HOME ♡ PHAN

honeycomb touch

"Where do you feel it?"

Phil's glare softens, the tight-lipped smile that protruded his lips barely visible under the unhealthy glow of home made wax candles and flimsy solar-powered lights that were provided by the two sides divided and surrounded by the walls.

"My chest... my lips, and i guess my thighs? It all depends really. The person, the atmosphere and all that jazz." Dan replies nonchalantly, nibbling the ends of a dry granola bar.

Although they were both concealed neatly behind the mass darkness that blanketed Arcadia Bay and the immensely huge wall that they dangled precariously off of was essentially unguarded, Phil couldn't help but feel the slightest bit paranoid.

It was trial and error – see. Dan was already caught attempting to enter the 'forbidden side' of the wall a countless amount times, so why not meet in the middle? The stakes of them being caught was equal, and Dan stated that he felt much better that way. Phil, not so much.

Dan proceeded to intertwine their legs messily whilst humming gently under his breath.

Phil was unsure of their relationship. It was at times dysfunctional but also everything that they quite honestly needed. During one of their 4am chats they had both agreed that it would be beneficial for them and for others if they were to stay friends and possibly scrap the idea of them being anything more.

Phil heard a gentle giggle that reminded him of rain falling upwards and red velvet cake. The feeling of wet crayons and naked toes sinking into soft carpet. Lemonade streamers and cigarettes doused in green tea. It calmed him a little.

"Ever wondered why this happened to us? Ya' know, the whole 'the world is ending, let's divide our community and despise each other' kinda thing. Let's divide our families and friends. Let's divide relationships and make everyones life a living hell." Phil mutters, voice laced with traces of anger.

Dan looked slightly puzzled and annoyed. His eyebrows were furrowed confusingly, lips pressed into a firm, emotionless line that quite obviously depicted disagreement.

"How do you even have the audacity to say that? People are dying, struggling to survive and people are EATING other people and you're worried about our relationship? Not if you're going to wake up tomorrow morning, or not about the fact that this might literally be the end of the world, but our relationship?"

That wasn't what Phil was looking to insinuate. But he doesn't argue.

Dan sighs with annoyance, strewing his half eaten granola bar far into the inky abyss of Arcadia Bay and slowly proceeds to collect his things and leave.

"All right. I'm heading back now. Same place next Thursday i'm guessing?"

"Yeah." Phil breathes, flattening a crease on his jeans nervously, coughing away the large ball that had emerged in his throat.

The crunch and crackle of the flimsy concrete beneath Dan's sneakers indicated that he was almost ready to leave. He didn't want to be left alone again. He wanted to grab Dan and sit with him until the sun began to kiss their faces softly with peach wisps of 6am sunlight. He wanted to sit there until their flesh ached with an unpleasant buzz and their lips were bitten with the cold air that Arcadia Bay seemed to consistently cater.

"I guess everyones luck runs out. You'll get used to it." Phil subconsciously revels, his back slouching a fraction more and his facial expression reading a little bit sadder and dimmer.

Before Phil received a comment from Dan, his hearing dissolved into a screaming silence.

For once in a long time, everything was serene. Still. Peaceful. His eyesight was dipped in layers of blur and his smile immediately faltered when he realised that it was particularly painful to breathe.

The look on Dan's (now porcelain pale) face reminded Phil of orange lightning and apple juice flavoured 80's music. That was never a good thing.

He scalded himself. The only thing that his mind could manage to muster was images of Dan's red velvet smile. His honeycomb skin, the thinly sliced strawberries drizzled in melted chocolate that were his eyes and his cotton candy touch that made Phil ache for so much more.

The butterflies never went away.