Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Phil Lester,” The teacher says, touching a desk in the back. “Dan Howell,” she says, touching the desk beside it.

Phil is already sitting in the back while I walk over there, standing up straight all the way, which makes him laugh, “What's so funny?”

“Just how perfect you are,” He says, which makes me roll my eyes as I spread out my stuff on the desk. My pencil is next to my notebook, while everything is stacked by class and size in the corner. Perfectly put together. Next to me is Phil Lester, the most unorganized guy I’ve seen. His pencil is just on his desk next to his diagonal notebook, which is ripped up, everything else is on the floor beside him.

“Have you ever thought about getting a new notebook?” I asked him.

“Nope, thanks for the idea, though, " he says and smiles. I huff and start paying attention to class, trying to ignore the most unorganized thing I’ve seen beside me.

-----

“I got a seat next to Phil Lester, the complete opposite of me! We’ll be damned if we need to work on a project with each other. It’ll be the worst work of art ever,” I say, talking to my best friend, Louise.

“And don’t you know about art, the messiest thing you’ll ever do!” She says, grabbing my hand and facing the palm up to reveal my blue fingers stained with paint.

“It’s not messy when I do it. Everything is organized, everything is out, just a bit of a mark gets on you.” I say and smile, pulling my hand away from her, which makes her smile.

“Hey, Mr. Perfect, are you riding with me today?” She asks, walking away slowly.

“Of course I am! I’m not riding the bus! That place is just a million germs in a sweaty, hot mess of people. That's NOT happening,” I say, catching up.

“Never!” She teases me. Our friendship seems the most mismatched ever. She's the only person who tolerates me this much, though.

-----

“You should totally paint me again!” Louise says posing on the sofa in front of me.

“Never, you know that you hate it because I like the abstract and you think I can paint really well,”

“C’mon PLEASE!?” she says getting up and tugging my arm.

“No,” I say, which makes her dramatically pose. “Just because you pose does not mean I’ll paint you,” I say tapping my paintbrush on my knee. I want to paint something but I have no clue.

“Hey, maybe you should paint how organized you are?” Louise jokes.

“Maybe?” I consider it and then remember the mental image I did this morning with me and Phil’s desk and how different they are which made me dip my brush into some paint and start working on that.

“Are you actually painting your desk?” she laughs walking behind me. “Who’s that?” She started making commentary while I painted and when I was halfway finished she said. “That's Phil’s desk!” She said,

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock! It’s a comparison art.”

“You have that Type A so up your ass you're blind to anyone who is a Type B. God forbid they exist!”

“God forbid!” I say repeating her mocking it. “Just how can someone not care to that extent!? I get that it's different or whatever but god it's gross to look at that kind of a mess. Not that it’s gross to look at him, it's just gross to notice the carefree attitude because you have to care a bit at least. ” I complained to her.

She smiles and hugs me from behind. “You're lost in your mind, you're blind. A carefree attitude is a good thing sometimes!” She says and lets go of me.

-----

“Louise is here?” My brother Adrien asks when he walks through the door.

“You look depressed,” I say to him.

“Just having a hard day,” Adrien says.

“Awh tell Louise while your brother becomes uptight about this guy he met!” Louise says holding her arms out in a signal for Adrien to hug her. He’s 11 but she still treats him like a baby. He does play along with it though.

“He’s uptight about everyone he meets. This is why he should just become straight for you, he’ll have a better chance of dating you than anyone else,” Adrien says, making his way over to hug her.

“What do you say, Dan? Shall we just get married?” She says rocking back and forth while hugging him. I shake my head. “Guess your brother and I won't get married,” Louise tells Adrien.

“That’s shitty,” He says and paused, “Louise Howell sounds like an upgrade,”

“I quite like my last name, kid!” She says which makes him smile a bit.

“I’m not gonna be single forever,” I say, “I just haven’t found anyone remotely good enough.”

“Well, I’m offended!” Louise says, sticking her tongue out at me.

“Yeah, Louise is the only one who tolerates you!” Adrien says.

“You, Mum, and Dad tolerate me too! Does that mean I have to marry you?” I tease.

“We’re forced by law to deal with you. She has a choice.” Adrien says.

“One day imagine you end up marrying Phil!” Louise says and laughs. It makes me cringe and Adrien looks confused.

“Never in a million years will I be married to someone whose notebook is ripped in half and papers are strewn LITERALLY everywhere! He has a pencil with BITE MARKS ON IT! His backpack looks like a tornado went through it. He also slouches as no man has slouched before and those lower back problems will make him pass out one day! Ugh! He’s the most unorganized thing ever.” I complain.

“Woah whoever this Phil guy is the complete opposite of Dan!” Adrien says. Both Louise and Adrien were just sitting there in shock at my valid points.

“You’re so up type A’s ass that I can’t even see you anymore. The bite mark thing is kinda gross and the writing might be a problem but if he knows a system and where to find everything. Why do you care, Dan?” Louise asks almost completely

“I care because it's nice to be organized. It’s nice to know there's a place for everything,” I say. It makes me remember there's a place for me too.

Chapter Text

“It’s actually ridiculous” I am telling my friend PJ.

“Daniel? He’s in my fourth period and everything is sorted! Almost the exact opposite of you! And you got paired!” He laughed.

“I know right? But I look forward to seeing how everything is gonna go. Let’s see how long it takes until he snaps out because of how I act,” I say and lean back in the car at a red light.

“He’s gonna freak the fuck out tomorrow,” PJ says, “I bet you ten bucks!”

“No! I’m not gonna bet on his temper!” I laugh trying to play it off. It’s wrong to bet on people in general but I would never say that to PJ. “I’m not giving you ten bucks!”

“So you think he is gonna lose it tomorrow!” PJ says, turning to me and pointing.

“No, I do not! He just might go a bit crazy tomorrow,” I say. He’s not going to lose it because I’ll try. Just a bit to make sure he doesn’t go insane.
-----

I drop PJ off and take a deep breath as soon as he leaves my car. Daniel Howell is a year younger than me but still more mature than me. I color while he paints. You can tell because he comes to school with colored fingers. I bet you he has everything set out perfectly and never EVER paints people. I mean he only has one person who can tolerate him it seems. I have to learn to. I have to learn to tolerate him and vice versa.

Why were we paired? When she moves the seating chart it only means one thing. “Change your cliques, we're doing a new project!” That’s easily the worst pairing she could choose. Unless it's like every ship on Wattpad. Basically opposites. Like the negative one and the positive one. I’m the positive one. Based on his reaction when finding out he had to sit with me he’s definitely the negative one.

-----
“Ugh I forgot I sat next to you for a moment,” Dan said the next day. Oh boy, you could feel the positivity just by being next to him

“Hello to you too!” I replied. He rolls his eyes and sits down. While he’s getting everything organized I notice his hands have red, yellow, and blue instead of mostly blue. It's primarily yellow today. “What did you paint yesterday?” I ask.

“Excuse me?” He asks.

“Your hands are colorful; I assume you painted. What did you paint?”

“I painted your disgusting notebook. How do you know I paint?” He asks.

“4th-period art?” I ask.

“You're not in my fourth period,” He says.

“PJ Liguori,” I say. “He’s in your fourth period-”

“And terrible at art might I add,” He says.

“One thing we can agree on,” I laugh and he gives me a stone-cold look. One I’m very familiar with.

“Don’t do that,” He says. I looked at him confused and I could see him trying to fight a feeling, “Don’t try to be my friend. Don’t waste your time on it. Don’t try to be cute.”

“Wow, harsh. Luckily I have thick skin you can’t get to me, Mr.Perfect,”

“Excuse me?” He repeats with more of a snarky tone than before.

“Oh, so you can call me a mess but I can’t call you perfect?” I say.

“Not with that tone!” He says bringing attention to us.

“DANIEL! PHILLIP! Do you need to resolve this outside!?” The teacher asks. He quickly sinks down to his perfect posture as if nothing happened and I give the teacher an ‘okay’ symbol in response. He scoffs as the teacher nods and some kids in the front laugh a bit.

“Do you want to resolve it outside?” I ask, leaning over.

“You motherfucking wish,” He responds without even looking at me.

The class continues until she says the one phrase that would make Dan’s eyes pop out of his head. “As you know I moved your seats around. For a good reason, you’re doing projects,”

I glance over at Dan and you can see he is trying not to scream.

“Bring any art supplies besides paint tomorrow, It’s going to be fun,” She says and with that final statement, the bell rings.

Everyone walks out of class and Dan grabs my sleeve. “You better clean up your act or else I will actually drop out,” he says and then leaves.

He could’ve just asked to move. Why isn’t he asking to move? If he truly can’t stand me, why isn’t he moving? I might ask to move for him. Is he hoping that I will become a type-A bitch like he is?

Chapter Text

“THIS IS ABSOLUTELY INFURIATING!” I yell

“Calm down let’s hope he’ll come around,”

“Hope isn’t gonna save my ass!” I yell, “Hope is just basically depending on nothing.”

“Now Dan, that's called false hope,” Louise says calmly.

“UGH, THIS IS JUST UGH!” I groan and sit down.

“Flaming ball of drama,” Louise says under her breath hoping I didn’t hear. I totally did but just stayed silent.

“I have to go to fourth period with his friend now. His friend PJ Lasagna or something,”

She laughs a bit and asks, “Ligori?”

“Yeah, that guy,”

“Do you even talk to him?” Louise asks.

“No, but he’s gonna talk to me because I’m part of his friend’s life,” I say and pick up my stuff. “I gotta go see you after school,”

“Love you, Mr. Perfect!” Louise yells after me.

Excuse me?

Oh, so you can call me a mess but I can’t call you Mr. Perfect?

The senseless teasing bothers me. His senseless teasing bothers me. Louise can tease me all she wants. I don’t care but if it comes from his mouth it bothers me. Like he shouldn’t be speaking to me like that. He’s messy and a bit out there but he’s still a human. I shouldn’t be so arrogant but I am. That's who I am. I’m a dick. But not just to random people. I dick you over if you dick me over. Not just for no reason will I walk up to a person and basically just say, “Your dirty ass doesn’t stand a chance” I would never. Why do I sound so condescending to him though?

“Hello there,” It’s PJ.

“Hello,” I replied, sitting down and putting my stuff down.

“How ya doin’?” He asks.

“I’m good, How are you?” I ask. I pay no attention to him as he’s not interested in me, he's interested in me and Phil and since the other isn’t here I shouldn’t have to speak for both of us.

“I’m doing great. Thanks for asking,” he says.

“Let’s cut the small talk. Phil isn’t here with me so if you're interested in how that's going, ask him,” I say shifting so I’m looking at him.

“Have you ever heard of perspective? What's yours? How is it going for you?” He asks.

“It’s going fine. It’s only been two days. Personally, I think he should get a new notebook since he is ripped up and he needs to clean up his bag a bit,” I say.

“That's something we can both agree on,” He laughs.

That's something we can both agree on

Don’t do that

Why is today consisting of only him? “Something we have in common,” I say.

“Just a note, give Phil a chance he’s not Satan so don’t worry about it,” PJ says.

“Got it,” I say and he smiles and skips back to his seat.

------
“We’re doing inspiration art today. What's on your mind right now? What is going through your head and how would you portray that on canvas? It can be abstract or very realistic,” The teacher explains while I’m already dipping my brush into blue.

A pupil is just a circle, so that's easy, but that's just one point that I have to paint. The blue around it is more important. Before I knew it my entire canvas had become different shades of blue. It doesn't look right without the pupil. It looks blue and empty.

I debate if there should be a reflection. It’s unlikely for it to be empty. I should add myself to it. I’m part of this. It’s my signature in picture form.

“Dan,” The teacher says behind me. Some girls in the corner scoff. “Interesting,”

“That's the thing. It’s interesting,” I repeat.

“I like it. Why is this what is in your mind?” She asks not as an art teacher but as if she's a friend. She's truly dumbfounded. She doesn’t know. But neither do I.

“I don’t know. It just started and I went with it,” I say.

“Add your signature. You want credit for this,” She says, acting as a teacher again. I added my DH in the corner which makes it messier. I don’t like it anymore.

Chapter Text

“What?” I asked PJ over the phone. 

“Yeah, whatever he drew, it looked like your eyeball. The teacher said whatever you're thinking about,” PJ said.

“Was it just my eyeball or like was there anything else?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. 

“I think there was something in the pupil, but I couldn’t get a good look at it. The teacher seemed to like it. She called it ‘Interesting,’" PJ said.

“Hm? Okay, thanks for telling me,” I say.

“No prob, Bob!” He says and hangs up. 

I started working on Homework, but still, what raced through my brain was Dan’s painting. Was he thinking about me? Why, though? Tomorrow, PJ said he’s heading to that class to check how his painting came out. I decided to tag along. Why me? Why am I important? Why am I important in his mind? Maybe because he just left our third period and went to the next period right after talking to me. I look down at my math work, and I’ve written nothing. I should probably get started on that. 

