Dan & Phil: Not of This Earth

14 | Finding My Way

Word Count: 1063

     It was snowing. It always snowed in England by the year's end. Whether it was the 1700s or the 1990s, snow powdered the trees, buildings, and streets. On this particular snowy day in 1991, Dan and Phil trudged home from their respective jobs. Dan was quick to claim the couch, plopping face-down on its cushions. He groaned loudly.

     "Dan, what do you want for dinner?" Phil asked as he sat on the floor, leaning against the couch by his flatmate's head.

     "Fucking...something. I don't know," he mumbled.

     "How about some chicken pot pie?"

     "Can we order a pizza?" Dan countered, turning his head to face the back of Phil's head.

     Phil stood and stretched himself backwards. "I was hoping for something more festive, but sure." He grabbed the black rotary phone from the couch's side table and sat the phone on Dan's head, letting the curled cord drape itself on Dan's shoulder. "Give em a ring, Danny."

     The dial tone brought him to roll over with the phone in his hand. "Pot pie is festive?" He began dialing the pizzeria's number.

     Phil grabbed a jumper from the back of their easy chair and slipped it on. "Oh, I'm sure. It's almost Christmas, right? It calls for warm food like that. Pizza is warm, so eh." He gave Dan a little shrug.

     With the phone to his ear, Dan received a prerecorded message from a nasally woman telling him they didn't work on Christmas Eve. "Bloody great." Dan slammed the phone on the receiver and sighed. "Do we have frozen pizza in the fridge?" he asked.

     Phil stood at the window, leaning against its frame. His eyes were glued to the snow that was fluttering to the ground. It was so peaceful and beautiful. "We have pot pie," Phil echoed.

     Dan didn't respond, his brows furrowed. He stared at the back of Phil's head until the feeling of his stare brought his companion to turn towards him. Phil's eyes were their innocent, sparkling blue as usual but they held a faint longing for something. It was as if something was missing.

     "Phil, what's wrong?"

     "Oh, um... Well," he turned back to the window, "I wish we celebrated the human holidays. They all seem so fun! There's great food, fun decorations, and everyone's together and the entire world seems to smile."

     Dan swung his legs over the edge of the couch and crossed his arms. "We've talked about this. It's smarter for us to avoid these silly human things – it's cheaper. Not to mention, a lot of human holidays are religion based. We don't follow any sort of religion. I mean, why would we?" Before Phil could respond, Dan added, "Is that why there were little gourds around the kitchen in October?"

     "Maybe. I mean, Dan, how can you resist it? It's all so wonderful."

     "And fucking expensive! Phil, be real." Dan stood and met Phil by the window. "It's ridiculous to think you want to waste money on human nonsense."

     Phil faced him, his expression furious. "Then why do we buy clothes? Why do we buy food? Why are we renting an apartment?" he exclaimed.

     "To fit in," Dan spat back.

     "To – to fit in!? Dan, by not celebrating these 'expensive' human holidays, we're not fitting in! How weird do you think it is that we don't celebrate anything! We don't even celebrate our own birthdays!"

     "Birthdays? Think about what you just said! I am 22-some thousand years old and you're at least 54,000 years old! Why would that even make sense?"

     "Your birthday is the 11th of June. My birthday the 30th of January. We had to make them up for our jobs! We should celebrate them!"

     Dan held his hands up and shook his head once. "You know what, I'm done. Goodnight, Phil." He stormed out of the den but Phil was on his tail.

     "You're just going to leave the argument like that?"

     "I said, goodnight, Phil."

     "Fuck you." Dan stopped and spun to meet with Phil only a few centimeters away from his face. He was perplexed to hear that from his friend's mouth. Phil rarely swore but when he did, he never used "fuck." He was far too pure for that word or so Dan thought. "You fucking heard me. I don't understand why you're so stubborn! I mean, what are we even trying to achieve? This is so boring!"

     Dan was at a loss of words.

     "I want to act! I want to be part of film production! How much do you think I really enjoy working in retail? And there's no way you're enjoying being a custodian! At the shopping centre! You hate human interaction!" Phil pinched the bridge of his nose, a powerful ache growing in the back of his head. "I'm at the end of my wits, Dan. I feel like I'm going crazy. I need something different in life. We both need some kind of change. Something for the better." His voice dwindled to its usual soft tone. His eyes pleaded for the new life he craved.

     Dan's mouth was a tight line. He really hated his job but he could only do so much when he was without a high school diploma. What could he have done? And how did Phil plan to achieve his dreams without one himself?

     If Phil went into the media, what was Dan to do? He didn't have a dream. He didn't know what to do. Phil could fall into fame and he would be...nothing. As far as he was concerned, he was nothing now as it was.

     He couldn't stand to be alone, though. "No."

     "What?"

     "No," Dan repeated more firmly. He gulped, his hands tightening into fists. "Goodnight." He entered his room and slammed the door behind him. Fear and anxiety drug him to floor where he shook horribly for the rest of the night. Phil, on the other hand, sat in his room and cried.

     At 2AM, when his tears had gone dry, he made his decision. He took Black Pearl from his chest, still encased in one of Dan's bubbles, and stored it in his gem...in his heart. He found a paper and pen and scribbled on it for a few minutes. The paper found its way onto the fridge and under a magnet, and Phil found his way out the door.