"phil," dan muttered, his hand softly knocking on the blue-eyed boy's door. "i made breakfast."
dan stood in the hallway for what seemed like forever, waiting and waiting for a reply. nothing.
he huffed, and shuffled back to the kitchen. sitting himself down on the couch, dan stared blankly at the television. his mind aimlessly wondered as his phone rung softly on the arm of the furniture.
a few hours passed before dan returned to the older boy's door.
"a few letters came in the post, they're for you," he muttered, almost inaudibly, flicking through the crumpled envelopes. gently pushing them under the door, dan sighed. "phil, please answer me."
dan hadn't properly eaten in days. he hadn't showered, slept. he was too concerned about phil to even begin to care about his own well-being.
"everyone's worried," he mumbled after getting himself comfortable on the floor outside of phil's bedroom. "they're worried something is wrong,
"and something is wrong, phil, but i can't tell them that. i can't just tell them that everything isn't okay; yet i don't know how much longer i can pretend. it's not okay, phil. none of this is okay.
"quite frankly, i'm done with this crap. i'm done with updating your twitter, making breakfast you don't even eat, fetching your parcels and your letters. i'm done with trying."
"i can't cope without you anymore, phil." the brown-eyed choked back non-existent tears. he'd cried too much over the last few days to let a single tear escape his empty eyes, a whimper escape his cracked lips.
dan struggled to his feet, his legs shaking. he swung open phil's door, as his eyes were met with what used to be a bright, lively room, but was now a dull, empty one.
collapsing on the neatly-made bed, dan grabbed the sheets and took in the smell of a very familiar boy. his voice cracked as the tears found their way to his tired eyes, his face swelling up furiously.
"phil," he choked back. "phil, i miss you. i'm sorry."
dan sobbed to himself for two minutes, as two minutes turned to two hours, and as two hours turned to two days.
he finally brought himself to his feet, and shuffled out of the door, closing it behind him.
"i'll make breakfast."
