Give Me Some Of That Bass // phan

MakeDamnSure

It wasn't that he minded telling them certain things, but he wasn't used to them, well, trying to integrate themselves into it - asking questions or teasing him. He figured that was how all parents worked, adults were just on a different plane of understanding than their children, trying to comprehend but still falling short. He didn't expect them to even agree with his relationship with Dan, let alone understand it, just like they didn't agree with his band. It was futile attempt to connect with him, and only made things a little more uncomfortable.

He was just immensely happy they didn't care about him dating guys. Heaven knows he'd been terrified when he first told them.

Just as he was rounding the last corner that would bring him to his school, still shaking off the encounter with his mum, someone walked in front of his car, and he had to slam on the brakes so no one was hurt. He swore loudly, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart.

"I'm sorry!" The guy he'd almost killed apologized, coming over to his open window with an apologetic look and arm full of papers. "I'm really sorry, I should be paying attention, I just got distracted-"

"It's fine," Phil reassured him firmly, waving him off vaguely. "Just, you scared me, watch where you're going next time."

The stranger pushed his hair out of his face, the bronze-red strands wild in the December wind. "Okay, I'm sorry, again. I'm really fucking caught up in my head, this street isn't usually very busy, so I thought there wouldn't be any compli-cations."

"Seriously, it's fine." Phil smiled, shifting his foot back to the gas pedal. "Don't, almost get killed again today, okay?"

The stranger nodded his agreement and stepped back to let him past.

The day hadn't even started for him, but he already had a twist in his stomach that was telling him it was far from over.

***

In Algebra, Elliot sat down heavily in the seat next to him and tossed a sheet of paper onto his desk, a strange but excited gleam in his eyes that contradicted the tired marks under them. None of them had gotten much sleep lately, but they never asked about it.

"What's this?" Phil asked, unable to admit he wasn't curious. The paper had only three lines printed on it: an address, a date and a time, all in small, black font. It seemed highly plain and unimportant, but Ellie seemed to be bouncing in his seat just looking at it.

"A setting," Elliot said vaguely, with an irritating smirk on his face. Phil rolled his eyes.

"Thank you, dickface," he said sarcastically. "Could you be a little more specific? A setting for what?"

"Another gig," Elliot said with a shrug, reaching into his bag and pulling out a notebook and pen, the fake nonchalance practically bleeding from his pores.

Phil stared down at the paper again, not recognizing the address, at least, not off the top of his head. "Really?" He asked. "Where at?" The date was next Saturday at 9p.m., a time he could manage. It wasn't like he has anything else planned for the weekend.

"A university," Elliot said, scribbling on his paper idly. "Some local one, I can't remember the name of it. But there's some kind of party going on, and they want us to play it. Said they heard us at The Blue Room, obviously they liked us." Phil groaned at that, and Elliot knew exactly why. "Aw, come one, parties aren't that bad."