(punk!Phil x pastel!Dan)
Dan liked pastel colors. Anyone who knew anything was aware of this, especially if they attended Dan's high school. The seventeen year old was always adorned with pale, pretty colors and freshly made flower crowns (working a part time job as a florist had it's perks).
Phil liked dark colors. Okay, that's not entirely true. The twenty-øne year old enjoyed being surrounded by bright, vivid colors, but he would never admit this. He had gained a popular reputation as the tough and mysterious punk-a reputation he didn't think he fit. Phil understood why young children avoided him on the street, but honestly, who wouldn't? With his torso and arms smothered in tattoos, pierced face, and all-black outfits, Phil was bound to intimidate most people.
Dan was known at his school for being, as they put it, a pussy. He never lashed out-physically or verbally-at the kids that beat him up, he always listened to the teachers, and followed almost every rule he was given. All in all, he was not one to take risks.
Phil drove recklessly on his motorcycle, walked into the street without looking, and broke laws each week. He was your typical bad boy. Phil slept around and snuck into bars.
Phil was exactly the type of person Dan's parents had warned him about.
But for the first time in his life, Dan didn't listen to them.
(coming whenever the hell I feel like it)