phanfic: dan is gay and phil and phils friends bully him for it
sorry its so long, but i promise its worth it! :D
I kept my gaze averted as I felt Phil Lester’s sapphire blue eyes hammer into my back, like they did every time I walked into the crumbling old room that was my history class. I ignored Phil Lester sniggering to his friends as they pointed at me and laughed, and took my seat in the corner of the room.
“Mr Howell. What’s the excuse this time?” said Mr Greaney, sighing.
“Traffic, sir…” I mumbled, blocking out the giggling coming from my left (Phil Lester and his gang sat there).
The teacher continued reading the paragraph from a history book about The Holocaust, and I reluctantly opened my book onto the same page. Usually history fascinated me, yet today something felt wrong. Wronger than usual. I peeked over at Phil Lester. Was he - no - is he looking at me? I hid the hot heat that rose instantly to my cheeks (as usual) with my book. Why? I shot a confused look to him, but he just stared back at me with a lopsided grin. There was a malicious glint hidden deep in his eyes that I couldn’t decipher, as he raised an eyebrow at me. I was beyond bemused.
“Dan. Dan! DAN!!” yelled Mr Greaney, making me jump and lose my eye contact with Phil Lester. Was he still looking?
“So, are you going to answer my question or not, Mr Howell?” the teacher glared.
“Um, South Africa?”
Mr Greaney’s face was as red as a tomato when he gave me a detention after class. Groaning, I trudged to the room that hosted detention, my feet feeling as if they were attached to heavy weights. Suddenly.
“Dan.”
I looked up, brushing away my boring brown hair to see the tall, pale, figure that was again staring intently into my eyes. Phil Lester.
“Phil.” Damn. Why did I say that? Suddenly I was very conscious of where my hands were. Why did he take my breath away? I knew I was gay, but Phil Lester? My bully? I had an outfit of blue, purple and black bruises embroidered around my body because of him, surely I didn’t…
“What are you listening to?” he asked, glimpsing down at my phone, which meant he was now a centimetre away from my face. In particular, a centimetre away from my lips toaching his soft, pink ones. I had forgotten that I had whipped out my phone to listen to Bastille amidst all the ‘excitement’.
“I love Warmth! Bastille too, they’re a great band!”
“S-so do I, w-what’s your favourite album?”
And together, forgetting about the detention we both had to attend, we walked away into the sunset, shoulders bumping every now-and-then.
And that’s how it all begun. Look where we were now. Lying under the stars, gazing at the full moon together, discussing music and films and video games. How strange, the one I thought was homophobic, a bully, was actually a funny, deep, interesting guy, just like everyone else? Funny how, just months ago, I would’ve compared Phil Lester to the dog shit on the pavement, and now he is breathless, perfect, like an angel, graceful. I turned to face him in the sleeping bag we were sharing, lying on the dry patch of grass on a field in the middle of nowhere that we stumbled upon on a drive around in Phils royal blue car. He noticed and turned to face me, smiling. Oh, how his smile brightened up my grey sky. His smile wasbrighter than New York City, his eyes glittering like a swimming pool in summer. That’s what Phil’s eyes were. Oh god, how you could go swimming in those eyes. Normally I would immediately break too long eye contact, and a silence longer than 5 seconds sent alarm bells ringing to my ‘witty things to say’ part of my brain. This was not the case with Phil. Phil Lester. Could a name be any more perfect? I wonder how my name would sound with his - Dan Lester…
“What are you thinking?” spoke the softest voice that had ever had the misfortune to bless my ears with.
“Wha- nothing! I was just thinking about how, um, it looks like it’s going to rain…” I mumbled, looking up at the sky to hide my blush. It didn’t work. Phils hand reached out and caressed my cheek gently. It felt like sheer heaven, not that I was going there anytime in my afterlife.
“You are beautiful, Dan Howell.” Phil whispered into my ear, tickling me with his warm breath.
My confidence growing, I smiled at him, the most genuine in a long time.
“And you are heavenly, Phil Lester.”
Suddenly all I could see was his lips, getting closer and closer and closer and- DROP! We both squinted up, the moment shattered into a million tiny pieces of smashed glass. DROP! Phil turned to me. “I guess you were right, it is raining!” We laughed in harmony. I had never noticed how well our laughs fit together like jigsaw pieces. DROP! DROP! DROP! Before we knew it, it was raining like it had never rained before.
“To the car!” shouted Phil, grabbing my hand. We ran to the car, giggling with how ridiculous we looked, our eyes locking and one of us looking away quickly.
