Romance//Phan

{3}

Dan had his head down. He always had his head down, but he didn't want Phil to notice him this time. The classes went by in a blur. A wordless blur.  He eventually realized he was headed home.

When he got to his door step,he stopped. He looked at the door. And the urge to scream tried to take over him. But instead, he walked through the door.

"Hey Dan. How was school?" His Mother asked. He held up an OK sign. She smiled. "What do you want for dinner?" She inquired. He went into the kitchen and pulled out a pack of hamburger meat and taco shells.

"Tacos?" She asked. He nodded, confirming what he wanted.

He waved goodbye and went to his room. He turned on M A N I A, and played Heaven's Gate. He did his homework in a matter of an hour, working on a rough draft and finishing a math worksheet.

When he was done he sat there quietly. Heaven's Gate was on loop. He wasn't really listening until now.

"And I'll tell you that I am fine
But I'm a missile that's guided to you
Go out in the world to start over again and again, as many times as you can."

The words bothered him. Tears formed in his eyes.

I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay. He thought to himself.

I'm not okay I'm not okay I'm not okay.(I stg if I get one comment)He thought to himself.  He began to shake, tears that he hadn't shed in 3 years. They rolled down his pale cheeks so fast and so steadily that he didn't have time to think. He didn't have time to realize what he was doing.

"Dan! Come downstairs! Dinners ready!" His Mother called. He came to his senses and realized what he was doing. He made a face of disgust at himself. He looked in the mirror and saw his face blotchy and tear stained. He wiped at his face erratically as he rushed downstairs into the kitchen, his feet booming on each step.

"Hey honey you want lettuce on your—Dan? What's wrong?" She knew that the boy never cried anymore. She could see his face, the tears that were still there. But Dan just looked at her confusedly and shook his head. He grabbed a paper towel and wiped his face free of the extra tears.

"Baby, are you sure you're okay?" She chided, but he sent her a glare that made her retreat back over to the stove. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed the Sprite. He poured two cups of it and then put the soda back in the refrigerator. He sat both glasses down on each end of the small table that sat in the kitchen.

He waited for his mother to come out of the kitchen, and in that time, he played a game on his phone. He never used it. He didn't talk, or text. The only person who communicated with him was his mother, and he answered with simple texts such as OK, yes,no. No emojis or super-long text messages.

His mum brought him his plate, and he ate with haste. He downed his sprite and went for a fourth taco, the three on his plate being eaten in a matter of 5 minutes.

"Hungry, aren't you, little duck?" He shrugged. She insisted on calling him little duck even though he was an entire head taller than her.

"I love you, you know that right?" She said. He nodded, and looked at her, wondering where this was going. "I-I think you should get therapy, baby. You...you aren't the same as you were before...before it happened...I hear you, at night. The only times I get to hear your voice is when your sleeping! And they aren't words, their moans and cries of fear! Baby, you need help," She pleaded with him.

He looked at her. His eyes didn't show any form of apology. He shook his head and slammed his hand on the table, causing his mother to jump. He downed the last bite of taco, put his dishes away, and then lividly stomped up the stairs and slammed the door. He could practically hear his mother's sigh from downstairs.

He hit the wall. It hurt. He hit it again. It still hurt. He pulled at his hair, and eventually sat on his floor.

Dear Phil,
I am writing this in a terrible state. Sorry if I sound angry. I hope you know that I actually do follow you home from school, but that's because your route is a piece of my route. I turn off on another street before you even stop to walk Zoë to her door. Do you do that because Joe isn't walking with you guys? I know you don't like her. That's obviously not the reason. Remember, I sit in the back two rows of Mr.Johnson's class. Find me, or don't.
—Red

He folded the letter, took off his shirt, and went to bed.

"Dan. Dan. Dan!" My mother shrieked. Her hands were covering her face, not wanting to see the mess that was on the floor.

Something inside me snapped. It was as if I could no longer speak. I was only 15. How...how did this happen? It was my freshman year, I had friends, I was almost popular. But now, there was a man on my floor.

Shit, he was fucking dead. He's dead and I killed him. I killed him. Oh my god I didn't mean to kill him. But...he wouldn't leave. He's dead, and the last sound that came out of my mouth was a scream. A blood curdling scream. I screamed and I hadn't said a word in three years. I hadn't said a word in three years. I hadn't said a word in three years. I hadn't said a word in 3 years.

He woke up with a start. He was panting, his chest rising and falling in an uneven motion.

6:36 am. Time to get up and go to school. He sighed and took a quick shower. He then went to put on his clothes. Black pants, black shoes, black socks, black shirt...no clean black jumper. He had a blue one, a white one, and a green one. He decided on the white one, it was the plainest.

He walked downstairs, his head down. He walked into the kitchen. There she was, his mum, making bacon, just like usual. She was humming. He walked into the kitchen and sat down, not even bothering to make any indication that he was in there.

He started drumming his fingers on the table. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Hey there, little duck! You scared me. Hungry? Ooh white, feeling bold today?" She asked, oblivious to his unusual attitude. He just looked at her. At first her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and then she sighed.

"Baby, I'm only trying to help. I love you." He didn't look at her when he got up to leave. He didn't even kiss her goodbye. He just got up and walked through the front door.

—
Word Count: 1198 words
Question: Current Favorite song?

Heaven's Gates by Fall Out Boy.