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Dan's never liked the idea of smoking. The smell, the taste; but he goes out and wastes his money on a temporary escape and prays to a god that he doesn't really believe in that Phil will never find out.
Just one more, he tells himself.
A few more couldn't hurt.
Maybe I'll stop after I finish this pack.
I'm never touching another cigarette, he says as he smokes another.
He promises he's not addicted.
Phil pretends that he can't smell the smoke lingering on him. He just wants Dan to be happy, even though he so obviously isn't. The spark in his eye is gone, replaced with the flick of a lighter.
Fire serves two purposes for the broken boy; igniting one addiction and encouraging another, the flames burning his skin but shhhh no one needs to know.
There's a reason they no longer sleep in the same bed, a reason that Dan only wears long sleeves, a reason he locks himself away without food for days upon days.
There are not-so-rare nights when he sneaks out, only to emerge on the roof of their building. While the city lights are bright, he can see them all from so high. He can see everything, and while it should make him happy it honestly scares the hell out of him.
His mind wanders on nights like this. He puffs on his cigarettes that he's not addicted to, pondering about every little edge of the universe.
He stares up at the stars, so far away but they glare just as bright as the lights below him. He breathes in the smoke, holding it in his lungs for a good ten seconds before letting it out in a collective breath.
He feels like crying.
He stands, looking in all directions slowly as he steps to the very edge of the building. The toes of his shoes are just peeking over, viewable from anyone on the ground.
He thinks, just for a moment, what would happen if he jumped?
The scene plays in his mind; he finishes the last of his still burning cigarette, throwing it absently. He spreads his arms, as if he were about to fly and lets himself fall forward. All of it, whatever 'it' is, ending right there. Just like that.
But he can't bring himself to do it. Not yet.
So he lifts the cigarette, that he just might be addicted to, to his lips. Full well knowing that his addiction is slowly killing him, he takes a massive intake of breath and for once, he feels at peace.
—
"Dan."
Silence.
"Dan, please talk to me."
He looks up at Phil, who's eyes are red from crying for god knows how long.
"I don't know why I started anything, Phil. We've been over this before, you know."
Phil has laid out various items in front of Dan. A blade, two extra packs of cigarettes and a lighter that he thought he lost.
"Can I leave now?" Dan asks, all of the old kindness in his voice drained, watching Phil with a blank expression.
"You always leave." Phil whispers and looks down.
"You always let me."
"I don't mean to."
"Can I have those," he points to the pack, "Back?"
"I'm trying to help you. With everything."
Dan is quiet for a while. "There really isn't much you can do."
With that, he takes his smokes from off the table and lights one in front of Phil. Not even to prove a point — there's nothing to prove — but just for some closure. He's irritated and he just wants to smoke the cigarettes that he's hopelessly addicted to and dream about falling.
—
Dan shouts.
Phil cries.
Dan goes to the roof, even though it's raining hard. He smokes his cigarettes and he honestly doesn't even care that he's addicted. He'll admit it, loud and clear.
New scars are carved onto Dan's skin, but he feels himself loosing his grip on the control of things.
His story comes to an abrupt end when he doesn't even bother finishing his cigarette, throwing it into the rain. He steps to the edge of the building, the whole world no longer shining above or beneath him, everything looking grey and he feels that this is right. He spreads his arms wide, closing his eyes as if he's afraid of heights. He can feel himself falling forward but he does nothing to stop it.
Phil has a horrible feeling deep inside him. He runs to the roof, fear stopping him from thinking. He's panicking as he nearly trips over his own feet, but the sight in front of him when he finally reaches where Dan is makes him freeze.
Phil watches as he takes the last steps.
He runs over to where Dan was standing, his clothes sticking to his body and he doesn't even realise he's crying until he can see the exact moment Dan's body hits the ground.
He's screaming as Dan's lifeless body is surrounded by a puddle of red, and then a wave of people, but there really isn't much he can do.