#i remembered today how useful tags are especially for silencing reasons so i'll start tagging mine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ratstuckinamarble · 1 year ago

Note

<3 <3 <3

right, third time's the charm- You are someone I am very glad to have 'met' in whatever way the internet lets us.

Not because you're the first person I've ever exchanged drawings with like they were notes passed along on a rainy day, making silly little stories out of woodpeckers and lego toadstoods and trick or treat wishes- Not because I have those drawings printed out, woodpecker and otter hanging on my wall, the halloween ones added to my old lebkuchen box of decorations to be tacked up next year with all the rest- Not because the memory of looking at your art had me picking up pen and paper with a lightness that hasn't been there since I was a kid-

I just love seeing you around on here.

Blocks of tags with rambles- little stories and asides to soak up like a sponge or a plant, reminding me of this or that thought I've had myself- your passion for things, the breath of relief I let out reading something you wrote that says something I can't trust myself with.

The rhythm of your thoughts makes mine very happy, is what I mean. And that you share them- tossing small paper planes of your life out into the world- honest silliness, maybe? It takes bravery and kindness to do it, I think. Even when something upsets you or makes you sad, I'm grateful to see it- these things you care about enough to be hurt by, and to talk about.

From you, I won't argue about how good of a person I am. I'm smiling at the thought that you would think that of me, and I'll makes myself send this little ask to try to tell you back-

thank you for being you.

If tumblr crashes tomorrow and I never hear about you again, I'll always be grateful it lasted this long. I'll remember the rat stuck in a marble, with a skull for it's emblem, hoping you got to do some pottery, snuggled your cat, and had a little hot chocolate, as a treat~

I- I'm at a loss for words...

And crying. Oh words collect yourself into a proper order-

People have said kind things about me before, and it's always brought me joy- but nothing like this. You've cut right into my soul, found things I didn't even know would get to me like this if I heard them.

I want to comment more but re-reading what you said is almost painful, because I was not prepared to take in such words today, or ever. It hurts in the same way as thinking about the beauty in life for too long. I don't know if you understand what I mean- but strong joy, getting overwhelmed with feelings that are good

It's like my little body can't handle it, experiencing things it was not made for. This feeling is bleeding out of me, and I can't even name it. It's not joy. It's... Something better. The knowledge that someone I care for deeply could be made happier thanks to me, my words, my ramblings, my silliness, my art, even the serious and vulnerable moments. Everything. It's like you saw my entire self and said yeah... there's nothing I'd leave out. Oh gosh I'm crying again.

I didn't know you did actually print those drawings out. I've been wondering. I'm so very glad. Bringing you some joy with them is all I wanted. And that someone could appreciate my art this much- especially you. It's like something out of a dream. I didn't know life had such luck in store for me. That I could make art come more easily to someone else again. And you know I love your art. Every time you post something I scramble to get that across, after all. Clunky and anything but concise.

Often I fear that I may be doing too much, coming on too strong, saying so much where others would keep it short. But I've had my years of silence born of paranoia, and I got sick of it. So sick. The reason I started blogging is exactly that, a form of self imposed exposure therapy, I suppose. Every time I'd be afraid to share something, I reminded myself- that's exactly why you should do it. Even if your heart is beating so fast it makes you lightheaded. Which happens rarely now, because this worked, somehow.

And I find myself thinking of a different string of time- where I didn't. Where I let the fear win. Where I never met you and some other lovely people, where all these exchanges we've had, the art and the words and photos of little rocks and tote bags and comics of them running away- never happened. These things that fuel me even when things seem dim. You light something up in me that was previously difficult to cling to- an occasional burst of this spark. Now it is like a little star that has snuggled its way deeply into my heart, refusing to leave.

The rhythm of your thoughts make mine very happy too. I never feel like I have to adjust my thinking with you, because I know you'll understand. Your mind is just as wonderfully strange. I know no one else who creates hand snails and runaway totebags and the most perfect crest imaginable. Making art for you is so fun, because I feel like whatever I choose to depict, you'll get it.

What I want most in life is to be a good person. To bring people joy. Knowing I succeeded is more than I could ever hope for. Am I making sense? Why are you so easy to let into my heart? Why does letting you influence my creations, my way of thinking, my way of loving the world feel so right?

You bring out the best in me.

And that you think sharing what I do takes bravery- well I suppose you're right. I never thought anyone would realise. Would understand. But that it takes kindness? I never thought of it that way. I didn't think anyone would look at what I say and think, "how kind of you, that you chose to share this". I never thought that would be possible. I've had people tell me how happy my tags made them, a few times. That's what fueled me. I thought, if some have said it, then more must have thought it. And I want to keep spreading that joy. What I'm trying to say is you've reassured me in things I didn't dare hope for.

And that even my occasional admission of pain could be seen as good. That you would see me as good.

You're the reason you know. The reason I talk so much on here. I didn't use to do that. I think about the moment that made me follow you, I remember it clearly. I think about all that led to knowing you at all.

Thank you for sharing. I will come back to this, whenever I need a reminder that, well. That I did something right.

I'm glad you won't argue what I said. You couldn't change my mind anyways, on you being a good person. I am so very grateful to have you in my life. I find it hard to tell what people think of me. Thank you for the reassurance, your own bravery, and your beautiful words. They're like poetry.

If Tumblr crashed tomorrow, and I never heard of you again, I would be heartbroken. Truly and fully. But I would be grateful, as I already am. For the time you were a part of my life.

But this shall not happen. We haven't reblogged those snails yet, as we promised, and even after that. I don't want to imagine.

