Just a quick note to say thank you to everyone who leaves a comment; i'm superaware that this is a very crappy and little known fic in the scope of this website so it means so much srsly ily all every vote makes me grin like an idiot at my screen
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When I saw Phil's face at the window I just started bawling. I pulled him in out of the night and we fell on each other like children, clutching at each other's clothes and sobbing and shaking. I'd told him I could just go downstairs and open the door but he'd said he wanted to do it properly so he'd clambered up the ivy and pressed his face against the window with an apprehensive smile, ghostly white in the half light. His eyes were red and puffy and lidded with dark shadows which just made me cry all the more.
We lay on my floor without saying anything until the sobs faded into the silence. I rolled over so I was beside Phil, staring into his eyes, completely at a loss as to what to say.
"You're an idiot, Dan." He whispered, choking back another sob.
"I know." I said, eyes filling with water again. "I'm the biggest fucking idiot in the world, I'm an arsehole, I'm a-"
"You're my idiot." Phil cut me off.
I stared at him.
"Really?" I whispered.
He nodded, his blue eyes wide and reproachful yet still glistening with moisture.
A sob turned into a hiccup and he rolled his eyes at me. I hiccupped again. A red flush rose in my cheek and the very beginnings of a smile lifted the corner of Phil's mouth.
"You're an idiot and a massive goon and I love you." He murmured.
I hiccupped, not sure I could trust myself to speak.
Phil sobbed once more, trailing his finger down my cheek.
"I know a good cure for hiccups." He whispered, leaning forwards slowly to press his lips against my own.
As I kissed him I hiccupped again – jolting forwards and hitting my forehead against his.
"Ow!" He yelped, jerking backwards and massaging his scalp.
"Oops." I said guiltily. (hic) "You might have to (hic) try a bit harder than that."
He raised his eyebrows. "I think you're pushing your luck a bit there, mister."
I lowered my face ashamedly. "I'm sorry, I know, I mean (hic) sorry yeah, you're right, I'm an idiot and I don't deserve you and-"
Phil cut me off by leaning forwards again and pinning my arms at my side, kissing me until my heart was pounding in the roof of my mouth.
He pulled away and leaned back, staring down at me with a smirk. My face was red and breathless. I bit my tongue, waiting.
All was silent except for the ticking of the clock.
"Cured!" He grinned triumphantly.
His face was soft and gentle and I couldn't take it any longer. I knocked his hands out from under him bringing him crashing down on top of me and wrapping my own arms around his back.
"I love you." I whispered into the fabric of his jumper. "I love you I love you I love you and I always have and I think I probably always will and I'm sorry I've never said it before but it's true and I love you. I really do, with all my heart and soul and everything and I'm going to take you out for dinner and buy you roses and I'm so sorry I never have before and I've never told you I love you I'm just too awkward and I could never find the words because 'I love you' never felt like enough before but I promise everything will change now. I love you. Nothing is more important to me than you and- I love you."
I was gasping for breath by the time Phil pulled himself up again, his face mere centimetres away from mine. His eyes were so blue and quiet that I started crying all over again.
"Why are you crying?" He whispered, concerned.
"You eyes are so fucking beautiful." I choked pathetically.
At that they burst into a million sparkling diamonds amongst the sapphires as his whole face crinkled into a smile. Of course, that only made me cry all the harder.
"You're an idiot." He whispered as he leant down to kiss me once more.
*
We lay for a while on my floor, not wanting to let go of each other long enough to move to the bed, just kissing and hugging and saying nothing at all. I trailed my fingers along Phil's arm. He caressed my face and planted soft kisses into my neck and for once I didn't squirm.
"Look at us," Phil giggled suddenly. "We broke up for less than 24 hours and we're emotional wrecks."
I grinned weakly. "I think that's telling us something. Let's not break up ever again, okay?"
"I can live with that." Phil murmured. "Just try and keep your idiocy under control from now on, okay?"
"Kay," I smiled. "I'm really sorry, by the way. For everything."
"It's okay. You redeemed yourself, albeit by being a bit of an idiot and trying to kill yourself. Don't do that again please either." Phil said quietly.
"I won't if you don't." I agreed.
Phil didn't say anything, he just looked at me for a moment and then kissed my cheek softly. "Not while I have you."
I tangled my fingers in his hair.
*
"What did Knuckles actually say, to make you come back?" I murmured after a while.
