Fighter-A Phan Story

Chapter One

Dan pulled out a piece of bread, ripped it up into pieces, and took his antidepressants. He took as much as the doctors could legally prescribe to him. He finished the last pill and threw the rest of the bread into the rubbish, disgusted with the mixture of flavours in his mouth. 

Phil came out of his room, carrying his shoes in one hand. "Did you take your medicine?" he asked kindly.

Dan nodded. He was asked this every morning. 

"How did you sleep?"

Dan shrugged. "Fine," he mumbled. 

Little did Dan know that Phil watched him sleep for an hour before going back to his own room and lying awake the rest of the night. Phil pulled his shoes on.

"I'm going into town today. I'm meeting up with Carrie and Alex. Wanna come?"

Dan shook his head. 

Phil sighed, the thought of leaving Dan alone worrying him. Even though it was almost a month ago, he still felt terrified every time he had to leave his friend by himself. 

"I'll be fine," Dan assured him, seeing the look on the older one's face. "I'm just not feeling up to it today."

"Alright," Phil replied. "I'll be back soon...um...call me if you need anything." And with that, he was gone.

Dan sat at the breakfast bar for a few minutes, unsure of what he should do with himself. His wrists itched. They itched in a way that he couldn't scratch; it was the kind of itch that he had to cut away. Pushing himself off of the stool, Dan went to his bathroom to look for it.

It wasn't in the cabinet or under the sink. It wasn't behind the toilet.

He knew that Phil had raided the place of Dan's razors that were hidden so carefully throughout the flat. His friend had them somewhere. But where was somewhere? All he had to do was locate them and he'd find his relief.

First,  he checked Phil's bedroom. Dan knew that he shouldn't have been going through Phil's things, but he couldn't help himself. His wrists needed relief. The pain was becoming intolerable. He looked under the bed and found nothing but socks and a few papers. 

Then, Dan looked in Phil's dresser. He searched through his sock drawer first with no luck. Then he opened his shirt drawer and moved to the very bottom of the pile. He saw a flash of a dark red at the bottom of the stack of clothing. He tugged on the fabric and pulled it out of the drawer and looked at the hoodie, remembering.

It had Dan's blood on the sleeves. 

Dan could still feel the convulsions, hear the buzzing, and feel the burning pain. It was all coming back to him. He could feel the death closing in on him once more. 

Trying to regulate his breathing, Dan folded the hoodie carefully and placed it back where he found it. He kept telling himself that he was okay and that he was recovering now. Dan got his phone out of his pocket and dialed a call, tears leaking out of his eyes.

"Phil? I don't want to be alone."