my happy little pill | phan

12: Love Is Blind, And So Is Phil Lester

Phil's POV

It has been about four months since I found out that Dan had cut himself, and since then (I hope) he's stopped. I really hope that he has. He's been wearing short sleeves and, well, I know his legs are clean too. I've seen them a good few times in the past four months.

It's the cold month of January, late January, and it's actually snowing pretty heavily right now. I love the snow. January is generally a nice month for me, because not only is it a new year and a fresh beginning, it's my birthday and I'm going to be twenty-eight in three days. I'm not the sort of person that likes to make a big deal out of birthdays and things. As long as I get cake I'm happy. Dan always does something and makes a fuss, which drives me demented but it's always really sweet. I'm so grateful for him in my life.

I check the time on my iPhone and it's just past nine in the morning. Meh. I guess it's earlier than yesterday. Yesterday I accidentally slept until midday and trust me, when you don't wake up in the a.m., you've wasted the day and you have no hope of having a functional day. So I literally went around in a dream-like state for the remainder of the day, with Dan filling up cups of coffee for me and squeezing my leg under the table.

A clean layer of pristine snow shakes over the street outside our apartment, coating the pavement (the sidewalk) with specs of fine white dust. It's beautiful. Each snowflake glides down from the clouds that are smothering the weak sunlight trying to penetrate and protest against the bitterness. I honestly could watch the snow fall all day. I watch as it lands on my window sill and melts into the concrete, turning slushy.

"Phil! Jesus Christ, are you fucking deaf or are you purposefully ignoring me?" I hear Dan call from his bedroom. Oh, God. He's going to kill me for not answering again. I didn't answer him this morning either when there was no toilet paper left in the bathroom and, well, I got my head bitten off me. Well done, Philip.

"I hear you!" I yell back. My voice is shockingly loud in the quiet of the lounge and my heart leaps at the sudden burst of noise. "I'm coming."

I thread down the hallway and slowly open Dan's bedroom door without knocking. I don't think he'll want me to knock right now, to be honest.

"There you are," Dan says. "Come in." I step inside the door a little. Dan rolls his eyes to heaven. "Inner."

But where is he? I glance around the bedroom but I can't seem to find him. I step further into the room and shut the door with my right foot and it closes with a click. His bedroom smells of vanilla candles. My vanilla candles. Hm.

"Dan?" I start, but his head suddenly pops up from the other side of his bed. He has a triumphant grin on his face. Turns out he's not angry at me for not answering him. I raise an eyebrow, confused.

"I need you to blow out the candles. I'm going to meditate for a while -"

I laugh out loud, much to his annoyance. He glares at me. Since when did Dan meditate? What's happening? "What have you done to the real Daniel Howell?" I ask. I'm being difficult on purpose, and he knows it. And I can tell that he's this close to screaming at me.

It isn't that I've done anything wrong. Him and I both know that. Dan gets really annoyed really easily, especially these days for some reason, and it doesn't take much for him to snap. I guess he's like a teenager with mood swings. I need to be careful or else I will piss him off for the rest of the day and a pissy Dan is not a Dan I like to be around.

But I love him anyway. I blow out the candles.

"I think that meditating helps my...mental state?" he says, exhaling. "I just like to lie here and forget about the world for a bit. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," I reply. I do, sort of.

Dan studies my face for a long time and I feel like something is wrong with me. Is there a spider crawling up my cheek? Has a giant spot just erupted on my forehead? Can he tell I've been eating the Nutella?

He looks away, cheeks burning.

Dan keeps his gaze lowered and his long eyelashes cast shadows down his cheeks. "Can you, um, go to the shop and get some..." he trails off momentarily as if he is trying to remember what he wants to ask me to buy. "Can you buy some ingredients for Delia Smith's Victoria Sponge Cake? I want to make a video for something later."

I hesitate. Why is he asking me to go to the shops? Can't he walk there himself? I sigh. I guess it's an opportunity to gaze at the snow. I sigh again louder. "I will. But just this once, Dan. You can buy my things for my next video. Okay?"

"Yes."

I turn away and suddenly feel his hand slip through mine. He pulls me into him and I feel his warm hands wrapping around my shoulders, squeezing and resting there. Dan presses himself against me and pushes me against the wall, hard. I can feel his heart hammering opposite mine.

"Dan -"

His open mouth descends onto mine and my thoughts blur together until they become a meaningless mass of grey madness. Everything is on fire; my heart, my lungs, my face, my bones, Dan. Dan is on fire between my fingers. His lips move against mine and he leans in harder. I know I should hold myself back but I just can't restrain myself. He's too perfect.

Pain shoots up my neck when I realise that he's sucking softly on my skin and I release a small gasp. I claw at his tee shirt.

I push him away roughly. Dan's massive brown eyes are flecked with gold and they stare into mine. These are the eyes that haunt me in my sleep, that follow me every place that I go. Dan's eyes. I could get lost in them. I could literally spend hours staring into his chocolate brown eyes and not get bored. I know that sounds weird and creepy, but it's also true. Real hurt registers in his eyes that I shoved him away. He searches my face for an answer that I'm not going to admit.

Dan, you're depressed and unstable and how am I supposed to kiss you if I don't know if you want to kiss me or you want to feel some sort of pain or distraction? How am I meant to know how you really feel?

"What is wrong?" Dan whispers. "Is it me?"

"No," I say immediately. "Of course not. It's not you. I just...I just need to go before...the snow gets worse."

I leave the room, and I can hear Dan's voice following me, and I can feel his brown eyes on me.

I need to escape.