WARNINGS // ANGST, EXISTENTIALISM, A TAD SAD
This will be in the POV of Dan, if you hadn't already guessed.
I don't know what to do.
It's dark in my room. I've favoured the dark over the harsh red of my light bulb. The other day, my light broke, and I couldn't find a normal bulb. So I grabbed a coloured one, instead. When my light is switched on, it casts a dangerous glow and forms sinister shadows in the pool of red.
It's cold in here, too. Autumn is turning into Winter, the nights becoming icier and impossibly longer. I have my quilt pulled up around my body so far that it is wrapped around my ears, but I can still feel a draft from the gap under my bedroom door.
Phil is in the room next to me. If I go and knock on his door, with my quilt wrapped around me, looking as pathetic as I do right now, he is bound to invite me into his normal bedroom with the normal lighting and slightly better heating. But I hate depending on him. It makes me feel awful to constantly shove all of my problems onto his shoulders and at the same time know that he finds it difficult to open up about how he is feeling.
It's just so rare that he's sad; or shows that he's sad. He's like my constant ball of sunshine, but if I keep feeding off of his light for much longer its bound to die down and fade out.
Normally, I'd probably go and lay face down on my patch of carpet to dissolve all of my thoughts into the floor. But today is different. I'm not just thinking too much about inevitable death and the insignificance of the human race; I'm genuinely just... sad. I'm not hopeless, or overwhelmed, or any other emotion except for sad. Just sad.
And so I will sit, in the quiet cold darkness of my bedroom, and drown in my own sadness until morning comes.
I just about jump out of my skin when there's a little tap on my door. Adjusting my quilt, I let out a little grunt by way of invitation.
Phil pushes open my door and blinks a little, adjusting from the bright light of the hallway that now filters across my carpet.
"Did you want anything to drink? I'm making coffee. Why's it so dark in here?"
"Light bulb's broke," I mutter, resting my chin on the blanket mound around me. Phil takes a second to assess the situation, me huddled in the middle of my bed, staring at the carpet in the dark. When that second passes, he comes into my room properly, hovering in front of my bed - and then he jumps.
It's a classic 2009 tackle; his arms around my shoulders and his hands placing my head against his chest.
"This takes me back," I say, and then I burst into loud, messy tears, hiding my face in Phil's shirt. We're in such an awkward position, me in my blanket mound, curled up against him, half sitting and half lying against the headboard. But he doesn't seem to mind, one hand cupping my shoulder, and the other rubbing the back of my head.
We lay like that for a long time, until my sobs slow down and the cramp has made its way from my back up to my neck and is threatening to paralyse me forever.
"Phil?" I mutter against his collarbone, my breathing thick and my voice grateful.
"Yeah?" He prompts gently, patting my shoulder.
"No homo."
I don't know what to do. But I know Phil will be here all the while.
A/N
Hi I'm sorry I missed a few days and this is kinda awful, school is such a bitch like seriously. I've had so much homework and I'm tired literally all the time, no matter how much sleep I get. Its becoming such an issue that I'm going to the doctors tomorrow about it. Meh whatever I'm gonna try and get back on track, oki cool
Love, Georgina xo
