Just a Dream

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Their lounge was littered with countless pieces of crumpled up papers as Dan sat on the sofa, his back hunched over the coffee table with another paper in his possession. He tapped his pen on the table, struggling to think of what to write. His eyes flickered up to the small box placed on the table next to his paper, which held the ring that he was planning on proposing to Phil with. Everything was planned out and set out to be perfect; all Dan had to do was write his proposal and memorize it. It should have been easier for him, but Dan had always had difficulty expressing his feelings, even if the feelings were as strong as the ones that he had for Phil. In fact, that made it even more difficult. It was like trying to describe a sunset at the peak of its rise, the smell of baked cookies on a winter evening, or the feeling of the cool breeze on a warm day; no words would be able to do justice.
Dan found himself even more pressured to finish, as Phil was supposed to be coming back from Florida soon. Phil had found enjoyment in not telling Dan the exact day or time he would be coming home, saying that the element of surprise made his return home even greater. Dan always hated it and hated it even more so now, as his brain failed to formulate sentences that even made sense. He really wanted to make sure that everything was perfect for this proposal, no matter what it took.
~
The finished paper lay on the table, surrounded by dozens of more crumpled papers. Dan’s hand was smudged in ink and tired from hours of writing, but he was glad that he was finally done with it. He had revised the paper multiple times, only to end with the writing that was in front of him:

Phil, you don’t know how much it took for me to gain the courage to do ...

... middle of paper ...

...king him onto the ground face up, and presses the gun to the temple of Dan's head.
"You're a fucking disgusting homo, and you're asking if there's something wrong with that?"
"Go to hell." Dan manages to say in between whimpers.
"Not before you do, fag." the man slurs, right before shooting Dan right in the head.
The shot rang through the night, and left an everlasting ringing noise in the atmosphere. The man cursed to himself, muttering about how much trouble he was going to be in, right before knocking of the items on the desk table and throwing the letter at Dan's deceased body. He hurriedly left the room and the building, leaving Dan dead on the floor, with only the blood,the letter, and the ring box surrounding him. And he was never going to be able to give them to Phil.
~
Phil got off of the airplane, walking into the familiarity that was the London airport.

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