An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Characters: Dan Howell, Phil Lester, Original Characters
Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Teenage Drama, Alternate Universe - High School, Triggers, Wales, I worked really hard on this I promise, Therapy through smut, Lots of references to Fight Club, Smut
Series: Part 1 of The Wanting Comes In Waves
Summary:
“Life is meant to be destructive. We’re the only beings that can truly experience it. We need to destroy everything we can so that we can create new things.”
After moving to the tiny Welsh coastal village of Rhagfyr, Phil struggles to find a new way of living, what with his new school and the decision of his future still on the table. Dan is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma, but perhaps there’s beauty inside destruction.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 19/19
Fandom: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Dan Howell & Phil Lester
Characters: Dan Howell, Phil Lester, Chris Kendall, PJ Liguori
Additional Tags: Phanfiction, Phan - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Boarding School, Violence, Pyromania, Arson, Assassins & Hitmen, Magic, Supernatural Elements, Character Death, Angst, Happy Ending, bamf!dan, Smut, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs
Summary:
Phil Lester is ‘special’, having the power to manipulate water with just a flick of his hand. Because of this, he was transferred into the special school, Dahlia Academy, which was built to harbor students with magical abilities. Here, he meets Dan Howell, a cold and distant pyromaniac who doesn’t get close to anyone. (Based loosely off of the manga, Gakuen Alice).
i listened to the entire blue neighbourhood album while writing this. troye’s voice is so calming ugH
WC: 698
TW: implied bullying, but there’s none in the story, curse words
pastel!phil/bamf!dan
-
Don’t panic, no, not yet-
Phil groaned, turning off his alarm of Miss Missing You. Truly a wonderful way to wake up in the morning. Patrick Stump’s voice was so nice, but he had to be productive. At least this time.
Phil Lester was the most feminine boy at his high school. There were the chavs, the punks, the nerds, and queen bees, the hipsters, and the rejects. Phil Lester was a mixture of a reject and a nerd.
He always questioned the term ‘reject.’ There were always more than one; so were they really social rejects if they socialised with each other? It was a paradox that Phil couldn’t yet solve.
“Fuck,” Phil mumbled, slipping on his lavender jumper and white skinny jeans. He carefully placed a white flower crown on his head, and tied his light purple converse up. He straightened his hair, placing it in its usual fringe. Done for the day.
Phil quickly picked up his backpack, and ran out the door. No time for breakfast, Phil thought glumly. He had just gotten some American waffles; what a shame. He plugged in his headphones, Youth playing and Phil was instantly calmed by Troye’s aesthetically pleasing voice.
The pastel boy quickly walked to his school, but not without bumping into another human being.
“Oof,” Phil mumbled. He hadn’t felt the other person fall, so that’s slightly less mortifying. He looked up, and gulped.
Dan Howell.
Dan Howell was the most infamous boy in the entire school. He always had his signature leather jacket with him, and sinfully black skinny jeans. Not to mention his terrifying friends. Which apparently weren’t around.
“Oi, what the hell?” Dan spat, looking at the smaller boy.
“I-uh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to I just didn’t see you and I’m already the clumsiest shit ever I'm so sorry please don’t hurt me!” was Phil’s reaction, jumping to his feet and swiftly turning away. He felt himself shaking from fear, and his face a bright red.
He was about to start walking, but he felt a hand on his shoulder. He felt his body go rigid, and then Phil started shaking again.
“Hey,” Dan said softly. “It’s okay… I’m not going to hurt you. Calm down, Phil…” Dan murmured, and Phil felt his pulse slow down.
“I’m really sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to…” Phil whispered, his eyes getting moist with tears. Dan turned Phil around, and started panicking with the sight of tears.
“H-Hey, mate… It’s okay! I’m not going to punch you, I’m not a chav. Just maybe… watch where you’re going?” Dan said awkwardly. Phil nodded, and wiped at his eyes, before apologising again.
“I swear I won’t do it again.” Phil promised. He turned around, and Dan heard lingering lyrics from the headphones.
Let’s hear it for America’s Suitehearts!
Dan whipped his head towards Phil.
“You listen to Fall Out Boy?” Dan asked, the surprised tone in voice slightly offending the boy in pastel.
“Of course I do! Just because I wear pink doesn’t mean I’m not emo as hell, Dan.”
“Well...” Dan said, now skimming through Phil’s phone. He gasped when he saw Blue Neighbourhood. “Just because I’m apparently a punk doesn’t mean I’m not into aesthetic-as-hell music oh my god. His voice is so bloody orgasmic.”
“I… I know.” Phil said, uncertain. Everyone knew Dan was a flaming bisexual, but he didn’t think Dan was so… nice.
“We should totally go to the mall after school. We can hit Hot Topic and then hit Icing or Claire’s. For band merch and maybe a flower crown for you.” Dan said casually. Phil gaped like a fish. Dan smirked his famous sinful smirk, and closed it for Phil.
“Is that a yes?” Dan purred, making a blush appear on Phil’s cheeks. Phil buried his face in his purple sleeves.
“Shut up, you… you… you moose!” Phil said, muffled by his sleeves. Dan laughed, and ruffled the boy’s hair.
“A-And, uh… it is a yes.” Phil mumbled. Dan laughed again, amused by Phil’s embarrassment but also offended by the boy’s adorableness.
“You’re so fucking cute, oh my god.” Dan mumbled as he attacked Phil in a hug.
