"I'm going."

"Where?" my dad asks absently, signing his initials on a pile of paper.

"Out," I answer, using the dinner table as support to put on my shoes.

"Out where?" he lowers his glasses to look at me.

"With friends," I shrug. He frowns, looking reluctant. I roll my eyes, "At least I'm telling you. I could have snuck out, you know."

My dad sighs, picking up another paper, "I'd rather you snuck out. So that, if in case they find your body in a dumpster I won't have a guilty conscience."

"You're horrible," I laugh. "Relax. I'm sleeping over at someone's house." My dad's lips twitch, but he doesn't say anything.

"Also, there are more chances they will find my rum-soaked body in the river. Dumpster sounds so boring."

"My apologies," he says gravely.

"Bye."

"Be safe. And use appropriate safety measures," he calls out. Appropriate safety measures?

........................

"Ruff."

"Yes, Comfort," I coo in my baby voice, which I knew was embarrassing and reserved only for the dog's ears. "We are going on a drive."

He scratches his ears, and settles down on the towel that I laid out on my seat. Before coming over, I had played a game with Comfort. Fetching the ball from the muddiest portion of the garden.

Yes, Comfort's usually white fur that popped out of his black and brown fur was no where to be seen. And the lumps of mud clinging to his tail will leave a trail of dirt as he wanders in Julian's apartment.

"Now, remember. Be the badest boy," I whisper in the dog's ear, holding him at a safe distance from my body.

When I ring the doorbell, I hear shuffling from the other side. There is a ching of coins chiming, and Julian opens the door, rummaging through a fanny pack.

"Hey Bea, will that be 7.60?"

"This is golden," I say amazed. Julian's head snaps up, his eyes widening causing his golden face mask to crack on his forehead.

"Perfect," I grin snapping a quick picture. He bangs the door shut at my face. When it opens again, his face is clean, a little red around the nose and chin because of vigorous scrubbing. He gulps and opens the door wider. "C'mon in."

"Was that a face mask?"

"Hey! I have to work to maintain my pretty face," he defends indignant. "And I had honestly given up hope you'll be coming. You said five. It's round eight fifteen."

"That'll be this fellow," I hold up Comfort, who was wiggling with excitement to sniff Julian. I put him down, and he gives a brief bark of happiness before jumping around snuffling Julian's feet.

"Why does it look like a Santa farted on you?" Julian's pajama top was red velvet, with small reindeers stitched on them. The pants were green with a ring of white at the bottom. I smile inwardly at the irony of how he looked like a red flag.

Amusedly, Julian turns further red, "I was not expecting company! If you'll excuse me, I'll go change."

"Why? It's hella adorable," I say confused.

He pauses, then says, "Oh." Meanwhile Comfort was barking for attention. Julian frowns and picks him up. Immediately he tries to lick Julian's face. "Jesus, do you keep him in your garbage can?"

"No, he was simply running around in the garden," I shrug.

"This is just not right, is it Comfort?" Julian pouts holding him up in the air. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Beg your pardon?"

"I'll give him a bath."

"No," I laugh. "That won't be necessary. What will Lia say?"

"She's out. Won't return tonight," Julian answered before walking towards a room, animatedly chattering with a clueless Comfort. "Son of a bitch," I mutter, and follow him. I knew my plan wasn't the best, but I was never expecting Julian to offer cleaning up my dog.

"You don't have to," I say, almost pleading. "Nonsense," Julian replies, opening different drawers and cupboards. With a jolt, I realize this is my first time in Julian's room. I look around curiously. A king sized bed, with startling red sheets and deep blue pillows. The bed was buried under lots of soft-looking blankets, and Julian's clothes.

The desk at the corner displayed a half drunk coffee, an elaborately embroidered ink pen, a knife with a rusted handle, some loose papers, a white digital clock that terribly clashed with the brown hardcover it was kept upon. Beneath it's ticking face, I read the book title as Enchantments and Spells. Why am I not surprised? He's probably invited me tonight to get my nose hair, for his final spell.

But the thing that stood out the most was the wall opposite to the bed. There are so many pictures that you could barely see the paint. Some polaroid artistically clipped on a rope, some taped to the wall, some framed in wood or cheap plastic. Between them I could make out the wires of the fairy lights carelessly twisted around.

