my happy little pill | phan

17: "...Delia Smith"

Phil's POV

Three weeks have passed in the blink of an eye and Susan tells me almost everyday that Dan is doing well, that he's a fighter or that his breathing is improving. She always tells me something positive when I leave the room to get a coffee for a few minutes.

The truth is, I don't know how Dan is doing. Sure, the doctors are happy with his recovering rate but they haven't said anything about him waking up yet. It's been three weeks and my heart honestly feels like snapping in two. I can't cry anymore because all of my emotions are drained and I just feel exhausted.

I let today be the exact same as yesterday, and all the days since this happened. I walk into Dan's hospital room and sit on the red seat next to his bed where he lies completely still and unaware of my presence. The Phandom still doesn't know about what happened, and I've been tweeting on Dan's account just to distract everyone. Oh my God, this is such a mess. I know I should probably say that he isn't well and he's in hospital but I don't want a few hundred fans turning up outside the hospital to greet me everyday before I go home. I know that they would mean well, but I want to be left alone.

They say that if someone is in a coma, despite them being unconscious they can still hear things. Today, I brought my iPod. I plug in the earphones and tuck the earbuds into Dan's ears and start to play Charlie Brown by Coldplay.

I watch him closely. He doesn't stir as the soft music sings into his ears. I lace my fingers through his cold fingers and I just sit there for a little while. I stroke the back of his hand.

I don't know how much time passes when a doctor comes in with Susan looking pale and worried. My heart skips a beat. Oh, my God, they're going to tell me that he's brain dead and he will never wake up and I'm never going to hear his voice again and that I'm going to have to arrange his funeral for next week and I'll have to watch his mahogany coffin be lowered into the soil in a few days. Fuck my life, fuck my fucking life. I can nearly read it across their faces that it's going to be bad news. I know that I don't normally swear that much, but I really can't fucking do much else.

What was the last thing that Dan said to me? I can't remember. In fact, I can't even remember what his voice sounds like. I panic and everything inside of me collapses, and I feel the urge cry harder than I have ever cried in my life. The tears stream down my burning cheeks and they drop onto our hands that are laced together on the edge of the bed.

The doctor approaches and with every step I feel myself being stabbed in the chest.

"Philip Lester," she says. I swallow hard. This is it. I nod to confirm that I am Philip Lester. "We have detected signs of life inside of Dan's brain and we think that today would be a good day to take him off the ventilators and machines to see if he can cope on his own for a bit. Is that okay?"

I stare at her white coat and name badge on her front. Francesca. Her hair is greying and it's scraped back from her face. Her eyes are intensely grey also, and her face is terribly hollow. I stare at her for a long time trying to process what she has said. Finally, I try to speak. "What if he doesn't breathe on his own?"

"We will return him to the machine again, don't worry," Susan says. They watch me closely. I breathe outwardly and nod.

"Okay. It's worth a try," I say, looking at Dan and his dark hair which is curly and a little wild since I'm not allowed to straighten it for him.

Susan walks out and returns quickly with three other nurses and doctors, two tall and intimidating male ones and a fresh-faced girl. They walk around Dan's bed and begin to write things down and press buttons on the machinery around the room. I stand up out of the red chair and stand in the corner of the room out of everyone's way.

A horrific thought crosses my mind. What if Dan wakes up and doesn't remember me? That would be the same as him being completely dead.

"Ready?" Francesca says. A few heads bob and then I hear a few switches being flicked. I wrap my arms around my chest and hug myself, digging my nails into my shoulders to stop me from screaming and crying. This is so painful.

I watch Dan closely as the massive tube that helps him breathe is pulled out of his mouth. This is the most important part now; to see if he'll make a response. I watch with my upper row of teeth biting into my lip so hard that it bleeds.

Dan doesn't do anything for the longest minute I have ever witnessed in my life. My eyes begin to cloud over and my back caves in against the wall as I feel my hopes start to fade. He's -

Dan suddenly gasps like he's been holding his breath for ages and the smallest sound escapes my lips. The nurses and doctors all look at each other. Susan comes over to me as the rest of the team fix up the rest of the machines and stuff.

"Phil," she says as she stops in front of me. "Dan seems to be breathing okay. This is an extremely positive -"

A sound suddenly cuts Susan off and I snap my eyes back to Dan and I gasp when I realise that he has rolled over onto his side by himself. He mumbles something quietly under his breath, so quiet that no one in the room can decipher it.

Except I heard it and I laugh at it. My laughs earn stares from everyone in the room at me but I don't care. I laugh harder. It's the most Dan thing that Dan could've said.

"...Delia Smith."

I laugh harder than I have in weeks. This is definitely positive. I just wish that he would actually wake up soon, because I miss him like I'd miss my lungs if they were removed. I need him like I need air.