suicide hotline / phan

40

Dan resumes his position on the sofa of the 'quiet room' in the mental hospital, reaching over for his cold cup of tea and continuing to stare at it.

"Um, hey" A hesitant voice catches his attention, and he spins his head round to see a boy around his age with curly hair and striking bright green eyes.

He holds a steaming mug in his shaky hands, and he outstretches them, offering the mug to Dan.

"Yours was cold" He simply says, and Dan carefully takes the mug, placing the old one back onto the coffee table. "I'm PJ"

"Thanks" Dan mumbles, his eyes drawn to the mug for a moment before he looks back up at the boy. "I'm Dan"

"I know" PJ smiles, fumbling with his hands. "I- how old are you?"

"Nineteen... I think"

"You think?"

"Well, I must be. I just haven't looked at the date in a long time" Dan says, realising that his birthday must've passed without him realising. "You?"

"Twenty" He replies, checking a notepad on another coffee table. "And it's December 2nd"

"Definitely nineteen then" Dan replies, not surprised that he missed his birthday in June.  He knows that he met Phil in February, and he knows that things haven't exactly been the smoothest, so he probably wasn't focused on the fact he was turning a year older until now.

"You reckon you'll be out for Christmas?"

"Hopefully... I think I got in here in October sometime. I don't think I need much more time"

It definitely doesn't feel to Dan like he's been in the ward for a whole two months. The days tend to blend together, passing quickly, the same routine over and over. But now that he thinks about it, he can certainly see an improvement to when he was first admitted. When he was admitted, he was scared, desperate, only wanting to go home. Although he still desperately wants to go home still, it's not the only thing on his mind. Instead, he engages in endless games of Mario Kart, random board games... normal, fun stuff. It feels nice. It feels normal. Well, obviously that was before now.

Before Jax died.

Dan closes his eyes for a moment, the reminder of the note hanging heavy in his stomach. He knows that he has to read it, and he's not sure if he wants to wait. He opens his eyes again, watching PJ struggle to turn on the TV.

"I- I need to go" He says, rising from his seat and taking the mug with him.

He sees the disappointed look PJ gives him and he frowns apologetically.

"H-he left a note-" Dan begins, and PJ immediately looks sympathetic.

"I understand" He says sadly, nodding. "I'll see you later"

"Yeah" Dan forces a smile briefly before turning and walking out of the room and towards his own.

He uses his free hand to open the door and he steps inside, closing the door and placing his mug on the bedside table. The folded piece of paper has been placed in the centre of his bed for him to read, his name scribbled in messy handwriting on the front. He slowly lowers himself to the mattress, reaching out his bruised, shaky hand to pick up the paper and carefully unfold it. He looks away for a second as a tear leaks from his eye, painful memories of this morning filling his mind. He shakes his head, returning his gaze to the letter in his hands, which only weighs less than a gram yet feels like it carries the weight of the world. The handwriting is smudged with tearstains, black ink staining the page at parts. But Dan can make out the words, and he starts to tremble as he reads.

'Dan,

I know you probably didn't expect this at all, to be honest neither did I.

I thought that things were getting better for me, for a while. Of course, I still hated myself and what I've done to the people around me, but I thought things were better, that things could go back to how they were, to how they were before I started hurting people. Before I hurt you. They never did. Maybe for a while I could pretend like they had- I could talk to you as if I was okay, as if I was happy, as if we could have no cares in the world. But you, of all people, know how easy it is to fake a smile. To convince yourself that you're okay, even when you feel like you're falling apart.

Anyway, I'm not here for that sappy shit.

I'm here to tell you what you need to know.

Believe it or not, Dan, I think that this had to happen for you. You're probably angry at me right now, you're probably yelling at me 'no it didn't!', but it did, Dan. Think about how you're feeling right now, the sadness, the guilt (I don't mean to be vain by assuming you'll be sad, by the way). But think about it. I know that you don't deserve to feel this sadness, and I'm so, so sorry for putting you through this. But at the end of the day, Dan, you still have Phil. And this brings me to my point. Phil, without you, wouldn't have anyone else. He would be feeling this, this pain and guilt that you're feeling, 100x worse, on his own. He cannot lose you, you've told me enough about him for me to realise that. And, Dan, if your attempt had gone the way you'd planned, he would not have gotten over that. You have to understand. He needs you. You have to get through this, for him if not yourself. You have to get out of that hospital, and you have to fight through until your last breath. Don't give up, Dan, you've come way too far for that. You have something so special to live for, something so special, and you can't lose that. You can't ruin that. Unfortunately, I don't have something like that to keep me going. I don't have anything like that to live for. But you do. So please, Dan, don't take that for granted.

You will do this.

Don't be scared to be happy.

And, please, for gods sake, learn to hold your remote properly.

- Jax'

Dan looks up from the note, tears streaming down his cheeks that he didn't realise had fallen. He reaches a hand to wipe them, and takes a deep breath, taking everything in from the note. He folds it back up and places it on the bedside table next to his mug, trying to regain himself.

He knows that Jax is right. He knows that now. What he's feeling now- the guilt, the hurt, the sadness... this is what Phil would have to feel if it were him, only worse. After all of this time trying to fix Dan, he would have failed. Dan closes his eyes, taking it all in. He's been fighting it off for so long, trying to convince himself that Phil is better off without him, that killing himself would be the better option, that he should distance himself from Phil as to not hurt him. However, sitting in this bed with tears shining on his face, Dan understands. He understands that it isn't true, he understands that suicide doesn't bring happiness for anyone- only relief for yourself. And, surely, if Phil were happy... Dan would be relieved enough. That is all he wants. For Phil to be happy.

And now he knows just how to do that.