I walk closer to inspect. The polaroid pictures were mostly of him and Lia. Julian hugging a scowling Lia, another had both of them on the floor holding beer cups and laughing, Lia in a black strappy dress and a black round hat grinding a hooting Julian who held up a wine bottle, behind them the party was blurry. Anyone would think they are dating or that they desperately needed an exorcism and an AA membership.

Rest of the frames are of random things, but each picture felt like a beautiful memory locked inside your brain. One was a photo of a playground swing, another was at a beach with waves and the most brilliant violet sky. One frame had a squirrel sniffing a white flower in a field. I almost laugh at the picture of the canary, with her mouth wide open, as if the photographer had deeply offended her.

"These pictures are something," I say to Julian.

"They should be. I took them."

"Really?" I ask surprised. I never pegged Julian as a photographer.

"Dylan, get Comfort to stop chewing my socks!"

"Attaboy," I quietly murmur. Then loudly shout, "Comfort! Don't. Drop Julie's sock." But getting Comfort to wreck Julian's room didn't feel as enjoyable as it had few moments ago in the car. Something about this room felt melancholic.

Julian's personality is as vibrant and dynamic as a fucking rainbow, which fits well into the whole Pride irony but his room felt completely opposite. Never in my life I thought Julian could live within teal blue walls, yet here I am. It was sad, lonely and so personal. I don't understand why I'm picking up this particular vibe out of all the interesting things in his room like the rope ladder that fell down from his shelf, or the dusty typewriter that sat on that shelf, or the gigantic violin in the corner that looked too old to be played and had Griffin Antiques carved on the side. 

There was no picture of family, nothing that gave away where he came from. His roots, or some sentimental artifact. Just Julian, his clothes and things, and a junk of art. There was the head of, I'm guessing, a Roman sculpture, weird abstract paintings, many scented candles, mason jar that held dried flowers and twigs, a broken lantern hung at the corner. Junkyard, will be stretching it too far, but it was a dump. At the window sill, I see an old pair of converse filled with mud and a tiny sapling planted in it. I felt stupid for drawing such staggering conclusions from a room that I analyzed for not even two whole minutes, but it felt very intimate. Raw, open to touch, and tender. Like a side of Julian, I never saw.

"Oi! Stop staring into space, and get your mutt into the bathroom."

Turns out the supposed mutt was terrified of water. For the first time in my life, I heard Comfort growl and snarl at me. "This ain't gonna work, Julian. Not when he is possessed by the ghost of fucking Samara Morgan."

"Give him to me," Julian sighs. Comfort snarls, then whimpers, then again snarls, as if testing which method will get him out of a bath.

"Comfort, no! Bad doggy," Julian scolds when Comfort bares his teeth. "Do you want to stay dirty? Don't you wanna smell fresh, like hooman?"

Comfort whimpers. "Now, now. Be a good boy." Julian squats down, and slowly puts Comfort in the bathtub. We both laugh as Comfort gives Julian a very injured look.

"It's like he's saying," Julian says to me laughing. "What the fuck, hooman. Why you put me wet water?" he pouts at Comfort who was now looking at us confused.

He first stands very still, as his paws soaked the water. Then he cautiously bend his neck to sniff, then tentatively licks the water. "Ruff!" he barks, as if approving it.

"I made the water lukewarm," Julian grins at me. In the bathroom lights, he looked like a concerned mother who coddled and talked to her only son. Comfort looked like he would die from happiness. He was shivering, from cold or excitement I don't know. His tail was thrashing water around, and his tongue was eager to meet Julian's face.

"A little help, Lord Dickshire?"

I roll up my sleeves, and hold Comfort still. After the first wash, the water got so muddy, that the drain choked. I smile sheepishly, when Julian shoots me an accusing glare before pulling the plug. Then Julian gets up to get a wicker basket. 

"What in the name of, Miley Cyrus!" My jaws hangs loose when I see the basket full of dog supplies.

"Good thing, I never threw them out," Julian mutters, holding a bottle up to inspect in light.

"Why do you have, is that, dog toothpaste?" I blink.

"Oh, we used to have a dog back home," Julian answers dismissively. 

"Okay, I'll ask the obvious question. Why do you have that poor dog's stuff?"

Julian shrugs, squeezing out a big dollop of shampoo, "When I left, I wanted to bring Marshall with me. But my father said, it was his dog and it will stay with him. I took that basket out of spite. Yes, I realized it was foolish and childish and immature, once I calmed down. Don't condescend me."

"Wait, your parents care about a dog but not you?" I blurt out shocked. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that," I panic. "I remembered how you said, they don't bother, and I.."

