Philophobia

Epilogue

3 Years Later

"Shit." Dan swore, running around hopelessly trying to catch a fat ball of fur. "This cat's so fat but can outrun me." He said breathlessly.

The cat in question paused, stopping mid-track and glancing back at Dan, eyes squinting and nose upturned in one of his signature bitch-face. "Oh you know about your weight problems don't act all surprised at me." Dan replied, flicking the hair out of his eyes and sticking to his sweaty forehead.

The cat padded its way backwards ever so slowly, grunting almost inaudibly. "Now, listen here little shit." The cat growl slowly rose from its throat, inching back.

"I mean Storm." Dan rolled his eyes, regretting letting Phil pick the name. Who would have guessed he was a child at heart? He himself would have probably named their cat something like Jonathon, a hilariously normal name.

"All I want from you is to reason with me. Phil will be home soon, and I really really need my other sock, so how about I go get you my other ones and you can chew or dig your catty claws into that one. Whatever your heart desires." Dan explained calmly to the small animal.

In reply, the cat blinked, only showing movement to scratch its ears in boredom, still clutching a metallic blue sock caught in one paw.

"I'm going crazy. Im talking to a cat." Dan said hysterically. He patted around in his suit trousers, feeling a small palm-sized box, relief washing over him instantly. For Phil.

Taking a deep breath, Dan attempted to practice what he'd seen Phil do many times. He bent down onto his knees, almost eye-level with the feline.

"Come here kitty kitty kitty." His voice spoke softy, two octaves higher causing the cat to grunt and stare in wonder.

"Please." Dan whined, inching closer as the cat did too. The things he did for Phil.

The cat purred, slowly nuzzling Dan and freeing the poor sock, before playfully scratching cradling his hand in between his palm and scratching viciously.

Dan yelped in pain as the cat purred, walking off proudly. He was sure if his facial muscles would allow, that cat would be smirking. No wonder he hated pussy.

The brown-haired man hastily pulled on his sock and remaining shoe before running around to finish getting dressed.

~

Phil mindlessly twirled his glass around, staring intently but really daydreaming tiredly. Dan was running late as usual for their dinner date they would have every Fridays.

It had been postponed for quite a few weeks as both had been too busy with work. Dan was writing for a publicist for some of his short stories Phil had never knew about, the whole process taking a toll on him. Phil was also busy with work too, being asked to take extra shifts and hours for patients. They lived the domesticity but tiredness and fatigue often overtook them for any romantic time lately. At last they had managed to clear an evening off of their schedule, but of course Dan was almost an hour late.

Phil didn't mind too much. It was typical Dan since he didn't mean harm. His procrastination habit had lessened but he did have the habit of rushing around trying to get changed quickly but in the process messing something else up. Phil had witnessed this the first time when Dan was getting ready to go to this ice skating rink but whilst racing around trying to find his matching sock had managed to trip and fall, resulting in a sore bruise on his ankle. No ice skating for a few weeks.

Phil smiled to himself at the memory of a whiny Dan having to stay on the sofa for a few nights with a grumpy look whenever Phil would manage to hide a chuckle his way.