All My Fanfics

is it time yet?

it's not time yet is it?
maybe now?
not yet still?
okay. i'll be waiting. right here. i won't move. you know where to find me.
i'll be right where you left me.

you left me stranded in the middle of time and space, in some other dimension where all i could see, feel, hear or see is the echo of my own misery. you left me right in the centre of the blackness you used to protect me from. so i'm holding my phone, staring at the wallpaper which is still me and you, your blue eyes so striking even through the screen i could feel your stare. i'm here wondering if i should call you, if i should text you again because this is what our chat looks like:

12th February, Thursday
me: phil please come back
me: phil i drank too much and my stomach is hurtig phl phil

13th February, Friday
me: why the fuck did you say you loved me

14th February, Saturday
me: you know i still love you right

then, it's just nothingness. it's been nothing for a week. i know you've read them. and that's what hurts me the most, honestly. you've seen them and you don't care. you don't care that you've left me here to die and my arms and legs are glued to my body and the glue is you. you left me here to rot. no, worse. you've left me here to live.

one week later
i found the valentines card you wrote me a year after the catastrophe called the v-day video. i'm reading it over and over and wondering if you ever meant anything you said. did you mean it when you said that you would protect me? well, evidently not. did you mean it when you said that you didn't care what anyone else thought - i was all that mattered.

you left because of a stupid picture of us stupidly kissing in a stupid movie theatre and why why why did you leave phil why?
did you mean it when you said you loved me?

"you know i love you dan. it's just you're so young and i... i'm ruining you."

i may be young, but i love you with all the years i have. and who knows, maybe you are ruining me! but if living without you means being okay, then i wish i stayed broken. god knows it felt better than this. i would want you to break me apart piece by piece, slowly, if it felt like how you made me feel.

i'm still making two cups of coffee every morning. I sleep in your bed every night. It's been a month and i've only left the house three times so i wouldn't die of starvation.

i read the card again. you wrote it, so i caress the paper fondly, imagining your hands touching it.

is it time yet?
how about now?
would it be okay? phil?

18 February, Saturday
me: phil please i would do anything
me: i swear to god
me: why?

phil, why? why? why did you leave it like this? what what what did i do to make you hurt me this bad?

one month later
i've been going out more. i don't know why though. most of the time i'm going to the places we used to go together. our couch in Starbucks, piccadilly circus line, stuff like that. i don't know why why why did you leave phil?
did you find someone?

9 March, Monday
me: hey phil.
me: i love you
me: i have a really bad hangover
[11:42 pm]
me: pil i drank the whoell firball botle please come take the bottle away

it's escalated to calling you, just to hear your voice over voicemail. you sound different. you don't sound happy, that's for sure. i know you too well for you to pretend to be happy. i wonder where you are. i wonder how you are. i think... i just need a drink.

two years later
is it time yet?
please?
i just need something. anything.
i'm still here.
phil?
why, phil?
don't worry.
i'll be right here. you know where i am.
i'll be right where you left me.