Crimson Feathers || a phan au

2. Preparations

Dan's pov

I stumbled up the stairs, dragging my feet across the hallway as I approached the lounge. Plopping myself onto the familiar spot on my couch as soon as I entered the room. "Well that was tedious," I spat out, referencing Sherlock. I tossed the letters onto the coffee table in front of me and went on my laptop.

It wasn't a particularly busy day on the internet since it was a normal weekday of a boring month. I scrolled through endless posts if people moaning about their jobs, attending gatherings, assembling plates of healthy food... "Oh shit, groceries!" I practically yelled, my forehead throbbing in pain by the force I just slapped it with. I sighed at my forgetfulness, well I guess I'm eating crisps for dinner yet again.

I've had a hard time keeping my shit together ever since I had moved out of my parents' house (because I didn't have a small loan of a million dollars). You'd think a person would get more responsible and organized as time gone by, but here I am, surrounded by dirty laundry and an empty kitchen just down the hallway. I literally could go days without getting out of my pajamas, slouching in bed with a growling stomach that I constantly have to ignore. "I value psychological fulfillment over materialistic necessities," I said with a laugh. Who am I kidding? I'm surprised I haven't collapsed from fatigue seeing that I barely get sufficient nutrients to keep my body functioning.

I gently placed my giant feet onto the short coffee table because my parents aren't here to lecture me about how rude it is, but to my disappointment, my attempt to seem like the boss in the household had led me remembering about my semi-worry-free childhood. It wasn't nostalgia that filled me, instead, a numbing sense of emptiness grew in me until I was staring into nothing again. I can't lie; I do miss being taken care of, but it was like a whole part of my memory had been blurred out. I didn't really remember anything that happened during my time at school. But who cares? I certainly don't.

It's been an hour or two since I got home from the park, and now I'm sitting in complete darkness, the light from the monitor of my laptop being the only source of luminosity. I looked through my dashboard one last time, rolling my eyes when I came across several border-line inappropriate posts because I was five years old mentally. Directing the beam of white light from the screen onto the floor of the room, I shuffled past a few obstacles and hit the light switch.

I was wrong. It has been five hours.

Tumblr was to blame though, because it mysteriously has the ability to alter anyone's sense of time and to wipe every single strand of responsibility out one's mind. I found it hard to put aside the pain in my stomach and the bitterness of my mouth now without the distraction from the Internet masking reality. A bowl of pasta or some spaghetti would be so delightful at this very second, but I know it's to much to ask for since I haven't acquired the skills of cooking.

After stuffing some chips that seemed too soft and soggy to be classified as chips in my mouth, I went on to take a shower. I haven't done that in a few days, seeing that I hadn't gone out of my home in a few days. Some may find that disgusting, but I mean I couldn't be that filthy from staying at home, right? Then again, I haven't cleaned my apartment since forever.

Time went by and I mindlessly strolled along with it. The next thing I knew, I was staring at the ceiling of the lounge. Groaning, I pushed myself up and waited for the dizziness to fade. I am incredibly unfit. Once I confirmed that I wouldn't faint by getting up, I snatched the letters and headed to my room.

The sound of envelopes being torn up filled the room (and filled me up with determination). One after one, I'd gone through most of the letters, each of them meeting their tragic fate of being torn up to pieces almost instantly. But then something caught my eye just before I completely shredded the piece of paper.