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“I’ve seen a lot of gay lions.” - Phil Lester
“These male lions are on their own,” the narrator drones on.
Phil is on the floor in front of the tv with his colouring book. Technically he may be too old for coloring books, but it's one of the things that are nice about going to his grandparents’ house during the summers: No one is around to judge you, and it's fun to do the things he's always done when he was here.
“The pride we saw earlier is made up of the huntresses and the cubs. The adult males are not welcome there.”
The music is oddly tense.
Phil picks a purple marker for the grass. Another nice thing about no one judging you: you can colour the grass whatever you like.
“The two male lions show a deep bond.”
Phil glances up just in time to catch the two giant cats with their fluffy brown manes rubbing faces. He feels something flip in his stomach, a moment of surprise, and stares at the screen.
“They aren't related, as many male lions who roam together are. Sticking with each other offers them a better chance at survival.”
On screen the two lions are… Phil's ears are ringing. He can't stop himself from glancing over his shoulder to make sure he's still alone in the tv room.
“They seem to use each other for practice,” the narrator intones slyly, as if this is meant to be taken as some kind of joke, only Phil feels he doesn't quite understand what's funny about it.
The footage has already switched to the two lions walking sedately side by side.
The image burned into Phil's brain is that of them rubbing faces, exactly like Nala and Simba in The Lion King. He stares at the screen, not knowing whether he is hoping for more or not.
“This behavior is quite common in male-male bonded pairs,” the voice explains in a more sober tone. “These young lions will roam for a pride of lionesses to mate with and go on to sire many cubs.”
Phil can't name the feeling in his head. It's almost as if it's a kind of disappointment or anger. The documentary switches to elephants.
He sits there for a long time, holding his purple colouring marker and thinking about the two lions walking side by side across the savannah. He doesn't think they're looking for anything. Why would they look for lionesses when they already have each other? The documentary is stupid.
*
The next time he's out shopping with his mum and gran he spots a stuffed lion in the toy section of the supermarket. It's just a small one, but he can't help drifting towards it, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. It makes him smile, as if he is seeing an old friend.
“Aren't you getting too old for toys?” his mum asks as she comes up next to him.
He hates that she has started saying he's too old for things. He doesn't want to ever be too old for stuffed toys and fun t-shirts and coloring books and cutting the crusts off his sandwiches. Growing up sounds like it's no fun at all.
“How much is it?” His gran reaches over to check the price tag. She gives him an evaluative look. “Would you like the lion, dearie?” She winks at him and he grins.
“You're spoiling him rotten,” his mum grumbles.
Gran pats her on the shoulder. “Let me enjoy it while it lasts. Soon I’ll have bought him his last stuffed toy.” She drops the lion into their cart and rolls away with it.
Phil fiddles with another lion, a copy of the one his gran has taken to pay for. “It needs a mate,” he says thoughtfully, feeling an odd longing suddenly, a weird kind of sadness.
“I don't see any girl lions,” his mum says with a confused frown.
“Not like a mate, like a friend!” He rolls his eyes, a slight anger at the way she has misunderstood his meaning. Why does everyone make everything about girls these days?
“Now you're just being silly,” she says.
“I’ll pay for it myself!” he says, clutching the second lion to his chest.
“Phil,” she frowns. “They're exactly the same! I'm not letting you get two and that's final.”
He knows there's no arguing with that tone of voice, but he still only reluctantly puts the stuffed toy back on the shelf. He stands there for a few moments longer staring at it with weirdly burning eyes and throat while his mum goes to find his gran again.
*
“And this is the room where Martyn and I used to sleep.” Phil pushes the door open and lets Dan go first.
He's looking around with a particular kind of curiosity, scanning the room as if for more clues as to what Phil was like as a child. His fringe is falling into his eyes and he brushes it away with a flick of his wrist that’s already painfully familiar to Phil.
The room looks tiny with Dan in it, tall and gangly and still flustered from meeting Phil's grandparents.
“It looks nice,” he says quietly, a bit timidly. It feeds back to Phil. He doesn't normally feel shy about his family, but sometimes he is still afraid that Dan secretly thinks he's just a spoiled rich kid.
Then Dan spots the dusty toy lion on the little desk by the window. It’s faded and crusty from standing in the sun, but he picks it up and turns to Phil with a disbelieving grin on his face.
Phil shrugs awkwardly. It's weird how it's the oddest things that can make him feel shy still.
“Your lion fetish began early, I see,” Dan teases.
“Shut up,” Phil mumbles and pulls the toy from Dan's unresisting hands.
It's a testament to the shaky ground they both feel themselves on that Dan only huffs a tiny laugh and doesn't pursue the line of conversation further.
It sparks something in Phil, though, some faint memory… He looks for the box of markers and the coloring book.
He finds it and flips the book open to the back where there are a few blank pages. One of them has been doodled on by a very young Phil or Martyn, just shaky lines that vaguely make up a person with no arms.
The second to last page has a more mature but still not very good drawing of two lions.
He has used purple for the grass and a turquoise that was almost out of ink for the sky. The two lions are both yellow. One is standing and one is sitting. The standing one is facing towards the sitting one, which definitely looks mostly like a dog with a lolling red tongue. The manes are like tiny overexcited suns.
Dan stands on tiptoe and rests his chin on Phil's shoulder, leaning his chest against his back and looking down on the drawing.
“Are they… gay lions?” he laughs softly.
Phil nods. There's an odd lump in his throat that doesn't belong there.
Dan seems to sense it because he drops back down, hugging his arms around Phil and putting his cheek against his shoulder blade. “They look well happy.”
“I think they are,” Phil says.