the city // dan howell

Part 21// Confusion and Anxiety

Tyde's POV;
I stare at the phone in my hands, twisting it over and over again in hopes to calm my nerves.
Needless to say, it doesn't work.
Two weeks.
It's been two weeks since Dan hung up the phone.
I've talked to Phil once or twice, bumping into him on my way to work and such.
I've asked. Oh, I've asked infinitely enough questions. The poor boy's mind must be doing backflips at the idea of answering them all.
He never quite responds.

"Phil, have you seen Dan?"
"Um, not... really."
"Phil, how's Dan doing?"
"I couldn't say for sure."
"Phil... where is Dan?"
"... Away."

I do miss Dan, I do. As of now, I can't blame him for leaving, because I don't know the situation. For now, all I can do is wake up, go to work, come home, and cry.
Yeah, that's what my daily routine has come to.
It's not extreme, it isn't. Put yourself in my perspective.
A boy who you might have been falling in love with has disappeared. Your last phone call with him was rushed and sounded a bit suspicious. You haven't heard from him since.

He could be dead.
Just the thought of that makes me sick to my stomach.
For the past fourteen days, all I've been doing is listening to sad piano songs and putting movies we've watched together on repeat.
I haven't been eating well. I know I should eat, I know I'm harming myself... but I just can't do it.
I can't.
I can't do things that I once did with the boy with the brown eyes.
I can't think about the city, I can't imagine the lights, I can't...
I'm useless.
I've thought about looking for him, but that wouldn't be right.
I'm sure he'd already of been found or someone would be searching for him if he was in trouble.

Which means he ran away for a different reason.

Who would I be to interrupt something private to him?

Don't pick flowers.
When you pick a pretty flower, it welts up and dies.
I can't pick Dan.
I can't keep him to myself, so that his condition worsens.
He'll be mine when he flourishes.