A World of Lions and Tigers -A Dan and Phil- AmazingPhil and Danisnotonfire-

Falling- Part 1

-El's POV-

I am exhausted when I return home, and I want to just collapse onto my bed. I know that I must carry in my stuff, though. It is the least I could do to repay the what Dan's done for me. I wheeze as I lug the bags up the stairs, and the edges of my vision begin to blur and blacken. I shake my head, attempting to lessen the feeling, but it isn't helping.

-Phil's POV-

I walk up stairs, carrying a few of El's things.

"Hey, where do you want me to-"

"Phil!" El says faintly before crumbling onto the ground.

I gasp and I race to her room. She layed there, curled on the floor, her dark hair furled around her. Not hesitating a moment, I scoop her in my arms, curling my hands around her wrists to check for a pulse. A faint heartbeat registers in my fingertips, a huge contrast to my racing one.

She is small and fragile in my arms, an injured bird. I rush down stair, careful not to jostle her and call for Dan. He rushes towards me.

-Dan's POV-

"What the- What did you do, Phil?!?" My head is whirring. I release a breath, and stare from Phil's shocked face to hers.

"Get the car, Dan! Help her!" Phil says, and he seems so anxious and worrysome. He's not usually like this, and I don't like it. I rush out to get the car and he gingerly follows behind me.

-Phil's POV-

"Daniel, can I ask you a few questions about your sister?" The nurse says after El is lain in a hospital bed. I'm not quite sure who I'm back here, the front-desk lady didn't really seem to care.

I look at her on the crumbled hospital bed. Her heart rate and breathing have leveled, and her eyes have fluttered open a few times. She seems to be asleep now.

My stomach has sweeps of anxious butterflies. Why am I so worried about her? I try to tell myself I would be this worried about any person. Something tells me this isn't true, though. They took off her jacket as they probed her, and her skin is pale underneath.

I can't help myself: I grab her hand. It is soft and smooth, her fingers long, and beautiful... like her. I flip it over to trace to lines of her palm, catching a glimpse of her wrists. I gasp quietly.