Chapter Three- Dan:
I had never been so excited to go to school in my entire life. I was lying in bed, the covers twisted around my legs that had been dancing a jig the whole night. I was staring at the clock on my bedside table, counting down the minutes until I could go back and see nothing but blackblackblackblack and ohmygodblue.
I was wearing a giant dumb smile on my face, the kind you got when you looked at pictures of small animals for too long. And my smile- it grew- taking up my whole face- no- the whole room- no- the world.
Because I, Daniel Howell, might have just made a friend.
Yesterday, I came home the same way, my balloon head dangling somewhere in the clouds- because I, Dan Howell, might have made a freaking friend! Forget 2012 world ending, this is how the world really ended. Or mine anyways.
I'd walked through the door, into the lounge where my parents were sat, whispering to one another. Their expressions were ones of shock and surprise as they looked up at my balloon head and I- happiness practically drowning the room- no- the world.
"Honey, what's up?" my mom had asked.
"Son?" my dad had said. Worry was swallowing both of their tongues but I didn't care.
I didn't respond, but this time it wasn't because I felt like a waste of space, or I felt as though I had to trap myself inside a cardboard box- within my chest- the one with the words "MEGA fragile" stamped on the front.
No, now I physically couldn't speak even if I wanted to because I was on Cloud 9- no- in another galaxy- floating up past the telephone wires and birds and everything. I was invincible.
I remained like that for the rest of the night, doing nothing but smiling like the biggest dork in the universe.
I glanced at the clock again, still counting down the minutes.
It was 5:34 a.m. That meant only 259 minutes until I could see nothing but blackblackblackblack and ohmygodblue.
As I continued to smile like a complete loon, and waiting until it would be considered a non conspicuous hour that a fifteen year-old boy would be up at, I thought about him. Him. The only him I'd thought about in the past 12-hours.
I thought about his jet black hair, that looked like ravens nested in it. I thought about his gait, hands in his pockets, a slight limp in his right leg, most likely caused from a childhood injury. I thought about his eyes, like gems stuck into that cavern of his, like a secret ocean just hell bent on swallowing me inside. I thought about his angular face and the scowling expression- the one he let me draw yesterday. I thought about how he stood up to Logan and Eli- the two Neanderthals- and nearly made them piss themselves. I thought about his drawing of me- the one in my sketchpad- the one I'd looked over what felt like a thousand times. I thought about how he stared at me while drawing it- his gaze basking my face in warmth, turning it red until I was a tomato with shoulders. I thought about his white t-shirt, with cuffed sleeves that showed off his collection of tattoos. I thought about him without the shirt, his white porcelain skin just begging to be drawn. I thought about him without any clothes o-
Wait.
I sat up quickly, the smile sliding off my face and shattering to the ground. I felt my balloon head pop and float back down to the space between my shoulders. My cheeks were hot as I replayed that last thought, my hands fisted over my lap.
Oh God, I thought. Was this what I was feeling?
I'd known I was gay for while; it wasn't that difficult to figure out once puberty came 'round and I was sporting boner every time I saw the male facique.
I just- I didn't- I'd never really thought about any of that stuff before. All the guys in my town were like dumb crows; big and loud and self important- crowing and pecking at the weaker birds. I'd never bothered to imagine or even attempt to explore the world outside my small box stamped "MEGA fragile". It wasn't as if it was some big secret though- my being gay and all- I mean I carried around a freakin' book with naked guys in it. I was practically tempting fate to shove me, full force, out of the closet- or you know, Logan and Eli to do so.
Oh no. Logan and Eli.
Now I was flushing for an entirely different reason. Yesterday was the closest anyone had gotten to publicly outing me, and after the storied I'd heard involving Logan and Eli, I didn't think they were done with me yet. What if they told Phil I was a queer?
I felt my heart stop beating.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
There was they heart monitor telling everyone I was dead.
I smashed my fist on the alarm clock, silencing the obnoxious sound and restarting my heart. I shoved my head under the pillow, wondering what I did in my previous life to make this one so tedious and awful.
Why couldn't I just be normal?
* * *
As I reluctantly walked to school, I thought of all the scenarios that Logan and Eli could tell Phil I was gay. My current favorite was them telling him in the locker room during gym class. However, I got distracted by thinking about shirtless guys. Sweaty shirtless guys. Dripping.
Oh god. My hands began to sweat.
"Oui! Howell!"
I turned at the sound of my name, all of my fantasies rushing out of my brain and into my secret box, for later inspection, most likely while I was washing up. Hmm... Dripping...
"Hey." I saw a pair of fingers snap in front of my face. I followed the fingers connected to a hand, connected to a wrist, connected to the arm of Phil Lester.
