nosebleed ; phan

viii :: broom closet bodies

sell bar : a building/hotspot for prostitution,
often used by sex traffickers/underage runaways

GRITTED TEETH AND MILKY WHITE KNUCKLES SLICK WITH SWEAT gripped onto the silvery-metal bed frame bars with a twisted desperation, the ravenette's stinging eyes screwed shut as he felt ravenous hands grapple onto his moonlit body. the creaking sounds of the sweat-drenched bed echoing with husky moans and thunderous club music were ear-splitting, but the ebony-haired boy's rapid heartbeat deafened everything to white noise in his clouded mind.

he felt his sleek, tousled locks the color of unadulterated darkness dragged jaggedly from behind him, before he was slammed numbly back into the tangled, sweat-and-nicotine-tasting bedsheets. he dragged his bruised bottom lip in between his starlit teeth as he bit down hard, trying to not think about the lavender-blended-to-lilac handprints that would undoubtedly coil around his pinned wrists like a venomous snake tomorrow.

he tried to not think about the crimson bite marks reeking of black cherry vodka and blood money lust that scattered his neck; a violet necklace of skin-on-skin, lips-biting-lips sin adorning his champagne-tinted body.

he tried to not think about the cerise scratch marks scraping down his stinging backside, as if the lustful, whiskey-scented man hunched over his numb silhouette had ripped out the obsidian-haired boy's angel wings straight from his body, along with his innocence. 

he tried to not think about how no matter how fast- how desperately- he tried to run, he'd be back; pinned roughly to the jagged wall with a new set of hickeys, a new set of nightmares.

no matter how many times he let amber whiskey run down his bruised throat as if it was liquid salvation, no matter how many times he fell asleep surrounded with shattered glass just to wake up to a shattered mind, he would be shoved back into room 13 in twenty-four hours to do it all over again.

he could never forget the first time he was shoved into room 13. "this is your own room, princess. don't try to hang up any stupid posters, it's a turn-off for our customers."

he was fourteen; dewey-eyed and champagne cheeks tinged with passionfruit and rosé. he still had his angel wings back then.

he could never forget his first customer, either.

a vodka-tasting, sweat-slick skin-on-skin fortissimo of bruised bottom lips and pretending like he liked it.

he remembered the first time he was paid; he had dried the burning tear streaks that stained his pale cheekbones as he walked up to his boss, a stack of yellowed money tossed his way. "go on, i paid you. get the fuck outta here," he scoffed, "i've got other people to do business with tonight. you're not my only whore."

he remembered the first time he tried to get out.

"i told you, i'm fuckin' out of here! you don't fucking own me!" he screamed, every word stinging against the violet bruises left decorating his defined throat. his boss laughed; his pitch black irises glinting with the strobing club lights as he smirked. "you're disgusting, a fucking criminal," phil spat, holding his wiry silhouette still despite the urge to hide from the taller, muscle-defined man inching towards him.

"and what? you think you're innocent?" he mocked, grabbing phil's chin with his tapered fingertips.

"no one's innocent, princess."

and phil remembered all of it at once as he felt tapered fingernails all-too-familiarly dig into his sweat-dazzled shoulder, his aquamarine irises shooting wide open as he awoke in a panic.

"it's me, i-it's just me!" dan stammered as he felt the ice cold blade of phil's silvery knife dig into the gull of his throat. the ebony-haired boy panted heavy, blinking as his hazed vision cleared to the shadow-defined torso of the wide-eyed, shirtless brunette inches in front of him. "ahem," dan rolled his eyes, causing phil to realize he was still holding him at knifepoint while his eyes raked down his tapered, champagne-tinted body. the mocha-haired boy huffed, crossing his arms as he moved to where he sat cross-legged expectantly.

"what the fuck are you doing?" phil's head cocked to the side, his eyebrow quirked. dan's melted honey irises narrowed as he scowled indignantly, "you could at least say thank you. you were having a bad dream- either that or a freaky as fuck wet dream- and were loud as hell. let's hope no one called the cops." he paused as he pursed his velvety lips, raising an eyebrow as he glanced downwards at the tattooed boy's limited clothing of navy blue boxers, "i practically saved your life."

phil scoffed, "every second you're here that i don't slit your pretty throat and spill out your insides is me saving your life. be grateful i have self-control, princess."

"are you fucking kidding? you should be grateful i didn't leave while you having your little sleeping horror fest and call the cops on this murder house. you probably have all kinds of incriminating shit around here, i wouldn't be surprised if there was a body in the broom closet."

"if you're not careful, the only body left here'll be yours."

dan's mouth hung open as he squinted in disbelief, "you wouldn't."

dan fell suddenly back onto his elbows, phil's inked physique pinning him down as he swirled the knife across the hickory-haired boy's throat. dan gulped as his liquid-gold irises flickered between phil's azure velvet eyes and his plush, delicately bruised lips as he watched phil bite down on his bottom lip, hard.

"oh babe, i would."

dan tasted like bittersweet nicotine and mint as phil melted his lips into the velvet euphoria of dan's, his thick eyelashes fluttering shut as his hand trailed down the boy's naked, champagne-colored torso. his fingertips tugged at the hem of the brunette's navy sweatpants as he dragged out his freshly-bruised, red wine-tinted bottom lip with his teeth; the boy's half-open, angel-gloss irises laced with drowsiness setting him off as he bit down harder. dan moaned into the kiss, pouting as phil pulled away.

"you better be quiet, pretty boy. someone might call the cops," he mocked, cockiness gleaming across his strawberry lips. dan shot him a crooked grin as he played with the older's tousled, ebony hair.

"they'll be too busy with the broom closet bodies to bother us."

—

hey!! this chapter was sorta a lot with the look into phil's past and then a softcore makeout sesh but comment your thoughts !!

thank u for reading,
-ashton :')