Untold. // Phan

Chapter 25

WARNING: SLIGHT MENTION OF SELFHARM

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It was November.

Phil and I had been together for almost two months and we really weren't good at hiding it. My dad knew it, his grandparents knew it. His dad knew it. We talked to him once through skype and Phil introduced me. He was nice.

And slowly I realized that this was serious. That I was in a relationship and sometimes I didn't know if I was ready or not. But I wanted it so much, even though it scared the shit out of me, that I always rejected these thoughts relatively quickly.

We rapidly became part of each other's life. I wanted to be part of his life, but I didn't want him to be part of mine. He shouldn't come into this nasty, dark world. I just wanted to be in his light, bright universe.

Phil didn't like that.

So we had our first argument, if you wanted to call it like that.

"You promised to talk to me." Phil said as I sat down on his couch. I had pulled my knees towards myself and put my arms around them, squeezing them closer to my body. Phil was leaning against the wall.

"I don't want to talk." I answered meekly and put my head down on my knees. I glanced at Phil, then back to the floor.

"You should talk."

"Jesus, you sound like my dad."

"Your dad isn't wrong." I clenched my teeth and tried to take a deep breath. "I'm worried about you."

"I know, everyone is worried about me." I got up and went to the window. So he and I stood at the other end of the room.

"Don't be an ass." he said, while I stood with my back to him. "Did you hurt yourself?"

I swallowed hard. Nobody ever asked me that directly and it hurt. I felt caught, because the answer was yes. Even after I realized how sick that was. What else should I have done?

"Shit, Dan." I heard him say softer, sadder. I noticed how my vision blurred. Actually, I had expected him to approach me, to do something, but he just stayed where he had been before. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him leaning his entire body against the wall. He looked at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry." I said quietly, almost cramped, because I didn't want him to realize that I was about to cry.

"I thought we were talking about it. I thought you'd come to me when it got so bad, fuck, Dan."

He wasn't angry. I would be better if he was angry, because now he just sounded hurt and disappointed.

"I can't talk about it."

"We didn't have to talk, I could just have been there, you understand?"

And for a while we stood there like that. He with his body against the wall, me with my back to him at the window. The sun was setting, it wasn't even late. I could go, just run home and escape this conversation.

"Can you stop?" I heard him ask after a felt eternity.

"I'm trying." I mumbled. "I don't do it as often as before, if that helps, but sometimes-" It was easier to talk when you didn't have to look at him.

The room had already darkened a lot and I was grateful to Phil that he didn't turn on the lights. I would see him through the glass and it would make everything more unbearable.

"I could help you if you let me."

"Nobody can help me."

"Bullshit." he hissed, and I think that was the last reaction I expected from Phil, which made me turn around in surprise and I frowned. Phil looked at me as if he were expecting a response or that I would start a discussion but I was just too stunned for that.

"You think I don't understand you. You think nobody understands you."

"I don't understand it myself!" I honestly said. "The more I think about it, the less I understand it."

"It helps you."

"It's sick."

"Yes." he answered in the affirmative and that was the moment when one single tear left my eye and I swallowed the rest.

"I've also been very, very sad, Dan. I understand you, believe me. I know what people are doing to make them feel better, it's all sick, if we want to see it that way."

There was nothing that I could have answered. My head was looking for a plausible answer, but found nothing. No words that made sense together.

The only reaction that felt right was to run towards Phil and just fall into his arms. It felt right.

Phil put his arms around me and hugged me tighter. I was a bit taller than him, but right now I felt so fucking small. I buried my head in his neck and for a while we just stood there.

"Let me help you, please." I nodded.

After a while we found ourselves in his bed again. I lay on his chest, my arm around his torso, his arm stroking my back. We didn't sleep, though that happened quite often. At some point I would have to get up and walk home and that was just one of the last things I wanted to do.

I wanted to stay here, with Phil.

After a while I sighed and straightened up, whereupon Phil looked a bit confused. I dropped onto the pillow next to him. I stared at the ceiling, Phil looked at me.

"Where you sad because of your mom?" I asked quietly, still staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah."

"Are you still sad sometimes because of her?"

"Sometimes."

"Will you talk to me then?" Now I looked at him. Phil nodded slightly.

"We just talk to each other, yes?" It was a kind of offer that sounded much better in my head. Phil moved closer and kissed my forehead, which probably meant "yes."

"I'm sad too because of my mom." I said at some point and Phil looked almost shocked. I would have been just as shocked, if it wouldn't hurt so much. It hurt so fucking much and Phil grabbed my hand.

"Do you want to stay?"

I nodded.

***
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