letters to you (phan) (complete)

friends

Phil sat smiling, taking small sips of his hot chocolate and huddled under a blanket as Dan approached the heater holding his own hot chocolate, smiling brightly at the black haired man.

"Feel any warmer?" he asked, sitting next to the heater in front of Phil who nodded eagerly. "Good," he chuckled, extending his glance at Phil. "So how long have you been fighting?"

"Bout three years," Phil shrugged, setting his mug on the table that was next to him. "What about you?"

"About five years after it started. I was quite young," Dan replied after taking another sip and scooting closer to the heat radiating from the furnace. "My family was really patriotic and stuff so, I had no choice, but I've come to enjoy it. What made you join?" Phil's face flushed a bit as he looked down. He wasn't keen to talking about this type of stuff. "It's okay, I don't have friends, I won't gossip," Dan chuckled. "But, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to.

"No, you're right, it's okay," Phil replied, trying not to lose himself to his emotions. "I just, I didn't really have anything else to do. My whole family lived South, so I wouldn't see them again. Also, my wife kind of, passed, from the war about four years after it started, so, I guess I just didn't have anything else to live for." a single tear dripped down his face. Even after all this time, he still sheds a tear over his wife's passing.

"I'm so sorry, Phil," Dan said quietly, looking down. "I shouldn't have asked if it would make you upset, do you need a tissue?"

"No, don't blame yourself, I need to learn to get over it, it was about two whole years ago," Phil said wiping away the tear. "And it's fine I don't need a tissue."

"Well, Phil, losing a loved one, it can take years to get over. Hell, you may be laying in bed at age eighty and still cry over losing her. Shying away from your emotions won't help anything,"

"I guess you're right, but sometimes I just hope I don't make it to age eighty," he said casually. "I mean, I'm not afraid of death, I just don't care," he shrugged. Why was he opening up to a stranger? Why is he telling him all his problems? Who the fuck knows. He might as well, it's not like he's telling this guy top secret information to defeat the British.

"The war will come to an end eventually, you know that right?" Dan asked and Phil replied with a nod. "Once it does you can live your normal life again, get a job, find someone, there's a lot to live for,"

"Dan, I'm not suicidal, it's okay," Phil chuckled.

"Sorry, sorry, I just get attached easily," Dan laughed at himself, shaking it off. "So how old are you? You look a bit older than me, no offense, plus you were married so,"

"Twenty four," Phil replied.

"Really?" Dan asked. "I'm almost twenty!" he said. "I feel so young, like, should I call you sir or something?" Phil chuckled at the boys words.

"No, we're both basically adults," he laughed. "I kind of figured you were younger though, I mean, you just got trapped in a simple little gun holder whilst fifty men were chasing after you!" Dan blushed, biting his lip in a smile and looked down.

"Oops," he chuckled, focusing on the mug in his hands.

"Why were they chasing you?" Phil asked, leaning back in his seat. "They seem pretty pissed that I let you go,"

"Oh, I steal your guys's food all the time, they hate me!" he laughed, motioning to a fridge in the corner of the room that had a bunch of food surrounding it.

"How, how does that work?" he asked. "And how did you make hot chocolate? Do you get electricity here?" Dan nodded.

"This used to be a house in a suburb." he started. "The electric lines are still connected and it somehow survived, so now this is my home!" Phil glanced around at the majesty of the house. TV's with video games, old oven, and many different things from the past. "I'm a hoarder,"