"They say quitters never win,
We walk the plank on a sinking ship"

***

In the grand scheme of the world, it seemed a pretty universal rule that, you don't answer the phone when making out with your significant other. It was rude, completely unnecessary, and in some cases, downright disrespectful.

Phil had just pressed Dan onto his bed, kissing a path up his neck to his jaw, when the insistent ringing began, making him pause. But Dan had gripped his hair and pulled him up, pressing their lips together heatedly before pulling away an inch.

"Ignore it." He breathed hotly against Phil's lips, his hands trailing across his shoulders and his hips lifting to grind against him. And fuck, Phil was more than glad to do so, leaning down to capture his lips again.

After another few minutes, Phil's shirt was gone, tossed to the floor hastily, and Dan was worshipping his chest with his hands, moaning against Phil's lips. Phil didn't know why, but his boyfriend seemed to derive some pleasure in just touching his body. Not that he was complaining; those pretty sounds he made were heavenly.

But it was short lived, when Phil's phone sprang to life again, blasting the instrumental tune of 'w.a.m.s' loudly and making him pull away a second time.

"It might be important." He complained, trying to loosen Dan's hold on his hips and clear the lusty haze from his mind.

"More important than possibly getting laid right now?" Dan questioned, nipping Phil's earlobe gently. Phil rolled his eyes.

"It could be a life or death situation." He argued, sitting up and straddling Dan's waist. By then, the ringing had stopped, and Dan smiled up at him victoriously, hooking his fingers into the top of Phil's jeans.

"Problem solved." He said, kissing Phil's collarbone. Phil hummed in agreement, carding his hands through Dan's hair. Then kissing him roughly, sucking on his bottom lip and smirking when he gripped his thighs tightly.

"Love it when you take control baby." Dan said, giving him a dirty grin when Phil pinned his arms above his head on the bed. He leaned his head back, giving the other boy more access to kiss and suck against the skin of his neck. "No marks. Taylor was asking questions last time."

Phil made a small noise of acknowledgment, too busy grinding down against his boyfriend to answer him.

He already knew who was calling him, and he knew they wouldn't stop until he answered. Persistent sons of bitches that they were. And he was proven right when his phone rang for the third time, and he finally pulled away from Dan completely, grabbing the device from the table beside them.

"It'll only be a minute." Phil said to Dan, patting his chest and taking the call. "What the fuck do you want?" He said irritatedly into the phone.

"Practice started half an hour ago." Grayson said calmly, and Phil could only imagine the bored look he was most likely wearing. "Chris is pissed."

"Chris is always pissed." Phil replied, staring at the wall in front of him. "I already told him I'd be late, he can't be mad at me. And it's not like we haven't been practicing everyday as it is."

Dan leaned up on his elbows, shooting Phil a wink while tracing his fingers lightly across his own stomach, up to his chest. His eyes were hooded and shining with want, and Phil exhaled heavily.

"You know how he gets, especially this time of the year." Grayson said with a sigh. For someone who had the vocal cords of a saint, he didn't talk with much enthusiasm. "It's for the best you don't argue and just get your ass down here."

Phil hesitated, watching Dan underneath him sticking two fingers in his mouth and sucking on them slowly while keeping eye contact. "I... I think I'm coming down with something, actually." He said, coughing once as realistically as possible. "Sore throat."

"You don't need a healthy throat to play the bass, loser."

Phil groaned, running his fingers through his hair. "Tell him I'll be there in ten minutes. And to go fuck himself."

There was no reply, just the dial tone blaring in his ear, and he threw the phone onto the bed. He leaned down over Dan, placing his hands on either side of his head.

"Twenty minutes?" Dan asked pleadingly, pouting out his bottom lip. Phil chuckled and kissed him quickly, before getting off of him and grabbing his shirt from where it had landed.

"How about," he said, pulling the shirt on and going to his drawers for a cleaner pair of socks. "Later on tonight, we go out. Go see a movie or something, or just make out in the dark, whatever." He slipped his shoes on and sat on the edge of the bed, watching Dan sit up next to him
"Pick you up at eight?"