"He just told me what happened," Phil shrugged. "And then he told me to go and to take you back because he seemed to think that you would jump in front of a train to save me. He said you'd be good to have around if I found myself on a desert island because you'd probably let me eat you."
I sniggered. "It's true though. I would."
"No you wouldn't, I'd stop you."
"You'd have to kill me."
"That would defeat the point. I'd tie you up in a cave and force feed you all my limbs one at a time until I died."
"Mmm, delicious. That would be stupid though because that would leave a whole torso and an arm gone to waste. It would be better just to eat me."
Phil punched me in the arm and I chuckled.
"Why didn't you tell me? About Knuckles?" I asked as I caught his fist, uncurling his fingers one by one and drawing swirls on his palm.
He watched me for a moment. "I didn't really see any reason to. It's his secret, I guess."
"What's your secret?" I asked softly.
He flashed me a crooked grin. "I don't have any anymore, I'm a recovering crack addict who tried to kill himself a couple of years ago."
"Crack?" I asked, my voice raising up a notch at the end.
He bit his lip.
"For a while," he said quietly. He's eyes were steady, his brow furrowed. "I was very young, I didn't understand but it helped. When I realised the difference I tried to stop, but it was hard."
I nodded slowly, my eyes wide. I cupped his face in my hands and stared into the pools of his eyes. They seemed darker somehow, almost indigo at points rather than the usual cerulean blue. Slowly and deliberately I placed a kiss on his lips.
"I want to help you," I breathed against the smooth pink crescents. "Please?" I kissed him again.
"Okay." He said simply. "It's not like I'll be able to buy any more. I'm just gonna need something to distract me."
"I can do that," I grinned, pressing our mouths together. "Just plenty of hot, passionate sex whenever you need."
I could feel Phil's face heat up under my hands but my eyes were closed. He giggled, the smile stretching his lips tight into a curve.
"It's funny that you should say that..." He said, somewhat bashfully.
I smirked. "Okay. But if we wake my parents up I think I might actually die."
*
Mum got a bit of a shock when she came in to wake me up for college and found a black haired beauty in bed with me. In hindsight, it wasn't really the way I'd planned to come out to my parents. Especially as we were both stark naked tangled on top of the sheets and my mum hadn't seen me naked since I was eight. There was a fair amount of screaming and then some crying and then a lot of yelling and then she started asking if we'd used protection and at that point I grabbed Phil and climbed out the window. Neither of us had any folders or books or even a pen so we had to sprint up to the dormitories ten minutes before lessons started. It was only as we were clattering up the stairs that I thought to ask Phil if he'd told Chris and PJ yet.
"Oh, shit. Don't worry, I'll run in and explain really quickly and then I'll bring you in and we'll all speed hug then grab some paper and stuff and run."
I blanched. "Oh God. I'm really not prepared for this right now can we not jus-"
My words were cut short as Phil pulled me through the door.
Followed a fair amount of shouting and then some crying and then hugging and then some more shouting and running.
I arrived at my lit class breathless and panting, dressed in one of Phil's shirts (I'd run out of the house in my dressing gown) and clutching borrowed stationary and half a pad of paper.
My teacher frowned at me but didn't say anything. Everyone was staring up at me as if I'd just started singing at a funeral. I sat down quickly and looked up at the board.
In remembrance: Jacob Mansford and Gabriel Keating. College will close early at 1:30 on Friday. All students and staff are invited to attend the memorial in the chapel. If you would like to attend either funeral as well, please contact your form tutor as places are reserved for family members and close friends.
A candlelight vigil will be held in the school grounds at 8pm.
Oh.
*
The funeral was subdued, Phil and I sat at the back but we felt as if we were intruding. Knuckles gave us a curt nod as he passed but that was it. It was sombre; Ellie and her mother were crying in the front row but there was no sign of Jake's dad or any other relatives. I presumed Gabes' foster parents sat on the opposite pew but neither were crying, just staring blankly at the twin coffins. The priest read some generic bible passages, sung a few hymns and then left in a hurry. I just scanned the rows and rows of painfully empty pews. So much for reserved places.
When we left, we walked quickly without stopping to speak to anyone.
"Where do you want to go?" Phil asked.
"The forest." I said, and he just nodded.
*
"Hey Dan?" Phil said one morning, "Do you want to move in? Not like officially as then you'd have to pay, I just mean do you want to bring like a camp bed and a suitcase and stay here for a while? It would be a lot easier."
"Yeah, okay." I said.
He smiled, and I smiled.
