Chapter Fifteen - Dan:

Phil's face wasn't the first thing I wanted to see that morning. I didn't want to see him standing at my doorstep, wearing a thin, long sleeve black shirt, and classic black jeans with rips in the knees, nice black boots on his nervous, shuffling feet. I didn't want to see him looking rumpled but still beautiful.

I didn't want to see him, but then again I really, really, did.

I rubbed my eyes with one of my small, curled fists, to make sure I wasn't still dreaming. I hadn't seen him in days, so many that I'd almost begun to think that he'd left without saying "goodbye".

Everything lately had been as if I were underwater.

When Phil had called me, I'd been half asleep, groggy, and warm, from dreams of him with his arms around me. When he'd spoke, his voice choked and raspy as he muttered "I'm sorry" before hanging up, I'd sat frozen, suddenly very awake.

I couldn't ever tell you how in that moment I knew exactly what he was talking about and exactly what he was apologizing for, I just did. Maybe it was from all the nights we spent tracing the small, soft parts of each other underneath the sheets when our shirt rode up just so, or maybe it was from all the afternoons we fought until we were out of breath, or maybe it was all the quiet mornings we spent together munching on cereal, eyes flickering to one another.

All I could tell you was that when he hung up, I could feel every fragile thing in my box tumbling out of my heart, out of my chest, and out of my mouth.

I screamed, and screamed, and screamed, sobbing so hard, harder than when Aaron hurt me, even harder still when I found out he was dead.

My parents had come running in, cradling me in their arms until they knew it was no good. Until they knew that this time, I may have really broken.

I think I cried all night, til dawn and into the morning when the sun came to visit me, to check if I was okay, to no prevail, before it hid back behind the clouds.

I cried until the birds were woken by my sorrow, and sat on the telephone wires, gossiping and mourning my loss, heads hung, tucked to their chest.

I thought about Phil all that morning, laying in bed, rejecting my parents pleas for me to get up, nothing in my mind but Phil; he'd taken up every corner of my mind, and every corner of my heart. Every corner of everything I ever was or would be.

God, I really was a sap.

I thought about how I wouldn't be able to see his big blue eyes, the ones that reminded me of the sky I loved so dearly, both like a mood ring, colors ranging from blinding anger, to calm summers, and dark evening weddings.

Or you know, titles of candles you would buy at Bath & Body.

I thought about his dark hair, the kind that looked great and effortless on him but would take me hours to achieve. The kind I'd always longed and dreamt to run my fingers through but never got the chance.

So when I opened the door that morning, several days after Phil'd called, I didn't expect it to be him.

What are you doing here? I'd signed, too tired to be angry, all my energy having drained out through my tears and screams. Aren't you supposed to be-

"Leaving, yeah," he said, rubbing his hands together again like he was cold. He said the words devoid of his usual cocky attitude, now seeming like only a shell of himself, nothing like when he first stood up for me in math. He looked defeated, his eyes red around the edges and puffy, like he'd been crying- and everyone knew Phil Lester didn't cry. He had dark circles under his eyes too, reminding me of the time I punched him in the face.

I snorted softly at this thought rubbing a finger over one of my clenched fists.

"Look," he said as he began pacing back and forth, making me more anxious by the second. "I know this may be a bad time but there really isn't any other time, so-"

He reached out and took my arm, pulling me out of the doorway, as I stumbled into his chest. He jerked the door shut behind him, before bounding down the steps to his car, me trailing behind. He jumped inside, pulled me into his lap, and shut the door.

I sat wide eyed, my legs cramped around his, the steering wheel digging into the small of my back. I looked down at him, tufts of hair in my eyes.

"I love you so damn much," Phil whispered, as he tilted his head up, and crained his neck to smash our lips together. I inhaled sharply through my nose, as he brought his hands up to frame my face, fingers tangling into my hair. I placed my hands gently on his broad shoulders, my eyelids fluttering as colors swam around me; pastel and soft.