I blinked my eyes a few times to make sure I wasn't still in my fantasies.
Phil looked at me, amused. "You look a little dazed, you okay?"
I blushed and nodded quickly, silently freaking out on the inside because, Phil Lester was talking to me. I felt my head become a balloon again.
"Phillip, don't walk away from me, you dick! I just want to know where Meredith is- oh. Hello, who's this?"
I turned my head to the voice, my footsteps faltering.
There stood the most gorgeous guy in history, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He looked like he had just stepped out of one of Michelangelo's portraits, his greek god essence drowning the whole block. I tried to count the amount of freckles on his face and arms and neck as my mind began to wander in curiousity of where else I'd find them. His eyes were the color of snow; so green and pale as they flicked between Phil and I.
I felt the urge to draw raise up inside me. I restrained myself, but only just, the outline of my sketchbook in my bag burning into my back.
"This is Howell. We're in art together." Phil said, somewhat boredly. As I drew my gaze away from the male embodiment of Aphrodite, I noticed that sentence was devoid any indication that were even remotely friends.
I felt my balloon head deflate again.
"Oh hey, I'm Jeremy." the pretty boy said giving me a half wave. "Nice to meet you." He flashed me a obviously white straight toothed smile.
As straight as his sexuality, I thought hotly.
"So Phil," Jeremy said, turning his attention back to Phil, my presence becoming forgotten. "Have you seen Meredith or not? I wasn't at school yesterday, and she has all my shit. I really need it for class today."
"Dude, it's a shame you missed school yesterday. I pranked her so hard." Phil said.
Jeremy shook his head, smiling. "Man, I don't even want to know."
I shuffled my feet as they continued talking. I wonder who Meredith was?
"Anyways," Jeremy said, finishing up their conversation. "I'll see you later."
"I'll be waiting for you my prince!" Phil said, his voice raising to a high pitch squeak.
Jeremy rolled his eyes and laughed. "Don't worry my princess," he said playing along. "I'll see you later, but you mustn't go without a true loves kiss!"
He gripped his arms around Phil's shoulders and smacked a big kiss on the side of his cheek.
I felt the world shift. I stumbled.
"Get off me you lug!" Phil said laughing and pushing Jeremy off him.
"Is that any way to treat your prince?" Jeremy teased.
Phil smiled.
Now part of last nights activities included a time in which I spent cataloguing each and everyone of Phil's smiles I'd seen in the past two weeks. There was his signature smirk, the one he gave girls to make them blush and annoying asshats who should he planned on throwing off a cliff. Then there was his half smile, the one he gave parent's and store clerks and teachers, as if his sarcasm and wit could be helped, like he was saying "whatcha gonna do?". There was his small smile, like the one he gave me yesterday while I was drawing him- the one I couldn't quite figure out.
But this smile- this one was new. It was a wide open grin, so free and full of affection. Probably one only reserved for people he lov-
Without finishing that thought, I spun on my heel and headed in the opposite direction- any direction- anywhere to get away from the-horribly-attractive-heart-racing-stomach-fluttering-absolutely-life-ruining Phil Lester.
"Hey Howell!" I heard behind me.
I ignored him and continued speed walking in a direction the most likely wasn't school, not that it mattered anyway.
I knew in the back of my mind that I was overreacting, like a big girl or pussy or poof, or whatever other degrading name I could think of that Logan and Eli had called me. But it wasn't entirely my fault either. I wasn't used to feeling like this. I wasn't used to feeling something so strong, that it made my knees weak, and chest hurt, and stomach feel as though a thousand butterflies were trying to escape- a feeling I feared to put a name to.
The last time I felt something like this, it had ended horribly. It had made me afraid of the world and the people in it. It had made me crawl into that dark corner inside myself- into that box stamped "MEGA fragile"- and never come out. It'd made me afraid of speaking. It'd made me afraid of bathrooms. It'd made me afraid of everything.
They'd made me afraid of everything.
I kept stomping in frustration, my head heavy with thoughts.
"Hey! Dude. Fucking- Wait!"
I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder, jolting me to a stop. Hot, harsh pants were heard over my left shoulder as I turned to see a doubled-over Phil, bracing his free hand against his knee.
"Jeez," he said airily. "Who knew you could walk so fast."
I stared at him, while he gasped for breath, completely bewildered. He stood, still breathing slightly rough, my brain trying to piece together any possible reason why he came after me instead of his boyfriend.
Why did you follow me? I signed.
"I think my car's a few blocks back," Phil said looking around, ignoring my question. He turned and looked around some more, before orienting himself and heading back in the direction we had just come.
"You coming duffus?" he shouted, not pausing for me to catch up. I looked behind me and back at his retreating form, before hustling after him.
