The colour grey // phan

The meet up

Dan usually oppressed his emotions, confined them. Pushed them as far away from his soul as possible. Trapped them in a bottle and threw them to the raging waves of the sea. But this time, as dan stood up, he was overwhelmed by emotion. A sincere, nagging, shooting pain striking his heart. Though there was no puncture wound, his heart was broken, torn, ripped.

Tears streamed from his eyes like a river. They rolled down his cheek so slowly, so freely. His shoulders seized up and his knees gave way.

The doctor did nothing but hang his head low, suppressing his own emotions, dan thought.

After around a ten minute breakdown and multiple puffs from his inhaler, dan walked back to his car. Puffed and flustered, he entered the car and he sat in silence for a few seconds, head resting on the steering wheel.
Dan finally composed himself and he drove out of the horrifically depressing medical centre.

Dan knew he had to tell Phil, the only question was

How?

Surely not in a phone call, or a text message.

Dan: hey phil, would you like to meet me at the park, uno the one we hang out at sometimes?

Phil: sure :) what time??
Dan: umm around 4, by the swings.
Phil: okay. Everything alright??
Dan: ... I'll explain when we are there.

Dan put his phone back into his jacket pocket. Nearly dropping it as a rush of unsteadiness controlled his body, causing him to shake a little. Making him migrate to the cold hard floor to regain his own control.

If I die young
Bury me in satin
Lay me down on a
Bed of roses

See, Daniel James Howell was dying. Surely. He had it all planned out, his funeral, his will, everything. To be honest, he even planned the costs.

Dan needed treatment fast, it would at least help him. Hopefully...