-----

I walk into school, and I see the girl that Dan hangs out with every day talking to some friends. I quickly jog over and smile at the group, “Hey ladies, can I borrow her for a quick second?”

“Uhm-” She says and then walks off with me. 

“Hi, I’m Phil. Nice to meet you. You are?” I asked, holding my hand out.

“Louise. I know you. I’ve heard about you. You wanna talk about Dan?” She says, crossing her arms and smiling.

“Well, yeah, kinda. Mostly, I need to talk to someone while I’m waiting for my friend PJ, and you can help me crack a mystery,” I say, putting my awkward handshake attempt back in my pocket. 

“What mystery?”

“Dan painting me? What's that about?”

“Well, he didn’t paint you he painted your desk,” Louise responds.

“I was told it was me and my eye. Yesterday?”

“The desk thing was two days ago...what are you talking about?” Louise asks. She is genuinely curious now. 

“That's what I’m trying to figure out. I’m waiting for PJ Liguori if you have any clue who that is. We’re going to the art room as soon as he gets here. Wanna join?” I ask her and extend my hand. 

“I’m down, but don’t act all cordial, I’m not a damsel in distress,” She says. I like her. 

-----

“Okay, so this is where paintings are, go wild,” PJ says, the teacher smiling while listening to something with headphones on her computer. 

All of us go looking for people’s paintings, and PJ pulls one out from the top and places it on a desk behind him, and then he pulls out a second close to the bottom.

“The blue one is for you, Phil,” PJ says and then chuckles a bit.

It’s a beautiful mixture of blues, and the pupil has different shades of black and gray. Traced inside are a desk and a smile. A smile on the face. No eyes but hair. No fundamental defining features. Louise picks it up, places it on the wall, and then walks away from it. 

“Yep, that’s a Dan Howell painting!” She says,

“It says DH in the corner,” PJ says. 

“Yeah, but I mean, he actually liked the painting. He did it on a whim without anything in mind. That's a Dan Howell painting. Well, besides the signature. He doesn’t like signing his paintings; it's ‘too messy’ for him,” She says, picking it back up and placing it on the desk. 

“Hm,” I think. “Is that him in the eye? By any chance? Because if it is, he is smiling, and I'm not like an art expert, but if it’s anything, it’s a smiling pupil, and if this is my eyeball, he is smiling at me, which he never does. He hates my guts. Or at least I thought he did.”

“He hates everyone's guts if never smiling is the case. He smiles around family and close friends only. The outer circle barely gets a smile. Don’t take it personally. He won’t smile unless he finds a reason to,”

“Then why is he smiling in this painting?” I ask

“Don’t just assume it's him,” Louise stops me. “Smiles are for inner circles, so maybe it's someone else's eye, there is only a smile, nothing really defining.”

“There is a dimple in that smile,” PJ says, now joining our investigation. 

“It’s gonna become a natural disaster for whatever guy falls in love with him first,” Louise scoffs.

“Dan’s gay?”

“Yes, he likes guys,” Louise says a little too casually. 

“Well, he needs to date a guy for him to be gay,” PJ jokes

“Shut up! It’s still gay if you’ve never dated a guy!” Louise says, “People can get easily offended by that shit,” 

“Yeah, PJ! That’s offensive,” I say, pretending to be on the verge of tears. 

“Calm your gay ass down,” PJ says. 

“Wait, okay, what did I just say? Gay is not an insult, PJ!” Lousie says, slapping his arm a bit.

“Phil’s gay, and I’m bi,” PJ notes. “It was a joke, Louise.” 

The bell rings overhead, and PJ and I start packing our stuff while Louise smiles awkwardly and avoids eye contact. 

“Don’t feel bad about it. It's not necessarily important information,” I say to her, and she nods. 

----

“Hello, Phil,” Dan says, sitting down next to me, still looking less than pleased. 

“Hey there, artist,” I say.

“Artist?” Dan asked. “That's new,”

“You paint, don’t you?” I ask, trying to sneak a look at his hands, seeing a lot of blue and gray.

“Yeah, but I’ve never been called an artist except for my mum,” Dan says, leaning back in his chair. 

“I’m original. As you can see, every single thing I own is abstract,” I make a joke, and his expression changes to a sarcastic look. 

“Clearly,” He says and turns to his work. 

“Okay, class!” The teacher says in front of the class. “ This week, you are writing a children's book. Fully colored and written by the two of you! You have to work cooperatively and together. I’ll give you a moment to exchange numbers and emails because I promise you I’ve never had any kid who finished it in the classroom,” 

Dan scribbles his number down on a piece of paper and his email on the back. “Make sure I know it’s you. I’m free after school every day except Wednesday. Louise Pentland will be around every once in a while,” 

“Oh, I know Louise!”

“You’re friends with her?” He asks me curiously. 

“Well, not exactly, but we hung out this morning!” 

“That's where she was!” Dan says as if he has solved a mystery. 

“Oh shit, I should probably give you my information,” I say, and he shakes his head. 

“No, just enter mine and then text me I'll put your info in my phone,”

“Okay!” I smile, and he just faces forward at his phone while I enter information. I took a picture of him while sitting next to me. And then text him.

Phil: Hey there. It’s me, Phil. 

Dan: Hey there. It’s me, Dan. 

He doesn’t even look at me and finishes while the teacher is trying to get the class's attention. 

“Okay, the main idea of a children's book is morals, so I suggest you guys put a moral in there, like sharing or manners. Also, you can rhyme it or whatever. It’s all up to you. Just do your work and get it done by the end of next month,” The teacher says and then moves to her desk, which means we get started, or we’re leaving soon. 

“What were you thinking?” Dan asks.

“Positivity,” I say.

“Sounds good,” He says. I’ve never heard him sound like this. Pretty excited and happy about something. He’s genuinely going to have a lot of fun with the project. He’s excited. 

“We should talk about this over the phone, we’re leaving in,” I say, looking at my phone for a second, “about 3 minutes.” 

“Shit,” He said, picking up his stuff and putting it away. I did the same, but he was done before me because I have shit everywhere. 

“By the way,” Dan said, “We’re not hanging out at your house.”

“Because I’m disgusting?” I ask. I wasn’t trying to, but sadness dropped into my tone. 

“No, because I have art supplies and everything. But also, I’m uptight, and everything needs to be a certain way,” 

“Wow! You can admit it!” I say sarcastically, surprised. 

“Yeah, sure,” He says. The bell rings, and we wave and go our different ways.

Chapter Text

“HEY, DANIEL!” I hear my name yelled from across the cafeteria a far too familiar voice. Gabriel is an old classmate I never liked talking to after my interactions with him last year. 

“Go away, Gabe,” I say before he can get anything out. 

“Is that any way to talk to an old friend?” he asks in a mocking tone, wrapping his arm around me, which makes me stiffen up.

“Go away, Gabe,” I repeat.

“Listen faggot, I’m only talking to you because I need your help again,” He says. Helping him is what ultimately made me hate him.

“No. Never again!” I say staring daggers at him. 

He seems to get the point and says, “Fuck you, faggot,” then storms off. 

He just wants to use me to discover things he's too scared to admit. I am not helping someone who uses people. I’m not helping someone who used me in the past.

“Why were you talking to Gabe?” Louise asks, running over to me concerned. 

“I’m fine. I didn’t talk to him, he talked to me. I didn’t listen to him,” I said simply. 

“You sure?” She asks, leaning down to my level to look at my face. 

I smile, “I’m fine,” 

She smiles back, “What did he want?” She asks getting up and sitting next to me. 

“My help. I declined before he even said anything. He got defensive and said the whole thing all over again, blah blah blah,” I mock him and she laughs. 

“Nice to see you doing better around him,” Louise says and smiles. 

I don’t normally smile because I don’t want people talking to me and if I smile it seems like I’m open to conversation but Louise always makes me smile. She's the one person who doesn't think I’m a total asshole. She took the time to get to know me for over a year and cared about me. She's the one person who likes me and how stubborn I am. She listens and she cares and that's why I love her. 

“I heard you hung out with Phil this morning,” I said, smirking. 

“Don’t even start with that. He’s gay and PJ was tagging along so don’t start with me,” She says. 

I lose my smirk but keep a small smile, “Pj Lasagna?” I asked

“Yep, that's the one,”

“Oh wow, I forgot he’s gonna talk to me today ugh,” I complained, hanging my head in dread. 

“It’s gonna be fine. You're an extrovert!” She says jokingly. “But, no in all honesty you're gonna be fine. He doesn’t have a knife or gun today.” 

“Well phew!” I say wiping the fake sweat off my forehead, “I was scared I would be held at gunpoint again!” 

“Well, the bell is ringing soon so we better go,” Louise says getting up. We both get up, hug, and say our goodbyes, and as soon as we part ways my smile disappears. 

I head to the class slowly dreading whatever is gonna happen with PJ. It's not gonna be like a normal conversation. He probably wants to know about me and Phil again and I don’t want to speak for the both of us!

-----

“You're gay!?” He says,

“What?” I ask. How does he know? I've dated no one. I talk about Evan Peters a lot.  Maybe he found my social media but I doubt it. I doubt he searched for me. If he wanted to know he would just ask… Louise.

“I thought you would be one or the other, I guess I was right!” He says leaning forward a bit

“Yeah sure,” I say leaning back so he's not too close to me. “Did, Uhm, Louise tell you by any chance?”

“Yeah, we hung out this morning,” He says, dismissing it. “She was right you don’t smile that much,”

“No not really, sorry about that,” I apologize.

“It’s fine, I just hope we become close enough to see it,” PJ said. 

“For me not being there you sure had a good talk about me,” I said, They talked about everything regarding me based on what he knows now. 

“Well yeah, we did. We're looking at your painting. It looks nice! I like the blue,” He says and smiles. 

“Thanks,” I say. He smiles and walks away. Why were they looking at my painting from yesterday? Why were they all hanging out this morning? Why were they talking about me? Why did they mention my sexuality?

Phil Lester: I’m sorry about PJ

He knows how obnoxious his best friend is then. 

Dan: it’s fine. why didn’t you say anything? almost everyone else did. 

Phil Lester: Because I know it's not my business

Dan: thanks ig

“You all did very well on your paintings yesterday. Some did very original art while others inspired art from other painters,” The teacher says. She looked at me when she said the original. “Today however we’re gonna take those paintings and change them. You will grab your painting and change it any way you want. Just make it different. Something original. Let your brush guide your hand.”

We’re destroying our painting. The most I can do is add any color besides blue. 

I grab magenta, purple, blue, yellow, green, and red. I slowly sketch little teardrop shapes in the iris and start painting. Swirls of Magenta and red cover surround the pupil leaving most of its blues in the background. I flick the other colors onto my canvas haphazardly. Covering up the pupil to keep its black color. All around it was chaos. Messy chaos.

“Dan,” The teacher says behind me. It’s the same thing every day. The one thing I’m good at. Get ready to get praised. “It’s messy. But pretty still. How?”

“I know it’s not as clean as my other works,” I said. I don’t even know why I painted it. I just thought it would look cool. The colors don’t blend well though. They contrast so much. I don’t like it. I don’t like how messy it is. 

I peeled off the sticker I used to cover up the pupil. The cleanest thing on it. Still intact. No mess. My favorite part. I dip my brush into gray and fill in some gaps. I cover myself with the pupil. I’m no longer a part of this. I don’t want to be at least. 

I look over at PJ’s painting. It’s a silhouette of 2 guys and a sunset. He didn’t wanna add or delete any of it. He didn’t know what to do. Do I have to help him? I think I want to help him. 

“Color the guys,” I note. 

He looks behind him, snapping out of his mind to look at me. He smiles when he sees me, “Oh hey.” He says and then looks back at his painting, “I can’t color them,”

“Why not? I mean you don’t have to add details, just small things. Like maybe some words that describe them and their situation. Tell a story,”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

I leaned over his shoulder. “In the guys, silhouettes dip your brush and paint. Explain their feelings. Are they friends? Are they fighting? Are they in love?”  I notice his face turns kind of red as I’m leaning over him and I back up. I forget that sometimes I get too close.“Just an idea, you don’t have to go with it.”

“It sounds- It sounds like a good idea,” He says, stumbling over his first words but getting a pretty clear sentence out. “I should probably listen to the golden child too.”

“Hey, it’s your piece,” I say, holding my hands up in defense which makes him laugh. I climb back to my piece and pull out my phone. 

Dan: how do we return the sunshine to phil?

Phil Lester: Just talk to me what did you do in painting and art

Dan: i painted a mess and i hate it.

Phil Lester: How messy

Dan: contrasting colors and the pupil doesn’t have a reflection anymore. i helped your friend not fail.

