TW: Attempted suicide
No-ones PoV
Idly pushing his mashed potatoes around with his silverware, Phil sulked at his dining table. Occasionally, Kathryn would spare worried glances, but would comfort herself with a half-hearted reassurance that he was upset over being forced into the date.
It wasn't the full story, but it was in no sense a lie.
As the silence loomed over the dining-room, the grieving male's patience had exhausted itself. So he'd stormed out, surprisingly with no interruptions from Nigel and mere hesitant calls from his mother.
And now here he was.
Phone in hand, fingers quivering as they levitate over the send button. The moment he sent these messages it would be solidified.
Somewhere in this broken mind, a ray of conflict and hesitation is shining, but is hidden by the mountains of darkness manifesting the shame, the guilt, the devoid of hope blessing his tortured soul.
He wrote these emotions into a collection of notes beforehand, placing them atop the wall above his brothers shrine. To save them from the weak (but offending) winds, he removed his hoodie, the comforting material hiding the notes from prying eyes.
With little effort (partially due to his tall frame) he had bypassed the walls of the bridge's weak defences. Now all he had to do was text Nigel (Kathryn would respond far too quickly) of the events about to occur.
This would break his mother's heart, but in his corrupted state, this growing beanstalk of despair and the desperate need for escape, he couldn't see that.
Message sent
He hid his phone beneath the jacket, before switching his gaze towards what he came for. A step forward and this would be the end. Phil closed his eyes and prepared to let the free feeling of the void overtake him.
Step.
But he wasn't falling. This wasn't the sweet release ((Urgh I hate having a dirty mind)) he'd tried to obtain! Why wasn't he falling?
A hand.
Phil opened his tearful eyes to plead to the stranger, only to realise his saviour was in no form a stranger.
"Oh my god- I-" In this usual situation the boy would usually be speechless, but recognising Phil certainly helped with his bafflement. (( Is that a word? Who knows, when I write I just squash words together and hope it works well, don't judge me)) "P-Phil?! Wha-Why?! Oh my god..."
Phil could barely speak, vocabulary not of his concerns. In fact, all he could say was the weeping boy's name, the tears spilling from the moment icy blue met with cocoa brown.
"Daniel..."
YOU ARE READING
Crime Can't Love \/ Phan \/ COMPLETE
Fanfiction" For the first time I felt I saw Daniel Howell, the lonely boy who puts everything into his job so he can feel there are some people out there who will not leave him. And for the first time Dan saw me, Philip Michael Lester, the suicidal runaway wh...
