Misfit (Phan AU)

Chapter Thirty-Two

a/n: i exhausted every break-up playlist spotify had to offer while writing this, honestly angst is so much

*Phil's POV*

Somewhere, buried far in the back of my mind and essentially wedged into the darkest corner I could find, I was aware of the fact that my alarm had gone off hours ago now. In between short blips of unconsciousness I'd noticed the way the light had shifted around my childhood room, from a distilled hazy glow to an overwhelming brightness that had heat radiating off of every surface. The entire room was alight with midday sun, draped in a blanket of warmth that would have been overwhelming to most people.

However, I'm under the impression that most people don't feel a spiraling nausea through their entire being the moment they recall what had happened the last time they'd been awake. And most people probably don't dread opening their eyes because of a deeply-rooted fear of what they see being far more unfamiliar to them than the void of absent color behind their eyelids.

Strictly speaking, most people would be able to actually feel the temperature of the room around them when it crosses over into unbearably hot levels. Unlike me, considering that I was quite thoroughly convinced at this point in time that I'd never really be able to feel anything again. Call me dramatic, but as someone who had always felt everything in life to the fullest, the sudden lack of passion for the world around me was beyond concerning.

Where was the optimism that I'd always had to fall back on, the persistent voice inside my head that wouldn't take no for an answer? Everything would work itself out in the end, good things happen to good people, what's a rainbow without a little rain; all of the mentalities that I'd relied on to get me through everything up until this point seemed more like mockery than encouragement.

It'll all work itself out in the end? Funny, because this looks an awful lot like the end to me, and the only thing that's been worked out is exactly how far you have to push a person to make them lose all will to keep you in their life.

Good things happen to good people? That seems a little unrealistic, considering how many times the people in my life have drilled it into my head that I'm such a saint, yet this is the hand that I've been dealt.

And what's a rainbow without a little rain? Nonexistent, but frankly I'd take sunny skies over the storm that's been cast over my life as of the past twenty-four hours any day. No arch of reflected light is worth losing the most important person in my life. Now, I get it, it's a metaphor. Something good is going out of all of this that's supposed to make the hurt that I'm feeling right now 'worth it', but how can I believe that something better is going to come into my life when I've already had the best and lost it?

You just don't come back from something like that. You can't just replace someone that you feel that strongly for and expect second best to fill the hole in your chest like some perfectly manufactured puzzle piece. Dan's gone, there's not going to be another Dan, ever.

Despite how tempting it was to simply allow myself to fade back into sleep like I had so many times before now, the sound of someone trudging up the stairs toward the floor my room was located on urged me into action. I yawned loudly, rolling over and reluctantly acknowledging the neon numbers displayed across the screen of the old alarm clock on my bedside table. My eyes widened at the time broadcasted there, surprised by how early it was rather than how late. It wasn't even noon quite yet, damn it, I could have slept in for longer.

As if to prove me wrong, an insistent knock sounded on my door almost immediately after that thought had crossed my mind. I resisted the urge to visibly show how little I wanted to interact with whoever was on the other side of the wood panel, instead propping myself up on my elbow and doing my best to twist my features into an expression that even semi-resembled something welcoming.