It's Going to be Ok... -Phan

Chapter 3

[Dan's POV]

Phil had stayed in his room that whole day, leaving only to go to the bathroom, he hadn't eaten all day. I had stayed in the lounge trying to turn off my brain with video games and movies, but it was useless, I was restless and had to do something. I had been sat in the same spot for the past twenty minutes, staring blankly at the wall opposite, thinking hard.

"Dan?" I nearly jumped out of my skin, Phil had come into the lounge without me noticing. He was in pyjamas and mix-matched socks, his hair all messed up. I stared bewilderedly at him for a few moments, shocked by his presents after weeks of him avoiding me.

"Oh, Hey," I managed. It came out wrong, It sounded like he was interupting me of something, like he was unwanted. I couldn't tell if he registered this or not, his facial expession was the same as it had been for the past couple of months, miserable, hopeless, like nothing was happening around him.

"You said you wanted to talk," His voice was completly monotone, no emotion whatsoever.

"Yeah, you promised to tell me what has been up with you the past couple months," Phil was looking at his feet, trying desperately not to make eye contact. "Come, sit," I added as Phil was still standing in the doorway. He nodded and shuffled over to the sofa and sat down. He looked uncomfortable in his suroundings, like he was at a friends house for the first time and everything was unfamiliar. Minutes past of us sitting on opposite sides of the sofa in silence. "Go on then," I pushed him.

"Dan," He faltured, his confidence extinguished.

"Yes?"

"I'm depressed, nothing is worth it anymore, I am always sad, and I just want it to end." He blurted out, like it was a bomb. I was shocked, I had suspected it, but hated hearing it. "That's what you wanted to know right? Can I leave now?" He said half annoyed, half exhausted. I cradled my forehead in my hands and ignored him. "Right then," He stood up and started back down the hall towards his room.

"Wait!" I said standind up and grabbing Phil's arm in one swift motion.

"What?" he whispered, sounding tiered and uninterested. "Isn't that what you wanted? Me to tell you why I wasn't acting 'myself' lately? Well mabye I was finally acting like myself, not just putting on a happy face, and acting like everything's okay!" By the time he was finished he was shouting at the top of his voice. My hand fell away.

"Phil, I'm so sorry," I stared him staright in the eyes, and for the first time in months, he did to. His eyes were watering, he was about to cry. Light caught a tear as it fell, almost beautiful.

"Why should you be sorry? It's not your fault."

"Then who's fault is it," I asked my voice caught in my throut, breaking.

"Mine, I'm not good enough for you or anyone," He whispered, looking at his socks again. He turned on his heels and stalked out of the room.

"Wait, Phil!" I yelled, but he didn't turn back, the only sound I was greeted with was of the door slamming shut.