#and then suggest that your younger self got eaten or murderer or something

[camcorderrevival]

anyways. funniest amy moment was in the eleventh hour when she pretended that amelia pond had gone missing. why would she do that.

[thehundredplusone]

Infodump: The Satanic Panic & Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA)

GRAPHIC CONTENT AHEAD! STRONG CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THE FOLLOWING:

Child abuse

Murder

Police abuse

Satanism

Mental illness

Cannibalism

TL;DR at the bottom.

I'm autistic and my "focus" or specialist subject is extreme religion, cults, and religious abuse. The subset I've been most interested in for several years is the satanic panic of America in the 1980s and 90s. This is the period of time which the idea of satanic ritual abuse comes out of. For those who don’t know, satanic ritual abuse or SRA is purported to be an organized form of child abuse and murder conducted by underground rings of “satanists”.

An important bit of context around these events: it was around this time that the fact that child abuse existed first entered the public consciousness. It's weird to think that child abuse wasn't considered a 'thing' at any point because we're so aware of it today but up until the 1970s, at least in the USA, no one really considered it. People ignored physical, mental, and sexual abuse in the home, considering it a private matter. "We believe the children" was such an important mantra during this time and so key to the SRA movement precisely because they were coming out of a period in which children were never believed about abuse at home and there was a major push to be aware of the symptoms of abuse.

The first ideas of SRA initially came from a book called Michelle Remembers, which is purportedly true account of a woman surfacing memories of SRA with her therapist. The book was a cultural hit and spread like wildfire, leading the authors, Dr. Lawrence Pazder and Michelle Smith (soon to be Dr and Mrs Pazder, as they both left their spouses and got married), to go touring the country to speak at psychology conferences, to newspapers, and on TV shows. They claimed that there were underground rings of satanists going around abusing children.

Interestingly, as people dug into Michelle's history to make sense of how this horrible abuse had happened to her, some inconsistencies showed up, like the fact that she had perfect attendance at school during the periods which she was supposedly being held captive by satanists. Michelle also claimed to have been directly healed by religious figures like Mary and the Archangel Michael, which was why she bore no physical marks from her abuse. Some have speculated that Michelle’s trauma was actually related to repeated miscarriages and the medical procedures she went through surrounding them. There are a number of elements which make the story suspect but they were brushed aside during that time.

Soon enough self-titled experts on SRA with no real qualifications other than attending a conference began to offer training sessions about recognizing the signs of satanic activity and abuse to police departments and teachers. Among their claimed signs that satanism was active in a community was one particularly dangerous suggestion. These experts, who often had little training in child psychology, claimed that while children never lie about being abused, children who were victims of SRA may lie and claim that they weren't abused. It was important, they said, to keep asking and make it clear that they didn't have to protect their abusers.

If you know anything about about psychology, your red flags might be going up right now, and with very good reason. Children are highly susceptible to suggestion and pressure. If they are asked a question over and over again by an adult who is pushing them to give a certain answer, they generally will. Adults are susceptible to this as well but to a lesser degree, which is part of why you see people confessing to crimes they never committed. Hold a person in a room for hours and hours, asking them constantly about something they want you to confess to and many people will eventually confess falsely just to get out of the room.

This is exactly what happened once things really took off. If you ask Americans about the satanic panic, those who know of it will often point to one key trial set right in the midst of the most frantic part of this cultural hysteria. That would be the McMartin preschool trial. So the McMartin preschool was a daycare in California run by a family, the McMartins. They were well regarded in the community and had quite a few kids attending their center. One day, a mother noticed an odd mark on her son's bottom and became concerned that he was being abused. After questioning him repeatedly, he finally said that his father, who was a teacher at his preschool, had hurt him. She contacted the police, and the police, seemingly knowing exactly what would send the community into a fervor, sent a letter to every parent at the preschool urging them to talk with their children and find out if they were being abused. More parents insistently questioned their children until they too confessed to abuse of all stripes. Another interesting note here: The mother who initially made the complaint had a history of mental illness and of suspecting others of abusing her son. She checked him for marks regularly and questioned him about possible abuse. While we can't say for certain this is what led to his confession, knowing that he'd had this line of questioning before makes it more likely he could have been coerced into a false confession.

The daycare teachers were arrested and all of the children were brought in to be questioned by social workers and police. They used the same tactics as described above, holding children in rooms for extended periods of time, asking them over and over about the same things until they agreed, telling them that other children had confessed to acts which they hadn't confessed to, and describing explicit, leading scenarios. The children questioned were very young, as young as two in some cases, and they were being prompted to agree with trained adults.

The adults also took any fantastical statement the child made as fact, going on the premise that they should believe the children. Claims taken seriously included dozens of babies being butchered and eaten, being flushed down a toilet into a secret room, and flying through the air. The daycare's entire building and property were dismantled and searched for hidden compartments or rooms and remains of the children supposedly killed. Nothing was ever found. The parents and children also met with Dr Pazder and Michelle in the run-up to the trial and it's believed that this influenced their testimony. SRA claims were also heavy in the medial around this time through a number of other cases and it's likely that children picked up on the stories and them subconsciously used what they'd heard from the TV or their parents in their own accounts. Ultimately, most of the charges were dismissed due to a lack of evidence. The few which went forward were eventually reversed, in some cases after the defendant served time in jail.

That's not the end of the story on SRA though. Remember the kids going through this? The kids who were trapped in rooms, separated from their families, forced to confess to graphic details of abuse which no child should ever have to hear, not allowed to leave until they told the police or psychologists what they wanted? That is scarring for a child. While some kids had enough of a sense of self to realize that none of it happened, many others had their very fragile sense of self ripped to shreds and tainted with the ideas people pushed onto them. They developed false memories of their childhoods. Normal scenes of happy families, playing with friends, going to preschool, were tainted by the anxiety and fear they were put through by people who should have been protecting them.

One story highlighted in a podcast I listened to highlighted a young man named J and his father, M. M was accused of satanic abuse by his ex-wife and ended up in jail. J and his siblings were sent to a therapist who convinced them that they were abused. The therapist told him he'd never be able to hold down a job, that he'd be stalked all his life by the satanic cult, and if he tried to be normal, he'd wind up abusing children the way his father did. J wound up depressed and involved in drugs but did eventually stop therapy and managed to pull together a life for himself.

When he was in his 30s, still fully believing that his father had abused him, his younger brother made contact with their dad. M sent the brother a long letter explaining what he remembered of the events and apologizing for them, which was forwarded to J. The letter ultimately helped J find cracks in the abuse memories which his mother and therapist had created and he began to question everything. He had been traumatized as a very young child into believing he was abused, but that itself was ultimately the abuse. Nothing had happened to him but a mentally ill mother and a manipulative, unethical therapist, but those were enough to leave him with years of scars and problems to work through.

I want to be clear that I’m not trying to discredit or harm people who have memories of SRA. While the acts never happened in nearly every case, the pain and trauma inflicted by being made to agree to graphic descriptions of abuse is very real. Their suffering is real. The blame for that suffering should be placed where it belongs. The only way we prevent something like this from happening again is to have accurate accounts of how it happened the first time. If you believe yourself to be an SRA victim, my heart goes out to you. I hope you’re able to heal in time and piece yourself back together.

TL;DR: SRA came out of a weird period of botched child psychology and hysteria. It's not likely anyone was ever ritualistically abused by satanists. People with memories from SRA cases have had false memories imprinted on them through repeated questioning by police, social workers, therapists, and parents. These people were their abusers, not satanists. They are abuse victims and they may have very real mental illnesses due to trauma.

If you want more info about this topic, I recommend checking out the podcasts "Conviction" (Season 2), "You're Wrong About" (Michelle Remembers episodes) and "The Satanic Panic".

[hecohansen31]

Bad Kind Of Butterflies:

Werewolf! Duncan+Half Witch-Half Werewolf! Reader.

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

This is the second part to this ask!

I am in a rather ‘Duncan Shepherd Mood’, in fact other than this entire series (as always: let me know if you want more and if you have any special asks about this couple) I am writing another and I hope to be writing another about Michael.

I took a bit of a pause from asks, I have just two in my inbox so I am chilling a bit, and having a bit more of fun with original things, which I hope won’t be a problem for you lovelies!

With this being said, I hope you’ll enjoy this!

WARNINGS: Mention of Past Trauma, Problematic Family Relationship, Mention of Murder, Talk About Abortion/Pregnancy/Babies (if anything about this triggers you, this might not be the fic for you)/Light Angst-Fluff.

Your meetings with Duncan had become more frequent after your first ‘mating’.

But you both didn’t assume they were nothing more than simple ‘stress-relievers’ for each other, about which you wouldn’t talk about, ever.

And you also didn’t talk about the cuddles that came after everything had ‘gone down’.

You blamed it on Duncan’s improving skills, having made him an impeccable lover, who, instead of his younger self, was always ready to listen to her, appreciating your body in a way that nobody had ever did, almost as if he knew its reaction before they happened.

He knew just exactly what had to happen to make you gasp and hold your breath, meanwhile her stomach went taunt in anticipation.

You hoped that he felt the same way towards you, although you had only half the experience he had gained, but you made up for it with sarcasm and wittiness, with those laughs that made Duncan move your drenched hair from your face, smirking at you, before he bit aggressively your lips, as a way to tell you to shut up.

You never did.

Even that morning your coupling had been like that: you had spoken back to him, and he had taken it to himself to make you blush with the way you screamed his name, pleading with him for just that missing piece he wouldn’t relent to you.

Although you had to admit that it had been cut short by the ringing of your alarm, since that day you couldn’t stay at Washington but you had a scheduled trip to New Orleans, and although Duncan had protested and suggested you just spent the day with him, you had denied his request.

‘I have important things unlike you’.

You had meant it as a joke, but Duncan hadn’t laughed, probably having hit a sore nerve, the one of his family and his business in it, one of the other reasons why he had been hounding you as a lost soul, wanting desperately to feel something alive, which wasn’t a lie.

And you had indulged him.

You didn’t know if it was because you got some kind of sick satisfaction with the way he begged you desperately for more, when it was your turn to reign him or because you were developing a sicker affection towards the boy who had broken your heart.

Either way, the trip to New Orleans was needed also to clear your head from those notions.

But the thought of Duncan stuck farther than you had thought.

‘(Y/N)’ called her Cordelia, evidently since you had gotten distracted thinking about your ‘almost-relationship’ with Duncan ‘… is everything alright, sweetheart?’.

‘Yes, I am sorry… I have just been… a bit… on cloud nine, lately” you mumbled, meanwhile your ex-headmaster looked surprised but didn’t say anything, anymore, just gently pushing the cup of tea she had gotten ready for you, in your hands.

“It happens to everyone, sometimes” she smirked, mostly noticing the way your cheeks lighted up, lightly dusting pink over them “… even more when we are bothered by something”.

“I just… I am doing fine… like really” although you were still mourning the loss of your father and trying to find any clue on his death, you were… for the first time ever breathing.

Although you had to admit that you had thought you would again waste yourself in Washington, it hadn’t happened.

The challenge had made you blossom and grow, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were slowly reaching a new generation, where peace between different magical creatures was possible.

And then there was Duncan… but your preferred not to put him in the category of good things, since the last time you had… it hadn’t turned out well…

“… still I feel like something is strange about your body” mumbled Cordelia, as she brought the up the cup of tea to her lips, barely wetting them with the tea, before she sent you a rather questioning look, making you almost feel naked “… would you mind if I check it? I wouldn’t want it to be anything dangerous”.

You nodded, although you hadn’t felt anything bad happening to your body, except a general tiredness, which might have been caused by the fact that you found it extremely difficult to fall asleep at a decent hour and not wake up at the crack of dawn.

But Cordelia might get something to help with sleep or to energize your body.

What you hadn’t expected was the outcome of Cordelia’s quick check-up, after she examined your heartbeat and your stomach, where she obviously found a rather interesting news, since she brightened up, pushing her hands lightly onto your stomach, meanwhile you felt a light tickle onto it, as the light showed a little shape in your stomach.

You were rather shocked and immediately looked at Cordelia, worried, but she held one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen, although it was tinged with a soft dash of nostalgy.

“Is something wrong?” you asked worried that it might be some kind of tumor or bad cells or mass “…should I be worried?”.

“Nothing too bad, lovely” giggled gently Cordelia, leaning closer “… I should actually say ‘congratulations’, since you are pregnant, (Y/N)”.

“What?!” you were shocked, to say the least, and immediately rushed to mumble “… I haven’t… I…”.

“… had sex?” tried to complete Cordelia “… I don’t believe that this is an immaculate conception and I am pretty sure you are with child, (Y/N)”.

“I have used birth control, I can’t… this is not possible” because you had had unprotected sex with somebody else, in the past, with your previous partners and nothing… no baby had come from it.

“Birth control might work, but not always…” she mumbled, explaining it as if it was the most natural thing ever, meanwhile you couldn’t even process the fact that a baby was growing in your stomach “… and there might be some situations which might lessen the birth control’s effect”.

You thought about what might have made your birth less effective: you had taken it perfectly and hadn’t eaten or taken any other drug.

The only thing that had changed was… that you had had sex with Duncan on his heat.

Which might have blocked the effectivity since heats were made for females to become pregnant.

And this didn’t absolutely allow any exceptions.

As realization appeared on your face somehow, Cordelia realized your uneasiness on the entire topic.

“You don’t want it?”.

It wasn’t that you wanted it or not… you just…

It was all so confusing, since you had just gone to Cordelia for a quick check-up and you found out you were with child, from the man who hated the same nature that you would have partially passed to your child.

“... I just… I am confused” you spoke, breathing out loudly, meanwhile Cordelia pushed gently an hand onto your stomach, linking with yours so that you could feel the small little thing was creating in your stomach, leaving you no choice but acknowledge that you weren’t alone anymore “… I never thought about it… I never thought it would happen… so early…”.

“I know that you are confused, sweetheart” softly cooed Cordelia, although she didn’t know by experience she must have realized she was slowly panicking and moved to collect the tea, pushing it into your hands “… but you don’t have to do anything”.

Which was the opposite of what was going through your mind: should you keep the baby?

A part of you didn’t even question it: like Cordelia getting pregnant for you was supposed to be pretty difficult, it was part of being half witch and half werewolf, so you should have just taken this as a miracle, not to talk about the fact that, although you were pretty young, you were established in life.

But at the same time, the thought of another ‘little you’ living in Washington made you sick, alongside the thought of explaining to Duncan that he had gotten you pregnant.

It would have been awkward.

“You can stay here for a bit, I’ll handle Washington in the meantime, if it’ll make you feel better” suggested Cordelia, meanwhile she adjusted your shirt to give you a bit of modesty “… you can stay with your sisters, if you feel more comfortable”.

And although she wasn’t saying, she was obviously implying that you would avoid the father of the child.

Which would have been a good idea.

But you just didn’t feel like hiding anymore.

Washington had been good for you, because it had broken you out of your comfort zone and gotten you to raise your voice to get what you want, which was rather nice, although tiring.

But when had you ever chosen something easy?

“Thank you, Cordelia, but I prefer to go back, I have things to do, and it’ll help me to clear my head for the decision” one you wouldn’t make lightheartedly.

Cordelia nodded, although you saw that she was sad that you wouldn’t be staying but didn’t stop you.

You knew she hoped that you would keep it, as the child she had never been able to have.

But you wondered whether she would have kept this idea had she known to whom also, the children belonged.

She suggested you a few good vitamins to keep you and the baby healthy and told you that in case you intended to end the pregnancy to let her know so that she could accompany you there.

‘It isn’t something women should do alone, and not because we are weak or not strong enough but because… we sometimes… pretend to be stronger than we have to be’.

You had just hugged tighter and thanked her for everything.

On the way back home you had thought that the first step, before you thought about keeping it or not, was talking with Duncan, not because you’d obey anything he might think about the pregnancy, but you thought it would have been nice to actually tell him about it.

And not withhold information like his family had done with him.

You already knew that Duncan, if you decided to keep the child, wouldn’t want anything to do with them, but you felt like it would be at least nice to warn him that in nine months he might see a little Duncan by your side.

Your mind spiraled down onto darker thoughts about Duncan telling you to quit the pregnancy, exactly with the same ‘gentleness’ he had used, a lot of years ago, when he had broken up with you.

In that case, although it was petty, you thought about keeping the baby just to spite him.

You gave some rest to your mind, quickly setting up the table as you arrived home, meanwhile you tried to cook something, mostly to eat the vitamins that Cordelia had given to you, since you didn’t feel hungry.

But just as you were setting up the glasses, trying not to burn the quick soup you were making, the doorbell rang and you rushed to get in a bit weirded out by the hour of this visit, but you had some people coming at your house at even worse hours, mostly Faes since they didn’t have the knowledge of time, as humans.

… and Duncan.

… who was standing at your door, looking at you as if he had just swallowed a frog and with a dossier of papers in his hands.

“Well, did you miss me already?” you joked, thinking that this was definitely the Universe sending you some kind of signs that you were thoroughly fucked.

“More than you can think sweetheart…” although his tone was tired and sarcastic it held some sweetness in it that got you blushing softly “… I have some things to discuss with you, if you have the time”.

You just opened further your door, turning to check onto your ‘newly-burned’ soup.

“… still trying to cook, (L/N)?” he joked, passing you to the kitchen to take in the little massacre that your soup was, before he moved around the kitchen to collect various items to cook, both of you, dinner, meanwhile you looked at him shocked.

“I am truly scared that you know where all my things are” you mumbled softly, meanwhile he moved onto you, pushing lightly his body against you to collect something on your shoulder.

“Oh, don’t complain, beauty” he replied, meanwhile he started up the water where you would boil pasta for the night “… mostly when you get amazing pieces of food each day for free”.

“Oh, please excuse my arrogant ass but I thought that my hospitality was a payment enough for all your services” you sassed him back and he laughed loudly, making him smirk lightly “I am supposed to be good at cooking, I used to be amazing at potions”:

“Potions and food are two completely different things” he reinforced immediately, making you smirk lightly “…please don’t confuse yourself, I wouldn’t want to be turned in a bat”.

“I was thinking more of a donkey, like in the ‘Metamorphosis’ by Apuleio” Duncan literally sent you the blankest look ever, and you then refocused on the files of paper that were set onto your kitchen table “… but what are you doing here?”.

‘Please don’t tell me you realized that your heat might have gotten me pregnant’.

Duncan seemed almost taken aback but set back the cover onto the pot and then let the entire thing cook itself for quite a bit.

“You are not one for small talk, aren’t you?” he joked, with a sad smile onto his face.

“You used to think it was my best trait” you shot back, meanwhile you sat down onto your side, collecting in the meanwhile two glasses and a beer for Duncan and a bottle of water for you.

“.. then you grew tits” your harsh glare was enough to tell him not to joke about this “… but you are alright there is no need to talk around this question...”.

He then pushed the dossier with the papers towards you, to make you read them, meanwhile a hand went to your stomach, almost absentmindedly.

The dossier had two documents: one had your father’s paper, the one he used for the official documents and you had kept as an emotional comfort.

It was a decree to be proposed to the assembly of the clans, about the inheritance of the role as the alpha of the clans.

Although you weren’t one of the competitors, the document suggested you as your father’s successor, mostly because of the inability of the competitors: Duncan was not considered anymore eligible because he wasn’t a direct descendant of the Shepherd clan, which you knew must have broken Duncan’s heart.

But worse than that, there was also the refusal of Bill Shepherd, Duncan’s uncle and actual leader of the clans, since, from what your father had written, ‘he wasn’t able of any sympathy towards any different magical creature that wasn’t a werewolf and is actually more than happy to let a war happen to keep his family on top of the social ladder’.

They were strong affirmations, but you knew of your father’s opinion of Bill: he might tolerate Annette, but, to him, Bill was the worst thing that could ever take form as a werewolf.

But what shocked you was that your father had suggested that you took his place, although you weren’t in any way equipped and he should have known better, mostly because he had been the one who had told you to run away and never come back.

“… I found them, meanwhile I was looking through some stuff at my… Annette’s apartment…” he didn’t stay there anymore, avoiding it like the plague, preferring to stay either at his apartment or at yours, the most chosen “…I just needed some new paper and I…”.

“Did you nose around, Annette’s stuff?” although it might not seem the most terrible thing ever, you knew that it had taken a lot of guts for Duncan to do that, mostly if you thought about how attached he had been to his mother.

“Not exactly… I was nosing through my stuff, in Annette’s house” he replied, before he moved the other document towards you “… but this is more interesting and is what caught my eye”.

