A/N: If any of you play MysticMessenger, comment your favorite character! (Mine's Jumin)

June 2nd

Phil paced back and forth, texting his boyfriend yet another message. He had left his phone on accident and hadn't gotten Dan's text until he had returned to the penthouse. He had been frantically trying to reach him since then. So far, his attempts had been fruitless.

"Have you thought about it anymore?" Mr. Lester glanced up from his newspaper.

Phil turned back to his father. "What?"

The man sighed, giving his son a look. "Have you been listening in the slightest?"

"Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind." Phil turned his phone off, setting it face down on the counter. "What were you asking?"

"I was wondering if you had considered signing the contract."

Phil sighed, running a hand through his hair. As time went on, his father had only become more persistent in trying to get Phil to legally work for him. "I don't know… It's just not what I want to do with my life."

The businessman stood up, walking past Phil and gazing out the penthouse window. "When I created this arrangement—you working as a sort of intern while I pay you out of my own wallet—I had no intentions of making this a long-term thing." Mr. Lester glanced back at his son. "I still don't."

Phil crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. "What are you saying?"

"I'm giving you three days to make a choice. You can quit and take up your job as a painter, making a few hundred from commissions a month; or you can begin working for me full time. You'll have a real job, not this confusing arrangement we have going on now. You'll go straight into a respectable position. You'll be making thousands a month. You can travel wherever you like whenever you like, buy the newest technology, wear expensive clothes, spoil your lover…" Phil blushed, "All the while you'll still be able to paint in your free time."

Phil bit his lip, turning away. He couldn't deny the idea of working for the company had become more desirable lately. Commissions had been slow; he usually only got one or two a month… And while Phil was sure that number would go up as his notoriety increased, he had no idea how long that would take. Even with his parent's money, he was only allowed so much of their fortune, making it difficult for him to make bigger purchases like cars or houses. But there was something else scratching at the back of Phil's mind: How unfair it was that he could just take the money his parents earned when there were people like Dan struggling to buy dinner. Phil wanted to earn his wages. The work he had done for his father thus far was simple and easy, not worthy of the amount he was getting paid. He wanted to be deserving of what he received.

"I don't care about materialistic things like that;" Phil stated firmly, "but… I will think about it. I just want to talk to Dan first."

Mr. Lester smiled. "Very good. I'll be expecting an answer by the end of the trip." The man looked as if he was about to say something else but was distracted when his phone began ringing. "That would be Mr. Hark…" He muttered more to himself than to Phil. Quickly retrieving his device, he hurried out of the room.

Phil let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding in. He had never been afraid of his father, but he couldn't deny sometimes feeling intimidated by him. He had always thought of his father to be a businessman first and a person second: his priorities had always been with the company, never his family. He wasn't a bad father. He always remembered birthdays and holidays and made sure Phil was well-cared for and happy; he just wasn't the sentimental type.

With a sigh, the artist grabbed his phone off the counter, hoping for some sort of sign that Dan was okay.

Nothing.

Phil was starting to get worried. Dan had always been good at responding quickly—it was unlike him to just stop replying.

"Yeah, of course… No problem. Thanks again." Mr. Lester stepped back into the room, ending the call.

"When are we flying back into London?" Phil turned to face his father.

"The day after tomorrow. We still need to meet with Pear Electronics and Mrs. Austin."

Phil thought for a moment, chewing anxiously on his lip. "I'm going back tonight."

"What?" Mr. Lester looked up in surprise.

"Dan's going through a rough time right now, I want to be there for him." Phil stood up taller, trying to match his father's height. "I'm sure you'll do fine without me."

Mr. Lester tilted his head, staring at his son with a hard expression. "You are staying here."

"No, I'm not."

"Philip."

Phil's expression matched his kin's. "You're much more persuasive and charismatic than I am, why do you need me here?"

"Many people have a subconscious favoritism towards families in business." Mr. Lester paused. "It shows a sense of unity. If someone sees me with my son, it reminds them that I'm both a businessman and a human—that I have a family and emotions. This can make the other party trust me more; therefore, making them more likely to work with or buy from us."

