Phan oneshots

I won't let you take him (part 1)

Warnings: Depression, overdose

Also, since this is a fanfic and I can do whatever I want, I'm going to tell you to imagine this is the time when Dan struggled with depression because he now said he's doing much much better and I don't want to write something where he falls back into depression because no one wants Danny boi to be depressed. (Which means they're still in their old flat)

And if I get medical facts wrong or something, I'm sorry, I tried to get my research right, but we'll see. And I've never had depression, so I'm really going off of what I understand about it.
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Dan's POV

I sat hunched on the edge of my bed, staring at the small box in my hands. I ran my thumb over the title. Citalopram.

I hated taking them because I didn't want to admit to myself I had to take them to be happy, but that was the truth. I was rarely ever happy if I didn't take them. I felt as if my life was defined by these little pills and I hated it. I hated that I couldn't just be normal. Live a normal life. I hated how I was alive but wasn't living. I wasn't doing anything with my life. I hated how I felt so empty all the time, and nothing I did could ever fill the bottomless pit. I hated how everyone around me was laughing and smiling and mine were fake. These thoughts had been particularly persistent for the past week. I hadn't told Phil, because I didn't want him to worry about me anymore than he already did. I'm not worth being worried over.

I would give anything to just be normal and not be plagued by dark thoughts every single moment of my waking life. Even give my life if it meant I could be normal.

My thoughts were flying at a million miles per hour, good ideas getting mixed with bad ideas, my morals thrown out the window and what I then thought right replaced them. All I wanted was to be normal. The word pounded in my head. Normal, normal, normal.

My breathing started to get shallower and I was bringing myself up into a panic. Tears threatened to fall. An empty feeling was in my body and I so desperately wanted to fill it. But I didn't know how. I swallowed the sob about to burst and did the only thing I could think of.

I took out a pill sheet from the box and popped out the prescribed amount into my shaking hand. That doesn't look like enough. I added more. Maybe, maybe I could be normal. More. Maybe if I take enough, I'll never have to use them again. More. With that pathetic hope at the front of my thoughts, I dashed across the hall to the bathroom. I shoved all the pills into my mouth and downed them all with a large gulp of water.

I put both my hands on the counter and leaned towards the mirror. I stared at myself. My hair was greasy and in a messy quiff from running my hands through it so much. My eyes were red and had dark circles under them. My face was pale and looked almost lifeless. I took a step back and looked at my body, cloaked in dark colors. The dark clothes made me look skinnier than I already was and didn't help hide the fact that they hung off of my shoulders like a curtain, not catching anything. That would be the result of my bad eating habits; I hardly ate. I could feel my own face looking at myself with disgust. I'm a disaster. Always have been, always will be.

I started to try and sort my thoughts out. Tried to slow them down. I closed my eyes. Deep breaths, just like Phil told you. Phil. I see him in my head, his bright blue eyes that I got lost in so many times. His pink, plump lips that I wanted to kiss so badly but couldn't. A memory flashes into my head. I see him sitting by me on my bed. He is speaking softly, murmuring words of encouragement and comfort. I sighed at the memory. Now that I had taken a moment to stop acting and calm myself down a bit, what I had just done slowly sunk into my mind like a shell to the bottom of a lake. What have I done..