Chapter Nine - Dan:

 I could still taste him, the bitter musky scent that was distinctly boy. I could still feel where his lips smashed against mine, where his hands had squeezed my arms in a viper grip- trying to prevent me from running or himself, I probably would never know.

 I tilted my head and rested it against the car, not really minding that Phil was later than he said he would be. My breath was still slightly hitched from when Logan had invaded my personal space, everything about that moment like sticky, sweet cough syrup.

 I looked up at the puffy clouds, mind reeling- confusion and fantasy running a muck in my brain. Ultimately, it hadn't come as that big of a shock- I'd known what was going to happen the moment Logan had slammed me up against the car, whispering taunts into my ear, his breath ghosting disgustingly over the side of my neck. The kiss had been equally foul, and yet the contact of another boy had left me breathless nonetheless.

 It was pathetic.

 I continued squinting at the sky, counting all the reasons I didn't deserve Phil.

 Oh god, Phil.

 I closed my eyes, my cheeks already growing red. I hoped so badly that he hadn't seen that.

 Not only was it completely mortifying, but I knew that he would think- that he might assume-

 I heard rapid footsteps striding towards me, the gravel crunching angrily under his feet. They stopped suddenly, the sound of controlled breathing only a few inches from me.

 I didn't open my eyes.

 "Howell." Phil said.

 I didn't look at him.

 "Howell." His voice sounded like a command.

 Slowly, I peeked through my lashes, looking up at him, his classic white t-shirt and black jeans with rips in the knees fitting him nicely. Like always. His hair was a mess, the blue tufts sticking up everywhere, making his eyes even more intense.

 I looked down like the coward I was, shuffling my feet, my cheeks growing redder. I looked back up to scan his face, trying to tell whether or not he had seen what had happened earlier.

 I couldn't tell.

 My eyes followed the wisps of his hair around his face. Without thinking, I stepped forward and began patting down his hair.

 Phil's eyes widened and he swore, taking a step back and grabbing my wrist tightly.

 "God, Howell," he said, his voice catching.

 I bowed my head. Everything was always wrong between us. Can we go home now? I signed.

 Phil paused, as if trying to figure a math problem in his head, but always coming up with the wrong answer.

 Without warning, I was being spun around and slammed up against a "Student Only" parking sign, the pole pressing into my spine.

 I cried out in pain as Phil shushed me.

 "God, Howell!" he said, scrunching up his face, his form becoming wild and panicked. "Why is it always you?! Why you? What's so fucking great about you? You're not that different from everyone else- but I always need to protect you! Why can't you- why can't you-" his voice become more choked, as he held back tears.

 I watched and listened silently as his cosmic explosion voice spout nonsense and as the delicate stems that kept him together split apart.

 I was scared. And angry- angry that I was always the source of all the problems.

 I pushed Phil, and he stumbled back at bit. This isn't my fault. I'm sorry I'm "not that great", I signed, using quotation marks. I didn't ask to be protected. I was doing just fine on my own. If I'm that much of a burden, you shouldn't have put in so much effort in maintaining a- I paused the word "relationship" almost forming. -a friendship with me.

 Phil narrowed his eyes, stepping back into my space. It felt nothing like when Logan had done the same thing earlier- my heart racing and hands sweating for entirely different reasons.

 "Are you really that dense, Howell? Are you really that thick that you can't figure it out for yourself? Why do you think I stood up for you that day in math class? Huh?!"

 I don't know, maybe if you were a little better at communicating, I would know! I signed, throwing my hands up at the end to express my exasperation.

 I dropped my hands as Phil's eyes became cold as ice.

 Suddenly, Phil lunged at me, pushing at my chest until I tripped backwards onto the grass. I grabbed his sleeve, pulling Phil with me, tumbling in a jumble of limbs and sharp angles. It was like every other dumb fight we'd ever had all over again- Phil got scared and lashed out.

 "Is that how someone gets closer to you?" Phil bit out.

 I looked up at Phil as he pinned my shoulders with his hands and my thighs with his knees.

