4 Years: A Phan Oneshot

It's been four years today, Dan.

Four years since you left me.

Why did you go, Dan?

Why did you leave me alone?

Why did you step off that chair, leaving your limp, lifeless body hanging there?

But more importantly, why did you say you were okay?

Why did you let me go out?

Why didn't you tell me?

This is my fault, isn't it.

I should have stayed.

I could've called Chris and PJ later.

I would've seen them the next day.

But I can't say the same for you, Dan.

When I got home and saw you, I cried so hard.

The paramedics said it was too late.

You had stepped off of the chair an hour before I came home.

At 7:45 PM you stepped off.

When they lowered your body into the ground, I cried.

I count to your casket and wouldn't let them do it.

Why would they want to surround such a beautiful body in dirt?

I've barely eaten since then.

My arms and legs are a battlefield of scars.

I just want to see you.

Sometimes, I dream about not going to dinner with Chris and PJ.

I dream that we stayed home and cuddled, until we fell asleep.

But I'd wake up in the morning,

And you'd be gone.

It's all my fault.

I can't blame you.

I left.

I knew you were unstable.

I let you die, Dan.

And I could have stopped you.

It's 7:40 PM, Dan.

At 7:45, I'm going to wake up and you'll be next to me.

I'm going to join you.

Don't worry, I'll be there soon.

I'll tuck this in my back pocket,

so when we wake up you can read it.

It's almost time.

7:43.

I'm standing on your chair, Dan.

7:44.

Meet me at the gates.

7:45.

I'm coming.