an: hey hey! I actually am getting this chapter out fairly quickly. Wow. Anyways hope you enjoy!
disclaimer: I don't own Dan or Phil
trigger warning: this story does handle depression and depressive topics. Proceed with caution
Guardian soulmate
I never understood funerals. And I guess I never will at any case. I'm just kinda glad its over so I don't have to watch it anymore. They kept talking about how I never had any friends and yada yada yada. I wasn't that bad! I mean yeah I had four friends but I wasn't anti social.
I got into the car with Phil. Luckily I didn't have to use the door. That might have spooked him a little if I had. Being an angel is weird. I'm almost human with some exceptions. I can touch and move things. But I can't be seen. I have wings ,yet I can't fly. I mean I probably could if I tried. But I have no clue how to do that. So I'd rather not. I'd probably have to use pixie dust or some bullshit like that. But oh boy is having wings difficult. Yes they're pretty, but putting on shirts. You can only imagine putting a shirt on with wings. Together they are 28ft. THAT'S TALLER/LARGER THAN I WILL EVER BE. they must be magical to one be able to fly , and two nicely fold up on my back with no issues. I mean you couldn't see them of course, unless I wanted you too. I've learned very little on how this works ,but apparently if I wanted to I could just walk among people again. If I just wanted to hide my wings. I mean I probably won't for a while. It might be weird if anyone recognized me and saw a dead kid walking around.
My wings are black with silver arching feathers. It nice to know that even in death I could keep my 2006 my chemical romance black parade aesthetic.
.
.
Wait- where's Phil? I so was busy day dreaming that I hadn't noticed he left the car. He's parked in his drive way but his bedroom lights aren't one. And I can't feel his presence. But why are my bedroom lights on? I could fly into my room to see what's up because you know what fuck front doors.
Never mind, front door it is.
I don't see Phil? He's not sitting in my living room so where the hell is he? Is he?- I set my feet down at the base of my stairs. Climbing up them slowly recalling all the broken bones I once had from sliding down the handrails. The amount of rug burn that's is probably still on my ass from sliding down them. I made it to the hall I walked even slower towards my bedroom. The door was wide open so I peacefully walked in. Phil was sat on my bed while my mum was running back and forth from my closet to a small box sitting on my desk. I walked over and sat in the chair that was connected to my desk. If they're giving away my stuff I should at least be able to look through it or add some stuff. Hoodies, jeans, a couple of my MCR shirts. (I'm not really surprised about that last one Adrian hates my chemical romance. But I'm surprised that Phil likes them.) Wait is that?-
At the very bottom of the pile sat a pair of my leather pants that I bought as a joke once. Oh god ,why. I immediately pulled them out and shoved them behind my desk. Burn them- leave no evidence. There are a few things I could add to this box. I knew a little bit about Phil so I could add some stuff he'd probably like. And I mean if I'm gonna be stuck with him why not?
I grabbed a few things and shoved them into the box; a final fantasy figurine, a book (or two),the muse album. (I'll be damned if I can't still listen to that.) And sat back down on the chair. Watching my mum show some things to Phil. Who did look happier at least. She threw a couple more things in before shutting it. Luckily I don't think she noticed the stuff I threw in, not yet at least. I doubt she'd really care either way.
My mom taped up the box and handed it to Phil. "Thank you for coming over Phil. It was nice seeing you." She said as they both left my room. I wouldn't have even thought that the box was heavy but boy does it look like Phil is having a bit of trouble. When we reached the stairs I took an end of the box. I could see the physical relief and confusion on his face as the box got lighter. And boy was I wrong, the box is pretty heavy. what else did my mom put in it?
By nightfall everything was peaceful again. The world was moving on once again. I sat in Phil's room creepy yes I know. But I can't quite leave. Where would I go? Back to heaven? Nah. The box of my stuff sat by the corner of his bed on the floor and I sat in the "study chair" he has in his room. Angels don't exactly need sleep or food, for that matter. But we can do those things anyways. I want to do something, I don't want to watch him sleep. I spotted a small pile of notebooks on his dresser, you could say my interest is peeked on what he's working on. I shifted through them. English, maths, history. Then I spotted a black composition book at the bottom of the pile. No title but it was clearly written in. From the looks of it a couple of pages have already been torn out. I flipped to the first page and scanned it. From the looks of it, it was a story day he was working on.
"It was a rainy day just like any other in Manchester. But today was different. Today was going to be extraordinary"