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evolsinner · 3 years

Text

⊱┊22

i must've fallen asleep in the car because when i wake up, it's 3:00 am, and i'm in bed with a muscular arm wrapped over me. i smile, interlocking my fingers in the bruised hand at the end of it. the fingers gradually reciprocate and i'm at even more peace when i realise that isaac is also awake.

the room echoes with the soft sounds of an electric fan somewhere in the corner. there are blue led lights underneath the bed which lights the room up in a bluey lambent glow. i lift the covers off me, the heat wearing down on me like a hot summer's night.

"where're you going?" isaac questions groggily in his sexy tired voice.

the slightest movement and he thinks i'm in trouble. i imagine he's always gonna be half~awake considering everything i filled him in about. 'twas a lot, would explain why i fell asleep in the car right after.

"gee, relax, just tryna get comfortable."

he snuggles his head into the crook of my shoulder. "thought that psycho brother of yours, kayden, or whatever his name is was gonna steal you away from me again."

“new hotel?” i change the subject.

“yeah. figured a penthouse might expose us.”

"good call. hey...isaac?"

"hm?"

"can we have a black wedding?"

he chuckles, "sure."

"and rainbow bridesmaids and groomsmen?"

he laughs even harder, "i'd like to be in your head sometime, luv, as the stuff you say, brightens my day."

"well, don't get too excited because it's not all sunshine and lollipops."

"of course. anything else you want for the wedding?"

"can it be a destination wedding?"

"check."

"can we have ice cream cake?"

"yum, check."

"oh! oh! also, unicorns and pegasus' and alicorns and~"

"woah, woah, calm down, luv, that's a whole trip to wonderland."

i break into laughter.

he kisses my ear lobe, "missed you, my baby."

that tone in his voice makes me wet weak. it's my favourite one too. although, i guess if his voice affects me then i have always been fucked from the start. because, man, when he would yell in class, yeah, i would be butthurt, 'cept i would also be strangely turned on? like, the fuck was wrong with me?

"missed you too," i giggle as the nibbling travels down my ear to my neck.

"missed you a lot,” he seems to be getting at something...

"doubt it," i flip on my back.

he grins and kisses the tip of my nose. his nose kisses are by far the best. it gives me a sense of protection; humble protection at its finest. it's like springtime with yellow sunlight shining in through the drapes. a peck lands on my cheek and i crinkle my nose as i beam from its tenderness. next, a rare kiss lands on my eyelid when i blink. he’s showering me with kisses and i giggle at each random place he plants them on.

i've looked into hazel coloured orbs, and i was trapped in a painting of a forest fire. i've looked into crystal coloured orbs, and i've drowned in the deepest of oceans. and now these emerald coloured ones, i'm up there with the northern lights, lost in neverland and never do i ever wanna come back down.

i lift my head up and plant a kiss on his sugary sweet lips. an explosion of marshmallows dipped in cherry wine erupts in my mouth. i was craving his taste and this whole time i was taking the wrong doses of another.

he leans further over me and slowly slides his hands up and down my waist. the skin he leaves touched has a tingly sensation to it and goosebumps form all over me. just when i thought i've subdued the sensation, he runs his hand over the area again; there's no break for me.

his lips melt over mine like fairy floss liquefying in the stinging sun and now all i see is iridescent saliva coating his mouth. he deepens the kiss, his tongue fighting a war with mine like he's some warrior on a battlefield.

it makes me remember the first time we kissed and it wasn't even that long ago. please, god, take me back to the first time we kissed. and he does, he does take me back to the first time we kissed.

sir's hand rummages over the bedside table and some things fall down. i'm tryna keep him from ripping his lips off mine. he looks across for a few quick seconds, his hand running over random objects, then he gives up on his objective.

"god," he groans in frustration.

oh. "who cares? just pull out in time."

"luv," he raises his thick eyebrows, "don't think i could do that 'in time' on this particular occasion."

well, damn, he missed me more than i had expected.

"besides, pulling out isn't a safe form of protection," he adds.

"ugh, since when did you care about that?"

"since when i get you pregnant, i don't want it to be by accident. i want to make sure it's the best sex of your life."

i gulp.

"yes," he raises his eyebrows, amused at my shocked expression. "one of these days, i'm going to impregnate you. can't wait to see you grow big, snack on a bunch load of candy, and then have you pop out our precious little one."

i turn crimson.

"be right back," he smiles, sitting up on the bed. "i'll go check if i have some spare protection in my car," and retrieves his fallen phone.

"wait," i get up and lean onto his back. "i'm coming with."

"babe," he chuckles, "i chose the first floor for a reason. the car's right out there. i won't be long, i promise."

"please, i want to go with you," i plea like a little girl. "bad things happen every time you leave me alone."

"alright," he plants a firm kiss on my forehead, his palm resting at the nape of my neck. "let's go on an adventure to the car park, shall we?"

"race you!" i quickly jump off the bed and speed towards the door.

"hey!" he laughs out and chases me. "i wasn't ready, cheater!"

i run down the golden hallway and into the massive oval~shaped space of the reception area. the borders of the walls are painted gold and the walls themselves have a luxurious~looking pattern on it; too detailed to find out how it begins.

i pause, standing in my pyjama shorts with my eyes darting around to locate the exit.

"there!" one of the receptionists catches on and points to the revolver door right at the front.

my face lights up like the cheshire cat. the receptionist dude chuckles. he and his other three colleagues are really enjoying this little show in front of them. i mean, who wouldn't? two guests running around wildly, barefoot, in the middle of the night.

"catch me if you can, jay!" i sprint straight to the glass revolving door.

isaac reaches me a tad bit late and he just misses the slot i get into.

i stick my tongue out at him like 'ha~ha'.

he scoffs, "fuck you."

ah, yes, our 'fuck yous'. our forever and always.

i rush to the car, and once i reach it, i come to an abrupt halt.

a pair of keys jingle obnoxiously behind me.

"guess i've won, sweetheart."

i frown like a child whose third scoop of ice cream has gone crashing to the ground. "you're a cheater," i rebut, heading across to the passenger seat with my arms crossed. "plus, i meant who gets to the car first, not who gets inside."

"ah, rules, rules, rules," he mocks with a sly smile playing on his lips. "always new rules with you."

i purse my lips to stifle a grin.

he walks over to me and cages me but doesn't say anything.