* * *
The car ride to school was deadly silent- nothing but the hum of the engine and the whisper of wind through one of the rolled down windows. I really couldn't tell you how relieved I felt when we pulled into the school parking lot.
Phil parked the car but didn't get out- just sitting there with his hands on the steering wheel, eyes straight ahead.
"Look kid, I know you don't talk much, but I'm not a fucking idiot." Phil said. His voice was indifferent, like he really didn't care, but his white knuckles gave him away. "I know you're mad Howell. So fucking spit it out."
Phil turned to look at me, his glare pinning me to the leather upholstery. I opened and closed my mouth a few times- like an idiot- before I reminded myself I wasn't allowed to speak. Phil made me forget things like that. Phil made me forget a lot of important things like that.
"Well?" he hissed.
I bowed my head. I'm sorry, I signed. Then for an extra measure: Please don't hurt me.
Of course I was aware of Phil's aggressive nature and how he was constantly in fights with other boys. And of course I was aware that my scrawny frame could in no way take him. It was apparent after this morning that we were not, as I had spent most of last night fantasizing, anywhere near friends. Or anything more for that matter.
I shoved that last thought along with all those related thoughts to the back of my mind to examine never.
I heard Phil sucking a breath. "Scheiße!" Phil said after a moment of more deadly silence.
With my head still down, I heard Phil unbuckle his seat belt and get out of the car, slamming the door behind him.
I winced at the unexpectedly loud sound and slowly retreated from my current mold in the seat of Phil's car.
Shoving my bag over my shoulder, I walked around the front of the car, and warily eyed Phil pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair.
"What the fuck?" Phil shouted striding over to me. "And I mean really, what the fuck? 'Don't hurt you?' Do you think I'm some big mean bully- like Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum- who's just itching at the chance to humiliate you? Is that really what you think of me?"
Even though I didn't really know entirely what he was talking about, I shook my head and shrunk back from his hostile tone, as he encroached on my personal space- the air between our noses shrinking.
"Are you gonna say anything?! Oh wait that's right- you're a freakin' mute!"
I felt a ball of hurt slam into my chest, and I think Phil might have felt it too, because his eyes softened just a smidge at the edges, but his expression stayed firm.
I raised my hand- about to sign something- to defend myself, but I stopped. I didn't need friends- I hadn't up till now- they're what messed me up in the first place. And it didn't matter what Phil thought of me. He was just another person. Just another stupid person.
As I continued to feed myself more lies to justify my actions, I did the unthinkable. I clenched my raised hand, and swung.
And made contact.
I felt Phil's face connect with my fist, before I felt a throbbing ache in my knuckles. I let out muffled groan, at the same time Phil yelped, stumbling backwards. I didn't wait around for my turn.
I turned and ran- not looking back once as I headed inside to the main office to get checked in.
* * *
Hoots and hollers were heard as I entered the boys locker room from a particularly grueling gym class. My forehead was sweaty and the back of my neck was hot. This body wasn't built for running; it was built for observing people from afar and appearing like a mild creeper with hair from an unsuccessful 2009 emo band.
I walked to my locker, dialing the combination, my body set on autopilot. Honestly, after I'd punched Phil, my whole brain kind of shut down to try and process that. I'd never defended myself once in my whole school career, so the fact that I actually managed to punch Phil- Phil Lester mind you- was mind blowing.
Phil'd shown up to gym a few minutes after myself, his face covered in a giant purple ink blot around his eye socket. It almost made him more beautiful.
As I opened my locker and reached for my t-shirt and jeans, I felt someone cover my eyes and two more someone's grab my arms.
"Hello Poof," I heard them whisper in my ear. I felt my heart plummet levels down in my chest as I matched the voice to the asshat that was Logan Marters. Oh no.
I felt being tugged on a direction to my right, my feet stumbling underneath me, Logan's hand remaining over my eyes. I complied- knowing full well I wouldn't be able to overpower them- so I didn't bother to struggle.
That was, at least, until Logan removed his hand.
I was met with the sight of our locker room bathroom- nothing particularly special. There were a row of stalls across from the four of us, the black and white doors connected to them, slightly ajar. The urinals were to the right of the stalls, the flush timer activating, a sound of rushing water breaking the horrific silence. On the opposite wall were some small porcelain sinks, to the left of that was a row of open stall showers, the silver shower heads winking at me mockingly. The white and green tiled floor was slick and grimy, making you question how often did they clean this place.
However, my brain didn't really have time to process all those details. I took one look at the bathroom and a red alert sign began flashing in my head- one that read "Danger Will Robinson!" with an excessive amount of exclamation points.
And that's when I began struggling.
