disgrace, treachery, and the sickness that i know is true

Dan

I like to believe I'm a master at overthinking things. I'm not sure if I'm troubled by it or proud in some twisted way, but I know that I overthink, and I know that I do it a lot. All I can think about now a days is you and the night I got accepted. You being in my thoughts is normal, it's nearly second nature at this point. 'Do I like this? No. Will Phil? Probably.' You were always a thought in my mind, sometimes even before myself. But I haven't stopped thinking about that night since we parted ways. I stared at you with this huge grin and before I could even say a word my mouth was preoccupied with your own. You pulled me into this huge hug, and we were just so content, but still excited for the future. Thinking back, we never really talked about what was going to happen, though in my mind you were coming to New York with me, but for once I didn't know what you were thinking. You must have slept on the idea, and realized that moving halfway across the world to stay with me was something you just couldn't do. You didn't want leave your family for that long, especially to be in a foreign country. I was hurt, and it still aches now, but I understood. We had done long distance before, how hard could it be? I remember when we first started talking. It was easier back then, the whole long distance thing at least. It was something to keep us going. We knew that we were young, and while the world around is 24,000 miles there were only 300 between us. Then after the daily five hour skype calls and late night twitter conversations we finally met at that Manchester train station. I remember the October air was unbelievably cold, but as soon as you pulled me into that hug I felt like I could've melted. And even after the first phil is not on fire and those intimate nights curled up next to you, it still felt like the butterflies fluttering in my stomach could suffocate me with one doe eyed look from you. I don't know when that feeling stopped. I wish it hadn't.

Phil

I don't remember losing feelings for you. I'm not sure I ever did. If you were to look me over with your chestnut brown eyes right now, I think I'd feel same fluttering feeling as I did all those years ago, maybe even stronger now. I remember the night where we were sat on the roof of our old flat watching as the snow fell in clumps onto the dirty cement. It was late, so late that you couldn't tell whether the sallow hues in the sky were from the bleached moonlight or the pale sun. You had been fast asleep only minutes before, but I was wide awake, and the snow was coming down heavy. You always complained about the frigid air and how dirty snow in the city looked, but I knew how much you loved it, and I knew how much you would love seeing it before it was dirtied by the cars on the road and the ash in the sky. I remember dragging the heels of my boots through the already thick blanket as you watched me from your sitting place on an exposed pipe. I never truly saw you looking at me, but I could tell you were. Maybe we really could read each other's minds, because even while you hid your face behind your scarf, I could tell you were taking in everything with those soft eyes and grinning at the clicheness of it all. The butterflies in my stomach were almost tickling my throat from the way you were looking at me, and it was in those moments I realized that even though we were in our third flat together, and nearing eight years of knowing each other, I would never find someone like you ever again.

Dan

I don't like using the word "boring" to describe people, everyone has their own stories and their weird quirks, but it is true that some people are just less interesting than others. It's almost as if duller people have these few clunky characteristics that take up all the space, and once you uncover those traits you're done. Nothing else to dig for. But /you/, Phil Lester, were not one of those people. The more you dug the more things there were to uncover. There was the top layer of course, your creativity, the lame sense of humor that everyone seemed to enjoy, and the almost tangible gentleness that wafted off of you in bunches. But then I dug deeper and those three split off into six, and six to twelve, and twelve to twenty four and before I knew it was I had dug kilos under with nothing but words and complete infatuation with you. It was like no relationship I had ever found before, it was as if I could sort right through the clutter of your thoughts and headaches easier than if they were my own. You were the same with me too. Every word we spoke together was written in invisible ink that only we could see floating through the atmosphere and we could read right through even the messiest of sentences. I miss that the most. I've tried with new friends, but I haven't been able to find someone has /intriguing/ as you, and no one has been able to decipher the language of Daniel Howell the way you did.

Phil

I thought when you left the hardest thing I would have to endure was being without you, but it turned out the hardest thing was having to be alone with myself. You were able to translate all my thoughts without me even saying a word, and now I have to do it by myself. I realized thirty one feels really old when you're living alone. When we were together it was like the years were just flying by. I don't think that I once stopped to realize how old I was, and it's all catching up to me now. I've always been a strong believer that your age shouldn't dictate your quality of life. I don't think you should feel obligated to be think or act a certain type of way when you hit age thirty, but it's a lot harder when you actually are living through it. I never really put much thought into my future plans once I met you, I knew from the moment I hugged you at the train station that I was going to spend the rest of my life with you. Well, maybe I didn't know that, but I was confident as hell in it. So I never put much thought into a long term career, or buying a house, or even raising a family, I had always just imagined it would come when the time was right. I wanted to get married though, it was the one thing I had planned. I wanted to propose as soon as we got home from the tour, the timing felt so right, we had accomplished so much so why not top it off with the biggest celebration of them all? But that was the one time I made plans, and now I don't know how to anymore.

Dan

It was almost two in the morning on a Friday night when we found the floor plans to this flat. You opened the photos and the glazed coating covering your eyes was polished off and replaced with glittering excitement. The pictures showed huge floor to ceiling windows that opened to the navy blue Atlantic, and as soon as I saw the look in your eyes I knew that no matter the price, I was going to be living in that flat. As simple as it was, it was your dream come true basically. Finding flats in London with those windows was virtually impossible, let alone with a view like that, and I knew that if I were there, you would be there in a sense too, looking through those same windows. But things are different now. When I stare out those windows, to the choppy grey waves of the Atlantic, I swear they stare right back at me. Taunting me with their ease and grace, moving so nimbly through the motions. When the waves come crashing onto shore, the backwash always comes in perfect time. It's as if they're mocking my inelegance and the harmonies I couldn't seem to keep. It infuriates me. I want to run into the icy waves and shout until my voice is raw, but I can't help but feel an attachment to them. They're the closest I can to you, but you're also the reason why I despise them.

Phil

It feels like I'm frozen solid. It's like the soles of my shoes have become one with the sand underneath and every step I take moves the whole beach along with it. It's always the same. No matter how many layers I wear, there's always an impossible frigidness blowing in from the sea. I'm not sure if the air manages to get colder every time I put on another jumper, or if I'm just not used to being alone yet. Maybe it's both. I've ended up abandoning a coat altogether, I'll be just as cold with one, so why do it at all? Even though it's icy and uninviting this time of year, I come down to the shore for hours at a time, I'll just sit and gaze into the grey billows until my fingers and toes go numb and the wind burn on my cheeks is too much to bear. It sounds pathetic, but I feel closest to you here. Maybe the wind will carry your warm cologne smell or the peach colored tones of your voice. Maybe you're looking right back at me, through the huge bay windows of your apartment. Looking across 5,000 kilometers of shimmering blue waters, gazing at me with that same infatuation you had all those years ago, but then again, you might not be looking at all.