Sinking

faded

The next morning was silent.

Mornings were usually always silent, the house always void of people and the walls too thick to hear the birds chirping outside. But today felt... empty. Like suddenly there was a void that had sucked in all the color and bright, bustling sounds in the world away, leaving only a grey cloud over the town.

I became uncomfortably aware of the sound of my own heartbeat. It was loud, obnoxious, alive. Everything I didn't want to be.

I was down the stairs quickly, purposely allowing my feet to step on the weak parts of the wood, the sharp, creaky sound filling up the empty air. I didn't like empty. It made me anxious that everything would stay that way forever, colorless, soundless. I needed the colors and the sounds. They filled up the empty parts of me.

I saw my mom sitting on the couch. She had a beer in her hand, so I didn't acknowledge her. I just walked out the front door.

It wasn't raining today, but it was still grey outside. But the sound of the birds and the wind rustling against the trees woke me up, and I took a deep breath of the cold air. I felt slightly unnerved; usually by this time in October the trees were different colorful shades of orange and yellow and red and even pink. Now, everything looked faded.

I looked up briefly, and noticed that Phil was standing at the end of the path towards his house. I slowed down my pace, waiting for him to keep going so that I could keep in step behind him. I never liked it when people walked behind me.

When I reached my mailbox, however, he was still standing there. And even if I wasn't looking at him directly, I could feel his eyes boring into the top of my hair. His colorful, memorable eyes.

Confusion overtook me then, and I furrowed my eyebrows, not stopping completely but slowing down to the point I was taking a step every five seconds. What was he doing? Why wasn't he walking, and why was he looking at me? I hated people looking at me.

I couldn't do anything except keep walking, anxiety itching and scratching me as my face burned.

"Dan, right?" Came the voice of none other than Phil Lester himself. I halted my steps and looked up, wide-eyed.

There were his eyes, the closest I'd seen them in three years. They were still the same colorful brightness they'd been on that day. Blue and green and yellow, staring at me with curiosity, wonder. I could imagine how it would look from far away; the boy with dull brown eyes, brown hair, and black clothes associating with the boy with bright blue eyes and a green sweater. It felt strange, as if the void in me was filling up suddenly, just because of his gaze. The world didn't seem so faded anymore, not through the eyes of Phil Lester.

I nodded.

I didn't know why. Normally, whenever anyone said anything to me, I ignored it and allowed them to be angry at my silence. But there was something about Phil. There had always been something about Phil.

He smiled, and it was if my soul had erupted and was now beaming beneath sunshine. Never had I seen him smile, but it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, even more beautiful than the sunrises I obsessed over in the mornings. All of his features lit up as if he himself was a ray of sunshine hidden beneath the appearance of a boy. He was bright, refreshing, everything that I wasn't. His hand motioned for me to walk alongside him.

Hesitantly, I took a step, eyeing him wearily as he walked along beside me, only about one foot away. It was strange to be so near to another person voluntarily.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Phil asked gently, and I shrugged. "Are you mute?"

I shook my head. A little part of me was getting slightly tired of refusing to speak to anyone.