You set your sight onto the other document, finding it wasn’t anything related to what you had read before, finding it was an actual receipt about a purchase of a substance.

You knew the substance because you had studied it and it could be definitely one of the few you could use to fake a heart-attack and avoid it being detected.

It wasn’t a direct clue to her father’s death, but it definitely showed much more clearness, alongside matching your opinion on your father’s death.

“… it is a receipt for a substance I made some researches about, it is used for poisoning… it can be sold on the black market online and my uncle Bill has ordered some, enough to kill a man”.

Duncan was offering her both the reason and the weapon of the murder of his father, but you didn’t understand why he had come to you, instead of burning the documents.

He wasn’t faking the things: you could see the authenticity of the documents and you couldn’t see a reason why he would give you fake documents that would incriminate his family.

“Duncan… you just… are you sure…?”.

“For all my life I fucking had to listen to what that asshole asked of me, he treated me like shit and even worse, but…I never thought… your father… he was… he was nice with me I would have left the lead to you… I mean… not without a fight, but… I understood why he hadn’t wanted Bill beside him… he is…”.

Duncan’s shoulder shook with anger and again your hand gripped even tighter your stomach, in a rather protective stance.

“… what I am saying is that… my family has wronged you in so many ways, and I hoped that this could somehow right all the wrongs, although I know it isn’t possible, I hope it is a start”.

You still didn’t understand Duncan’s complete motives, but you took the documents, since you were sure that Cordelia could control them and look for clues, better than you, in your state.

Duncan let you took them, a look of total despair on his face since you were more than well aware that he must have been feeling extremely shitty at an even worse realization that his ‘parents’ had lied even more to him, showing him even darker skeletons in his wardrobe.

You, on your own, didn’t know what to do.

You didn’t honestly understand whether you should be pissed off, angry or scared: the thought that Billy had murdered your father didn’t make you feel almost anything…

You had already processed that the Shepherd might have had some kind of involvement in the whole things, but to see it was real, it was too shocking for you to register it fully, hence you didn’t know how to react, preferring to wait for Cordelia’s opinion on the matter.

You didn’t want anger or sadness to cloud your view of the entire thing.

You just couldn’t.

“I know this is too much to take and…” Duncan wasn’t even looking at you anymore “… but I understand if you… don’t want to see each other anymore”.

You didn’t know whether it was the frail way his voice trembled, clearly full of emotion or the fact that you sit couldn’t hold it anymore, but you blurted out.

“I am pregnant”.

Duncan looked at you confused, and you were just able to mumble:

“I am with your child” again an even more confused look “…you put a bun in my oven”.

Duncan finally reacted, paling immensely and you rushed to his side, worried he might faint.

“… I … you… child…” he mumbled, barely able to link the three things together, and your mind started rushing.

“Yeah, we did a child, and I know it’s yours because you are the only one I have been with” she wouldn’t have been surprised if Duncan questioned the paternity of the baby “… the birth control didn’t work because you were in heat, not saying it’s your fault, but I wasn’t expecting it exactly like you”.

“Have you decided what to do?” Duncan’s rough voice tickled your ears “… I mean… are you going to keep it?”.

“I don’t know” you mumbled honestly, setting up on the table in front of him “… I haven’t… for me it is difficult to have children, so I am thinking about keeping it, although I don’t want them to grow up here, so maybe…”.

“Why wouldn’t you want them grow up here?” Duncan seemed more involved than you had thought.

“Duncan, they would be exactly like me and I didn’t have a happy childhood” you didn’t want your child to go through the same thing as you, if you could avoid them at least that.

“Much has changed, (Y/N)” spoke Duncan, his voice sure and determined “… and much has changed thank to you, now somebody like you would be accepted, I am sure”.

“You don’t understand Duncan… you are not…”.

“I don’t fit in exactly like you” he interrupted you “… I am the forgotten son of a maid raised by somebody who just wanted him because of need… I don’t think that anybody truly fit in, but as you as a mother and a coven leader… you can change this place, you have already started”.

You didn’t know if it was the flattery that Duncan was playing or your hormones just fucking everything up already, but the discourse truly moved you.

“… if I do keep it, you don’t have to have an active role in their life” you mumbled, knowing this might be a pressing matter for Duncan “… I won’t disclose that you are their father or want anything from you, if you don’t want it”.

Duncan looked almost hurt by your affirmation, but he didn’t react, just simply reached out for your hand, grabbing effectively your attention.

“… if you do keep it, and I am saying this only if you truly feel like keeping it…” he raised his eyes to meet yours “… I would like to be a part of his life”.

This shocked you, because you hadn’t expected in the slightest Duncan to act like that.

“… maybe it is the fact that I don’t have a family myself, so I am trying to latch onto anything that might seem a family, or maybe it is the fact that I don’t want you to go through this alone and maybe… I am curious what it is like to be a father, my wolf certainly won’t forgive me, if I just abandon my puppy”.

Werewolves treated children as their most-priced-possessions, so Duncan was definitely right that it wouldn’t have approved.

You felt tears pricking at your eyes, and when Duncan reached out to softly dry them, you just pushed yourself a bit back from his hold.

“It’s the stupid hormones” you mumbled, pushing yourself to dry your tears with your sweatshirt’s sleeves, meanwhile you jumped off the table and pushed yourself onto the floor, with Duncan looking at you worriedly, proving the overprotectiveness that wolves felt towards their pregnant mates “… I am sure that you’ll see plenty of this”.

“I am willing to see many of these more, just please don’t cry for me, ok?” he mumbled gently caressing your side in a reassuring matter “… it breaks my heart”.

You wanted to throw back in his face that he had broken your heart already and made you cry for him much more than he had simply thought.

But you held your words: if you wanted all this to work, you would have both to swallow some pretty awful things.

Starting from the fact that the man who had killed your beloved father was his uncle.

Maybe this was all too fucked up for a child to grow up in.

“Can I?” mumbled Duncan suddenly, pushing himself away from you and gently pointing to your stomach, clearly asking if he could feel the baby and you just nodded.

Immediately the man was down on his knees, raising softly the thin cotton of your shirt, and lowering lightly your jeans, finally coming to contact where the little bub was supposed to be.

“Hey, little one…” you honestly wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation but were completely swept in by Duncan’s sweet tone “…I am your sperm donor, I don’t know if your mom will ever allow you to call me dad”.

You rolled your eyes, but Duncan was right, although he might make an appearance in the bub’s life, if you decided to keep it, you didn’t know if you could have him be a proper dad for him, mostly with all the mess between your families.

And their past.

“… but I already like you, and I am low key proud of you, although I don’t know if you are a little girl or a little boy, I don’t mind… I mean you could be both… me and your mom have worked so….”.

You slapped Duncan’s ear to make him stop the line of profanities that he was uttering.

“Not in front of the child!”.

“Our child is the size of a peanut” he replied, sending you a meaningful but joking look and you knew it was enough.

But you were greatly moved by the mention of ‘our child’.

Duncan spoke more ‘gibberish’ (which your hormones found tear-jerking) at the child and by then it was late enough that he also realized that it was too late for him to stay.

He wished you both ‘goodnight’, gently kissing again your stomach and your forehead, in a ‘goodbye’ kind of way, his step joyful as he reached the car.

And your heart sunk once he wasn’t there.

An important decision was to be made that night.

---

I am tagging a few person I think might like this!

@blakewaterxx, @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @dyns33 @serenitybloodmoon @emmyrosee @lovelylangdonx @kaetastic @1-800-bitchcraft @ladynuwanda @so-langdon @lathraios @rosegoldrichie​

[dontenchantme]

dream boy

Rated T, Simeon x MC.

he was her magnum opus, the son of god who breathed life into daydreams and fantasies.

fics masterlist

“Seems like Simeon is a good tutor.” Lucifer put her recent test down on his desk, and she exhaled in relief, glad to have met the demon’s exacting standards.

When the others first warned her how strict Lucifer was about their grades, she had thought they were exaggerating. Surely, he didn’t have the time to scrutinise all of their tests and mistakes – wasn’t he busy enough with his student council duties?

But no. When she almost failed one of her tests, Lucifer summoned her to his office and demanded an explanation, an apology and an action plan. Desperate, she told him she’d ask Simeon to help her with the subject – the angel was in the same class as her and she trusted him with her grades more than she did Mammon.

Lucifer was surprisingly accepting of her suggestion, so she texted Simeon to ask if he’d be willing to tutor her and he agreed. Under his patient tutelage, her grades had gone up enough that even Lucifer seemed satisfied, and she hoped he would never call her into his office again. Being here was nerve-wracking.

“He’s very patient,” she agreed, wondering if she could just grab her test and go. She'd rather not spend more time than absolutely necessary here.

“That’s good.” Lucifer paused for a moment, then he slid her test across the desk. She reached for it, but before she could pick it up, he cleared his throat and looked her square in the eyes. “You shouldn’t get too close to Simeon, though.”

She blinked. “Why not?” Simeon had been nothing but nice to her. He was gentle and pleasant, and talking to him was like a breath of fresh air – he was nothing like the chaotic residents of the House of Lamentation, and she looked forward to their tutoring sessions. Listening to his soothing voice always put a smile on her face.

“Humans like to think of the world as black and white. Good and evil,” Lucifer said, his gaze fixed intently on her. “Angels and demons. But you, of all people, should know that is not true. Keep that in mind whenever you interact with him.”

She knew he was warning her about Simeon, but she couldn’t figure out what he was trying to imply. She wasn’t particularly concerned, though. Lucifer tended to worry too much. Simeon was an angel. There was nothing dangerous about him.

“Okay, fine. I guess I can go now?” She took her test and quickly exited the study, relieved that she made it out unscathed. Sure, Lucifer would never do anything to hurt her, but he had a way of speaking to her that just made her feel inferior.

Like she needed anyone to tear into her already battered self-esteem. Listening to Lucifer talk about her academic performance always made her feel like she had let down her entire family. Seriously, why did she even care? She was only here for a year! Did it matter whether or not she knew who was involved in the Celestial War?

But speaking of the Celestial War, she found herself wondering once again whether Simeon had been involved during the conflict. She was aware that Simeon knew Lucifer from his time in the Celestial Realm, so it seemed likely that the angel had been an observer of the war, at the very least. She had been thinking about this ever since Simeon made her memorise the key stakeholders and the rough timelines of the war – if it wasn’t for his meticulous explanations, she’d never have done this well for her test.

She thought about her last study date with Simeon, remembering the way his dark hair fell over his eyes as he bent his head, looking at her notes. She pressed a hand to her cheek, embarrassed by how that simple memory made her stomach flip.

But he was an angel, and she was pretty sure that angels weren’t supposed to be swayed by things like attraction or lust. She swallowed, heading back to her room – hopefully, with time and some distance, her crush would fade away on its own.

It wasn’t like she and Simeon would stay in touch after her year was over, anyway. They weren’t even from the same realm.

When she received a sudden text from Simeon asking her to come to Purgatory Hall, she almost dropped her phone.

Usually, his messages were polite if a little distant. He only ever texted her to set up their study dates, which were always in the library. She wondered what he wanted, a smile on her lips as she left the House of Lamentation.

Luke was the one who answered the door when she got to Purgatory Hall. “Oh, you came! We seriously need your help!” He stepped aside, allowing her to enter, and she looked around as she went in, wondering where Simeon was.

“What’s wrong, Luke?” she asked. It didn’t look like he was in trouble – he didn’t even look worried, though he was frowning. Then again, Luke frowned so regularly around the demon brothers that it was pretty much his default expression by now.

“I baked a new batch of pastries and I need someone to taste them for me! I feel like something is lacking,” he answered, and she wondered if this was why Simeon had asked her to come to Purgatory Hall. She felt slightly disappointed about that, though she reminded herself that she hadn’t been expecting anything.

“Sure! You know, you should have asked Beel to come. I’m sure he’d love to try your pastries,” she said, following Luke to the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time she had eaten the angel’s pastries and they always tasted amazing – sure, Luke was excitable and headstrong and exceptionally stubborn, but he certainly knew how to bake a good cake. Luke made a face at her, and she frowned. “What?”

“I want someone who will actually try my pastries and give me useful feedback, not just inhale everything in one sitting,” Luke said. She shrugged. Point taken.

“Where’s Simeon? I came here because I got a text from him,” she said.

“He’s right there.” Luke gestured at the kitchen, and she peeked in to see Simeon standing at the counter, looking down at the vast array of pastries laid out before him. “He said he’s inviting you because there’s no way he can finish them all on his own. I guess I might have baked a little too much…” Luke sounded sheepish.

“That’s a happy problem,” she told him. Not so happy for her waistline, but she’d think about that next time. Simeon looked up at the sound of her voice, and he gave her the softest smile – it made her all warm and fuzzy. Simeon’s smile never failed to make her feel safe. Like he’d protect her no matter what happened.

She wasn’t sure if that was an angel thing or if it was just him. Luke didn’t make her feel the same way. Then again, he was younger than Simeon. Maybe he just hadn’t grown into it yet. “I’m glad you could come. I’m not sure how we would have eaten all this otherwise, and Luke didn’t want any of the demon brothers coming here…”

“Can’t trust a demon,” Luke mumbled, and she exhaled – it had already been a few months since the exchange programme started, but it was clear that he had yet to change his opinion on demons. Simeon gave her an almost apologetic look.

“Where’s Solomon?” She changed the topic, walking into the kitchen and picking up what looked like a chocolate tart.

“Hmm, I don’t know. He left Purgatory Hall early this morning and didn’t mention where he was headed.” Simeon picked up a chocolate tart of his own. “Solomon wouldn’t have wanted to eat these, anyway. He doesn’t have a sweet tooth.”

“He doesn’t? What does he like, then?” She covered her hand with her mouth as she bit into her tart – she felt a little self-conscious eating in front of Simeon, who somehow managed to make even eating look graceful.

“He enjoys spicy food. The spicier, the better. You should see how many boxes of Hell-Sauce instant noodles he has in his room.” Simeon smiled at her. She thought she might be blushing. “Why? Do you intend to cook something for him?”

“Oh, no! No way.” Where did he even get that idea from? “I just thought everyone loved to eat Luke’s sweets. Even Lucifer thinks they’re good,” she added.

“Lucifer?” She flinched, glancing at Luke – she had all but forgotten he was there. There was a look of shock on his face. “Lucifer thinks my sweets are good?”

“Yes. Don’t say that I told you that though. He might murder me.” The joke slipped right out of her mouth, but Luke’s brow furrowed, and she sensed that he was about to warn her once again to be careful around demons.

“Luke, this tart is good. But maybe it could use more dark chocolate.” Thankfully Simeon interjected, and just like that Luke completely forgot about Lucifer, asking Simeon for more feedback on how he could improve the tart. She gave Simeon a grateful look, glad that she wouldn’t have to listen to Luke’s complaints.

The smile he gave her in return was sweet, and her heart thudded in her chest.

She managed to convince Luke to let her pack some of the pastries for Beel – there was a limit to how many sweet treats she could eat before she started feeling sick.

Luke had gone back up to his room to contemplate their suggestions, which left her and Simeon in the kitchen, washing up the dishes. He passed her one of the cleaned plates, and when she took it their fingers brushed. A little thrill ran through her.

“Do you like sweets, Simeon?” The silence in the kitchen wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was always nice to listen to him talk.

“I don’t have much opinion on them. Michael is the one with the sweet tooth.” He passed another plate to her, then paused, studying her face. “You have a little stain on your mouth. Here.” He reached up, pointing at his lips.

She wiped her mouth with her fingers, but he shook his head. “It’s still there. Hang on.” Suddenly, he reached for her and she froze when she felt his slender fingers on her cheek, his thumb rubbing against the corner of her mouth. “There, done.”

He turned to the tap, washing his hands while she dazedly reached up to her cheek, still able to feel the warmth of his fingers on her skin. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” He glanced at her and his lips curved into a small smile. “You know, every time I look at you, I can’t help but think about how adorable you are.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?” Was it her, or did her voice sound higher than usual?

“Mm, nothing.” Simeon looked back at his pile of dirty dishes. “I was wondering, what do you like to eat? Maybe we can go elsewhere the next time we study.”

“Oh! I don’t…I don’t, um, I don’t have any preference.” She almost forgot how to speak for a moment. Was this a date? Did Simeon just ask her on a date? She didn’t want to overthink – maybe all he wanted was a change in scenery – but she felt happy anyway. “We can go to Hell’s Kitchen though, if you want to eat.”

“I want to go somewhere you like.” Simeon glanced at her, holding another plate under the tap. “But if you’re okay with Hell’s Kitchen, I’m fine with that too.”

“Is this…is this a date?” she asked, amazed that she was able to voice the question at all. Simeon paused for a moment, then he put his plate aside, turning the tap off.

“Do you want it to be?” he answered. There was something…different about him all of a sudden, about the way he held himself. She felt the unexplainable urge to back away, even though he wasn’t doing anything besides looking at her, waiting for her reply.

Drying the plate she was currently holding, she put it away on the rack and took a deep breath. “Yes. I’d like that,” she said, though little alarm bells were going off in her head and Lucifer’s warning from before floated through her mind.

Simeon smiled. “All right. If that’s what you want.” He turned the tap back on, and the strange feeling went away – she wondered if she was thinking too much, or if she was just oversensitive. For a moment, Simeon felt…dangerous. Like he was hiding something from her. Pure, kind Simeon who had never been anything but gentle, who never got impatient with her despite how often she forgot the things he taught her.

She was thinking too much. Maybe it was just because she didn’t expect him to invite her on a date, what with him being an angel and everything.

But you, of all people, should know that is not true. She heard Lucifer’s voice in her head again and she frowned, trying hard not to think about his words. The last thing she needed was Lucifer making her second-guess her decision.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at Hell’s Kitchen, then? Bring your books, I can help you with the latest chapter.” Simeon handed her another plate and she realised that was the last one. She nodded, her earlier misgivings forgotten, and her breath caught as he took the dried plate out of her hands, placing it on the rack for her.

“Okay.” The smile he gave her was almost blinding. She told him she had to head back to the House of Lamentation – she wanted to give the pastries to Beel while they were fresh, though she was pretty sure he wouldn’t mind either way.

He walked her out, and when she turned to wave goodbye, she saw him watching her with a thoughtful look on his face. She wondered what he was thinking.

[firesofdainix]

I Learn to Live Half-Alive

the former ultimate tennis pro grieves his existence.

He has little knowledge over his past. He simply forgot about it. But what he never forgets was Danganronpa.

PREVIOUS

He can feel the water seeping at his nose, slowly drowning him. With his natural instinct to fight, he tries, and fails, to get out of the sink. He can hear his handcuffs scratching the sink. Why is he fighting? Didn't he just say he had no more reason to live anymore? Is it his natural instincts? Is it because the water is killing him, suffocating him, drowning him? He can feels someone's hands on him, drowning him. Killing him. Just like he once did to the mafia employee he had killed years ago. Was this karma, because of what he did? Why did the killer target them? Because they're weak, small, and already dead inside? Is that why he was here, sulking about why he didn't have someone in his cubs pad? Why no one was in his supposed motive video. He really doesn't belong here.

He starts to fade from this world he says he hates so much. Is he going to heaven? Or to hell? Maybe the latter. He doesn't belong in heaven. He's just a murderer, that's all. He finally closes his eyes, and his struggling for freedom finally dies. He wonders how hell will punish him for his sins. No, this hell is going to make him suffer for his misdeeds in the real life he has.

He wakes up in a dark, empty, tight space, where he can only move in limited moves. His eyes widen to the venue he's in right now. He hates dark spaces. He hates being locked in a small space. But he keeps calm, even though he's noisy, pounding heartbeat says otherwise. This is... the real world, right? His memories are a bit fuzzy, like, he can't remember what happened the past few days. Though he can remember some details, like him never being in prison, for one. Huh. Never being in prison. That's new. He waits for a few minutes, until the hatch to his so called pod opens. A man with a shirt labelled 'Team Danganronpa Staff' reads.

Danganronpa. Ryoma tries to remember the memory to where he had heard such a name before. Then it clicks. Oh yeah. Yeah. Huh. Danganronpa's the world he had emerged in? The one where they kill teenagers, right? It's a show, right? A high rated show, right? Who would want to watch teenagers murder each other? Then he remembers the many times he has watched the show with his friends. Oh yeah. He's a psychopath too, huh? Watching the people try killing their comrades, then get executed themselves? How inappropriate for younger audiences. And... that's all Ryoma remembers, in actuality.

