His chest heaved too quickly.
“Sit
down. Head between your knees,” Bryan said firmly.
“Me?
No, I’m fine—”
“Now!”
Bryan barked.
Phiz
dropped immediately onto one of the kitchen chairs, braced his legs and bent
his head down. He took large gulps of air.
Bryan
stood beside the chair for a while, listening to him. He put his hand on Phiz’s
shoulder and gently squeezed. “That’s it. Calm down. You’ll be fine.”
“I’m
sorry,” Phiz whispered. “It’s just…thinking about it again. One minute we were
kissing, then you got grabby, then the chair and table crashed down all around
us. I didn’t know what to think, you were unconscious. Didn’t know if you’d
choked, if you’d hit your head. I had to see…” He gulped more breath. “I needed
to see you were okay.”
“Which
I wasn’t.”
Phiz
didn’t reply, but his breathing had steadied.
“You
cleaned me up, too, didn’t you?” Bryan said. “That’s what’s in the washing
machine.” His clothes and his towel. His humiliation made flesh.