Julian listens calmly, hardly affected. "Hold his tummy," he murmurs. He lathers Comfort's leg and tail washing it with a hand shower. I watch him warily. He notices, and cocks up an eyebrow.

"Sorry."

"For what?" he asks, more focused on trying to untangle Comfort's fur with his fingers. "For saying that. It just didn't make sense, how you left-"

"Left home, got kicked out, same thing. Voluntarily left sounds better, so I say that," he says dryly. 

"I didn't know you were kicked out."

"My parents are Roman Catholics. The most dedicated members of the flock. Being gay in a house, where sermons are held every week is not exactly an ideal situation. I think my parents always knew I was homo, because they forcefully tried to set me up with different girls. My mother was physically repulsed by Lia, and all her ghostrider t-shirts. But you should see her face when she saw me holding her hand, or hugging her."

"What changed?"

"My stupid ex. The worst mistake of my life. George, ugh," Julian scowls. "The peckerhead was cheating on me, and when I broke up with him he came to my door to apologize. Then he kissed me, and my dad saw us. Worst beating of my life."

An unsettling chill runs down my spine. The way Julian was talking, someone would think he is telling a funny story. I couldn't find a trace of heartache, or vengeance, or longing.

"He knew," Julian continues, taking turns with each of Comfort's paw and cleaning between them. "George knew the state of my house, and still kissed me. I still don't know if it was some diabolical plan."

"Sounds like a tool anyway. What did you see in him?"

"He had a big dick," Julian shrugs.

"That's it? That's all you look for?" I ask in disbelief.

He shoots back an affronted look, "Easy there, Kiwi. Don't tell me you have a crush on the Kadarshian's because of their personality." I splash water on his hands. I could tell there was more to that story, but I don't push it.

Julian takes out conditioner, soaking it into Comfort's coat. His hair fell in his eyes, while he frowned in concentration.

At that weird moment, I felt a stupid certainty of my gay side. My mind plays an imagery of me undressing Julian's stupidly cute pajamas and holding him, and it gives me a rush. Kissing Julian, kissing his smooth shoulders and his waist. Grabbing his thighs, our mouths unable to stop devouring each other. Like a metal ball dropped into my stomach. There's an aching for him that didn't make sense.

The doorbell rings when Julian is brushing Comfort's teeth with an edible fangpaste. "That must be Bea. Dylan, could you get the pizza?"

"Sure." Julian tells me where he left his fanny pack. Bea was a short, blonde, delivery girl with a cheerful smile and an oversized uniform. I keep the pizza in kitchen, the only section of the apartment that seemed normal.

Julian is laughing and cutting Comfort's nails. I freak out when he takes out scissors. 

"Relax," he told me. "I just wish, I had this idea before I bathed him." He cuts off lumps of fur from Comfort's coat, that still clotted together untidily and cleaned his ears. Carefully, he started cutting hair from Comfort's face. 

"Hey! Don't bald my child!" I protest but he ignores me. I was afraid to fight him in case Comfort got harmed from the scissor. He wiggled now and then but made it through his bath session, by Julian's pampered talks and occasional forehead kisses.

Julian gives him a final rinse, and puts away everything. Comfort is visibly shaking, his tail tucked between his legs. He would wet himself, but he seems to be out of supplies. My distress is at whole other levels. "Oh God, Julian! He will die."

"He is fine, let's get him dried up." I gawk at the huge hair dryer that Julian fishes out. Comfort took a special liking to that thing, more intended on getting his tongue dried before anything else. We bundle him up in another dry towel, and leave him on bed. I sit beside him, but he jumps out and tries to follow Julian into the bathroom.

"No Comfo," I pick him up, his fur still damp. "Not so close." I am a sick person getting jealous of a dog.

"I completely forgot," Julian gushes returning back and crouching in front of me. Comfort happily wiggles his tail, looking at him with adoring puppy eyes. Traitor. "Watch this," Julian says to me. "Comfort, boop?" Julian brings his face closer.

To my disbelief, the bloody dog presses his wet nose against Julian's. 

"What the fuck are you teaching him?" I thunder. "I want him to bite and maul bad men to death at my command. Not go around wagging his tail, booping and farting at every thief that enters my neighborhood." 

"But he loves it," Julian cries, taking Comfort. As if in agreement, Comfort barks and licks my face. "Yeah, yeah," I mutter, scratching his head. When Julian puts him down, he touches his face to ground, lifting up his butt, wagging his tail at me. 

