Camp // phan

1- 3.Ghost Stories and Sleepless Nights

Alright, maybe it wasn't so good. He'd overestimated himself, and what he could handle, because this-- he could barely handle this.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he exclaimed, jumping nearly a foot in the air after stepping on a branch that snapped in two under his feet. His heart was racing and he felt like an idiot. "I hate my life."

"You okay?" Phil asked from a few feet ahead of him, and he sounded concerned, but Dan could hear him laughing as well. At him, for sure, who wouldn't laugh at this loser who was scared of twigs.

"I'm fucking fine, just," he held out his hand, "pass me a beer, I'm not drunk enough for this."

A cold bottle touched his fingertips and he took it gratefully, twisting the top off and taking a long swallow.

It was completely dark in here; they'd lost the light of the fire about ten steps in, and their stupid small flashlights weren't enough to calm him down. Why has he agree to this, this wasn't his thing at all.

"Hurry the fuck up, you two!" Finn shouted, him and the rest of the group considerably further away from him and Phil. Emery was there, as well as Finn's sister, Heidi; a few more leggy females and one other guy who did nothing but tell jokes that made them all groan in protest. Dan didn't bother with learning their names.

"Hey," Phil walked back to him, talking in a quiet voice. His hand wrapped around Dan's wrist comfortingly. "We can go if you want. I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

God, that sounded like the best idea ever. They could go back and keep talking, and ignore everyone else around them. That would be nice. But what would the rest of them think? That he was a lame, wuss of a guy that didn't know how to have fun. And maybe he was, but they didn't know that yet.

He shook his head and took another sip. "No, it's fine, just give me a second, yeah?" Phil seemed to pause, but nodded eventually.

He bounced on his feet for a moment, trying to shake the nerves off, like that would actually fucking work. There was nothing that would hurt him there, there wasn't, and even if there was, there were more than enough other people around him that would probably be targeted first; no one wanted the skinny white kid in Vans.

Phil was still holding his wrist, and he focused on that for a second. "Okay," he said after a while. "Shit, okay, let's go." And they moved to catch up with the others.

"You'll be fine," Phil muttered encouragingly, slowing his pace to stay by his side. Dan downed the rest of the bottle in his hand and passed it to Phil, who tossed it into a bag he was carrying; no littering in the forest.

"Where are we even going?" He asked. They'd been walking for a good ten minutes now, and showed no signs of stopping soon. He wasn't a very physical person as it was, and trekking through the trees with no light was not his idea of a good time.

"Probably to Spencer's Clearing," Phil answered, stepping over a log carefully. "Like, ten years ago, this guy got lost in the forest and ended up finding this old clearing, shouldn't be too far now. Supposedly, he died there, and it's a bit of a ritual, going there the first day of camp."

"This is not the time for ghost stories," Dan said, looking over his shoulder cautiously. It didn't matter if he didn't even fucking believe in ghosts, anything was possible in the dark.

Phil laughed. "That was not a ghost story. That was a...a fun fact story, sort of."

Dan didn't bother answering, too strung out to argue with him now. He could faintly hear the rest of the group trampling ahead without a care in the world, yelling and joking. He wished he didn't care so much.