"..isaac.." i break into a diffident smile, glancing away.

"what?" he chuckles.

"stop..doing that."

"'doing' what?"

"that..that eye thing."

"sweetheart, i have no idea what you're talking about."

i roll my eyes, blushing.

he continues to stare.

"see! you're doing it again!"

he laughs, leaning into me, "i can't help it, darlin’, you're just so beautiful."

"whatever," i get way too shy to make eye contact.

the bimmer beeps twice behind me.

i look at isaac with surprise.

"looks like you've won, daisy," and he opens the door for me.

i blush incredibly, chaotically even, and upon his request, i hop inside the car.

that's right, loser, i did win.

-ˋˏ ༻🥂༺ ˎˊ-

there was no, um, you know in the car, so now we’re on our way to the servo to get some.

"this is a nice song."

"you like it?" sir faces me. "it's by that french singer, ah, what's her name. right," he snaps his fingers, remembering, "'indila'."

"'une dernière danse'," i say. "what does it mean?"

he chuckles.

"what?" i beam timidly. "are you laughing at me?"

"no, it's just the way you pronounced it," he shakes his head. "it means 'one last dance', fyi."

"oh."

on the spur of the moment, isaac pulls up to the side of the road.

"what are you doing?" i query.

"an idea popped into my head," he announces. "get out of the car."

"what?"

"just do it."

i take my seatbelt off and exit the car. there, i stand in front of the windshield, freezing my ass off. it's dark as fuck, but the white headlights of the bmw give us plenty of vision. sir takes off his seatbelt and cranks the radio right up. he steps out of the car, leaves his door wide open and meets up with me.

"can you please tell me what's happening?!" i yell over the music.

"we're going to dance!" he places a hand on my waist and another on my shoulder.

"what?!" my eyes bulge out of their sockets. "in the middle of the road?! barefoot?!"

"yeah!"

"we're barely wearing any clothes!!"

"better this way!"

"what if a car comes?!"

"then we die!"

"i can't dance!"

"follow my lead!"

"sir~"

🎶je remue le ciel le jour, la nuit je danse avec le vent la pluie

the chorus hits once again, and simultaneously, isaac brings my waist closer to himself as he takes a full step back. i follow his lead, letting him guide me. backward, left side, forward, right side.

🎶et dans le bruit, je cours et j'ai peur est-ce mon tour? vient la douleur

"oops..!" i step on his foot by accident. "sorry..!"

"don't worry!" he chuckles, twirling me around. "you're doing amazing!"

he repeats the steps, nodding at me supportively. a few vehicles begin pulling up to watch us dance! the rest, however, honk impatiently, heading around to get past us.

🎶je remue le ciel le jour, la nuit je danse avec le vent la pluie

the steps are sped up and repeated one final time before everything slows down to a finale. confidently, isaac pauses and dips me. i stare at him in total awe. i think he's in love, like, really in love.

🎶et je m'envole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole

the few drunken humans gathered around us erupt with applause, whistling here and there.

"i love you," sir mouths, bringing me back up.

guys, i think he loves me.

#love #romance #teacher x student

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paradisobound · 5 years

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I Want It, I Got It: Chapter 25

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count: 2.1k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing

Rating: Explicit

Updates will be every Sunday around 1pm EST

**MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3 | WATTPAD**

Phil doesn’t bring up the Instastory to Dan. He let’s Dan remain asleep on his chest even though his heart is beating so fast that surely, Dan can feel it under his head. Phil texted Martyn back saying that he definitely did not see it and it made him feel a bit sick.

He didn’t want to believe that Dan did it on purpose. A part of him tells him that he hopes that Dan was messing around and went to delete it and posted it instead. But another part was punching his gut and telling him that Dan posted that photo to get a rise out of everyone. He wanted people to to be tense about this.

For many people, seeing Spike on Dan’s instastory was probably not even weird. They just assumed that maybe Dan adopted a dog or he was with a dog for emotional support. Dan did mention sometimes in interviews that he would go to specialized places for emotional support animals and sometimes hold the dogs for a bit and play with them. Maybe people assumed the same.

But for other people, the hardcore stans of Dan and some even of Phil, they would recognize Spike from Phil’s Twitter and Instagram. They would recognize his blue collar and his distinct markings on his fur. There is no mistaking that that is Spike in Dan’s photo.

And furthermore, the headlines on social media definitely are saying the same.

Was this why PJ and Gemma were acting so weird earlier? Had they seen the post and both just never told Phil? Did they assume that Phil approved to the post?

Phil’s head was swimming and he was finding it hard to form his thoughts coherently.

Dan woke up a little before midnight, rubbing his eyes a bit before sitting up and rolling off from Phil and kneeling onto the floor next to the couch as he woke up. He then stood up and Phil just smiled at him and Dan gave him a strange look as he pushed his hair back down into place from being matted up.

“You okay?” Dan asks. “Did I crush you while I was sleeping? You could have shoved me off. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“It’s nothing.” Phil realizes after he spoke that his voice is tight and constricted.

Dan furrowed his brows. “Okay, well now I definitely know something is wrong so tell me what’s up.”

Phil sighed. “Why did you do it, Dan?”

Dan’s face fell and Phil watches as his eyes glassed over. “Do what?”

“Post that story on your Instagram!” Phil doesn’t know when his voice decided to rise in volume but the way Dan flinched told him he definitely was on the verge of yelling. He didn’t want to yell. He was just upset.

“Phil, I meant nothing by that!” Dan quickly pushed. “I posted it as just a stupid thing. I can delete it, I promise!”

“Everyone has seen it Dan!” Phil countered. “The media has seen it. The fans have seen it. Everyone knows that that is my dog in that Instastory.”

“Phil, I wasn’t thinking…”

“We said we were going to be more careful so we could have our privacy!” Phil interrupted. “And you broke it by posting that!”

Phil looked at Dan and watched as a stray tear fell down his cheek and suddenly, he felt awful and his heart felt even more strained that it before. He immediately slipped off from the couch and kneeled next to Dan.

“I’m sorry.” Dan whispered. “I didn’t think…”

“I know.” Phil said, reaching up and placing his hand gently on Dan’s cheek. “I’m sorry for getting upset.”

Dan shook his head and removed Phil’s hand from his cheek. “No, don’t apologize. I was a dumbass. You can just tell me that straight up.” He let out a watery sigh and reached up, wiping the unshed tears from under his eyes. “I probably just a made a giant fucking mess and Marianne is gonna kill me.”