I'll do pottery some day. I'm snuggling my cat as I type, and I'll make myself a hot chocolate, in my dancing skeleton mug. And every day, I'll keep being reminded of you, and how you're everywhere now. In every little thing I've shared, that you got excited about. You're a part of that clay hand now, my spooky dishware, my lego frog, my tote bags, my rocks, my memories. I take a moment to take in nature and I'm reminded of your description of the light falling through your window, the spot you left just to appreciate it. I see a sword, a snail, a drawing of a werewolf, and you're always there.

When you let people take up your time, you let them take permanent residence in your heart. And with you, I wouldn't have it any other way. Thank you for being here, for being you, and for bringing a peace to my soul I didn't know it needed.

Thank you.

#this is so very long #and yet there is more I could say #once again I am anything but concise #but it's all I can be #I can't risk not getting my point across #do you understand #what you've done to my heart #and that I wouldn't trade it for anything #I love who I am with you #and you mean so much to me #being vulnerable is horrifying #but I think I can risk it #rätposting #ask by:#a-dauntless-daffodil #a url I hope to see for a long time to come

5 notes · View notes

laytonsartblog · 5 years ago

Text

Okay so I'm dumb here's a one shot

I know I said everything that's a story would be posted on AO3, but, I have dumbass energy and was inspired by the reblog I made earlier and it is 2 am on a school night so WOOO incoherency is at an ALL TIME HIGH

@infinimay whoop tagged u for what I'll call the Bus Duty AU

Perhaps I'll make this a series?? Something light, fluffy, nothing too heavy on the angst (okay I lied)

The Wheels on the Bus (Spin the Tales of Love)

Chapter 1., Like Patton

Virgil and Damian woke up to get to school at precisely 7:30 am, and to be ready by 8:10 for when their bus arrived, every school day.

Their mother, which is now Virgil's stepmother, always said that a tight schedule and tighter patience is what wins people over. That must be how she got Virgil's idiot dad, who took nearly three years of coy smiles and teasing touches to even start dating. They had married this year, and while Virgil is certainly happy about it, he didn't realize that it came with having to deal with a new stepbrother.

That's why, instead of 7:30 and 8:10, Virgil rises at 7:15 and is waiting by 8:00. Their mother never notices, never needing to wake up this early for work, and their dad works night shift. They were by themselves, but they handled it for nine year olds. Virgil especially figured out how to handle it as soon as he figured out that despite all this change, he was still by himself.

"Vi! Vi!" Damian, or DeeDee as he liked to be called, shouted as he approached Virgil at the bottom of the street. "Why do you never wait for me?"

Virgil shrugged. "I don't know, you give me a weird feeling, like cooties, but nice? Like wriggling worms in my head. It's sticky."

There was silence between them as they waited for their bus.

"You give me wiggly feelings too. Truce?" Damian suddenly said after what seemed to be forever to their adorable little minds, and he outstretched a hand.

Virgil took it. "Pleasure doing business, Worm boy."

Damian pouted and pulled his hand back, but didn't need to wait much longer in cute anger as the bus pulled up to their street. Seemingly forgetting the nickname, he pulled Virgil along onto the bus.

"Hey, kiddos!" their favorite, and only bus driver greeted as they sat in the front row.

Virgil never liked the bus, despite how early he was this year. It was loud and cranky and he had to sit next to DeeDee and there were always the mean kids who flicked his head as if a ping-pong ball on the way to their seats. The one thing that made it bearable was the fact he got to sit close to Patton.

Patton had allowed them to use his first name from the get go, inspiring names like "Patting!" from the kindergarteners or "Shatting" from the mean sixth graders. Virgil never tainted the name for he saw no reason to change what was already his favorite part of the morning.

Patton gave them treats on their birthday, never forgetting a single one. Patton hugged them when they were sad and showed them that crying was okay. Patton never yelled or screamed when things got too loud; he knew better than to plague these children with learned behavior, scorn, and hatred. Instead he'd play games that involved the whole bus to busy everyone, or at the very least play music and encourage them to sing along or guess the song.

Patton made things better. But Virgil knew he was sad.

Today, even with Damian's unwavering questions at everything he saw and with the fake stories he kept saying to the kid in the seat next to them, even he could tell that their bus driver was tired.

The two observant fourth graders watched as their second father didn't smile as brightly as he usually did whenever he greeted the kids getting on. He sagged; sluggish and baggy. Virgil noticed he looked a lot like his cousin Remy before a test under his eyes.

However, despite how observant, Virgil never knew how to comfort the gentle man. It's why he and Damian are in the front row. The doctors said he has a "speech impediment" where he couldn't put the words in his head to the outside world quite right. They said his brain was wrong. He knew Damian had a streak of lying and throwing tantrums. It's why he didn't like his new brother; he only served to make him look stupider.

Still, that didn't stop Virgil from putting a hand to Patton's shoulder, at least not entirely. He didn't expect for him to gasp and jump, but Virgil didn't exactly know what to expect anyway. He just pulled his hand back and looked down at his ripped pants in shame the rest of the bus ride.

They got there slower than Virgil had thought, but no, they were on time. Perhaps his brain was being weird again? He couldn't tell, but either way he walked begrudgingly by Damian into the school.

They passed by their school's office on the way into the gym, which is where you wait until school started. Virgil, again, ever the observant one, saw his school secretary in the window.

