alllll the fics

The Seven Stages

Typically, the seven stages of grief are described as:

- Shock or Disbelief

- Denial

- Anger

- Bargaining

- Guilt

- Depression

- Acceptance and Hope

Warnings: Break up, cursing, alcohol, stalking (well they talk about it at least), self-hate

Also partially based on “Oh Well, Oh Well” by Mayday Parade.

_________________________________________________________

Stage One - Shock or Disbelief

“Let me get to the door.”

“Why would you want to do that, Phil? You live here.”

“Dan, I’m worried about you. Don’t you understand?”

Dan woke in a cold sweat, arm immediately swinging to the empty bed beside him. He muttered something under his breath, sitting up and looking around the room. For what, he wasn’t exactly sure, but he knew he needed to look. Suddenly, he realized what it was. Phil wasn’t in the bed beside him. As a matter of fact, he was in his own bed, not in Phil’s as usual. He squinted down at the black and grey duvet, his stomach actually churning. He’d kind of grown to hate the dullness after spending so many nights tangled in a blue-green sea of blankets and Phil’s eyes. He scratched his head and wondered how and what had happened to put him in his own bedroom. Maybe Phil had been snoring, and he hadn’t been able to sleep. Dan rubbed his eyes and started to stand, legs still wobbly from sleep.

He stumbled to his door and it creaked open. He leaned down the hallway, heart pounding for no apparent reason. “Ph.. Phil?” he called, eyes scanning the shadows. He looked around for a second, and then almost laughed as he noticed a light barely showing from a crack in the bathroom door. Phil was probably showering or something. It was a little early for that, but who was Dan to pass it up? He strolled down the hall and opened the door, eyes closed in joy. “Hey, Phil, you think it’s a little early for a-” he opened his eyes and cut himself short. Phil wasn’t in there. Dan stepped back into the hall, frowning. He flicked the light off and turned around, pushing open the door to Phil’s room. The lights were all off, and he couldn’t see very well, but he was almost sure something was off. There was no soft breathing from the other side of the room, no mumbling from beneath the covers. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t even see and outline in the bed. The room looked empty, abandoned. But Dan blamed the visions, all the little pieces that were slightly out of place, on his tired mind, and walked across the room on pointed toes, trying not to wake Phil up. As Dan started to slip his way under the covers, he really decided that something was wrong. The bed was empty, not even a warm spot from where he knew Phil had to have been sleeping just hours, even minutes ago. Dan stood up and marched to the wall, flipping the light on, and his breath caught in a way that made him feel sick. The posters, the paintings, the everything that had made Phil’s room be Phil’s, it was all gone. It was all empty. The bedding was white, and Dan guessed it to be the things from the guest room. The blue and green squares Dan loved (even though he’d deny it to hell and back) were gone. The room felt stale and cold on his eyes and fingertips.

He stepped back. “M.. Maybe I just stumbled into the guest room,” he said allowed, trying to reassure himself that what he’d seen wasn’t Phil’s room, or what was left of it. He turned back to the hall, and for some odd reason, he started running. He flung every door open, turning on lights and looking into every one, hoping to find Phil in any of them, tired and confused as to why Dan was running through that halls at 4a.m. and throwing doors open. But once he’d made it through, checked the kitchen, the lounge, basically everywhere but the rushing street below, he had to sit down and catch his breath. “I.. Fuck,” he mumbled to himself, staring down at his rumpled clothes and clenched fists. “I.. Oh god, he really left.” His hands were locking around each other, twisting and wringing, trying to deflect the pain that was stabbing at him so suddenly to elsewhere. “Oh god. Oh god.” He crossed his arms into his stomach, holding them tight. His head was spinning- He felt dizzy, like he was about to pass out or something. He leaned onto the floor slowly, lying on his side. He rocked back on forth on the carpet, closing his eyes. Everything was too much all of a sudden. It all came back so quickly, and it wasn’t just a dream. It wasn’t just a dream. Phil was gone and Phil had left and Phil said he didn’t understand. Phil had been gone for a week- oh my god i thought it was a dream im losing my mind. “Oh god.” He mumbled it again and again, preaching to a god he’d never truly believed to exist to just make it stop, eyes squeezing shut tighter and tighter until galaxies exploded behind them. They went on forever, stars glowing and burning out red and gold and purple. And as he sat on the carpet, rocking away in a mess of colors and broken stars, Dan still missed green and blue.