Dan nuzzled his shoulder, shaking his head with an apologetic stare. "Practice at seven, it definitely won't be over till ten, that bastard
Tyler."

Phil winced. "Fuck. We don't go past an hour and a half. Cause Chris is a lazy arse, but still."

Dan whined, tugging at Phil's belt loops insistently. "This isn't fair. I haven't seen you below the belt in ages."

Phil whined back sarcastically, grabbing Dan's face and kissing him firmly, tilting his head slightly and teasing his tongue against Dan's lips. He pulled back after a few seconds, smiling warmly.

"We'll make it work." He mumbled. "Promise. I'll, break my ankle or something. And we can have hospital sex like in the movies."

Dan laughed, kissing him chastely before pushing him away. "Okay, go. I'm staying here, though." He later back against the bed, tossing his arms behind his head casually and watching Phil grab everything he needed. He stopped as he was about to leave, blowing Dan a dramatic kiss and then closing the door behind him.

His mum had his car for the day, because hers was out of commission at the moment, so he grabbed his bike and began pedaling down the street. It wasn't too far a journey, five minutes of he was willing to risk his life.

He hated how hard Chris was working the band, forcing them to rehearse every one of their songs until they got it perfect, or until they were semi-decent. They weren't long sessions, but when you had them pretty much everyday, it got old real fast. And there was barely any time to himself anymore, because they always wanted him in for practice, no matter the excuses he made up. He could be in a coma, and they'd need his help.

And that always meant less time with Dan.

They were both members of different bands, and that meant different hours of practice, making it almost impossible for them to even have a minute alone. For the last couple weeks, they'd been trying to hang out whenever it was allowed, which wasn't much. Phil had been really looking forward to at least a half hour with his boyfriend this once.

He knew it was for a reason. This was a big time for all of them, and every moment counted. Not that Phil didn't hate it all in the first place.

But he didn't have any more time for brooding, because he pulled up to the abandoned shed where they always grouped up, skidding to a stop and dropping the bike to the ground before heading inside.

It was pretty spacious, enough for all their equipment and a couple couches shoved into the corner, but they had to bust all the glass out of the few windows because they were too dirty to let in any light. The dust was mostly bearable by now, at least, not choking them every time they breathed. And it was in the middle of kinda nowhere; a field that had no other occupants within a few hundred yards. They always got complaints about the noise anywhere else.

As usual, everyone else was here already. Chris was pacing the floor in clear frustration, biting his lip and folding his arms across his chest. Grayson was sprawled out across the bigger couch disinterestedly, writing on his shoes with pen, and Elliot was sat at his drum set, tapping a few random beats, his headphones plugged into his ears. Phil wasn't surprised to see his hair was bright purple, even though it had been a deep green just two days ago.

"Glad you decided to grace us with your presence." Chris snapped when he saw Phil, picking up his guitar and slinging it across his shoulder. "Been waiting damn near an hour."

Phil rolled his eyes, heading over to the far corner where his bass was leaning against the wall. He'd forgotten it here yesterday, rushing to leave and go see Dan for the last fifteen minutes he had before his curfew. "Excuse me, your highness."
He sneered. "I already told you I was gonna be a bit late. My whole day doesn't revolve around this, you know."

"Well it should. You know we can't waste any of the time we have right now."

"Oh, shut it you two." Elliot piped up from where he was, pulling the headphones from his ear and scoffing at them. "There's enough drama already without you at each other's throats."

"I call it sexual tension." Grayson said as he joined them, patting Chris on the shoulder.

"Fuck off, Gray." Phil scowled at his amusement. "He's so not my type anyway."

"Alright, enough you fuckers." Elliot yelled. "Let's get this over with."

