"Imperfect boys with their perfect lives,
Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy"
***
So maybe he could distract himself.
As fucking cold hearted and manipulative as it was, this was his solution; using one of his best friends as some -- some degrading toy that only stopped the tear in his heart for a little while. Did that make him an asshole? Definitely. Was that enough to make him stop doing it? Not a chance.
And it's not like Grayson minded it. Fuck, half the time, he was the one initiating it, and maybe that was because he was a messed up cesspool of depravity and emotional damage, but it still counted.
They were using each other, a mutual agreement of fucking up everything.
It was such a surreal experience sometimes; Phil had never thought of Gray as someone he'd be attracted to in any way, they'd been friends for so long, it had seemed sort of sickening. But this, God, this was a whole new level of desperate, because they would be talking, mediocre conversations that served no other purpose than to pass the time, and then he'd glance over, and Gray would give him this look, like -- he didn't fucking know, but it was enough to lower his already shattered inhibitions.
So what was he supposed to do? Mourn and grovel like a little kid because he couldn't have what he really wanted? What the fuck was that going to do, for anyone? Goddamn nothing.
No, this...this was easier.
It was easier to drown the screaming protests in his head with hollow touches and meaningless kisses, easier to tell himself that this was satisfactory. Dealing with the whole mess, talking about it, that was so off limits, effort he didn't have the energy to muster up.
A distraction. Just what he needs.
***
Holden Napier was an overachieving know-it-all, with no filter from his brain to his mouth, and way too much time on his hands. He was not the kind of guy that Phil would include on his list of people he was even close to cordial with, let alone a 'friend'. They just ran in different circles.
So it was not his idea of fun, suddenly spending so much time with the guy.
Not by choice, of course, he wouldn't willingly hang out with someone he barely knew and didn't quite like. No, he'd been forced into this by his boring Physics teacher.
He was falling behind in the class, that was for sure, but tutoring? Who the fuck got tutored anymore? Well apparently, Phil Lester did, and unhappily so. And apparently, Holden was the best guy for the job. And apparently, him and Grayson hated each other's guts.
"What the fuck?" Were the first words out of Gray's mouth when he showed up at Phil's locker, with Holden standing beside him. The glaring match that immediately ensued between them was enough to make even Phil nervous. "Why is this here?"
"Could ask the same for you," Holden fired back. "Thought you would be more busy in some bathroom by now, on your knees for whatever guy happened to show you some interest."
Grayson launched himself at Holden, and Phil had to grab his arm to keep him from attacking. "Whoa, hey," Phil said firmly. "Can we please hold off on the homicide right now? I am not being held responsible for one of you ripping the others throat out."
They both huffed indignantly, but put their death wishes on hold, albeit reluctantly. Phil sighed; this was not going to be easy.
He was supposed to be giving Gray a ride home, and maybe that was their pathetic coverup for what was much more likely to happen, but it seemed it was out of the question now. No way where they all going to survive the ten minute drive in Phil's much too small car. So Grayson waved him goodbye, flipped Holden off, and headed towards the front doors by himself.
"Can't believe you're friends with that prick," Holden muttered darkly, hefting his bag higher up on his shoulder as they pushed their way through the crowds of students in the hall.
"Shut up," Phil said wearily. He wasn't going to argue with this guy, he wasn't in the fucking mood.
They were almost to the door, eight steps away from freedom from this acidic hellhole, and Phil looked up from his feet for three seconds only to become face to face with Dan.
Well, not technically 'face to face', they were on opposite sides of the hallway, but all the good that did for the sudden punch to his lungs. He couldn't breathe, he could feel that, but his legs kept moving like the rest of his body wasn't getting the memo.
And they just stared. No more secret smiles or suggestive looks, no silent conversations, just staring at each other, and it was pitiful how much even that meant to him. At least he was being acknowledged.
Dan's gaze flicked to Holden, who was still grumbling incoherently under his breath, and his eyebrows drew together. Like the idea of seeing Phil with other people was foreign, and no, Phil was imagining the flash of guilt in his eyes, they weren't close enough for him to be able to see that.
And then the moment was obliterated, and Phil was out of the building with only the memory of it left. God, all he fucking had were memories.
***
"Your feet are fucking freezing," Grayson hissed, shoving at Phil's legs insistently with his own. Phil laughed and pressed in closer, dragging his feet against Gray's calves teasingly. "Fuck you."
"Not my fault you're hogging all the blankets, you big baby," Phil complained in return.
"If I'm a baby, does that mean you're my daddy?"
"Mm, if you want." Phil smirked and leaned up on his elbow, reaching out dragging his fingers across Gray's chest. "And you've been a real naughty boy-"
"You sound disgusting," Grayson laughed, shoving his hand away. "I hate you."
