The Chair Fic

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   My mind is drunk with fatigue, my tongue five sizes too big and five times too dry.  The first thing I can comprehend is a deep chuckle from above me. I recognize it, I had heard it recently
                                                                      

                "Dan, stop that" he giggles "we need to get inside!" Phil wrestles me into the doorway as I foolishly stumble about talking about what a llama butterfly hybrid would eat.

                Phil. I wrench my eyes open; they have crusted over and feel like they have been scrubbed with salt infused barbed wire. The first thing I see is carpet. Why am I on the floor? I lift my head slightly and can see mix-matched socks, the tops of them covered with black skinny jeans. Phil. He's sitting in a chair unlike any we have had in either apartment. It's old-fashioned and worn; it would not look out of place at a mad hatter's tea party. But this was my own bedroom. Why is this chair here? A cold panic swept through me as I tried to wipe my eyes and found my wrists shackled to the odd chair's ornate front legs.

                                                                                                
                "Uugh Phil I don't want to sleep I'm too drunk" I slur whining at the older boy. He giggles again, he's also clearly had a few.

"This will help" He has a wet washcloth in his hand, and isn't that just like Phil, always taking care of his Dan. He held the washcloth to my face; he must have spilled something on his sleeve, a lot of something...the smell was overtaking me. I cried out weakly as my vision began to cloud, everything was black with the echo of Phil's laugh bouncing around my aching head.

                "Good morning Dan!" Phil smiled "Sleep well?" he closed the laptop in his lap and looked down at me, there was an odd glint in his eyes, something I had never seen before, something mad.

"Yeah." I said distractedly "Where did that chair come from?" Oh real nice Dan, I thought to myself, You've been knocked out and chained up by your roommate who is acting nuttier than usual and what do you ask? You ask about interior decorating. Good one Dan. Phil however took no notice of the odd situation.

"I went up in the attic while you were at Tesco the other day." He grinned.  "I don't know why we were scared to go up there, I mean there's nothing to be scared of, and this chair was all that was up there." He chuckled again stroking the red upholstery lovingly. "It just sort of called to me you know the way things sometimes do." I nodded pretending to be interested as I tried to devise a why exactly I was chained to the object in question. "You know the way I called to you, once upon a time." Phil grinned and moved the laptop to my desk without leaving the chair.

"Wait, what?" That had caught my attention? He called to me?

"Yes of course I did Daniel" his grin got bigger and slightly scary. "And you heard me, loud and clear. Although lately" he started playing with his fingernails feigning disinterest "you seem to have forgotten that it was I who called you, not the other way around." He reached down to my now frozen form and ran his fingers along my cheek. I could not rip my eyes from his; this wasn't the Phil I knew. Pain skittered across my face like a mild shock and I gasped in surprise. When Phil pulled his hand away it was painfully obvious that he had hidden a razor blade between his fingers. Blood had oozed out of my left cheek and onto Phil's hand. He grinned still larger and let out another strained giggle. I felt my jaw drop as he lifted the stained digits to his mouth and licked the blood away.

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