Phil Lester: Oh?

I look over at PJ to see he’s written “LOVE” In skinny letters. He was more focused on the picture so as not to mess up. 

Dan: he’s not doing terrible today. 

Phil: oof

Dan: we need to start thinking about our story. 

Phil: I can come over tomorrow

Dan: sounds good. just small things. my brother comes home around 4:30 and i get home with louise dropping me off around 4. since you can drive you’re gonna be driving me home. please make your car clean as i will not go in if it is worse than the bus. my parents come home around 5 sometimes with food sometimes my mum starts making food. you are welcome to stay for dinner which we have around 6:30 if you still wanna work. this seems long and like i’m high-maintenance but i’m just giving you the schedule and my small expectations if you were to come over. 

Phil: I’m cleaning out my car tonight then I’m sure your mum’s food is good 👍

Chapter Text

“Hey Peej, can you hitch a ride with anyone else tomorrow?” I asked, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Why?” PJ asks. “I mean I can ask Chris but I won’t like it.”

“I just need you to. Please?” I plead. 

He looks at me suspiciously, “You driving with someone else tomorrow?” He asks and then makes his voice super high-pitched, “ARE YOU CHEATING ON ME!?”

“Yeah. I need to work on a group project with someone and they don’t have a car,” I say now driving. Keeping my eyes on the road. 

“Is it Dan?” He asks. Did I give it away with the group project thing? Shit! When I don’t say anything he gets excited, “Oh my god! That's your hall pass! You get to drive with Dan in your nasty-ass car!”

“Hey! I’m cleaning it tonight. Going to a car wash,”

“Lazy ass can’t even do it himself. Leave it to the professionals.” PJ says, leaning back and crossing his arms. 

“Hey, he said he won’t even sit in my car if I don’t clean it! I need to work on this project, I’m already failing that class,” I say. 

“Yeah, I’ll ask Chris, you can drive with Dan,” PJ smiles. 

“Thank you!” I said, If I couldn’t kick Pj out, Dan would probably be pissed. Being late and all. PJ lives quite far away from the school. 

-----

Dan: tornado, i got my address.

Phil: Don’t call me tornado and thanks

Dan texts me a lot, even more than PJ. Is he that lonely or is he just more kind in words? I mean I won't blame him, words are hard but talking face-to-face is harder. He is a lot less bitchy, I guess, in texts. Calling me tornado and talking like a friend. I’ve never seen this come from him. Maybe this is how he is with Louise. Friendly and likes nicknames. 

“Thank you that’ll be £12,” The guy says.

“Thank you! I’ll be seeing you again soon.” I joke. 

“Your girlfriend nagging you to clean your car?” A girl behind him asks, eyeing him. 

“No, school partner. It’s complicated.” I explain. 

“Seems so,” She laughs. “Have a nice day!” 

“You too!” I say walking out and grabbing my keys from them. 

-----

“You cleaned your car right?” Louise asks me the next morning. 

“Yes,”

“And you’re going to his house right?” She asks.

“He refused to even see my room,” I say, “Why do you even care this much?”

“I don’t want you getting killed. Now, he has his paintings hung around the house. Don’t make fun of them. He’s also working on new ones every day so don’t make fun of those,”

“Why would I make fun of them? They’re pretty good,”

“He’s embarrassed by them. Say a word, and I will kill you, Lester,” She threatens.

“Got it, Pentland,” I shoot back at her.

-----

“What’s up, Mr.Perfect?” I said sitting next to Dan watching him groan as he aligns his stuff on his desk.

“Not much, Tornado. What's up with you?” Dan says, looking at me. He looks like he has a very small, very unnoticeable hint of a smile. 

“You know the same as always,” I say and smile at him hoping to get one back.

“Where do you park?” He asks. 

“Northern parking lot, near the front so close to the school,” I say. “But you know what would be easier?”

“What?” He asks looking away from me instead of at me. Rude.

“Tell me your sixth period and I’ll wait for you and show you,” 

“Just wait for me outside of the school, the northern doors,” He says.

“You’re the boss, hoss!” I say.

“Weird saying,” He notes. I’m sure it's more to himself than to me. 

-----

The teacher tells us to work on our projects and I already have my laptop open to start writing. 

“What’cha got so far?” Dan whispers.

“I’m not too far. I can’t find a way to start,”

He moves his chair closer to me to look at the laptop too. He doesn’t have personal space with others. Noted. “Maybe we can make kind of a kid's show kind of story.”

“Makes sense,” I said leaning back in my chair.

“We could do that but only one volume. The fantastic adventures of-,” He tried to think of a name.  

“Dan and Phil,” I joked. 

“Works for me,” He said. 

“Wait, no we can’t do that, that's narcissistic!” I panicked.

“Yeah obviously it’s a filler name, we’ll come up with a better one at my house.”

“Oh okay good!” I say and smile. 

We argued about what would happen in the story for the rest of the class and didn’t get anything done. We’re polar opposites. What did you expect?

Chapter Text

“So, who did you go to get your car cleaned?” I ask him, trying to sit down carefully in the passenger's seat. He looks over at me for a moment, “What? Do you think I can’t tell you didn’t do this yourself? You can’t even buy a new notebook yourself!”

“Okay, whatever!” He says playfully. I feel like I need to get to know him if I am to work on a story with him for a while but how will his favorite color or TV show influence our story? I don’t understand when it is too much to ask. I don’t understand how I should know him or if it’s worth it in the long run. 

“Hey,” Phil starts, “Wanna play a better version of 20 questions?”

“Better version?” I ask. “What better version?”

“I ask you a question and you answer then you ask me a question. But only 20 so make them count!” 

“How personal are you gonna get?” I asked hesitantly. 

“Oh, not that personal. If I ask you something personal you can shoot back with something super personal,”

“I don’t even know what would be personal for you. So instead I get to hit you once. Then we continue. If it's personal I might not even answer,”

“Okay deal. I’ll go first. What's your favorite color?” Phil asks me. 

“Good Question a real insight into my life Lester,”

“I’m just getting started, Howell,” 

Was that flirty or was that just his normal stupid charm? It’s making me flustered for some reason. “I’d say black,” 

“What an emo bitch,” Phil mutters to himself. 

“I heard that. Well, what's yours? Your favorite color?”

“Good Question, a real insight into my life Howell,” He repeats my previous line. 

“I’m just getting started, Lester,” 

-----

“Do you have any siblings?” I asked the last of my questions. 

“Yeah, one. His name is Martyn and he's older than us. Not too much older,” 

“He doesn't go to our school though?” I ask. 

“Oh, he does I just don’t talk to him that much plus he has his car to drive him home,” 

“Oh, well your turn,”

-----

We pull up at home and Phil smiles. “Your house is pretty from the outside.”

“You should see the inside it has even more home decor,” I say sarcastically as I get out of his car. I unlock the door and hold the door for him.

“Nice paintings.” He says. He likes my paintings. “No signature, I know you paint. Did you paint these?”

“Yeah. My mom insisted we hang my paintings up after I became good. I'm working on one right now. You'll see it in my room but don’t mind it. It looks bad.”

“Everything looks better after it’s completed. Finish it then judge it.” Jesus. Is he like this all the time? Trying to stay positive about everything. “Wanna show me to your room?” He asks me and I nod and lead him upstairs. 

“You got to paint your walls!? I wish I could!” Phil says looking around my room.

“Hey genius, I paint,” I say and put my bag down next to my bed and open my laptop.

“I mean, your walls though. My mom says the value would go down if I painted my walls even a different color.” He pouts sitting next to me. 

“We have to paint over them if we move. So it’s probably not gonna stay here forever. Especially when I graduate and leave,” I explain. He seems depressed about that. I think he authentically likes my paintings. I feel like Louise would tell him to shut up about it. So he should be quiet. He’s expressing admiration though so I guess it’s okay. 

-----

“Dan and Phil: An Unlikely Friendship!” Phil says expressing ideas for our title. 

“Maybe let's create the actual story first,” I say, leaning on my pillow and waiting for him to calm down.

“Is that a smirk I see on Daniel Howell’s face? Are you smiling in my vicinity!?” He says, Oh shit. Did I even smile? Is he just trying to get one out of me? I quickly changed my expression to a blank one. “Oh my god, it was! Yes! My greatest accomplishment in life is to make you smile!” He says cupping my face proudly. 

“What did you just think I never smiled?” I ask my expression still blank.

“No, I know you smile, just never thought you’d smile at me!” He says his hands leaving my face. “Aww, look Danny is embarrassed! Your face is turning red!” Why is my face doing things without my permission? I finally feel the heat surfacing on my cheeks. “It’s okay Danny. You can smile around me,” He teases. 

“Don’t call me Danny. Can we drop this?” I say.

“What? You don’t wanna admit it?” He asks coming closer to me with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. 

“I already admitted it. Can’t we just get back to the story?” I say trying to go back further into the wall but to no avail.

“I guess. I’m expecting more smiles from you though.” He says returning to his previous position. “We would make a good superhero duo. You have a different point of view from me while I take action. Your brains, I'm the muscle!”

“What muscle?” I ask. 

He opened his mouth in awe at my comment, “You bitch!” he said and pushed me. 

“Jesus, don’t hit me,” I say.

“Still. We’d make a superhero team. You would have a paintbrush that you can paint whatever you want and it would come to life. Everything but humans because then you’d be too overpowered. I would have a… NO! I would have that thing where you move things with your mind like 11 from stranger things. Just without the nose bleeds,”

“Telekinesis? What good would that do?” I ask. 

“If you lost your item because the villain took it I could be like ‘Mind powers steal it’ from him and he wouldn’t have it anymore. A duo! Dan and Phil: Tales of an unlikely friendship,”

“Sure okay. When I get a magical paintbrush I’ll call you,” I say.

“Fine, okay, I sense the sarcasm! I just wanted to air out a concept. It’d be cool.” He pouts. 

“Phillip Lester. Story. Focus!” I say typing out a couple of the words he was saying. 

“Fine fine, We could write that, the title would work though for our topic.  Unlikely friendship pessimism being you and optimism being me. I teach you to be more positive,” He says

“Yeah thanks, dickhead,” I say. I am still silently writing the idea down. “You know it doesn’t have to be me and you. It could be anyone. Like… Wario and Fricken Buffy the vampire slayer.”

“Power combo! Let's do that one!” He says when I shake my head no. “Yeah just kidding but one day we need a crossover of those two. Anywho, I’m just giving us an idea of character building.”

“Character build. You think my character build is a pessimistic bitch?” I say.

He immediately changes his tone and looks at me with an apologetic look, “Oh no no no that’s not what I meant. I just meant that you are a natural pessimist. I’m a natural mess like how you are a naturally clean person. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” He says.

“No worries, I didn't take it that way. I knew you were just using surface attention for character base.” I joke without smiling. I’m not smiling again, “I am a pessimistic bitch most of the time. Also, don’t insult yourself to make other people feel better. That’s not helpful.”

“Did I insult myself?” He asks. Seems like it’s a normal thing for him to do...strange. 

“Natural mess. That’s not exactly a nice thing to say to yourself.” I say. “You’re just...special in a way most people don’t see,” I say.

“Wow. Are we about to kiss right now?” He jokes. Bad joke. “It’s just a joke! Don’t look like I just killed your dog!” 

“Phil,” I say before I look back at the mostly empty document screen. “This is stupid. Why a children’s book!?” I grumble. 

“Can I play music?” He asks. He keeps looking over at my CD player in the corner. 

“The CDs are in the drawer next to it. Do not mess up my order,” I say, tapping my fingers on the keyboard trying to think of at least one word to write. 

He smiles and runs to the drawer. “Oo! You have good taste!” He shuffles through some of the CDs “And you don’t hide these?” He laughs, grabbing Britney Spears Glory from the drawer. 

“I don’t usually have people going through my music so no. Grab MCR or something. They’re organized by band and album release,” I say. 

“Okay okay.” He flips through a bit more before grabbing Taylor Swift’s speak now. “I know you said My chemical romance but Speak now seems more fun.”

“Lady Gaga is in there if you really want fun,” I say sarcastically. Maybe I am a bit pessimistic. 

As he joins me back on my bed the faint “oh oh oh…” plays from the CD player. 

----

“They’re cute,” He says, looking at my little fuzzball creatures as the antagonists. He's lying across the end of the bed near my feet. 

“Don’t kids like cute?” I ask. “The hero would be a kid though. Kid aspect of a kid's book,” 

“Yes yes of course.” He says. He’s looking up at me and I act as if I’m not looking at him. However, my laptop is placed in direct view of his face to ensure he’s not being stupid. 

He’s pretty for a messy person. His messy black hair and lack of an appropriate wardrobe could use some work but it might be endearing to some. Every shirt he’s worn since I met the man has been some sort of colorful graphic tee and jeans. His hair is nice enough to be out of his face enough so that he doesn’t look like some off-brand anime character but it could still use some fine-tuning. Mine could probably use some work too but even though my brain is wired to be clean, my hair doesn’t listen. 

