Phan Oneshots

Together Forever

Dan's POV

I pulled on my shoes and started making my way outside. I walked for what felt like ages, passing cars and busses, people as well. Everyone stared at the flowers in my hands, and gave me a weird look. "Phil, I still love you." the tag on the deep purple roses wrote.

"Oi! Look at that twat." a bunch of teenagers, about my size, walked up to me. "To Phil, aye? What are you, a homo?" The tallest one chuckled, though he was still an inch or two shorter then I. "Yes, I am. They're for my soulmate." I said quietly, barely caring about the words they threw at me. "Later, you douche." he pushed me into a wall, then walked off.

I finally got to my destination. It was a small hill, with the grey stones everywhere, big and small. I walked up and up until I got to the top where a small gravestone was.

It read, "Phillip Michael Lester.
R.I.P
"Being weird is a good thing. Normalness leads to sadness."

I put the flowers on his grave where his head would normally lay. I didn't feel anything, though. Unlike last time.

Last time I cried my eyes out, but now I feel numb. I feel...empty. I didn't feel anything but a small tear run down my face. Then, I was sobbing, and like a hurricane, the sadness hit me.
I cried and cried until the dirt under me seemed like mud. I cried until the dead flowers I left last time seemed to disintegrate with the water. I cried until I made up my mind about what I was going to do.

I ran all the way home, still crying. I saw those boys again, an they laughed at me. They said, "Look at that Gaylord." "You fucking fag." "Gay ass bitch." and kept yelling things at me that I don't want to remember. That just made me pump my legs harder.

The adrenaline that I was going to be with Phil again kept me going. I could feel energy physically leaving my body with every pound of my foot, on after another, hitting the ground, but then I quickly rejuvenated by thinking about how happy I'd be once I could leave all my problems behind.

I got home, and grabbed the small pocket knife that I kept for self defense. Just in case. But now, I'd be using my defense tool on myself. The irony didn't stop me.

I ran back to the grave yard, exhausted, but pressed on knowing that soon it would all be over and down with.

I found Phil's grave again, and dropped to my knees in front of him. I kissed the dirt where his head would be, then gently and calmly laid beside him.

The adrenaline was very little, and my heart went slower and slower as I became relaxed. I grasped a patch of grass and dirt I top of where Phil's hand would be, then held up the knife.

I lowered it more and more until it was gently against my neck. I then pressed harder and harder, drawing pints of blood, but I could still talk and scream if I wanted to. Everything around me went blurry, and I felt dizzy.

I dropped the knife to my side as I closed my eyes, and relaxed to the sound of nothing around me.

"I'm coming home, Phil, back into your arms. I love you." I whispered as I finally let go and became nothing.

Third Person POV

Now, one month after Daniel James Howell's death, there are two matching grave stones right next to each other. One with the name Phillip, and one with the name Daniel.

Dan's grave read, "Daniel James Howell.
R.I.P.
"Do whatever you have to, to be happy."

And that's what Dan did. It made him happy, and to him, and to Phil, that was ok, because now they'll be together forever.