How does it feel ta be hunted, mate?

Phil rested his forehead against the toilet, breathing heavily. He hadn’t eaten, so he wasn’t about to vomit any food up, but he felt sick enough. Part of him just desperately wanted this whole thing to be a dream, but Phil knew it was real. He couldn’t bring himself to look back up at Riley. He knew it was an accident, that his mom had started the whole thing. He could easily feel hatred for her. But Riley? Riley was his best friend, and no matter how hard he tried, Phil couldn’t hate him. It didn’t mean he had to accept what happened. “…..please go,” he whispered. “….I can’t look at you right now.” His hands were shaking as he gripped the porcelain, squeezing his eyes shut. “…I need a couple of days….”

“...roight.” Phil had spoken, and Riley pulled away, his own expression carefully masked against his own feelings. “....’m sorry,” he whispered one last time before heading for the door and his own room. This had been a hard conversation to have. He could only hope that someday Phil could forgive him.

“How did she die?” Phil snapped. “What went down?” He wasn’t sure he wanted every last detail, but he wanted to understand. He needed to know, even if it wasn’t something he necessarily wanted to hear. “Did she come at you? Did you go at her? Why were you even in her office in the first place?”

The anger hurt, but Riley didn’t flinch away from it. He deserved that pain. “She sent me another note…” he began slowly, “and Oi went ta talk ta her. Oi wasn’t gonna do anythin’ originally, even though...yeh said-” he cut himself off and went on with the story. “She wasn’t listenin’. Said all koinds of awful things, ‘bout me, ‘bout yeh… ‘n Oi told her she needed ta give yeh space, ta leave yeh alone until yeh wanted ta see her…”

Phil turned his head to the side, crying all over again. It took a few tries for him to calm down enough to speak, but it finally came out. “….what happened?” He asked breathlessly. “….I need to know what happened.”

“She’s dead,” Phil whispered. He tried to conjure up some sort of hatred for Riley. Phil wanted to hate him for this, but the emotion wasn’t strong enough to stay settled. Instead, the grief just flared up, as if Phil had just received the news for the first time. “W-…” he was too choked up to talk anymore, and he thought he was going to be sick.

Covering his mouth, Phil shook his head and jumped from his bed, running for the nearest bathroom to dry heave into the toilet.

Phil was confused at first, unsure of what Riley was getting at. But he could also piece together the broken fragments of Riley’s words. The reality of the situation hit all over again, leaving Phil speechless and cold. He didn’t do anything more than stare at Riley, trying to sort through which emotion was strongest: hatred, betrayal, anger, relief, or just sadness. A brief flicker of each emotion crossed his face before Phil settled for a blank stare.

Phil just turned to shuffle back to his bed. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, but he didn’t have the heart to push them away either. Laying back down, Phil just waved a hand listlessly toward Riley, indicating he could talk.

It took a few minutes for Phil to crawl out of bed. He hadn’t moved since yesterday, and moving now felt almost foreign. He shuffled to the door and opened it a crack, prepared to tell Spencer to go away, but he wasn’t expecting to see Spencer and Riley. Closing his eyes, he let out a quiet yet sigh before shuffling to the side to open the door. “….hi,” he mumbled. “….I don’t need well wishers.”