Storms - 15. Daniel

When I woke up in Michael’s room I wasn’t sure where I was at first, only that I felt warm and comfortable and safe. It took seeing his bare chested self framed in the doorway to the bathroom, the light casting a glow around him like some kind of halo, to fully comprehend and believe that I had actually slept in his bed.

No one had ever been kind to me the way he had before. When he told me that I was safe with him, I believed him. When he hugged me, it felt so good I could hardly stand it. In some ways, it made everything worse. I never wanted to be touched by anyone else ever again, even if all I’d ever get from Michael were friendly hugs.

I didn’t see Loz all day, and I was thankful for that. If I was lucky I wouldn’t have to deal with him until the following Monday.

That evening, I texted with Michael for a bit. He wanted to know if I was okay, and I told him I was. Then he asked if I still wanted to come to his birthday party on Saturday and I said of course I would.

He wrote, Great! Good night. x

It made me feel a strange sort of happy, and I woke up on Wednesday feeling all right. All things considered, I had slept well, and I felt rested enough for once. At school, I ran into Michael twice before dinner break, and once after. Every time I saw him, I was reminded of how it had felt to be hugged by him, and it gave me a soft jolt of happiness every time he smiled at me.

The day was almost over when I received a text in class. The only person who had been sending me texts lately was Michael, and I eagerly checked my phone under the desk, but it was not from him. It was from a number I didn’t recognise.

Come to the showers. Right now. L.

My stomach dropped, and I felt my body begin to shake. There was no doubt in my mind of what the ‘L’ stood for. He had never done anything like this before. It was new, and it scared me. I had a feeling that ‘right now’ wasn’t a request so much as an order, and I raised my hand.

‘Miss, may I be excused?’ I asked quietly.

‘What for?’ Miss Lawrence demanded.

‘I . . . I need to use the toilet.’

‘Can’t you hold it for ten minutes?’ she said exasperatedly.

‘No,’ I mumbled.

‘Pardon? Speak up!’

I drew a breath, shrinking in my seat. ‘I . . . I guess I can . . .’

The moment the bell rang, I grabbed my things and fairly ran down the corridors to the changing rooms. I stopped outside, heart pounding in my chest. This was not where I wanted to be. Anywhere but here.

I went inside. Loz sat on a bench facing the door. ‘Lock the door,’ he told me, and I did. His expression was unreadable. ‘You’re late.’

‘I know. Sorry,’ I mumbled, eyes fixed on a point on the floor just in front of him.

He remained still, and I continued to stare at the floor, afraid to move, to make a sound. Finally he stood, and walked over to me. He towered over me, and it made me feel so small.

‘Why didn’t you come straight away?’ he asked.

‘Miss Lawrence wouldn’t . . . She wouldn’t let me leave.’

‘Then make something up!’ he snapped. He backed me against the door and held me in place with his hands on my shoulders. ‘I rang your mum,’ he said.

‘You what?’ My eyes snapped up to meet his. ‘What the hell are you ringing my mum for?’

He shrugged. ‘Felt like it. I pretended to be a teacher. She told me you spent the night at a friend’s house night before last. At Michael’s house.’ His dark eyes stared into mine. ‘Is that true?’

There was no use lying. I nodded.

‘What the fuck?’ he yelled, and shoved me hard against the door. ‘I told you not to hang out with him, and you go stay over at his house? And you, what? Thought I wouldn’t find out?’

I shook my head. ‘I wasn’t thinking, I—He asked—I didn’t want . . .’ I felt my throat constrict, and a panicked sob pushed forth. I didn’t know what I was saying, what I could say.

‘Liar!’ he growled and shoved me again. ‘I told you not to, Danny! I fucking told you. So, what do you think Michael would think if he found out what you let me do to you, eh?’

My mum called me Danny. Michael had, too, and from him it sounded like an endearment. It had made me feel safe and comfortable and happy. From Loz’s lips it sounded like a threat, like an insult, just like everything else he said.

