phan oneshots

slowtown (angst)

inspired from Slowtown by twenty one pilots//

summary: phil wears socks to keep his soul from falling through his toes. but you have to do the laundry eventually, right?

tw// suicidal thoughts, mentions and actions of death

Socks?

I had plenty.

Happiness?

I had none.

Boyfriend?

I had one.

But love?

I had none.

And Dan was the opposite of me. Dan was something else, and in the very best way. He was always energetic and making jokes, he was always doing something good for the world. He encouraged me that I'd be alright, he'd kiss me and tell me that I deserve to be alive. He was a very good boyfriend, and I was a very bad one.

I blew him off constantly just because of how I felt and I hadn't realized that he was hurting too. I hadn't realized that he was wearing the same pair of socks I was underneath his shoes.

I never looked deep enough into my favorite pair of eyes to see the tears hidden beneath them. I hadn't listened to his soft voice long enough to notice it breaking. I never held his hand tight enough to realize that the less I glued him together with my grip, the more he crumbled apart.

So when he took his socks off before I did, the only thing that kept him on the ground, he floated up. All the way up to a different place, a different universe, just because of my own selfish ways.

And when I saw his body on the ground, I noticed one thing. His feet were naked, like his dark side. Completely exposed, uncovered with the prettier sides such as his colored fabrics or pretty face. I had held him until his very last breath, crying and telling him that he shouldn't have taken the clothing off. He shouldn't have cut the rope he was struggling to hold onto. He shouldn't have broken the oxygen tank he was breathing through. He shouldn't have broken me, whom he was living through.

When he broke, so did I. When he closed his eyes, so did I. When he removed his socks, I decided I would too.

I stared down at my feet. The colored socks that dressed them. The way my toes wriggled and giggled underneath, and the way my legs were stiff. I stood up from my spot and looked up at the ceiling fan. And I sat down on a chair to remove one sock. Then I began sliding off the other while I stood, and my last view was that colorful sock leaving my foot.

My last view was my surrendered sanity falling to the floor, while I flew up and up and up- to a different place, to a different universe with Dan Howell.

To something I'd like to call Slowtown.