"I brought a knife to a gun fight
I brought my words to a fist fight
I brought my hell to you"

***

Phil woke up Saturday morning earlier than he would have liked. He didn't know if it was his internal alarm clock or just the general stress, but no matter how late he stayed up at night, he was always awake too early. Nine a.m. was for overachievers.

Grayson was hanging off the other side of his bed, curled around one of his pillows as he snored on quietly. He was the only of his three band mates who didn't kick in their sleep or hog all the blankets. Chris and Elliot had settled on the floor with very minimal grumbling.

The last time they'd all slept in one room together, it had been July and the sweltering heat had made them sleep in separate corners as far away from each other's body heat as possible. Now, the winter air had them dragging every possible blanket from around the house into the room to stay warm.

Phil pushed himself up heavily, still foggy from sleep. Gray didn't even move as Phil shifted around before standing up and heading to the door; they were all heavy sleepers, so he didn't worry too much about keeping quiet as he stepped around Chris and Ellie's splayed out bodies. By the time he made it to the hallway, he was much more awake and encouraged to go downstairs by the smell of coffee.

"Morning," his mum said as he walked into the kitchen. She was still in her robe and pajamas, but he knew she would soon get dressed in her regular work clothes. Even though she pretty much ran on the same schedule he did, she never wasted a free day. He felt exhausted just thinking about it. "Everyone else still asleep?"

Phil nodded half-heartedly and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. "Might be for a while, they stayed up pretty late last night."

"I noticed," she said. Phil tried not to feel too guilty about any noise-making from them that might have kept her up.

For the last week, they had slowly begun to make their way through Chris's friendship bucket list, despite the almost unending amount of complaining it got from Phil and Grayson. Phil would rather be left on his own for a little while, he had too much shit to sort through already without his band mates constantly dragging him out of the house for sleepovers and nights out in the city; he didn't need headaches and hungover friends on top of his thousand other problems. And Grayson didn't very much like being reminded of the ascending separation of their group, but he was much more easily convinced than Phil. Elliot had become a lot harder to say no to.

His mum only smiled wanly at him; she seemed to be walking on eggshells with him as of late, and he didn't know if that was because of Elliot or because of Dan. Whatever it was, it annoyed him, how pretty much everyone these days was suddenly starting to care about his feelings. Pity and sympathy and hope and worry, all thrown at him from every possible direction. They thought they were helping but it just made things worse, because he didn't like dragging people down into his bad moods with him.

The silence between them was just bordering on being awkward when Chris walked into the kitchen, giving his mum an excuse to leave the two of them alone. Phil relaxed his shoulders when she left.

"Mm, coffee," Chris muttered, dragging his feet as he walked towards the counter. He had never been much of a morning person, and Phil was mystified as to how he could even manage to speak actual words at such an early hour.

"Good morning to you, too," Phil said. "I'm surprised you're not the last one awake."

"Not by choice." Chris dropped an obscene amount of sugar into his mug and stirred it idly. "Elliot nearly punched me in the face. He's more violent when he's unconscious, have you ever noticed that?"

It went quiet between them after that. There weren't many interesting things to talk about when they were both still dull and sleepy, but Phil was still waiting, waiting for his friend to break the figurative ice, to start asking Phil about his life and how he was holding up. He'd gotten used to being coerced into their 'meaningful talks' whenever he was alone with any of them.

But Chris hopped up to sit on the counter and stare into his cup languidly, taking a sip every now and then. He looked entirely unconcerned about anything beyond the tip of his nose.

"So, what," Phil said carefully, "no therapeutic conversation starters? No questions about Dan or how I've been doing lately? You don't usually hold back."

Chris smiled at him and shrugged. "Figured we've talked about him too much already. Plus, you never seem entirely happy about the topic."

"I don't know," Phil said offhandedly. "I mean, yeah, it doesn't put me in a good mood, but...it helps a little. To talk about it."

