That Night

Part Nine: Phil

Time was slipping through his fingertips. He was watching his life go by as he suffered through pain and pressure that society pressed down on him like a steel-toed boot to a spindly spider.

There was only one thing on his mind: That night. How he acted. How he looked. How he smelled. He was living vicariously through the memories. Everything was blue. His eyes, his tears, feelings. He sat on the bed. With a notepad in his hand and a pen in the other, he just stared out of the window and let his hands draw on the page wherever they pleased. He ever so often got up to see Dan and to make sure he didn't kill himself, as he felt it was his fault that Phil was like this. Phil also just walked around to make sure his house plants were still alive and well, unlike he and Dan, who were both on the verge of actual insanity. Why must it be this way? Why couldn't it have just stayed the way it was? Dan and Phil living together, but what about Sam? They were practically the best thing that ever happened to Phil. And he just let them slip away...

Ding! Ding! The doorbell. Phil walked up to the door, opened it and saw a note. He bent down and reached for it. He read it:

To: Daniel Howell and Phillip Lester

We are here to help you. We know what you have been going through. We understand. If you want to know more, please go to The Garden Café (Inner Circle
London
NW1
England)
At precisely 3:15 pm. It will help you and Dan. It's worked before. And if you are wondering who the hell we are, just know us as your anonymous therapist. You cannot find us. You cannot trace us. You cannot know..
~ Your Therapists

Phil didn't want to think. He didn't want to breathe. But, if he wanted Dan to get better, he needed to get the help. He knew Dan had been forcing himself to throw up and was not eating or drinking and was sleep deprived. He knew. He just didn't want to upset Dan and make him confront his problems. As this would lead to another fight, another love, and another heartbreak.