Chapter Text
It was a drug dealer, this time.
A man, who had forced kids into taking drugs. Innocent high school students, who had just wanted the thrill of life with no consequences. But rather than money, he demanded something else. He demanded so much more.
That was the night D.H and P.L finally morphed back into Daniel Howell and Philip Lester.
It began normally, with someone tracking the guy down, sending them his coordinates, before telling them to make it messy.
They would.
But not only for the man.
Dan had this grace that enveloped his body every time a gun or a knife was clutched in his big hands. The same hands, that would map out constellations in Phil's skin.
Phil..., he was less graceful, but that made it fun for them. To see the mess. To know where exactly to plunge the knife in order to keep the victims alive and in pain.
It... it felt good.
Knowing they are unreachable. Knowing that the news will he warning citizens, not even realizing that Daniel Howell and Philip Lester are eating their cereal back in Phil's apartment, cackling at the speculations made about them.
But whilst D.H. and P.L. were unreachable, Daniel Howell and Philip Lester were vulnerable. They covered up their broken hearts with walls and masks, choosing to be the predators instead of being the victims. They chose to kill, rather than to be killed.
But, that was how the Universe worked, right? Kill or be killed. Either you take the upper hand, or the World crushes you underneath its weight.
Right?
Phil registered noises around them the moment he saw Dan dodge something. He blinked a few times, focusing back on the present, as he looked around. They were surrounded. This man knew they were to come. So he came prepared. A predator against his own kind.
His hand clutched the gun as he analyzed his surroundings -- the men were not that many, but they seemed strong. Muscles straining against tanned, calloused skin. Threatening to break it apart.
But Dan and Phil had something these men did not.
They had tactics.
They were light on their toes, dodging attacks easily, cocking their guns, and letting the piercing sound drown the deafening silence. And just like that, they were down.
The kids were rushing out, screaming, crying for help; regretting ever letting themselves be involved in something like that.
There was silence.
And then, there were sirens.
"That's fun," Phil heard Dan gasp out in between ragged breaths. He turned to look at him, the adrenaline making his blood boil, as he reached up with a bloody hand to brush a strand of the younger boy's hair back.
Their wrists stung, but for the first time, it was overpowered by the feeling deep inside their hearts. It was something sensational, that muted the threatening shouts around them, leaving them with each other.
Gazing into each other's eyes. The same eyes, that would be sharing numb looks between each other back at home. This time, they were shining. They were bright.
In that moment, Daniel Howell and Philip Lester realized why the Universe put their names on their wrists. They realized why the Universe made them each other's purpose and poison.
In that moment, their thoughts and movements were in sync.
In that moment, they realized that if it was someone else's name on their rights wrists, they would not be able to bear the weight of the World on their shoulders.
For Daniel Howell and Philip Lester could not live without each other.
There was a beat.
A deafening bang.
Their wrists were no longer burning.
That night, the Universe finally cried.
It cried for two boys, that lay motionless next to each other, their left hands entwined, as two guns threatened to break their seemingly frail wrists. The same wrists, that held their names.
For Daniel Howell and Philip Lester were meant to be together. In life and in death.