CAMBOY | PHAN AU

Vous êtes congédié(p2)

god only knows- beach boys : it fits this chapter so well, think carefully (hehe)

tw; light alcohol abuse, panic attack build up, cute friendship goals & possible abuse to the author of this fic aka me.

===

I pressed my face against the cold glass of a sliding door, fogging it up with my breath. I traced a small circle in the fog, scribbling nonsensical shapes in various designs. 

I was interrupted by a buzzing of my phone 

11.23am

Chris Kendall: Phil, I am fully prepared to break Preda's nose. 5 minutes ago

Phil Lester: um chris youre only supposed to text me for work stuff? Gosh so unprofessional

Chris Kendall: No this is friend stuff. 

Facebook: Friend Request From Chris Kendall

I immediately smiled looking over a Chris who was sitting on a stool next to PJ. He seemed completely unaffected by the whole thing just helping PJ with the lights, pointing at different coloured filters. Chris was a unique character but so was PJ, and the pair were practically inseparable. Two creative people doing completely different jobs yet they had so much in common but then again they didn't. They were polar opposites that evened each other out, like magnets. They needed the other to stick and I found that the sweetest. Chris and PJ depended on one another, they clearly loved the other dearly. 

Phil Lester: I'm glad we're official friends! :D

Chris Kendall: Shut up before I unfriend you.

Phil Lester: Okay,official friend.10 minutes ago

Phil Lester: omd did you actually unfriend me??5 minutes ago

Phil Lester: You actually unfriended me!! D:2 minutes ago

Read

===

It was a couple of hours before Graceffa's launch.

Howell and I were in a tailor's shop; we were receiving a suit for me since mine was ''unsuited for the event''.

''Juste un costume classique et bleu si possible ?'' Howell said to the tailor, ''En fait non, slim et noir . Voir bleu est sa couleur préférée , mais le noir serait probablement adapter à l'occasion de mieux .''

I had not a clue on what he was talking about but I probably wouldn't even understand in English.

The old tailor led me to a back room and Howell followed. The tailor put me in front of a tall mirror, from his pocket he pulled out a tape. He measured my legs in sections and my crotch which was embarrassing, I couldn't help but laugh. He then did my waist, chest, shoulders, back and across my arms.

''Y-you are ah um very lanky as o-one say in England!'' The tailor laughed, nodding at me, his accent thick. I just smiled at him, unsure how to take it.

Howell and the tailor left the room, speaking to one another.

I looked at myself seeing what the tailor meant by lanky. I rapidly shook my arms, giggling at my limbs moving all over the place.

tw; build up to panic attack(nothing happens tho)

''I'm so tall.''

''No shit.''