He was what was best described as professionally squabbled, or in Virgil's terms, cleanly messy. Mr. Nguyen had hair that was combed back just so and glasses that hid all his worries and fears. He had impeccable pressed ties that, on the occasion, got festive when a holiday came around. He had skilled hands and Virgil hadn't walked by a day where he wasn't working or presenting a board meeting or, if he wasn't doing that, wasn't there at all for the whole day.

Virgil never really disliked Mr. Nguyen. He had no reason to like him either. But right now, Virgil could see he looked exactly like Patton did; utterly miserable.

"Hey, DeeDee, y'see Mr. Nguyen? In the window?" Virgil whispered as he sat right at the entrance so he could get a good look at him.

Damian merely ignored him. "We always see him. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is," Virgil started, already frustrated with the words that wouldn't come out. "He like- he- he's Patton today."

Damian rose a brow, a suspicious trait he most likely picked up from his mother. "You mean he looks like Patton did today?"

Virgil could only nod in relief. "Yeah! He looks Patton today. Do you think the teachers look like that today?"

Damian scanned around the room. He saw nothing out of the ordinary on the teachers' face. However, he did spot a certain trashy boy that Damian all but felt puppy love for. He waved him over. "Rem! Rem!"

The boy, peeking from the corner around his preoccupied brother at his name being called, grinned a crooked and partially toothless grin and ran over to Damian. They merely embraced before Remus took out his backpack, no doubt to reveal some gross frog from his collection.

Virgil cared less and just kept staring at the office, seeing Patton and a few other drivers come in for their mandatory morning report before they head out to go back to whatever they do when not driving. Patton still looked like a walking corpse.

Virgil vowed to take that frown away.

However, the school bell had other plans.

Virgil thinks that time really has slowed down, and maybe it isn't his stupid brain.

Every minute of class felt not as much a blur as it usually was. Usually, class was as easy as it got, and today he even got to skip out of gym for speech classes. He liked the speech teacher, Valerie. She allowed him to say her first name like Patton did. Virgil liked Valerie too.

But even his marvel at how fantastic his day had been so far didn't distract him from the fact his bus driver was unhappy.

Virgil sat with Damian and all the other broken kids at lunch. Remus was there too, and as much as he loved Damian off his back, the two talking about frogs and the fact the French eat frog legs was already starting to get on his nerves. He just focused on his sandwich and juice box, never saying a word.

It became time to throw out the food, and Virgil knew it was gametime. He looked to everyone at the table before rushing, the other two running to throw out their styrofoam plates the fastest.

Sadly, like always, Virgil's dreams of success were barred by Remus's long, nimble legs and long, skinny arms.

Virgil wanted to pout and tell them that Remus always wins, but Mr. Glover came in to clean and one look sent the three of them scrambling to recess.

Today they had art time, and Virgil had never been more determined in his life.

He grabbed construction paper, glue, crayons, markers, tape, and a How-To: pop up book. They were supposed to be making Thanksgiving cards for one of the staff members, and technically he was following what he was supposed to do. It was just that Patton's name hadn't been listed on the board to write to for their fake post office.

No matter. He would make the best card ever to cheer up his favorite and only bus driver. Damian seemed more interested in watching Remus eat the glue stick and then calling for them to go to the nurse.

Virgil ignored the two's antics in favor of focusing on his masterpiece.

Finally, at the end of the day, with high hopes and spirits and even better hope for Patton, Virgil all but ran to the bus he remembers so clearly beyond anything else. Damian followed close behind, sitting beside him in the seat they always sat.

Virgil heard Patton greet him, as always. Virgil could still hear how tired he was. He looked as pale as Virgil did.

Virgil, without prompting, took out his card and shoved it into Patton's hands before taking his seat and covering himself up with his hoodie as far in the seat as he could go.

Patton watched the young boy sat back down in a hurry before looking down at the card. The craftsmanship, of course, could be better, but honestly Patton could hardly care. He read the "I Think Your Cool" at the top and then a hand drawing of a turkey, covered in glitter and Patton's signature blue.

Patton almost cried, and then did cry when he saw the inside.

It held handwritten words with a picture of presumably Virgil fighting away the storm clouds over Patton; the bus with muscles and also beating up the stormcloud. The words wrote "I saw your sad face. I want to fix it. See! Fixed it!"

When Patton looked up, sniffling and holding the card dear to his heart, he saw Virgil peaking out from his jacket. That little boy held the softest smile and even Damian stopped for a moment to grin, gap tooth apparent but not even a hint of malice could fill Patton at this moment.

Last night had been so awful, but maybe today hadn't been so bad. No, today had been fantastic. Virgil fixed his heart for just a moment.

Edit: the card! Made by moi

#sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sander sides angst #Bus Duty AU #eventual logicality #the dark bois are gonna save the day #with an addition of Roman #after a while #whooooweee it is 4 am and I have nOT slept gn

61 notes · View notes

phanromaniac · 8 years ago

Text

Take Your Chances, I'll Take Mine. (Chapter 5)

Pairing: (Phan) (I mean) (My Name Kinda Gives It Away)

Summary: Dan Hates Phil. Phil Lester, the boy who, frustratingly, got the best marks in the class yet never actually studied. Dan’s hands clenched in anger just thinking about it. Phil Lester, who was always surrounded by friends, despite being part of the chess club, debate team, and practically any other nerdy extracurricular activity you could think of. Everyone, even the stereotypical 'cool kids’ liked, or at least respected him. Dan definitely didn’t hate him because of the way him, biting his lips, didn’t distract him. Dan definitely didn’t hate him because of the bubbly feeling he didn’t give him in his stomach because Dan definitely wasn’t gay.