Our movements were quiet -even though there was no one to hear us. The sloppy sounds of lips on lips being hushed by fingers yanking at my hair, and my fingers clawing at Phil's shoulder blades, desperate and wishful.

I felt him trace a finger around the shell of my ear, drawing it down to the slope of my neck, and back up again. I shuddered at the delicate touch, as our lips broke apart for a moment, our warm breaths painting each other's lips colors I could never name.

I felt Phil's hot, open mouth, leaving small kisses along my jaw, the bridge of my nose, my forehead. He dropped his mouth down to my neck, sucking as small dark spot in the junction between my neck and shoulder. I let out a squeak and drew back, my breath labored.

My cheeks were so hot, and my entire body was quivering in eager anticipation. I looked down at Phil, his eyes hooded and mouth slack. He glanced down at my body, laughing breathily.

"You're not wearing pants."

I looked down at my lap, noticing I had indeed forgotten to put on pants, my pale pink boxers on display, not hiding any doubt of how much I yearned for something more.

I blushed heavily, flustered as I pressed my hands over my lap, only to have them seek leverage as I was shoved into the passenger seat.

I glared at Phil as I sat sprawled across both seats, legs still on his lap. He only smiled sweetly at me, dropping a kiss onto my knee, smile transforming into a smirk as I move my legs quickly away from his wicked mouth.

"So," Phil said clearing his throat, covertly trying to adjust himself in his pants. "Let's get going. There some things we have to do today."

He started the car and pulled away from the curb, his still bedroom colored eyes dropping down to glance at my thighs and up to my hips when he thought I wouldn't notice.

I moved my hands slowly back to my lap, pressing gently.

But I did.

* * *

Why are we parked outside of a furniture store? I signed as I followed Phil out of the car, still in my cream sweater, pink boxer shorts, and knit socks, drawing some sideways looks from passing strangers.

"Because," Phil said, a small polaroid camera in hand, as he looked about. "This is one of the first places I met you."

I looked around, and noticed Phil was right, the street the same ones I walked the day I saw him and Jeremy together. I'd asked Phil once, if he and Jeremy were dating and he'd laughed, and said Jeremy was Meredith's fiance, and had asked where on earth I'd gotten that idea. I'd felt like an idiot.

Okay... I signed, shaking off the cringe worthy memory, and walked with Phil until he stopped in front of a dry clear store. But I still don't get why we're here.

He looked like a fish caught on a line, a brief look of embarrassment crossing his features, before he looked down, hands fiddling with his camera.

"Phil," I said exasperated. I was getting better at speaking.

"Look. Whether either of us like it or not, I'm leaving. For a while, or at least until I'm eighteen. And I want-" he took a deep breath. "I want to remember you and all the things about you, down to the very places we met."

Dear, God. Phil Lester what a beautiful creature you are.

I nodded, slowly. Will I get a picture too?

Phil smiled, so big, and nodded vigorously.

I thought he was going to keep walking down the street, so I was surprised when he bent down and pulled me to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around me- practical crushing me.

Every time Phil touched me- whether it was soft and innocent or rough and provocative- I felt something very small and gentle burrowing itself further into the nook in my chest. Everything was lighter and safer, my vision foggy at the edges, all the colors- pale yellows and oranges, pretty pinks and lavenders- all creating a splendid hue of... something. Love? This was all so different from Aaron- when I was with him, all the precious colors were always tinted with a sort of darkness, like stormclouds that were approaching in the horizon.

But I think with Phil it was love. The real kind. The heart wrenching and heart breaking kind.

I felt my chest and stomach tighten at the reminder that this light was going to be leaving me very shortly.

"Be honest," Phil rasped, his jaw, where he forgot to shave, scratching the crook of my neck. "You haven't left your room since I've called?"

I wanted to lie, but I knew he'd see through me.

I nodded. "Do I... smell... that bad?" I said, trying to keep things light.

"No," I could tell Phil was smiling. "You always smell good."

