The Phan in Our Stars

Part One

"Can I see him now?" Dan asked before the doctor could even open his mouth. Phil had been taken, unconscious, to A&E in Amsterdam and later flown to his regular hospital in London. Dan, not being allowed to fly with Phil, had gone back to the hotel alone, packed their things and caught the first train back to London. Phil's family was already at the hospital when he arrived that morning. It had been nearly 24 hours since Phil collapsed in the Anne Frank house and Dan hadn't slept or eaten, but somehow he was wide awake, running on pure adrenaline. He'd stopped pacing only a few times all day, only to sit down, grow restless, and return to frantic pacing. Dan wasn't allowed into the room, but Phil's parents had been with him all day and his brother, Martyn, had been in and out of the room to keep Dan updated and was approaching now, closely behind the doctor.

"Look, I'm not suppsed to let anyone in who isn't immediate family," the doctor said, leaning in closely, "but he's been begging since he woke up, so I'm going to give you ten minutes." 

"Oh my god, thank you so m--" Dan began, but the dcotor cut him off with a wave and gestured him to follow him into the ward. 

Phil was pale and thin in his hospital bed, hooked up to seemigly every machine in the hospital, he had needles and tubes coming out of both arms. But, no matter how sick he looked lying there, Dan had never seen a sight more beautiful. 

"Oh, Dan," Phil's mum stood and hugged him. "We'll give you two a minute alone," she said with a small, weak smile.

"Remember, ten minutes," the doctor repeated, and shut the door behind them.

"Dan."

"Oh my God," Dan collapsed to the floor at Phil's bedside, "Phil--" Dan could feel the tears begin to rush down his face, "I'm so sorry," he choked, grabbing Phil's hand and squeezing it, "This is all my fault."

"Shhh," Phil's voice was weak, but he smiled down at Dan, a tear welling up in his eye, "It's nobody's fault, remember?" 

"We shouldn't have gone to Amsterdam, especially not the Anne Frank house, God, what was I thinking? I was so stuppid! I can't be--"

"Dan!" Phil interupted him, "Please don't, please--"

"God, I'm sorry I just--"

"Please--" Phil's eyes were starting to water, "Please, Dan, just-- just kiss me please."

Dan could feel his jaw trembling as he complied. "I love you," he whispered, still centimeters from Phil's lips.

"I love you too," Phil answered, pecking Dan's lips one more time, "And I'm going to be fine."

Dan gave him a skeptical look.

"I know what it looks like," Phil replied, "but the doctors really have been pretty positive. I honestly think I'll be home within the week." 

"Yeah. For how long?" Dan said, cynically.

"Dan!"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not going to leave you," Phil said in a tone so serious that, for a moment, Dan actually believed it.

"I know," Dan said, not meeting Phil's eyes. 

"Go home Dan," Phil said, giving Dan's hand a squeeze.

"Phil, no, I'm not leaving you either!"

"Just for the night," Phil protested, "Please. There's nothing you can do tonight, and you ned sleep. Just go home for the night and come back tomorrow. Please," he raised Dan;s hand to his lips and kissed it gingerly, "For me."

Dan shot Phil a sad look. "Fine."

"I love you."

"I.. I know," Dan said, planting a small kiss on Phil's cheek and standing up, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Get some sleep," Phil pleaded as Dan headed for the door. "Hey," he called. Dan stopped and turned, "It really is going to be okay. I promise."

Dan turned away from the door and looked at Phil once more. He was dying, anyone could see it. He was filled wit ha disease which was slowly destroying his body from the inside out. And still, he was so much stronger, so much more optimistic than Dan could ever be. And Dan loved him for it. "You get some sleep too okay?" Dan smiled.

"I'll try," Phil shot a weak smile back, "See you tomorrow."

***

Home was somehow a harder place to be than the hospital. In a waiting room there's noise, ther're people: distractions everywhere. At home there was nothing but the silent reminder that Phil wasn't there. Dan walked quietly to his room, throwing his and Phil's bags onto the floor and falling into bed. The silence was deafening. Dan slid off his jeans and pulled his shirt over his head. He chucked them both onto the floor and pulled his blankets tightly around him. He tried desperately to ignore how big the bed seemed when he was the only one in it. He focused on his own heavy breaths, trying to forget that  Phil's weren't there to lull him to sleep. Dan wondered how he had ever managed to function in such a quiet, lonely bedroom. 

"Maybe that's why you used to talk to yourself so much," Dan said out loud. 

Dan wondered what it would be like when Phil was--

If Phil did--

Would he start talking to himself again? Would he get used to the quiet? To being alone? Would he stay in the Wembley flat? No. Never. But where would he go? 

"Stop." Dan said, "Stop thinking." Tears began to stream down his face as he thought about how dark a life without Phil's radiance really would be.

"Stop it." Dan said, more firmly.

"Go to sleep," he whispered. And, as if by magic, he did.