sixteen

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Phil's body felt warm against mine, as I had hopped into his hospital bed with him. I wasn't crushing his ribs or anything, promise. He was resting his head on the top on my chest, and his messy raven hair way all in my face. It was adorable, though. So I could forgive him. The analog clock read 4:13. It was pretty early, and I wanted to let Phil get his rest because he damn well needed it. After that 5 hour surgery I expected him to be tired. I gently combed my fingers through his jet-black hair, and he shifted slightly, his head coming further up onto my chest. This was some sort of feeling I couldn't describe; butterflies in my stomach, a tingling in my heart, and a flurry in my brain. I wouldn't have this moment any other way.

———

I managed to fall back asleep for a little bit, and this time, Phil was awake before me. He was still rested against me, but this time, his head was against my stomach. "Hey, sleepy." He said, a huge grin plastered onto his face and a red blush on his cheeks.

"I believe you are the sleepy one here, I was awake at 4." I mumbled. Phil rolled his eyes.

"But you feel back asleep, mister." Phil addressed. I giggled a little, and Phil did too.

"Fine. I'll let you win this time. But that is the only time." I snickered.

"Deal." Phil said, his blue-green-yellow eyes beaming up at me.

"I should probably get out of the bed because if the doctors saw they would probably have a fit. I can think of two reasons." I explained, starting to crawl out of the tiny hospital bed. It was made for one person, and how Phil and I managed to fit in it together just - anyways.

"Wait, Dan. They told me they wouldn't be back until 8, and its 7:30. We have some time." Phil muttered with puppy-dog eyes.

"Fine." I said, crawling back into the bed with him. "But you need to be careful, you've just had surgery on three different places, Phil!"

"It's fine. I took the pain meds before you woke up." He cheered softly. He adjusted himself on top of me again, and I rested my hand onto his head.

"Still, though. You've just has bones surgically put back into place because of the damn crash. It must have been very bad. Were you wearing a seatbelt Phil?" I asked. He was silent. "PHIL!"

"Shhhh. I was just pulling out, and I always buckle after I start driving. It's been a habit as long as I can remember." He explained.

"That's such a bad habit! I always make sure to buckle before I leave the lot!" I whisper-yelled, and Phil looked back up at me.

"Sorry. I'll try and do better."

"Thank you."

"Can I tell you something Dan?" Phil inquired after a little silence.

"Of course, Phil. What's the matter?"

"I've had major anxiety since childhood. I have these little things I do a lot that keep me from having anxiety attacks, like the buckling thing. If I ever try and buckle before I leave, it just doesn't seem to work. I just get major anxiety. You would imagine it to be the opposite, right? It's weird. But another thing I have to do is before I go to bed, I always have such a spiral of thoughts, and to make it go away, I knock on the side of my bed three times. Almost like it's going to banish the thoughts somehow. But it manages to help somehow. I've just always been my thoughts, I've never been Phil." He spilled.  My eyes starting welling with tears. It wasn't sad. It was just he was opening up to me.

"Wow, I just, I, wow." I stammered. I had no idea what I could even say. How could he handle me?

"You don't have to say anything, really. I just wanted to...tell you." He said, sniffling a little.

"Don't cry Phil. We all have demons inside our heads that we can't control. Yours is named Anxiety, mine is names Depression. See, Depression always wants to have things his way. My day could be picture perfect. Someone could hand me a million dollar, and Depression could be like oh no no, this isn't going to make you happy Daniel. Keep on frowning. Keep feeling sad. I can't overtake that."

"Anxiety always wants to crash the party. Whenever I'm having a good time, for example...now. But Anxiety could be like hey hey hey mate what if daniel is infected with the plague and then what if you get it and then what if you die from it and what if you go to hell and what if Satan doesn't like you and I just can't stop it. Anxiety makes me do things my heart doesn't want. But sometimes it's in favor of my heart, like when we shared our first kiss. That was an anxiety move. When you ran away, Anxiety came back like what if he tells his mum and what if his mum beats him and what if he cuts himself and what if he dies and that spiral took me to a dark place..." Phil stopped to take a breath, and wipe the tears from his face.

"See...the demons." I said, wiping a tear that rolled from Phil's eye. His tender and kind heart didn't deserve to have anxiety burdening him.

I heard the door creak open, and in came the doctor. Phil and I were huddled close together, tears streaming our faces and our hair all messed up.

"Well, uhh..." the doctor turned around.

"No, I'll be, I'll be gone." I hopped out of the bed, slipping on my shoes. "Don't let the demons be you Phil. You be you."

"Thank you, Dan." He rubbed his eyes.

"Any time. Tell this doc to hurry up, because I already lost 5 hours of time with you." I joked.

"I'll be quick." The doctor said.

"Good. Love you, Phil."

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