The Exchange Student ➵ phan

Chapter 7

"Oh that's Phil from, about two years ago." Lyda muses. I drop the book on my lap in suprise, head snapping to meet her gaze. I groan from the sudden movements sparking pain through my head, it feels as if somebodies tied a string around my skull and is tightening harsh as they possible can. My thighs aren't happy either as the books sharp edges indent the soft skin.

"I don't believe you." I tell her, exasperated from the information overload. I turn back to the page, sure the person has the same nose as Phil and the same haircut but there is no way that his eyes used to look that beautiful, there is no way that I had a fast acting adoration of him either.

"Well it's true, amazing what a smile can do to someone am I right?" She asks gently, pointing at the corner of the photo where the words 'Philly 2013.' Jesus Christ that is a serious change to happen to someone in two years. I wish I had a photo to compare them, sadly Phil barely lets himself be photographed anymore and staring at the photo to long makes me flabbergasted again.

"Yeah." I say absentmindedly, flipping to another page close to the very end and happening upon a 17 year old Phil, scowling at the camera while giving it the bird. There's the Phil I know.

"Well, have fun, make whatever you want for dinner. Harry's ready to leave." Lyda proclaims, turning around and walking towards my door. She makes sure to shut it tightly behind her and I snuggle back into bed. Tonight's going to be awkward. That I certainly know, spending at least 2 hours alone in a stranger's home has zero perks that I can currently think of.

I turn in my bed, grabbing my laptop and positioning it on one side while I curl my entire body around it. Turning it on and the laptop brightens straight to a tab broadcasting American Horror Story on Netflix. I must've forgot to turn it off before going to bed."Why do you exist?" I mumble half heartily, pausing the scene just as Lana Bana Bo Bana gets belted from the blond singer's lips.

Grabbing my headphones I plug them in, grateful for my laptop's brightness always being so low thanks too late night blogging sessions. I collect most of the albums except the one containing 2013 Phil, a part of me still not believing that this boy could be the one who played "innocent" pranks on me and screams at the person who gave birth to him every chance he gets.

Setting the scrapbooks on my opposite pillow and I cuddle back up against my pillow, turning the show back on. My eyes grow heavy and the clogging in my nose becomes more and more of a problem as it begins whistling with every breath."God fucking..." I trail off, reaching for the miniature pack of tissues Lyda had given me and finding the package completely empty."Why," I mutter, exasperated.

After what feels like 10 minutes I kick my blankets back. Groaning to myself forcing myself to begin moving. Alright Dan, one foot at a time you've got this, set one foot on the floor, shuffle to the side, sit up and."SHIT!" I scream, instantly clamping a hand across my mouth to muffle the sound. An old habit from my days back at home in California, somebody always seemed to be home, no matter how weird the schedules I was never once left alone.

I lower myself from the bed, slower this time, gingerly lifting myself from the bed and leaning forward more than usual. When I was little I used to think the sickness got worse when you stood up, like a cloud of bad feelings was directly above you, waiting for you to enter it before stabbing a spike through your brain.

The thoughts send yet another stab of homesickness, they were common as feeling happiness by this point. I always knew at one point this would happen, my body and mind would subcumb to the same pains of loneliness as every other exchange student's does. A few days ago, before the attack of the sickness hit, I was herp derping around the internet when I stumbled upon a chat room solely for exchange students on kik.