Bluebird; Phan

XV

  In the morning, Sunday, it was all wet and grey. Dan was asleep at Phil's side and the curtains were still stripped back. Rain scuttled down the windows, bunched up in large droplets that blurred the shape of the dismal city. Phil watched it go for a while—admiring the way it ran and drummed like some sort-of harmony—and then let his eyes delve into Dan. He was facing him, lips wet and parted, eyes screwed shut and cheeks tinted red. Everything about him was so fucking gorgeous, and yet so tragic. Phil was just gone for him, so pathetically laying there staring at him like he was an angel.

When he lifted his hand to touch him, he felt a spark of pain jolt up his wrist and he groaned instinctively under the pain. Jesus, what the fuck had he done to his hand hitting that wall?

Dan started moving at the audible sound and Phil sat upright, gripping his wrist with his other hand. It throbbed and ached under the skin and he gritted his teeth to prevent making too much noise.

"Phil?" Dan mewled, coming to his senses. Phil felt a hand on his back and his heart still managed to fucking melt at the touch, regardless of the discomfort in his hand.

"Hey," Phil titled his head at him, pictured with a fake smile. "Morning. Are you okay?"

"What happened to your hand?" Dan rubbed his eyes and moved to kneel beside Phil with a profound concern. He gently put his fingers against the sides of his hand and ran his thumb across the cuts.

"I—" Phil paused to sigh, defeatist. "I punched a wall yesterday."

"Jesus, Phil," Dan mumbled quickly, eyes flickering between Phil's eyes and the gentle touch of his fingers. "Was it because of me?"

"Sorta, sorta not. I was just pissed off after your mom and hearing you say all that shit about your dad and—"

"We need to go to the hospital," Dan carefully let go of Phil's hand (the consideration in his actions was something Phil had grown so unfamiliar with) and shuffled off the edge of the bed. "Come on, I'll search for one on my phone in the area."

"Dan, it's fine," Phil told him. "I'm probably just overreacting, it doesn't hurt that much."

"You've been here for me," Dan's voice was weighted and eyes were placid when he looked back to Phil. "Let me be here for you, okay?"

Before Phil could even reply, Dan continued with, "Do you know where the charger is? My phone's still dead."

"Just," Phil grabbed his from where it had fallen at the side of the bed. "Use mine."

Dan took it with a smile and sat back down. "You've got seventeen missed calls, fucking hell. You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend."

"What?" Phil choked. "I—I don't?"

"Calm down, darling," Dan grinned. "I was kidding. Cat's just been calling you loads."

"Just Cat?" Phil forced his mind away from the sweet darling Dan had definitely placed purposely into his sentence, at least judging by the taunting smile on his lips. It seemed that last night had taken a substantial weight from his chest. Understandably.

"A couple from Elise, but mostly Cat. What's her problem, can she not go a day without you?" Dan read from the screen, smiling still.

"I don't know, something might have come up," Phil reached to take his phone back, seeing all the missed notifications. "I haven't spoken to her since the night of her party. The last time I saw her was when I was going to walk you home, so she's probably worried for me."

"Clearly. Maybe you should call her."

"Yeah," Phil started tapping at his phone to find her contact.