You hear these stories all the time about cancer; that bastard named cancer. How people don't know this disease is growing rapidly inside of them until it's too late. You hear about it all the time, people of all ages and all statuses getting rushed to hospital. You think to yourself, What's the point? There was nothing anyone could've done.
But never, not once, do you think it might happen to you. It's never gonna happen to you.
He was absolutely fine. Half an hour ago he was saying night night to me and heading off to bed after our nightly mugs of hot chocolate. Half an hour ago he was breathing on his own. Half an hour ago he wasn't in a hospital bed with an IV drip hanging out of his pale forearm.
A thump. A tumble down the stairs. Unconcious. A panic-tricken call to 999. Choking. Tears. Phil's still face. Ambulance. Hospital smell. Screaming for Phil. A rush of nurses. Floor. "Mr Lester has cancer, Mr Howell. Very late stages, there's nothing we can do for him. I'm so sorry."
They're sorry. They're sorry. Big woopdido, I'm sorry as well, it's not going to help Phil, is it?
"Can I see him?" I don't look up at the doctor.
"Yes. We don't know how long he has."
A single tear slides down my face, closely followed by another. And another. My best friend is slowly sliding away from me, like sand flowing through a sand timer, and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. After everything we've been through together, after him finally reaching one million subscribers, after us making the big move to London. He's my brother. He's my fucking brother. How can he just leave like this?
There's so much he hasn't done yet; so many Phillions he hasn't met, so many places we haven't been, so much we haven't said. He can't just leave like this.
I reach his room and slowly push the door open. He's sitting up with his eyes open; there's a sign. I loose it. I just loose it. He looks so unwell all of a sudden; I'd noticed he'd been getting a bit thinner these past few weeks, but I just assumed he'd been on some diet. I'd never thought-
"P-Phil," I choked out.
"C'mere."
I'm by his side in an instant. just as always and he's rocking me into his chest, just like all those times when I'd broken up with some girlfriend; he'd be there, waiting for me to see how the date went and I'd just burst into tears. He'd cradle me just like he is now, slowly and gently, rubbing circles into my back, as I cried my heart out into his chest.
"I-I'm s-o sorry."
"For what?"
I glance up and see Phil's silent tears sliding down his face; he always cries when I cries. Always. He was always there to give me strength in the toughest times; the second I had a problem I would turn to him. Phil always knows what to do. Always. He'd drop everything just for me. Always.
"I...I should've no-noticed. I should've!"
"Dan..."
"No! I should've noticed Phil!" I screamed as yet more tears streamed down my face. I screamed and screamed and screamed. I didn't even care. The one person I cared about most in the entire world was being snatched from me and it just wasn't fair. "It's not FAIR! It's not FAIR!"
Phil finds the strength to pull me back onto the bed, cradling me as if to settle a small child. I didn't even notice I had made it to my feet. He manages to quieten me until I'm more whimpering than crying as he whispers comforting words into my ear. "It's not your fault."
"Don't leave me, Phil," I sniff, trying to hold back the tears I can feel about to explode out in a burst of hurt and anger. He's my brother, he can't just leave like this.
"I don't want to leave, Dan. I don't," he whispers, choking down tears too. "I don't know if I'll still be here when my mum gets he-"
"Don't say that!" I shout.
"Dan for Christ's sake, I'm going to die and that's it! Wether I die now, tomorrow or in a few days, I am a dead man!" he yells back, stunning me into another whimpering silence. I don't want my last memory of him to be one of him yelling. I don't want my big brother to scold me. I love him. He can't just leave me like this.
"If I'm gone before my mum gets here, tell her I love her, Dan. Tell her I'm thankful to her for giving me the short life I had. Especially with you. Tell her I love her with all of my heart. Tell her thanks for not putting me up for adoption when I was a creepy demon child-" he half-smiles at his comment- "and tell her I love dad too, even though he was never really there. Tell her to tell him I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't into sports and I'm sorry I didn't go to be a builder like him. Tell her to let him know I loved him anyway."
I'm sure at which part of his little speech I had started crying at, but the tears are dripping down my cheeks, my nose, my chin and soaking Phil's sheets. "Dan...promise me. Please."
He was always a mummy's boy; from what he had told me his dad was a complete prat, though I had never voiced this opinion. When I'd went on holiday with my family for the weekend and left him, his mum had come over to live with him to keep him company. Me and his mum; Phil's best friends. The ones that got him through life, that kept the smile on his glowing face. That smile is now gone, his face is not glowing; the only thing his face is displaying is desperation as he clings onto my arm.
"I promise."
"Good boy, Daniel."
I remember the first time he called me Daniel. The first time I'd went to meet him it was Dan. Just Dan. But about a week into us becoming friends, he'd used a sarcastic Daniel on me as he lightly punched me on the shoulder. I hug tackled him then we had a play-wrestle. Later on that day Phil had made a den out of all the cushions we could find, we'd drawn cat whiskers on our faces and I'd been king Daniel of the Duvet Kingdom and he was Prince Phillip of the Cushion People. We'd laughed so hard that day. We were so happy. That was the day I think I realised; I wanted to be friends with this boy forever. I wanted to be his brother, I wanted him to be my light, I wanted him to be who I relied on. I told him I loved him and he'd said it back. We'd hugged and I'd never wanted to let go. Not ever and not for no man.
