Ninety Nine Days - Phan (Boyxboy)

Chapter 4

A/N- HAVE WE BROKEN YOU YET?! - Yosunii

Dan's POV

I'd never cried that much; I cried Phil's name as he laid unconscious on the stretcher which was being rushed hurriedly to the prepared ambulance. I heard the group of paramedics murmuring to one another. I didn't know what they were saying, the majority of the words they were using was medical talk, and things I didn't understand.

"It's all my fault, I was the one who did this - broke us apart," I whimpered, my eyes not leaving his still body. I expected him to miraculously sit up and be himself, giving his innocent smile to everyone who was passing by, to reassure them he was ok, but it didn't happen.

A sudden bark of orders erupted among the ambulance crew; their pace increased to quicken strides. I looked up at them, trying to overhear what they were discussing. Then I heard the one thing that made my eyes widen with fear and my heart stop: "He's not breathing! Chest compressions needed STAT!"

Phil....Wasn't breathing!?

I looked on in horror of the situation. Phil wasn't breathing....PHIL WASN'T BREATHING! Tears erupted from my eyes as I sat in disbelief of the statement. Phil... My partner in crime, my lion and my lover... Had stopped breathing. I had pushed him away on the belief that he had cheated, I had caused this, caused Phil to get injured, caused him to stop breathing, and it was all my fault.

All my fault. I hurt Phil. I stared at the ambulance with a lost, empty gaze, as it quickly retreated down the road towards the general hospital. I sat broken on the side of the road, staring at the road that the ambulance had fled down, at the fading blue lights in the distance until they disappeared. Sobs racked through my body while tears streamed down my face.

I didn't care what people thought of me, the love of my life had just nearly died! He could have died for all I knew. Sympathetic eyes trailed over my broken form, which only added to the pain I was currently experiencing for the first time. How would I tell the fans? Phil's parents?

The thoughts going through my mind led to a low, pain induced wail erupting from my core. I didn't care what anyone thought of me. The famous Daniel Howell reduced to a broken and anger induced man. I'd injured Phil, my Phil. I feel awful - his parents won't react good to this.

Eyes blurred, hands curled up into fists, I couldn't take it anymore. I continuously slammed my fists into the pavement. I didn't care about how much it hurt - it helped numb the pain of the horrific images that constantly played in my head. One of the paramedics had stayed behind to tend to the other man who was in the crash suddenly turned towards me as I continuously slammed my fists into the pavement.

My hands did hurt, but I didn't care. I had punched the pavement so many times it was streaked with scarlet and diluted by the tears that dripped from my face. I wanted to carry on, but I was restrained. I strained my head to see the paramedic looking at me with his concerned hazel eyes.

His arms were wrapped around mine to stop me from further injuring myself. "Sir..." He started off quietly, attempting not to set me off any further. "Sir I understand that you are emotionally distraught, however, this will not help your - or Philip's - current condition."

I stared at my hands, now mangled with blood smeared across the knuckles of both and parts of the skin cut by the concrete. My fists looked repulsive, and I couldn't believe that I had done it out of misery and torment.

The paramedic sat to the right of me, trying to decipher if I would do anything else. The pain had begun to reawaken my body, resulting in a pained hiss escaping my dry lips.

"Sir, if you would like to come with me I can treat your hands," he stated, and I responded by attempting to get up, yet my body wouldn't follow. He stood and stared down at me, and realised the situation had forced my body to go into a state of shock. "Sir?" He started - and I began to laugh, not with humour, but with emptiness and bitterness.
"I can't stand up - I can't physically stand up!"

The paramedic looked at me, then placed his hands, very gently, under my arms and lifted me up, so my weight was placed onto him. He draped one of my arms over his shoulder and placed one arm around my stomach, then begun to walk towards where his supplies were set up.
"Let's get you cleaned up."

I looked away as he sprayed my hands with a large amount of antiseptic spray, which stung at first, causing me to cry out in pain, but seemed to somehow soothe the pain at the same time. It didn't fix all of the pain, though. Not the pain in my heart that I felt when I thought of Phil's beaming angelic face. Not the pain that seared through my body every time I let out a sob. Not the painful guilt that I felt when the words, "it's my fault" left my chapped lips.

"It's not your fault," the paramedic tried to assure me. "It's not your fault..." He repeated.
"It is! It's all my fault!"
"Why is it your fault?" He asked, but I shook my head and looked down.

He carried on repairing my damaged hands, working carefully around the ripped and broken skin and the cuts in my fists. He lathered cream on my hands and wrapped both of them up in thin bandages. I wished Phil could be fixed with thin bandages. I let out a shaky sigh as I looked back at him with a confused look on my face. I didn't know why I was confused. I was confused about being confused.

"Sir," he started. "Sir, it's normal to feel these kind of things... It's okay," he explained and I nodded. Tears pricked my eyes and I tried to hold them back but I couldn't.