A/N: hey guys!! i'm so sorry, but i might not be able to upload too much. i start school monday, and then friday i have a football game that marching band is supposed to attend. not to mention schoolwork do you hear me crying oh my goD
anyways, i found an old poem of mine i wrote about my ex... girlfriend? friend? im not sure but anyways i wrote it about this girl that used to have a gigantic crush on me.
*
you held me for a few seconds longer
and I wonder, when you walk through the door,
do you look for me?
do you reach for my hand
in fear or in happiness?
it's a filter
a glass pane
to look through
to find my face
but it's not you i'm hunting for
and you say you've moved on
to another girl
and i'm happy for you
but is it just to get me off your mind?
*
and i was thinking 'wow that could be a good phanfiction' so what did i do?? i made another goddamn phanfiction jesus
here we go! this story unintentionally copies the title of the Rebecca Stead novel oops.
2012 phan, Dan and Phil are trying to see other people while they're still in the same apartment. i don't think there are any triggers, just angst. This is over the course of a couple months, as you can tell by the numbers.
* * *
1.
Phil's bedroom is on the other side of the world.
We get up in the morning and meet in the middle to have coffee together.
Like strangers.
His face is now blue, a colour I'm not familiar with...
We're drifting apart like icebergs, farther and farther and farther and I didn't think it would happen but it's happening right now.
I hear it in the middle of the night, when Phil's brought home a quick fuck and it hangs heavy in the house as you hear the rise and fall and the hush.
It's not me anymore.
"I think it's time we see other people."
Easier said than done, when all I can see is you.
What are we trying to do? We're trying to stop ourselves.
What needs to be stopped is what I can't control.
It's out of my hands and it's out of Phil's hands and is spilling everywhere.
He's everywhere.
He's shut himself in his room.
2.
I'm not fighting anymore with him. I tried to ask Phil about it and he yelled at me.
"I'm happy with him!"
But is he just trying to ignore me?
More moans seep through the walls in the middle of the night, and I've tried a thousand times to get it to go away, to get out of my head Phil I can't think of you now.
And then in the morning it's as if nothing's happened. Phil is there, sipping coffee from a mug in the back of the cabinet and I'm left to pour myself whatever's left of the pot and his socks aren't mismatched, I noticed.
The house has never been more quiet, never been more full.
He thinks it's empty.
3.
Around and around and around and around and I've been watching my fan spin for god knows how long.
And the moans are still filling up the space at night, louder and louder and I'm not sure how much more of it I can take.
I go out sometimes to the pub down the street, just to get everything out of my head.
But what fills my head is worse, it's the fucking feeling of being on the other side of the world.
Icebergs are melting.
I haven't made a video in a couple days, but I normally tell the viewers that I'm just sick and tired and to leave me alone.
Because it's hard to work in his house with his things and his smell and his heart.
I tried to throw out the stuffed dog he got me years ago, but couldn't bring myself to it. It was just too hard.
That twat.
5.
I don't hear anything at night anymore. I also don't see Phil much anymore.
Always in his room, walking around and around and around and around-
Please set me free.
6.
He stopped me in the hallway yesterday, asked how I was doing.
We're just colleagues now, catching up on the family, "how're the kids?", making small talk.
I had to stop myself from slapping him in the face, I don't even want to speak his fucking name because it's seared on my tongue for a good long while and hurts to say.
I had him knocking on my door last night, asking if he could borrow a pillow.
What's wrong with the ones he has? Excuses.
I throw it at him as hard as I can, and he leaves. Of course I wish he didn't.
We're just playing one big game of hide-and-seek, and he's not seeking for me anymore.
7.
He confronted me about all this bullshit we've been putting ourselves in. Maybe he's not on the other side of the world anymore.
He says he's sorry. Oh God, he's sorry. He's sorry and he won't shut the fuck up about it and we've already gone through a box of tissues from him crying so goddamn much.
"You're crying too. Please don't cry, you know I love you."
"You loved the man whose name you were shouting through the other side of wall and you fucking know it."
9.
How did we get ourselves into this?
It's better now.
Everything's stopped.
He's on the couch, at my feet, snoring. Nothing's changed.
Or so we tell ourselves.
11.
A video was made yesterday. I'm satisfied with it. Phil helped me edit it.
We're not that far apart anymore. He sleeps in my bed sometimes.
I can't touch him though, he's still blue and ice cold.
But I'll give him a kiss on the cheek and whisper to him that we'll talk it out in the morning.
We'll talk it out when he reaches me.