I squirmed and twisted, desperately seeking a way out of the tight hold the two Neanderthals had on each arm.
"Hey kid," one grumbled, gaining a better hold on my forearm. "Quit movin', would yah?"
They began dragging me to one of the showers, making my heart beat faster and body fight harder.
I felt them shove me into one of the stalls, my arms flailing as they released me, my butt making contact with the slick tile floor. I'm sure a sharp stab of pain shot through me- but I didn't feel it. I wasn't really there anymore.
It was almost as if someone had wound back the clock and it was two years ago and I was back in that dim lit bathroom- moths fluttering against the screen over the window- the sound of buzzing.
I looked up as someone turned on the spigit of water and I was submerged- in both the past and the present- back in the grimy bathtub with that faceless monster, only all I could see was silver. I couldn't hear anything my head under water, lungs screaming. The water was becoming red now, streams of it pouring out of the faucet- the blood gushing. It wouldn't stop. I braced my arms against the rim of the tub, the water submerging me still. I kept saying "stop!" over and over, except now sound was coming out. They had taken my voice. They had taken everything.
I felt the blood stop flowing from the faucet.
My brain felt fuzzy and my ears were ringing. And then there was screaming.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HIM?!"
"I-I-I don't know! We just turned on the showers to get him wet, and then we were just going to dunk his head in the toilet for a laugh... but he just started freaking out!"
"Yeah!"
"You fucking morons. Ni är sådana idioter."
Was that Phil?
"He's having a freaking panic attack!"
That was definitely Phil.
I felt myself return to the present, my eyes focusing and hands shaking as I came to. I was sat, bracing myself against the stall. My clothes were wet and hair plastered to my forehead. In front of me stood Phil, Logan, and one of the Neanderthals arguing. I shivered as I felt some water drip down my back.
"Well, that's not our fault that he's such a freak!" Logan fired back. The look on Phil's face was murderous.
The other Neanderthal returned holding a towel, which Phil snatched from his grasp, before pointing at Logan.
"You," he said sternly. "And your asshat friends should leave now. And if I find you hurting Howell again- or anyone else for that matter- I'll fucking rip you limbs off, understand?"
Logan rolled his eyes as the other two nodded vigorously, before they all scampered off.
Phil sighed, rubbing a hand across his face before turning to me. HIs head was down and shoulders slumped. He'd changed into his normal clothes, his grey t-shirt slightly wet across the chest, a signature cigarette behind one ear.
He moved his hand from his eyes, looking down at me. His eyes were scanning my face, his emotions closed off, like always. For once, I wished I knew what he was thinking.
"Que vais-je à faire avec vous, Howell?" he said softly. He continued staring at my face with a blank expression on his- the purple bruise on his face like a bloom of paint.
He crouched down in front of me, taking the towel and ruffling my soaking hair, till it was mildly damp. The gentleness of the action startled me. No one ever really touched me like that. He covered my back with the now wet towel, picking a piece of stray hair and tucking it behind my ear.
I thought I might cry.
Phil let his hand fall, plopping it onto his knee, the other arm resting with his elbow on top of the other knee., his fist against his jaw. My eyes got caught on his black ink etched into his arms.
"You okay, Howell?" he asked, his face full of concern and slight amusement.
And that, that was it. That was fucking it. With the combination of Phil's almost kind face and quiet words, I was a volcano erupting. Hot lava tears poured out of my eyes, wracked sobs- croaked and muffled- rattled out of my throat as I tumbled head first into Phil's unexpecting form.
We slipped and crumpled across the slick tiled floor becoming one person, as our limbs got mixed and matched with one anothers.
I cried into the crook of Phil's neck, gripping his now fully damp t-shirt with my tiny fists- trying not to think about how completely humiliating this was. For all I knew, this was a set up, and Logan was going to walk back in at any minute and laugh at me for being such a poof- while shoving back into that shower hell.
Phil- to his credit- didn't say anything during this whole ordeal, just laid there quietly breathing, as I dissolved while sprawled on top of him.
Once the lava had subsided to small hiccups, I sat up, pushing myself up slowly, hands against his chest, until I was seated on Phil's thighs.
Neither of us said anything.
I stared at him as he looked back at me, with all his blackblackblackblack and ohmygodblue now accompanied with a flush of purple. He had a lazy and calculated expression, like he was writing a story in his head.
"You know," he said, smirk drawing up at the corners of his mouth. "If you want to ride me that badly you could have just asked."
AN:
alright so heres the third chapter I hope you all like it! also here are the translations:
Scheiße = fuck
ni är sådana idioter = you are such idiots
Que vais-je à faire avec vous, Howell? = What am I to do with you, Howell?
see you guys next week!
Eddy Xxx