Not on Fire (Phan AU)

fire

Dan's a fire, one that never burns out, fueled by a burning hatred and people who will never understand him and the storm raging behind his eyes. He's a light too bright, causing people to look away and turn a blind eye to everything he does and will do. And he's dimmer than nightfall, split down the center, one half blending in and the other perfectly placed in plain sight so no one will ever notice. He lives two lives to go with the changing of the hour, the fall and rise of the sun, but they're muddled now, mixed together to the point where you can't tell where one stops and the other starts. The light isn't bright and the dark isn't dim and it's starting to show. He can't blend if he's not an extreme, so unless he can separate the two, pull them apart and put them back together, he'll have to hide under his covers in the darkest corner of his room. He's hot to touch and cool to hear, two contradictions wrapped up in one that coexist peacefully until they're put to the test.

Like the swirling smoke that stains his vision and controls his thoughts, he's not grounded, with the knowledge that he'll leave this burning place one day keeping him ready to soar at any moment. He's here one day and gone the next, exactly like the two parts of him that he feels like he's always switching between.

Even as he walks from his house to the park with no swing, he knows one day he'll forget the sidewalks that take him there, and he'll leave behind half of him--it's only a question of which part will be etched into all of the places that he's caused destruction. But he can't wait until them to finally make the waters clean again, can't put it off until the last second because then he knows it will be impossible.

Each step he takes, he leaves a path of destruction in his wake, and even though nobody else can see it, he can. No one else may know he's an arsonist, but how is a mystery when he watches as things succumb to the darkness inside of him. Not only is he destroying what's around him, he's destroying himself from the inside out just to feel calm for a few minutes out of the day.

And in a rather hectic world just a match away from burning down, that's a lifeline that he just can't afford to give up.

***

There's a slight chill to the air as he lights up the last cigarette in the pack and a rush of wind that feels like needles on his skin as he brings the stick to his lips.

This is a routine he's all too familiar with. No matter how much he's learned about the dangers of what he holds in his hand, he can't seem to bring himself to quit, so with each day that he lights up, he falls more and more into the habit, allowing it to take over his movements until he can do it without thinking or seeing.

And with each puff, he can feel the anger and nerves melting away, imagines them as something tangible slowing retreating away from sight. His eyes are closed, his feet planted firm, and his racing heart is slowing down as it passed the finish line, reached its peak, and realized there was nothing to keep stressing about anymore.

Like this, it's easy to forget the haunting reminder of how he'll never fit in with Phil, Pj, and Chris, easy to imagine a world where they could all be friends (so long as he could get past how annoying they could be at times). Normally, he'd love staring at it, taking it in and remembering what it was like to stand before it as flames engulfed the old wooden swing, but now, with the recent events at Phil's house still fresh in his mind, it only serves to reinforce the fact that he's an outcast who doesn't belong and shouldn't try to be anything but who he already is.

But most importantly, it's easy to clear his mind and focus at the real task at hand. He's allowed his two lives to dance together and become one, but unless he wants to be found out and forever labeled as an arsonist, he has to do something about it before it's too late. After all, now that he's hanging out with Phil, the son of a police officer who would love more than anything to solve the case, there's no such thing as too careful. And he's not going to let himself learn that the hard way. Not unless he wants to watch his world crumble before him.

He almost wishes that Phil would come by now and be reminded about how destructive he is because then he would have one less thing to stress about. Mainly, however, he wouldn't have to worry about Phil somehow finding out about him and telling his dad all about what Dan does in his free time. Except he knows that's not how Phil is and even he wouldn't suddenly stop being friends with Dan simply because he smokes. It would just be easier if he was.

Except wishing will get him nowhere. It will only get his hopes up, and he's tired of letting that happen again and again.

He drops the cigarette and steps on it to put it out just like he crushes his thoughts, no longer allowing them to exist for just right now. He can think about them later when he's supposed to be asleep but can't figure out how to get his mind to shut up, but right now, he's supposed to be calm and those are the type of thoughts that are quickly going to turn his mood sour.

