Theo

Out

 Phil wouldn’t sit on my bed.

    I pestered him about it for a couple of days, joking around, but he kept to sitting on the ground, giving me that same disgusted look.  What the hell?

    It wasn’t until we were in his room that I made a point of sitting on his bed.  “See?  What’s the difference?” I’d said seriously.

    “There’s a big difference,” he said, frowning at me.

    “Yeah?  What?”

    Phil blushed, curled up on the corner of the bed, playing video games.  “I don’t.”

    “You don’t know?” I wondered, shooting some zombies.

    “I don’t do . . . that,” he muttered, frowning.

    “Do what?”  What the hell was he going on about?

    “I don’t . . . you know, masturbate,” he whispered.

    I almost dropped the controller, turning to gape at him.  “What?”

    He shrugged, frowning.  “You’re going to die,” he muttered.

    “I don’t--wait, the game?”  I paused the game, turning back to him.  “You don’t?”  His face was red and he did that thing he always does when he’s embarrassed, becoming some weird species of turtle as he sunk into his hoodie, pulling the hood over his face to hide.  “You’ve never done it?”

    “Why would I do that?” he asked, though his words were muffled.

    “I do it like every day,” I admitted, frowning.  “You don’t want to?”

    “Want to what?”

    “Feel good?”  Why wouldn’t he want to?  “It’s normal to—“

    “Don’t tell me what’s normal,” he muttered, still muffled.  “Just change the subject.”

    “The guys all do it—“

    “You guys talk about that?” he muttered, peeking out to give me a baffled look..

    “Kind of?  We just talk about who we jerk off to,” I chuckled.  “I always had a thing for redheads—“

    “Chelsea,” Phil snorted.  I froze, staring at him wide eyed.  “It’s obvious,” he shrugged, biting back a smile.  “You forget what you’re saying if she walks too close to you.”

    “Oh.”  So even Phil noticed.

    “Why haven’t you asked her out?” he wondered.

    “No, no,” I said, shaking my head.  “We’re talking about you right now.  Nice try.”

    Phil frowned.  “Why should I talk about this?”

    “Why not?” I wondered.

    He narrowed his eyes, cheeks reddening with embarrassment.  “I’m religious.”

    “Whoa, nothing in that book of yours says ‘though shalt not touch thyself’.”

    “Are you sure?” Phil asked.  Honestly, no, but I nodded my head anyway.  He just blushed deeper.  “Can I . . . if I tell you something will you promise not to hate me?” he asked.

    Why would I hate him?  “Sure?”

    He parted his lips to say something when we heard a slam.  “I’m home!” Katarina called up the steps.  “What are you boys up to?!”

    “Killing zombies!” I called out.

    She was at the door pretty quick, peeking in to smile at us.  “Hey you two.  Want me to order out some pizza?”  Phil nodded and I groaned.  “What?”

    “It’s not as good as your rice and beans,” I whined.

    She rolled her eyes, waving me away.  “You’re spoiled, Theo.”

    I pouted as she left, turning to her son.  “All I want is some rice and beans.”

    Phil just laughed quietly.  “I’ll make you some tomorrow, okay?”

. . .

We won championships that year.  It was a big to-do.

    I also went to Homecoming with Tania.  I made the decision because 1) she is beautiful in an exotic kind of way and 2) I figured Tania is in Chelsea’s little group so at least I’d get to be close to her.  Hell, she stood next to me beside her date Leo in almost all the group photos.  Phil didn’t go which I complained about.  I thought it was because he didn't have a date but a lot of the guys were going stag.  I told him that but he insisted he just didn’t want to so I let it go.  There was always next year anyway.

    It was fun and the after party at Trey’s was fun, too.  Tania made out with me which was probably a dumb move on my part since she’s Chelsea’s bestie but I figured what the heck?  YOLO.  Plus, Tania could dance and was pretty cool.  She even knew how to properly roll a joint which was kind of impressive since I sure as hell didn’t.  She’d learned from her older sister who, apparently, messes around with Trey’s older brother.  It’s a small world after all.

    And that school year flew by.

