The Doorknob

The Understanding

I wake up with a crick in my neck, having fallen onto the pillow that replaced Phil sometime during the night. Sitting up, I blink against the brightness of the light pouring through the window and try to rub away a lingering headache. It must be at least midday by now, and I barely have time to think about where Phil's gone when he pops his head through the open door, looking far too lively for someone who's meant to be dead.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" He jokes, and I groan, burying my face back into the pillow. He's unfazed by my reluctance, suddenly beside me and pulling my arm to get me up. "You've got work in half an hour, come on!" I groan again, sitting up and letting my head catch up with the new movement.

"Alright, alright," I mutter, tossing off the disheveled duvet and swinging my legs over the edge. My head fights me for a moment before I feel comfortable standing. Despite that, I'm surprised to find that I feel sort of rested - unusual, for me. Phil nods, apparently satisfied now that I'm vertical, and leaves me to get ready. I grumble through a quick shower, knowing I won't have the time to straighten my hair, but I'm not about to show up smelly for my first official day of work.

As I comb my hands through my hair in an attempt at looking presentable, towel still wrapped around my waist, the events of last night tumble back into my head. I was laying on Phil's shoulder, he put his arm around me, I asked him to stay with me, I fell asleep like that! My brain is suddenly shouting, each memory replacing the previous in a quick succession that makes me drop my hands to the sink, gripping it tightly. What if he didn't want to stay and just pitied me? What if I made things weird? What if he isn't real?

The last one gets me, a punch to the gut, and my grip on the sink tightens for a moment before I run from the bathroom, steam escaping behind me, and into the kitchen. My heart's racing, but Phil's just stood there, facing the fridge like he might have tried to get something from it. He turns as I pause, creaky footsteps giving me away.

"Well..." his voice is lower than usual, and I watch his eyes as they rake across me. Suddenly I am far too aware of my current attire - or lack thereof - and I grip the towel at my waist as my entire body floods with heat. "I certainly hope you're not headed to work like that," he smirks, and I can't move. I curse myself, silently, for being so desperate for him to exist that I've gone and put myself in this situation, because how do I say I want you so badly, I keep worrying you're not real, I can't stop thinking about you, I had to check, I had to be sure you weren't all in my head, I had to be sure I didn't make you up.

"I, uh...no, no, definitely not," I try to laugh, but it comes out sounding more like a cough, and I decide to cut my losses - spinning on a heel, I remove myself quickly from his sight and lock myself back in the bathroom. My hands find their way to the edge of the sink again, and I take a deep breath of the still-warm air around me. Okay, that's fine, it's fine, just move on, if you act like it didn't happen, Phil probably won't even remember it. I let that thought fill my head and reach over to grab the clean shirt from the floor where I'd tossed it before my shower.

"What, I don't at least get a show before you cover it all up?"

"PHIL!" I scream, the arms holding my shirt above my head dropping to cover my bare chest. I notice at that exact moment just how loose the towel is around my waist, and leave my shirt dangling in one hand as the other reaches to hold the towel up. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?!" I can't keep the panic out of my voice, but Phil's just laughing - maniacally, I swear.

"I was enjoying the view, and you ran away!" He protests, laughter behind every word. My embarrassment is replaced by anger, and I hold onto it, reaching out to push him away, ready to demand he leave me alone and let me get ready. And my hand falls through the air, never meeting its intended target; instead, I stumble toward the shower, trying to regain my balance. "Oh no, Dan, I'm sorry!" Phil's still giggling, but he does seem apologetic this time. "I haven't been able to touch anything all morning, I should've said so!"