Instagram||Phan

8

(WARNING WARNING SELF HARM PLEASE DON'T BE TRIGGERED YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED LADS)
Dan never told Phil that he was in a deep (crippling) depression. Phil had fallen asleep and just the voice in Dan's head starts screaming.
*
What are you doing, Daniel?
I'm just gonna go take a shower.
Stop it, right now.
What am I even doing?
Please don't tell me you threw them away.
I needed to throw them away.
Those were you're LAST blades, Daniel!
Don't tell me what to do, I own this body not you.
Get the knife in the kitchen. It's bigger.
Are you insane?! No!
Daniel.
Go get the knife. You'll feel all better.
Don't tell me what to do!! I got Phil, and I don't freaking need you!!
Daniel. Get it, and dig deep as punishment. I want them infected.
If you want.
*
Dan looks back at Phil, who's wrapped up in his blanket and snoring hazily.
"I'm so sorry...Phil." Dan whispers, grabbing one of the small kitchen cutting knifes. Tears wet his cheeks as he locks himself in the bathroom; Sitting on the floor.
He takes a deep breath, then cries softly out, shoving the blade in his arm, ripping the tender skin and blood gushes out. He yelps and bites on his tongue.
*
Faggot
Don't call me that. I don't like that.
*
There was so much blood at this point, and Dan sobs, knowing that this is going to hurt Phil so bad.
Dan felt a little light-headed, letting the blood spill on the floor. His tears drop on his wound, the water turns pink and burns into it. Dan yells into a towel, hopefully his, and drops the knife.
*
More.
Enough!!
I had always feared of dying.
*
Dan falls back, fighting darkness, and hits his head on the ground, passing out.
Blood still flowing out of his arm.
____________
Phil woke up to the banging of Dan's head. He sat up, in question. Dan wasn't sleeping with him. "Dan?!" He yells, expecting an answer.
Nothing.
Phil rolls his eyes, smiling. He can see the bathroom light under the door.
He got up, and walked over to the door knocking.
"Dan...You in there?" He says.
No answer.
He swore that he was in there.
He tried the handle, locked. He knocked a bit harder.
"Dan, are you okay?! Please, say something!!" Phil shouts.
The silence was going to kill him.
"Dan!!" Phil yells, tears pooling in his sockets. Phil knew something wasn't right.
"I'm...I'm coming in!!" Phil shouts, he rams himself into the door, the hinges snapping.
(Whattup bitches its Philly)
Phil looked around and saw Dan surrounded by a pool of blood, and a knife in his hand.
Phil stood there, and looked down. Blood was soaked in his socks. Dan's blood. Phil clamps his hand over his mouth, and sits next to Dan.
"DAN, WHAT DID YOU DO?!" He yelled.
"DAN PLEASE...!" Phil sobbed, shaking  Dan and he rests his head on his shoulder.
"Oh my god!! Dan, no...!" Phil yanks out his phone from his pocket.
"I'm calling an ambulance!!!" Phil cries.
With his shaking fingers, Phil calls the medics, and a nice-sounding lady picks up the phone.
"Hello? What's your emergency?"
"Help me, please!! My boyfriend cut himself really bad and his blood is all over the place!!" Phil hollers. "I'm really scared and what if he dies?!"
The lady on the other end gasps. "We'll send someone down there, don't worry he's going to be okay!" She says.
Phil cries more.
"Thanks..." He hangs up.
He looked down at Dan, who was pale and motionless. It made Phil's heart sank.
"I'm so sorry, Dan." Phil leans and kisses his cheek, holding him in his arms.
________________
Cash me outside how bout dah