Perfection Never Lasts (a Phanfiction)

Wishing

I wake up to my phone buzzing on the table next to me, signaling to wake up. I remember last night when I notice Phil’s arms wrapped around me protectively, feeling his chest push up and down against my back.

I turn to face him. I smile at how cute and innocent he looks when he sleeps. I hate having to ruin it. But, after a few moments to enjoy it, I whispered, “Phil? Phil, it’s time to get up. We’ve got school.”

He groaned and slowly sat up. I giggled a bit to myself at his cuteness. “I should go get ready. See you at breakfast.” He walked over and pecked my lips before leaving for his own bedroom.

Once he was gone, I ran over to my dresser to grab some clothes. I pulled out my purple tie-dyed t-shirt and some black skinny jeans. I grabbed the clothes and a towel and ran to the bathroom. I jumped into the shower, enjoying the warm water that always seemed to wake me up and put me in a good mood.

Once I was done showering, I blow dry my hair and throw on the clothes I had with me and tried to quickly straighten my hair. Why can’t I just have naturally straight hair? I hate my hobbit hair. Phil says that he thinks it’s cute, but I still hate it. I brush my teeth and hang the towel up. Finally, I’m done.

I walk down to the kitchen. I’m greeted by Phil’s mum making eggs for breakfast.

“Smells great,” I say as I walk in.

“Oh, thanks, darling. They’ll be done in just a minute,” she smiles at me.

“There’s no rush,” I smile back.

I sit on the chairs sat next to the breakfast bar and watch her stir around the eggs on the stove.

Phil walks in and sits next to me. I steal a kiss on his cheek. I see him blush, and I giggle at his innocence.

I want to thank him for last night, but his mum doesn’t know that we sometimes sleep together. It’s not like we do anything. Neither of us is anywhere near ready for that. However, it would still look a bit sketchy, us sleeping in the same bed, so we just don’t tell anyone.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

I wasn’t sure if he’d know what I was talking about, but he seems to get it, “you’re welcome.” He smiles at me and I can’t help but to smile back. I feel myself blush a bit, so I look down at the counter, hoping nobody noticed. I’m not sure why I always get embarrassed when I blush, but I do.

Our moment was interrupted by his mum, “so, how did you boys sleep?”

“Fine,” we both said in unison, a little too quickly. She raised he eyebrow, but then focused back on the eggs. How awkward would it be to tell someone the person that feeds and houses you that you sleep, spooning their son, at least twice a week? Very awkward I presume.

She seemed to leave the subject alone, though.

“Could you boys get out some plates and silverware, and cups and juice, please?”

Phil and I hopped up and did what we were told, setting spots for the three of us to eat our breakfast (Phil’s dad leaves for work really early, and usually gets home late, so we don’t see much of him).

We sat down and Phil’s mum brought over the pan of scrambled eggs, scooping them onto our plates. Once she was done, she sat down and began eating with us.

“So what are you boys going to be doing at school today?” she asks politely, trying to make light conversation.

I replied first, “not much, just normal stuff. We have a math test.”

Phil interrupted me, “Dan gets to present his art project to the class today. Our teacher only picks one person per project to present; she picks the one she likes best.” He wore a proud smile as he spoke, but I cowered away, suddenly taking great notice to my breakfast.

“Wow, that’s great, Daniel! We’re so proud of you.”

I responded by awkwardly taking a long sip of orange juice. I really didn’t care that I got to present one project. With all the things we do in art, I’d be surprised if everyone didn’t present at least once or twice in the year. Plus I’m just really not good with public speaking. I’m kind of freaking out inside. I’m just nervous I’ll say something really stupid or embarrassing, and the idiots at our school were not ones to forget embarrassing moments.

The rest of breakfast was equally awkward. Phil tried to get the conversation going again a couple of times, but it never really went anywhere.

We walked to school hand in hand, like we always do, stealing small kisses every once in a while.

It’s really great to have a person like this, who you care so much about, and they care equally as much for you. I still have that nagging feeling, though, that something has to go wrong. Nothing stays this good forever. I’m just wishing that this art presentation is the worst thing I need to be worried about.

Author’s Note:

Hey guys, so I’m going to try to start writing longer chapters, but that will probably mean more time in between them. So, like, every two or three days instead of about every day.

I just wanted to run that idea by you guys, so yeah.

Anywho, vote and comment if you liked it, and you like where this is going, and all that jazz, talk to you potatoes soon.