desolation (phan)

five

Dan woke up bare and under the sheets. Phil was up, sitting out on the balcony and already dressed. Dan slipped on sweatpants and headed out, wrapping himself around Phil. Phil jumped a bit but relaxed upon realizing it was Dan.

"You alright?" Phil asked him.

"Very," Dan let himself smile. He relished in the skin-on-skin contact for a moment before sitting. "You know-"

"What if we just stayed here?"

"What?" Dan sputtered.

"What if we moved out to a place like this. I could actually go out!"

So he's not safe in London but safe anywhere else. Another clue, Dan noted.

"I don't know, Phil. Let's think about it, okay?" 

It wasn't brought up again. The vacation went on, and Dan began to warm up to Phil. Sure, he didn't have the answers he wanted, but at least he had the opportunity to even ask him questions. 

When they arrived at the airport after packing up, Dan's phone rang. He excused himself and hobbled towards a corner, seeing it was an unknown number but answering anyway. 

"Hello?" He murmured. 

"Is this Daniel James Howell? I'm Detective Ramos." 

Dan gulped. He remembered the many calls he'd have to answer when Phil first went missing. He'd listen to the little clues or new findings that never seemed to help. But this was different- those calls had stopped long ago. Dan gulped. 

"Yes ma'am, is there something I should know?" 

"We've discovered more facts about your missing boyfriend." 

Dan turned to peek at his boyfriend, who was playing with his hands nervously. He shook his head and tuned back into the conversation. "Like what?" 

"It's necessary that I discuss these with you in person. I'll text you the address, and remember that this will remain confidential. Thank you for your time, Mr. Howell." 

Dan couldn't even bring himself to say goodbye, instead just quietly hanging up the phone. He stared at Phil, guilt and indecision filling his mind. If he wasn't going to get answers from Phil, he'd get it from someone that wanted them too. 

When they got back, Dan waited till Phil fell asleep. He knew he'd be jet lagged and insist on taking a nap, so when he fell asleep around 5, he crept into their room and dug through his clothes. 

He was just about to give up, finding nothing, until he felt paper crumple in a pocket. He furrowed his eyebrows, staring at the jeans, almost afraid to look at what it was. He prayed it was just a receipt for something, or an old photograph, but when he pulled it out, his heart nearly dropped. 

It was their address. 

Phil had known it by heart, so why was it written in the pocket of his jeans? The night he came back, their address was in his pocket. Phil made a noise behind him and Dan jumped, whipping around only to see that Phil was still asleep. He stared at the paper once more, letting his mind run. 

Phil knew it. No matter how far they went, Phil always knew their way back to the house. Was he tortured so bad he forgot? Did he have to look it up- and if he did why didn't he have his phone to check? He went to shove it back in the pocket when he felt a stinging pain in his finger, hissing a bit too loud and pulling his hand away. 

Blood began to form on his finger from a small cut, and looked down at the jeans before carefully digging in the same pocket. He pulled out an opened pocket knife, and just as he did, he heard Phil behind him.

"Dan? What are you doing?"

Daniel jumped in fear, standing up and whipping around to face him. He still had the knife in his hand, now hiding it behind his back. It was dark in the room with the blinds shut, so it was hard to make out much, but Dan was shaking with fear that Phil would somehow know what he was doing. 

"I- uh- I was getting clothes to do a load of laundry." 

Why do you have a knife in your jeans? Why do you have our address? Why is there a knife and our address in your fucking jeans, Dan wanted to scream. But he stayed frozen until Phil mumbled,

"Okay." 

"I'm also about to head out for therapy," Dan lied. He really was going in to the police station to speak with Detective Ramos. But Phil believed him, and Dan could barely find it in himself to feel bad. Phil kept things from him all the time, it's not like he was any worse than him lying to him.

"Okay," Phil said again, nuzzling himself back into the pillow. "Be careful." 

Dan gripped the knife tighter, nodding and hurrying out the room. Once he shut the door, he examined the knife for a second, wondering what to do with it. He didn't want to give it back to Phil. He didn't know why he even had one. He exhaled, pulling up the sofa cushion and shoving it under after closing the weapon. 

With that, he grabbed his coat and hurried over to the police station. When he parked, he noticed how many police cars were parked, his PTSD hitting him with flashbacks from when the cops showed up at his house looking for Phil. That was the night he found out he was really gone. He remembers the red and blue lights.

He had been sitting on the sofa, Phil on his mind. He was sitting in the dark of the livingroom, nothing on, nobody speaking. Just him and the darkness until he heard the sirens, and the red and blue lights flashing along his walls. The red and blue lights, covering his walls, just like his melancholy thoughts covered his brain. The red and blue lights. 

He took a breath, trying to ease his shaking hands before entering the building. He let himself walk through, the place all too familiar. It made him sick to his stomach, remembering coming in this place hysterical and begging for closure on his missing partner. He sat down and let himself peoplewatch until a voice rang through his ears.

"Dan Howell?" He looked up to see a Middle Eastern woman with big eyes and long dark hair. Her hand was extended with the intention of Daniel shaking it. He hesitantly did, lost in thought. "I'm Detective Ramos. We talked on the phone," she smiled politely as Dan rose. "If you'll just follow me." 

He nodded, forcing a small smile before following her into the room. He looked around at the rooms as they walked through a dark hall, lawyers and criminals filled in the rooms. 

He entered the room, seeing a guard inside the room and beige files on the table. 

He gulped and stepped inside, letting the door shut behind him.