#i would never let phil lester leave the house with those big blue eyes uncovered

[2009editingtips]

thank you to the phannie who asked the "flirting with the waiter" question, i needed more clips of Dan doing the lick lips, jaw tense, head bob, suck in left cheek, and purse lips move

[addictivephangirl-blog]

crimson

summary: i dont really know how to descirbe it. i sort of put all of my emotions into a one shot. (although its 2012!phan)

warnings: domestic abuse (but not as phan) mentions of drunk!phan w/ regret afterwards

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phil lester was my bestfriend. we had been through everything together. countless sports attempts. girlfriends, that one time i got a boyfriend. and ohmygod let me tell you i had never been more terrified than that day when phil walked in on me and my boyfriend at the time making out.

i thought hed leave me. tell me that i was disgusting and throw me away. our friendship destroyed.

but no. he looked me in the eyes smiled, and appologized numerous times and left. that was the first time you made me cry. my boyfriend looked at me, brushed the tears out of my eyes and said everything would be ok.

but it wasnt ok.

that was the first time i ever said i love you. i said it to him. but he didnt say it back. he smiled and continued to kiss me. and at that moment i thought it was right.

but it wasnt right.

it wasnt him. it wasnt phil. i wanted to be kissing phil. my phil.

but i couldnt. thats wrong…isnt it? its wrong to want to kiss your bestfriend. its wrong.

or is it wrong? is it wrong to want to kiss your bestfriend? but he isnt just a bestfriend. hes my phil. hes phil lester. the boy i fell in love with oh so long ago.

how am i supposed to feel? all these countless emotions mixing and intertwinning to form one big mess of stress and unified glory. and thats when it hit me. im in love with my bestfriend. no, im in love with phil lester.

the first time i was dumped by my first boyfriend was hard. i never really told phil how bad i was hurting. the wounds in my heart and on my body. the trust i lost and the purple bruises i gained.

i was afraid. i was broken.

how could i leave such a viscious man? hed come after me. hunt me down. like i was some sort of animal and he was the predator.

i was like a broken piece of glass. you could fix me, put me back together even. but youd need glue. and even then i can never be like i was before.

innocent. pure.

he countless times i told him “stop! it hurts!” but he wouldnt stop. he thought that eventually id like it.

but i never liked it.

i remember the day he left me. left a note in my bedroom saying hed found someone better. someone to suffice his needs.

i didnt cry. not from sadness or happiness. truthfully, i felt empty. i felt nothing. an emotionless void.

then phil came home. asked me what happened. why i had dark bags under my eyes. i told him he left me.

he told me it was ok to cry. i didnt want to cry. i didnt want to pour out my tears and thoughts to you.

i looked at him. and damn you for giving me that cute little smile. the reassurance that i needed.

i was ok. i was safe again.

he was the explosion of colors in my dark void.

that was the second time you made me cry. but those were tears of happiness and gaiety.

i know weve had our ups and downs and mishaps. but i love phil. my phil. hes not just a bestfriend. hes more than that.

around 8 months later, i kissed him. i kissed my phil.

it may just have been a silly little peck on new years eve in 2012’. and that party was insane. given wed both had way too much to drink. and maybe thats why i kissed him.

my inhibitions lowered. my drunk sayings were my sober thoughts. everythig poured out. and thats when it happened.

our bodies colliding in a hot and sweaty mess. and yes it was sticky and actually kind of gross. but it was beautiful. and everything i could have wished for.

if only thats how it wouldve turned out the next morning.

i woke up to you screaming at me. hateful words and destructive sentences like knives being thrown at me. daggers and new wounds. uncovering the past. reliving the nightmares. only this time i wont wake up and hug my bestfriend.

i couldnt be near you. you were tearing me down. all the way down to a pile like i was once before.

you told me to get out. why did i listen to you?

that was the third time you made me cry. and it wasnt under good circumstances was it?

i ran down the stairs of our flat. hot tears running down my cheeks.

how could you do this to me? i thought…

i thought… we were more than best friends? what happened to that? all our times together? we had been through so much and you threw it all away because you were afraid?

you were afraid to love me.

i havent been in our house now for a couple days. im still waiting for you to text me or call me to come home. that you made a mistake.

im still hanging onto you. i still believe in you.

in us.

you found me when you went out to buy groceries. you saw me.

and in that moment i thought youd run away from me. run because youre afraid to face me. to see me again.

but you werent.

you ran towards me. engulfed me in such a big hug that i couldnt breathe and ohmygod i was starting to forget what your hugs felt like. and what you smelled like in the morning after a fresh shower and shave.

i missed you.

that was the fourth time you made me cry. and in that moment all i saw was crimson red. burning love.

one time in primary school, my teacher asked me to describe the color red without saying the word red. it was one of the hardest things i had ever had to do. i didnt understand at the time that red could be an emotion, could be felt as easily as seen.

i feel red when he compliments me, i feel it flushing my cheeks and i cant breathe because he’s wonderful and amazing and im just plain old me.

i felt red, a very different kind of red during our first fight. a flurry of words. how could you? and other words pushed together to form the argument. and i was angry. pissed. hurt. red.

i felt red when we made up, mixed with bits of blue, and suddenly i was purple and wow. thats a pretty color isnt it? beautiful and rare and everything, everything, he was.

and now i know, if someone were to ask me to describe the color red without saying the word red, id just say his name, Phil Lester.

i love you phil, and now i know for sure as i am reminded everyday by the little gold ring on my left hand, that you love me too.