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Healing Hearts (A Dan/Phil Phanfiction)

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A/N: I think I use far too many obscure similes in my writing. Seriously. I could win a competition in obscure similes - I'm not even joking.

Chapter Eight:

Dan

Kissing Freya felt completely right. Kissing Phil felt completely wrong. But in an unbelievably right way. Admittedly, I liked the way his fingers interlocked with tendrils of my messy hair, gently tugging. It felt dangerous, and that was what I liked. Not to mention how satisfying it was when his cheekily darting tongue slipped inside my mouth and his free hand stroked my jaw lightly.

I hated it but I loved it but I hated loving it but I loved hating it. Basically, my mind was one big wheel of confusion and I was beginning to feel dizzy as it spun around and around, merging all of my emotions along with it into some sort of molten liquid bubbling inside my brain, about to erupt as if I were volcanic. The molten was burning everything inside my brain, melting reality. All that was left was a realisation that I was kissing my best friend and I wasn't supposed to.

The volcano exploded. I shoved him off me, pushing him straight off the bed. He landed with a bang, and I screamed, "What the hell did you just do?" Phil jumped to his feet, face contort with rage just like I imagined my own would be. "It takes two to kiss!" he replied, sitting back on my bed.

I didn't want him there. I felt terrified of what would happen if he kissed me again. I'd used up all my strength in breaking away from our first one...would I be able to do it a second time? "I'm sorry, okay?" Phil sighed, standing up and beginning to walk out of the room.

As I watched him retreat with his head hung down and a dismal manner to the way he trudged out of the door, I felt bad. Phil was right; it wasn't just his fault. It wasn't like I hadn't kissed him back for a few minutes...after all. Maybe the only reason I stopped was because I couldn't handle how much I liked it.

Did I like my best friend? But..no, I was still only for Freya. But she was gone. She was never coming back. I still had the rest of my life, I needed to start living it before it was over. I just felt like I could never love anyone the way I loved Freya. Yet, there are different ways of loving someone.

All I knew was that there was definitely some part of the way I felt towards Phil that was romantic. I also knew that that part was increasing more and more with every step he took away from me, just about to shut the door. "Wait, come back. Phil."

He turned back to face me, and the empty look in his eyes nearly broke my already broken heart. "F*ck, I'm sorry," I said. I looked at him and then to where I wanted him: next to me. "Come sit down, and we'll talk."

"Talk about what?" he asked, sitting back down.

"About if that was a mistake or not? About what happens now? About the fact I might be in love with you, while at the same time still being in love with a dead girl."

"You might be in love with me?" Phil repeated my words, the blue in his eyes glistening like a clear sea on a sunny day. I felt like I was on a boat on that sea, but the waves were rocking the boat. The tranquil blueness of Phil's eyes were like the calm before the storm that was sure to come.

"I don't know, honestly. If I did, I'd tell you. I just, I just can't work anything out. I'm a confused mess," I said, feeling those tears threatening again. I didn't want them to fall again; they made me feel like a vulnerable little boy.

"I'll wait for ever while you figure out what you want," he replied bluntly. The weird thing was; he was saying amazing things but his voice was emotionless.

"You probably won't have to wait that long. For ever is a long time."

"For ever is a promise."

"When will for ever end?" I asked impatiently.

"When you make your mind up of what you want," he answered simply. I didn't understand this conversation, at all. It didn't make sense to me. But I liked it.

"Okay," I nodded, "But I've already made up my mind about one thing." Phil cocked his head to the side, willing me to continue: "I enjoyed our little kiss." An intruding smile played on Phil's face, as he said, "In that case, kissing you was the best mistake I ever made."

I laughed. Why was I laughing? Maybe I was delirious. Time to stop laughing, though. We still had a lot we had to talk about. Phil sensed this, too. "Do you want me to move out, for the time being? I can understand if seeing me everyday makes it difficult. Some time on your own might be good, what do you think?"

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