A/N: Wow this took me 10 thousand lightyears to edit what is thiS wow yeah I hope you like it anyway, I don’t really have much of an author’s note to put here so… yeah. Enjoy!

Summary: Dan has been thrown into a completely new environment as he joins a popular boarding school, Blackwood Academy, as a new student. But what will happen when he accidentally befriends Phil, a ringleader of the meanest group of students in the school? Read on to find out more!

DISCLAIMER: Obviously (and unfortunately) everything I have written is entirely fictional. I am not claiming Phan is real.

♡ LINKS TO PREVIOUS CHAPTERS ♡

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Phil took a nervous gulp as the door flew open and he was suddenly faced with the result of what a very angry Charlie had caused.
The daylight illuminated Dan all too well, defining every grotesque detail of his injuries that Charlie probably couldn‘t have seen in the darkness of last night.. Phil stood rooted to the spot, staring down unconscious, fragile figure huddled up next to its bag, the fringe of brown hair covering half of its bruised face.

“Dan…?” Phil’s wary voice ripped through the silence that hung densely. He stared at the figure beneath him, his eyes studying every injury, every cut, every bruise, every bloodstain on his uniform as he remained completely motionless, still snuggled up to the bag. “Dan… can you hear me?”

Oh yeah, of course he can hear you. The sarcastic voice in his mind butted in, in response to his whisper. He knelt down, concern beginning to flood through him as Dan remained cold and unresponsive.
The only audible sound in the room was the jagged gasps of Phil’s breath, with absolute silence which was considerably unnerving, to say the least. He racked his brains, panicking over what on earth he was supposed to do now. What could he do? He couldn’t exactly bring him back to the nurse’s office, not with everyone watching him carry him. On top of all the rumours already viciously circulating about them, if anything they’d probably be suspecting that Phil was the one who attacked him. He couldn’t take Dan back to his form without being verbally abused by Alex and the rest of the group, and he couldn’t exactly leave him there, either.

What do you even care, anyway? His mind sneered. You’d broken every connection you had with him. Leave him there. He doesn’t deserve your help.

For once, Phil harnessed all of his mental strength and used it to block out that stupid voice inside his head. He knew Dan needed his help, regardless of whether he particularly wanted it or not.
Gently, he eased his arms under Dan’s broken body, and with one swift movement, he lifted him up. To Phil’s surprise, he was actually a lot lighter than he had anticipated, which made carrying him over to the sofa particularly easy.

Once he had laid him down on the sofa, Phil racked his brains again, still wondering what the hell he was expected to do with him. He hadn’t noticed Dan unconsciously moving around, trying to snuggle himself against Phil as if he thought he was his bag, and not a certain someone who he presumably bitterly hated right now.

It suddenly clicked.

Phil wriggled away from Dan, and stood up, tiptoeing towards the door and nudging it open. He glanced back at Dan for a few seconds, debating whether it’d be safe to leave him here on his own. Charlie was probably either in class or asleep, so the chances of him returning would be very slim. Even Charlie wouldn’t risk coming back in the middle of the day, especially as so many people were roaming around.

Before he had chance to make any decisions otherwise, Phil pulled down the door window blinds, blocking the view of Dan out, and slipped outside, shutting the door firmly behind him. Most of the people barely knew that hut even existed, let alone actually go in, so Dan was relatively safe.

Phil darted craftily between obstacles, hiding behind as many bins and lampposts as he could, avoiding every person he could see within a 5 metre radius of him. Most of the campus was empty anyway, as the majority of students were up in the classes in the main block, (where he should be right now) but he figured this was a little bit more important than staring at a textbook about the Economical development of Thailand. He took the shortcut over the grass, which was still slightly wet from the rain last night, and felt the dampness of the mud squelch under his feet. Then again, his Converse trainers were never anything neater than scruffy, so this wasn’t really a major issue for him right now.

Once the grassy mess across the campus brought him to the other side, outside the PE centre, he put his ear against the wall, listening in for any conversation in the office. It was 2nd period, so it seemed as if all of the teachers would be out in the middle of taking a double lesson either on the courts or in the Sports hall, as no voices could be heard.
He slipped inside the back entrance to one of the changing rooms, wrinkling his nose at the smell of stale deodorant and sweat. He turned his head slowly around the corner, and caught sight of some squinty year 8 with wonky glasses sat on the bench with a bewildered expression, holding up an ice pack to his head.

An ice pack. That’s it.

He flounced past the kid, and after nearly tripping over a trainer, stopped when he reached the changing room door, pulling it open as silently as he could manage, although the hinges let out occasional squeaks of protest which he cringed at. He edged through the crack in the door, and crept up to the office door, listening in. Nothing. He knelt down and peered through the crack under the door. Nothing. The coast seemed pretty clear.

