desolation (phan)

eleven

Dan jolted up, instantly feeling like he was going to vomit. "Why didn't I know about him?"

"They didn't get along. . ," Mrs. Lester softly explained. "He moved out pretty quick. . . - Dan, what's going on? You're as white as snow."

Dan shook his head and ran to the kitchen sink, vomiting out barely anything to his lack of eating. Alice hurried over, patting his back.

"Daniel," Mr. Lester said, worry dripping from his voice like the faucet next to him. It was so loud, the faucet dripping. Everything was so loud.

"Did he ever come visit?"

"The last time we saw him was around the time of. . . Phil's disappearance. He was so upset."

Alice gripped tightly onto Dan's arm, almost as if to keep him from slipping away, to keep him from disappearing like his boyfriend. "Dan, we should go."

"Can one of you please tell us what the hell is going on?" Mrs. Lester cried, eyes watering. "If you know something about my baby, please, I'm begging you-"

"Peter killed him!" Dan screamed, throat nearly tearing, tearing like Phil's soul from his body when Peter must've murdered him.

"Dan!" Alice hissed, fear storming the room like a tornado. Dan was a tornado, a storm, and he couldn't stop.

"I have to go," Dan breathed out, hands shaking- shaking just as bad as they did when the cops had come to tell him that Phil was missing. The red and blue lights, the red and blue lights flashing over the walls and across his porcelain skin. "I need to- I need to go."

"Dan-" Mr. Lester reached his hand out, but Dan pushed past him, Alice following suit.

"I'll fix this," Dan promised and left the house, the house once called he once called his second home and now felt like solitary confinement. He rushed to the car, Alice chasing after him. Dan stopped in his place, eyebrows furrowing. "Stay here."

"Dan, I -"

"It's not safe."

Alice glared, beginning to worriedly protest. "It's my job."

"You wanna know what my job was?" Dan began, tears beginning to slip from his eyes. "I worked with my boyfriend. And my second job was simply just taking care of him. I loved it. I love both jobs because I loved him. And now-" his voice broke. "Now I find out that he's been dead all along. Phil is dead!"

"We don't know that-"

"We do! You think I dont know my own boyfriend? My Phil would never act this way. My Phil. . . This is not him, and whoever it is, I'm going to make them sorry." He shoved cash in her hand, telling her to catch a taxi home and get some rest, and with that he hopped in the car and drove off.

He looked up in the rearview, seeing Alice's figure lost of hope until he took a turn and she was gone. Gone just like Phil.

He sped through the drive and parked roughly in front of their dorm, suddenly having the urge to burn the place down, burn it down to demolish the false memories and intangible happiness. When he opens the car door, he remembered Alice still had the gun, and Dan was weaponless- until he realized he still had the knife in his pocket from his false boyfriend.

He reached the door, walking into their bedroom and pulling up the cushion to thankfully still have the knife there. The front door opened and he made a decision: he'd walk in there and let him do the talking.

When their eyes met once Dan was in the livingroom, his knife hidden in his jeans, tension filled the already thin air. The man stared at him, and they kept their distance, the black-haired boy still in the doorway and Dan by the bedroom.