One Shots boy x boy 5sos, phan, 1D, kellic, etc

Phan

(A/N: Aye bitches don't skip this authors note or the one at the end <3. Phil tops okay lmao. The part until a lil bit after the chinese symbols was not written by me it was written by my acquaintance Kylie so thats why the first and second half of this chapter are kind of different in writing styles. I attempted to make the first part blend in so its not so different but it didn't work out. If you pay attention you should be able to see that I re wrote part of the first half though, so  tell me if you're able to notice it. I appreciate comments and votes.)

TRIGGER WARNING: CONTAINS MENTIONS OF ABUSE, DRUG USE, SELF HARM AND SUICIDE

Dan's POV

It hadn't started so wrong, so cold and painful. I guess that our honeymoon phase lasted for only three years really. Just about every night we'd go outside by the cliffs and watch the sun set. Small I love you's were whispered into each other's ears like the buzz of a fly. Our names carved into the tree we used to sit in and just talk about everything and nothing all at once. It's where we had our first kiss. No fights, the only ones being well, joking, over me eating his cereal dry in the morning to things like the way I wore my hair. Such silly things, unimportant ones, that started with straight faces and twitching lips and ended with us turned over grasping our stomachs laughing.

Then, well, then, 2012 happened. We fought all the time, we where just always back and forth after, arguing and yelling. He was so angry, angry because I had made that video, angry because of what happened to him, angry I wasn't as defensive as him. Warm, brown chocolate eyes that used to be filled with warmth and love turned cold and unforgiving with time. They darkened, not the lustful kind of darken either, they darkened to emotionless black, which was better than the dark brown ones that flashed in fights, full of resentment and contempt.

I remember it being the day we moved in. We were arguing over something small, and it seemed he had just snapped. One minute he was shouting that I was stupid and stubborn, the next I was on the floor with a stinging red cheek. He looked sorry as he stared at his hand in disbelief. He started crying and begged me for forgiveness and so I believed him when he promised he would never do it again. The gentle kisses, hugs, cuddles and whispered little promises against my skin emphasised that. After that we didn't fight for weeks, almost a month.

Then one day I dropped his favorite cup and it shattered to pieces. Phil was screaming at me, yelling I was such a goddamn clutz, and then he did it again. This time it was a punch that rewarded me with a nosebleed and later on a bruise. He didn't stop yelling. I picked up the glass and threw it away and noticed shards of glass in my hand that night. I realized it was his dead grandmothers cup. I felt so ashamed so I just took it because after all, I deserved it.

After that, it only got worse. To the fans, it was getting better, that was because off camera he was letting loose his anger in words and blows, covering my skin with black and blue and my mind with self hatred. We started sleeping in different beds and I stopped eating his cereal, I stopped eating almost anything. We no longer cuddled and hugged or went to the cliffs. He used everything for ammunition. I was too fat, too skinny, too pale, too happy, my hair was too black, I wore too many colors. I was always wrong and he was always right. I was happy to the fans, to Phil, to my friends and family, I was the same Dan to them. I never told anyone, all they would do is ask why I didn't leave and I couldn't tell them I still loved him. I still loved the man who would kiss my cheeks and laughed at my animal facts. I loved the man who hated the taste of cheese, tomato juice, and soda water. I feared the person, the monster, that man had become but I still had a shard of hope that he'd get better.

One day I was cleaning up around the house to occupy myself and a scraped my arm against the sharp edge of a nail that was poking out. I kept quiet about it knowing he'd be angry. The next day he saw the still open wound and screamed at me, he taunted me for being a cutter and that I better not die because then who would clean up the messes? Some time after that, scrapes and cuts where slowly becoming intentional.