Twenty Seven

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Sunshine filled the room the way chocolate sauce pours over hot fudge cake: slowly and indulgently; slipping through cracks and down the sides before melting into the pores with a deliciously warm lethargy. As the rays of light finally bypassed the curtains and fell across my pillow, I opened my eyes. Phil's dark hair tickled my nose, his warm breath on my cheek. I smiled.

His lashes were thick and dark, fanning out in a perfect arc beneath the crescents of his closed eyes and fluttering ever so slightly as he breathed. One eye was half hidden where his face squished into the pillow and I reached forwards to brush his cheek with a fingertip. As I did, he stirred a little and shifted his head – red indents from the creased fabric of the pillow pressed into his face creating an imprint on the newly exposed skin. I traced the soft lines. I wanted to kiss him but my mouth tasted like corpses so instead I kissed his lashes and hauled myself upright, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and yawning.

PJ and Chris slumbered in the bed opposite. With a little engineering we'd managed to push two beds together allowing the couples to sleep together without losing a limb, but this meant that Chris's bed almost completely blocked the bathroom door. I frowned. Carefully, I levered myself out of bed without pulling the covers off Phil and padded barefoot across the small stretch of carpet. Chris had told us just to push him out of the way when we needed to pee but in practice that was easier said than done without feeling awful. Instead, I decided to try and manoeuvre myself over the bed in a series of death defying leaps and twists so as not to wake him.

Three seconds and a muffled yelp later I lay sprawled across Chris's naked body in my underwear clutching a sprained wrist. Some dancer I was.

"Is there something you two have been hiding from us?" PJ said from beside me, bleary eyed but laughing as he propped himself up on an elbow with an amused grin.

"I don't believe it," Phil said as he sat up with a yawn, clutching his knees to his chest and looking over at us. "I think Chris is still asleep."

A snore confirmed it and I shook my head in bewilderment as I untangled myself from the sheets and scrawny limbs and finally made it to the bathroom door.

"He truly is an incredible creature," I wondered, cradling my aching wrist. "Sorry about that."

"I thought you were being murdered." Phil chuckled as he rubbed his eyes and squinted at the clock. "I can't see, what time is it?"

"6:30. Sorry." My wrist twinged again. "I don't suppose you keep any ice in here?"

*

I emerged from the bathroom and walked straight into Phil, his face pressed almost to the door. I jumped, nearly losing my towel.

"Jesus Christ." I gasped. "Do you want something?"

"Sorry, there's not much space here thanks to Chris's bed. Will you come meet my parents?"

I blanched.

"Well yeah, I mean of course I.." A thought suddenly occurred to me and my blood ran cold. "They do know about... you know, don't they?" I asked apprehensively.

"Nope." Phil said cheerfully. "And it's your job, as my boyfriend, to be by my side when I have to tell them."

"Right." I said resignedly. "So when is this happening? I'm going to need at least three years to prepare."

"Today." Phil grinned.

"Oh."

"Good luck mate." Chris grinned. "You'll be fine. Oh and did Phil mention that his Dad's a raging homophobic who keeps a gun and a pair of samurai swords in his bedroom? See you later!"

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