Hate Me Closer (Phan)

Chapter Thirty-Four

A week and a half later, Phil's birthday cake arrived at Mr Brown's door, which was carried through into their dorm where six boys sat around eagerly awaiting its arrival. He set it down, along with a butter knife and napkins, "Don't get food everywhere." he warned, "And happy birthday, Philip."

"Thank you!" the sixteen-year-old boy grinned, opening the lid of the box and staring down at the delight. It was an hour after supper, so with the cake in mind, all of the boys had worked up an appetite for the sweet-tasting frosting, despite having pudding earlier.

The sun was setting in the far distance, behind the woodlands off of the village nearby. The sun couldn't be seen from their dorm window, but the purples and pinks of the sun's winter glow, reflecting off of the clouds, could be. Dan drew the blinds with a short, sharp pull against the plastic material, shutting the view out of sight and letting the flicker of the candles replace it. The boys sang one of the worst renditions of 'Happy Birthday' heard to man, with PJ's annual solo of how his friend looked like a monkey.

Phil gave his obnoxious companion a playful scowl before violently blowing out the candles before him, "Who wants cake?!" he shouted, taking a heap for himself before passing the knife around. There was no order to how the pieces were cut, much to Dan's frustration.

The younger boy chose to go last, taking about seven small slices that were arranged to make the cake back into a square shape, or what was salvageable of an oblong, "I hate you all." he mumbled, "Apart from Phil. It's your birthday, I'll hate you tomorrow instead."

The older boy chuckled, silently choking on his mouthful of sponge in laughter. They had about thirty seconds of peace before an onslaught of dessert-craving teenagers piled in, standing comically straight with hopeful smiles against their faces. Phil picked the knife up, pointing it towards them, "If you all get a slice, there shall be no mention or demand of soggy biscuit."

"Yeah, yeah, sure!" they all agreed, drooling over the cake.

"Promise?"

"We promise." Jacob confirmed, sliding forwards to take the knife, "But...dares is essential, then."

"Fine."

"So, can we dare you to do sog-"

"No!" he shouted.

"Got it." the boy laughed, taking the knife and cutting out slices for the rest of the Third Form Crossings boys, all huddled into the small dorm, "PJ," he began, "as dedicated longest-friend of Philip Lester...you dare him first."

PJ stood up, theatrically cracking his neck and knuckles. The way the game normally occurred on their birthdays was that someone close to the birthday boy was chosen first, daring him something tame. In the usual fashion of 'dares', the person dared then chooses who goes next. Apart from, this next person will then bring it back to the birthday boy, and so will the next one, and so will the next one. The only rule of order is that the birthday boy can't choose the same person twice in a row.

PJ took his glasses off and placed them on his bedside table, leaning against the window sill as he began, "As the first player, it is my duty to remind you all of the rules. One, the birthday boy may not ask the same person twice in a row." he struck up a second finger as he announced, "Rule two, nothing illegal. And three, nothing can be posted or shared elsewhere. Let the dares commence!" he bellowed with his hand over his heart.

The other boys stared at him in bemusement until Jacob piped up, "Petition for PJ to do the rules every time? It was like watching Shakespeare or something."

PJ instantly dropped his act, "I mean, I do Drama. Give me some credit." he shrugged, "Right...Lester." he began, approaching the timid boy, "First dare of the night, huh? Let's start easy, shall we? Phil. I dare you to let my dearest friend, Chris, roast you."