Special Boy // phan

-30-

"I'm broken?" I asked softly, tears collecting in pools at the corners of my eyes. I would not let them spill, no matter how bad I felt. I was 7 years old, I was a big kid. I would not cry. I may not have had a power, but I would not cry.

"Not broken, Danny! Just... special."

The memory came in a flash as I felt Phil plummet to the ground, wrapping his body tightly around me so that I wouldn't hit the pavement, too. There was a sickening crunch, so like the one I heard when we were chasing that one Bad, so like the sound of bone snapping against solid concrete. Phil was still wrapped suffocatingly tight around me, but I heard him scream, echoing off my bones, reverberating through my vertebrae. It hurt to hear him scream like that, so full of pain and anguish.

"Phil!" I shouted, as if anything I could do could prevent the agony he was in. "Phil, let me go! Let me go so I can help you!" But his body had gone rigid with shock, blood bubbling along the surface of his skin where the gravel had punctured it. I could feel him start to sob along with his screams, and finally, I pushed his arms apart and freed myself.

I felt the cool night air sting the cuts and bruises I had gotten where Phil's body hadn't protected me, and brief waves of pain washed over me before I could get my wits about me again.

"Phil..." I moaned, rolling away and clambering up to my knees, hands hovering over his shaking form. He was still crying and screaming, primal sounds like that of an animal. I didn't know what to do. Why isn't my power healing! Why do I have to have a power that hurt people instead of one that helped?

"Dan... Dan, help me..." My hands were shaking almost was much as Phil was, nothing to do with the pain or the cold. Fear. I was so afraid. I was afraid that I was going to lose him, afraid that he was broken beyond repair, afraid-

Afraid it was my fault.

I couldn't think of anything else to do, so I fumbled to pull out my phone. Please, remember, Dan. What's the number for his angels?

Shaking, bloody fingertips pressed against the too-bright numbers of the screen like they had minds of their own, more muscle memory than one I could put a reason to. When I heard the shrill dial tone, I pressed the speaker to my ear, shaking, as Phil's screams died away and turned into silent, painful sobs. Each one cut me, stabbed me like a blade, piercing right between my ribs. I rested my free hand on his cheek as the tears spilled from my eyes. It rang. It rang and rang and rang. It rang for what felt like years.

"Lester's Angels, we're here to help. What's your emergency?"

"Yes, hi! My-my name is Dan, and I am with Phil-"

"Sir, your emergency?"

"Yes!" An insane chuckle bubbled past my lips. I was going crazy with worry. "Phil Lester, he's hurt, he fell from really high and I think he broke something. Please send someone, he's bleeding, it's bad." There was a slight shuffle on the other side of the line.

"I have dispatched two angels to your location, please stay on the line, Dan." I felt my body, as if it wasn't really me, lay down beside Phil. I was more hurt than I had thought; my own blood was pooling around us, mingling with Phil's.

"Phil," I mumbled hoarsely, touching his shoulder, covered with cloth and bruise. I was delicate, a shell of my old self. It's my fault. It's all my fault. "Phil, please, stay awake. Don't leave me Phil, listen to my voice. You're going to be okay, okay? We're both going to be okay." I could feel blackness biting at the edges of my own vision, leaving stars in its wake. I was so tired. I didn't want to move. I wanted to lay here with Phil forever.

I took his hand, which didn't seem too injured save a few bruises, and very delicately placed a kiss on his knuckles. He moaned in pain, and I felt my heart sink even further. As if I thought I could help. As if my kiss could save Phil.

The angels arrived when I was just about to slip out of consciousness, just about to give into the blackness.

"Dan, Phil, what the fuck?" That voice was familiar. In any other circumstance, it would  have made me cringe. But the very, very annoying sound of angel Charlie's voice was a welcome wake up call. He knew what was wrong with Phil. He could help.

And, maybe I was selfish for thinking so, but maybe, he could tell me what he knew. He could tell me my power.

The other angel got to work quickly, prying Phil and I apart. Charlie hovered in a halo of light created by a street lamp, assessing us. Suddenly, he jumped at me.

"Dan, you need to get away from here!" He shouted, grabbing roughly where the other angel had so carefully pulled. I shouted in agony, my bones twisting in my arm. "You need to get away now!"

"No!" I screamed, trying to peel his arms off me. But he would be stronger than me in my best time, and now, when my blood was spilling onto the pavement and my vision was blurred, he held me back easily.

"Dan, trust me, this is the only way to fix him!" My energy spent, I collapsed in Charlie's arms like a rag doll, letting him drag me away from Phil, who was still lying on the pavement like he had nothing left in him. It tore me apart. It broke my heart. The farther away from him Charlie took me, the more lifeless I felt.

Charlie finally propped me up against my car, checking my pulse with his index and middle finger. "Phil..." I mumbled, trying desperately to crawl away from Charlie. "Let me go to him, please..." But Charlie was in my head, he knew what I was thinking. I wasted the energy saying it aloud, and I didn't save it from blocking him from rooting around in my thoughts.

But he didn't. He couldn't. I could sense his frustration, could feel him reaching into my brain but finding nothing to see. Just like before, when I had fought him, he didn't know what I was thinking.

"Dan, you're his weakness. You're everybody's weakness. That's your power. You... you have to stay away from the healer, or else she won't be able to fix Phil." I slumped in my spot, finally defeated. My power is weakness. How fitting.

Charlie's eyes, full of frustration and unease, were the last thing I saw before finally succumbing to the darkness.

Weakness is power. Power is strength. Strength, in the case of Dan Howell, was weakness.