Just An Accident (Phan)

wake up

~*~

"Phil?" I whispered, grabbing his cold, sticky hand, intertwining my slightly warmer one with his.

"Phil. Phil. What are you doing, lying on the road, silly? You could get hurt out here."

No no no no no no. He's okay. Philly's just sleeping. He's just sleeping. Sleeping. I chant to myself, like a mantra, as I'm roughly pulled away from my best friend. I blinked and looked to the left.

Red, flashing lights. Sirens. A contrast to the darkness of the night. And a woman, crying into the shoulder of a man I didn't know.

Darkness consumes me.

~*~

"PHIL!" I scream as I open my eyes - yesterday's events flood my mind.

We were crossing, it was a green light, but I didn't see any cars so I convinced him to follow me. It came out of nowhere - he pushed me - oh my god.

"PHIL! PHIL!" My voice was reduced to nothing but shrill screeches as I attempted to get out of the unfamiliar bed and pull out the thing in my arm.

The door slammed open and two people grabbed my arms and held me down onto the bed as I kicked, trying to loosen their grip.

"Nurse! He's in shock!'

"On it." Something sharp was put into my wrist and my eyes forcefully closed.

The white was blinding.

~*~

Seven days, ten hours, sixteen minutes, twenty three seconds.

I cry.

~*~

A month, nineteen days, twelve hours, a minute, fifty six seconds.

I scream at the people knocking on my door. Goawaygoawayleave.

~*~

Eight months, five days, thirteen hours, thirty nine minutes, five seconds.

Six seconds.

Seven.

Eight.

I drag the blade across my wrist.

Nine.

Ten.

Twenty times.

I can't see my pale, once tan, arm underneath the sea of red. The same crimson as his. My eyes roll back into my head, and my body finally responds to the pills I swallowed earlier.

~*~

Ten months, a day, eleven hours, forty eight seconds.

"Thank you for staying at our institution, Mr. Howell. We wish you the best with your life, please don't hesitate to check in again."

My smile doesn't reach my eyes. I leave.

~*~

Twelve months, an hour, two minutes, fifteen seconds. He hasn't shown any signs of waking up. It's my fault. I caress his cheek. It's warm, a contrast to the way his skin felt that night. A reminder that he was still alive.

Barely.

His injuries have long since healed. But the scars won't. I trace them in a trance, analyzing his black hair, wishing he'd open those amazing blue eyes I hadn't seen in a year. I gave his hand a squeeze.

When did I first fall in love with Philip Michael Lester? I can't remember. My finger traces his jawline, and I bend over to place a kiss on his chapped lips.

"Tomorrow." The doctor said.

"I know." I struggled to breath out. My voice was hoarse, rough, and raspy. I touch a lock of his soft hair, which was longer than it used to be.

Twelve months, an hour, three minutes, fifty nine seconds.

"I know."

~*~

"Thanks," I whispered awkwardly at the nurse who grabbed my keyboard for me.

"Don't mention it," Her peppy voice was much louder than mine. We piled into the elevator as I tiredly rubbed at my weak arms.

"You're the boyfriend of the patient in room 522, correct?" She spoke obnoxiously, popping her bubblegum.

I felt my shoulders tense up. Don't cry, Dan, not in front of a stranger.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up. Didn't mean to pry." We exited the elevator on the 5th floor and headed toward the direction of his room.

"It's alright....we were friends,"

"Good morning, doctor." She entered the room, as I followed closely behind.

And good morning to you, my love. I ignored the doctor's greeting and stared at him.

For the last time.

Twelve months, a day, eleven hours, twenty minutes, nine seconds.

I sat down in the chair and placed the keyboard in my lap.

Ten seconds.

I flexed my fingers. I hadn't played since the accident.

The doctor and nurse looked at each other, coming to some sort of conclusion. They left the room and closed the door.

"Phil." I choked. "Philip Michael Lester. I love you so much. So fucking much."

Twenty seconds.

"I wrote this a long time ago. I was going to give it to you for your birthday." I felt a tear roll down my cheek. "Sorry, I'm late."

Twenty five.

"But this is the last time I'll play for you. The last time we'll be together." My voice regained some of it's strength as I spoke more. Out of the corner of my eye I see Phil's family, Phil's friends, gather outside the door.

"I love you."

My fingers fell into a comfortable rhythm as I played and sang from memory.

Five minutes.

I stopped. The tears that were clouding my vision spilled from my eyes as I looked down at my keyboard.

"I can't stress how much I love you. I don't want you to go. This isn't my fucking choice," My voice cracked. "Fuck."

The door opened and the nurse screamed. Alarmed, I looked up.

He was sitting up, staring intently at me. His blue eyes were wide, and he looked confused.

"Why are you crying, Daniel?" His voice was weak, just like mine was before.

"Y-"

"Don't cry, please. It hurts to see the man I love cry,"

I placed my keyboard down and walked up to him. I snaked my arms around him, and his loosely wrapped around me. It was a sloppy excuse for a hug, but it was magical nonetheless.

Twelve months, a day, eleven hours, thirty eight minutes, twenty one seconds.

He was awake.

We kissed.