***Phil's POV***
Stupid, Stupid, Stupid.
Did I seriously just do that?
We're walking down the trail again, awkwardly.
Dan's looking ahead with his hands in his front pockets, and I'm a step behind.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
We've been walking around the park for a few minutes now, and I don't think Dan knows where he's going.
"Dan? Where are we going?"
He jumps a little, and stops, "I don't know. I thought I was going the right way," he looks across the park, "You didn't say anything, so I assumed..." He reaches his arm above his shoulder and scratches his head.
He's looking back at me. I'm messing with my fingers and my bandage. I was supposed to take it off earlier- I guess I forgot.
Dan looks so confused. Not just 'amnesia confused', but like, about to cry confused. He notices my bandage, "What happened? To your arm, I mean." He puts his hands back in his pockets. "I had noticed your wrap earlier, but I didn't ask."
I study the area around me and Dan. We've pretty much wandered onto a remote part of the park. I can see people on the playground and sitting at benches, but they're all far away.
"I punched a mirror." Wow. That sounded weirder than I thought it would.
Dan adjusts his stance. "What did you do that for?" Everything's still so uncomfortable.
I scoff, "I don't know."
"When did you do that?" he asks quickly.
"A few days ago."
He smiles, taking my breath away instantly. "You know."
Before I can answer, Dan starts walking the opposite way we were going, "Is this the right way? I think I saw a bus stop a couple blocks back..."
Great.
He's practically running from me.
I have to jog to catch up with him. He was right; there was a bus stop a couple blocks away. When we get to the stop, the bus is already pulling up, so we don't have to wait. Again, I pay for Dan. We sit in the last seat at the back of the bus, and I get the window seat again. There's a clock at the front of the bus that tells me it's a little past two.
Dan's looking past me, out the window. I can't help but stare at him. He's still wearing his beanie, but I can see parts of his bandage peeking out the sides.
I can't help it, I ask him, "What did you mean by 'You know'?"
He glances at me, and then at my hurt hand. "I'm pretty sure you know why you punched a mirror. It's not something you do, just because. I was only curious."
I breathe deeply, "I was mad, I guess."
Dan's smile drains. He looks into my eyes, "At who?"
I try to escape his stare. "I dunno," I mumble. "Myself, I- I guess." It's so weird. I'd be totally fine with talking to Dan about this kind of stuff, but this is barely Dan. This is the Dan that pulled his hand away from me, just 15 minutes ago.
His eyes narrow, "Why were you mad at yourself?"
The bus stops on our street and we get off and start walking to our flat. We take off our shoes and relax. It's not until we've settled in the living room that Dan asks me again. "Phil, why were you mad at yourself?"
