Dan Howell is Alive * sequel to HIAKDH

4. Isn't it Lovely

"Show me a hero and I will write you a tragedy." - F. Scott Fitzgerald

***

When I was four years old, I climbed up a tall tree and fell to the ground, learning then and there the concept of gravity. I had cried, naturally. But my mother did not mind my hysterical tears. She simply tended to my scraped up knee and sang Hey Jude softly under her breath to calm me down.

The song always calmed me down. Especially now, as I hummed it so soft that Phil nor PJ could hear it. 

It was seldom that a day went by where I did not miss my mother. That fateful day with the car and the accidental killing, I had only one thought: at least it was me and not her.

When PJ told me that they had killed her, to make things right once more, I had cried alone in the woods just outside PJ's cottage. I don't think I came in until nightfall in fear of wild animals or vengeful grim reapers. 

As I cried tears that never seemed to end, I sang. I didn't care if everyone heard me, but I knew PJ had. We never talked about it, though.

Things are just easier when you don't talk about them, I guess.

***

PJ wasn't surprised to see Phil when we entered home base. In fact, it was like he had predicted that I would show my soft side and take him in (not like we needed another mouth to feed). It'd been a while since I'd shown that weak side of me, and PJ knew that as he passed Phil a can of peaches.

"Thanks," he had replied, as if he was out of breath from just walking up the staircase to the apartment. 

"So. Why'd you come back?" I asked, not trying to sugar coat anything.

"Do you mind, Daniel?" PJ asked, glaring daggers at me.

"What? I'm just asking a simple question, PJ! Why did you leave America? Was it really worse than this hellhole, cause I doubt it!"

"I came to see if my family was still alive, asshole!" Phil spat. "Is that such a terrible thing to do? See if they're still here?"

"Maybe it is, Phil! They're dead, all of them. You would know if you'd stuck around in the first place instead of coming back when the damned war had ended-"

"I was sent away, Dan. Forced from my family. It was your fault, you know? Your fucking fault!"

I stood, glaring down at Phil. "You're the one who made the mistake, Phil, not me."

"I should have sent you to hell and killed your mother anyway. Why did I ever save your sorry ass, Dan Howell?"

"I ask myself that every day!" I yelled, storming off to God knows where. Anywhere Phil Lester wasn't, it seemed. 

Damn him, and damn PJ and this war.