I wake up, my head throbbing and my face stained with sticky tears. I lift my head up from my carpet and check the time on my phone. It's 10:30, and it's Sunday. Mum always makes breakfast on Sundays.
Realisation hits me, and I sob into my shirt, smelling the blood from my arm. She's gone. She's never coming back.
I hear a few soft knocks from my door. "Daniel? It's me, Belle, one of your maids. I've come to tell you about a few important events, if that's alright with you."
I throw on a jumper and invite her in, letting her take a seat on my small couch.
"What is it?" I wipe the tears from my cheeks, trying to hide the cracks in my voice.
"Well, your father will be coming back today, and he will be in search of a new wife. I'm sure the public has guessed this, so I suggest you don't go outside for a while, for paparazzi reasons. However, the choice is yours. As I've seen, while I was cleaning your windows, you have a special friend. I'm sure he could visit here instead." She pats down her apron and looks up to see my reaction.
My face turns a bright red. Had she seen Phil and I kiss? I slowly nod in consent, letting her continue.
She moves her dark blonde hair back, "Also, because of the recent passing of your mother, we will have a therapist visit you weekly. You can choose the days, as long as it's at least one hour per week." She takes a notebook and a pen from her pocket, "What day and time would suit you best?"
"Mondays? At maybe like... Uh, twelve? Yeah."
She writes it down and nods, putting everything away. She places her hands on mine, and looks into my eyes. "Daniel, I'm very sorry for you and your mother. I don't need to experience the pain she was going through to know it was severe. I'm sorry if I interrupted your grieving." Her bright blue eyes glow, and her dark red lips contrast to her pale skin. Belle stands up and pats her dress down again, leaving my room.
Without thinking, I crawl to my bed and call Phil on my laptop. After a few rings, he picks up with a smile. "Hey, Dan!" He looks at me for a moment before worry sets in. "Are you okay?"
"No, haven't you seen the news?"
"I haven't, after staying out in the rain with you I've been a bit sick. All I've done was sleep. What's happened?"
"My- my mum," my voice cracks, but I refuse to let any tears flow from my eyes. "She died."
Phil freezes for a second, before apologizing over and over.
"It's okay, Phil. I'm going to start counseling. I was hoping you could come over so I could take my mind off of things?"
"Of course, I'll be right there."
As soon as the call ends I burst into tears. I sob into my pillow, and just as Phil opens my door ten minutes later, I start to have an anxiety attack.
"Dan? Are you okay!?" He rushes to my side, tears in his eyes.
I try to respond, but my breathing is so quick I can't, and with the lump in my throat I'm surprised I can even breathe so fast. Everything gets blurry, and Phil grabs my hand and starts to rub my back, whispering sweet things to me and he lays down.
"Dan it's okay, it's okay. Baby, calm... Deep breath, you can do it, good job. Shhhhh..." He pets back my hair and kisses my forehead.
My breathing slows as I focus on his heartbeat and lay down on his chest. He stopped it. Its gone. How the hell did he do that?
"Thank you."
He shakes his head and we stay like that for a while before I hear his stomach growl. His face turns pink and he smiles. "I haven't eaten since yesterday, you want to get something with me?"
"Yeah," I sit up and he takes my hand, leading me towards my pile of shoes. I grab a pair of converse and minutes later, we are walking down the street.
"When do you start therapy?"
"Tomorrow. Could you be there with me?"
"Dan are you sure? It might get really personal.."
"I'm positive. We're dating now, you should know everything about me." I rub circles into the palm of his hand, and he moves it so he's holding my waist.
"Okay. I'll be there, what time?"
We discuss everything that's going to happen because of my mum's death. My father, therapy, castle arrangements, everything I've overheard.
Outside of a fast food restaurant, several cameras swarm around me, accompanied by sweaty men and their dumb questions.
"Who is your father marrying?"
"How did you react to her death?"
"Who is this? Are you gay? Are you dating? Is this who you are marrying?"
Phil runs inside the little shop, pulling me behind him. Once inside, he leads me to the bathroom so we're alone.
I fall into his arms, my tears soaking through his shirt.
Why do they always have to ask those questions? My life isn't any of their business!
Phil calms me down and lets me sit inside a stall while he gets us our food.
Moments later, he walks inside holding a soda and two bags. "Are we eating in here, or..?"
"Yes."
"No problem." He opens the door to my stall and sits down on my lap, leaning against the wall and closing us inside with his foot. "Here is your food... And here is mine!"
I chuckle as he lays everything out on his legs, and I take my sandwich. We eat in the stall and share the drink, laughing about the old men asking me questions.
"Look at us," I say after a silence. "We are two gay princes, eating cheap fast food in a bathroom stall together. Who knew?"
He smiles and nods, pondering the whole situation for a while.
A while later, he drops me off at home, saying he snuck out because he got in trouble for staying out so late yesterday. He tries to leave, but I keep pulling him in for kisses, and he finally decides to stay.
We lay in my room, cuddled under my duvet. He falls asleep on my chest, and my heart does the flippy-over thing when I look down at his half smile.
Am I in love with you, Philip Lester?