"Okay," Chris said. "Do you want to talk about it right now?"

Phil thought about it. It didn't seem all that important right now, and so far, he hadn't been very close to breaking down about it or even having a mild temper tantrum. On the other hand, there were some things he wanted to do that could only be done in a moment like this.

"I wanted to ask you something, actually," Phil said, trying not to sound too pervasive about it. Chris looked surprised that the spotlight had suddenly turned to him, but he didn't protest.

"Is it something I'll be upset about?" He asked.

"Maybe."

Chris nodded slowly, contemplating it. "Alright. What is it?"

"After..." Phil started, staring at his hands. "After what happened with you and PJ, did you ever try to talk to him?"

As soon as he said it, Chris looked away. He wasn't angry about the question, or didn't seem to be, but Phil could tell by the slump of his shoulders and the way he tapped the sides of his mug that he wasn't exactly excited by it. "You shouldn't compare what happened to me with what's happening to you," he said gently. Even now, being faced head-on with his worst experience, he was still being the consoling friend.

It had never occurred to Phil that Chris was becoming one of the strongest people he knew. He'd had a shitty relationship with a shitty person, who'd broken him to pieces, and he had every reason to be bitter and angry about it, but he wasn't. He would much rather show how much he'd grown past it, and the fact that he was still sitting here, every inch of the person he was supposed to be, proved that.

"I wasn't," Phil said. "I just want to know if I'm doing it wrong. If trying to talk to him is making it worse, if I should just stop."

"I don't think you should," Chris said. "Dan and PJ are nothing alike, no matter how long they've known each other. I did the same thing you're doing, and the only difference is that Dan actually acknowledges you. Peej wouldn't even give me the time of day. There was no hope for me, not like there is for you."

And Phil couldn't do anything but nod because his throat was starting to close up. "It's been two years, you know," he said carefully. "When he talked to me, he wasn't too bad. Maybe he's different."

Chris shook his head. "Trust me. Seasons change, people don't."

Phil didn't get a chance to respond to that as Grayson stumbled into the kitchen. He looked down at his feet when he saw the two of them watching him, but even then, Phil could see that his face was turning red and he was biting his lip. Something was up with him.

"Morning," Grayson said quietly as he made a coffee for himself. Chris and Phil greeted him in kind, sharing a 'what-the-fuck' look over Gray's head.

"Everything alright?" Chris asked lightly; neither of them knew if there was something serious bothering him, and they didn't want to ask any wrong questions. "You seem...off."

"Hm? Oh, I'm fine." Gray gave them a barely convincing smile that did nothing to ease their curiosity.

He obviously wasn't going to tell them, so they left it alone. For now.

***

Holden was standing in front of the school on Monday morning, digging through his bag with a pencil stuck in his mouth. He looked tired and irritated, and thoroughly surprised when Phil immediately pulled him into a tight hug.

"I owe you my life," Phil said graciously, ignoring Holden's protesting groans. "I'm forever in your debt."

"This is not something I want to be apart of right now," Holden muttered. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Phil stepped back. "I was wrong about you. All this time, I thought you were rude and arrogant, and just a generally displeasing person--"

"Thank you, so much."

"--but you've helped me blossom into someone I can be proud of. I'll never be able to repay you."

Holden looked around them, trying to see if this was a prank or if Phil was just having an emotional break down, but there didn't seem to be anything that alleviated his suspicions. "Okay. Is there an explanation for this? Am I in an alternate universe or something?"

Phil reached into his own bag and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper, a Physics test he'd taken last Thursday, with a large '100' scrawled across the top in red marker. Next to it was a smiley face with a motivational 'keep it up!' from his teacher. Holden stared blankly at it for a second.

"Wow, is this real?" He said, reaching out to touch it, as if it would disappear at any moment.

"Yup." Phil nodded, smiling widely. "All thanks to you. As much as I hate spending time in your presence, it actually helped me out."

