Summary: Dan and Phil try to find out who’s the fastest
Word count: 513 words
TW: high up
a/n: they’re both 12, just to let you know
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"I'm the fastest tree climber in the whole universe!", 12 year-old Dan said, his fist high in the air as he and Phil walked their way towards his house
"Nu-uh", 12 year-old Phil said back, looking disappointingly at Dan which made Dan look back with the same disappointment plastered on his face
"Oh?", Dan said, folding his hands together, "Who can possibly be faster than me climbing a tree?"
"Me", Phil muttered and stopped walking and looked at the big tree he stopped in front of
Dan laughed and shook his head, "No, Phil, I'm faster than you", he stopped walking when he saw Phil stopping and walked to him
"Proof it then", Phil glared at Dan
Dan raised his right eyebrow and pointed to the tree, "Whoever reaches the top of the tree first is the fastest of them all"
"Deal"
Dan and Phil shook hands and walked to the tree, "Ready?", Dan asked and looked at Phil, who was looking back
"Ready."
And they climbed, Dan was in the lead in the first half of the tree but Phil caught up, they were side-by-side and didn't slow their pace, they reached the top at the same time but they wouldn't accept it
"I won!", Dan exclaimed when he and Phil sat down on the top branch
"No, I did!", Phil yelled and would've shoved Dan if they weren’t so high up
"Yeah right, you weren't even close, Phil", Phil shook his head
"You weren't close! I won, just accept it", Phil said and looked down, "Ummm, Dan?"
Dan sighed, "Yes, Phil?"
"Do you know how we're gonna go down?", Phil asked, nervously
"Uhhh", Dan looked down and suddenly felt like he was gonna fall, "No... do you have your phone?"
Phil shook his head, "School doesn't allow to us to be on the phone, remember? So my parents say that I shouldn't take it to school"
Dan frowned, "Mine's dead", he muttered and looked around, "Maybe we can call to the people that are walking by and ask someone to call for help?"
Phil smiled and quickly called to the old lady that was passing by and after she was shocked and panicked, she called the fire department and their parents, they thanked her and she was on her way
"Sooo... Phil", Dan said while they waited, "Have you gotten any new video games?"
Phil sighed, "No, Dan, I get one once a month and I've already gotten one this month and you know that"
"Well I'm just trying to talk to you while we wait", Dan muttered and looked down
Phil frowned, "You hate small talks", he pointed out
"But I like your voice", Dan said suddenly before he could stop himself, his face was red and quickly looked away from Phil
Phil blushed but before he could say anything, their parents arrived and quickly the fire department after
They got them down and their parents hugged them tightly, but when the fire department were gone, they quickly scolded them and they went home
Summary: In a world where the last words your soulmate will say to you are written on your wrist, fearful and introverted Phil works in a bookstore. His greatest fear? The words counting down the seconds until he meet his soulmate, someone called ‘Dan.’ But it isn’t until he befriends a university student that he nicknames ‘Bear’ that Phil realizes that surviving through fear isn’t the same as living.
A/N: I was going to wait and post this more around the weekend but I don’t think I’m going to get a chance, hence the early update. Fair warning, for the next little week or two updates might be a little sporadic. Also, sorry for the length. I got a (little) carried away...
Previous Chapter Master Post Next Chapter
Chapter Two
Ink and Quill was one of the rapidly diminishing bookstores in London that was independently owned. It didn’t have the couches and cafes found in corporate bookstores, and there was just enough space for two floors, both crammed with bookshelves overflowing with books. The extent of its food stretched to the lone pot sitting by the counter that occasionally had coffee in it and the basket next to it filled with scones that no one seemed to know how old they were.
Like most things in Phil’s life, it was hardly first class. He had been working at Ink and Quill since university, and while it might not pay as much as he’d like there was a sense of comfort and safety that he associated with Ink and Quill that was uniquely its own.
It was also just around the corner from Starbucks, something else that he appreciated as the coffee at Ink and Quill was crap. Due to this, Starbucks had become his retreat for when he needed a shot of caffeine.
Caffeine withdrawal found Phil sitting at Starbucks as far from the door as was biologically possible. His cup was sitting on the table, lid firmly fastened. His phone was held in his right hand, a game of Crossy Road loaded and underway.