He plucked up the courage, hearing the boom of Ms. McDougal only a few metres away from him in the Sports hall, increasing the risk of her walking in at any given moment.

But this was worth the risk.

He nudged open the door, and relief flooded through him when he noticed his observations were correct and no-one was in there. He searched through untidy files, forgotten trophies, confiscated phones, school team photos and equipment trays until he found it. The first aid kit.

He grabbed it, shoving it in his bag and quickly found the cooler, where the ice packs were kept. He snatched a couple off the shelf, throwing them in his bag alongside the green box and zipping it up. He tried to cover up where the first aid kit had been, making it look like he hadn’t stolen it, and before leaving, sneakily slipped a bottle of Lucozade that he’d seen in the fridge into his bag.

Well, they should be more careful about where they put their drinks. Phil smirked to himself as he shut the office door behind him, and headed over to the back exit of the PE centre.

“Oi, Phil!” He heard a dauntingly familiar voice bark from behind him, as he glanced over his shoulder, his stomach dropping as Ms McDougal stood behind him, her arms folded and the frown on her face crinkled her grey eyes, staring at Phil with a mixture of confusion and hate. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Shit!” He exclaimed, and shot straight out of the door. He sprinted with blind panic across the campus, his shoes hitting the pavement at an incredible speed he didn’t even know he could reach. The cold wind began hitting his face with the speed, causing him to squint against the air on his skin as he ran faster and faster, diving round a corner and breathing heavily, trying to catch up on the air his lungs craved. After several well-needed gasps, feeling his heart drumming in his head, he peeked round the corner to find that luckily, Ms. McDougal had presumably given up with trying to chase him. Although his PE lessons usually consisted of either sitting in a corner listening to My Chemical Romance or sneaking out the back with Charlie and having a smoke, he could run like a wildcat when he wanted to, which came in very useful at times like these.

Breathless and on the verge of collapsing, he finally reached the hut again, and after spending a few minutes recollecting himself and restoring a fraction of the long-lost energy he needed, opened the door as quietly as he could, still trying not to wake Dan. He hadn’t moved from the same position as he was in when Phil had left, which although was relieving, was simultaneously pretty worrying, too. He crept over to the sofa, gently laying Dan over his knees in a more comfortable position as he tugged his zip around the bag and searched beneath the coldness of the stolen Lucozade and the ice packs for the first aid kit.

He pulled it out of his bag, twisting the latch and opening the lid, before staring blankly at the number of bandages, plasters, scissors, mysterious sprays and creams and paracetamol tablets he was suddenly faced with. What the hell was he supposed to do with all these?! He picked up what looked like an antiseptic wipe, and apprehensively whipped it out the sachet. He stared down at Dan, who still lay peacefully on his lap, and gently pulled back his fringe, exposing his bruised forehead, and his lips and nose outlined with dried blood.

He dabbed as carefully as he could around the sensitive areas of his face, managing to clean as much of it off as he could manage. As his knowledge on First Aid wasn’t exactly broad, he attempted to use the plasters to the best of his ability, gently laying it on every cut and bruise he could see on Dan’s face, leaving him resembling something like a plaster zombie when he’d finished with them. He concentrated on his wrist next, as it looked pretty jarred and out of place. He knew it was already fragile from Dan telling him about past experiences with breaks and fractures; and it was just his luck that Charlie had attacked /that/ wrist. He unravelled the bandage, and wound it around Dan’s poorly wrist once before reaching for a ice pack, slotting it into the little pocket he’d created between the bandages before wrapping it around and around, securing it into place and hoping that would cure the swelling as much as it could. He taped it into place, and gently set his wrist down, before moving onto his uniform, which was so battered and stained there wasn’t a lot he could do with it apart from spraying it with Savlon and rubbing at the stains a little, hoping that it would make some sort of improvement.
He packed away the equipment, and stared at Dan. Really stared at him. He stared at the damage that he’d plastered up, all the rips and stains in his dishevelled uniform, the way his hair hung limply over his face in uneven, messy waves as opposed to the way his fringed haircut shined in the daylight with a chestnut gloss. Phil stared at his closed eyes, imagining the beautiful, dark coloured eyes behind the bruised lids. He didn’t quite know what to do about the black eyes; he couldn’t exactly plaster them up or put an ice pack on them, so he could only hope they’d heal in their own time.

He stared at the door, debating whether to go out yet or not. Part of him wanted to stay with Dan, but he knew he couldn’t be there when he regained consciousness. He didn’t want to talk to him. He was having a difficult time doing so much as even looking at him. And there was something he needed to do.

Dan suddenly stirred, still unconscious, as Phil felt his weak arms try to wrap around him, and nestle his head into Phil’s lap, as if he still thought he was a bag. Phil gulped uncomfortably, frozen to the spot. He knew that if he moved now, Dan would wake up. But if he didn’t, then he was… stuck. Until Dan did wake up. It was a lose/lose situation.

