arms // {phan}

chapter sixteen - phil

Chapter Sixteen - Phil:

Dear Howell,
    I hope you can forgive me for not contacting you until this moment. I'd like to say it was because I didn't want to hurt you, that I wanted to give you the time to start living your life as your own, no longer dependent on someone else; to live you life with a little more confidence, the thing an honorable man would say. But I fear that my reasons are far more selfish. I think it was me that I couldn't bare to hurt.
    I hope you can forgive me, but I think that's the selfish my talking again.
    I know you probably won't open this right away- afraid it will be too much like peeling off a bandaid when you're unsure of whether or not the wound underneath is healed. Take your time. I can wait. I'll be patient, as I always tried to be anyways.
    Incased in this package you'll find many items. I like to think of it as a "Dan Howell First-Aid Kit", because I know you'll be patching yourself up on your own. And I also know it probably won't be enough.
    How many times have you sat in that bathtub staring at the walls, thinking of me? Please don't, it hurt everything to know
    No, let's not talk about that- you wouldn't want to talk about that- that's private.
    Don't take that the wrong way- I'm not mocking or being cruel, I just mean I respect that.
    So let's talk about something else.
    In this package you'll find a variety of things; some might make you laugh, others cry, and a few confused.
    Firstly, we have my sweater. I sprayed some of my cologne on it, and wore it around for a few days before sending it. I hope you'll find it romantic, although gross might be a better descriptor. Just know I was going for romantic. (It's the thought that counts, right?) I sent it because I always thought it looked much cuter on you than me. The way the hem would graze your plump thighs, and the sleeves tucked into your palms because they were too long, and the neck, stretched, would show off your sharp collarbones. You looked so pretty, I remember.
    Sorry, am I bruising your masculinity? You're probably blushing, I'll stop.
    Next, we have a book; The Little Prince. Remember when I read it to you, and you fell asleep on me? I never told you, but I thought I was going to have a heart attack, I was so nervous. Of course, in the book I've add a few notes in the margins and maybe changed some of the names (SPOILER ALERT! You're the rose and I'm the little prince!). I hope you get good enough at french that maybe one day we can have entire conversations in french, in lazy afternoons when the light is dim (and you look lovely).
    Third up, we have an ipod. On it, you'll find many stories you've probably never heard of before, some that you'll remember living, others only dreams you didn't know I was controlling. On the ipod you'll find 50+ stories I've written all read by me. Think of it as like bedtime stories, you can plug in your headphones, and listen to me telling you about special worlds where were together. (Again was going for romantic, but could be construed as creepy.) There's tales about days in the sky, when everything was bleak and chaotic, there's tales about days in pale yellow, when you're eyes were the only thing I could see in that bed of sweet sin, and there are tales before, when everything was plush and green, where cobwebs whispered promises of a better day, and you and I were just mere glimmers in the corners of each other's eyes.
    Next, we have some photographs. You should remember a few of them; on our last day together. That was the real reason I wanted to take them, though I couldn't tell you at the time. I knew you'd need some help in the near future, a little Phil pick-me up to get you through.
    The other pictures are of my new hair color; do you like it? I was listening to a song in the car the other day- it was talking about a girl being being blue and a boy being red and now the girl was purple because of the other. It was kind of dumb, but it reminded me of you. I used to wonder if you saw the world in colors- like the girl in that book 'A Mango-Shaped Space'- and what colors you and I would be. I eventually decided I would be blue because of my eyes and you would be pink because of your incessant blushing. And because of that song, I thought purple hair would be most fitting, considering the effect we've had on each other. Do you like it? I hope you do.
    Second to last, we have a tarot card. Remember that story I told you one afternoon, about the Russian woman, and my tarot reading? This is the card; The Knight of Wands. The woman had said a man would have a big impact on my life- an energetic warrior, with a hasty personality— someone quick to hate or love. She'd told me to look forward to much passion and lust, action and adventure, desire and loss. Initially I'd brushed it off, it was only a reading, right? Some trick. But when I met you, when I'd brought you to my house for the first time, I began to doubt myself. You were so kind, and- well, energetic- in a way that was subtle enough not to be noticed. We always fought- one minute completely smitten with one another, and the next yelling such words I wish I could never remember saying.
    With you came everything the woman had anticipated: passion and lust, action and adventure, desire and loss. so much loss. I miss you. I want you with me every passing day. I took all of you in stride, maybe not at first, but I tried. I tried to cherish you, make you feel special, and loved. I knew you had a past from the moment I'd met you, and I tried to respect that. I knew you felt lesser than one should, and I tried to show you that you could find yourself again. Maybe with a little help here and there, but mainly on you're own terms, without always having to lean on someone else.
    Maybe that was the real reason I waited to contact you for so long. To see if you'd realize that too.
    The last thing in this package is another letter. This letter I want you to wait to open. I want you to save it. I know- unfortunately- that there will come another dark day. When you think of old dark, dim faces, or miss me a heart too much, or you feel yourself drowning in the air you're breathing. On that day I want you to read the letter, let it be you tether and your light. Let it be my replacement. Hopefully that day never comes, but I'm not such a fool to believe in false hopes.
    I will see you again Dan Howell. And on that day, let us meet like old friends, old lovers, and rekindle the flame. (Okay now I'm sound like an old sap.)
    See you around, Howell.

