The Mistake

Alone Time.

Dan called Phil's name. He was wondering if his friend could help with his speech for the funeral. Sam, PJ and Chris were having a joint funeral, where friends could attend and say their goodbyes. Their families would hold private ceremonies, but neither Dan nor Phil were invited.

    When Phil didn't respond, Dan headed over to his friends room. He knew Phil wouldn't be taking a nap, because Phil could never sleep during the day. Dan knocked on his friends bedroom door. There was nothing but silence, not even the sound of breathing. Dan turned the handle and pushed open the door.

    Phil's room looked like a bomb site. Glasses had been knocked over, blankets thrown around. The stereo was currently playing 'The Catalyst' by Linkin Park. Posters were flung onto the ground, lamps tipped over. There was a suspicious-looking red liquid dripping onto the floor from somewhere beneath the duvet.

    In the midst of the mess, was Phil. Laid back on the mattress, his face had a pained expression painted onto it. Translucent tear streaks lined his cheeks, and wet the comforter underneath him. His eyelids were scrunched closed, but Dan could see his eyes flitting about beneath the pale, lavender skin. Phil's midnight hair was messy, and his shirt was ruffled.

    Only when Dan stepped closer did he notice that the red still streaming onto the floor was coming from Phil's wrist. The cuts on Phil's wrist, to be exact.

    Dan sucked in a breath. He thought Phil had stopped cutting when Dan had found him, lying unconscious on the cold, bathroom floor. Phil had promised that he would never do it again.

    For several seconds, Dan felt betrayed by his closest friend. But then, when you cut you're not in the right mind, he thought. Phil must be feeling horrible. Then he realized that while he had been thinking only of himself, Phil had been lying on his bed, unconscious, with blood dripping from his wrist.

    Dan snapped out of his frozen reverie and ran into the bathroom. He grabbed a face cloth, bandages and disinfectant. He looked for the cheap tesco's painkillers, but couldn't find the bottle. He decided to leave it, and hurried back into the room.

    Phil was in the same position as before, his face was the only thing that had changed. His expression was that of a calm, happy person. Dan smiled at his friends face before wetting the cloth and lightly pressing it to one of the lighter cuts on Phil's forearm.

    Soon, the cascading flow of blood had stopped. Dan went into the bathroom and wrung out the washcloth. Phil's blood dripped out, mixing with the water in the sink and tinting it pink. Dan stared at it for a few seconds before returning to his friend.

    When Phil was clean, Dan carried him to his own room, as Phil's was trashed. Phil was tucked into Dan's covers and Dan left to tidy Phil's room.

    He was shocked. Phil had never seemed violent. Dan knew Phil was strong, but not like this. Posters were torn off walls, glasses smashed, tables turned over. His hair straighteners were completely snapped in half!

    Dan tried his best to clean Phil's room, but the most he could do was throw away the broken possessions.  He couldn't understand Phil. Yes, two of their closest friends had been murdered. And yes, everyone has different reactions, but Phil kept changing. At first, he was panicky, then he was silent and mopey. Then he's trashing his room and cutting again!

    Dan had never cut, although there were many times he'd wanted to. Whenever he'd felt like it, he'd always stopped himself because he knew that once you started, it was hard to stop. Instead he pinched himself. It was usually on his hip, or somewhere no one would see. It didn't cause any damage and filled part of the void.

    He went in to check on Phil, who was in the same position as before, breathing deeply. Dan then went and called Bryony to help with the funeral.

***

When Phil woke up, he felt like a new person. He always did after a good sleep. He ruffled his hair and stretched his arms above his head in an arc, and winced. He looked at his left arm to see it wrapped in bandages, from his wirst to above his elbow. Then he remembered. The outburst, his room, the screaming, the cutting, the pills. Then he looked around, and saw he was in Dan's room.

    After this discovery, he snuggled back down into the duvet, savouring the moment. He'd been in Dan's room before, but never in his bed. It was nice. The bed clothes seemed warm, and smelled like Dan.

    After a while, Phil noticed the light peeking out from around the curtains. He looked at the clock on Dan's nightstand and saw that it was past two in the afternoon. He pulled his heavy body out from under the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

    He went over to the door and pushed it open. A wave of cold air rushed in, making him shiver. However, he heard movement from the kitchen and floated towards it.

"...eleven? Yeah, I'll tell him later. And... Okay... Right, alright then. Bye." Dan's voice filtered through the echoey hallway. Phil paused, listening to the one-sided conversation before continuing to walk towards him.

    When Dan saw his roommate enter the room, he put his phone on the counter and walked over. Before Phil could say anything, Dan had enclosed him in a hug, stopping him from speaking. He stroked his messy hair and Phil allowed a few tears to escape his tired eyes. They were tears of stress, sadness, want. He knew Dan would never love him back. He also knew he wouldn't ever be able to get over that, so he indulged himself.

    Dan wasn't surprised when Phil snuggled into his chest. His friend had been through a lot, and while Dan couldn't understand Phil's reasons, he had to help him recover.

"Phil?" He whispered in his ear.

    Phil looked up. Dan saw his friend's eyes and his heart broke. Those pools of turquoise were begging to release the tears. Then a single drop of pearly liquid fell from Phil's eye and slid down his cheek. He didn't look away from Dan's face.

    Dan's hand reached up and with his thumb stroked away the tear. Then he leaned down and kissed Phil on the forehead, before pressing his head into his inky hair.

    Phil's heart soared when Dan kissed him on the forehead. Yes, for a short moment he'd thought it would be on the lips, but anything from Dan was enough. There they stood in each other's arms, in the centre of the kitchen, just basking in each others company.