Title: Messy and Irrational

Part: One of Two

Chapter Word Count: 1,183

Summary: Phil isn't sure if what he did was a good thing or a bad thing, but he doesn't have to worry about that since both he and Dan are working hard to forget it. (Domestic violence, murder, Phan)

Disclaimer: If I owned Dan and Phil, we'd be able to see the fucking radio show in America.

Author's Note: This isn't another part to the Happens Trilogy (which, yes, is finished no matter how much you guys beg.) but it does deal with domestic violence as well—but more the effects of it than the actual occurrence.

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"Nothing is perfect. Life is messy. Relationships are complex. Outcomes are uncertain. People are irrational." - Hugh Mackay

Phil was in his room when he first heard it. He was supposed to be out with friends that, but they canceled on him—and looking back, he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing in the long run. If he hadn't been sat on his bed with his laptop that night, he would have never heard the door open and close; he would have never noticed that it opened again a little more forcefully, and he would have never realized that the voice shouting from the living room wasn't his best friend's.

But he was there, and he did hear it. "Fucking listen to me!" the voice shouted, and it took Phil a moment to realize that it sounded familiar.

The voice that responded was definitely Dan's. He had that weird sounding strain to his voice that Phil knew meant he was stressed or upset about something. "Would you just get out?" he shouted and something slammed shut.

"I'm so sick of this shit!" the mystery voice screamed. It set in that it sounded an awful lot like Dan's most recent boyfriend, Grant, who Phil hadn't liked that much to begin with anyway.

Phil set his laptop to his side and started to edge off his bed. He wasn't sure if this was something he was supposed to butt in on, but if Dan wanted Grant to leave, Phil would gladly help enforce it. He was protective of his best friend—maybe a little more than a friend should be, but he shoved that thought away.

"So am I! So just get out!" Dan was getting louder.

Phil had just set his first foot on the ground when he heard the 'oomph' and a strange thump. It was followed by, "You don't talk to me like that." No response was coming from Dan, and that worried Phil more than he thought it should.

When he got out to the living room, Phil expected to see Dan and his boyfriend out there, but they weren't there. Confused, he wandered into the kitchen and immediately felt himself freeze up. Dan was on the floor, curled up in a protective position. There was a pool of blood by his face.

Hovering over him, with a knee on either side of Dan's stomach, was Grant. He had one fist lifted in the air, but it hovered there as he noticed that they were being watched.

Phil locked eyes with Grant. "Get the fuck," he growled, "out of our apartment."

Grant rose up slowly and took one threatening step toward Phil. He seemed to think better of whatever his intentions were though, so he just grabbed his phone off the kitchen counter and started to walk away. He paused mid-step and kicked Dan hard in the stomach.

Phil, who was a generally passive person, felt himself fill with anger. He lurched forward and shoved Grant. "Hey!" he shouted. "What the hell?"

Grant shoved him back. He had a mildly amused look in his eye that Phil absolutely hated. "What's it look like?" he snapped as he pushed Phil again. "Someone's gotta keep the little bitch in line, ya know?"

"Call him that one more time," Phil dared. He curled his hands up into fists without thinking.

He hadn't even had time to think before Grant struck out and punched him so hard he fell to the linoleum floor. Dazed, Phil could only stare at the floor beneath him for a moment, not even able to remember what was going on. He didn't know how much time had passed before he had his senses back, but by the time he looked back up, he was met with the sight of Grant focusing on Dan again.

"S—stop that," Phil forced out. He had enough of his wits back that he could use the counter to struggled back up to his feet.

Grant had pulled Dan back to his feet and was pushing him against the counter. (From here, Phil could see that the blood was coming from Dan's nose) His hands were wrapped securely around Dan's throat, and Dan's fingers were working tirelessly to try to free him.

Phil's hand slid along the counter as he straightened up. A confident, warm feeling settled in his stomach when his fingers closed around the handle of a frying pan. The thought of what he was about to di didn't fully click in his mind before he'd swung it around and hit the back of Grant's head so hard that the thump echoed through the flat. Grant immediately dropped to the ground and Dan quickly followed.

"Dan!" Phil stumbled over and plopped to the ground beside his best friend. He pulled him closer only to realize just how many bruises marred every inch of skin he could see on Dan. The blood had stopped flowing from his nose, but there were still remnants of it on his face.

Dan made a pathetic attempt to wriggle from Phil's arm. "I'm fine," he said quietly. He started to crawl over to where Grant lay unconscious, but Phil grabbed him around the waist and pulled him back. He lashed out suddenly pushed Phil's arms away. "Don't touch me," he growled.

Phil let go, pulling his hands up to his chest. "Sorry," he said uncertainly. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

He was so out of his depth here. He was still having a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact that he'd just hit someone with a frying pan. This wasn't something he did; he didn't get into physical fights.

"I said I was fine," Dan snapped. He was gathering Grant up in his arms. A few moments passed before he spoke again: "Oh my God."

Phil, who'd taken to staring at the ground, looked up. "What?" he asked.

Dan had his hand on Grant's neck and he was supporting all of his boyfriend's weight to keep him slightly upright. His eyes were wide. He slowly turned to Phil and hesitated for a moment before he said, "I think he's dead." His voice sounded surprisingly flat.

Shock raced through Phil. No. No. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't have killed him. He'd just meant to knock Grant out—not kill him. Phil wasn't evil like that; he was a good person, so he just couldn't have killed him. All he wanted to do was protect Dan—that's it.

"No, he can't be," Phil whispered. He shuffled himself over to where Dan was clutching at Grant. He nudged Dan's hand away to feel for a pulse himself, but he couldn't find anything. "Oh my God."

Neither of them said anything. The reality of what Phil had done set in on both of them and they felt too heavy from it to form thoughts or words.

After a very long time, Dan quietly asked, "What the fuck do we do now?"

Phil shook his head. "I have no idea."