Anarchy - Phan

Chapter 4

My eyelids feel heavy as I blink, my eyes being blinded by light coming in through a massive window. For a second, I forget where I am, but I see Phil leaning down and staring at me with a sad yet relieved expression and I just want to be unconscious again.

"How are you feeling?" He asks. He brings a hand forward to place an ice pack over my forehead when I flinch, causing him to pull his arm back quickly. "Oh, I'm sorry." He says quickly. I don't answer him back but try to get up instead. My head is pounding but it's nothing I haven't felt before. I slowly sit up, blinking a few times to get used to the brightness inside the coffee shop.

I reach up to my head expecting my flower crown to be there and panic when I realise it's not there. I catch sight of it on side of the table and quickly put it on, feeling a sense of reassurance pass through my body. I take a few deep breaths, not sure how to break this awkward silence between me and Phil. I look around but none of the others seem to be there and I sigh, probably looking relieved because, at that moment, Phil finally decides to speak up.

"Look, I'm sorry," he pauses. "About everything."

Being sorry doesn't change anything though, does it. I think to myself as a forced laugh escapes me before I can stop it.

"So why didn't you just leave? Why didn't you just run away from the problem like the rest of them did?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

Phil sighs before saying, "because you're not the problem."

I look down at my feet as I properly take in what he's just said. But he's wrong. I am the problem. If people just stay away, it's better for them and for me. I don't have the hope left in me to be able to trust anyone again. But as I look up to Phil's eyes, I see the genuine hurt that he constantly tries to mask, I see the sadness, unfeigned and unwavering for once. I open my mouth, about to decide to trust him when I'm hit with a moment exactly like this one from the past, where I chose to trust and ended up more broken than I'd ever admit.

"I think you should go." I blurt out, my tone quiet but firm. Phil blinks, ridding his eyes from a few tears that were threatening to escape. He looks hurt for a moment but he soon returns back to his normal, inexpressioned self. "Yeah, urm, I should get going." He picks up his jacket and turns to hand me the ice pack. As he does, I notice his hand is shaking a bit and as soon as he sees me looking, he quickly puts the ice pack in my hand and starts to walk away.

I watch him with a curious expression, a weird feeling filling me as he walks towards the door. But when he is about halfway there, he stops. He grabs a tissue from the counter and walks back towards me. "Look, I know you hate me and, honestly, you have all reason to. But if you ever need anyone to talk to, I'm here. Always. I know this doesn't make any difference and can't possibly fix what you've gone through. But you should know that I'd take the opportunity to make things better if I could. And I'm taking it right now." He holds out the tissue which, of course, has his number on it. I hesitate, surprised by his sudden confident tone and this cheesy move. But I decide to take the number. What harm will it do? I think, my head coming up with many answers, none that I want to think about right now. As soon as I've taken the tissue, I see him walk right back to the door and leave.

I sigh, relieved that I'm left to my thoughts again. My laptop has a few scratches on it but otherwise it's okay. They've gone easy on me but this coupled up with everything that happened in school has made me tired and I'm glad that I can just sit here with my ice pack and browse tumblr for a bit. I reply to some comments on my blog and don't notice when it gets dark outside. I buy some tea and head home. Tomorrow is Friday. I remember. One more day of enduring this pain and then I can go to working at the store.