Open Eyes (Phan)

Fourteen

Phil

After unlocking the front door, I helped Dan into the flat. Every time he groaned in pain, my heart wrenched. How could someone do this to someone as sweet and beautiful as Dan? It had taken everything in me not to beat the guy for laying a single hand on Dan.

I sat the brown haired, brown eyed boy down on the sofa, and once he was comfortable, I dashed into the kitchen to grab a wet rag.

Dan's injuries were bad. He had a charcoal black eye, and a swollen crimson lip. His cheeks were purple and yellow, and blood was leaking from the multitude of cuts scattered over his face. He had two gashes on his head, both in different places on his forehead. The blood had dried, at least for the most part. The bruises that I knew would form from those were going to be nasty.

When I returned, holding a damp cloth in my hand, he had his head hanging down in misery. I knelt down on the floor in front of him. I raised the cloth to wipe his right cheek, but before I could, he raised his head and looked me directly in the eye. Tears were brimming in his chocolate brown eyes. I stopped.

"Dan?" I questioned. Something in my chest constricted.

He blinked. And a single tear fell from his left eye.

"Dan, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" I suddenly became fearful that maybe I had somehow hurt him on the way over here. What if I was the reason he was crying? At my words, he broke into sobs. His shoulders shook as his body trembled. I dropped the cloth next to me and moved closer to him. I felt my own throat closing up. "Dan! Did I hurt you?" I asked again.

He shook his head vigorously. His cries were silent. All I heard were the choked, shaky breaths he took.

"Dan, talk to me! Please!" I begged him. I tried to keep my voice calm and steady and quiet. But I couldn't help the panic that laced my words and the fear that edged my voice.

"I'm s-sorry!" His voiced was strained and interrupted by sobs and hiccups.

"You have nothing to be sorry for! You've done nothing wrong. None of this is your fault. Why are you apologizing?" I had never felt more helpless. This hurt. Seeing him so broken was pure agony. Everything inside of me was writhing to make him smile.

"Yes it is!" Dan insisted. He put his face in his hands to try to cover his face. "If I w-wasn't so p-pathetic. If-f I wasn't such a w-waste of everything." His voice cracked three different times. I think I felt my heart fracture. I couldn't believe he was saying these things. These repulsive and disgusting things. I felt such rage to whoever made him believe these lies.

"Daniel. Listen to me." I told him firmly. "You are not pathetic. You are not a waste of anything. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be cherished and loved and appreciated. Do you hear me?" I paused for a second.

His sobs had quieted to the occasional whimper. His breathing, though still shaky, was calming down. I gently put both of my hands on his upper arms. He tensed at my touch. Carefully, I pulled his hands away from his face.

His eyes were puffy and red. His face was blotchy and red. His palms were tear stained and red. His nose was running and red.

I felt a rush of emotions at the sight of him. So many emotions at once. My breath caught in my lungs for a single heartbeat. He stared at me. His gaze was glistening with fresh tears.

"Dan. You are beautiful. Your heart is beautiful. You make me happy. I enjoy spending time with you. I miss you when we don't talk. Every time you open your mouth I appreciate every single word that you say. For god's sake we just met, like two freaking weeks ago, but already I cherish you more than almost anyone I know."

The entire time I spoke, I never once moved my gaze from his. His eyes got bigger and bigger.

"I know you're probably disregarding everything I'm saying right now. And if that means I have to remind the most beautiful boy in the world that he's worth something every day, then I'd be more than happy to."

When I stopped speaking, we were silent. Staring at each other.

"What are you thinking about?" I at last asked him softly. His silence was starting to scare me.

"Oceans and the night and snow." He replied, not taking his eyes off me. His voice was just as soft as mine. He sounded thoughtful.

I had no idea what that meant, or what he was referring to. But it was better than a lot of other responses he could've given.

Dan continued, "Thank you for helping me. I'm sorry for bothering you." He finally took his gaze away from mine. It went back to the ground.

I shook my head, a squeezed his hands lightly. "I'm happy to help a friend." Something flashed across Dan's downcast gaze.

"Friend?" He asked me. He sounded. . . surprised.

"Yeah!" I confirmed. "You're my friend! You seem surprised." He nodded his head and was silent for a moment. I couldn't read his gaze, but he didn't look upset anymore. His eyes were dry now.

I somehow remembered the rag that I dropped on the floor. I picked it up from where I'd abandoned it and raised it to Dan's skin. By now all the blood had dried. Thankfully none of the wounds were super deep, so he wasn't going to need stitches.

"This might hurt a bit," I warned. Dan didn't even blink at my words. He seemed to be lost in his own universe at the moment. I was still waiting for him to respond, so I figured I could clean him up while I waited. I pressed the rag to his cheek and wiped the first bit of cracking blood away. I did this three times. Dan didn't even flinch. I cleaned up his entire face, and his hands, which had blood on them. When I finished, the boy looked a lot better, though still badly bruised. Dan had barely moved.

Just as I was standing up to go wash the rag off, Dan finally replied. "I've never had a friend before." He was quiet. Quieter than usual. But I still heard him.

"What do you mean? I can't possibly be your first friend!" I exclaimed, kneeling back down. Dan was one of the sweetest people I knew. Surely he'd had a friend before. Surely he had a friend now.

"You are." He said simply. I noticed he was fidgeting with his fingers. Was he nervous? Anxious maybe? I didn't respond. Instead, I stood up and went to wash out the rag. When I came back, I sat down on the couch next to Dan. I turned my body toward him, and took his hands again.

"Dan," I started. He looked over at me. "We need to talk about what happened." He tensed a little. His gaze focused on the sofa. "We don't have to right now. I understand you need to recover. So take so time to heal. Take some time to think. But at some point soon, we need to talk about it. Okay?"

I waited for his response.

It came in the form of a tiny nod.

I squeezed his hands again.

"Do you want to stay here for a while? Or do you want to go home?" Instantly, Dan was shaking his head vigorously, his eyes wide with fear.

"No." He said sharply. He realized only a heartbeat later that he'd used the wrong tone. "I don't want to go home yet." He explained. Softly and calmly. Well, that was weird. But I chose not to comment on it.

"Okay. What do you want to do?"