nosebleed ; phan

ii :: drink, drank, drunk

THE TASTE OF SWEAT AND COFFEE-STAINS bled onto dan's tongue as his chapped lips fell apart, a muffled voice echoing through the tangled aftermath of dream fragments and drug-tinged thoughts that plagued his clouded mind.

"dan," adrian mumbled under his shallow breath, his delicate fingertips digging into his brother's aching shoulder. "come on, wake up." the older brunette's heavy eyelids parted slowly, his disoriented vision blurring at the stinging light of 11am. he rubbed the violet crescent moons that laid underneath his bloodshot hickory irises, quickly shoving his no doubt bruised, punctured arm underneath the tangled sheets.

he pretended to not see the corners of his younger brother's lips melt to sadness-or maybe disappointment, dan couldn't tell and didn't necessarily want to know-, meeting his gaze with a weak smile.

adrian's fingertips brushed the skin above his brother's lips, coming away smeared with light, brushstroke shades of crimson. "you said they stopped," he murmured, dan propping himself onto his aching elbows as he tried to ignore the migraine digging its nails into his skull. "y-yeah, they have. this was just," he stammered, watching as adrian's misery-stained irises fluttered to the side, "just a one time thing."

adrian dragged his bitten bottom lip in between his teeth as he chewed anxiously, as if his mind was dancing dangerously around the syringe he had found in the bathroom this morning and the lilac-kissed track marks that painted his brother's moonlit skin. "happy birthday," he simply said, forcing a weak smile as he stood up from the depressively-tangled mattress.

"ade," dan spoke, feeling barely a weight difference as his brother moved from his bed, as if there had been nothing on his bed but a ghost. "eat a bit today, yeah? consider it my birthday present," he bit his lip, his voice raspy from husky fatigue and the aftermath of heroin. adrian paused under the doorframe, his wiry shoulders raising anxiously as he gave a weak nod.

the door shut behind his bone-defined frame, earning a prolonged exhale from the brunette's dry throat. his irises stung as he examined his arm, shades of violet and violence painting his arm like death-stained train tracks. his heart leapt between beating two moments too slow and ten moments too fast as he dizzily rose to his feet.

step one foot outside their mansion doors and daniel howell was the son of a businessman. grade a, white teeth, older-brother boy who smiled at strangers and screamed of future success. but with a glance inside their violence-kissed curtains, not all was as smooth as the golden luminescence on their chandelier. brushstrokes of rose used to adorn his cheekbones while now the reek of cherry vodka slashed his starlit skin.

heroin seemed to replace blood as it liquored his indigo veins, his bones feeling as hollow as the broken glass bottles that littered the space under his bed. he felt like every 60 minutes that drifted like dust past him was nothing more than killing time.

he felt like his chandeliers.

stunning, ambient, worth something. and yet with a single loose screw and a glass-ridden collision, everything that had been holding him up collapsed around him; the sounds of sirens and a narrowly-dodged bodybag echoing in his mind. the lingering aftertaste of whiskey was met with hospital food and wrist bandages as he laid in the blood-smeared aftermath of glass shards; reflecting against the multifaceted, strobing ambulance lights that felt tattooed on the inside of his irises.

he had been saved, as in his heart was still beating; as in the lilac stitches that still scarred his snow-colored skin were what held him together. he had been released from suicide watch, nowadays his clockwork benders of heroin highs and red solo cups being the only thing keeping him from slashing open his aquamarine-veined wrists and doing it all over again.

in reality, dan howell was still laying in the glass. and he wasn't sure if he was ever going to be pieced back together. 

-

liquored traces of mildew and red solo cups half full with cheap beer drifted past the brunette's nostrils as he ambled through the pockets of yellowed light cast by flickering streetlights. he could already hear the buzzing music bleeding out onto the picturesque grass that painted the lawn of the nicotine-laced house party.

he ran his fingertips through his mocha fringe as he numbly ghosted through the crop-topped, red cup-holding bodies that stumbled around the lawn; the cannabis-tinged atmosphere already leaving a bitter taste on his tastebuds. he slipped through the doors, drowning himself where cherry lips sucking lips and sweaty skin on skin caked over the intoxicating oxygen. he exhaled deeply, immediately wanting to lock himself in a bathroom and hide. but he wasn't sure what, or who, he was really hiding from. it was over an hour long walk to this shitty party, and he still had not figured it out.

all he knew is that he wasn't here to socialize with stoned seventeen year olds whose only meals came from red solo cups and overpriced cigarette cartons. it's not that he was better; it was that he was the same. and dan wasn't fond of looking in mirrors when it seemed all he could see were the protruding crimson veins that speckled his undereyes or bitten lips that never stopped tasting like blood.

he found himself in the kitchen after slipping between the glossed-over, bloodshot irises and beer-reeking laughter that dan could tell was definitely faked, loosely wrapping his fingers around a cup of something as he began to walk through the hallways in search of a bathroom that wasn't already being used for intoxicated hickeys and tomorrow's regrets.

he pushed through a cracked-open bathroom door before he was met with bruised knuckles gripping desperately onto the toilet seat and a haze of ebony hair, blending like smeared charcoal into the heavy, milk fog of nicotine that ghosted the boy. he looked around the same age as dan, but the tattered t-short that draped over his body showcased a visage of toned muscles that the brunette's lanky frame lacked.

his blood-red irises darted to dan instantly, as if suddenly noticing his presence, and yet when he opened to mouth to speak he was dragged violently back to vomiting into the toilet. "uh," dan mumbled as he took a sip from his sweat-laced plastic cup, furrowing his eyebrows as he contemplating closing the door and leaving the boy to probably pass out in his own vodka-tasting mistakes.

"you need some water, or something?" he mumbled dumbly as he kicked at the tile, the boy's eyes glued to the toilet seat but still somehow seeming to burn a glare straight through him. the brunette inhaled, cringing at the pungency of vomit as he stepped out from the doorframe, ambling to get something in his cup that would make him forget the entire incident.

that was, until a messy head of bleached blond with faded roots the hues of steaming black coffee and golden irises the colors of melted honey flooded into his vision. a grin was painted across his pink lips that jutted forward from rest of his chiseled features; the boy appearing angelic from his red solo cup and high-school breakup-tears backdrop.

but dan agonizingly knew all too well that the boy was the devil in disguise.

—

hey !! this already has 500 reads and it hasn't even been a month which is literally insane i don't understand

but thank you it really does mean a lot to me that people actually enjoy these shitty stories i love and appreciate you all so much

-ashton