You Don't Know What You Have Until You (Almost) Lose It

Hobbit Hair

*Phil's POV*

I walk into the lounge to find Dan with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his feet tucked underneath him. He looks up at me with his dark brown eyes and smiles. My heart lifts.

"Morning, Phil," he says, his voice still a bit raspy from sleep. Was it supposed to be humanly possible to wake up just looking really freaking good?

"Hello, " I respond and clear my throat, as if it'll also clear my head of that thought. God, Phil, he's your freaking flatmate, you freak.

"Breakfast and American Horror Story?" Dan asks as I advance further into the lounge. I nod and sit down as he stands up and heads for the kitchen. I watch him walk by in his pajama pants and his curly mess of hair and can't help but think about how adorable he looks. And his puppy eyes? How lucky was I to meet him? Even if our relationship is platonic. But. . . he's just so perfect. And I'm Phil. Just regular old Phil. Nothing special to see here. Dan is the attractive one. Everyone knows it. I know it, even though people try to hide it. Why did he even choose to be my friend? Why does he continue to choose to be my friend?

"For Christ's sake, Phil!" Dan shakes me from my train of thought, which was just going downhill. "Why the hell is my cereal box empty?" He walks into the lounge and looks at me with his signature look of disappointment.

"I have an addiction!" I say.

"Well, now we have to eat this shitty wheat cereal. Why do we even buy this?" Dan says and playfully glares at me.

"We need to eat healthier if we want to take up running anyway!" I say, grasping to the first excuse that comes to mind.

"Oh, come on, Phil. Let's be realistic here: we were bullshitting ourselves and our viewers. We ran twice. Twice," Dan says, heading into the kitchen to prepare two bowls of cereal.

"It's not too late to take it up again. . .?"

"Yeah, no. Now put on American Horror story. I haven't had my weekly dose of Evan Peters yet," Dan orders as he hands me my cereal, and I comply. I'd do anything for Dan. To a reasonable extent. I turn on the TV and select the recording of the latest American Horror Story. After it was over, Dan promptly screamed, "THEY CAN'T END IT THERE. NO. WHAT THE FUCK."

"Calm down, there, Daniel," I say laughing.

"I REFUSE."

"If you do we can go out to lunch and I'll pay," I say, seeing as it was already 11:47.

"Okay, maybe I can calm down. It's not even that big of a deal. I mean, what even is American Horror Story? Sounds lame," Dan says, getting up to go to his room and get ready. After about five minutes I hear him say, "Phil, do you have my straightener?"

"I like you hair curly. . ." I call back as my face reddens. Thank God he wasn't in the room to see. Oh, God I said that aloud.

"Yeah, well I think it looks shitty," Dan says, emerging from his room in, wow, what a surprise, a black t-shirt, black jeans, topped off by his black shoes. Not to mention his black earrings.

"Your hobbit hair looks nice. Just leave it."

"We wouldn't call it hobbit hair if it looked nice. I really don't feel like going in public with it, Phil. Only PJ can pull that off. I mean, it looks stupid, especially with the whole black on black on black looks," Dan says, practically begging me. I get irrationally angry and I'm not entirely sure why.

"Why can't you just take a compliment, Dan? You already look better than half the world's population without even trying. Just leave your hair how it is and let's go." It came out a bit harsher than I would've hoped for. Dan was obviously confused, what with my harsh tone, accompanied by a compliment.