The smell of burnt toast was what scent drifted through Potter's Splay on that sunny Tuesday morning.
A thick, grey cloud surrounded the cooker and Dan stood with a tea towel, desperately trying to fan it away. He had opened the back door, too, to let some fresh air in, and hopefully let the smoke out.
It was the second day in a row that he had tried making breakfast. Yesterday had been fine, but today, seeing as they had no toaster, he'd had to figure out how to make toast in the oven.
He hadn't figured it out.
"Is something on fire..?"
That was the first thing that Phil Lester said that morning, and that's never a good way to start your day.
Dan turned and chocked on the smoke as he made eye contact, still desperately fanning the open cooker.
Neither of them said anything for a few seconds before Phil took his glasses off to wipe them on the fringe of his T-shirt and cleared his throat,
"Don't answer that," he mumbled.
Dan threw the towel down on the counter and folded his arms, leaning back on the stove.
"I tried making toast," he explained, "Didn't work."
"I noticed. I'll have to clean later before Dil and Tabitha get back home tomorrow," Phil frowned, sliding his glasses back on and blinking a few times to clear his vision, though the room remained cloudy… mostly due to the smoke.
"I- I'll clean, it's fine," Dan insisted, dusting his hands off, "I've got it all sorted."
"The house is going to stink," Phil stated, blankly, without expression on his face, "Not sure the Howlters are going to appreciate that. They leave us alone for a few days and we stick their son in a house with the crazy neighbours and then we go and burn the oven."
Dan paused,
"Are you worrying about Dab?" He asked, quietly.
Phil stared back across at him and swallowed. He didn't particularly want to admit that he doubted the safety of his own idea, nor that he was getting anxious already.
He shrugged instead of giving a straight answer and averted his eyes to gaze out of the back door.
It was a warm day outside, but it was probably even warmer in the house. He kind of wanted to go and sit outside and escape the smell and awkward conversation.
"Don't worry about it, pal," Dan said, eventually, "I'm sure he's fine. Eliza's pretty harmless, after all."
It was impossible not to be fond of someone who at least attempts to make breakfast for you. Even better if that person also tries to comfort you when you worry about your decision to leave your friend's child at your strange neighbour's house.
I stress the word 'tries' here, because Dan wasn't doing a very good job.
"Harmless?" Phil repeated, rolling up his sleeves, "Can you really anticipate anything Eliza does? Never even mind whether it'll hurt anyone or not."
"Well, Dab will be back today anyway, so you have nothing to be anxious about," Dan assured him, picking up the tea towel again and wafting the last of the smoke cloud out of the door.
"He was my responsibility, I shouldn't have thrown my duty on someone else anyway," Phil breathed.
"You mean our duty? Dil and Tabitha left the house to both of us," Dan corrected him, shutting the oven door.
Phil didn't reply at first, and Dan watched him look everywhere but his line of vision.
"Is there something you're not telling me?" Dan asked, and Phil's eyes shot like lasers up to him.
"I don't… think so," he replied, sounding confused with himself, and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, a cold sweat running down his spine.
Perhaps it was just the heat from the oven.
Dan swallowed and shrugged his friend's behaviour off. After all, he hadn't had any caffeine in a few days; frankly, Dan was surprised he wasn't even more snappy.
"Anywhere you fancy going today?" He asked, swiftly changing the subject to something lighter, "There's always Magnolia Promenade or Oasis Springs-"
Phil's heart jumped at the mention of Oasis Springs. A sick sensation filled his stomach and he felt his legs wobble. He really didn't feel up to Sunday. At least he had a few days to prepare mentally.
Dan had seemed to notice the bothered expression on his face and his slight trembling, because he tilted his head to the side and stood still, inspecting him.
"Are you going to talk to me?" He breathed, quite seriously, yet still softly.
Phil licked his dry lips and finally opened his mouth to speak.
"What about?"
"You know what about," Dan replied, straightening his back and slipping his hands in his pockets, "Seeing as you're being difficult, we might as well talk about Summer."