Love at Lost Sight SEQUEL (phan)

chapter three

Noelle Note: hey guys!! Sorry for the late update... I literally haven't opened this project in google docs since 2017.... Anyway, thanks for sticking around. I hope you enjoy this chapter.  I have to actually finish writing this story at some point.  Right now there are only one and a half more chapters that are already finished so I have no inkling of an upload schedule.  I'm now a junior in college (wild) and finals are coming up so I won't have time to work on this piece until the summer.  

TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: lots of angst- there are a lot of depressing thoughts throughout this chapter so if it's better for you not to read those, please message me and I will give you a chapter summary. ALSO (I'll put a TW before and after) there are in detail mentions of suicide and self-harm. PLEASE don't read this chapter if you think it could trigger you in any way. I am more than willing to give you a summary of the chapter at your request. Please stay safe and do what is best for your health <3

DAN's POV

The more time passes, the worse my thoughts get. It is like a domino effect. Ever since the first flashback at the reunion, I have not been able to stop more horrific memories and depressing thoughts from resurfacing and they are slowly taking over my brain. Thankfully, however, Phil's footsteps and the jangle of Nevada's collar temporarily snap me out of my spiraling thoughts. Thank goodness I thought he was going to take forever in the shower. This is exactly what I need, my best friend. Phil was the one who could coax me out of these spirals when I first opened up to him about them years ago I think that is what I need right now. It's what I want, somebody to notice I'm okay without me needing to say I'm not okay. The anxiety situated in my gut seems to be taking over and prevents me from bringing up the subject immediately. I look up as Phil sits on the opposite side of the couch and Nevada rests at his feet.

"How was your shower?" I ask casually. I don't want to immediately start the conversation by revolving it around me because then Phil might think I'm not okay. I'm not, but I don't want him to know that. Even though I really, really want him to notice at the same time. I'm hoping for a short response and possibly a leeway into what I actually want to talk about, but his response surprises me

"Oh! I wanted to talk to you about that," Phil replies.

"You wanted to talk to me about your shower?" I ask, slightly confused and also a bit annoyed Irritation begins to gnaw at the outer edges of my brain.. What can be so important about his shower that he feels the need to bring it up right now? I know I asked him about it, but I was just trying to steer the conversation away from myself so I didn't seem so desperate. I already know that whatever he has to say will be inane in comparison to what I want to mention.

"Yeah, it's not creepy I promise," Phil jokes.

He doesn't realize what is happening, I think, my frustration steadily increasing.

"I'm exhausted though, so do you mind if I go make us some coffees first and then we can keep talking?" Phil asks as he stands up. Nevada stands up with him and holds her head high, eager to lead Phil where he pleases.

"I guess that's fine," I say. "Although I don't see why you need to be so alert if you're just telling me about a shower," I grumble.

"I'll be back shortly," Phil says to me a bit curtly, as if I am the irrational one. "You just stay there and talk to your thoughts or something." He tells me.

No, Phil, I think. That's the last thing you want me to be doing. I take a deep breath to keep from snapping at him and try to slow my racing thoughts. He doesn't even notice, my brain tells me. If he was your friend, if he cared, then he would notice. "Shut up, shut up," I hiss quietly, pressing my palms against my temples as though that would be enough to muffle the thoughts. The last thing I need in my life right now is a fight between Phil and I. I'm already at a war against my own mind. . I close my eyes and try to clear my head. I listen carefully and try to focus on the sound of Phil bustling around in the kitchen. I listen to him mutter softly under his breath to himself and to Nevada as the various utensils clank together. It only takes a few minutes, and, even though my breathing has gone back to normal, the bubbles of anger have not yet subsided.