Nothing Burns Like the Cold (Phan)

Chapter Four

The first thing Phil noticed when he woke up was warmth. He was so warm he was almost sweating, hot from the tip of his head to the soles of his feet. It was quite a strange feeling, considering his own natural body temperature was typically quite cold. Followed by the realization of being warm, he also took into consideration a breeze blowing in his face and something pressed to his hip.

That was when he remembered and his eyes flew open, coming face-to-face with a pair of mahogany irises.

"Get. The fuck. Off of me." The voice was a low snarl, at the back of Dan's throat as if he'd been waiting for Phil to wake up just so he could say them. In response, Phil wiggled out of Dan's grip (why was he even holding him in the first place if he was so pissed off?) and huffed.

"Were you watching me sleep?" Phil shot back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stretched his arms above his ears, feeling his shirt ride up a bit at the gesture. He also pretended not to notice the way Dan's eyes lingered (albeit a bit coolly) on his exposed skin.

Dan let out a noise that was halfway between a growl and a snort. Phil wondered what sort of animal made that noise. A brief moment later, he felt a hot wave a bit too close to his ear for comfort and pressed his lips together, unimpressed. "When will you learn that your fire tricks don't affect me?" Phil asked cockily, dipping his fingers into his glass of water before cupping his hand around the small flame. It went out with a sizzle, wisps of smoke rising into the air like ghosts falling in love.

"I'll fucking burn you, Lester. Don't tempt me."

This time, Phil rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you would." His tone came across more sarcastic than he'd have liked, but he wasn't complaining.

Dan gave him an unimpressed look, which wasn't at all different than his normal expression. Phil liked to pretend, anyways. "Whatever, Lester. I'm leaving."

Phil scoffed. "No thank you for last night? I saved your life, you know."

"I would have been fine even without you there."

"Right." It was Phil's turn to look unimpressed, trying not to feel that little pang of disappointment in his chest as Dan started to walk towards the door. "I'm glad you're doing better today anyways. You really scared me there last night."

Dan's gaze lingered on his face for a couple of seconds before he gave Phil a small smirk and walked out the open door, leaving Phil to stare after him. He really was a wonder. Dan Howell, pyromaniac and sociopath. The title had a nice ring to it.

Phil huffed and fell backwards onto his bed with a muffled groan. He felt absolutely exhausted, a glance to his bedside table showing it was half nine. If he took much longer, he would most likely miss breakfast. For some reason, the thought of food wasn't exactly appealing.

But that could also be from his rude awakening.

A small shimmer broke his internal meltdown, snapping his gaze over to his window sill. On it sat a rock, about the size of a large grape, and was the colour of blood, mixed with orange swirls. Phil furrowed his eyebrows as he sat up, reaching over to grab it. The stone was smooth under his fingertips, unblemished, and feeling strangely warm on his skin.

"How did this get here?" He murmured to himself. After many moments of failing contemplation, he sighed and slipped it into his pockets. He'd have to ask Dan later if he saw it in his room before he'd left.

But for now? Breakfast.

The canteen was full of students yawning and rubbing their sleep-encrusted eyes. Admittedly, Phil was one of them, barely able to keep his eyelids open after staying up nearly the entire night with Dan. If only the other students knew Dan had come to him for help, he thought amusedly before scowling when he realized no one would really care.