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Despite him spending more time in the bathroom than any normal human being would - even under lockdown conditions - the apartment still feels strangely empty now that he's gone. And it's only been forty-eight hours, mind you. Give or take, Phillip hasn't really kept track.
(He has. It's been forty-nine hours and thirteen minutes.)
Perhaps the only good thing to come out of this pandemic is them spending longer stretches of time together. Granted, sometimes the bathroom door separated them for days at a time but still... They were together under the same roof. No flying from point A to point B to point C within the span of a week. No murder mysteries, no real life puzzles. Just the two of them, living one day at a time.
And now he's alone again in an apartment that feels too big while Ben is in bloody Greece with a gaggle of lunatics, at least one of whom is guilty of murder. Splendid train of thought to have in the middle of the afternoon while trying to figure out how much flour is too much flour to add to your starter. Luckily, his phone snaps him back to reality with its annoying buzzing.
'You worry too much, darling,' in lieu of a greeting in that all-too-familiar drawl that, even after all these years, still makes his skin tingle.
'One of my many flaws, I'm afraid,' Phillip chuckles under his breath.
'Nonsense.'
'Liar.'
'How's the starter coming along?'
Phillip casts a look at the jar, lips pursed pensively.
'I honestly have no idea. It will either be a resounding success or yet another catastrophe.'
'I have faith in you, darling.'
'That makes one of us. What about you? Any progress?'
'Quite. Still working on some threads but I'm starting to see the big picture.'
'I'm glad to hear that. So you're enjoying yourself, then?'
'The puzzle is compelling. The company, not so much.'
Phillip chuckles yet again, picturing an exasperated Ben trying to mingle with a bunch of characters that are... rather eccentric, to put it mildly.
'I'm sure these are just your very high standards speaking.'
'Are you calling me pretentious?' Ben gasps in mock offence.
'I would never!'
'Good,' he laughs. 'Well, I'd better be off now. There's a fancy dinner awaiting but I just wanted to hear your lovely voice before having to endure an entire evening of stupidity in various shapes and forms.'
'Have fun, love!'
'Hopefully,' Ben says before hanging up and then there's silence once again.
God, he misses him!
---
Two months after they had moved in together - which now feels like a lifetime ago - Ben had a case that required his presence on site. Somewhere in Nebraska, if he recalls correctly. Of course he had asked Phillip to join him because he's an absolute sweetheart. But Phillip had declined, claiming he couldn't take time off work on such short notice.
In reality, he had known that, as sweet as the offer had been, Ben always works best when there is nothing distracting him. And as much as Ben would have denied it, they both knew that's what Phillip would have ended up doing. So Phillip had helped him pack, kissed him sweetly, wished him good luck and sent him on his merry way.
That first night he had also made a not so pleasant discovery. He couldn't sleep by himself anymore. He had tossed and turned continuously, switching from hugging Ben's pillow to his chest to lying spread-eagled with his feet on the headboard and all to no avail. In the end, he had literally passed out due to sheer exhaustion around dawn.
He's never told Ben this. Why make him feel guilty for something neither of them can control? He's just learned how to cope by trial and error and the solution has always been to read in bed until he falls asleep, book lying forgotten on his stomach.
This is what he's currently doing. Dawkins is captivating and immersive and despite being a little past one in the morning, significantly later than his normal bedtime hour, he knows he won't be able to fall asleep just yet, so he keeps turning page after page, occasionally wondering how Ben's night has been. And yet again, the phone comes to life on his nightstand, disturbing the quiet of the night with its incessant buzzing.
A quick addition tells him it's already morning in Greece and Ben has always been a bit of an early bird, so he smiles and reaches for his phone. Except it's not Ben who's calling and Phillip's stomach drops instantly.
'Hello?'
'I'm so sorry for calling at this hour, Pip! I don't even know what time it is over there. Did I wake you?'
His sister's tone is urgent and slightly breathless. Coupled with the fact that she's calling him in the dead of the night, it can't mean anything good.
'What's wrong? Are you alright? Mum and dad?'
'No, no, we're all fine, don't worry.'
'Then why-'
'You said Ben's in Greece these days?' she cuts him off impatiently. 'With that Bron fellow?'
Phillip blinks once, twice, trying to process the questions. They make no sense.
'Yes,' he says slowly. 'Rose, I don't understand, why-'
'You need to turn on the news, honey,' she says carefully, voice all of a sudden tired and sad.
He goes cold in an instant, a feeling of dread blooming in his chest and spreading dangerously fast throughout his entire body.
'What's going on?' he asks and he doesn't recognise the hollow sound of his voice.
'Just turn on the news.'
---
Well, hello there! You've reached the voicemail of Benoit Blanc. I'm afraid I can't pick up right now, but do be so kind as to leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I can. Cheers!
