Another phan one shots;)){Discontinued}

~A void of lonesome~

(memo: he writes x's on his wrist because theres always something he needs to do..) this chapter is very long. grab some snacks, a drink, a lil blanket, and continue<3
//WARNING! this chapter will be extremely triggering for some, and if any of these things are triggering to you, please dont read this. includes dark, depressing + mentions cutting, anxiety attacks, and suicide. please stay safe x\\
also also, a special thanks to @glitteryprostitute for letting me use a bit of their idea for the letters part in it, so thanks to them!

He writes x's on his wrist every day because theres always something he needs to do. The last thing he needs to do is kill himself. Phil lester is depressed and cuts, as well as wants death to consume him; suffocate himself in it. People bully him, but he doesnt care at this point. He could care less. Not care at all, mind that. All he cares about is death. D y i n g. A sad, heart-breaking priority he has. The more days pass, the less x's appear on his wrist. But this time, there was only three. Three have consistently been off and on his wrist for the past couple of days, but todays the day he decides. Hes giving life three days then its all over, or is it? What if he fails, or if something, more so, someone helps him? The possible "what ifs" rack his mind on a daily to the point where the "what ifs" keep his mind captivated more then death does. God, does he hate it. Hates not being able to have an instant escape like he would want. Hates not being able to talk to his family about his issues. Hates to have no one. Whether that be to help him or comfort him, hell, be there for him, he has no one. His parents dont care, partially why they made him move out. They didnt care what he did, so they told him to pack his bags and leave. Of course, the heartbroken lester left, grabbing what he needed, then left as quickly as possible before they start hurting him; physically and mentally. He needs some goddamn help. Friends, maybe? Nope. Nobody likes him; nobody wants to be his friend. The people who've offered it, he ignored, especially because he doesnt need another five pound water bucked  to be lied upon their shoulders to spill at any moment. He thinks everyone who wants to get to know him will stab him in the back and ruin his life more than it already is. "Someone, please help me." He prays every night, but nothing happens. The bullies get worse, and he wants death more. So three days it is. Hes made up his mind; final decision, he decided. Hes had enough, and others probably have to. Yet, he will still cry at night in his treehouse for help, comfort, love, help. But it doesnt matter, because it wont arrive soon. Just not soon enough.

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no ones point of view. /day one./

