suicide hotline / phan

3

"Here we are!" Phil smiled as they walked into his apartment. "It's not much, but it's home"

"Thank you so-" Dan began for the 100th time, but Phil cut him off.

"No- you don't have to. You deserve it; what you've had to live with is..." He struggled to find a word strong enough to explain the conditions Dan had to cope with. "Horrible"

On the way the Phil's apartment in the car, Dan had explained to Phil in more detail about what was going on, and it only got worse. His family not only emotionally abused him, but refused to help him with his physically wellbeing- whenever Dan self harmed, his parents would refuse to take him to the hospital because 'he had brought it on himself'. There was even a time where Dan was losing so much blood that he passed out, yet he was still refused help. Although, of course, he didn't care; he wanted to die. Phil found it disgusting though, and he was close to marching straight back and having a go at Dan's parents, however Dan had convinced him not to after half an hour of begging.

"I guess" Dan shrugs. "Well, I know"

Although it feels slightly awkward standing in a strangers home with bags packed to move in, somehow Dan feels more at home here then he ever did in his own place- maybe it was because of the soft carpet or the welcoming smell of cinnamon, or maybe just because Phil was there to help him feel better.

"Do you want me to take your bags? I'll show you around" Phil smiles, warming Dan's broken heart. "This is your home now too"

Dan smiles slightly at the idea of having his own home not run by parents that can tell him what and what not to do. He lets Phil take his bags off of him and follows him into a medium-sized room with a double bed, looking much nicer than his room at home. Phil had supervised him while he packed, making sure that he didn't take anything sharp or harmful. However when Phil had quickly gone to the bathroom, he snuck a few packets of cigarettes and a lighter into a bag, along with some harmful objects that he may need 'in case of emergency'. After all, he had just attempted suicide, he wasn't going to be in the best of moods and would need something to dull the pain. He was also extremely addicted to smoking, and he wasn't afraid to admit it. He knew that without it he would spiral even faster than he was, and it would be the definition of unbearable.

"Dan?" Phil sings, waving a hand in front of Dan's face breaking him from his trance.

"Oh, sorry" Dan mumbles. "What were you saying?"

"I was just asking if you'd like anything to eat? Some dinner?" Phil asks, and as if on cue, Dan's stomach rumbles. He's been deliberately starving himself all day, however he knows that now he has Phil watching over him, he won't be able to get away with that. He nods slightly, and Phil smiles softly.

"Hot dogs?" He suggests, and Dan nods- if there's one thing he actually likes, it's hot dogs.

Phil looks at Dan for a second, brushing his arm in sympathy.

"Call me if you need me, okay?" He says. "I'll just be in the kitchen"

"Okay" Dan whispers, and when Phil leaves the room he dives straight into his bag, pulling out a cigarette and his lighter. He knows that he can't smoke inside or Phil will know, so he settles for the second best option and opens the window, leaning out slightly and lighting the cigarette. He breathes in deeply, grateful for the drug after a day like today. He was beginning to become restless and it was driving him insane- he needed this. As usual, he watched the smoke slowly evaporate into the air and he wished that he could do the same. After all, you can't wish for your problems to drift away if the problem is yourself.

* * *

Dan lay in bed after a few hours, unable to sleep. His mind was racing and although he knew he couldn't, he so badly wanted to try again at what he'd attempted. He tossed and turned, his mind battling as it usually did, his emotions conflicting causing war inside of him. He clutched the sheets as if for protection, to save himself from his own mind, as if the sheets were the only fragment left holding him to the Earth. He tossed over again, not wanting to smoke in the middle of the night but needing something- anything- anyONE- to calm his mind. He climbed out of bed, tiptoeing towards the room that Phil had said was his. He didn't bother knocking on the door and instead quietly walked inside. Phil was sound asleep, quietly snoring. He looked so peaceful, almost... beautiful.

"Phil" Dan whispered. "Phil!"

Phil groaned slightly, slowly opening his eyes to see Dan standing in the doorway. Dan's hair was a mess of curls, his eyes tired and he just looked so vulnerable and sensitive, almost... beautiful.

"Dan" He whispered back. "Are you okay?"

"I-" Dan began. "No, not really"

"What's wrong?" Phil whispered.

"I'm scared" Dan whispered. "I'm scared that I might do it again"

"Hey, shh" Phil soothed as he noticed tears streaming down Dan's cheeks. "Come here"

Dan walked over to Phil's bed, sitting down on the edge.

"I'm trying Phil, I really am but I can't" Dan cried, quietly. "I can't stop my mind. It's killing me"

"Shh, go to sleep" Phil soothed. "Lay down"

"Are you su-" Dan began, not wanting to seem as if he was invading Phil's privacy.

"I'm sure" Phil whispered. "Lay down, and go to sleep"

Dan followed his orders, climbing in the covers and looking into Phil's eyes.

"I'm sorry" He whispered.

"Don't be" Phil replied. "Now go to sleep. You'll be okay, I promise"

Dan closed his eyes, relaxing easily knowing that Phil was laying beside him. And after a few minutes he found himself properly asleep for the first time in a while.