Get Out Your Damn Umbrellas

Chapter 8

Phil hoped it was true what people said about how things usually get worse before they get better, because things had certainly gotten much worse.

Dan was sleeping in his own bedroom now. He'd taken his monochrome comforter with him and kept the door closed at night. Dan's room was where both of them usually slept when either of them wasn't in the mood for sex, but Dan had never wanted to sleep alone before.

Phil continued sleeping in the living room. He only ventured to his own bedroom to get clothes after he'd washed and re-worn everything in his suitcase, which he still hadn't properly unpacked. The room had been professionally cleaned, the mattress and bedding replaced, but he still couldn't go in there without getting a cold, sickening feeling in his stomach. It was as though the room was haunted.

The strangest thing was, even though Phil was sure the last video that he and Dan had filmed was in the gaming room, all of their video equipment was set up next to his bed.

During the day it was difficult to lure Dan out of his hiding place and move around the rest of the flat. At times Dan seemed restless and anxious and was easily startled, but most of the time it was as though he was completely drained of energy. Even when he was sitting on the sofa with Phil watching TV or watching Phil play video games, he had trouble concentrating and would often just zone out.

Despite Phil's efforts to keep Dan alive on soup and tea and mini marshmallows, it was easy to tell that Dan was losing weight. Each passing day his bones became more and more visible, his pale skin stretched taut over them like canvas. According to Phil's internet research about post-traumatic stress, long-term exposure to elevated stress hormones like cortisol could cause muscles to deteriorate, and so it was likely that he was losing muscle as well.

Amongst other things Phil began to miss the sound of Dan's voice. A murmured "yes" or "no" or "I'm fine" were the only words Phil ever heard from him. The remains of Dan's smashed phone had been taken into evidence by the police. Phil ordered a new one online, but as soon as it arrived, Dan turned the ringer to silent.

Suspended in a barely tolerable purgatory, it was only a matter of time before it all went to hell.

One evening a few weeks after his talk with Martyn, Phil was sitting hunched over on the sofa checking his email. There were several emails from their managers and the producers at the radio show granting their request for a medical leave of absence and expressing well-wishes for Dan's recovery. Phil supposed it would be a good idea to send a brief reply to each of them and say thank you. He opened a Word document and sat there for a few minutes trying to piece together an appropriate response. Before he could start typing, however, the blue skype logo lit up his screen.

Phil's fingers hovered tentatively over the trackpad before pressing down and accepting the call. It was Louise.

"Hello, love," Louise's voice chimed as she popped into view on the computer screen.

"Um... hi," Phil responded. He was torn between excitement and nervousness. In all honesty it was wonderful to see a friendly face, but at the same time he had no idea what to say, or how much he could say without raising suspicion. "So... how's it going? What are you up to?"

"Well, tonight I'm having a little dinner party with a few friends." She was dressed up with her hair and makeup expertly done, and judging from the chatter drifting from her dining room she already had company over. "Anyways, I've missed seeing my two favorite boys and so I just wanted to call to say hi and that I'm thinking about you."

"We've missed you too." Even as Phil smiled, his eyes got a bit watery. He quickly reached up to dry his face with his sleeve, but Louise noticed.

"You alright Phil?"