Human - phan

Fifteen

The dusty bulb flickered, casting grey shadows on the walls, and Sergeant Donovan surveyed me over heavy glasses.

"You really don't have a clue what's going on, do you?" He said with a sigh.

I stared blankly back at him. "Sorry?"

I'd told him the whole story (carefully avoiding any mention of Phil), squirming uncomfortably in my seat under his silent, stony glare.

He shook his head slowly. "The name of your 'Purple Shirt Guy' is Jakob Beier. I don't think he beat himself to death now, did he? You can go. You're obviously not involved in this – 'we got the wrong guy', if you like. Apologies for hauling you back in here, there's a few factors we're missing and we thought you might be one of them. End of interview. Time: 15:25."

I walked home in speculative silence. The answer to my biggest question had only asked a lot more questions, most importantly the incomprehensible suggestion that Phil had been with a 28 year old. Was that really possible? How had PJ and Chris not said anything? How had they just let that happen without batting an eyelid?

And why wasn't Phil mourning?

Maybe he had been telling the truth, maybe they were never like that. Either way, Phil reportedly spent a lot of time with this guy, willingly and happily. Could his coping method be repression to that scale? Why wasn't he upset?

I ran my fingers through my hair.

I would talk to Chris and PJ tomorrow. They were somehow blissfully uncaring and uninvolved, but I couldn't handle not knowing. Phil was my boyfriend. Jake, Gabes and Knuckles still owed me a beating. And I wanted to know.

*

Phil smiled at me over the lip of his coffee mug. Our legs were tangled under the table, my foot gently rubbing his calf. I smiled back. It was so easy to forget everything in these moments. Just Phil and I, getting away from it all – albeit a little less extreme this time.

The rain pounded against the window panes, but neither of us minded. Somehow I didn't think we'd be taking a trip back into the forest any time soon. The warm smell of roasting coffee and the light, cosy chatter of a hundred students put me at ease as each sip of my steaming cappuccino heated my stomach. We talked quietly, just enjoying each other's company. It was hard to imagine someone running through those woods with a gun only the day before yesterday.

Phil took a thoughtful sip. "Editing's going pretty well. It's slow of course, and we've deleted like 90% of the footage, but it's always like that."

I wondered if he'd seen Jake, Gabes and Skinhead in the back of the shot yet. I didn't say anything.

"Your dance bit looks so cool! It's really intense, we all spent ages on it because it looked so amazing. And don't worry – you can't recognise you."

I wanted to ask him about the dream and about Jakob and about the gunshot in the woods; but there was no way I was ruining this moment. More than anything, I wanted Phil to be happy – all the time. Right now, it seemed like every minute of happiness should be savoured as something rare and precious. I sighed, quickly wiping the strain from my face and replacing it with a grin. There was no way I was going to cut this one any shorter than it had to be.

"Ooh, when can I see it?" I asked, the warmth from the mug seeping into my cold fingers.

"I'll show you now if you want! Quickly, before your lesson!" Phil smiled like a little kid, his eyes alight.

"Alright," I laughed, "let me finish my drink first!"

He poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, taking another sip of coffee. "Fine. I've probably watched it over and over way too many times as it is."

I raised my eyebrows, and he grinned guiltily back at me.

"I really like watching you dance." He said shyly.

I blushed. "Well, maybe I'll dance for you in person some time." My words came out in a rush and I cringed a little.

"I'd like that. A lot." Phil said quietly. "It's like – I don't know. It feels amazing, just watching you. Like nothing else matters. Like the world is so meaningless and unimportant and everything you've done that day just seems so pointless. It's hard to explain."

I stared at him, my eyes wide. "That's kind of what it feels like to dance," I murmured. "I didn't realise it was the same for people watching, at least a little bit."

Phil nodded his head emphatically. "It really is. It's incredible. I mean, I understand why you don't want people to know. But personally I think it's a bit selfish - they're missing out on so much." He grinned at me, poking me under the table with his foot.

I rolled my eyes, leaning forwards slightly to wipe the foam moustache off his upper lip. He flicked out his tongue and licked my finger.

"Ew! You're such a child." I chastised.

He squeezed his eyes shut and waggled his tongue.

I laughed.

He laughed.

We were happy.