thanatophobia // phan

two

  It was all that damn letters fault.

  The letter that left both boys broken and filled with things they hadn't felt in such depth before.

  Phil was filled with blue, which sucked the beautiful color from his eyes and the variations from his clothing. It flooded his insides, filling up to his throat, and pushing through his eyelids, and on to his clothes; only to be recycled back through the system once more.

  The boy was more dull, blue drained from his eyes and his clothes, even his bed lost its distinct vibrance.

  Everything felt grey.

  And the brown haired boy,
 
  Oh the brown haired boy felt it too.

  But he wasn't filled with blue, he was filled with nothing. It was like someone had filled him up to the brim and then knocked him over, the contents spilling, leaving him empty.

  It became very hard not to show. The brown haired boy became very pale over time, the happiness drained from him, just like a sponge, squeezed until the water stopped flowing.

  Phil felt so full of things he'd never felt, he didn't know what to do. The blue would fall onto his clothes in rivers at a time. Ironically, the more the blue appeared in the areas it was sucked from, the more dull he grew.

  The tears never stopped until the warm presence of brown would enter the room, a small, cracky, "Phil?" echoed through the grey boy's ears, the blue replaced by yellow, a fake yellow that didn't glow. Like a drawing of a candle, only fooled by the viewer.

  Dan saw through the drawing like it was glass, but he never opened his mouth, only his arms, which wrapped around the grey boy's small frame and held him tight. The grey boy repeated the gesture, both boys having the tightest hold on each other which held the crumbling pieces of their souls together.

  And they felt happiness.