"But I'm afraid that I
Well, I may have faked it
And I wouldn't be caught dead in this place"

***

If there was one good thing that had come from the shitstorm he'd been through lately, it was that Grayson and Elliot had managed to shakily repair their friendship. Or, they were talking to each other again, at least. And it was good, Phil was glad they had stopped being so stupid and made up, but it also meant that Gray was once again more busy being googly-eyed about his crush than most everything else.

So now he was truly by himself. Well, him and his bitter thoughts.

He didn't want to think about Dan and PJ, and told himself constantly not to, but that only served to make him think of it more. They sure as hell kissed dirty, no imagining what else they were capable of. They probably fucked like animals.

But that didn't mean he himself was any different. He'd done the exact same thing, with Grayson, but he never did it so...publicly. And never around Dan, fuck; that would make him nothing but a petty dick.

He was sitting in the cafeteria, surrounded by his band mates plus Audrey but paying them no attention as he glared across the room where Dan was sitting much too close to PJ, smiling at him as he talked. They would make a great fucking couple, wouldn't they? And they wouldn't have to hide it, wouldn't fight about it every goddamn day and make a mess of everything.

And he just wasn't in a bad enough mood, was he, or maybe karma really was a fucking bitch, because he had to sit there and watch them kiss and smile at each other like stupid fucking honeymooners, and he could do nothing about it.

He wasn't a memorable guy, he supposed.

"Why do we hate them?" Phil asked, biting the words out through his clenched teeth, looking over at Chris sharply. "TCE; why are they our sworn enemies or whatever?"

Chris gave him a blank look, obviously caught off guard by the question, but shrugged and looked back down at his tray. "Does it matter?"

The tension that suddenly appeared around them was thick enough to suffocate him, but he didn't care. Grayson and Elliot were giving him looks, telling him to back off, but why should he? Almost two years now, he'd been told to hate this other band, for no valid reason, and whenever he asked about it, he was shut down. He just wanted things to make sense, because he was starting to go crazy.

"Yeah, it does," Phil said. "I'm not gonna sit here and conform to this monarchy you call a band. I don't have a reason to hate them; so what's stopping me from just going over there and talking to them? Besides you."

"Nothing," Chris said, just as sharply; he could see the anger rising in his expression. "Unless you want to stay in this band--"

"You would seriously cut me out just for talking to them?" Phil asked in disbelief. "You're a fucking psycho, do you know that? Why do you care so much about them, do you get off on it or something? Treating them like they're the worst thing that's ever happened to you?"

"Shut up--"

"You sound so pathetic sometimes, ranting and raving about them all the time, like you don't have a life besides downgrading them--"

"Shut up!" The entire table went silent, and even a few people at the table next to them paused for a second before dismissing them. It was such a stupid thing to think, but Phil felt almost victorious in making Chris this worked up about it, after avoiding the subject for so long.

"Grow up, Chris," he said quietly, pityingly. "They've never done anything to you."

Chris looked up at him, with this broken, monotone expression, but didn't say anything. Possibly the first time in a long time that he's been rendered speechless, by anything. Then he stood slowly and left without a word, didn't even look back.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Elliot said, staring at Phil like he doesn't know him; hell, Phil doesn't know himself anymore either. He doesn't do that, doesn't pick fights or question people's choices in life, but he is so sick and tired of being the laid back friend who people can walk all over because they know he won't complain. That's not him.

"What, you fucking agree with him?" Phil said, and laughed sarcastically. "You would rather go along with whatever fucked up vengeance plan he has, and never question it? Do you know how stupid that sounds?"

"Jesus Christ, Phil, maybe it is stupid, but he's our friend." Elliot said. "If he doesn't want to talk about it, then we don't push him about it, first rule of being a decent fucking human being."

Grayson nodded in agreement, and Phil scoffed at him. "Jeez, of course you're on his side, you're always on his side, right? It's ridiculous, how in love with him you are."

"Phil!" Gray stared at him, eyes wide with shock and anger, but Phil didn't fucking feel like dealing with, he didn't feel like dealing with anything, so he stood and left just like Chris, and he passed Dan and PJ and had to refrain himself from saying anything that would probably get his ass kicked by an angry guitarist.

He didn't have anywhere to go, couldn't just walk off of school grounds without getting into serious trouble, so he decided to take his chances with hiding out in one of the bathrooms. And just his luck, right, because as soon as he opened the door, he saw Chris hunched over one of the sinks, shoulders shaking. He looked up when Phil walked in.

"Fucking hell," he said, voice hoarse and quiet. "What, didn't say enough back there? Had to come and rip into me some more?" He's crying, and it's disarming for a second; Phil's never seen him anything but complacent or angry. He's fucked everything up, hasn't he?

"I'm sorry."

"'Sorry?'" Chris mocked him weakly. "That's all you have? Pretty anticlimactic, don't you think?"

"I'm a mess, okay?" Phil said, running both hands through his hair with a long sigh. His chest feels too small, and he can't breathe for a second but it passes, and leaves him shaking slightly. "I was just angry about nothing, and I took it out on you, and...I'm really sorry, I didn't mean any of it."

