Secrets to Keep (Phan)

Chapter 5

It's been three days, and I've barely left Dan's side. I've been plotting, searching for a way out of this mess, but it's as if Wesley has tripled the security on the house. People are always here, always awake, and I feel like I'm letting Dan down.

I think tonight might be the night though. As I sat on the kitchen counter, listening to whatever tonight's plans are, it sounded as though Wesley was sending out all of the dealers tonight, minus Paul of course.

"And Phil, I want you down at your old spot on Boulevard." Wesley ordered, making all my hopes of escaping plummet.

"But I'm here keeping an eye on Dan." I argued, sliding down off the counter.

"Paul can do that." he replied, brushing me off with a wave of his hand. I felt completely powerless in these situations because there was nothing I could do to argue. I had pretty much had it with Wesley's shit, the way he's been treating everyone lately as if they are below him. Well he needs to wake up and smell the fucking daisies because he's no different than the rest of us. He has his weaknesses, his addictions, his downsides, just like everyone else in the room. I'm sick of him thinking that just because he can call up some bigshot in a suit that that somehow makes him any better than any other common drug addict.

Although I haven't been able to deduce what Wesley's drug of choice was, I could definetly tell he had something more in his system than blood and hormones. It was probably some sort of painkiller, since his teeth appeared clean and his arms were free of needle marks, which meant no smoking or injection.

After being sure that he had seen my hateful glare obviously directed at him, I turned and made my way angrily down the stairs and into Dan's room (Paul had fixed the door so that it now shut again). Dan looked up at me from his DS that I had brought him from his house, some of his curly hair falling over his concerned eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked, shutting the device in his hands and setting it aside. I ran a hand through my messy hair in frustration, while I slid down the wall with my back against it.

"Nothing, Wesley's just being a real prick." I answered, annoyance flooding through my voice. I noticed that Dan flinched slightly at the older man's name. He knew I was trying my best to get him out of this mess, but it's kind of hard when everyone seems to be against me for 'befriending the rat'. "I'm trying Dan, I really am, but it's hard when I have absolutely no power in the organization." I huffed, leaning my head back against the drywall. He nodded understandingly, looking down at his twiddling thumbs.

We had never really confirmed what exactly we were, but I guess the best way to describe our relationship was that of a child with their teddy bear. We cuddled at night, and comforted eachother when we were sad, sharing shy kisses when no one was watching, but it had never became anything more than that. He didn't bring it up, and I didn't either, but we guided eachother through the nightmares without question, just trying to get through this together. 

"I have to go... he wants me on Boulevard, if you need anything Paul's upstairs" I announced, giving him a slightly awkward sideways hug before standing up.

"M'kay." he muttered quietly in response. I wanted to kiss him, an urge that re-surfaced often, and it killed me to know that I wouldn't be there to help him through the dreams. He never talked about them, only that one time it'd had something to do with his dad, who I also didn't ask about. It must've been tough for Dan, not knowing where he was gonna go if he ever got out of this. He obviously didn't have a good past with his dad and his mom's whereabouts were still unknown. No body told me anything about her, so therefore there was no way for him to know anything, since I was the only one who ever spoke with Dan.

Even though every nerve in my body protested, begging me to stay with him, I left, letting my legs carry me down the already darkening streets towards where I would be working for the night. The cold air nipped at my nose and ears, causing me to shove my bare hands even further into my jacket pockets, and feeling the little plastic baggies that contained anything but legal substances. I nodded at a passing cop car, feeling myself smirk slightly at his cluelessness as I headed into even rougher neighborhoods. 

Although there weren't too many people still walking the streets, I knew they were there. In the allies, abandoned buildings, and from park benches I could feel myself being watched like a waiter carrying food. They lurked the streets, whether they were homeless or not, willing to do or pay anything for their next fix.

By the time I had approached the familiar brick building that was crumbling in on itself, I could feel the many pairs of eyes boring into me. Their hungry gazes, though hardly visible in the dead of night, didn't need to be seen for me to  acknowledge that they were there.

They wouldn't all come at once of course, they weren't stupid enough for that, but I knew from experience that for the first ten or twenty minutes, no one would come. They'd sit there in whatever crevice they're hiding in, and wait for someone to go first. Like at an intersection with four stop signs, maybe occasionally making awkward eye contact until someone actually had the guts to just go. So I stood there patiently, waiting for them to come out of their hiding spots like the scared animals they were, and put the term "Pick your poison" into a literal meaning.