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shooklynn-blog · 7 years

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Black Hole Meets Shooting Star (Chapter 4)

A/N: the time has come. this is not a drill. there is LESS angsty dan in this chapter and MORE angsty phil. i kind of live for it. also this chapter has some major (borderline unrealistic) character development in which dan finally stops being super angsty and is only mildly angsty. go dan i guess. about time.

not to tell you how to live your life, but you should probably read chapter 3 first

also: you can read the whole story on wattpad here :)

summary: Dan is so sick of everybody treating Phil Lester like some untouchable prince at school. Phil wears the same flower crowns and pastels Dan was heavily bullied for, but gets no grief. Dan would give anything to have Phil’s life, something that, in his eyes, is just perfect. Phil, the distant daydreamer, walks around, paying little attention to anybody but himself. He’s the person that Dan just loves to hate. That is, until Phil finds him after getting beaten up and takes him back to his place to get him cleaned up. Maybe Dan learns that there’s more to this Phil Lester kid than what meets the eye, and maybe all the distant boy’s daydreaming is just a distraction from the horrors of every day life.

genre: angst, fluff

warning: this chapter has angsty phil. also: A PANIC ATTACK. if these sorts of things trigger you, please don’t read this chapter :)

word count: 1,934

Chapter 4:

I texted Phil in the morning after one of the most peaceful nights of sleep I’d had in awhile.

“I just realized I still have your clothes, should I give them to you at school??”

I got out of bed and immediately winced in pain. My body throbbed from the injuries of the previous day, and I wished I’d taken another advil before going to bed. I went into the bathroom and popped a few pills. I considered stepping into the shower, but decided against it. I still smelled like cotton candy and didn’t want my soap to wash the scent away. I also didn’t really want to take the clothes off, so comfortable and warm and soft and neat. Realistically, I knew that I’d have to return the clothes to Phil, but I wanted to enjoy my last moments in them. It was like floating through a cloud with a fresh lamb.

I brushed my teeth and combed my hair, getting ready for the day ahead. I went back to my room to check my phone, but the boy hadn’t replied. It was fine. He was busy. He wouldn’t just ignore me, would he? He was probably awake, getting ready for school. He wasn’t ignoring me. He just obviously hadn’t seen the text.

I changed out of the clothes, suddenly feeling too warm in them. It was like they were suffocating me or something. I picked out a black pair of skinny jeans and a grey t-shirt. The hoodie I put on made me kind of look like a drug dealer, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t as soft as the yellow one I’d had before, and it almost felt wrong to have such dull colors on. I shook it off, I had different things to worry about. I put Phil’s clothes in my backpack, so as not to forget to return them.

I walked into the kitchen to find my mum already at work. Of course, this was the occurrence nearly every morning, and I didn’t mind being alone. It was peaceful, and that was all I really wanted: peace.

I poured myself a bowl of cereal and tried to eat what I could. Swallowing hurt, and I could only choke down a few bites before giving up. I grabbed my backpack and started the walk to school.

It was bitterly cold outside, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than put Phil’s sweatshirt on. I had to force myself not to take it out of my backpack, as it was Phil’s and it probably would look weird on me to others even though I’d loved how I looked in it last night. I couldn’t wear it, it wasn’t right.

I got to school and didn’t see Phil. He still hadn’t replied to my text, and I was starting to think he’d given me a fake phone number. I went to my classes and everything was a little different. Balloon, Rat, and Gardener could barely meet my eye, and a few people actually half-smiled at me. What was going on?

I had history just before lunch, and, half way through, asked the teacher if I could go fill my water bottle in the hallway. She permitted me to leave and I grabbed my backpack, not wanting to rummage through for the bottle in front of everybody, and headed into the hallway.

I set out toward the fountain, thinking with each step. I could look for Phil at lunch to give his clothes back, or wait until English, or, as the more selfish part of me suggested, just not look for him and keep his sweatshirt. Obviously I couldn’t do that. I was nearly at the fountain.

“This is an intruder drill,” a voice announced over the intercom system, and I groaned. I should've just waited until lunch. When you were in the halls, or anywhere outside of a classroom, you were supposed to go into the nearest bathroom and lock the doors. The bathroom wasn’t far away, but I didn’t really want to make the trip. Still, I started to briskly walk toward them. I turned the corner and went into the blue door with the man’s silhouette painted onto the front. Nobody else was in there, and I was glad, imagine how awkward that would have been. I set my backpack down and leaned against the wall, waiting for the drill to be over. Generally, the drills lasted for around 20 minutes, which meant likely till the end of the period. Great.

I saw the door swing open and heard ragged breathing. I immediately recognized the boy to be Phil Lester, but he looked so different than how I’d seen him the night before. His eyes were red and puffy, breathing sporadic, visibly shaking. Under his breath, he kept repeating, “No no no no please no please.”

“Phil, what’s going on? Are you alright?” I took a step towards him and he yelped.

