Phan Fluff

I'm Not Okay

Hey, I'm literally writing this on my phone so excuse the use of bold letters where they could've been italicised. Anyway bye. Enjoy Dan's POV for a bit now!

__________________________________________________

DAN

It had been a while since I'd been able to be happy again.

A month ago, when Phil signed the agreement off it sent a stab through the centre if me and I relive the way the hurt clashed through his eyes and at that moment I wanted to take back everything I'd said and Rio the agreement up, but then-- he immediately, without hestating-- just-- signed it off-- and-- I realised, it was only the time we'd spent together which made him-- surprised-- nothing more. He signed it. He-- signed.

I rushed to my room and threw my stack of books down, kicked my piano and sat in the bath with the shower running over me while hot tears streaked their way down my cheeks. It took me all of an hour to pack and quite a few more before I could stop crying. I didn't sleep that night and holding my tears back with all my willpower, I walked across to Phil's room and then I said goodbye. He wanted to 'talk', but I knew if I let myself fall into the abyss that was his blue pair of eyes I'd never be able to leave. So I left.

My first night and a few more in the new apartment went by in tears and guilt and just as I was getting into a routine of eating Chinese delivered to the place whenever I couldn't go without foot anymore-- usually about four days-- and then lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, counting the specks on it to keep my mind off of Phil, a buzz sounded me into consciousness. I couldn't remember ordering Chinese but who was I kidding, I was starving-- so I'd went and answered the intercom-- "Dan it's me," he'd said. It was hard to feel my heart expand as much as it did hearing Phil's voice. I stumbled backward and chastised myself, telling my mind to stop playing tricks on me. This was not true. How could my mind-- my dreams-- haunt me like this?

I looked back at the light on the screen and for a second I'd let myself believe. I walked down and there he was. My mouth went dry. He looked awful! His ginger roots were more than peeking out now, fringe pushed flat down onto his head, blue eyes tired and dead and his usually loose T-shirt hanging off his visibly shrunken form. I regretted chastising him after our separation, but he didn't seem to mind.

As our conversation unfolded I didn't understand why he wanted to-- patch things up? After all, wasn't this'd what he wanted? Finally my head cleared when he spoke about the Sims video. Of course. Appearances. Made sense.

After he left I felt incredibly ecstatic but before I left for him home that weekend I tossed back a couple extra antidepressant pills to make me happy and comfortable in the situation. I knew SSRIs were impossible to overdose on. What I didn't know were they were NEARLY impossible to overdose on. I knew I was being off during our shoot but my head was reeling and it got to a point where it was burning in my chest so I bent down and the bursting feeling in my head were all too much and I got up and ran out. I didn't want Phil's sympathy so I told him to leave me alone through the pain. When u got a cab, the driver Took one look at me and drove me straight to the hospital.

I was critically unstable, apparently, and I couldn't take my antidepressants for a while which meant I was stuck in my hell dimension for weeks.

My nights were plagued with nightmares because of withdrawal symptoms from the SSRIs and, of course, they were filled with Phil. But here he was teasing me, bullying me, calling me 'fag' and then brandishing a sword and cutting off my head. I woke forms one such nightmare to see the villain from my nightmares himself-- the hero of my dreams.