"Hey, what's the deal with me not remembering anything?", Ryoma asks the staff who helps him up.

"Oh, it's probably because of our new policy", the staff replies.

"What's the policy?" Ryoma could barely talk more than a low whisper, and now they're asking him to stand?

"No breaks while filming. The fans want none stop Danganronpa this year."

"I...see?" Fucking morons. He tries to stand, but then remembers his death. His short legs quiver, and he falls back into the pod. The staff notices this.

"Do you want me to carry you, Mr. Hoshi?", he asks in a polite manner, bowing to him.

Ryoma absolutely hates being carried by others. He hates his short stature, he hates how everyone looks down at him. Maybe that's why he had joined Danganronpa? To tell everyone that he's not a harmless fucking midget, but can be called a murderer as well? He shrugs that thought away. He doesn't remember anything, and he doesn't bother. Maybe not remembering might give him a new life and new identity. And, since he can't walk that well, he just nods to the staff to carry him.

"Dinner will be served shortly", the staff announces as he puts him down on a chair. Ryoma looks around. Looks like a dining hall.

"Sure", Ryoma says. To be honest, he's not that hungry after his death, but he feels so skinny.

"That is a good sign that you want to eat", the staff sighs. "Because you have been stuck there for a week and a half."

Ryoma feels himself sicken after what he said. He was in that... whatever you call it for a week and a half? Why? How long is each episode? Why are they making them do this? Why did they not let them eat, sleep, nor drink in real life? The fans? The ratings? Money? It angers him that he's only been eating virtual food. Ryoma sighs, then looks around. This dining hall seems decent enough. Some people start to enter, and catches him by the eye, then talks to each other.

"The writers are truly pulling it off", one says, sitting on a chair.

"I agree", another says.

Ryoma listens in to their conversation.

"I want to see how they solve the mystery", the first says.

"Adachi, it was horrible, how he had died", the second says, looking at Ryoma with malice hidden in his eyes.

"Eaten by piranhas, what a bad way to go...", the guy, Adachi, says.

Eaten, huh? How long was Ryoma stuck in that pod before he pulls to consciousness. He knows he had been drowned in a sink, in his fictional research lab, but when were piranhas ever involved in his murder case. Unless... He smirks. Oh, Tojo, you've done it again. Talking to Tojo, then letting her kill him... she must already have a plan, since she can't have prepared the murder at nighttime. Punishable.

"I can't wait until tomorrow", Adachi says. "Too bad they only do reruns at nighttime. You know, after nine?"

"But the poor teenagers have to way until their demise", the other says. "But anyway, I can't wait 'til tomorrow for the trial!"

Ryoma stays silent during the whole encounter, and more and more people start to flood in the dining hall, all talking about the death. They do acknowledge Ryoma's presence, but being the insensitive piece of shits that they are, they sit near him, letting him hear what they were saying about his death. Then he feels someone tap his shoulder. He looks up and sees a familiar face, someone he has known in the killing game and his faded memories.

"Amami", Ryoma says. "Weren't you supposed to be dead like, last week?"

Amami chuckles. "Oh, yeah, yeah, but my fucking parents haven't arrived yet."

Ryoma shrugs. "Shame."

"Shame indeed."

From what he can gather from his old memories, Rantaro Amami, the Ultimate Adventurer, one of the survivors of 52, is a legend. He became quite famous when he was just a young child. He doesn't know the details though, but still, he's a legend in Danganronpa. But in Danganronpa 53, he doesn't seem to have that paranoia or fear in 52. All he has was a laidback, mature attitude. Oh, and add being mysterious there.

"Long time no see", Ryoma says.

"I left after a week", Amami replies. He was so careful at not using die in his sentence. "So, how's it holdin'?"

"I don't remember anything, outside from Danganronpa", Ryoma says. "All I fucking remember is my fabricated memories, some shit about Danganronpa, and that's it."

"Lucky you", Amami says, sugarcoating the words.

The cooks are now filing out of the kitchen, giving them all sorts of food. Amami seems to be the first one to dig in, since the others were just talking, not noticing that there was food on the table. Ryoma takes some sushi and rice balls, and starts to eat. He didn't know he was this hungry as he bites to one of the sushi rolls. He looks at Amami's plate. His plate looks like French cuisine, but he doesn't know what kinds of food it is. He notices that Amami takes small bites of his food.

"How's your week in here?", Ryoma asks as he dines.

"Shit", Amami replies casually. "I've been forced to watch the show."

"They're fucking cruel." But, how cruel was he in this life? He was a murderer in Danganronpa, was he cruel in this one too?

"So, how's your first bite of real food?"

Ryoma savors his food's taste, so he doesn't respond until he swallows a portion of his food.

"Delicious."

"Yes, so delicious."

"So, Amami, how did you feel about my death?" Ryoma is curious about how everyone would react to his death.

"Sad", Amami says with a decisive look. "Wasted potential. Infuriating. You know, the works."

"Why do I feel like you're just making an opinion up?"

"I actually don't have an opinion on who dies, to be honest."

"What? Why?"

Amami smiles yet again, but somehow, this was unnerving. "Because, you are all good people, and I shouldn't be biased."

"How... unique." Ryoma finishes his food and sits there, just doing casual talk with Amami.

"I'm making you uncomfortable, aren't I?", Amami sighs, looking and sounding exhausted.

"Huh. Maybe."

"Oh, it's probably because of my mood swings. Whenever I'm not in the mood I go around making people uncomfortable." Amami scratches his head. Ryoma sees scars on his arm, all new. He's cutting himself now? Is that why he wears long sleeved clothes?

"Oh? Have Borderline Personality Disorder?"

Amami shakes her head. "No. The only stuff I think I might have are Depression and PTSD. That's... probably it?"

"You should go talk to a real therapist", Ryoma suggests.

"I have a therapist", Amami says. "and that's me."

"Self therapy?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't that... illegal?"

"If you don't know what mental illnesses are."

"...Fair point."

Ryoma was sent to a bedroom, since his parents are not here yet. Letting him sleep in the place where he kinda died, are they... giving him more trauma or something? Though his past self did get asked for this, got asked to be in the killing game. But why bother changing him? Did they change who he is so he can be accepted by the viewers? To be sympathized with? Because he honestly can't remember who he was before. Was he an asshole? An obsessive fan of Danganronpa? A delinquent? Or was he always like this? Mature, untrusting, suicidal, depressive? Did he go to prison? Or did he live a normal life. The staff says that his memories about his life will return to him in a week or so. So he's stuck with non-existent memories and a bunch of fuzzy ones. Whenever he tries to remember something breaking his memory barrier, his head aches. So he avoids thinking about memories at all.

There was a knock on the door. Ryoma looks at the conveniently placed clock right above his bed. It was a little after ten. So, who could it be? He opens the door to see Amami in front of the door, with a small smile and his hands behind the back.

"...What are you doing here?"

"I just want to give you a little something", Amami says. Then Amami gives him a small pocketknife he was hiding behind his back.

"What do I need this for?", Ryoma asks.

"Oh, nothing", Amami says, still smiling. "But hey, if you're down and sad, why don't you cut yourself to make you feel better?"

Ryoma looks at him with a blank expression, and takes the pocketknife from him. "Thanks... but are you feeling alright?"

Amami seems to go back to normal after that. "Oh... gave you the goosebumps again, huh? Sorry."

"S'all right. Now I'm starting to think you have BPD or something."

"I don't." Amami scowls, then sighs. "I don't know who I am anymore."

"Me too. Looks like we still got long ways to go."

"Will you ever use that?", Amami asks.

Ryoma shrugs. "It depends if I'm not that depressed or a sad sack of shit."

"You were always sad in the game, though."

"Well, I'm going to turn my life around."

Amami scoffs. "Well, good luck with that."

And he walks away, and Ryoma closes the door, looking at the pocketknife he was given. Was he really going to use this? To inflict pain on himself, to see himself flinch in pain, then finally becoming numb to it all. He shrugs. Maybe he's going to use it in the near future.

Just... not today.

NEXT

[thewriterandthestoryteller]

Lets look at an older piece of writing...

Hey guys! First of all, I want to apologise for the meltdown that I had about wanting to delete my account. That was all absolute trollop that I ranted about when I was feeling down earlier today. I also want to thank all of the people who took the time to leave me lovely messages that really lifted my spirits and gave me the motivation to post. Thanks again you lot, you know who you are!

Now onto the juicy stuff. I was scrolling through my drive, minding my own business, when I stumbled across a piece of writing that I wrote for an assessment in Year 7. As @cog-writes explained in one of her recent posts, I actually wanted to ‘curl up into the fetal position’ as I read this monstrosity. I’ll quickly mention that it was that same post that made me decide to post this mistake instead and look at how much I have improved, rather than deleting it and trying to forget about it. (The post is titled Top 5 Things We Can Learn from Our Artist Friends, I highly recommend you read it, it is incredibly well-written!) 

This piece was for an assessment on detective fiction, in which I had to write part of a detective story to get a final grade when we finished looking at that topic. This was back in the days when I was obsessed with BBC Sherlock, so I essentially used identical characters with different names and wrote them into my own story. The grammar in this story is incredibly wrong, but I miraculously got a ridiculously high grade for it. I haven’t touched in since then, just so you can see how truly bad I was at writing.

I hope you enjoy it much more than I did reading it for the first time in years!

Nervously, I opened the door to slightly reassuring chatter filling up the space around me as I scanned my surroundings. Then it hit me. I had no idea who I was looking for. I decided to use the process of elimination. There were four occupied tables. The first consisted of a group of young women in short skirts and white blouses. The second was occupied by a middle aged man , a ham sandwich , a packet of Walkers Cheese and Onion crisps , and a bottle of water. The next table along, there was an elderly man seated an on the other side of the room were a young couple talking in hushed voices.

Now, which table do you think my potential boss was seated? Place your votes now ladies and gentlemen….

It was none of them.

I know , I know that was a bit unfair. But if you were paying attention , I did leave some clues for you. The first table was a no go ; one of the few things that his letter told me was that his name was Joseph. Clearly not one of those girls. Would you bring a date to a job interview? Unless you were one of the weirdos who thought I wasn’t going to open a mysterious letter I found at my doorstep that same morning , probably not. That eliminates the couple on the fourth table. The ‘elderly’ man ; clearly not fit for a job like detective work. Table three incorrect also. I eliminated the second table as well - there was nothing that made that man look like he ran a successful business like the Black’s clothing line. If you guessed that table , that one was tricky and I thoroughly understand your mistakes. D-. Don’t be bitter about it, I got it right!

But the point is none of the guests met the criteria. I was about to walk over to the gentleman with the ham sandwich and introduce myself , but then I heard the door close. I turned around to inspect the new arrival.  A man of about average height. Quite skinny , with skin the delicate shade of ‘ I never go outside ‘ pink. Messy dirty blonde hair the respectable side of too long. Dazzling blue eyes. Arched eyebrows , and cheekbones that would have put Benedict Cumberbatch to shame. Stunning. Absolutely gorgeous. What , one can admire a handsome face! He was dressed in a pair of skinny jeans , tight button up shirt , and Adidas zip up black hoodie , and Nike trainers. Expensive taste. Young. Fit. Perfect match to my criteria. I watched him study the inhabitants of the café, frown , then turned around to face me and smiled

‘ Mr Watson ‘ he said and offered his hand

‘ Mr Black ‘ I replied as I shook it.

‘ Can I get you a drink? ‘ he asked as he awkwardly smiled at the table of girls.

‘ I will admit, I have already eaten. I didn’t want to look like I was greedy’ I muttered a little self-conscious.

He smiled sympathetically and indicated to a vacant table nearby. I took a seat opposite him.

‘ I suppose I could settle for a Sprite ‘ I said as a waiter came over to serve us.

After our order had been taken, we then went on to talk about more important business.

‘How is this ‘interview’ going to work then? ‘ I enquired

‘Well I am currently working on a case, and I am very confused’ he muttered

‘ What seems to be the problem?’

‘I haven’t found any evidence I can use to convict the murderer.’

‘ What murderer? ‘ I snapped

‘Just hear me out, I could really do without any interruptions’ he muttered slightly irritated

‘ Now, I’ve been left these notes at the scenes - I’m guessing from the murderer’

He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out two crumpled pieces of paper. He handed them over for me to examine. On the back of them , they were labelled one and two - I guessed that would be chronological order. Naturally I opened number one first, it read;

A detective was in his hotel room when he heard a knock at the door. He went to answer it and there was a young man in a black suit at the door. When the detective answered the door the man apologized and said that he thought this was his room. He then left and the detective called security. Why was the detective so suspicious of the man in the suit?

‘Huh’ I murmured

‘Anything?’ Joseph enquired

‘Surely you have heard this riddle before’ I said shocked. Joseph shook his head in response

‘ I don’t suppose you could offer any insight, I have no clue as to what these notes mean’

‘It is one of my favorite riddles’ I declared ‘ The detective called security because you wouldn’t knock to come into your own hotel room. If it was sincere, the man would have walked straight in the room to be met with the detective!’

Joseph sat in silence.

‘ Out of curiosity where was this note left? ‘ I asked ‘ And what was the case that came after? ‘

‘There was a murder in a hotel room’ he explained ‘I was checking into this hotel and found this note blu-tacked onto the door. I then heard a squeal down the hall and a poor young woman had been stabbed in her room’

‘Was anyone nearby when you were investigating?’

‘ Nobody unusual. Just very concerned staff members for the most part’ he muttered ‘Why?’ he asked.

‘ I would need to see the second note to confirm it is the same person, but I believe this killer is trying to get your attention’ I continued

‘ How could you figure out that from a riddle? ‘ he countered

‘ It is not the riddle but the note itself that tells us that. When you were younger did you ever leave a note on the table for your parents when you were going out?

Joseph nodded so I took that as an indication to continue.

‘ It is meant to tell you about something. From this riddle I can already guess that the man we are looking for is or typically wears a black suit’ I concluded

Joseph stared at me in shock.

‘ I really have overlooked that. You’re definitely hired now ‘ he said surprised as he handed over the second note

I smiled, knowing that I would not have to go back to that Tesco anytime soon. I discarded that thought and focused in figuring out the second riddle. It read;

A rich man lives alone in a small cottage. Having a disability, this man had everything delivered to the cottage. The paperboy was doing his rounds on Thursday when he noticed that the door to this man's cottage was open. Through the door , he could see a dead body in a pool of dried blood. A police officer arrived to inspect the scene. On the doorstep was two bottles of milk , Monday’s paper , a catalog , flyers , and and unopened letter. The police officer suspected foul play. Who does he suspect and why?

‘ Hmm’

‘ Well..’ Joseph chided

‘ I know the riddle , but I don’t really know what it is implying’ I muttered concentrating

‘ Well let's take things one step at a time’ he suggested ‘what does the police officer think?’

‘ The police officer suspects the paperboy; He had been doing his rounds on Thursday and on the man’s doorstep was Monday's’ paper but not Tuesday or Wednesday’s. The boy must have known not to deliver it because it was him that killed him’

‘ I don’t understand quite how you do it’ Joseph wondered out-loud

‘ Mum’s favorite dinner party game’ I replied

‘That must be fun’ he said sarcastically

‘Tell me about it’ I responded dryly ‘ But I still haven’t got a clue what our murderer could mean by that second riddle. Do you think it is to throw us off?’

We were interrupted by a waiter serving us our drinks; for me a can of Sprite and Joseph ordered a Diet Coke. I quickly noticed my can looked slightly off balance, almost as if it wasn’t properly balanced on the table. I turned it over and saw another note blu-tacked to the bottom. I tugged it off and showed Joseph.

‘ Open it quickly’ he hissed ‘One thing I have observed is I always find one just before a crime’

I unfolded the note and scanned the riddle. This one read:

Two girls ate dinner together and they both ordered iced-tea. One girl drank hers very fast and finished five glasses in the time the other girl took to drink one. The girl who drank five survived, but all the drinks were poisoned. How did the girl who drank the most survive?

I heard a loud cry from the other side of the room and one of the ladies in the blouses cried , ‘SHE'S NOT BREATHING SOMEBODY HELP HER!’

Following was a loud clatter from the kitchen. I saw a flash of black and Joseph followed at speed.

‘HURRY SHE NEEDS HELP, IS ANYONE HERE A DOCTOR?’ the lady screamed.

Panic set in - I was needed in two places at once and I knew that I couldn’t do both. My colleague was most likely apprehending a murderer, I made a good first impression I didn’t want to throw it away by letting him get killed. But this poor lady is dying , an ambulance can’t save her now and it didn’t look like anyone has the experience to help. I focused on my breathing and used my instincts to do what I felt was the right thing…

[no-white-knights-blog]

Halo - An Etrian Odyssey Novel (Chapter 31/50)

Notes: Oooohhhhh~ tHis marks the final arc in the novel, get ready for some major SH*T (do I have to censor myself on Tumblr? Idfk)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Piercing yellow eyes could barely will themselves to lift higher than the sink in front of him, hands clenched around the porcelain edges as he glared into the water, the door to the bathroom closed and locked and the windows barred, making escape from this self-made prison impossible. The room was foggy from the heat of the shower, but his guilt made him feel cold and clammy. Even spending nights in the Labyrinth alone as a child never felt this cold and humiliating.

He hated himself for what he'd done, but he didn't have a choice. They forced him, that's what he told himself, tricked him and manipulated him into using these strange and unnatural abilities. They promised him no one would get hurt if he cooperated, but how could he have believed those easily spoken lies? Wasn't he smarter than that? His family, the only family he ever had, gone.

A pounding at the bathroom door tore him from his hateful thoughts, eyes flashing over to the doorknob as it wiggled, "You've had enough time to pretty yourself up, the boss needs a report! Now! Unless you want to hear your friend screaming again!"

He tensed up and snarled as he yanked the plug from the sink, yelling back, "I'm coming!" before his eyes lifted, but quickly averted away from the mirror before he could get a good look at himself.

After what he'd done, seeing his own face would just make him vomit from disgust.

He opened the door to the bathroom and followed the guard standing outside down the halls of the building and into the receiving room where the mastermind of this entire downfall was sitting in a chair, slumped back with his arms folded and not looking very amused.

"We sent you to get rid of that wolf," the man spoke, and the guard shoved the recipient of the snarled words to his knees, "Where is it?"

Yellow eyes shifted away, and he shrugged, "Got away, that's hardly my fault. It's a wolf, they don't exactly sit still and wait to be captured for torture or murdered by Labyrinth monsters," he dared a chance to glare at the psychopath in front of him, "I already told you it would take a lot more than me searching for the damn thing to capture it. He's smart."

"He; it's an animal!" the man sat straighter and threw an arm out, "Set traps! Trick it! Pretend to be its friend! That's nothing you've never done before, is it? Go make friends with it before capturing it!"

The young explorer ground his teeth before gritting out his disagreement, "I've already tried that, but he doesn't trust me, and I don't blame him. Why does it matter anyway, just let him live in peace in the Labyrinth! He's domesticated, he'll be killed or die eventually! You got what you wanted, didn't you? So just leave the dog alone!"

The man scoffed and sat straighter in his chair, "It doesn't matter that I got what I wanted, there are still people out there who know about it. That wolf, although it can't very well speak, was still affiliated with Historia. And while we're on the subject, two of the guild members are still missing."

The explorer sighed in frustration and bowed his head, "For the last time, I killed them. Why don't you believe me?"

"Why? It's in your nature to lie and deceive, isn't it? Why should I believe you?" the man paused before continuing, "In any case, I have a lead on those two," he snapped his fingers and the guard stepped forward, searching in his pockets while the man added, "Granted I haven't found the one who disappeared in the Labyrinth, but this one was easy enough to find."

"What are you talking about?" the man on his knees asked in utter exhaustion, "Historia is gone, all five of them are either physically dead or emotionally," he dropped his head to glare at the ground, "I killed them, all of them, that should be enough for you."

"It would be if you were telling the truth," the man snapped, sitting straighter in his chair before taking to his feet, dark robes pooling onto the ground and chains singing as he glided forward with a piece of paper in his hand, stopping in front of the bowed explorer, "After years of searching, no, decades and centuries of searching, I managed to narrow down the identity of the guild harboring what I've been looking for. Even though I have all of them now, they won't talk. I know Historia has it somewhere, maybe on a necklace or something, but even after stripping them of their belongings, I've found nothing! So, the logical assumption is either the wolf has it, perhaps on a collar-."

"He doesn't," the explorer rolled his eyes, but the man ignored him.

