Ninety Nine Days - Phan (Boyxboy)

Chapter 15

Dan's POV

No.

This wasn't my Phil. This wasn't my partner in crime.

This wasn't the one who made me smile both through a screen and in person, not the one who gave me a new reason to love him every day, and made me feel prouder than I thought I could ever feel.

This wasn't the one who I truly loved, the one with the biggest golden heart known to man.

Not the one with that perfect smile and adorable giggle, the one who could make me laugh from a different room, and knew every little thing about me. This wasn't the one who I had travelled to Japan with. This isn't the one who inspired me to start what I have done.

This was just a copy; not the same. Not my Phil.

"You're not r-reaalll; You're not-t Phil." My words slipped and slurred out of my drunken mouth with a hidden strength behind them, forcing Phil - no, whoever was in front of me, to look at me with wide eyes.

"What? No I'm real, Dan! It's me! It's Phil!" The copy cried, anguish and disbelief lacing into it's tone. The copy sounded genuinely horrified at what I had said. I wanted to believe; to believe that he was stood in front of me; to believe that he wasn't injured in the slightest - but I knew that it truly wasn't Phil.

"Phil's in the hospital! I put him there!" I yelled, slurring and not making much sense, staring wide eyed at the person - no, thing in front of me.

My brain hurt; hurt from seeing something that I longed for so dearly right in front of me - even though it wasn't truly there.

I placed my hands over my eyes forcefully, trying to block the world out. Why couldn't the person in front of me leave?! All I wanted to do was to be left alone; allowing me to actually begin to comprehend the situation at hand. I needed to be alone, I needed to be swallowed by the darkness.

Without Phil by my side, I might as well already be in the darkness...

Removing my hands slowly from my eyes, I saw the form in front of me shatter and disappear into nothingness. It was if nothing had happened, as if it had never existed.

A mixture of feelings overcame me at once – relief, anger, sadness. I was truly relieved that I had stopped seeing the copied version of Phil, it meant that I had managed to overcome the demons in my head trying to help.

I was also annoyed and upset with myself-as I had been tricked, fooled into believing that Phil was in front of me.

I let out a sigh and in the quiet space I was sat in; it seemed louder and larger than life itself. I could feel the tracks that the tears had left behind on my face - like permanent reminders of what I had faced and witnessed within the space of a few days, or maybe only a few hours had past? Currently I didn't know what was real and what was my imagination.

Phil's family don't even know he's in the hospital. His parents still think he's fine; they still think he's alive and happy.

Not broken and disorientated in a hospital bed; his fragile body wrapped up in white sheets, drowning in tubes and wires, with blaring lights surrounding him.

His brother is planning on seeing him later in the month. Well, that plan would have to get changed at some point...

What do I do now? Do I tell his family? Do I get help from my family? Will they hate me? Oh god, they're going to hate me..

All of them. They'll never forgive me. Even if Phil did, they'll look down on me because I did this. I caused all of this. I deserve it. I'll never forgive myself.

Thoughts ran through my head rapidly, flooding into my mind. I can't focus on one thing, the thoughts were all fighting for my attention. I needed support - I needed someone to be here, to help me with what I should be doing right now.

Not someone. Not just anyone. The only one I wanted, needed, was Phil, but if he was there none of this would have happened and I wouldn't be in this mess. If he was there, I wouldn't be scared and I wouldn't feel so guilty and under so much pressure.

It's usually him helping me.

Phil would wrap his arms around me the way he always had done and he'd whisper into my matted hair that everything would be okay again. He'd tell me that it was all an accident and that it wasn't my fault and that he loved me.

I wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve, drying it from the remains of alcohol that clung to me.