Not on Fire (Phan AU)

an intervention

Dan tries to ignore his burning desire to set something up in flames, but images of fires dance across his mind every time he closes his eyes and looking at the smoke burn from the end of his cigarette only does so much before it loses all power. And he decides to give into the urge right after dinner, when the sun has started to set in the sky.

It's still unbearably cold outside, and frost covers the ground where the slippery ice doesn't. The harsh wind comes every so often, blowing harshly and having the effect of pins and needles. The darkening sky does little to warm the temperature, but it makes the fire brighter by comparison and it means less people are likely to be out than during the daytime when the sun is up.

There's an old shed on the outskirts of town that was once a part of a circus at one point and was used as storage, but the circus shut down shortly before Dan was born and the shed was left abandoned. Originally, they had plans to repurpose it, but nothing ever came out of it because it was so far away from the center of the city, which was where most of the stuff happened.

Dan had made sure to research the shed fully before heading out. He used to ask about it all the time when he was younger and they drove past it, but if he wants to avoid any serious charges if he ever gets caught, he has to stick to unimportant things, buildings and structures that are hardly ever used and two seconds away from collapsing in on themselves.

Regret moves through him in waves when he gets a block away from his house. His coat—which he had barely remembered to take in the first place mind you—does little to protect him against the harsh weather when his hands are still very much out in the open, along with his face. He can't drive to the shed, so he's stuck walking as he has no money to take the bus.

It takes him nearly an hour to get to the edge of town, and his hands and face feel almost numb. Dropping the shopping bag with the bottle of gasoline in it, he takes a few seconds to warm up his hands by cupping them around his mouth and blowing hot air onto them, but it's in vain, as the backside is left exposed to the cold, and eventually, he drops his hands, giving up.

He grabs the bottle out and walks closer up to the shed. After taking the lid off, he walks around the perimeter of the building, pouring gas as he walks. Quickly, he pulls out his lighter and sets the gas on fire, walking away as soon as it starts burning. The further away he walks, the bigger the flame grows until the whole shed is covered in orange and yellow light. But the wind comes again, and the flames grow weaker against them.

Still, the sight of the burning shed is enough to fill him with a sense of calmness and relaxation, something he had been missing for the past few days.

He doesn't wait for the fire to go out completely. The walk back home is long and freezing, and as much enjoyment as he gets out of watching the building burn, he can't enjoy it as much as he would if he was warmer. Sure, the fire keeps him warm, but the backside of him is facing away from it—much like the way the back of his hands had been facing away from his breath—and only half of him is warm; the other half is cold. He uses the image of the fire that's burned in his mind to get him through it, and the hour-long walk feels more like thirty minutes than anything else.

He sneaks in through the back door. The lights are off in the house, which means his parents are heading to bed, if not already asleep. The house is eerily silent, but when he's walking up the stairs, he notices that the light is on in his room and he knows for sure he turned it off before he left.

If this is another intervention, he thinks, I swear to god. This wouldn't be the first time, or even the second for that matter, but it's been a while since they've done it. The first time had been shortly after he got his fake I.D. (not that they knew he had it, but he had started to stay out later than they liked, which raised some concerns). They had sat around at the dinner table and waited for him to come back, and when he did, they sat him down and talked to him about how he needed to tell them where he was going and needed to come home earlier. Naturally, it hadn't worked. The next time, they had Louise come, too, and she was able to guilt him into a week-long period of reform where he just wouldn't leave the house except to go to her house. He had figured they were done with interventions after that.

He's partially right. Sitting at his desk is none other than Louise, and Louise is definitely capable of staging an intervention by herself. She turns to look at him with her signature disappointment present on her face.

"Where do you sneak off to all the time?" she asks. "Your parents were worried sick when I got here, going on and on about how you disappeared after dinner. You can't keep doing that, you know."

"Nowhere," Dan lies. "I was just walking around the block?"

"For a few hours?"

"I wanted to clear my mind."

"In this weather?"

"I wore a coat, so I wasn't even that cold."

"Whatever," Louise says, sighing. "We'll talk about this later, but I thought we were going to have a sleepover today."

The thing about Dan's parents is that they're perfectly fine with Louise staying the night and sleeping in his bed. Part of this is because they know there's nothing going on between the two of them, but Dan's always wondered if part of it is because they want them to get together. Or, at the very least, they don't want them to stop being friends, so allowing Dan to hang out with Louise is there way of making sure they keep in touch.

Dan had completely forgotten about the sleepover, which isn't an uncommon thing in the least bit. In fact, it happens all the time. It's honestly a miracle Louise puts up with him, but either way, she constantly has to remind him that they're supposed to hang out or he'll forget all about it and it won't happen.

"I'm sorry for forgetting," Dan says apologetically. "It won't happen again." Dan knows Louise doesn't believe his words, but she doesn't say anything about it.

Dan walks over to his bed and collapses onto it, staring at his ceiling, with his feet hanging off the end of it.

"What do you want to do?" Louise says, getting up from the desk and sitting down right beside him. This is a common question at their sleepovers. Sometimes they play video games or watch movies. Other times, and this is probably the most frequently done, they do their own things on their own devices, with Dan browsing Tumblr and Louise doing whatever she does.

Dan's more in the mood for the latter, but his heart is heavy with guilt from forgetting about Louise coming over, so it's probably better if he goes with a movie marathon as he knows it's Louise's favorite thing to do.

