Chapter 3

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Dan's POV**

We just sat there for a second, taking in each other's appearances. He looked like he showered and he had clean clothes on. He was taking care of himself. There was only a small problem. So small you'd have to study his face to see it. There were bags under his eyes. Barely noticeable. I wonder why he's losing sleep.


He didn't lose the love of his life to a stupid, humongous fight.

I knew what he was seeing however. Dirty hair and clothes with a tear stained face and sunken cheeks to match my pathetic hobo appearance.  I thought I saw him looking at me with sympathy or pity but I couldn't be quite sure.

I don't know why I did it; maybe it was because of the looks he was giving me. I don't know why but I ran. I ran as fast as my feet could carry me.


"Dan! Dan wait!!"


I didn't wait. I ran. I ran all the way back to my flat. I shut the door and slid down. I could feel a weeks' worth of tears start to flow. I screamed, not caring about the neighbors anymore. I screamed and cursed Phil's name until my throat hurt.


I started to cry harder. Not little whimpers. No, these were heartbreaking, heaving, hard-to-breathe sobs. I had to gasp several times because I couldn't breathe right.

After that I fell asleep on the floor.


Phil's POV**

Dan looked terrible. He'd looked like a surviving refugee in a war. Why did he run? I can't get that out of my head. He actually ran from me. We'd had so many happy memories and one stupid fight had ruined everything.


I took out my phone as I walked back to my new flat. I didn't like it. It was too close to a new work building. That meant noisy cars and traffic, even at 4 am. I wanted to go back to my old flat. I knew I couldn't though, not after everything that had happened. It was different now. Everything was different.

My finger hovered over Dan's number. I wanted to call him. I wanted to call him bad. Instead I decided to text him.


Dan, are you ok?


I waited 3 hours then decided to take a nap. Missing the computer saying I had a new e-mail.

Not Stressed, Just DepressedE-mails to Phil Where stories live. Discover now