Yawn {Phan}

fifteen

phil

I leave for Manchester in a few hours, and I'm very excited. I haven't seen my mum in ages, and even though we didn't get along well when I was younger, I still miss having her around every once in a while. After all, she is my mother.

I've asked Dan several times if he thinks he'll be alright while I'm gone, and he says yes every time with a smile. It still makes me nervous to leave him here alone, though, because I know what his kind can be like. Every time I think about that, though, I push it to the back of my mind, telling myself not to place stereotypes onto Dan because he's different and stereotypes are harmful.

Still, though, it alarms me when he grips onto me tighter than usual at night and I wake up with wet spots on the sleeves of my shirt.

Regardless, I'm leaving today, and Dan seems pretty normal. He's helping me pack my suitcase, as of course I waited until the last minute to do it. I grab a stack of black skinny jeans we bought a few days ago from our dresser and place them neatly in the corner of the suitcase. Then, I go over to the drawer Dan has designated as my shirt drawer so I can pick out what shirts I'll bring, but Dan is already there, holding a stack of shirts out in front of his chest.

"I picked out your favourites, love," he beams, "so you wouldn't have to."

"Thank you," I say, smiling back at him, "I love you." I give him a gentle kiss on the cheek and he shakes his head in delight. I've been taking every opportunity I have to tell him I love him so he doesn't forget when I'm gone.

Jesus, it sounds like I'm dying or something.

"Phil?" Dan suddenly asks, voice small.

"Yes, Dan?"

"Well, I've been thinking, and... you've had more experience with relationships than I have, right?"

"Not a lot. I only dated a few people in my younger years. Why?"

"I just have a question, and I'm going to ask you because you have a better chance of knowing the answer than I do. I mean, I have really strong feelings for you, but don't you think it's a little soon to say you love me? We haven't even known each other for much more than a month, let alone dated. I'm just afraid you don't really like me and you're going to leave me."

That hurts. I cross the room again and grab his hands, looking directly into his eyes. "Daniel James, do not make those assumptions about me." I scold. He looks frightened, though, so I break character and assure him that I'm only joking. "Dan, I've dated people in the past, and I knew that I liked them from the start. Liking someone is a childish feeling, like there's hope and wonder in the world and you're endlessly curious as to if that person contains any of it. Don't get me wrong, it's a wonderful sensation, but it was different when I met you. 

"When I met you, I looked into your eyes and I saw the universe. I've heard some amazing music, but the words that came out of your mouth were the most beautiful symphony I had ever heard. You put me into a trance, and I knew I was in deep when you left and my heart fell to my feet. I knew I loved you from the moment you invited me in for tea that day because you showed compassion for me, even though I was only a stranger. I thought it was meant to be, as I had found you again merely by chance. So, no, I never liked you. I've always loved you, and believe me, I always will."

A tear has slipped down his cheek and found its way through the corner of his mouth. He looks at me, eyes full of love, not sure what to say next. I find a tear of my own crawling out of my eye, and he lifts a hand to wipe it away with his thumb.

"Eloquently put," he murmurs, voice choked with emotion. I can't hold back anymore and so I quickly close the gap and take his upper lip between mine. I taste the salt from his tears upon his tongue, and combined with the texture of his slightly chapped lips, I'm a whirlwind under his flavour. His nose brushes against my cheek, and it feels cold on my flushed face. I cannot even hear the awkward sounds a kiss creates - it's completely silent inside my head. All I can think about is how much I'll miss this when I'm in Manchester, and the thought alone provokes another tear from my eye to wriggle its way between our touching cheeks. We finally break apart after what seems like millennia, and simply stare into each other's eyes for another several aeons. 

I bring my hand back from around his waist and lock our fingers together, providing him with my signature squeeze of affection. "Help me finish packing," I say softly. He nods, and we go to finish our task.

-

Dan insists on taking me to the train station, although I don't complain. I never want to have to leave his side.

We sit in his car while he drives, our hands intertwined and arms resting on the surface between the seats. He drives slowly on purpose, and it's almost comical at the rate he's going. I can tell he doesn't want me to leave any more than I don't, and that makes this all the more painful.

When we finally arrive at the train station, I have a little under ten minutes to board my train, and so we can't sit around and chat for long. We find a corner of the station that has the least people and there we say our farewells, far from anyone who may look down upon an obnoxious gay couple with matching emo hair. In fact, one girl audibly shows her admiration for us as I pull him into a tight hug, breathing in as much of his sweet scent as I can before I'll lose it for a week.

"I'll text you every single day, okay?" I assure him, my hands cupping his jaw and my eyes locked on his. "I'm going to send you lots of pictures and I'll call you before I go to bed even if just to leave a voicemail because you're asleep. I'll even leave my laptop on so you can Skype me in the evenings if you need me. Please take care of yourself, baby. I love you."

"I love you too," he whispers, before pulling me into a kiss similar to the one we shared earlier today. 

I board the train close to tears, gazing out the window at my beautiful, stunning, gorgeous boyfriend for as long as I can before he disappears out of my line of view, obstructed by the wall of the station we pass by. As this is going to be a long ride, I take a deep breath to keep from crying and put on whatever music I can find on my phone that won't remind me of him.

dan

It must seem like I'm obsessed with Phil the way I'm so upset when he's leaving for a week. I can't help but be attached, though, as he's the first person I've genuinely cared about in years. By the sound of it, he cares pretty deeply about me, too.

Or so my right mind thinks. As soon as I climb into the car, turning the keys and driving away from the station and my boyfriend, the raincloud reappears. Only this time, the grey mass has a face, and a voice to go along with it.

He doesn't care about you.

Those five words are enough to get me to pull over on a sidestreet somewhere and put my head in my hands and cry. This cannot be happening. Not here, not now.

short chapter but some good fluff

and also a devastating moment what's up