My cheek went hot, and I could feel his hands stroking the small of my back.

"Anyways," Phil said, stepping away from me and scratching the back of his head and checking the time through one of the shop windows.

"We should hurry if we want to to get to all the places."

I dipped my head, half nodding as I looked at my feet, praying with everything that I had that this day would never end.

"Alright, say 'cheese'!"

I looked up from my socks, only to see a small flash, and then Phil's grinning face. He pulled a small slip of paper emerging from the end of the camera, before handi both things to me.

"Here, now take mine."

We traded places, while I looked through the viewfinder and Phil posed with two fingers next to his face, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he smiled.

When I finished taking the picture, we compared the two- my blank, surprised face and Phil's darling one.

"Good, good." Phil said, breath tickling my ear as he leaned over me. "Now," he continued, gripping my wrist as he pulled us back to the car. "To the lesser version of Hogwarts, Draco!"

Why am I Malfoy? I signed.

"Because you're the one who always ends up needing saving."

I smiled smugly. If anything it'd be you because of how much of a brat you are all the time.

As if just to prove my point, Phil turned his head and stuck his tongue out at me.

* * *

We continued taking snapshots of our yesterdays, first returning to school, to the math room in which we first met (how Phil got the keys, I didn't even bother asking). Then we traveled to the art room, and the locker room- all the while a comfortable silence coating our shared space in a pretty frosting, sliding into the cracks and sealing us together.

We went to Phil's house, where the aroma of him floated around, making me weak in the knees and grey inside my chest, realizing that the scent soon would be blown away with the wind. Then it was off to the burger joint we ate at once, the bright, sunny yellows and glaring whites gave off cozy tones, and echoed of the walls sounds of past angry and hurt words that had stumbled over the soft words in our throats.

We continued to travel on our haphazard map through memory lane until we finally ended up at the old rickety steps of the small, grey church.

"Come on!" Phil said, still full of enthusiasm. I'd never seen him like this. Usually he was sulking and gloomy with an underlying element of childishness and sunshine. Now it felt like I was with my mother when she was trying to convince me of how "beneficial this class would be" and "look at all the friends you could make".

"Phil," I said as he was bounding up the steps.

He stopped, not turning around, shoulders slumping slightly. I tried again, throat a little raspy.

"Phil."

He still didn't turn around, his broad frame looking small in the massive, open archway.

Finally, he faced me, his face ashen and arms hung at his sides, like dead weights.

"It's not working is it," he said, half to me and half to himself. "You can still tell. I should have known..."

I walked towards him, up the steps and wrapped my arms around him. I could feel him trembling, like when you forced yourself not to cry.

I'd suspected that was what he was doing; putting on a face, pretending just for me- once again putting his own feelings aside to make sure I was happy, that I felt loved and cared for. But for once, I felt like it wasn't needed.

"It's... okay... to be sad," I breathed against his shoulder blades. "I'll miss you... but I love you."

I could feel Phil's sharp intake of breath, that shuddering feeling rattling throughout his chest.

"Dan, gods Dan," he choked. He turned himself around in my arms, and looked down at me with big, sad eyes- those blackblackblackblack and ohmygodblue's.

Be honest, I signed. Do you feel half a shitty as I do?

He laughed a bit, and nodded, taking a step back, our arms falling back to our sides.

"I don't want to leave," he whispered.

All the air came rushing out of me, my forgotten balloon of head finally popped. It was as if with those words, the realization of Phil's leave was only now settling in.

I could feel myself becoming off-balanced, the dark part inside me, tickling my lungs. I could feel myself spiraling deeper into that black hole- that black ocean- I'd thought I'd lost.

Phil was leaving.

I might never see him for a very long time, or worse, never again.

What if he meets another pretty boy who's not fucked up? What then?

My heart was thumping fast and my head spinning.

As if sensing my panicked state, Phil shook my shoulders gently.

"Hey," he said brow furrowed, as he regained his control and composure. "Are you alright?"

