Page 131 of Should the Sky Fall

“Maybe if I had more control of the situation. What’s that look for?” he quips when Ash looks at him funny.

“I asked because I wanted to know if the idea appeals to you at all. But I’m starting to sense that’s not the issue,” Ash says, and Dawson feels his face warm up like he was just caught red-handed committing some serious crime. “It’s not about whether you want Cal that way, it’s about whether you feel safe to want him that way.”

“I…”

“Let me change my question,” Ash interrupts. “You said he makes you feel safe. Does he make you feel safe enough to be with him that way?”

Dawson doesn’t answer. He can’t. There is nothing under the sun, not one reason why the answer shouldn’t be a resoundingno.

So he stays quiet, because there’s nothing that could explain why his heart keeps whispering yes.

There is a pressure behind his forehead when he leaves Ash’s office, but by the time Dawson arrives home, it’s developed into a full-blown headache. He has a nasty feeling it’s not going to stay like that for long. He takes two Panadol before leaving the car. Hopefully, they’ll kick in. Unless he absolutely has to, he’d rather not take the migraine pills.

When he stands in front of the apartment, hovering with the keys over the keyhole, he’s not sure he’s not hallucinating already. He strains his ears, listening to the sounds coming from inside. It sounds like the vacuum cleaner and pop music.

He opens the door. Donut immediately comes running to greet him, his tail wagging and desperate noises leaving his open mouth. Nothing unusual about that.

What’s unusual is Cal vacuuming the living room while blasting what seems to be—

“Is that Lady Gaga?”

Cal lets out a shriek, the vacuum stick slipping from his hand. He presses a hand to his chest when he sees Dawson. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I wonder why,” Dawson says with a chuckle, then cringes when the music makes his head pound. “Could you turn the volume down?”

“Yes, sorry!” He grabs the remote, turning the music off completely.

“Thank you. And don’t apologize. My head just decided to kill me today.”

“A migraine?” Cal asks, worry etched into his features.

“Not yet. Hopefully it won’t develop into one.”

Cal’s worried expression fills with disapproval. “You drove like this?”

Not smart, he knows. “I couldn’t leave the car there.”

“Why not? It’s just a car.” He doesn’t give Dawson a chance to contradict him. “I don’t care about the car, Dawson. I care about you.”

Dawson’s insides all but turn into mush. He blames it on the headache. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Thank you,” Cal says, visibly relieved. “What can I do?”

“I just need some dark and quiet. Lots of water. I already popped a couple of Panadol.”

Cal is an absolute godsend. He all but manhandles Dawson into bed, ordering him to stay put. He draws the blinds shut and goes to fetch him some water. Dawson doesn’t have to lift a finger. Donut follows him to bed, keeping him company. He could get used to this kind of treatment.

Cal brings him a tall glass of water, and Dawson gratefully downs half of it before collapsing back into bed.

“Thank you. So, Lady Gaga, huh?”

Cal shrugs. “It’s catchy.”

“And so gay.”

“Is it?”

“Uh-huh. But since we are both gay, it’s alright.”