#YHPGS2

[youre-pretty-gay]

You Have a Pretty (Gay) Soul [Ch. 2]

It didn't take long for Philip's mom to come get them from the office. The first thing she did when she entered the room was grap Philip's face and ask if he was alright. What Ryan didn't expect, though, was hug from her as well and a quiet "Thank you," into his ear. Ryan didn't really know how but Francine (Philip's mother - she told him right before they all left) somehow got permission to bring Ryan home with them. (He had to feign pain, showing the nurse the bruises and bloody nose the jock had left him with. He also had to pretend to actually know Philip, who had meekly stated that Ryan was his best friend.) Now he was sitting with his hands in his lap in the backseat next to a basket of fresh laundry, staring at whatever passed by outside. It was a quiet and an easy, comfortable silence that drowned the sounds of the radio. "Your name's Ryan, right?" He flicked his eyes to Francine in the driver's seat, who looked at him through the mirror. He couldn't help but notice the similarity between Philip and her; the same dark skin, the chestnut wavy hair, hell, Philip even had her eyes (not that he spent too much time looking at them, he'd just noticed the midnight shade of blue they were). "Yes ma'am," he hummed out, occupying himself with the hem on his gloves. "You should probably give your parents a call when we get home, okay sweetie? I'll get you some ice for your eye." The rest of the drive was rode in silence, and he could've sworn he heard Philip's breathing deepen in the front seat. Was he sleeping? It felt like eternity he was in the car, just watching the overlooming trees covering backyards and sidewalks. Ryan saw a few younger kids playing in front of a house, playing with a bunch of jacks and a bouncy ball. When was the last time he's seen anyone play with those? When they entered the driveway, Philip had jolted awake in his sleep, groaning at the dull pain in his head from smacking it against the window. Ryan had to stiffle a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. Everyone got out  at once, or tried, at least. Seems the back doors were baby proofed. Philip had to open the door for him, and when Ryan got out, his eyes drifted to his hair. It was still damp but it wasn't dripping onto the collar of his jacket anymore. Ryan helped Philip into the house, refusing to let go of his hand when the brunette tried to steal his hand away, letting out an embarrassing girlish squeal. It had practically taken him to drag the boy up to the house with the slight limp that Philip was giving. Everyone was inside now, and Ryan felt a bit out of place while he was there in the entrance hallway, numbly walking behind Philip. His mother was ahead of them talking, but he didn't really pay attention. He silently wondered when Philip had started leading him through the corridor instead of Ryan, but he didn't mind. His hand was being pulled along, too, and he smiled slightly. Phiip was escorted to the bathroom by his mother, while Ryan sat on the couch with a small bag of ice wrapped in a dish towel pressed to his jaw. He took the momentary silence to call his mom, quietly glancing around the living room he was in. It took a bit of persuading and a lot of "Are you okay?'s" before he hung up the phone and leaned his sore head back to listen to faint noises of running water and loud off-key humming. The sound made Ryan smile and the forgotten pain in his hand returned. It was more numbing this time, and his the back of his hand felt wet. In all honesty, Ryan knew Philip was his soul mate from when he first seen the boy being held with his face in the toilet. He knew that something was off even before he stepped into the bathroom - the feeling was there: not in his hand, but in him. Ryan truly didn't want to believe that Philip was his because it was really uncommon to get a soul mate of the same sex. It wasn't as rare as he thought, though. Emily and Ashley were paired together and they seemed happy to be in each other's company. He was also scared. What would Philip's mom think? Or worse. What would Ryan's parents think? Ryan's mother and father weren't even paired together. It's not like it was illegal to marry outside of your soul mate, or mates, in some cases. It was just very taboo. The fact that they were both guys made him antsy, too. He racked his hand through his blond locks and hummed out a loud sigh. Did Philip even know they were soul mates? Ryan pressed the palm of his hand right above his breast, feeling their heartbeats together. He couldn't tell who's was who's, but someone was shockingly calm. Ryan wished he could say that was his - and maybe it was? Maybe the nerves he was feeling was actually Philip's, but he added a different reasoning behind them. The poor kid was almost drowned in the most unsanitary way possible. Before he realized, Philip was sitting in the recliner next to the couch, watching Ryan lean over and fantasize about everything that could and would probably go wrong, When Ryan did notice him, though, he took a long look over the boy. Philip sat with his legs underneath him, drawled into the chair. His hair was styled into a sloppy bun at the nape of his neck which looked oddly tame against the brigade of curls his bangs were. He was constantly pushing them out of his eyes. Oh, god, he