“Yes,” Bas agreed.
“Does the gender always matter? Like am I supposed to look at someone and want their…parts?”
Bas breathed, trying to think of how to explain. “Um, yes and no? Some people use it as part of the equation. I like guys because of a lot of the physical things, but also want to like them on an emotional level. Some don’t care at all about the physical specifics. They find either everyone attractive, or no one. Both are okay. Is any of this making sense?”
Dane nodded slowly, obviously his mind was still churning through it. “You like hairy and hung.”
Bas flushed. Sometimes he said stuff he probably should sensor. Not all that unlike Dane actually. “You okay with that?”
“Yeah. I’m good. But not very hairy,” Dane looked down at himself, but touched his beard. “A little hairy, I guess.”
Bas blinked at him, realizing after a moment it was an attempt to flirt. “Are you saying you’re hung?”
Dane blushed.
“Well now. Would you like me to hold your sausage?” Bas laughed as Dane looked shyly away. “Okay, go make yourself presentable, and we’ll get going.” The flash of fear crossing Dane’s face had Bas stopping to reanalyze his words again. Shit, he’d just stepped in it, hadn’t he? He needed to push but carefully.
Bas quickly amended with, “How about you hop in the shower. I’ll find something nice for you to wear—Tommy’s fashion sense is okay for a straight boy—and then you can decide what you want to do? I’d really like your help with the grocery shopping. We can do some cooking when you get back.”
Dane nodded and backed away, disappearing upstairs a moment later. Bas sighed. He’d really screwed that up, hadn’t he? How odd just a few little words could mess with a person. He headed upstairs to find Paige dressed and ready to go just as Marissa was pulling in to the drive.
“Marissa’s here,” he told her.
“I’m on my way.” Paige waved.
“Hot cereal on the counter is yours. Eat,” he told her. “I made it to go.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Better believe it, pumpkin.”
Bas let himself into Dane’s room since the shower was on, the door cracked, fan running. The suitcase was on the bed, open, but un opened other than a wallet that was removed and now sitting beside the luggage.
Dane showed little interest in what he wore. Was that part of rehab and months of linen outfits? Or a real lack of interest beyond the size of his clothes? Bas had seen him checking for tags more than once but knew there would be none. The few things that were off the rack had carefully had all labels removed, though nothing that could fool Bas since he knew clothes well enough to recognize the cut of a certain brand of jean or the stitching on the collar of a shirt. He couldn’t wait to get Dane to the consignment shop. He wondered if he could convince Dane to wear a kilt. Now that was a thought that nearly had his nose bleeding like in all the manga Tommy read and left all over his house.
The shower turned off, and Bas hurriedly set out Dane’s outfit. When no other sounds came from the bathroom, he approached, a little worried. Was Dane having another panic attack? He didn’t seem upset, but he stood there staring at the covered mirror, towel around his hips, hair wet and sexy.
“Are you ready to look?” Bas asked him.
“I think I should. If I react bad, I should go back to rehab.”
But Bas knew the time alone in his own head wouldn’t help. “How about you get dressed first, and then we’ll look?” He flicked on the fan to clear the mirror of the fog and watched Dane head into his room.
Bas pulled down the towel and stared at himself for a minute through the condensation. Was Dane really ready? The last thing Bas wanted was to set him back. He’d come so far in the past week. But if Danedidgo shopping with him, he was likely to see his reflection just about everywhere.
Dane came back into the bathroom buttoning his shirt. He looked good, though the tails should have been tucked in. They stared at each other another minute, Dane not moving closer to the mirror from the doorway. Bas wiped the mirror free of the remaining water and took Dane’s hand.
“Close your eyes. I’ll lead you. We’ll stand in front of it and go slow.”
Dane followed Bas’s instructions, and Bas put Dane in front of him and reached around to cover his eyes. A slow reveal was probably better here than pulling the Band-Aid off. Bas was unsure just how bad Dane’s dysmorphic disorder was. Would he truly see a monster in the mirror where he stood, or was it just the voices in his head that told him that whatever he saw was a monster no matter how he looked?
“You can open your eyes. I’m going to slowly spread my fingers apart. If that’s okay, then I’ll remove one hand at a time. Keep breathing, and talk to me okay? Don’t shut down.”
“Okay,” Dane whispered. Bas could feel a fine tremor run through him as Bas let space open between his fingers. He paused, leaving just centimeters for Dane to peer through.
“What do you see?”
“Hair. It’s very bright.”