Wasn’t he right, though? I could tell myself over and over how wrong it felt, how much I didn’t like it, but I had let him, hadn’t I? I hadn’t truly tried to stop him. I had even stopped saying no. If I had said no, would he have stopped?

I looked at the floor in shame. ‘Please, don’t tell him,’ I whispered.

Loz put his mouth close to my ear. ‘If you’re good now, maybe I won’t.’

* * *

I dressed mechanically and automatically while he watched, leaning back against one of the lockers. I felt a lump in my throat, tears blurring my vision as I tucked my t-shirt into my trousers and pulled on my sweatshirt, but I held back the sobs.

‘Wait,’ he said when I turned to leave, and I stopped. He pulled me around to face him, took off his blue scarf and tied it around my neck. ‘I didn’t mean to . . . I wasn’t going to leave any marks. Just wear this and no one will see, right?’ His tone was strangely tender, almost apologetic, and he leaned in to place a soft kiss on my lips. Somehow, that was worse than the insults. ‘If you can’t just stop hanging out with Michael, at least distance yourself a little. Okay?’

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. When he didn’t say anything more, I left.

The scarf smelled of him, and I felt like gagging. The moment I got in my room I pulled the thing off, fully intending to toss it in the bin before I realised that he would probably expect me to give it back or something. So instead I washed it in the sink, in an attempt to get his scent out, and hung it to dry above the tub.

I cooked tea for Mum, but couldn’t bring myself to eat anything. I brought it into her room.

‘Hey, baby,’ she said, smiling as I placed the plate of fish fingers and mash on her bedside table. ‘How was school today?’

I shrugged. ‘Fine.’ She didn’t really care.

‘One of your teachers called me today,’ she said. ‘He spoke very highly of you. Told me you were doing so well in school, even making friends.’

I swallowed, not sure what to say. I settled for nodding, and then turned to leave.

She took my hand, squeezing gently. ‘I’m sorry, sweets,’ she said. ‘I know I’m not much of a mum. I’m trying to get better, honestly I am.’

‘I know,’ I said, and squeezed her hand back. ‘You should eat before it gets cold.’

Michael texted me later that night, but I didn’t reply. I didn’t know what to say. How could I explain to one of the few friends I had that I needed to distance myself from him? The thought of having to discourage him from caring about me made it hard to breathe, and that night I cried myself to sleep.

* * *

When I got up the following morning, I found that my neck looked worse than it had the day before, angry purple bite marks adorning the skin near my collar. I had no decent scarf of my own, and my mum’s scarves were too girly and conspicuous, so I wore Loz’s scarf again. It no longer smelled like him, which was a small blessing.

When I arrived at school, I couldn’t shake the feeling that people were staring at me. I thought it might have just been my imagination, but then I passed by a door to a classroom and I understood why.

On the door hung an A3 sheet of paper. It featured a picture of me. It was taken partly from behind, leaving me in semi-profile but with my face clearly visible. My eyes were closed and my lips parted, and though the picture only showed me from the waist up I was clearly naked. White tiles were visible behind me. The shower in the boys’ changing room. It was the upper half of the picture Loz had taken of me.

Underneath the photo were the following words: Hello, my name is Danny. I like taking it up the arse.

I suppose it was lucky that I hadn’t eaten since yesterday, because otherwise I might have been sick. I stood there for a few moments, staring blankly at the poster, mouth agape. Then I came to my senses and began to tear it down.

Around me, people laughed as I tore the poster to pieces, sobbing.

‘Oh, Danny!’ said a sing-song voice, and looking up I recognised Patrick. ‘Little Danny boy! Come over here and I’ll give you one!’ His friends sniggered.

My arms dropped to my sides, and the shredded remains of the poster fell to the floor. Was Loz punishing me? Maybe he was hoping that Michael would be too embarrassed to be my friend after this. Maybe he was right.

Hot, angry tears began to fall from my eyes. He was taking everything from me. Granted, there wasn’t much to take away, but Michael was the one good thing I had, and Loz wouldn’t even let me keep that.

