Crunching through the snow on an icy February evening, Dan opened the door to a deserted corner market. I'll only be a minute, he thought as be passed shopping baskets. He grabbed a basket from the stack and scanned the aisles, quickly finding the cereal section.
Dan had caught Phil finishing the last of his Wheaties last night at 4 am, and needed at least two boxes more - although he'd be sure to hide them better this time. Cereal was an important part of his day, and he couldn't have Phil chomping it all down. (Phil, he thought, did not look the least bit concerned with the crumbs in our bed.) He reached the cereal aisle, humming quietly as he looked for the iconic red box. It had been such a long day, and although he had seen Phil just hours before, Dan couldn't wait to get home to see him and his puppy dog eyes. He shook his head to himself. He never could resist Phil's charm.
Dan shook himself from his thoughts, finally spotting his Wheaties on the bottom shelf. He placed the basket on the floor and bent over to fetch the cereal.
The cold barrel of a gun touched his exposed neck and Dan froze. Fear flooded through him like electricity - someone had crept up behind him and was holding a gun to his head in the middle of a store. It took every ounce of his self control not to scream for help.
Slowly, he raised his hands without turning around. Dan could see them shaking in his periphery, and tried to still them. He couldn't seem afraid.
"Everything in your pockets. Now." said a voice, and Dan dug through his pockets, letting the objects inside clatter to the cool tiles - his wallet, his phone, and a keychain with his house key and a picture of pastel Phil attached to it.
He felt the gun shift up slightly as the mugger bent down to pick up his things off the floor. There was a grunt as the man looked over his loot, and a rustling of fabric which must have meant he pocketed it.
Dan waited for the mugger to drop the gun and go. Let him go home and stay home. But he didn't. Instead, he clicked off the safety on it and pressed it harder against his neck. "Sorry," said the mugger. "If I don't do this you'll know what I look like, and we can't have that, can we?" he said in a lilting, psychopathic tone.
Dan's brain went numb. He was going to die. He was going to die here in this store. He'd never see his family or friends again. He'd never make another YouTube video, never meet another fan...but worst of all, he'd never again hear Phil's voice. Never feel his soft lips, never again see those eyes that looked like the ocean and a sunset all at once. Tears sprung to his eyes and Dan closed his eyes, waiting to die.
His head stayed intact and the mugger shifted, and spoke again. "I have a rule."
Dan tried not to squeak as he said, "A rule?"
"Yes. I give you one minute to do whatever you please before you die. What'll it be, lad? Talk to your Momma? Breaking into that packet of Wheaties?"
Dan swallowed. "I….I..um..can I call my husband, so I can talk to him one last time?" Saying the words formed a lump in his throat. This would be the last time he ever spoke with Phil. He had to make it count.
The mugger grunted again. "Husband. Shoulda known you'd be a faggot." He handed the phone to Dan, who barely even registered the cruel words. All he could think about was Phil. Phil. This shouldn't be the last time he spoke to him. He should be at home, without his Wheaties but with Phil. But it had to be.
Dan opened his contacts and pressed the contact labeled "Phil 3". His phone started to call, and Dan was hoping against hope that he'd pick up.
Phil answered on the first ring. Dan put him on speakerphone. He wanted to hear as much of that voice as possible in his last moments.
"Hey Dan!" said Phil, oblivious to Dan's predicament. He felt a twinge in his chest. He decided to just enjoy Phil. Just talk to him. No worries. No mugger. No gun, still pressed against his neck.
"Hi Philly," said Dan. "How you doing, hon?" Phil laughed on the other end of the phone, and the corner of Dan's mouth lifted. Oh, Phil's laugh.
"I think the pizza's almost here!" he said excitedly. "Where are you, anyway?"
Dan shifted the phone, angling towards his ear. "Oh, I just went to pick up some Wheaties from the store," he said as casually as he could muster. "As you seem to have eaten mine." Phil laughed again, and behind him, the mugger muttered, "Thirty seconds."
Dan closed his eyes. "Phil, I just wanted to tell you how much I love you. I love you so much. I wish I could be poetic about how much I love you." Oh God, this was breaking his goddamn heart. Tears silently rolled down his cheeks and Dan gripped the phone tighter. "Philip Lester, never forget how much I love you. Never, okay?" He tried to choke back a sob, but it slipped from his throat and into the phone. "Dan?" said Phil concerdly from the other end of the line. "Dan, I love you too, but are you okay? You're scaring me, love."
Dan started openly crying, Phil's simple words twisting like a knife in his heart. "I just love you! I wish I could be with you forever, Phil. There is nothing in this world I love more than you, my best friend, my lover -"
He was cut off by the gun digging into his neck. "Time's up," said the mugger. Soon to be the murderer. "Last words, lad." Dan sobbed, his body convulsing, Phil's panicked yells from the phone agonizing. "I love you, Phil," he said. "I love you some much."
He felt the man behind him pull the trigger.
In the split second between when the gun went off and Dan's life shattered like a glass shard, he heard a guttural scream from the phone. It was one of pure agony, and as Phil screamed Dan knew that Phil somehow knew the life-breaking thing that had just happened. Dan closed his eyes and allowed one last thought to flit through his head as the bullet entered his brain.
Phil.