"You weren't saying that ten minutes ago," Phil said, leaning over him until their noses brushed, mouths aligned and barely an inch apart. "In fact, I seem to recall you shouting some high and mighty praised about my lips on your-"
"That's because," Grayson breathed out shallowly, "I was out of my right mind. Your mouth is very distracting."
"I'll bet," Phil muttered, before pressing their lips together.
And they've gotten a lot better at this, with each other. It was awkward and clumsy at first, and they didn't know each other, didn't know what they liked, but they're learning. Practice makes perfect.
It's a slow kiss, lacking the usual rushing heat that had earlier, but still deep and warm. Grayson is a good kisser, not that Phil had ever thought otherwise, but it's different being on the receiving end.
This is supposed to be his distraction, to keep him from thinking about every shitty thing he's been through lately, but sometimes, oh god sometimes, it doesn't work. Sometimes, it does nothing but make him even more scared and worried about everything, and this...this is one of those times.
Gray noticed, of course he did, and pulled away slowly, giving him a concerned look. He doesn't fucking need concern, he needs to stop thinking, please, let him stop thinking. "You okay?"
"Fine," Phil responded automatically, and goes to kiss him again, but goddammit, he's stopped again. "Shit, I'm not here to have a heartfelt conversation with you, Gray."
Grayson's eyes narrow to dangerous slits. "Yeah, you're just here to fuck me, right?"
"I didn't-"
"We're still friends, Phil, or have you forgotten that?" Grayson continues, shoving himself backwards, away from Phil. "You can tell me what's wrong, because I know something is." Phil rakes his fingers through his hair roughly, staring down at the blanket that's covering him from the waist down, annoyed. Like this whole mess is its fault. "Is it about Dan?"
"Of course it is," Phil muttered grimly. "And other stuff too, but...but he was one of the good parts of all the craziness. And now he's gone, because I didn't know how to make him happy. He wasn't happy, Gray."
The easy, playful mood from before had long disappeared, leaving a heavy dread in its wake.
"You guys were good together," Grayson said, and they can both tell he's making weak excuses.
"God, no we weren't." Phil almost laughed, thinking back on every moment they shared and how he had always thought they were good, but they weren't. "We were the biggest fucking mess, and we had no idea until it was too late to fix it. We tried keeping it together, and failed miserably. Probably best, he deserves someone better. A guy like that? I'm nowhere near good enough."
"Don't say that," Gray said. "Both of you made stupid mistakes, that's true, but that doesn't mean you couldn't fix them."
"I just never wanted to," Phil admitted softly, a gentle reminder that he is such a bad person. He is. "I was much more comfortable hiding and lying than being with him, like he wanted."
Such a stupid idea, he thinks, being in a secret relationship, especially for that fucking long. Like nothing bad would happen, like they could live happily ever after like that. One of them would get restless and angry and sad, and things would fall apart so fast, it would leave them both standing in the wrecks of what they had created, wondering where the hell they'd went wrong. That's where they were now.
"Then maybe he should have told you that."
"He did, he really did," Phil said, shaking his head. "Maybe I didn't know it at that time, but he told me, and I didn't listen." All those vague and tense conversations they'd had, and Phil had never known the true meaning behind them.
'Why do you think people lie about certain things?'
'I wish you could meet my family, I bet they'd love you'
'I wish we spent more time together'
'I wish they knew'
I wish, I wish, I wish, but it was too fucking late for wishing now, wasn't it? Too late for them to become good.
"You miss him," Grayson said, and Phil could do nothing but nod in agreement to that. "So tell him."
"Fuck, it's not that easy, I mean," Phil rubs his eyes. "We need this break, we do. I need to sort my shit out, and he needs to decide if this, if we're worth giving another chance. I need to show him that it is worth it."
"Okay." Grayson climbs off of the bed, grabbing his clothes from where they are laying scattered across the floor, and beginning to dress again. Phil watches him silently, slightly glad to be left alone again. "I'll see you later, and...I hope you two work it out. God knows we need at least one happy ending."
Just before he heads out, Phil calls his name and he turns around again. "You should talk to Elliot," he said carefully, and before Gray can protest, he cuts him off. "Just, please. He's freaking out about you ignoring him. And if you can give me that advice, you should be able to follow it, too."
Grayson nods, but looks a bit sick at the thought. And then he's gone, and Phil...
Well, Phil is a mess, but that's nothing new.
***
a/n: possibly the quickest fucking update on this story ever since I started writing it, hell yeah.
I have no fucking qualms about ripping you guys feelings to shreds, I know, sorrynotsorry.
Hope you guys liked this one, hopefully I'll update again soon, and if not well, see you next month :3 peace