“Hey, I’m home!” I hear a knock on the door. It's Adrien. I forgot to tell him Phil was coming over. 

“Come in,” I say. 

He opens the door and throws his backpack on the floor next to my bed. “Oh, shit. There's a guy here I thought Louise was gonna drive you.” He pauses in his tracks. He gives me a look as if Phil is a new boyfriend and I shake my head in response. 

“I’m Phil!” Phil smiles propping himself up with his arm. “We’re just project partners sorry you weren’t aware of my being here.”

“No problem. Will you be coming over here more?” Adrien asks. “Sorry, I’m Adrien.”

“Probably,” Phil says. 

“You came home kind of late,” I note to break the small talk. 

“Bus was late. Mum’s bringing home groceries so she’s probably gonna make the pasta with the fancy sauce.” Adrien says. “You should probably tell her about our dinner guest.” He says picking up his backpack and walking out. 

Chapter Text

He’s been sneaking glances at me all day. I don’t think he’s noticed that I know. “Are you gonna join us for dinner?” He asks.

“I mean I can’t miss out on the fancy sauce.” I joke in response. Which makes him fight a smile. 

“You’re not allergic to anything right?” He asks. 

“No nothing don't worry,” I say. He takes out his phone and sighs. He slips his posture so he's more lying down than sitting up. He looks so relaxed. 

“So what is fancy sauce?” I ask a joke slipping into my tone. 

“It’s alfredo sauce but it had like herbs and shit in it. It’s not fancy, it's just more expensive than your normal sauce. It’s the only Alfredo we like though,” He explains, “Deemed fancy sauce by a 6-year-old Adrien.”

“How old is he? He looks about 12. Does he always burst into your room after school?” I ask. 

“When he’s tired he does. My door is closer to the stairs. Gives him a minute to talk and rest while he's bored from learning all day,”

“Cute brotherly love,” I joke.

“Yeah, sure.” He says rolling his eyes but I know that's his way of smirking without smirking. 

“So you guys talk a lot?” I ask my head lying in my hand.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean it's not like constant or anything we still have fights and stuff. All brothers do. Anyway, we’re writing a story.” He says. 

“Bro we’ve been working all day can’t we just take a break and talk?” I whine. 

“Fine. What do you wanna talk about?” He asks and closes his laptop. 

“What do you wanna know?” I ask

“Not fair because you wanted to talk, not me.” He says going for his laptop again.

“Fine, fine. Let’s talk about your art. How do you come up with stuff to paint? Is all your art abstract? What kind of paint do you like to use? Tell me everything.” I say placing my head in my hands acting infatuated even if he hasn’t said anything. 

“All my art is based on thoughts of contrast and feeling. Feeling is a recent addition thanks to the school counselor who told me that I should express feeling more. I didn’t express how she liked me too so she gave up. There are mostly abstract but behind hanging pictures and on the baseboards, there are small doodles of cartoon styles from when I was younger and watched a lot of anime. I’ve done like a few realism paintings but I was never happy with them. They’re in the closet because they were for a grade and I got a good one so my mom insists I keep them. They have my signature on them though. So I don’t like them.” He says before I cut in.

“Why don’t you like signing your paintings? That's something I always wondered,” I ask. 

“I use the whole canvas, that's just what I do. So adding a clear signature messed with the color scheme I had. I always add myself to my painting so I never have to sign it but still need to sign it for credit.” He says. 

“Valid point. Sorry, continue,” I say. 

“Acrylics and gouache paint are what I use the most. There's some watercolor paint but not much. I barely use oil paints as they stain and they are a bitch to clean because they don't lift unless you use paint strippers.” He says. 

“Acrylics are like really common right? I thought you’d use something a little more prestige-” I say before getting cut off. 

“Just because I paint doesn’t mean I’m rich. I still go to public school. This isn’t the sims you tornado.” He says making a face at me. 

“But if it were you’d have level 10 painting skill.” I smile at him. 

“Maybe like level 8, I think that's when they get high-quality abstract paintings.” He says. I’m definitely looking that up later to see if he's right. If it is, I’m totally making fun of him. “What do you do for fun?” 

“Me?” I ask. God, I don’t do much but play video games, do schoolwork, and listen to music. “I don’t know, just normal teenage boy shit,”

“Getting girls and playing video games,” He says in a slightly joking tone. 

“Not the girls part. Video games, however,” I say back laughing. 

“Fuck forgot about that,” he says hitting his forehead slightly to try and shove the information back into his head. 

“It’s no big deal,” I say, moving from the foot of the bed to sitting across from him. “I don’t really talk about it because people are assholes. You don’t have to remember it. Unless of course…” I trail off a joke escaping my lips at the end. 

“Unless I’ve fallen for your charm, or you're disasterly good looks, more disaster than looks honestly,” he says in response, obviously joking but still no smile.

“Excuse me!” I say pushing him back. “Don’t act like you don’t think I’m handsome!”

“You're not awful looking,” He paused and seemed like he was studying my face, “Not my type but still not awful. It still needs some work. Again, more disaster than looks,” He jokes. 

“God. What shall I do to reach your standards?” I say with a smile.

“You could start with your notebook.” He says, rolling his eyes. He didn’t smile but I could hear a smile in his voice and I could feel it. I guess you get really good at smiling without visual traces if you don’t smile often. 

“We were talking about looks, not personality, Howell,” I say. He shrugs and just looks at me. “What is so disastrous about my looks that you wouldn’t wanna date me?”

“I already said you’re not my type. Not much we can do about that.” He says he looks me up and down. I get up and spread my arms out so he can get a better sense. “Fix your hair maybe. It’s a bit messy. I know mine is not any better but for a start your hair.” He says and continues studying my features. “You could change your wardrobe too but I don’t know what I'm expecting, you’re a high school student.” And he ends at my feet and looks back up to my face. “You are a nice height for me at least and overall you don’t look bad, just some small details you need to do to reach my standards.” He says and shrugs. 

I start playing with my hair a bit. “Honestly, not a bad review. I thought you’d be more critical but you were nice.” 

“You asked. I know it was probably a joke but here is my full review. I already said I don’t think you’re too bad. Some of the things I just mentioned would be endearing to some unsuspecting victim.” He says. I sit back down and he leans closer as if he’s checking that he's not mistaken. 

“Thanks. You’re not bad yourself. I don’t really have a defined type yet so I could’ve worked if only we weren’t so different. “ I say dramatically looking to the side as if we’re in a production of Romeo and Juliet. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “But seriously, you could make someone go so stupid with how you look. Only if you smiled at people more.” I continue with a smile myself.

“You’ve only seen my smile once. How stupid did it make you?” He asks. I can tell there's supposed to be a smile there. He's very close but it takes him a minute before he pulls away. He clears his throat. “Sorry, sometimes I don’t notice when I get too close.” He seems embarrassed as he looks away.

“No, it's fine, don't worry,” I say, trying to get a look at his face again. I should change the subject, “Also that smile did not make me any more stupid than I already was. Then again…I wouldn’t notice the change.”

“I guess not,” He says and takes a breath. He looks back at me. If he did smile he could make anyone stupid. It would certainly make me stupid if I didn’t know him.

“Boys! I’m home!” Says a female voice coming from downstairs. His mom I’m guessing. 

“Dammit!” He says getting up and cracking the door open, breaking our gaze. “Open door policy.”

His mom comes into his room not a second later, “Thank you for remembering Daniel!” She says with a smile pulling the door a bit more open. She turns her attention towards me, “You must be Phil, nice to meet you. Besides Louise, Daniel never brings his friends from school over.”

“Nice to meet you too! Sorry if I’m putting you guys out!” I apologize quickly. 

“Nonsense! You're always welcome!” She says and turns her attention back towards Dan who’s not sitting on the bed next to me, “Which reminds me, Dad is working late again so make sure you boys don’t eat everything so he can have leftovers.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Dan replies. “Tell Adrien he didn’t buy lunch this past week. He’s been using lunch as a study hall.”

“Then why do I keep giving him money for lunch,” She complains as she moves down the hallway. 

“Your mom seems nice,” I say and smile rocking back and forth on the bed.

He looks back at me and responds, “She is and has excellent timing too!” He says the last bit with a bit of sarcasm. “Coming in just when we were talking about how attractive we both are.” he puts his head in his hands for a second and scoffs then lifts his head again. I'm guessing he was more chuckling at the embarrassing moment than scoffing at the bad timing. 

“Ah,” I respond, “I guess that is somewhat weird timing.”

“Sorry, I do like my mom I promise,” He assures. He looks at me again. “I wanna say one more thing about your looks before we change subjects.” I tilt my head to give him an inquisitive look. “You have a personality and a face that I would love to meet the parents. Seems like parents would like you.”

“Guess we’re a step ahead then!” I smile.

Chapter Text

“Thank you so much for having me over!” Phil says as he's leaving. I stand near the front door while my mom and Adrien stand behind me. 

“No problem! You’re always welcome!” My mom says with the biggest smile. Adrien nods behind her. 

“I’ll probably see you guys tomorrow if we still haven’t come up with anything,” he laughs and cracks a small smirk as he st arts making his way to his car. 

“Bye!!” My mom calls out after him. I follow him to his car to be a good host and talk to him without hovering over my mom. 

“You don’t have to come over tomorrow. We could just work in a library or somewhere,” I say as he leans against his car. 

“No it's fine I’ll come over tomorrow. Maybe then we can actually draft a first page!” He jokes. 

“I’m gonna write one tonight. I don’t know why she put us together on this. I work better alone and you don’t work,” I joke back. 

“Asshole,” He says with a smile and pushes me.

“See you tomorrow!” I say going back inside. 

“Bye, Mr. Perfect!” He yells after. 

I head back inside without a smile. I have to wait to go to my room to let a smile slip because I cannot live down that I smiled at his stupid personality. 

“Are you sure he's not your boyfriend?” Adrien asks. Was he waiting by the door just to make sure?

“I’m sure. You heard him at dinner. A tornado,” I say and flick his forehead. 

“Whatever, he was totally flirting with you all day,” Adrien says and makes his way back to his room. 

He was not flirting with me at all today. At dinner I barely got a word in, my mom was buzzing with questions I don’t know how I could. In my room, we just talked about our project and our interests. I guess we did talk about our looks for a solid moment but it wasn’t with romantic intent or anything, just for fun. 

I sit on my bed and finish drafting the first page. He can read and change it as he pleases when he gets home but right now I just need to work because we barely did anything but write on the planning page. There was a lot of messing around today. Need to stop doing that in the future. 

-----

Phil Lester: You're good at writing!!!

Dan: i have an A in that class you jerk.

Phil Lester: Yeah But the teacher gives us easy assignments I didn't think you’d be that good at painting and writing!

Dan: whatever. change the wording to your liking before class tomorrow.

Phil Lester: I said I liked it I'm gonna change some of the intro but otherwise very good!!

Dan: you’re writing the next part bc i did this one then :)

Phil Lester: fine :/

Writing is easy, especially in a creative writing class so I have no clue why he's so impressed. You just have to hit the key points of the assignment and there are really no negatives in creative arts. That's why I’m so good at it. 

I guess he’d be good at it too. His character definitely shows some color. So I guess channeling the color into creative arts comes quite easily to him. I doubt he chose this class just because he needed an elective or the easy A. He chose it because his personality needs an outlet because you can tell so much about him from one small glimpse into his life. 

You need to dig a little deep to get into my personality. I need an outlet that isn’t other people and I think that's why I’m so good at creative arts. You can tell my entire life story by looking at my paintings. I use that as my personality outlet. We use creative arts in the same way but for different reasons. His personality just bleeds into whatever he touches, my personality just needs to be expressed differently than others. I think that means we’ll be a good team. 

I hate that I smiled in front of him today. I will never live that down. I will be hearing about that until he leaves for university or until we grow apart after this project. That doesn't mean I won’t eventually smile in front of him again. It's just that it only took him 4 days to see my smile. There's only one other person who gained a smile so quickly. However, that other person is Gabe and I hate Gabe. 

I don’t like Gabe. He’s done nothing but make my life a living hell. I’ve told no one about Gabe except Louise because she's the only person who I know would understand and not get awkward about the story. She would also kill to protect me. I love her so much she's like a second mother in her sense of protection. 

Louise is maybe the sweetest kindest soul I’ve ever met and why she decided to be a part of my life I will never know. She can make friends with anyone and that's proven. She knows Phil and PJ and a myriad of people after them. She's astonishing.

I am always thankful for the people who walk into my life. I live by the motto, “Everything happens for a reason”. I don’t show my thanks the way most people do but I try to show it. Louise came into my life for a reason. Phil came into my life for a reason and I have a reason to think PJ came into my life for a reason. I don’t know why yet. Maybe just to make me more sociable. 