    Tania became my girlfriend and we started spending most of weekends together.  I was so wrapped up with her, literally sometimes, that when she went on a skiing trip with her family for Christmas break, I realized it had been a little while since I’d actually hung out with Phil.  I invited him out all the time but he wasn't one for third-wheeling which I understood honestly.  Especially since Tania wants my full attention all the time.  When I showed up at his house, I knew it must’ve been a while because Katarina pulled me in for a warm hug, all smiles.  “How are you?” she asked, patting my shoulder.

    “Uh, good?”

     “You’ve had a growth spurt,” she said, scrunching her eyebrows at me.  “I’m glad you came right now.  I’m just heading out.”  She was wrapping a scarf around herself.

    How long has it been since I’ve seen Katarina?  A few months maybe.  “Where’s Phil?” I wondered.  She just pointed toward the stairs and I grinned, heading up.  I could hear Naruto playing in the background so, thoughtlessly, I pushed open his door and froze when I realized what I was seeing.  Harrison?  I saw his hand tangled in Phil’s hair, craning his head back, his mouth moving over Phil’s.  Wait.  It seemed wrong to me, it looked . . . wrong.  When Phil made a noise, almost a whimper, I grabbed Harrison by the throat, slamming him back against the wall.  “The f**k?!” I growled, glaring at the slimy little—

    “Theo?!  Wait!” Phil called.

    I glanced back at him, taking in his disheveled state.  He had . . . were those hickeys?  My brain was working over time trying to solve this equation.  Phil was small, easy prey.  Wreck It Raph left him alone after my encounter with him, especially since I started walking to school with Phil, but that didn't mean some other i***t--like this i***t--might not try something stupid, especially in private. “Was he hurting you?” I muttered, watching as Phil sat up, adjusting his pants.  He didn’t have a shirt on.  He always wore a shirt.  Phil was weird about changing in front of people in the locker room.  I always thought it had to do with his small build.

    Harrison scoffed so I slammed him back against the wall, glaring at him.  I had half a mind to just throw him straight out the second story window.

    “No, Theo.  Let him go,” Phil said.  “Please?”

    His dark eyes were wide, nervous.  I noticed how his mouth was red, swollen.  Like Tania’s every time we make out.  I let go of Harrison, realizing my own mistake.  “You two . . .?”  Holy s**t.

     “Surprise,” Harrison muttered, rubbing his throat.

    “Phil,” I muttered, looking him over seriously, “you can do better than this prick.”

    “Man, f**k you,” Harrison muttered, shoving at my chest.  I didn’t even budge, too busy staring down at Phil who looked super embarrassed.  Turning, I found myself sizing up Harrison and he must have realized what I was doing because he took a step back.  He might have an attitude problem and talk a lot of s**t but he didn’t want to square up with me.

    “Get out,” I said, glaring at him.

    “Are you f*****g serious?” he snapped, glancing at Phil for help.  Phil just turned his back to us, ducking his head as he pulled his shirt back on.  When Harrison turned back to me he found me staring at him threateningly and just tsked, shoving past me.

    Once I heard the front door slam shut, I let out a breath, pinching the bridge of my nose.  “So, like . . . is he your boy—“

    “No,” Phil said, raking his hand through his hair.

    “Oh.  I mean, he was all over you—“

    “What do you want, Theo?” Phil muttered.

    “Were you gonna go all the way with him?” I wondered aloud.

     Phil’s shoulders tensed.  “It’s none of your business.”

    I mean, no.  I guess it’s not.  “So you’re gay?”  His shoulders shook.  “Don’t cry,” I said, recognizing that body language.  My sister Violet is kind of a crybaby.  Phil though, he doesn’t cry.  At least not in front of me.  “Hey, I’m sorry for asking okay.  I just . . . I’m surprised.  You went from too holy to jerk off to hitting second base with another guy—“

    The pillow almost hit me but I caught it.  The book though, that one nearly landed the side of my head when I’d brought the pillow down.  “Get out!” he was shouting, wailing a shoe at me now.  f**k.  “You’re such an asshole!”  A flying controller.  s**t!  I caught that one though, luckily.  “You always just say the first thing that pops into your stupid head and you boss everybody around and—“

