Dan Howell
Fuck this.
Fuck everything.
I knew it was too soon to jump into a relationship with Phil. Why the hell would he run out on me when we are literally making out? He probably realised he doesn't have any feelings for me or that I'm an asshole.
I don't even know what I did this time, but the way he looked at me, the lack of warmth in his eyes and the lack of emotion in his voice—I hated the ache it caused in my chest. I hate feeling like I am always doing something wrong.
I don't need this. I don't need Phil to constantly make me feel like shit—he makes me unnecessarily happy and makes me want to be a better person too—but most of the time it's just me wondering what the fuck I have done wrong. I do a lot of wrong things, I am aware of the fact, but I have never felt the heaviness on my shoulders or irremovable weight on my chest. And I don't want to either.
My movements and quick and aggressive as I harshly pull the door of my car and slump inside, my fists closing around the steering wheel as I try to control my breathing. Why the fuck does he have to have so much power over me? Why the fuck am I feeling guilty when I have done nothing wrong? Why the fuck are my hands shaking?
And why the fuck am I pulling out my phone and calling him?
I realise that I'm an idiot with every unanswered ring, and after literally seven hundred of them, Phil picks up the phone.
He doesn't say anything, and neither do I. The only sound between the two lines is my ragged breathing and his controlled one.
I don't really know why I called him, or why I haven't ended the call yet. I just wanted to know if he's okay.
"Why'd you call now?" He sighs from the other end, and all the anger seeps out of my fingers and they begin shaking just by the tone of his voice. He sounds so sad and so done with my shit.
"I don't know," I recollect my emotions and try to keep control over my tongue. I don't want to make him more upset.
"Why did you leave?" He asks, his voice catching in the middle of his question that he tries to ungracefully cover with a cough.
"I don't know," You're too good for me.
"Are you—Are you with," He doesn't complete his sentence and I can't hear anything but his breathing but somehow I know that he's crying right now. I feel the pressure in my chest again and this time it's stronger—stronger than the self hatred.
"With someone else? It's been ten minutes, is that what you think of me?" My voice is pathetic, and I don't want Phil to confirm the fact that he doesn't trust me. I know I acted like a complete ass yet again, but I can't let him lose hope in me. He is the only person who sees something good about me and I don't want to lose it.
"Well you did end things with me after literally a day and a half," He laughs but its not out of humour. His words are pricking. "I wouldn't be surprised if I find you with someone else,"
"I didn't mean it," How can he think I meant any of that shit? Does he not see the way I look at him? Does he not see how desperate I am for him? Can't he feel my heartbeat picking up every time he looks at me?
"Whatever," He dismisses me.
"It's true Phil, you can't possibly think I have ended things with you," Please don't leave me.
"You said it, not me, you can't just say things and then take them back," He snaps.
"I'm not the one who left first, you were the one who scurried off when we were—when we were—"
"So this is just about making out and sleeping with me isn't it? If I don't do that you end things with me and call me minutes later saying you didn't mean it? This is not what relationships are about Dan, you can't just have sex with a person all the time—"
"What the fuck Phil? You think this is about sleeping with you? Fuck, how can you not see how fucking obsessed I am with you? How can you not see how much I am trying?" My voice cracks. He can't possibly think I only want him because of sex. He can't.
"No Dan, I don't think that, but you do things like these and I'm forced to believe that all you want is—"
"No! No, no, no, Phil you can't tell me you think that I only want you because—" I pause, slamming my fists harshly against the steering. "You can't think like that, you know nothing about how I feel, you-you—" I might actually start crying. Fuck what the hell is happening to me?
"Dan," He sighs, and I feel the moisture brimming in my eyes. I hate feeling like this. I have not felt this vulnerable, this insecure over anything except my mother. I have always avoided this—this moisture in my eyes and this pain in my chest and I want to hate Phil for it but I can't bring myself to think like that.
It would be so much easier if he was someone else.
"Dan, are you alright?" His voice switches from calm to panicked, and I sniff and wipe my tears with the back of my sleeve. Fuck.
"Dan are you crying? Where are you?" I can hear him moving around already, and I feel pathetic but I can't deny his comfort. He is literally the only person who can stop me from leaving and drinking away my entire night.
"In your driveway," I mumble, my voice wavering as I try to wipe the constantly falling tears. It doesn't work, it never works. Whenever I drink away to avoid crying, this is what happens. It piles higher and higher until it's impossible to handle and then I can't stop crying.
Fuck this.
"I'm coming in a minute, stay there, please,"
"Okay," I know I don't deserve his comfort but I can't help but be selfish, I can't let him not comfort me.
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double update because im an asshole who doesn't update for like 6 months im sorrybzbz