*
PJ and Chris took a while to trust me again, but it came. When they saw how happy Phil was and how completely I revolved around him. When they noticed how I struggled to speak to strangers when he wasn't by my side and how he would always gravitate towards me, craving a touch of the arm or just the contact through our shirts as if seeking reassurance that I was still there. Eventually they forgave me, and everything was back to as it had been - but not really. Our relationship was no longer built on ideals and fantasies, but on real life events that had shaken us to the core and somehow brought us closer than ever before.
It was looking at the world and realising that real life wasn't anything like the movies or the books or the fantasies you dream up while you're trying to sleep at two thirty in the morning. Life isn't always happy and it's not always perfect and nor is love. When you love someone, it doesn't mean that every moment you spend together will be endlessly cute and hopelessly romantic. More likely there will be drama and arguments and moments when you wonder why you even bothered but it's having someone to share your life with. That's what creates the utter inseparability that leaves you so distraught when you realise they're gone. It's the security. It's the absolute comfort in each other's arms. I had no way of knowing if I was in love with Phil or not, but I knew I never wanted to leave him again. And that was enough.
I asked Chris about love, what it was and what it meant.
He laughed at me because he always laughs, but it wasn't mean, it was thoughtful. He lay back on the grass and rested his head in his hands.
"Love is different for everyone and it's different again for each person you love, that's why it's so special, I guess, because it's unique. It's yours to grow and cultivate and no one else is ever going to know exactly how it feels, which is kind of scary.
"I love PJ of course, but I love Phil too – just differently. Phil's so, I don't know, thoughtful. He won't say much for a long time but then will suddenly say the best thing ever out of nowhere. He's like knowing someone who is walking in two worlds. This one, and another that no one else can see. I love him. I love him like a brother and a best friend because I think the world without him would be a pretty shit place.
"PJ's a fucking goon. A very loveable and charming little gentlemen that when you get him alone turns into a massive goof ball. All he does all day is create stuff and it's beautiful, he is annoying in that way because I wish I could be more like him. I REALLY love him. I love his face. I love his mind. I love the things he comes out with, sometimes it's drawings or music or poetry or videos and sometimes it's just things. Sayings. PJ things that come from him and I've never met anyone like him before. He's a lot of things I wish I was, I guess. Our relationship is like the whole two sides of the coin thing – we're similar but also very different so we complete each other. I think without PJ I'd probably be either lonely and socially inept or a massive dick. That's what I think love is. It's not about finding a soul mate or 'the one' or whatever – it's about being with someone and growing around them until you're entwined as one. Not literally. It's not good to be dependent on someone. You become a better version of yourself, thanks to them. They bring out what's good about you and call you out on your bad things, so you learn and thrive. And you do the same to them. See, I would never have been able to phrase any of that if it wasn't for PJ. I'd have probably just said really good sex or something even though I wouldn't have been thinking that inside. PJ's good for me, and fuck knows what I'd do without him."
I nodded, staring up at the clouds.
*
If you fill your head with unreachable relationships and adorable perfection or an infinity of pure love and nothing else, then you're going to have a reality check at some point coupled with crippling loneliness. It's the realisation that not every kiss comes with fireworks. When it suddenly occurs to you that lying in someone's arms for hours on end is inevitably going to give both of you cramp and multiple bruises. Most of the time you don't just find someone perfect and fall in love and live happily ever after and make love into infinity and beyond. Sex isn't glamorous and love isn't either, not really. I could talk for hours about the specific blue of Phil's eyes and the lift of his mouth when he smiles, but that's not what love is. Love is holding my hair while I crouched over the toilet for three hours with food poisoning and still wanting to kiss me afterwards when I was sweating and shaking and struggling to breathe. Love is wearing his glasses when he's with me because they're more comfortable than contacts even though he thinks he looks bad in them.
Love is trust. When you love someone you give them your whole being unconditionally and trust them to look after it for you. It's not what you expect to receive but rather what you expect to give – which is everything.
For the romantic novelist, love is something beautiful but utterly unattainable. It's superficial and clichéd and full of unnecessary romanticisms and not even the dimmest of minds truly believes them. It's a comfort, an ideal – a dream. The pages and pages filled with lavish descriptions of physical beauty and a complete lack of character flaws are replaced with a coffee in the morning and a toothpaste kiss. Tales of passionate nights under the stars replaced by sweaty, sticky awkwardness and fumbling and slipping. But that's okay.
Love isn't about staring at each other, it's about staring out at the world – together.