It’s overall Phil’s fault. Everything social is Phil’s fault right now. I’m not saying I’m mad or that I’m not enjoying it. I enjoy talking to him. Maybe it's the opposites attract thing but the color he has in his character is refreshing. I can usually expect what I’m getting from people but he's a bit of a wild card and it's kinda fun. I have to see him for the next few weeks as we're working on this project. Let’s hope I get more conversations like the ones today. 

------

“Dan!” I hear as I’m walking with Louise into the school. No one ever really approaches us and if they do it's primarily people calling out Louise’s name and not mine. I turn around to find Phil running towards us. He doesn’t look half bad today. He fixed his hair some and his outfit is more understated and not as bright. Is there some special occasion I forgot about? “God, I’ve yelled your name like four times!” He says slightly out of breath.

“I guess we didn’t hear sorry,” Louise laughs. She looks him up and down and looks at me to clarify his outfit. I shrug back. Seems I’m not the only one confused, that's reassuring. “What's up, did you need something?”

“No, I just saw you guys walking when I was parking, wanted to say hi,” He smiles. He’s waiting for a hi back. 

“Hey,” I respond. “What's with your outfit? You look nice.” I say. He seems satisfied. 

“Took some of your advice. Just wanted to try it out. I don't know,” He said awkwardly. He played with his hair a bit and then returned to smiling. 

My advice? I mean I gave him some tips because he asked but I didn’t expect him to take it to heart. “You look nice!” I reiterate. “Maybe someone will sweep you up.” I joke. Louise turns back into the school and when she's not looking I give Phil a small smile of approval that disappears quickly. He seems a bit too excited. I follow her in leaving Phil at the front of the school. 

“Your advice?” She asks me when we get inside.

“He asked if he was my type and I said he wasn’t. He’s not. I told him what would help. I didn’t expect him to actually try.” I say. Louise gives me a look like I am insinuating something. “I didn’t tell him to!”

“You're so clueless,” She says, linking arms with me. “Listen to what you just said.”

It takes me a minute before I realize, “He's dressing to my type.” Maybe Adrien was right, perhaps he was flirting. “And he doesn’t look half bad.” Louise gives me a knowing smile as if I suddenly developed a crush on him. “We’re not doing that today!” I raise my voice at her. 

“He doesn’t look that bad you say?” She says still with that stupid smile. 

“Fuck off.”

------

“Okay, I promise in my life that we will actually do some work when I come over okay!” Phil says in desperation. 

“Will we? Or are you just gonna play music and then tell me I look hot until my parents get home?” I ask leaning back a little. 

“We’ll at least do some work. I’ll even write the next part of the story!” He said. 

“Of course you will, I'm not letting you get away with me doing all the work,” I said. 

I have not smiled at him since this morning and I know he’s really trying to get me to smile again. He’s been telling jokes and acting extra friendly with me this class period. He thinks it's some kind of reward but honestly, at this point, I’m not smiling just to tease him. I’m okay with smiling around him now. He’s already seen it but acts like he needs to earn it when he already has. It's fun to see him try so hard though. 

“I mean you might as well, you’re the better writer.” He says. “You’re just good at everything,”

“Why because I’m Mr.Perfect?” I say. I love mocking the stupid nickname the world has given me. 

“Well it's a nickname for a reason,” He shrugs and I push him jokingly. “No, but you can paint and you can write and you keep everything in your life so organized and perfect and you’ve been very nice to PJ although I know better than anyone that he's the most annoying person ever.”

When someone is complimenting you it's hard not to smile and I can tell he feels accomplished. I take a second to compose myself and turn back to him with a straight face. “Thank you. I'm sure you could be a good writer too.” He just sits and stares at me with his stupid smile. “Let’s get to work,” I say. 

I feel like tonight is gonna be different. I’m smiling around him more comfortably now and we actually know each other now and he knows 3/4ths of my family. The discussion is gonna be different. Frankly, I’d be disappointed if it wasn’t. I’m talking to him the same way I talk to Louise. I hope he realizes how significant that is. After only knowing him for 3 days I’m talking to him the same way I’m talking to someone I’ve known for almost three years. 

Chapter Text

Dan: might be a little late coming out today i'm in a class of dumbasses.

Phil: Totally fine I get dumbass classmates I’ll be in my car

Dan: yea sorry ill be there asap.

Why did he get so comfortable with me so quickly? I’m sure it's not easy for him due to his cold demeanor. Maybe I just bothered him long enough. I doubt that sways him though. I did kinda unintentionally flirt though. I just wanted to see if I could be his type, not thinking about how he would see it. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, it could totally be seen as flirting. I hope that's not why he's being so nice. I hope it's just because he's finally comfortable with me.

I wouldn’t be opposed to him trying to reciprocate though. I told him I don’t have a defined type so we could totally work if he wasn’t so stubborn. I doubt he’s thinking of doing anything large. He seems more like he’d work up to it. Hell, he doesn’t smile. I had to get close to him for him to smile in my presence. It had to be a lot more than an outfit change for him to flirt with me.

He taps on the window as a sign to unlock the door breaking me out of my trance. I do as I’m told and he jumps in. “Sorry! I tried to get out as quickly as I could,” He said and took a breath leaning back in the passenger seat. He seemed to realize he was in my car as he started to look around confused, “Your car is still clean.”

“Of course it is,” I say, “What? You think I’ve blown through here already?”

“Well a tornado usually blows around enough dust to mess up the places it travels a little,” He says and looks at me, “I’m impressed. Might have to come up with a different nickname for you.” He laughs. A smile. I like seeing him smile more. That smile is so pretty I don’t know why he doesn’t.

“Does that mean I have to change your nickname too, Mr.Perfect?” I asked pulling out of the parking lot. 

“No no, I like Mr.Perfect now, it's grown on me.” He nods. “Plus Louise already has been calling me Mr.Perfect for years. I’m fine with you using it too now.” he smiles at me.

I’ve been watching him in between stoplights and lulls in traffic. We haven't talked as much this car ride but it's a comfortable silence. The radio is the only thing making any sound between us. I like the silence it gives me a chance to observe. He messes with his hair in a way that it ends up exactly the way it was before he even touches it, he plays with his hands mostly cracking his knuckles but without actually hearing the crack, and he's been checking his phone every minute never unlocking it, just expecting to see something. 

We pull up to his house and as soon as I go to unbuckle my seatbelt he places his hand on my shoulder in warning, “Uhm, my dad is apparently driving Adrien home today. I know it's not like a big thing but since you’re not Louise he might seem a little…judgey?” He shrugs. “It’s not you, it's just I don’t- I don’t bring people over often.” He’s tripping over his words.

“Don’t worry parents love me,” I joke. He gives me a ‘Are you serious?’ face. “No it's fine, I can deal with silent judgment. After all, I’ve been sitting next to you for almost a week.” He punches my arm playfully and we go inside. 

As we walk up the stairs to his bedroom he says, “My easel is in the corner, I started a painting a few days ago and never finished it so just ignore how unfinished the painting is.” He says. 

Walking in my eyes immediately gravitate to the colorful mess of paint on the canvas in the corner. He shouldn’t have mentioned it if he didn’t want me to look. It's a mess of blues and purples and greens bordering a circle of yellow but not touching it while black is bordering around the circle. It’s probably some metaphorical art expression that I don’t understand. My focus quickly goes back to his bed where he's already sitting at the head, just like yesterday. I follow suit and plop myself at the foot of the bed noticing his laptop is a little off-center. He had it off-center yesterday so he could look at me while working. 

“Okay so after the first page yesterday, I did some illustrations in my free period and we have a rough idea for the second page right?” He looks at me for confirmation as the second page is my responsibility tonight. 

“Uhm, yeah. You have the rough introductions of the characters. I think we would add just a little backstory so that the two unlikely friends, Dan and Phil, have some kinda history on why they work so well together. Not over complicated though don't worry. I remember this is for kids,” I assured. 

“Good, so we won’t have to do so much today. Maybe just flesh out character designs more. I just made rough sketches of random characters but I don’t know what kind of style you want me to draw them in. Should I make them look like kids drew them or should I make it more fleshed out?” He asks. He's hyper-focused on the work which seems weird to me. Maybe I was goofing off too much yesterday. I want to know what he's thinking. I want to know more about him. I don’t know. I feel like I wanna add history and backstory to both our story and the kid’s book. 

“I trust your judgment, Mr.Perfect.” I joke so he loosens up a bit. 

He looks at me without a smile and then gives me a small one. “This is supposed to be a collaborative effort, Tornado.” He turns back to the computer and his smile dissipates. He seems stressed. 

I turn my body so that I can face him sitting down rather than sprawled out on the foot of the bed. He looks at me confused for a moment. 

Until I ask, “What's bothering you?” 

“Oh just, I don't know.” He says moving his laptop off his lap. “Just I don’t make friends with people as fast as I’ve become friends with you. It's stupid, It's lame I shouldn’t even worry you with this.” He says shaking his head a bit and heading for his laptop again.

I reach out to touch his hand, “It’s not stupid. I’m sorry if it feels like I’m pushing you to open up to me or anything.”

He looks down at my hand and then my face in awe. He looks back down at my hand, turns his to hold mine then looks back at my face, “No! I don’t feel pressured at all!” He says and then smiles, “Actually it's kinda refreshing having someone so interested in me for once.” He pauses for a second, his smile dropping and he lets go of my hand and backs up. “Sorry, too close again.” He shakes his head and grabs his laptop

I move my hand off his and place it back in my lap. He should know I don't have a problem if he gets too close to me. I decided to pretend like nothing happened. “Well, I find you intriguing. Like you said you don’t become friends with people so easily. I wonder why you swayed your opinion of me so swiftly,” I say smugly. 

“Well, if you must know. You were nice to my mom and Adrien.” He says and then sighs and keeps talking, “You also tracked down Louise and were friendly with her and hung out with her that one morning. You take a genuine interest in what I’m saying and not a lot of people care about a person who doesn’t smile at them.”

“Well, I could always tell it was there somewhere,” I say. He looks at me inquisitively, “Maybe you don’t smile but if people pay attention you can hear it. You’ve gotten really good at smiling without smiling if that makes sense.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to do that originally. I mostly stopped smiling because people felt okay to walk over or talk to me and I’d smile and be okay with it. I wasn't, I just hate confrontation. Not smiling makes people feel less welcome to do whatever they want. It's a confrontation without the actual confrontation. I didn’t mean to start smiling without smiling. The people who get a smile know that I appreciate them because I feel vulnerable enough that I trust they won’t treat me like a doormat. ”

“Well, I like your smile,” I say and turn around to lie down but still look at him. My head lands near his shoulders. “It’s pretty and I feel like I’m part of a secret club now.” I laugh.

He smiles back and then looks at his laptop. “Does this mean Character: Dan isn’t a pessimistic bitch anymore?” 

“Nah, he's still a bit of an asshole,” I shrug, obviously joking. 

He pushes me playfully, “Fuck you, Tornado.” He jokes. 

You can hear a car pull into his driveway. I'm guessing his dad is home. Dan quickly gets up and opens his bedroom door before the front door opens. His smile quickly disappears. He looks at me for a moment and says, “I just don’t want him to jump to conclusions,” He says and smiles and winks then goes back to his stone-cold expression. 

“Dan, we’re home!’ I hear Adrien yell from downstairs. Big footsteps follow behind him as the door closes, and I hear Adrien rushing up the stairs. He walks into Dan’s room, throws his bag on the floor beside the bed, and sits in Dan’s desk chair sitting against the wall. “Hey, Phil.”

“Hey Adrien,” I say and smile. Adrien smiles back. Dan looks up and darts his eyes between Adrien and me then back at the computer. 

“Please do not distract him,” Dan notes, still stone-faced. “I’m not trying to be mean but he keeps fucking around and he’s supposed to finish tonight’s page,”

“That's a big responsibility,” Adrien says sarcastically. “You think you’re up for it?” Adrien looks at me jokingly. 

“I’m not sure, hopefully, your brother can help me through,” I respond falling dramatically onto Dan’s shoulder with a hand on my forehead. 

Dan is trying really hard not to smile right now and I can tell because he just pressed his lips together. Adrien looks at him curiously. “Don’t worry I trust you, Lester,” Dan replies with his invisible smile. 

Adrien looks at his brother before sighing slightly. “Dad is putting away his work stuff and then coming up to say hi.” He looks over at me and says “He knows you're here, don't worry I told him you're cool.” 

This kid hasn’t even had more than one conversation with me. I have no idea how he can be so okay and talk to me as if I’ve known him for a year or so. How he and his brother are so different when they first meet people. 