'Lord. Its too early.' Phil slowly thought, sitting up only to rub his eyes and lie back down. He sighed, reaching his hands up to stretch them, seeing the sun peering through the window of his treehouse. The sunlight lightly shown upon every faint scar and scratch that littered his arms. Some were very faint, white almost, others were pink and noticeable. As he skimmed his arm, he noticed the three x's upon his left wrist. He chuckled sadly, rubbing his eyes again. Sitting up once more, he realized he had school today. Finally standing, he groaned, feeling a growing lump in his throat. He dreaded going. Now, you should never actually dread going somewhere, much so, school. But phil does, sadly enough. Fixing his hair, he grabbed his shoes, quickly putting them on, then his backpack, and swiftly went down the latter to the treehouse. As the ground was slightly muddy from the previous nights thunderstorm, he slid slightly, almost falling yet catching himself. "God, that was close." He mumbled to himself, continuing to walk towards school. As he was walking, he felt something hit his back. Something hard. Turning around, a rock was thrown at his chest. "What the hell?" Phil muttered, looking up to who threw it, seeing it was none other then ian. "Hey looser!" Ian yelled at him, running towards phil with speed. Phil felt his heart jump inside of him, making him feel panicked, hurrying to run away. Luckily enough for him, he slipped and fell, sliding into a tree, causing his head to knock back against it, making a loud thud from the hit. Ian slid up to him, looking down and laughing loudly, causing phil to wince at the noise as his head was spinning from the crash. "Wasnt too hard getting to you today, hmm?" Ian asked with a grin, phil rolling his eyes, trying to stand up, but ian pushed him back down. When he pushed him, phils right arm skimmed against the tree, a long, red cut into his arm, but he didn't feel it. "Fucktard, im talking to you!" Ian exclaimed, kicking phil in the stomach. Phil groaned, quickly standing to his feet and beginning to run again. Ian kept yelling things towards him, yet he tried his best to ignore the words he spat at him. One thing did catch his thoughts though as ian yelled, "kill yourself already, faggot!" (yall obviously ian would never say that nor do i think its okau to say, its for the sake of the one shot, ily ian) Phil whimper at the words, knowing he would soon enough. As he reached the large building, he ran into the doors, going down the hallway, running into someone by accident as he was trying to reach his locker. "Woah, calm down. Are you okay?" The taller male asked, grabbing his arms lightly to steady him. Phil began to breathe heavier, feeling panic rise inside him. The other seemed to notice, slowly letting go and smiling a calm smile towards him. "Its okay. Calm down, youll be okay." He comforted, causing phil to calm down, hands continuously shaking at a rhythm. Phil lightly nodded towards him, hastily making his way down the hall once more. Reaching his locker, he swiftly opened it, grabbing the things he needed out of it. People looked at him as if he was crazy. As he got all his stuff, he noticed a pastel pink letter sitting on top of his science book. Confusion was written on his face in bold ink as he opened the letter. Inside, was a note that read, ' i doubt you know me, and i bet you wouldnt want to, but i want to say that you're so beautiful and lovely. please never leave this earth, phil. you're amazing. love~ secret admirer.' Phil felt his face becoming a light pastel as he read it, yet still felt as if it were a trap; someone trying to make him more gullible then he already is. Shrugging it off, he ran to his class. As he arrived, everyones eyes reached his, causing him to feel more self conscious. He slowly made his way to the back of the classroom, which is where he usually sat. "Okay class, so today we are going to be learning about your peripherals." Mr. Dashie told the class, turning towards the board and writing the word out, messing up a couple of times, but succeeding eventually. "Uhm, mr. Dashie, why is your name spelled that way on the board?" One of the students asked, pointing to his name, which was spelled mr. dachie. "Well, tina, if you shut up you woulda understood that you all say it like that, yall are like, dACHIE DACHIE!" Mr. Dashie explained, using his hands to make fists and undo them. "Why did you spell peripherals wrong?" Another asked, him answering with, "'cause i dont know how to spell dem shits." Rocking forward and backward continuously with a finger on his mouth. "So, like i said, we ade giing wjfooelandn-" and phil spaced out. Mr. Dashies words seemed like mash; not words at all, really. He started to think of other things, not at all what the teacher was saying. The note, his home, ian of this morning, the note. The note kept racking his brain. It was so... out of nowhere. Nobody notices him, and nobody cares about him. He's another quote on quote "emo" that deserves death more then he does life. He's been told that so many times to where he believes it. And who wrote the note? Ian is out of the picture, he hates phil. Pj? Nope, him and christophe is dating. The boy he ran into this morning? Couldnt be. I mean, he does see him often, and they have made small talk before, but whats his na- bring!!!! "Okay class, thats the bell, enjoy your weekends!" Mr. Dashie told them all, bringing smiles to everyones faces except for phils. He swiftly got up and left the room, heading for his locker as his head was in the clouds. Of course. Of course the day where he finds a mysterious note from someone in his locker is the day its a friday and he has to wait till monday for another. Is there even going to be another? Is he too engrossed to this? What if- and he ran into someone. That same someone who he ran into this morning. He quickly tried repeatedly apologizing, yet the man chuckled and softly told him, "its okay, please don't apologize, pretty much everyone doesn't see me, anyway." Phil nodded vigorously, beginning to walk away, when the male grabbed his wrist, causing phil to whimper at the force. The other quickly let go, making phil swiftly hold onto his wrist, the man giving him a strange and concerned look. After a short time, the male fixed his jacket he was wearing, then smiled towards him with an outstretched hand. "My names dan." Dan told him, phil hesitated shaking his hand, but eventually did. "Im p-phil." He stuttered, taking his hand back with a slight smile. "I know, phil. Youre talked about a lot here." Dan smiled, a small hint of blush tinting his face. Phil nodding once more, then turned away and ran back to where he was going to, which was his locker.