If Ink and Quill was his second home, Starbucks was like his home-away-from-second-home. A regular for over five years, he was on a first name basis with most of the baristas and most of the time they could anticipate his order before he had even made up his mind. The tables were artfully arranged in a manner so that he could sit at the back surrounded by people but somehow maintain his isolation at the same time.
It was a good place to be alone with his thoughts, but today he was meeting someone.
A chair scraped across the floor followed by a small ‘oomphing’ sound.
“Hi,” Phil said briefly without looking up.
“What, no hug?” a feminine voice asked, the pout clear from her tones.
“Just a second,” his face screwed up in concentration as he brought his phone even closer to his face. Jerking the phone from side to side didn’t do anything in Crossy Road but it had been a habit he’d had ever since he was child. “Damn it!”
“Did you die?”
“No one wants a tortoise,” Phil scowled, glaring at his phone accusingly. He lowered it long enough to offer his companion a smile.
“Don’t be so prejudiced against tortoises.” Daisy was a slight girl with blonde hair and blue eyes who also had the misfortune of being one of Phil’s only friends.
“You’re right,” he said seriously. He held his phone up melodramatically, kissing the picture of the tortoise that was still obstructing his screen. “I’m sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Don’t start making out with your phone,” Daisy warned. “We’re in public.”
“No public declarations of love then?”
“Not today at least,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for the drink.” She grabbed Phil’s cup, popping off the lid and taking a sip.
“Hey!” Laughing, Phil made a grab for his drink, but Daisy jerked it away from him. “Get your own!”
“I could, but why would I walk all the way over to the counter and stand in line when I can steal yours?”
He made another lunge for the cup. She tried to pull it out of reach again but Phil had overcompensated. His momentum carried him straight into Daisy as the cup went flying.
“Oh my god!” Phil scrambled to his feet, offering a hand. “Are you okay?” Daisy’s shirt and the floor seemed to have taken the brunt of the liquid but miraculously Phil’s clothes remained relatively clean.
Daisy pulled herself to her feet, looking down at her shirt and making a face. “I’m fine. At least it was coffee and not beer or something.”
“Beer?”
“You know what I mean. Better to smell like a coffee shop than a brewery.”
“Be thankful I’m more of the coffee shop variety than a night cluber,” Phil said with a wry smile. “Stay here, I’ll get napkins and some new drinks. Same?”
“Same,” Daisy confirmed.
“I’ll be right back. Famous last words,” he added before turning and disappearing into the crowd. Immediately he started to feel claustrophobic. He found himself completely immersed in laughter and conversation, a woman brushing past him. Her arm collided with his wrist and he stiffened, forcing himself to breathe.
It was time like this when Phil couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with him. No one else was effected by the words this way. Daisy was perfectly content to roll up her sleeves during the summer, attend a party, go to a bar and hook up with someone. Never mind that sweatshirts were comfortable or that he hated parties or that he had any desire to have sex with strangers, it was the knowledge that he could if he wanted to. It was about having the freedom to choose.
He slipped into the back of the line quietly, pulling out his phone and resuming his game of Crossy Road. Thank God for the invention of iPhones. They had saved him from more encounters than he could count.
A scream shattered the buzz of conversations. Heads turned, Phil being one of them. Behind him sat a tear-stricken girl a few years younger than he was, her face chalk-white. A phone lay on the ground beside her but she made no effort to pick it up.
“What’s wrong?” An older man with graying hair moved towards her, the concern evident in his voice but she recoiled with a flinch.
“Leave me alone!”
“I can help you,” he said gently. “I don’t want to hurt you, please, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Don’t touch me!” the cry was strangled and ripped from her throat as she leapt from her chair, backing towards the wall.
Murmurs broke out amongst the assembled crowd.
“-Poor thing, I wonder if she just found her soulmate.”
“Did she find her soulmate?”
“The last time I heard or saw someone so distraught was at Mindy’s wedding when the bridesmaid found her soulmate. Turns out he was the best man the entire time.”
The word was everywhere, echoed in the ranks of the old and the young. Soulmate.
Feeling like he was going to be sick, Phil pushed through the crowd, striking for the door. Part of him felt guilty for not doing anything to help, but the stronger part of him felt like he was going to throw up.
