Wake Me Up // Phan

Wake Me Up: Oneshot

Hi, everyone!

As this is my first phanfiction, I thought I'd tell you all a little bit about myself, so if you aren't interested just scroll on by until the bold lettering stops.

My name is Natalie, but you can call me Nat. I've been reading phanfics for ages (if you have any recs PLS SHARE k thanks) and finally decided to write one of my own. If anyone ever wants to talk, needs someone to listen, wants to fangirl, or wants to share any story ideas then feel free to shoot me a message! I love making friends. (Online. My actual ability to make friends is crappppp, I think God forgot to give me social skills)

Alright, enough about me and on to what you're really here for, the story. Enjoy!

Phil was lonely.

His head was filled with swirling images of Dan and blood, jumbling together into nightmares that made Phil pull at his dark hair and scream. He couldn't get rid of them, sitting alone in their flat with his arms wrapped around his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the images to go away, but they kept coming.

Of course, none of them were real. On some level, he must've known that. They were horrors birthed in the dark corners of his mind, things his brain had forged in a vain attempt to recreate unfinished memories. They were fears that he could have pushed away if he had someone by his side to distract him from them.

But not anymore.

He could only vaguely remember what had happened. It came back to him slowly, in short, painful memories that he'd tried too many times to piece together in a way that left Dan okay, but he'd failed each time. No matter what, Dan was always dead, and it was always his fault.

And suddenly, they came flooding into his mind, washing away everything else and rushing, rising until Phil couldn't escape. And he was dragged under, gasping for air.

Groceries, spilled across the road.

Running to grab them, trying to scoop them up into his arms and bring them back to the pavement where Dan was waiting.

Yelling.

Ignoring Dan, because he almost had all of the foods back in the bag and he was almost done and it was fine, there was nothing to worry about and -

Frantic footsteps.

Headlights.

More yelling, scrambling up and trying to back away but stumbling.

Falling, slamming hard into the dark concrete.

Not letting go of Dan's hand.

Dan's eyes, staring at him in fear as they both lay sprawled across the road.

A honking horn.

"I love you."

Wishing he'd let go of Dan's hand.

Darkness.

Phil didn't remember anything else. He didn't even know which ones were real and which ones weren't, but the "memories" were all he had. And although science was never his favorite subject in school, and although he certainly was no doctor, he was sure this was what shock felt like. Well, shock mixed with depression and grief. They were all new to him, and he found they were even worse than he could've imagined.

He'd never wanted to die before. He'd never not wanted to eat, never not wanted to be with his friends. He'd never been so numb. He'd never felt this alone, he'd never felt such strong emotions battling to take over his mind, anger and fear and sadness and nothingness and despair and loneliness and regret and guilt and denial all jumbled up into a messy pile of indescribable pain.