Dan reached down and pulled his phone out of his pocket and let out a loud sigh. “35 missed calls, all from Marianne.” He stood up and ran his hand through his hair. “I have to call her back and make some phone calls. I need someplace quiet.”

Phil nodded and looked up at him. “You can take my room.”

Dan nodded and flashed him a smile but Phil could tell how much this was bothering him now that he was witnessing the implications of something he thought was going to be a simple post.

Dan shut the door behind him to the bedroom and Phil never heard a word that was said by him to Marianne or anyone else he was talking to. During the time he was on the phone, Phil took a shower and then let out Spike for one more sleepy bathroom break to the courtyard.

He doesn’t know truly when Dan got off from the phone because he fell asleep on the couch. However, when he wakes up a short time later to his back aching, he hears the sound of sobs coming from his bedroom and it alarms him enough to wake up fully and rush in there.

Seeing Dan curled into a ball on his bed, still in his clothing, hugging Spike to his chest as he cried was one of the saddest sights Phil has ever seen in his lifetime. He rushes over to the bed and climbs in behind Dan and wraps his arms around his middle and holds him close.

Dan eventually cries himself to sleep but Phil remains awake until his alarm goes off for work.

***

When Phil leaves for work, Dan is still asleep, completely exhausted from crying the night before. Phil didn’t get a chance to talk to him before he left but he did kiss Dan’s cheek before he left and tried to ignore how it was still a bit damp.

When he gets to the BBC, he has paparazzi waiting for him and ignores them by pulling the collar of his jacket up past his face and hiding as he flashes his badge and runs into the building.

PJ is already at his desk like always and Phil feels himself feel a bit more relaxed seeing it was just PJ this time and not Gemma. Despite it feeling a bit tense, he did appreciate being alone with PJ.

There is a silence crossing over the room for the first hour of their shift as they each worked silently, but finally PJ spoke up and broke that. “I saw the Instastory.”

“I guessed.” Phil said. “According to the article I found online last night, they were estimating millions of people had seen it.”

“Did Dan realize what he was doing?”

“I don’t know, Peej.” Phil said. “Dan was extremely upset when I brought it up to him but I really don’t think he realized what was going to happen.”

“But why did he do it?” PJ questioned.

Phil shrugged.

“What are you two going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Phil said. “I simply do not know what the fuck is going to happen and I don’t know what the future holds anymore.”

PJ’s eyes widened as he turned in his chair and faced Phil. “You’re really going to be like that after everything you and Dan have gone through?”

Phil leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. “I don’t know, PJ. I just don’t know.”

“I’ve never seen you like this before.” PJ began. “I’ve never seen you so ready to just throw your hands up and walk away from something. You were so sure about Dan but you’re actually saying you’re not sure about the future anymore.”

“Because I really don’t know anymore, PJ.” Phil comments. “I don’t even know if I want to be here anymore.”

“Here?” PJ questions.

“The BBC.”

“What?” PJ’s voice is suddenly higher pitched, definitely taken aback by Phil’s clarification of what he meant.

“I might quit.”

“And, I’m sorry, but do what?” PJ presses.

“I want to work on YouTube more. I’ve been neglecting my fans because of the drama and because of The BBC and I kind of just want to start fresh and focus all of my time there.”

“Are you doing this because of Dan?”

Phil looks at him, furrowing his brows. “No!”

“Are you sure that you’re not just wanting to give up working here so you have the ability to…galavant…with Dan wherever you want to?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“I’m just asking, Phil.” PJ said. “Because you should listen to what you’re telling me right now. You’re considering giving up your entire career here for something like YouTube!”

Phil rolled his eyes. “I don’t need this talk today, PJ.” He let out a sigh. “I know how it looks. I do. But I’m not happy here. I want to be able to go back and do what I always wanted to and that is YouTube.”

PJ just nods at him and folds his arms over his chest. He doesn’t say anything right away and Phil swallows down the knot that had formed in his throat. “I just want you to be happy, Phil.”

“I know.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“I know.”

Pj rolled his chair over to Phil’s desk and rested his hands on the edge of it. “I just don’t want you to end up doing something you regret.”

PJ’s words stuck with Phil the rest of the day.

I don’t want you to end up doing something you regret.

Phil hoped he didn’t either.

He managed to get back to his flat with no paparazzi and no one calling for him. When he went to unlock the door, it suddenly opened and Dan nearly ran into him, in a rush to get wherever he needed to be.

“Hey.”

“I have to head out to meet up with Marianne. She took the first flight available to London and she just arrived and it going to her London based office right now.”

“Oh okay.”

“I’ll be back before it’s too late tonight, hopefully.” Dan says. “I took Spike out and cleaned your bedroom a bit since I cried all over your sheets last night.”

Dan’s face flushed at that and Phil just shook his head. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“I wanted to.” Dan said. He looked down at his phone and sighed. “I’m running late so I have to go now. My car is picking me up.”

“Good luck.”

Dan’s lips crack up in a smile and leans forward, pressing their lips together gently.

Phil pecks his lips and then moves back and lets Dan rush past him as he throws up his hood and rushes to his black cab and gets inside.

Phil walks into his flat and gives Spike his well deserved attention and then finds his feet carrying him to the bedroom. He laughs a bit at seeing how Dan really did redress the bed but he found it so endearing and nice that he just falls onto the comforter and is lulled into a nap not long after.

***

Something was buzzing in Phil’s hip bone and it wasn’t pleasant. In fact, Phil kind of wants it to stop. He pushes his hand under his thigh and reaches around until he feels the buzzing object and picks it up, bringing it up to his eye-level.

7 Missed Calls from: Dan

6 Missed Calls from: Martyn

10 Missed Calls from: Mum

2 Texts from: PJ

Phil was confused. What the fuck?

His reaction was to call Dan so he immediately called Dan back.

“OH MY GOD PHIL! WHY WEREN’T YOU ANSWERING?”

Phil sits up in bed, his heart racing. “What is happening? Are you okay?”

Dan sniffles on the other side and Phil feels his heart fall out of his body. Dan was crying? What was happening.

“Phil, it’s over.”

“What’s over?”

“Phil…I…go on Twitter.” Dan sniffles a bit on the other end.