He stumbled out the door, leaning against the wall of the building and closing his eyes. The wind was biting and whipped his fringe into his eyes, but he didn’t have energy for much else besides holding himself upright.
Soulmates.
A soulmate was supposed to be the one person who was the perfect match, who brought out the best in you and you in them. The one person who loved you despite your flaws, maybe even because of them. Your soulmate was supposed to be the one person who believed in you before anyone else. The one person you trusted with your life, and who trusted their life with you. A soulmate was supposed to be a happy ending.
So far the concept of soulmates had brought nothing except pain to Phil’s life. Having a soulmate was useless if the second they met one of them was going to drop dead.
The door swung open unexpectedly and Phil threw himself backwards. He was about to tell the person to watch where they were going when he saw who it was.
The girl from the cafe marched out, wiping furiously at the corner of her eyes. She stopped when she saw Phil.
“Do you believe in soulmates?” she asked bluntly. Her question was unexpected, and it took him aback.
“Do I believe in them?” Phil repeated. “It’s not like there’s much choice, is there? Why? Do you?” Their entire society revolved around finding your soulmate, and he wasn’t sure how someone could not believe that they existed when the proof was etched on your wrist for the world to see.
“I didn’t,” she said. “But like you said, it’s not like there’s much choice, is there?” The bitterness in her voice was uncomfortably familiar. It carried the same weight of disgust and cynical disdain that he heard in his own. “You have words, right?”
Phil’s hand instinctively flew to his sleeve and he pulled it down self-consciously. “Doesn’t everyone?”
In response she rolled up her sleeves, bearing her arms and holding them up for him to see.
“Blank,” he said aloud, flushing. “Sorry.” The idea of someone having blank wrists was similar to the idea of Bigfoot, rare, hardly seen, and doubtful in credibility. If hadn’t been for the fact that the girl was right in front of him he probably wouldn’t have believed it.
She shrugged, rolling them down. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” she said matter-of-factly. “For the longest time I thought that maybe there was something wrong with me, that the reason my wrists were blank was because no one could ever love someone like me. Then I realized how fucked up this entire system is. You find your perfect match only to what, die? Break up? What’s the point? I started to think that maybe soulmates didn’t even exist, and it was all something we had built up in our minds until it became a reality.”
“Do you still believe that?” Phil asked quietly.
“My best friend was a girl named Anna. We met on the first day of school, the two freaks. I had no words and she was mute. She was in a car accident last month and she was in a coma until today.” She visibly swallowed, looking as if it physically hurt to speak.
“You don’t have to tell me if you-”
“She died this morning.” The girl’s voice was flat, her stare too calm to be believable. “I knew before the woman had even opened her mouth. We’d been dating for the past year and… Don’t you see? I thought I thought that I was immune and that maybe none of this would affect me. But it did, and in the end it probably hurt me more than anyone else. They wanted to put her on the phone but she died before they had a chance.”
“I’m sorry.” Probably two of the most insignificant words he could’ve picked, but as empty as the words ‘I’m sorry’ were anything else would’ve been worse. When it came down it wasn’t everything false?
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” The pain clouding her eyes said otherwise.
“Of course it does.”
She was silent for a moment. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“Don’t forget about either of us, but especially Anna. She deserves to be remembered as more than a mute. I can tell you haven’t found your soulmate yet, so I’m going to give you a piece of advice.” Her voice was weary, as if at her nineteen or so years she was already tired of living. “I’m not going to ask you what your words are, because frankly its none of my business. They say life’s a bitch, but at least a bitch has good days. Soulmates are just plain fucked up. Whether it’s worth it is up to you, but if you’re the last one standing make sure you can handle it.”
“Can you?” Phil asked, finding his voice.
“Can I what?”
“Handle it.”
Her face was impassive as she shoved her hands in her pockets. “Good luck,” she said coldly, pushing past him. Phil grabbed her arm, halting her.
“My name’s Phil, Phil Lester,” he said urgently. Normally he wouldn’t have dared to say his name quite so openly, but he didn’t have time to think of a way around it. “I work at Ink and Quill. If you ever feel like you can’t handle anything…” he trailed off, fixing his fringe self-consciously. He wasn’t even sure why he’d bothered to say anything. They had met only a couple of minutes ago and it wasn’t like it was his place to interfere. At the same time, it wouldn’t have felt right to let her walk away without at least trying to help.
