𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓+𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐒 ✭ 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐍

Ṭẅ∊ℵ†⑂ ƒїṽḙ

a.n - i miss y'all tf hru? lol my updating schedule is wack! hope you don't care :))))

PJ landed in his room sitting on his bed stoically, no expression of sadness—just nothing. How he got home was a blur, his robotic self not giving a single damn about the world around him.

"Peej!" screamed a unpopular Clearwater bystander. PJ thought back to the party atmosphere, music booming, loud talking— "Did you see? Dan went home with Phil fucking Lester!" He held up his phone showing a blurry picture of Dan and Phil stepping out the house's door. PJ blinked his eyes shoving his brain harshly back into reality.

"What did Phil do to him?" PJ's mind went in a complete spaz. "Is he alright? Did Phil hurt him? What happened, what did they do?" he sat up placing two palms over his eyes. He couldn't stop thinking even if he wanted to. He leaned over the side of his bed, breathing in deeply. "Why'd you do this PJ? Why'd you let it control you, look what you lost for something so materialistic..." He then dragged out the beer box out from underneath his bed sticking his hand into the cardboard. He didn't want to, he almost found it unenjoyable but the numbness after about 5 cans was intoxicatingly enticing. He then flopped back on to his bed beginning to find patterns in his popcorn ceilings. Once his eye sight crossed over each other he closed the eyelids falling deep into his brain, unlocking a memory in his thoughts.

Time. It was difficult to see it as a good thing at this moment in it. It was seen as a enemy but choosing to see it as a valuable China vase would make it all the better.

Dan lent over the hospital bed, a smile creasing his lips. He got down on his knees, taking hold of his father's hand gripping onto it tightly. "I graduated 8th year, dad," he said quietly.

A cough rippled through his lungs as he choked on his own air. It's surprising how your body can house something, that is so hell-bent on killing you. "That is," he breathed in trying to harvest as much air as possible for it only to wheeze at the gesture. "impeccable," he squeezed his son's hand quickly because his strength weakened. His unwreakled features screwed upwards as he smiled. James wasn't much over twenty; twenty-six at the most. He had that Clarke Kent look about him, the dark hair and glasses - almost nerdy but strong. "I'm sorry that," he stopped, heaving in a bit of oxygen. "that I couldn't—that I—"

"It-It's okay dad—it was only primary graduation it doesn't mean anything."

In that moment, Delilah rushed out of the room with a soft hand cupped over her mouth.

James lifted up his finger pointing at the door slowly. "Go hug your mother..." he smiled, then adverted his eyes to PJ who sat against the room's wall, slumped with a gray to black shadow casted over his face. "Let me ha-have a word with Peej."

Dan looked up and over to his best friend just as Peej's emerald green gaze shifted upwards towards the hospital bed. Dan raised to his feet wiping at his eyes, following his mother out the door but before he was able to leave James cut him off.

"I love you, Dan and your mother too."

Dan smiled looking back at him. "We love you too, dad."

PJ creeped closer to his godfather's bedside—though by the looks of it godfather would be a useless title soon. He crouched down just as Dan did, so he could be eye level with James. He then gulped, holding back his own tears. "Mister Howell?"

"Dan is brave.." his words came shivering out creaky; breaking with each tone of voice. "He's strong," he trails off, as sudden salty drops fall slowly from his eyes. "My wife will be just fine without me—she'll ac-act like I never existed though deep inside she'll—she'll be hurting but she will stay strong—Dan will not."

PJ pressed his lips together, pressing his hands into his eyes. "O-Okay.."

"Dan is able to deal with a lot for what he wants, though h-he doesn't under-understand he's n-n-not—" another cough flowed through him taking his breath again.

PJ swiftly grabbed hold of James's hand.

"He doesn't understand that he's not immortal," James grinned then squeezed his hand. "I need you to do something while I am gone—"

"James—" PJ cut him off swallowing harshly.

James lifted up his head looking at the white speckled ceiling. "While I am gone, please take care of him for me," he let his hand go limp, his fingers sickeningly whitewashed and pale. "take ve-very good care of him."

PJ chuckled half-heartedly his lips still in a frown. "Mister Howell you're gonna be okay? Alright? You're gonna live for your family—"

James smiled closing his eyes the first time in a long time did he look painless. "I love you, PJ, thank you."

Then all in a blink of an eye, PJ was being shoved around by blue scrubs, shock and confusion creating every roadway to take over his brain. With tear filled wide irises he realized what was happening. A disorientation set in, his entire body was seemingly left soulless. He just witnessed someone's last breath and not just anyone, Dan's dad's death. Slowly, he turned from facing the frantic hospital room seeing Dan look up from his mother's shoulder.

Dan blinked, then noticed the wave of doctors spilling into the room. He then darted towards the door, disbelief written in his hopeful eyes.

PJ just shook his head grabbing Dan by the waist, keeping him away from the door as he frantically did his best to move from PJ's grip to no prevail. In redemption, Dan fell to the floor clawing, clutching and grasping to the back of his best friend's shirt. Then the tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his face. The feeling of the muscles in his chin tremble like a small child. There is static in his head, the side effect of this constant fear, constant stress he lived with.

PJ listened to his sounds, like a distressed child, raw from the inside.

No one ever learned to cry with style, silently, the pearl-shaped tears rolling down their cheeks from wide luminous eyes, as on the covers of True Love comics, leaving no smears or streaks.

PJ pressed Dan closer to himself digging his face into his neck. "I'll take care of you, I promise.."

You can't stop time, you can only choose how you spend it.

The familiar sour and vile taste slipped into PJ's mouth, nullifying him, stealing away reality in favour of fantasy. He came to lust after it like no other, the strong tonic becoming his only "cure." He took in the last gulp of his 7th beer, can not including the ones at the party, letting out a sigh replaying the few gut-wrenching words to Peej:

"You're not my dad, PJ," Dan flipped around walking away into a dark black abyss in PJ's vision. "I don't need you to take care of me."