“There’s too many in this shuttle, he’ll have to wait until the next lot, I’m sorry -”
“They’re here, they're here - oh god we can’t leave -”
“- we have to get out. Now!”
“But -”
“Now!”
They don’t sound real, and he’s frightened because he can’t shake himself out of it, can’t wake up.
Eventually, the dreams dissipate, and his eyes flutter open slowly.
White, everything white.
Where is he? How did he get here? This isn’t his bedroom. But he’s lying on a bed, and he’s attached to a snaking tube running out of his arm to an empty drip beside him.
He blinks several times frantically, and sits up. Particles of dust swirl in the weak sunlight coming through the window, and cards litter the bedside table. Some of them have been knocked to the floor, and he picks one up weakly, and then another.
Get well soon Phil! - Jenna x
We all miss you! Get well soon! From Class 12B
He is well. What? When did he stop being well? What happened? He doesn’t remember a thing.
And then, he suddenly realises he does.
He remembers walking home from school, looking up at the colours of the autumn sky. He remembers the car, swerving up the curb out of nowhere, and a woman dialling frantically on her phone as he’d struggled to stay conscious, hot blood dripping down his forehead, and then…nothing.
He brings a hand up faintly to his head, feeling a mark, the skin healed over.
It’s so quiet.
Surely there should be people around, if it’s a hospital? All he can see from here is a clipboard on the floor. Its notes are strewn over the carpet, like someone has dropped it in a hurry.
The pages flutter in the wind coming in from the open window and Phil is suddenly reminded of the time he found a dead bird on the way home from school, wings splayed and broken, the feathers rippling in the breeze.
He shakes his head, pushing the sheets off his legs slowly. He tries to stand up and the IV cord rips out of his arm, making him whimper.
He stands, swaying slightly. He’s in one of those flimsy hospital gowns, and he shivers, glancing again at the window. It feels like late morning, though he can’t say for sure. The clock on the wall has stopped at exactly four minutes to three. The second hand is twitching slightly, and Phil looks away.
He picks up the top sheet of the clipboard, scanning it quickly.
Patient Admittance Form
Philip Lester - Admitted 18th September
Coma as a result of severe head trauma - patient shows significant improvements, and is expected to wake in the next few days.
Expected stay - Unknown.
He flicks through the pages frantically, taking in his details, address, parents’ telephone numbers. He picks up the past couple of pages. The writing is scrawled now, barely readable.
Transfer pending - evacuation necessary after current events - too dangerous - designated patient for shuttle EVAC: 23
He drops the pages, sitting heavily back down on the bed.
Someone is breathing loudly, the noise sounds desperate and scared. It takes him a few moments to realise it’s him.
Come on, Phil. Come on. Get it together. Put some clothes on, and then go and find someone. There has to be someone here, somewhere.
He stands up obediently, shuffling over to the locker in the corner of the room. Sure enough, he finds some clothes in there, not the ones he remembers wearing that night. Probably ones his Mum brought to the hospital, for when he woke up.
His Mum. His family. Oh, god.
He pulls on the jumper and jeans, and slides on the thick socks and boots that are in the bottom of the metal cabinet. There’s nothing else there, but there is a tiny mirror on the inside of the door that he peers into.
He looks pale, paler than normal. There’s a small scar on his temple, and his dark hair is messy. His eyes are dim and heavy, shadowed.
Wincing, he steps away, moving cautiously to the door and slipping out of the room.
The corridor stretches endlessly in both directions.
Picking the left turn at random, he hurries along it, hearing his footsteps echoing along the linoleum. The sense of unease he felt since he’d opened his eyes threatens to flood his system, and his breath hitches.
He’s alone in the silence.
X
Dan’s having a bad day.
And that’s saying something, because every day isn’t exactly a tea party.
He surveys the empty road ahead, feeling his leg throb dully. At least he got the shrapnel out of it, and it was his own stupid fault, the piece of metal hadn’t asked to skewer his leg for fuck’s sake.
But now he needs supplies, and up ahead the city hospital awaits. He just hopes it’s not been raided by the last relief teams to leave the city, he only wants some gauze bandages and painkillers, simple enough.
Gritting his teeth, he starts to walk, only limping slightly. He’s not leaving a blood trail, he’s made sure of that. Even if the piece of cloth currently tied around his wound isn’t exactly sterile, it’s doing its job for now.
He runs his hand over the knife in his belt for reassurance, checking his crossbow, counting the arrows like he does when he’s nervous. He’s not nervous, but he’d prefer to get under cover quickly. He can spend the night in the hospital if all goes to plan.
He passes cars with shattered windows, shop fronts caved in and ransacked. A nearby wall has writing scrawled across it, which Dan reads as he gets closer.
THE END IS NIGH
He smirks. Original. He winds his way around a van, crumpled into a lamppost with the doors wide open, and that’s when he sees it.
It’s swaying slowly, stumbling in his direction, and it hasn’t seen Dan yet and now it never will because Dan’s arrow finds its way into its skull before it knows what’s hit it.
Wrenching his arrow free, Dan winces. A clean hit, he tells himself.
He doesn’t feel proud, at all.
The hospital doors are unlocked. Maybe his day is starting to look up.
________________________
I won't be updating for a few days, but if people like this I'll be carrying it on! <3
Love to you all, I hope you have a happy Christmas :) xx
