Who else in the fandom is dying because of TATINOF US because I'mperfectly fine
Lungs belong outside your body, right?
*Dan's POV*
The best part of waking up is no longer Foldgers to me. Every morning around 9 AM, I wake up to the bed jolting as Phil gets up. He's so cute when he first wakes, his hair is all messy, and if I muster up the strength to talk to him, his voice is at least 2 tones deeper.
It's like he hits puberty every morning.
I wouldn't blame him, I mean, my face is that of a 12 year old girl, so I'm practically prepubecent myself.
Welp. I've successfully avoided all human contact for 3 hours as I finally crawled out of bed at noon. I threw on my most Kanye sweater and, of course, black jeans, did my fringe and headed to the lounge. Phil looked up at me, still all sleepy headed. Unless we're planning on going somewhere or recording, we always look like bums on the street, for we don't care to get ready.
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
"Recording day?" Phil asked, his voice still husky from sleep. Ugrksnjdjsksksk, that voice though.
"Yup, how's you guess?" I sarcastically remarked, plopping into my sofa crease next to Phil.
"Perhaps you look a little less bumish than normal, except that sweater kinda makes you look like a potato sack," Phil said, poking at my sweater.
I scoffed.
"ExCUUSE ME?" I clicked my fingers sassily. Oh. So. Sassily.
Phil giggled in response.
"I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THIS IS MY KANYE SWEATER... ANd you know whenever Kanye is around I think of your proposal. And how Kanye West is the Kanye Best."
"Damn, Daniel. Back at it with the Kanyeness," Phil said, imitating that... thing that no one really knows what it is on the Internet.
"Phillip! Language!" I poked his neck. He flinched up and got an evil grin on his face, setting his computer aside.
"If you can poke my neck, that means I can poke-"
I've never shot up out of a chair faster than I did then.
I started running out the door, screaming "NOPENOPENOPENOPE."
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
"Phil, are you coming or not?" I yelled down the corridor.
I had made my bed, cleaned a small area of the floor off, just the part in view, and set up my butt chair to film.
"Coming!" I heard socked feet padding towards my room.
A wild Phil poked his head in my doorframe and smiled, letting himself in.
"So, what's today's topic?" Phil asked, swinging around to the backside of the camera, which I was currently setting up.
"Future," I said, adding a few beep boops at the end. Phil laughed.
"Are you sure you aren't going to have an existential crisis about how your future in uncertain but death is inevitable?" Phil asked like it was just a normal topic.
My brain started to haze. "I- wasn't plan- ning on it but n- ow that you mention it-" I fell to the ground, the darkness engulfing me.
So much darkness, so little hope.
Sorry for the shortness I'm still coping but I'msurey'all understand
