Phil's day had passed quickly, a silly smile plastered on his face throughout it. Dan wasn't much different. They laughed at each other's bad jokes, laughed at Phil's obvious lack in the ability to cook and about Phil's awful co-workers that believed that their president was really deserving of that place. But, happiness never lasted long. They knew it never lasted long. Throughout it all, there was a hanging tension in the air. They knew something was coming. It was just a question of what. The weather agreed, the day at the park a freak day of sun before the rains poured from the heavens. But, they wouldn't let it get their spirits down and despite a slightly dampened mood, the smiles never left. 'Dan! Dinner!' Phil called, only to be met with a groan, owning a chortle from the older man.

'Let me guess, microwave-meal?' Dan spoke sarcastically as he entered the room despite the knowledge that, yes, it was a microwave meal. Both laughed, though, at the sight of Phil pulling out just that from the microwave- steaming hot. 'You really need to learn to cook something else. 'At this rate, you'll get fat.' Dan teased, laughing but digging in greedily- not yet to the point where food was no longer a luxury.

'No, I won't. You'll get fat, I have height on my side.' Phil did, six feet, in fact. Dan, on the other hand, wasn't much smaller, incredibly tall for his species (often called a noodle by his parents).

'I'm tall too! Not in a human way but we metabolise differently so, no, I won't be getting fat.' Dan huffed, trying to hide the sneaky smile from prying eyes.

'Sure, sure.' Phil waved his hand dismissively, his own smile breaking out only just before Dan's. After that, they ate in relative silence- filled with small talk every now and then. Dan was the one to clear the plates as Phil scavenged for anything even remotely healthy so that they didn't die of diabetes. Still, he came up short but neither really cared- it was the effort that counted in their mind.

'TV?' Phil asked, looking over his shoulder to see Dan finishing washing the last plate.

Dan nodded. 'If you can get it to work that it.' Dan laughed, burying his hands in his pockets, effectively drying them, keeping them there for warmth- the house really did need some heating.

'Of course, I can! I finally found out how!' Phil sounded excited so Dan just let him be as he rushed to the living room and started to fiddle with some wires around the back of it. Suddenly, images sprung to life. Dan was in awe. Rarely had he seen anything but static on the screen. He hadn't seen, well, real TV is a long time. 'See!' Phil called out excitedly, waving his hands at the screen. Dan nodded, his eyes wide whilst watching the screen, too caught up to say a word. Phil chuckled at him but joined him on the sofa, watching the news reader speak, the movement and speech at the same time for once.

Soon enough, Dan had fallen asleep to the mind-numbing chatter of the game show host of the channel they had switched to about an hour later. Phil smiled down and fetched a blanket, laying it over him carefully before sitting back down, feeling rather cold himself but too lazy to go and grab another one.

He lay uncomfortable for at least an hour before standing once more. He stretched his legs, feeling cramped from sitting in such a disagreeable state for so long. He groaned as he felt his back crack, hissing at the small infliction of pain.

He breathed in, choking on the dust that had been clogging his home for weeks. He needed to get outside, if only just for a couple of minutes. His mind seemed to have forgotten in his wave of tiredness just what was outside.

His mindlessly stumbled outside, glad for the fresh air in his lungs as soon as he had managed it to the bottom of the stairs, a hard feat even when not tired. It cleared his head just slightly but he still felt clouded, something that was blinding him from the truth.

The truth that was just around the corner.

Phil sat down on the steps leading up to the door to the complex, continuing to breathe in that welcomed air, one not thick with dust. He would really have to get to cleaning soon. Maybe Dan would agree to, he had been begging to do something productive for weeks. It was clear he would get a job if he could. Phil couldn't help but feel vengeful that he couldn't. Dan had never done anything wrong. Dan was being oppressed for being different. That was no different to history, though, Phil couldn't do a thing but defy the rules, hoping that others would join him. Maybe there was, they would be as secretive as he was if they did exist. There was no way to find out. Phil felt disappointed by the prospect.

The rush that happened next was unprecedented and no doubt brought Phil back to the real world. He had simply been sitting on the steps, the sky moving by like any peaceful night. Within a moment, a blade- gleaming tauntingly in the moonlight- was pressed against his throat.

'I told you I want money.' The words dropped off the man's tongue like venom, his raven hair hanging loosely around his face- the darkness of it threatening Phil in itself.

'I told you I don't have any.' Phil's voice, as expected, was shakier than he had intended. It had every right to be. Phil wasn't one to back down often but with a blade hovering over his Adam's apple, millimetres from drawing blood, he couldn't dare move nevermind sound strong. But, truthfully, Phil really did have no money and he was finding more and more that if he did, even with his cowardice when it came to the raven haired man, he would not hand it over.

He glanced down at his stomach for just a second, reminded of what was hidden under his t-shirt. The scar, the warning from times he had refused before. He didn't care. The man hadn't had to guts to kill him before, he wouldn't now.

'Give it.' The man sounded distrusting if not a little thrown off. Phil had said it enough times for it to begin to drill in. He really did have no money. The man didn't seem to care though, his face remaining indifferent. Phil stared, his eyes searching the others for a sign of anything: remorse, mercy or even fear. Anything that he could exploit to get the blade off his throat, it had begun to scratch and another jerk would certainly draw blood.

Phil found it, that spark. He saw something that he needed: unwillingness. He didn't want to do this, he was desperate. Desperation led people to do things they never would. Desperation was the cause of death more so than anything else. Phil could only hope that this would work. He looked down at the knife, his hands finding themselves on the floor before he pushed himself back in one smooth window and sprinted to the door. He turned, his hand gripping the door, ready to slam it shut as a knife met his side. Blood. He saw blood. And, with one more movement, the door was shut and the man was trapped on the other side, just as he was trapped in the building. Stuck in his own home with a knife lodged in his side.

He should have paid heed to the warning.  

word count: 1222

published: 31.05.17