Not On Fire (Phan AU)

09 | the deal

"So, I've been thinking about it," Louise says into the phone, "and I've decided that if you want me to stop bothering you about your smoking habit, I want you to invite Phil over to your house after school."

                Really, he should have been expecting it. After all, this has been something she's been rather persistent about lately, and even when he does try, she still insists that he's "not trying hard enough," which is ironic because he knows that's not what she means when she says it. She means that he's not friends with Phil, and obviously, if he were trying hard enough, they would already be friends according to her, but he begs to differ.

                "Why?" Dan asks, groaning and rolling over so his voice is muffled by his pillow. "I've already given Phil plenty of chances and I don't know what you expect to accomplish by forcing me to invite him over to my house."

                "Dan, you're forcing yourself onto him in a way that's supposed to make a friendship possible," she scolds, and even though he can't see her, he can just imagine her rolling her eyes, putting her hand on her hip, and giving him The Look.

                "You're forcing me to force myself onto him," he responds, frowning slightly, the corners of his mouth facing downward just marginally enough for someone to barely notice.

                "No, I'm not. He wants to be friends with you, but what I'm saying is, the way you're approaching it is all wrong. He doesn't stand a chance when you have this preconceived idea that it's not going to work out."

                "Why do I have to give him a chance anyway? If I don't want another friend, then I shouldn't be forced to make one."

                "You know why," Louise answers flatly, irritated and forceful, and Dan's frown deepens into a scowl, no longer contemplating, now just angry and annoyed because he's practically promised her he'll say yes and, well, it's not hard what she's asking, but it is pointless.

                "No, I don't," Dan says, almost whine-like. "Humor me."

                "Dan, your parents are worried about you. You only ever hang out with me, and they want you to have a normal teenage life."

                It's a little late for that, Dan thinks bitterly, because I'm pretty sure arson isn't on the list of things required to have a normal teenage life. In fact, if he were to make a list of things that disqualified you from ever having a normal teenage life, arson would be pretty high up on the list in big bolded letters that would burn in his mind. He's not a normal teenager, point blank, hasn't been for a while or possibly ever and is already out of the running.

                "Well, I think it's a little too late for that," Dan says, sighs and rolls over onto his back so he's staring at the ceiling, his voice no longer muffled, "and plus, this is my life, not theirs. It doesn't affect them."

                "They think you're depressed," she confesses, rushed as if it tumbled out of her mouth without consent, quicker than she could catch it.

                "What?" he asks, horrified and unreasonably shocked. Really, it makes sense. The concerned glances they threw his way that made him freeze mid-step, the hesitance and worry in their voice when they talked to him and the delicate hand that they treated him with—the missing forcefulness in their words and actions that used to be present once upon a time—they were cautionary measures designed to keep him from self-destructing.

                "I wasn't supposed to tell you, but you're being unreasonable." There's a sigh, the sounds of something or someone moving, and then, "I was talking to them the last time I came over and you weren't here, were gone somewhere or whatever, and they were telling me about how you shut yourself in your room and don't talk to them much except for whispered words that don't reach their ears and then they said, 'We think he's depressed.'"