Corruption

“Could you knock that off?” Dan sighed, rubbing his temples.

Phil continued bouncing his handball off the wall opposite him. “No.”

“Phil,” Dan whined, “I need to get this done.”

“Nothing’s stopping you- Hey!”

Dan smirked. “Oh, sorry, my pen slipped.”

Phil glared at Dan vehemently, finally putting the handball down. “Listen, ape, I’m just as trapped in here as you, and I don’t have anything else to do, so I’d appreciate if you could fuck off.”

Triumphant, Dan returned to his journaling. He wasn’t particularly sentimental, but his psychiatrist made him record his thoughts daily to track his progress. “We’re only here for another week; you’ll manage.”

Phil groaned, slumping further onto the floor. “It’s been over a month of watching you put on an act to please people, I’m bored.”

“I don’t like it either, but it’s mandatory so suck it up, buttercup.”

“I hate you!” Phil snarled.

“The feeling is mutual,” Dan sneered back. He turned his attention back to his. He’d been putting on a smile, and writing away regrets he didn’t have, trying to get back to his life as soon as possible. He didn’t see the point in being institutionalized anymore, it’s not like he could ever attempt to take his life again, not with a guardian angel breathing down his neck all day every day. It didn’t matter to Dan if he was happy or not, he was going to have to live his life through either way.

Phil pouted in his corner a while longer. He resented his job more with every passing day. Dan seemed to find a kind of sick joy in irritating him, and Phil was beginning to tire of it. He, repeatedly, tried talking to Eve while Dan slept, but was always met with silence. He knew she heard his pleas for reprieve, his desperate cries to come home and have someone else guard Dan. She heard and answered all prayers, but, much to Phil’s disappointment, sometimes her answer was no.

Phil missed Eve. He missed his mother. He missed home. He’d never left before, and he felt like being away for so long was making him lose his sanity.

Dan didn’t speak to, or even look at, Phil until well into the night. Phil was quietly begging Eve to let him come home, so engrossed in his own self-pity he nearly missed the indistinguishable jumble of sounds passing Dan’s lips.

Phil quirked an eyebrow. “What?” Dan mumbled under his breath again. “Speak up, use your words.”

“Phil,” he whined, finally rolling over so Phil could see his closed eyes.

“You’re dreaming of me, then, are you?” Phil chuckled. “That would almost be endearing if it wasn’t you.”

“No,” Dan curled in on himself. “Please don’t.”

Phil’s prayer was forgotten as all his attention tuned in to what Dan could possibly be dreaming about. It didn’t seem pleasant; Phil briefly wondered in Dan knew the angel couldn’t hurt him, even if he’d tried.

“Don’t,” Dan huffed again, then quietly, almost pleading, “please don’t leave.”

Phil had cried a lot in his life. He’d cried because he never knew his father. He’d cried because he was different. He’d cried because he knew he was a burden. He’d cried because he’d hurt others. He’d cried because he’d disappointed Eve. But, Phil didn’t ever remember crying for anyone but himself, not until that moment.

He stood, suddenly, crossing the room before he could think to stop himself. He gingerly brushed the curly mess of hair from Dan’s face. He immediately relaxed, breath evening out, as Phil removed his nightmare.

“I suppose,” the angel mused, studying the sleeping boy, a sudden protective sense he’d never had before surging through him, “I’m not going anywhere.”