snapchat

78

a week.

a week was how long phil stayed inside his house, under his mound of blankets that still smelled like dan. his sheets were unchanged, his kitchen was still a mess, his hair was matted and unwashed and he could barely keep his eyes open. it seemed like it was only yesterday when he shut the door in dan's face but it had been seven days, seven torturous days. phil only got up, occasionally to drink water or to use the bathroom. his appetite was lost and his sleep schedule was messed up. for someone like phil who was an epitome of anxiety, it was hard to not pick up his phone to look at his messages. did dan text him? did he call? is he okay? he didn't know.

he wanted to give dan some time, to cool down, to reassess his thinking and then talk to him about what happened the other day. he didn't want to annoy dan, and he definitely didn't want dan to snap at him again because if that would have happened again, phil was not sure if he could handle it. he was over sensitive, he knew it and he didn't want to be the target of dan's inevitable agitation. so he did what he thought was best.

he gave dan some time.

but maybe that wasn't the decision he should have made.

was a week enough for dan to think about the other day and be ready to talk to phil about it? probably.

thinking that, phil finally removed the blankets from his body and hopped off the bed to retrieve his phone. his head ached from the sudden movement and he almost fell down when he bent over to pick up his phone, but he ignored it and held the device in his hand. a crack spread through the corner of the screen but that was the last thing phil was concerned about as he plugged his phone in the charger and turned the device on.

there were almost endless notifications.

calls, texts, snapchats.

phil didn't know where to start and so he just simply opened the yellow application and took a deep breath before typing dan a message which probably summed up all phil felt this past week.

philly: i'm sorry

--
8K!!!!!!!