Love, Phil Lester

* * *

Dear Dan,

    Ah, today was that dark day. Don't feel ashamed, I'm not disappointed. If anything I'm proud you trust me enough to cradle you at your lowest in chance of bringing you back to your highest.
    Since you're probably thinking a slur of awful thoughts- all of which I can merely speculate about, let me offer you a distraction. A story.
    Since I'm really good at those.
    It starts with a boy, who was too beautiful for words. Nothing anyone ever wrote could capture him, not like one glance could.
    He was dark, like the shadows that'd follow you home at dusk, or the crowd that sat on your telephone wires. But his eyes were bright like the black lake when it's dusted with the first falls of snow. His skin was ivory and dotted like the universe turned inside out, like how you felt when you were with him- the whole thing finished off with a hazel glow. He was polite- this friendly, grey ghost that came and went- but you could always feel was there. He was magnificent and that wasn't even the half of it.
    I never called him by his first name, like a pet I was afraid to get attached to- in fear of losing more than I could fathom. He had the attitude of a pet- wild and timid- and unjustly loyal, even at times when maybe he shouldn't have been.
    I knew he kept a box of fragile things inside himself, thugs he thought no one could see. But to me, it was like looking at a bright neon sign, with the word "vacancy" flashing.
    I never did find the time to cherish each everything inside, but I did my best. I guess he didn't know I had a box too.
    I think while I'm away, I'll need someone to cherish the things inside like I did for my polite little ghost- like I did for you, my love.
    When I'd told you I had selfish reasons I wasn't being depressing. I was being soppy.
    I'm entrusting my box of fragile things to you, Dan. Each one has a story, a memory attached. I only gave you a few- a taste- like what I got from my time with you. So this way you'll know I'll be back. Back to share more wonderful, fragile moment with you, together.
    I love you, with all my heart, and I will return. Heart open, eyes open, arms open.

With love,
Your Phil

AN:
Dear readers,
I hope you can forgive me for not updating on time lol
Schools been a pain but breaks in less than five days so yay!
ALSO FÛCKIN THANKS FOR 106K GUYS YALL-

ALSO ONLY ONE CHAPTER LEFT WHOS CRYING NOT ME JUST CUTTING SOME ONIONS
Also Dan and Phil's fanfics I died. And when in dans he said he punched phil in the face I was like "HEY YOU COPIED MY FIC M8!!111!!11 WANNA FIGHT M8??!!111!1??" :')

Alright I'm done being weird sorry
Hugs kisses and all that jazz
Xxx -Eddy