"Phil?" I heard Dan calling my name from the lounge. I had just finished posting my video and was reading some of the comments. Most of them were nice, but there are always some that are insulting. They always get to me. I didn't let the fans or Dan know that the negative comments made me upset, but it was obvious. They just didn't know how upset I could get, because I'm the innocent one. I'm the nice one. The perfect one. I could never do no wrong. Everyone believes that; even Dan. But it's not true.
"Phil?!" Dan said a little more urgently before.
"What, Dan?" I said a little more harsh than I intended. He didn't seem to notice. And if he did, he just didn't care.
"Can you come here for a second?" I basically jump out of my chair, slam open the door, and stomp into the lounge.
"What can you possible need that you can't do yourself?" I saw hurt flash across his eyes, quickly replaced with anger. I don't mean to come out this rude, but I don't know how else to hide my feelings. Not just my feelings about the bad comments, but my feelings for him.
"Why are you having an bloody attitude with me? What have I done besides call you out here?" Dan's voice was dripping with attitude.
"I'm just irritated." But not at you, my love.
"Well, then why are you fucking taking it out on me?" I'm not meaning to.
"I don't need to deal with this right now, Dan. What do you need?" I can basically see the flame inside his eyes. I know which buttons to push to get him mad. And I seem to be pushing all of them.
We stand there, glaring at each other for a long moment. He's the first to look away. Even when he looked away, I am still left glaring. He rubes his left temple. He closes his eyes for a second, obviously trying to calm himself down. I'm getting impatient.
"Well?" No answer. "Are you listening?" It appears he is not. "DAN?!" This gets his attention.
"I lost the remote, Phil! And I would like your pathetic help looking for it! Now, can you just stop being a massive twat for a minute? What has gotten into you. You're not acting normal." He's starting to lose it. So I push those fragile little buttons even harder.
"And what's normal for me, Dan? Being perfect? Being innocent? Not being able to show my feelings? When do I get to release my feelings, Dan? Never! I have to keep them bottled up! I can't just let lose like you can! I actually have a conscience!" With each sentence, I get louder. With each sentence, I get closer. With each sentence, he gets madder.
"And I don't have a conscience?! Because I believe I do! My gut is telling me to slap you across the face but am I?! No!" He's on the edge. And I don't care.
"You would never slap me, Dan! You don't have the audacity!" I'm basically begging for it now.
"I might not, but I will just walk out! I have no problem doing that!" And I don't doubt he does.
"Fine! Just go! See if I care!" But I do care. But I can't let him see that. I can't let him win this argument. Not today. I didn't realize that he left until I heard the door to the flat slam.
I start searching around the lounge for the remote. And when I find it, it's going to be thrown against the wall. That's one way to rid myself of these stupid feelings. Not a good way, but I'm sure that it'll work. That's what Dad used to do.
I find the remote. I flip it around in my hands for a moment. Just staring at it. I throw it. It collides with the wall. I'm still angry. I throw it again. And again. And again. It's not working. I pick it once more; debating if I should throw it once more. I decide I should. I aim at the door. The door that Dan walked out of not too long ago. I throw back my arm, then let the remote fly.
It all happened in slow motion. Or it seemed like it did. As the remote left my hand, the door opened and Dan appeared. The remote hit him square in the face. He just stood there, looking confused. I stood there with frightening/shocking look on my face. My mouth ajar. I saw a line of blood coming out of his nose. I was speechless.
"Um," Dan starts; walking towards me. Calm as a sea before a bad storm. He stops. There is a foot of space between us. "I forgot my phone." He doesn't look confused any more; just hurt.
"Dan, I didn't mean to thor-" I tried. But before I could finish there was a sharp sound heard throughout the room. I took a minute for my mind to register the stinging pain on my left check. Dan slapped me.
I looked him straight in the eyes. Not a glaring him. This stare that we shared wasn't uncomfortable; wasn't angry. It was understanding. I put my hand to my check. It was wet. I didn't even notice I was crying. How long have I been crying? I noticed Dan was crying to. He looked so upset. I never enjoy seeing him like this. It pains me.
Simultaneously, we pulled each other into an embrace. He was so warm. I loved holding him like this. And I liked him holding me like this. It doesn't happen much. Only after we've had a big fight. I know this fight doesn't seem too big, but for us it is. Every fight is big. Every argument is big. We just stood there, in each others arms.
He pulled away, walked to his room. I didn't think that he would come back. I went to the couch and sat down. I pulled my legs up to my chest, wrapped my arms around my legs, laid my head on my knees, and closed my eyes. I felt someone sit down beside me and put a blanket over me. I knew it was Dan so I didn't bother to open my eyes. I uncurled myself from my ball and laid my head on his lap instead. We both feel asleep in that position; me, with my head in Dan's lap, and Dan with one arm resting on my shoulder and his other hand on my head, protectively.
Best sleep I've had in ages.