 "That's really how someone gets closer to you, by communicating? Because it seems to me that whenever I try, you shut me down! You pride yourself on your secrets, that no one knows you except you. You like to hide everything away and bottle it up, throwing yourself a pity party every now and then when you don't feels like you have enough attention."

 I felt something heavy and crushing settle itself into my heart. Phil must have seem it too, because his eyes sharpened, like Sherlock finding the final clue for that made the case.

 "Oh, hit a little too close to home, have I?" Phil said sneering. "You are desperate for attention, aren't you? Is that why you do impulsive things like kiss Logan, but won't let people who actually like you get near to you?!"

 Phil's fingers seemed to be detached from his body as they crawled up to my face, brushing against my flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips.

 "How is Logan?" Phil said, still mocking me.

 I felt like I was going to cry.

 "How's our beloved Logan, Dan?" Phil said louder. "Is he as good as a kisser as everyone says he is?" I could hear his anger wavering.

 I could feel him shaking, the realization of the damage he'd done was finally settling into his conscious- the urge to run coursing through him.

 I shook my head.

 Phil stared at me- his face was scared, as scared as I felt inside. He looked like a kid who'd gotten caught taking cookies when his mum had already side no. Only this was much worse.

 He began hitting his hands beside my head in frustration. "No, no, no, NO! Why do I always end up being the bad guy! That isn't fair! It's not fair that I have to watch you make out with some else and then have you go and-" he let out a choked sob, burying his face into my shoulder to hide his tears.

 I could feel him scrunching his face against the crook of my neck. My arms itched to wrap around him as the laid pinned and splayed across the grass. I could feel his chest shaking as he tried to hold everything inside. Maybe Phil had a box marked "fragile" inside his chest, too. Maybe he had things he couldn't talk about just yet. Maybe we were more alike than I first thought. Maybe it wasn't that he was saving me, so much as we were disintegrating together.

 I rolled my eyes at myself. Phil was right, I was a sap.

 Soon, I was being rolled over, so Phil was underneath me now, my hands planted in the ground framing his head, my knees between his legs, his face turned- not looking at me.

 Shocked, I stared at his profile, drawing his sharp jaw and chin and nose with my eyes, drawing the pointed plains of his cheekbones, and ignoring the wet blotches on his face.

 "Sorry... I just- I don't-" Phil started, still not looking at me- his face pensive and distance. "I don't like... having power over you," he said slowly.

 I could tell he was trying to phrase this properly.

 "I hate seeing you powerless... because I know it's awful. I know it's awful when people have control over you."

 For one terrifying moment, I thought he knew- about Aaron, and that night, and what we had done- what Aaron had made me do. But I after a moment I realized he was telling his story, not mine, trying to gear himself up. Trying to communicate.

 I waited for him to say more as I continued to draw his face in my mind.

 "When I was Old Ph- in my old life," he said taking a deep breath, and closing his eyes. "I was friends with these guys. They were terrible, their eyes always creeping down girls shirts, all black and beady- the worst kind of boys. My family and I had just moved again, and I still don't know why, but the guys took me under their wing." Phil laughed at his joke, his voice completely devoid of humor.

 "Maybe it was because I was young or new or just fucking stupid, but I followed them. I was their protege, their student, their shadow. They would do something and I was expected to copy. I was theirs to control."

 I watched him swallow, his sharp Adams apple looking like it would slice his throat.

 "One day, when I was sitting in class with them, I saw these two boys in the back of the room and they were... you know... kissing."

 Phil turned to me then, eyes finding mine, and I didn't have time to decide how my face should look.

 "It was magical. I still remember it. I probably will always remember it. But, unfortunately, I also remember what happened after." He looked away again.

 "The leader of our 'pack' had us wait until class ended and then we jumped them. They didn't fight us, knowing full well like everyone else did, that they wouldn't stand a chance. They just went limp, not making a sound as we dragged them into a closet. We stripped the two boys down, and tossed their clothes into the garbage can outside the door. We locked the door and then we left."

 I could hear the sorrow in his voice, the regret that could never be fixed. Oh Phil Lester, I thought sadly, What a troubled creature you are.

