I don't even know what this is. But I'm going to say fuck it and publish it anyways.

Summery: Dan and Phil live in an orphanage. Phil almost loses Dan to Death when a fire outbreaks in the night.

Warnings: profanity, angst, I'm American, i don't know British terms for shit.

A boy named Dan was abandoned by his parents years ago.

The family had binds so thin they tore, and an empty amount of love and effort that never kept them together. Dan was too young to understand, he was too young to cry out a single word of protest.

But now Dan is sixteen, and he's never been taken home by the strangers who linger in the halls, cooing at all the toddlers. He remained in the folksy building he's known his whole life. And that was okay with him.

Even if he still dreamed vacant dreams of being apart of a real family, you know the ones with overprotective parents, annoying siblings and maybe even a dog with a tacky name.

But that would mean never meeting the boy with the black hair.

I remember the first time I had met Dan, four years ago, I wasn't there for him though, I roamed the hospital for a little girl called Susan, who had long blond hair and a brain tumor that overstayed its visit.

Blade taken wind whipped around outside that day, chattering against the hospital windows, and boy named Dan at the age twelve stood in the waiting room along with a crowd of hope deprived children.

They were all filled with gloom, some had glassy tears cascading down their cheeks, while others sat in the uncomfortable chairs and stared at the floor in silence.

A boy with imperious blue eyes and coal colored hair stood taller than Dan, his hand rested on Dan's back in comfort.

That was the first time I roamed in Dan's mind, climbing under and over the vines of thoughts branching in his brain.

The boy with the black hair was always there, I couldn't place his name, simply because I couldn't hear it.

And I couldn't comprehend the feelings Dan put forward for him, I couldn't place it.

…

…

I search Dan's memories tonight. I can find every part of his life, I can faintly feel his emotions brush past me, reaching out, to touch my cheek with these tender finger tips. But I can't name the boy with the black hair.

I'm in a room now, the same room as Dan and the boy with captivating blue eyes. The boy is shouting at the Dan with a thick layer of anger blanketing his features.

And Dan's shouting right back, retorting insults. The pressure in the room is hot, and I feel red radiating from them both. Does Dan feel hatred towards the boy? No, I'd be able to see that. Then what is it? Why can't I know?

"I'm fucking sorry, okay? I just- I didn't want you to go-" Dan was cut short when the boy with the black hair shot forward, he caught Dan's forearms in his grip as he pushed him back. Dan stumbled, until his back was against the wall.

"Are you stupid?" the boy bristled, rage racking through his body. "God you're such a twat."

"Get off of me," Dan hissed, throwing his head to the side so the boy's expression wouldn't imprint in his mind. Dan looked ready to cry. A new feeling floundered inside me.

I wanted the boy who held Dan in a tight grip away. I wanted him to vanish to leave Dan alone.

The boy finally stepped away from Dan, his eye's drifting. His shoulders hung low and the anger condensed into something sorrowful.

They both panted while the black haired boy's eyes hinted the disbelief that was starting to blossom.

Seconds dragged by and I remained unnoticeable, cornered in a glassy windshield, hiding in plain sight but really caught in the reflection of light.

Dan's back still pressed against the wall while the nameless boy stood several feet away. Dan wanted to escape the fists of harsh words the boy had pounded into his chest.

I could hardly hear his thoughts, I could hardly feel his pain. But it was surely there.

Dan slipped through the door, leaving the boy with the black hair to maul over what had just happened. I followed the boy called Dan, gliding over the carpeted hall, watching his back put more distance between him and the wall.

I watched the boy fall into a room, presumably his own. Where he stumbled across the floor, slumping into a bed. Letting the sheets ravish him in, tug him closer, hug him tighter.

Dan is scheduled to die tonight, that is why I stand here, invisible as the dust partials floating within the air.

It didn't seem fair, not fair to Dan. But when did I start caring? When did losing a certain life become such a tragic thing? Why do I feel pity over this one boy?

Dying isn't a bad thing, it's a new adventure. I couldn't understand why the humans feared it so much.

But I guess, it's because of the unknown. They don't know what happens after death.

And I guess that is kind of scary when you think about it.

I hear a crackle, a sob, a cry. Was Dan crying? Sure I'd heard the taunting attempt of release before, plenty of times, but it's when someones life is slipping through their fingers.

Dan didn't know what was going to happen tonight. He was crying because he longed the comfort of the boy, he was sad about how the disappointment danced in his eyes when the boy looked at him tonight. The remorse radiated off of him, flooding the quiet of the room.

Another cry demands attention.

I wait, I stand, at the side of his bed, listening to his decreasing heart beats as he slows into sleep. The tears still fresh, streaking his face.

