The Wrong Way Around [Phan]

Chapter 14

As I finished, I remembered that I still didn't know what Phil had been doing, so I decided to investigate.

After ten minutes of searching the bathroom the only thing I had found was that there was a razor out of place. Nothing too suspicious, in my opinion.

But then, as I was placing my hand on the doorknob, I noticed something else wrong.

There was blood on it. On the doorknob. Not very much, but enough for me to realize what Phil had been doing.

"Phil!" I shouted, storming down the hall into his room.

I banged on his door and opened it without pausing, then closed it again. I hadn't really been expecting him to be standing there in only his boxers.

I waited outside the door until he told me I could come in, and when he did I flung his door open and rushed over to him. I grabbed his arms and rolled up his sleeves, looking at his wrists.

Phil pulled his arms out of my grasp, but not before I saw what he had done to himself. Four new cuts on each arm.

And they were deep.

I lost it, then. I dissolved into tears and fell on the floor in a heap. Why would he, or anyone else for that matter, do that to themselves?

Phil leaned down and picked me up, lying me on his bed and curling himself around me. It was like the night Phil had told me he was gay, only the roles were reversed.

Soon I had cried myself to sleep, and I had horrible nightmares. In every one of them, Phil was gone, I had to live the rest of my life without him. In a few of them I couldn't live without him.

But there was one different one. The one were I died. I died and Phil moved on. The world forgot about Daniel Howell.

But I didn't care that the world had forgotten me. The only thing that mattered to me was that Phil had forgotten. I would rather die a hundred painful deaths than have Phil forget about me.

Finally I woke up, covered in sweat and tears. Phil was still wrapped around my shaking body, wide awake. He looked at me lovingly, but he also looked concerned.

"Are you ok, Dan? You passed out, you were screaming for me and thrashing about, and I couldn't wake you up. What were you dreaming of?"

In response I pressed my face into his shoulder and continued crying. Phil silently continued rubbing my back, trying to calm me down, but it wasn't working.

I continued crying until I could barely breathe, and my entire face was soaked with tears. Phil still just rubbed my back as I tried to wipe the tears off my face, but my face remained soaked with the salty drops.

When he noticed what I was trying to do, Phil lifted up the end of his shirt and wiped my face off for me.

I mumbled a quiet "thank you" and tried again to stop my sobbing.

Finally, I stopped crying, but Phil remained wrapped around me and continued to slowly rub my back. I turned around to look at him and said we could get up now, and he replied with a simple, "no".

So we stayed there snuggling for a bit, until eventually Phil fell asleep, so I decided to get up and make some lunch for when he got up. Then I realized what time it was.

4:57

Phil had spent his entire day with me. No wonder he had fallen asleep, he looked like he had been very worried, and he stayed awake the whole time we were in there to try and get me to wake up and stop crying.

I thought maybe this had earned him a bit more than a late lunch.

Then I remembered why I had been crying in the first place, and decided just ordering a pizza would be the best plan of action.

So I called the pizza place and a little while later there was a knock on the door. I went to go open it, but the man standing there was no pizza deliverer.

"Hey buddy," the man said.

"You're in London?"