After about another hour of waiting and a few more papers and nurses, Phil was in a cab driving to his apartment. He kept his voice monotone if he was speaking, in fear of bursting into tears at any given moment. When he reached the small apartment building he hopped out of the car, and nearly forgot to pay. The man must of noticed how out of sorts he was, because he simply shrugged it off and let him go. Phil shuffled up the stairs and into the main room, the bright colours of their flat seeming inappropriate. He flopped onto the couch, and his back fit right into Dan's sofa crease. He remembered watching Netflix and falling asleep on Dan's shoulder, or Dan squeezing his hand during scary scenes in movies, not necessarily because he was scared, mostly just an excuse to hold Phil's hand.. He remembered playing video games for hours on end, and relaxing on the couch on the weekends. The room flooded him with too many memories, so he walked through the house, trying to find a place he could feel un bombarded by emotions. Surprisingly, the place he was most comfortable was Dan's room. The blacks and whites seemed more suitable for the current mood, and the scent was soothing to Phil. He lay on the bed, pressing himself into the soft blankets that reminded him of his friend, until he fell asleep.
YOU ARE READING
He can't be dead...
Fanfiction"This was the most fun I've ever had." -Dan Howell trigger warning: suicide and death
