We are the ghouls of London // PHAN

•CHAPTER FORTY-TWO•

Silence. That's all Phil could hear as he sat in his room, rocking backwards and forwards, head resting on his knees.

His eyes were stinging with tears and they flowed down his face and made marks on his jeans.

This was all his fault. He should have stopped his dad going out. Why didn't he? The events that occurred could have been prevented if Phil had done something, and not just let everything happen around him.

Phil had been sitting in the living room on his phone when the landline phone rang out. He had been scrolling through his camera roll, looking at pictures of him and Dan which they had taken together, some of them were adorable ones and some were silly ones and some were of Dan asleep for the time he lived in this house with him, since Dan looked so adorable when he was asleep, and all warm and cosy.

The landlines shrill had scared Phil a lot. It wasn't often that that phone would ring out, since him and his dad always seemed to receive their calls via their mobiles nowadays. But nevertheless, Phil went over and looked at who was calling him; Police Station

That was Dad's work. Maybe his dad's mobile died whilst on duty so was now calling Phil to tell him he would be late back and to go to bed, since Phil would always stay awake until his dad got back, just to make sure his dad was safely home.

Or maybe something terrible had occurred?

Phil quickly shook the thought out of his mind, and going with his gut instinct that his dad was calling him from the station. He wandered over to the phone and picked up the receiver and placed it to his ear, "Hello?"

"Is this Phil Lester?" A derp voice spoke from the other end.

From watching multiple movies with his dad which involved scenarios like this, if the person on the other end is asking for his name, what was about to be said would not be good.

"I-It... is..." The words came out stuttered, fearful for what was going to be said next.

"I'm Sebastian Cox, your dads boss here at the station," Processing that name in his head, Phil stayed quiet, "I'm afraid something terrible has occurred tonight... and it has involved your dad-"

"What about my dad?" Phil spoke hurriedly, "Is he okay? Is he hurt?"

"He's... dead..."

Words were jumbling up in Phil's head. Nothing made sense anymore. All around him, the world was spinning, and as he tried to grab the table top to stop him falling over, he knocked the large vase of fresh flowers over, the glass and water going everywhere and soaking his socks.

"Phil are you oka—"

"TELL ME THIS IS A JOKE!" Phil cried, "TELL ME THIS IS JUST SOME SICK PRANK YOU ARE PLAYING BECAUSE YOU ARE BORED AT THIS TIME OF NIGHT!"

"I assure you Phil, telling you your dad is dead is not a joke i would put myself forward to do. I'm telling the truth Phil. You're dad is in fact dead."

It was as if Phil lost all the energy he had previously had as he fell on the floor and moved his arms next to him to cry into. He was a wreck, a mess. The phone next to him had the man say he was going to call Mr. Liguori to come and pick up Phil. But Phil wasn't listening. He didn't want to listen. And when he heard the phone call end, he screamed, despite his voice being hoarse and sore, and he carried on to scream to let his emotions out.

Nothing was working. It was as if someone had stabbed him in the heart and was ripping it out of him, killing him in a slow and agonising way. He got up, walking around the room and grabbed the cushion off of the sofa. He punched it and screamed into it but it did nothing. He stopped. He needed to break something. Anything.

He grabbed the glass bowl off of another unit and threw it at the wall, it's impact causing tiny shards of glass to fly everywhere. It relieved some of the pain he felt so he grabbed a glass ornament off of the window sill and threw it, that too at the wall and watched it smash. Looking around the room, he desperately grabbed every breakable thing in the living room and threw it and continued to cry at the same time.

Phil looked at the mirror. It was tall, beautiful but made out of glass. In its reflection, Phil could see his ugly reflection, his eyes were red and puffy and bloodshot. His hair was a mess lying everywhere on his head messily. His skin was even paler than usual and his entire body was shaking. He walked over to it, ignoring the sound of a car squealing to a stop outside the house. Clenching his fist tight, Phil looked at his reflection one last time before punching the mirror with so much anger the glass cracked before toppling down to the wooden flooring, and Phil's hand covered in his own crimson coloured blood which rushed at a quick pace out of the many cuts he had covering his hand now.

He grabbed the last thing on the fireplace and went to throw that at the wall along with everything else when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his body, hugging him tight to their warm and comforting torso. Turning his head ever so slightly, Phil saw the curly brown locks that belonged to no one other than PJ Liguori. He had a way with hugs that would always calm Phil down, despite the situation.

The atmosphere was now quiet compared to earlier where there was the echoing sound of smashing. It was so silent and PJ continued to keep Phil in his comforting arms whilst at the same time descending to the floor at the same rate as Phil so soon they were both on the floor, Phil silently crying into his hands.

"Shh... it's going to be ok Phil," PJ hushed and rocked Phil backwards and forwards.

Looking into his hands, Phil looked at the item he was going to throw. The picture of his mom. The person he loved so much and who his dad is back with now he too was dead...

"They're both gone PJ..." Phil whispered.

"Phil..."

"Both my parents are gone and now I'm all alone. Why? Why am I the only one left out of everyone? They- they should be here, both of them. Watch me go to university, watch me get married and be happy... not watch me almost smash a photo of my mom out of pure anger about everything."

"Dad has said you can come live with us Phil. He's going to sign all the forms tomorrow morning so you will stay as a Lester... but just be living in a Liguori household."

"But I don't want to be a Lester if I'm the only Lester left," Phil whinned.

"Try saying that five times fast," PJ joked, but Phil only weakly smiled, and the laugh he produced sounded forced and fake compared to normal.

"Yeah..."

"Phil, I get that you are upset. I get you are mad at life and everyone right now... and if I could I would go help your dad and beat up the ghoul who killed him—"

"Ghoul?" Phil spoke, looking towards PJ, "A...a ghoul killed him?"

PJ nodded, "Yeah... police said that they would have used DNA left on the body to find the identity of the killer, but ghoul DNA is hard to trace back to the original person. They said they would still try to find the culprit though."

Phil closed his eyes and sighed. His dad was killed by a ghoul and now wanted to hate ghouls with such a large passion. But he couldn't. Because if he hated all ghouls, then he would have to hate Connor, his best friend, and Dan, his boyfriend. And Phil knew too well that those were two ghouls he could trust with anything, so why hate all ghouls if there were also good ones around? After all, them two had done nothing to personally affect him.

Just their species.