vii; an abrupt motion

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"Would 'sorry' have made any difference? Does it ever? It's just a word. One word against a thousand actions."
― Sarah Ockler, Bittersweet

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The world is a cruel place. A cruel and awful place full of monsters and dastardly creatures you wouldn't even see in a nightmare.

The world is a beautiful place. A beautiful and whimsical place full of joy and happiness you could not even fathom.

Monsters can be beautiful too. They can come in shapes of love and magical things that manage to tear you apart under your own radar, not even visible or aware of what they are doing to you. Phil Lester was a monster in Dan's mind, a beautiful monster that had managed to smash him and leave the fragments scattered across London, leave them scattered under city lights and starry skies. So as Dan sat on a horribly uncomfortable plush couch, he seemed to be memorizing Phil from the back, the taller boy making tea for them. I want to kiss him, Dan's mind nearly screamed, and all he could do was sit and shift uncomfortably with nothing to say. Words; something he had always struggled to use.

"No sugar, right?" Phil practically hollered from his kitchen, slicing Dan's complicated and twisted thoughts, earning a wide eyed stare from the brunette.

"Right!" Dan agreed loudly, but turned and focused on his hands, which were calloused and scabbed for different reasons. He was nervous, completely and utterly nervous, and slightly scared. He should have never done this, he needed to leave. But leaving was difficult when coming back was your only hope for so long, and if you left again, you weren't sure if the person would be there to forgive you when you came back. That was Dan's horrible confliction. Leave or stay? He couldn't bring himself to leave, but he wasn't completely sure if he should stay.

When a hot mug was set in front of him, Dan didn't acknowledge it. His eyes were locked forward almost angrily, slightly narrowed under his eyebrows, lips compressed into a tight line. He looked angry, and all he could do was inhale and try to be calm. However, it wasn't easy when someone busted in and aimed a gun at Phil.

"You're going to be arrested for the murder of Jack Dawson." The man spat, and his knuckles were white on the gun. "You have the right to remain silent..."

Whoever stood nimbly handcuffing Phil, Dan didn't notice. His whole body was stiff, eyes slightly hooded as he watched Phil. His eyebrows drew together, lips parted slightly. "N-No!" He managed to cry out loudly, and reach for Isaac's hands. "N-No! Stop!" Tears managed to stream down his face, and he was held back when more people had flooded into Phil's apartment. "Stop! Please! Phil!" He screamed, but the black haired boy stood stoic and calm, giving Dan a small stare and a frown. "I'm sorry?" He mouthed.

He was sorry, and Dan wasn't sure if that was good.

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