sentient // phan

http//: 14

Dan had a nightmare last night. Since I was connected to his emotions, I could feel his fear. It was choking and terrifying, so I did the only thing I could think of; I came in and tried to console him. He fought against me at first but stayed asleep, and soon he just stopped, stilling in my arms. I held him for a little bit, brushing his hair out of his face and watching in rapt fascination as his chest rose and fell with breath, with life. I felt my hand go to touch his collarbone, and it was running a thumb along the scar before I even realised I did it. Dan was less scared now, just hurt, just worried, dreaming, I assumed, of the boy in the photo.

I left after a little bit, at 6:30 when my body went to go make breakfast. But my mind stayed with Dan in his bed, trying to see what he was dreaming. I'm sure I could figure out a way I could tap into those images but that just seemed way too personal, a step beyond trespassing. I flipped the bread gently in the frying pan as the house began to light again. I felt Dan wake up but he stayed in his room for a few minutes, his heart rate going down. Then I heard him pad down the hallway and greet me with his beautiful bed hair, sticking up in as many directions as it could reach, even after he ran his hand through it. I set the fried toast on a plate next to a pile of a few fruits that had appeared at the door today and set it on the breakfast bar, keeping my eyes down. He sat and I immediately made to leave.

"Phil?" He asked. I looked up. "Do you like your bed?" I nodded quickly.

"It's amazing. Thank you."

"Yeah." He paused, poking his fork into his toast "I invented it." He said, his voice monotone. I raised my eyebrows.

"Oh?" I questioned. He shrugged.

"Yeah."

"It's fantastic." I said, making my way to the second seat at the breakfast bar. "You're really talented." He bit his lip, staring at the toast. "How are you?" I asked.

"Fine." He mumbled quickly, plucking up a grape and squishing it between his teeth. "These come today?"

"I know you had a nightmare, Dan. If you want to talk I'm right here. I'm a really good listener. I have brand new receptors." I tapped my ear, and he cracked a small smile. "But if you don't, that's okay too. And you can eat and I'll make your bed." He was silent, so I got up, setting my hand on his shoulder.

"I care about you. You're my best friend." He nodded, picking up another grape.

I pushed the door open to his room, the bright light making the night  from before almost disappear. His sheets were even more mussed that usual due his thrashing, so I took my time flattening them, smoothing them over and straightening the corners the best I could. When I was positioning the pillows, something in the corner of the room caught my eye. I looked up. No. it couldn't be.

A small black vase was resting on the chest of drawers, overflowing with flowers, real, live, colourful and chaotic flowers. I felt a smile tug my lips up and soon I couldn't stop. I didn't get it- if I couldn't feel emotion, then why did I feel so happy? If I was programed to be lustful toward Dan, then why did I like Dan so much? If he wanted me to love him and I refused, then why did he keep me around?

I plucked a petal from one and rubbed it between my fingers, loving the sensation that my brain sent out.

"I want to talk to you." Dan said from the doorway. I turned quickly, and suddenly the scene was parallel to that of the previous night only the air was much different. I nodded and he gestured to his bed. I sat tentatively, and he sat beside me, looking down at his hands.

"His name was PJ." He started, then paused. I wasn't going to tell him I knew, I wasn't going to tell him that I read the entire police report about the phone call that night. I was going to let him tell me. I was going to hear him out and let him trust me.

"And I loved him a lot. And he said he loved me." He sighed, and dropped so that his stomach was against his thighs. He was crying, and I leaned on him, my arm reaching around him. There was that urge again, like I wanted to hold him close and never let go, like I wanted to fix him, like I wanted to kiss him until he was whole again.

"You don't have to tell me, Dan." I whispered. He sat up and leaned against me, letting me envelope him with my arms.

"You're warm." He whispered. I just nodded, not understanding what he meant. "No, Phil, you're warm." he pulled away, pressing his hands to my chest, his cool fingers separated from my skin by the cotton of my shirt. I longed to feel his slender fingers sliding over my skin again, the way he did after my accident, but I just stared at his hand.

"I guess."

"It's weird." He sniffed, leaning back into me again. "It's nice." We sat there for a second more, Dan holding onto my shirt and taking deep breaths to steady his sobs. He turned his head to look at the flowers.

"I like them. I thought I hated them but I like them." He said, pulling away from me. I stayed silent while he contemplated what to say next. "He hurt me a lot. He would say he loved me and then he hit me. And I never told anyone except a cop but I didn't tell her how much he did it or for how long because I loved him." He sighed, and looked up at the ceiling. "I thought I'd feel good telling someone," He groaned, standing up. I stood with him. "But I just feel worse." He wiped his eyes and walked over to the flowers.

"I'm sorry." I said. I didn't know what else to say. I read a lot of what he just told me in the police report, but hearing it from him made it seem much more... real. I hugged him again, wanting to feel close to him, wanting to hear his heartbeat echo around in my own chest, but this time, he stayed limp. He reached out and touched the flowers, running his hand along all of them, making them drop pollen and petals and leaves. He sighed.

"I developed my habits to make me feel grounded. Clean and perfect makes me feel in control." More tears began to fall from his eyes, now as he pulled away from me, wrapping his arms around himself. "But it's so hard. Perfection is impossible. Order is temporary." He moved to his bed again, smoothing the duvet down where we had sat.

"Let me help you." I said, following him there. "Please. I want to help."

"And I want to forget." Dan snapped. He shut his eyes gently, taking a deep breath. "You don't always get what you want." He started to leave, ending the conversation, but I wasn't about to give up on him.

"At least let me try."  He paused in the doorway, not turning to me. He was silent for a second.

"Fine." And he left.