The Hotel Room (Phan)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The woman who addressed us was short (or maybe that was just by my standards) and her face was round (not unpleasantly so), honey blonde hair spilling into her hazel brown eyes. Clinging onto her hand was a young child, a girl, with bulging blue eyes. They seemed a nice enough family, the woman was standing with her Minnie Mouse hat at a jaunty angle, but her expression was stony.

“Look,” she began, referring to our position of hand-holding, “I’m all for you g—I’m all for people like you being able to do whatever you want- I voted Obama you know!- but I don’t want my little Kasey getting...ideas about life. Just because I support it...It’s just not natural you know!”

Phil looked blankly at her.

“What--?” he started, but I stopped him. I knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Even if that were the case, it’s not your fucking place to tell me what to do in front of your daughter,” I hissed, unnecessarily harsh. “We’re here to have a nice time, we can hold hands if we want to! Your daughter is a girl, even if it were to implement on her, she’d have to change her fucking gender for it to have an impact! Also, it’s not wrong! How dare you say that to our faces? If someone feels like that, they shouldn’t have to hide it from ignorant pricks like you! And I’m sorry if you don’t appreciate my fucking language, but I’m quite angry right now, if you can appreciate that!”

I took a deep breath, not letting go of Phil’s hand. It was like he was anchoring me there, stopping me from spiralling above ground in a haze of anger and hate for this woman. Who the fuck did she think she was?

She spluttered incoherently, her daughter looking on curiously.

“Dan...” Phil whispered, and I turned to see him with tears in his eyes. My anger evaporated as I brushed the liquid away. I squeezed his hand and began to pull him away. But I had one last thing to say. Turning over my shoulder, I said:

“Also, we’re not together, if that makes you fucking happy. We’re just best friends.”

By the time we reached the bathroom Phil was full out crying, and I felt even worse. He hates confrontation, always has, and I was so inconsiderate. It just made me angry, the things she was saying...why is everyone judged on their sexual orientation nowadays? Why should it matter that I’m holding Phil’s hand, platonic or not?

...Platonic or not...

Although it was platonic, right? Of course it was, what am I even saying? Blowing things out of proportion, as usual.

“Phil, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean...shit, Phil...please forgive me,” I pleaded, leaning into his embrace so suddenly he was comforting me.

“Dan,” he sniffed, rubbing my back in soothing circles. “Please shut up.”

“You’re mad at me, I knew it. I just, I didn’t mean—“

“I know you didn’t mean what you said,” Phil said coldly, and I look at him in surprise.

“No, Phil, I meant everything I said. I just didn’t mean to make you cry. I know you hate confrontation, but I was so angry at the fact that-“ I paused to tuck my head under his chin, despite our height difference, “-she might not understand what we have. More than that- that she might want to take away what we have.”

“No-one will ever take away what we’ve got, Dan,” Phil murmured, and I briefly wondered whether that was his lips in my hair, sending shivers down my spine- in a nice way.

Then we were hugging tight, almost as if we’d never let go, and the saltwater overflowed until it was falling down my cheeks, and it wasn’t the perfect day at Disneyland, but I was weirdly happy, and I didn’t even understand why.

“I love you, Phil,” I said quietly. There was an awkward pause, in which I found myself contemplating how I meant the innocent phrase. I mean, of course I love Phil, he’s my best friend. I spend more time with him than anyone else in the world. I love him...why does it feel like that might change?

“...Love you, too, Dan.”