Dragonfly; Phan

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Oakwell was bleak that morning. Frost was crusting into the air and picking away at everything whole. It was brushing at winter, just about, coming head-first into the middle of November and Dan could feel it prominently as he rode all the way from the asylum to school. His fingers were cold and tight around the bars and he thought maybe being around Skye so much was preparing him for the season.

Morning fog prickled lethargically just above the town and it was like it was swallowing it up. Nobody would miss it if it were to just disappear under the mist, Dan thought. Nobody even knew it was there, without looking at a map of the country.

Dan rubbed his hands together as he headed through the school's hallway. Children tugged on their hats and unzipped their fleeces and it felt like everything was being reborn. The wake of a new season; the wake of the best season. Christmas in Dan's house was just the most incredible thing when it rolled around. Lights and food and festivity.

When Dan thought about the word happiness, he thought about Christmas Day. Snow and chattering teeth and hot drinks and long sleeves. It was bottled up over the course of the year and when December fluttered in, the glass of the bottle smashed and a thousand tiny pieces of happiness flew everywhere. Dan had reached the age where the emotion was not measured in the illusion of hooves on the roof as he slept or the overall calculation of how much had been spent on him when all was done and dusted, but measured just in the little details.

PJ, Chris and Cat were stood at PJ's locker when Dan approached. The door of the locker was open and he slammed it shut, startling them all.

"You bloody idiot," Chris shoved him. "Must you do that every time we're minding our own business?"

"Oh, it's a necessity," Dan grinned, cold hands burying deep in his pockets.

"You're in a good mood," Cat noted his smile and her lips pressed together in an expression of intrigue. "Something happened?"

"It's winter, probably," Chris said. "He gets high on all the Christmas shit."

Cat smiled at Dan. "That it?"

He shook his head. "I went to the asylum this morning. I was up bright and early."

"To get the worm," Chris joked, and then laughed. "Did you have fun with him?"

"It wasn't anything like that, you absolute ass."

"Why else would you be so—"

PJ grabbed Dan's arm, excited. "What did he admit?"

Dan couldn't even contain it. "Everything. I mean, pretty much. Everything he knew."

"He told you he's dead? For real? He said he wasn't breathing and that he's a ghost?"

"Who's a ghost?" Cat asked, forcing her hands between Dan and PJ. "Hey! Answer me. Who?"

"Phil," PJ beamed at the name.

"Lester?"

"He means Skye," Dan spoke. "Skye is Phil. He's a ghost. Phil's ghost."

"Skye is the ghost of the ten-year-old who went missing?" Cat echoed, probably as a means to push the sentence closer to reality. "Guys, what do you take me for?"

"It's the truth," PJ glared at her.

"That's so damn epic, holy shit!" Chris squeaked in excitement. "Does he look the same and everything? Is that how you know? Is he transparent? Can he walk through walls?"

"Chris," Cat's teeth were clenched. "Knock it off. They're bullshitting, how are you this dumb?"

"Fuck off," PJ snapped at her. "You're just jealous because Dan's in love with a ghost boy and not you—"