Perks Of Being In A Gang

The boys and the girls are in, I mess around with him

A/n: okay I'm only finishing this because people for some reason like this. I'm in competitive sport which takes up allll my time so that's why I gave up on this book. I will finish it, but I'm not going to edit it and it might be shit. Also in case you haven't already realised the titles don't have anything to do with the chapter (because I usually find that kinda spoilery) and in the past chapters have literally just been song titles. Also the character of Harry wasn't inspired by Harry Styles Bec I'm not a 1D fan but I'm now a Harry Styles fan because that album was really good and I want him to release more.
Also while I'm here, I decided that I would finish this while drunk and it was a potentially bad idea but I'll write 4 or so chapters just to finish it up because I know how annoying unfinished fics are, even though I left it for a year.
Okay, here's another chapter I guess

His head thumped, he felt like he has been lying there for a year.

He felt weak. He was like Harry, weak, self conscious, his guard up. he spoke to the bloke a couple times, seeing as he usually sat around at Phil's meetings doing nothing, all he did was pass around a bit of drugs. although he thought that's all the gang did, but then again this wasn't a gang. It was probably the mafia. Nevertheless Harry was nervous, he said things and changed things about himself to fit in, he was like a teenager in highschool, so worried about what others think.

The more and more dan thought about it, the more sense everything made; random ash in the fire place, Phil never speaking of any real business when dans around, the unspoken fear that anyone outside of their group trembled with. Phil often disappearing before the murders, the least important member of the "gang" being the one that runs the major drug ring in the UK.

Dan ran the facts through his head. Fact: Phil probably kills people. Fact: he hasn't tried to kill him yet. Fact: he's also in this weird sex relationship. Fact: it is both their choice.

Fact: although signs point to otherwise, experience shows Phil's only a good guy.

It's at that point dan realises how weak he really is. He was at such a point of feebleness that he relied to Phil for his strength, for everything. He wasn't in control of anything, Phil did that, he was his escape. He needed to stop it.

Murder- murders bad. Really, really bad. If Phil is caught out then dan is put as an accomplice. But... if Phil's in the mafia then that's organised crime, which the government stays out of.

Either way, first things first - pastel is done. No one has to wear the same colours all the time, "style" is so restrictive. Dan finds a grey logoed shirt and changes into that. He's more normal now, plain; but he feels better, more free. Less control. 

"Dan?" Dan turns his eyes to the painted man, at that moment he realises 2 things:
1. He must speak.
2. He has no clue what he's going to say.

"We need to mafia,
I mean are you stop this..."

Phil seems stunned, at first caught off guard by the mafia comment.

"Phil, I want to stop this... daddy thing. I feel powerless and I get that's the whole point of it but I'm getting older, and there's a certain point that I'm going to need to get a job and go buy bread and dress for an interview, and I get we can do it In the bedroom but I can't be calling you daddy in the office. And I understand if none of this makes sense, and especially because what I'm going to ask will contradict everything i just said but... are you in the mafia.. do you kill people?" Less control.

Phil stares. He doesn't speak. He doesn't move. After a minute or two he begins to speak. "Dan... you know the blue shapes on my arm?" He nods, "that's a marker for every person I've... killed," dans eyes flick to his arm, the small blue shapes, connecting up his arm, there must be hundreds of them. He traces his fingers over those when he couldn't sleep, when he felt anxious. All those memories were met with pain now. No longer beauty, comfort, simplicity.

"Get away from me." Phil stands up, nodding slowly. His hand reaches out but is immediately pushed away. Every touch, kiss... other things, were burned into dans memory, they're now accompanied with a feeling of dirty, a sensation like his touch still covered him, that he can't get rid of no matter how hard he tries. Phil leaves, as his footsteps fade the silence grows stronger. Dan stands up, he decides he needs a shower.

•

The bartender fills up another glass.
"Dude you need a spirit in you," Brandon suggests.
"Beers fine."
"I have coke, you look like you need it," Harry suggests quieter.

Phil shakes his head, downing yet another beer, gesturing to the bartender again.
"Then at least calm down, you shouldn't be drinking that fast," Brandon sighs, trying to push the glass away from him.

The stench of the bar was almost unbearable, the varnished wood smelt of vomit and bleach. It wouldn't surprise anyone if the place was cleaned by dousing it in bleach once a year. It was dirty and disgusting, but it was the closest bar to where Phil lived and when he called Brandon he was still unsure as to where he was going, so he went in and ordered a beer. And another. And another.

"I put my heart and soul into that fucking boy. I think he thinks we're apart of the mafia, which doesn't make sense because I cut my family off years ago. At least he thinks it's organised crime so he won't go to the police or anything." Brandon places a hand on his shoulder.

"So it's over?"

•
"I got here as quick as I could," Alex huffs, running into the house. Dan turns and wraps his arms around him, crying into his shoulder. He was so scared, he needed to talk. "I'm guessing we were right with the whole murder thing?" Dan nods slowly.

Alex sits down on the couch, taking out various sweets from a plastic bag, throwing them on the couch. He was he friend dan needs, that he's grateful he's got. He didn't ask about the grey shirt, his wet hair, he didn't question anything, he just allowed dan to talk, and comforted him when he did. Dan used to be always uncomfortable sharing his feelings, always regretted it the next day if he did, he didn't feel that way with Alex... or Phil.

"Do you think he chokes his victims? Do you think he gets off on it?" Alex says in between chewing the handful of crisps he just shoved in his mouth.
"What?!"
"You know-" he puts his hand on his chest to try and swallow- "I'm not blind, and you bruise easily, he's obviously into choking. Do you think he sex chokes his victims to death?" Dan laughed. He actually laughed, even when he felt like it was impossible to do.

"Phil's into a range of things, he might tie them up, beat them with a crop for a bit, then choke them for a bit," Dan suggests.
"Can't forget the daddy kink." Alex jokingly shakes his finger, "ahh, what a horrible last moments of life." Dans still laughing, only his idiot friend could make murder funny.

They stop laughing, start staring, long breaths filling the silence.

"We should move away,"