Paragraphs

Perfect

   Phil awoke to the smell of Dan's ocean breeze body wash. He lazily rolled over in their king-sized bed and looked at his boyfriend. He was stunning. Phil took in every inch of his beauty. He rubbed Dan's back,
   "You're perfect, Bear."
Dan rolled over in his half-conscious state and sighed, smiling into the duvet. Phil kissed Dan's neck and sat up, looking around the room. Sunshine was pouring in through the cracks in their window shades, and every inch of the room was illuminated with the soft, warm, glow of a perfect spring morning in London. Phil layed back down and wrapped his arm around Dan's torso, shutting his eyes in contentment.
   "You're so cold Bear, turn over so I can warm you up." But Dan didn't turn over. He continued to face away from Phil, growing paler by the second.
   "D-Dan?! Are you alright?" Phil grabbed Dan by the shoulders and turned him over, only to stare into his cold, dead, eyes.
   "Dan!"
Phil sat up in his bed, drenched in sweat. Another nightmare. He groaned and rubbed his eyes; it was morning anyways. He crawled out of bed, the image of Dan's lifeless corpse seared into his brain. He fished through his bedside table drawer to find a half empty bottle of pills, along with a small and crumpled paper shoved into the corner. His eyes hungrily scanned the cramped hadwriting hurriedly scrawled across the page, then his hands and fingers followed suit opening the bottle and pouring out the remaining tablets. He took one last look at everything. The ceiling, the floor, the walls. The handfull of pills he vowed never to take. And the paper he vowed never to read again. He balled it back up and threw it angrily across the room. Why did Dan have to leave him like this?

A/N: Sorry this is so depressing lmao
If enough of you want, I can do an alternate ending that's a bit (or a lot) happier?