"-or the missing explorer has it on his person, lost in the Labyrinth, possibly decomposing somewhere. Then there's the last possibility, that this one has it," he tossed down the paper and it fluttered to the ground in front of the explorer, who visibly tensed up, slowly reaching out for the paper, "A contact of ours found that hanging on the request board at the bar," he stated, crouching down and holding a hand out.

The explorer crumpled and gasped, grabbing at his left wrist as it was pulled up by an unseen force, his eyes inevitably locking with the man's in front of him, "What was it you said about killing all of Historia?"

"I-I didn't know," the explorer hissed between grit teeth, wincing from the agony that was tearing down his arm, "Stop!"

The man released him from whatever hold he was in, letting him drop to the floor, gasping and hugging his arm against his stomach as he stared down at the poster, "For all we know, he has it," the man said, standing, and the explorer grit his teeth, "Go to Flaus Inn, find him, and do something right for once."

"Why are you doing this?" came the whispered demand, "Is there a point? How is this item so important that it merits so much death and suffering?"

"That, my boy, is something I'm dearly hoping to show you. Now go, and hurry up. I think I'm going to go question the others while you're out, so don't take too long."

"Bastard," he hissed as the jingle of chains faded from the room, the pain in his arm fading finally so he could reach down and pick up the poster, cursing as he sat back on his heels and shaking his head, "You stupid idiot, why are you still in Lagaard?" he asked aloud before reading the words below the picture.

Found: green haired survivalist, comes to the name of Sage, enjoys salmon and tea, if you have any information on this survivalist, contact guild Halo at Flaus Inn.

"Halo," the explorer repeated before folding the poster and slipping it into a pouch on his belt, "It's almost ironically fitting."

~

"Hey, look who's finally on his feet!" Vien sang when Dyria sat down at the table, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Dyria answered, smiling when Sage took the seat beside him, unconsciously sliding as close to the protector as he could manage so their shoulders were pressed right against each other, "Happy to be allowed out of bed."

"The rest of us are pretty happy about that too," Iliad assured, "Now we just need Zed to be better, huh Em?"

The medic sighed from where he was sitting beside Iliad, across from Sage, "No kidding."

"Is he not any better?" Dyria asked, and Emery shook his head.

"He is, but every time I think he's getting better, something else happens. His fever goes down a little and he starts having trouble breathing, when he can breathe easier he starts throwing up, when that stops more of that weird black blood starts pouring from his eye, I don't know what to do."

He dropped his face into his hands and Iliad squeezed his shoulder as Sage spoke up, "Has he eaten anything today?"

"A little, but that's bothering me too," Emery admitted weakly, "He usually has such a big appetite, but lately he can barely stomach soup and broth. He's just getting worse and worse."

Sage chewed on his bottom lip, watching Emery flip through a notebook with a frustrated and panicked look on his face. Under the table, he sought one of Dyria's hands, their fingers twisting together as he clung to the protector and tried not to outwardly show how panicked he was. He didn't want anyone in this guild to be hurt, or even worse, to die. There had to be something they could do for Zed, right?

"Y-you said, from what Zed explained, this illness is the direct side effect of a hexer's curse that was cast on him when he was younger, right?"

"Yea," Emery answered, and Sage thought about it for a little before sighing when he couldn't come up with anything.

"Maybe Dr Stiles has some experience with dealing with hexer related illness," he suggested finally, "Or maybe there are books in the hospital that could help you get a bearing on what's wrong with Zed."

"I've tried that," Emery rebutted, "There was plenty about hex related curses making people sick, evidently there was even an epidemic of hexers going around cursing people left and right for fun a while back, but I couldn't find anything even similar to what Zed is going through now. Maybe if we had a hexer they could explain a few things. I mean, what if this isn't just a playful hex? Zed told me the man who cursed him told him to die painfully, slowly. Can hexers do that? Kill people?"

"Hexers are necromancers," Dyria explained, "They die in order to control death, in a way. It probably isn't as far-fetched as it sounds to think they could control someone's life or cast a curse on them that slowly leeches them of their health and strength."

"Who was in charge of that epidemic?" Sage decided to ask, "Was it Dr Stiles? Maybe he can help," Emery visibly bristled and closed his notebook, glaring down, and Sage frowned before realization dawned on him and he smiled, "It was Lynus, wasn't it?"

"If no one and nothing else can help, why would he be able to?" Emery demanded harshly, "There's no way he can magically mix up some herbs and cure Zed when no other healing can!"

"He is called the miracle medic," Iliad muttered against a mouthful of food, eyes looking off to the side like he was avoiding Emery frustrated glare, "It's worth a shot since nothing else has worked."

"He might be able to help," Sage said softly, "Nothing else has helped, like you said, so there's nothing to lose. I know if you asked him he would help, he's that kind of person. I know you're not comfortable around other medics, and I know it's gotta tear you up when you have to ask other medics to help, but I'm worried about Zed too, if he's suffering like this... would you rather let him suffer, or are you willing to put your pride and insecurity aside for once to help him? Do you care enough about him to do that?"

Dyria squeezed his hand as if to say "too far", but it had to be said, and Sage didn't mind being the bad guy if he could get the words across to Emery, who slowly stood up and backed away without responding.

"I need to get back."

"You haven't eaten," Dyria called, and Emery turned his back.

"Not hungry."

They watched him leave the dining hall before looking back at each other, and Sage sighed, dropping his head, "I'm sorry."

"That wasn't your fault, it was true," Iliad assured as Dyria wrapped an arm around Sage's shoulders, "I can tell something about Emery has changed, he somehow broke through some part of his insecurity to use his abilities, even something as small as a refresh spell, so maybe he's grown up enough to shove the rest of that bullshit aside to ask for help."

"Don't worry so much, Sage," Vien tried to reassure him, leaning forward and smiling over at the survivalist, "Everything will work out. I know!" he held a finger up, "Dyria still needs to get replacements for his armor and stuff, right? Why don't you and he take a walk? By the time you guys get back, everything will be fine."

Sage stared down at the table top and sighed, nodding, "Alright, only because Dyria needs replacement supplies."

"There you go, it'll be a nice break after having to babysit our dumb injured leader," Vien clapped his hands together, "Bring Na'axri too, he probably needs to socialize with people."

The wolf companion lifted his head from where he was lying under the table on top of Iliad's feet, and Sage laughed, standing up, "Yea, okay. Come on pup, let's take a walk."

Dyria squinted a little at Vien as Sage crouched down to meet Na'axri, "What are you doing?" he asked, and Vien smiled brightly.

"Emery is busy so I'm interfering for him!"

"What?"

"Are you two married yet?" Iliad asked, "Because that's their goal."

Sage squeaked a little as Dyria looked back at Vien, "Have you and Emery been aiming for that this whole time?"

"Well it was just Emery at first, then I noticed you two were obviously in love and decided to join in," he held a finger up, "Binah and I came up with several game plans to get you two together!"

Dyria rolled his eyes and stood up, "Too slow," he stated, holding his hand down to Sage, "Come on, let's leave them to contemplate what they're going to do now we're actually together. They lost their hobby."

Sage blushed furiously and stood up, taking Dyria's hand as Vien squealed, "Holy shit you two!"

Iliad snorted, "I didn't know amnesiacs were your type, bro."

"Yea?" Dyria looked directly at Iliad, "I didn't know gunners were your type."

Iliad slammed his hands onto the table and stood up, "What was that you prick?!"

Dyria just turned and stepped towards the door, hiding his smirk as Arcan's cheeks turned red and Sage tugged on his sleeve, "That was mean," he said as they left the dining hall, and Dyria smiled at him, slowing his steps so they were walking side by side.

"It's my job to tease him," he said, leaning closer and placing a kiss to Sage's cheek, "He'll get over it."

~

Emery was sitting in a chair at the table he'd dragged over to Zedimir's bed, leaning over the top where his notebook was sitting along with dozens of other books, papers, and bottles of medicine and elixirs. He wanted to be as close to the dark hunter as possible so he'd dragged both the table and chair next to the bed, sitting so he was facing the door and could reach over to feel Zedimir's forehead whenever he needed to.

He was flipping through yet another report he'd borrowed from the hospital about a paralyzing curse a rogue hexer had cast on some unsuspecting civilian, but nothing he'd found so far was anywhere close to being similar to what Zed was going through now, therefore entirely useless.

The tug on his coat had Emery turning his attention down to where Zed had rolled onto his side and reaching out, clinging to his coat with sleepy eyes, making the medic smile and reach down to rake the dark hunter's fluffy blue hair back with his fingers. The smile wavered when he felt how hot Zed's forehead was, casting a quick refresh spell before massaging the sick explorer's head with the pads of his fingers.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, and Zed murmured, tightening his grip on Emery's coat and furrowing his brow.

"Chest hurts," he croaked, and Emery turned in his chair to face Zed, reaching over to rub his shoulders.

"Roll onto your back and sit up, slowly," Emery ordered, and Zed mumbled, not releasing his hold on Emery's coat as he slowly rolled onto his back, cringing and coughing as Emery slipped an arm behind his shoulders and propped him up, "Easy, take a slow breath in."

Zed nodded and did as he was told, breathing in slowly before exhaling, but when he tried to inhale a second time he lurched forward coughing, and Emery gasped a little when red sprayed onto the covers over his lap.

"Oh shit," Emery breathed, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and holding it to Zed's mouth to wipe the blood from his lips and chin, "Okay, easy, lie on your side," Zed didn't say a word as he laid on his side, coughing into the handkerchief as Emery rubbed the back of his neck, "Has this ever happened before?"

Zed nodded, holding the handkerchief against his mouth as he continued to cough, tears in both eyes as he shook furiously from his fever. Emery pulled the covers higher, letting his hand hover over Zed's chest as he whispered a few refresh spells one after the other, then did the same with his fingers against the dark hunter's temple. After what felt like hours he finally stopped coughing, spitting into the handkerchief before letting Emery take it from him.

The medic cringed when he noticed how much blood was staining the cloth, throwing it into a trash bin before grabbing another cloth from his bag and soaking it with water before cleaning off Zed's chin and lips and helping him settle down against the mattress and pillows, pulling the covers even higher before carding his fingers through the dark hunter's hair until the other explorer had fallen asleep.

Emery dropped his head forward against the mattress, taking a shaky breath in before sitting up again and staring down at the dry blood on his hand, wiping it against his jeans before standing up. He stayed in one place for a long moment, staring down at Zed before taking a determined breath in and turning, quietly shutting the door when he left the room and curling his hands into fists as he stalked forward.

When he reached the tearoom he was insanely grateful to find the door closed, and part of him was hoping when he built up the courage to open the door he would find the room empty, but that was pretty unlikely. So, Emery just stood there numbly for a long moment, staring at his hand and trying to talk himself out of what he was going to do.

He was sure he could think of something to help Zed eventually, some kind of medicine to at least stall the effects of the curse, but... by the time he did so, it could be too late. Emery didn't have time for trial and error, he needed to figure out a way to help Zed now. That dark hunter was the first person Emery had ever met who understood his anxiety and insecurity, the only one who ever clung to him like he was afraid of Emery abandoning him.

They both had such similar fears, being abandoned, being exiled, Emery couldn't turn his back on Zed the same way the medic's in his home town turned on him. He didn't have enough confidence to admit it out loud, but he'd grown to really enjoy Zed's company, and truly cared about him. Emery couldn't risk losing him.

Knocking would have been a little weird, since it wasn't as if Emery was entering someone's bedroom, so he just opened the door and stepped into the room, tensing up when he noticed nearly the entire Guardians guild was lounging in the tearoom, their conversation ceasing the moment the door opened, which instantly put Emery on the spot and panicking enough to pass out. The way Axel narrowed his eyes didn't help his anxiety either.

Their guild leader was sitting in an armchair in the corner with a newspaper, which he folded down to glance in Emery's direction before holding it back up, "Can we help you?" he asked, and Emery held his hands up defensively.

"U-um, I'm sorry to interrupt, I-I just h-had to talk with... L-Lynus."

"What for?" Axel asked, and Lynus gave him a short, scolding look before standing up.

"It's fine," he said, walking around the couch to face the other medic, "Is something wrong?"

"U-um...," Emery trailed off, playing with the buttons of his coat and dropping his eyes, "I just... um..."

"Are you here to apologize?" Axel suggested, his arms folded over the back of the couch, and Emery tensed up a little more as Lynus rolled his eyes a little.

This probably would have been a lot easier if Lynus had been alone, but Emery figured it was just more karma for yelling at the innocent medic for literally no reason. It was just another challenge he had to overcome, and it probably wouldn't be nearly as painful as what Zed was going through, so he had to suck it up and just deal with it, block out everyone in the room who wasn't Lynus and speak.

Emery falling to his knees was probably an unexpected turn of events, but he didn't bother paying attention to the guild's expression as he dropped to his hands and bowed his head, "I'm sorry," he started shakily, "I know I have no right to do this after yelling at you for no reason, I have no excuse and I don't know how to explain why I am the way I am, all I can do is apologize and assure you I really do feel horrible."

"When did he yell at Lynus?" Emery heard someone whisper, before someone else shushed whoever had talked.

"But I didn't come here because I wanted you to forgive me, I don't care about that. I don't think I deserve to be forgiven when I know it'll take me a lot longer than this to stop being so uptight and untrustworthy. I need your help, please," he felt his head bowing lower, his eyes burning, "I'm not a good medic. I can't heal people like I'm supposed to, I can't do anything besides offer some relief with a refresh spell or medica, and someone from my guild is sick. I can't heal him, I barely understand what's happening to him, all I know is he's hurting and if I don't do something I'm going to lose him, so...," he bowed himself even lower until his forehead was against the ground, "Please help. I'm begging you. As a medic, it's gotta be against your moral compass to turn someone away if they're hurt or need healing. I know I keep screwing up, and I treated you cruelly for no good reason, but don't do this for me, do it because you're a medic and healing people is what you love to do. Please. I'll pay you if I have to, I don't care, I just can't lose him."

He let out a shaky exhale when he was done and stayed where he was, kneeling on his hands with his head bowed and tears on his cheeks, waiting for something to happen. He was expecting Lynus' overprotective guild to kick him out, so when he heard feet shuffling against the ground before stopping in front of him, he tensed up, going so far as to pinch his eyes closed when they knelt down in front of him.

Emery already knew it was Lynus, but it still caught him off guard when the other medic took his shoulders and pulled him into a secure hug, "Of course I'll help," he said softly, and Emery choked on his breath, hiding his face against Lynus' shoulder and reaching up to cling to the back of his coat.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, and Lynus smiled, petting the back of Emery's hair.

"I know. It's okay."

[embarrassing-myself]

Our Tongues Are God’s Failed Invention

Title: Our Tongues Are God’s Failed Invention Genre: Coming of age, angst, music Warnings: Alright, I take these pretty seriously. We’ve got suicidal ideations, self-deprecation, drug use, underage relationships, and strong language. If any of these are a trigger for you or your uncomfortable with the content, I strongly suggest you reconsider reading this. Stay safe kids. Summary:  Phil’s not really into the underground music scene. Charlie is though and he’s desperate to see his favorite local band play. Which is how Phil finds himself pleading with the obnoxiously cool bouncer to let them into the club. Somehow, Dan manages to tangle himself into Phil’s life. Dan’s the bad boy who smokes cigarettes and listens to bands Phil’s never heard of. Phil is the self-loathing loser who has no idea why Dan wants to hang out with him in the first place. It turns out though that Dan has more issues than Phil could ever keep track of. Word count: 20,000 Ao3 Link if that’s your thing: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9448775 A/N: I did nothing for a week expect work on this story and this is the finished product. I’m tired of it so now it’s yours.  I think only a few people know how much time and effort I actually put into this. So to the one who got ignored. I’m so sorry and I hope you like it.

“There’s no way we’re getting in, you have to be eighteen to even get passed the bouncer,” Phil stated, his eyes falling back down to his half eaten pizza. “You should probably just try and find a way to forget about it,” he added, glancing at Charlie with mild concern. He knew it was his favorite ‘local’ band but there didn’t seem to be any other solution. Sixteen was a tragic age indeed. “No, we are getting in to see that god damn band and that’s all there is to it!” Charlie snapped back, grabbing the edge of the lunch table and shaking it lightly. “When good music is in town you don’t ‘get over it,’ Phil. I’ve waited three years to see them and I am not missing this,” Charlie said as his fingers clenched so tightly against the fake wood that his knuckles went weight. Phil sighed softly before shaking his head. “Okay number one, they’re not coming to our town. It’s in Wokingham an hour away. Number two, you want me to ask my brother if we can borrow his car to get there! And lastly it’s the Vanguard and nobody under eighteen gets in,” Phil said counting the reasons off on his fingers. “Just forget it, it’s not happening.”                                                          -o- “Wreck this car and you’re dead, run this car out of gas and you’re dead, if this car isn’t sitting here when I wake up in the morning, I’m going to murder you both,” Martyn growled, his voice low and threating as he begrudgingly handed Phil the keys. “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” he grumbled before running a hand down his face.  Phil couldn’t believe it either. He couldn’t believe Charlie had talked him into it in the first place. The tears probably played a big part in it but looking back now they did seem kind of fake. “Alright I promise. Don’t open your mouth to anyone, I told dad we were going to the movies and that afterwards we were going back to Charlie’s house,” Phil ordered, waiting for his friend to crawl into the passenger seat next to him before he started the engine. “If this car isn’t here by six am, I’m telling them both everything I know,” Martyn warned, his eyes narrowing some as he closed Phil’s door for him. “Be careful,” he finally added before heading back inside and parting ways with the younger boys.

Phil was cautious as he started to back the old car down and out of the driveway. He wasn’t nearly experienced enough to be driving an hour away but it was too late to turn back now. He didn’t like the music scene or the band, regardless it was happening. Sort of. He still didn’t know how they were going to get in. “That was really cool of your brother to let us borrow his car,” Charlie said with excitement as he fumbled with the radio. It was true, Martyn wasn’t usually that cool and the shitty car was his pride and joy, next to his girlfriend of course. When it came down to it he knew it was her who had gotten his brother to agree. He’d over heard the conversation they had when he first asked. “Martyn, we’ve been dating for three years and I’ve never seen or heard of him doing anything remotely fun, just let him go with his friends. Alright?” “It’s only because his girlfriend thinks we’re weird and we never do anything fun or normal,” Phil frowned as he tried to navigate the road. He’d actually never been the Vanguard despite having been to Workingham plenty of times. “Tell me you at least have a plan for getting us in?” He asked.

“Well, I’m going to ask the bouncer if they can let us in,” Charlie replied, trying to add an air of confidence to his voice. He continued to play with the radio, not exactly wanting to look back at Phil right then. Not that the other boy could take his eyes off the road but still. “Are you serious?” He groaned as he spared Charlie a look. “That’s your big plan, you’re going to talk to the bouncer? Charlie that’s never going to work, we’re probably driving up here for nothing,” Phil heaved with annoyance. “They’re going to think we’re stupid!” Who wouldn’t? “Phil I’m not leaving without seeing this band, I don’t care if I have to sneak in the back doors. I promise I will not leave tonight without having fulfilled my musical ambitions,” Charlie huffed, determination and promise in his voice. When somebody talks like that it’s kind of hard not to believe them. Still Phil doesn’t see how they are going to do it. “Just don’t forget to put gas in alright? If we run it out we’re both dead,” Phil uttered before both boys settled into silence. Sometimes he wonders why he’s friends with Charlie. He likes to get them into crazy situations that Phil doesn’t particularly enjoy being in. Yeah he likes music but not really the scene in a sense. He’s more of the person who just wants to sit and listen to some new bands. He doesn’t want to mosh or riot, he doesn’t like getting beer poured all over him or how his ears ring after every show.  What’s fun about being sweaty and out of breath while people thrash into you? Charlie loves it though and Phil’s trying hard to be a good friend. Sadly, it’s hard being a good friend. Most of the time people leave Phil, he’s gotten used to it though. He can’t count on anyone to stick around. He has friends he’s known for years but someday they won’t be his friend. They’ll move on to bigger and better things. It’s the truth and there is no denying it. In the end everyone leaves you. Which is why he tries so hard to be a good friend. Cause if everyone leaves, it must actually be him. Maybe he can prolong it if he’s lucky but he’s working on distancing himself. He wants to be as close to as little people as possible. Don’t get your hopes up, don’t get disappointed. When they get to the club Charlie’s eyes are wide and filled with excitement but there is also a bit of fear there too. Like he’s finally realizing what a stupid fucking plan this is. Phil finds a parking space right next to the front doors. The thing with local bands is that not too many people turn up to see them. But it’s still early and there is hope for a good turnout. “I don’t know to say,” Charlie mumbles suddenly when Phil kills the engine. “What do you mean?” he asked with slight worry. “You didn’t even think about what to say?” He asked, getting slightly exasperated with the situation. “You had a whole hour to think of something good, well now were here and you’re going to choke?” He knows these aren’t the words good friends say but Phil was sort of pissed. He borrowed his brother’s car, lied to his parents, and drove an hour to some shitty show for Charlie. Does he really have to do everything? “Just ask them if we can come in?”

