A second to last chance | Phanfiction

Phil

Dan's fragile. It's simple to see, even in the small things he does, But I don't think I ever fully understood how bad he was again until I came home on Friday to see him laying on the floor, drunk off his ass and covered in his own vomit. The lounge smelled terribly and I couldn't even tell how many bottles were on the floor. Everything seemed to stop, and for a moment I fear that tonight was finally the night I'd lose him, my best friend.
I stood paralyzed until suddenly, and I never thought I'd hear this, but I was met with the amazing sound of him groaning, muffled by the rug.
"Dan!" I said, rushing to his side, rolling him onto his back and nearly gagging at his smell. I grabbed him, lifting him by the arms to his feet "Come on...lets get you into bed...and put you in a different shirt..." I mumbled, pulling the dazed, stumbling, boy who didn't even seem like himself.
His bedroom seemed miles away, and honestly the room was sad. He'd barely unpacked anything and his bed was still only a mattress on the floor but I knew that it would be better than the floor.
When I say he smelled foul, it was an understatement...he was covered down the front in vomit, and there was blood on his pants, from a gash in his hand that seemed like I should have noticed it. "Come on, lay down, here...Dan come on.." It was frustrating. I'd never seen him drunk but let's just say he can lock his knees. If felt like trying to move a stubborn child, one that was oddly tall and groaning. When he finally fell, I was left clutching the back of his shirt, meaning he fell awkwardly, trying to squirm free. "Wait...ok um...stop moving. Dan!" I yelled through my teeth. His body finally (and might I add, not so gracefully) fell out of his shirt.
He just kind of crawled under the covers and sighed "why are you helping me...it's getting late..." He mumbled, rolling away from me.
I sighed and moved to the other side, crouching to look at him "because you're my best friend and you need some help sometimes." I said, frowning as he blinked and looked up at me. His eyes were always the perfect shade of brown. Not black but not hazel, they were my favourite colour to see in eyes, because I knew it was common yet his always looked brand new...
He didn't reply, he just closed his eyes and let out a puff of breath. I stood up, moving for the door, whispering "We all need help sometimes..."