Love is Our Resistance

9/6/05

Dear Phil,

"They burned you."
You whispered, more to yourself than me.

I nodded, struggling to maintain eye contact.

"My arms and legs caught fire immediately, but it burned through the ropes that were holding me in place before it reached my neck or face. I rolled off the edge of the stairs and fell about a meter to a huge puddle of water where a pipe in Jackson's basement had been leaking."

Your face was completely blank. Free of any emotion whatsoever. I had managed to stop crying, but I knew how bad I must've looked to you.

"Andrew died."

I nodded again, trying desperately not to think about it. Every time I spoke his name, I could feeling the flames licking at my skin.

"I was unconscious from the moment I hit the floor. A neighbor had called the police when they smelled smoke. After six months in the burn unit, I was sent home. Never spoke of it again."

You pulled at the fuzz on my carpet and picked it apart in your hands.

"Didn't the police get them? Why aren't they in jail?"
You asked quietly.

"They told the police it was an accident. There was no evidence left to prove them wrong."

"They didn't believe you?"

"I never told. I just went along with Jackson and Steven's story. It's not until you come that close to losing your life that you learn to keep your mouth shut."

You dropped the black fuzz in your hands and looked straight into my eyes.

"I only have one more question. Then I'll never mention it again if you don't want me to."

I felt a sharp pain in my chest at the sight of your huge, crystal blue eyes. I hated myself for telling you this. I hated myself for making you cry. But what else could I do? You needed to know... and I needed to get it off my chest.

"Go ahead."

"Why did they do it? Why would they want to hurt you?"

I stared down at my crossed legs and thought. Someone as joyous and full of life as yourself couldn't possibly know or understand the horrors of just how evil some people can be. That kind of evil is rooted deep within you, whether you realize it or not. That kind of hatred has always been there. An inhuman thirst for the suffering of innocent people. You are tempted by control... Controlled by temptation. And it never leaves you.

Who am I to expose you to something so horrific? It was my job as your friend to protect you and ensure your happiness. Then again... I'd much rather you heard it from me than experience it first hand.

"That little club they belonged to? It's not just some elementary school bullshit where they get together and make friendship bracelets every Saturday. It was an organization. Who knows how many kids at Hudson were involved."

"What did they do?"

I cleared my throat, once again feeling my chest clench painfully. I hate this.

"They hunted down anyone they suspected and tortured them until they promised to change."

"I still don't understand. Why you? Why Andrew?"

"They saw us kiss. They thought we were secretly a couple. And that somehow meant in their sick, twisted minds that we deserved to die."

Your eyes softened in understanding. You nodded, but said nothing further. I couldn't even hope to try and describe to you just how thankful I was. Looking at your soft, beautiful face illuminated only by the light that wove its way through my closed curtains, I could see just how incredibly pure you were. You were so full of love and life and laughter... I made a vow to myself in that moment to do whatever I could to keep you that way. I'll never let them hurt you.

"How could Louise ever think you were an emotionless robot?"
You blurted suddenly.

"What?"

"She keeps saying that you don't feel things any more. Everyone tells me that you're this guarded, reclusive person. But I can see hundreds of emotions alive in your eyes right now. You're hurt. Aren't you?"

I wanted so badly to say no. Of course I was hurt. I've been hurt for as long as I could remember. But I can't tell anyone that. If they know how I feel, that makes me vulnerable. It's never safe, and neither am I. That's why they think I'm an emotionless robot. Because after years of being asked "how I feel" the truth just doesn't seem to matter anymore. I can't let myself be so open to trust.

But the look in your eyes forced my mouth to speak before my brain could take control.

"Yes."

"Why?"

What was this, the fucking Dr. Phil show?

"I'm ashamed."

"Ashamed of what?"

Stop asking questions.

"Myself."

Oh my god. Stop talking.

"You did nothing wrong, though,"

"It's not logical. It's instinctual. Like an irrational fear."

What planet am I on right now? I don't explain how I feel. I don't open up about it. What is this inhuman force that's making me talk?

"Okay."
You said simply before rising to your feet.

"Where are you going?"

You reached a hand out to help me up.

"Come here."

I looked at you curiously, but nodded and took your hand. You kept hold of my wrist as you lead me across my bedroom to the door that lead to my bathroom. Without a word, you opened the door and pulled me inside.

"Sit on the counter."
You instructed me, doing so yourself.

"Phil, what the hell-"

"Just sit."

So I finally hoisted my self up on to the other side of the counter and crossed my legs.

"Come over here."
You said, your voice still flat and free of emotion.

I opened my mouth to argue, but quickly shut it and awkwardly climbed over the sink so that we were pressed tightly together in the corner against the mirror.

"Now face your reflection."

"Phil, I don't want to-"

You cut me off with a glare I never thought your kind eyes could muster. I turned slowly to face the mirror. It was odd seeing the two of us, sitting so close our thighs were pressed together. You looking annoyed. Me looking confused.

"I like your eyes, Dan."

"Erm, thanks?"

Turning slightly towards me without looking away from our reflection, you reached cautiously towards my face with a single finger and pointed to my eyes.

"I like them because they remind of of melted chocolate. It makes me think about the little chocolates you get in the advent calender at Christmas."

My face reflected just a hint of a smile at the thought.

"And I like your nose."

You moved your hand to tap the end of my nose, making me blush.

"I think it looks like my Aunt's nose. She died of cancer last year, but she always told me about how my uncle would tap her nose when she was upset because it never failed to make her smile.

"I like your little freckles that come out in the summer. When I look at your face I feel I'm looking into a far away universe because you have constalations on your cheeks and your dimples are like craters in the moon. When you cry, your eyes become cloudy and rain begins to fall. You are the sky, and you are the stars, and you have planets all your own. You're like a space prince.

But I think my absolute favorite thing about you is your smile. When you smile at me, I feel like I'm watching the sun rise. You are the light of my life every single day, and you need to promise me you'll never be ashamed of my sunshine again."

-Dan