Title: Paper Cuts
Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Dan/Phil!
Saying the atmosphere wasn't awkward would be lying.
I sat, breathing heavily, watching him stare down at the words roughly scratched over the paper. The thin, delicate paper that I'd given my feelings up to, every second of emotions was there.
The paper was inside a book. A diary. My diary. My haven.
He was looking in on my tragic world, where I wasn't the awkward boy standing in the corner. I was the main subject, the sob story, the blazing sun in the depth of night.
Daniel gradually moved his glance up towards me. I had no idea what he'd just read.
We'd been sat cross-legged on the floor facing eachother for an hour. My diary had fell from my pocket when I'd returned back to our shared dorm.
Dan didn't like me. He'd told me many a time of how he'd prefer to be with Tom and Charlie down the hall.
I was the tragic, silhouette taking up his eventful life.
"Well..." He murmured, looking straight into my eyes. I'd looked at his eyes - studied them even - for hours and hours before. They were gorgeous, and those eyelashes framed them perfectly. "....W-wh-why've you.." before he could finish I snapped the book around so it faced me, so I could read what he'd just read.
* 11th January
I hate my life. I know I'm unworthy of it, when little kids are just dying... I should swap with them or something.
I started harming again. I still don't feel anything, though. PJ told me he feels nothing at first, but when he digs deep enough he feels relieved: So I'm going as deep as I can before I start to feel faint.
I've gotten used to cutting now. I know how far I can go before I feel queazy. It makes me feel so much better...
Sorry I haven't written for a while, little book. I've been busy with Uni. I got back on the 15th and have been busy settling in... There's a boy in my dorm now. They say there was no room anywhere else, but I just think they're trying to get me to talk to someone. He's Dan I think.
Dan's been telling me how he hates my company because I never talk. I can't help that I hate myself and how I act... I just want to look good infront of him. But no- I ruined it.
I've been cutting again, secretly at night. Dan just thinks I've been masturbating because I make strange panting noises when I cut. I guess it's because I enjoy it or something.
Started drawing Dan's eyes. It stops me cutting, but sometimes I feel I have to give myself a papercut when Dan yells at me for being such a waste of space. Dan's eyes are beautiful. So are his lips. And his hair is just lovely. I think he makes me happy just by looking at him, even though he treats me like shit.
I'm crushing on a guy now too. Why is everything wrong with me? *
As if the words weren't bad enough, there were blood splits and splodges all over the two small pages. You could even see my 'bookmark', now, as he'd read the page, obviously a blade in a cover.
I gulped, played with my fingers and lifted my gaze to look once more at Daniel. The sun was starting to set through our window, so a shadow was over his cheek due to his nose. His eyes looked like they had a layer of sadness covering them- the kind I always had.
"Phil..." his lip quivered, "Why didn't you tell me you were..." Mental? A lunatic? An emo? Some fucking depressed faggot that cuts himself like paper? "Emotionally unstable... I... I could've helped..."
I looked into his eyes to find when he was going to start laughing.
Instead, he let a stray tear roll off one of those gorgeous eyelashes he possessed. Dan then moved closer to me, picked up my arm and gentle moved up my sleeve.
In wonky, painful, glowing red lines, read the letters:
Dan, seeming to lose himself, started crying heavily, lifting my cuts up to his face and gently kissing them, tracing his hands over the lettering and mixing my dried over blood with his salty tears.
I didn't complain.
I just sat, wanting to be that silhouette like usual.
I felt like I was hurting Dan.
I wanted to cut myself to make it better...
Then Dan said something I'd never really thought I'd hear- didn't really deserve, "I'll help you, Phil. I'll help." then proceded to move his arms around me and give me a weird sort of 'intimate' interaction.
I looked up what it was on the internet after, and it's apparently called a hug.