What if you leave and realize how much of a burden I am? I signed. What if you decide I'm worthless and you never want to come back? Or- or if you meet someone better and nicer, and-

Phil reached out, my chin caught between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes stern, looking into mine. I didn't meet his gaze, casting my eyes downwards to his ruined looking boots.

What if you notice how much easier life is without me? I continued, when Phil didn't say anything. Because trust me when I tell you, I know if you leave I'll notice how much more difficult it'll be without you.

I could feel the soft, salty tears streaming down my cheeks.

It's just like this morning, I thought. I always let my insecurities get the best of me, my private thoughts never a secret if Phil was around.

"Why?" Phil said, and I could hear the sorrow in his voice. "Why do you never believe me when I say 'I love you'?"

I do, I signed. But-

"But what?"

But- I looked up at Phil, his eyes searching, my mind screaming "say it!".

Why don't you touch me?

Immediately Phil's face went blank, eyes glancing at his hand on my face. "But I do..."

I could feel the blush creeping up onto my face. Like in the car...

Realization dawned on Phil, and he burst out laughing, much to my dismay. I felt beyond embarrassed.

I took a step back, but Phil reached out a hand again.

"I'm sorry," Phil said, his laughter subsiding to a cocky grin. "It's just- I want to. I want to all the time. You have no idea how many times I laid awake at night, with you next to me, thinking-" he blushed, self conscious. "But it never feels like the right time. I'm always afraid you'll crumble right under my fingers, that I'll break all the fragile things you keep inside."

I looked up at him, surprised. I didn't know you knew about that stuff.

He smiled. "Of course I do."

I shuffled my feet, feeling awkward and embarrassed again. I started when Phil gently tucked one of my locks behind my ear.

"I really do think you're beautiful," he said.

Again, a thousand degrees on me.

"Come on. Let's get this last photo and then head back to yours."

I nodded as we headed inside, the dusty pews and delicate lighting filtering through the stained panes.

We walked over to the multi-colored windows, the black cement sealing the pieces of glass together stark next to the pale, translucent colors.

I trailed a finger over the rough cement, remembering the woman's words. The black in between, our regrets, lies, and darkest thoughts patching everything together- the truest things we ever think painted as sins. Where the light can never meet.

She was wrong, I thought. Or at least in a way. Sure, you may think the light can never see the darkest parts of you, only because it doesn't show- but that doesn't mean the light still isn't there, looking and casting its glow. I think the more accurate phrase, would be that whether or not the light can see the darkness inside, it can never truly change those parts of you.

I looked at Phil fiddling with the camera, my heart clenching painfully. Of all the things I'd assumed would never change, Phil being by my side was at the top of the list. With his gentle touches and deep voice lulling me to sleep when he read me stories, I still couldn't image what was going to happen when he left.

How am I- this small fragile flower- supposed to grow, if my little prince moves away?

"You ready?" Phil said looking at me.

I sighed. As I'll ever be.

* * *

We had barely made it back into my empty house and into my bedroom before Phil was kissing me.

It was feverous and rushed, like back in the car, like an inch that coated my entire body.

He had me pressed up against the door, my shoulder blades trembling and one hand on the door knob, the other hand clutching Phil's bicep; as if I wanted to push him away and flee.

But of course, I did and I didn't want to.

"I've been wanting to ravish you all afternoon," Phil said kissing me, hands clasped around my face like he was afraid that if he let go, I'd fade away and this would prove to be a dream.

"And when you said that bit in the church," he continued, mouthing the words sloppily against my lips. "Gods. Do you know how hard it was to not- to not-"

My face was flushed, just like Phil liked it, and my stomach was tight and warm. It felt like when I was a kid, and I lay on a chair, arms and legs out, balancing only on my stomach. It felt like that, that moment of excitement and anxiety and slight breathless pleasure.

"Do you have any idea?" Phil spoke still trying to convey whatever he was talking about between kisses. For once I wished he would stop talking.

