ignite // phan

a•ban•don•ment

/əˈbandənm(ə)nt/
noun
the action or fact of abandoning or being abandoned.

The bright light of the morning woke dan up as it seeped in through the gaps of his curtains. He rolled over and groaned, wincing once his right arm made contact with the floor beneath him.

He had almost forgotten the events of yesterday and, as he looked down to the source of pain, could see the inflamed red marks that littered his forearm.

This situation was far too familiar to dan.

He picked himself up off the ground, careful as to not let anything touch his self-inflicted wounds and made his way out of his 'bedroom' and into the bathroom to look for some gauze. Luckily the last occupant of his empty apartment had left a first aid kit underneath the sink.

It took less than 15 minutes to bandage his arm to a satisfactory standard but Dan decided that was not enough.

He rummaged through the last of his boxes until he found a long sleeve black shirt, pulling it over his head, making sure that the sleeves were pulled down around his wrists.

A loud rumble from his stomach reminded Dan that it was time for dinner, his body clock was way out of whack and, as he counted back, he realised that he hadn't eaten for two days.

There wasn't much in the house to eat and Dan hadn't been out much. He gathered what little money he had salvaged from his parents' house - £11 to be exact - and made his way downstairs.

Dan got distracted half way down the stairs. It took him a moment to recognise the raven black hair and lanky figure. And 1. Why was there someone in his apartment? and 2. Why was there someone in his apartment?

The stair creaked under his uncertain weight and the intruder turned to face Dan.

Phil sat in the middle of what was meant to be Dan's lounge room. A blank expression, that soon turned into a warming smile when he faced Dan, spread across his face.

"There you are!" Phil exclaimed. "I thought you would never get up, bit late for a nap isn't it?"

Dan blanked him, although Phil didn't mind and returned to the object in front of him.

"Watcha doing?" Dan asked, trying to be casual and not aware of the fact that his strange next door neighbour had broken into his house.

"Oh me?" Who else, Dan wondered, internally rolling his eyes, "I'm making sure you didn't turn your heater on like I told you"

Dan made his way down the remaining stairs, over to Phil.

"And why would I do that?"

There was an awkward silence as the darker haired boy continued fiddling with the back of the heater, his extremely long arms disappearing behind it. Dan was beginning to think that Phil had not heard him and opened his mouth to repeat himself as Phil jumped up from the floor, way too enthusiastically for a 20-something-year-old.

"I'm not sure," Phil said, dusting himself off, "I brought you more cookies, though!"

He fiddled behind his back before pulling out a brown paper bag, identical to the one he'd been gifted on his second day of moving in. Dan took it reluctantly.

"Oh, uh, thanks, Phil..." Dan stuttered, turning to the direction of the kitchen, hoping to put the new bag away with the cookies from yesterday.

"Don't you like them?" Phil's smile quickly turned to a frown. Dan turned so he was facing Phil again.

"It's a really nice gesture, but I'm not really a 'cookie guy'" Dan replied, trying to sound as nice as possible.

"So, you don't like them?"

"It was really nice of you Phil-"

"But you don't like them" Phil's voice was firmer now, and he was asking less of a question, and more of a statement.

Silence washed over them, and Phil seemed to have forgotten about the conversation already, as he was once again fiddling with the heater.

Dan continued to walk to the kitchen, still confused as to why Phil was so defensive over the cookies.

Once in the kitchen, Dan opened the pantry to find the bag of cookies from the day before, but what was otherwise empty.

Dan sighed as he put the second bag into the pantry.

He was finally out of his parent's house, yet he was still as miserable as he was before.

He had no money, food or furniture, and his depressing thoughts had come back to haunt him.

"Hey, Dan.." Phil called out from the living room, snapping him out of his thoughts, "you do know smoking kills you, right?"

"What?" Dan called back, confused. He walked back to where Phil was, and what he saw when he returned made him gasp.

"I said, you know smoking kills you right?" Phil repeated.

"Oh, uh, where did you get that Phil?" Dan asked, his eyes glued to the lighter held in Phil's hand.

"It was just in the corner over there" Phil pointed to the spot where dan had previously had his breakdown.

"Oh, Um..." Dan stammered.

"You know they have special meetings for this kind of thing?" Phil suggested, giving Dan the lighter back.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you smoke right? I mean, of course you do, why would you have a lighter if you don't smoke?"

"Oh, yeah, of course I do.." Dan lied.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy to smoke if you ask me."

"Why do you care whether I smoke or not anyway?" Dan asked, trying to hide the fact that he had just lied.

"I was just looking out for a friend." Phil began. "Smoking is really bad for your health."

"1. We aren't friends, you come into my house uninvited and 2. I know it's bad, but it's my life, I can do what I want."

"So you've been lying to me for the past two days?" Phil looked genuinely heartbroken.

"What are you talking about? We barely know each other. You came into my house, which I did not ask for. You gave me cookies which I don't even like. And you're dismantling my heater without my consent!" Dan was unnecessarily fired up now. "You're making things worse than they already are. I have no food or money, I don't have a comfortable place to sleep, and I have no idea how I'm going to keep this apartment"

Dan wasn't usually like this, but now that the voices in his head were back, they were beginning to take over the kind side of him.

"Oh, but, I thought-" Phil said, but stopped himself from finishing. "I'm gonna go. I'll see you later..."

Phil then got up and walked out the door without another word.