14-The Truth

340 19 30
                                    

A/N: I'm going to give up on the scheduled updates because I can't stick to that. I'll try to post a chapter at least one a week, though, so keep an eye out.

Dan Howell instantly regretted allowing Phil to walk out of his home, and, ultimately, out of his life. Still, his pride wouldn't allow him to stoop to an apology, and he allowed himself to suffer. Phil Lester cried after storming out of Dan's house, though he didn't outrageously sob; his tears were calm, silent, and few. He wanted to turn back, and talk through every problem and issue, convincing Dan to surround himself with people he genuinely wanted to be around. Both boys wanted extravagant, fairytale endings, but the world doesn't always work that way.

On Wednesday, the confused pair first passed in the hallway. Dan had seen Phil from the first turn, and Phil noticed Dan almost instantly. Their eyes locked, and they held each other's hard stare, silent words passing between them. Almost breaking, almost apologizing, Dan turned away with few steps left between them, and Phil did nothing to stop him from walking away. In Health, their seats returned to the controlled environment it once was; Dan sat in the back, throwing pencil shavings at the girl in front of him and texting under the table while Phil sat in the front, taking notes and watching the teacher.

On Thursday, Phil broke the solid eye contact, turning away from Dan's deep brown eyes before they could suck him up like a vacuum. Phil was unwilling to lose himself like he had in the past, and he controlled his thoughts, focusing on Alfie's humorous recount of the previous night, when he woke up outside, missing his boxers. When Phil looked away, Dan felt something in him crack, and his confusion overwhelmed his anger. As Phil walked past him, Dan craned his neck, following him down the hallway and into a classroom. Phil didn't turn back.

By Friday, both boys looked away, avoiding each other's eyes. As they passed each other in the crowded hallway, they pretended not to notice the other. They pretended they hadn't kissed, or whispered deep secrets, or hugged. They pretended they didn't long to speak and touch again. When he was younger, Phil loved to play pretend with Tyler, and they went on fantastical adventures, saving princesses, riding unicorns, fighting dragons. Pretending had always been a fun, childhood memory, but his pretending hurt Phil, and something inside his chest squeezed whenever he saw-or "didn't" see-Dan. Dan felt the same pain, and while his throat clogged, a gate locked, shielding and containing all emotions.

On Friday night, Dan was feeling particularly like actual shit, and knowing about Joe Sugg's weekly party made him feel worse. Naturally, Dan didn't want to attend because of his terrible attitude, and his less-than-wonderful group of friends. However, he feared his reputation would slip, and he worried what that would bring his way. After missing the last party, Dan didn't want to push his friends into further confusion and worry. Taking a deep breath, Dan pulled on his infamous black jacket, consisting of leather and awkwardly placed zippers, and begrudgingly stepped into his car and drove away.

As he approached the house, the insane music became progressively louder. When Dan finally pulled into Joe's driveway, he parked in his usual spot, and opened the car door. Walking into the dimly lit house, Dan felt the bass pulse through his legs, pounding his skull like a hammer. Upon entering, Dan located Joe Sugg, who sat on a silver folding chair, discussing something with Caspar, a red cup in Joe's hand and a beer bottle in Caspar's. Dan looked away from the drinks, reminding himself that he was done with alcohol.

Pulling up his own chair, Dan sat across from Joe, joining the circle. "Hey, mate," Joe greeted, smiling. "Have you seen Hannah?" Dan frowned, shaking his head.

Caspar laughed, rolling his eyes. "She looks like a total slut," he informed, illustrating boobs by placing cupped hands in front of his chest.

Bad Words | phanWhere stories live. Discover now