Twenty

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Dan sighed, playing with his fingers on the edge of his bed. He was bored. Phil had gone out, not mentioning where.

When he decided he was hungry, he made himself get up and move to the kitchen, despite what his body told him.

He grabbed out leftover pizza and a yogurt. Then, he reached for the drawer with silverware, and grabbed a spoon. That's when he noticed something missing.

He set down his food, and looked closer. The only knives in the drawer were butter knives.

He gazed confusedly at the area, trying to figure out where the other five went. Did he move them? Did Phil? Why? 

Dan shrugged, and took his food into the living room.

After binge watching an anime, Dan was half asleep when Phil got back two hours later.

"Phil?" He whisper-yelled.

"Yeah?" Phil called back, taking his shoes off.

"Come sit with me," Dan replied, sitting up from laying. Phil obliged, walking over to the couch and plopping down.

"What's up?" He asked.

"Just watched some anime. I ate your leftover pizza, and some yogurt." The mention of food caused him to remember what he was going to ask. "Oh hey, did you move the knives? There's only butter ones."

"Why?" He asked, turning to face Dan. Dan shrugged.

"I went to find a spoon and saw we only have butter knives. Did ya move them?"

"Where?" He asked, cocking his head. "I didn't look for them. I was too lazy."

"I.. can't tell you that."

"What? Why?" Dan gave him a confused look.

"Because your father's death is coming up, and this year I don't want to see any marks on your arms." Dan's mouth opened slightly.

"W-what?"

"I saw them, Dan. But after they didn't get worse, I decided not to bring it up. So this year, I'm not letting you get that chance."

"Phil, I'm grown up, I can decide what I do."

"Yeah? Okay, go ahead. But I don't want you hurting yourself over his death again. Its painful, I understand. But there's so many other things you could turn to-"

"Phil, it's not your choice! Last year was really rough, and it was hard. So I turned to a knife. So what? Its not your problem." Dan stood, annoyed. Phil stood as well, face to face with him. Him standing only slightly taller made Dan a little nervous for no general reason.

"Really, Dan? Not my problem? I have to sit here and watch my best friend suffer, and try my hardest to help. I don't want to see those marks on your arm, then see you try to hide them. So let me help you."

"No. I don't need help, especially on this. I wasn't planning on doing it again anyways." With that, Dan pushed past Phil, not anther word spoken that day.

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