stars (phan)

Chapter 8

I just realised I haven't been using autocorrect so yeah this one will have better grammar.

Enjoy.

By the way I'll be using 3rd person POV a lot now so I hope you don't mind.

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Phil woke with a jolt. A jolt that sent his heart skipping a few beats and beads of sweat roll carefully down his forehead. He breathed heavily, shoulders rising and falling unevenly.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness he could see Dan's sleeping body next to his, unmoved by his sudden actions. Phil watched him for a while, eyes running over the shape of his body and the way his hair fell over his eyes and the soft sleeping noises he made, lips pouted slightly and hands buried under his neck.

They both slept on one large mattress on a creaky bed frame, it was silver but the paint was peeling off, exposing itself to rust and more dust. But the fact they were sharing the same bed didn't bother them, in fact they were thankful for each other's warmth in cold nights and company if there was another attack.

Phil pulled the blanket off him, shaky, trembling hands fumbling with the material. Bare feet found the ground, the cold floor making him want to curl back up into bed but his throat was so fucking dry and sore that made him wince every time he'd swallow the pool of saliva that kept of building up in his mouth. He froze as the bed creaked under his weight and bit his lip as dan shifted slightly before exhaling and stilling. He staggered out of the room, stepping over a creaky floorboard and grabbing door frames to keep him from walking into the wall until he found what he hoped was the kitchen.

It was and the tiles were cold and hard under foot. Phil fumbled blindly around the counter until his fingertips met the large cardboard box which held their water. He grabbed his cup from before which was thankfully next to it and started to fill it up, anxiety pulling at his mind incase he over filled or didn't even fill it at all.

He turned the plastic nob off, the trickling of water deceasing and he brought the cup to his lips, filling his mouth with the cool liquid before unwillingly swallowing. His throat throbbed, the water stopping the pain a little and wetting his throat to a comfortable feeling. He placed the cup back down to its original spot, sending a loud thud through the kitchen and he stumbled back, now able to see the faint outlines of walls and door frames.

He came back to Dan, who was now rolled over to the very edge of his side, left hand draping off and light snores escaping his blood dried lips. Phil crawled back into bed, careful not to make too much of a noise and he lay facing Dan, drifting off to the small, and really fucking adorable, noises coming before him.

~

It happened again.

That same night Dan woke to Phil's arm loosely draped over his waist and his head buried into Phil's neck.

This had happened many times before and they had both come to the conclusion that they involuntarily spoon while they sleep. But Dan had lied.

He's the one who would wake to Phil dangerously close to him and he's the one who would carefully lift Phil's arm so it was placed over his waist and he's the one who would bury his face into the warmth of Phil's neck and he fucking loved it.

But he would never admit to it.

Neither to himself or to Phil.

He would constantly tell himself that it's all because he feels sacred or insecure because there's a fucking apocalypse they're going through or that he's never had a loving family to comfort him and now that he's only with Phil, all alone, that he now has the subtle chance to at least get the occasional simulation that that's what it feels like to be secure. That's what it feels like to be comfortable. To be safe.