The Boy in the Garden (Phan)

Chapter 7- Realizations Over Emo Music

Dan glanced over at Phil, watching as he rested his head on his hand, yawning slightly as he watched the outside fly by. The window was rolled down halfway, causing his black hair to be swirled around by the wind coming into the car. Smiling slightly, Dan turned his attention back to the road, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel.

"Hey, Dan?"

"Yeah?" Dan glanced over at Phil.

"Do you think they're gonna be able to fix my car?" Phil asked softly.

Dan actually didn't know. He wasn't sure if the paint would come off without the car itself being damaged. However, for Phil's sake, he put on a small smile. "Sure they will. They're professionals..."

"I guess..." Phil shrugged and yawned softly. "I hope so..." He reached over and turned on the radio, the silence in the car being broken by some god-awful screechy metal song blaring through the speakers. Dan quickly turned the radio off again and glanced over at Phil, who was staring wide-eyed at him. "W-what the heck was that?"

"Sorry..." Dan chuckled. "Forgot I had that on.." He smiled at him. "You can put on whatever you like..."

"Alright..." Phil turned the radio back down, putting the volume almost all the way down before looking through the other channels. Dan turned back to the road, swearing under his breath as the light turned red just as he pulled up to it. "For fuck's sake..."

"It's just a red light," Phil said.

"But we've hit like five in a row... honestly, God hates me today or something," Dan sighed. Phil giggled softly, and Dan couldn't help but smile at his laugh. Phil eventually turned the radio back up to an audible level, and Dan groaned at the song that was on. "Seriously? Welcome to the Black Parade?"

"What? MCR may have broken up years ago, but their music is still pretty good," Phil shrugged.

"I guess..." Dan mumbled. He hummed the lyrics to himself for a little bit, then eventually started singing them, very quietly. Some people had told him that he had a really nice singing voice, but he didn't believe them. It was too high-pitched, and he was always a couple of notes off-key. He didn't notice at first due to being so focused on the road, but eventually he realized Phil was singing too. And it wasn't quiet, either- he was belting out the lyrics as loud as he could, nearly drowning out the radio. Dan giggled to himself- even though Phil's voice was cracking on the high notes, he still sounded good. He was completely passionate about what he was singing, his eyes squeezed shut and the corners of his mouth curling up into a smile. Dan sang along with him, slightly louder than before, their voices blending in a slightly off-key harmony. The song came to a stop just as they pulled up in front of Phil's house. Phil smiled and opened his eyes, glancing over at Dan. "Your singing voice is really nice..."

"No it's not..." Dan sighed, blushing and covering his face with his hands. "You sounded way better than me..."

"No way! I was just belting the lyrics the entire time..." Phil smiled. 

"You still sounded a lot better..." Dan peeked out from behind his fingers with a tiny smile.

Phil sighed softly and glanced out the window. "Well, I guess I've gotta go now..."

"Yeah. I'll tell you tomorrow if we managed to get the paint off..."

"Wait, hold on..." Phil reached over and grabbed Dan's hand, slipping something into it. He closed Dan's fingers over the object and patted his hand before grabbing his backpack and stepping out of the car. "Bye, Dan!" He practically skipped up the steps to his house, Dan staring after him with slight confusion and shock. Opening his hand, he saw there was a small crumpled piece of notebook paper in his palm. On it in messy, loopy handwriting was a phone number he assumed was Phil's. Smiling to himself, Dan added the number to his contacts before pulling back onto the street, his heart fluttering in his chest. His skin was seemingly tingling where Phil had touched it, and his face was slowly heating up. With a sudden shock of realization, his stomach sank. Fucking hell...

I think I have a crush on Phil Lester.