my freudian slip - phan

i.

Pop psychology dictates that the sum of our past is the key to our future.

Everything we do, from the naming of things we think we'll need to the color of sweater we pick, who we call when we're scared to what we drink when we're stressed is all because of our history.

And for Dan, that makes a lot of sense.

So he looks ahead. In front of him is navy hair, the old Psychology class's track lights washing his skin into a blue and the small freckles into a brown only he can see this close up. The room is the same, empty and cold, but the back row English Senior's hands are softer than downtown and he likes it. Fingers trail to the small of his back and his uniform is coming undone again– a striped tie loses its noose and he wonders if the walls could talk if they would laugh at him like his mother watching her daytime talk shows.

He wouldn't blame them.

"God- you're so hot. You know that right?

That makes him smile. He's heard it a million times, but still he pulls the navy haired boy to his neck and stills it, feels the bruises start to bloom and the intake of breath soon after scratches his throat like nails on a chalkboard.

He can't really wrap his mind around it, but he doesn't focus on it either. The warmth of the boy's hands are enough.