Phil quickly takes his phone away from his ear and puts Dan on speaker phone as he shakily presses his thumb against the Twitter app. He goes under the headlines and moments and he audibly gasps.

“Daniel Howell Spotted Sharing a Sweet Kiss with Boyfriend in London”.

Underneath, there is a picture of him and Dan kissing on the doorstep of the building of his flat.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #famous!dan #moviestar!dan #fluff #smut #angst #princesslexi763fics

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ezilo · 6 years

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Title: Nous sommes davantage dans le temps

Summary: Dan’s milestones are somehow linked with youtube videos and Phil, and sometimes both.

Rating: T

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16507325

Author’s note: So. This has been sitting in my laptop for literal months now and I just worked up the courage to post it. Huge thanks to @auroraphilealis for betaing (seriously if this is any good it’s thanks to her) and inspiring this and generally being wonderful. This is kind of dedicated to her, and to everything her writing has done for me, and a lot of people I think. This is based on a list of the most popular type of videos on youtube, my philosophy exam and a conversation with elizajane. I also know practically nothing about philosophy so don't judge me on that. Oh and the title is from something my philosophy teacher said last year: "Nous sommes davantage dans le temps que le temps est en nous" which translates to "We are more in time than time is in us". It was the starting point of this fic, actually.

As always, english isn't my first language so if there are any mistakes, feel free to tell me!

Back to School tutorial

Here’s the thing. Knowing something inside and out, diving into it, knowing every corner of it, apparently doesn’t make you accept it.

Dan knows time. He knows universe. He knows what Pascal, Leibniz, Einstein, and others have said about it. Descartes is no stranger to him, even in the original language, thanks to the Canadian boy he spent a few weeks with (or was it months?) who used to read him the Discours de la Méthode with so much passion Dan just had to kiss him.

Dan knows about the universe. He knows how others explain it.

But that doesn’t mean he’s satisfied with the answers he gets.

He knows that the present cannot be grasped, not truly, has swallowed quotes about this his entire study life, but he’s still longing for something that will help him anchor himself to the present. He’s had the feeling of belonging, finally, at the banged up kitchen table in Workingham, one hand buried in Collin’s fur, curls freed and smiling wide. He’s had the swelling, wool like grasping at his heart of falling in love with eyes and lips and thoughts and giggles.

But still.

Present doesn’t hold him, or he doesn’t hold the present, or he doesn’t understand what present is, or he should stop drinking coffee at eleven pm.

Dan can’t sleep, but maybe that’s because he keeps asking questions that even philosophy cannot answer when he should just ask to sleep. He’s never been good at asking one thing. It’s easier to think his brain is aching because of the sense of time and the universe than because his first class is tomorrow.

He ends up losing himself in back to school youtube videos, and trying not to remember that he’s over thirty.

Funny animals compilation

Dan’s fidgeting with the marker, popping the cap off, pushing it back down nervously, twirling it between his fingers. He’s early, for the first time in his life, which means there’s one less reason he can prove himself to be an absolute fail.

The timetable on the door says that at eight thirty there’s an “Introduction to the philosophy of space and time” by Professor D. Howell.

Professor. For a minute he thought there was someone else named D Howell, because surely that couldn’t be him, right?

He sinks into the chair, head falling between his hands, and he can feel them trembling, where they bury in his hair. He ignores the hollow noise echoing around him that he thinks is most likely his head being annoying, but thus far his head has never said ‘hello?’ in a man’s voice, so he looks up.

“Yes?” he says to the tall man whose hand is still poised on the door.

“Hi! I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for the seminar room 205 but I got lost, and then I was on the right track and then I got lost again. So do you know where that is?”

Dan’s momentarily baffled by the amount of things the man said so quickly, and the chipper tone of his voice, like all of the words are lifted up in the last syllable.

“Uhm, yeah,” he clears his throat nervously, fist tightening around the marker in his right hand. “It’s right down the hall, then turn left. Third door on the right.”

“Oh, I had no idea it was this close. I’m really sorry to bother you again.” And that doesn’t really make any sense, it’s the first time he’s bothered him, but Dan recognizes the nervous rush of words, he’s felt this flustered himself in a lot of situations.

There’s a pause where Dan is about to say that it’s completely fine if he ever remembers how to use actual words, but the man speaks up again. “And good luck for your class!”

That makes Dan let out some kind of half chuckle, and some words miraculously tumble out of his mouth. “Thanks, it’s my first day,” he says, which is too much information. The man will probably just nod politely and leave immediately.

“I’m sure it’ll go great! Are you nervous?”

“Definitely yeah.” Which is, again, too much information, and too honest.

“You don’t need to be. You know your stuff, right?”

Dan nods, gets a smile in response.

“And the students will love you.”

“Thanks.”

If the man’s offended by Dan’s short answer, he doesn’t say, and it doesn’t show. Dan really wishes he could say something more, he really does, but he’s unsure of what; how do you deal with a stranger’s kindness? This is why he doesn’t go outside.

“I’ll get out of your hair. Think of happy things to relax yourself! Bye!”

And he’s gone. It’s the kind of encounter that starts a movie about a friendly quirky ghost, not the kind of thing that actually happens to people.

Dan shakes his head, but he can’t deny it’s taken his mind off of the class. Think of happy things! The words echo, spoken in a deep voice somehow laced with a sparkly lightness. Dan realizes he still has about 15 minutes left before his class when he glances, up at the clock ticking loudly. He opens up youtube, and gets lost in sloth videos for a while.

Dan’s class goes relatively well. It could have gone better, definitely, but Dan hadn’t said anything too strange, or too random in his panic. He’s been able to answer student’s questions, and even got a few smiles that didn’t seem pitiful.

Once his students are all gone, Dan sits down and feels a smile etch itself onto his face.

And maybe that’s another way to cling himself to the present.

When he pulls up his phone, he finds baby sloths bathing immediately open, and that smile widens a bit.

Dan’s riding high on the adrenaline of having his first class, of it going well, and stands up abruptly. He shoulders his backpack and heads down the hall, turns left, and slows down in front of the third door, lingering outside, as the class is apparently not over yet.

There are thoughts infiltrating his brain now - of this being insanely creepy, of being inappropriate. Paranoia buzzes under his skin, threatens to eradicate the giddiness. But then the door opens, students pour out, and Dan looks on dazedly, drowned in panic.

“Oh hi!”

He looks up instantly and meets crinkly eyes.

“Hi.”

