Bewildered, I take the bundle in my hands and twirl it as if seeing such a thing for the first time in my life.

Ray looks at me expectantly. I rip the wrapper open and see warm gloves and woolen socks. I look at it, confused, and feel a wave of tenderness spread throughout my body. And this wave washes away my anger and irritation, leaving me only bashfulness and confusion. The joy blooms inside my chest.

"Th... thanks," I say bashfully, fiddling with the gloves. Ray smiles, encouraged. "This is..." I can hardly look into his eyes. "It is very nice. I... don't have a present for you."

Ray waves it off, "The main thing is that you liked it."

So this fool lied to me to go and get me a present? This is some kind of dishonest trick!

Meanwhile, Ray takes off his jacket and hangs it on a chair. He sits down next to me, leaning his back on the pillow.

"Ah, one more thing!" He exclaims and hastily reaches into his pocket, pulling out a tube.

"What is it?"

"Ointment for bruises. They said it has an analgesic effect and helps your skin to heal faster or something like that." He squeezes a generous portion of the ointment onto his fingers and looks at me. Unsure, I turn my bruise to him, and he begins to gently rub in the ointment.

He touches my face delicately with his fingertips. His gaze is focused on my cheek, so I can examine Ray closely.

At first, I wasn't going to, but... I don't think I had such a chance before.

Ray has long dark eyelashes. Reddish hair bristles at his temples. There are little freckles on the bridge of his nose I noticed earlier. He's so immersed in the process, his tongue between his teeth. And for a moment, an illusion appears in front of my eyes. What if I kiss him now?

But Ray pulls away.

"Well, it's kind of done," he declares. And then I say something that I didn't intend to. I do not fully understand why I'm doing this.

"Um... I think you need it too. Let me..."

"Come on! It doesn't hurt at all. I'm fine!" he grins. And then he suddenly changes his mind and hands me a tube of ointment, obediently facing me. And I do the same manipulation, with the same caring attitude and delicate touch.

I wanted to touch his face, but I needed some excuse for it. And I am surprised to find out that I am pleased to do this.

I like that I can look closely once again at his half-covered eyelids with long dark eyelashes, those freckles, and his lips that are indecently close to me.

I wish I could slide my hand down his cheek to the chin, then to the neck to the very collarbone, and then, passing along to the shoulder, return to the neck, clasping it with my palm, move to the back of his head, ruffling short unruly hair, and up to the very ear...

What the hell am I thinking? The illusion takes me further and further away from reality. But the look of the greenish-brown eyes snaps me out of it. I remove my hand from his face and lean back on the pillow.

"Listen..." I struggle with words. I want to get it off my chest, although I don't even know how to start. "I have something to tell you."

Ray tenses as he turns his full attention to me.

"In short... I... unintentionally," I stress the word, "let your parents know that you're in town... I just... went to look for you. You were not with them, although you said that you were."

Ray looks away and purses her lips.

"It turned out ugly. But I said that you wanted to surprise them. So... so they... are waiting for you to come by and surprise them."

Ray looks at me unkindly, his lips are still pursed, and he is huffing. He doesn't say anything, and the silence begins to weigh on me. I don't even understand why I am so uncomfortable. It was Ray who deceived me! But apparently all this - his gift, the ointment, his care, my difficult-to-express feelings - makes me more empathetic towards Ray.

So I start talking again, "Look, it sucks. You mentioned that you had a fight with your father, but... you still kind of wanted to go to them... so... we can go together."

Ray doesn't look at me. He gets out of bed and paces the room from door to window. It's already getting dark outside.

"Ray, seriously. I think whatever you quarreled about, on Christmas, you can push it back and make peace with your family," I get up to be closer to him. This is my unhealthy tendency. "Or you didn't want to go and didn't intend to?"

"Why did you go there at all?" Ray finally breaks his silence.

"I was looking for you," I start to explain myself for some reason. "I woke up; you weren't there. I called you, and you didn't pick up. I thought you were in trouble. I went to check if you were at home..."

Ray ruffles his red hair at the top of his head and grabs the back of the chair.

"Okay," he breathes after intense thought. "I'll go then."

"I... I can go with you!" I suggest emotionally.

"Don't... just don't," Ray smiles, but his smile is crooked. He takes his jacket from the chair.

"Hey! Well... look, I do feel guilty. So let me go with you, huh?"

"Do you want to attend an awkward family meeting with a showdown?"

"...no, but... wait," I grab his hand, not letting him put the jacket on, and make him sit on the bed. "Can you tell me what happened there last time?"

