My Spirit Love (phan)

二十五 - 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓟𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱

Phil sat with Dan on the old, wooden bench, looking out into the back of their garden. The seating was now leaning against the brick walls of their home, the nails unscrewing over the years and the wood wearing down. Nobody sat on it but them, and even so, Dan's weight didn't count.

It was seven in the evening on an August day, the sun still brightly luminating the sky ahead of them, the light growing fiercer as it sank towards the horizon of trees. The nineteen-year-olds sat together with their fingers placed through the other's, occasionally wiggling to send vibrations of energy through them. They'd found their quirks like these over the years, finding ways to embrace their special differences rather than curse them. There were, of course, parts of it they hated, but this night wasn't the one they were going to address those.

Phil had finished his first year with the Open University and was on his way for an impressive grade, with a co-written book under way with Dan. It was everything their website contained, plus everything they hadn't yet said. Some details would remain unspoken, but as their names became known across the globe, they felt required to share more. It wasn't just about them, it was about helping others, too. They were proud of their almost-finished creation.

"Do you think anyone will want to publish it?" Dan asked Phil.

"I think so," Phil chuckled, "Peej says he knows some people to do it."

"Right." Dan nodded, crossing his legs on the bench and lifting his chin towards Phil. He opened his lips to speak, but his mouth was met with his best friend's, a chuckle releasing from their throats. Dan pulled away, "I was going to say before I was rudely interrupted, that maybe we should do a chapter on...you know, us?"

"Us?" Phil furrowed his eyebrows, his lip curling up in curiosity.

"We've mentioned it in the book at how we're together and the science behind it. That, and our opinions of...well, experiences of being together and how we've made it work. But, what if we talk about how it actually works? How it's actually affected us? We can say how it feels to kiss, not how it feels to simply touch or high-five." he seemed deflated, looking past Phil towards the garden wall.

"Are you sure?" the black-haired boy leant forwards, searching Daniel's eyes. He nodded, but there was something more, "What is it?" Phil asked.

The spirit took a breath in, standing up and brushing his palm through Phil's shoulder, ushering him to stand. The human followed, lifting himself upright and following Phil to the off-centre of their garden. It was a large space, so it took him a moment to realise why his boyfriend pulled him here in particular.

Daniel sat down, tapping the grass beside him and staring at the patch of dirt, so Phil sat with him as he began to calmly talk, "A year ago you said you didn't even know where I was buried."

Phil suddenly felt the urgency to stand, hurrying away from his recognition. But, he didn't. He swallowed, looking at the ground around him and gradually feeling a sense of peace fall over him.

"Eight feet down." Dan smiled, looking up at his love, "A few broken bones, but apart from that my skeleton will be pretty well intact." he shrugged.

It broke Phil's heart when he remembered it wouldn't be the nineteen-year-old's skeleton curled under the rubble of the old well, but instead the remains of the seven-year-old he met twelve years ago in this very spot, a snail curled against his palm and an innocent grin curled against his cheeks.

Phil smiled the same smile, feeling like that child all over again, and Dan's grin mimicked his, "Dan?" he asked, looking towards their bedroom window.

"Yeah?"

"What happened with your case, do you know?"

"My case? I guess I hadn't thought about it. I don't really remember much about dying anymore."

"What do you mean?" Phil asked, his gaze moving back to the boy.

"Over the years it's just faded away. I guess I didn't need to remember it, it didn't matter after I found you." he shrugged.

"Don't you wonder if your uncle was caught? If your other family members knew you'd died?"

"Well, now I do." Dan giggled. Phil stood up, ushering his best friend to follow him back into the house, picking up the laptop from the kitchen counter and curling together on the sofa, "What are you doing?" the spirit asked.

"Googling you." the opening pages were mostly modern, although he was mostly known as 'Spirit Dan' or 'Dan and Phil', so the pages weren't too plentiful. Even so, Phil added the date of Dan's death to his name and re-searched it, something appearing not too far down, "The death of seven-year-old Daniel Howell."

Phil scanned Dan's face, seeing curiosity strike through his expression. He smiled at him, clicking the link and entering an online archives, his lips tracing the written words, "Daniel James Howell-"

"I have a middle name?" he chuckled, relaxing against the sofa.

"Born 1920 to Margaret and Peter Howell, went missing in the late hours of Saturday evening, a fortnight ago, while David Howell, his uncle, was caring for him. David's remorseful account of the experience states the young boy was playing in the front garden, where he was suddenly drawn out of the sight of the window. Our assumptions lie with young Daniel being abducted. His parents are holding a memorial service at St Peter's Church next Sunday. All welcome."

"That's it?" Dan asked, "Well fuck them." he laughed, shaking his head.

"Shit." Phil cursed, "I'm sorry-"

"No!" Dan dismissed, "Not at all. I'm glad I know, honestly."

"I feel bad for your parents."

"I do, too."

"Dan?" Phil asked, closing his laptop.

"Yeah?"

"Did you have any siblings?"

"A younger brother. He was just born. Adrian." Dan shrugged, but Phil's eyes widened and he realised what this could mean himself.

"So...Adrian Howell?"

"Yeah...uh..."

Phil was already opening his laptop and searching up the name, "How old would he be now?"

"Uh...1927, so...eighty one?"

A cackle was released from Phil's lips, "You're eighty eight, then?!"

"Fuck off!" Dan waved his arm through Phil's skull.

"Adrian Howell, retired teacher..." he was scanning the town's archives, "Married to Elizabeth Gardner...supposedly would still be part of the community hub in the centre."

"My brother's alive?" Dan chuckled, running his hand over the back of his neck, "He wouldn't even know me. He might not know I ever existed."

"Want to find out?"