Chapter 10

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FEBRUARY, 2009

Dan

The weeks start piling up, full of sleepless nights and big blue bruises and twisted ankles and ribs cracked open like an egg, all covered up with too big sweatshirts and too big smiles.
He worries, and I would do anything to keep him from worrying, so I put on a full one act play, play all the characters.

It feels like closing night will never come.

The weekend arrives for me with late afternoon sun leaking in through my window, and I push myself up out of bed, bracing my hand against the wall so I don't pass out. My ribs scream and my head pounds and I slip silently out the door, wincing when my hip bumps against the door frame. I slink down to the kitchen, head lost in the clouds, absent-mindedly pouring myself a glass of water.

All of a sudden, a hand rests on my shoulder.

I jump. Wiggle out from under the touch, terrified.

I look behind me and realize that it's just Phil, with a crooked smile and puppy dog eyes. I run my finger around the rim of my glass, focusing on making the shaking in my hands stop.

"Jamie and I are going out to dinner, want to come with us?"

His eyes are wide and pretty and full of excitement, and I feel my heart sink straight to the soles of my feet. I can't let it sit in my stomach and balloon three times it's sizeI'm not hungry.

"No thanks, not hungry."

His face falls for a second before he perks back up, dusting himself off.

"Oh, okay. Well, I'll see you then."

He smiles and does a dorky little half salute before disappearing out the front door with a smug looking Jamie following behind him.

I hold my breath until I hear the click of the lock behind them.

My head spins and my throat feels tight and I wish I would've been strong enough to go with him.

Dejectedly, I start making my way to my room, but the quiet hall and the cool air seem to whisper, pulling me towards the room at the end of the hall instead. I brush my fingers over the smooth wood of the door, honey brown, worn at the edges. At my touch, it creaks open, just slightly, and I hold my breath. I'd explored every inch of this place, back when I'd been on bed arrest, with hours upon hours of empty time for me to fill, but there was one room I hadn't ever entered. Phil's. It wasn't that he said I couldn't, but it felt like something I shouldn't, and so I never did. But now, with the quiet air and the nauseous feeling of disappointment bubbling in my stomach, I hover at the entrance, teetering back and forth, until I finally push the door open, step inside, close it behind me. Leaning against the door, I smile softly, hands shaky, heart fluttering at doing something I shouldn't be.

Phils room was wholly and completely him. Colorful bedsheets and colorful art and spindly green plants, with their leaves twisting in the light breeze that came from his slightly cracked window.

On tiptoes, I make my way to his bed.

Sit down, but carefully, as if ghosts slept here, and I was trying not to wake them up.

I lie down, curl my legs up.

When I turn my head, bury it in a blanket, that unmistakable scent of raspberry and cinnamon wraps all the way around my bones, and a ball forms in my throat.

I don't understand why, until I do.

I miss him.

I wish he were here, looking at me with those pretty, unwavering eyes, smiling his crooked smile, poking my cheeks and telling me I should smile more, because I look pretty when I do.

It's unfamiliar, an ache, a need, and it's scary, so I curl up tighter, hug his pillow to me, breathe in the smell with my eyes closed, pretending he was here until I fell asleep.

The sound of the front door weaves in through the blankets, and my eyes fly open. I jump up, racing out of the room and into the hall, hair messy, hands shaking, closing his door as quietly as I can.

I race to the front door, almost tripping over my own feet in my rush.

"Hey, Phil, wow, you're home early, how was dinner, did you guys have a nice time?"

My voice is overenthusiastic and entirely too high pitched, my heart still pounding in my throat.

He raises an eyebrow at me, confused, and I can't help but notice how pretty he looks.

God, and now I'm staring.

"It was good!"

I wish I could melt into the floor.

"So, where'd you guys go to dinner?"

What would Phil think if he knew I'd just taken a nap in his room while he was gone. He'd think I was such a freak.

Frustrated at being held up in the doorway, Jamie casts an angry look at me and pushes past me, shoving me as he passes. I stumble back a step and bite my lip. Phil smiles and answers my question, following it up with one of his own, reaching out and ruffling my messy curls.

"What did you do while we were gone?"

I feel my entire face burn.

"N..nothing."

He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off before he can question me further, spitting out the first thing I can think of.

"Do... do you want to watch a movie or something?"

He nods enthusiastically, face full of excitement, as if my invitation is the greatest thing that has ever happened on this earth, no, scratch that, the greatest thing that has ever happened in the universe.

"Yeah, I'd love to."

Phil

When I wake up, sunlight trickles in over my face through the cracks in the window, and I yawn, rubbing my eyes.

I blink sleepily, looking around, before realizing that Dan and I had fallen asleep sometime during our movie marathon. Dan was now slumped over on my chest, his long arm draped delicately over my stomach, his head resting on my shoulder. His curls tickle my neck and his soft breath whispers across my skin, causing me to shiver slightly.

He is absolutely adorable.

However, as comfortable as I am, I am also starving.

I carefully unwrap him from around me and lay him down gently on the couch, covering him up with a blanket and smiling softly, because god, he's so pretty, and the early morning sunlight on his face makes him look like an angel.

I stumble into the kitchen, yawning, stretching, in an unbelievably good mood. Dan has never seemed to want to do anything before, only doing things with me if I ask him, making it feel rather as though I'm dragging him behind me, like a reluctant puppy on the end of a leash. For once, he initiated something, and I finally feel like maybe he does more than tolerate me, maybe he actually enjoys being around me.

The night had been washed in flickering blue light, with our legs brushing under soft blankets, hands touching in the popcorn bowl. The space between us had melted as the night went on, until he was pressed up into my side, head on my shoulder, until we fell asleep, breathing slowing to the same music.

This boy is going to be the death of me.

-

hi hello update time. i wrote this instead of doing my homework so you're welcome.

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