Dan lies limp, asleep.

Other children are meant to be visited in the night by my hands which hold the power to take. Though I can't help but forget them all in the view of this boy with brown eyes and brown hair. So the hours pass like seconds, and the boys breathing is so delicate that it settled in my ears.

I wanted to soak up the pain of his tears with my finger tips. I wanted him to know. Who I was, who I am.

The boy with the black hair, is nothing. I wish he would die instead, and I know how wrong that is, believe me.

But holding that thought, that urge, burned a hole in my mind, in my gut, in my soul. Soul, do I have one?

Long after he fell into the sleep, I stood by him, still. Did this boy deserve life? What was life anyways? I take it from people, I really should have a better definition for it, a better understanding of what it means to live. I see people take advantage of it all the time while damning it to hell, what ever that means.

/

A candle tips over in the dark, the small flame crawls across the carpet, leaving a trail of light, flare met a blanket dangling from an empty bed, decided to climb up it, across the bed it traveled. Down the opposite side, slipping through crack of the door the light flared, bigger, brighter.

Fires a tricky thing, taking no shape or form, destroying everything in it's way, slipping past unnoticed. It can look beautiful, but if you touch it all you will find is a new sensation on your skin, a blemish, sometimes you get burned so deep, it doesn't hurt.

I sense the fire, a couple other people do too, as the flame licks through the hallways knocking on their doors, silent, deadly. A small gust of fire, sneaks under Dan's door, he's asleep, I want to shake him.

Yell for him to get up, and run. But I am merely nothing, light as air, might as well be air.

The heat of the fire, which has grown in a wicked amount of time, is now radiating. I can't feel the blazing heat, but I might as well.

Sirens sounded in the distance, screaming down the streets of town. Filling every crack in the sidewalk, every chip in the pavement.

I hovered over Dan, the other kids of the night forgotten, laying trapped in their rooms.

He woke up in a sudden pound of his heart, his head whipping around as he perched himself. His mouth gaped open, as he gawked at flames burning up the doorway. No way to get out, no way to escape.

No one bothered to knock on the flame covered door when they had the chance, it was already to late. The boy was already on his death bed.

Dan couldn't grasp a cry "Fuck," he quivered, choking on the word as he abruptly inhaled the smoke, it's started to flood the room. He coughed and shielded his eyes from the burning heat, impending closer to him.

And i watched him.

Helpless.

…

…

I was outside, feelings tickling my toes, I escaped the room. My feet buried in the dew wet grass.

Firefighters, rushed to put out the growing monster, swallowing the building whole. And as it's hunger grew stronger, people were thrown into hysterics, tossed by a wave of emotion as they tried to scavenge for loved ones.

Adults rounded as many kids up as they could, attempting a head count, coming up sort by at least 7.

Seven kids are meant to die tonight.

Trapped inside the fire infested, smoke infested building, there was no way out. They were all dead and everyone knew it.

The boy with the black hair came into view. He was running around grabbing shoulders as he went looking for something, someone.

"Dan?" He started to shout, twisting himself around and around gazing through the crowd.

Tears swelled in his eyes from frustration, as he started running, toward the building. I watched, amazed, was he an idiot? Officers caught him before he could even get close, and as they locked their arms around him he burst into tears, sadness sitting on his shoulders.

The sobs crackled down his throat as he tried to breath, a woman rushed to his side, dismissing the police. She cradled the boy in her arms cooing while he cried lashing out struggling to get out of her comforting grip.

"No No!" he shouted, but he was drenched by the commotion.

…

…

I stood in the room again, Dan lie on the floor, the smoke clawing at his lungs. Eating at his skin. He was unconscious, parted from the world, drifting into death.

I could feel the soft pitter patter of seven other hearts under my feet, all dying out.

All I needed to do was bend over, reach out, make the contact with them, and they were mine. Where I would place them next? That is still a mystery.

But I didn't want to do this, to the boy called Dan.

The dirt climbed over his skin, but I still thought he was beautiful. Did the boy with the black hair think the same? Was that emotion he was showing back there, love?

Love. That's it. Something that could never touch me. Love is what the boys felt for each other.

The fire etched it's way to the middle of the floor where Dan lied. And I, found myself standing in front of the flames.

Blocking the pathway to the boy.

I tuned in the cries of the black haired boy, and kept tuning them in and out.

The drumming boom of his heart, pulsed in my ears. I could hear him screaming for Dan, the remorse sliced through every layer of flesh, splintered flakes of bone.

And Dan was holding on, hanging on to the last glimpse of life. No way to escape the clutches of my hands. Floating in the bottomless, shore less sea. Until his hope of rescue will start to sink, battened down by the discordant truth. He will soon follow, trailing behind his hope, frequently inhaling the brimstone water. Then submerged into sand, and as it buries him deep, he will see the last of the life he once dominated.