He sighed, his attention being consumed by the sleeping figure beneath him as he watched the uneven rise and fall of his breathing. Against his conscious will, he couldn’t help but notice how, even with all his facial injuries and rough appearance, he still looked completely angelic, as if he was made of a beautiful stone.

Like the one in Phil’s bracelet. The one that didn’t exist anymore.
Phil felt a choking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he thought about that bracelet. He needed to get out. He needed to get away from Dan. He hated the feel of Dan’s warmth on his skin, the gentle breeze of air as he let out steady, gentle breaths, the way he was cuddled up to him as if he had no idea who he was cuddled up to. Which he didn’t. He had no idea at all.

And that was sickening.
Phil impatiently stared at the door, as if he could teleport outside just by pure willpower. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He gave Dan one more glance, and made what seemed like a soft stroke to his cheek, before he daringly wriggled away from his grip, and grabbed his bag, running out of the hut as Dan stirred even more, and Phil assumed he had probably fully regained consciousness by the time Phil had slammed the hut door. The loud noise probably wouldn’t have exactly lulled him back into a peaceful slumber.

—

*SLAM*

I jolted awake, being transported back into consciousness with a rapid flash. My eyes were overcome with a dull ache, and there wasn’t one inch of my body that didn’t hurt in some kind of way. Memories of last night suddenly came flooding back, as I shut my eyes again, beginning to flashback to Charlie’s vicious whispers in vivid hallucinations, feeling the pain of every punch and kick he made to my body last night. And the feel of his lips… I shuddered awake again, filled with sudden nausea at the disgusting memories.

I paused suddenly. Something didn’t feel right.

My hands searched my face, to find plasters peppered all over my injured skin where the cuts and bruises were at their worst, as I furrowed my brow in confusion. I noticed a distinctive coldness in my wrist, and I lifted it up to find a bandage had been wrapped around, with what looked like an ice pack wedged inside. My eyes travelled down to my shirt, my head still throwing around unanswerable questions as I realized that it couldn’t possibly have been this clean last night after what Charlie had done. Well, from what I can remember of it.

Who had done this? Someone must have obviously found me. Maybe they’d found me, and called the nurse. But the bandage and plasters were far too badly applied for a nurse’s ability. Plus, if it was a nurse, surely I’d have been taken to the medical room first before they treated me? It must have either been a student or an inexperienced teacher. Who just decided to leave me after their job was done.

Gathering all my strength that I hadn’t have had to use since the incidents at my old school, I hauled myself up, feeling every single part of my body throb with pain, and I grabbed my bag, which I could’ve sworn was on the sofa with me a few minutes ago, and slung it over my shoulder, wincing at the pain. I hadn’t made any sort of contact with any of my ‘friends’ yet, since they found out about… that, and I still didn’t feel ready in any way to face them, especially not in this state. I needed more time alone. I needed to clear my head, and walk off the pain. It was becoming worrying how my instinctive nature knew exactly how to deal with this, as if I hadn’t forgotten anything since my infamous run-ins with Ethan. Which I hadn’t.

I opened the door, craning my neck as I glanced in both directions until the coast was clear enough for me to slip outside and run away from campus. Well, I couldn’t exactly run as such; I could barely walk. But after a few minutes of struggling, and getting my shoes more muddy than they already were, I escaped the main grounds of the school, and towards the deserted forest. I needed to do something.

Trying to climb over the wire fence was the biggest struggle I was faced with, after having to endure staggering moments of trying to grip as hard as I could despite the sharp pain ripping through my wrists as I did. I bit down hard on my lip to stop myself from crying out in pain, swinging my legs over, and eventually stumbling out from the enclosed, depressingly school -like atmosphere, and back into the enchanting woodland atmosphere I was so dearly familiar with.

The crunch of leaves underfoot was the only sound my ears were met with as I walked calmly through the forest, heavy with desolate silence. The daylight took away a lot of the atmospherical mystery of the forest, which I found simultaneously beautiful, and terrifying.

My stomach began to tighten as I felt a cold shiver rip through my body, approaching a small opening of the forest, beside the fallen log, and surrounded by pine trees and brambles. Although this wasn’t just any of the 100 openings the forest held. This was the opening. Where Phil and I stood. Last night.

I refused to let anymore tears fall. I’d given this area of the forest way too many tears already. I knew exactly what I was here for. To be honest, I shouldn’t be here, anyway. But there were a lot of things I “shouldn’t have done”. And I’d done them, regardless.

I narrowed my eyes, mentally scouring every inch of the small opening, searching for a glint of a stone, or jewel. But there was absolutely nothing. Not even a single stone.

I knew I’d definitely come to the right opening. I could walk to this one with my eyes closed. It was the one Phil and I always came to.
But the bracelet was gone.