    I barreled into him, pulling him into a restraining hug.  He tried to punch me which was a pretty useless attempt considering his arms were pinned to his side to his elbows and he’d too weak to do any damage even if he had full range anyway.  “Calm down,” I muttered as he thrashed.  For such a small creature, he sure could fuss, his forehead catching my chin.  Jesus.  Pulling him closer, I waited him out, letting him take out his anger on my sides, feeling his shoulders shake as he sobbed into my chest.  When he finally stopped, he sniffled a little, pressing his forehead into my neck.  “Don’t I disgust you?”

    Disgust?

    “Um, no?”  It was the truth.  I never thought Phil disgusted me.

    I mean, I’m straight.  I like women and boobs and that nice area between a woman’s thighs.  But that didn’t mean Phil was disgusting.  Just gay.  He was definitely gay.

    “Why didn’t you tell me?”

    Phil snorted.  “Why would I?”

    Oh, true.  I mean, I guess that doesn’t really come up in normal conversation between guys, does it?  Plus, if I’m talking about sexy women, he already knows I’m not into looking at some hairy man.  He already knew my preferences so he probably just kept quiet so I wouldn’t be uncomfortable.  “I mean, I’ve talked about girls and s*x around you and stuff.”

    “So?”

    “Did it—I don’t know, did it make you uncomfortable?”

    He sounded annoyed.  “No.  Why would it?”

    Oh.  I mean, I don’t really make gay jokes but Trey does.  I wondered how many shitty jokes my friends made.  I wondered if Phil heard them.  s**t, maybe he thought I was a homophobe.  “I’m not a homophobe,” I muttered quietly.

    He just sighed.  “Let me go.”

    “If I let you go are you gonna . . . you know, throw stuff at me again?  Or are we over that?”  Phil shoved me away, wiping at his face.  It was blotchy and red.  He really was crying.  “I’m sorry for making you cry,” I muttered, not really sure what the right thing to say was.  “I mean, I don’t regret kicking Harrison out.  He’s an asshole.”

    “Why do you hate Harrison?” he grumbled, picking up the things he’d thrown.  Unlike me, Phil couldn't stand his room being out of order.  He'd even pick up mine if it got too messy.

    “I just said it.  He’s an asshole.”

    “But how so?” Phil muttered, tucking his books on his bookshelf.

    “He just is,” I said, narrowing my eyes.  “Like a sneaky fox.  Always scheming.”

    “I need something more specific.”

    “Just his face,” I said, taking a seat on his bed.

    “His face?”  Phil glanced up at me, eyes still red, and chuckled.  His smile made cheeks scrunch up and a tear fall from his right eye.

    I hated seeing him upset.  “Yes. The way he looks at people.  He’s conniving.”

    “You’re so judgmental,” he laughed, wiping at his eyes.

    “I’m right.  And him pushing you down onto a bed just proves it,” I said, frowning at him seriously.  “You’re . . . a good kid.  A rule follower.  Always with your nose in a Bible.”

    “I’m not that good,” Phil said, frowning up at me.

    I didn’t buy it for one minute.  “You’re like an innocent bunny and he’s a sneaky fox.”

    He smiled then, an amused glint in his eyes.  “You think he’ll eat me?”  Why did that sound s****l to me?  I frowned at him, watching as he just shook his head, taking a seat next to me.  “He’s not a bad guy.”  Phil was looking up at me seriously.  “He’s . . . helping me out.”

    I gripping his chin, tipping his head to the side, looking at the hickeys lining his neck.  “Helping?”

    He slapped my hand away, blushing.  “I have . . . needs too.”  Needs?  I went to ask what he meant when it dawned on me.  Oh.  I shifted, thinking about how he’d said he never touched himself.  So it was okay as long as somebody else was touching him?  He was letting Harrison touch—“Theo?”  Phil called, catching my attention.  “Which game do you want to play?” he asked, holding up two different video game options.

    I shook away the thoughts about Harrison, deciding it was none of my business.  “Uh, whichever one is fine.”