The fire dimmed before me, cowering in my presence, scaling back up the sides of the wall, catching the ceiling. Dan's heart was so soft the hum almost was gone, drawing me in. If I touch him, he leaves this body.

I restrain myself.

Skipping to the rooms of the other children, I lightly brush their shoulders relieving them of their battle, before they could endure the pain. Their time in this body was done and as I watch six kids float into my captivating grasp, I felt the surge of life enter me.

Back outside I stand next to the boy with the black hair, who stared up at the house with hopeless glassy eyes. His heavy heaves shook his shoulders, while sympathetic eyes pried down his back.

A woman sat beside him her hands on his knees, ghostly tears were cascading her cheeks as well.

Dan laid untouched by the flames, but choked by the smoke.

The fire was dying, thanks to all the hard work conducted outside. The flames still flickered, but not nearly as bright or as strong as before. Water was raining through the windows, damping the blaze faster. The room was full of exhaust, dust circulating, clogging Dan's lungs. It wasn't long until he would give up.

He was dying fast.

I flooded onto the scene of sirens, flashing lights, sobs up lifting in the atmosphere. The men saw the building was safer, so they geared up and bounded into the smoke stained shelter.

I waited, outside in the cool air of the autumn night. Beside the boy with the black hair, who's sobs had converted into the state of shock, denial.

Shouting was heard throughout the windows, getting caught in a drift of air, whistling in my ears.

They found a live one, and it was Dan.

I glared at the boy siting in the grass staring down, singling out sole blades. Pain was deepening in his chest, and there was no way to pump it out.

The firemen were rushing through the building, one holding Dan close against his chest, they dodged the corners that still lit with devouring element.

Bursting through the front doors, I could hear the others in the buildings finding the other kids perished bodies.

"We need paramedics this one's alive!" The man whose arms held Dan had shouted. Everyone's attention was drawn toward the little heart beat inside the boy.

The boy with the black hair was immediate to stand, he shrugged off the woman who held him in comfort. As he sprinted toward the crowded scene, pushing through the kids who stood back and watched.

Dan lied in the grass, an air mask covering his mouth attempting to help his breathing become stronger.

But when the ebony haired boy caught sight of the being laying unconscious but alive, I couldn't explain how much bliss impacted his body. He couldn't even comprehend how relived he was to put it into an expression or into words or into anything.

So he stood there in his shell as Dan was quickly carried away to the ambulance.

The boy followed after until he was at the rim of the property watching the flashing lights disappear into inky night.

"Oh Dan" he whimpered.

As he stared after the trace of the lights, so shocked so shaken up, it was hard to function.

A small mumble escaped his lips as he looked up at the deary sky which resembled a painting of purple splattered with stars. "Thank you God" is what I made the mumble out to be.

God?

This God, I've heard of him so many times, have been confused by him so many times. Prayers are made out to this God, before I touch the skin of a dead man. The faith I've seen people put into this man, is sometimes stronger than their own mind. Like this man influences every decision, pursues every thought.

Do they see him? Why can't they see me? Why is none of the faith they have put into me? What makes this man so special, what makes him better than me?

When people speak of death they picture me as a monster draped with a black cloak. But there is no monster, and certainly no cloak. I am light, I glide through the bottom of the earth, I've never seen my reflection. Mirrors are like people, they pretend I'm not there.

But who I am is important, I am balance. And so many people don't understand that.

So boy with the black hair, it wasn't God who kept Dan alive, it was me.

The woman from before approached him, she was older maybe in her thirties, and he instantly attacked "I have to go to him."

"I know **** but, just think about this for a second," The boy's name blanked from my ears as I noticed her doe eyes. She wasn't just relieved, she was frighted.

The boy looked shell shocked for a moment, "What do you mean?" his voice was raspy and sticky horse.

"Six kids died tonight, their body's burned to a crisp, Dan's body was hardly touched by the flames. His room was filled with fire-… I just- I don't understand." she trailed off.

The boy was lost in thought for a second, a nod lingering, before he lifted his head and looking up, "Take me to him."

/

After an hour of trying to get permission to leave the grounds, the boy got his way.

And as they traveled by car I ghosted in the back seat.

The ride was silent beside the hum of the engine and the dramatic beat of their hearts.

As soon as we arrived at the hospital the boy with the black hair wasted no time to dash for the doors. The woman on the other hand took her time to lock the car's doors and walk calmly across the parking lot. I followed her wavering beside her.

When we entered the building, white walls greeted us, staff in blue and white uniforms filed through the halls holding clip boards, escorting patients.