 Just when I'd thought the story was over, he continued. "I usually got picked up by my mom, so the others left without me, clapping hands and making dumb homophobic jokes. I waited until they were out of sight and then went and found the janitor. Normally, I didn't interfere with my 'friends' plans, going home with a ball of worry in my stomach. But for some reason I couldn't let this one go. The boys, they just- I need-" Phil shook his head, as he still wasn't sure why he did it.

 "Anyways, the three morons never found out it was me. I went to the janitor, he got the key, and unlocked the door before giving me a look of disappointment as he left. And there I stood in the doorway, ashamed, holding the two boys clothes out to them like an offering as they stared curiously back at me."

 Phil cover his eyes with one of his arms, his elbow almost hitting me in the forehead. "I remember one of them didn't speak English, whispering urgently to his friend, asking what was going on. I still remember the other boy- though I never learned his name. I just remember his eyes sparkling as he reached and grabbed their clothes saying the only words I would never forget as long as I would live."

 I waited for Phil to tell me until it was apparent he wasn't going to without some prompting. I tapped on his chest.

 He didn't budge.

 I tapped again, repeatedly and frantically, until he finally sighed and lifted his arm, his lips caught in a smirk.

 "Did you want something?" he asked, playfully.

 I flicked his nose. What did he say? The boy.

 He put his arm back over his eyes. "Il est une bulle aussi."

 I tapped his chest again.

 "It means 'he's a bubble, too'." Phil said.

 I stopped tapping. I remembered the first time I'd gone to Phil's house and he'd read me the story he'd written about the crow boys and their friends. My eyes widened in realization.

 I punched him in the shoulder as I sat back on my heels. He yelped and sat up, bringing us almost nose to nose.

 You're the bubble in the story?! I mouthed frantically.

 I saw his cheeks become pink as he rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, our foreheads nearly touching. Phil Lester was blushing. And it's was absolutely adorable.

 "Yeah," he said, dropping his hands in his lap, shoulders caving in on himself, head bowed. He looked so crestfallen, as if he expected me to be mad and betrayed that he hadn't told me- but it was the complete opposite.

 I was thinking everything at once, all of my feelings for him, all of my affection for him trying to burst out of me.

 I breathed very slowly, and tried to channel it into something I'd been practice for the past couple weeks. Something for Phil.

 I took another deep breath before I said it. Before I said it.

 "Phil."

 It was awful. I was no more than a whisper, my scratchy, under used voice just barely getting the word out. My vocal chords felt stretched and raw, but it was enough.

 Phil's neck snapped up as he stared at me in awe. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

 "What did you say?!" Phil said.

 "Phil." I said again, coming out worse than the first time.

 Phil didn't seem to care, his expression look as if  I'd given him the moon and the stars. He laughed, his smile so wide I thought his seams would split again. He laughed wildly, like a crazy person, and I joined him- looking equally crazy with my silent convulsions- as he rocked us back and forth until we tumbled back on top of each other.

 I smiled brightly at him as he smiled lazily back at me, laying on our sides. He reached up and tucking a lock of hair behind my ears, tracing my eyebrows, and brushing my eyelashes.

 "You know, Dan?" he said, his face still maintaining that lazy grin, though I could still see the tension building around his eyes.

 What? I mouthed nervously.

 "I really like you. And I'm sorry about my awful timing, but would Daniel Howell do me the honor of letting me kiss you?"

 I knew I was staring. But I couldn't help it.

  Phil was blushing again, and I could see him rethinking whether or not it was a good idea.

 "I'm sorry!" he said backtracking. "It's okay if you say no, I hope that we can still be friends thoug-"

 I wanted Phil to stop talking. I pressed a finger to his lips, and stroked his cheek with my shaking fingers. He got the message.

 We scooted closer until Phil's mouth was pressed to mine, and I finally realized how many colored there really were.

AN:

i have no excuse, only this really fucking cute chapter to offer as an apology.

love you all to the moon and back dolls.

-Eddy Xxx