I unbuttoned my rain-soaked shirt, making sure to take off Porsche’s shirt, too—I didn’t want him to get a cold on top of his fever.
“What do I do now…?” I asked myself aloud. I thought hard as I wrung out our shirts.
The wind hit my bare skin and sent a chill through my body. I quickly turned to look at Porsche, who was hugging himself tightly from the cold. Shit, this was bad. I hadn’t paid any attention when I was a boy scout. I hadn’t even gone on the camping trips! I had absolutely no survival skills…but I had played survival games online before. How different could it be?
I tried to recall what I did in that game. First, I needed to start a fire. Luckily, there were some twigs and dried leaves in the hollow, so I gathered them into a pile. I’d seen in documentaries that you needed to rub twigs against a rock and turn toward the sun in order to start a fire, but it was raining. How could I make a fire with no sunlight? I bit my lip as I pondered the question. I couldn’t wake Porsche up to ask for help; he was shivering so hard I was afraid he might die right then and there.
It dawned on me that Porsche must have a lighter with him—he was a smoker, after all. I fished through the pocket of his sweatpants and found it.
I spent a long time trying to get the lighter to ignite because it was so damp, but eventually it worked. The first fire I’d ever made crackled into existence. Deep down, I was kind of proud of myself. I really could do anything if I set my mind to it.
I sat there with my knees up, watching the flames flicker, when I heard a trembling voice.
“M’cold,” Porsche rasped out.
I moved toward him and pressed the back of my hand to his forehead. He was still burning hot. Normally, a sick person should be wiped down and covered in thick blankets when they slept. Right now, his clothes were soaked, so I draped them over some rocks to dry out. What was I supposed to do now?
“I started a fire,” I said, glancing at his face. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were tightly shut.
“Cold…” Porsche’s lips quivered so badly that I couldn’t make out the rest of his words. Both of his arms were wrapped closely around his torso.
“Damn it! Don’t be like this, Porsche. I don’t know what to do either,” I exclaimed in frustration. It irritated me when things were out of my control.
I looked at Porsche’s bare upper body, at his tattoo and defined muscles. A tough guy like him really shouldn’t be in this position—the sight was a little jarring. The Porsche I knew was strong, proud, and unyielding. But instead of getting up to yell at me like usual, he lay there sick and shivering. He looked like he was at death’s door. My heart sank as I watched him. He was only in this situation because of me.
I scooted closer to him, lifting his back away from the rock he was leaning against and carefully inching myself into the space behind him. I embraced his damp, feverish body, letting him lean on my chest instead.
“Better?” I asked quietly.
His head rested on my shoulder. He was still shivering, I realized. I tightened my embrace.
“Mmm,” he groaned, turning his face to burrow into my neck. I smiled and rested my cheek against his head.
I thought about everything that had happened these past few days. I never thought I could hurt Porsche so deeply. It shocked me to see the light in his eyes change so drastically, but I understood why. He was probably finding it difficult to accept what had happened between us, probably feeling that his pride had been ripped from him and trampled on—something like that, anyway—and I was the one responsible. I hadn’t meant for it to turn out like this! The blame didn’t rest solely on me!
Having sex with him that night had felt new and exciting. I’d never done it with a man who was the same height and build as me. It felt like a fun challenge, and it was so much better than I’d imagined it would be.
As for what happened in the club bathroom… I only meant to tease him, but I got carried away. It was just too thrilling, and it felt amazing. I hadn’t realized how my actions could hurt a straight guy like him. I was gay, and hooking up with a guy in a bathroom was a normal situation for me.
I had to admit that I was really into Porsche. Every time I was with him, I couldn’t hold myself back. He angered and annoyed me so much that I constantly fought him. And today, I had won—but I didn’t feel proud of this victory at all.
“Dad… Mom…help me, please,” Porsche said. I tilted my head, watching him as he called for his parents in his sleep. “Mom…hold me.”
Porsche’s trembling voice made me hug him even tighter. He snuggled closer to me, burrowing his head into my chest. As I studied him closely, I began to wonder… Could it be that his strength was only a façade? A shield to protect him from his innermost feelings? He put up a good front, but he was more sensitive and fragile than he seemed.
“Heh… I like you when you’re asleep like this,” I said with a smile. “You’re just like a kitten.” The more I watched him, the more interesting he became. I could hardly believe it. He was just as big as I was, with those fearsome tattoos—why couldn’t I look away from him? Something about him compelled me to lean down and press a featherlight kiss to his forehead. I pulled back to look at Porsche’s face one more time and saw his lips curl up into a small smile.
Sweet dreams, Porsche. I hope you get better soon.