The boy with the black hair was at the front desk frantically talking to the secretary behind it, who looked mildly startled. "****!" the woman shouted his name, treating him like a misbehaved dog. And like one he obeyed, backing down looking defeated with his tail tucked between his legs.

…

…

I flashed into the room with Dan, he was hooked up to a ventilating medicine, tubes running in his nose. A nurse lingered in the room, checking up on him every so often.

Dan was unresponsive and though his heart rate grew stronger he still had to struggle to recover.

I stood over him, just as the nurse left her stance. He'd been cleaned up a bit, but not much, his skin still coated in ash. His eyelids lightly closed, and I could see every reason why the black haired boy loved him.

Everything was beyond breathless, he struggles to draw fresh air into his smoke stained lungs.

But then as I willed a beautiful brown showed. His eye's opened slowly, dizzily. They lighted their own fire, flickering every kind of confusion, burning my insides. His eye's caught mine, and held.

It truly felt, like he, could see me.

His eye's scanned over in my direction.

He coughed shallowly, gazing back up at me. "Who" he could hardly form words "a-are…you?"

Everything froze.

time,

earth,

water,

death,

life.

He sees me, I look around beyond confused, no one else in the room.

"I'm talking to you" His voice was barely audible, clogged by the backage of dust and mist.

I didn't answer, and for the first time I felt fear, have I been seen? What does that mean?

I never did answer, never got to, because Dan drifted into another kind of sleep.

I would like to believe he saw me, I really would. I want him to know I'm here, I want him to be grateful for the life I've given him. I want him to appreciate it. But I know when he wakes again, he will be blind to me and I will come to him as a dream.

…

…

In the waiting room the boy with the black hair sat, his knees hugged closely to his chest, while the woman with long brown hair sat next to him. Talking to a man who stood in front of them.

"I'll take care of him, I've been in charge of him for 13 years I can handle this." The woman said just as I caught some of the conversation. The man in the suit, with a grim look embedded into his face nodded.

He glanced over at the boy who stared intently at the tiles of the floor. The man hardly gave anymore notice, before stalking off to the front desk.

It was hours before Dan awoke again and the boy with the black hair was given permission to enter the room. The woman lagged behind, letting the boy enter alone.

Dan was hardly perched, trembles made their way through his limbs. Pain surged through his body making every inhale, every breath difficult, even with the amount of medication he was put on.

The boy with the black hair slowly opened the door and I stood beside Dan's bed longing for him to look me in the eyes again.

Dan's attention was drawn to the boy, he stared after him as the blue eyed boy crossed the room with timid steps. He was a wreck, his eyes were red and his clothes matted and damp along with the heavy expression he carried.

But he cautiously pulled up a chair to the brink of Dan's hospital bed. Dan gazed at the boys face.

"I-" Dan choked on his own words.

And the boy with the black hair burst into tears again.

"****" Dan strained his voice as the boy heaved laying his head on the bed next to Dan's body. Dan then lifted a shaky hand and ran his fingers through the black hair.

"I'm so sorry" The boy sobbed.

"Why?" Dan managed finding his voice, forcing himself to steady, "It's not you fault, that's not fair," his words were suffocated and small.

Phil looked up into Dan's eyes. "I was ready to accept the fact, that you were…" he paused before saying "There is no logical explanation how in the hell you survived that, but I failed to do what I swore I'd do and I almost lost you. I'm suppose to protect you. "

They sit in quiet for a moment, just watching each others silent words.

"Some things can't be controlled, it happen sometimes. You can't stop the world-"

"But if you would have died in there, all I would have are stupid last memories of us yelling at each other and I would have to live with that." The boy was angry, not at Dan, but himself.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want you to leave." Dan says shamefully.

"God, Dan, I don't fucking care about that, I wouldn't have left you anyway, ever. I love you." The boy started to sob again, and I could hear the thoughts in Dan's head. He'd never seen the boy like this and didn't know what to do.

"I love you too."

A daring ghost of a feeling poured in and escaped through the transparency of the spot where my heart should be.

The boy looked up again, meeting Dan's eyes. He got to his feet, leaning over pressing lips against Dan's. Dan's heart fluttered like a hummingbird's wings. They kissed the volumes of unsaid emotions, of confusion, fright, resentment, longing and joy.

And I saw love, for the first time. I've heard the word, given it a rocky definition, but now it's added to my vocabulary, with a new definition.

Dan reached his hand up to touch the boys face as they parted, every little speck of affliction could be pulled out of their eyes. I could name every little tint.

But I didn't, I let it be, let them be.

"I love you, Dan" the boy repeated.

"I love you too, Phil"

Phil.