That answers the question of who, but it opens a host of others, each more troubling than the last. Wide-eyed and staring up from the floor, Neil feels his cheeks get hot as he flushes, uncertain and embarrassed. Is this a dream? What kind of person has that kind of dream about-- no, that question, he doesn’t even have the stomach for it. (He’s wearing pyjamas, at least, thank God. They even look like they could be his.) (Oh, Neil, if you only knew.)
“Todd..?” he asks, uncertain, his voice cracking a little bit. It looks like Todd, definitely, but not exactly. His hair is longer, his face a little thinner, and also, he is in Neil’s bed. Or maybe Neil is in Todd’s bed. Either way, the pertinent point is that this makes absolutely no sense and he feels helpless. Also, possibly, hopelessly deviant.
Where, he wants to ask, as well as why, how, what, but all he manages is a faintly quavering:
“I…”
and then he trails off, blinking up at the other young man.