JANUARY, 2009
Dan
I wake up in my bed.
My head pounds, and I roll over into my pillow, burying my head in it, but as soon as I breathe in, I'm met with the smell of lavender, and I wrinkle my nose up, confused. This house, even at its best, smells like mildew and dust.
Nothing has been fresh here for years.
Thoroughly confused, I sit up, throat constricting as I see that I'm wrapped up in an unfamiliar blanket in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar time.
I untangle myself from the warmth of the blanket, shivering when the cold air touches my skin.
My clothes are wet.
Why?
I look down at them, plucking my damp t-shirt away from where it clung to my skin. I frown, wrapping my arms around myself in an attempt to stop my violent shivering.
The room spins and I lean against the wall to ward off the floors magnetic pull on me.
Where am I?
All of a sudden, the door swings open and I stumble back, knocking my head into the wall, biting my tongue in the process.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! I didn't know you were awake yet."
It's Phil.
"No, it's fine," I say, heart still racing.
Memories come back in flashes.
The rain. The water slamming against the rocks. Falling.
Falling.
There is a moment of silence.
"Where... where am I?"
"You're in my apartment," Phil says, leaning against the door frame, hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets. "I...you freaked when I tried to take you to hospital, wouldn't let me take you anywhere near it, so I just took you back to mine. I didn't know what else to do, I'm sorry. I hope this is okay."
The embarrassment lights my cheeks on fire.
I swallow hard and try not to think about how very different this situation would be had I woken up in a hospital bed rather than Phil's.
"How are you feeling?"
"Just a bit cold and lightheaded."
This is an understatement.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, I wanted to get you out of your wet clothes but I didn't think.. you would.. want me to..."
"It's okay. Thank you."
The room fills with an awkward silence for a minute before Phil straightens up, his face bright again.
"I'll go get you some dry clothes to change into."
"Oh, you don't have to."
"No, of course I do," he says firmly. "I'll be back in a minute. You should lie back down. You aren't looking so good."
I want to open my mouth, tell him I'm fine, tell him to stop worrying about me, want to ignore the headache that's driven a spike through my skull and my throbbing ribs and the way Phil's face has started to swirl, but instead I just give a small nod and turn back around to collapse onto the bed.
Looking satisfied, Phil exits the room, and I stare up at the ceiling, twisting my shaking hands into the blankets beside me.
God, Phil doesn't deserve any of this. Why did I have to call him? Stupid.
I'm so pathetic, I couldn't even kill myself, couldn't even take care of myself when I'd chickened out. I just had to call Phil, just had to worm my way into his life, dump all of my problems on him. He hadn't shown up because he cared, he'd shown up so I wouldn't kill myself, taken me back to his house so I wouldn't try again. He's being nice, doing what a good person would. I'm so stupid.
Phil appears in the doorway, holding a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt that is about three sizes too big for me, smiling sheepishly. He hands them to me and starts babbling on about the size, apologizing, and I stare at him, entranced by the way his lips move, the way his eyelashes catch the light when he blinks. I am too distracted to hear a thing he says.
After a couple of seconds, he stops talking, and I shake my head, shaking myself out of my daze.
"Just bring your old clothes out when you're done changing and I can dry them up for you, okay?"
I nod.
He closes the door softly as he leaves, and I push myself into a sitting position, peeling my wet clothes off. I bury myself in Phils clothes, closing my eyes and wrapping my arms around myself, trying to get warm.
I grab the pile of wet clothes that have been dropped unceremoniously on the floor and gather them in my arms.
I make myself strong enough to lift them.
Phil
I wrap my hand around the doorknob of the spare room.
Since we'd moved here, it had never really been put to use, sitting untouched, but it was quite a nice room, with a big airy window that let in plenty of light, and a queen sized bed covered with all the spare blankets in the apartment. Upon bringing Dan home, I had wrapped him up in every blanket on that bed, hoping that, between the sunlight and the blankets, he'd be warm enough.
I had retired to the couch, resigning to checking on him every hour, but each hour flew by, met with nothing but pale skin and uneven breathing, like tree branches rattling in the wind.
Sometimes I'd watch him from the doorway, watch the way his eyelashes would flutter, or the way he curled his hands into the blankets as he slept, think about how scary he looked, how dead.
