Bluebird; Phan

XIX

  After some time of failing contemplation, Phil headed back inside the hospital. Everything was still despite the rushes of people. Phil's mind was slow and his feet were all muddled over where to move. He stumbled a few times against the white walls and ignored the momentary concerned glances from passing nurses.

When he arrived at Dan's room again, there was a cluster of people surrounding a stretcher. Cat quickly informed Phil that they were moving Dan up to the ward.

Bernie was walking ahead with him and two nurses, and Elise came and linked her arm with Phil's as they all got into an elevator. Cat cramped herself against the wall.

"It's going to be alright," Elise told him, reassuring.

Don't you dare fucking tell me what's going to be alright, Phil wanted to yell at her. You've failed to show him you love him and you know it. You've failed to be there for him as his parents and you know it. He smokes. He drinks. He self-harms. Fuck you. I've had to protect him so fuck you.

Phil didn't want to blame anyone because he knew there was nobody deserving but there was an anger fizzling under his skin.

They rode in the elevator up to the correct ward, and Dan was given a place in a little room concealed at the end of multiple. The nurses left to organise the room beside Dan's for another patient being moved up. The fact that they were sat on a ward for the mentally ill fluttered presumptions of this next patient across Phil's mind.

Dan was conscious on the bed, but he was drowsy. Elise approached him and put her hand on his hair, comforting him. He groaned and moved her away.

"Dan," she said, tender. "It's me, it's mom—"

"No," he croaked. "I don't want you. I don't want either of you here."

Bernie took a breath. "Dan—"

"No," he spat, and his chest heaved under the force.

"Just go," Phil told them. "Wait until he's ready. He has to have what he wants right now, what's best for him."

"Phil, I don't think—" Elise tried.

"I'm okay," Phil promised. I'll protect him better than you ever could. "I'm fine, I promise. We're okay."

And so they left. It was scrawled across their faces that they didn't want to, of course, but they did. Something told them they had to. Phil pulled a little chair up to the side of the bed so he could rest his arms near where Dan was laying. Cat was still stood in the corner, and she watched as Phil brought his hand to his face to run his thumb over Dan's cheek. He didn't even think it was right to touch him, didn't he was allowed to anymore. His failure buzzed and beeped like the little monitors around them and he knew this wasn't his fault but that didn't mean he hadn't failed.

"Phil," Dan tore his name up from somewhere in the back of his throat.

"Hey," Phil croaked. He was pathetic, he knew it. "You doing okay?"

Dan shook his head slowly and there was a disarray in the paling colour of his eyes. "I don't—I—"

"You hurt yourself," Phil whispered, and his knuckles faintly touched Dan's cheek. "You remember it, yeah? They're trying to make you feel better here because you hurt yourself. They gave you a lot of morphine."

"I'm sorry," Dan's voice was strangled and he nudged his head up to Phil's hand. He tried to meet his eyes. "I never, ever wanted to hurt you and I'm so sorry I did—I couldn't—I tried to make it stop but it was too much and—"