The laughter around me grew louder, and before I could stop myself I was bolting, running towards the nearest bathroom. On the way, I saw more posters, and I tore several of them down, leaving a trail of torn paper in my wake. When I reached the bathroom, I rushed inside only to find another poster taped to the mirror.

Was that what I looked like? My spine and shoulder blades jutted out of my back, and I was put in mind of starving children in Africa. How could I ever have hoped that Michael might want me, looking like that?

Rather than tear the poster down, I sunk to the floor, my back against the sinks. How much could a single person be expected to tolerate? How long before I cracked? How long before I took the easy way out and jumped in front of a bus?

The door opened, and in stepped the person I most wished to see, but also dreaded seeing the most. Michael stopped dead, staring at me sitting there on the floor, and then he saw the poster on the mirror and his expression darkened with rage. In two long strides, he had reached the mirror and was tearing down the poster. Then he dropped to his knees before me and grabbed my shoulders.

‘Dan.’ His voice was quiet but intense. ‘Daniel. You okay?’

I didn’t want to look at him. I thought if I did I would break down completely. So I focused on the school emblem on Michael’s navy sweatshirt and nodded.

‘Bullshit!’ Michael spat. ‘You’re about as far from okay as you were on Monday. Tell me the truth! Who did this?’ He held up the poster. ‘Was it him? Whoever he is? Tell me!’

I slowly raised my eyes to meet his, and as predicted, dissolved into a sobbing mess. Michael dropped the poster and put his arms around me.

‘Shh, it’s okay,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I shouted, I’m sorry . . .’

I clung to the fabric of his sweatshirt desperately, trying to get my sobbing under control, but my chest felt tight and I couldn’t draw breath. Michael stroked my back and continued to murmur his apologies, and eventually I began to calm.

Michael released me and searched my face. ‘Whoever’s doing this to you, you have to tell someone. It has to stop.’

I just shook my head. ‘I can’t. I can’t tell anyone, he’ll . . . And he mustn’t know you have a clue, or he’ll . . .’ I trailed off, not wanting to go there.

In all my clinging and crying, the scarf must have loosened, because now Michael was pulling it down a little, and he gasped when he saw the state of my neck.

‘Oh, God, Danny . . . What the fuck did he do to you?’

I shook my head again, lowering my gaze. ‘He found out I’d slept over at your place. He doesn’t want me to . . . To be your friend.’ I looked up at him again. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this. I shouldn’t . . . You need to stay away from me. Pretend you hate me. Call me a fucking faggot to your friends and, and . . .’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said, and his expression was soft and kind. ‘I’m not going to just abandon you. Not when you need me the most.’ He bit his lip. ‘Dan, who is he?’

‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘Please, stop asking. I can’t tell you. I just can’t.’

The bell rang and Michael sighed. ‘Okay. But, come on. Let’s get out of here.’

‘No. You have to go to your lessons. He’ll know.’

‘Then come to my house tonight.’

‘No, he’ll know about that too. He found out about Monday. He talked to my mum. I can’t.’

‘Then let me come to yours.’

I stared at him for a moment. ‘You . . . You want to come to my place?’ I was pretty sure our whole flat could fit inside Michael’s bedroom. I shook my head. ‘He’ll find out. He’ll talk to my mum again.’

‘Well, your mum’s basically dead to the world, right?’ said Michael. ‘I’ll be quiet, I’ll stay in your room. She won’t even know I’m there.’

I hesitated.

‘Come on,’ he urged. ‘You shouldn’t be alone.’

I took a deep breath. Then I nodded. ‘Okay.’ And as I said it I was filled with relief. I wouldn’t be alone tonight. Michael would be with me. Michael would take care of me. I wasn’t alone, and this was the one thing Loz couldn’t take from me. He could take my dignity and replace it with pain and shame and despair, but he couldn’t take Michael, because Michael refused to be taken.

‘Okay,’ said Michael. ‘I’ll get to class. You should go to Mr. Hugh’s office, they’ll want to talk to you about the posters anyway. Then you tell them you’re feeling ill and want to go home. I’ll text you when I finish today, and you can tell me how to get to your place. Deal?’