Alternatively: It’s on Wattpad, too (Now on AO3, as well)

Warnings: Sexuality Crisis, Financial Insecurity (Not Too Much), Arguing (And like a crap tonne of swear words), Eventual smut

*Important* Tell me if I didn’t tag something.

*Important No. 2* Co-written with @xinyanhowell who is gr9 and should definitely be looked at 100%.

Chapters: one, two, three, four

The first thing Dan noticed when he woke up was his lack of pants. The second thing he noticed was his lack of a shirt. The third thing he noticed was voices, talking in low murmurs across the room. Dan wanted to go back to sleep.

His head pounded like a kickdrum and he groaned aloud, bringing the quiet conversation across the room to a screeching halt.

“Time’sit?” Dan slurred, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth.

“8:15” a voice, Phil’s voice, said gently. Dan cracked one eye open.

“Why am I naked?” Someone across the room chuckled, but Phil’s voice was as gentle as ever when he responded: “Do you not remember what happened yesterday evening?”

A montage straight out of a movie flashed through Dan’s head in full panoramic colour, from his migraine to his and Chris’ fight to the fact that he puked all over Phil. Oh fuck, he puked all over Phil.

“Anything I say about that’s probably just gonna dig me deeper, isn’t it?” Dan asked. He could almost hear Phil’s nod from the corner of the room.

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly.” Phil walked into Dan’s field of vision, smiling softly.

“Sorry about vomiting on you,” Dan said, his voice sounding as if he was disappointed in himself more than anything else.

“Hey,” Phil softly reassured, as if he were approaching a wounded animal, “it’s okay, it wasn’t your fault. Couldn’t have been, you blacked out immediately afterward.”

“Oh, and sorry for complaining yesterday when you did my work, I really should have thanked you.”

“Not a problem, but, if I may ask, what caused the change of heart.”

“I’m too tired to argue.”

“Fair enough.”

“I can do more of the project today, if you want.”

“Dan, please don’t take this the wrong way but-”

“Grades?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“No, it’s a fair point, and the reason I was paired with you.”

Phil giggled, and Dan noticed something: this is one of the few times they had been civil and he would much rather hear Phil laugh than fight with him. This realisation was quickly followed by blushing, and vehement mental denial.

“What’s with the blush you’re sporting?”

“Thoughts.”

“Might they be thoughts of the sexual variety?” Phil said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, my god, you’ve been spending way too much time with Chris.” Dan joked, but he seemed to choke on Chris’ name. “Uh, how is he, by the way?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, haven’t talked to him since before your guys’ fight. Though, I must say it was odd of him to turn down a fight, he seems like the type to always stand his ground.”

“He is, that’s what worries me.”

Phil just nodded silently as he packed up his stuff for the field trip that day, mostly just a notebook and pens tossed into his backpack, which he then slung over his shoulder.

“What the fuck even are we supposed to be doing?” Dan asked, sat on the edge of his bed and swinging his legs in an almost childish way.

“We’ll know when the teacher does her lecture– fuckery of a thing,” Phil said, scrubbing his hands over his face. He was just so tired, and the events of the past day had done a lot to drain his usually boisterous personality.

Dan got ready in silence, trying but failing to keep his eyes off of Phil’s face. He felt less than, somehow. It wasn’t something he was use to feeling, this nauseating combination of guilty and inadequate. Phil made his way to the washroom to get dressed and ready. In a way, he felt Dan might appreciate it more if he didn’t have to explain himself to Phil.

Dan did appreciate it; it made him relax, for a bit at least, until he started questioning why he was so relaxed that Phil left to change. He picked up his phone, having already changed, so that he could avoid falling further into his spiral of thoughts - and for a while it was working - then Phil came out wearing glasses of all things. Dan tried his best to keep his jaw from hitting the floor (or his dick, more appropriately).

“What?” he asked. If Dan didn’t know better, he would have thought Phil sounded self-conscious.

“You- I didn’t know you needed glasses,” Dan confessed, mildly impressed that his voice only breathily wavered instead of cracking. Phil tossed a lopsided smile to the floor, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, my vision’s pretty shit, but I wear contacts most of the time.”

“How bad is it?” Dan asked. As someone who had 20/20 vision, Dan couldn’t imagine being dependent on some lenses to be able to see across the room.

Phil frowned, thinking. “Like, negative three and a half in both eyes?” Dan cocked his head. Like a puppy, Phil thought, then immediately tried to forget. He pulled the black frames off his face. “Here. When you wear it, it’s about what I see when I’m not, I think.”

Dan took the extended glasses, careful not to brush Phil’s fingers with his own. He slid them onto his face, blinking hard when they rested on his nose.

“Fuck,” Dan sputtered, looking up at Phil’s blurry face, “you’re blind as shit.”

Phil snorted, squinting down at Dan. Which, in hindsight, was a terrible idea because Dan’s eyes were impossibly magnified by the lenses, bright and shining and something in Phil’s chest twinged painfully with how good Dan looked.

“Take a picture of me, so I know what I look like,” Dan asked excitedly.

“Sure,” Phil said, trying to contain his own excitement as he reached into his back pocket and phil fumbled for his phone. His phone, not Dan’s, because he needed to keep that photo and Dan sure as hell wouldn’t be willing to text it to him.

Dan smiled, and Phil’s hands were almost shaking too hard to hit the button, but he pulled himself together enough to manage - knowing in the long run he would benefit immensely by having the photos (as blackmail material… obviously… No other reason. None at all).

“Okay, there.” he said as he snapped the 12th photo on his phone, “now give them back to me, I want to be able to see again.”

