prompt: Southview Boarding School isn’t a castle and Phil Lester isn’t royalty, but he has everything. His father owns the school, he’s popular, has the best room, gets all the best treatment – there are very few things that aren’t handed to him on a platter. Dan is a cleaner/Phil’s personal maid there, and he isn’t as lucky. Everyone seems to take an aversion to the outsider, including Phil (at first).
Thank you all so so much for your consistent patience with this. College work (and a hell of a lot of it) has unfortunately become my priority right now what with university just around the corner and subsequently I haven’t updated it nearly as regularly as I would have liked to, but you guys have been so supportive and understanding and I really cannot thank you enough for that. I’ve missed this and I’ve missed you. Here’s to more regular updates in the future <3
(sidenote I’m sorry if this seems a lil wooden I haven’t written this in literal months so it might take a while for me to adjust to the story and the prose again so pls bear with me)
OK emo words over let’s fuckin DO this cue emo dan and a Lot of tension and also dishonesty because phil’s a fucking idiot
warnings; mentions of violence, smoking
Twenty-one
Phil’s been on edge all week. He can’t remember the last time he relaxed.
Every day, every hour right from the second his eyes flutter open to the sound of his morning alarm, is spent with a thudding heart and searching eyes. Even when he’s sleeping he’s tense – his dreams have spiralled into a whirlwind of almost nightmares, technicolour episodes crashing into the other in colourful sparks and bursts that end in cold sweats and aching muscles and whisperings from the boy only centimetres away from him. And it’s stupid because Phil should be the one comforting him after a bad night (and he still tries his best nonetheless), but he can’t deny there’s nothing quite like the feeling of Dan’s gentle lips on his forehead at four a.m., the sound of his voice whispering reassurances with his arms draped over Phil’s waist like a protective shield.
He hasn’t seen Liam since he grabbed at any excuse and all but ran out of Noah’s room upon his discovery that no, Phil doesn’t still have a tag, and he’s scared. He’s so fucking scared.
And yeah, it was a very stupid move to dodge the bullet in the way he did, to fling himself out of the situation without even stopping to at least try and explain himself, but he couldn’t help it. He doesn’t think he can face sitting through another one of Liam’s explosions without crying or running for cover, and he just can’t look that evil glint in the eye. Not since he saw the very same one glittering menacingly when Liam looked at Dan, the daggering stare boring into the other boy. The image is still printed deep in Phil’s mind, resurfacing during the darkest part of the night.
That’s cowardly. Phil doesn’t care.
“Are you sure you-“
“Phil,” Dan sighs. “For the final time, I’m fine.”
“But you-“
“Honestly,” he insists, brown eyes shining. He’s trying, with one hand, to unwrap the chocolate bar Phil had insisted upon him. “It was just a bump, that’s all. The paths were really icy this morning.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Phil sighs, tapping Dan’s bandage patch delicately. It sits just under his fringe.