Not On Fire (Phan AU)

32 | happy birthday to the new you

Your eighteenth birthday is supposed to feel monumental. You are officially an adult. No longer held back by the chains of childhood and being a teenager. You're free. And for Dan, he is free in more ways than just the figurative my-parents-can't-control-me-anymore sense. So why does it feel so nerve-wracking? Like his stomach is in his throat? Butterflies in his stomach can't even begin to explain it, and he still has a day to go.

The day before his eighteenth birthday, he wakes up to the sound of keys rattling, a door opening, and a guard telling him he gets to leave. He goes without saying goodbye, but can feel the eyes of everyone on him, their jealousy burning him more than any fire ever did. His parents greet him on the other side with happy expressions and he fakes a smile, but all throughout the drive home, he feels broken. A shell of who he used to be.

They don't talk, not that there is anything to say. They've stitched up the bullet hole, but the wound hasn't quite yet healed. All that they can do now is wrap it in gauze and clean it every so often so it doesn't get worse, only better.

Phil's sitting in front of his door when he gets home, a welcoming, soft smile on his face.

"We'll go so you guys can talk," his mom says right before they get out of the car. His dad nods.

He stays in the car for a few minutes after they've gone inside the house, unsure what to say to Phil. They ended their last conversation on good terms, but they also practically confessed their feelings for each other without specifically saying that they meant it in a romantic sense and just the thought of what could be has his hands clamming up. He finally gets out once he realizes that he's only making it worse by waiting--now Phil definitely knows something is up with him.

So he puts on a fake smile once again and sits down next to Phil, who quickly says, "Do you want to go somewhere else to talk?"

Dan thought he would be over the moon to see the walls of his room once again, but suddenly, the idea just doesn't seem the same anymore. Too many bad memories . . . bad associations in that room for him to face them just right now. He knows he will eventually, but right now he wants to go with Phil, to hear what he has to say and hope that isn't as bad as worst case scenario--like Phil randomly deciding that Dan has too much baggage for even a friendship, and definitely nothing more, to work. Not that he believes that will happen, but he's tired of pretending like he doesn't care and when you care about someone, sometimes even the most unrealistic ways you might lose them worry you.

He nods his head after a few seconds.

"Then let's go," Phil says, offering up a secretive smile.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere quiet where we can talk," he responds with an almost too happy tone to his voice as he stands up and holds out his hand to pull Dan up. Before Dan can say anything else, he adds, "You'll see."

Phil doesn't let go of Dan's hand as they walk the short walk to his car. He opens Dan's door before finally dropping his hand to walk around to the driver's side. He turns the car on, cranks up the radio, flashes a smile at Dan, and then they're off. They save the talking for where they're going.

It doesn't take him long to figure out where exactly that is. Somewhere where the only interruption is the sound of the current beating against the riverbed.

"Why here?"

"Because you seem to be more open when you're here, less carefree and more talkative."

"You've only ever been here once with me."

"And you talked more about your thoughts then, then you ever have before."