Chapter Twelve - Phil:

As Howell slept on my bed, duvet tucked under his chin, I began writing him a story. It was about a small boy with unnoticed beauty, and a big jerk with blue eyes, matching blue hair and a punk deminer. It was about them and how they accidently found themselves tangled in feelings, and how they met strangers who helped tangle them even closer together.

Then I crumpled it up and shoved it into a drawer because it sounded completely pretentious and irritating.

The next morning, I awoke still seated at my desk, legs cramped and neck sore as I lifted my head up and slipped my arms underneath it. I gazed at Howell from where I sat, enjoying the soft, fluffy, morning version of him.

Slowly I got up and headed down to the kitchen to make a bowl of cereal, thinking about the night before as I poured the milk. Chew, think. Chew, think. Pause. Spoon, chew, think.

After I was finished, I dumped my bowl into the sink and headed up the stairs to wake Howell.

We went drove to school like nothing unusual had happened. Like we hadn't confessed our greats most treasured thoughts and desires, like we hadn't just poured our hearts out into the others hands, like we hadn't filled a bathtub full of tears.

I could tell, as I parked, that Howell need something- either clarified or answered. But I pretended like I hadn't noticed as we continued discussing the differences between films and novels.

But you can't know everything the character's thinking, Howell complained, as he got out of the car and shut the door.

"Sure you can," I said, repeating his action and locking the car. "That's why they have narrators."

Howell rolled his eyes, like I was the biggest idiot alive. Obviously, but what about everything the character thinks about their surroundings. Like let's say they see a really beautiful person, and describe their eyes in the most beautiful way. You can't translate that into an image no matter how hard you try.

"Okay, fine, I'll give you that. But what about the flip side?" I said, slinging my arm around Howell's shoulder as he cross in front of the car to me. I could see his small smile on his pretty lips, holding his books to his chest, pressing his side into mine as we clumsily continued on. I felt like we were Hermione and Ron, and at any moment he was going to scold me, telling me it was pronounced "LeviOsa, not Leviosa".

"What if you have the most beautiful person and you can't describe them in words? What if they're so stunning that it's a 'you had to be there' type of deal? Huh?"

Howell rolled his eyes again, and shook his head. Fine, I say we're at a tie.

I laughed. "I can never win with you, can I?"

He smiled.

We kept walking, weaving between cars, almost out of the parking lot. As we passed one, my eyes glanced over the windshield, only for me to do a doubletake. There in the front and passenger seats, sat Logan and Eli. Making out.

I looked away quickly, smiling dumbly. Well, that sure explains a lot.

Howell looked up at me and asked what I was smiling about. I said "nothing" and smiled even more.

* * *

During math class, Howell was fidgety.

Like, really fidgety.

He was tapping his feet, drumming his fingers on the table, pencil making markings across the page of his sketchbook, shaping nothing in mind. He wouldn't maintain eye contact with me for long, looking back at me before looking down, brow furrowed, and then looking to the front of the room where Ms. Lewis sat, waiting for our tests to be handed in. Logan and Eli were conveniently not there, but I had a feeling I knew what they were up to.

Look back.

Down.

Furrow brow.

Front of the room.

Look back.

Down.

Furrow brow.

Front of the room.

Look back.

Down-

I rolled my eyes and sighed, crumpled up a teared out piece of paper, and chucked it at Howell's head.

He looked up at me with eyebrows raised.

What's the matter? I signed.

He jerked his head back down so fast I thought it might have snapped.

Nothing, he signed, not making eye contact. Why do you ask?

Well, I signed with one hand, the other tapping a pencil on his desk. You won't look at me.

I gazed at him from under my eyelashes. "You always look at me," I whispered.

Howell's entire face flushed, his ears included, fingers twitching and clenching as he held them together.

Then slowly, ever so slowly, he looked up at me, making my heart feel as though it was slipping through my chest and into his shaking hands.

You just seem so down, I signed.

I have a lot on my mind since yesterday, Howell signed simply, looking away again.

"Hopefully it's not that tool Aaron," I whispered angrily.

I saw him flinch and I had a moment of regret. Of course things were getting better- however there wasn't any need to push my luck.

"Sorry..." I mumbled, stretching my feet out underneath my desk and out the side to nudge Howell's chair.

One day at a time Phil, he signed.

I nodded, resting my elbow on my desk, propping my chin in my palm, looking the other way.

Yesterday Howell had told me one of his biggest secrets, one that only he and I would be privy to. After his episode in the bathtub- due to my poor judgement- he'd told me about his relationship with Aaron. How they'd met and fallen into a sick, twisted love. How Howell had begun to notice over time that Aaron was slightly off, but ignored it. How one night out of his own hysteria and insanity, Aaron had taken a blade to Howell, and then later that night out of grief and regret, he'd taken the same blade to himself. At Aaron's funeral, that's when Howell's visions of Aaron began to start.

Then, Howell had explained, it was as if my brain couldn't cope with his leaving, and could only manage to keep his memory alive in the most detrimental and rudimentary way: fear.