"I know that pose, and no. We cannot play now," I sternly order, putting Comfort back in the towel. He yawns, but tries to jump out. "No, Comfo. Sleep."

With lots of coaxing, and fake yawns, and fake snores, we manage to get Comfort to believe we were too tired to play. He settles down with drooping ears, and closes his eyes. We tiptoe out, flipping off the lights.

"Sweet pumpkins, I'm hungry," I say and hug Julian from behind, following him into the kitchen. We watch a talk show, eating warm pizza and cold beer. 

"Spit it out," Julian mutters beside me. 

"Sorry?"

Julian mutes the TV, and sighs, "You've been itching to ask something. What is it?"

I blink. My mind really was whirling with a lot of questions. Seeing no point in denying, I ask the one that came up first, "You went home few months ago."

"None of my relatives know what happened. And my dad is too ashamed to tell. He knows how much I enjoy being among my cousins, so he sort of uses them as a leverage to blackmail me into joining family events which is nice and everything, until it is over and they wordlessly drive me back to the airport." He shudders, "God, it still gives me chills."

"Sorry," I say. He looks at me, "Don't be. I'd rather live alone, than keep pretense. It's suffocating. And please don't give me those pity looks. I don't want them."

"I know. You are surprisingly strong," my hands strokes the nape of his neck. He closes his eyes and tilts his head backward, "What el-"

"Ruff!"

I am unable to control my laugh. Now that his fur was completely dry, we could see how much damage had been done. Comfort had survived the shower, but at a price. He had emerged out as an unevenly furred animal.

"I'm no professional," Julian rolls his eye, cause Comfort's one ear looked larger than the other due to irregular haircut. "Babycakes," I groan as I see Comfort's previously fluffy tail, looking like a rat's tail. Julian glowers at me, so I hide my chuckle behind his shoulder.

"Dylan, stop," Julian slaps my knee. "You're making me regret."  It was as if the dog knew we were laughing at him, cause Comfort's naked tail drooped, and wagged half-heartedly. "Aww, no. Come 'ere," I pat the ground.

He dutifully patters to me. I pick him up giddily, "Oh my Comfolo.. You are such a handshome boii. Yesh you are, yesh you are." Julian watches us with a smile I don't understand.

"Do it Dylan." 

"Do what?" I ask, touching Comfort's rat tail.

"Oh please. I saw how jealous you were, when Comfort and I booped. Go ahead." 

"I was not," I lie. Julian shoots me an unbelieving look. "Fine, for my sake. Please, try," he dramatically pleads.

"If you insist," I sniff haughtily. Holding Comfort steady, I tentatively speak, "Comfort boop?" This feels so stupid. To my surprise Comfort happily brings his nose to mine. I was horrified at the high-pitched laugh that escapes me.

"That giggle, officially makes you Comfort's mommy," Julian grins. This time I say Shut up. Julian scratches Comfort's head, while Comfort looked ecstatic at having so many cheeks to lick. 

We both are cooing and fussing over the wobbly mongrel when a memory returns to me: my small hands were struggling to hold the excited pup. Please keep quiet, I silently plead to the animal. I unhitch the back gate, and cautiously step into the garden. "Hush," I whisper furiously, when the pup whimpers. "I'll make you a nice home."

"Dylan, is that you?" 

I freeze in my steps, hearing my mother's voice. "Sweetie, what is it you are holding?" my mom steps out, her dress fluttering in the breeze, her hair pinned up. Guiltily, I turn around, holding the dirty animal closer. My mom gasps, "Paul, come here!"

To my surprise, my mom rushed forward cooing at the little dog. "Isn't she a beauty," she says, smiling at me. I grin back, proudly holding out the black puppy. 

"Is that a dog?" My dad had joined us, crouching next to mom. My mom carefully took the puppy from my hands, and both my parents huddled around the animal petting and laughing delightedly.

"Let's call her Daphne," my dad suggested. My mum pouted, "But this little angel is so much prettier than me."

"Nonsense," my dad dismissed. "Nothing is prettier than you."

"Who's Nothing?" I had stupidly asked. My mom had laughed and kissed my cheek.

I get up from the couch, my heart drumming unusually. I still remembered how my mother smelled like fresh apples that day. Julian looks at me confused. He holds Comfort in front of his face and says, "Why you leg, hooman?" 