I had told myself that if he didn't wake up after a day, I'd take him to hospital, no matter what he had said.
I'd rather him hating me and breathing than loving me and dead.
The deadline was coming up.
Lost in thought, I walk through the doorway, only to find a living, breathing Dan, hugging himself and shivering violently. At the sight of me, he jumps back, slamming his head into the wall.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you, I didn't know you were awake."
"No, it's okay," he mumbles, eyes still wide, rubbing the back of his head.
My eyes scan over his face, taking in paper white skin, and the dark smudges under his eyes. Despite the fact that he's been asleep for almost 24 hours, he looks as though he hasn't slept a day in his life.
"Where am I?" he asks, quietly, eyes darting around the room before finally settling on me.
"Oh, you're in my apartment."
Was it weird of me to bring him here? God, I bet he thought he'd been kidnapped or something. I'm an idiot.
"You just freaked out when I tried to take you to hospital and I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry. I hope it's okay that I brought you here."
He nods, giving me a weak smile.
"It's okay. Thank you."
He leans his head back against the wall, eyes fluttering open and shut, like he could barely keep himself awake.
"How are you feeling?"
This is, of course, a stupid question. He'd just fallen off a cliff.
"Fine, just a little cold and lightheaded."
Of course he's cold, he's still in wet clothes.
Dumbass.
"I'll get you dry clothes, okay?"
He shrugs, gripping his arms with his hands, cheeks pink, and the room fades into an awkward silence. He's tired, and hurt, and I'm stressed, and neither of us have the energy to form words, to have a conversation.
"You should lie down, you look terrible."
He opens his mouth as if to argue, but shuts it a second later and complies, and I watch painfully as he slowly folds into himself, watch his eyes flutter shut.
I leave the spare room and make my way to my own, rummaging around my drawers, hunting for the most comfortable clothing I owned. I make my way back to Dan with them bundled up in my arms. He looks dead, eyes fluttering tiredly, and I clench my hands into fists inside my pockets, aching to lie him down and smooth the worry lines out of his forehead, but I can't, I don't, so I just give him a soft smile instead.
"Just come out and bring me your wet clothes when you've finished changing."
He nods, and I close the door behind me to give him some privacy, walking out to the lounge and collapsing onto the couch, leaning my head back and giving a tired, shuttering sigh.
Someone clears their throat, and I snap my head up to see a skeptical looking Jamie eyeing me down.
"Is he still not awake?" he asks, looking unimpressed with me.
Ever since I'd gotten home yesterday, carrying this half dead boy in my arms, I'd all but ignored him, shrugging off his concerns.
He has not been impressed.
"Actually, yeah, he's woken up, he's just changing into some dry clothes right now," I say quietly, giving a timid smile. Jamie just huffs at me, folding his arms and looking irritated, and I stare back, blinking innocently.
Finally, I bend.
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I know. It was mean of me to keep you out of the loop and make you worried. I'm sorry."
He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"I am!"
He pauses, looking irked, before rolling his eyes and relaxing his shoulders.
"Fine, I forgive you this time, Lester. But just this time."
I grin tiredly and poke him in the side.
"You love me."
He rolls his eyes and grumbles.
"Yeah, I guess."
Just then, a floorboard creaks, and we both turn to see Dan peeking his head uncertainly around the corner into the lounge, looking slightly relieved to see me sitting there. I give him a reassuring smile.
"Hey Dan! Do the clothes fit alright?"
Well that was another stupid question.
"Um, yes, thank you."
I turn towards Jamie, gesturing between the two of them.
"Jamie, this is Dan. Dan, Jamie."
I look at Jamie to see a sour expression on his face, giving a half hearted wave before walking out of the room, and I roll my eyes. He can be such a child sometimes.
"Let's get you something to eat. We can sit down and talk if you'd like?"
Dan shakes his head.
"No thanks."
"Oh, okay. That's fine, as long as you have something to eat before you go. You've been asleep for a day. Gotta have nutrients if you want to feel better."
He agrees to this deal.
After he disappears back upstairs with the sandwich I'd made him, I sink back onto the sofa with a tired sigh. This has been a very long day.
-
hey this is short I think but I wrote it instead of revising so idk it's better than nothing. it's got basically the same events but in both of their point of views because i think it's better like that, and i'll probably do that a lot throughout this so just stick with me.