Phan One-shots

Gasoline- Phil's POV

~This one-shot is based off of the song "Gasoline" by Halsey. I wanted to explain a bit for this one- I'm doing it from Phil's POV, and this song may seem a bit dark for Phil. My idea, though, was what if Phil became more famous and more well known than he currently is, and what if he just broke? But he couldn't escape the spotlight, even though he wanted to, and he feels like he's no longer human, but just going through the motions like a machine. Hope you enjoy~

Are you insane like me? Been in pain like me?
Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me?
Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me?
Would you use your water bill to dry the stain like me?

The fame. The adoring fans, and pictures, the news articles. It's always been so intoxicating.

But before, it was a good feeling.

But now, it's the worst kind of intoxication.

It's the rumors.

The psychotic fans.

The people who treat me like I'm not even human, but an object to be worshiped, to gawk at.

It's taken it's toll.

I started drinking to chase it away, to ease my thoughts. I spent my days in a drunken haze, and it was a horrible cycle; drunk, then hungover. A couple hours of being sober. Repeat.

Dan tried to help me. He got me into a rehab, took me to support groups, therapists.

I always found a way to return to the cycle.

Dan left me, because he could no longer take the pressure of caring for an alcoholic.

I kept going through the cycle, hoping it would help this time around, instead of making me feel worse and worse about myself. I think that's the definition of insanity- doing the same thing, expecting different results. If that's true, than I am no longer sane.

My apartment is a mess. Unpaid bills litter the kitchen counters. Dishes in the sink. Clothes all over the floor.

Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me?
Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?
Do the people whisper 'bout you on the train like me?
Saying that you shouldn't waste your pretty face like me?

Some of my newer friends tried to give me drugs, said it would numb it all, but I declined.

I'm fucking Phil Lester.

I live on the high that my name gives me.

Despite the pain I feel, every week I clean up a little, and I film a video. I upload it. I never read the comments anymore.

Whenever I go out into London, there's a mix of reactions. Some are girls running up to me, asking for a picture, but I'm always rude to them.

I say no.

I walk away.

Or I hear the things people whisper, things they think I can't hear.

It's a shame Phil's the way he is now, he used to be such a sweetheart.

I met Phil once, you know, when he was still friends with Dan. He was so nice.

I can't believe he's screwed up his life like he has. Celebrities are all the same; they start off fine, but then they become a horrible mess.

I heard he's a major alcoholic now.

I ignore them.

And all the people say,

"You can't wake up, this is not a dream,
You're part of a machine, you are not a human being,
With your face all made up, living on a screen,
Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline."

I wish I could escape this life. I wish I could wake up and find myself back in the life I used to have. With Dan. And the me I was before I changed.

I don't even feel human anymore, I feel like I'm just going through the motions. Filming videos. Doing interviews, going to conventions. Because I have to.

On the screen, I look perfect. I look like I live the ideal life, I look like I'm happy.

But I'm not.

I feel like a worthless person.

Like I'm nothing.

But the fame.

It's my drug, and I can't escape it.

No matter how much I want to.

I think there's a flaw in my code,

These voices won't leave me alone,

Well my heart is gold, and my hands are cold

There's something wrong with me.

The people, the fans, the managers, they won't leave me alone. They won't let me be.

I've been told that I have a "good heart" that I'm naturally a good person. But I don't feel it anymore.

I have become so cold.

Are you deranged like me? Are you strange like me?
Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?
Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?
Pointing fingers cause you'll never take the blame like me?

I've always been strange. One of the most quoted things I've said is, "Normalness leads to sadness."

But now

I'm strange, no longer in a good way.

I always blame other people for how I feel.

I say, it's my manager's faults; they are the ones who pushed me to make more videos, which helped make me snap.

I say, it's my fan's faults; they are the ones who caused me to become more famous, they are the ones try and talk to me and treat me like an animal.

I say, it's Dan's fault; he left me, he's the one who caused me to spiral father down.

Deep down, I know it's my fault.

But I will never admit it.

It's someone else's fault.

And all the people say,

"You can't wake up, this is not a dream,
You're part of a machine, you are not a human being,
With your face all made up, living on a screen,
Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline."

I

just

want

to

wake

up.

I want to find that this can all be over.

I want to feel alive again.

Normal.

Not the fake person my fans falsely look up to.

I want to feel good about myself again.

I think there's a flaw in my code

I am messed up.

These voices won't leave me alone

The voices in my head, they tell me I'm worthless trash. That I am unworthy of all I have.

Well my heart is gold, and my hands are cold.

They say I have a good heart.

But all I feel

is the pain

of addiction

of anger

of depression

of my coldness.