No, I'm Just Delusional (Phan) RE-WRITE IN PROCESS

Pitter Patter

Dan ~

Rain. It is so simple and elegant. Sure it could be soft and calm but it also has the potential to be a monster. Tearing down houses, overflowing rivers, causing floods, crushing dreams, mixing tears with it's own venom. Joining forces with its lover the wind. The wind who would howl, loud and ferocious, whispering into the trees and brushing up the dirt, causing pain and pushing aside the tears with force. But tonight the wind is silent. Tonight I only hear the rain.

I can hear it thudding on the roof. The heavy pitter patter of the water connecting with the tiles, echoing throughout the house. It is late. I am not sure what time it is exactly but I'd say around three am.

I am in my room. So much has happened in the past month, I ... I don't know where to start. Phil. I can start with Phil. Well for one he's out of hospital. He got out a yesterday and has been staying with me. The complexity of our situation never fails to overwhelm me but I try to stay calm for his sake anyway. My parents were furious when they found out that I had organised for Phil to come and stay with us when he was released, they shouted but I barely glanced at them and led Phil upstairs.

After our rather heated kiss we didn't really talk. As much as I wanted to know how the fucking hell he was awake and magically knew who I was I took a deep breath and buried my questions for later because at least I could look into those eyes. He blushed a lot those few weeks, he had to stay in hospital. We didn't speak much but I knew he was glad to have me there, or at least I hope he was. He was very nervous when the doctors or nurses came to check on him. He would whimper and curl up, I don't really know why. I would usually hold his hand and stroke his hair. Luckily the nurses found us a hair brush and I un-tangled his hair, we were both grateful. The days became shorter and we usually slept all day, Phil in the hospital bed and me in the chair, despite Phil insisting I lay on the bed I declined. We would just watch the telly and make small talk. It wasn't awkward, it was cosy, and despite the distinct smell of disinfectant I was happy and in that moment that was all that mattered.

The night is chilly and I hug the comforter closer. I tuck it between my legs and stick one leg out, despite how cold it is I always manage to get sweaty. I hold in a sneeze but the next one catches me of guard and I groan and shove my face into the pillow. I hate sneezing. Despite the fact that while Phil was in the coma or whatever, I barely slept, when he awoke I was fine, because I knew he was okay; I could relish in the peace we had, I could just take comfort in the fact that he was alive by some miracle and by another that he was awake and actually remembered me; now though I find myself plagued my nightmares. They're awful. Taunting. Voices shouting, screaming, whispering that this tiny bit of happiness I have managed to find is just another dream. I'm scared I will relapse.

After Phil got hurt, I swore that I would never hold a blade to my wrist again, nor would I ever let Phil raise one to his. In the hospital I was in constant agony but that wasn't a physical battle it was a physiological one. A battle that I lost several times but some how managed to come out of, half dead and all hope lost, but none the less alive.

Snapping me out of my thoughts I see a flash of white and close my eyes dreading what's coming next. A loud rumble echoes in the sky scaring me half to death. I wrap my comforter around me tighter and pul my knees up to my chest. I hate thunder. Everyone knows that. I tuck my head further into the pillow and flinch when the sound echoes again. I know it's only going to continue but I stay hidden under my pillow and comforter.

After a while its stops and I breathe a sigh of relief. I sit up and push the comforter off me. I sit crosse legged and put my head in my hands. I feel like shit. I'm tired, I'm scared, I have now got a runny nose. Fan-fucking-tastic. Ugh.

I jump up, shit scared as thunder and lighting consume the sky. I can't do it. I get up off my bed wincing when the thunder strikes again. I make my way over to the door and carefully turn the handle, luckily it doesn't whine like normal. Down the hall is the spare bedroom where Phil is. My father is away and my mother is probably downstairs drunk off her face. Before I know what I am doing I begin walking towards the spare bedroom. I glance down the stairs as I walk past and all the lights are on, she probably is drunk.

I reach Phil's door and slowly turn the handle. I slip in and see Phil shirtless with the comforter covering his pyjama covered legs. I stand there and admire him. Even when he's sleeping he's beautiful. A gruff voice makes me jump.

“Are you just gonna stare or are you gonna to get in?” Well shit, Dan well done, he caught you staring. “Uhh sor... sorry i'll just go.” Phil's head is turned away with his right arm under the pillow and his left over his body. He reaches over and lifts the comforter up. “Well come on,” he says ”I'm cold.” With no other choice, I carefully move over the bed and sit awkwardly on the edge. Surprise ripples throughout me when a strong arms grabs me by the wrist and practically drags me up. Phil turns around and I meet his groggy eyes. “Hello beautiful.” he whispers. In my head I'm just like what is even happening like seriously what the fuck. I want to kiss him and I'm blushing and I feel like shit so all I do I close my eyes and snuggle up to him. Phil now has his left arm under the pillow and his right one holding me firm to his chest. I tangle my legs with his and start to drift off. I feel Phil lace a kiss in my hair but tiredness suddenly overwhelms me and I only have a single thought before unconsciousness takes me.

I wonder whether I am the wind or the rain. Ignoring the tears and covering them in my own, pushing away all hope of help or was I the wind? Cold and honest. Brutal. Knocking down the things that block me and keep going, ridding the tears with force rather than care.

I suppose I'm neither, after all here I am, cradled in the arms of the one being destroyed by both the wind and the rain.

And here I hope to stay.