Phil huddled, undisturbed, underneath the multi-colored comforter within the security of his walls. The morning would soon reach through his sheltered windows and wake him, but time stood still for his hours of peace.
He slept soundly, running up to catch on the rest he'd been deprived of during the tour. Late nights and hard work wedged an edge of exasperation between he and Dan, one they concluded would be mended after rehabilitating.
Upon arrival of the flat, Phil had practically fallen into his bed, sinking into sleep instantly without bothering to take his contacts out of his dried eyes.
Dan was the opposite; although he felt the exhaustion rattle his bones, rest eluded him. Meaningful thoughts that traveled through heads of historians and theologians and philosophers alike were plaguing him this night, as they did many others.
The simple solution was implemented with sleeping pills, a new reinstatement that came about from Phil's constant worrying and pestering over Dan's condition. One too many nights, Phil listened warily to Dan's pacing in his room, and one too many nights, Dan become more wary of this existence.
Though the pills stole Dan from a self-destructive conscience, he still felt slight violation as his body was forced into night mode.
That mattered little; with their schedule and demanding life style, Dan sincerely needed to keep himself healthy.
If that meant drugs, so be it.
...
Phil stirred to the warmth of the sun and the bright light blanketing his eye lids.
Except, sunlight usually wasn't reminiscent of the neighbor's barbecue.
Smoke.
Phil's lids flew open to reveal a worried expression in his blue eyes. He forced himself to a sitting position, and tried to discern in the darkness of his room where the smell might be lurking from.
Shifting his fringe out of his view, Phil stood drunkenly, and staggered when the sound of the smoke alarm began shrieking.
Reluctantly, he jogged to the door, hand resting on the warm metal handle, and with fearful resistance, swung it open.
He bit back behind the frame when a wave of heat rushed towards him.
Astounding fire was eating away at the hallways, burning carpet into blackened tar. The heat was immense, and made his vision blurry as the bright light burned into his memory.
They needed to escape, they needed to get out-
"Dan!" Phil coughed out, dropping lower to the floor in order to avoid the heaviest smoke.
The fire whipped in hazardous noise, with no reply from his flat mate.
Phil recalled with seeping nausea the sleeping pills- when taken, Dan could sleep through a hailstorm.
Or, rather, a residence burning down.
The fire attacked maliciously at the frame of the door guarding Dan's bedroom.
Without thought, Phil swept on the opposing side of the door untouched by the fire, kicking desperately at it with his bare heel.
"Dan, wake up, please!" Phil yelled at the door as he continued to pound at the locked room. He leapt backwards once more when the flames engulfed Dan's door.
For a moment, Phil stood, dumbstruck. The smoke was clinging to the inside of his lungs, and was threatening to make him keel over; tears from the heat were running down his face. His head swam, but a single thought was clear: he couldn't save Dan.
He let himself slip downward onto the floor, reluctant to leave, to take his chances in the fire, especially without Dan. No where in his mind was he prepared to do so.
Fire was towering Phil as it slipped up the door, burning into the wood.
The door was decomposing under the burden of fire, and Phil recognized this opportunity.
As the wood turned into figments of ash, Phil drew an empty suitcase from the unharmed closet, and surged it at the door.
The wood bent and cracked the large majority of the door, stripping the top two thirds, allowing Phil to see into the room.
This also indicated that the fire was granted easier entry to Dan's room, and it flew forward unabashed.
"Get up Dan, there's a fire!" Phil screamed with all the oxygen he could muster.
Dan seemed to hear his call, and shifted in his bed. Phil witnessed him turn groggily towards the frame, then with wide eyes peer at the hungry flames separating him from Phil.
"If you hurry, you can jump over the door and flames, Dan, c'mon!" Phil called, gesturing with desperate movements as he crouched underneath the poisonous smoke.
Dan stood from his bed, but then ceased in movement. His dark clothed figure was drowned out by the fire, and Phil could hardly see the light of his face.
"What are you waiting for, jump!"
Shaking his head, Dan remained standing, breathing in the smoke dizzily. When Phil thought back on this moment, he fought the urge to cringe at the fearful lack of emotion that splayed Dan's face, the hungry way his eyes burned like the fire.
"Jump, dammit!"
Phil covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve, breathing in through the filter as the smoke became increasingly intense.
His heart dropped when Dan locked eyes with him, cold and dark, calculating the outcomes of this situation. He found no motivation to save himself.
A sudden look of guilt reflected on Dan's features as he stared, unseeing into the face of his terrified friend.
The smoke clouded his brain.
He was falling, slipping into oblivion.
But that's what he had wanted.
This way, he didn't have to take his own life.
He needed only to succumb to the flames.
..
Phil watched in horror as Dan crumpled to the floor, greeting the hell fire as an old friend.
"No!"
XxX