‘Deal,’ I said, nodding. ‘That’s good. Yeah. I’ll . . . Thank you.’

Michael helped me to my feet. Then he hugged me and sent me on my way.

* * *

Mr. Hugh, the headmaster, wasn’t happy to just send me home, and instead made me go see the counsellor. She was a forty-something named Mrs. Penn, and she questioned me endlessly about who bullied me (to which the only honest answer was ‘nearly everyone’), and then started asking about my home life and my frequent absences.

I lied as hard as I could, saying that my mum was doing much better, thanks, and there was nothing wrong, I had just been feeling unwell lately. Sure, I occasionally dreaded going to school because of the bullies, but that wasn’t why I wasn’t feeling well. I just hadn’t been sleeping, and I’d had insomnia since early childhood. It comes and goes, I told her, and it would probably get better again soon.

She eventually let me go home, though dismayed that she couldn’t reach Mum on the phone, and the moment I got in I curled up on my bed and fell asleep, utterly exhausted.

I woke up when Michael texted me.

Hey, you okay? Thought I’d come over now. How do I get there?

I texted him my address and directions, and then stepped outside the flat, sneaking a fag from Mum’s coat pocket, to wait for him.

Michael arrived just as I was putting out the cigarette. ‘I didn’t know you smoked.’

‘I don’t, usually. Felt like making an exception.’

We entered the flat quietly, and I walked ahead of him down the narrow hallway to my bedroom door. Neither of us spoke a word until the door was shut behind us.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, pulling me into another hug. I took a moment to breathe him in before answering. Just having him here, being so near him, was enough to make everything better for a little while, even though I realistically knew it wouldn’t last, and even though I knew that Michael didn’t feel the same way about me as I did about him.

‘I’m okay,’ I said after a moment. ‘I slept a bit. Feeling a little better.’

‘That’s good,’ said Michael, releasing me. He shed his jacket and sat down on my bed, looking around the room.

‘Sorry it’s so small . . . And untidy.’ My cheeks felt warm.

Michael quirked an eyebrow at me. ‘What are you apologising for? Even if I did mind, which I don’t, it’s not like you can help the size of your room. Now come on, sit with me.’

I did.

We spent most of the afternoon talking in hushed voices. We didn’t talk about the bad stuff. Instead, we discussed movies, and music, and then we watched some Firefly on my laptop, as Michael hadn’t seen it before. Small wonder, as he had barely been born when it originally aired.

I cooked spaghetti for tea, bringing some into Mum’s room and splitting the rest between us. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was until then, not having eaten in over twenty-four hours, and had to take care not to wolf it down and make myself sick.

When it became time for bed, I went to tell Mum good night. Michael and I brushed our teeth and things together, so Mum wouldn’t hear two people go into the bathroom one after the other. It was a tight squeeze, but we made it work.

When we returned to the bedroom, I hesitated. ‘How are we going to do this?’ I glanced at my single bed. ‘You can have the bed, and I could pile some sofa cushions on the floor, maybe . . .’

Michael seemed to follow my gaze. Then he looked at me and smiled. ‘We can both squeeze in,’ he said gently. ‘We could go top to toe if you like. Or just . . . Spoon. I mean, we slept pretty close the other night. I’m comfortable with it if you are.’

My heart was pounding when I replied, ‘I’m good with close. It . . . It feels better—safer, when I’m close to you.’ The last part came out in a rush, but if Michael caught it he didn’t seem fazed.

‘Well, then,’ he said, smiling. ‘Close it is.’

He stripped down to his pants and got into bed. I only hesitated for a moment before doing the same, though I left my t-shirt on. I slid in under the covers with my back against Michael’s warm chest, and Michael draped his arm over my torso.

‘Good night, Danny.’

‘G’night.’

We fit so perfectly like that. It felt warm and safe and comfortable, and soon I was fast asleep, no nightmares plaguing me that night.