𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑬《 Philippines CountryHumans AU 》

vii.

TW // Death, Stuffing, Abuse

Earlier, on the boat.

Philip did not know the past of the Philip in The Second Universe. It looked like they had the same childhood- a caring mama, a fierce and strong papa, a loving older brother, and himself.

Everything that happened up until 2 years ago was the same, but Philip wasn't naive. He saw how people look at him. It may be because he was revived, but a gut feeling that always seemed to bother him would nag on his conscience.

Did they like him? Were they attracted to him? Was it platonic?

Philip didn't know. All he knew was...

They weren't looking at him the way friends would.

____________________

Present.

The sound a bullet pierced the air like a loud crackle of thunder. It echoed for miles, slowly fading into nothing but a small squeak. But after that, everything was quiet. It was quite ironic; you'd think that after the booming sound of a gun, another chaotic sound would follow. But not this time, right now, everything was still. It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was the calm before another storm.

It haunts Philip.

He remembers vividly how the ear piercing sound reached his ears, giving him a high pitched ringing noise that made him wince in pain. After it had subsided, reality would dawn on him, and the blood that pooled under his dead mother would come in contact with his small, bare feet. He recalls screaming in absolute fear, confusion, dread; a clutter of shuffled emotions that he had never felt before, scattered everywhere.

He wasn't sure if loosing a mother to depend on and look up to was the reason he felt fear. Or was it because he was scared for his own life? He wasn't sure if he was confused because his mother wasn't waking up, or if he was confused because the blood never stopped leaving her limp body. He wasn't sure if he was scared for his brother's life; which may have been the reason for his dread. Was Martial safe? Hurt? Is he alive? Or is he dead, just like his mom?

To put it simply, the feeling of all his emotions being everywhere at the sight of his dead mom and the rapid beating of his heart, followed by the rough hand taking a fistful of his hair and shoving him to the ground... was overwhelming.,

It was ironic. Philip was supposed to only remember a blur because of how fast it all happened, but he seemed to remember every detail of it. Was it because it was life-changing? Was it because it was traumatizing? Or was it simply because he had an amazing memory?

But he couldn't care less. Because right now, he shouldn't think of the past.

That was another thing he should work on. Philip always thought that the way he would compare things to the past was a bad habit, but he never did anything to stop it. He would compare, and compare, and compare, until all he had left was the fleeting sense of nostalgia that he knew would never get him anywhere.

He was too stuck in the past to appreciate things in the present. And that scared him. Because if someone were to die, he would regret that he didn't spend enough time with them and truly appreciate their presence.

And for that, Philip hated himself. But he didn't hate himself to the point where he got suicidal tendencies... maybe.

He felt the bile rise from his mouth as he struggled to resist the urge to puke. Philip felt tears prick his eyes at the strong smell of the decaying flesh of the lifeless man in front of him. The country took a step back and shut his eyes.