wake up, phil - [phan]

{ 14 } - Supposedly

Phil's POV

Darkness.

Stillness.

Nothingness.

I was confused and shaken up. Where was I? I couldn't move, barely breath, and hardly think straight.

Everything was fuzzy and dark and I felt myself being prodded and poked by hands that I couldn't see and that didn't seem familiar.

I knew I was dreaming. Or hallucinating? I didn't know.

In my dream, I sat up in the dark space and looked around me. My eyes wouldn't ajust properly, so I could see nothing. I rubbed my temples and pulled my legs to my chest and hugged them as I tried to straighten my thoughts.

FLASH

Suddenly, my brain was overcome by flashing lights and memories. Memories from when I was little, and memories from now.

A memory of Martyn firing water at me in the summer with a water pistol when I was eight years old.

A memory of me picking up my first video camera in the package off of the doormat, which I had received using a token on the side of a cereal box.

A memory of the first time I skyped Dan. Nervousness and awkward grins and giggles.

A memory of meeting Dan for the first time at the train station, him being as nervous as me. Our hug, and his warm arms around me.

Memories with Dan.

The laughs, the inside jokes, the occasional mini fight, the play fights, Jamaica, Italy with Chris and PJ, New York, Japan with Memei and Duncan, happy, happy times.

But the memories from now were bad memories, memories I would rather forget. Sad memories, embarrassing memories, depressing memories, but worst of all, jealous memories and scenes that made my skin crawl.

Memories of Dan with Cat, Dan with Louise, Dan with Carrie, Dan with Tyler, Dan with Caspar, Dan...

Every image of Dan with another person contained a vivid moment of Dan looking at them with love and lust and happiness, of him holding their hand and telling them he loved them, of leaning in -

I was hallucinating, I must have been. Surely Dan would never be like that. He loves me and nobody else -

A voice in my head cut through my heart.

He wasn't loving you when you told his homophobic parents he was gay.

He loves me, and I know that.

Oh really? Well, he's not at the hospital right now, looking over you, like he should be.

I bet he is!

But he's not. He's at home, probably texting Cat with loving messages, like the ones he used to send you, when he supposedly loved you. He doesn't care about you, he never really did. He's only still living with you because of the fans.

But he -

No. He doesn't give a toss about you. He'd hardly care if you died right now.

STOP.

I tried to turn away, to force the voice out of my head, but it followed me. I stumbled, trying to get up, as it taunted me and jeered at me as I tried to run from it.

He doesn't care about you.

He doesn't care about you.

He's never cared about you.