"I told you," Ray responds reluctantly, looking away. "I had a fight with my father. We haven't spoken since then."

"You didn't say why. Why did you fight?"

Ray looks up at me.

"Does your family know you're gay?" He suddenly asks.

"What does this have to do with it?" I say uncomprehendingly.

"Do they know or not?" Ray repeats stubbornly.

"James knows, mom... I haven't told her, but I think James did... The rest of the family, I don't know. And honestly, I don't care."

"And they accepted you? Your brother? Your mom?"

"Well... no one hung rainbow flags around, but as you can see, I'm on good terms with everyone. Not that I want to discuss my sex life with my mom or my brother."

Ray fixes me with the stare again. The pause drags on, but I am in no hurry to interrupt it.

"My family didn't accept me," Ray finally says. His voice sounds hollow and flat. Not a hint of self-pity. It seems to me that I am standing on thin ice again.

Did Ray come out to his parents? Before he told me?!

My head starts spinning, but I don't let my emotions or words run free. Now I need to be careful with what I say. I've already made a mistake once when Ray opened up to me.

"You..." I hesitate, my mouth suddenly dry. "Did you tell your parents that you were gay?"

"I said I don't want to date girls," Ray corrects.

"And they... wanted you to date girls?" I ask calmly.

Ray stares at his interlaced fingers and shrugs.

"Why... why did you say that? Just to piss them off?" I ask softly. I don't want to push him. It's difficult for Ray to speak. He is silent for a long time. His eyes wander around the room, now and then stumbling over something.

"Yes and no," he answers finally. "I'm tired of the pressure, tired of endless questions about my personal life. They just want to see me start settling in, or at least that I'm trying. They hate my job and my attitude. And then that topic came out - that I don't want to start a family. That I don't date anyone. So I said, I don't want to date girls," Ray pauses, swallows nervously, and casts a glance at me, turning away quickly. "But now... Now I would say it differently."

I can't swallow a lump in my throat. It pulsates, resonating with the pulse in my ears.

"What would you say now?" I immediately regret I asked it because I am not ready to hear it. Because I haven't made my decision.

Ray looks up at me, his gaze direct and clear, and, without a shadow of a doubt in his voice, says, "That I want to date you."

Fuck. A lump from my throat falls like a heavy stone into my stomach. My pulse continues to pound in my ears; my palms are damp. I don't want Ray to mistake my confusion for an outright refusal, but damn it! I'm not ready to give him my consent! Why the hell am I so scared? This has never happened to me before!

I was often told, "You are cute". They flirted with me, played and fooled around, bought cocktails at the bar, and tried to snuggle closer on the dance floor. And, after a couple of shots, the distance was overcome easily and playfully. And then, countless kisses - soft and rough, with a teasing tongue and without, and so on and further downstream. Without embarrassment, without commitments. Never before has someone ever told me so seriously that he wanted to date me.

No cocktail from the bar. No flirting, no kissing, no sex. And I think I understand why. I would run away. Seriously, I would run headlong. But this is Ray. I can't run away from him.

He always stood up for me, no matter who was in front of him. And I know he was scared... For my sake, he constantly overcomes his fear. But I...

The pause, meanwhile, lingers. Ray's gaze fades. He gets up and goes to the door. I shake off my numbness, jump up after him and manage to slam the door before he could step out of the room.

Ray stands facing the door, not me. I'm behind his back so close that when I down my head, it rests at the base of his neck. He no longer tries to leave, but he does not speak, does not turn, he just stands.

And honestly, I try to collect all my composure from all the nooks and crannies of my soul. And this self-control is only enough to say quietly, "I'm afraid."

"Of what?" after a moment of silence, still without turning, asks Ray.

"To lose you."

And again there is a long pause, broken by Ray's hollow voice, "You won't lose me. I'm your friend." He grabs the handle and opens the door. I fight the urge to close it again.

Why does it seem to me that if he walks out the door, this will be the end?

But I don't know what else I can tell him.

"Thanks for the present..." I say. Ray is already heading down the hallway. I look out of the doorway. "Will you come back?"

Ray shrugs without
 turning and starts climbing down the stairs.

Emotions swirl inside me like a mad whirlpool, chaining me to the floor. I have never felt like this in my life, but I'm not sure if I want to feel it at all.

It's like I knew what I was avoiding, filling my life with non-binding affairs.

I even hoped that I was not capable of deep feelings. And maybe I'm not. Maybe the only deep feeling I'm capable of is fear.