I nod at Adrien and say. “Thanks. I don’t know what I was gonna do if he didn’t think I was cool,” I say, wiping the fake sweat off my forehead and sitting up so I’m not leaning on Dan anymore. 

Adrien smiles and looks between the two of us again and then grabs his bag and heads out of the room. He shoots a look I can’t quite decipher at Dan and then prods the door a bit more open and the big footsteps start heading up the stairs. I move to Dan’s desk chair so it doesn’t seem suspicious if his dad saw me and him so comfortable on Dan’s bed. 

“Daniel,” I hear his dad say before stopping at the door frame. His eyes immediately land on me rather than his son. “This is your classmate?” He asks, still looking at me. I get the silent judgment now. I don’t think the low voice and the five words I’ve heard from him help me feel at ease but I try to conceal the anxiety. 

“Hi, I’m Phil,” I say with a smile. His dad nods back in response. 

“Nice to meet you, Phil.” He says “Sorry that I did not get the chance to meet you yesterday.” 

“It’s fine.” I say, “Your wife said you were at work, not your fault!”

“Exactly,” He says with a small chuckle. Dan doesn’t say a word, but he’s looking at his dad the entire time. 

“Phil’s staying for dinner tonight, is that okay?” He asks his dad. He seems less comfortable with his Dad than he is with his mom.

“That's fine as long as your mother knows,” His dad finally turns to Dan and raises an eyebrow. Dan nods in confirmation. “Wonderful,” His dad says and turns back to me, “Nice to meet you, Phil.” And he heads back downstairs. 

Dan looks at me and smiles, “He likes you.” And he looks down at his laptop and types a few words. 

“Does he?” I ask. “It seemed fairly normal.” I shrug. 

Dan leans forward and touches my hand in assurance, “He likes you. You made him chuckle, and he was totally welcome for you to come to dinner just because you met my mom before him. That never happens. Not even with Louise, but to be fair, that's when he thought I had a crush on her, and she just came over because she was my friend. Not for a class project,” He leans back and smiles like he's proud of me.

“Well, then I’m happy,” I say. I get up and move back to the bed to lie next to Dan to see what he’s written. He scoots over a bit to give me more room and sits up again. “Hey, wait, it’s Friday!” I say and he nods, “We don’t have school tomorrow.”

“So?” He asks. 

“So what am I supposed to do tomorrow? Do I just come over at like 3 p.m. on the weekends to work on the project or are we supposed to just ignore each other on the weekends?” I ask.

“Oh,” Dan says before speaking up, “I mean you don’t have to sacrifice your weekends to come work on the project, we can just write a page and fine-tune it over text if you want. I don’t want you to change your plans for me.” He says. 

“I have no plans,” I laugh, and he gives a small, awkward smile back, “No, I’ll come hang out if you're okay with it.”

He laughs back and sarcastically says, “I could never part with you, darling!” 

“We could make a real day out of it, too! We can go out and get food and like hang out, outside of school obligations!” I say. 

“I mean, yeah, if you want. We don’t have to strictly work on the project if you wanna come over earlier.” He shrugs. 

“Oh, this will be so much fun!” I say and give him a side hug. He lifts his arm to reciprocate and drops it almost as fast. For someone who has no problem with personal space, he sure doesn’t wanna hug me. 

“Okay, I feel like we end up never making any progress when we hang out to write this thing,” Dan says, throwing his arms up a bit. “Can we just draw the silly characters that seem like it’d be more fun, honestly. I’ll draw my version and you’ll draw yours and then I’ll find a way to combine the parts we like.”

“Sounds good,” I say and smile. He sighs, closes his computer, and immediately rushes to his desk to grab supplies. He hands me a lap desk, a pencil, and colored pencils. He places sheets of computer paper on the edge of his desk so it's easy for me to grab them as well. Then he starts setting up his desk. 

His piece of paper is in the middle of his desk, and he’s in the process of folding the paper into four equal sections for each of the characters. He has a second pack of colored pencils on the opposite side of the paper pile. His pencil, sitting in an indent on his desk, seemed specifically made for pencils and pens. And his computer is plugged in inside his desk drawer. It’s all very particular, which I didn’t expect to be any different from him, but I never noticed how he laid everything out before. I didn’t know he’d do it at his own house as well. “Wondering how I set up my home desk, eh Lester?” he says, his chair far back enough to be right next to my face. I didn’t even realize I was leaning in. 

“It’s about the same as your school desk,” I laugh, and I turn to him. We were way closer than we’d been before, but it took us a few seconds to willingly pull away. I clear my throat, and he shakes his head like he is returning from daydreaming. 

“That was too close,” he whispers to himself and pushes his chair back into his desk. He takes a breath and then spins his chair to look at me, “Make the main two characters separately and then one together, then the villains. I think that’d be the easiest way to lay it out, you don't have to fold the paper like me, though.” He says and turns back to his paper. He seemed like he was trying to avoid my eyes the whole time though. I try to ignore it and we both start scribbling on our paper. 

Chapter Text

That was too close. That was not okay with me, that was definitely not okay with him, that was not okay. Why did it take me so long to pull away? I can usually tell I’m getting too close before I do. I should have realized that being right next to his face was inappropriate. I should’ve pulled away before him. 

I shouldn’t be thinking this either. I don’t know if it's because Louise filled my head with the thought he liked me just because he was trying to dress to my type, or if it's because my family likes him. I’m getting confused. I hated this guy not even two days ago! I still have a distaste for his habits, but I can’t help but want to be close to him. This shouldn’t be what's filling my head. I don’t wanna get too attached so quickly. God, I need to paint so bad.

I can’t get up and finish slobbering paint all over a canvas, though I have to draw silly little kids’ book characters. I have to draw him and me. I have to draw them in front of him. I would much rather drop some paint on some fabric with all this feeling and call it abstract, so I don’t have to explain what it really is and tell everyone my deep-seated problems. I just need to finish this evening as soon as possible.

I start scribbling on my paper, half-assed drawings, and I just about finish drawing when my mother gets home. I can hear her heels clicking in the living room where I’m sure my father is, reading or finishing up something small for work. As her heels click through the house, I hear my brother’s bedroom door open, and he makes his way down the stairs. I decide I can’t handle hearing every single small sound this house makes, and throw open my drawer of CDs. I need something platonic, I need something angry, I need something that won’t make me think. 

“I suggest A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out,” Phil says, not even looking up from his paper. He looks hyper-focused, so his smile is missing from his face. Panic! At The Disco is a good suggestion. Over-use of metaphors and lyrics, I already know, so I’m not overly worried about what they’re saying. Doesn’t give me room to think, especially when I'm working on something else at the same time. 

I pull out the CD and place it in the uncomfortably silent room filled with the small, random sounds used in the introduction of the album. Something to distract from the heels clicking downstairs, the house creaking, my brother talking incessantly, and the thoughts running around my head. 

-----

I’m almost done with my drawing while Phil is scrolling on his phone and singing along to the music still playing, when my mom pops her head into the door. “Hey boys, dinner is ready!” She smiles and then says, “Hi Phil, nice to see you again,” Then slinks back downstairs. 

I put my pencil down and immediately went downstairs to join dinner. I'm starving. Phil follows my movements. I should’ve gotten us snacks. He walks a bit faster to join my side and asks, “How are you not done with the characters yet? Aren’t you supposed to be the one who’s good at art?” He teases. 

“Yeah, but I’m also a perfectionist,” I boast back with a smile before hiding it again around my family. 

“Yeah, okay,” He says, mocking me. 

We sit down for dinner, and my mom places the last dish from the kitchen before us. “How’s your guys’ project going?” She says sitting down while everyone starts reaching for different dishes. 

“It’s going well, we’re drawing the characters right now since it's a children’s book, which I’m sure Dan loves,” Phil mocks. I nudged him a bit. 

My mom gives him an inquisitive look, “Daniel never liked drawing people that much. He likes art, but it has always been abstract art since he was 14,” She looks back to her plate and points at my father in an indication for him to chime in. 

He does as told, “It was never people. He’s done self-portraits or portraits of his friends, but they were always some profound art thing. No facial features or anything more color-associated with people. Looks like random streaks of color.” He sounds like he doesn’t like his kid’s art, but I know he does. I know he’s trying to be nice, but he just doesn't express it well. I can tell Phil is confused, but I know he gets it because he doesn’t seem offended for my sake or anything. 

“He means that in a nice way,” Adrien immediately cuts in after to avoid any assumptions. Phil nods and starts eating. 

“Can we talk about something other than me right now?” I say, lowering my head to my food, but I know my mom is rolling her eyes at my statement. 

“Fine, okay,” She says, taking a breath, “Honey, how was work today? Work on anything fun?”

“It was pretty normal. It was the same project as last time, but I actually got to meet some voice actors this time,” He says. 

This piques Phil’s attention. I knew Phil would be all too interested in my dad’s work. My dad works in script editing for movies. Phil seems like a movie guy. “Voice actors?”

“I work in movies. I’m hardly ever able to match the voice to a specific person, so I got to meet the voice actors of a new movie in production. One of those kids' CGI films.” My dad explains. “Can’t give more details for NDA reasons.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t dream of asking about spoilers.” Phil laughs, which makes my dad chuckle. Everyone except the two seems to be interested in watching the interaction. Adrien is looking at them as if one small word will set off an atomic bomb. My mom is looking at my dad intently. She seems surprised that her husband is laughing and joking with a friend of mine so easily. I know I’m just watching the interaction without a smile, but I’m glad they like each other and found a medium to talk to each other about in the first place! The same medium as my father and I have. 

My brother is looking at me every so often, and I know he’s trying to communicate with me without saying anything, but I can’t read his mind. He's lifting his eyebrows and nodding his head towards Phil and my dad, and trying to mouth words, but he just looks like an idiot. I shrug at him, and he sighs and shakes his head.

I try to tune back into the conversation when my dad skews the conversation in a different direction, “So Phil, are you in the same grade as Dan?” 

“Oh, uhm, yes, but I’m graduating a semester early, at least I’m on the road to doing so,” Phil says. I never knew that. Why didn’t I know that?

“You’re graduating a semester early?” I ask.

My dad looks up from his plate for a second but doesn’t say anything. “Yeah, I thought I told you?” Phil says, and I shake my head. “Well, I'm graduating a semester early.” 

“To study what?” My mom asks. She has a warmer demeanor than my father does at this moment. My father is paying attention to the conversation that he started, but doesn’t chime in. I know he’s comparing Phil and me and studying our dynamic. 

“English and Linguistics. That's why I’m taking elective writing classes. That’s how I ended up in creative writing and doing this project,” He smiles. My mom nods and smiles back.

Phil nudges me, and I look at his face, and he has a look that says ‘Sorry for not saying anything’. I nod back and try to smile without smiling like he said I learned how to do, I don’t know how to do that on command, but I think he gets the sentiment.

“English and Linguistics?” Adrien says, “You’re gonna be the cool teacher assistant that everyone falls in love with, too?” He’s mentioning cliche book tropes.

Phil seems to get the jokes and goes along with it, “Yeah, and I’m gonna start wearing brown vests and my glasses more often and be all mysterious.” He jokes back. Why did I not know he wears contacts? I thought I knew him pretty well. I guess not. I'm learning something with every sentence he says. We have a whole dinner to sit through, too. God damn.

-----

I stand next to his car while Phil is leaning on his car. “You have to write the page tonight, remember that,” I say. 

He rolls his eyes and responds, “I’m not gonna forget. Also, I’ll come over at like 11 tomorrow?” He asks and I give a face and he laughs, “One then?” He asks.

“That's better,” I laugh. “You should wear your glasses if you plan on wearing an outfit like this again,” I mention.

“You fall for guys in glasses?” he asks, obviously as a joke, but curiosity is slipping into his tone. 

“Maybe,” I say with a smile. I really don't care about looks too much. My attraction lies in people's personalities. Glasses might help, though. 

“Impaired vision makes you feel more perfect than I might do that just for you,” He flashes a smile and turns to get into his car. His eyes are still on me as he turns around. The smile isn’t like his normal smile. It has hidden intentions. 

“Don’t forget to write,” I say again. He rolls his eyes. 

------

Phil: I finished the page Mr perfect

Dan: good ill fix your mistakes /j.

Phil: Using tone tags is so twitter of you

Dan: 😛

------

I open my computer and look at his work. It’s very Phil. There are some misspellings and some words that I would not choose, but overall, he can write pretty well, too. He’s becoming an English major so I guess it's expected. I don’t know why I don't know his life goals, but again, I never asked. 

I know life goals aren’t important unless you plan to spend a good part of your life with another person (or if you’re a parent). I know what Louise wants to do. She wants to work in merchandising and become a mother. I’ve known her longer than Phil, though, so maybe that's why I know her life goals.

I don't have a lot of friends, so I don’t know what the protocol is anymore. No one had anything figured out in middle school, so why does it suddenly change when you turn 14? Am I supposed to have my life figured out? I just made my second friend after freshman year, not even a week ago. How am I supposed to know what I wanna do? 