"Well…" Phil gave a dry smile, "I wish you luck looking human without me."

June 3rd

When the first rays of sunlight broke through dan's windows, he gave up on trying to sleep. As exhausted as he was, there was far too much on his mind for him to sleep.

His head felt heavy as he pushed himself out of bed, shuffling over to the bathroom. Dan stared glumly at his reflection, examining the dark circles under his eyes. He was too tired to feel sad anymore so instead, he felt empty. His mind seemed to draw a blank unless he made an effort to focus. Even thinking about how many books he had to pack up didn't faze him. He was numb.

He seemed to drift over to the kitchen, not realizing he had moved until he was standing in front of the sparsely stocked fridge. There was a pile of ketchup packets, a half-empty bottle of vodka, and a few apples. As tempting as the alcohol was, Dan grabbed the least-rotten apple off the shelf. Its skin was a bit wrinkled, but it was still firm on the inside.

The man made his way to the stairwell, trudging down it. When he reached the bottom, he stopped, looking around.

This had been his favorite place to be growing up. It had been his safe place, so to speak. Away from his mum. He practically lived at the shop during summers when school had gotten out. Dan had countless memories of reading here while his grandpa manned the register. He would always smile widely so that his eyes crinkled as he asked. "What did you pick this time?" And then Dan would delve into a summary of whatever book he had chosen. His grandpa had been the one to teach him to read. Every day during his lunch break he would sit with Dan, they would both eat their sandwich, and he would walk him through a chapter of whatever book they were reading. He was a good man; possibly the most important person in Dan's childhood.

Dan bit his lip, blinking the tears out of his eyes as he looked over the store. "Sorry, grandpa," He whispered, "I never wanted to disappoint you."

…

Time seemed both fleeting and sluggish as Dan spent the morning packing up the books. Some of the shelves had barely been touched since they were stocked decades ago, and the writer was beginning to wish that he dusted more regularly.

Around ten, the front door was swung open, and Dan heard the creak of the floorboards as someone stepped inside. "We're closed," He muttered, continuing to shove book after book into the box.

"Can you make an exception?"

Dan's head whipped around. "Phil! I thought you weren't going to be back for a few days?"

"Plans change." Phil shrugged, bending down to press a kiss to Dan's lips. "I wanted to come and visit last night but I didn't get back till three in the morning. So…" He began, his expression soft, "how are you? You didn't answer any of my calls or texts…"

"Yeah, sorry. I haven't touched my phone since I last talked to you." Dan gave his lover a tired, empty look. "I got evicted."

Phil took a seat next to his boyfriend, wrapping an arm around him. "You're welcome to stay with me. There's plenty of room for you."

Dan smiled weakly. "Thanks, but I've already arranged plans to live with a friend of mine from uni."

"Oh." Phil frowned slightly. "Anyone I know?"

"Tod? No, I don't think I've mentioned him. We aren't very close, but… he needs a roommate and I need somewhere to stay."

Phil nodded. "I see."

"Hey," Dan cupped Phil's face, tilting it towards him, "don't worry, I only have eyes for you."

Phil smiled, resting his forehead against Dan's. "How can I help?"

"Well… I have most of my stuff packed but I still need to get all these books boxed."

"What are you going to do with them all?"

"I bought a cheap storage cell on the edge of town, but…um," Dan paused, shifting to look at Phil, "I kinda need a way to move them all?"

"I'll take care of it," Phil gave his hand a squeeze. "I know a place that rents moving vans."

"Are you sure? I can pay you back for it, but I just don't have time to fool with the paperwork and stuff right now."

"Don't worry about it, just focus on packing right now." Phil pressed a kiss to Dan's hair, standing up. "I'll make arrangements this afternoon. Do you want me to start moving books?"

"Oh, yeah, thanks. That shelf over there can be put in that box." Dan motioned to a shelf full of kids' books. Phil was grateful—he didn't know how well his arm could handle moving stacks of thick, heavy books.

The two worked mostly in silence, neither sure what to say. As he thought about it more and more, Phil couldn't help but wonder if there was something Dan wasn't telling him.

A/N: endings are so difficult to write rip