My Spirit Love (phan)

三十二 - 𝓞𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓭𝓸𝓼𝓮

"What do you do when you've lost everything? Everything you've ever known, everything you've ever loved, and everything you've ever cared for?" Phil asked his brother, his lips to the edge of a cold hot chocolate.

"I don't know." Martyn sighed honestly, sitting on the opposite sofa, "Phil you're saying things that are worrying me and I'm not sure what to do."

"Neither do I." Phil shrugged. It had been a month. He'd given up on Dan's return and was beginning to wonder how many more mornings he could wake up without his best friend by his side. His brother had come down for Christmas but had decided to stick around, but Phil could care less either way.

"Do I need to tell someone? Do I need to take you somewhere? How much longer can I guarantee you're safe, Phil?" he pushed, but Phil just looked to the side and didn't respond. Martyn sighed, taking a seat next to his brother and pulling his body into a hug, "I'm always here for you, okay? Don't feel alone."

The younger brother coughed up after a while, "Thank you." he whispered.

"You're Phil. My little brother, the one who I'm running a business for and is pretty much damn famous. Take a break from it all, focus on yourself. It won't be easy, I'm not a fucking idiot, but you'll get there."

Phil chuckled, "Thanks again." but his heart was beating in his throat and every joint in his body ached. Last week he went to sleep not wanting to open his eyes again in the morning, wishing the darkness of the night sucked the last of his breaths away and let him rest in peace. But he got up every morning, his consciousness returning as once again he lived a day without Dan. That was his timeline: before his boyfriend dissappeared, and after. That's all his days meant anymore. And now he was going to bed, the last few days unsure whether he would be getting up in the morning. It didn't even scare him, or make him cry, it was just a fact: he didn't want to be alive if he was alive without Dan.

"So you're safe, yeah?" Martyn asked, looking at his brother's dull eyes.

He nodded, "Yeah, of course." shrugging, standing up from the sofa, "I'm going to go to bed." he sniffled.

"Phil?" Martyn asked

He hummed in response.

"It's two in the afternoon." he warned.

"I know. Just going up for a nap." he dismissed, walking out of the room.

He sat with his palms on his forehead, his fingernails running over his eyebrows as he listened to the emptiness of the room. It was isolation. It was never having anyone besides Dan, and now having no one. He hung his arms around his body and let his head fall to his boyfriend's pillow. He remembered how Dan liked to curl with his knees to his chest, and Phil would hold himself over him. So he did just that, lifting his knees to his chin and wrapping his fists between each other, wondering if there'd be a day again where waking up was more that a function of his body.

He stood up, tucking the corners of his bedsheets over the mattress and laying out the pillows neatly at the top. He checked that the curtains over the window were open, letting the sun beam through, before he decided he'd draw them, saying goodbye to the midday sun. He chuckled, because only him and Dan would have sentiment over bloody blinds.

He looked around the room, deciding to tuck his desk chair under and neatly arrange the books on top, then ordered his shoes in the corner of his room. It didn't look perfect, but it didn't look horrendous. It would do.

His next decision wasn't sporadic, but neither was it over-thought or overly contemplated. To Phil, it was no more a complicated decision than deciding he was going to get a cup of coffee, but the decision was made and in the moment, he knew there would be no change to it. No intervening parents, or Martyn, or a conveniently timed telephone call. The world was holding its breath as Phil steadily sighed.

Prescribed pills, over-the-counter medicine, whatever tablets he'd managed to gather both purposefully and unknowingly over the years sat in the drawer above his underwear. It was a miscellaneous drawer of goods that never really belonged anywhere else.

He took a handful, not a measured amount, nor one he thought about. The decision wasn't a depressing one, not to him in that moment, it was essential and an act of slow desperation. He unfolded the box, popping one of the tablets out, followed by another, and another, until he was staring at a small gathering in his palm. It still didn't feel real. It shouldn't be this easy. But it was as he pressed his hand to his mouth and swallowed the mass with a gulp of water. He stared at the empty patch of skin responsible for the action, his heart begin to race in his chest as though his body understood what he was doing before his mind had come to terms with it.

He chuckled, popping them into his palm again and letting them tunnel down his throat. He didn't think it would be this easy, he wondered, if he'd known that it was, whether he'd have done it sooner. He wondered if he'd have done it when Dan was still around and he saw the world as a darkening place.

The fourth handful was when it kicked in, his mind started playing back the years of his life that he'd run through. He remembered them, no matter how hard he tried to block them out and he thought about Dan's fragile face as he amazedly stared at the small snail curled in the very spot the medicine sat in now. Phil wept. He wept for the past he was to lose and the future he'd never have, and the present he chose to mindlessly stumble through.

"One hell of a life." he thought to himself, letting the tears run down his face as his fist emptied once again. He lost track after that, but no matter how much his body shook or how many memories were played back to him he didn't stop until the boxes were depleted. It wasn't a happy moment, no matter how hard he tried to tell himself it was.

At around eight o'clock that night, there was a small tap on Philip's door, before his brother stood lopsidedly in the doorway with a sympathetic smile on his lips, "How are you doing? You didn't come out again."

Phil shrugged, his face against the pillow and his socks curled above the covers, "Could be better." he sighed honestly.

"Do you need me to stay?" Martyn asked, trying to not make a big deal out of it. No matter how worried he was about Phil, he was his older brother and he wouldn't shift the dynamic they'd had all their lives. It would feel unnatural. It would confirm to them both that Phil was truly unwell.

The younger boy shook his head, "I'm alright. Just getting some rest." he lied this time.

"Okay. I'm just across the hall, right?"

"Yeah." Phil nodded, the door closed as he whispered, "Thanks Martyn."