discontinued // my winged warrior // phan

❀ Twenty ❀

~Guilt~

Dan

☾❀☽

Pulling up at Phil's house was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. I was gripping the steering wheel so hard that my fingers went white.

Knocking on the door to his house was harder, though. I imagined how easy it would be just to leave. He'd stay in his house, and he'd stay safe. But I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't leave him again, if only for a day.

My fingers tapped lightly on the door, and it opened seconds later, as if he was waiting there for me.

Phil's eyes went wide when he saw me, and he hesitated for only a second before he fell into my arms. He was clinging to me, like I'd disappear if he let go.

But I couldn't enjoy it. The only thing I could think of was the prospect that any of our hugs could be our last if I didn't fix something soon.

If I thought that hugging him stung, letting go felt worse. I grabbed his hand out of habit, and lead him towards the car that was parked in his driveway. I looked away in the hope that he wouldn't be able to see my eyes. I'd been crying earlier.

We climbed into the car, and Phil was in the passenger seat. "You can drive?" he murmured quietly.

"Yeah," I said, turning the keys in the ignition.

The whole drive, my mind was full of Phil.

What if I never saw him again? or even worse, what if I saw him, and he didn't see me, or remember me, or care about me anymore.

It would kill me.

I kept thinking about everything we'd done together. The late night walks, talks. The lighthouse, the forest. I remembered when I kissed him like an idiot, or when I tried to show him my wings, and how after, he did everything in his power to keep it together, and to pretend he was fine with it.

I remembered the feeling of his lips, and the taste of him. I thought about his sweet voice, and how shy he was when we first me. Back then, our whole relationship was based on sassy remarks and exchanged drawings. Back then it was so fucking easy.

It would kill me if the only part of him I had was memories.

I looked at him as much as I could, but I didn't want him to catch me staring. It was funny. He was the same person as the crying boy I'd found near the school that fateful day. He was the same person as the crying boy I'd found in the woods, too. But at the same time, he wasn't those old people at all anymore. He was a little braver, but in so much more pain than he used to be in. And everything was my fault.

Phil tried to strike up a conversation between us a few times, but they all died out quickly. I wanted to talk, but I also felt the undeniable tightness in my throat. Like someone was holding onto me. Like I was about to cry.

☾❀☽

I thought that maybe sleep would be an escape from the fear and pain I was feeling, but it wasn't. I kept tossing and turning on the cheap motel bed, but Phil was locked inside my brain.

When I was tired, all the small things I'd been feeling got magnified a million times over. I was drowning in the knowledge that if I didn't get my shit together, I could lose Phil.

I started crying.

And I couldn't stop.

It was the bad kind of crying, too. Heaving sobs that shook my body, the kind that made it impossible to breathe. I didn't bother trying to stop- it wouldn't work. I just let myself feel it. I allowed it to pour over me.