Fault (Phan)

Part 1

October 24, 2009

The brown walls of the room tremble with Dan's frantic scrambling to pack his suitcase. He had managed to get a few days off from virtually all of his classes, and there was no way he wasn't going to take advantage of them. One of his professors had fallen ill just two short days ago, and but 20 hours after that, he got a call from Phil on his ferocious home phone.

*******

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dan. It's Ph-"

"PHIL!" Dan's breath instantly drained upon hearing that somewhat monotonous, baritone voice. He had to hold back yelling Phil's name, for fear of startling his mother. It came out as a harsh breath, not much above a whisper. After all, he hadn't had a call from him since his birthday over three months ago.

He heard a one-noted laugh on the other end. "Yeah, that's right. It's me. I want to suggest something I think you'd like."

At this point, Dan settled and held his tongue to listen.

"I had my last English final yesterday, and as of five minutes ago, finished all my graphics work for the month."

Dan couldn't help but chuckle at that last comment. "Congratulations."

"Well, what I was going to say was that I want you to come hang out at my place for a day or two, because I don't have any classes for a week and I want to see you. You know, 'cause...um..."

Phil trailed off as he tried to phrase why, which was good for Dan, as he was overwhelmed by this proposal. The typically effective weight of his girlfriend was lifted, if not obliterated for the moment. He said "I want to see you." He perked back up when Phil continued.

"Because we haven't talked in, like, four months," he declared forcefully, "and my other friends haven't been around much. You're who's left."

Without thinking to ask his mum, Dan actually gently hopped a few times before shouting, "OH, AWESOME!" the largest possible smile for a ray of sunshine like himself spread across his face. "When should I show up?"

They finished discussing details, and Dan promptly bolted to his mother in their lounge. She looked up from her newspaper, and raised an eyebrow at her particularly gloomy son appearing so giddy as if out of nowhere.

"Mum, I want to cut a day of my classes. My one professor is probably going to be sick for a while, and I'm really only focused on that elective. My friend Phil from up in Lancashire invited me to stay at his place for two days. Do you think that's worth it? I haven't seen him for a really long time."

His mother's eyes almost glazed over, as he had not allowed her to speak and she had to process his proposition. Finally she gave him her take. "Well, I mean, I don't see why not. It can't hurt to miss a day or two, and you seem to be doing well right now. Whatever you want to do, I'm just glad you told me before you left."

Dan suppressed a massive smile and managed to spit out a response before bounding back up to his room. He had started hanging with some cool people recently, but those friends weren't available. Phil had saved Dan from the eternal boredom. The fact that he and Phil had both managed to have days out of school at once didn't hit him too hard. As far as he was concerned, it was the workings of the great Maltesers gods.

Dan stands at the station and looks at his watch for the third time in the last five minutes. He was unable to wait any longer to leave the house and had just gone straight to his train's platform. His eyes bear into the gloomy scene he sees from across the tracks. He decides to play a game with himself and tune his ears to listen for the first rattling. Almost instantly, he hears the metal vibrate and bites his lip as the whistle sounds. The train slides up and Dan finds himself perfectly positioned with a set of doors, and walks straight in as soon as they open. He sits down next to the least weird-looking person who has a seat to spare and zones out as his ride takes him closer to reunion.

-

He respawns for the twelfth time and lets out a sigh. How slow could Dan's train be? Phil saves his session on the Playstation and walks to get a snack. He is greeted with the cliché near-empty cupboard and shuts it without a second thought. A faded red shape catches his eye. But what is left on the counter spare a single apple, and probably past its prime at best? Phil rules to make the best of it and takes, or rather is forced to take that abomination of a fruit. He rubs it on his shirt and bites in. It could be worse, he thinks, it could have brown spots. Upon completing this thought, a rough, bland-tasting chunk is detected. Great.

Phil chooses now to continue eating the apple by distracting himself from its impurity. While walking and avoiding his customary tripping spots, he pauses to look at the framed photo of himself and Dan on the wall. Despite having only met the boy twice, it is not all that strange for him to possess this, as he has many other pictures with his newer friends on his walls. Phil sees the way Dan's face slopes, how his long hair frames his face but still allows his amber eyes to radiate beautifully. He shudders. In this man's perspective, Dan was absolutely perfect, and nothing could change that.

These thoughts are replaced with shock, followed by realization, followed by concern as Phil's teeth hit the apple core. In the next thirty seconds Phil is out the door and on the way to the store. I have to feed him, how'd I forget that? The notion that Dan could be hungry when he arrived had slipped his mind, and just enough food for two more meals would suffice. Phil had been too busy thinking about this before the cold October wind hits his bare chest, and he realizes here and now that his flannel is half-buttoned and he is in public like this, that people can see him and how ridiculous he must look. He hadn't thought to even bring a jacket. Good old Phil.

At this point, the grass is but a blur to Dan as he reaches as close as he'll dare get to a prance. He had been checked into the dormitory section of Phil's university and is currently sprinting across the field, forcing masses of restless geese to the wind as he continues his desperate search for his friend's home. The geese squawk in protest at him, and some go so far as to attack the top of his head as he frantically, yet excitedly goes on. But Dan does not hear the raucous complaints, nor does he feel his hair being plucked out in clumps.

Now comes a small set of lanky trees, and Phil's building is within sight. In a final exasperated boost of strength, Dan breaks free of the horrific goose storm and nearly slams himself into the door. He straightens himself and reaches down to pick up a guest key he'd been instructed to find under the doormat. Now, he is in. All the previous mental ruckus rapidly comes to a halt, and then continues to move, regulating its pace with its producer's tender steps forward and up. Step, step up, step up...Dan takes what seems like all the time he waited for this moment and more. Finally, he is up the stairs and right there are the numbers. He fills his lungs with dank air and lifts his arm. On the other side, Phil sits, ready to leap up. Dan's hand comes down on the cold steel, once, twice, and – the door opens before the final knock can be processed. And within those fleeting moments following, ice met fire and was defeated, warmed and downsized, sacramentally converted, until all was consumed with a satisfying, resurrected emotion, one of finality, one passionately, massive, everlasting inferno.