Recovery: A Phan Fiction

Ten

"Hey guys." Looking straight into the camera, I did my best to smile. After the tears were gone, I finally reapplied my makeup and turned the camera on for one last time.

"I'm the only one left to bring the news. Dan... Isn't going to wake up. He made a suicide attempt driving off a bridge drunk. He fell into a coma and... He's passed away."

Don't stop talking. If you stop then you'll cry.

"Phil... He won't talk to anyone. He's locked himself up in his room and won't come out. I don't blame him. His husband..."

"Well the point of this is closure. I know you all needed the truth. You deserve it. I'm going to tell you all what happened... To Phil.

...

"DAN! NO!" He pounded on the door, sobbing. "DAN, STOP!"

"I'm so sorry Phil." My voice was barely a whisper as I slid the bullet into the gun's chamber. "I have to do this."

"DAN, PLEASE!" His voice screamed as he strained against my bedroom door. His fists pounded violently against the wood as I lifted the barrel of the handgun.

"Phil..." Tears streamed down my face as I lifted the gun to my head.

It all happened so fast. Lifting a chair, Phil crashed the door open to see my finger on the trigger. He leapt forward, screaming my name as he grabbed the gun.

But I just couldn't let it go.

We fought for it. The trigger was pulled.

And I shot Phil Lester.

He fell back, laying limp on the carpet as blood soaked into the carpet around him.

And then I realized what I'd done.

The ambulances were there in a matter of minutes. Phil was taken out of our room, carried into the back of the ambulance and driven away.

And I was left standing in the cold darkness in front of our building. I couldn't move, couldn't feel, couldn't think.

Phil Lester is going to die. And it's all my fault.