What Happened To My Little Lion?

Costly Accidents

DAN'S P.O.V
       I had been sitting on my bed for....20 minutes now? Maybe more. It wasn't like him to shout. He was...too nice, too polite to shout at anyone. He never got angry, even when he should be angry he never was. What the hell changed?
       I needed some advice so I took my phone out and texted PJ. He'd know how to help...right? I sent him a text and it wasn't long before he answered back.
       - Hey PJ...I need to talk to someone...you busy just now?
       - No, not at all. Meet you at Starbucks in 10 minutes?
       - Yeah. See you there.
       I put my phone back in my pocket. Starbucks wasn't far away so I could leave in 5 minutes and still be there on time. I looked over to my mirror on the wall. I realized there were tear stains on my face. I didn't even realize I had been crying. I got up to go to the bathroom, to wash my face, hoping Phil wasn't still in the hall. I opened the door and looked around, thankfully he was gone, but when I tried to open the bathroom door I found it to be locked. Phil must be in there...I didn't want to make him angrier by asking him to get out so I decided to wash my face in the kitchen sick. Weird I know, but it's the best I could do.
      Shortly after, I left the flat and went out to meet PJ, hoping to get some sort of help...

PHIL'S POV
I breathed in and out...in and out...in and out...I decided to hold my breath when Dan tried to open the door, hoping he wouldn't say anything else. Thankfully he walked away and after a while I heard the front door slam shut. He must have gone out, meaning I'm alone now…It was then I realized I still wasn't breathing and so I tried to catch my breath. I held the razor in my bloody palm and just watched the blood trickle down my arm. 1...2...4...5...8…11....14...17 cuts on my left arm today so far. The least amount in one go but I knew I was going to do more. I rested my head against the wall, embracing the silence of the flat and the sting of my arm. In the process of cutting I managed to cut my right hand by clutching the razor to hard, forcing it into my skin a bit, but I didn't care, I deserved it all.
       When would Dan be back? Had I really upset him that much? Where was he even going? These were the questions I found myself asking in the silence. Closing my eyes, I started hitting my head against the door. Damnit. Damnit. DAMNIT. I always had to make things worse didn't I?! I sat there, hitting my head until blood came pouring out the back of my head, not to mention a tiny bit from the corner of my mouth where I had started biting. My head hurt a lot but not more than I have ever had. I’ve done much worse.
       Sighing, I stood up, or tried to because when I tried my head went fuzzy and the room started spinning. I dropped the razor and, leaning against the bath, I unlocked and opened the door. But before I could step out of the bathroom, I felt myself falling forward, hitting the ground and then...
       Darkness.

DAN'S P.O.V
I explained everything to PJ, about Phil not eating, sleeping in and then shouting at me. He agreed that it wasn't like Phil to become angry so easily and didn't look at me like I was a nutcase when I teared up again and cried a bit. I tried to hold it in but I couldn't, it hurt too much. Instead he placed his hand over mine in some attempt to comfort me.
       "Dan, from what you've told me...it sounds like..." PJ began. He looked away with a facial expression that clearly said something was wrong.
       "What?" I asked, a little too desperately. "It sounds like what?!"
       "Well...it sounds like…Phil's...depressed."
       "Phil's..." That's all I could say. Suddenly it hit me, like a giant, unrelenting wave of realization. How could I be so blind?! The starving, the quietness, the weird sleeping pattern, and now his mood! He seemed so sad the weeks beforehand, I just wanted to help.
       I missed the happy Phil. I missed his smile, his laugh, I missed…HIM.
      "How could I be so bloody stupid?!" I stood up, reaching into my pocket for the £5 to pay for my coffee. "PJ I have to go!" I slammed the money down on the table, somewhat scaring PJ but he understood. I ran out as fast as I could.
       "Shit. Shit. SHIT!" I pushed people out of the way, not caring if they heard me or thought me to be rude. I just hoped that Phil hadn't done anything...NO! Phil was better than that! He was stronger than that!...Right?
       I sprinted up the 4 flights of stairs, and practically crashed through the front door. The flat was eerily quiet.
       "PHIL?!" He wasn't in the living-room or the kitchen. But all I had to do was walk around the corner and then I saw him. Face down in a pool of his own blood.
      "No...No...No, no, no, no, no!" I ran up and kneeled beside him, not caring about the blood staining my jeans. Taking out my phone I dialled 999.
       "Hello? I need an ambulance NOW...It's my best friend he's...he's injured...Please just hurry!" I gave the lady my address. 10 minutes, she said, and then they would be here. I dropped the phone and picked Phil's fragile form up. His skin was pale, but paler than normal and his eyes were closed. He looked so peaceful. I found the wound on the back of his head and tried to put pressure on it by placing it against my lap. I looked over him, and then I saw the cuts...there must have been about 15-20 blood filled gashes on his arm. Neat but a complete mess at the same time. The bloody razor lay on the ground by his feet. This time I couldn't help but cry.
       "Oh God Phil...How long has this been going on?" I whispered to him. I knew he couldn't hear me but I hoped that maybe by talking to him, he would come to his senses and wake up. "Why couldn't you have told me? I would have helped you!...what happened to MY Phil? To my little lion..."
       My dears dropped onto his face but his eyelids didn't flutter and his face didn't scrunch up like it did in the rain when it got wet. I looked to his right arm, still covered by his sleeve. I gulped but found enough courage to reach out and pull the sleeve up. What I saw was worse than I wanted, worse than I imagined. White scars and red linear scabs all the way up and around. How did I not notice? He always used to wear his short, checkered shirts...Why had I failed to see the change?!
       "Phil...please. Stop. I need you to wake up please...for me?" I started stroking his hair, sticky with the dried blood from before. How long had he been laying like this? It must have happened while I was at Starbucks so...35 minutes? Maybe even more? I bent my head down and placed my forehead against his, sobbing and pleading for him to get up. After a moment, I heard the sirens. I placed a kiss onto his head before shouting for help.
        "WE'RE IN HERE! PLEASE! YOU HAVE TO HELP!...Please…I need him. I can't lose him...I need my little lion back..."