“Phil Lester?” He nodded. “Thank you for your offer, but I have everything under control.” She wrenched free of his grasp, starting to walk.
“Think about it!” he called after her.
No acknowledgement of his words. The girl continued walking, the blue of her peacoat vanishing from sight as she rounded the bend.
Phil sucked in breath and released it, pressing a hand to his pounding temple with a wince. Pulling out his phone he unlocked it, scrolling down until he reached his conversation with Daisy. His hands were shaking so badly that it took him five attempts to draft a legible text.
Heading back to the shop. I’m fine, don’t worry, just a headache.
The excuse of a headache wouldn’t be enough of a lie to last forever, but Phil wasn’t looking for forever. Out of habit he flipped his hood up over his head, turning and following the girl’s footsteps up the street.
~
The bell jingled above the door. Phil was slumped on his desk, staring moodily at his phone. Business was always slow on Mondays, but it seemed exceptionally slow today. On the day when Phil needed as many distractions as he could they all seemed to have disappeared. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t shake the girl from his head. Every time he blinked her eyes flashed in his mind, dead and hollow. Selfishly, it only served to terrify him further. Having seen the effect losing your soulmate could have firsthand, it only heightened Phil’s desire to hide in his flat for the rest of his life.
If you’re the last one standing make sure you can handle it.
“Excuse me? Are there any books here on…skyscrapers?”
Phil straightened in his seat to find Bear standing at his desk, biting his lip. “Just a minute,” he said, flushing. Out of all the people it could’ve been to catch him asleep on his desk, it had to be Bear. This was really shaping up to be his day.
“Downstairs again,” Phil said, searching the query in the catalogue. “Second bookcase along the back wall, first shelf. You shouldn’t be able to miss it.”
“Thanks,” Bear said, making no attempt to move. There was something indecipherable in the brown of his eyes, the gentle downwards tilt to his lips, the way his head was cocked slightly to the left. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Phil said, instantly regretting his choice of words. He had never excelled at thinking under pressure, a talent he’d especially wished he’d had during school.
“You can talk to me,” Bear said, looking just as surprised at his boldness as Phil was. “I mean, you listened to me complain about my dorm, it’s only fair.”
“I’m just tired,” Phil said, his words falling flat.
Bear raised an eyebrow. “Tired as in ‘get me a bed before I fall over’ or tired as in ‘I’m tired of living?’”
His straightforwardness took Phil by surprise. Bear had never been very vocal until their conversation the other day about Scott Pilgrim. “How was Seconds?” Another trait Phil lacked-the ability to change conversation topics with ease.
“I’m almost done,” Bear said, still eying him warily. “It’s been good so far.”
“I’ll have to give it a read at some point,” Phil said, trying for a smile. He wasn’t really in the mood for a conversation right now, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to tell Bear off.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired.” The issue with picking a lie was once you picked it, you were stuck with it no matter how shitty it was.
Bear’s next question was after a pause, quiet and hesitant. “Have you found your soulmate yet?”
For the second time that day, Phil found himself confronted with the topic of soulmates. Why was everything always at once? “Not yet,” he said finally. “I’m not sure how that’s any of your business, but I haven’t.”
Bear nodded. “I haven’t either.”
He wasn’t sure why Bear had felt the need to volunteer that particular piece of information, but he followed Bear’s lead, giving a nod. “Do you need some help finding the book, or-“
“Don’t worry about it. Spending too much time thinking about things that you can’t change is dangerous. Who knows what might happen? If you’re not careful your brain will start to sink into a black hole, and it’s harder to climb out of an abyss than it is to fall into it. Instead of thinking about what could happen in a worst case scenario, try and focus on a best case scenario. Losing optimism is dangerous,” Bear blurted.
While his assertiveness was certainly a change, Phil couldn’t decide if it was a positive or negative one.
“I guess,” he said reluctantly. “I haven’t looked at the news yet so it might not even have been important enough to be broadcasted, did you hear about what happened at Starbucks today?”
“No, but I’ve been locked in a classroom since six a.m.,” Bear made a face. “Why, what happened?”
