Hunger Point | Phan

Chapter Thirty-two: Christmas Eve

{ Dan }

     "Dan, sing Christmas songs with me!" Keaton begged, trying to sneak cookie dough from Phil and Angela as they feverently baked for Angie's Christmas party tonight at her office. I rolled my eyes, placing my manga aside, sitting up on the couch. "What song?" I asked, deciding to humor him. I was okay at singing and ever since Phil told Keaton that (this was weeks ago...back when everything was okay), he had tried to find a way to get me to sing.

"Sing the bell song." He instructed, sitting next to me with a lump of gooey snickerdoodle dough stuck to his fingers. I hate sticky; I hope he doesn't touch me. I glanced back at the baking mother-son duo, hating that they were both trying not to watch me. They were making it way too obvious and it irked me, not to mention how Phil hasn't spoken to me in a week, since our argument during that dinner, but yet he made it a point to always be around me. It was his decision not to take me back.

     "Hark to the bells," I began before stopping and clearing my throat before proceeding to the next line: "High sounding bells, Joyful they ring, Born is the king; Oh how they chime, sound with a rhyme, Be of good cheer, Christmas is here--" Keaton stopped me by holding up his sticky finger.

"Is Mitch invited to Christmas? I want my twin to be here!" He questioned, pouting, and I laughed. Since Keaton met Mitch he'd been referring to him as his twin due to their similar looks: blue eyes, blonde hair. "No, Keat, Mitch has been invited to Christmas with his own family. You'll see him on New Years." I told him, scooting to the other end of the couch, away from him, when he tried to touch me. That caused him to giggle and chase me into the kitchen, where I hid behind Angie. "Save me from your demon-spawn!" I told her, using her as a shield, from Keaton and from Phil. I want to avoid him trying too hard to avoid me. I feared if he looked up, and I looked in his eyes, I may crack.

     "You're asking Lucifer to save you from Lucius?" She asked, chuckling softly. "Bad move." She pointed out, smearing peanut butter cookie dough across my cheek. I wrinkled up my nose, pouting. Ew.

"I hate you all." I claimed before stepping away from Angela. Wiping off the dough, I plop it on a random napkin on the counter, looking up to meet blue eyes--Phil's blue eyes. I would know they're his against everything: I mean, fuck, when I look in Mitch's eyes I'm actually picking out the difference between his and Phil's. Phil's are a brighter shade of blue, Mitch's are dull--no, not dull, rather clear, like his eyes are a mirror mimicking a pond. But Phil's are authentic, they're the sun compared to Mitch's; Mitch is the moon, simply reflecting Phil's light. I've always felt a pull to the moon but the sun always makes me feel better when I have the chance to touch its rays.

     It felt like we stared into eachother's eyes for a full five minutes but in reality it was probably only twelve seconds before he shifted his gaze, going back to the cookies like nothing happened. Maybe nothing did, maybe I'm over-analyzing things, but when he looked away I felt all my energy drain from me, piece by piece, until I was empty and didn't know who I was anymore. I didn't know why I do what I do. My actions made no sense. I didn't know why I was with Mitch. I didn't know why Phil didn't care. Either way, I left the kitchen and entered my room (which looked like a bigger model of my old one in my old home) and, tired or not, I didn't know if I was for sure, I went to bed.

     -   -   -

"Dan, wake up. It's late and mummy's gone and I sleepy," Keaton whined in my ear, tugging on my collar. I groaned groggily, mumbling, "What do you want me to do about it?"

     "Tuck me in!" He shrieked, tears in his voice, making me sit up immediately. "Shh, don't cry, c'mere," I hushed, calming the raging child, gathering him in my arms as best as I could, hoping I wouldn't drop him, willing my weak arms to feign strong. "Why didn't Phil tuck you in?" I asked when we passed his older brother's open door (he was hurriedly scribbling something in some notebook.) "He said to go'way." He whispered, resting his little head daintily on my shoulder. I entered his room and placed him in bed, my arms feeling instant relief, pulling his blanket up to his chin. "Night-night, Dan." He said and I smiled, quickly leaving the room. Keaton was awful clingy to me and it made me feel...odd? I felt like I didn't deserve his attention, I guess.

