Mental

Chapter Eight|Build God, Then We'll Talk

Dan

Dan sat uncomfortably, tapping his pencil nervously on his clipboard. His mouth opening and closing, but no words escaping his lips. The rhythm of the tapping was distracting, and it took Phil far away from Dan. Luckily, that is exactly where he wanted to be.

Dan felt like an idiot for having said what he did. There was something terribly wrong about what he had said. Words are more powerful than Satan himself. How could he spit poison like that at someone who he cared for? Stupid, stupid.

"I'm sorry, Phil."

Dan knew to Phil they probably sounded like routine words, but Dan meant it, and he hoped Phil could hear the sincerity. He stared at his trembling features, hoping to rise a reaction.

Phil downcast his eyes to the cold, tile floor staring deeply at the pattern, so he wouldn't have to meet Dan's sad, brown eyes.

Phil sighed, "Can you feel that? The emptiness in the room? It's hanging around our necks leaving rope burns. It's got a teasing threat to it's size. Say one thing wrong, and we both suffocate."

Silence.

"I like the way you speak," Dan says, "I know that apologies are dangerous, Phil. I'm sorry if I don't say the right things."

"What exactly do you think I want to hear?" Phil asks.

"That I'm stupid, and I messed up."

"Perfect boys, with perfect boyfriends, don't mess up."

"I'm far from perfect. A perfect boy could have never hurt you. I'm so sorry, Phil."

"No, you're not."

"I know that I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm going to ask for it anyway, because I can't stand the thought of you hating me. You aren't just any other patient at Cynthia. You're beautiful, and funny, and worth more than you'll ever know. I feel like I'm happier when you're around. There's something about you that makes me interested in the human brain all over again. I'm not doing this because it's my job anymore. I can't let you go, Phil, and I don't know why."

Phil stared at Dan with shimmering blue eyes causing Dan to have heart palpitations. He didn't talk, or move, he just stared into his eyes as if looking for something to hold onto.

Fuck, he's so pretty.

"Maybe we're meant to be," Phil said quietly.

There was a still moment of silence, and tears started to well in Dan's eyes. He didn't know where they were from, but he felt more enlightened.

"Maybe," he said.

Phil nodded, and turned his head to his barred window, "Maybe," he whispered back.

***

Phil

Phil felt lost as made his way through the round tables of the cafe. He couldn't stop thinking about Dan. Though this was normal, he felt different. Everything seemed to be nailed to the ground instead of floating. Reality was weighing down on his shoulders.

He tried to make it to the table he usually sat at with Chris, but the calling of his name stopped him.

"Phil, buddy! Would you like to sit with Dan and I today? I think we got off on the wrong foot."

Phil knew that voice.

He stared at Pj with a look like he was crazy, mixed with extreme confusion, "I'm sorry, but were you talking to me?"