“We’re soaked through!” I shouted, gently moving a strand of fringe out of Phil’s eye. Phil’s finger went up to touch mine, and we stayed like that, in the cold rain, fingers touching, eyes locked together, for what felt like centuries. My heart raced so fast, Usain Bolt could’ve transformed into a snail it wouldn’t make a difference. Then, without warning, Phil’s lips crashed with mine. Time stopped existing, all that was left of the world was Phil and I, even the rain seemed to be dropping softly as if it was afraid to disturb this moment. My head started spinning as Phil’s hands traveled down my legs, and my breath faltered as he pulled me closer. His lips were softer than I could’ve ever imagined. I licked the bottom of his lips, begging hopelessly for entrance, which was given almost immediately. Our tongues tangled together before his entered mine and I couldn’t help but moan (I noticed Phil smile at this). This lasted far too short for my liking, until we broke apart.
“We should probably get into the car,” suggested Phil, his face apologetic.
“Y-yeah of course,” I shyly smiled, following Him into the back seat of his Ferrari. And there we slept, exchanging body heat, our long feet entangled, arms wrapped around the other, noses touching. I can’t even find words to describe how it felt, but the rain washed away the rest of the world and it’s problems, keeping them away from us, leaving nothing but peace and serenity. It felt like nothing I had ever felt. It felt infinite. I dreamt good dreams, the song Warmth by Bastille stuck in my head. It reminded me of us.
Hold me in this wild, wild, world
‘Cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
And in your heat I feel how cold it can get
Hold me in this wild, wild, world
'Cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
And in your heat I feel how cold it can get
Now draw me close
~school after that night~
I walked into school with a spring in my step, ignoring the weird looks I got. This would be the first time I see Phil at school, as those past events happened during the holidays. I glanced into the glass next to me, fixing my fringe. That was when I spotted him. With his gang. Why did that disappoint me? My heart hammered into my chest, my feet suddenly felt as if they were glued to the floor. They were staring at me, like everyone else in the hallway. The only person I wanted to lay an eye (or more) on me was, however, leaning against the wall, whispering to one of the popular girls, who giggled after hearing what he had to say. Something felt wrong. I felt sick, my palms sweating. I inched closer to Phil and his gang, but still he stared at the girl, who stared fondly back. What? Now even the teachers and the remaining students were staring at me, laughing. But why? How could there be any possible thing left to make fun of me, surely they had run out of making fun of me being gay? Unless… no. I refused to accept it, however, the thought crept into my head each time I kicked it out. What if Phil…?
“Phil.” I was finally right in front of him. He looked up, looked me up and down with disgust (my heart sank to the bottom of the deepest sea) and after saying something to that god-damn girl again, he walked up to me. Laughs from his so called friends echoed around the room and shrivelled up my ear.
“Well, look who it is!” shouted Phil, as if we were at a freak show and he was introducing the freak-me- to the crowd. My eyebrows knitted together, my fists clenched.
“The gay kinky freak!” The crowd went wild.
“What did you call me?” I whimpered, inaudible from the roaring crowd. Apart from Phil.
“Well would you hear that! He dared to answer me! Bad move, you c*nt!” he shouted, spitting in my face.
“Eat him up, boys!” he announced to his friends, who all started flexing their arms at the girls. It all happened in slow motion. I watched as Phil held the hand of the girl, kissing her tenderly on her foundation caked face, I watched, heartbroken, as he walked off with her, not even looking back at me, wiping me out of his life like dirt. Dirt. that’s all I am. As Phil’s friends punched me in every square inch of my body, the teacher watching idly, I thought, I didn’t care. I didn’t care what people thought. But Phil was still an angel in my eyes. I still cared what he thought. And I hated myself for it. They called me gay, a fag, they said I deserved to die, that I’m not human, that I don’t even deserve the life of a rat, let alone a slave. I would ignore it all, push it away for late at night, but today, that day, they called me all those things, over and over. The whole room was chanting it. Maybe it was because of Phil, but that day, that moment, I gave up. I accepted who I was. A fag. An idiot. I didn’t deserve life.
In those last few moments before I died, the last thing I saw was Phil. Phil my best friend since we were 3. Phil who let me join his gang that he had made at 9.Phil who shouted at the bullies when I was 13. Phil, who then became friends with those very bullies. Phil who kicked me out of his gang at 14. Phil who became one of those bullies. Phil. Phil, who I then fell in love with. No. I was always in love with him. And I always will be. Phil, I love you. I love you, Philip Michael Lester. But you never did.
40 points (you went way over the word limit of 1500)
