phan one shots

blood red roses and purple flowers

Summary: this one another short metaphorical one

TRIGGER WARNINGS: depression, self harm, anxiety

Dan Howell was a boy who had been painted dark blue.

The galaxies stretching across his shoulder blades and decorating his tear streaked honey cheeks were completely black, not a single star in sight, just suffocating darkness that stole breath from Dan's lungs and stole blood from his body.

His chocolate brown eyes, framed by long dark lashes fluttering over blooming cherries under warm skin shimmered with hues of hazel and gold, sweet mocha flavors and vanilla scents swirling in their depths, and clinging to his clothes.

He dressed in the deepest, darkest of nights, supernovas and universes hidden behind his walls, escaping from the tips of his sun kissed fingers with every gentle stroke upon a blank page.

His light brown curls laid tousled around his head, twisting around his ears like crescents woven through with sunlight. He used to hide them for fear of ridicule and sharp twisted thoughts behind dark, unreadable eyes, but he decided to let them free, tumbling around him, one impossible win against the voices clawing at his insides.

Burning red, suffocating red pressed against his skin from the inside, ripping him apart, tearing at his heart, terrible words like knives spilling from every corner of his mind.

It had nowhere to go, nowhere to escape to.

It only left him when he did what the voices said, his gentle hands fumbling with sharp, silver blades and cutting harshly across his soft skin.

Dark beads forming over bright red lines stretching across his arms, thighs, legs, stomach, staining sinks dark pink and white tiled floors frightening crimson.

Blood red roses blooming on his wrists, his lips, his skin, and he tucked them into his pockets.

They stained him the color scarlet.

He didn't want to be dark blue stained scarlet anymore, but he had no choice, or else he would be left with so many faded photographs that he would lose all color and join them.

So many scars.

But then he met him.

Phil Lester, a purple boy painted with the prettiest of flowers, sunshine under his pale, white skin, like a blanket of fresh pure snow, shining behind his wide ocean eyes. Yellow and green tinges surrounded the deep sapphire blue, hair as dark as the night, and lips dark pink, the color of cherry blossoms and strawberries.

A clumsiness that seemed more like grace, gentle, soft hands, soft palms pressed against his cheeks and thumbs brushing away the crystals falling down his face and curling around his jaw.

Tracing the edges of his collarbones against honey flavored skies, drawing sunsets over his lips and hanging the stars in the black night he thought he would never escape.

His voice was laced with lullabies, rainy nights, nose kisses, and whispers.

It replaced the endless screaming and cycle of cries tearing from raw throats and lulled him into a golden stained serendipity.

His tongue always peeked out of the side of his breath taking smile, pretty giggles spilling out of sweet lips and making the air taste of pastel pink and honey.

The same honey coloring his skin.

With every lingering touch he left flowers blossoming in cold bones where everything was once dead, and he grinned at the warmth pooling there.

But he didn't know what hid under his sleeves and inside his pockets.

He didn't know until he walked into a room filled with dark blue water, bleeding walls, and blood red roses.

Crystals caught on Dan's dark lashes, crescent curls falling limp and stars threatening to die, chocolate eyes fading and washing out as heart wrenching cries ripped from his throat and his red, bitten lips.

But Phil grabbed a paint brush and painted new galaxies and universes all full of light over Dan's shoulder blades, his eyelids, cheeks, and collarbones, tearing down his walls and pressing melodies to his skin.

Soft lips falling onto red ones, healing teeth marks and punctured bleeding wounds, sewing up loose thread where the stuffing was all coming out.

Nimble, pale fingers tangled in light brown curls woven with sunshine, brushing under eyes and over skin, gripping hips and wrists and heated breaths falling against necks.

Coloring all of his scars.

The blood red roses began to die as he replaced knives with beautiful promises and gentle words falling against his trembling palms.

They painted gardens and bright blue skies the same color as the cerulean sea, sapphires rushing over white sand on the once bleeding walls.

Holding each other tightly, breaths mixing, hearts beating against warm chests in time, flowers blooming from their skin and wrapping around them both.

Tracing lines between the dots on cherry colored cheeks and denting dimples in adorable smiles, shining and glowing, sunshine warming gentle exhales.

Long, slender legs and fingers tangled and laced under blankets, quiet whispers filling the air between them.

Phil Lester and Dan Howell painted a whole new universe just for them, drawing patterns and constellations under a sky they created.

They threw away all the blood red roses in Dan's pockets.

And in their place, they grew purple flowers.

And rainbows bloomed over their skin.

Under a shower of purple flowers...

They changed colors.

And finally found the stars.

A/N: Was that good? Bad? Does it need improvement? Thank you so much for reading. Please leave comments telling me your thoughts and feelings. I love you all so so so much. Please remember to be kind to yourselves, take care of yourselves, and treat yourselves. You're beautiful, so beautiful and I want you to be happy and healthy. I want to help you grow purple flowers instead of blood red roses. I know you'll get there and you will know what it feels like for flowers to bloom in your bones and warmth to be left from a single touch. You're going to find the stars, just hang on for me and remember I'm always here. I love you!