the new employee is late to work. dan rolls his eyes when he sees him; he has dyed black hair with ginger roots beginning to show, a wide, happy grin, and bright blue eyes full of life.
why'd he have to get paired with the happy one? he'd almost have preferred the kid who took half an hour to get someone's order right.
dan chews on his lip, already nervous about having to talk to the new employee, who is stumbling his direction. dan makes himself straighten his back.
"i'm phil," the boy greets dan slightly breathlessly. he's breathing hard, and his cheeks are flushed. he must've run here.
"dan. i don't have time for pleasantries, so let's just get on with this, okay?"
"i-" phil actually takes a step back. "okay."
he shouldn't feel bad about being so hard on phil, dan thinks to himself. how else will he learn how to defend himself in the real world?
dan shows phil how to make the basic orders, and how many toppings and slices of meat to put on each sandwich. phil gets the hang of it fairly quickly, and dan glances up at the clock; it's past time for his break.
"listen, phil, i've gotta go clock out, i'm supposed to be on break right now-"
"wait, don't go! you haven't told me how-"
phil grabs dan's arm in an effort to keep him at the counter, and jumps when dan tears his arm away, visibly in pain. phil looks down, confused, then gasps - dan's arm is covered in ugly shades of purple and orange, scars and bruises littering the patchy skin. dan pulls his sleeve down as his eyes start to fill.
"dan!"
dan sees lines, and he bolts out of the back of the shop, the metal door clanging shut behind him. he sits on the curb, head on his knees, and wills himself not to cry.
and it obviously doesn't work, because the next thing he knows he's crying openly, his shoulders shaking and his body racked with sobs. he counts one-two-three-four-five-four-three-two-one but ends up choking on his words and collapses on the curb. he should have listened to what they'd told him earlier - connections lead to pain. don't talk unless spoken to. don't carry on conversations. don't make friends.
he hears footsteps - probably his manager - and doesn't even care anymore. so what if he gets fired?
"dan?"
it's phil. of course it's phil.
dan sniffs, turning around to glare at phil with bloodshot eyes. "go."
"no."
phil sits down on the curb next to dan.
"'i'm really sorry."
dan's eyes narrow. "not everything can be fixed with a sorry."
phil shrugs. "i know. i was just trying."
dan raises himself into a sitting position, not meeting phil's eyes.
"how's your arm?"
"fine." far from it.
"it's not, is it?" phil asked softly. dan finally meets his gaze and regrets it instantly; phil's eyes are filled with tears.
dan knows he should be thankful that phil actually cares about him enough to ask if his arm is okay, but he can't help but feel resentment towards him. dan isn't deserving of phil's attention, and he feels guilty pretending.
"why are you doing this?" dan whispers.
phil scoots a little closer to dan and reaches for his hand, and dan is too surprised to resist.
"because everyone deserves a little light in their life, and you looked like you needed some."