“Stay back, leave me alone” he repeated over and over again.

“Phil, it’s just me. It’s just Dan. Phil, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” I took a step back, not wanting to scare him more than he already seemed to be.

“He’s coming. He’s coming oh my god he’s going to kill me. Last time he said that if he caught me trying to get away again he’d kill me. Oh my god I’m going to die,” tears were rolling down Phil’s face. Now I was alarmed.

“Phil, I’m not going to let anybody hurt you. You have to let me help you, who is going to hurt you?” I tried to speak in a steady voice, but I was afraid. Realistically, I knew that I couldn’t protect Phil if somebody much stronger than me came in, but I needed Phil to calm down. Phil looked into my eyes, and all I could see was the fear that resided in his glazed over blue eyes.

“You can’t save me. Nobody can,” Phil collapsed into a sobbing ball on the floor, and I felt a chill go up my spine. Something was seriously wrong. The way that he had said it was the more frightening than the death threats he’d worried about, he said it with a cold certainty that chilled me to my bones. I had no doubt that Phil didn’t believe that he could be saved.

I sat next to Phil, still rocking back and forth and sobbing. I slowly reached my hand out to touch his hair.

“Is this okay?” I asked. I didn’t want to frighten him more. He nodded and continued to sob, shaking in his place. I ran my fingers through his hair the way my mom used to do to me when I got hurt. I put one arm around him, trying to comfort him but not really knowing how. When he let me do this, I wrapped my other arm around him aswell and pulled him close to me. He was still taking shaky breaths, the occasional choked sob escaping, but he seemed to have calmed down a little.

“You’re okay, Phil. You’re going to be okay,” I whispered in his ear. His head was resting on my shoulder, my sweatshirt damp from his tears, but I didn’t mind. I just wanted him to be okay.

“No, I’m not,” Phil began to sob again, and I rocked with him, arms wrapped around the boy. I could feel each shaky breath that he took and held him close while he cried into me. I kept reassuring him that that he was going to be okay and that he was safe. I felt his breathing grow slower, though it took some time.

“I-I’m sorry,” Phil sniffed, “I’ve ruined your sweatshirt and wasted your time and you just saw me a complete mess and I’m really sorry - ”

I cut him off, quoting his own words, “Stop apologizing for something you had no control over.” He started crying again. Jesus Christ.

“Did I do something wrong?” I whispered, running my fingers through his black hair once again.

“No, I just never thought that my own words could mean so much to me,” he smiled a little, and, for a moment, I could imagine everything being okay. He was going to be okay. The bell rang, which meant that lunch had started.

“I know a quiet place where we could go if you want to,” I offered. Phil, puffy eyed and snot-nosed, looked up at me. He looked so adorably helpless and all i knew was that I needed to protect him at all costs.

“I think I’d like that,” Phil whispered, “I think I’d like that a lot.” I didn’t want to leave the embrace we were in, but I knew that I had to.

“Hey, I have something of yours,” I rummaged through my backpack and pulled out the sweatshirt and other clothes he’d lent me.

“Keep it. The clothes don’t fit me right anyways,” the boy with the brilliant eyes smiled up at me, and I swear that nothing had ever existed as beautiful as that smile.

“You really don’t have to,” I offered the clothes back to the boy, but Phil pushed them back into my arms. I smiled at him.

It was crazy how much had happened in that bathroom in the span of 20 minutes. Maybe now I understood all the hype about Phil Lester because in that moment he was the most beautiful person in the world and all that I cared about was making sure that he was happy and okay. And, for now, Phil Lester was okay.

I might even go as far as to say that, like the rest of the school, I’d fallen under the Lester Effect. After all, how could anybody hate a ray of sunshine like Phil Lester? I grabbed his hand and led him out of the bathroom, letting him keep his face buried in my shoulder as I slowly walked to the safest, quietest place in the whole school.

I took the quietest hallways, which I’d scoped out during my time trying to avoid bullies. It was a slow travel, but it was peaceful, and that was all I could have asked for. I had the shooting star that was Phil Lester at my side, beautiful head resting on my shoulder. I listened to his steady, peaceful breaths. I combed my fingers through his beautiful hair and looked at him, so gorgeously calm and unaware that I was staring at him. The pastel boy was so different than I’d first thought, and, even as head head rested on me, it was as if he was floating gracefully by. We were just coexisting, and that was enough.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked softly.

“Of course,” I put an arm around him because maybe it felt like my arm was made to hold somebody just his size close.

“Why did you help me?” he looked into my eyes and I got lost in the blue that was actually like 3 different colors.

“You were there for me when I needed somebody to save me. I had to return the favor. You’re a good person, Phil, you’re a shooting star who doesn’t deserve to be anything but happy,” I looked at him fondly. He half-smiled back at me.

“Right now, I feel like more of a black hole than a shooting star,” he grumbled. I pulled him into a quick hug. I almost laughed, because the most beautiful person in the world had just called himself a black hole.

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