Nightmares

Chapter Seven

I sat bolt upright on the couch. I had broken out in a cold sweat and I started crying. I couldn't think of anything but the trauma and torture I went through in the nightmare. I desperately wished Phil was home so he could comfort me. Thinking of Phil made me cry harder. I just cried and cried until my eyes were dry and I could produce no more tears.
I checked the clock to see it was 8am. I had only rested for three hours, but I was terrified of falling back asleep and of what would come after.

Finally, I got up and shuffled into the kitchen, deciding to make some coffee. After that, I would go to the hospital to check up on Phil. I was still wearing the clothes from the night before; I didn't feel like changing, and they weren't that dirty, so I just kept them on and headed out to the car. I drove in silence.

When I finally got to the hospital and found a parking space, I wasted no time in getting inside. There, I found the front desk where I was yesterday, but it was a different woman today. She smiled at me as I walked in.

"Hello, sir. May I help you?" She shuffled the papers she had been writing on.

"Oh, yes," I said. "My name is Dan Howell. My flatmate, Phil Lester, was admitted her yesterday? I was wondering if I could see him," I did not need to wait, because as soon as I said his name, she opened a binder and began searching through a list.

"Ah, here he his. He's in recovery. I think the doctors preformed a heart surgery on him last night, and he's doing a better," she said. "Here, I'll take you to him." We went to his room and when she opened the door, I noticed Phil no longer had so much machinery around him.

"Okay," said he nurse, "if you stay in here you have to be quiet."

"I will, I promise," I replied and she walked out, shutting the door silently. I walked over to Phil and brought a chair over to sit by his bedside. I told the nurse I would be quiet, but the truth was, I didn't want to be quiet. I wanted Phil to be awake so he could talk to me. I wanted to tell me everything was alright and that he was better and that he could go home with me.

I slowly reached toward his hand. Part of me really wanted to touch him, to know that he was okay, that he was right there in front of me. But the other part of me was so afraid. I was afraid that if I touched him even the slightest, he would shatter into a million pieces and be gone forever. My hand hovered for several minutes before I finally, carefully, grabbed his hand.

I felt instant relief, like all the tension and stress melted away, just from touching him. Just from being near him. Feeling his cool, smooth skin under my fingertips and seeing his disheveled bed-headed pitch black hair, and recognizing his familiar scent, even over the smell of the hospital. I was in love with Phil Lester. He completed me. In that moment, he stirred and those beautiful blue eyes opened up to look at me. 

"Dan," he said, giving me an absolutely ecstatic look, "you're here."