ANTICHRIST | phan ✔️

drown your love(r) in holy water

0-100 real quick be ready
this whole book is a fucking tw

TRACK EIGHT
"antichrist"
the 1975

1989

👼🏻

smoking a cigarette, miss grant sat at the kitchen table with lack of sleep and blue hair ribbons weighing her down.

upstairs, two boys with bags under their eyes like bruises sat in the bath at opposite ends, legs entwined under the water like headstone ivy. the water was clear, devoid of any soap that would sting the damage dan's stepfather had left him with.

phil pushed his hair back from his forehead with wet hands, taking in dan's beaten body like a torn work of art. the brunet responded with a blush and wince, shifting his legs under the surface self-consciously. phil just rubbed dan's thigh with his foot soothingly, a lavender soft smile on his lips.

"you're angelic," he said, to which dan giggled and looked away towards the porcelain tiled wall.

phil wondered how father lucian claimed heaven could be the most beautiful thing to exist, when dan howell smiled like this.

"shut up," dan mumbled, playing with a damp curl of hair at the base of his neck.

"i mean it," phil laughed lightly, the bathwater going swish! swish! swish! as he leant forwards. "angelic."

he had his legs either side of dan's, his ivory skin dripping wet. phil saw dan watching the water droplets run down his body, and smiled to himself.

"you ever think about killing?" phil asked him gently, slipping his hand from the side of the bath onto dan's thigh.

the boy paled at first, sin! sin! sin! chiming in his head like church bells.

"don't lie," phil joked darkly as dan shook his head, and dan shook his head, and the boy's breath hitched in his throat as phil trailed his fingers down dan's soft inner thigh,
"that's bad. lying is bad."

dan sucked in air through his teeth and arched his back, keeping his eyes on phil the entire time.

"touch me," he whispered, almost pleadingly, as if begging to have his confession heard. phil just shook his head, enjoying dan's struggle.

"you haven't answered me," phil said, squeezing dan's thigh ever-so-slightly.

"i like knives," dan got out, breath shallow. "i already said...i already answered you..."

"not that question," phil couldn't help but smile, and leant forwards to kiss dan's lips, then down his neck. the boy gave a high-pitched whine that made his voice cracked like bathroom tiles, when phil started to stain his skin with kisses like crushed lavender.

"do you think about killing?" phil whispered, hot and thick as velvet in the sun.

"...phil..." dan moaned, dripping hair plastered to his forehead, "...please..."

"answer me, lavender."

he bit dan's ear, so the begging brunet dug his nails into phil's bare back, body tensed with pleasure.