The bell rang before Holden could give what was sure to be a scathing response, and they walked into the building together. Phil was in a good mood, so much so that he couldn't even find it in himself to be irritated by the large crush of other students around him. Holden was a different story.

"Alright, then," he said, scowling at a younger girl who'd accidentally rammed into his shoulder. "Now that you've got your passing grade, does this mean the tutoring sessions are done? I'd love to have my afternoons free again."

Phil sighed. "I suppose," he said in a longing voice. "I'll miss it, though. Won't you?"

"Not in the slightest."

Grayson was waiting at his locker. He didn't give Holden anything more than a stiff nod, but it was the best Phil could ever hope for between them. "Chris says we're gonna do a mega-practice after school today. And after that, he wants to go to the beach, it's on the stupid 'friendship bucket list'."

"Jeez." Phil shook his head as he put in his locker combination. "He doesn't waste any time, does he?"

"Definitely not," Gray agreed. "I'm kind of thinking about...not going."

"Oh," Phil said. He hadn't even considered that as an option. "Why?"

Grayson shrugged weakly. "I don't know, this whole thing has been way too much effort in the first place. It seems like we're trying too hard or something. Like, doing all this stuff will make it easier when he leaves."

Maybe Phil didn't necessarily like the whole bucket list idea, but hearing Grayson say it like that made him surprisingly defensive of it. He knew that Chris was only trying to help them spend more time together, because Lord fucking knew they would only end up moping about their situation until it was too late to try and fix anything. They were bonding, and even Phil had to admit that most of it was fun.

"You shouldn't opt out because of that," Phil said. "If you didn't go, it would probably make him feel guilty, and then things will be all weird again. Humor him, at least."

The final bell interrupted their conversation, and Phil watched Gray pass him and head towards his first period class with slumped shoulders. He really hoped he hadn't said anything wrong then, he was already the center of too many problems in other people's lives right now.

Most of the morning went by unnoticed, and Phil was pretty much on the verge of hardcore napping in all of his classes. Elliot wasn't in Algebra first period, and he didn't show up later either, so Phil assumed he was taking advantage of his leaving by skipping. It was boring without him, usually bright-haired and laughing at stupid jokes he would make up. When class ended, he slowly packed his things and stepped out into the crowded hallway.

He was about five steps from his next class when someone grabbed his arm and pulled him into the closest bathroom.

"PJ." It was still a shock that PJ, who was supposed to hate his guts and everything else about him, was now actively seeking him out, and in the very public hallways of school. "What's wrong?"

Because it was only then that he noticed something actually was wrong; Peej seemed a bit more panicky than usual, running his hands through his hair and making it stand on end. "I need to...I need to you to talk to Chris for me." He said those words with a confusing mixture of defeat and worry and fear.

"Talk to Chris..." Phil repeated slowly, trying to process it himself. "Talk to him about what? What's going on with you?"

"Please, you're the only one he'll listen to," PJ said earnestly. "He damn well won't listen to me, and he probably won't even care, but it's important and I have to tell him."

Yeah, maybe he wasn't in the best position to be making such rash decisions, but in all fairness, he was still mostly in awe of the whole situation. "Okay, I'll talk to him. What am I supposed to say?"

"Just...tell him that it's happening again. And the journals aren't working this time." And that wasn't vague in the slightest.

Another student walked into the bathroom, giving them a cursory glance before ignoring them completely, and PJ took that as his chance to try and leave, but Phil grabbed his arm before he could. "What the hell is any of that supposed to mean?"

"He'll know." PJ shook his head, calming himself down before he headed back to class. "When you say it, he'll know. Just tell him."

And then he left, and Phil stood in the middle of that bathroom for almost a full minute, trying to work through whatever the fuck had just happened.

***

a/n: it's 11 o'clock at night so no drawn out overly detailed author's note sorry

and sorry for the four month hiatus

and the shortness

and lack of any real plot

i am tired and stressed

and broke

goodnight peace :)