The Doorknob

The Napkins

"FUCKING HELL, PHIL!" I shout at the empty space above me. "You couldn't have stayed for five more minutes!?" I groan in frustration, rubbing my fists into my eyes.

"Fuck it, your loss!" I yell, angry at the constriction of my jeans and at the person who left me so damn unsatisfied. I slide my own jeans and pants down, focusing on Phil as I get myself off - his lips, how they'd kissed me, and sucked at my neck, and...how they would look wrapped around my cock. The image slips in unbidden, but I don't fight it and I'm soon moaning Phil's name again.

"Serves you right," I mutter as the high of...well, everything that had just happened, wears off, and I feel a dull ache settle into my skull. This whole thing, it's absolutely absurd. I sigh, heading to the bathroom to clean myself off, secretly hoping Phil will show up just so I can yell at him in person. On my way out, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and see a very noticeable hickey - so I have to remember what he did to me, but he's off scot free, is that it?

I flop back onto my bed, utterly spent - and not even in the good way, I muse bitterly - and fall into something empty that must be sleep.

----------------------------------------------------

"Dan...Dan? Wake up!" I hear the voice, and my brain takes a full thirty seconds to connect it to Phil. I groan - why do I feel hungover? I definitely don't recall even...buying...alcohol...my internal voice trails off as the events of last night return to me.

"Why'd you leave?" I know I'm being whiny, and I know he can barely hear me with my face still firmly planted in the pillow, but I want an answer. I already know the answer - he can't help it, my inner voice battles my unreasonable anger, until a third player comes into the ring. Because he isn't real, remember? I mentally shove it all aside, groaning again.

"Get up, Dan!" Phil's voice hits my ears and sends a wave of pain through my skull. He's tugging on my arm now, trying to get me to move, but I don't.

"M'not going anywhere til you answer," I state resolutely, and the hand falls from my arm.

"I couldn't help it - I went to the white place. I couldn't even hear anything here," he sounds dejected, and I believe him, "I wanted to stay, I really, really did," he continues, his voice much softer now. "But you need to get up, you're late!" His voice jumps an octave, and I almost ask him what on earth I'm late for when it hits me like a freight train.

"Work! Oh shit, Phil, what time is it!?" I lament, jumping out of bed and wincing at the pounding in my head. I rush to the bathroom, running a comb hastily through my messy brown hair. "Phil?" I shout, struggling into a fresh jumper - one, I note, that will hide my very noticeable hickey - and some clean jeans before fishing my wallet and phone from the pocket of yesterday's pair.

"It's almost noon!" I hear the voice from the kitchen, and I let out a string of curses.

"Dave is going to kill me," I mumble to myself. "I'll talk to you later!" I shout to Phil, too wrapped up in the situation to bother with the swirl of emotions that bubbles up when I remember last night. "I think I'm scheduled til four," I add, pulling the door open and letting it slam before locking up. After half a moment's hesitation, I jiggle the doorknob before rushing off down the hall.

I'm almost at the staircase when it jiggles in response, and I smile despite my sour mood.

--------------------------------------------------

"Dan? Dan, are you with us? Earth to Dan!" I hear the muffled voice, but I can't really see anything. Then the world begins to fill itself in around me, bits and pieces falling into place.

The voice clears, and it's voices, which I recognize belong to my manager, Dave, and a young woman - a coworker whose name I never bothered to learn, or maybe just forgot.

Then I can feel the floor underneath me - underneath my ass, to be specific. Why am I on the floor?

"Dan, are you alright?" Dave's face slowly manifests in front of me, followed by the rest of the coffee shop, fading into focus through a black vignette.

I'm still processing everything, trying to remember what happened, so I don't answer - rather, I'm not sure I can answer, if my brain has rebooted enough to allow for speech.

I can feel someone holding something to my nose, and I reach a shaky hand up to take it. A wad of paper napkins? Why's there a wad of...oh...my thoughts trail off as I lift the napkins slightly - they're soaked with blood, and I can feel a slight drip on my upper lip. I replace the napkins, still shaking.

"Do you remember what happened?" The woman, again, and I stretch my memory backwards, trying to recall anything before this exact moment.

"I was, uh, making a drink," I pause as the events come back to me, "I think I was about to set it down, but-" I halt, honestly unsure what had prompted the blackout. "I'm probably I'm just tired, and I haven't eaten anything today," I add, quietly. I don't need any more attention on me. "I think I'm fine now," I insist, moving to get up and catching myself on the counter.

"Do you need to go to A&E?" The woman asks, and I feel bad that I can't recall her name.

"No, I'm, uh, fine - really!" I say when she eyes me strangely. I lower the napkins from my nose and sniff experimentally. When I feel nothing, I reach up to double-check the blood has stopped, then add, "I'm good, honestly, let me just wash up and I'll be back."

"No, Dan, you need to go get some rest," Dave crosses his arms and fixes a hard gaze on me, and I don't bother arguing. When I'd arrived almost two hours late, he'd given me a similar look before tossing me a loaner apron - I'd completely forgotten mine - and telling me it had better not happen again.

I nod, removing and handing over the borrowed apron, then taking slow steps toward the entrance. I can feel the dizziness at the edge of my brain, the blackness at the edge of my vision, but I'm not about to go to the hospital because of a stupid faint and bloody nose.

I make my way cautiously up the staircase of my apartment building, taking an exaggeratedly long time on each step, because the only thing worse than falling on my ass in the middle of a coffee shop would be falling down a flight of stairs. By the time I make it to my door, my head is slightly clearer, and I'm fairly sure I'm no longer fighting off another faint.

My hands are still suspiciously shaky, though, as I pull out my keys and unlock the door.

"You're back early," I hear Phil's voice from the kitchen. "Did they let you...oh," Phil stops as I enter the lounge, taking it slow. "What happened?" I watch his face as it deepens into a frown, clearly concerned.

"It's fine, it was nothing," I say, waving a shaky hand in dismissal and mentally cursing my inability to keep it steady. Phil's gaze doesn't lighten, so I amend. "I just fainted a bit," I mutter, and he's suddenly next to me.

"Are you...is that blood?" He asks, and I manage a nod.

"I think, maybe I should just lay down for a while. I've been exhausted lately, I probably just need more sleep," I say, turning slowly and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

Before I can get halfway through the lounge, I collapse again - and I am painfully aware of every second of it. My legs give out under me, and I catch myself on my hands and knees, slamming into the wooden floor. I grunt in pain before falling on my side and deciding that I don't really need to lay in a bed, this will be just fine.