Twisted // phan

three

Dan

"He actually called you a freak like that?" Casper asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"Duh, Dan already said that." Cat laughed.

"Well congrats on being the bravest person in our group, you actually talked to Phil Lester, the Phil Lester." Louise said, shaking her head in disbelief while smiling up at Dan.

"None of us have ever talked to him, everyone thinks he's really cool but he scares me." Conner added, looking nervously over at where Phil was sitting against the wall of the school with his head on his knees.

Dan just shrugged. He couldn't help but feel bad talking about Phil like this with his friends. Sure he had been incredibly rude to Dan, but it still seemed unfair to talk about him without him there to defend himself.

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The rest of Dan's first day dragged on and when he found that he had none of his friends or Phil in any of his afternoon classes.

Dan was so bored in his last period geography class that when the bell finally rang to dismiss the students for the day, Dan practically leaped out of his seat.

He quickly stopped at his locker to collect all of his homework and within five minutes he was walking out of the school gates.

Dan pulled his phone out of his pocket and put his earbuds into his ears. He chose a song and continued to walk, admiring how nice his new neighbourhood was as he went.

"I'd die for you that's easy to say

we have a list of people that we would take

a bullet for them a bullet for you

a bullet for everybody in this room" -

Dan stopped suddenly, feeling as if he was being followed. He looked behind him and saw none other than Phil Lester, walking down the same street Dan was, about twenty yards away.

Dan immediately turned back around and cast his gaze downward, picking up his pace slightly. He was afraid of what Phil might do to him if he managed to catch up. Memories of hurt and torment from students at Dan's old schools flashed through Dan's mind. He shivered. There was one boy at Dan's old school who was particularly horrible. His name was Sam.

It didn't matter where Dan went; the hallway, the yard or even the washroom; Sam always found him and he always made Dan go home with bruises. Dan had no idea why, he had no idea what he had done to the guy, but, for some reason Sam just had it out for him. There was nothing Dan could do, he just had to take it.

As Dan turned onto his street, he turned his head to see that Phil was still following him. At that moment, Phil looked up from his phone and noticed Dan looking at him. Dan immediately looked away and began speed walking to his house, suddenly glad that it was only the second house down his road.

He quickly unlocked the door and slammed it behind him, breath catching as he almost ran into his mother who had a suitcase in hand.

"Alright so Dan, we'll be back in four days." Dan's mum said, handing her suitcase to Dan's dad who was also going on the trip - they were spouses as well as business partners.

Dan nodded, looking at the ground. That was their fifth business trip in six weeks, didn't they care how he was adjusting to his high school?

"There's money on the counter for food-" she paused to look at the watch on her wrist, "oh would you look at the time! I've got to go, bye Dan!"

"Bye." Dan said weakly, waiting for his mother to leave then locking the front door behind her.

He slowly climbed the stairs to his bedroom and lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a lump in his throat.

It seemed like all Dan's parents did was work. If they weren't on a business trip, they would leave to get to their office very early in the morning and only arrive back late at night. Dan hardly saw them anymore.

Dan sighed, grabbed his bag, and tried to start his homework. He glared at his math questions and they glared back. Why did maths have to be so difficult?

By 11:30, Dan still wasn't finished his work. He gave up and reached for his sketchbook. He started sketching a scene from earlier; Phil sitting against the brick wall of the school, watching everyone eat and socialize. Like watching animals in the wild.

He knew he was one of them, just another wild animal, going through the motions of life, doing what he must to survive. But that's not what he wanted. He didn't want to be like everyone else. He wanted to be a freethinker, someone who made their own choices and had their own dreams did what made them happy despite what society thought.

He sighed. He knew he was average and he knew he was just like everyone else.

He stared at his sketch of Phil and in that moment knew what he wanted to be. He wanted to be like Phil, on top of the world,

Untouchable.

Phil

"Where are you going?" Slurred Phil's mum from the couch, beer bottle in hand.

Phil ignored her and continued his way to the front door, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he went.

He opened the door and slammed it behind him, causing the house to shake. He needed to get out of here. He needed to go.

Thursday night air brushed against Phil's face as he walked along the street. The only sound was the consistent click of his beat up black vans against the pavement.

He started up the trail of the escarpment. It only took ten minutes and twenty seven seconds to get to the top, that Phil knew from his regular trips to this spot.

He reached the clearing. This was Phil's place to get away, it was his escape.

It was a cliff, and over the edge you could see the lights of the city and hear the faint sound of traffic.

Phil dropped his bag on the ground and sat down. He took his phone out of his pocket, rolling his eyes when he saw he had 10 new text messages, all fake people who wanted to use Phil for his connections.

Phil shut his eyes. He filled his lungs with oxygen. The air was so clear. He leaned back so he was lying down.

He opened his eyes and looked at the stars. He stared at them and connected them into consolations until he fell asleep.

When he woke up, his phone said it was 1:00 am. He slowly came to a stand and started his way back down the escarpment.

He got back to his house and opened the door to see his mother passed out, still sitting in the same place as before.

Phil flopped onto his bed. He reached for his bedside table, fingers fumbling for his cigarettes. He lit one and let the nicotine calm his nerves.

I'm so screwed up he thought to himself, my mom is passed out drunk, my dad is God knows where, and I'm a 16 year old with a smoking addiction.

He fell into a restless sleep, cigarette still between two fingers.

That night he dreamt about the brown haired boy from english.

A/N- If this gets 1 vote I'll update :-)