Not On Fire (Phan AU)

13 | forever

Dan's always found fire fascinating, the way it consumes something and leaves nothing left but ashes. More than that, however, he finds the end result intriguing because once something is burned, there's no going back, no reconstruction that can fix it, no new coat of paint that can hide the damage. A lot of things are permanent, but none of them are nearly as interesting as what a fire does to a place, what it takes away forever.

Right now, he needs the comfort of knowing something in the world really is forever, even if it isn't life or happiness, and in all reality, he's never been a big fan of those anyway. Between struggling to please his parents, Louise, and stay on Phil's good side long enough to be able to say he's officially given him a chance, he doesn't know how he's managed to stay afloat for so long. With his parents, their concern is understandable, and the same can be said about Louise to a certain degree, but lately, her caring nature, if you could even call it that, has been more suffocating and demanding than what Dan signed up for. Phil, on the other hand, isn't a bad person at all, which is why Dan is so reluctant to befriend him; it's easy being with Louise because she likes fixing people, but he wasn't lying when he said he doesn't do friends, and he definitely doesn't want to drag Phil in to his mess (though he does fear it is too late to worry about that).

It's no wonder why he decides to go visit the swing--the first big thing he ever burned down, the start to it all--when it feels like his whole world is crumbling around him. Hopefully, it will give him the motivation to keep swimming until he reaches the end (because honestly, motivation for him is fleeting, which is why he sat down to write and never got past the second sentence, even though he truly did--and still does--want to write something in an attempt to let his feelings out).

The moment his eyes meet the spot where the swing should be, he's overcome with a sense of melancholy that borders on nostalgia. It's not a feeling he can easily describe, but it feels like he should be swinging on a swing right now--one that, naturally, isn't there because he burned it down late last year--looking back on his early childhood into his young teens, but this isn't a scene out of movie, even if it does feel like one. With no swing to sit on, he climbs on top of the playground and sits with his feet dangling down the slide. No one comes here anyway, and the structure is probably too weak for his weight, letting him know by groaning with each tiny movement he makes. For some reason, the moment feels right.

He's constantly questioning his actions, wondering if it's all worth it in the end, but it's moments like these that make him remember why he started setting fires in the first place. It truly does relax him, and the swirling shades of red and orange are perfect and distracting him from his everyday problems. On top of it all, it's not like he's burning down anything of importance; in fact, he's practically helping everybody out by getting rid of run down buildings, unlike the arsonist that's always shown on television--the person who burns down buildings with people inside. He's an asshole for sure, but he's not a bad guy.

Naturally, as soon as he pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it, Phil shows up, wearing a space coat that would look dorky on literally everybody else except him and a hesitant smile. With his hands awkwardly in the pockets of his black skinny jeans, he walks over until he's standing off to the side of the slide, as close to being in front of Dan as he can get.

"You know," he says apprehensively, each word coming out on its own breath, "you really shouldn't smoke."

"I know." Dan laughs, moving the stick away from his lips long enough for him to blow out the smoke before bringing it right back to suck on it some more. "But I don't give a shit."

For a moment, it's like the life has been sucked out of Phil, his face frozen in surprise and his body as stiff as a statue, but it's gone as soon as it comes, washed away by a small frown.