I mean I can paint, I know for sure that is something I want to do. However, I know it's hard to get a job in the arts, let alone make it big. So, painting right now is more of a hobby than anything. My mom and Louise can gush about how good I am or how much they love my art style, but if some bigwig or museum doesn't like it, it's not worth the effort. 

An English Language degree is such an interesting major to choose. Graduating a semester early just to get an English Language degree is such an interesting thing to do. I knew he was in elective writing classes, and after reading his work, I know he likes writing and is good at it. What does he even wanna do in the long run with an English Language degree? Adrien made a joke about being a cool teacher’s Assistant, but I think that was a joke. He doesn't seem like he wants to wake up early for school until he's like 60. English Language degree. So interesting. 

Graduating a semester early is crazy in itself. I know a lot of people would graduate early if they could. Nobody wants to be in school longer than they need to be. It’s a lot of work to graduate early, though. You have to take extra credit classes or take classes over the summer to qualify. You don’t get to walk with your other classmates, you just get to get up and leave. Why is he in such a rush to finish school and leave?

Chapter Text

Dan and I planned to hang out at 1. It’s 11 am, and I'm still in bed, trying to find the energy to get out of bed, shower, and get dressed. He was texting me all last night about how I’m good at writing, what time we will hang out, and, strangely, my plans after high school. It seems like a thing parents and teachers would be into. I didn't think he would care.

I reluctantly get out of bed around 11:30 am and look at myself in the mirror on the back wall of my bedroom before grabbing my towel. Dan suggested I wear my glasses today. I don’t know why I’m letting him dictate my fashion choices lately, but I want to impress him. I’m going to wear my glasses, but I’m not going to try as hard on the outfit today. 

As I finish up my shower, I pick some jeans and a random T-shirt from my closet, then start to play with my hair. Even if I don’t try too hard with the clothes, I still wanna look good. I look at myself in the mirror and I realize how much I don’t wear my glasses. It's almost second nature to reach for my contacts at this point. The only reason I wear my glasses now is if I’m just hanging out around the house, going out for a quick errand, or if I run out of contacts. If being visually impaired is what impresses Dan, though, I guess I'm wearing my glasses more often. 

I finish getting ready around 12:30. I decided on an outfit that's a bit more me than yesterday. Still less in your face. Some random white T-shirt with a graphic and some black jeans. Dan seems to like a more put-together look, but I’m wearing glasses for him today; that's all he’ll get. I have to start driving if I wanna get there on time. I leave my room and immediately get stopped by my mom. “Hey, hon, going somewhere?” She asks laundry basket in hand. 

“Yeah, Dan wanted to work on the project, so I’m going over to work with him,” I note. 

“Oh, you're working on the weekends too? Must be a big project!” She smiles and starts walking away.

I quickly say, “Yeah, but also we’re just gonna hang out.” I try to say it casually enough to make it seem like it's not a big deal. 

“Okay, have fun then.” Looking back at me, she says, “Also, I’m glad you’re wearing your glasses more.”

“Thanks, bye,” I say and run out. 

-------

“Fuck, you're early,” Dan says. He’s wearing an apron covered in color. I assume he was painting. 

“Not by much, only by like ten minutes. I figured you’d be ready for me.” I said back to him. 

He unties his apron and takes it off. He’s wearing a black T-shirt with a little ghost graphic on his chest’s left side. He’s wearing ripped black jeans, which I find surprising because of how perfect and put-together he looks most days. “You’re wearing your glasses.” He says, looking at me. 

“You told me to,” I say back with a laugh. He still hasn’t smiled at me yet today. 

“Yeah, but I didn't think you would actually listen to me,” He shrugged. “Let’s go to my room. Don’t touch the canvas in the corner, it's wet. I thought someone was gonna show up a little later.” 

We walk up to his room, and my attention turns to what he is painting while he hangs up the colorful apron beside it. It's a bunch of random shapes in random bright colors. Just geometric shapes, obviously for fun and not an assignment. 

He sighs and sits down on his bed, and I join him at the foot of his bed. “You know you can come sit next to me. You don’t always have to look at me. Unless you wanna look at me. I know I’m attractive.” He jokes, but with no visual smile. I can still hear it in his voice. At least it's something. 

I smile back, “I don’t know. I like looking at someone when talking to someone.” I responded. “And yeah, I like looking at things that are pretty.”

He gives me a ‘shut up’ kinda face. “Are you sure those glasses are up to date?” He asks.

“You scold me for accidentally making fun of myself, and then you self-deprecate? No double standards, Howell,” I say. That makes him freeze for a second. I guess he didn’t expect me to scold him. 

He tries to quickly recover with, “My self-deprecating humor is all I have going for me!” I roll my 

eyes. “On a different note, since you like to look at pretty things. I decided while you were doing the actual writing part last night, I added together different elements from our designs last night, and,” he pauses and hands me a paper with two guys on it. “The Adventures of Dan and Phil.”

One of the guys is holding a paintbrush, and the other is holding a pen. They’re both wearing overalls, but their hair matches the fringes the two of us share. The paintbrush-holding man, I can only assume to be Dan. He has an expression similar to what Dan has now. No smile, but not mad or sad. A serious expression as if he's trying to solve a puzzle. The Phil counterpart is smiling with a smug look as if he's taking on a challenge. Three soot-sprite-looking characters float around us with mad expressions. The villains, I assume. 

“This is really good!” I say. I look at the paper again, “Are we really gonna stick with this title though?”

“We haven’t come up with anything better,” he notes. “I just went with what we have. I tried to go a little kid-ish, I guess. They kinda look like Mario and Luigi if they lost their mustaches now that I’m looking at it.”

“No, but I think it works. I think they need different names if we’re going with these guys, though.” I return the paper to Dan, who studies them for a second. He starts typing on his computer. “Tell me you’re not looking up ‘most common boy names’ right now.” He starts to delete his typed words. 

“You give me an idea then!” Dan says. My thoughts go blank. I can’t think of a single other name except Susan at this very moment. Dan shrugs his shoulders in an ‘I told you so” way. 

“You put me on the spot, I can't think that fast!” I defend. He scrolls on his computer looking for boy names. “Are we gonna go back and forth on pages every day? Should we at least write the end together or something?”

“I mean, we never HAD to write one page per person every day, we just never get shit done because we don't stop yapping,” He jokes. His smile is back, but only lasts a second. 

“I mean we kinda collaborate, I mean we fix each other’s mistakes and inconsistencies,” I start, “But maybe we can, I don’t know, write the ending or climax or whatever together?”

“If you want to,” Dan shrugs. He looks over his computer for a second before starting up again, “For fucks sake, of course, Daniel is one of the most common boy names.” I get up to sit next to him to see his computer. The Google search related to ‘boy names’, Daniel, is fourth on the list. “My parents are so creative.”

“All these names are so like Rugby dude coded.” I pipe up while looking. “James, Oliver, Noah. Sounds like they would’ve bullied me in elementary school.” 

“There was definitely a James who called me a fag who played rugby with his friends during lunch,” Dan says. He doesn't say it with any malice in his voice. He seemed a bit too casual to casually note that he used to be called slurs. 

“We’re gonna have to end up naming them something like Keith,” I say. I look over at his face for a second, not realizing that my head is basically on his shoulder. He looks at me, inching his face back a bit so that we don’t accidentally kiss. He smiles. The only smile that he’s given me today that's lasted longer than 3 seconds. I turn back to the computer but don't move my head. I lean into it and lie down on his shoulder, closing the 2 millimeters of space between us. 

I’m so insanely lucky that Dan does not give a fuck about personal space because he leans his head on mine momentarily to show his affection and then continues yapping about names and which ones he likes and dislikes. I'm not really paying attention to the words, though. I'm more concerned with the boy they’re coming from. I think he notices because he’s glancing down at me now and again and not paying as much attention to his computer when he talks while I sit silently looking up at him, occasionally catching each other’s glances. It's nice. I’m gonna enjoy it while I can.

“Anyway, I’ll just pin a couple of names near the bottom of the document, we’ll revisit it later,” He says, typing the rugby-coded names. He leans his head back again to look at me and shakes his shoulder a bit, “You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” He's smiling again. I take my head off his shoulder and shrug. He readjusts to sit up more and starts again, “You look good with your glasses, y’know.”

“You like the academic type?” I ask him, pushing my glasses up my nose more.

“If I didn’t know you weren’t the academic type, maybe I’d find you charming,” He says, trying to get on my nerves. “Why don’t you wear your glasses?”

“I don’t know. I just like people seeing my eyes more, I guess. I was blessed with blue eyes and cursed with bad vision,” I say. 

“Tragic, really.” He retorts. He looks at my face for a good second before saying, “I can still see your eyes through your glasses, so I think you’re safe.” His eyes travel my face for a bit longer before he leans back and turns back to his laptop. “I’m bored,” He sighs and closes his laptop. “How good are you at Mario Kart?” He asks. I take that as a challenge. 

Chapter Text

I never have chances to do stupid high school shit like this. Playing video games, throwing trash talk, and butthurt comments between one another. It’s weirdly refreshing. Louise comes over on weekdays now and then, but she has never come over on the weekend. Even if she did, we wouldn’t play video games like this. We’d talk shit while she let me paint, and she’d complain about boys or some girl in her chemistry class that's being bitchy in the way girls bitch. We’d have much more room between us. Sitting on opposite sides of the big family couch, rather than casually brushing shoulders and accidentally slamming into each other when getting into the game. Not having casual banter and tackling the other when one gets too smug. Not as tight-knit. 

I don’t have a problem with personal space, so normally, this wouldn’t faze me. I get into people's space and have no regard for whether they invade mine. As long as they’re respectful, why should I care? I like seeing people up close. I like looking into their eyes. I like seeing what they’re seeing exactly. I’ve been cheek-to-cheek with practical strangers, like PJ. I’ve been centimeters from Phil’s face a bit more often than I should. The way Louise and I link arms or hold hands could be misconstrued as us dating. I love being close to people. It keeps me grounded. 

Phil leaning his head on my shoulder was new. I didn't mind it. There was basically no space between us at that point anyway. I know he knows I tend to be a bit close to people. Most people don’t initiate it without me letting them know I’m okay, though. He was staring at me the whole time, and he was on my shoulder as well. Granted, I was talking, but it wasn’t anything interesting. I only shook him off because I didn’t want him to get too comfortable, fall asleep, and then have me caught in that proximity by Adrien or my mother when they got home. God forbid, I might’ve fallen asleep as well, and it would be even more embarrassing for me. 

My mom and Adrien were nice enough to leave the house when I told them Phil was going to be over. Adrien opted to go to a friend’s house, and my mother left to shop. My dad is at work every day except for Mondays or when he has a day off because half of his scriptwriters decide to play hooky. December and January are usually the months he gets the most days off because no one wants to work directly after spending weeks off with their families. However, he works until 5 today. 

I’ve never had someone get along with my family so quickly. My mom loves everyone regardless. She just wants me to have friends, and she's glad I have a new one. Adrien is usually cool with my friends. Louise basically treats him like he's her child. After the first day of Phil coming over, he's just decided that Phil is cool and can talk to him without me having to mediate between the two of them. He didn’t even do that with Louise. Then again, when Louise started driving me home, he immediately assumed I had a girlfriend, which I can understand would be confusing when your brother came out to you years prior. My dad is scary on first impressions. He's about as tall as I am, which is tall. He's also fairly built, so a tall, buff man who doesn’t say much is a very scary sight. I’m glad they found a medium, though. I could tell my dad liked Phil from him engaging in conversation without any falter from the big man before him. I know my dad wants me to make friends in the same way my mom does. They just want the best for me, which I understand. I’m glad they think Phil can contribute to that.

“Okay, maybe the problem is that I’m not focusing enough,” Phil says, admitting his 4th defeat. 

“You just have to get good at the game,” I respond, “Don’t get mad at me because you suck.”

“It’s your fault. Mr.Perfect has to be perfect at everything once again!” He says, leaning back and raising his Wii remote like a champagne float. 

“You said it!” I say, holding my hands up in defense. He looks over at me and lets out a small laugh. I smile back. I feel bad not smiling as much when he showed up earlier today. I don't spend too much time on weekends with friends. I know he doesn’t mind the lack of energy; it is supposed to be a day off, but I can’t help but feel like I have to try harder to make sure he's okay. 

I can’t sit here and keep playing Mario Kart anymore. The stupid flirting and proximity are not ideal. I’m trying not to get too attached. I don’t need any complications with this relationship. We’re friends. That's it. Doesn’t matter that everything I learn about him just makes him more interesting. Doesn’t matter that every single time I get too close, he doesn’t pull away. We’re friends. I need to add distance. Can’t get too attached. 