really did have his mother's eyes. They shared the same tempting deep blue hue to them. Philip had a simple white tank top on and a thick pair of sweatpants on. He looked away when he realized that he was technically staring - and there it was: that drawled out silence that should've been deafening, but it was oddly comforting, and Ryan had to focus on silencing the pounding in his chest. "Mom's got your jacket in the washer," he said, breaking said silence. Ryan leaned his head up to look at him properly and replied, "yeah, thanks." "C-can we talk?" Philip had to pause to move himself into a more comfortable position, and with a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being watched, he continued. "I'd really like to get to know you better, if you wanna, too. You don't have to, I mean! I know it's.. Can we go to my room? It's privater, and I don't know if you," he stopped short, probably because Ryan was already starting to get up. Philip got up too and rubbed his wrist, turning away to lead the blond to his room. God-fucking-damnit. Ryan took for granted how short he actually was because Philip was actually almost towering over him. There was at least a four inch height difference (not that it mattered). Ryan felt like clinging to the back of Philip's tanktop like a lost puppy because, damn, was his house big. They had already gone down two completely seperate hallways before they even reached the stairs to the second floor. When the soul mates (finally) slid into the room and closed the door shut, this was not something Ryan was expecting. There were small magazine posters of aliens and weird japanese creatures littering every inch of his walls and Ryan couldn't help but notice the larger map above his bed that had multiple blue, yellow, and red thumb tacks stuck in the paper. A line of rocks were displayed across the top of the headboard of the bed. "So, I guess that means we're like," Philip sat down on the bed and hugged a knee to his chest. "soul mates, or something?" "I guess." There was a small weight lifted off Ryan's chest - he knew, and he was okay with it, or, at least, he's not freaking out. The way Philip moved was with an awkward kind of grace, and Ryan couldn't help but admire his curvy, feminine figure when he pulled on Ryan's  wrist to tug him onto the bed next to him. "We might be soul mates, but that doesn't mean that we have to act on it if one of us is uncomfortable." Ryan found his hand resting on the right side of Philip's chest. It was weird, feeling the two heartbeats in one body. That was his heartbeat. "I don't think we should. It'll just end up hurting one of us," Ryan said, trailing his hand and eyes up to the shirt collar and tugging it down lighting to see the small inking of a star. It was smaller than a dime, but it was the same color as his eyes; that deep blue that anyone could get lost in if they looked into them for too long. "My teacher told me awhile ago that if two partners try to force themselves away from each other, their hearts will stop. Literally. So, yeah, no. That's not an option," he hummed out. Ryan pressed his fingertips to the star, felt the younger boy shiver beneath him and trailed his hand up farther his neck until he was plucking the bobby pins from Philip's brown hair. It softly rolled out, just a bit shy from his shoulders. He was truly an attractive kid. When he pulled his hand away, Ryan heard a sigh escape. He wasn't sure who made the noise, though. Probably both of them. Almost as soft as Ryan was touching the boy in front of him, Philip's hands were grasping his cheeks, looking straight into his eyes. His thumbs rubbing into Ryan's temples gently and he couldn't help the purr that came from his throat. The hands trailed back into the short blond locks and dragged fingers through his scalp. It was an odd feeling, but he didn't mind it. He couldn't mind it, because soon Philip's hand was grabbing at Ryan's hand and he pressed a kiss to the back of his palm, sending a wave of emotion over Ryan. As soon as it was there, it was gone, and Ryan knew it was because of their shared fear of getting caught being so intimate with each other.

---

It didn't take too long for Francine to set up a futon in Philip's room. He'd been invited to stay that night for dinner, and since it was a Friday she also agreed to letting him stay over (which Philip asked). It was close to seven when they were both laying in Philip's bed, Ryan's hand gently brushing through Philip's curls. He could honestly do this for hours, he felt.  Philip's hand was busy drawing with a purple ink pen, detailing Ryan's arm in a jungle of flowers. He'd joked and asked if it was nontoxic, which Philip just replied to with an uncaring shrug and a gentle nuzzle to his head. As much as he hated that Philip was younger and taller than him, the way his arms held Ryan's waist was kind of endearing. His touch was gentle and ready to pull away at any sign of struggle or distress. The two high schoolers laid like this for awhile: Ryan's head pressed against Philip's chest and listening to the quiet badump of their heartbeats. His hands were at the brunette's waist by then, pressing gently into his skin with the pad of his thumb. Philip's hand was in Ryan's hair, raking through the short sun kissed blond locks while he hummed a quiet tune that was off-key in the best of ways.