One Life (Phan)

2 (Phil)

We stop at Panera, even though that place is crazy expensive. We end up getting a bagel for each of us, a hot chocolate for Dan and a caramel latte for myself. The whole breakfast cost £7.43.

We sit down at a booth, across from each other. It takes everything I have not to tear into my bagel. I'm famished. Dan sips at his cocoa, his mind obviously somewhere else. His hair is all over the place, but he looks lovely anyway.

His eyebrows suddenly raise as he notices me looking at me.

"You got a problem, bud?" He jokes, sweeping his hair to the side. I can't help smiling.

I smirk and avert my eyes to my bagel. I rip off a piece and fold it into my mouth.

As I chew, more people walk in, and the place becomes louder and louder, until I can hardly hear myself chewing. A couple sits behind us, laughing joyously.

I find the whole thing unpleasant.

Most days, I really don't mind human interaction. But with what has been going on lately, my stomach turns sour as the restaurant grows louder.

Dan must've seen something in my face, my discomfort. I was never good at hiding emotions, unlike Dan. He can be hard to read sometimes, which I don't know if it's a good or bad thing. The only thing that doesn't pass under my radar is when he fake smiles. I've known him long enough to know when he's really laughing, and when he's wanting to get the heck out.

We walk out the door, still holding our half eaten bagels. Dan has barely nibbled at his, whereas I polish mine off as soon as we exit Panera.

I sip at my coffee while we turn into ALDI, navigating through the store with ease. The whole of London seems brighter than usual, louder, unpleasant. I don't know if it's the day or what, but it seems to be making me more snappy.

We walk into ALDI, and we're immediately greeting by an over preppy salesgirl, trying to sell a microwave.

The salesgirl moves in front of me, talking a million kilometers an hour.

"Heywouldyoulikethismicrowaveit'sonsaleforonlyelevenpoundsandit'salimitedtimeofferIwillgiveittoyourightnowandit'sonlyelevenonlyelevensirwouldyoulikeone?"

I look at Dan for help, completely frozen. I only understood three words from that phrase, microwave, eleven and pounds.

Dan's eyes flit between me and the salesgirl, who is still smiling and staring me down. "Erm... no thanks," he smiles and grabs my hand with his right and grabs a squeaky cart with his left, pulling me away from the salesgirl.

I almost flinch away, but this is the first time Dan's held my hand in public for a while. Once he realizes what he did, he drops my hand and my heart sinks to my feet.

"What was that?" Dan mutters to me.

"A girl selling a microwave for only eleven pounds," I reply, bending down to reach a can of spaghetti sauce. "Is pasta good for tonight?"

He nods. "I'm not talking about the girl."

I freeze and look at him. "What?"

He leveled my glare. "You froze. What's up with you? Even at Panera you were freaking out."

I felt anger strike it's match in my stomach. "You're asking me what's wrong? Dan, for as long as I can remember you were okay with people, and now? You barely get out of the house!"

"But that's different!" He nearly shouts.

"Oh, and how so?"

Dan squinted at me, defeated. "Just stop being so... mopey."