Ninety Nine Days - Phan (Boyxboy)

Chapter 14

Dan's POV

After drinking all of the alcohol we had in the apartment, I was completely unaware of myself and my surroundings. All I knew was I wanted more beer. And lots of it.

I screamed and threw an empty brown beer bottle at the wall, watching it smash into tiny glass shards and instantly feeling relieved. I threw glass bottles repeatedly, shouting, cursing and crying at the wall as if it was the one that had taken Phil from me.

I stumbled around the room, slipping on spilt beer that had soaked the floor and crashing against the wall in the pile of broken glass.

Oblivious to the damage I had caused myself and our home, I stood up and continued to stagger around the house, occasionally falling into the walls as if they were open arms.

Just like you would fall into his arms after a long day of recording.

"God dammit, Phil! Why did you have to leave?! Why did you have to be so... Sensitive?! Why did you cry?! Why didn't you concentrate?! Why... Did you have to crash?! Why are you not here... I need you Phil!" I slurred between sobs.

I staggered around the kitchen, searching, seeking, hoping for more alcohol – something to ease the feeling of loss. Then I remembered. Phil kept an 'emergency box' on top of the cupboard to be only used in the worst situations. I tried standing on my toes with my arms outstretched to try and grasp at the box but I couldn't reach. So I dragged a chair over to the side and climbed up.

I reached out for the box of beer, my body swaying as my vision blurred in and out of focus - doubling what I was seeing, making the chair move and sway with me.

"Woooaaahhhh!" I chuckled, hiccupping and trying to steady myself, holding onto the cupboard to support myself.

Even I understood that balancing on a chair while I was very drunk wasn't the best idea that I've had, but I wanted -needed - the drink.

I made one final attempt to snatch the box from on top of the cupboard, swayed a little too far and fell off the chair, dragging the box of alcohol with me. I landed on the floor, face first, with a loud thud, the beer following closely behind me.

I groaned and opened the box up, still laying on the cold, wooden floor. The glass bottles rolled out onto the floor next to me and I wasted no time in opening them, guzzling down the nectar of the gods one by one, and lining them up in front of me.

I raced to drink them all, gulping down the green bottles' contents, and finishing the last one with a satisfied hiccup.

I drank so much that I could hardly see properly, and the room seemed to swirl around me. Objects blurred in and out of focus; colours mixed into one like an artist's palette. I felt warm and cold in the same instance; head light and fuzzy, yet body heavy.

Everything was blurring in and out of control. I saw figures and I heard whispered speech blaming me for what had happened. An anguished cry left my throat as I threw the glass bottles blindly - making everything return to a blurry mess of colours.

All apart from the figure standing in front of me. Who was it? What were they doing here?
"W-whoo...are you!?"
"You know who I am... The lion to your llama; the Phil to your Dan..."
Wait... Phil?

He was standing in front of me, looking down on me. He was perfect, wearing his grey owl jumper with his inky locks in place; no scars, no bruises, nothing like I'd imagined him to be. He was unscathed - he looked serene, he looked like the real Phil - before all of this.

As soon as I saw him I broke down. I curled up into a foetal position on the floor where I was and burst into tears. He looked so peaceful; so at ease. His whole body glowed white, his angelic voice echoed throughout the flat when he spoke and his mouth curved up into that perfect goofy smile I'd missed. At last, I finally felt safe again.

But you know that Phil is in the hospital because of you; you scared him and he's now comatose.

Doubts and evil thoughts snuck into my mind, doubting the figure and questioning whether I was dreaming or not.

How can Phil be here if he's in hospital? Is this even Phil? Who is this Phil?

"Who...Who actuallyyy are you?!" My words slurred with alcohol and confusion.
"Didn't you hear me? I just told you Dan! It's me! Phil!" He said with humour lacing into his tone.

I wanted to believe him - I truly wanted to believe that Phil was actually stood in front of me; but I knew that he was in the hospital. With confusion evident upon my face, I stared at the person in front of me. He looked like an exact copy of Phil; a replica.

"P-Philll's in the hospital thoughhh - you can'ttt be Phiiiil?" My words were becoming even more slurred as the alcohol coursed through my bloodstream.

The room spun; colours blurred into one; and I was still confused as to who was actually stood in front of me. Was it a trick? Was this a form of serenity that my mind had made up? Who was actually here?

"It's me Dan. I'm here," he spoke quietly, as if scared to give fuel to my emotional fire.
"Yourrrr not Phil - I hurt Phil," my words were falling from my mind, heavily affected by the amount of alcohol that I had consumed over the course of the night.

He couldn't be here, this was all a trick; a facade that my mind had made up to give me some peace. My heart yearned for comfort, the comfort that one could only recieve from a lover - and I was finding that comfort in the replica.
Inside, I knew that it wasn't truely Phil.
Inside, I knew that it wasn't truely my Lion; my partner in crime.

Inside, I knew it wasn't the love of my life.