Rules Of Attraction (Phan) (Without Trilogy Part III)

13

Dan sat on the edge of the bench, rubbing a penny between his thumb and forefinger. He'd found it on the bus, facing Lincoln up. He'd never been one for superstitions, that was always Phil, with his no-shoes-on-table and mirrors-must-not-crack ideals, but he needed all the luck he could get.

He'd learned about his mother's sickness only a few days prior, when his brother had called him from Ohio, where the rest of his family had remained. He and his parents had never gotten along too well (on account of the whole bi thing, but also on the account of his major fucking swearing problem), so they'd withheld the information of his mother's cancer for the whole year, down the the very last moments.

At least, what his pessimistic self saw as the last moments. Because why else would he be called upon to say goodbye?

His mother wasn't his grandmother, because of the obvious genetic relations and the general bond. His Mimi had been kind and soft when needed, but sarcastic and funny, enough so that Dan had learned most (but not all, he had school to thank for that) of his favorite swear words, including a few phrases that his Mimi liked to make up on the spot, claiming that calling someone a "ass-whipping tooth fucker" was better than any general phrase indeed.

But his mother was different, and not in the best ways. She'd tried, when he was younger, to build a relationship such as Dan had had with his grandmother, but her awkward attempts had only continued to construct the bridge between them. 

Which didn't mean it didn't hurt in the slightest when he saw his mother laying weak against the familiar tie-dyed pillows of her bed (a Christmas present from her children when they could still be called just that), barely able to tell him off for his silent pleas of fuck and shit. 

He'd felt that familiar loneliness of loss come over him, despite his mother's weak but present tie to life, and realized that it wasn't just the fact of losing his mother, or the isolation among his siblings. It was Phil, and losing Phil, and having not resolved anything but running away.

Because, really, a quick escape is the worst kind of plot device. Especially in real life.

So, here he was, eyes barely open, legs still unstretched despite several laps around his claimed bench. Waiting for someone who may never even show up, and who was already five minutes late of the allotted time.

And then Phil was there, jogging up to Dan in his flip flops and ripped jeans and day-old shirt, not even caring that the whole of the city could be watching when he ran straight into Dan's arms and kissed him.

This is where, one year, two months, three days and twenty-two hours ago, they had started their lives together. It could've been where the story ended, as well. 

Instead, a new chapter began.