voices | phan au

Chapter Twenty Nine

(a/n: soo, im recording this chapter, since people were asking how i write and how long it takes, so i feel pressured rn rip me. ok lets get into this. also, its 3am so if this is crap, blame the time. k thx)

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Dan woke up relatively early, 5am to be right. He stared at Phil, who was sprawled across the bed. Dan fell asleep to such depressed voices and thoughts that told him to inflict the pain that he craved so dearly. Dan pushed and pushed himself to feel happy, yet it didn't work, nor would it ever. He slowly and quietly rose off of the bed and rushed to the bathroom, as much as he didn't want to, he knew he had to. For if he didn't the voices would tell him to anyway. He dug through the cabinets to find something he could use to hurt himself again. He found a lighter, but that was too soft for Dan, he needed something to be felt. He found a box of disposable razor blades and took it into his hand and had a think. Did he really want to do this? He could ignore the voices like the does with the hate. But no, it didn't work. The piece of metal connected with the thin and scar faded forearms like a magnet. The crimson blood fell from his arm to the tiled floor. He has seen this scene a little too much. 

He couldn't stop, cut after cut, yet no tears or emotions were showed. Even though the slashes in his forearms showed sorrow and self-regret, his face showed no emotion or feeling. Without realising the time, he's been sat here for nearly one hour slashing at his forearms. He stopped and stared at the now blunt razor blade which was drenched in blood. His forearm a none existent 'clean' forearm. It was 6am and here is Dan, finally breaking down and letting the emotions that weren't shown for years, shine through the tear ducks of his eyes. His sobs loud and clear and his muffled screams enough to wake Phil up, who was worried sick and didn't know that Dan arrived home last night. 

Phil rose to his feet and rubbed his tear stained eyes and cheeks. He wobbled out of the bedroom and went to the bathroom, to discover a locked door. 

'I didn't lock it,' Phil thought 'Maybe Dan came home!' 

"Dan?" Phil asked.

No answer

"Dan?" Phil said, slightly more worried than before. 

Still no answer.

 Phil began to bang on the door with full power. Dan knew Phil was there and began to panic. 

'Phil CANNOT know I've done this.' He mentally told himself. 'What am I going to do?' 

He bandaged up his forearm, pulled his hoodie over his shaking shoulders and plugged his headphones in his phone and place them on his head, for an excuse. He cleaned up the blood and opened the door. Amazement and happiness filled Phil's eyes as he swung his arms around Dan's fragile frame. Dan plastered a fake smile on his face and hugged Phil back. They stayed like that, swaying in the doorway, for a short while and broke away. Dan forced a smile and walked past Phil to go back to the bedroom. He took his hoodie off and undid the bandages and just looked at his forearms. 'I didn't realise they were this bad.' He thought. He shook his head, reapplying the bandages and his hoodie and left the room, sitting on the sofa in the lounge, scrolling through Twitter, which had essentially blown up, considering what happened about two nights ago. Phil came into the lounge, clueless with what had just happened, but hey. You can't tell behind a fake smile. 

It's strange, they continued with their normal lives. Of course, they had to talk about what Dan was doing at midday and what has happened.

"Dan, where did you go last night?" Phil questioned, looking down at his crossed legs. 

"I, I um, I went, t-to-" Dan stuttered. Dan made Phil a promise that he would never see his mother or father ever again. 

"Did you go to your parents?" Phil asked.