It was a grueling hour and a half that Phil didn't have the patience to sit through. He was a bit out of it, he'd admit, having so severely missed out on his mini session with Dan earlier. More than once he missed a chord or two, and Chris called him out every time, using a few choice words that didn't hold much threat. Even Gray and Ellie, usually on his side about Chris's quick temper, gave him questioning glances.

"Alright, this whole thing is shit." Chris said eventually. "We're done. Might as well just quit the whole thing."

"Don't be such a pessimist." Ellie said cheerfully, tossing his sticks into the air and catching them. "We still have time."

"Not with Mr. Airhead over here!" Chris exclaimed, pointing at Phil. "There's almost no chance we'll beat those pissheads who think they're better than us."

Phil glanced down at his shoes at the mention of 'pissheads'. There was only one group he could possible be talking about.

"'The Cutting Edge'. What kind of shit name is that?"

"I thought you were mad they thought of it first." Gray said, smiling at Chris's death glare.

"That... is not the point, okay?" He said firmly. "The point is, they're pretentious assholes who think they're better than everyone just because they can play a beat. And we have to prove them wrong."

"Damn straight." Ellie said without looking up from his phone, where he was most likely texting his current girlfriend of the week. "Put them in their place."

Phil slipped the strap of his bass over his head, sliding it into its case gingerly and trying to stay out of the conversation.

"And that stupid PJ." Chris practically snarled, tearing a path across the room now in his heated mood. "Always smirking like he owns the world. Thinks he looks so good in that fucking bandana, the prick."

Phil looked up and caught Grayson's eye, smiling when he mouthed 'sexual tension' behind Chris's back.

"If we're done here." Phil finally jumped in. "I'm gonna go ahead and head out. Important things to do and such." He saluted them before pulling the door open, grabbing the bars of his bike and rolling it to the path. He pulled out his phone at the same time, sending a quick message to Dan.

Phil:
still in hell?

It was only 7:32, he knew Dan was still at his own practice. But only a moment later, his phone chimed and he smiled.

Lover:
suck my ass. peej is on his period or something, can't go two minutes without shouting.

The only reason Dan's name was 'lover' in his phone was so his band mates didn't get suspicious.

Phil climbed onto his bike and began the journey back home, grateful it was a windy night. Their practice space got stuffy after a while.

His phone chimed again and he unlocked it, steadying the bike with his legs.

Lover:
TCE is gonna be the death of me

TCE. The Cutting Edge, Dan's band.

Yes, the same band Chris had been ragging on during practice. That was the predicament about the relationship he had with Dan.

Everyone in Phil's band hated everyone in Dan's band, with such a passion that they couldn't even remember the reason why. Except, when they'd run into each other at some trashy party a year back, and Phil had spilled his disgusting beer all over Dan, he found that the brown eyed boy wasn't resentful in the slightest. So he'd offered to help him clean the mess they'd both made. And they'd made out for almost an hour in the bathroom upstairs.

And now they were dating, unknown to their respective bad members, but they didn't really mind.

Phil:
write a song about it

He got a frown-face emoji in response and smiled, pulling into the driveway of his house as he locked his phone again.

He was tired and frustrated, and more than ready to strip out of his sweaty clothes and go to bed. Tomorrow was Saturday, which thankfully meant no school, but also called for a longer practice session than usual.

But he wouldn't think about that right now.

***

a/n: did someone say new story? Yes. Yes, I think they did.

Yeah okay I'm writing another story. With Demonic nearing a close, I thought it would be time to start another one. And I know I've barely even started Before, and a lot of people are waiting for that to update, but I don't know I that's gonna be anytime soon. Sorry.

I know this is a shitty title, I might change it soon. If you guys have suggestions.

Aaaand I also need help. So this story is gonna really focus on music related stuff, and I'm not any good at songwriting or anything. So, if any of you maybe have some lyrics or poems you wouldn't mind me using in this story, it'd be much appreciated. I'd credit you and all that. Unless you want to remain anonymous. Please and thank you.

And I'm actually excited to write this, and I hope you guys might want to keep reading. I'll see you guys later. Peace :3