“There was a girl there who got a call from the hospital,” Phil said, clenching his jaw at an attempt to keep his emotions in check. “Her soulmate died.”
Bear’s expression looked strangely sympathetic, almost like he understood. “I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be sorry for me.”
“What was her name?”
“Her soulmate’s name was Anna.”
“Anna? That’s always been one of my favorite names,” Bear said a touch thoughtfully. “If I had been a girl my parents were going to name me that.”
“My name was going to be Fiona,” Phil said, wincing. “Can you imagine me as a Fiona?”
“You’re not a girl for one thing, but no.”
“Use your imagination,” Phil said, rolling his eyes and smiling a little despite himself.
“I still couldn’t see you as a Fiona,” Bear said, tilting his head to the side. “You couldn’t pull off Fiona.”
“If I could pick any name besides the one I have now I’d pick Zack. I think I could pull it off.” Phil struck a pose, gratified to see Bear smile.
“You couldn’t pull off Zack, you know you couldn’t pull off Zack.”
“Jackson?”
“No, you couldn’t pull Jackson, you know you couldn’t pull off Jackson.”
“Breado?”
“Breado?” For the first time since meeting him, Bear started to laugh. The dimple lingering near his cheek surfaced as his eyes blazed, and something about the pure happiness in his expression made Phil laugh too.
“What’s wrong with Breado?”
“Are you actually kidding me?” Bear asked through his laughter.
“You don’t like it?”
“I mean…” he cleared his throat. “Breado? Really?”
“At least it’d be unique,” Phil said. “I’m happy with my name, though.”
“Which is?”
Bear’s next question was quiet enough that Phil could pretend that he hadn’t heard it. “Are you taking a course on architecture?”
“Why did you pick that as your major if you don’t like it?”
“I wanted something that would make me look clever and employable, and I figured law would look impressive on a resume.” As Bear launched into an explanation about the toils of law school, Phil found himself listening with a smile. It was strange how a conversation with Bear had been enough to make him laugh when an afternoon of isolation couldn’t.
Summary: In a world where the last words your soulmate will say to you are written on your wrist, fearful and introverted Phil works in a bookstore. His greatest fear? The words counting down the seconds until he meet his soulmate, someone called ‘Dan.’ But it isn’t until he befriends a university student that he nicknames ‘Bear’ that Phil realizes that surviving through fear isn’t the same as living.
A/N: Look who started a new chaptered fic? *coughsnotmecoughs* I’ll finish my other stories, I promise, but the prompts...
Master Post Next Chapter
Chapter One
There were irrational fears, and then was Phil’s greatest fear. Heights, public speaking, failure…at first glance nothing about his phobias seemed especially unusual. Though he might consider himself to be a coward, in actuality his list of fears was shorter than most people’s. An effect of this however was that the few fears he did have were overpowering.
Phil’s greatest fear was of the name ‘Dan.’ He was fairly sure that this particular fear stemmed from the words seemingly branded on the inside of his left wrist.
Nice to meet you, Phil Lester. My name is Dan.
The words were nothing out of the ordinary. Everyone Phil knew had words inked somewhere on their wrists. Each phrase was different, but it was almost impossible to find someone who wasn’t aware of the significance of the words.
Phil’s mum had first told him the story when he was a child.
“You see those words on your wrist? Someday you’re going to meet someone whose going to tell you those words. That person is going to be your soulmate.”
She had neglected to mention that those would also be the last words your soulmate ever spoke to you.
It was the irony of the situation that this ‘Dan’s’ supposed last words were also an introduction.
Most people had the opportunity to at least get to know their soulmate a little before the end, but Phil wouldn’t even have a chance for that. Over before it had even began. Whether it was a mark of how biased life could be or if it was a matter that Phil was one of the least interesting people in the world he didn’t know. Either way, he lived in constant fear that one day he would meet someone named Dan only for one of them to die seconds later.
It wasn’t so much a fear of the name Dan as it was a fear of introductions. It was a fear of the moment when he met someone new and he had to give his name and hear their’s in return. He had no way of knowing which hello was going to be his last.
Finding your soulmate didn’t necessarily guarantee death, but Phil had always had an overactive imagination.
Working in a small out of the way bookstore and living in a modest flat in London, his life was far from lavish. But it was enough to get by.
