Not On Fire (Phan AU)

03 | lunch with phil

"I invited Phil to have lunch with us again," Louise says, sitting down. "I hope you don't mind."

                "If you really cared to know how I felt, you wouldn't have invited him without asking me."

                Louise has this thing about her which Dan refers to as her "motherly complex." She insists that it's not actually a thing, but Louise always thinks she knows what's better for Dan even if Dan thinks something else is better. And this often leads to her making decisions on his behalf—like right now.

                She's worse than his mom, however, because she doesn't take no for an answer even after Dan's complained for thirty minutes. In fact, she never cracks; Dan does. She's pretty much able to convince Dan to do anything, within reason, but everything she tries to get him to do is within reason. Sometimes her attempts fall short of success, but she always manages to get him to change his mind for at least a few minutes—which is better than nothing and way better than his parents can do.

                "I'm doing what I have to do to make sure that you'll actually give him a chance."

                "I said I'd give him a chance, didn't I?"

                "I know you better than that."

                Dan sighs, but doesn't say anything. It's not worth it. He knows how it'll play out if he pursues the conversation any more: she'll lecture him and make him feel guilty and he'll agree and then he'll regret it, but it will be too late.

                He pushes the food around on his tray, spinning the food around mindlessly with his finger.

                The weather is calm, eerily so, and its tense atmosphere has found its way inside. There's a hesitance in the air, suspenseful almost. The calm before the storm.

                Dan knows he's being melodramatic in thinking that something big is about to go down—most likely, lunch with Phil will just be awkward and tense—but he feels as if he's going to let Louise down, which is not a new feeling, but he doesn't know why it's surfaced now.

                A tray hitting the table directly across from him shakes him from his thoughts and Dan looks up to see Phil sit down.

                "Hi," Phil says, smiling. Dan doesn't know whether or not the greeting is directed at Louise, him, or both of them, but he doesn't care.

                Dan stares at Phil as if he's an invader who doesn't belong. In some ways, he is. He's sitting here, but he doesn't know anything about them, apart from whatever Louise might have told him, but he doesn't share the memories that Dan and Louise do and there's nothing that can change the past.

                "Hi," Louise says. She gives Dan a sharp look.

                "Hi," Dan mumbles out reluctantly and returns Louise's gaze, but his is more harsh and angry. In a way, it's almost as if he's saying are you happy now.

                Louise smiles victoriously so wide that her teeth show and her eyes shine. Dan wants to be mad—if it was anybody else, he would be mad—but he can't be mad at Louise (well, he can, but not for long).

                Dan turns away from her and catches Phil's eye, who's looking at them, uncomprehending.

                Dan stares at the wall behind Phil's head, his eyes unfocused, the colors blending together, so it's hard to tell where one color starts and another stops. Indistinguishable noise fills the room, and Dan barely registers it. He feels as if he's mind is foggy and clouded over by smoke, as if someone lit a fire in his brain that's slowing his thoughts.

                He feels a hand on his shoulder, presumably Louise's, and he's ripped from his thoughts, pulled back into the real world.

                They're both staring at him and it doesn't take long for Dan to figure out why.

                "I've called your name like five times," Louise says and groans.

                "What do you want?" he says, his voice coming out irritated but tired, despite his attempts to make it sound angrier.

                "Did you know Phil wants to be an author?" Louise asks.

                It's a stupid question for many reasons, but mainly, it's stupid because Louise knows Dan knows absolutely nothing about Phil, apart from the fact that he talks and smiles way too much.

                "No."

                "Didn't you want to be a writer at one point in time?"

                "I guess."

                Dan wanted to be a writer when he was eleven years old. His teacher at the time had gotten it into his brain that he was a really good writer, so it only made since to him at the time that he should be one when he grew up.

                Now he just wants to watch the world burn.

                "Did you ever write anything?" Phil asks. Dan knows he's asking him, but he keeps quiet and stares at him, as if willing him to shut up.

                "He used to write all the time. He would never let me read them, but he wrote a lot of short stories. Or at least, I think they were short stories. He never told me," Louise answers.

                "Most people start off writing short stories," Phil says, nodding. "That's what I mainly write now. I've been trying to start a novel, but I just don't have any ideas that I think would benefit if I gave them more than a few pages."

                "What do you write about?"

                "I don't know," Phil answers bashfully, a blush on his cheeks. "It's hard to describe it out loud for some reason, but I'll let you read something if you want."

                "I would love to!"

                Dan follows their conversation with ease, but doesn't participate. He keeps to his own thoughts and imagines when he'll get home and pull his lighter out of his closet, watching the way the small flame dances and flickers in the nonexistent wind, disturb by his close breathing.

                He lets his imagination wander. It starts off small, with some body part of his Pooh Bear that slowly burns until its crisp black, but then it grows. He sees himself lighting the swing on fire, the image clear as day despite the time that's passed since then. It's pitch black, but the orange flames light up the sky, more than any star could ever do. He fills his mind with the sound of the swing going up in flames, the light crackles that the fire makes, and blocks out their conversation completely.

                The bell ringing to signify the end of lunch is the only thing powerful enough to pull him out this time.

                Phil walks with him out of the lunch room and immediately, he asks, "How come you don't talk that much? How are you supposed to make friends if you don't try?"

                Dan stops walking in the middle of the hallway even though there are people behind him who will surely be annoyed by his actions. "I think you're missing the point."

                Phil gives Dan a curious look, urging him to explain.

                "I'm not trying to make friends, because I don't do friends, okay? And I don't want to be your friend."