Happy Little Phil.

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dedication; peeta-bae. thanks for the prompt (:

llong chapter

song for this fic it Comatose by Skillet. put it on repeat.

enjoy interweebs (:

3rd POV

To put it simply, Dan's life was a living hell. Who made it this way? Phil Lester. Phil Lester; the guy he pretends to be friends with, but constantly, in private, he bullies him to the brink. And Dan, well, Dan's tired of it.

____________________

Another early day, another late day to get to the bus, Dan thought to himself. Phil rides the bus, often Phil makes Dan sit with him, just so he can torture him. Dan's never really had the courage to stand up to him.

Dan walked quietly to school, hoodie up, head down, A Day To Remember's song All I Want blasting in his ears.

All I want is a place to call my own.

To mend the hearts of everyone

Who feels alone (whoa)

____________________

*in 6th period ((A/N; sorry idk what it's called where you're at. im in the us.))*

Phil would not shut up and Dan was real tempted to turn around and smack Phil. But of course, everytime he considered it, the wimpy side got the best of him.

A ball of paper landed on his desk, it came from behind him, so it had to be from Phil.

no one likes u

Another ball fell onto his desk.

u should just kill urself

More and more landed on his desk.

worthless

useless

faggot

emo

freak

u actually thought i would be ur freind

y would i be freinds with a freak

be freinds with someone who has no one to care for him.

Dan felt a panic attack coming. Deep breaths, Dan, deep breaths. Dan told himself. "Mr. Howell," Mrs. Quinn called on him. "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" Mrs. Quinn knew everything; about the 'friendship' with Phil, the anxiety, the self-harm- everything. Dan nodded. She wrote him a hall pass and he went to the bathroom, and tried to calm down.

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*in the classroom*

"Mr. Lester?" Mrs. Quinn said. Phil looked up. "Can I talk to you in the hallway?" He shrugged and got up.

As soon as he was outside, Mrs. Quinn yelled at him. "What are you doing to Dan? Do you see how much trouble you've caused him? He flinches everytime you're around. Dan is a sweet boy, and he does not deserve this from-" She faltered, looking for a word. "He does not deserve this from a peasant." She spat.

"Go check on him, or you're suspended." She said harshly. Phil rushed down the hall, not wanting to get kicked off the football team.

He entered the bathroom quite harshly. "Hey fag," he called out, flinching at himself for his choice of words. But no, he couldn't lose it in front of him. "The teach sent me to check on you, where is yo' dumb-ass at?" He started kicking at the stall doors, before he came to the last one, which is he handicapped stall.

Why is he in the handicapped stall? Phil asked himself. His eyes widened. Oh fuck. He thought to himself again.

He tried to kick the stall door, but it wouldn't budge. He had to crawl under the door to get to Dan. When he saw him, his breath hitched.

*warning*

Blood was going down both his sliced wrists, Dan hung there, lifeless, eyes wide, hanging by a bookbag strap. Phil immediately flung his phone out of his pocket, dialing 999. He tried his best to unhook the knot in strap with one hand.

"This is 999, what is your emergency?" A woman asked.

"My friend just tried to commit suicide. It looks like he's lost a lot of blood. I'm already applying pressure to the wounds." He said. He might not pay attention in most of his classes, but he does pay attention when it's about life or death.

"We have already called to dispatch a team. Where are you located?" She asked.

"Westmoore Brooke High School. 04894. 2nd floor, boys bathroom."

"They are on their way. Keep applying pressure to the wounds." She hung up.

"God damn it Dan," Phil said, tears streaming down his face. "I'm so fucking sorry. Please don't die. Please. I've always hated myself for what I do to you. I'm so fucking sorry." Phil finally broke down.

There was movement under him, and he heard groaning. "Dan?" Phil asked.

"No, it's fucking satan. Why the fuck am I still alive? Why the fuck are you holding me?" He said, trying to get out of his grip. He failed.

"Dan," Phil started. "I'm so fucking sorry. I hate myself for all the pain I've caused you." Dan's eyes started closing.

"No you don't," He said. "You've hated me from the start. And it hurt me in ways you will never understand. I fucking loved you Phil." Phil smiled.

"And I love you too," He said truthfully. "And I'm here to save you as cheesy as it sounds." Dan's face became irritated, and his skin became much paler.

"You don't. That's why you hurt me all these years. And I don't wanna face it anymore."

Phil knew why Dan wouldn't trust him after all this. "You remember your 11th birthday party?" Phil asked. Dan nodded weakly. "I gave you your first Green Day CD, and I hugged you. That was the best day of my life, because I got to hug you."

Dan didn't reply. His skin basically the colour of snow, his eyes closed. Phil started panicking, but calmed down after he heard the paramedics coming in the bathroom.

They had to bust the door down with a sledgehammer. They looked at Phil in astonishment. They had expected to see two kids; one dead, and one crying. But no, Phil was only crying, but Dan made it. They picked him up, and put him on a gurney, starting an IV drop, and started CPR because somewhere among the chaos, Dan had stopped breathing.

*A FEW WEEKS LATER*

Dan had made it out alive. Phil visitied him (well, Phil was the only one to visit him) every day while Dan was in therapy. Over time, Phil had managed to gain his trust back, and by their 2nd semester in college, they were going out. And it was the happiest Dan had ever been.

A/N; wow. holy crap. holy crap. hoLY CRAP.longest chap yet. okay! well, Warning Zone will be up sometime Today, probably around 3:00pm Eastern Standard. if i have any UK readers, that'll be 8:00pm. central standard; 2:00pm. mountain standard; 1:00pm. 12:00pm for Pacific. Hawaiian and Alaskan; 11:00am. Hawaiian Standard; 10:00am. you're welcome. my brain hurts from math during the summer. what's your timezone? sorry if i forgot yours :(. until next itme brochachos; stay classy, be sassy, don't you change for anyone. word count; 1167 what the actual fuck how long have i been wrting this

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