There’s an awkward silence where they look at each other, grumpy students passing them, shoulders bumping while they hold eye contact.

“So how did your class go?” the smile in the man’s voice is palpable.

“Good, actually, better than I thought it would. I, uh, took your advice about the happy things. Watched animal videos.”

“I love animal videos!” The man’s voice booms on love, his eyes snapping to Dan’s, all wide and oh.

Blue.

“Me too.”

How Buffy should have ended

That blue seeps into his life now, through the first exchange of names and numbers in that hallway and then through endless hours at starbucks. The blue is the first thing Dan notices about Phil, but things add up through with every over enthusiastic text, every all caps comment only Phil would think about, every caring smile or giddy giggle. Dan learns things about Phil the way he’s always learned things: obsessively cataloguing facts, and waiting to get sick of Phil like he gets sick of everything after a while.

He doesn’t want to, though.

Turns out Phil isn’t a professor, or a student, though. He just came in to listen to one of his friends, to support him, because Phil just does that. Turns out Phil is a youtuber, because yes that’s a job a thirty-five year old is allowed to have. Not that Dan let his surprise show (much). He wanted Phil to like him and think he’s accepting and open-minded and all that shit.

Three weeks later, when he discovers Phil doesn’t like cheese, he mutters that he hates him, and knows what Phil thinks of him is just right.

The first time they hang out outside of starbucks, it’s at Phil’s, which is blinding and overwhelming, like eating too many ice creams in the summer, desperate for cold, with sugar lingering on your tongue.

Dan likes it though.

They start an anime together, and it’s comforting to know that Phil realizes that that’s a big deal too. They end up in a heated debate over which character’s will end up together, and who shouldn’t, during which they both hint multiple times at their attraction to pretty anime boys.

They’re not subtle and Dan loves it. Dan would be ashamed of his laugh, of his twisted humor, but, well. Phil’s tongue sticks out when he laughs, his sense of humor is surprisingly just as twisted as Dan’s and his smile is accepting.

They talk, too. About Phil’s YouTube channel, about Dan’s existential crises, all laced with sarcasm and humor, but that’s enough for now.

Dan ends up making Phil cave and they watch some of his videos, which makes a delicate pink blush bloom on Phil’s pale skin. They get closer and closer with every video they click on, wandering into parody videos, Phil’s arm secure around Dan’s shoulders, and it doesn’t feel foreign at all.

Phil gets overly worked up about How Buffy should have ended, promptly ends their friendship upon learning Dan hasn’t watched it, and starts up a “vital binge watch”.

Just as Buffy’s cheerleading team gets cursed, Phil’s lips end up on his.

Compilation of saddest love scenes 2

Everything mostly stays the same.

The changes that do occur, in the gaps of their already crackling friendship, are wonderful. Phil gets to shut Dan up with a kiss when he’s being obnoxious about winning Mario kart, the bed is warm, Dan gets understanding and laughter and also a naked Phil on his couch playing fortnite, which is an at first surprising but not displeasing sight. They fall asleep on each other with the computer still on, and Phil drags Dan to the bedroom when the pain in his neck becomes too much.

There’s one night though, where everything feels wrong. The world is subdued and grayed out, and Dan wants to stay in bed all day.

He knows what this is. He’s worked through recognizing his depression in his twenties, but no one warned him that it doesn’t stop with that. Existential crises linger on even if your life is safe and figured out. They don’t stop when you settle down.

But Phil was going to come over tonight, so Dan pulls at the muscles in his distant body and orders some pizza.

But he can’t really pretend for Phil.

He can’t feel bad for not pretending either.

He just can’t, period, and Phil notices.

Phil asks, Dan grunts, eyebrows furrowed. He ends up frustrating Phil, a lot.

Phil’s sighing and cursing under his breath and leaving.

Of course.

Dan will feel that in the morning, but for now he just feels even more choked by sadness than before, even though he didn’t think he could..

He falls into bed, stomach empty, doesn’t feel it. The dark hours of the night are spent watching sad compilations, listening to melancholic songs, and trying to just feel, please.

He’s a bit better by morning. Or worse, given that he feels the pain of Phil having left now.

But, well. He comes back.

At eleven am, the doorbell rings. Dan is wrapped up in his duvet, should be drinking water, but he opens the door anyway.

There stands Phil, feet shuffling, eyes rimmed in glasses, carrying a plastic bag.

“Hey.”

“Uhm, hey.”

“So I wanted to apologize for being a dick last night. I shouldn’t have snapped at you when you were feeling down. I brought you some pancakes as an apology. And if you don’t want to see me anymore, then, well. Enjoy the pancakes.”

Dan just stares.

He wants to say he will explain, he wants to say they’ll figure it out, they’ll communicate, they’ll make up systems, they’ll do this because Phil, well Phil you make me want to talk about the pit I fall into to someone that’s not Dr. Linda, Phil you make me want to be better than this, Phil you make me want to stay up all night just to stare into your eyes instead of staring into the dull London sky wondering why I exist.

“Thank you, Phil.” He says for now.

He’ll say the rest later.

They share a plate of pancakes and pick up where they left off on Buffy, because Dan likes seeing Phil mouth the witty retorts the heroin gives the Mayor. Phil always loves Buffy. Rain or shine, stress or bliss, or both. Dan wishes he had that, but slowly, he starts feeling the warmth of Phil, starts laughing, starts feeling pained when Angel leaves through the mist.

Eventually, he says “I hate you” to Phil after he rambled about why Angel isn’t as good as Buffy, and gets a knowing smile in return.

Let’s play! Sims 34: Our Sim gets abducted by aliens???

They’re tangled up on the couch, laptop on their thighs, after one of Phil’s low days. Their bones are digging against each other and knocking, too warm on the leather, when Dan asks Phil to move in with him.

Phil’s mesmerized by the new episode of their favorite “Let’s play!”, and just hums distractedly when he hears the question.

Dan promptly punches him, gets an indignant high pitched Hey! in response.

He repeats it, “D’ya wanna move in with me?”.

Phil turns to him then, eyes wide and taking on a slightly neon shade of blue caused by the glow of the laptop screen.

“Yeah.” he says, simple as that.

And his head whips back to the sim being transported into an alien shuttle. And, well. There’s not much more to that decision than a domestically tinged obviousness.

Easy red velvet cupcakes!

