Why'd you only call me when you're high? (Phan)

Why'd you only call me when you're high?

The next day, he acted as if nothing had ever happened. I didn't get yelled at (which was good since we weren't the type of people who had serious fights often), but it still bothered me that he hadn't said a thing because I was still thinking about the kiss. Wasn't he thinking about it? I bet he was. I couldn't stop touching my lips and he couldn't stop staring at them. He sighed and made us some coffee. The kiss was still not mentioned.

After a month, you might think that I would've forgotten about it and just continued my normal life. I tried to, but I couldn't. It got to the point in which I started snaping at him for the smallest things and he'd started getting irritated about everthing I did. One day we just started screaming at each other for no reason and the question that had been circling around my head spilled out, "Why did you kiss me if you were going to ignore it ever happened anyway?"

He stopped abruptly. I had taken him off guard. He took a deep breath and swallowed, "I-I didn't mean to, w-we were b-both wasted and it just kinda happened" his eyes were glued to the floor "I didn't know it had meant so much for you," he looked at me "I'm sorry, Phil".

After that, we started drifting apart. It was slow, one day I didn't go to a party with him, other day he didn't come with me to buy the groceries, then it just turned out that we started doing everything without the other. I barely even knew what he was up to those days. It was until I found him passed out on the kitchen floor with a bag of cocaine on his hand that I realized how much we had actually separated from each other. I confronted him about it, of course, but all he said was, "You don't want to be a part of my life anymore, so just fuck off and let me do whatever I want".

I moved out that day. And that's when the calls started. He'd call me whenever he got high or drunk or when he felt emotionally numb enough to not care about anything. I never answered, and he always left a voicemail with the same message, "...I miss you" he would say so closely to the microphone it seemed he was with me. I'm not going to say I wasn't affected by his words, but I was trying to be mature and move on. He was the one who kept calling me.

I only answered one call and I deeply regret ever doing it. I was sleep deprieved, angry and a little bit drunk when he called.

"Phil!" Dan cried out when he realized I had finally picked up the phone "I knew you were going to answer someday!" he giggled.

I clenched my jaw and breathed. "I wasn't planning to. I did because I'm sick of you fucking up my sleeping schedule. Do you know when was the last time I got a proper night sleep, Daniel?" I spat angrily at him.

He giggled again, "I'll let you fuck my sleeping schedule anytime you like. You sound hot when you're mad, Philly" he purred.

And maybe it was the fact that I hadn't slept well in months or the fact that he had the fucking nerve to flirt with me that made me hang up after telling him to wait until I arrived. I skipped every red light known to man and I was in our old apartment in less than 5 minutes. I opened the door with the spare key I still had and found the little shit sat on the couch fucking smiling like the cocky asshole he is.

I walked up to him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and didn't waste time before crashing our lips together. It was sloppy and hungry, a mixture of teeth and tongues, different than our first kiss. He let a surprised moan and snaked his arms around my neck, which I pinned above his head with just one hand while the other one drifted to his hips. He squirmed and I bit his lower lip. He gasped, and I took the chance to get inside his mouth. He let out a breathy moan and a small whimper that slowly drove me insane.

I started kissing his neck, looking for a sweet spot until I found one, just below his collarbone, and started sucking on it, leaving a pretty bruise on his pale skin. "...Phil," he breathed out "p-please".