my happy little pill | phan

6: The Passed Out Freewheeling Bisexual In Phil's Bed

Phil's POV

When I wake up the next morning, I take a shower and accidentally-on-purpose use all of Dan's shower gel. I'm still mad at Dan, but I know that he's right. We can never be together. Not really.

As I stand in the bathroom with a towel draped around my body, I hear a high-pitched scream coming from somewhere in the flat. I jump at the noise. What is it? Is Dan okay?

I hear the same scream again and I bust the bathroom door open with a sharp twist of the door handle and race into the kitchen. Is everything okay? Is someone hurt? Is Dan hurt?

Dan is sitting at the breakfast bar with his ear pressed to his iPhone and he's laughing hysterically. I stare. His face lights up like broken Christmas lights and his hair sticks up at awkward pine needle angles. I stand in the doorway of the kitchen with nothing but a grey towel wrapped around my hips. My heart beat calms down, and my fear is replaced with anger. Sharp, hot anger.

I cough loudly to get his attention. He spins around on the black chair and nods at me. Dan's face falls when he notices my expression.

"Carrie, I have to go," he says urgently. "I'll DM you later, yeah?" Dan hangs up and sets his phone aside.

I put my hand on my hip, entering my default sass mode. "Why were you on the phone to Carrie at this hour in the morning?"

Dan looks at me like I'm mad. "I was calling her about a collab?"

"You..." I take a deep breath. "I though you were hurt. You screamed."

Dan's expression softens. His brown eyes rake over my naked upper body and I fold my arms across my chest defensively. Dan looks away. "I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to alarm you."

"It's fine," I shrug. I eye his Hello Kitty mug of green tea on the counter. "I'm going to get dressed now. Make me some coffee."

I turn away before he can protest.

+++

When I close my laptop, the London sky is already growing dim and I hastily pull m iPhone out from my pocket. The time is half past five. Roughly an hour or two ago Dan left the house and I don't think that he's come home yet.

I make my way out of my bedroom and rap my knuckles on his bedroom door. "Dan? Are you in there?"

I wait. Nothing.

The floorboards creek beneath my feet as I pace to the kitchen and the lounge, but there is no sign of Dan anywhere. He must be still out. But it's getting dark and he never said where he was going. He just left.

That's not like Dan.

I decide to phone him, but when I do I hear his phone ring from the kitchen. He left his phone here. I bite my lip. Now what am I supposed to do? Do I just hope that he gets back home soon before it gets dark? Should I call someone? Why am I so worried? He's twenty three, for God's sake, and he can make his own dumb choices.

I'm so worried though. Goddamn.

The lounge is eerily silent and the windows are fully open to let the autumn air in. I am about to return to the kitchen to make myself a healthy Nutella sandwich when I hear glass smashing outside. What happened?

I dart to the window and look down at the pavement that seems miles below. I almost smack my forehead when I see the cause of the smashed glass. Dan Howell. A quite intoxicated Dan Howell.

Grabbing my shoes, I hurry down the stairs of our flat and keep hurrying until I finally make it outside. The air is cold and I'm only wearing a yellow tee shirt. Dan is staring at the broken green fragments of the glass bottle he smashed. I approach him, and take his arm.

"Get off me," he pulls away from me and I snake my other arm around his shoulders to guide him. Stumbling, I guide him to the door and sigh when we reach the stairs.

"Dan, you idiot," I breathe. "Go on. Walk in front of me so you won't fall over."

Dan eyes me like I'm his worst nightmare. Maybe I am. He starts climbing the stairs, and he wobbles backwards every so often, so I keep my hand on his back so he won't topple over. After twenty minutes of dutiful guiding, I turn and lock the door. Dan sees this as a great opportunity to leave my side.

When I turn back from the door, he's gone. I follow the strong scent of vodka and I push my bedroom door open. Lying on his front on the end of my bed is Dan, with his arms splayed out at awkward angles and his head turned to the left side. I sit next to him and prod his shoulder to see if he is awake. I even tickle his neck.
However, nothing can wake the passed freewheeling bisexual lying on the end of my bed.

I sigh heavily and wrap a thick fuzzy blanket around him. I guess I will have to sleep on the sofa tonight.