For two years, Howell never could look at bathrooms without seeing hurt and pain.

For two years, Howell never could trust someone else.

For two years, Howell never could leave the shadow Aaron had cast over him, his presence keeping a strangling hold on Howell's life.

For two years, Howell never said a word.

It was as if I didn't have anything to say, and everything in the world to say all at once, Howell had said. On one hand I didn't want to make the blow of losing Aaron any worse, but on the other hand, I selfishly didn't want to be the only one reliving it. So I made a pact with myself: the day someone could take me into their arms and cure me without words, understand me without having to speak, I would tell them everything.

That was quite a burden to put on another, and the fact that I'd managed the unspoken request made me all the more jittery.

I didn't want to deal with school right now.

I didn't want to be taking this fucking test right now.

I want to be with Howell.

As if answering my prayer, the bell rang as Ms. Lewis droned, "Hand in your tests, even if you're not done," as we all slipped out the door.

"Howell," I called as I exited the doorway. He turned looking around as I grabbed his arm, and pulled him along with me as we made our way through the throng of people.

I pulled him out one of the side doors towards the parking lot. I marched us to my car, before I swung him around and pressed him up against the side of my car. I placed a hand next to his head, our thighs brushing, trapping him.

He looked at me, eyes wide and nervous.

"Tu savez combien je t'aime, non?" (You know how much I love you, no?)

Howell's eyes widened further. You didn't need advanced french to understand that.

I planted a quick kiss on the inside of his neck and felt his breath hitch in a small "oh".

"Scared, Potter?" I chastised playfully.

I felt his breathy laugh, as one of his hands pushed me back a bit.

Is this what we're being reduced to? he signed. Cheesy Harry Potter pick up lines?

"Pretty much."

He laughed before sighing, as he reached out his hands to hold me closer. He nuzzled his face into my neck.

"Yes," he breathed. "Scared."

I felt myself shudder, as I held even closer, wishing on every star and superhero comic I read as a kid to protect this boy.

"Well," I said, stepping away from Howell, as I made my way to the driver side. "Let's go somewhere to take your mind off whatever's bothering you."

Howell looked puzzled. But school...

"Fuck school," I said snorting, leaning my arm on the ajar car door, and resting my chin on top. "It's time for an adventure."

Howell offered me a small smile, before opening the passenger door and sliding in.

"Yes!" I said with a fist pump, as I flopped in and started the car.

But I have to be home before dinner, Howell signed.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, turning around as I backed the car up. "We wouldn't want you to turn back into a pumpkin, now would we?"

Howell laughed.

* * *

I could taste the salt in the air as it whipped through my car window and into my hair, making the strands all sticky.

The ocean was bright and sparkly, the sun reflecting off the waves seem almost crystal white. The sand was just as bright, the entire bay seeming like it was covered in fresh fallen snow.

Howell had the face of a child given a handful of candy- no- the entire candy shop. His eyes were as wide as those Jumbo Smarties, and mouth with a smile brighter than the sea itself.

He was beautiful and darling.

And I was his for the day.

"So," I said, parking the car. "What do you want to do first, Princess Howell?"

Howell made a face at me.

"What's wrong Princess?"

Shut up, you jerk, Howell signed rolling his eyes, but the smile he wore betrayed him.

"You know you love me," I said, giving him a peck on the cheek before I got out of the car.

I could see his ears flushing as I opened the trunk and pulled out swim trunks and beach towels.

"Here," I said, tossing one of the pairs of trunks at him as he opened his door. "Put these on."

He nodded, blushing again as he shut the door again.

Being the gentleman I was, I turned around to give him some more privacy.

I looked up at the sky watching the seagulls flying overhead with all the colorful kites, the sky looking like what I guessed Howell's mind did.

I heard the car door open, signaling that Howell was finished changing.

"I was thinking that we cou-" the words got caught in my throat as I turned around.

Howell was in another one of my too-big sweaters that he slept in last night, the collum of his throat and sharp collarbones peaking out of the neck. The short were also a bit big, slipping down a bit, revealing an equally sharp hipbone.

But his legs...

They were definitely tanner than mine, but not by much, his knees knobby and ankles prominent, freckles dotted haphazardly and carelessly. His thighs were only barely visible, as Howell kept tugging down the shorts to cover them, and then tugging them back up to cover his hipbones. It was as if he could decide which place he rathered me not look.

"Um- yeah- so-" I tried, clearing my throat as I realized I was staring. "I was thinking we could lay some towels out on the sand and watch the sea, and birds."

Howell nodded, acting fidgety again.

I scratched the back of my neck, feeling unusually awkward.

"Right, well," I said.

Howell nodded and began to head down the small slope of sand to the main part of the beach. I shook my head, try to rid the indecent thoughts that were creeping their way in, as I picked up the towels and hurried after him.

I tugged on his arm, and led him away from the main beach, to a small alcove.

"I found this place one night, after one of our fights," I said, laying down some of the towels before I sat down. "I wanted to find some place I could mope in peace."

