suicide hotline / phan

28

*I'm sorry if this isn't that good, I haven't written in a while haha, sorry for that. Also, massive ass trigger warning, this entire chapter is going to be full of EXTREMELY triggering things so I suggest being careful reading x ily and thank you for reading as always!*

Dan's eyes flutter open, the dim morning light shining through the window onto the bedsheets. He buries his head tighter into Phil's bare chest, his heart throbbing as if someone was repetitively punching it.

"I love you" He murmurs into Phil's warm figure, sadness lacing his words. He gently shifts away so that he can climb out of bed, stretching his arms out slightly and wincing.

He glances sideways at the alarm clock, the time '5:30' blinking in neon red. He closes his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath and letting the moment pass before opening his eyes again. Everything was calm, and he hated it.

He hated that despite the ongoing storm violently tearing at his mind, everything around him stayed the same. The sun still rose even when he was sinking, and it didn't seem fair. It didn't seem fair that although we slave, suffer and hurt the world still doesn't see us worthy enough to stop for. Not even for a second. We could drop off the face of the Earth and still that goddamn sun would keep rising. Not a second of condolence, not an ounce of grief. Our insignificance is really what keeps the world turning, and it's such a disgusting yet such a beautiful analogy.

Dan lets the smoke drift from his lips, his lips blue with the biting cold air. His mind turns silent slowly, the noise of his thoughts drowning out into a dark blur. He remembers the first time he was in this situation, how he relied on the cigarettes to keep him sane. He remembers the silent house as Phil burst through the doors, running upstairs and finding Dan huddled into a ball, crying. He feels like he's grown so much, it almost scares him how much one person has changed his life. However, despite his life taking a complete turn, despite the pain and the mistakes and the hurt...

He still doesn't want to die.

Dan starts to break down into tears, his chest giving way and letting out sobs as tears soak his face. He's so done, so fucking done and it hurts so bad. His heart aches and his mind can't take it anymore, but he doesn't want to leave. He doesn't want to never kiss Phil again, he doesn't want to never eat popcorn again, he doesn't want to never breathe in fresh air and he doesn't want everything to go away. It makes him so, so angry. He can see everything around him, everything that gives him a small ounce of joy and everything that's kept him on the planet. But there's always a cloud. There's always a thick mist of fog suffocating him, a dark liquid drowning everything out and turning everything dark. The sun no longer shines powerful beams of light, it just slowly burns out in the sky, reminding him that everything is really just going to fade away in the end anyway. The small amount of happiness he still feels doesn't seem pure anymore, it just seems wrong, as if he's being lied to. Because, in the end, he always ends up back here. And, somehow, it gets a little more painful every time.

He curls up into a ball, the cigarette falling out of his grip and out of the window as his hand goes limp. He lets his tears soak his knees, and he's brought back to that day. The day when he was small and vulnerable, when he had nobody. He's become so, so much stronger, but somehow sitting here he feels so fragile that he could shatter.

He just wants it all to go away.

And, soon, it will.

His breathing gradually slows to a shaky whisper, and he looks up from over his knees, his eyes emptily staring at the plain wall. His eyes trace over the slight cracks in the off-white paint, how small shards of it have somehow given way and fallen to the carpet in a small pile. Examining the carpet somehow seems like a good attempt at calming down, and he eventually finds himself counting each and every strand absentmindedly. A large amount of time passes before he decides he can't put things off any longer, and he stands up, shaking his head rid of any leftover emotion. After all, emotion is a distraction and distraction reduces focus. The importance of the situation still hangs heavy, and even though Dan knows he won't be here for the aftermath he knows that Phil will. He needs everything to be in order, to be easy. And he needs to not think. Because maybe, if he thinks, he'll end up convincing himself that things aren't as bad as they are. And maybe, if he does that, he'll end up hurting everyone even more. Giving everyone a little more hope, only to shatter it in the end. Hope is toxic, and he doesn't want anyone to be poisoned any longer.