First Aid

"Dan?" Phil called out as a loud crash echoed down the hall.

Dan didn't respond, and suddenly Phil was quite worried. He extricated himself from his cocoon of blankets and game of thrones novel, and padded along in his tiger onesie.

"Dan?" He tried again.

No answer, he quietly opened his door. It creaked like a screaming baboon.

The dark hallway seemed to be silently forbidding Phil to approach Dan's room at the end. The shadows crept up the plaster and reached for Phil's tiger tail with black claws.

It was three in the morning and Phil really was starting to lose it.

"Daniel Howell if you are going to jump out and scare me I am going to steal your coffee mug." Phil announced just as he reached Dan's door.

He thought he heard a dark chuckle, but he was probably just imagining it. He didn't even know why he was bothering, It was always the same with Dan. Unless, this time it wasn't. But that was what he always told himself.

He put his hand on the door knob and shivered at the cold tingle it sent up his arm.

"Dan?" He whispered softly, almost reverently as he pushed the door open.

Dan's familiar room was dark, the twinkle lights on the headboard casting a sparkly reflection on the glass windows. Phil noticed that it was raining outside. He hadn't noticed it before.

Phil cast his eyes around the room, almost overlooking a small form in the corner but it moved and his eyes flew back to it. Phil recognized Dan's lanky body curled up in a ball beside his dresser, and cradling his arm to his chest. Phil couldn't see Dan's face, but from the way Dan's shoulders shook with each breath, Phil could tell he was crying. That unsettled him, his brave, strong friend was in pain and he wouldn't have that.

"Dan." He said calmly, stepping forward onto the soft rug.

Dan's head shot up in surprise and Phil could see his assumption was correct, small glistening tears glittered on Dan's pale face like tiny pearls.

"Ah uh Phil, yes hello." Dan hastily scrubbed at his face with the sleeve of his black jumper.

Phil rolled his eyes and knelt before Dan.

"Lemme see the damage Idiot." Phil said fondly.

Dan scowled, but slowly he withdrew his arm and Phil winced at the sight of it. A gash ran from his wrist longways to the inside of his elbow, and blood was spilling over the sides, and despite what looked like Dan's best efforts, blood had spilled onto the white carpet.

Phil shook his head sadly. The landlord would give them hell.

Phil reached for Dan's arm, and with a little bit of a fight, drew it into the light. He inspected it, and decided that it was shallow enough not to need stitches, and could be handled with the supplies in their well used first aid kit. The kit had been bought with well premonition, and had come in handy to the two awkward young men many times.

Phil spied around for the offending object, and saw part of the dresser kept inside Dan's closet had become unhinged and dumped all of its contents out and had fallen onto the floor. A glass ornament lay shattered inches from Dan's socked foot.

Phil held back another long suffering sigh, and dragged his flatmate up by the elbows.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go get you patched up."

Dan said nothing, but leaned heavily into Phil's supporting arm as he led them to the bright kitchen. All of the shadows were now gone, fleeing from the light.