Dan shows Phil everything. Remember I'm Dan and my friend writes Phil. I'm going to try and make it obvious (*=Me, #=my friend) that it's switching, but I'm not going to edit about 50 pages worth ...
*“You were like me? You managed to do something with your life. How? I can’t see my life getting any better.” Dan was crying too now. He couldn’t believe Phil would try. Dan started playing with the hems of his sleeves feeling guilty for bringing Phil here, for Phil flying out to get him.
#Phil nods. “I was exactly like you! In Uni, trapped, wanting to get out.” Phil moves Dan’s face so he can look the beautiful boy in the eyes. “I will help you Danny. I’ll help you get better. I’ll help you be like me… we can help each other Danny…” Phil leans in, their foreheads touching.
*Dan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t believe how close Phil was to him at that moment. “As I said before, words and actions hurt. I have the scars to prove it. After I got hate mail for you actually noticing me, I almost added new scars to my already huge collection. I can’t deal with that sort of thing.” Dan was thinking about how many times he had almost made the final cut, how many times he just wanted to leave this world. How his arms were littered with scars. He felt like such a failure.
#Phil thought he could see the pain and hurt of Dan’s face. He didn’t know what to do. He knew what Dan was going through, he knew what Dan was feeling. Phil smiles, leaning in more. He knew Dan liked the closeness. He liked the closeness. Phil leans in and kisses Dan’s cheek. “I too have scars. One for every harsh word, one for each hater… Dan, I’m sure we match.” Phil sniffed. “Just… please let me help you. I love you too much to let you hurt more…”
*Dan rolled up his sleeves, finally relieved he didn’t have to hide anymore. He knew Phil was scarred, but he didn’t know to what extent. Some of his scars were old and some were recent. “I was going to add more today, I don’t take hate very well.” Dan’s tears hit his arm. The cold tears a welcome change from the warm blood that usually dripped on his arms. “I wanted to leave. I still want to leave. To get out of this shit hole.”
#Phil looks down at the scars. They were all so deep. It hurt Phil to see them. Without thinking, Phil leans down and kisses the scars, old and new. Phil kissed them, hoping to make them better. “No more.” He mumbles into the skin. “No more hurt.”