Please Don't Go

Dreams \\ Chapter One

        Phil. Phil Lester. Phillip Michael Lester. The love of my life. My boyfriend. My Phil.
       I'm laying with him on the couch in the lounge. He's asleep. I kiss his head gently and stroke his head as I drift off on my own. He's laying with his head in the crook of my neck. My arms are wrapped around his shoulders while his are around my waist.
      I fall asleep and dream that Phil gets shot in the head, his darker than black fringe slowly tinting red. We're alone in a white room. The white turns blood red. The worst part is that I'm the one that shoots him. I then try to shoot myself, only to find that there are no more bullets. I watch Phil cripple to the floor, the blue draining put in his eyes and onto the white floor in front of him. I watch him die. I watch.
      I wake up sweating; tear stains down my cheeks; fresh tears in my eyes. Phil's already awake, rubbing my back and stroking my hair. Somehow in the night, Phil and I completely switched positions. I was now resting my head on his shoulder, and his arms were around me, protecting me.
      "Shh," Phil whispers in my ear. "It'll be alright." I sob into his shirt and Phil holds me closer; tighter. I cry for a while, then fall back asleep. When I wake again, its morning. Phil is watching over me, still protecting me from the terrors that haunt me in the darkness of my slumber. I yawn, and Phil leans down and kisses me tenderly. I kiss him back, smiling.
      "Another dream?" Phil asked softly. I nodded quietly. "What about?"
      "I shot you. I watched. I shot you," I said quietly, my eyes big, hands holding tightly to Phil. I don't want him to go. I want to stay here with him like this forever. I know that I can't, yet my dreams are restless.
      "It's okay. I'm here. So are you. I'm alive, Dan, I'm alive," Phil rubs my back in circles, comforting me.
     "Okay," I nod, "okay." We sit here like this before Phil gets up.
     "I'm gonna get some breakfast. What would you like?" Phil asked, walking into the kitchen. I reply with some cereal name. It's the same as what Phil's having. I just want him back in here with me.
       He arrives back with two bowls of cereal. He puts his down and hands me mine. I mumble a sincere thank you and he comes back a moment later with two coffee cups.
      We sit together and watch anime, enjoying our breakfast. I cry silently, not wanting to upset Phil. I hate my dreams.
     I absolutely hate them.