The Wrong Way Around [Phan]

Chapter 36

*time skip about a month into the future because I can't think of anything interesting and relevant to the story to put after they remove the tumour and start chemo*

Dan's Pov

I sat on my bed, staring up at the calendar hanging from the wall opposite me. There was a small x marked in the corner of today's box, marking the fact that I had approximately 30 days left to live. It had been exactly a month since I had gone to the hospital after being shot. By some miracle that even the doctors didn't understand, I had lived and even woken up after a few hours, but now I was dying again anyway.

It had all been for nothing.

No Dan, don't tell yourself that, I thought to myself.

Tiredly, I got up and ran my hand through my hair, trying to make it a bit neater. The only thing that happened, though, was a large chunk coming off in my hand and falling onto the floor. I sighed and walked out of my room, then went to knock on Phil's door. After he told me I could go in, I opened it and went over to the side of his bed.

He paused the game he was playing on his phone and turned to look over at me, then lifted up the covers a little bit and put one arm down on his other pillow. I gladly crawled underneath the blankets, and placed my my head on his arm. Once I was settled, he pulled his blankets up around me a bit more and curled his arm so it went over my shoulder and rested on my chest. I snuggled my face into his neck a little and smiled. Too bad I was going to have to ruin this perfect moment in just a second.

"Phil," I started, pulling my face out to look him in the eyes. "I need to ask you something."

He looked back at me and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Well, um, I couldn't help but notice that you're still cutting... will you maybe go talk to someone soon? I know it's hard to tell all your secrets to a stranger, but... please? For me?" At the end of my small speech, I did the best puppy eyes I could, and waited hopefully for Phil's response.

"Dan, please don't make me do this. I mean, of course I'm sad! You're dying, I probably only have about a month left to live with you, and my way of dealing with that sadness is cutting. You know that. Please understand."

"But what if I do die? If your way of dealing with sadness when there's just a possibility of my death is cutting, then if I actually die, you'll probably end up killing yourself!"

He looked at me guiltily, telling me that that was his plan.

"Phil, please," I said again. "If you want me to be as happy as possible during what may be the last month of my life, please go talk to someone."

"Uuuuugh," Phil groaned, rolling over. "Why does cancer have to be such a good way to guilt trip people?" He turned back over smiling, and I smiled right back.

"So you'll go?" I asked.

"Fine..."

"Thank you, Phil. Love you..."

I gently pressed my lips against his for a moment, then went back to laying on his arm. I turned over to face him and he moved his arm a bit so he could slowly rub my chest. I smiled again, and he smiled back. And, knowing that Phil would hopefully be getting better soon, I fell into the first peaceful sleep I had had in a month.