Estrangements (Phan AU)

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transitive verb

       • to fix firmly in surrounding matter.

The car is silent on their way back to Phil's condominium. The air feels different than it usually does, like the discomfort settled between them is stemming from something other than Dan's hostility and Phil's desperation.

The city is a quiet blur of streetlights and sleeping buildings as they pass and Dan can't help but envy the people with warm beds to fall into and roofs to keep the cold away. He doesn't usually let himself think of the things he doesn't have, doesn't usually let himself wish for a life he's never led, but now he does nothing to stop the want from clawing through his veins.

He's tired. A kind of raw, bone-deep tired that feels like it may never go away.

"You can stay the night," Phil offers as they reach the heart of the city. He doesn't look at him, eyes trained on the empty road stretching before them, but Dan is fluent enough in body language to know that he's painfully attuned to his every move. "I have a perfectly good couch, you know."

For a moment, Dan wonders what it would be like if he said yes. He wonders what it would be like to be that kind of person, the kind who could accept kindness with open arms and learn to let people in. He wonders what would it be like to have something other than hard ground or the rough mattress of a homeless shelter under his back, to wake to something other than the smell of degradation and filth. He wonders what it would be like to be the kind of person who could trust so easily.

Troye, he thinks, would have probably said yes. Has probably said yes.

Good, he thinks. It means he's done something right, taking care of him.

But Dan could never be that person.

"Just take me back to the park," he snaps, frustrated with everything but the man beside him. Seeing Phil's pursed lips, he reluctantly adds, "Thanks, though."

Phil glances over at him. Dan stares determinedly out the window.

It feels a little too much like progress.