Phan One Shots

Beautiful Photos Pt 2

AN: 

Same TWs as last time probably. 

I regret NOTHING

Also get snacks because it is looonnnngggg

. .  . .

Dan didn't enter his sister's room for three weeks after her death. Suddenly, after coming home from another day of bullying, he found himself opening the door. Something had snapped and he had found himself wondering if it would help.

The room, while slightly dusty, was exactly how she'd left it. A few articles of clothing lie scattered on the ground and her desk was a mess, that wasn't surprising. Her bed sat unmade and covered in her plushies. Her wardrobe was covered in her flower crowns and other assorted trinkets. Dan spotted her favorite lavender jumper on the ground and put it on over his thin t-shirt. It still smelled of her, lavender and chocolate.

Dan was right, it did make him feel slightly better. He felt like Em would walk in that door at any moment with an oddly colored wig and her oxygen tank behind her. She would laugh at him and inquire about the jumper, telling him to wash it once he was done.

He sat down on the sea-green sheets, pulling her big Turtwig plushie to him. He sighed sadly, "I-I don't know if you can hear me but I miss you. If you can't come back, which you probably can't, I could really use another angel. Thanks for the camera. I'll take good care of it, I know how much you loved it."

He smiled sadly, imagining his older sister sitting on the bed beside him and comforting him as she did, making him laugh. He turned his head and saw her closet door was slightly open. He laughed lightly at that, she hated open cabinets but, somehow, always left that open. He walked over and pushed the door open more.

Her closet was full of her mix of pastel and punk clothes. Old boxes sat atop a high shelf and wigs sat on a lower one. He ran his fingers over her clothes that were hanging, most were placed haphazardly in her hamper.

Forgetting about the jumper, he walked away from the closet, shutting the door, and away from the room. He walked down the stairs and into the kitchen in search of food.

"Hey, Dan-" his mother froze, looking at him in surprise.

"What?" He asked, confusedly.

"N-nothing, I just- you look nice in her sweater."

"Huh? Oh, I'd forgotten I was wearing it. It's comfy. I like it."

"Well, you can wear them if you want, dear."

. . . .

Dan was running late for school... again. After quickly changing into a sea green sweater, white jeans, and his worn-out converse, he grabbed a matching flower crown, his backpack, and camera before rushing out the door.

On the way to school, he stopped for a moment to admire a flower, quickly snapped a picture and, once receiving the Polaroid, shook it out, making the vibrant colors appear. Then he was off again, rushing to the school he ever so hated.

Dan sat down in his first class and pulled his photo book out of his backpack, securing the new photo onto a page. It was getting full and he made a mental note to get a new one. He tucked it away as his art class began.

"Okay, class, so today we're going to start a project. You will be working with a partner-" The art teacher began. She reminded him too much of his older sister but a bit more pastel and shy. She wore big glasses, an old shirt and jeans both covered in paint and some high tops. Blue paint was smeared across her left cheek and her messy, blonde hair was simply pushed to one side. She was Dan's favorite teacher and had a slight southern-American accent. (AN: I'll never be a teacher but if I was...)