unspoken - phan

silent.

We sat in the backseat of Pjs car, Phil was half asleep resting his head on my shoulder.
We decided to leave the party after chris threw up for solid twenty minutes and I was just relieved that I could finally escape that overwhelming atmosphere.
"Hows Phil doing back there?",Pj asked.
"Amazing." He abruptly sat up again, like he just pretended to be tired so he could lean against me - what a dork.
"Alright. Still drunk."
"I have a whole bottle of beer down here",he giggled and held up a bottle of vodka. "That rhymed. Beer - here -queer."
"Sure, but that's not beer",Pj laughed.
"It's not? What is it then?",he put the bottle to his mouth and was about to drink it all at once, but I managed to snatch it out of his hands. He was already drunk enough and I didn't want a sick and unconscious Phil laying around.
"Uh Dan if you can't handle Phil all alone just give me a call, we'll be five minutes away."
I nodded and opened the car door, just to walk around the vehicle to tug Phil out.  "Good luck",Pj laughed and I closed the door.

Phil wasn't too drunk. He could walk and speak, he was just clumsy and giggly.
We stood in front of his house and he kept saying that he didn't have the key. I grabbed into the pocket of his jacket and, as I expected it, the key was right in there. "Hey don't steal!",he pouted. I couldn't stop myself from smiling. He was adorable. It took me a few tries to unlock the front door and I realized that I actually was kinda drunk. "Hey mum! I brought daniel",he yelled and I just rolled my eyes. I knew that his mum wasn't even here.

I looked around. His home was really, I'd say, homey. It wasn't as modern as mine, but still absolutely perfect. It could've been straight out of a magazine. Everywhere were plants and colors, it was obvious that Phil lived here. Maybe I did know him a little bit.
We walked through a small corridor into Phils room. It's walls were painted in a warm yellow. His furniture was mostly wooden and his bedsheets were blue.
His room was like looking at the sky, while mine was just monotonous and grey. Just like me.
It didn't smell like alcohol or smoke. There were no bottles and no food hidden in his drawers.

Phil already laid on his bed, still fully clothed. He couldn't stay in those. I walked over to his closet and put out a pair of sweatpants and a jumper. I tapped on his leg and gave him the clothes. He probably wouldn't have anything against me wearing his clothes, so I grabbed another pair of black sweatpants and fortunately he still had my sweater.

I pulled up the sleeve and wrapped my fingers around my wrist, slowly moving upwards. When I reached my upper arm and my fingertips stopped touching, I tried again. I tightened my grip and bit my lip.
For a second they touched.
For a second I smiled.
But that was it. If I didn't eat that goddamn apple back then, I would have lost more fat. I would have lost that fat between my fingers.
I roughly pulled down my sleeve and stared back into the mirror. A lonely tear made its way down my cheek. I was such a pathetic loser. Crying in Phils bathroom. A normal person, with a normal life, with normal friends and a normal family. He didn't need a burden like me. A pathetic boy, who lost his mind more and more.
I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to drink or starve. I didn't want to feel nothing but I had no fucking choice. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling some loose strands out.
I felt so unbelievable lost.

I pulled myself together, smiled and opened the door. Phil sat crossed legs on his bed, obviously waiting for me.
I walked over to his bed and sat down next to him.
I wished I could just hug him.
I wanted his arms around me.
I wanted to feel his warmth.
I wanted him to sooth my sadness.

But I kept staring at the floor, not saying a word.
And he didn't either.