"Good morning Dan!" Phil announced cheerfully, tearing the duvet off of Dan's bed. He wasn't there. "Dan?" Phil wondered aloud. He wandered around the house, gradually getting more worried as he found empty room after empty room. Phil returned to Dan's bedroom, head in his hands. Dan hadn't run off for months. He thought that Lola was making him happy. He had been seeming so much positive, always smiling. Phil decided that he must have done something wrong. Phil started for the kitchen, he didn't need to hide his knives when Dan was out.
Phil stopped on the way over. Was that? No, it couldn't be. Why would Dan be sitting on the railing of their balcony? Why would his legs be dangling over the drop? Phil stood silently for a second, staring at Dan's back through the glass doors. Until Dan's arms shifted and his elbows bent, ready to push off. Phil rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Dan's waist, pulling him back. Dans eyes widened as he hit the floor.
"What the f*ck Dan?" Phil was shouting, not trying to conceal his anger. Dan turned his head away, unable to meet Phil's eyes," Daniel James Howell. Look at me right now!" A few of their neighbours had come out to identify the noise. Dan still refused to look at Phil as he dragged him inside and shut the door. "Dan, why?" There were tears streaming down Phil's face, but Dan still kept his eyes trained on the floor.