"Dumbass," I laugh, taking Comfort. "I'll put him back to sleep."

"Wait, I have an old basket," Julian gets up. We makes a comfortable bed for Comfort using towel, and old pillow covers and tuck in a yawning Comfort. Julian switches off the TV, as if knowing I was also ready to be tucked in.

He was in the kitchen, while I clear his bed. I dump all the clothes on a chair, open the velvet blanket that smelled like cotton-candy and slide in, feeling too lazy to change out of my shirt and jeans. I try to turn out the lights, but all the fairy lights around the room didn't let darkness engulf the room.

Julian comes in, with a hot water bag.

"What are you? Eighty?"

"Its a habit," he frowns.

"You slept at mine without it."

"Yes well," he says indignantly. "This is my house. My rules." With a stubborn chin, he gets inside the covers and adjusts the blanket around him.

I lay there in the dark, waiting for sleep, and my balls start arguing with each other. My left ball was the angel who said, forget you are in Julian's bed, and go to sleep. While my right ball kept screaming, I want to be near Julian's firm ass! Now!

I think my right ball controlled the right portion of my body, because my right hand snakes out towards Julian.

"Ouch!" I wince, when it touches something hot. Julian flicks on the lamp.

"Who keeps a boiling water bag near their ass when they sleep?" I ask angrily.

"At your house, your ass kept mine warm. Tonight, I had low hopes so I brought my-"

"You have some problem. Like seriously, get your head checked."

"Hey!"

I give him another glare, and turn to curl into my side, tucking my hands between my thighs to warm them. Why do I embarrass myself, all the freaking time?

Julian mutters something like such a baby, and shuffles behind me. I hear a slosh of water, and a muted thud of water bag hitting the floor. Then I am drawn backwards towards the center of the bed, where it is warm. He scoots near me, nicely cuddling my butt in his groin. "Better now?" he asks. I don't answer. His hand hugs my waist.

"It's like we are already married. Spooning, and not having sex," Julian sleepily mumbles, his hot breath brushing my neck. I cough, to hide my laugh.

"Oh, look at me," Julian groans tired, and forces me around by my shoulder. "Stop feeling so self-conscious," he smiles.

"Gee, thanks. Now, I feel unseen," I scowl. He kisses my nose, and lies back facing me, tucking his hands under his chin like a child happily watching a Christmas tree. "Stop staring. You're being creepy," I murmur rolling to lie on my back. I can still feel his eyes at the side of my face.

"Dylan, I know you don't trust me," Julian says. I turn my face to look at him. "What?"

"I can sense the reluctance in you, everytime you stay with me. You think I'll hurt you, or do more dumb things-"

"-catastrophic things," I correct.

"Don't push it," Julian narrows his eyes. "But nonetheless, I want you to give me a chance. I know, we can make things work."

I rub my face, weary, "Julian, it's more than giving you a chance. You know you are gay, and you have known it for a while, or since birth, or whatever. But all this is very, very, new to me. And so unexpected."

"You never learn, until you try," he quietly mumbles, shyly looking down. I turn my body towards him. "You still don't get it," I murmur, cupping the warm curve of his cheek. "I don't want you to be a trial. You may think otherwise, but I care a lot about you. And if I rush into something, I'm not sure about or something I'm not ready for, I'll end up hurting us both."

He nods, then smiles. After a beat he says, "It's so weird having you in my bed. I imagined it, but never thought the day would come." He presses his palm to my chest, as if my heartbeat was the solution to his dilemmas. "Go to sleep," I comb my fingers through his locks.

Julian clears his throat, taking back his hand. "I never got to say, but thank you for coming over. And even more, for staying."

"You didn't think I would?"

"I had my doubts. I was pretty sure, you'll see the bottle of lube on my nightstand and jump out the window." 

"Anything for my stalker," I nod. He huffs out annoyed, and shoves my shoulder. "What?" I ask laughing. "You do classify as a crazy stalker." He looks offended, making me laugh harder and grab him in a greedy hug.

"This is cozy," he murmurs, and snakes his hands around my torso, snuggly fitting his face under my chin. He opens the top two buttons of my shirt, and presses his face to my neck. I can feel the bridge of his nose pressed against my neck. I keep my arm around him and tangle our legs together, rubbing his back with an occasional kiss to Julian's hair, lulling him to sleep. This is quite cozy.

..................

Double update, for Christmas. Merry Christmas, everyone!