"Do you-" kiss "-have any idea-" kiss "-just how-" kiss "-beautiful-" kiss, kiss "-you really are?"

He pulled back for a moment so our noses were barely brushing, warm breath fanning over my face, letting my blissed out state subside and the words finally sink in.

I whined, sweat on my hairline prickling down temples. "Phil... please..." I breathed. I felt hot, and awkward, and immature standing there with my pink boxers and too big sweater.

"Tell me what you want," Phil breathed back. "I know I'm leaving tomorrow-" I felt a jolt of pain sliced through me "-but I don't want to do this with you if that's your only reason."

The warm creature in my chest was back.

"So, tell me what you want," he whispered against my ear, nipping at the shell of it, and nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck. I felt him inhale, and myself shudder. "Tell me," he breathed. "Princess."

I choked. "I-"

I tried to say something- anything- but everything was too much, too fast, with not enough time. I let out a sob. "You."

Phil smiled against my neck, and left a feather light kiss there. "I'm right here."

The magic words. The ones that had me pushing my face into his chest and shoving my cold hands up his shirt- making him gasp, and then chuckle in adoration.

They were the words that had him picking me up and setting me on the bed- gentle, as always so gentle- and covering my body with his.

He tilted his head down ms slotted our lips back together, his hands underneath me- one on my shoulder blade, the other on the small of my back, his thumb stroking over my hipbone. I felt like a fragile thing being cradled to his chest.

The colors were back, too- pastel and soft- everything like I was floating through a bright fog.

I could feel Phil's calloused hands on me, like bark against a velvet like flower petal, leaving invisible mark wherever they sought purchase. They traveled to my hair- yanking it, carding his fingers through it, directing my head this way and that- to leave hot, open mouthed kisses across my sensitive neck.

He paused, laughing breathily, looking into my dark eyes. "You're so noisy."

Indeed I was, soft gasps and groans slipping from the corners of my mouth. The noisy were embarrassing at best- closer to mortifying if you asked me- and caused a full body blush to travel the expanses of my skin. I could feel Phil's eyes following it all the way down to my sock covered feet.

Sat back on his heels, between my legs with his head cocked to the side, Phil watched me under heavy eyelids, watched me trying to catch my breath and find by bearings. While waiting, his hands crept underneath my sweater, and rolled it up over my arms and head.

I resisted the urge to curl in on myself, letting Phil look and look and look his fill. His traveled over me smiling at my scrawny calves, and knobby knees, and tiny frame, era finally getting caught at my biceps.

Oh. I'd nearly forgotten.

I felt my arms tremble but didn't cross them, didn't hide and still, let him look.

He gently- gentle, always too gentle- traced a finger over one of the silvery scars, not saying anything. He dropped his head suddenly, soft mouth brushing against them, tongue slipping out between his lips, in a wet, warm stripe.

I jolted and stiffened, everything too overwhelming.

No words were exchanged, as Phil coated each sad scar with a film of saliva, leaving his mark over another's. I panted and bit my lip, as he transferred to the other arm, starting at the bicep and making his way down to my empty wrist. He carefully kissed each pad of my fingers, before dropping one into my palm, and curling my fingers into a small fist. It felt like the final stick mark, patching up the last tear in my heart. The last remnants of Aaron, his last trace being engulfed by Phil entirely.

"Phil...?" I croaked.

Phil placed kiss into my sternum, before sliding down and resting his head on my hipbone. "Yes, sweetheart?"

I closed my eyes, and reached a hand down to stroke the top of his head. "Don't... say that."

"Okay," he said, finger tracing the hem of my pale boxers. He pressed a kiss into my inner thigh and I hummed.

"Hey, Howell?" He asked.

"Yeah?" I breathed.

"Can I write to you while I'm away?"

I squeezed my eyes closed tighter. "Yeah."

"Good." Phil paused. "Dan?"

I opened my eyes and looked down at him, my chin to my chest.

"Can I touch you?"

