drop dead ; phan

vii

"okay, call pj ligouri."

"it's dialing," phil told him, holding the phone between them.

"put it on speaker, and phil, you can stop shaking. i'm fine," dan was lying with his forearm over his eyes and phil wondered how he was able to tell that he was shaking so much.

"hello?" a smooth, pleasant voice sounded from the over-priced phone.

"pj, it's dan," he coldly laughed, wincing because of his injuries.

"hey dan, how's it going? don't need me to come down to stitch you up, i hope haha!"

neither dan nor phil responded.

"damnit dan, again? i'll be there in a few."

"he hung up, who was that?" phil asked, putting the phone away and sitting down next to dan.

"an acquaintance."

"what did he mean when he said, 'stitch you up again?''' phil asked.

dan laughed sourly, "come on phil. this isn't my first bar fight, back in college pj patched me up a lot, he's a nurse now or something."

phil immediately thought of how handy and convenient that would be if he had someone like pj to help him out, being as he was more often than not needing medical attention. he always had to make due with what he could find and hope for the best. most of it came from watching or reading action movies or comics as a kid and actually learning some medical procedures that later saved his life.
ironic.

for once, dan almost looked happier than phil, and dan was coughing up blood onto himself, which says a lot about how miserable phil seemed. phil had gotten dan a glass of water despite his request for whiskey, and unbeknownst to dan he had taken the booze that he could find, for himself in the hopes of calming his nerves.

dan took a drink of his water and sighed, and the uncomfortable silence immersed. phil decided to speak up first, like always.

"i uh, i'm sorry dan, i shouldn't of started asking you that shit," he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

"its okay, phil. i.. i messed up a lot too tonight," dan shrugged, wincing as his shoulders raised.

phil wondered if he should ask dan anything more, and phil being phil, went against his morals and with his overwhelming curiosity.

"why were you laughing?" he didn't know what to expect with this question, or how dan would respond.

truthfully dan was near to enjoying it because he saw it as what he had coming at him for treating phil like shit and for throwing up again. he felt like he didn't even have to do anything to punish himself, the bartender was doing it for him. he found it ironic that someone besides himself was punishing him, and thought of how much easier it would've been to just go get into a bar fight every time he got mad at himself. and the thought of constantly getting into bar fights made him laugh, no matter how disturbing and unpleasant it might've seem to the average person.

but, of course, dan being dan didn't say any of this, he didn't say anything at all. he just shrugged and phil decided not to ask him anything else.

the two sat in the quiet for a little while, just thinking about their day. a lot had happened at it was taking them both a few minutes to process. soon, a knock on the door banged and a tall, curly-haired, brunette boy strolled into the room. he had a case with him, which phil assumed to be all his medical shit. phil got off the seat and moved to the doorframe which opened to the kitchen, watching and thinking from a short distance.