Dan, I'm going to go get some food."
Phil had tucked Dan into bed four hours ago. Once Phil realised that Dan wasn't going to talk, Phil had sat down on the chair of Dan's piano. Dan was laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was horrible not talking to Phil, it had always been so easy to make conversation: and now Dan had messed it up. Why hasn't he just pushed pushed off? Why did he hesitate? Dan knew why, he wanted Phil to save him. He never wanted to admit it, but Phil was always his saving grace. His sunshine. Dan hated not being able to give that feeling to Phil. He waited for the door to close. He didn't expect to hear the lock click. Sh*t. He got up and tried the door handle but Phil had locked it correctly. For once. Dan nearly smiled remembering his joking arguments with Phil about his inability to lock doors. Nearly. Hearing footsteps, Dan lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling.
Phil returned with two sandwiches . He sat down on his chair, concealing a flask of chicken soup behind his back. He placed one sandwich on the dresser by Dan's bed and started eating his own. Phil noticed that Dan was lying on top of his duvet. He must have gotten up while Phil was out. This made Phil slightly happier. At least Dan had done something. He came over and tucked Dan in, lingering for a second over Dan's chest. Dan reached up for Phil's hand and Phil reached down and grabbed Dan's. They held each other's gaze for a minute until Dan looked away. Phil didn't let go. He sat by Dan's bed until he was sure Dan was asleep. He kissed Dan's forehead. It felt nice to be so close to Dan. He sat back down at a chair and started attacking his wrist with a butter knife.
Dan wasn't asleep. He was so shocked by Phil's sudden spur of affection that he didn't notice that he was doing something until he heard heavy breathing. Dan opened one eye. Phil was dabbing at his wrist with a bloodstained tissue. There was a bloody butter knife on the piano. Phil's whimpers brought dan back to reality. He shuffled slightly, propping himself up to get a better look. He had wondered why Phil had been wearing long sleeves lately. There was a book of scars on his arm. Dan collapsed and started crying softly. He never cried in front of Phil, but he couldn't hold it in. Phil stood up.
Phil stood up. Was Dan, crying? He hastily tidied away the tissues. He hoped Phil hadn't seen him cutting. "What the f*ck Dan?"
It seemed he had.
"What?" Phil was playing the fool. He couldn't look at Dan.
Dan stifled his sobs and reached out. Phil handed him his hands, but he pulled Phil forward and stroked his wrists. Dan started crying.
"Why Phil? Why?"
Phil was angry suddenly. He snatched his arms away and started screaming at Dan.
" Why? Why? You just nearly committed suicide! And you're asking me why?! You nearly ruined my life and you're asking me why?" Dan was crying but Phil wasn't done, " I'll tell you why! I'm making you sad. I see your face falling when you see me after you come back from Lola's! Your fake smiles in videos. Your crying in the night! How you avoid me when you're drunk and can't pretend to like me! Well I like you Dan! Ok? I like you more than anyone else! And it hurts to see you sad. I cut to punish myself for ruining you. But I can't bear to be away from you. I can't stop." Phil was bawling too now. Dan reached out his arms, towards Phil. Phil stepped back, thinking that Dan was pushing him away. Instead, Dan grabbed on the chest of Phil's shirt and pulled him into bed. He held him to his chest, whispering how he was sorry and how he would explain it tomorrow. After half an hour, the whispering stopped, but when Phil tried to stand up, Dan only held him tighter. Phil decided to sleep in his clothes.