“I’m no good with words,” Charlie said, unbuckling his seat belt but not getting out just yet. “You know I fuck up whatever I say. You’re better at it. You know how to talk,” Charlie adds, his voice slight and unsure. Phil can already see where this is going and he wants to cuss about it. Because what the hell?  “Would you please Phil?! I thought I could do it but I can’t. I’m screwing up already, please?” Charlie begged.

“They aren’t going to let us in, so you might as well start thinking of ways to sneak inside,” Phil deadpanned as he undid his seatbelt and opened the door despite himself. “But I’ll try, just don’t be upset when I get laughed at over this. You owe me so big,” he sighed. Maybe being a good friend is overrated? Because right then he really wants to punch Charlie in the face. For a second Charlie looked like he couldn’t believe Phil is actually going to go through with it. Because he couldn’t do it. He’d gotten cold feet the very last second. But there was something about being sixteen and trying to lie about it. You usually had to look old enough or at least be half a decent liar. And Phil was neither.

Phil was tall for his age but the bouncer was taller and more intimidating then Phil wanted to admit. He didn’t have any kind of ‘in list’ but he did have a badge around his neck and a cigarette in his mouth. His brown hair matched his eyes perfectly, he was dressed in black, and he looked cooler than Phil could ever hope to be. Fuck, this is a new level of pathetic, he thought to himself as he stepped closer. The bouncer finally looked up and Phil realized he looked a good couple of years older than himself. Of course he’s older than you, he works here and he smokes. he thought as he tried to swallow the knot in his throat.

Phil was sure he’d only get one chance to make a good impression. So he cleared his throat and gave the older boy his most hopeful smile. One that clearly said ‘I’m still a few years from eighteen but I really want to get into this club and the only thing stopping me is you. So what do you say?’ The bouncer smirked at Phil in return, pulling the cigarette from lips. “Not a chance,” he said as he shook his head. Instantly Phil’s shoulders shagged and the smile vanished from his own lips. Was it that obvious? “Sorry, what you mean?” He asked, faking ignorance. He was in too deep now though, he had to commit to his lie. It was too late to run off and pretend like he hadn’t asked. Not when he had the obnoxiously cool looking bouncer staring him down and seemingly seconds away from laughter. I knew this was going to happen. Why do I let him talk me into this stupid shit? “Come on now, I know you aren’t eighteen. You barely look sixteen. You want in right? Sorry but the answer is no. Why don’t you try back in a couple years,” the guy replied, shrugging lightly at Phil. His tone was indifferent but Phil could pick up on the humor in his voice. Phil felt more deflated than he thought possible. He hung his hand some before turning to leave. But before he could leave, something came over him. Quit possibly the growing pains of a backbone. “Look, I know I’m not eighteen. But I don’t even want to go to this show, the band isn’t that good and the venue is probably going to smell like piss and beer. But it’s for a friend and we drove an hour to get here. You don’t have to let me in but could you please just let him see the show? I’ve never seen him this excited and it means more to him than anything…please?” Phil asked, his voice holding a certain kind of desperation that made people look twice. The guy looked over at the car, spotting Charlie sitting in the passenger seat. It took a long couple of seconds but he finally sighed and gave Phil a skeptical look. “Alright dude, I’ll let him in. But just him. He looks a little older” The guy said before taking a drag off his cigarette. “You’re a martyr huh? Suffering on the behalf of someone else or in the case being a good friend and waiting in the car so he can see the band play,” he laughed and gave Phil another smirk. “Alright, doors open in thirty minutes. Tell him I said to go ahead and get in line,” he mumbled, before waving Phil off. “Just him,” he reminded before he took off.

Phil couldn’t believe it. It had worked. Not exactly like he’d thought it would but it worked nonetheless. He’d gotten Charlie in the doors and that was all that mattered to him. He could wait in the car for a couple hours, it wouldn’t kill him. He jogged back over the passenger door before starting the car back up. If he was going to be waiting in it all night he didn’t want to do it where the bouncer care stare at him in pity. “It didn’t work,” Charlie stated, his voice dropping. “I guess we could try the back door,” he sighed, already knowing there was probably an alarm that would go off if they tried to push it open. “No, it worked. I got you in but I can’t go in. You look a little older he said. I don’t think he wants to get in trouble. I get it though. But we need to find a different parking spot,” Phil added as he pulled off. He almost knew Charlie was going to agree. And he wanted him to. They had come this far and somebody should see the band. That and Phil didn’t really care about the punk scene. Giving Charlie what he wanted wasn’t hard. He liked to think of it as a prolonging measure. “Wait, so you can’t come in with me?” Charlie asked, his voice hesitant and slightly confused. “Phil I…I don’t know if I would feel right about leaving you like that. Yeah I really want to get in but that’s not fair,” he mumbled while Phil found a new spot to park in, one that was away from the doors. He turned off the engine again and gave Charlie a small smile. “I know how bad you want to go. I’ll probably get something to eat and just hang out for a while. It’s not a big deal. Besides, I feel like the music is going to be loud enough for me to hear all the way out here,” he laughed, ignoring how his heart sort of hurt. He wanted Charlie to have a good time but there was something painful about being left behind. “You promise you’re cool with this, you’re not going to be pissed off at me for leaving you out here in a couple days?” Charlie questioned before giving Phil another look. He already had one foot outside the door though and Phil knew he was going despite whatever was said. Might as well make this easier. It wasn’t a backbone growing it was his self-esteem being eaten away. “Yeah go, seriously. Don’t worry. I’ll be out here when the show is over. I’ll get up to something. Just have fun alright,” Phil said, trying to put on a brave face. He thought it would be easier to let Charlie go. It wasn’t meant to hurt that much. It was a sign he’d gotten too close and it was only a taste of what it would be like when Charlie eventually left him for good. “I’ll bring you back a souvenir,” the other boy smiled before jumping the rest of the way out, slamming the door, and jogging off to get in line. As soon as Charlie was out of sight Phil let his face fall again. Great, he was stuck in a car for at least three hours with nothing to do. Even his friend had ditched him. To be fair though Phil had said he could go. Was it wrong to wish that Charlie had said no? He sighed softly before getting out himself and looking around. He’d never really been to this part of Workingham. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. So he did the least logical thing and set off walking. He’d have to find something to do eventually and getting a coffee somewhere sounded reasonable.

                                                           -o- Thankfully it didn’t take too long to find a coffee stop. Phil didn’t stay long though. The place was too crowded and there was too much happening inside. People on laptops, phones, commotion in every direction. Which for some reason wasn’t what Phil wanted that night. He wanted to drink his coffee alone so he dwell on what a loser he was.  “This is why you don’t have any friends,” he mumbled to himself as he walked back out the doors. The only place he could get into was a coffee shop and even then he didn’t want to stay.

He made his way back his parking spot, thankful for the hot drink warming his hands. Early January wasn’t known for its comforting weather. Honestly Phil hadn’t come dressed for the wind hitting his face or the cold drizzle starting to come down. “Damn it,” he swore and looked up at the sky. “you just have to rub it in don’t you?” Phil frowned, unsure if he was talking to a higher power or the actual sky.

When he got back to the car he hurried to climb inside and started it up. Just to warm it up for a bit and to play the radio. He wanted something to drown out his thoughts. No, it wouldn’t be a shitty punk band with a guitar rift so loud it would blow your speakers but he’d settle. He wondered if it was awesome inside. He had been to a couple shows but not enough to call himself a fan of anything. It would be sweaty and gross, there would be a mosh pit inside and some vocalist would be screaming supposed words into a mic. Right then Phil thought that sounded kind of awesome.

Phil wasn’t meant to be getting lost in his thoughts but it had happened again. He was musing over why he managed to have the worst friends around when the sharp knocking at his window startled him. He jumped, nearly spilling his coffee as he looked over. His heart was racing, expecting to see some kind of murderer. It was worse. Instead it was the brown haired too cool bouncer motioning for him to roll his window down. “You scared the shit out of me!” Phil exclaimed, rolling the window down and giving the other guy a bewildered look. “What are you doing here?” “Hey, sorry. My shift ended and I noticed you out here. I can’t believe he actually went without you. That’s kind of fucked up,” he stated, his lips pursed into a line. “But it was sort of shitty on my part too,” he admitted as he leaned up against the car. His hair was wet from the rain and he looked fairly cold. Phil was curious though, how it was the bouncer’s fault? Charlie was the one who’d went in without him. “What do you mean?” Phil asked turning down the volume on the radio. “I didn’t want to go in anyway, I told you that.” “Yeah but it was a ploy…sort of,” he the guy explained. “Kids come here all the time trying to get in.” His voice was somewhat sheepish now and hinting at guilt. “I usually tell them that only a few can get in. It’s tactical because good friends aren’t going to leave anyone behind. Usually they just end up going home when they find out that they all can’t go in. I’ve never had it not work before. I told you a martyr never wins.” “You never told me that,” Phil said giving the guy an annoyed look. “It doesn’t matter. I’m the one with shitty friends right, not your fault,” he sighed and slumped further down into his seat. It was like saying nice guys never won. If only he wasn’t such a push over all the time. Then maybe he wouldn’t be the one sitting everything out. “I’m Dan Howell and I’m telling you that martyrs get nothing,” he finally said after a slight pause, sticking his hand in through Phil’s window to shake. Phil moved slowly, shaking the other’s hand in return. It was wet and cold and larger than his. He should have minded it more than he actually did. “I hate to ask but do you think I could sit in your car and smoke this cigarette, it’s freezing out here.” Part of Phil wondered if it was really a good idea to unlock his car door for some stranger. He already the window rolled down though. If this guy wanted to steal his car, kidnap him, or murder him he probably would have done it already. So he rolled the window back up and clicked the lock, letting Dan know he could climb into the passenger seat. As soon as the door was open Dan was sliding in next to him and rubbing his hands together to fight off the cold in his fingertips. “Your friend is a dick but I guess that’s none of my business it?” he laughed but there was no humor to it. “If I had known he’d pull something that I would have told you both no. Why did he want to come to this show anyway, it’s not very good, you know?” Phil shrugged, watching as Dan lit up his smoke. He didn’t exactly like the smell but there was something about Dan that wouldn’t let Phil tell him no. “This is officially the saddest thing I’ve never seen. You’re meant to be at a punk rock show and instead your sitting out in your car drinking an overpriced coffee and listening to pop,” Dan mumbled glancing at the radio before offering Phil a cigarette from his pack. “Oh, no thank you,” Phil said and tried to ignore the heat in his face. If smoking was cool, which Dan kind of made it look, Phil wasn’t cool and there for didn’t smoke. “No offence but you’re not really helping,” he admitted. Dan gave him an apologetic look in return, rolling down his window some for the sake of Phil’s lungs. “I know. I’m not actually good at helping. But word of advice, any friend who ditched me for the rock show wouldn’t be my friend after that,” Dan replied. Phil knew he’d keep being Charlie’s friend after tonight though. He’d take him home and they would pretend like Phil didn’t have any feelings and if he did they damn sure weren’t hurt feelings. That was what friends were for right? “So what’s your plan?” Dan asked before taking another drag. “Uh, I don’t really have a plan. Drink coffee and sit here until he comes back?” He offered and wondered if that was what Dan wanted to hear. By the look on his face it wasn’t. In fact it looked like the exact opposite of what he wanted. “No, you can’t do that. You’ve got at least three hours before that shit is wrapped up in there. four it they do an encore. Think of something else,” he said, waiting for Phil to give him the right answer. “I’m not from around here, I mean I’ve been here but I don’t know anywhere to go and I don’t have any friends that live close by. I’m kind of stuck until it’s over,” Phil admitted before taking a sip of his coffee to hide how pathetic he truly was.

“Well I’m heading to a party after this. Do you want to come? Promise I won’t ditch you,” Dan grinned. “You can leave after a couple hours and get your friend if you want. Or you know…just leave him.” Dan was clearly being serious about leaving Charlie behind. Phil wouldn’t do that but he really didn’t want to wait in the car for hours. Why not keeping doing the least logical thing? “Yeah, that actually sounds like the better alternative,” Phil agreed, turning the car key again. Dan tossed his cigarette out. He didn’t bother to buckle up as he started throwing the directions out to Phil. This was turning into a strange night. Dan was bright though and alive and Phil would do anything to be like that. It was how Phil found himself sitting on the sofa in a crowded living room with Dan Howell. The music wasn’t that bad but Phil had no idea who it was. It was real punk though, not that cheap knock off version Charlie seemed to like. People were drinking, Dan included. Knowing that Phil was driving he didn’t offer him any but it didn’t stop him from swinging an arm around his shoulder and laughing loudly. “Yeah he’s not bad huh? For a sixteen-year-old,” Dan grinned teasingly, somebody had commented on Phil’s presence and the other was quick to acknowledge him.

“How old are you?” Phil asked suddenly, ducking as a beer pong ball went flying across the room. “I know you’re old enough to work at a club,” Phil added but he was wondering just how much older Dan was. “I’ll be twenty in a few months,” Dan said absent mindedly. He was already lighting up another cigarette. Phil wondered how many a person could smoke in such a short amount of time.  “Which makes you jail bait by default and I’m not going back to jail for nobody,” Dan said with a smile and a wink. It must have been the way that Phil’s face paled and his eyes went wide that started Dan’s laughing. “I’m kidding; I’ve never been to jail. Don’t look so scared,” Dan smirked and proceeded to take another swig of his beer. “You should really get more into the music scene though and I don’t mean that shit show your friend is at. There is a lot of good underground music around here.  I could show you real music if you’re ever interested.” On any other day Phil wouldn’t be. He’s just not that into music. He doesn’t know all the good bands and to be honest he’s not punk enough or cool enough to be there. He’s just some sixteen-year-old who got ditched and Dan is some apparent bad boy who took pity on him. He wouldn’t be surprised if the older boy took back the offer in the morning. He wouldn’t blame him if he did. A kid like Phil could really ruin somebody’s reputation. Dan’s look at him so expectantly though. Like he’s already put Phil on a pedestal that he doesn’t belong on. He can’t say no. Dan takes Phil’s phone and programs his number into it. Then he put Phil’s number into his and promises to send him a text tomorrow. Don’t get your hopes up, don’t be disappointed. It’ll hurt less this way. Dan’s attractive, cool, a chain smoker, and he knows music. Everything Phil isn’t. He can’t be disappointed when he never texts him back. It doesn’t take long for three hours to pass and Phil knows he needs to be going.

 Him and Dan have talked all night. Dan going on about music and life in a bigger city while Phil listens intently. He’d do anything to be like Dan. Too bad it wasn’t ever going to happen. “I guess I have to be going” Phil said a little sadly. He really doesn’t want to go, he’d rather stay with Dan and listen to him talk about everything. Phil’s a good friend though and good friends show up. Dan asked him if he knew the way back, gave him a few albums to check out, and then tells him to be safe on the drive home. He never mentions texting Phil again. But that’s alright, it didn’t matter. “So, they aren’t that good live,” Charlie said when he got back in the car. His tone is unreadable but Phil decides that if he’s half a decent person he’s feeling bad. “I promise I’ll make this up to you alright?” He said, really turning to Phil and giving him sad eyes. “I didn’t have any fun without you.” Phil can’t help think about how he still stayed for the whole show. Fun or not. The thing was, was that he couldn’t be all that angry. Not when he’d just had probably the best night of his life. It was his first house party and his first time actually having somebody older and hotter talking to him. And surprisingly he didn’t have a problem with letting his friend feel bad for a while. Charlie was high off noise. Phil was high off energy and Dan. He was exhilarated and out of the two of them, he had the better time. “Hey, no problem alright. Glad you had fun,” he answers back. For now, Dan would be his secret. “Did you smoke a cigarette in here?” Charlie asked, wrinkling his nose up as they started home.                                                       -o- When he gets home in the morning, his brother is running out to meet him. He doesn’t even say hello before he starts inspecting the car. Everything was intact and he brought it home with half a tank, which was more than what was in it when they left. Next Martyn is crawling around and looking for some kind of evidence that Phil fucked up. When he finds none, he takes the keys back and mumbles a halfhearted, “Alright thanks, hope you had fun.” The first thing Phil did was fall into bed. He hadn’t been able to sleep over at Charlies house, both of them too busy riding their energy off. It felt like he’d only fallen asleep for a few minutes when his phone buzzed in his pocket. When he forced his eyes back open he realized he had only fallen asleep for a couple minutes. He squinted his eyes, narrowing them at his phone.

Instantly his heart skipped a beat when he looked at the caller id. Dan had actually sent him a message like he said he would. For once in his life somebody was following through with a promise. He blinked again, making sure it was actually him. Dan: Hey. Did you check out the music? Phil would have liked to say he did but he’d only just gotten home. He hadn’t been up for listening last night. He scratched the back of his head, sitting up and reading it over and over again. It was a simple six-word text but Phil was in slight awe. He wondered if he should wait a couple minutes to reply. Excitement and sleep deprivation got the best of him though. Phil: Not yet but I’m going today after a power nap

It wasn’t a full minute later that his phone is going off. At first Phil thought it was a fluke but looking down he sees it’s Dan’s number. Without having to think about it, he answered and mumbled a shy ‘hello’ into the receiver. “Hey, sorry I guess it sort of early isn’t it. I never sleep so I’m always up. Anyway listen I wanted to tell about the music I suggested,” Dan said, pausing, followed by the sound of something crunchy being chewed. “You’re not going to like it at first. In fact you’re going to hate it. I forgot to mention that, sorry.” Phil’s never felt so confused. Dan told him to check this music out then he called up just to tell him that he was going to hate it?  He couldn’t follow the train of thought. “I um…should I not listen?” He asked, wondering if this was his way of taking it all back. He’d take back the evening they shared and the music he’d told Phil to listen to. “No, no, no. You have to listen to it. But you have to stick with it too. You’re not going to like it right off the bat but if you just listen you’ll get it. Don’t focus on making yourself like it, just listen to it and try to understand,” Dan explained as his chewing continued. Phil decided that Dan is strange. “Oh, I’ll try. Is there something specific I’m looking for?” He asked as he tilted his head to the side. “Nope, just listen and tell me what you think. Also, I’m going to be in town in a few days, like in your town. My parents don’t live too far from you. You live in Reading right? I thought if you weren’t busy we could do something. I’m sure there is some kind of mayhem we can get up to.” “Uh yeah sure, no that sounds great,” Phil exclaimed before wincing when he realized he’d agreed to causing public mayhem with Dan. He couldn’t help it though, Dan made him want to be reckless. To do things he’d never allowed himself to do before. “Good, alright. Call me back when you’ve listened. Remember, don’t try to like it, don’t turn it off if you hate it. Just listen to it.” They hang up and he’s not exactly sure if he understood what Dan meant. He won’t like it but he has to understand it? Would the beat be too rough and frantic? Would the lyrics make no sense? How as he meant to understand? His biggest fear was that this was a trap he could fall into. A test that he couldn’t possibly pass. Dan was good with music and Phil just wasn’t. He listened to what the radio told him to and that was about as far it went. What Dan had told him to listen to wasn’t easy stuff like the pop punk they sometimes played on the radio.  The music that wasn’t pop and it wasn’t rock, which meant they threw it into a category all by itself. Teeny bopper meets punk. No, this was actual true punk. It was what inspired all those poppy bands. Nobody listened though so they had to change it up. They had to play what radio wanted everyone to hear.  Or at least that’s what Dan had went on about last night. He talked about guys Phil had never heard of. Vicious and Rollins. Phil didn’t know half of what Dan was talking about but he agreed anyway.

First he slept, then he showered and ate, finally he sat down to listen. Dan was right, he did kind of hate it. Okay, so kind of was an understatement. He couldn’t even understand the words let alone the meaning behind them. He compared the drums to noisy bashing and the screeching of vocals. The guitar was the worst, fast and…nothing sounded good. He closed his eyes and fought through his desire to fling his headphones across the room. God how could anybody listen to that stuff? He only managed to get through a few songs before he gave up for a while. He could at least inform Dan of the ones he did listen to. Maybe that would be enough to pass his test. But he didn’t get much of it still. Fuck Dan Howell’s music because honestly that shit was bad. He knew enough to know that much. Phil: Hey, checked out some of the music. It was pretty good. I think I need to listen a bit longer to really comprehend it. Thanks for showing me though. Phil was a liar.

