I don't own these people, the names and this story is entirely fictional (well, thats what we must believe) Just another Phanfiction by just another fangirl.
Dan's POV:
Isn't it funny how when someone is close to you, you notice everything they do. Remember words that they didn't even know they said but to you they mean everything. You never know why you remember that scene or those words or that action, you just do. You never forget.
I was lay in my bed, the sheets only covering me from the knee down, I wore only my boxers and I was lay on my back, my fingers tangled together across my chest as I stared up at the ceiling. I heard footsteps approaching my door, it was 9:43am since I had checked the time on my bedside clock just seconds before. He would be coming to check on me, I would usually be up by now. I didn't want to get up, it was just one of those days where there is so much to do and that makes you want to do nothing at all.
I didnt have time to pull the covers up over myself, or I would be caught in my act of trying to appear asleep. All I did was clock my eyes and fling my arms over my head in a restless night position, I heard the footsteps hault outside the door just as I had completed my task. He caught his knuckes on its wooden structure twice. Whispering my name.
"Dan, are you awake?" The voice said, I made no reply. I didn't want him to know I had been awake for hours, unable to sleep. The door creaked open and the figure entered the room, I opened my eyelids, slightly, so they would still appear closed to him, but I could see just a tiny blurred part of the world. He stood there, arms folded, my eyelids forbid me to see above his shoulders but I knew he would be raising one eyebrow at me and any second...there is was, the sigh that followed that look, he would be shaking his head now, then smile to himself. I knew he would do this because I notice everything that boy does. I know how he acts and how he would react to different things because I just can't forget. Maybe I dont get everything about him right, sometimes he does surprise me or I'm not sure if he will do one thing or another and now was one of those times. Would he wake me or leave?
In the second it took him to sigh a million thoughts and calculations went threw my head. It was Saturday, not my uploading day, so that wouldn't be a reason for him to wake me up. We hadn't planned anything so that wasn't a reason either. He wasn't angry with me for anything so that was a reason for him to stay. All these calculations about how he acted, how my boy acted. I came to the conclusion he would leave, but return on the hour. I got it right. The blurry figure unfolded his arms and tip toed away from me, out into the hall, pulling the door but not completely closing it, so the click of it locking into place would not wake me. He always did little nice things like that, as small as not making the door close completely, but not leaving it fully open.
Why would I remember that? I dont know. It has no importance to anyone. Other people have done things much greater and I dont even remember the persons second name, but he was different.
I place the pen on my newly cleaned desk and closed the notebook I had bought a month earlier, tracing my fingers over the complex Chinese symbols which had been printed into the deep red leather cover. Soon I was going to need another one of these journals, I hadn't expected to fill it up so quickly. Only a few lined pages remained in my little book. I picked it up with both hands and walked over to the bed, carefully getting only my knees and putting the little block underneath my comic books, where I always put it. Where no one would look.
The book, as I called it in my head, had really helped me over the last few weeks. It was like a prison for my dark thoughts, where I could cast them away and not worry about them. I had got the idea off a book I had read, in which a young boy had a magically notebook where if he wrote down a memory he would forget it until he read it again. I really hadn't expected it to work, but it had. I didn't forget like the boy from my story, I still remembered each event in just as much detail, but they didn't hurt as much. The book became a friend, my second best friend. After Phil, of course. But there were some things I couldn't even tell him. For a start, he was the cause of most of my misery.