I looked at his eyes, the ones I'd wanted to draw since the very first day I'd seen him, tromping up the school steps with a scowl on his lips. They looked more blue now- or maybe it was just the light. But I could have sworn on that day they were grey, but looking at them now, they were bright and blue and everything I held dear.

"Yes." I said.

The rest of that afternoon and evening was spent in each other's arms, where I always wanted us to be. The room was still and quiet, our flurry of limbs and noisy disturbing the peace, and echoing our private chaos. Our gasps and cut off "I love you"'s were hushed, for now wasn't the time for words. It wasn't the time for misleading things or making mistakes with our mouths.

Our hearts were beating, the stings of them tangled together, our clocks in time with one another. Our hands were fight for more skin, more soft touches, and more time, so our hearts could be together a little bit longer.

And as the moon floated over my window to check on me, and as Phil dropped his last few kisses on my rosy skin, I was pleased and elated that Phil's face was the first thing I saw this morning.

* * *

I woke up before Phil, an unusual occurrence, and tried to map out the shapes of his face, the face that would soon be disappearing.

I had my sketchbook in my hand, pencil rushing across the page, as I drew his indecent form, and just let my mind wander.

Lately, I'd been thinking about in the sense that I shouldn't be thinking about it. Now, I just let myself wallow in it, in Phil, and let myself be sad, let myself be okay with being sad.

I laid there, quiet, listening to Phil's deep breaths of agitation and frustrated sighs, face slightly scrunched. It was similar to the face he made when he was struggling with the truth, or trying to think and create worlds where things were a little less fucked up for us.

Us. A word I would sorely miss in twenty-four hours.

I set the sketchbook down, only the top half finished, his eyes not completely draw in either- making them more realistic.

I turned over so I wasn't looking at Phil, letting myself think about all the times I'd had with him, wondering if all this really started because of his looking eyes, or my messy words.

I could feel the butterflies I kept caged in my chest rattling, already missing Phil's even when he was right next to me. Last night had one in a long string of first with Phil, but probably the most embarrassing.

I turned over again, and shoved my face into the pillow, embarrassed just thinking about it. They way he'd held me, and the fluffy touches, when I'd wished so desperately he'd handled me roughly and with no caution.

"Were you finally taking me up on that nude draw offer?"

I lifted my head up to see morning Phil, still with a bit of sleep stuck in the corners of his eyes. He was holding my sketchbook, looking over it thoughtfully.

I was drawing you like one of my french girls, I signed when he look over at me.

He barked out a laugh, setting the book down, and laying back down, shuffling over to me.

"What are you thinking?"

I struggled with what to say. "... Yesterday."

Phil smiled. "All our troubles seemed so far away. Oh I believe, in yesterday."

My heart hurt.

"I'm sorry if you thought I was too gentle," Phil said, hand shifting underneath the sheets to stroke my nude thighs, tracing the scars adorned there too. The ones that were given the same treatment as the ones on my arms. I trembled softly, wishing it was still last night.

His hand slid up my thigh over my hip, into the divot of my waist and over my shoulder to cup my cheek. He placed a downy kiss on my lips and then one on my forehead.

I could feel my entire being quivering.

"Why...?" I asked, a sob caught in my throat. "Why can't you stay?"

He looked stricken. "I'm not old enough to take care of myself yet, okay? I will come back for you, I promise, okay? You are my everything, my sweetheart, the light of my life. I will come back."

I shook my head in defiance, and I heard Phil sigh, as he placed another small kiss on my forehead.

"Will you..." I asked, half crying, and half uncertain. "Will you tell me a story? Before you go?"

Phil smiled again, one that had everything in it, one that said all I need to hear.

"There was once a creature very fragile- a flower- with indelible scar scattered all over him; some on his petal skin, and some hidden inside.

Then there was another boy, a soon to be prince- who tended to the flower- who could relate. His own scars called out, as if to comfort the obvious distraught and agony trapped inside the little flower. It was written across the flowers petals, like an open wound."