“Alright, alright,” Dan said in mock-defeat, and Phil almost felt like letting him keep them. As he put his glasses back on he heard a small gasp omit from Dan’s lips, but he decided not to comment on it - to save both of them the conversation. Staring at each other for a few seconds until Phil broke the silence. “”So, uh, you want to see the pictures?’

“That’s why I asked you to take them isn’t it?” Dan giggled, slightly ashamed to what Phil fucking Lester and his fucking glasses reduce him to.

“Sorry,” Phil said, sarcastically shrugging his shoulders, putting almost enough emphasis on each syllable to be cartoonish. “So, uh, here they are,” Phil extended his arm, hoping that Dan wouldn’t go through anything on it.

Dan giggled for what was probably the 50th time that day, and it wasn’t even nine am. “I look like a mole.” The smile he had made a dimple that was only slightly visible, but enough so that Phil’s heart sped up.

In order to not get caught by Dan (and himself) he spoke up. “We should probably get down to get some breakfast, or something. We have to leave in like twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, and I should probably talk to Chris too, you know, about yesterday.” Dan said, his jokey demeanor almost completely disappearing. Seeing Dan like this made Phil swallow his comment on how he’s not sure that Chris would want to talk to him after how pissed of - or rather, embarrassed - Chris was in regards to yesterday’s events.

They were only halfway to where they were sitting yesterday when Louise singled Dan out. “You broke him,” she venomously whispered, and Dan’s blood froze in his veins when he noticed the full force of the fire in her eyes, completely and totally serious.

“What?” Dan was perplexed, trying to figure out why Louise would be mad at him He said nothing to her, in fact she should be apologizing to both him and Chris for how she had treated them like children the night before, but before he could start arguing with Louise she extrapolated.

“Look! Look at him!” she said, pointing in the direction of a Chris who wasn’t making any passes at anyone - in fact, he wasn’t even talking to anyone at all, and he was looking down at his food without eating it, as if he couldn’t bear stomach it. “You broke him, Dan!”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Louise.” Dan scoffed.

“Fine, then you go talk to Mr. Cheerful Chris and his totally not-there personality!” Louise snapped, very poorly masking her worry.

“I will!” Dan barked back, but if he were being honest with himself, the fact that Louise was worried scared him. She had an intuition with people, especially with her friends. Dan shook that thought off and stormed off in Chris’ direction before remembering that he wanted fix things and not fight, then he changed his footing, making it a lot lighter, as if to dance as delicately around the problem with as with his worry that Louise was right.

“Hey, Chris!” He attempted to stay enthusiastic, but awkwardly failed.

Chris looked up from his food to Dan. He nodded and smiled, but it wasn’t a smile that Dan knew from Chris, it was one Chris gave his mum when she said his father would be coming over. Looking up from his smile Dan noticed the dark bags under his eyes, and the lack of mischievous light.

“So, about yesterday,” Dan started, intending to get an apology in, but Chris interrupted him.

“I’m sorry, Dan, what I said was out of line I will refrain from doing that again.”

Dan tried his hardest to find an ounce of sarcasm in Chris’ voice, but failed. Instead he found a tired, scraping sound that he had never heard from Chris before. Chris apologizing for being out of line was one thing, as he had to ask for forgiveness for his faux pas every day, but he always followed it up with a joke, or a jab. Dan waited, but Chris said nothing else. That wasn’t the only worrying thing Chris said. Chris was saying he would try to not be honest to Dan again, or at least he wouldn’t say what he perceived.

Dan wanted to get Chris out of whatever the fuck he was going through, so he offered up something Chris could never have resisted: the opportunity for a “Your Mum” joke. “So, uh, Chris?” Dan started, smirking stupidly as if he had figured out a cure to Chris’ stupor, “what are you doing?” Dan was preparing for the remark, making sure Chris heard the innuendo by putting too much emphasis on doing.

Dan’s smirk quickly fell when met with Chris’ energy-drained eyes as he slowly looked up.

“I’m not sure, you?” He sounded almost like a stranger, like Dan was someone he had spoken to twice before and they were paired together to work on something. Dan noticed Chris raise his eyebrow and look behind Dan. After following his line of view Dan saw that Phil and Louise were intensely looking at the two of them, and only to pretending to be deep in conversation when caught staring.

Dan directed his gaze back to Chris. “Can I sit here?” He hoped against hope Chris would say something perverse as usual, like, “no, but you can sit on this dick,” before laughing wholeheartedly at Dan’s mock-disgusted reaction. But Chris just nodded, keeping his chin tucked to his chest and his eyes glued to the floor. Dan sat, cautiously, waiting with bated breath for Chris to erupt at him.

It never happened. Chris kept his eyes down for a few moments longer, his gaze slowly climbing until it rested just below Dan’s chin, but he never really met Dan’s eyes.

Louise was right; Dan had broke him. Dan’s threat went dry at the thought. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He closed it again.

A teacher came into the dining hall, barking for everyone to finish up and be out front with their partners in ten minutes. Chris abruptly stood, pressing his palms to the table and letting his hair fall in a curtain around his face. He opened his mouth, then shook his head minutely and closed it again, grabbing his plate and depositing it in the bin with more force than really necessary. Dan’s eyes followed his hunched shoulders as he exited the room, shoving the door with enough force to send it slamming into the wall. Dan looked to Phil, then to Louise, helpless.

“What the fuck happened?” he whispered, afraid of speaking too loudly and somehow setting Chris off, despite the fact the boy was nowhere near Dan. Louise shook her head softly, staring blankly at the door even as more classmates chatted their way through it.

