Free Platonic by Kate Paddington

much different from the last time. Some of the pictures had been moved around, Mark thought, and instead of the two big suitcases Daniel had packed for New York there was now only one small case pushed into the corner. The sheets were a different shade of blue, and the bed was unmade.
    An eyebrow arched before Mark could stop himself: He didn’t think he had ever seen Daniel’s bed unmade—unless they were in it, of course, or just getting out of it.
    Daniel darted past him, wringing his hands, grabbing the sheets and flicking them out quickly, letting them gently float back onto the mattress. He blushed; he knew exactly what Mark wasn’t saying.
    “I slept in this morning,” he mumbled. “And technically I’m on holiday.”
    Mark laughed. “I wasn’t judging.”
    Daniel turned on him, defensive, with his chin stuck out. Mark had missed that. “Yes, you were.”
    Mark laughed again. “Not in a bad way, though.”
    Daniel just clicked his tongue and fluffed the pillows but, Mark noticed, didn’t move to tuck the sheets in properly. Mark wanted to run almost as much as he wanted to stay, wanted this whole year to be over and forgotten, and being here, with Daniel, reminded him that it wasn’t even nearly finished. It reminded him that in a few days he would have to start again: stop himself from messaging and calling and answering every email with long, detailed paragraphs full of in-jokes and questions and endearments.
    He was astounded that they had clicked as if it hadn’t been months.He had expected awkwardness and distance on every level; he hadn’t been prepared for any sort of closeness. Now he didn’t know whether to talk to Daniel about what was happening or not, whether or not he needed to push Daniel away again to make sure he went back to New York and kept living.
    It was still only November.
    “Can I kiss you?” Daniel asked. He sounded shy but his eyes were set and determined.
    No.
    He was standing so close, though, and Mark could smell him and see the flecks of gold in his eyes, could feel the butterfly-soft brush of Daniel’s fingertips up his forearm and hear the hope in the shallowness of his breath.
    Daniel’s eyes flickered down to Mark’s lips for a second and then he licked his own and Mark’s face automatically tilted down in the smallest acquiescence.
    The last two inches between them disappeared and Daniel kissed him, soft and tentative, as though he had almost forgotten how, both boys conscious of how their caress of lips on lips was barely more than a light pressure.
    But Mark’s hands came up and grasped at Daniel’s hips, digging in and feeling more bone, less softness than he remembered, and Daniel’s fingertips kept tracing faint, easy lines over the exposed skin of Mark’s arms. They held each other like that for as long as they could bear it.
    Then they broke apart, hands still against each other as their eyes met and they breathed.
    Something he saw made Daniel ask, “Is this okay?”
    And Mark shivered and gave in, choked and begged and fell forward once more: “ Please…”
    ***
    When Mark snuck out an hour later it was still midafternoon and Daniel was snoring softly. He looked beautiful against the sheets, only his underwear pulled back on after they’d finished, his hair still mussed and twisted from where Mark’s hands had been. He was smiling and he hadn’t stirred.
    Watching him felt wonderful until it felt the opposite, and then Mark scribbled a note only because he thought he had to and left it on the pillow that smelt like them.
    Had to get home. I’ll see you for Christmas. I love you. —M
    He hoped Daniel would wake up and be okay with it; he even hoped Daniel would be a little angry because perhaps that would make going back to New York easier. In his car, Mark put on a playlist of his favorite instrumental pop song covers and drove for hours and hours until the low-gas light came on and it was dark out.
    Sitting in the driveway of his parents’