I wake up early in the morning from the guilt.
I've been doing this for about two days.
It won't let me sleep. I look in the mirror and look worst than I thought.
I'm always messing things up for myself.
Dan and I were doing so well, and I had to go and mess things up for us.
I hate every single part about myself.
Every inch, every hair, every eyelash, every freckle, every single part of me.
I hate it. I hate looking in the mirror and seeing myself in it every day.
I don't like me. But all I see is me.
I know that people say you should love yourself but how can I do that when I'm expected to do so much, and what I don't do is just excess misery?
Somehow music starts. I look around in the rooms and I hear familiar lyrics.
"Won't you stay alive,
I'll take you on a ride,
I will make you believe
You are lovely.'
I sit and think. But there is nothing to think about.
Actually no, there is tons to think about, but do I really want to think?
I don't want to think. I just want to sit here and stay still and not think and do whatever it is except thinking. But how do I do that?
Damnit you're thinking!
I shut my eyes and stay still, trying to listen to the sounds around me. I can almost hear the cars passing by.
The sound is interrupted by my phone ringing.
"Hello?" I say.
"Um.. Hi sir. Your mail is you know... Over here." A woman on the other line says.
"I'll be right there." I sigh and hang up.
I get there by walking and remember the time where Dan and I used to walk to the post office like this. I scold myself and continue walking.
I get there and the same lady as last time hands me my mail. "Sorry sir." She gulps.
Do I look threatening? She seems to feel uncomfortable ;<
I leave, but go down a different way home.
I sit on the piano bench and look at it.
The piano knows something I don't know. It looks a bit odd.
I shrug it off and look through the mail.
They're mainly coupon books to places I've never actually heard of. Some of them are letters written by companies to buy my channel, but I throw those away in the bin immediately. I am left with one letter and it's from a name I recognize, bear.
I get a bit anxious, but I open the letter and on the front is written: Please Phil. It's a printed letter.
I unfold it and start reading:
Phil. Um well. I'm here to explain myself because I feel like garbage and I'm not saying I don't deserve it, I do. But not like this.
I'm writing this because you have blocked me on all places and there is no way in contacting you. People have told me you never go outside anymore so there's no possible way I'll ever find you in the city. This is my last option. And my last hope.
I continue reading.
Phil, first of all.. I'm sorry. For this mess and just everything. So I'm clearing things up.
The day before the text, I had met up with Jesse, that is true, but he said he needed to tell me something. I couldn't say no, so I went. At first it was talking. But then he started to show some hints that he kind of wanted to make out. I found the closest excuse to get away from him. But he kind of got the idea and started cursing at me from far away.
I went home to you that night worried that you would get upset for me seeing him. Even though it was all just talking. So I hid it from you. But you found the message. What he meant by that was that he was angry as hell and he needed some kind of pay back to get one of us alone. I've seen it happen before. He told me all about it, and at the time you wouldn't let me explain myself so I couldn't really make it out to you. But I'm telling you now.
None of this was supposed to happen.
It was my fault for meeting with him. I shouldn't have.
Also I heard about your run-in with him at the grocery store. And whatever he said to you, he's lying. I promise, Phil.
I'm still me, and I know that's sort of true.
But there really isn't a me without you :(
I kinda like you Phil. Like a lot.
I might like like LIKE you.
And maybe I am a desperate piece of shit, but that's because it's you who I'm trying to get attention from.
Sorry for everything,
Dan.
I stare at the letter for seconds. And I feel more guilty than I ever have in my life.
I quickly unblock Dan and send him a message.
Dan's P.O.V
I spent the morning thinking. I sent the letter. But he probably threw it in the trash.
My heart aches. There isn't a way out.
But maybe there is.
I look at the razor on my shelf and gulp.
I can't. No, it's wrong. I consider it for a moment, when my phone vibrates against the floor.
I check it.
Phil:
"Is it alright? if I come round?
Is it too late? if I come now?
Would you stay up to figure this out,
Some way?
If I stay here, would you come back?
If I stay cool, would you be mad?
Would you want me?
If I want you,
That way?"
-
I react instantly to the message.
I'm already in London, I left Brighton because I couldn't take being so far away, so I found a motel in London.
I almost run to the apartment, considering the motel is not far.
I run around the corners, and down sidewalks and I just keep running in sight of Phil.
I finally reach the street, and see Phil stood there looking at me with his arms wide open.
I run faster towards him and can't seem to stop when I'm close.
16 ft.
7 ft.
3 ft.
I jump on Phil and wrap my arms around him, pushing him to the ground.
I can't say anything, or move my mouth for the matter. We stay there, holding each other for a minute.
He pulls away and looks up at me from the concrete, which I am laying on top of him.
He grabs my face with both of his hands and pulls me in, kissing me with his soft lips.
I close my eyes and move along with him.
Finally. I think to myself.
I breathe in his scent, which he usually smells like faint vanilla, and get lost in it.
"I like like you, Dan." He pulls away and says.
"I like like you too, Phil." I say back.
We lay down on the concrete like that until we notice people passing by.