I snuggled closer to Phil chest, head tucked into his shoulder juncture, naked warm legs tangling mine, hands stroking my waist and back. Safe.

"Everyday, the prince watered the flower, singing to it as he did, telling the flower he was beautiful in the hopes that one day, the flower would grow into something even more beautiful. Then one day, the prince came to the flower, and told it that he was leaving, and that someone else was going to be taking care of the flower.

The flower was angry, and sad, feeling lost and betrayed. But the prince promised to come back, and see how even more beautiful the flower had become without him.

I was quiet. That was a stupid story, I signed.

Phil laughed, the noise reverberating through his chest and into mine.

Did the prince come back? I signed.

Phil nosed the tufts of my hair. "Of course he did."

We languished in the rest of our time together, bathing in it, just enjoy the close company of one another- something we would have for the next, long while.

But too soon, it was time for Phil to go.

I wish I could say it was some beautiful affair but it wasn't; it was just us.

No magical last words, no passionate make out scenes, just us.

Just Phil stumbling into his ripped jean, and white t-shirt, and his handful of black boots, and a shy, sad smile on his face.

"I love you," he said. "To the moon and back."

I closed my eyes, as he dropped one final kiss on my forehead.

"I love you too," I said, tears rolling down my cheeks, as I clutched Phil's shoulder. I didn't want to let him go. "To the moon... and back."

Phil covered my hands with his, pulling them away, and walking backwards to the doorway. When he reached it, he ran a nervous hand through his baby blue hair, as he leaned against the frame, head cocked to the side, same sure fired expression as to the one I saw when he stood up for me in the stupid math class.

"See ya around, Howell."

His final words.

And then he was gone.

And then I was gone.

And then I never stopped crying.

* * *

The next four months I never heard from Phil. I never got a call, never got a letter, nothing.

He forgot me.

The moment he walked out that door, I knew he would forget me.

The days felt meaningless without him here, so much so, that I nearly forgot the events that transpired throughout the days.

Mostly I spent my time sitting in the bathtub, thinking of him. Thinking of my Phil.

I no longer was plagued by dreams of Aaron's teeth like blades, but of Phil's blue eyes, drowning me.

I would stare at the opposite wall, back cold against the tile as I sat in that grimy bathtub, thinking about the two boys I could never have.

One dead, and a psychopath.

And the other had become a ghost, leaving traces of his two baby, blues. The zeal I once had for life no longer existed it seemed.

A lot of the rest of my time I spend staring out the window, looking at the sky- remembering Phil's eyes, always Phil's lovely eyes- and watching the puffs from jets, like the last brush stroke that ruined the painting.

It wasn't until I came home, one afternoon, blurry faced from the days that had just begun to meld together, when I found a box on my door step. There was no return address, only mine with the name replaced with "To: Fragile Boy".

It was then, that I knew.

I didn't open the box at first. I just took comfort in the knowing that Phil really stuck to his word.

Maybe I won't open it that day, or the next, it at least I could feel okay again.

Because Phil would come back for me.

He would.

Ich habe dich.

I love you.

AN:

Firstly, two more chapters left.

Secondly let me tell yall a little story. As someone who has never personally been that intimate with someone before, it was really hard to write this chapter- nearly impossible. Not gunna lie I read so many smut fics and books with sex scenes but they all proved to be no help. Sorry if this chapter isn't as sexy as you wanted but I felt like this was what made the most sense with the rest of the story since the rest wasnt overly sexy either.

Also sorry that this is late but I'm come on who really is surprised lol. Also I apologize if this is cheesy as fuck because I think it's super corny and can't even read it without gagging at the corniness.

IVE ALSO BEEN WORKING ON A PHAN HARRY POTTER AU AND A GREEK MYTHOLOGY AU SO LOOK FORWARD TO THAT

Might edit the ending of this since its a bit weak but I just really wanted to get this chapter up!

ONLY TWO LEFT THOUGH

alright hugs kisses and all that jazz

Xxx -Eddy