Dan is a mess. He’d barely gotten any sleep the night before, drowning in a despair to find meaning to all of it. Why he’s here, why does he teach when he cannot understand.

Phil tries to help, but they have systems now, and Phil knows he has to leave Dan alone and go back to sleep. The regular snoring is enough to reassure Dan, sometimes.

Dan’s halfway through an attempt at red velvet cupcakes, and it’s not going great.

They are not red, first of all, because Dan mistook the green coloring for the red one, and it’s all just a general ongoing mess. Phil is, of course, not here to reassure Dan,or make fun of him, or press him against the counter and make out with him while the cupcakes bake. Phil picking up his mom from the station.

Which is a thing.

Dan’s meeting Phil’s mom.

He’s not really nervous about her. She must be lovely and quirky. But Dan’s scared of not impressing her, of not being enough for her wondrously creative son, stuck in a philosophy position he’s had for a year and a half now. And what kind of functioning adult has only been working for a year and a half? Dan doesn’t want to have to explain losing three years doing law, or not being brave enough to take the leap and study philosophy, instead dabbling in cosmology for a while, eating up existentialism because it fit him, and adding up degrees through years of procrastination and pulling all nighters writing papers he should have written over the past couple of weeks and months.

He’s a grown man, but he’s still insecure, scared, and a bit ashamed of his past.

Phil works on that too, untying knots of self-hatred in the night with smooth fingertips, so Dan remembers Phil saying, “She’ll love you, Dan, who wouldn’t?”, and fusses over the decorating of his cupcakes, lamenting their lack of aesthetic.

“Dan, we’re home!”

He pauses the cupcake tutorial, cursing the girl with perfectly curled hair and cherry red pastries, places his cupcakes on a porcelain plate, and walks out, greeting Mrs. Lester as she drags him into her arms.

He and Phil munch on the leftover swamp green cupcakes that night and, well, he’s got a new family member now, who seems to like him, contemplations of death and failed baking and all.

How to live your truth

Phil doesn’t come out, but Dan peeks through his channel, through his subscribers comments, through the content and the videos and the theories his fans create.

There’s the sound of cooking during a live show that triggers obsessive all caps and question marks. There’s an unmade double bed in the background of a video that leads to furious googling and careful expressions of happiness for Phil. There’s another hand in a pic of a healthy cherry blossom, zoomed in on and examined. There’s less and less selfies because now Phil has someone to take pictures of him, while he smiles and grins more naturally. And finally, there’s the first joint live shows, with their careful dodging of the actual status of their relationship, and interactions played over and over again in beautifully edited videos reblogged on tumblr.

All of it is a commitment by Phil’s fans to Dan, like Phil commits to Dan every day, to the place Dan has in Phil’s life, undefined but solid.

Dan holds the sky in his eyes at night, and wonders what the sense of it is.

Pascal said that Humans don’t hold the present. And Dan admires Pascal, but his present is rhythmed by Phil’s breathing, their rituals and systems, and the constant disappearance of sugar Phil causes.

Dan likes transparency and honesty about what he feels, and what he wants right now.

But he doesn’t know who he is, not really, dipping into his thirties, and maybe that’s okay. His present is ever changing and slips between his fingers, but Phil is the background of it, holds Dan in it.

And Dan gets up to teach Pascal, and to not believe him every day, because of Phil.

#phanfiction #I managed to post something #shocking #I actually like this

41 notes · View notes

hopeisnohometexts · 5 years

Text

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10 lettres en français original écrites par Anne Penders, au verso de cartes postales, pour le projet décrit ici

(les traductions en anglais, estonien et russe suivent)

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Ces textes, ainsi que l'ensemble de textes “Tout la patience du monde”, furent écrits en français par Anne Penders pour le projet décrit ici, comme des lettres inspirées de conversations que j’ai eues depuis 2016 avec Silven, Solo, Sacko, Hervé, James, Morteza, Shariffe, Mohamed, Elhadji et Jessi, demandeurs d’asile en Estonie.

Les lettres furent traduites en anglais par moi-même et relues par Jenny Zinovieff, traduites en estonien par Riina Veldi et relues Helve Hennoste, traduites en russe par Tatjana Kozlova-Johannes et relues par Julia Tomberg et Darja Nikitina.

Elles figurent au recto de cartes postales distribuées à partir de l’été 2019 au Centre d’art (Kunstihoone) de Tallinn et ailleurs.

Eleonore de Montesquiou

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Mon cher ami,

Il faut que tu saches, des gens d’ici nous ont vus hésiter sur la berge, tenter de traverser la rivière… plutôt que de nous lancer des bouées, c’est la police qu’ils ont appelée… entre temps, ton frère s’était noyé… je ne sais plus à quel Dieu me confier…

Love,

-------------

Mon ami,

C’est à toi que je parle. Si je te disais l’horreur de ce que je vis ici, dans ce camp où ils internent les réfugiés, tu ne me croirais pas. Ils m’ont tout pris. Pourtant, il faut que je parle. Rester vivant, au-delà des brisures. Au pays, si je suis expulsé, ils me tueront. Alors, ici, même enfermé, je me bats tous les jours. Pour qu’enfin quelqu’un m’entende…

Merci d’être là.

-------------

Mon amie,

Juste te dire. Je ne sais plus si je suis vivante ou morte. J’ai cru trouver refuge dans un pays, on m’a dit qu’il se nomme « Estonie », ça doit être vrai, je ne connais pas très bien la géographie. Ce qui est sûr, c’est que j’y ai découvert qu’on y confond le mot « refuge » et le mot « prison »… on me dit que c’est moi qui confond, que je ne comprends pas la langue... mais je ne sais que trop à quoi ressemblent des barreaux, et pourquoi je les ai fuis ! ! Si seulement je pouvais sortir du cauchemar…

A toi,

-------------

Ma chérie,

Tu verras sur la photo du Centre, comme on a tous l’air heureux et en bonne santé. C’est cette image qu’il faut garder en toi. Je ne te dirai rien d’autre.

Je t’aime,

-------------

My dear friend,

Ce petit mot pour te dire merci. De m’avoir soutenu. D’avoir cru chacun de mes mots. D’avoir témoigné de ce que j’ai vécu avant et après mon arrivée ici. Jamais je n’oublierai.

