alone『 kickthestickz + phan au 』

3

Daniel made himself a small sandwich and went back to sitting in his bed. He felt tired to the extent that he didn't feel like going out.
As he sat in the bed, he looked over to the other side of it where the sheets were clean, crisp and unruffled, the pillows still blue and untouched. He hadn't gone anywhere near that side of the bed since the person who slept there stopped sleeping.
That was one of the only things he had left of Phil, that and the reoccurring nightmares of blue eyes and black hair. Also, of course, all of Phil's old clothes, some of which were worn by Dan since the incident happened - to try and preserve his presence in the house - and some of which were left in their drawers, unwanted and unused.
A singular cold, salty tear trickled down his cheek and he swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing up and down.
He longed for things to be as they had been, he longed to whisper those three sweet words to his boyfriend again.
I love you.

Christopher's mouth was dry, same as his throat. He hadn't drank in probably a week. His clothes were dirty, littered with red stains from when he was sloppy and wet marks from his sweat or tears or spit - he no longer could tell which one.
He needed to stand up, he needed to eat something, he needed to breathe in clear air.
His arms moved from around his knees and his legs stretched out, ever so slowly.
It felt like he was a corpse, slowly brushing off cobwebs and dust he had collected. Each bone of his stretching out in a way they hadn't seemed to do in years.
He moved his neck and a sharp cracking sound filled the room, the first sound in a while except for his quiet sobs.
He bent his knees, getting closer and closer to standing up, to reaching where he hadn't for so long. It was like he was reaching for the sky, an almost impossible goal that somehow seemed tangible.
He made it, he stood up and stepped out of the horridly stained bathtub with only a slight head rush to keep him from feeling like this was the best sensation he'd ever felt.
He turned and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror.
His face seemed inhuman, dirty and creased.
'What happened,' he mouthed to the person on the other side of the glass, questioning this strange boy he didn't recognise.

PJ finally became fully conscious much later than he should have. He opened his eyes one at a time and the loud ringing sound came back to his ears - a little good morning present from his head.
He wanted to reach for a bottle of some kind, but as he was doing so the door was opened.
'PJ,' a voice whispered into the mid-darkness of the room, partially drowned out by the shrill sounds in his head. The voice belonged to a blonde girl standing in the door frame. She wore a pair of leggings and a tight shirt, her nails were painted green.
She rang a bell in the back of his mind, but he wasn't able to remember her well. She had been here before, a couple days ago when she last checked up on him; she had persisted in calling him sweetie and babe. She kept repeating to him that he needed to go outside, but he didn't really care.
'Morning sunshine,' the girl said, tiptoeing over to his bed, 'it's time for you to get up, we're going out today.'
All he could do is reply with a grunt and a long, low groan as she opened the curtains, letting all the bright light from the midday sun into his eyes.