Dear Phil [Phan]

It's Fine

"No!" Dan screamed as Chris held him back.

Doctors surrounded Phil's body. They shocked him once. Twice. Again. One more. Nothing. Shaking heads. Then a thin sheet covered Phil's face.

Dan's struggles weakened as he let himself go and sank to the floor.

Dan had always thought suffering was only tears. But it was so much more than that. Crying was tears. Sobbing? Sobbing was horrible. When choked cries and strangled breaths left your mouth and you squeezed your eyes shut and just let your whole being pour into every single tear.

Dan felt worse.

He had lost a piece of him. He had lost what held him together. And now...

"Dan..?" PJ lent besides him, hesitantly putting a hand on his back.

Dan shook his head slowly. His mouth opened in an attempt to speak but all that left was a another sob. His face fell into his hands and his body racked with each cry.

PJ stood back up, Chris engulfing him in his arms; tears in both of their eyes.

"We're so sorry," the doctor said as they all walked out.

"This isn't real," Dan kept muttering. "Any second now, I'm going to wake up and be in bed and Phil will be cooking and everything will be fine. It's fine. Everything's fine." Dan closed his eyes. "I'm fine. We're fine."

Eventually, his eyes snapped open and he stood. His gaze was faraway and he didn't answer when Chris or PJ attempted to console him.

Instead, Dan hurried back to their flat. He looked around sadly, examining each room. Dirt covered the floors and there was a layer of dust over everything around him.

He sat at his piano, pressing on the keys lightly. Glancing next to him, his mind filled with memories of when Phil would sit and listen to him play. Dan bit the inside of his cheek and moved on to the kitchen.

Dishes piled in the sink, left for no one to clean. Cabinets were left open, the food still sitting on the counter.

He remembered the argument they'd had. How Phil and him made up once he awoke.

Dan made his way to their bedroom. He lied down on his side, staring at the empty spot next to him.

At night, they used to lay together. In each other's arms. Phil would rub circles in Dan's hand until they had both drifted off to sleep.

He rolled over and walked towards the closet.

Dan ran his fingers over the clothes. His brows furrowed together and he pressed his lips into a thin line, ripping the shirts off each hanger. He kicked and stomped and pounded his fists into the wall, fresh tears streaming down his face. He leaned his forehead against the wall trying to calm himself down, shaky breaths escaping past his lips.

Finally, he reached up to the top shelf in their closet, far in the back. Dan pulled out a box. It was heavier than he remembered.

"For emergencies only," he heard Phil say in his head.

"Emergencies only," Dan had agreed.

He sighed, biting his lip and getting back to the hospital in only 20 minutes.

This book is almost over :( I'm sad to see it go. What do you think Dan got from the flat?

Keep it real ~Logan