"What are you thinking about, Danny?" Phil lightly smiled.
I can cardly get the words out, my throat is so choked up with threatening tears. I try to brave a smile, but I probably look like I'm in pain. But then again, I am. I'm loosing a family member. He's leaving. "I crown thee Prince Phillip of the Cushion People."
He lightly chuckles, but his teeth don't glimmer, his smile is filled with sadness. His eyes have no glitter, so unlike the last time the following words were spoken. "And what about thee, sir?"
"Y-you do-ont know who I am? Why, I- I am King Daniel of The Duvet Kingdom! Don't make me throw you in the dungeon, P-P-Phillip!"
At the time I could'nt get those words to come out from the giggles emmiting from my mouth, but now it was the crushing sadness and the tears that were seeminly endless.
"Anyone would've thought we were little kids," Phil muses.
"Y-yeah. That was one of the b-est days of my life. And all the DVD days we had. And all the collab videos we shot together. The Super Amazing Project...remember the laughing fits we used to get into? I loved all that. Who am I kidding, I love you."
"I love you too, Dan. I wish-" he can't finish because of the sudden tears that have stricken him too.
"I know, buddy. I know."
I slowly place myself back into his welcoming arms and nothing is said for several minutes; a comfortable silence. One full of sadness and long-ago memories and a bond so strong no one can ever pull us apart. Even if he does die right now, even if he dies in my arms, even if I feel his soul rise up from my grasp into the next life, he will never be fully gone from my life. The mark he left on this world will never, ever be forgotten. Especially not by me. Everywhere I go from now, Phil will still be right there with me. All over, there he'll be. Even when he's gone and buried, I'll keep a peice of him here with me and it'll be like he never left.
"Dan, I just remembered. Your birthday."
"My...birthday..." it takes a second to click in my brain. My birthday. Tomorrow. "Oh."
"Oh," Phil sadly smiles at me, tears filling his eyes yet again.
"Promise me you'll hang on 'til then?"
"I promise. And if I don't-"
"But you will."
"If I don't. Your present is hidden under all the cables in my cable drawer."
I nod slowly. If he doesn't. I can't help thinking if Phil makes it, that would be the best present. I'd trade everything I own just to see him happy and healthy again; absolutely nothing is worth more to me than Phil is. "What am I gonna do when you're gone?" I sob.
"You'll find someone else, Dan. You'll learn to move on and do what makes you happy. You'll-"
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
"Phil? PHIL! Hold on, I'm just going to get help! Hang on, Philly! Please hang on!"
I've never ran this fast in my life, but suddenly I'm sprinting down the corridor screaming for a nurse in seemingly every possible direction. The sound of running feet, squeaking shoes. They're going to save him. They'll save him. He can't leave me.
I rush back behind them, but they advise me to stay outside of his room. "But he needs me! He needs me!"
"Sorry, Mr Howell, it's protocol."
I know what they're going to do; they're going to shock him with those big shocker thingies they use in the hospital programmes. I turn my back on the door as I hear the horrible THUD as his body falls back onto the bed. I scrunch up my eyes, willing myself to wake up. Please let me wake up. Let Phil shake me awake and let me cry into his shoulder like a little boy. Let me have my best friend back.
When have I ever been that lucky? Maybe the day I met Phil. Or when me and Phil became friends. When I started YouTube. The first time me and Phil hugged. When Phil introduced me to his mum and she welcomed me into her little family of three- now four- with open arms. Will I still be her third son after this? I was scared of the answer.
The squeal of the door hinges behind me make me spin around with a hopeful smile, but the doctor has no reassurance to hand me. "I'm so sorry, we did all we could."
My mouth drops open in a horrible moment of not comprehending. He can't leave. This is Phil we're talking about, the crazy optimistic guy that acts about seven. He can't be defeated by something as stupid as cancer. I can't even cry. My best friend is gone. He's dead. Not breathing. "Let me see him."
A nurse chips in. "Mr Howell, I don't think that's a very good idea, I mean-"
"Let me see him," I repeat. I sense the doctor shrug as the nurses let me in. There's my beautiful boy, lying there helpless, his eyes closed. "Oh Phil."
I expect him to sit up suddenly and exclaim, "Haha, tricked you! This is for all those times you pranked me, you bitch!" and all the nurses would come in, laughing as they take off their costumes. Nothing of the sort happens; instead an unbearable silence fills the room where there were previously tears and whispered conversarions.
He died alone. He died all alone. A tear slips down my face as I look down at this man. My brother. I looked up to him- I still look up to him. I love this man. I love him with all my heart, and suddenly his isn't beating anymore. I owe him so much. I owe him so very much and now I'll never get to repay him. I hardly even got to say thanks. I barely manage to whisper, "Why you, Phil?"
Just as the words have left me, the door crashes open behind me as Phil's mum enters, the tears already showing on her greif-stricken face. "Th-they told me I'm t-too late."
I nod before I run across the room and into her arms, crying into her shoulders as she holds me. It's much like the way Phil holds me, which simply makes me cry harder. "He's gone, mum. Mum, he's gone."
"I know, son."
The first time I turn my back on him is when he leaves me. He died alone and he left me. My brother. He's dead.
