The Morning I Fell For You - phan

Phan Oneshot

When I look back on all of it now, it really should have been apparent. I guess he was always perfectly fitted as a friend in my mind for so long. A special friend. My best friend. I don't think I ever thought that image of him would ever suddenly shatter. If I really had to pin point the moment I fell in love with him, I'd have to say it was that one morning. That impossibly early morning, it seemed ungodly to even be awake at such an hour of the day, but we were incredibly jet lagged and the concept of time blurred for the 2 of us.

I was the first to wake up and after a bit of journeying through my phone (quietly in order to not wake up Phil) I rolled over. My duvet was nicely spread over my body with only slight crinckles, while Phil's duvet was mangled and folded and tucked around his sleeping figure. I got up and went to take a shower in the hotel bathroom.

Nothing interesting.

Nothing new.

Nothing that hasn't happened before.

Stepping out of the shower and dressing myself up for the the new day. My hobbit hair taking shape and curling as it naturally does.

Again nothing out of the ordinary.

I stand aimlessly and take a look around the hotel room and I go back to check my phone to see if anything new happened in that range of time I had left it.

I'm bored.

Liking fanart on Tumblr, looking at tweets on Twitter, looking at the trending on YouTube.

All routine.

Soon my attention wanders and I get bored. Phil's still sleeping in the bed beside mine. I can hear the inhale and the exhale of his lungs. He's a mouth breather.

I don't know what possessed me to to climb onto the edge of his bed, boredom, fate, love?

Doesn't matter.

I was hugging the precipice of his mattress and his breathing was more audible at this distance. I think of poking his cheek but I don't. I only stay a couple moments more before I get up in motivation of hunger.

I know we'll get waffles, we always do. So I order room service, 2 plates of waffles should be sent up soon they said.

So I waited.

And I got bored.

People get bored.

They just do.

We have no say in what we feel.

No matter how much you shun your emotions they will always come back to you.

Persistent little shits.

Why isn't boredom considered to be one of the great evils? The things you do to escape the clutches of boredom are absolutely terrifying.

Phil is still sleeping and I find it insufferable. There he is peacefully sleeping and here I am restless and bored.

Oh so very bored.

God I'm bored.

The thing about being bored is that it leaves space for unwanted thoughts to move and take place in your mind.

Like how pretty Phil's lips are.

Him and his SPF 35 lip balm.

And how flawless and smooth his skin always is.

And how his eyelashes look extra long when his eyes are closed.

He softly snores and it almost ruins the moment.

I chuckle quietly to myself.

Almost.

At this point in time I'm completely aware of how attracted I am to Phil at this moment. I can feel my heart pulse in a sort of scary excitement that could be called nervousness.
This moment I can only share with myself because it is the two of us and this unbearable early morning.

I inch closer to Phil and find my way knelt beside Phil's bed, and just lean my chin against the cusp of my palm and sit there silently.

You'd think a revelation of this magnitude would be like a slap across the face, but it was very subtle and serene and crept up and planted itself in my heart unnoticeably. It wouldn't hit me until later that day.

My hand wanders and makes itself at home against Phil's cheek. It was unexpectedly cold and it caused unnecessary frets to bubble within me. Was he cold? Is he uncomfortable?

As I fall into a deeper trance I get bolder and I stroke Phil's cheek softly with my knuckles. Rubbing smooth invisible lines against his cheek bone.

My face moves closer to his until there there barely a breathe between us. My heart rate was probably through the roof. I could hear the thumps echo in my head and in my ears.

I want so badly to just peck those lips and run back to the safety of my bed, under the protection of my duvet, but hesitation holds me frozen still.

As I gather up the conviction and go in for the smack of the lips the door knocks.

"Hello?"

I jump back and stumble and crash against the bedside drawer, heart in my throat. My head feels dizzy and I let out fast shallow breaths.

"Oh fuck, the waffles." I cursed under my breath.

I rush towards the door and accept our order and make some small talk before closing it again. My heart finally reached a natural rythum, and I got lost in my thoughts.

Am I in love?

As soon as I come back holding a tray of two plates of diabetes, Phil is awake with a shine in his eyes and a smile on his face. His hair had a bad case of bed head with major splinges in his fringe.

Oh Mother of Hell.

I had it bad.

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This is some ramble that I didn't edit or proof read and done at unimaginable time of the night. Hope you enjoy?