Phillip sits on the edge of the bed, his hand hovering over your arm, as if deciding it's worth it or not. It sucks to be forgotten on your birthday, but truly, he was swearing at himself the entire day for not being able to get home to you with a nice cake and flowers. He hoped that'd be enough.

"I know you ain't asleep." He sighs, retracting his hand. Your tears are more fresh and warm than the dinner you had planned, and that left him with guilt.

"I'll make it up to you, alright? Don't stay mad at me."