Amicalement,

-------------

Très chère amie,

Merci pour ta présence. Je suis heureux d'avoir partagé mon histoire, cela m'a un peu libéré l'esprit. Je voudrais te dire que je n’ai pas peur, tu peux raconter ce que je t’ai dit, il faut que les gens sachent ce qui se passe ici. Je n’ai pas peur, je ne recherche que la justice, je continuerai à poser des questions, ils ne peuvent pas m'enfermer.

A toi,

-------------

Mon amour,

Ici, c’est très dur. Rien de ce que j’aurais imaginé. Mais je tiens bon. Je rêve à ce que je ferai quand je serai libre. Quand tu seras là. Prends soin de toi paix et amour et surtout vigilance, prudence !

Pour toujours,

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Mon bel ami,

Si tu savais comme je pense à toi ! Et comme je rêve du jour où je t’écrirai enfin : j’ai obtenu l’asile, la Cour m’a entendu ! J’ai encore de l’espoir ! C’est aussi grâce à toi. Merci pour ta présence, même de loin.

Amitiés,

-------------

Mon amie,

J’écris pour sortir du cauchemar, ce cauchemar qui n’en finit pas, où les autorités me gardent en prison jusqu'à l'expiration de mon visa, jusqu’à ce qu’il ne soit plus valide, pour m’expulser ensuite… J’écris pour sortir du cauchemar, empêcher qu’on me renvoie à la case départ… parce qu’il n’y a pas de retour possible. Tu le sais.

Je t’embrasse très fort,

-------------

Cher ami d’ici,

Aujourd’hui, je me suis réveillé plus joyeux. Laisse-moi te raconter mon rêve : j’avais demandé l’asile en Europe, ils me l’accordaient, je pouvais faire une formation et commencer un métier. C’était un beau rêve, parce que si tu n’es rien dans ta tête, tu n’es rien dans la vie. Ce rêve m’a donné du courage toute la journée.

Je me réjouis de te voir bientôt,

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My dear friend,

You should know, the people here have seen us hesitate on the bank, trying to cross the river... rather than throwing life-belts, it's the police that they called... meanwhile, your brother drowned... I do not know anymore which God to confide...

Love,

-------------

My friend,

I'm talking to you. If I told you the horror that I’m going through here, in this camp where they detain refugees, you wouldn’t believe me. They have taken everything from me. Yet, I have to speak. To stay alive, beyond broken. At home they will kill me, if I am expelled. So here, even locked up, I am fighting every day. So that, finally someone will hear me...

Thank you for being there.

-------------

My friend,

Just to let you know. I no longer know if I'm alive or dead. I thought I would find refuge in a country. I was told it’s called "Estonia", it must be true, I don’t know my geography very well. What is certain is that I discovered that here, they mix up the word "refuge" with the word "prison"... I was told it was me that was muddled, that I didn’t understand the language... but I know only too well what bars are, and why I fled far from them! If only I could get out of this nightmare...

Yours,

-------------

My sweetheart,

You will see in the photo of the Center, that we all look happy and healthy. This is the image that you must keep in mind. I won’t tell you anything else.

I love you,

-------------

My dear friend,

This little note is to say thank you. For having supported me. For having believed each of my words. For having testified about what I’ve gone through before and after my arrival here. I won’t ever forget. Best wishes, E. --------- Very dear friend, Thank you for your presence. I’m happy to have shared my story; it has freed my mind a little. I would like to tell you that I'm not afraid, you can repeat what I have told you, people need to know what's going on here. I'm not afraid, I'm only looking for justice, I'll keep asking questions, they can’t lock me up.

Yours,

-------------

My love,

Here, it's very hard. Not at all what I would have imagined. But I hold on. I dream about what I will do when I am free. When you will be here. Take care! Peace, love and especially vigilance, caution.

Forever,

-------------

My good friend,

If you knew how much I think of you! And how I dream of the day when I will finally write to you: “I have been granted asylum, the Court listened to me!” I still have hope! This is also thanks to you. Thank you for your presence, even from afar.

With friendly wishes,

-------------

My friend,

I write to get out of the nightmare, this nightmare that never ends, where the authorities are keeping me in prison until my visa expires, until it is no longer valid, so they can then expel me... I am writing to get out of the nightmare, to prevent them from sending me back to the starting point... because there is no possible return. You know it.

Many kisses,

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Dear friend from here,

Today, I woke up happier. Let me tell you my dream: I had asked for asylum in Europe, they were granting it to me, I could be trained and start a job. It was a beautiful dream, because if you are nothing in your head, you are nothing in life. This dream gave me some courage all day long.

I am looking forward to seeing you soon,

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Kallis sõber!

Sa peaksid teadma, et siinsed elanikud on näinud meid kaldal kõhklemas, kui üritasime jõge ületada… Selle asemel et visata meile päästerõngad, kutsuvad nad hoopis politsei … vahepeal… Sinu vend uppus… Ma ei tea enam, millist jumalat uskuda…

Armastusega

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Mu sõber!

Ma räägin Sinuga. Sa ei usuks mind, kui räägiksin Sulle nendest õudustest, mida ma siin, selles laagris, kus nad põgenikke hoiavad, läbi elan. Nad on võtnud minult kõik. Ometigi, ma pean rääkima. Et jääda ellu pärast murdumist. Kui nad mu välja saadavad, siis kodus mind tapetakse. Nii et siin, isegi luku taga olles, võitlen ma iga päev. Et keegi mind lõpuks kuulaks…

Aitäh, et olemas oled!

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Mu sôbranna!

Lihtsalt annan Sulle teada. Ma ei tea enam, kas olen elus või surnud. Ma arvasin, et leian selles riigis varjupaiga. Mulle öeldi, et riigi nimi on Eesti. Ju see nii on, ma ei tunne geograafiat eriti hästi. Üks mis kindel: avastasin, et siin aetakse segi sõnad „varjupaik“ ja „vangla“… Mulle öeldi, et mina olen see, kes on segaduses, et ma ei saa keelest aru... aga ma tean ju väga hästi, mis on trellid ja miks ma nendest nii kaugele põgenesin! Kui ma vaid pääseks sellest õudusunenäost...

Sinu

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Mu kallis!

Sa näed, sellel Keskuses tehtud fotol, et me kõik paistame õnnelike ja tervetena. Seda pilti pead Sa oma mõtetes hoidma. Rohkem ma ei ütle sulle midagi.

Armastan sind

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Mu kallis sõber!

