glory and gore ; phan

iii

dan stood anxiously outside max's hospital room. he felt angry; angry at himself for losing it, angry at max for aggravating him, angry at franta for beating him in that fight, angry at the managers of the club for making him date cat. and the darker, overly-aggressive part of dan made him angry at chris for not letting him go further. but he knew that if chris wouldn't of stopped him, he would've killed max. he had no desire for a prison sentence. it was bad enough that max was in a coma.

he was snapped out of thoughts by a sharp jolt of pain from fingernails digging into his shoulder. "they're not pressing charges," tyler grumbled in a low voice, his lips pursed in a tight line.

"the cops don't know we worked at the club yet, thankfully. despite the managers of the damn place being annoyingly homophobic, they sure as hell were good at keeping things hidden. nonetheless, i'm thinking about skipping town. i suggest you consider your options," tyler said, releasing his grip on the taller boy's shoulder.

"where would you go?" dan questioned, rubbing his heavily fatigued eyes. the lovely thought of a nice, warm shower came into his mind, but was trampled and destroyed when he remembered the lack of payment on his flat bills. he wouldn't be surprised if his water wasn't even working at this point.

the silver haired boy deeply sighed, shaking his head. "some people are heading to america." dan's eyes widened, "america? who?"

"vegas, to be exact. i know chris is considering it, and i'm pretty sure franta and a bunch of the other fighters are too," he replied. dan ran his fingers through his hair, trying to come up with some type of reasonable response.

"god, vegas?" he repeated, pacing around in a small circle of a few steps.

"look, if it changes your mind, i would rather if you went. it was your fault the club got busted, and a lot of people are pissed," tyler said, before quickly adding, "including me, i still can't believe you put a guy in a coma."

"wouldn't be the first time," dan scoffed, tyler shooting him a cold glare. "have you, you know. talked to him?" dan asked quietly, moving his gaze to an unconscious max.

tyler deeply exhaled, "of course i have. he's obviously pissed, but he's mostly just disappointed in you."

"oh, spare me the lecture," dan rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the pain he felt when he heard those words. he turned swiftly on his heel and walked out without another word. he had no desire to get sappy and have 'a moment' with tyler oakley.

"where're you going?" tyler called, returning to his normal state of scrolling on his phone. dan scoffed, "to get a drink."

* * *

"so they made me, a hopelessly homosexual man, date some girl who kept following me around! and it just so happens that on the one day that i forget to take my meds, i find myself in a fight against some bastard named friar, or fanta, or something. i lose the damn fight and some asshat named max starts making fun of me, so i pounded his face in. he got a collapsed lung and a coma, and now the club is dead, and all the managing fuckwads are coming after because i ruined their business. now people are heading to vegas and i'm expected to come with! i mean, vegas!" dan laughed, shaking his head.

"anyway, i dealt with it, because that's what i do. i deal with things!" dan slurred, his drunken expression turning solemn. "what do you think i should do? you are my best friend, after all."

"look buddy, i don't fucking care. and i'm cuttin' you off after this too, you've had enough. go home." the bartender grumbled, sliding him one last drink.

"but you're my best fr-" dan smiled, giggling idiotically.

"i'm not your best friend! i have no fucking idea who you are!" he scoffed incredulously, walking to the other side of the bar. dan sighed disappointedly, glancing down to see a pair of chocolate brown eyes, seemingly similar to his own.

"how about you, my pal? what should i do? to vegas, or not to vegas?" he asked, staring intently on the person in front of him. "oh wait," he mumbled, realizing that the person in front of him was just his own reflection on his drink. he took another gulp and deeply inhaled, rubbing his temples. "what should i do, buddy?" he exhaled, looking at his reflection as he swiveled around his drink, distorting his reflection as it turned. the bartender sighed, shaking his head.

"christ, you're so wasted."