Take me to church (Book 1)

43- Bad idea

Phil hasn't moved from the spot in which he was when Dan left. His tears have stopped falling yet few stay balanced on top of his cheeks, light trickled paths still visible down his face, like a snail trail across a garden in the frost-cold morning.

He hates himself. A lot.

He's only just coming to terms with the fact that he's changed and that what Charlie said the other day about him becoming more feisty is true.
Sure, Dan has been a total twat, but so has Phil and each to their own has contributed to the fighting and tension over the last few days.
Phil just wants everything to be alright. No Charlie, no vicar, no PJ problems... He just wants it to be simple.

Phil knows he shouldn't of told Dan to leave and go to PJ. In reality he wanted him to stay and just talk, but the church boy is stubborn and when he's annoyed, he says things he shouldn't.

His hand glazes along his cheek as he wipes the already semi-dry tears, sniffing away in his own self pity. He should go round to PJ's and the three of them should just talk. Everything needs to stop and they need to sort out the rules.

But God, it hurts so much.

His chest in constantly caving in and the happiness in his body has expired, the thought of what Dan and PJ have done and the thought of not being fully loved... It kills him.

The tips of his fingers hold a constant buzz sensation that's painful and that's a reminder of why he's feeling the way he is.

Admittedly Phil was kind of hoping Dan would turn around and come back, maybe have some common sense to try and fix things. Apparently not.

So Phil will just fix it himself and go to where Dan had gone.

The black haired boy grabs his coat and heads out the door, he can't let things end like this, he just won't allow it. When he sees Dan he'll jump into his arms and apologise straight away, he hopes that Dan too will come to some senses.

Phil licks his lips as he begins walking down the road.

The sight of the cat that he seems to come across so often catches his eye and his lips twitch slightly as the ball of fluff meows when also spotting Phil. He bends down as the small animal knocks it's head against Phil's hand, purring profusely.

Phil wriggles his nose a bit from the irritation of the allergies, but he deals with it as always.

"You're either around when something bad or good happens, please give me good luck." The pale boy mumbles pleadingly, ruffling the fur of the cat one more time before getting up and continuing his steps towards PJ's.
He glances over his shoulder to see the cat then randomly hissing at him, darting off in the opposite direction.
"Weird thing." Phil chuckles.

He's always admired cats and have always wanted to know what runs through their funny little heads. Do they even like people or do they just put up with them for company and food? Why do some like water and others don't? So many questions that he has and science hasn't done enough to figure them out. He really should write a letter of complaint to the prime minster one day.

However, as he walks away from the cat and the thoughts of cats in general, the sound of sirens and police cars rattle the usually silent neighbourhood.
He picks up his pace, an uneasy feeling lodged in his gut. The feeling is so dominant that he starts jogging up to the scene that shows in front of him- a scene that makes him nearly trip from shock.

There's two ambulances and three police cars huddled around an area on the road. There's people surrounding the scene and looking on with interest, some looking concerned and others clearly just there for the drama.