He typed it out, deleted it, and then typed it again. It would have to do; he didn’t know what else to say. Phil sighed in frustration before grabbing a pillow and trying to smother himself with it. One thing he learned about Dan was that he didn’t mess around when it came to texting back. Dan: You’re bad at lying, you hated it. It felt like your virgin ears were getting fucked for the first time. It went in dry with no lube. Phil’s mouth sort of fell open when he read the message. Well, yeah okay. That was one way to describe it. Dan wasn’t wrong. Phil probably would have gone for a different kind of wording but alright. Fair enough. Again he felt himself lost for words. Dan was an enigma that he couldn’t figure out. Dan: Just keep listening, you’ll get there. They call it an acquired taste for a reason. Anyway I’ll talk to you later. I’ve got underage kids trying to sneak in. Phil couldn’t help but laugh before setting his phone down. He was glad that he wouldn’t have to elaborate more on the music. Part of him hoped that Dan didn’t find a new pathetic boy to give his attention to. He hadn’t even known him for a full twenty-four hours and already he wanted everything Dan was willing to give him. That was the pathetic part. He could out loser any kid out there. Phil: Give em hell He replied before actually putting his phone up and getting to work on his homework. He didn’t know what all this Dan Howell business was about but he hoped that it was going to last.                                                                                  -o-  

“You want to do something later?” Charlie asked as they walk down the hall. “it’s Friday and I’m still sort of pumped from that concert,” he said, his voice full of excitement. was literally a week ago, you can’t still be feeling pumped,” Phil mumbled with a roll of his eyes. “I would but…well I’ve got some things I’m going to do,” he lied, stumbling over his words some. He didn’t exactly want to let the other in on his secret. Dan. “Okay, you know you can’t lie for shit. Especially not when I’m looking right at you. Is it a date?” Charlie asked as he paused in front of him so there wasn’t anywhere for Phil to go. Was it a date? God no, Dan would never look at him like that. Even if he was gay Phil wasn’t cool enough or old enough. “It’s not a date. It’s just some guy,” To be fair he liked girls too. Well sometimes and only once in a while. Charlie had never seemed to mind. But he usually asked for as many details as Phil was willing to give him. Dan felt like a secret though. Something refreshing and urban. He was like looking at the city lights for the first time. He didn’t want anyone else in on his holy grail. However, he didn’t seem to have an option. Because once Charlie got ahold of an idea he wouldn’t let it go. “Do you remember the bouncer at the club last weekend. Well um…we hung out and we’re going to eat and probably catch a movie or something.” In reality, Phil knows good and well what they’re going to do. It’s not dinner and a movie. It’s going to another punk show. He knew that he couldn’t let Charlie in on that because he wasn’t going to have him begging to tag along. He’d argue that Phil didn’t even like music and that he just had to take Charlie with them and that wasn’t going to happen. Not this time. “Dude seriously? You’re hooking up with the bouncer, what the hell happened after I left?” He asked, giving the other a look that clearly said, ‘the fuck?’ “You know forgetting to tell your friend about your new boyfriend isn’t something you usually do,” Charlie frowned. He did seem somewhat genuinely upset that Phil hadn’t informed him. “And ditching your friend for the band isn’t something you do but that didn’t stop you,” he snapped and side stepped the other in an attempt to get to class. Yeah, he was still pissed off about that fact and he wasn’t afraid to let Charlie know this time. He’d done exactly what he told Charlie he wouldn’t do. The other boy opened his mouth like he wanted to argue and Phil could see the gears turning in his head. He was trying to come up with a decent come back but when one didn’t hit he shut his mouth. “He’s not my boyfriend, he’s cooler than I could ever dream of being and we’re just hanging out. Alright?” Phil mumbled coolly. “Yeah sure, whatever,” Charlie sighed as they continued to walk. They weren’t fighting but they weren’t having a decent conversation either. “Well if bouncer boy bails call me up and we’ll do something,” Charlie added quietly. It was a truce, a peace offering if you would. But the thing was…Dan didn’t have a long history of bailing on him. Charlie did. So whatever happened he wouldn’t be calling the other. He wasn’t mad or anything, he could just think of better things to do with his time was all. And it turned out that Dan didn’t bail on him. He texted him at eight sharp and let Phil know that he was outside. Of course he had to lie to his parents again. He wasn’t going to a party with Charlie and his parents weren’t dropping them off. He hadn’t given his friend a heads up on the lie but he if anything happened Charlie wouldn’t snitch. Not when he still had some serious making up to do. “Hey,” Phil smiled when he climbed into the passenger seat. Dan grinned back, a cigarette between his fingers. God he was going to get lung cancer before he was thirty-five. Phil didn’t say anything though. Instead he was too busy admiring Dan. Same black ripped black jeans matched with black shirt and a jacket. He briefly wondered if owned any other colors. It wouldn’t matter though because it was all too fitting. “Thanks for picking me up. I didn’t think my brother was up for letting me take his car again.” “Hey it’s no problem,” Dan answered back as he pulled out of the drive. “So I know this show isn’t exactly pure punk but you have to work yourself into that you know? I noticed the band was coming and I had to take you. It’s perfect for beginners and virgin ears,” he laughed, flicking his cigarette out the window. “I promise it’ll be fun.” “I’m not worried, I’m just excited about getting in to a decent show for once,” Phil said, buckling his seat belt. Dan had music on but it was too soft to hear properly. Instead they filled the car with their conversation. Phil talked a bit about school and Dan talked about knowing the bouncer at the club. It was how he was getting him in. Apparently the show had already started but Dan didn’t like showing up early. Something about having to stand around forever while they do their last sound check. It was a place called the Red Door and it was ironic because the door wasn’t even red. It was just brown and ordinary. Nothing special whatsoever. Phil wondered if that too meant something in the music world. Or if it had been red at one point and years of weather and chaotic kids had worn the paint thin.  He didn’t bother to ask because Dan had grabbed his hand and was pulling him along. They stopped so that he could to talk to the bouncer. It was clear they had known each other for a while. Phil tried to ignore his jealously when Dan pulled the guy into a side hug, letting go of his hand for a split second. A few minutes later and he was finally telling them to enjoy the show and holding the door open for them in the process. The second they walked in Phil was hit with the heat of a crowded floor. It was body heat. The sensation of atoms moving constantly, energy being created from every person in the room. All it took was one look at Dan to know this was what he lived for. His eyes were brown but they twinkled like city lights. Just as bright and clear. Already he was nodding his hand and pulling Phil further into the crowed room. For a minute the younger boy hesitated unsure if this was what he really wanted. The music was so loud that you had to yell to hear anything. It wasn’t just that though it was the bass. He could feel it in his chest and that was sort of off putting. He was a bit frightened to be honest. He’d never been to a show where he wasn’t up against the wall listening from afar. “It’s okay I’ve got your hand. I won’t let you get lost!” Dan yelled over the music, giving Phil an encouraging look. He was trying to pull him into the chaos with a smile on his face and once again Phil let him. He didn’t want to be afraid as he let Dan pull him into the mass of people. But this wasn’t Phil’s courage this was Dan’s and Phil was borrowing some because he frankly didn’t have any of his own. - It was mainly just shoving to get to where you wanted to be. You didn’t say excuse me or sorry because even if you did nobody could hear it. Phil kept trying to apologize for everyone he was pushing past but nobody seemed to care. Their eyes were glued to the front of the stage where a band of four was playing. A singer, drummer, bass, and lead guitar. Not that hard to follow really. And Dan was right, the music wasn’t the angry stuff he’d tried to listen to. It had a chorus and a melody and pop undertones which was a relief.

It might have had the upbeat notes but there was still a mosh pit that Dan was thankfully avoiding. Phil had never actually seen one before and it was a bit more than what he’d bargained for. It was a ring, a circle, and inside of it were the bravest of warriors. They were Rock crusaders and they were bloodied and bruised from the battle. They jumped and thrashed against each other, while the people on the outside of the ring pushed them back into the pit when they were thrown too close to edge. Dan was looking at it though and Phil knew he was just dying to be there. To be one of those wild and untamed kids. It must have killed him to pull Phil further towards the stage and away from the pit. He’d have to thank the other boy later when he could actually be heard again. It didn’t stop the motion though. Because all around him people were jumping, moving and pushing. He had to hold onto Dan to keep himself up right. But Dan was quickly turning into one of those people. His head nodding to the beat, his body starting to bounce. It wasn’t until he looked over at Phil that he stopped. He pulled him closer and his mouth pressed hotly up against his ear. Phil shuddered, feeling himself melt as Dan’s lips were searing against such sensitive skin. “Let yourself have fun, I know you can do it. Don’t think just feel it!” He said before backing up and grabbing Phil’s hand again. Phil tried to do what Dan said. He wanted to feel instead of think. For a minute it actually worked, he could feel himself to start to bounce lightly in time with the rhythm. He didn’t mind the movement of the crowed anymore. Everyone had come together to make one living breathing floor. It was sort of beautiful in a way. He’d never thought he’d call a bunch of sweaty people beautiful but that was the only way he knew how to describe it. It wasn’t until he looked over at Dan did his breathing stop. He felt punch drunk looking at the older boy. He wasn’t just beautiful but he was stunning. His hair was getting wet form his own sweat and his bangs were sticking to his face. His skin had a thin sheen of sweat glossing it as well. He jumped along with the crowed as he sang the lyrics right along with them. Phil wanted to cry because God damn he looked good. He looked alive, free, like if you could manifest a riot into one person. He couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat as he watched. The blue and purple lights illuminated him in a way that Phil had never seen before. What the fuck was Dan doing here with him? Phil would truly fit into Dan’s world and it hurt more then he wanted to admit. But staring at Dan was a gift, seeing him like this was like something holy. That probably sounded dramatic but it was how Phil felt. Eventually he forced himself to look away and to bounce along with Dan. He wasn’t the same, he couldn’t compare to Dan but he was giving it his all. Eventually he let Dan go to mosh for a bit, promising not to move from his spot. Even that was beautiful. He could see it now. Phil understood what the hype was all about it. Yeah, you did feel alive. It was an adrenalin rush. Like cocaine, a drug with no antidote. He couldn’t say he’d ever done any drugs but this had to be better than all of them combined.

After the show they both left feeling worn but like live wires. He still had too much energy flowing inside of him to fully relax. So when Dan suggested showing him his favorite place to ‘come down’ he was somewhat relieved. He thought they’d go to a park or some small restaurant in the middle of town. But when Dan drove them to the airport he realized he’d never stop surprising him. He didn’t need to ask because he knew Dan was going to explain in due time.

“I see your getting better at trusting me,” Dan smirked before dropping his cigarette and snuffing it out with the toe of his shoe. Dan was once again grabbing Phil’s hand and pulling him towards the terminal entrance.   Phil laughed before rolling his eyes. “Something like that, I just know that you’re going to fill me on why you like to come here,” he replied. He legs felt like jelly and his throat hurt from yelling, and his ears rung unpleasantly. He hardly noticed it though, not when he was with Dan. They rode the escalator down to the moving sidewalk. The parking garage had taken them straight inside the airport. Something that Phil was thankful for. “So, the first thing I like about the airport is that you can just stand on the sidewalk and not have to move. Let’s be honest, we’re both tired as fuck so this is a bonus,” Dan said informatively. “Next thing I like is that nobody is here. It’s almost one in the morning and there are maybe two or three flights going out and coming in until six. So it’s easy to start winding down.” Phil nodded and listened carefully as Dan went over the key points. The last time he’d been to the airport was three years ago when his family went on holiday. It was strange. You never thought about the airport unless you were going somewhere. As far as he knew neither of them had any tickets. “Do you really come here that often?” Phil asked, his eyes flickering down to their hands. It was starting to feel like a date. Dan hadn’t let go of his hand the whole night. “probably twice a week. Sometimes more depending on how many shows I go to. Or if I’ve had a really bad day I come here and think,” Dan admitted as they got closer to the actual terminals. That space right before you get to the boarding gates. There were a few people there still waiting for their night flight or maybe some on a connecting flight. Other than that it was almost empty. There was the baggage claim, the front desks with only one person still working it, and a whole bunch of empty chairs. The tiny shops had closed down for the night and the lights had been dimmed. It felt strange to be there when Phil thought about it. The atmosphere was completely different from the show they had just come from. There were no loud sounds, no large crowds and hot lights, it was relatively empty. If the Red Door was cocaine than the airport was a sleeping pill. “What do you notice?” Dan asked suddenly out of nowhere. He pulled them over to a chair, letting Phil sit before asking again. “What stands out the most?” Dan was what stood out the most. His hair was still a mess, his clothes wrinkled, and he was covered with a few new bruises. He still looked good though. He knew that wasn’t the answer, however. “Uh, there aren’t a lot of people here,” Phil said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Airports are a place of hellos and goodbyes; they are where everyone meets in transit. You’re either coming or going, there isn’t much in between. They aren’t places you just go to. Everyone that comes here is going somewhere or coming back from somewhere. We aren’t doing either, we’re simply existing. Airports are earth’s limbo and we’re just here. That’s why it helps me calm down so much. I’m not thinking, I’m in only in a state of being,” Dan explained before closing his eyes like he was trying to demonstrate. Phil tilted his head, staring at Dan in a mixture of awe and confusion. His mouth was slack again but no words came out. It was Dan’s turn to look unsure and nervous. Did Phil think he was crazy for having this odd mindset?  He kind of was. “You’re so different, Dan,” Phil stated. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.” He wanted so badly to ask him why he was wasting his time with a loser kid like himself. There were so many interesting people out there that would be better company. They would know all the songs Dan loved and they would quote the lyrics, they would even look as good as Dan did in purple and blue lighting, but Phil never could

“Can I kiss you?” Dan asked. His voice so low that Phil had to strain to hear him. There was an armrest between them but Dan was already leaning in. Wordlessly Phil nodded in agreement. His heart racing and his stomach was flipping over and over. They meet somewhere in the middle, pausing only to stare into the other’s eyes for a split second. They held their gaze for a bit before their lips connected in the most amazing kiss either had ever had.                                   ��                                                                                      -o-

Phil stayed over at Dan’s apartment an hour away that night. He didn’t know what he thought he’d get when he walked into the place. It was exactly what he wanted it to be though. There were things scattered everywhere. Posters of shows he’d been to and bands he liked. Books, movies, and games were strewn around. Phil was instantly taken by it. This apartment was the embodiment of Dan. “Sorry it’s a disaster,” Dan laughed as he stripped out of his jeans. “It’s you,” Phil joked before taking a seat on the edge of Dan’s bed. He was just as nervous as the minute he had first laid eyes on the older. Was this how Dan’s dates usually ended? If you kiss somebody does that make it a for sure date? Does it mean you’re going to have sex? Phil wasn’t even sure if he wanted that. Yeah he was incredibly attracted to Dan but he couldn’t even tell if it had been a proper date or not. It turned out there was no reason to be worried. Dan grabbed them some left over pizza, heating it up before telling Phil to get comfortable. They put on a movie, ate, and slept in their boxers and filthy shirts. It was the perfect ending to the best night Phil had ever had. Dan hadn’t asked for more, hadn’t implied that he wanted sex or anything of that nature. Instead they cuddled, got full, and fell asleep. Dan had even promised Phil that they would wake up early so that he could be home in the morning before his parents asked any questions. The dates Phil had been on had ended quickly, there was hardly ever a good night kiss or anything more at the end. Which was probably for the better if he was honest. He was all awkward limbs and clumsy lips but kissing Dan was easy. For some reason it felt like he’d done it a hundred times before.                                                             -o-

 Months passed like this. Phil would find any way he could to spend time with Dan. Sometimes he’d lie to his parents about where and who he was going out with. They just assumed Charlie’s parents had started driving a new, but somehow shitty, car. It was hard not to make assumptions when Dan was always pulling into the driveway. Other times he snuck out, waiting until everyone was asleep before climbing out of his bedroom window and finding his way back to Dan. It wasn’t like his parents were going to let him hang out with Dan. Not when he was nearly five years older than Phil and constantly smelt like smoke. The lies were all justified and if they weren’t Phil could make them. He could wind the words and twist them until it made everything okay. Pretty but still lies nonetheless. He couldn’t bring himself to care though. Because Dan would take him to the local shows and he’d show him the very best places to eat. They would listen to music and talk until they both ended up falling asleep. They talked when they were pressed together in Dan’s double bed. Or sometimes they would sit outside his apartment, ignoring the cold metal stairs so Dan could smoke a cigarette. It didn’t matter where they ended up because their tongues were always working overtime. Phil was learning more than he thought he would about Dan. He never seemed closed off, he was always happy and bright. Excitable was the word he wanted. Phil wondered if he was riding on a constant high of music and life. Phil was still sort of shy.  Especially when Dan would stare intently at him when he talked. He would look Phil right in the eyes, lean in close, and listen like he was about to hear some big scandalous secret. When in reality all he was doing was telling Dan about his day. Phil hadn’t known there was a difference between hearing and listening until he met Dan Howell. While him and Dan grew closer, he grew further apart with Charlie. Charlie liked to say that Dan made everybody look like sellouts and conformist. Phil wasn’t exactly sure what that was meant to mean but he had a feeling it had something to do with the music. Or at the very least it wasn’t a compliment. The music was still something Phil couldn’t exactly get into. He was trying but it was hard when it all sounded so angry and pounding. Dan told him to just stay with it. So Phil tried at least. Most of the time though Dan knew he was still working his way into it. So he’d play lighter stuff, things with power chords and melodies.

Phil still thought Dan was the most interesting person he knew. Apparently so did everyone else, Dan seemed to know a lot of people.  You’d think he was a celebrity with as many connections as he had. They hardly went anywhere without seeing somebody he knew. It didn’t bother Phil, not when he would hold his hand and politely introduce him to whoever they had ran into. He was eloquent and well-spoken for somebody who seemed to spend most of his time causing mayhem. He was a gentlemen and a delinquent all in one. The thoughts are coming back though. The voice in his head getting louder and louder. In Phil’s life people tended to leave. He understood this perfectly. Because nobody is forever, friendships die, relationships die, and people fuck off. You can’t change this fact. People are flames. They will burn brightly but they will eventually flicker and fade before going out like all flames do. Even if they have been burning for years there will come a day when the light goes out. People are not forever. And Phil was okay with that. These were just rules to live by. To remember and hold onto to. Phil cannot let himself forget that. Dan will be around until he isn’t and all this investment Phil’s starting to put in is only going to hurt him in the long run. Don’t get your hopes and don’t be disappointed. He can’t seem to stop himself though. He doesn’t want to love Dan because he’s afraid of being hurt but sadly part of him always does.

That’s another fact of life. Pain will be there no matter what you do. Unless of course you can find some kind of enlightenment. He read a book once where the character gives up everything. No possessions, no relationships, food only to live. That sort of thing. He did this so that he could never hurt. People typically hurt because something is taken away from them, so if you have nothing to lose nobody can hurt you. But enlightenment is kind of overrated and Phil’s not interested.                                                             -o- Everything stayed the same for a while, until everything changed again. Dan had told Phil he would be house sitting for his parents for a couple days while they were visiting his grandmother. Phil knew the older boy would invite him over at some point. He just didn’t think it would be on a Thursday at midnight. Dan: Come hang? At my parents. Phil had been laying down while trying to fall asleep when his phone buzzed next to him. Usually Dan texted in full sentences, explaining himself and he was never afraid to give Phil a full couple of paragraphs he thought the conversation called for it. For him to say no more than five words was unusual. He narrowed his eyes at the phone before replying. Phil: Right now? What are you up to, I can try to sneak out if you want.   He replied before sitting up. Sometimes he just knew when trying to sleep wasn’t worth it, not when Dan was involved anyway. He hoped he was alright though. Dan: Can’t drive. Take your brother’s car. Phil gawked at the screen. Was Dan high? He wasn’t going to touch his brother’s car without permission. Martyn would kill him and Phil very much wanted to live. He’d been over to Dan’s parent’s house a couple times. He imagined he could walk if it was that important. Still he wanted to know why he was going over there on a school night. Phil: I can walk over. You alright, why can’t you drive? It only took a few seconds for Dan to text him back a reply. Phil was already up though, getting his shoes on and pulling a hoodie over his head. When did sleeping at night become so unpopular? Dan: Drinking. I’m lonely It only got more confusing. Dan usually didn’t drink alone and if he did he certainly didn’t ask Phil to come over to watch him do it. He knew the younger boy really shouldn’t drink. And to be fair Dan had never offered him more than a beer. Phil: Give me about thirty minutes, I’ll see you in a bit. He hoped Dan appreciated this. It was cold outside and he’d be grounded forever if his parents caught him. That and it was still a school night. He couldn’t stay out all night. But that wasn’t something he could tell Dan. Not when the age difference was painfully obvious sometimes. The last thing he wanted to do was draw any more attention to it.

