phan oneshots

waves of heartbreak (angst)

(a/n: this was originally planned to be a novel, although it flunked so why not make it a oneshot.)

summary: in which Phil confesses his feelings and Dan breaks his heart.

The first wave.

"I love you."

That hits the hardest.

When you finally say it. And they reply:

"Oh."

And for a second you're telling yourself it's not real. And that self-aware voice of you is arguing. And your left brain is fighting with your right brain. And you're speechless. And you hate yourself for ever opening your mouth.

All you can think is: why?

Why don't you love me? Why now? Why don't you notice my feelings? Why are you hurting me like this? Why is that all you can say?

Dan expected him to say more. But the only thing that came out Phil's lips? Well:

"Okay."

And Dan left, and as soon as Phil heard the door shut, as soon as they knew that person was gone forever, then they opened another one. The emotional door. And God, did it pour. It flooded every room in his brain, every floor and cut through every wall he had built up for himself.

He couldn't even stand. He couldn't breathe. Dan was his oxygen and man, was Phil suffocating right now. His eyes burned and his throat felt like someone had lodged a block of wood through it, it felt as if splinters covered every part of his esophagus. It pained him to swallow another inhale and force out an exhale, his chest heaving as he sat on his knees on the wooden floor. He clawed at his skin, he was so desperate to just stop feeling so terrible, to just stop crying already and leave his own body and be free but instead he was here crying over his best friend.

And Phil never did stop crying that night. And Dan never came back that year. Only to come back and take his things in a box, not even speaking a proper sentence to Phil except the fact that he was going to be living with his family. He never specified how long, or if he'd visit, or why he was leaving or how he felt, Dan didn't even hug the blue-eyed human form of heartbroken.

And with heartbreak came levels of it, like a video game but with no controls to play it. It played you. And Phil was losing horribly. It was like playing Mario and each time you defeated Bowser, he'd revive but stronger. Like those levels you kept dying over but you didn't wanna give up until finally you'd get so upset that you'd smash your controller or cry and you needed a break.

Secondly there was shock. After rejection came the questioning and confusing thoughts at three in the morning when you should be asleep but you're wondering if they're awake too, staring at the ceiling and thinking about you.

Shock that they no longer felt the same, or ever did in the first place. The feeling of being empty as you hold your pillow trying to pretend that it's still them, that you're still lucky enough to call them yours but all you've got is a fucking cushion stuffed full of cotton in replacement of a human stuffed with butterflies in their tummy and their heartbeat ringing through your ears with your head on their chest.

You can't sleep, you can't eat, you can't even laugh at the things that should make you happy, because the main source is now gone. The sun left and the plants are dying, and Dan was Phil's sun and Phil's guilty pleasures were the plants. Nothing was alive anymore, not how it used to be. Not how Phil felt when he was around the brunette.

Third came anger. Pure hatred that really was just hidden love. You hated them for leaving you, you hated yourself from not being to let them go, and you hate the idea of it in general. You begin to hate love. And Phil couldn't fucking stand it.

He was drunk one night, wasted, and he was fine until he decided to listen to the radio when their old favorite song comes on and Phil just snapped. First he slammed his wine glass against the table, shattering the cup before standing up, grabbing the radio, and literally tossing it through his apartment window.

He didn't care if he woke people up from the breaking of the glass, he wanted people to notice, he wanted to Dan to notice how fucking broken he was but he wasn't there because he didn't want to be and Phil felt just as broken as the window in front of him.

Then number four. The fourth wave: shame. You yell at yourself for beating yourself up about, for being so upset over something so little to the other, for keeping yourself up at night thinking about someone who doesn't even mention your name during the day. Phil was building bridges for himself when Dan was already long gone, on the other side. You tell yourself you're being overdramatic, that you didn't deserve them in the first place because you're so fucking pathetic and they're so fucking perfect and you're just. . . you.

And Phil wasn't good enough. He feared that Dan had left because what Phil had given him wasn't enough. It didn't make him as happy as it did to Phil when Dan would do things for him.

And then number five: one of the hardest. Remembering.

God, the memories were so painful. Every time Phil closed his eyes, all he saw was Dan in front of him. Even a blink had his mood dropping. He remembered the feeling of Dan coming up and hugging him from behind while Phil would make pancakes for them, whispering a soft "good morning," his way, and Phil would blush the rest of the time while cooking.

He remembered when they'd watch scary movies late at night and Dan would get scared and as soon as it was over, Dan wouldn't leave Phil's side, afraid that if they parted then some demon girl in a white dress would possess their corpses after murdering them in some weird satanic way. And as soon as they'd get in bed, Dan would get really close, snuggle right up against him so he could feel every inch of Phil against him just to reassure himself that Phil was alive and so was he and they were okay. And Phil never pushed him away once.

He remembered being so nervous and having butterflies in his tummy when they first met, and Phil was so afraid that Dan would get annoyed, but then they went up on the wheel in Manchester and Dan never insulted him once or spoke of regretting them meeting.

He remembered when they first moved in together, and they were trying to pack but they wouldn't stop giggling as they watched each other sweat while they carried the heavy boxes from room to room, and eventually they fell asleep on the unmade bed together after talking for hours about how much fun they'd have now that they lived in the same house.

He remembered all those times he felt himself falling harder and harder for Dan, falling in love with his little sad face looking dimple and the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed and the way he'd complain about his natural curls after getting out of the shower and the way he always liked his pancakes with soda instead of coffee and the way he looked at things long enough for Phil to stare at that pretty face.

And lastly, he remembered finally building up the courage to say it, to admit to Dan how he felt, and watching Dan's expression drop and watched him leave and heard his car start and pull out of the parking lot without one fucking explanation.

And the last wave, number six. Blame. You blame yourself that they left, that you were too weird or you spoke too soon or they found someone else because you just weren't cutting it. You blame yourself for your own sadness because they're out there enjoying life while you haven't slept in days and you're spending all your money on melted ice cream and comedies that fail to amuse you. 

Then Dan finally came back after a year. A year after Phil trying to get over it, a year full of mindless one-night stands and crying from his jealousy of the couples in chic-flicks and eating cold pizza because his heart felt cold.

And Dan just stared, and it took everything in Phil to not scream at him, to break down and cry, to slap him across that stupid beautiful face for leaving him for so long. For not replying to the drunk "I miss you," texts from Phil or the coffee buzz calls in the morning of Phil rambling about how sorry he was. Dan gulped, looking over Phil's shoulder to see Phil was still setting the table for two.

"I can explain."

Phil just stared. And then he looked down and noticed the promise ring on Dan's finger.

And then he was drowning in his waves of heartbreak all over again.