suicide hotline / phan

35

hello rats, please enjoy this cringy piece of shit that i wrote!

*DAN'S POV*

My legs are getting weaker with every step as we walk towards the mental health ward.

I feel my hand start to shake in Phil's grip and he looks towards me, seeing the worried expression on my face.

"Dan" He whispers gently, guiding me to the side of the corridor and placing his hands lightly on my hips. "You're going to be okay, I promise. It's not as bad as TV shows make it out to be, they dramatize it"

I close my eyes, catching a tear that threatens to fall. I can't cry now, not again, not when I'm supposed to be recovering.

"You can cry" He says quietly, as if reading my mind. "Don't stop if you need to, it's okay to cry"

I sniff, opening my eyes and allowing the tears to fall, my arm automatically rushing to wipe it as more start to fall.

"It's just-" I begin, my voice weak and shaky. "I don't know how long I'm gonna be in there, yknow? It could be weeks, months... Phil, I could be in there for years. I'm not exactly- It's not like I'm anywhere close to fucking 'mentally stable' am I?"

I feel Phil's arms wrap around me as I let myself go, sobbing into his shirt and clinging on to him, trying to get every last moment I can have.

I know that the internet probably exaggerates the wards a lot, makes them seem scary and controlling when really they probably aren't that bad, but the idea of being trapped somewhere without Phil for an undecided amount of time doesn't exactly sound bearable. I cry harder, feeling my tears soak his shirt.

"Shh" Phil mumbles into my shoulder, tracing patterns on my back with his own shaking hands. "You're okay"

"I know" I choke, sniffing and looking up to meet his own glazing eyes. "I just don't want to be gone for too long"

Phil smiles sadly, taking my hands in his.

"Looks like I'm just gonna have to watch Buffy by myself" He sighs dramatically, shaking his head.

"Don't you dare" I laugh shakily, pulling myself back towards him.

"Of course I wouldn't" He says quietly, the feeling of his voice vibrating slightly on my head. "It just means we're going to have to watch an extra amount when you get out"

"Thank god" I smile, wiping my face again with my sleeve and taking a deep breath, attempting to compose myself. "Will you be okay?"

"Me?" He says, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "Dan, you're the one who's-"

"No, Phil" I cut him off, locking my eyes with his. "Your anxiety, your cutting..."

"Dan, I dont cut anymore"

"I know, but how do I know you wont relapse? You said that your anxiety was getting worse, you need to promise me that you'll tell me if it does" I say, watching as he clearly becomes uncomfortable, his eyes darting around the room. "Phil, I don't care how fucked up I might be, if your anxiety gets worse you have to tell me"

"I will" He finally breathes, his eyes making it back to my face. "But I promise I'll be okay, I'll just miss you"

I smile, resting my head on his chest. I stand there for a minute, listening as his heartbeat steadies, one thump after another, until eventually I know we can't hold it off any longer.

"I love you" I whisper, my voice muffled slightly by Phil's warm jumper.

"I love you too, Dan"

And then we break apart, our hands interlinked as we enter the ward.