"We can watch movies."

"The Perks of Being a Wallflower?"

"Naturally."

If there's one movie that Dan loves the most in the world, it has to be The Perks of Being a Wallflower. There's not a lot of fire in it, but it's so raw that Dan doesn't even mind. And it's the movie they almost always watch during their movie marathons. It's one of the things they initially bonded over, so it's become a staple of their relationship.

"I'll go get it and put it," Louise says, a smile on her face that was not present a few moments ago. "You can go make the popcorn."

"Okay," Dan says, getting off the bed.

The light in his parents' room has been turned on since he got home, and when he gets closer to it, he can hear hushed words through the door. He presses his ear up against it, but it doesn't improve anything. It doesn't matter. They're probably talking about him anyway, and he can tell that without listening in.

He takes the steps one at a time until he finally reaches the bottom and goes into the kitchen in search of some microwavable popcorn. He finds some in the first cabinet he checks, and puts it in the microwave for the suggested time, listening carefully to the seconds between the pops because burnt popcorn is the worst.

By the time he finishes, Louise has already set up the movie in his room and he takes a seat right next to her on his bed, their backs leaning up against the headboard. He carefully places the popcorn in between them, and Louise presses play on the movie.

"There's something so beautiful about the opening of this movie," Louise says.

"I know right."

For the most part, they watch in silence, but when one of their favorite scenes comes on, they always end up discussing it. And when the fight scene comes on, they skip talking about it all together and Dan ends up shouting at the screen, cheering on Charlie even though he can't hear him.

If there's one thing that Dan's passionate about besides fires, it's movies. There's no particular reason, but they've always been something that he's enjoyed. They're better than books because they're straight to the point; they don't waste time backtracking so people can better understand the situation and they're easier to follow for the most part.

When it's revealed what happened to Charlie, Dan has to fight back tears even though he's seen this a million times before. And he hears Louise cry beside him, too.

During the movie, it's almost easy to forget that there was a later to Louise's early statement about Dan leaving without telling his parents, but as soon as it's over and the end credits start rolling with the song Heroes playing in the background, Louise lowers the volume and turns to him. "Dan, you can't keep sneaking out like that."

"I thought we were over this."

Louise sighs. "We won't be over this until you start listening to your parents and me for that matter. You can't keep leaving without telling them. It's rude and you know how much it scares your parents even if it happens all the time." She moves the popcorn so it's at the end of the bed and turns to face Dan.

Dan rolls his eyes and says, "They should be used to it by now. I do it all the time and I always come back."

"But what if you don't one day? What are they supposed to do then?"

"I'm not going to run away."

"Somebody could kidnap you or hurt you."

"I think I'm strong enough to handle myself."

"God, Dan!" she yells. "Can't you see how lucky you are? Your parents have always cared about you and they want to be a part of your life! Some people aren't so fortunate, but you take advantage of what you're given without thinking about everybody else! You're so f*****g selfish."

If there's one thing that Louise never does, it's cuss, so Dan knows he's really f****d up this time, and he almost doesn't know how to react for a second, but then the guilt comes.

"I'm sorry," Dan says. "I'll try to get better at telling them when I'm going to go, I promise." This time, he means the promise that he says and he says it with guilt heavy in his tone. "I'm sorry for putting you and my parents through this," he repeats.

"It's okay, as long as you keep your promise," Louise says, offering a kind smile, and putting her hand over his in a comforting manner, as if to say it's alright. "Now . . . it's your turn to pick the movie."

***

When Dan wakes up in the morning, Louise is sleeping on the other side of his bed, hogging the comforter. He gets out of bed, this time in his pajama bottoms with a baggy t-shirt, and walks down stairs and into the living room. His parents are watching the news on the television. A sense of pride rushes over him when he sees what's on. They're talking about the recent fire at the shed.

"The police still have no suspect for who is setting all of these fires," the woman on screens says, "but they do believe whoever is doing this is a pyromaniac who feels that they must do it. So if you know anyone who has a strange fascination with fire and might be responsible, please contact the police."

Pictures flash across the screen, all of them pictures of his work, and he must admit, it's not as beautiful once the fire is out.

"I don't get why anyone would ever want to set something on fire," his mother says, shaking her head. "It just makes no sense."

"I don't know," his dad says, "but hopefully, they'll catch them soon, so these fires can stop."

Dan clenches his fists and his breathing speeds up, but he tries calming breaths, so it won't seem suspicious. They don't get him, never have, and this is why he doesn't open up to them. If he could choose whether or not he found fires fascinating, he would choose not, but he doesn't get a choice and he gave up fighting long ago. He just wishes his parents would realize that.

He clears his throat and takes a seat on the chair.

"Where's Louise?" his mom asks.

"Asleep."

"Where did you go last night?"

"On a walk," he answers exasperated. "Why does it matter?"

"Because we're worried about you, and who knows, maybe this person setting all these fires is really dangerous and might hurt you."

"The shed's on the edge of town, mom. I only walked around the neighborhood."

"Your mom has a point, son," his dad says. "We just want to make sure your safe."

"I can take care of myself."

His dad goes on and on after that, but he shuts him out and turns to face the television, but they've moved on from the fire onto another thing and he huffs in annoyance. Somehow, his parents always manage to ruin everything, and even though he loves them, sometimes he can't stand them.