Dragonfly; Phan

III

"Are you kidding me? You didn't hear him?"

"No, Dan," PJ said, monotone. He rode in front at a steady pace down the street, irritatingly ignorant like he had been all the way home. It was weird for him, since he liked to talk. Dan had pulled at some strings and snapped a couple, clearly.

"He said our bikes were cool—How the hell would he know our bikes are cool? How would he even know we came on bikes?"

"I'm gonna desert you in the middle of this street in a minute if you don't shut up," PJ snapped, head titling to glare at Dan as he rode to his side. "He didn't say that. He didn't say anything."

"You didn't hear him say anything—"

"And I'm supposed to believe you did?"

"Yeah, you are," Dan gave him a hard stare. "I'm your best friend and I wouldn't lie to you."

PJ's laugh was one amused. "Do you want to recall the incident regarding my Nirvana CD a couple months ago?"

"Okay, I told you I didn't take that, I just borrowed it," Dan leant over the frame of his bike to push the words against PJ's chest, letting them attack at him.

"Borrowed—You mean like I borrowed your girlfriend when we were twelve?"

Dan tightened his fingers around the handle-bars. "That was completely different."

"How? Because I actually admitted to stealing?"

"This hasn't got anything to do with CDs or girlfriends, it's about Skye—"

"Do you not trust him or something? Is that what this is?" PJ queried. "Because when you get paranoid about something, your mind becomes this intuitive game and it wins by making you believe in stuff that didn't actually happen."

"PJ, this isn't psychosis. Skye said that. He could be secret number three. This is reality."

"That's what all psychosis patients say . . . "

Dan, patience wearing down to the bone, reached forward mid-pedal and grabbed the front of PJ's frame, halting both their bikes in one motion. PJ looked at him, eyes wide, and Dan barked, "Can you take me serious for one damn second?"

"You know, that's hard when you're acting like you should be locked in one of those cells."

"Why the hell would I lie about Skye saying stuff about our bikes?"

PJ exhaled, feet securing himself on the ground. "Okay, maybe you wouldn't. Maybe he said it. But what exactly are you trying to get out of making a big deal of it? It was a statement. He likes our bikes, he's a cool dude," he waved his hand between them. "There's no problem here, Dan. You just want there to be. Like you do with everything. You think life is this massive game of cat and mouse as if you're Sherlock Holmes and every tiny, potential coincidence is the start of a new case. But it isn't, okay—Wake up, Dan! There's nothing, there's never anything. Aren't you bored of being disappointed by now?"

Dan watched PJ's face for a moment after his voice disappeared, waiting for a trace of something more. When there came nothing, Dan gripped the handles of his bike, settled quickly down on the seat and started back off without a word.

"Dan," PJ called from behind him. "Dan, hey! Don't get your knickers in a twist about it, I was just trying to make you see my side—Would you slow down?"

"Go to hell, PJ," Dan spat, and stood up as he increased his speed down the road, turning off at the corner and leaving PJ behind.

It's no big deal, he thought. He can find his way from here. It's only three minutes, maximum. He's a big boy.