oops! ➸ one-shots

all was golden in the sky

Phil Lester met a lot of weird people. A normal trip to the supermarket for anyone else was a mad dash of avoiding anyone somewhat weird in case of a mishap for Phil. Walking down the street seemed to be an open invitation for people to approach and whisper weird things to him. He swore that any time he registered for a flight, the airplane company purposefully sat him next to the strangest bunch they could muster.

Phil also loved plants. Every time he went out to town he could hardly restrain the urge to buy that cute potted cactus or that lily about to bloom. With no one to tell him not to, Phil bought as many plants as he desired. Naturally, his house found itself filled with various kinds of greens, pinks, and oranges. Phil had a windowsill reserved for all his little cacti, and his particular favorite (one that could grow a tiny flower) was placed front and center on the sill. Every flat surface was adorned with an average of three plants per, and Phil took great care to water all his leafy pals every day.

Sunsets, for Phil, symbolized the end of the day; the beautiful end to a beautiful thing. He liked to watch the sunset, so he often found himself at a rooftop cafe at dusk. He never drank coffee up there though, or else he would never get any sleep; usually he orders tea, or hot chocolate if it's cold outside. And the thing is, he would totally be up for trying different rooftop cafes every night, but there's one thing that keeps him going to the same one.

There's a boy that always sits in a booth alone with a black coffee and a journal. Phil likes to watch him, but not in a creepy way. Phil just thinks that this boy is intriguing. He's intrigued by the way this boy pushes his pencil against his forehead while he's thinking, how he's always drumming on the table with his fingers, and that he often mumbles things to himself. It's like he's alone in his own world of music and thoughts and Phil just really wants to join him.

The problem is that Phil doesn't know how to initiate. Obviously this guy prefers to be alone, or else he would have people with him, at least every once in awhile. Also, he doesn't want to start off badly, the way he usually does when he expresses interest in a new person. Phil just isn't socially adept; the harder he tries, the worse the outcome. And there's always that fact that this guy could, like, not be into guys, which makes the situation a hundred times more nerve-wracking. So, Phil casts subtle glances in the direction of this strange, lonely boy, too scared to say a word.

One night, Phil brings his friend PJ to the cafe. PJ had shown interest in Phil's stories of the brooding boy in the corner of the cafe, watching as the sun sets and then finishing his coffee and leaving, journal in the crook of his arm. Phil's kind of embarrassed when PJ first spots the boy because he inquires a bit too loudly, "Is that him?"

Phil grimaces, "Peej, please. Quiet."

"Right, sorry." PJ lowers his voice to a whisper, "Is that him?"

"Yeah," Phil replies, not looking over at the boy just in case he decides to glance over and see both Phil and PJ staring at him. Phil knows, however, that the boy rarely ever looks up from his journal except to look out the window next to his booth.

"Why don't you just go sit with him?" PJ tears his gaze from the boy and looks to Phil with curious eyes.

"You know me," Phil sighs, a longing glance cast towards the mysterious boy, "I'd mess it up."

"Oh, come on. He's pretty. Go for it." PJ gestures towards the booth and Phil shakes his head.

"I can't."Phil purses his lips.

"But you can."

"I promise that I'll try soon, but not right now. I need to think of something to say." He gives in, partially, though he's not sure if he really will hold up his promise.