“What the fuck indeed,” she said, and if it sounded too much like a cheesy teen movie line Dan didn’t say anything.

~-~

Dan and Phil worked in their room in silence – well, Phil worked, Dan just did his best to stay out of the way – for the entirety of the field trip, only speaking to each other on the bus ride back, six hours later. Since their departure from the hotel that morning clouds had gathered, thick and heavy in the sky, and Dan rolled his eyes. It was just like a novel; the weather synced perfectly to his mood. Did that make him the protagonist? Dan had never wanted to be the protagonist, he’d always related more to the best friend, or the love interest. Useless, but with enough clumsiness and witty remarks to unfailingly get into and out of terrible situations with or without the help of his friends. So then that made Chris the protagonist? Dan snorted and rolled his eyes, biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud at the idea of Chris being the selfless hero type.

“What?” Phil asked, breaking their day-long silence. Dan pointed to the sky.

“Chris is the protagonist.”

Phil just looked confused. Dan waved a hand dismissively. “Not important.”

They were silent for a few tense minutes. Dan picked his nails. Phil stared out the window.

“Are you okay?” Dan asked, then flinched at the sound of his own voice. It was too forced, too empty, too unsympathetic. Phil’s lips pulled down and Dan tried again.

“I mean. I know it’s a lot between me and Chris, but that doesn’t mean other people aren’t affected by us. You and Louise and stuff. And I know you, in particular, because you and Chris are- umm…” Dan trailed off stupidly. What were Phil and Chris? Boyfriends? Fuckbuddies? Friends-who-made-out-that-one-time-and-swore-to-never-speak-of-it-again? He flapped his mouth dumbly, eventually giving up and hoping Phil would fill in the now-awkward silence that stretched between them. Phil turned his hundred-yard stare from the window to Dan, and Dan winced.

“I don’t know,” Phil said, his voice so small and so, so sad. Dan’s heart broke a little bit just listening to him. “We haven’t spoken since yesterday.”

“Oh,” Dan said intelligently, frantically searching for something to follow that up with. In a part of him he would never like to admit, he was a bit relieved that Chris and Phil hadn’t talked about the event, that it wasn’t too soon for something to prevent them from getting together. It also put him under a bit of stress, were they following the classic ‘will they-won’t they” trope? Dan honestly didn’t know what to think, let alone what to say, so he decided to wait for Phil to charismatically brighten up the conversation, as he so well knows how to do. When nothing came, Phil turned back out the window, and Dan let him, silently cursing himself for trying to initiate a meaningful conversation. He glared at the tear in the back of the seat in front of him, searching for the answers to life in the fabric and stuffing. The clouds broke overhead. Dan wiped away frustrated tears.

In attempt to distract himself from the constant mess of a knot that was his mind, Phil tried to change the topic to something, anything that might have the prospect of diverting his thoughts in any other direction. He spoke up, “so my mum has been getting on my case about what I should do with my life, like I have a fucking clue. She says I’m wasting such potential for not going into law or medicine or other things of that variation. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know, I might want to go into film writing, or acting or something, maybe even drawing, I’m pretty good at that, but I’m most likely going to just stick to the arts, what with not being good at maths and sciences and all.”

“That sounds fun. More fun than like. Neurosurgery or something.”

“If you could wake up tomorrow with a job, what would it be?”

“I mean I guess I’d want to go into graphic design, or directing a movie or something like that.”

“Really? You could go into any of the ‘parent-respected’ jobs with your marks and yet you would chose an unstable art career?”

“You sound just like my mum, honestly,” Phil sighed passively, as if he has had to explain this more frequently than he breathed, “being good at memorising it doesn’t mean I would like to have a career in it, in fact, I would go as far as to say I would hate it. Do you know how depressing it is to stare at those god-awful medical books? God, I would rather die.”

“Do you even read the textbooks for school?”

“No. Why?”

“How the fuck do you memorise all those things?”

“I’m an auditory learner, I just remember it when it’s read to me. That and mnemonics whenever I have to memorise a list or something.”

“Could you teach me, honestly it would spare me so much time”

“If you want me to actually tutor you, I could try.”

“You know a few days ago I would have probably gotten mad and claimed you were a conceded piece of shit-”

“Which I am-”

“Shush I wasn’t finished,” Dan giggled, wildly looking into Phil’s blue eyes - that were totally gross, what was he thinking, “but that would be nice.” Phil looked mildly surprised, but then his face pulled into a warm smile that made Dan’s heart skip a beat.

“Okay,” Phil said slowly, testing the waters. “I think that would be okay.”

An awkward silence fell and Dan was first this time to break it, “so, what is are project on? You’ve yet to fill me in on it.”

Without thought, Phil replied, “I thought we could do residential areas and housing in urban areas versus the ones in suburban, and rural, and in the future of the residential areas due to population increase.” Dan looked estranged. “What?”

“Why would you pick something that’s going to take that much effort‽” Dan worriedly whisper-yelled, “I mean how are we going to accurately predict stuff like that‽”

“It’s not going to take that much effort. I mean, look at it this way: Population increases, housing needs to increase, cities take up less space and more people live and are moving there, therefore higher density housing will most likely become more popular,” Phil shrugged as Dan gaped at him. “You said you were pretty good at art, yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean I’m no Picasso but-” Dan started before his mind turned on and started questioning things, “wait, why, aren’t you the person who just said he wanted to go into graphic design?”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Photoshop is different than a sketchbook, asshole. I can’t draw for shit, so I figure -”

“Where’s the rubric,” Dan asked. Phil handed it over, and Dan glanced over it. “Okay, this isn’t too bad, five pictures and a clear title.”