“Hey, you made it,” Dan grinned as he opened the door. Instantly Phil could tell that he’d had one too many. His hair was a wreck and his face was slightly flushed. “Come on inside, I know you’re cold.” It was true. Phil was freezing actually. But Dan’s hands were still warm even if he smelt like alcohol.  He wasn’t necessarily against Dan drinking, he was old enough and it was fine. But he really didn’t need to get out of bed to hang out with Dan if he wouldn’t recall it in the morning. “You alright?” He asked softly as he shut the door behind him. Again there was music playing in the background somewhere but it wasn’t what Dan liked to listened to. It was poppy and what Dan called ‘bubble gum shit,’ it was actually what he usually put on for Phil. The text messages were the first thing that gave him away, next was the music. One more clue and he’d have Dan Howell figured out. “Eh, I’m alright, just drinking. I didn’t want to be alone,” Dan laughed again as he moved to flop down onto the sofa before motioning for Phil to join him. “I know I made you get out of bed, sorry,” he added after he pulled his legs up onto the sofa with him. “You want something to drink? I’ve already finished all the vodka but I’ve still got beer left.” Phil quickly shook his head. There was secret part of him that wondered what this was about. Was this Dan’s way of trying to get him into bed? Get drunk, send vague texts, and then ask for sex? It didn’t sound like Dan but there was still a lot about the older boy he didn’t know. “No thanks I’m alright. You’re sure nothing’s wrong?” Phil asked again, looking into Dan’s distant eyes and before glancing over at the table. There was a small orange prescription bottle sitting innocently on it. “What are those?”

“Huh, oh those? Pills, I took them all already,” Dan shrugged. “Yeah, everything is pretty good now. Because you’re here,” Dan smiled. He smiled at Phil like he hadn’t just said what he did. The younger boy’s eyes widened in shock. Phil jumped off the sofa and rushed to grab the bottle, shaking it up and down. Sure enough it was empty. “What the fuck Dan?! How many were in here? How much did you take, do I need to call an ambulance?!” Phil asked frantically as he tried to read what kind of pills Dan had just downed. They were prescribed to him so he couldn’t have bought them. He’d gotten them legally but things couldn’t be alright if he’d taken a bunch. “What is…what is Atavan?” he asked as he turned the bottle over a couple more times, hands shaking. “I didn’t take them all. There wasn’t even half left,” Dan frowned, rolling his eyes at Phil. Like he was overacting. “Calm down. It was probably only like six. You know, not enough to be considered a real suicide attempt but enough to be categorized as a cry for help,” Dan grinned before he let himself stumble to his feet. “It’s for anxiety. I’ll get a refill in a couple of days. Help me find my car keys, I’m out of cigarettes.” What the hell was going on? It was like he’d just stepped into some dark wonderland. What was Dan talking about? He couldn’t be serious right? He was just drunk or he was kidding. Please let him by kidding. There was no way he’d take six pills. No, it wasn’t enough to kill him. Not based on weight and height but it was enough to make him sick. He’d mixed it with alcohol as well. That was even worse. “You can’t drive, what the hell is wrong with you?” “Actually I have a license that says I can drive. You can call my mum, she taught me,” he smirked like he was proud of himself. His words were slurred some and Phil wondered how long ago he’d taken the pills. “Dan you’re fucking drunk. Why didn’t you tell me you were on medication…why the fuck did you take six pills?! What’s wrong with you?  Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” Phil yelled, letting the empty bottle fall from his hand. The silence that hung thickly in the air told him everything he needed to know. “Sometimes I wish was dead,” Dan mumbled softly, letting himself drop back to the sofa. “Do you ever just want to die?” He asked as he looked back at Phil There was sadness there he’d never seen before. Dan’s eyes had always sparkled. Now they looked glossy and far away. “I’m fucked,” he laughed before shaking his head. “I hate my life. You’re the only good part about it.” Phil didn’t know what to do or what to say. Slowly he took a seat next to Dan on the sofa. He was still debating on calling for an ambulance or calling somebody at least. Somebody who would know what to do. Because Phil had never seen this side of Dan before and it was scary. “Why would you say that? You have a good life. People love you. You’ve got your music and your apartment. You’ve got more friends than anyone I know. How is it bad?” Dan just stared back at Phil, quietly and almost like he hadn’t heard him at all. “There is this awful thing inside of me. Like…it makes me scared and it makes me sad and I can’t run from it. It’s who I am and I hate it. It’s so dark and lonely on the inside. But then you make it better. You make whatever this bad thing inside of me is go away for a while. I just want you with me all the time,” Dan whispered, his eyes starting to get damp with the tears he was fighting back. “Don’t leave me okay, don’t ever go away. When you find out how ugly I am on the inside, please don’t leave.” Phil continued to stare blankly and unsure. What could he say to that? Phil wasn’t the person who left people, people left Phil. Was Dan asking Phil to save him and to make everything okay because he didn’t know if he could do that. He cared about Dan more than anything. How was he meant to fix somebody so broken though? He didn’t even know that Dan was having issues…or whatever this was. Dan was like a star and Phil was just the dust it left behind. He wasn’t interesting or special, not like Dan. He was boring in comparison but he’d never once wanted to die. Dan was the one who made everything better, who put people together, who made shit sound better than it was. He could fix you with his music, his laughter, the words he spoke and the thoughts he thought. Phil couldn’t fix anyone.

“Don’t go, don’t leave me alone” Dan pleaded, grabbing onto Phil tightly. He was crying and his eyes were frantic and filled with desperation. They were so different looking that Phil didn’t think he could recognize them. “Tell me you won’t, promise,” Dan slurred. “I don’t have anybody else who gets it, who gets me like you do. This is me, it’s not good and it’s not…it’s not anything worth wanting. I know I’m fucked up and that everyone just thinks I’m crazy. They think that I’m only good for the moment,” Dan rambled on. “But it’s who I am.” Phil opened his mouth to say something and then he closed it again. He couldn’t make that promise. He couldn’t save Dan! Especially not from himself. “You’re so drunk, Dan. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Phil whispered back with one hand in the other’s hair as he tried to calm him down. Dan was pulling away though and shaking his head fiercely. “No, no I’m not that drunk. I know what I’m saying. The difference between you and I is that you’re...whatever is inside of you is real and golden and perfect. Mine is fake, tarnished, my insides are ruined. You make me feel like…I could be like you too, I could be good enough someday.” Dan clings to him when he doesn’t say anything in return. Instead Phil just holds him because that’s all he can do. That’s all he can give him. He used to think he’d give Dan anything he ever wanted. But his tongue is failing him and no sweet words are going to make this okay again. Phil’s not leaving him, no because Phil doesn’t walk out on people. They walk out on him. And if he doesn’t leave now, eventually Dan will catch on and leave too. A while later and Dan passes out on the sofa, half slumped against Phil and half draped across the cushions. When he knows it’s safe to move without waking the man, he starts a mad dash for his keys. He looks everywhere he can think of until finally he comes across them in his jacket pocket. Phil thinks for a minute, looking around for a good hiding place. He settled for the fridge behind the milk. Next he calls Dan’s almost best friend. He uses the world almost because Dan claims that he likes all his friends equally. But PJ would be the closest if he had to pick someone. He’s got Dan’s phone and it doesn’t take a lot of work to find PJ. The guy answers, sounding half asleep but he’s picked up anyway. He didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds but eventually he’s grumbling something. “Do you know what time it is?” His voice his thick with sleep and he sounds slightly pissed. “Actually it’s Phil. Dan’s passed out…um, he took a bunch of pills and I don’t want to leave him alone. But I can’t stay. I really have to go home. Do you think you could come over or uh if you know somebody who could? I don’t want to call his parents…I could maybe call an ambulance if you think that’s better?” Phil mumbled as he stumbled over his words. He’s afraid of this person’s reaction for some reason. Like he’ll think that it’s Phil’s fault somehow. Phil just wants Dan to be okay. “Again?” Comes the tired voice. Again? This isn’t the first time? Phil has to remember to hold onto the phone because he could feel it going lose in his hand. “Yeah, I’m on my way. Just leave the door unlocked for me. Hide the keys in case he wakes up. He likes to drive when he’s fucked up,” PJ mumbles before the line goes dead. Phil wouldn’t have told PJ that he’d already hidden the keys. It was better to let him assume Phil hadn’t known that. He didn’t want to admit that he’d seen a dark side of Dan. It was like he shouldn’t have seen that. Dan had secrets too but it was too late to take them back if he wanted to now. Slowly he moved back to the sofa. Dan didn’t look like he was about to die. He was breathing slow and even and he seemed peaceful for the most part. That didn’t make it okay though.  Phil hated himself. He’d never felt so pathetic. He couldn’t be here when Dan woke up though. He didn’t want anything to do with the aftermath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing a hand against Dan’s cheek. “I can’t…I’m not who you think I am either. I can’t save anybody,” He whispered and then squeezed his eyes shut to keep his own tears from falling. Afterwards he did what PJ asked. He left the door unlocked and left. He’d done what Dan begged him not to. He went home, climbed back through his bedroom window, and laid in bed until it was time for class.                                                          -o- It felt like he was sleep walking all through class. He didn’t know if Dan would call or message but either way Phil was ignoring his phone. He was worried but he was trying not to think about it. It wasn’t until later that night did he actually feel his phone go off. The first text he’d gotten all day and of course it was from Dan. He couldn’t deny how much of a relief it was. He’d been dying to know if Dan was alright or not. It put something inside of him at ease. Dan: Look. I’m sorry about last night, I know it was fucked up. Shit got too real. Phil read the message a few times before putting his phone down, not bothering to reply. What was there to say? He wasn’t what Dan needed and he was too scared to face that unescapable, impending rejection. He wasn’t giving up on Dan, he was just stating that he wasn’t the one who would save him. It was easier to ignore his phone then he thought it would be. He did his homework, ate dinner, did the dishes. And all without thinking of Dan. Okay so that last part was a lie. But he was trying. When he looked at his phone again there were a few more messages. Dan: Phil? That one had been sent three hours ago. Dan: Hey, I hope you aren’t ignoring me or anything. I am sorry. That one an hour ago. And the most recent one had been sent about twenty minutes ago. Dan: Don’t be like this. The days passed until Phil had gone a week without talking to the older boy. His message had clearly gotten across. He was afraid of rejection but Dan ranged from guilty, apologetic, to downright angry. It was all in a series of voice mails and text messages that Phil refused to respond to. Dan didn’t understand. He just couldn’t. Dan: I wasn’t that drunk, I know what I said. It was a lot to process and I’m sorry. I’ve got problems but I’m fine, honestly. Dan: Could you at least talk to me… Dan: I don’t understand what I did wrong. Yeah I got drunk and high and said some crazy shit but you can’t forgive me? Dan: Fuck you, Phil. I cried in front of you, I opened up in front of you. How could you just fucking ignore me? You don’t know what it’s like to hurt like this. To be this messed up. How could you just walk away from me now? All the messages hurt but the worst was the last voice mail Dan had sent. He knew that Phil wasn’t talking to him for a reason. It wasn’t just not ‘being able to get back with him’ not when they had talked every day for the last five months. Had seen each other a few times a week every week. He was sitting on his bed when he finally worked up the courage to listen. He got his voicemail opened and pressed the phone against his ear and held his breath. “I’m not going to bother you anymore, which is apparently what I’m doing. I’ll delete your number, I’ll forget where you live, whatever makes you happy.” Dan’s voice felt flat like static in his ears. It was him, he knew that much. But it would never compare to how he sounded in person. “I’ll delete you from my life if you want. I just didn’t realize I was so fucked up that you wouldn’t want me anymore. Maybe I don’t remember everything I said, maybe it’s worse than what I thought. But if you can’t tell the person you lo-if you can’t tell the person you’re closest with that you want to crash your car and die who can you tell? It doesn’t matter anymore. You didn’t have to call PJ you know, that was kind of low. I didn’t need a babysitter.” Dan was rambling at that point. Phil would never know that he was just digging for more things to say because he didn’t want this to be the last time he ever talked to Phil. Rather it was in person or not.

“I guess that’s all I’ve got to say. I’m sorry I ruined whatever it was that we had. I didn’t mean to hurt you, hurt people hurt people though. Anyway…I’ll just let you get on with your life. You don’t have to listen to my music anymore. I know you never liked it.” That was all Dan had said before ending the call. Phil couldn’t pretend like he wasn’t crying at that point. He didn’t mean for it to all turn out like this. What happened to his simple boring little life? He couldn’t tell if he regretted going to the concert that night or not. All he knew was that he needed to get away. He just needed to forget for a minute. Sadly it was Dan who had showed him the best way to forget any bad situation. He called Charlie. “We’re going to this show in Workingham, same venue,” he said as soon as the other boy answered the phone. “I already talked to my brother and his girlfriend is making him let me borrow the car again.” “Okay wait, who exactly is ‘we’ because lately it’s been all about you and Dan,” Charlie mumbled on the other end. It was true, Phil hadn’t really been spending nearly enough time with him. Not in the way he usually did. “Me and you, fuck Dan alright? He’s got problems. I just want to go this show, have a good time, and not think about anything else. Are you going to go with me or do I have to go alone?” Phil asked, already knowing the answer. Because believe it or not. Charlie was like Dan in a way. Not in all the ways it mattered but in enough. He wondered if Charlie would have run away from him that night too. Probably not. Only Phil was that big of a coward. “Alright, I guess so. But you’re paying my way and you’re spending the night at my house,” Charlie demanded. Phil could already hear the hint of a smile in his voice. “But how are we getting in. If you’re fighting with Dan, I doubt he’ll let us in.” Phil had already had that covered too. “I’ve got his work scheduled figured out. He won’t be there but his friend will be. And he’ll let us in.” “Wow, I guess you really want to go. Anybody good playing tonight?” Charlie asked. Like that would make a difference. He’d go even if he hated the band. Phil could already hear him getting ready. “Does it matter? It’s noise so it’ll do,” he mumbled. And it didn’t matter to him. He wasn’t going there to think about Dan. Not the way he looked when he talked. How he’d made his brother’s car smell like cigarettes or the way his eyes looked when he was listening to the shit he called music. “It was a bad fight huh? You know you can talk about it if you wanted to,” Charlie said softly. He wasn’t a great friend but he did care from time to time, which was all Phil needed. From time to time friends. “I don’t need to talk about, I just want to listen to some music. I’ll pick you up in an hour alright?” They said their goodbyes but it wasn’t for long. He promised his parents that they’d be safe, promised his brother not to crash his car, and he promised himself he wouldn’t think of Dan.                                                         -o- Like he’d thought getting in was no trouble with Andy working the door. In fact, him and Phil had even stopped to talk for a minute, discussing the bands that were playing and how it would be good. Phil honestly didn’t know a thing about the bands but something inside of him had changed. He was charming his way through the conversation and the door. Maybe it wasn’t fair to be dropping Dan’s name when they weren’t even talking but Phil was getting in to that show and nobody was stopping him. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Kind of like Charlie that night. And when Andy came back in after his shift and offered to buy him a couple beers. Well Phil wouldn’t say no to that either.

“Hey, Andy is getting me a couple drinks. You’re okay with driving right?” Phil asked Charlie, making his voice loud enough to be heard over the pounding music. “What?!” Charlie yelled, whipping around to look at Phil. Already the place was packed with people bouncing and singing along to the music. The lights were going and Phil could feel the bass in his chest again. “I can’t drive!” The other boy said loudly. “Why not, you don’t know how?” Phil questioned in return. They both knew that Charlie did in fact know how to drive. The question was meant to be condescending and patronizing. Apparently it had worked. “I know how!” Charlie barked, his face heating up. “I’m just not very good at it,” he frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’ll do fine. Besides, I paid for the tickets and I got us in. I drove us here. You kind of owe it to me to drive us back,” Phil reminded him with a slight smile. Charlie looked confused, like he wasn’t sure if Phil was being serious or not. Honestly he didn’t know what had gotten into him either. He was so caught up in trying to forget Dan that he was starting to act like him instead. Overly bold and a bit arrogant. “I guess. if I crash though it’s on you,” Charlie scoffed, giving Phil a look before turning back around to face the band. A few beers turned into a few more before the show had ended. Phil wouldn’t say that he was drunk but he was a bit more than tipsy. If Dan could drink so could he. He had to admit though, the music didn’t sound the same without the older boy. It was loud and fast and he just knew Dan would have loved it.  He thought he might have loved Dan, he hoped it was just how he’d looked in the lighting. Andy was pretty cool. He was somebody Phil could trust. He had a girlfriend and he wasn’t ‘trying’ to get Phil drunk or anything. He even helped him find Charlie after the show was over. He didn’t understand why Andy had actually wanted to hang out with him either. He wasn’t Dan, he just knew him. “Phil this is an awful idea,” Charlie mumbled as they climbed back into the car. “It’s dark and I can’t really see and you know I don’t even have my permit yet.” Phil had one too many to be afraid of what could happen. Instead of responding he reached for the radio knobs. “I said you’ll do fine,” he answered back after a few long second and only because he felt obligated to. “Besides I can’t drive. Not now anyway.” His head felt fuzzy and everything seemed warmer. He wasn’t happy though. The alcohol had only made him feel sad. He wondered why people drank if it made them feel this way. “God damn it,” Charlie huffed as he tried to navigate the road. He wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t very good at it. He kept stepping on the breaks too frequently and with too much pressure. Phil had at least gotten that part down. If they had to go an hour like this he didn’t know how he was going to manage it without throwing up. “I know something happened with Dan but do you have to punish me too? He’s the one you’re pissed off at, make him drive.”

“Who?” Phil asked, slumping further in his seat. It was his way of telling his friend he needed to shut up because he didn’t know a Dan anymore. It was funny though. He’d went there to take his mind off everything and the whole time he was there all he could think about was him. “You’re being childish right now,” Charlie argued before looking over at Phil. But Phil didn’t understand what he wanted from him. Did he want a whole lengthy discussion on what had happened? Because there wasn’t much point in that. Phil didn’t want to hear how he’d messed up. Because yeah, now that he thought about it he had. Dan hadn’t fucked up. It had been him. “Talking about it helps and I can’t help if you don’t talk about it.” “Charlie I don’t want to. Please? Let’s just get home your driving is awful,” Phil moaned, tossing his head back against the seat. “And everything on the radio is awful…and I’m awful,” he added sadly. “You’re not awful. I don’t’ know what happened but it’s never as bad as you think it is,” Charlie sighed. It was the first wise words Phil had ever heard from his friend before.   “Dan took a bunch of anxiety medication, told me he wanted to kill himself, and then passed out on the sofa. I didn’t know what to do so I hid his keys in the fridge behind the milk and called his friend. Then I left,” Phil blurted out, sitting up straight in his seat. “I screwed up and I can’t fix it because I can’t fix Dan and…and I’m just too boring and hopeless. Dan would have left me anyway. Everyone is going to leave me in the end so I just sped up the process some,” he confessed, his voice breaking as he struggled to get everything out. “What am I going to do?” “What?!” Charlie shouted, his eyes going wide as he turned to look at Phil. “Why would you leave, Phil? I’m…I get it but I don’t. How do you know he was going to leave? You didn’t even give him a chance to stay,” Charlie pointed out. “Charlie the road,” Phil mumbled, noticing how the other’s eyes were still on him. “Look it scared me you know? What would you do if somebody told you they wanted to die? I’m not a doctor or a psychiatrist. I’d probably end up making it worse. They would defiantly want to kill themselves afterwards. I’m like the equivalent of getting put on hold when you call the suicide hotline.” Charlie glanced back at the road but instantly he was looking back at Phil again. “Well first of all a psychiatrist is a doctor. And how do you know you weren’t helping? Maybe you were making things better for him and he was just having a hard time?” The other boy asked. “Charlie look at the road,” Phil said again. “And then he called me and sent me a bunch of messages but I didn’t answer him. So now he thinks he’s so messed up that I didn’t want him. Which isn’t true. I’m just…I can’t help in the way I want to. And I’m so scared that he’s going to realize the truth. He said I was the best part of his life…” Phil whispered and tried not choke on his words.

