Phan(Dan & Phil) version Heat-Haze Days

I don't own Dan & Phil, I don't own the plot nor the video, I don't own anything except maybe the cat. I wish Phan is true but I won't be appreciated if they die like this. Credits goes to Dan & Phil, Jin and Wannyanpuu.

Bless the Queen of unofficial PV that deceives everyone to believe that it is.


1. You see, I don't write long stories. There's one and only one chapter.


- Dan's POV -

I woke up on my bed, yawning. I went to bed at 4 this morning and must have slept for a long time. I reached for my phone to check the time, which is half past twelve. I looked out the window and it was a rare sunny day in London, the crickets cried loudly yet annoyingly outside my window. As I started to change slowly I heard a knock on my bedroom's door.

"Dan, are you up yet?" it's probably Phil. "Not yet. Nearly done." I replied while I changed into my symbolised t-shirt(the one with white circle on black), and wandered into the kitchen and poured out cereal for something to eat.

Several minutes later we are sitting in our 'browsing position' refreshing our Tumblr and Twitter pages.

"It's really sunny today. We should go for a walk before we turn into that computer guy from Jurassic Park." Phil suggested randomly, and I groaned in laziness. "Don't remind me that he got eaten by a dilophosaurus." 

We got out of our apartment and soon arrived a small park nearby. Both of us sat down beside each other on the swings, silently watching cars driving past in front of us.

"You know," Phil muttered harshly in an unnatural voice, "I've always hated summers."

I turned to look at him curiously, and he was patting on a ginger cat that was purring on his lap. "Where did you got that?" I asked, "the cat's owner won't be happy about it."

"Meh, it was just running pass and it kind of looks like a lion~ Rawwrrr~" he grabbed its paws and waved them around while making lions' roar. 

The cat seemed annoyed, it jumped off his lap and ran across the road. I let out a laugh. "Phil, you know that cats hates you."

"Aw, I'm not that scary." he stood up from the swing and followed the cat while grinning back at me -- unaware of the traffic light turning to bright red.

"Phi--" I practically screamed when it happened. A truck jumped out of nowhere and rushed directly towards him, there're no time-- not enough time for the truck to stop or for him to dodge it.

The cat though, was sitting calmly at the opposite side of the road, unharmed.

Blood. it was everywhere, mostly covered Phil in red -- like the traffic light. The metal smell of blood are so strong that it chocked me hard, forcing tears dripping down my cheeks.

Everything happened so fast that the swing he just stood up from is still going up and down in a pattern, as if it's waiting for him to came back.

This is not... No... Not Phil... This must be a dream...

I can't see clearly through my eyes from the heat and tears, the shock is mocking me, but I clearly heard someone said coldly and cruelly before I blacked out in shock.

"This is real."


I woke up in shock, puffing and panting.

It's all a dream. Thank goodness.

What time is it now? my eyes dropped on my phone, checking for the time. Somewhere past twelve. it's a fine sunny day in London, but oddly, I recalled the same crickets crying annoyingly outside the window.

As we finished our breakfast and web browsing, Phil suggested to go out, just like he did in my dream. I cringed from the memory but I didn't say anything. It could be a coincidence.

Later as we sat on the swings, a ginger cat wandered past and leaped on Phil's lap and he started patting it, waving its paws around to play with it.

Am I having a prediction?  Is my subconscious telling me to avoid this incident? As the cat jumped off his lap, I recalled the dream last night, of what will happen. I grabbed his hands tightly before he could go chase the cat down. "That's... enough for today, I think." I stuttered faintly, sighed in relief as the truck in my dream drove away into the distance. Phil and I walked home in silence, and I bet both of us is tired--

 --Why is everyone pointing on top of us?

I looked up to see a group of unstable construction poles hanging loosely on the machine, but it wasn't strong enough to lift them, and crash-- it broke apart and the poles went down shooting down like arrows, pointed directly at us.

I was dazed but suddenly I felt a small force pulling me behind. Someone ran in front of me, running straight under the falling poles -- Phil.

"No!!" I screamed, eyes widened. One of the poles ripped through his body, splitting him in halves. The part of pole that came out was stained red, and Phil crashed to the ground lifelessly.  All I had was a bit scratch. I was only half a inch close to the poles.

I couldn't hold it anymore. Why does this have to happen... At this unnatural scene, the cruel voice laughed again, "This is not a dream, idiot."

I noticed a faint smile on Phil's face before I blacked out again.


As I woke again on my bed, feeling a light layer of sweat on my forehead. I dressed roughly, rushed out and nearly ran into Phil, who was right behind the door.  I grasped his hands along, "Dan?" he panted in confusion, "Where are we..." we scurried out of our apartment, avoiding the truck and the falling poles, and kept on running until I reached the top of some stairs.

"Quick!" I cried, I know Phil was trying his best at following me, but with the corners of my eyes I saw the ginger cat, almost 'smirking' at me, saying, "It's pointless."

I glanced at Phil as he step on the second-last step and slipped, I reached for him but failed to catch him. He fell backwards down the stairs with his eyes filled with horror. "Phil--"

Blood. Cricket. The cat. The voice. Black out.
Those things, repeated and repeated and repeated at the same hot, summer day. No matter how hard I try, Phil always dies. Car crash, Poles, Slippery stairs, terrorists with guns, gas poisoning, fire accident... 
I couldn't remember when everything started. The last time we had a nice, calming afternoon was years ago.

I don't understand anymore. Why does it always have to be Phil? The immature, optimistic, adorable Phil? 

I suddenly realised a feeling that have been troubling me for ages, even years. It had been too late to be told.

I like Phil.

But I will never, ever have the chance to say it to him. 

A clichéd story must have the one ending. The right one. 

"I- I'm sorry. About everything."


The next day, like always, was a sunny one. I was fully dressed and waited for Phil to knock on my door.
We had a silent breakfast and browsing time. None of us are talking. 

"Let's go for a walk." I suggested,  Phil rose his head in curiosity.

We arrived where everything starts -- the park. we did the talks on the swing, the talks that we've done for hundred of times. Though I haven't grow bored of it, I never will. I enjoyed that last bit of peace before what both of us know is going to happened.

"You know," I said, "I've always hated Summer." I really do. 

It's the time. The cat ran away across the street. This time I didn't stop him from jumping up, but as the moment the truck appeared at the corner, his smile remain froze in his face. I grasped his wrist and pulled him back to safety, and replace myself for Phil. As the truck struck me I heard him screaming my name, I saw my own blood dripping everywhere, I saw terrors and tears on his already pale face, but the faint smile on my face told me I have won.
"This is not a dream." I whispered, more like to myself. I was shocked for a moment to see the cat smirking at him.
But it doesn't matter now. I've always liked you, Phil.

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