I avoided looking in Phil's room as I passed this time which is why when I entered my room I was shocked to see him sitting on the very edge of my bed. "Here to start an argument?" I inquired bitterly, rubbing my tired eyes to make sure I was seeing correctly. 

     "Can you humor me just for tonight? Consider it a Christmas gift?" He asked, running his fingers through his oily hair. I sighed, my heart aching at the sight of him. He looked terrible and I just wanted to hold him and make everything better...but he didn't want me...and I was with Mitch now. "Fine. What?"

"Come here," He ordered and I didn't question it, cautiously walking over and sitting beside him, leaving a full inch between us. I took a deep breath and let his familiar scent consume me, registering his presence and I felt home. I shuddered, shaking it off. I couldn't forget about what happened. He broke my heart. And is still breaking it.

     "Look at me.." He whispered, letting his sentence trail off. I didn't look. I didn't want him to know he had that power over me. I didn't want to see his empty eyes and ache for the memory of their previous brightness. I wasn't ready to mourn the loss of him just yet...which was why I was with Mitch. I was avoiding it. And sad as it is, he subtracts from the loss of Phil, even though Phil's right beside me. It's just not the same. It'll never be the same.

I felt the bed shift then even out and I suspected he had laid down. When he spoke again, it was obvious he was crying, "You said you'd humor me. Please, just lay with me, for just a second." He urged but I shook my head and then couldn't keep still: sobs were shaking my shoulders, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. I felt so fucking disconnected from everything, just--fuck--it's so hard to explain how it feels, how it hurts, but it's fucking terrible. The love of my life leaves me out of the blue for no reason...and then comes back for favors. It felt like my chest was caving in on my heart, like my soul was disintegrating. Fuck, I love him so much, why is he doing this to me?

     "Please," he pleads, sniffing. I wipe at my eyes, take a huge breath, and force my sobs to recede in spite of the lump forming in my throat due to it. I finally give in, laying beside him, on my side, staring into his glassy eyes. He gently touches my face and I flinch, but he doesn't move his hand. He leaves it there, gentle though stinging my skin. I blink and my vision clears and I'm genuinely surprised to see his eyes aren't empty or glazed over. They're alive...but they're hurting. Bad.

"I'm sorry." He whispers and I shake my head, shutting my eyes. I feel him run his thumb under my eyes, taking my tears with it. His palm feels so familiar against my cheek and I think I forget to breathe in the seconds before it happens because I know what's coming and I know what he's going to do.

     I'm not surprised when I feel his lips touch mine and I don't pull away. I kiss him back, fireworks exploding behind my eyes, and I memorize how this feels because I know I'll need it. It doesn't take away the pain, it intensifies it, but not in a bad way. I like the pain because it's from something I've been deprived of. But he isn't mine. Not just because of this.

We stay like this for a while, just kissing softly. But then his scent soars away from me and my mind goes hazy for his missing lips. But he's gone, I feel the bed dip as he leaves, and with him: my sanity. I don't stop him. I don't know what I'd say if I did. I only have one thought to my hazy mind: why? If he doesn't love me anymore, why? Why? Why do this to me? Why make it worse? Why wedge the knife deeper?

     I tried not to let my frustration lead me into paralysis and attempted very hard not to rip my hair out. Hell, it's falling out anyway.

Confusion and frustration was all I felt, all I had.

     Eventually I took on that disconnected feeling again and had no emotions, instead willing myself into a dead sleep to the memory of our kiss.

/  /  /

     Hi c': thanks for 8.5k reads, I honestly never expected this story to make it this far because my writing's not at its prime and I'm not as good as I used to be. But thanks loads ♡

Tbh if this chapter destroys you good luck for the next few ones, Im bringing on a storm. ;)