See väike kirjake on tänamaks Sind. Et oled mind toetanud. Et oled uskunud iga mu sõna. Et oled olnud tunnistajaks minu läbielamistele nii enne kui ka pärast minu saabumist siia. Ma ei unusta kunagi.

Sõbralike soovidega

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Väga kallis sôbranna!

Aitäh, et oled olemas. Mul on hea meel, et sain oma lugu jagada. See on mu mõtteid veidi rahustanud. Tahan sulle öelda, et ma ei karda, sa võid edasi rääkida seda, millest olen sulle jutustanud, inimesed peavad teadma, mis siin toimub. Ma ei karda, otsin vaid õiglust, jätkan küsimuste esitamist, ja nad ei saa mind luku taha panna.

Sinu,

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Mu armas!

Väga raske on siin. Pole üldse see, mida ma ette kujutasin. Aga ma pean vastu. Unistan sellest, mida vabaks saades tegema hakkan. Siis, kui Sina oled siin. Hoia ennast! Rahu, armastust ja eriti just valvsust, ettevaatlikkust.

Igavesti,

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Mu hea sõber!

Kui Sa vaid teaks, kui palju ma Sinu peale mõtlen! Ja kuidas ma unistan sellest päevast, kui saan Sulle lõpuks ometi kirjutada: „Mulle anti asüüli. Kohus kuulas mind!“ Mul on ikka veel lootust! Aitäh ka Sulle selle eest. Aitäh Sinu olemasolu eest, isegi kui Sa oled kaugel.

Sõbralike soovidega

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Mu sôbranna!

Ma kirjutan, et pääseda õudusest, sellest õudusest, mis ei lõpe iialgi, kus ametivõimud hoiavad mind vangis kuni mu viisa aegub, kuni see enam ei kehti, nii et nad saavad mu siis välja saata… Kirjutan, et pääseda õudusest, et takistada neid saatmast mind tagasi alguspunkti… sest tagasituleku võimalust ei ole. Sa tead seda.

Suudlen,

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Kallis siitmailt sõber!

Ärkasin täna rõõmsamana. Las ma räägin Sulle oma unenäost. Olin küsinud asüüli Euroopas, nad rahuldasid mu taotluse, võisin minna koolitustele ja alustada uuel töökohal. See oli ilus uni, sest kui Sa oled oma ettekujutuses mitte keegi, siis pole Sa ka elus mitte keegi. See unenägu andis mulle terveks päevaks julgust.

Ootan väga Sinuga kohtumist!

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Мой дорогой друг,

Ты должен знать, что здешние люди видели, что мы пребывали в сомнениях на берегу реки, когда ее пересечь… вместо того, чтобы бросить нам спасательные круги, они вызвали полицию… тем временем, твой брат утонул… Я не знаю, в какого Бога верить…

С любовью,

А.

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Мой друг,

Я говорю с тобой. Ты бы не поверил, если бы я рассказал тебе об ужасе того, что я здесь переживаю, в этом лагере, где они держат беженцев. Они отобрали у меня всё. Тем не менее, я должен говорить. Чтобы выжить, несмотря на сломленность. Если меня депортируют, меня убьют дома. Так что, даже здесь, взаперти, я борюсь изо дня в день. Чтобы кто-нибудь наконец услышал меня…

Спасибо, что ты есть.

Б.

-------------

Моя подруга,

Просто сообщаю. Я больше не знаю, жив ли я или мертв. Я думал, я найду в этой стране убежище. Мне сказали, она называется “Эстония”, должно быть, это верно, я не очень разбираюсь в географии. Что я здесь обнаружил, так это то, что они путают слово “убежище” со словом “тюрьма”... Мне сказали, что это я всё перепутал, что я не знаю языка… но я знаю достаточно хорошо, что такое решётки, и почему я так далеко от них бежал! Только бы выбраться из этого кошмара…

Твой,

В.

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Моя дорогая,

Ты увидишь на сделанной в Центре фотографии, какими мы все выглядим счастливыми и здоровыми. Этот образ ты должна держать в памяти. Больше я тебе ничего не скажу.

Я люблю тебя,

Г.

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Мой дорогой друг,

Эта короткая записка – благодарность тебе. За то, что поддержал. За то, что верил каждому моему слову. За то, что был свидетелем тому, через что я прошёл до и после моего прибытия сюда. Я не забуду никогда.

С дружескими пожеланиями,

Д.

-------------

Дражайшая,

Спасибо, что ты есть. Я счастлив поделиться моей историей; это облегчило мои мысли немного. Я хотел бы тебе сказать, что я не боюсь, ты можешь повторить всё, что я тебе сказал, люди должны знать, что здесь происходит. Я не боюсь, я только ищу справедливости, я продолжу задавать вопросы, и они не могут отправить меня под замок.

Твой,

Е.

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Моя любимая,

Здесь очень тяжело. Совсем не так, как я себе представлял. Но со мной всё в порядке. Я мечтаю о том, что буду делать, когда освобожусь. Когда ты будешь здесь. Береги себя! Спокойствия, любви и особенно бдительности, осторожности,

Навеки,

Ё.

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Мой дорогой друг,

Если бы ты знал, как много я думаю о тебе! И как я мечтаю о дне, когда я наконец напишу тебе: “Я получил убежище, Суд меня послушал!”. У меня всё ещё есть надежда! Это в том числе благодаря тебе. Спасибо тебе за твоё присутствие, даже если ты на самом деле далеко.

С дружескими пожеланиями,

Ж.

-------------

Моя дорогая,

Я пишу, чтобы выбраться из кошмара, из этого бесконечного кошмара, который никак не кончиться, где власти держат меня в тюрьме, пока не истечёт срок моей визы, до тех пор, пока она не станет недействительна, чтобы они смогли меня депортировать… Я пишу, чтобы выбраться из кошмара, чтобы препятствовать им выслать меня обратно в отправную точку… потому что возврат невозможен. Ты знаешь это.

Целую,

З.

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Дорогой друг отсюда,

Сегодня я проснулся более радостным. Позволь мне рассказать о своём сне: я попросил убежище в Европе, они удовлетворили моё ходатайство, я мог пойти на обучение и начать работать. Это был прекрасный сон, потому что если ты представляешь себя ничтожеством в собственном сознании, то ты будешь ничтожеством и жизни. Этот сон придал мне смелости на весь день.

Очень жду встречи с тобой,

И.

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