about you, you know! This is my life... you were never in it before so what's changed now?" I threw my hands up in the air, trying to convey the emotions that my broken voice wouldn't allow me to get out.
"I'm here now, you can stop this act," she nearly yelled. 
"I..." I shook my head and stepped back. "I just-" I didn't want to speak to her, I couldn't. She was deluded. She didn't understand anything about me... she didn't even know me. So I didn't say anything, I just left.
I looked at my dad, the table, Phil.
My heart felt as heavy as my eyes. I felt like it was trying to escape my chest and honestly, I wouldn't stop it if it did. I was tired of feeling this way. Constantly feeling abandoned and beaten down for who I am.
"Can Phil and I go to my room now?" I asked. "I've finished my tea." I hadn't, I'd barely touched it.
My dad looked at me grimly and nodded.

Phil squeezed my hand comfortingly as he followed me upstairs and into my room. He held me by my wrist and stopped me from moving. I looked at him confused as he pulled me towards him, planting a soft kiss on my forehead.
"You're hot," he told me as he pulled away.
"I know," I said in a weak attempt to be flirty but it didn't really come through.  Phil's eyes kept flicking from my left to right eye, searching for something.
"I mean it... have you got a fever?"
"No," I said and shook him away.  "I think I'm just stressing."
"You shouldn't let your mum get to you so much... dating a guy doesn't mean you have to change who you are."
"So you heard?" I asked with a sigh and slumped over to my bed.
"Yeah..."
"I'm sorry I brought you here."
"Why? Your dad's ace! It's your mum who's the problem here," he spoke softly.
"She always seems to be the problem."
He joined me on the bed and wrapped me in his arms.
"You know, you could always just live with me."
I chuckled at that and Phil held me tighter, feeling the little movements as my body shook.
"I'm serious."
"I know you are," I said gently.
I turned myself over in his arms so our faces were barely touching, only a thin slice of air was between us. I could feel his breath on my lips. I could feel my heart in my chest, I hoped his was beating just as loud. There was a moment of looking into each other's eyes, there was something in them that I had seen once before. Back then I had been too busy yelling to process how he was looking at me but it all came flooding back; he looked at me with bright eyes, worried ones like he was unsure of himself and of my reaction. The only difference was that I wasn't yelling this time and I wanted whatever it was Phil was planning on doing. I was questioning my next move but then again, everything about Phil made me feel unsure. All I knew was that I needed someone who would accept me... I needed him.
And then I had him.
His lips were on my mouth as I desperately clung to him, digging my fingers into his back as I grabbed at his shirt. His hands were in my hair and his lips were on mine. His lips trailed down from the edge of my mouth to my neck. I didn't want him to stop there. He pressed his nose against mine and I tried to kiss him again but he pulled away from me. He shuffled out of my grasp and I reluctantly released him. 

"Woah," he breathed out and pushed his fringe out of his face so it was sticking up.
He didn't look at me.
Rejection and hurt quickly replaced the neediness inside me. I hugged my chest self-consciously and rolled to one side, my back facing Phil. I felt his arms wrap around my waist and he pulled me closer to him so there was no space left between our bodies.
"Why'd you stop?" I whispered into my pillow, my voice cracked and made me sound more pathetic than I felt.
"Sometimes cuddles are better than kisses in a relationship," he said and I could hear the smile in his voice. I hugged myself tighter and Phil must've noticed because his next words were so soft and calming that he may as well have whispered them "I want to take things slow, okay?"
"Slow?" I repeated. 
He reached for my hand and lay his against mine.
"I don't want to rush things... I really like you," he told me and placed a single kiss on the top of my head. 

AN:
Hey look I finally updated (only 4 days late *cough* *cough*) but I made this chapter extra long (2500+ words) to make up for it ^-^ 
A lot of personal stuff's happening right now but I will update this at least once a week, I'll make sure of it. Speaking of which, going to work on the next chapter now so it's ready for Monday! 
- Rach x