Better Day

After all the crap yesterday I decided to stay in bed today, maybe until the weekend, but I got a little surprise this morning.

I was up until nearly 9am as I really couldn't sleep, but decided I should at least try closing my eyes so got into bed just before nine. I was just dozing off when my brother came pounding on my door. Needless to say, I was annoyed, but when I opened the door he wasn't the only person standing outside my room.

Dylan was there!

OK, for most people reading this that will mean absolutely nothing. My parents moved to Scotland seven years ago and a few days after moving here I met this really sweet boy playing beside the stream that runs behind my house. His name was Dylan and when we found out we would be going to the same school, and in the same class, we decided to be friends.

I wasn't aware of my sexuality back then, but I think I had a crush on him anyway. I can't imagine why anyone wouldn't. He's gorgeous, kind, funny, always has a smile on his face and if you fall over he'll always be the first person to offer to help you up again.

We became best friends, all was fantastic, and then I discovered my sexuality when I was twelve, leading to three agonising years where I was closer to Dylan than anyone else on Earth and still not as close as I wanted to be. It would have been four agonising years, but last year his parents decided to move down South.

Long story short, two days before they were due to move, I took Dylan to the stream where we'd met and told him I was gay and that I had a huge crush on him. I sat there waiting for him to reject me. I knew he wouldn't hit me or yell at me, but I half-expected him to get up and walk away. He didn't, though. Instead he leaned over and kissed me.

That was last summer. This summer marks the anniversary of his departure and one year of us sort of being together. I say sort of, because while my parents know I'm gay and his parents know he's gay and both parents are as supportive as they need to be, we've barely seen each other since he left. I went to stay with him for a couple of days over Easter, but it was weird.

On the phone and in emails we're really affectionate, but when I was staying at his place over Easter we barely touched each other and didn't even give each other a kiss goodbye. Neither of us could really explain why, because our feelings haven't changed, but it just felt uncomfortable every time we got too close.

Last night I told him I wasn't in the mood to talk, but I felt guilty so at 5am I emailed him a link to my new blog. At 6am he had a bag packed and had managed to drag his Dad out of bed to drive him to the train station. And at a little after 10am, after a three hour train journey and a twenty minute taxi ride, Dylan turned up here.

After I got over the initial shock I invited him into my room and my brother buggered off out with his mates. Dylan was really, really sweet. I didn't even get a chance to ask him why he'd come. He just undressed me, took his own clothes off (that'll be the first time we've seen each other naked as a couple, and I was NOT disappointed) and then helped me into bed.

Yes, we were naked. Yes, we were alone in the house. Yes, we were in bed together. No, we didn't have sex. Might have been nice, but he just put his arms around me and held me until I fell asleep, and when I woke up six hours later his arms were still around me.

He's in bed right now catching up on some sleep, but when he wakes up I'm going to join him again and hold him and kiss him and tell him how much I love him. Things may have been awkward the last time we were together, and we may have a long distance thing going, but how many boyfriends would drop everything and come running when the person they loved was hurting?

I'm going to sit and watch him for a bit. The only time he's more beautiful than when he's sleeping is when he's awake.