Who I am {Phil Lester}

chapter 4.

PHIL'S POV;

It'd been at least 2 weeks since the party Dan, PJ, Chris and I had attended. Everything was normal; Dan bought the same cereal, and I ate it. I fell asleep in the same bed every night. We'd bump into the same fans when we went to town. I lit the same marshmallow scented candle every day and night. Just simple things.

Apart from today. Today, I didn't eat Dan's cereal. Today, it wasn't the same bed I woke up in; it was this uncomfortable, lonely, cold bed I didn't recognize. Today, I didn't see any fans. Today, I didn't light the marshmallow scented candle. Today felt different. There was no other way to put it.

I padded out of my bedroom to be greeted by Dan waving a cereal box in my face.

"Phil! Are you feeling ok?"

He continued to wave the box around, cheerios flying out occasionally.

"I just woke up Dan, I don't need cereal," I chuckled lazily, plodding around him towards the living room.

I could feel Dan's expression grow puzzled as footsteps wandered over behind me.

"Phil," he began, still confused, "you haven't eaten my cereal in 2 days," he spoke jokingly with fake concern as a small smile plastered across his face.

I flopped onto the sofa, leaning back so I still had Dan in my view.

"Maybe I don't want to eat your cereal anymore," I shrugged, rubbing my hand across my sleepy face.

"Don't want to eat my cereal?! Phil are you sure you're okay?" he questioned, placing himself on the chair opposite me, still clutching onto the cereal box which had small dents where Dan had been grasping it.

"Yes Dan! I'm sure," I chuckled leaning over towards my phone, which was precariously perched on the edge of the coffee table.

"Okay," he sighed, popping a handful of cheerios into his mouth whilst standing and making his way over to the kitchen "If you say so," he spoke to himself, his words muffled by the cereal.

A bright light lit my face up as I switched my phone on. Squinting, I flipped the brightness down causing my face to uncrinkle. Crossy road was how I was planning to spend the morning.

After about 2 hours of dodging cars, replying to peoples tweets and skimming through YouTube comments, I stretched out, stood up and wandered into the bathroom. The room was slightly steamy and warm from Dan's shower earlier. Steam clung tightly to the mirror as I kept trying to wipe it off with my pyjamas. The only thing I really gained from it was a damp sleeve.

After showering, I wandered back into my bedroom with a towel draped around my waist. The air was bitter and icy against my half watery, half dry skin. I stared at the outfit layed across my duvet, kind of hoping it would just magically appear on my body- it didn't. So after 3 top swaps, I finally settled on black skinny jeans (as per usual) and my marvel shirt. It was a lot more cozy than a towel. I plugged my phone into its charger and turned on the straighteners.

About 5 minutes later, they'd heated up leaving little marks on my carpet. I grabbed them off the floor and dragged my foot around the patch, trying to make them disappear. They gradually began to fade. I continued to straighten my fringe, making it go slightly static and stick to my forehead. I rushed into the bathroom and dribbled a little bit of water on it.

Quietly, I padded into the living room and searched for my phone, and instead grabbed my keys and stuffed them in my pocket. I rushed back into my bedroom, and spotted my phone sitting in the corner of my room. I unplugged it from its' charger and stuffed it in my other pocket. Slowly, I went back into the living room and checked my fringe in the red pixel mirror hanging above the gleaming fire place.