Except, as soon as he starts the walk back to his house, the calm quickly starts to fade away with each step he takes, and his nerves build up until he's a mess of worry and confusion, unsure of his next move as he struggles to keep himself happy and everybody around him--namely Louise and his parents--happy on top of that. Which may seem like an easy task, but when they all have different things that will make them smile, it can only get harder, and that's what it's like. He's being pulled apart by the seam as each person pulls at him, demanding something completely different that he can't do in order to please another, and it's getting to the point where he's starting to forget his own needs, the fire burning inside of him that thrives off of causing destruction and burning down places seconds away from collapsing on their own.

He wants to turn around, pull another cigarette out of his pocket, but he doesn't have another one and he has some boundaries, meaning that he only smokes one a day if he can help it. Which means that he keeps on walking even if he just wants to give up.

***

His mom is on the couch when he gets home. He wants to go up to her and say something, anything, but no words come to mind, and the longer he thinks, the more it feels like he can't speak, like the words that he wants to say are getting stuck in his throat. Even though he stands there for a few seconds like a blubbering fish, staring at his mother, hoping she'll say something instead, there's dead silence except for the sound of whatever shows on the television. Eventually, he just leaves, climbing up the stairs one at a time, all while wishing he could have been a better son.

But before he goes, he whispers, "I love you," and hopes that she heard him despite how softly he spoke it. When she doesn't respond, well he doesn't hear her anyway, he continue on with a heavy heart.

Maybe tomorrow, he'll be able to make good on his promise to himself that he'll try harder, but right now, he just doesn't know what to say. Sure, their relationship isn't as bad as it was only a few days before, but it's still not where he wants it to be and he's not sure how to get it there.

Right now, however, he's drained--mentally and emotionally--and he reeks of smoke, something that he know won't help anything, so it's probably for the best that he leaves it be right now. Plus, he has other things on his mind, not that they're more important than building a better relationship with his parents, but if he doesn't deal with him, he feels like he will explode.

In fact, even though the walk back to his room is short, his mind is going a mile a minute, thoughts swirling around in his brain too quickly for him to properly understand them. First off, he hasn't been able to watch flames dance in the wind and devour something in so long, and for some reason, he feels like he needs to be less of an asshole now that he's friends with Phil, so that's only adding to the stress. There's so many things going on that he can't tell if he's missing something or not.

For a second, he almost forgets about Louise and the text that he still hasn't read, but when he shuts his door and collapses on his bed, all of his issues just come back, full-force and more pressing than ever. There's a weight on his chest that he can do nothing to get rid of, but he knows that sorting everything out with Louise will take the tiniest amount of pressure off of him, which he figures is better than nothing. He'd almost prefer getting to work on planning his next fire as he can tell that cigarettes aren't going to work for much longer, but he also knows he's just going to feel worse the longer he puts it off.

He reaches into his pocket hesitantly and wraps his fingers around his phone, leaving them there for a few seconds while he takes a few deep, calming breaths before pulling it out.

Louise: I'm glad you realized that I'm only doing this for you and I deeply care about you. And didn't I say you and Phil would make good friends? We should hang out sometime soon; it feels weird not having you to talk to.

For a few seconds, the anger bubbles up, heated by the fact that she didn't apologize, not realizing that Dan's text was an invitation for her to do so. If he can apologize, then why can't she? He wasn't the only one in the wrong and he never has been. He puts up with Louise and her bossy ways, knowing full well why she's like that and how sometimes she gets so annoyed that Dan takes his parents for granted when her's are rarely there for her, but he doesn't have to do that. Yet, when he doesn't, she acts like she's the innocent one, even if she's not.

Except, this is the closest she's ever come to apologizing, and he knows how hard it can be to admit that you're wrong, especially when it's something that you've never had to do before. In fact, every other time he's apologized to her, she's practically told him that he should be, brushing it off like the idea of her doing the same was absurd. So maybe this is her way of saying sorry because she can't outright say it. Dan's tired of making excuses for her, but this time, he can't help it.

That doesn't mean he has to forgive her. He's already apologized and she practically has to, but there's more to forgiveness than that, something that can't be achieved so easily. He doesn't have to excuse her just yet, but he can at least prepare to.

With that in mind, he knows what he has to do.

Dan: Yeah, we should hang out tomorrow and sort through some things. Just you and me. Like we used to.

Louise: Just tell me when and where.