Phil walked up the street, hoodie pulled over his head and a Starbucks cup in one hand. He stopped in front of a moderately sized storefront window. A closed sign was hung in the door, one of the lights still on inside. His free hand reached into his pocket, pulling out a ring of keys.
After wrestling with the lock he made it inside, flipping the sign over so that the open message was showing.
“Its like I just left. Oh, wait, I did,” he muttered under his breath. Sometimes he felt guilty for complaining about the length of his lunch break when it was longer than most, but he was convinced that complaining was an inbred trait in humanity. He dumped his keys on the desk along with his cup, heading for the computer and logging into his email.
Phil had just finished unpacking the newest shipment of books when he arrived, immediately identifiable by his fringe and all black attire. While he was a long cry from Sherlock Holmes, Phil thought that he was probably a university student. Whoever he was, he had been visiting the bookstore religiously for the past month. It might have been even longer, but it had been long enough for Phil to be able to recognize him as soon as he walked in.
“Can I help you?” Phil asked, setting aside the box and looking up.
“Um…I’m looking for…well…actually…” the student blushed, fixing his fringe self-consciously. “Do you have any books on h-hamster breeding?”
“Hamster breeding?” Phil repeated, raising his eyebrows slightly. “Let me check.” He opened a new tab on the computer, finding his bookmarked pages and clicking the bookstore’s website. “It might take a minute, sorry,” he added apologetically. “If desktop PCs are the dinosaurs of computers this thing is water.” As soon as the joke left his mouth he cringed. Just because he was nerd didn’t mean everyone else was.
“Water?”
“There’s scientific proof that-never mind.”
“I know what proof you’re talking about,” the student said, taking Phil by surprise. “I just didn’t think that anyone else knew about it.”
“I didn’t either.”
A tentative smile was exchanged. The graphics finally loading, Phil typed Hamster Breeding into the search and pressed keyword.
“Downstairs in our non-fiction section,” he said after a pause. “Third bookcase, second shelf down. Do you need me to help you or…”
“Third bookcase, second shelf down, non-fiction. I think I’m fine.”
“Good luck with your hamsters,” Phil said lamely. If punching himself was a plausible and socially acceptable option he would’ve done it. Why did everything he say have to sound so stilted and awkward?
He had seen the student around enough to feel badly about not knowing his name, but Phil tended to avoid human interaction unless it was completely necessary. Instead, he had come up with own name.
It had started a couple of weeks ago. Phil had been cataloguing some new books when he had happened to pass by a table where a university student was sitting engrossed in a book. Curious, Phil hadn’t been able to resist a peak at the title.
The House at Pooh Corner.
Suppressing a smile, Phil had shelved his next book, watching the student from the corner of his eye.
The next week the same student had arrived with a suitcase and a backpack as if he’d just gotten back from a trip. Peaking out of the top of his bag was Pooh, worn and aged.
After that, whenever the familiar fringe appeared the only thing Phil could think was Bear.
“Thanks,” Bear said. He turned and walked in the direction of the stairs, his hands shoved in his pockets and his head bowed. Not for the first time Phil wondered what his words were. Bear always seemed to wear long sleeves or bracelets that covered his wrists.
While the Ink and Quill was a considerably smaller than a lot of other bookstores Phil could be working at, the daily influx of people sometimes stressed him out more than he’d ever care to admit.
Every time he said hello to another person, rang up another book, said another goodbye, he couldn’t help but wonder. Where they Dan? Had they already found their soulmate? What if they had found their soulmate while waiting in line? Were they still alive?
Ink and Quill paid the taxes but the work was fair from engaging, resulting in too much time on his hands and too much time to think.
Phil watched for Bear the rest of the day, but he never showed up.
The final hour dragged on. By the time the door slammed shut behind the final man Phil was ready to collapse with exhaustion. He let out a long breath through his teeth, allowing his eyes to close for the first time that day.
“Hello?”
Phil opened an eyelid to see Bear standing in front of him, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. His other eyelid popped open as he straightened his posture.
“We’re closed,” Phil said obviously.
“You never came downstairs,” Bear shrugged. “No one had come down in a while so I figured that I should come back upstairs.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Phil asked.
Bear shrugged. “A couple of things,” he answered. “I know you’re closed, but can I buy this? I promise I’ll leave afterwards.”
