Ghost - Phan (#Wattys2016)

Chapter 6 - The Wake

Phil's POV

I can't explain the weird things happening. I can't explain why the glass fell or the texts from Dan or why I dropped the blade. I didn't want to think about it. I knew thinking this way would make it worse.

I got up by an alarm today. I had to get up early. It was Friday – Dan's final goodbye. Today was the day I had dreaded my entire life. But it was hear now? I didn't believe it entirely.

I showered for the first time in weeks. It felt nice to feel clean. I didn't shave, since I didn't want to dare being near another razor for a while. I couldn't trust myself anymore. I instead washed my face well, and I figured I could go with a few stubbles.

I was dressed up in a tux that was tight and scratchy, but it didn't bother me. The train ride was far faster than I pictured it would be. I was hoping to sit and think alone for a while, but no, my stop came, and not minutes later was I in the funeral home, greeted by Dan's parents.

His mum, who was usually happy to see me, was holding a tissue to her face and dabbing her eyes every so often. She noticed me and hugged me.

"How are you, Phil?" she asked, he voice slightly hoarse.

I pulled a fake and quick smile. "I'm alright. But how are you? How is everyone?"

"It's been rough, of course, but we're trying."

Dan's father came around his wife to greet me. "Phil," he huffed, "how are you, boy?"

I tried to grin, but it was too hard. "It doesn't matter. I just hope you're better than I am."

"Oh, Phil," Mrs. Howell consoled, "we know how much you loved him. We know that must be so difficult for you. If you'd like, we'd like to invite you over to our home for a while so that you don't have to be all alone."

"I really can't," I told her. "I appreciate the offer, but I shouldn't."

"Well the offer is still there. You can always come to see us, if you want."

I thanked them and turned away. Just stepping in was none other than another friend – Pj had come. He didn't say a word. The moment he saw me, he attacked me in a hug.

"You alright, mate?" he asked from behind.

"How can I be?"

He hugged tighter. "Just..." he said, "it hurts, Phil."

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

"It's fine, Peej."

"It's not. You don't... no one deserves this."

I pulled out of hug finally and stood in front of him, not meeting eyes.

"You don't look well."

I shrugged.

"Take care of yourself, Phil. Please? For me as your friend, for yourself, for your fans. For him? He wouldn't want to see you this way, would he now?"

No one dared to speak his name. "No, probably not."

He sighed and his breath choked. "I just can't believe he's gone."

"I –" I was about to say, but cut myself off.

"What?" he urged.

"It's weird," I admitted. "I don't feel like he's gone. It still feels like he's... there."

"I know what you mean."

He couldn't possibly. I still felt Dan there, watching me, following me, almost touching me. But he isn't there, I knew. He isn't.

More of our friends appeared. I was the only one who didn't go near the casket. It sat on the far end of the room, closed. After an hour of sitting on the opposite end, watching people walk up to the casket, touching it gently, leaving small memorial items around it, Mrs. Howell called attention.

She spoke about him. She said he was a wonderful son. She said she loves and will never forget him. He is always with her. Then she looked at me. "Phil," she said aloud, gaining attention from all in the room. "No one knew Dan like you. No one loved Dan as much as you. It would mean the world to me and to our family if you would speak for him?"

She had asked me to do so way before, but I could never prepare a speech. It was the most difficult thing I could've imagined to do. I stood up and walked to the front of the room, all blurry eyes on me. Mrs. Howell politely kissed my cheek, and I cleared my throat.

"Uh," I sighed. "I didn't prepare anything for this. I couldn't, really. He, um, Dan was..." I paused. I turned my head toward the casket to my side. I touched the top with my finger tips. "Dan was the most amazing, most important thing in my life. I-I loved him with everything I had and.... Dan, um, was the reason I was happy all the time, the reason I had the courage to go out and try things and not be afraid. He was my voice when I was too nervous to speak. He was my legs when I was too scared to go places. He was perfect in every sense. He was..." my breathing clipped as I worked to choke back sobs. He was gone. Dan was really gone. "He's my best friend and I loved him so much." My hand fully touched the casket now and ran back and forth across the wood. "I'm sorry," I snapped. "I have to go."

"Phil?" PJ called after me as I ran out of the funeral home.

Dan's POV

Of course I had followed and watched Phil. I was sobbing internally as he spoke about me. Why did he run out? I again chased after him, but he didn't go far – only out of sight of those at the wake. Phil smacked his head against a tree outside, covering his mouth with his hand. He let go and punched the tree until his knuckles began to bleed.

"Why, Dan?!" he yelled out painfully. "Why did you have to go?!"

I bit my lip, feeling utterly guilty for leaving him on this earth alone. "I..." I tried to say something, just to satisfy the depth in my chest. "Please," I said, lowering my hand to his back and trying to rub it to calm him a bit. "I am here. I don't know how or why, but I am. Oh God, Phil, I can't see you like this. This has to stop."

He cried nastily until inhaling so roughly I thought he might've hurt his throat. He stopped then. No more. He walked off like a zombie all the way to the train station, where he bought the first ticket home.

Phil walked. He walked up and down the streets of London alone, a chilling breeze turning his cheeks and nose red. He walked around, turned corners at random with no initial idea of where to go. He stopped at a store, far from our flat, and walked in. Without a single word, he grabbed a can of spray paint, paid for it and left.