Page 6 of Phantom Faceoff
That stupid tongue emoji doesn’t instill a great deal of confidence.
Me
I don’t want to hear about you bunny humping Hale.
Jules
Is that a threat or ‘don’t tell me about it’?
Me
Julian.
Jules
Don’t worry, Daddy. Just a walk. Maybe kissing. Will report if we fog up the dorm.
Me
Touch my bed and Hale won’t have a dick to fuck you with.
A slew of cheeky emojis comes through, and even though the one I send back is a ping pong paddle, it gets the message across.
Me
Be safe. Don’t make me hurt anyone.
It’s nearing ten by the time I lock up the shop and head back to the dorms. Almost eleven when I slot my key in the door and spot Julian lounging on his bed with the lights off.
He’s got a coloring book in his lap and a box of crayons beside him.
When he looks up, he smiles and waves, but quickly goes back to his activity.
These are the moments I feel I’m best at. Offering support. Comfort. Just being a safe place for him to openly be himself. To … regress, I think is the word?
I don’t want to bother him, so I go about settling quietly. My clothes hit the basket at the foot of my bed, and I tug my hair free of the little rat tail I’ve been sporting.
I put my headphones back on the shelf that houses all of my music—CDs, vinyls, various merch items—and pull off a pair of wireless earbuds.
Sleep has never come easy. The nights are too quiet, even with a fan and air conditioner running. There’s static and blank spaces; my brain refuses to shut off.
So, I cue up another playlist—something beat heavy—and spare Julian one last look before getting into the thick of my routine.
In the five minutes since I’ve been back, Jules has dozed off, the coloring book sliding off his lap and colored pencils dangerously close to the edge.
With a sigh, I gingerly pack up his things and place them on his desk. The comforter is bunched up at the end of the bed, and when I drag it over him he turns onto his side and hums contently.
“Dork,” I mutter, but my smile is automatic.
I love Julian as deeply as humanly possible. It makes me a crabtastic jerk face at times, but even before finding out about this age play dynamic thing he’s into, Jules has always been a little too trusting and open.
We spent a lot of time in the same group home, and protecting him came naturally to me.
It still does. Maybe even obsessively at times.
Is that a flaw? For his potential partners, maybe, but they can suck it. Julian was mine first, and they’ll have to prove themselves something damn special for me to pass the reigns.
As I’m climbing into bed a bit later, sleep finally feels close at hand. A pop punk band I haven’t heard in a while is drowning out the myriad of internal thoughts I can never turn off, but somehow my brain still stutters a few coherent ones out.
