Those Who Trust (Phan)

Part 20

Thank you guys for your lovely comments! Hope you enjoy the next chapter! :) 

If there was one thing that Dan was good at by now, it was avoiding Phil. He'd had months of practice by now after all. He would lie in bed until he heard Phil leave for work in the morning, even if it meant that he would be late for his morning lecture, and he would spend his afternoons at the library, reading books or typing away on his laptop, the story he had started weeks ago often still developing in his head at the weirdest times. He was getting undressed to take a shower? There was a new scene in his head that he needed to write down. His thoughts were drifting off during one of his lectures? There was suddenly an idea for a plot twist in the story that he quickly jotted down amid the notes he had taken, and highlighted it bright yellow as to not forget about it.

When he got home, he always ran to his room straight away. That one time Phil called his name from the living room? He ignored him and put on headphones once he was safely in his room, turning up the music loud enough to drown out any noises from the outside world. He needed to go to the bathroom? Well, he just had to hold it in, because before he heard Phil go to bed, he would not leave his room. His strategy worked, at least for a few days.

When Dan woke up on Thursday, he felt ill. His head was hurting, and so was every muscle in his body. He had a runny nose and swallowing hurt his throat, but still he managed to stumble out of bed and into the hallway.

Phil was nowhere to be seen or heard in the apartment, he must have left for work already, and Dan was thankful for that. They hadn't really spoken after the incident in the kitchen, and he didn't feel up for seeing Phil just yet.

The few steps downstairs to make it into the bathroom had never felt so exhausting to Dan. The lukewarm water he splashed his face with felt like it hurt his skin. When he looked up into the mirror, it was like a zombie version of himself staring back at him. Dan hadn't felt this sick in years.

He went to the toilet, and afterwards tried to brave the few steps again. He was embarrassingly out of breath by the time he was back in his room, but that didn't stop him from changing from his pyjamas into normal clothes. He had to be at university soon, there were only ten more minutes to spare for breakfast, but he had to cut that out, because the thought of swallowing more than his own spit and a few sips of milk when his throat felt like he had eaten nails for dinner last night, made the prospect of food less than exciting.

To be honest, he wasn't exactly sure how he made it through the day. Fellow students sat as far away from him as possible, and the sound of him blowing his nose interrupted today's lectures every few minutes. By the time he was on the underground on his way home, Dan's eyes were repeatedly falling shut from exhaustion, and his nose was red and irritated from blowing it so often.

Unlocking the front door with the hope that Phil wasn't back from work yet, Dan was disappointed by the welcoming lights turned on in the hallway. He shed his coat and toed off his shoes, had to hold on to the wall for that or else he would have lost his balance, and slowly climbed up the few more stairs into their hallway.

His hopes of getting to his room without Phil hearing were immediately crushed as the black-haired man came out of the lounge to greet him.

"Hey, Dan. Can we-," he stopped mid-sentence when his eyes lay on Dan, and immediately concern was clear to see on his face. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," Dan muttered sarcastically, closing his eyes briefly, because the brightness of the lights in the hallway hurt both his eyes and his head. His voice was raspy and he pulled out a tissue out of the back pocket of his jeans to clean his nose again.

"You're sick."

"No shit, Sherlock." Dan would have rolled his eyes, if he hadn't felt so weak that even such a simple gesture seemed too much effort.