Heyo! Bet you all thought Phil was in a pinch there and... I guess he was but ah well. He pulled through, as always. I'm not saying we're reaching the finale but I now have a proper ending planned from here on and its hopefully gonna be what you'll all like. Ahem.

Alright! We are now back with Dan, sorry I took a while to write the new chapter but exams, worrying, a minor case of writers block and mugs of hot chocolate but here we are! Better late than never! Dan's beginning to piece together the situation and it all get decided by a little prompt from another. But will Dan figure it out in time or will he begin to let the doubt seep in? We find out!

Dan awoke with a start. He blinked once, then twice.

He could see the pale illuminated outlines of his own room, the monochrome sheets of his bed, the desk sitting silently by it. The odd chandelier like light that hung above his head. The strange venesian cat mask still carefully nested in its graceful spindle arms. It stared back at him curiously, as if observing his behaviour attentively, like a parent would watch its offspring.

Realising that he lay on the floor, his front facing the ceiling, Dan slowly sat up. As he did he felt a dull ache in his spine and neck. He must have fallen off of his bed at some point. Adjusting himself so that he could lean his back against the edge of his desk, Dan desperately attempted to recall what had happened.

It all came flooding back. The high wailing of the ambulance, the bright blare of white that was the hospital, the way his heart had wrenched in his chest at the sight of his flat mate. All the memories blurring and blinding his vision as the flickering images began to make his thoughts swim.

No. Drown.

The youth clutched his forehead as he shook a little. He took several deep breaths, then finally stood.

Something else flashed in front of him, a photograph of what he couldn't quite place as memory or dream. A familiar face that seemed horrifically out of place in its surrounding. Something about the blurred image made Dan's innards tense, he could feel a sensation building up in his throat as he tapped in on the view of the face, dark, trapped, alone-

Dan breathed in sharply at his headache.

Everything seemed oddly quiet. Well of course it was. He glanced at his window, it was light outside, no doubt about it. Dan began to half heartedly trudge out of his own room and into the kitchen. The serene silence that occupied the air added to the feeling of it all being a dream. A manifestation of his twisted mind.

Another flash, the same face, in the same background, but it was still all blurry. Dan began to feel the familiar tug in his chest he swore he had felt before as he tried harder and harder to focus on the images he had seen. The more he tried, the more he hurt. He sighed, giving up on it before he began to look around again. The apartment was cold, obviously in response to leaving the window open the whole night. He turned on the kettle, he needed a drink, something to wake him up. As the droning hiss of steam began to build in the contraption, Dan left the kitchen and headed towards the source of the freezing morning air being let in.

The second his foot had passed into Phil's room Dan felt his legs give way as he fell to a crouch, he could hear things, see things, things he didn't remember but at the same time were so forcibly real that they seemed to have happened mere minutes ago. Voices, whispers, pleas for help. They taunted him, teased him.

"What...are you..?"

Dan froze, no one was in the room, but who was..? He flinched when he realised who it was. Something about his voice was making him feel strangely hopeful. Comforting almost. The voice wasn't speaking to him, and for some reason Dan knew this. It spoke up once more.

"N-no, I don't... but I suppose you do?"

Dan rose quickly, panic rising. He could hear him, he was there. He could hear him. But he wasn't here, he couldn't be here, he was in the hospital, unmoving, never stirring. The chestnut haired youth felt his eyes began to once again focus as he heard the whispers fade away. He walked over the Phil's window, looking to his left, then to his right. He felt silly, there was no one there, he knew there wasn't. He closed the open window, exhaling slowly to regain his senses.

He wasn't sure how long he remained stood there, thinking about his flat mate. He remembered each and every feature he could about Phil. Which wasn't difficult, it was hard to forget anyone like Phil. Phil was... special... to him. He couldn't decipher why, whenever he was with Phil he would always seemingly lose his usual thoughts that he had about his fears, that one day he would die, everything he had ever done would be gone in the mere blink of an eye. That everything he had would be stripped from him leaving him a empty shell.

Funny enough, Dan felt that had already happened. He felt there was no point to anything now.

A sharp sound of what at first Dan thought was a scream split the air before it was immediately accompanied by a loud crash of what sounded like something falling over. Dan, less than intended, jolted before turning to defend himself, in doing so his wrist clipped the radiator under the window. Dan clutched the stinging joint, calming down and feeling disappointment when he realised it was merely the kettle in the kitchen that almost given him a heart attack and cost him a hand. Dan felt himself relax a little as he made his way towards the kitchen. Rounding the corner he stopped.

Something was horribly wrong.

"W-what?"

The kettle had fallen over on its side, it had to be the only reasonable explanation, there was no one else around to knock it over themselves. Dan put that down to him not placing back properly in its stand before when he had removed it to fill up with water.

What he knew he wasn't responsible for was however, was where the steaming water had created condensation on their glass kitchen door, coating it with a cloudy layer of water vapour.

At least, some of it.

No what made Dan's eyes widen, his breathing hitch and his chest convulse, were the markings that had been made on the door, words written by hand. Just one thing, but something about it terrified the young adult.

'Dan'

His name had been written, not once mind you, but many times, in different sizes, different ways until the point where they were all Dan could see. Yet despite this each time it had been written, every single one appeared...scrawled, messy. As if whoever had created the message had been in a blind panic.

Or had been running out of time trying to write them.

It was Phil. Dan didn't doubt it for a second, he wasn't going to be the clueless character that never figured out the meaning of the messages until the end of the film, he was going to find out what was happening to his best friend, Phil was trying to get to him, he was reaching out to him. Or..

No. No he wasn't going to say it.

Dan continued to stare in shock at the glass door as he thought. No, no he wasn't going insane, sure he made the odd joke about it in his videos and such but this was real, it had to be. He wasn't going crazy. He thought about it as rationally as was possible. He just was feeling the shock of what was happening to Phil, that had to be it. Yeah...

'There's nothing wrong with me.' He heard himself think. He took a nervous step towards the door. Half expecting to get some kind of jump scare. 'No...No there's nothing wrong with me.' Dan shook his head, he needed to get past this, if he wanted any hope of helping Phil.

He then opened the glass door, resetting the kettle in its proper place before cleaning up the still heated water that covered the kitchen floor. All the while contemplating what to do next. He glanced back at the now faded writing on the glass door, he frowned.

He was hearing someone he had lost, and was seeing messages from them. It sounded so familiar. He remembered reading about cases such as the one that he appeared to be in. It was all the psychological lore that he had read up before. He had been into this stuff.

Yet it felt so strange when he realised he was becoming a part of the stories he had read and freaked himself out with, the ones he would find at night and terrify himself into staying awake until morning. A sense of fear began to wash over Dan again, yet made him feel he knew what to do, how to get to his flatmate, his best friend. There was no true way to break a coma, Dan knew that much...

He knew what he would do now.

-quotes-

Alright, I was gonna use these in the chapter but decided not to included it however I thought I'd put them here for you all to see some of the phrases I found while looking up stuff about comas and subconscious since they seemes kind of interesting:

While searching up 'hearing someone elses voice in the head':

"someone who is lonely may really value a voice that becomes a trusted confidant"

"A person who has recently lost someone they care about may benefit from talking to them at the end of the day"

About 'voices in the head':

"It's also common for people to hear voices as if they are thoughts entering their mind from somewhere outside themselves"

"Voices can be like dreams" "Hearing voices can be like that – a waking dream that is experienced as real."

I dunno if this chapter is alright or not, but you'll understand where this is going I hope. Anyway, hope you loved this so far, and until the next chapter, bye!