Misfit (Phan AU)

Chapter Twenty

A/n: warning for a panic-attack/anxiety situation after the bolded --, toward the end of the chapter. (Also warning that I'll hunt u down if u don't vote for Misfit in the Wattys 2015, voting starts August 24th until the 31st, link this story and use the hashtag #MyWattysChoice in a tweet to vote. You can spam!)

*Phil's POV*

I grit my teeth in a mixture of concentration and agitation, trying desperately to stretch my arms just a little bit further. I was vaguely aware of the fact that I had an audience, that I was far from alone in the large open-concept room, but those thoughts were pushed to the back-burner of my mind. I needed my full attention on the task at hand, because I was determined to get through it successfully.

Well, I called it 'determined', the rest of my family had already expressed multiple times now that they viewed it instead as me being 'stubborn'. I brushed those lighthearted insults off as quickly as they spoke them though, only twisting their annoyed complaints around into inspiration to work harder and prove I could do it.

'It' encompassed the tree that I'd been struggling to put up all by myself for the past hour. Its weight and awkward shape alone would have been difficulty enough, but my ever-so-considerate brother had gone and picked out the biggest in the lot, so much so that it'd taken me half of the past hour just to get it into the living room. Now, I'd managed to get it upright in the tree stand, all that was left was to secure it properly and decorate. Surely I could do that, it was the easy part!

Or at least, that's what I'd been telling myself, because if I were to embrace the reality of the situation I doubted I'd have the gusto to get anywhere near finishing the task, I'd probably give up right this instant. I couldn't do that though, oh no, I was far too determined (stubborn) to have things play out how I wanted them to- and to prove anyone who had thought differently up until then completely wrong.

Besides, it's not like I was this invested without reason, I had plenty of excuses as to why this particular tradition meant so much to me.

I was born into a pretty privileged life, there was no arguing with that, I had it better than a lot of people. But there was one particular recurring limitation that irked me. It was small, a first world problem through-and-through, but that didn't change the fact that it was, in fact, a problem- to me at least.

For as long as I could remember, my family visited during the holidays. No, not in the sense of my immediate family getting together and visiting relatives like you would think, but in the sense every single member of my extended family seemed to end up crammed into our little house for some reason unbeknownst to myself.

And I was good about it, mostly, as good as a child could be when their birthdays, Christmases, Halloweens, and any kind of special meal at all ended up bombarded with relative strangers. I say relative strangers and not just 'strangers', because these people were strangers with privileges. Unlike strangers, they had no trouble helping themselves to food, propping their feet up on the coffee tables, staying long past their welcome, or even unabashedly stating their opinions on my appearance and my personal life like blood-relation somehow gave them the right.

I can't even guess how many embarrassing moments, anguished nights of ruined plans, and tense mandatory bonding activities I was forced to go through for these people, nor would I want to in fear of reliving the memories themselves. However, I knew it had to be a lot, and I thought it fair to assume I deserved one little thing for myself in return for being such a good-sport.

I wanted a Christmas tree.

A real one, not some sparkly plastic toy that was pulled out of the storage unit in the back of Wal-Mart, bought half-off in the spring so we wouldn't have to fall victim to the outrageous holiday craze prices at the end of the year. I wanted authenticity, I wanted the sharp smell of a Fir tree when I drowsily stumbled into the living room Christmas morning, I even wanted the stupid sap on my hands after putting the damn thing up (or at least, that's what I'd thought I wanted up until now, but with the current state my hands were in, grubby and covered with the stuff, I was fairly certain I'd over-hyped the glory).