Pull My Heart Away-*Phan is not real. This is FICTION. AU*
I don't even really know anymore...
"You barely eat anymore. You're skin and bones. You hardly leave the apartment... You hardly do anything anymore," Phil was talking to me, but I couldn't look him in the eye. I stared down at my hands. I admired the thin tendons that danced as I tapped my fingers. I studied my knuckles, the way they disappeared when I relaxed my fingers and how they formed sharp points when I formed a fist. "Dan!" My eyes connected with Phil's, startled by his sudden increase in volume. The sudden movements made me feel a bit nauseous.
"I'm sorry," my voice was weak. We both knew my apologies were bullshit. I cleared my throat, "Look Phil-" I stood to his level, fighting dizziness as I did so. "I've just been a bit distract-" he cut me off with a shake if his head.
"This isn't distraction Dan. This is you letting your life slip by you without caring or even noticing!" He reached toward me like he wanted to shake his words into me. His hands dropped quickly to his side, his shoulders sagged.
"I-" he cut me off again.
"I'm so tired of your excuses Dan!" Frustrated tears filled his eyes, but didn't fall. He wasn't going to cry over me. Why should he? "You're just so damn passive that you're letting yourself wither away!" He stormed toward the door.
I couldn't find it in myself to stop him as he pulled in his coat. "I can't deal with this right now," His words stung. Phil was the only person who would deal with me anymore. I studied my stocking feet somberly. "I'll be back," he mumbled angrily before slipping out the front door of our flat.
I didn't move for a while. I couldn't seem to gather the energy. I just stared at the painted wood, hoping he would come back. It wasn't like Phil to start an argument. He hated conflict more than anyone I had ever met. Maybe that's why his words were hitting me so hard. I just wanted my best friend around, even if he was upset with me. I felt so out of control of my own life lately. Phil was the only stable point in my life.
I drifted toward the kitchen, thinking maybe I should eat something for the first time that day. I poured myself a bowl of cereal, but I dumped it down the sink after the second bite. The food stuck in my throat, it made me feel like I was being choked. I hadn't noticed how empty my stomach was until something filled it. Despite the fact that my stomach was growling loud and painfully, food didn't appeal to me. It was an odd sensation. Like my body was hungry, but my head wasn't.
I left the bowl and spoon I'm the sink so Phil knew I had eaten. I left the cereal box on the counter. Even if I hadn't, maybe the small detail would soothe his worry a bit. I wasn't worth the anxiety I caused him. Exhausted for no particular reason, I gave up on waiting for Phil to come back and started toward my bedroom. Phil's room was in between the kitchen and mine. I glanced into his room, noticing it was particularly neat today. I entered his room on impulse. I sat on his bed, surrounding myself with Phil.
Without making the conscious decision to; I curled up under the blankets of Phil's bed holding his spare pillow to my chest. I buried my face into the soft fabric, absorbing the faint traces of his scent. He probably wouldn't be back for a while, I would make sure to leave before came home. Once I had finally relaxed, tears began to form. I hated disappointing Phil. I thought I had been putting up a good front lately. I guess I was wrong. My eyelids grew heavier as my body became warmer under the blankets. An hour and a half passed before I realized how long I had been lying in his bed.
Pulling myself from my warm position, I climbed out of his bed. I pushed the covers into a similar position I found them in and slipped into my own room. Phil had no idea what had been bothering me lately. He had no idea that I like to lay in his bed and sniffed his pillows. He would probably feel creeped out if he did. He would most likely hate me if he knew how I studied his body. I watched him all the time, admiring everything from the slight curve of his hips to the pale blue coloring of his eyes. Phil would be utterly repulsed if he knew that his best friend wanted him in such an inappropriate way.
So I could handle the occasional argument if that meant I could still hold on to a piece of him. My body shook with sobs, the physically interpretation of my emotional state. I pushed my face into a pillow, muffling the pathetic noises I was making in case Phil came home. My eyes began to drift closed again, this time without the warm safe feeling of Phil surrounding me. This time I fell asleep completely and utterly alone.