Phan - A Broken Box

Phil's POV

    A muffled scream of fury was all it took to make me run into Dan's room. I needed to be sure he was okay. I knew all I needed to know from Cat, so I dropped the phone on the bed and ran to his room.
    Hunched in the corner was not Dan. He was so... just not himself. His skin was tinged almost green, he was trembling like he'd had an electric shock, and there was vomit down his shirt.
    "Oh my god, Dan, you -"
    "NO, PHIL," he screamed, pushing himself up from the corner and running towards me. He cocked back his arm, hand balled into a fist, and -

     Thump.
   Right in the ribs.

    I was thrown of balance, a searing pain slicing me open, my vision blurred. I stumbled and fell backwards, staring at the swirling patterns on the ceiling.
    I curled up as I cried. But I wasn't crying because of the pain - although perhaps that was a part of it, looking back. I cried because Dan was not okay. I cried because I made him like that. I cried because I loved him, and I cried because, after all these years, we'd both sat in stony silence about out feelings.
    He cried then too, his face contorting into that of pure pain - and I think, no, I know, in that moment, he was in much more pain than my bruise could ever give me.
    "Phil, I love you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't,  I never, Phil..." his words all smudged into one blubbering mess, as he kneeled on the carpet, rocking back and forth. He held his right hand strangely, subconsciously: he'd obviously injured them is his burst of angry energy.
    "Dan, it's fine, help me up..." I choked, trying to be strong, but all the while his words were playing over in my mind, making me weak... I love you, I love you, I love you...
            Yet I did not return them. Not yet.

    I reached out my hand and he gaped at it for a moment, before taking it and pulling me up. He drained all his strength in doing that for me, so I took him under the arms.
    "That's it... okay, push with your legs, sit on the bed, Dan... okay? Hold on a minute," I soothed him, helping him onto the bed; he wasn't well, that much was apparent. What it was, I didn't know, but I hoped it was just shock from the events. I hoped.
    I stepped into the bathroom and snatched my own towel from the radiator. I then returned to Dan's room, heading straight over to his wardrobe, and pulled out a clean shirt.
    "Sit still," I breathed, pulling the bottom of his shirt up.