fifth august

It's August and I take Holt to see a shrink.

I think it will be good for him to talk with someone, that's not biased, that doesn't know him and that Holt doesn't have any kind of attachment to.

It's often easier to open up with strangers. It's not dangerous to open up to a therapist. They're not going to use your weaknesses against you in an argument. It's not about them. They won't judge you because they don't know you. And ultimately they don't really care about you, so they have no expectations. It's safe.

I want Holt to open up with me, but baby steps. He's open up to me very slowly in the last five years we've known each other. It took him four years to tell me about his mom. I don't think that Holt distrust me, I just think he worries that I'll be disappointed in him or judge him.

Holt doesn't really want to go in the beginning, but I manage to convince him. Just one time, just to try and see if it can help.

The doctor is a young guy that specialises in helping people from the LGBTQ community. Apparently he's really good.

I drive Holt to the consultation and I stay in the waiting room during his whole session.

Two hours later Holt is out and he looks fine. I don't press him with questions, I just smile at him and lead the way back to my car.

When we're stopped at a red light I ask, "So, do you think you want to go again?"

I see him shrugging. "I'm not sure. I think it's a little expensive to just talk about my feelings."

"Did it help?"

He shrugs again. "I think a little..."

"Well, then that's money well spent."

"I just think..." he takes a deep breath, "I should be talking with you about these things not a stranger... Actually, the doctor told me it would be good, to open up with you about what I'm thinking."

I smile at him. The light turns green, I start driving again. "And nothing would make me happier than that, but once again, no rush Smooches. You talk when you want."

"I said kids at school used to call me Dead Skin. They used to call me Shit Stains too."

"What?"

"My moles. They said my chest was like when you have violent diarrhea and it splashes everywhere."

I park the car on the side of the road because I think I'm going to be sick. What the fuck was wrong with the people he went to school with?

And suddenly, Holt finally starts opening up, "The first time I took a shower with the other kids in my class in high school and the guys saw that I wasn't circumcised; they made a huge deal out of it. My father didn't want me and my brothers to be circumcised because he said that was a Jew thing and he wasn't raising Jews."

And here's another thing to add to the ever growing list of reason why I will kill Holt's father one day.

"I was Crusty Dick and Smelly Dick. They said it was like a snake shedding it's skin and having the dead skin stick on its head. I was called every degrading thing you can think of. But they always said they were just teasing, they weren't bullying. It was just fun jokes. They were just saying it like it was. Who would want to touch a tiny dick with dead skin? They made sure to tell any girl that wanted to talk to me."

I'm trying to keep calm, I'm trying not to start hitting things in the car because of how unbelievably fuming I am. I can't believe Holt turned out into such a sweet person after all the shit he got. I can't believe anyone thought it was okay to hurt such a sweet boy.

"I didn't really have good grades. I'm not particularly smart. All I had was football. I was really good at it, but it's a cut throat thing when other people fight for your position. And I just didn't fit in with the cliques, I was just that trailer park kid to everyone so it always felt like people were out to get me. When I started university, my teammates weren't particularly nice. They said I was from a back wood town. My old coach didn't teach us the plays the way the coach at college was, so everyone was always on my case because I had a hard time keeping up."

I take his hand in mine, to comfort him, to comfort me. It's cold so I sandwich it between the two of mine.

"When I had my injury, I couldn't play football anymore, but I had a sport scholarship, so I tried athletics, but everyone hated me there too, because I just got a spot without having to fight for it like the other athletes did."

He sighs, looking at our hands, smiling a little when he does. "I've always felt alone. I've always felt stupid. My father was always telling me how much of an idiot I was."

"Holt, you're not an idiot."

He shrugs. "It's fine, I know I kind of am. And I know what I look like."

"Like a Greek god?"

He rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

He's talked a lot and I'm soooo glad about it, so happy he trusted me, but it's my turn now. He needs to know a few things. "Holt, for your information I adore your moles. I've had fantasies of kissing your moles for years. And in the spirit of being honest, one of the first things I thought when I first met you was that I wanted to taste your dick, so yeah. There's nothing about you that I don't find attractive. And I know it's kind of useless to tell someone who has issues with parts of their bodies to tell them they're beautiful if they don't want to believe it, but I just want you to know, that you're the most beautiful person I know. Inside and out. You're so smart and creative and kind. You've got the biggest heart. You make me feel like a bad person often with how nice you are. You're like a pure little soul I want to protect at all cost."

Holt is just staring at our hands, his thumb brushing the side of one of mine. "You haven't seen it though."

"What?"

"Well, my dick."

"That's true." I have enough imagination that I can sort of guestimate what I'll be dealing with though. Once again, his glorious tight boxers are my helpers.

"I mean... I've seen yours... It's not... it's not nice like yours."

I'm thinking about Holt walking in on me with Ben. Good to know that he knew where to look. I'm not going to tease him about this though. "Thank you. My parents have blessed me with a glorious dick."

"It's not as big either..." he adds softly.

God, I wish there was a way I could just erase all of his insecurities in one clean swipe. "Let me tell you a little secret. I have no interest in a huge penis. Like none. I get that the common thing to want out of a sexual partner is a penis that could rip you in half, but that doesn't interest me. Last time I checked I was a gay boy, not a loose fifty year old porn star. I don't want to fuck Ron Jeremy. When I see a two liter of Coca Cola I don't think, Jeez, I really want to shove that down my throat and then up my ass."

Holt bursts into laughter. "Oh my god Eliah."

"Smooches, stop laughing," I say, but I'm chuckling too, "I'm being very serious."

He smiles back at me. I'm glad he does. That's really all I want out of life, to make my Holt smile. "I know," he says.

"I don't care about its size or how it looks like, I just care that it's attached to you and anything that's you I love with all my heart," I assure him and press a kiss on his hand in mine. "I don't think you understand how much you completely unravel me when you just give me one of your shy little smiles. When you give me little butterfly kisses on my shoulder when we go to bed. I am absolutely crazy about you. There's nothing, absolutely nothing that could ever make me love you less, or be less attracted to you."

"Really?"

"Really."

We're both smiling at each other now. Holt presses a kiss on my shoulder. I run a hand through his hair. I start driving again.

"I prefer this," Holt suddenly says.

"Huh?"

"Talking with you about all of this. I prefer talking with you."

I'm grinning like an idiot. "I love when you talk with me too."

"And you can talk about the stuff that bothers you too, you know. I'm here too."

I'm still smiling. "Well, now that you've realized the error of your straight ways and finally accepted my undying love, I've gotta say, my life is pretty good. Work is good. Family's happy. Let's be honest here, you've already helped me so much. You remember that time I was down because my documentary wasn't popular and you said that wasn't a reflection of who I was. That really meant a lot. And sometimes it was just having you close to me, like when I was seeing Ben and that one time I came home from a party and I was a mess."

Holt frowns a little, like he's debating whether or not he should say something. "You know... I almost kiss you that time." It's a miracle I don't swerve off the road. "You looked so miserable, you were always so miserable around that time that I thought, for just like a second, I should kiss him, maybe he'll start smiling again if I do."

"If you had kissed me that night Smooches I would have ravaged you," I inform him, matter-of-factly.

Holt chuckles. "Seriously?"

"Oh yeah, I was ready to tear your clothes off and kiss you well enough to make you forget you weren't gay."

He makes a little face, nods a little. "I probably would have let you. I know how you kiss. Yeah... I would have let you."

I'm grinning. "I think it's better this way though. It's better that you figured it out on your own and I didn't push you."

"I think so too."

And then Holt kisses my shoulder again and takes one of my hands that doesn't need to man the steering wheel and interlace our fingers together.

I smile at the road and keep driving.