It was meant to be light hearted, but it sound too serious.

Howell only nodded again, before he sat down next to me, pulling his knees to his chest, and resting his chin on top of them.

I looked at him before sighing. "Alright, that's it."

Howell yelped as I grabbed him under his arms and pulled him into my lap, chest to back, thigh to thigh, chin to the top of his head.

"You've been acting weird all day," I said as I felt his stuttered breathing, his heart pounding a mile and hour. "I've been patient all day. It's time to tell me what's up."

Howell let out a choked laugh. When did you become so confrontational? What happened to the Phil I knew?

"He found himself with a big baby who couldn't take care of himself. Now stop avoiding the question. What's wrong?"

Howell was silent.

I waited for him to answer, until it was apparent he wasn't going to. Slowly, so he wouldn't notice, I began to stroke the patch of skin that had been revealed where the sweater had ridden up.

I could tell he'd felt his when he tensed up. He didn't say stop, so I continued, moving my fingers down further to his hipbone, then up to his knee.

I felt his breathing become more choppy and erratic.

It was until I tried to push the leg of his shorts up to touch his thigh did he stop me, pushing away and crawling out of my lap.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you. I know I need to be more patient, I just-"

"Please... Don't..." Howell said with a choked sob.

"Hey, hey, hey. Shhh. It's okay. I'm sorry, my bad." I said, looking at Howell. In a normal instance I would have held him close, but I was afraid if I got any closer he would disappear. "I'll wait for you. I don't want to rush y-"

"No..." Howell said, knees again pulled to his chest, face buried in them, muffling his already raw voice. "Aaron... ruined... ruined there..."

"Huh?" I said, brows furrowed. I didn't understand.

Howell unfolded himself, revealing tear tracks on his cheeks. I almost didn't notice his hands. They were making slicing motions across his clothed thighs.

I was puzzled, and then I wasn't.

"Oh my god!" I gasped out, my hand coming to cover my mouth. Aaron had...

"You'll think..." Howell tried to choke out around the lump in his throat. "... Ugly..."

I looked at him shocked, taking in his scrunched up face, covering in tears and snot, looking like a lost little kid.

He thought because Aaron had defaced him... I would think he's ugly?! I was almost offended that he thought so little of me.

"No, no, no. What are you possibly thinking?" I said, looking at him with soft eyes. "Come here."
He reached out his arms, his body practically screaming to be held.

"Dan," I said using his first name on purpose. "I want to make something very clear to you."

I felt him nod into the crook of my neck.

"I am deeply, deeply, in love with you."

I felt him squeeze me tighter.

"I love everything little thing about you from your constant blushing, to the face you make when you cry. I want to be with you all the time, and I think of almost nothing but you. I don't care if Aaron 'ruined you' or however you see it. I will cherish every freckle and every scar you have, because to me, anything relating to you is beautiful. No matter how ugly you think it is, I will see it as another special thing about you that only I am wise to."

Howell tilted his head back to look at me, his face full of wonder again, like he would never understand what went on in my head.

"Daniel Howell," I said, as I traced the backs of his eyelids with my fingertips. "When will you understand how much I absolutely adore you?"

* * *

After yet another break down, we stayed intertwined- where we always seemed to find ourselves- and stayed until it was time for the sun to visit someone else for the day.

Howell was practically asleep as we got into the car, head lulling to the side as we drove over potholes and speed bumps.

When we were almost home, Howell stuck out his hand and tapped me on the shoulder.

"You... don't speak... languages... used to..." Howell mumbled, and to this day I still don't know if he was asleep or not.

I smiled at the fact that he was getting better at speaking already, even if it was perfect.

"Yeah, I've found I don't need to anymore."

Howell snored softly in response.

I took one last longing look before I turned my eyes back to the road.

"I don't have to hide behind my words and more," I said even though I was pretty sure Howell was asleep.

"And... I can share... mine... you..."

I smiled. "Yes, and now you can share yours with me."

* * *

After I dropped Howell of safely at home, and said "goodnight" to his parents, I drove back to mine, thinking about the past forty-eight hours.

I thought about Howell's past.

I thought about my past.

I thought about for how once in my life I actually felt settled. Grounded. Like I had a purpose.

I parked the car and hopped out, skipping every other step up to my front door.

When I opened the door, that's when I knew.

I looked around the nearly empty room, walls where pictures hung- blank. Floor where furniture once sat- vacant.

And that's when I knew.

I stood dumbfounded in the doorway for a few moments, thinking this was some kind of sick joke- that I'd walked into somebody else's house.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and shut the door.

"Mum?" I croaked. She walked into the hallway slowly, as if she knew that if she move and faster I would collapse like a tower of cards.

We stared at each other, tracing the worn lines in each others faces, the lines that drew a map of how we somehow end up here- like this- like fucking this.

"I'm truly sorry, Phil," she said, one fat tear rolling down her cheek.

And that's when I knew.

I was so done with tears.

I was so done with unfortunate events.

I was so done with disappointing Howell.

And that's when I knew.