Hunger Point | Phan

Chapter Twenty-eight: He doesn't love you anymore

{ Dan }

"We're glad to see you eating, Dan," Mrs. V said, stopping me on my way to my seat in the cafeteria. It was the next day (Saturday) and I had just gotten breakfast that someone would hopefully want.

Last night, when Mitch came back from dinner, he told me he'd been here twice and the first time, he stopped eating. He used it as a way to cope. They were worse to him than they're being to me and so he faked eating. It worked.

I sat down next to Mitch, pouting at him as he picked at his plastic-resembling eggs. "Please eat," I plead, shrinking into myself when he glared at me. "Hypocrite." He muttered teasingly,  grinning at me. Then Chris plopped down on the stool next to me, already scarfing down his artificial bacon and recycled eggs. I dumped my meal on his plate subtly, smiling at him, uttering, "There you go, friend," He just pat my back, beginning to inhale my serving. When I looked back to Mitch, his food was gone. My jaw dropped. "Why are you not eating?! I thought you were done with that...?" I said, frowning. "You don't eat, I don't eat," he said simply, poking at his empty plastic plate with his plastic spoon. (We weren't allowed to have forks). I huffed, blowing up my cheeks, crossing my arms. "Can you not care about me for, like, five minutes and take care of yourself?" I asked and he shook his head, shrugging. "That's not possible."

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the warm feeling blooming in my chest. He just admitted to caring about me beyond refund. It felt amazing to have a friend.

-   -   -

"I don't want to go to 'school'." I said, bewildered they even had school. "We're all on winter break so we just watch movies." Mitch said and I was up immediately. A day full of movies? Count me in.

Okay, I love school here. One: We got to sit wherever we wanted so Mitch, Chris, and I all sat on the back row by eachother, and Two: They played Harry Potter. Sadly we had to leave for group in an hour, then after group was lunch. But then we come back to school for maybe two hours. Then we're done for the day except for dinner and RT (Recreational therapy). I liked our schedule. It was so simple...it never wavers, never changes. I could do it forever.

"Dan, what about you? This is your first time in group. Would you like to share?" I rolled my eyes, inquiring, "What do I say?" A few kids laughed but overall everyone looked sort of embarrassed for me but I wasn't embarrassed in the least. "Tell me how your story goes." The woman suggested, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, eyes placed solely on me. "Like...what triggered my depression?" I questioned, a tad confused, and she nodded, her short curls bouncing.

"Uh...well..when I was eleven I discovered my mum was heavily reliant on drugs. I ran away, I hurt myself, I did everything to forget about it. I could deal with it then. When I was fifteen, I was with a boy who raped me nonstop. . .then I was with a girl who was physically and verbally abusive. . . Okay, I don't know how this is going to help me, dwelling on my shitty past. . .it makes it worse. My future seems pretty grim but compared to the past its wonderland and I'm not going to talk about it. I don't need to—I don't need a reason to feel depressed. All that matters is that I'm depressed and I'm here because you're supposed to help me with it...not make it worse." Rant over, I pushed myself out of the plastic folding chair, walking away from the circle. "Dan, if you leave group, you get sets." The nurse called after me and I didn't turn back, only raised my middle finger in the direction of her voice. "Bite me." I commanded, flinging open the door, storming off to the boy's hall. Seriously, screw this. I didn't need this. I needed to be home. I needed to talk to Phil. I had to...They had to let me.

-   -   -

"Can I talk to Phil?" I asked his mother, fingers rhetorically crossed. "I really don't think that's the best idea—" She began but I interrupted, gripping the phone reciever hard: "Please. Its important." She elicited a sigh. Then the air began moving, shifting. My breath caught when I heard his voice. "Hello?"

"Phil?" I asked, tears springing to my eyes. I hated how he had control over me...how he had such a hold over me...I'd do anything for him. Except leave.

"Why did you call me?" He asked, voice hostile. He was trying very hard to keep himself under control, I could tell. "I-I miss you, I'm sorry I sound so weak and desperate and needy but I love you—fuck, you can't leave me...Not after everything," I said, eyes scanning the nearly desolate nurses' station. There was only one nurse up here, whom I hadn't met yet. He had cool tattoos. "Yes, I can, I did, okay? I'm bad for you. The end."

"You're not bad for me! What the hell, Phil, I thought you loved me as much as I love you, fuck." I uttered, wiping at my tears of frustration. I couldn't handle this. "I did, okay, but not anymore. I'm sorry Dan." I heard a click. Then several long beeps. He was gone. I slammed the reciever back down in its place, ignoring the startled look from the nurse.

I bowed my head, walking around the nurses' station, ducking into my room. Then I lost it. I was so upset and so angry and so sad and so goddamned frustrated. Screeching low in my throat, I fell into bed and curled up in a ball, pulling the blanket over me, beginning to sob. My feelings were so mixed up...I...he told me he didn't leave me that day—He told me he loved me. . . And now he didn't, now he didn't want anything to do with me at all...

Then I heard voices and footsteps and then someone's arms were around me. "Dan, what happened?" I just cried harder, refusing to let him pull the blanket off of me. He squeezed me tight, just holding my bundled body. "He doesn't love me anymore...it's really over." I mumbled, sound muffled due to the blanket, my body racking relentlessly with sobs. I felt like my chest was going to cave in with the weight of my depression, my mind still scrambling for a foothold to grasp. My brain still wasn't processing what this all meant.

When I left here, I'd still live with Phil. But I wouldn't be allowed to love him.

"Mitch, I want to die," I whined and I felt him tense up. He ripped the blanket away from my face, placing his cool fingers on the side of my cheek. "No," He said coldly, staring into my glassy eyes. "You will be okay. You can't die...because even though you've only been here for five days, I still consider you my bestfriend."

I smiled then coughed, burying my face in his chest. "He told me he didn't love me anymore," I whispered, letting him hold me as the waves crashed over me and buried me under the sea.

-   -   -

"We're going to the day room tonight." I told Mitch about an hour or so later, after dinner (though I didn't eat) and a shower.

"Uh, why?" He groaned, dog-earing his book. "Because Chris has alcohol hidden in there." I said simply, like that was an explanation in itself, running a comb through my obnoxiously curly hair. You weren't allowed flat presses in here—for obvious reasons. "Dan, you don't need alcohol to feel. You have the capability, you're just blocking it out."

"I can do what I want." I said, tugging on my curls. He sighed, rolling off his bed, walking up behind me, poking one of my curls with a grin. "Please don't, for me..." he said, pouting, leaning forward and touching his forehead to my neck, wrapping his arms around my waist. I was very happy Chris was moved from our room as per his request.

"Mitchell..." I whined, and laughed as he blowed on the back of my neck, tickling me. "Please.." He pleaded and I groaned, turning and facing him. He was surprisingly, somehow, taller than me. "Fine. For you." I responded, hugging him tightly. "Yay, we can skip the dayroom and play Orange-ball and Ghost!" He cheered childishly, placing his chin on my head. "Ghost?" I asked and he chuckled, grinning down at me. "You'll see."

/ / /

Look at all the romantic tension between the two of them fknxwukbddnorcbifgbfuck

U guys may hate me for the next chapter sorry ;c

Ily though bhye! ♥