Saviour DISCONTINUED

Part Four ~

A/N ~ #SorryNotSorry

Dan's POV

    I wave to Phil as he passes me in the car, sure his parents aren't looking.  He grins when he sees me.  I wander round the streets for a while aimlessly afterwards, not wanting to go back to the house.  My mind is full of thoughts, mainly about Phil.  Ok, pretty much all of them are about Phil.  If it was ok to tell him about my first boyfriend, what he thinks about me, his amazing smile, if he hates me, likes me or something more...

    I can't concentrate and I keep walking into people accidentally, so I decide to go to where I always go when I need to think and be alone. 

    It's not creepy or horrible or anything, actually it's kind of nice, and so peaceful... obviously Dan, it's not going to be loud here, is it?  The grass around the headstones is long and green, despite it being autumn.  There are a few benches dotted around, with little metal memorial plaques on them, so you could just enjoy your time here with the ones you love.

    I kneel in front of his headstone, reaching forward to brush my fingers over his name: Chris Kendall.  I smile as I remember the beautiful moments we used to share: when we would walk through the park, fingers twisted together, talking and laughing, or when we would go on the weird "dates" to restaurants or the cinema, then spend the night huddled on the sofa under a duvet playing video games, because that was better than any fancy date, or when he would reach up to kiss my cheek unexpectedly, and make me blush.  I see the dates under his name; 02.10.1997 to 01.05.2012 .  He died far too early.  Tears roll down my cheeks as I think about how we could have been together, if he'd listened to me call him beautiful, or amazing, or worth everything to me, if he'd talked to me instead of planning his death.  I try not to think of that though; I know that he wanted this, and that this was the best thing for him to do.  Maybe it was a better idea than making him suffer through survival. 

    Even when he isn't here to talk to me, it's comforting to come here when I'm confused, or upset, or angry, and just tell him everything.  It feels like he's still listening to me, and that he still cares.  It's stupid, I know.  But it's true.

    "I love you, Chris.  I still do, even if you left me, I won't ever not love you.  It's just, I think I love someone else too.  He's a lot like you, he doesn't think he's good enough, but he is.  He really is.  And... I don't know.  It feels like we're perfect for each other, like I was with you.  But I don't want to replace you with anyone.  That's what I'm scared about - I don't want to just forget about you or something, ok?  And I promise I won't, I'll try not to, anyway.  I still think about you a lot.  There hasn't been one day where I haven't thought about you, when I remember how you used to grin like an idiot if you looked outside and it was snowing, or when your favourite song plays on the radio, and I remember when you would sing along to it really loudly and make everyone stare."  I laugh as I remember this, a tear dropping onto the grey stone.  "And it's hard, not being able to talk to you.  Shit, it's been over two years and I still wait for you to call me at midnight and have those weird conversations.  I think I've told you before, how I couldn't even smile for a year after you died, because the only person who I really cared about wasn't here to make me happy.  I felt like I'd failed, in not being a better boyfriend and making you want to stay.  It's getting easier, though, and I feel like it's okay to smile and be happy, and be happy with someone else, too.   Is that okay?  I don't know.  But I don't think you would mind, right?  As long as I'm happy, and as long as I don't forget you.  I won't.  I know I haven't visited you as much recently.  But I still love you.  I'll always love you.  Always.  Because you were an amazing person."

    I lean my head against the cold stone, remembering in silence for a while.  It's useless screaming, and regretting, because I can't change what happened.  I can't stop him hanging himself.  It's what he wanted.  I need to accept that he isn't here anymore, holding my hand.  So I just sit with him, and talk to him.  I guess it's my way of dealing with problems, asking him for help.  Sorting it out.