The urge to tell him to come back and buy the book when they were open was tempting, and Phil opened his mouth. He made the mistake of meeting Bear’s eyes, impossibly beautiful and completely alluring.
“Okay,” Phil found himself saying. He stretched out a hand, and Bear handed him the book. “Have you had a hamster before?”
“It’s not actually a book about hamster breeding.”
Feeling incredibly stupid, Phil flipped the book over, reading the title. “Seconds?”
“It’s by the guy that wrote Scott Pilgrim,” Bear explained.
“I read Scott Pilgrim,” Phil said, his eyes scanning the synopsis. “I really liked it, too. I didn’t know he had released another novel. Half the time I don’t pay attention to what I’m organizing.” He gave Bear a questioning look. “What happened to your hamster breeding?”
“I suddenly remembered why I’m adverse to breeding hamsters,” Bear said, shuddering and making a face. “I’m adverse to owning them in general actually.”
“Really? And why’s that?” Phil had always wanted a hamster but the rent contract stated that no animals of any kind were allowed without permission.
“It involved a hamster named Suki and a valuable lesson about the price of freedom.”
“The price of freedom?”
“It’s a long story. If I told you the whole thing we’d be here until morning.”
“Are you a university student?” Phil asked, gently putting Seconds in a bag and handing it to Bear. “I see you around here a lot.”
“Yeah. I’m studying law but the dorm is too loud to get any work done. The guy next door is constantly playing music. Literally, every time I’m in my room no matter what time of the day it is he’s always blasting some kind of music. I wouldn’t mind it as much if it were at least good music. But at this point its like, get some headphones for fuck’s sake. They’re not that expensive.” Bear winced, a blush coloring his cheekbones. “Sorry, you probably don’t care about my dorm situation.”
Phil shrugged. “I don’t care. You can rant away.” He could have happily listened to Bear talk for the rest of the night except that he really was tired and any moment now Bear could decide to introduce himself. And that would ruin everything. “I really do have to leave, though,” he said apologetically.
“Thanks,” Bear said quietly, the ghost of a smile flickering over his face. He grabbed his bag from Phil, beginning to move towards the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Phil said in a vain attempt to give a slightly less awkward goodbye than he had hello. He failed abysmally.
Bear stopped in his tracks, turning and looking at him with a slightly larger smile. A faint dimple appeared by the crease in his cheek and there was a hint of light in his eyes that had been missing before.
But there was only one thing Phil knew for certain. He wanted to make Bear smile again, a real smile with his dimple showing and eyes lit up and laughing.
“See you then,” Bear acknowledged with a small wave. He disappeared through the door, shutting it gently behind him.
Phil turned off the computer, grabbing his wallet and throwing the discarded Starbucks cup in the bin. After a final sweep around the store he concluded that it was empty. He pulled the hood up over his head again, trying to pull his sleeves down even further which was a scientific impossibility as they were already as far down as they were going to go. It wasn’t against the law to expose your words, but Phil felt uncomfortable flaunting something so public when he wasn’t even sure what they meant. Any time he had dared to wear short sleeves he had felt like people were constantly trying to sneak a glance at his wrist.
After a while he had given up.
As he turned off the lights, flipping the closed sign to the front and heading back down the street towards the nearest cab, for once his thoughts weren’t on the words on his wrist. They were somewhere back in the store with a brown haired boy and a melancholy smile.
Phil knew it was dangerous to get too attached to someone, especially someone who he hadn’t been properly introduced to yet, but he was only human. Maybe it was because he didn’t know anything about Bear besides that he studied law and lived near a guy with loud music that made Phil curious. Or maybe it was because he didn’t even know Bear’s real name that gave him a false sense of safety and security. Or maybe it was because after twenty-three years of keeping his head low, following the rules, and living by his phobia Phil was bored.
He flagged the next cab, sliding in the back and giving the driver the instructions back to his flat. London passed by in a blur of people and conversations. Phil had always liked cab rides. There was something strangely beautiful in watching life go on yet being able to separate himself from it with the walls and glass of a cab.
It wasn’t until Phil was laying in bed that night that it dawned on him.
If Bear had come to Ink and Quill to study than why hadn’t he brought any books with him?