“See, and I saw that as the worst part, especially considering I couldn’t do computer stuff. Everyone has their strengths.”

Dan handed the rubric back. “Then you have fun with your six full paragraphs, sadist.”

“Only if you’re into that,” Phil said, almost as an afterthought. Dan snorted.

“You have got to talk to Chris less, he is really influencing you.’

Phil’s easy smile melted away into a vaguely uncomfortable expression.

“Right,” Dan sighed. “I forgot we aren’t all exactly on speaking terms at the moment.”

Phil shrugged, but he didn’t meet Dan’s eyes.

The rest of the day was uneventful; Dan had sat on his bed and sketched out an outline of the poster, while Phil outlined the essay on Dan’s phone. Well, he started on the archaic desktop of the hotel’s tiny office, but eventually moved to his phone. The data expenses were more than worth having a typing speed of above one word per eon.

Phil peeked up over the screen of the phone and, seeing Dan fully immersed in his sketching, clicked to the ‘messages’ app.

Hey chirs he said. It’s phil

He immediately clicked back to google docs, his heart racing as he flicked his eyes back up. Dan had shifted his sketchbook ninety degrees on his lap, but he didn’t show any interest in Phil. His tongue peeked out from between his teeth, his brows furrowing in concentration. He muttered something to himself, picking up the eraser from the sheets beside him.

Dan’s phone buzzed in Phil’s hands minutes later, and Phil cringed. It was Chris.

“Anything interesting?” Dan asked, not even lifting his eyes from his page. Phil shook his head.

“Younow notification,” he said by way of explanation.

“Oh, so I should be prepared to hear another twenty buzzes in the next two minutes.”

“Can I silence it then?” Phil asked, glad he got away with it.

“Do whatever you want,” Dan said, hunching his shoulders in what was probably a terribly uncomfortable manner, his pencil making quick, light strokes over the page.

Phil chuckled a bit and raised his eyebrow, and Dan scoffed, “I didn’t mean it like that and you know it, you dickwad.”

“No more furry porn, got it,” Phil said with a totally flat voice. Dan scoffed, then paled slightly when he met Phil’s totally serious face.

“You wouldn’t,” he said, but his eyes narrowed suspiciously anyways. Phil just stared back at him, but as soon Dan started moving closer to Phil, the corners of his lips twitched up, betraying him. Dan sat down next to Phil.

“No, I didn’t, but next time…” Phil said, trailing off with a waggle of his eyebrows. “No promises.”

“Was that supposed to be ominous?” Dan asked, referring to Phil’s eyebrows. “Because it really just looks like you’re trying way too hard.”

“Well, your mum.”

“Ooh, what a great retort.”

Phil quickly pulled up a picture of an atlas on Dan’s phone and turned it around so Dan could see it, “show me where I asked.”

“Pfft, shut up,” Dan giggled

“Make me,” Phil said, his face falling serious. Dan’s eyes widened at the words, slightly moving in, his eyes moving from Phil’s eye to his lips, slowly moving in until Phil started laughing. “Alright, time to work,” Phil sighed, not noticing a flushed Dan.

Dan awkwardly shuffled away from Phil and back to his plan for the poster, tripping in the process, nervously laughing as he did so. “Yeah, l, uh, I shou- we should, uh, get back to, uh, working.”

Phil turned back to Dan’s phone, turning to check the text from Chris.

,,, hi phil,,, gotta say youre terrible at pranks

Never claimed to be good at anything

Also i have a question, whats with you

Oh nothing much you?

No i dont mean ‘whats up’ i mean what is with you today

Nothings up with me

Yeah? Whered your personality go then?

You need to talk to dan

I mean we should talk too

About. The kissing, and whatever, i guess

Okay gotta get back to work tho we’ll talk after lunch see ya

See ya

Phil quickly deleted all the messages and returned to document, looking up at Dan every now and again. Phil finished the basic summary of two of the paragraphs, and told Dan he would be heading down to the cafeteria, thinking he’d be able to talk to Chris alone. However, Dan had simply joined him, claiming that it made more sense for them to just go together.

“So, how do you think I should go about talking to Chris?” Dan implored.

“I don’t know, I guess I could ask you the same question. How should I go about talking to Chris?” Dan blanched, realising what Phil meant. He felt something eat away at him as he thought about Phil with Chris, but it was only because he didn’t want his best friend dating someone as annoying as Phil Lester, obviously.

“Well I guess we’re in the same boat, then.”

Phil sighed heavily. “Yeah. I guess so.”

They passed the elevator ride in tense silence. The doors dinged and slid open.

Dan cast his eyes around the room, eventually finding Chris curled in on himself on a couch in the corner. Dan tried not to worry, but Chris was one of the most extroverted people Dan knew, and if he didn’t want to talk to anyone something was definitely up. Dan’s hand found Phil’s and he tugged the boy forward, dropping his hand as soon as he realized what he had been doing.

“I, uh, didn’t mean, uh -”

“Dan, I know, chill.”

“Right.” Dan nodded decisively, leading the way. Chris didn’t even look up, just curled further in on himself. Dan scoffed, dragging Chris up by his wrist.

“What the fuck do you want?” Chris said, but it lacked any of his usual venom. It was cold, flat. ‘Emotionless’ isn’t a word Dan ever thought he would use to describe Chris, but here he was

“You’re coming with me,” Dan said. Planting his feet and puffing out his chest and putting as much authority into his words as he could. Chris just stared through him, but Phil made a small noise of surprise from over Dan’s shoulder.

