phan oneshots

remember me (angst)

credit to @HeyImDun on Twitter

tw// descriptions of blood and fighting, sexual references

summary: Dan goes to prison and doesn't remember why. Then he meets Phil who wants to help.

It's only been a week. A week of being shoved in the halls, forcing freezerburned food down his throat, having his wrists scab up from rubbing against the too-tight handcuffs. A week of being unable to sleep on a mattress that may as well be a boulder, a week of being unable to shower in a place that is anything but clean, a week of being unable to remember.

Dan doesn't remember why he's been here for a week. All he knows is that he did something very wrong and he turned himself in at three in the morning a week ago- without even saying what he did. He was covered in blood and simply said,

"I didn't mean to."

They instantly pinned him to the ground and that's all he knows. The rest leading up to here was a blur. Right now, he's laying on his top bunk, his cellmate asleep beneath him. He's had small flashbacks to that night, he knows he had glass shards in his palms and his fingers were aching and his throat burned from screaming at whoever he hurt. And that's if he hurt anyone in general.

The inmates here think Dan is crazy, Dan knows that. He knows they're afraid of him, they stay away from him, because they're scared that he will remember what he did and snap.

Only one has ever spoken to him, a boy with a brown quiff who was known for his schizophrenia. He would tell people that there was a boy named Josh who would drum for him, but nobody ever saw him, and his four walls declared him insane enough. Tyler, the boy, pat him on the back and flashed a grin.

"Looks like you might be one of us, kiddo."

Dan's half asleep when he hears singing next door to him.

"All my friends are Heathens, take it slow."

Dan paused. The voice is pretty- it's a man's voice. He sat up, tilting his head and listening.

"Wait for them to ask you who you know."

Dan knows that song. He doesn't know the title, no, but the voice and the lyrics are so familiar. He waits until the man is done singing to speak up.

"What's your name?"

"I am Phil."

"Your last name?"

"Whatever yours is."

Dan was about to question it when he blushed, although the tone Phil has used wasn't flirtatious- it was casual. As if explaining it to him.

"What does that mean?"

No reply came, but then Dan looked down and noticed the rusting wedding ring on his finger. He stared at it, but when he blinked, it was gone.

-

Dan couldn't stop looking at his hands. His fingers, specifically. He was sat on his bunk, feet swinging as he watched his fingers curl and uncurl. His inmate was in a different cell for the night as his punishment, so Dan was alone, playing with his hands at four in the morning for no reason. He had been waiting to hear the man sing again, but not even a peep came from the cell next to him.

The brick wall that separated them was irritating. He wanted to smash his hands through it, feel the material fall from his hands.

And then suddenly there's screaming.