He's been calling non-stop for the past twenty minutes. Logic tells him that if Ben hasn't picked up by now it's highly unlikely he will from now on. It also tells him that the phone could've been damaged in that series of explosions and that's why it goes straight to voicemail. But then… if the phone didn't survive, that could mean… No! No, no, no, no. He can't let himself go down that route because it's very likely he'll lose his mind. So he tries again.
Well, hello there! You've reached the voicemail of Benoit…
In the background a young lady on CNN is talking about the devastating accident that occurred in the early hours of the morning, Greece time, on Miles Bron's private island. A chain of explosions that culminated in his entire residence turning into smithereens. Little else is known. No information on whether there are any victims, although reportedly, there are around fifty staff members over there at any given moment. The Greek police has yet to release any official statement. And Ben is not picking up.
Well, hello there! You've reached…
Phillip grabs another tissue. He's been quietly crying ever since he turned on the news, tears slowly trickling from his eyes with him being powerless to stop them. He can't let himself think of the worst possibility because he's fairly sure his heart will just stop beating and that will be the end of it.
Rose had tried to reach him again but he had quickly rejected the call. What is there to talk about? The only voice he desperately needs to hear right now is Ben's and he's not bloody picking up!
Well, hello there! You've reached…
Ten more minutes pass. Every time he's greeted by Ben's voicemail he hangs up, waits ten seconds and then calls again. And then he has an epiphany. What if Ben is trying to call him and he can't because the line is busy? He drops the phone on the coffee table as if he's been burned, then props his elbows on his knees and lets his head fall in his hands. He doesn't know how long he stays like that. A minute? An hour? Is it even relevant?
And then the phone starts buzzing. Phillip snaps his head up and quickly reaches for it, pressing the green button before he even has time to register the unfamiliar prefix.
'Hello?'
His voice is hoarse and shaky, as if he hasn't used it in a week.
'Darling.'
Just one word in that sweet Southern twang and it's enough to break the dam. Phillip lets out an ugly sound, something small and broken and then he starts sobbing, lungs gasping for air and body violently shuddering.
'Please don't cry, darling, I'm fine. Darling? Please!'
It takes him a full minute to somewhat calm down, during which Ben too starts sniffling while repeating that he's fine and pleading with him to stop crying.
'It's on the- on the news,' Phillip finally stammers, voice wet and trembling. 'An explosion. And they don't know if there are any victims yet and the police aren't saying anything,' he stops to catch his break and then ploughs on, 'and I kept calling but it kept going to voicemail and-'
'I know, darling, I know,' Ben says soothingly. 'I'm sorry, I had left it in my room. I'm so sorry!'
'Are you alright?'
'Not a single scratch.'
'You promise?'
'I swear!'
'Okay,' Phillip sighs and for the first time since Rose called, his lungs finally expand and contract smoothly, just as they should. 'What happened?'
'Vindication,' Ben says simply. 'I'm sorry, I should have called right away. I knew it was going to be all over the news but I didn't think you'd be awake at this hour. Why are you awake?'
'Couldn't sleep,' Phillip replies, leaving out the without you part. 'Rose called.'
'Fudge! You shouldn't have found out like that, I'm so sorry for worrying you.'
'It's alright. What happens next?'
'More statements and then I'm taking the first plane home.'
'Good. I love you.'
'I love you too, darling!'
---
The airport is a lot more crowded than he would've expected. What happened to flights being cancelled on account of this bloody virus that's decimating the planet's population? Where are all these people going? And why do they have to be picked up? Can't they just take a taxi by themselves?
He's being a tad hypocritical, he knows it but after a sleepless night and a restless day, Phillip's well aware his reasoning isn't quite sound anymore. Moreover, Ben's flight has had a slight delay, which has only served to make him even more jittery. The cherry on top of the cake? The doors have been opening and closing for the past fifteen minutes and yet Ben is nowhere to be seen.
Phillip huffs in frustration for the hundredth time and throws another glare at the Arrivals board. What's bloody taking so long?
And then he finally, finally sees him and relief washes over him like a tidal wave.
He looks as dapper as always, in dark grey slacks and a lilac blazer that perfectly matches his mask. His eyes keep darting around, clearly assessing his surroundings even now, when he's not working. Clearly a professional defect, one that Phillip has always found utterly endearing.
It only takes a couple of seconds for Ben to spot him and when he does, his eyes crinkle at the corners, a huge smile that not even his mask can contain. A couple of long strides from each of them and they collide. Phillip's arms encircle his waist, squeezing as tightly as he can and burrowing his face in Ben's neck while Ben spreads an arm across his back and the other gently cradles the nape of his neck.
Neither of them moves for a very long time. They don't say anything either. They just cling to each other, Phillip occasionally tightening his hold and Ben softly petting his hair while throngs of people bustle about all around them. And when they reluctantly pull apart after what feels like an eternity and, at the same time, not enough, Ben just looks at him with those piercing blue eyes before finally breaking the silence.
'Let's go home, darling!'