"Yes you did," Chris said in a low voice. "But I accept your apology." Phil tried to smiled at him, but it probably looked more like a grimace than anything. "You really wanna know what happened with them? Why I hate them?"

"You don't have to--" He started to decline, but Chris shook his head. Maybe he needed to get it off his chest; Phil won't deny him that.

"A few years ago, before Heinous was even a thought, I met PJ," he started slowly. "It was only him and Dan in TCE at the time, and they would do shitty gigs at karaoke bars, but they were good. And we....it wasn't a relationship, I know it wasn't. He would call me, tell me to come over, and we'd fuck, and he'd talk to me for while, and I thought it was the best thing ever."

"You and Dan?" Phil cut in hurriedly, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

"What? No, jeez, me and PJ." He looked disgusted at just the thought, and it made Phil strangely content. "Would it be ironic if I said he's the reason I wanted to start a band in the first place?"

"Definitely," Phil said, both of them smiling crookedly.

"I fell in love with him," Chris said in a shaky voice, crossing his arms over his stomach. "Such a lousy thing, I know, but it happened and it was the worst thing, I just...he made me feel a lot more important than I actually was."

He could imagine it; no matter how many times he's heard Chris bad mouth PJ, there had definitely been some underlying tension between the two that could easily be explained by a past relationship...or lack thereof. And maybe Chris hadn't handled it it very maturely, but it was justified. Phil felt so damn guilty about making him talk about it, he obviously didn't want to.

"And when I got too clingy for his taste, he pushed me away." The words fall from his mouth like rocks, heavy and unwanted. "Called me out in the middle of the hall, told everyone I was a desperate slut who'd do anything to get my mouth on...and then he handed out my phone number, and I would get these calls and texts all. Day. Long."

"Chris..." Fuck, he didn't haven't a single thing to say to any of that. "I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault." Chris shook his head. "After that, I moped for a while, but I couldn't keep doing that. I wouldn't let him get the best of me, and especially not like that. So I asked you if you wanted to start a band with me. And I told myself I wouldn't let him get under my skin anymore. Fucking failed miserably at that, didn't I?"

He swiped a hand across his face, removing any evidence that could possibly suggest he'd been crying, and glared at Phil. "Don't fucking tell anyone about this, okay? They don't need to know any of this."

And by that, he meant Gray and Elliot. Phil nodded. He was caught off guard when Chris suddenly pressed against him, arms wrapped around him tightly and burying his face into Phil's shoulder. Phil hugged him back just as hard. They weren't the 'touchy-feely' kind of friends, so this was weird and new, but it was working.

But that was only of the his problems fixed, and the others were proving much more difficult to even think of let alone try and solve.

His car was still out of commission, so he was not looking forward to walking home in the cold weather, and just as he rounded the first corner, he ran into Grayson. Who immediately started tearing into him.

"You've got to be the most selfish, mental person I've ever met, Phil Lester," he said, smiling manically and still managing to sound like he was ready to tear his throat out with his bare hands. "What the fuck gave you any indication that that was okay? That was humiliating, and you just left me there to deal with it."

"Gray--"

"God, shut the fuck up." He did, knowing damn well not to argue with him right now. "And I was so right, he-- he won't fucking look at me anymore, he left almost as soon as you did, I couldn't explain. I was just repairing thing with him, and you had to open your stupid fucking mouth."

He cut himself off, tugging his fingers through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Grayson," he said hesitantly, but Gray didn't attack him again, so he continued. "If I could take it back, I would, I swear it. I was angry and I didn't--"

"Angry? About what, your miserable life, because Dan Howell doesn't want you anymore?" He threw his hands in the air. "Well, guess what? The solution to that problem is not to ruin other people's lives, believe it or not. You don't get to go around and fuck everyone else over because you don't get your way."

"That's not--"

"Do you know what your problem is?" Grayson doesn't let him even compete a full sentence. "You don't talk to people. You have all these people who would gladly listen to your problems, and fuck, even try and help you figure them out, but you don't ever seem to see that. You push them all down into this tiny little box in your chest, and it keeps building up and up and up, and you just explode one day."

And it's not a lie. That was his mature way of handling things, deciding not to handle them. If he pretended they didn't exist, then they didn't, and he was fine. But he wasn't, and it seemed like everyone knew that but him. Such a great time to realize it, huh?

"You're a very toxic person, Phil," Grayson said quietly, and gives him one last pitiful look before turning and walking off, leaving Phil to stand in the wasteland of his mess.

***

a/n: have I ever mentioned how much I love tearing stuff apart? I fucking love it.

But hello, and it's officially summer for me, guys so that means more frequent updates on this, I promise ;)

Hope you guys liked this and I'll see you next time peace :3

(And don't forget to check out my newest story, called Camp, with all you'll ever need this glorious summer, including sweaty boys and homoerotic tension just waiting to be broken, mmm yes)