Trapped//Phan

Twenty Six

TRIGGER WARNING- self harm (does not describe the action of self harming)

WARNING: Long A/N at the end sorry.

Dan can't remember how long ago the fight was, he just watches the sun set, and rise again. 

It's been at least a couple days, right?
Maybe a week?
I don't know.
Best not to check.

He can't remember the last time he's eaten, the last time he's slept, but it didn't matter to him anymore. Because Dan is in his bed, the fight replayed in his head again and again, and Dan is hoping if he just lays there long enough, maybe he'll not only forget what day it is, but him.

Phil was the opposite. He's counted the days, the hours, the minutes, the seconds since his got stepped outside Dan's house. He check the time.

4 days, 13 hours, 47 minutes, 9 seconds and counting.

Phil wondered if Dan just forgot about him, if he just went to school like nothing happened, like that was nothing, like he was nothing. Phil couldn't shake these thoughts. His mind as stained with the memory of Dan's bruises, Dan's face. The hurt in his eyes (he had pretty eyes), how he stepped back, but Phil wanted him to step forward so he could hug him.

I messed up.

And with that, Phil looked at the time again and did the math.

4 days, 14 hours, 2 minutes, 47 seconds

And Phil was tired of counting.
***
Is it normal to this upset over possibly losing a friend?

The word friend stood out, like he was almost seeing it in bold text. It was hard for Dan to compare, because all of his other friends he had soon drifted apart kinda quickly.

Did I feel like this with Emily?
No. Don't think about that.
Stop it.
Get over it.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.
Silver eyes.
No.
That jerk on his arm that night.
Stop.
The way the stars seemed to disappear,
Like her,
The way the moon hid behind the clouds,
No light,
No direction,
Boom
Boom
Pow
Pow
STOP
Screaming.
STOP.
Funeral
Coffin
No
No
No
No.

Dan closed his eyes, and he meant to open them, but he couldn't. He was afraid, but he did anyway, heart racing like he had just ran a marathon, and that was the last thing remembered.

***

Dan woke up on the floor, looking at the ceiling.He wasn't sure how he got there, but he felt full, like he had eaten. Dan tried to think this through.

I obviously passed out,
But for how long?
What did I do?
I ate?
How hungry was I?
Did I check the time?
What happened?

Questions buzzed around his head like bees during the fall. Dan used his core to get up, which was a big mistake. Pain signals shot to his brain in a hurry. Dan winced at how bad it yet and quickly laid back down to recover.

"God morning to you too." Dan mumbled annoyed. He looked down at his shirt to see red stains covering his bottom half of his shirt. Fearfully he played with the hem of his shirt a bit, wondering if it was even worth looking at the damage. Carefully he folded Utah's the hem and started picking it up, slowly gliding across the skin. His stomach was fine, he was skinny as hell, but not marks. However, he got to his rib age, and that's where all the damage was. Scrapes and scratches covered his skin. It was swollen and slowly becoming a scab. Not enough to make him pass out though.

Fear etched Dan's mind. This is what he was capable of, he want even conscious, what else had he done?

What am I doing?
Cutting?
Why was I not conscious?
Why can't I do anything right?
Why can't I control myself?

Unfortunately the worst part of all, was deep inside, Dan felt a little pride. Pride in his 'art'. And Dan had never been so scared of himself. However it was strange, he was terrified, but there was no adrenaline. No fear racing in his veins, not anymore. Just numb. A little pride, and he was petrified, but numb.

I'm broken.
People are supposed to cry,
And be sad
And afraid
And have their heart pump
Have a shred of guilt come over them
But I don't.
Broken.

This worried Dan, again,no adrenaline to tell him he was worried or concerned, but his mind was. And his mind did what it always did, it assessed the worst thing Dan could've done during his time of unconsciousness, however long it was, until he got to the worst one:

What if I texted Phil?

Dan didn't want to check his phone, he didn't want to know how much time had passed, but he had to know if he texted Phil.

Screw it.

Dan thought and got up to grab his phone. It was in the same place he remembered last putting it, which was a good sign. He turned it on and saw his home screen, it was still Dan and Emily. His heart sank.

Phil: 59 messages.

Dan opened his phone, and before reading any of Phil's, he quickly scrolled to the top and found some relief. He didn't text Phil. Dan gave a silent praise to himself. He read Phil's messages.

Dan didn't know what to think reading them, he was so glad that Phil had been texting him, but Dan felt like he needed time to figure his mess out.

Phil is my friend,
Why am I obsessing?
A friend,
Because I'm STRAIGHT
Right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay important(lmao not really): so as I said Dan received 59 texts from Phil.
Do you guys want a entire chapter to see all Phil's text OR just summarize them in the next chapter. Idk I might just choose one at random

Now the rambling:

Okay, my phone has been acting up with the style of words (bold, italicized, underlined) so I'll edit that on my computer later.

Im almost at 1k reads so THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA. Seriously. It means so much to me, and I got to like in the top 300's for FanFiction. THAT'S unbelievable. Seriously. I'm pretty sure I dreamed that part up. That's also scary.

And I know I thank you guys a lot and it's just because I really do appreciate it and when I made this books it wasn't for the views or votes or comments. I know literally every author says that too but I really do mean it.

Does anyone else think Sunday's always just feel lonely?

Okay. December 25 is coming up, I'm not sure if I'll update before then and I don't want to be offend any religion so:

Merry Christmas,
Happy Hanukkah
Happy Holidays
HAVE A GREAT DAY IN GENERAL IF YOU DON'T CELEBRATE ITSELF
(Apologies if I missed out on one)

^^^see what I mean about the text?