“We need to talk,” Dan said, and Chris swung his blank gaze to Dan’s face.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” he said tonelessly, yanking his arm back and pressing his face into the pillow again. Dan’s shoulders deflated a little, and he sighed.

“Well I have something to say to you, and you’re gonna listen.”

Chris didn’t even grace him with a response.

Dan stared down at him.

“Phil, help me carry him.”

Phil’s startled noise was louder this time, and incrementally closer to Dan’s ear.

“Excuse me?”

Chris didn’t move.

“We’re gonna carry him back up to our room. I’ll text Louise when we get there. Get his legs.”

Dan slotted his forearms under Chris’ armpits, tugging him upwards. Chris went boneless, his head lolling back onto Dan’s chest. Phil hadn’t moved.

“Get his legs,” Dan said, trying and failing to keep the smile out of his voice. If Chris wanted to be difficult, then fine. Dan’s the most stubborn motherfucker he knows.

Phil hid his own smile behind a small cough, stepping awkwardly between Chris’ legs and hooking one knee over each of his arms. Their classmates and even a few random people were staring, but Dan didn’t care. It’s not like he had a reputation to protect, at this point. That ship had sailed long ago.

The trio awkwardly shuffled to the elevator. Phil tripped over his own feet, peeking back over his shoulder to avoid running over any more walls. He hit the ‘up’ button, and readjusted his grip as they waited for the elevator.

“You can put me down now,” Chris said, but he wasn’t angry. His eyes were lighter, a hint of a smile gracing his lips.

“How do I know you won’t just run away again?” Dan said suspiciously, leaning over and looking Chris in the eye. Chris huffed out a laugh. It didn’t sound entirely genuine, but at least he was trying.

“You are permitted,” Dan intoned, nodding at Phil to drop his legs. Phil let him down softly, extending a hand to help pull Chris to his balance. Chris stood up and leaned forward, buying his face in Phil’s shoulder. Phil’s arms wrapped around his waist, and he swayed slightly. Dan swallowed against the lump that grew in his throat which felt suspiciously like his heart.

“Thanks,” Chris said, his voice muffled against the fabric of Phil’s shirt. Dan wasn’t sure who Chris was talking to, so he stayed silent.

“For caring enough to force me,” Chris clarified, lifting his head briefly to meet Dan’s eyes. Dan forced himself to keep eye contact, nodding once.

“You’re my best friend,” he said, his voice a little bit shakier than he would have liked. Chris nodded, pressing his face back into Phil’s shirt and inhaling deeply. Phil’s grip was a little tighter, and a little bit stiffer.

“And I went too far yesterday,” Dan hazarded. Chris looked up, thinking, then pushed off of Phil’s chest. He raised his eyebrow, prompting Dan to go on and Dan’s mouth went dry. He had no idea what the fuck to say. “I guess I’m mostly trying to tell you that I’m sorry.”

“Mostly?” Chris said, his smile tired. “What’s the rest, then?”

Dan’s mouth went dry. He wanted to do something stupid and dramatic, like throw down his gauntlet and swing Phil into his arms, riding off into the sunset while dramatic music swelled behind him. Well, except for the fact that Phil was too heavy, and it was three in the afternoon, and he didn’t know where to get a horse. And, you know, he’s straight and hates Phil. But he couldn’t quite squash the surge of possessiveness that erupted in his chest when Chris sidled into Phil’s arms like it was nothing, like Dan’s heart didn’t involuntary twinge in his ribcage. He settled for a wry smile and downturned eyes, spreading his hands in a placating gesture.

“Not important,” he said, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. He raised his chin, looking anywhere but Chris eyes.

Chris’ smile dropped a few degrees, but he let it go.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess- I guess we should.”

“Maybe- Maybe I should just, for the beginning, you know, just – um – leave, or something?” Phil offered, his right hand tapping out a nervous tattoo on the wall of the elevator. The doors slid open as Dan met his eyes. Phil’s were wide with what looked to be panic. Dan opened his mouth, but Phil shook his head.

“O-okay,” Dan said, and Phil mouthed ‘thank you’ before dashing – well, speed walking – down the hall. Chris watched him leave, keeping his eyes off of Dan for as long as possible.

“Well,” Chris said with a sigh as Dan opened the door to his and Phil’s room. Dan moved to sit on his own bed, toeing off his shoes and crossing his legs underneath him. Chris moved to sit on Phil’s bed, but thought better of it at the last second and instead sank down in the uncomfortable armchair in the corner of the room, by the window.

“So,” Chris said, and a smile tilted up at that exact angle, the smooth, suave, shit-eating angle Dan hadn’t realized he had missed so fucking much. “I do believe my only job requirement is to listen you grovel for my mercy?”

“Fuck,” Dan said, and his eyes and the back of his nose prickle with unshed tears. “I’m so glad you’re back.” His entire sentence felt like a sigh of relief.

Chris smiled, genuine this time. His voice was thicker than usual when he responded, “I’m not hearing any begging, Howell. Get on your knees and do it right, and then maybe I’ll do you right.”

“Shut up.” A giggle slipped out along with the words, and Chris’ smile lifted up at the edges. Dan rolled his eyes and slid off his bed, ending up on his knees. Chris’ eyes widened and his chest shook with barely-contained laughter.

“I missed you too,” he said, his voice soft and fond. But then he laughed again.

“If this is how you repay me, you should get in trouble more often.”

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #take your chances I'll take mine

7 notes · View notes