“Sometimes helping is easy. You don’t have to fix him you just have to be there while he figures it out. You both just sound like fucked up people so you deserve each other,” Charlie huffed. The wise words suddenly gone and replaced with something typical. “You know…I don’t really like him. Number one he smokes too much, he’s too old for you, and I’ve never seen him wear a color other than black.”

“Charlie you’re swerving,” Phil pointed out, looking out of the windshield and noticing how the edge of the road was getting closer. He wasn’t sober but he knew that wasn’t right. The world wasn’t spinning it was just coming at him from an angle. But Charlie didn’t seem to hear him and if he did he’d gotten completely side tracked ranting about Dan and Phil and how they both needed to get over it. He was listing off more reasons why Dan wasn’t as cool as Phil thought he was but he also throwing some good points in. Phil couldn’t hear any of it because they were about to run straight off the road and into the ditch. There wasn’t anyone else out and they were taking the back roads but it had rained the night before. “Charlie!” Phil yelled, leaning in and trying to take the wheel. It was out of instinct that Charlie pulled back. He had felt the wheels pull sharply and he’d tried to take control back of the car, only out of habit. It was an accident really. Neither of them had done the wrong thing. Phil, being drunk, probably shouldn’t have touched the wheel at all though. Charlie was trying to keep the car from going swerving too sharply and Phil was just trying to avoid the ditch. Which was exactly where they ended up in the end. The car didn’t flip and it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as it could have been. It was kind of a shame when Phil thought about it. He wasn’t one for dramatics but he would have rather died than have to face his parents again. They had drove straight off the road, hit the shoulder and then the grass and came to complete stop when the car drove straight into the deep ditch. The both sat in stunned silence as the radio played on. Each boy tried to process exactly what had just happened. It felt like they sat there forever trying to make sense of it. The beers Phil had before certainly didn’t help. But he was quickly sobering up. “Can you just…drive back onto the road?” Phil asked, still shook up and unsure. “I don’t know,” Charlie answered back, too terrified to try. “I think we’re stuck,” he mumbled. Both of their hearts were still pounding, hands shaking, and mouths beyond dry. They sat there for another five minutes just trying to regain themselves. “We’re dead,” Phil finally said as he turned in his seat to look at the other boy. “Seriously, I’m dead.” Part of him was frantic while the other part was slowly accepting his fate. “Just…we’ll just call your parents…and we’ll uh, we’re going to-um,” Charlie’s sentence was broken and jumbled as he tried to come up with something. It was obvious the boy had nothing. “No, we’re not meant to in Workingham. We’re meant to be at the movies, you aren’t meant to be driving, I wasn’t supposed to drink. Fuck!” Phil yelled, finally undoing his seatbelt and jumping out of the car. “My parents, no my brother-no both of them are going to kill me!” Charlie jumped out with him if so that he could assess the damage.  The car hadn’t been dented or scratched, in an actual miracle. It was simply stuck. But that was more than enough to make two sixteen year olds panic. “Alright just calm down! We’re gonna…we’re gonna fucking figure this out!” Charlie yelled back. He was trying to look for the best way to get the car out of the ditch while Phil was running his hands down his face rather roughly.

“What are going to do? Oh my god, I can’t believe this. Why weren’t you looking at the road?” Phil cried out, his fingers tugging sharply at his hair. “Well why weren’t you driving? I told you I was a bad driver!” Charlie argued back, still trying to figure out how to get the car out. They might have been able to pull it off it hadn’t been so steep and the ground hadn’t been so muddy from the rain. “You said I’d be fine; this isn’t fucking fine Phil!” “You said you were a bad driver not a distracted one!” Phil retorted, throwing his head back. “My parents are going to kill me and then give whatever is left of my body to my brother.” “I wouldn’t have been distracted if you hadn’t been bitching about Dan,” Charlie yelled again before his eyes were lighting up. That was it, that was the answer. “Call Dan!” “What, are you kidding me. No. Now is not the time to try and resolve our issues,” Phil spat, narrowing his eyes at the other. “No that’s not what I mean. Call Dan and see if he knows what to do. He lives in Workingham right? Maybe he can figure something out. It’s either that or call your parents. Because we don’t know what the hell we’re doing.” “No, there is no way I’m calling Dan. I won’t do it. He won’t even pick up the phone to me after how I acted. Overreacted. It doesn’t matter, even if he did answer he’s not going to help. And I don’t even want his help,” Phil frowned, letting himself flop down onto the damp ground. “I’m not doing it.” Charlie didn’t bother waiting for Phil to agree before running to the car, grabbing Phil’s cell phone and finding the older boys number. Phil bolted up from the ground and tried to grab the phone out of Charlie’s hand but it was too late. It was already ringing. Charlie wasn’t strong but he was stronger than Phil and that was all the mattered. “Hey Dan it’s me, Charlie! Are you busy? Oh no, he’s fine. We’re fine, well kind of. Not really but we sort of crashed Phil’s brother’s car into a ditch and we can’t figure out how to get it out. We’re on the backroad back to Reading. Yeah the one going northbound. You’ll be here in a couple minutes? Great, thanks. We really appreciate it. Okay, we’ll see you soon.”

“Are you kidding me?” Phil yelled, throwing his hands up. “Charlie, seriously?” He covered his face with his hands again only to muffle his frustrated screams. “Hey, he’s coming to help and it was either that or call your parents and I’m not ready to die. I love my life Phil. I’m sorry but I’m not taking the heat for this. Just suck it up and talk to Dan because you don’t have a choice now.”

Phil wanted to argue it but there wasn’t much he could do. He couldn’t call Dan back and tell him not to come. He couldn’t call his parents to explain what happened. They were metaphorically stuck just like Martyn’s care was literally stuck.                                                            -o- “Fuck,” Dan mumbled, one arm across his chest while his other hand covered his mouth. All three boys were staring at the car. Each wondering how this was going to work. Dan had just showed up with his car parked on the side of the road, hazard lights flashing. He was shaking his head and Phil could feel the disappointment radiating off of him. He wondered if dealing with his family would have been easier. “What’s wrong with you two?” Dan suddenly snapped, turning to glare at them. “You don’t have a license and you barely have one,” he said as he pointed at Charlie and then Phil. “And what made you decide to drink in the first place? Do you have any idea how irresponsible this is?” Dan hissed, his eyes meeting Phil’s with pure anger. “What were you thinking, oh right you weren’t. You don’t even realize the chances you took tonight. You’re lucky this was all that happened.” Phil’s mouth fell open as Dan lectured them. He sounded like Phil’s mother. Dan Howell apparently had many different sides. Right now him and Charlie were getting the angry parent. “Take pills not chances, right?” Phil spat. “Don’t lecture me, okay? We didn’t get drunk and jump in the car with the intentions of trying to kill ourselves. You could cut us some slack,” Phil said pointedly, his eyes narrowing even further. Dan’s heated gaze turned icy instead. They both knew what he was referring to. “You’re right, Phil. I don’t need to lecture you on this. You did a stupid thing but I’m not mad,” Dan scoffed, shaking his head again. “Because you’re just a kid, and kids do stupid things.” That one hurt more than Phil wanted to think about. They didn’t bring up his age difference often. It was almost five years. He’d never felt younger than he did right then. He’d always tried to distract Dan from how he was only sixteen but tonight it was painfully clear. “I just want to say that I told Phil not to drink and I was very adamant that I’m not a good driver,” Charlie said, holding his hands up and taking a step back from the two of them. “And basically this is all his fault, so…” he trailed off and directed his gaze anywhere but on them. “I’ll call Chris. His roommate has a truck that we might be able to use to pull this out. If we do though you’re coming back to my place. I’m not letting either of you back on the road. You can wake up early in the morning and head home then,” Dan mumbled, already walking away with his cell phone in hand. “Thanks a lot Charlie,” Phil mumbled. “You just had to call him huh? Then it wasn’t enough to call him but you might as well throw me under the bus while you’re at it.” “Uh yeah actually. I’m not getting in trouble for this shit so you’re welcome,” he replied before waking off as well, leaving Phil alone to stare at the car. This was a disaster. One that he’d caused all by himself. Phil had never met Chris or his roommate but they seemed nice enough. They didn’t make him feel bad about his massive screw up and thankfully Dan didn’t fill them in too much. Instead of questioning him and giving him disapproving looks, they laughed it off and told him not to worry about it. “It happens to everyone,” Chris said with a smile, giving Phil the keys back after they had pulled it out. As much as Phil wanted to he couldn’t pretend like he wasn’t relieved. The car actually hadn’t been that difficult to pull back onto the road. It just took somebody who knew what they were doing and a tuck large enough to pull it out of the mud. Instantly though Dan snatched the keys out of Phil’s hand and put them in his own pocket instead. “Hey, if you don’t mind would drive my car back to my place? I told them I’d drive back. If it’s not too much trouble, you’ve done a lot tonight.” The car ride home was silent. Phil in the passenger seat and feeling less intoxicated by the second. And Charlie in the back. Chris had Dan’s car and his roommate was taking him back after they had dropped everyone off. Dan really did have some nice friends; Phil still couldn’t figure out what had made him hate life so much. “You don’t mind taking the sofa? You don’t really have an option but I figured I’d be nice and ask,” Dan said, directing his question towards Charlie as he unlocked his front door. “No, I’m alright. Thanks for letting us stare here tonight. I’m sorry that you had to take your night off and deal with Phil,” Charlie responded before giving Dan a grateful smile. It was just like him to once again put it all back on his friend. “It’s fine. I’ll get you a blanket and some pillows,” Dan answered back as he let them both in. Charlie headed inside first, not bothering to wait for Dan. Which was lucky because Dan was stopping Phil before he could even get inside. “We need to talk.” “Don’t tell me you’re going to let him stay here and make me sleep in the car,” Phil grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t know why he was acting like he was. He’d told Charlie in the car he knew he’d messed up with Dan. It had been his fault to begin with. But there was still this fear though, a fear he couldn’t shake. And sadness and worry. There were too many emotions to count and he didn’t know how to say it all. “Hey, you owe me. In fact I’m glad this happened. If we’re having a falling out and we’re parting ways for good I don’t want to end it on a bad note. You can at least give me that,” Dan sighed before taking Phil’s hand and leading him inside. Charlie was already lounging on Dan’s sofa, his phone out, and looking perfectly comfortable in an almost stranger’s house. “I’m going to get your friend set up. You can just wait for me in my room alright? Then you can storm out and sleep in the car if you want,” Dan frowned. Once again there was some kind of pleading in his eyes. Like he actually wanted to make this okay again. “Sure,” Phil mumbled softly, stepping aside before making his way to the room he’d been in a hundred times. Him and Dan had never done much in here, certainly nothing sexual aside from kissing. He’d always wondered if Dan had never pushed for more because of his age. When he’d asked him about it he got a rather endearing response. ‘Kissing you is better than any sex I’ve ever had.’ Dan had said. It was one of Phil’s favorite memories. But the room still held so many other good memories. For almost two weeks he forced himself to believe that he’d never see this room again. Phil was convinced that he’d never see these posters again or Dan’s messy floor and unmade bed. It felt good even if he really didn’t want it to. Dan wasn’t gone long. Just long enough to grab Charlie a blanket and a couple pillows. From the sound of it he’d helped the other with the television and was leaving him to settle down for the night. Phil on the other hand felt wired and wide wake. He just figured Charlie was tired and the adrenalin was wearing off. “Alright, we’ve got some things to talk about. First I want to apologize for calling you a kid. That was low and I shouldn’t have done it,” Dan mumbled as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. If there was one thing Dan liked about himself it was his ability to admit fault. Phil had been standing awkwardly on the other side of the room when Dan came in. Dan didn’t hesitate to sit down on his bed though, motioning for Phil to join him. “If you don’t mind,” he added. Phil didn’t, not really. He was still crazy about Dan. He still wanted things to be okay even if he was acting like he didn’t. God Dan was right, he wasn’t just a kid but he was a stupid one. Hesitantly Phil made his way over to the bed, carefully taking his place next to Dan. It was so hard not to lean into him like he wanted to. “I acted like a kid tonight, all last week actually.” “You had a right to. I got messed up and said some things you weren’t ready to hear. I know what I said and I know that it would have been enough to scare anyone off. I’m not blaming you and I’m really not mad even if I left you some pretty hateful messages and voicemails.” “I didn’t know anything was wrong, Dan,” Phil whispered. “When I got there you were drunk and you told me you had taken a bunch of pills. I didn’t know if I should call an ambulance or if you were going to die or something. Then you said you wanted to and that you hated your life.” Phil’s voice was so soft he almost couldn’t hear himself. “I know, Phil. Believe me I get how wrong that is. I know that it wasn’t fair to just dump everything on you like that. I was having a bad night. A really bad night and…it’s hard for me to talk about it when I’m sober. I just wanted you there. God it hurt when I woke up and realized you weren’t there, then it hurt worse when you ignored me. It made me feel like I was so broken and ruined as a person that you didn’t want anything to do with me. And if that’s the case I understand, it’s not far from the truth.” “Dan don’t say that, please don’t say that. It’s not true. I just…I can’t fix this. I can’t make you better and I don’t know how to help. You said that I was good and golden on the inside and that you weren’t. You said you were tarnished and ruined. But you aren’t, you’ve got it all backwards. I’m not special and I’m not something wonderful like you think I am. I’m just…ordinary and I don’t know how to make it okay,” Phil said, his voice cracking as he tried to push back his emotion. “Phil, I don’t need you save me and I’m not asking for any kind of help. I just didn’t want you to go when you figured out the real me. You know?” Dan sighed softly before reaching out and taking Phil’s hands in his own. “I asked you to promise me you wouldn’t leave and that’s not okay. Because you know I can’t promise I’ll be here forever either. I could jump off a bridge tomorrow and be done with it all. I kind of thought about it to be honest.” Dan’s eyes were so empty looking and he sounded so lost. Phil couldn’t stand it. “Don’t say that!” Phil yelled, pulling his hands away. “Don’t say those things, I don’t want that to happen to you. You can’t do that,” he couldn’t stop the tears from falling this time.

“I’m not saying I’m going to. It’s just an example really. That I can’t promise you forever and I know you can’t promise me forever,” Dan sighed, once again reaching for Phil’s hands. “I was scared,” Phil confessed. “You think I’m so great and I’m not. I’m boring, I’m not like you. I don’t know music and I don’t have any good underlying qualities about me. Everyone always leaves me in the end.  They always do, Dan,” He whispered before hanging his hand. “And I didn’t want to be left, I knew how bad it would hurt. I thought if I just let you live your life you’d find somebody who could really help. Somebody who actually deserved you and I wouldn’t have to fall apart when it did end. You could find somebody who knew all the right words and would know how to keep you sane.” “So leave me before I leave you?” Dan asked, giving the younger boy a sad smile. “Yeah, I am kind of mental. But Phil, you have to stop looking inside yourself all the time. Sometimes you need to look outside of yourself. Do you ever wonder if maybe people leave because you push them away?” Dan asked and gave Phil his famous knowing look. “Are you so convinced someone is going to walkout on you that you force them to? I’m not saying it’s you but you can’t burn all your bridges and you can’t be afraid of opening up and being connected. I know I’m one to talk huh? I don’t want us to end though…I’m not sure what us is but I’ve never been so happy to be with someone before. When I’m with you it feels like I can actually think right.” “Are you going to kill yourself?” Phil asked, not replying to anything else Dan said. He can’t help it. Now that Dan put the idea in his head he can’t get away from it. Would he really do something like that? What kind of person is Dan Howell? Phil thought he knew but every time he thinks he’s got it figured it out, Dan throws out all the pieces and creates a new picture. Dan sighed again, seeming to deflate in the process. He pulled his lip into his mouth and chewed lightly on it. That was a bad sign, he wasn’t giving Phil an answer. “Am I going to kill myself?” He repeated back. Phil wondered if he was stalling for time. He tilted his head some as he looked at Phil, trying to come up with the right words to use. Phil loves words and so does Dan but the worst thing in the word is not having the ones you need. They stare at each other for a bit, nobody saying anything. Phil’s heart is breaking with every passing second and Dan is looking more unsettled and uncomfortable. That might as well be Phil’s answer. Because if Dan wasn’t going to kill himself he would have said something a lot sooner. “No, Phil. I’m not going to kill myself, don’t worry about that alright?” Dan finally answered. It’s the answer Phil wanted and he’s almost positive that’s why Dan said it at all. “I could stop you, you know? I’ll tell your parents and all your friends and I’ll tell my parents too. I’ll tell the police and every one who’ll listen. They’ll lock you up so fast you couldn’t do anything about it,” Phil warned, still not trusting Dan as far as he could throw him. “I know you will. I’m not going to kill myself. I said I would because sometimes I say shit I shouldn’t. But I’m not going to. If I think I am I’ll call somebody myself.”

They sit silently again. Nothing has really been resolved and Phil has the unshakable feeling that Dan lied to him. It sounded too practiced and rehearsed. Like he’d done it a hundred times or like he was reading lines straight out of a book. And if Phil was going to name that book it would, “How to Convince People You Aren’t Suicidal.”

 When he knows this is all he’s getting from Dan he nods silently. In the end he still believes that Dan is going to leave him. That something terrible is going to happen and it isn’t going to work out. He wants Dan for as long as he can have him though. All the pain and hurt will be worth it. He hopes so anyway. “is this us making up?” Phil asked, finally looking back at Dan in question. Dan’s eyes light up some, like Phil hadn’t seen in forever and he smiles gently back. “I think so or I would like to anyway. We won’t make promises we can’t keep.” Dan’s voice is slowly going back to normal. It’s not so lost or broken, he’s covering it up well. Phil nods again, not exactly feeling like he needs to elaborate or ask for any more of an explanation. Because it’s self-explanatory. This isn’t the love you find in romance novels or in the movies. It’s just love and Phil will love Dan for as long as they have. He doesn’t know much time they’ll be given with each other. All they can do is make the most of it.                                                                          -o- They’re sitting on the steps of Dan’s apartment complex. He’s smoking a cigarette and Phil’s watching the smoke swirl in the night air. They’re still listening to punk music and Dan still insist that if Phil keeps listening he’ll eventually learn to love it. “Punk is like…it’s like drinking black coffee. It’s sophisticated and bitter and it just screams ‘I’m dark and mysterious’ but you usually don’t like it the first couple of times. Then after a while you realize you can’t drink any other kind of coffee expect black coffee,” Dan once said. But what was the point in forcing yourself to like something? It was too late for Dan but Phil could still save himself from bad coffee and shitty music and other life lessons that could pertain to this.   Lately he’s been more into the poppy bubble gum shit. It’s not real punk music but Phil likes it, connects with it, and it’s not played on the radio so Dan doesn’t shame him for it. At least not too much. Phil will be seventeen in a couple weeks and not much has changed. They throw the word love around a lot but they haven’t established anything, nothing is official. Surprisingly they’re both okay with that. Because both of them were getting their hopes up and praying they wouldn’t be disappointed. Dan still had hard nights and Phil still thought he was lying when he said he wouldn’t try to kill himself. Which Dan might have been but he didn’t hate his life nearly as much. He was moving closer to his parents which meant they could see each other more. They were with each other as often as possible but Phil still had classes and Dan tried not to keep him up to late on weekdays. Phil still had his own fears. There were moments when he wanted more. He wanted an actual promise from Dan. One he could count on. But at the same time he couldn’t promise Dan anything Dan couldn’t promise him. So most of the time he tried to let himself focus on the moment. Right then he was with Dan and that was all that mattered. He still didn’t think he was worth nearly as much as Dan thought he was. He was still boring and Dan was still so much cooler.   “I found this new band, I think you’re going to like them,” Dan grinned, exhaling more smoke into the air. “I was listening to some of their stuff and it’s got a lot of power chords and the lyrics aren’t half bad either. I thought we could go see them this weekend?” It’s more of a question than anything. Dan wouldn’t ever want to drag Phil to any show he didn’t want to see. But Phil’s quick to accept the offer, leaning into Dan in the process. He didn’t know when their flame would go out or if it even would go out. There were no words to hold on to or swears of loyalty. They didn’t truly need that though. Sometimes you couldn’t say what you wanted to, you just had to feel it. All Phil knew was that they would be together for as long as they were together and that was all either of them would get.