I CAN'T SLEEP ?PHAN

Most days were relatively lonely, Phil was always stuck in his room working on his laptop so I never got to see him. It was usually just me and my computer, and the overwhelming tiredness. I refused to sleep though, not since I went to Phil's room. I didn't want to have another bad dream, they were horrible and I always woke up more tired than I had when I went to bed.
My dark circles were saying something and my head was dazed and foggy from lack of rest. Whenever I didn't get enough sleep, which was often, I always get over-emotional, like a hormonic girl. I cry over stupid things and get angry for no reason. It was rare that I felt normal and content with myself; I always felt on the edge of breaking out into tears and ripping my hair out, I kind of felt like that right now and I didn't like it. I wanted to sleep and I wanted to feel better but I was scared to even put my head to my pillow. I was scared of the demons and the blood and the horrible mazes of my dreams, I didn't want to meet them ever again. But I don't know how to get better.
I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and sat up slowly, cautious; I always get headaches if I stand up too fast, and made my way across the hall and knocked on the door.
"Come in!" I heard a familiar voice call before I inched open the wooden door, peeking in at the current setting of Phil's bedroom. He was sitting under his colorful colored duvet, computer on his lap and glasses placed on the end of his nosed. The room was dimly lit, just the evening sun shining in through the blinds and his white laptop screen glowing causing his skin look even more pale.
"What's up?" his lazy gaze was scanning my unruly appearance, a single finger lifting up to brush his fringe out from his face.
"I can't sleep," I croaked, my throat dry and stinging. I didn't know what else to say, 'i really want to sleep in your bed so i don't have bad dreams'? I mean yeah, that'd be the frank truth but I can't just say that, it's weird.
He silently patted the place next to him on the bed and returned to his work, eyes trained at the screen and fingers skillfully typing words I couldn't see.
I took the gesture as an invite and slid beneath the sheets, my foot poking Phil's long legs but he didn't seem to mind. I was grateful for the warmth and comfort of his bed, the pros of having another person in the bed. I could easily get used to sleeping in the same bed as another person, but surely not with Phil. This was temporary until I found a solution to my horrid nightmares; I couldn't let myself believe just the presence of Phil was the antidote to one of my most prominent problems in life. I wouldn't.

A/N
adele's new song is my shit omg