I decided the best way to add that distance was by separating us by a bag of chips. “You want a drink or anything?” I ask as I get up to grab the chips. “I’m afraid I’ve been a bad host.”

“Oh, it's fine,” he laughs. “I’ll get some water, it's fine.” He gets up and follows me to the kitchen. I point out our glasses cabinet and navigates himself around the kitchen as if he’s been here a million times. He does eat dinner with us in here almost every night this week, but it's almost as if he lives here. Maybe we’ve both gotten too comfortable these past few days. 

I grab some chips and scan the pantry for anything else. He seems like a sweets guy, so I grab a small package of cookies. That should do until my mom starts making dinner in two hours. I quickly place the snacks in the middle portion of the couch for when we return, and I turn back to see Phil going through the fridge. “Do you want anything?” He asks, looking at me. 

“I’m fine,” I say and smile. He closes the fridge and shrugs, grabs his water, and follows me out to the living room. He's moving so seamlessly around the house, not in an unnatural way but as if he's lived here all his life. I still open up the wrong cabinets every now and again, and I’ve lived here since Adrien was born.

He sits down and immediately reaches into the package of cookies to grab one. “So, I was wondering,” he says, “what if I just stayed over?”

“What?” I say a bit too shocked. I’ve never had anyone sleep over. I mean ANYONE sleep over. 

“Well, you’re just gonna ask me to come over tomorrow, right?” He says. “I promise we’ll write a page together tonight.”

“I don’t know,” I say. He looks at me quizzically. “I can ask my parents. I’ve never had anyone overnight, though.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot you’ve really only had Louise over…” He pauses for a second. “You don’t have to if it's gonna be uncomfortable, I just thought it might be fun.”

“No. It's not uncomfortable. I like hanging out with you, actually. I never get to do stupid high school things like beat your ass in Mario Kart on weekends.” I say, and he smiles. I smile back, “I can ask my mom when she gets home. She's probably the one who’s gonna mind it the most.”

“Cool!” He says. He seems genuinely excited to spend more time with me. I know he likes coming over here. I don’t know if it's the quiet kid infatuation or if he just likes working in a more comfortable environment, but he never suggests working anywhere else and always says no when I suggest otherwise. I’d never thought he’d want to stay over, though. 

------

Somewhere between the snacks and chatting, we started watching some anime that we both had already finished, just to use as background noise to our talking. We don’t notice that it's been almost three hours since we came downstairs until I hear the garage open and realize my mom and Adrien are home. 

Phil hasn’t moved from the closest space next to me since we sat down. Still brushing shoulders and bumping knees at the smallest of movements. If we were any closer, we’d basically be sitting on each other’s laps. Adrien walks in to see us in such close proximity, just chatting. He steps back in surprise for a moment but continues walking forward, sitting next to me on the couch, and saying, “Hey Phil,” completely ignoring me.

“Hey, how was your friend’s house?” Phil asks with a smile. He turns slightly when my mother walks in with two bags from a clothes shop. “Hi, Ms.Howell!” He says with a wave. 

“Hi, Phil honey!” She says, returning his smile, and walks to her room to put the bags down. 

“It was cool, we played Mario Party and he got this new game he wanted to show me,” Adrien said, shrugging. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” He turns his attention to me for a second. “Mom said Dad is working late again, so she's making like a big casserole thing she found on the cooking channel.”

“Phil, you're welcome to join us again!” My mom says emerging from her room. 

He is quite literally the perfect boyfriend for anyone who would look past his messiness. Parents love him, siblings love him, and he's not bad-looking. Whoever falls in love with him will be pretty blessed. All the things that you’d be scared about in a partner are perfected. I’m not one to say that he’s completely perfect in all aspects of his personality. Again, he is a tornado, but he's perfected every social aspect. 

“I most likely will,” He smiles, and my mother returns it before heading to the kitchen. 

“You guys ate all the chips,” Adrien says, picking up the bag now sitting on the coffee table. He rolls his eyes, annoyed, before also heading to the kitchen to throw the bag away.

Everything seems so natural. It feels like it shouldn’t. He gets along with everyone so easily, and no one finds it strange that we became such fast friends, which, with my track record, would be weird. It's a blessing that out of everyone, he is the one I got paired with. A week ago, I recoiled at the idea, but he's mindful about my particularness and gets along with the people I surround myself with. I hate to sound like a broken record, but he would be a perfect boyfriend.

------

After dinner, Phil and I are on the bed chatting. “You should ask your mom right now, it’s almost the usual time I go home,” Phil says, lying face up at the ceiling sideways across the bed. 

“I probably should. You stay here.” I say, lifting myself from the spot next to him. “I’ll let you know what she says. If you don’t wanna drive home to grab clothes, I have some you can borrow. We have a spare toothbrush somewhere, probably too.” 

I head downstairs to my mom in the kitchen, washing dishes. I stroll up behind her and she immediately greets me with a smile and a, “Hey! What's up?”

I take a deep breath and say it all in one breath, “Hey Mom, can Phil sleep over?” I ask casually. I’ve never asked that question before, so I’m hoping that if I don’t make a big deal out of it, she won’t.

Of course, she doesn’t follow suit. She stops washing the dishes and turns towards me, leaning on the counter with her hand on her hip, “Can he sleep over? You’ve never even asked if Louise can sleep over, and you want him to sleep over?”

“Yeah, don’t make it weird.”

“Okay, I mean it’s fine, but one of you is sleeping on the rollaway we have stored in the hall closet,” She says, turning back to her dishes.

“Mom, I have a queen. Can’t we just sleep in my bed?”

“Honey, I don’t know how you feel about this-,“ She says, turning back to me and grabbing my arms

“Moommmmmmm!” I groan, turning away. “It’s not like that,”

“I’m just saying, after that last boy you had over, I don’t want to see you like that again,” She says. That shuts me up damn quick. I never like to think about Gabe. “One of you is sleeping in the rollaway. I don’t wanna see you too attached too quickly.” She holds both my hands and hugs me at the end.

“Okay, I get it,” I say and nod. “I’ll grab the rollaway.” She smiles and turns back to her dishes, and I walk out.

Phil decided not to listen to my instruction to stay in my room, and he's waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me. “So what did she say?” He asks.

“Yeah, but you’re sleeping on the rollaway. I don’t want you messing up my bed,” I say, walking past him up to the hall closet. 

“Whatever, Mr.Perfect,”

------

“Why do I have to sleep on the rollaway? You have a big enough bed for both of us,” he says as we lug the folded-up bed out of the closet.

“I said I don’t want you messing up my bed,” I lie to him. He looks at me from the other side of the bed with a look of ‘really,’ one I get from Louise all too often. I sigh and say, “Mom said. I don’t know why, but I must do as she wishes!” I say, and we finally unfold the bed in my room.

“Okay, I guess, but I don’t understand why she can’t just deal with us sleeping in your queen.” He shrugs and starts helping me put the bed sheets on his bed.

I shake my head and say, “It’s a long story. Something I don’t really wanna talk about.”

He just smiles at me and nods, “Okay, that’s fine.” I’ve never had that kind of reaction before with anyone but Louise. Just genuine kindness and understanding from someone without pressing me to open up or tell them what’s wrong. 

I smile back at him as thanks, but I don’t think he understands how much of an impact one sentence like that can make on my life. He’s been so nice and kind to me, it's honestly the worst thing he can do after I've been thinking of him as a boyfriend all day. 

“What if I just move this bed next to yours and then we have a King plus! It’s the biggest bed in the world!’ He jokes, and we lay some blankets on it. I give him a look. “What? It could fit me, you, Louise, PJ, and like maybe 2 other people. Enough room where we won’t be sleeping like super close to each other if that’s what she’s really worried about.”

“I don’t know what she’s worried about, being totally honest,” I say. I know what she’s worried about. “We can if you want, but maybe we should wait in case she really doesn’t want us to share a bed. We can move it closer later tonight, ‘kay?” I ask. I don’t know if I want to share a bed if I’m being honest. I don’t think we should. I don’t want to, in case I really do like him. I don’t know if I like him. It’s all so complicated. I wasn’t supposed to like him. 

“Looks comfy,” Phil says, sitting down on the bed. He throws his legs over to the other side to face my bed. “Yours still feels comfier,” He shrugs, getting up and throwing himself onto my bed instead. 

“I’m not sleeping on the rollaway, we have this bed for guests, and I live here, you’re not getting away with making me sleep on the fold-up bed,” I say, crossing my arms behind him. He turns his head to face me and then gives me a mischievous smile. He trips me, so I land on my bed next to him, and he laughs while my face hits my comforter. “Fucking tornado!” 

He laughs a bit more and then turns his head to face me. As his laugh fades away, I notice how close we’ve gotten. We’ve only been this close once before. My fault, of course, but I’ve always pulled away first. Why don’t I wanna pull away? 

“Sorry, I should,” he says, propping himself up with his hands. Next thing I know, my face is on his. My hands are on both sides of his face, and he’s kissing back. It’s familiar and feels right, but I know this is shitty of me, I know I should stop. 

I push his face off mine, and he looks surprised and confused. I mean, who wouldn’t be in this situation? “Oh my god,” I say, covering my mouth. Seems like the only safe way not to start the kiss again. “Oh my god, I am so sorry!” I say. I can’t look at him, and frankly, I don’t want to right now. He’s probably horrified, and I can’t blame him if he leaves right now. 

“No, no, it’s okay!” He says, sitting up, trying to comfort me. It’s not. It’s not okay; he should leave and never talk to me again. 

“No, it’s not! I just acted without thinking and-,” I turn to face him, and he looks so reassuring. Why did it have to be him!? “I’m so sorry!” 

“Don’t apologize! I just didn’t expect it is all!” He’s being so nice to me. Why?

“Please don’t hate me!” He looks surprised at that. “I promise this will never happen again! I just-“ 

“Hey! I will never hate you!” He says, grabbing my shoulder. He pauses momentarily and says, “I liked the kiss.”

“You liked the kiss?” I ask. Again, I must ask, why?

“Yes,” He says simply. We look at each other for a moment. 

He must be joking. He can’t possibly be okay with me kissing him out of the blue. He likes to joke, but this is too far. “You’re being serious?” I ask to test the waters. He’s still wearing that stupid smile. 

“Yes,” he says with a small laugh. 

I get off the bed and sit across from him. “God, this sucks!” I say, massaging my temples.

He lets out a small chuckle, “Am I really that bad?” The response is expected. I keep repeating that I’m sorry, and how confusing it is, this isn’t exactly the response you want after you have a first kiss with somebody new.

I get up and start pacing. God, I want to paint so bad right now! “You’re actually amazing, that’s the problem!” I look at him, and he’s just staring at me. “God, why did it have to be you?”

“Thanks, I think?” He responds. “You know if you want me to leave to figure this all out, I can-,”

“No, please stay!” I say before thinking. I look at him. I wanna kiss him again. I want to know if this is okay. I want to know if this is supposed to feel right every time. “Can I kiss you again?”

He grabs my face and pulls me into him this time. I grab his waist so I don’t falter and can actually feel it. It’s familiar and nice, and he’s kissing back. He likes kissing me. It feels like this happens all the time, and it feels like it should happen all the time. I grab his face and pull away for a second, our foreheads rest upon each other's. “Why does that feel so natural?” I whisper. He moves his hands down to the side of the bed, and I move my hand down to his shoulder, and I get a look at his face. He’s smiling. I lick my lips for a moment before getting a hint of a taste. “Do you use flavored Chapstick? It tastes sweet?” I say, licking my lips, trying to distinguish the taste.

“Dr.Pepper,” He says, simply laughing a bit. You can’t be serious. This is the guy I like? “I use soda Chapstick. Smells and tastes better.”

“Why do I like you?” I say. His smile drops slightly, and I have to defend, “I mean that will no ill intent! It’s just not even a week ago I was complaining about your torn notebook, how messy you are, and how un-charming you are! No game whatsoever.” 

His smile returns, but it seems slightly joking. “Maybe it’s because it feels familiar somehow? I don’t know, it felt like it was supposed to happen, for me anyway.”

I laugh a bit. The first time I smile after the kiss, “Damn, didn’t know I was that good!” I joke. I smile at him, and he looks so dopey. “It did feel familiar, though, right? Which is weird because all the kisses before were never like that. None were ever romantic or as nice as that.” 

“Before?” Oh fuck. I have to mention Gabe now, don’t I? Fuck.

“My first kiss was with Louise. It wasn’t supposed to be romantic; it was just so we both got our first kiss with someone we liked.” I take a breath before realizing I have to trauma dump a bit, “My second with this guy who sucks now. I can’t say who because he asked me not to. I was like a little experiment for him. Not romantic, not nice.” His face turns slightly somber, and I smile back at him. “You were nice. You were gentle. I like kissing you; it makes me feel better.”