Broken Rules - Phan

Part 5

I turned around and walked forwards, my cheeks high with heat and my hands brimming with sweat. I controlled my breaths and wiped my hands on my jeans. I couldn't help but repeat, 'stupid' in my head. This was a criminal, and I was practically handing him ammunition on me. Wow here you go, undeniably attractive felon, have my confused sexuality. Nope, no problem, totally you can torture me with it. I cringed at myself, I suppose my staggered As and solid Bs meant nothing in this situation.

I looked back, to make sure he had gotten in before I closed the gate. Thankfully, he was a few paces behind me, but still inside the school. The car had driven off.

"So, Daniel," I cringed and heard his quickening footsteps. Before I could so much as glance backwards, he was by my side, his hands placed weirdly into his pockets. "How is God going to save me?" Wow, I thought, no beating around the bush there.
"Forgiveness," I said, trying to glue a polite smile to my face. And failing slightly,
"Huh, forgiveness," he nodded, his words sweet but his tone sour. "As far as I know forgiveness doesn't help you in hell."

I turned my head to give him a look, what emotion to show, I had not yet decided, but he was facing forwards still, his frame in a slump and his eyes drowsily flitting.
"They don't forgive in jail, Daniel," his voice was cold, his figure tense and his eyes unforgiving. I had decided that now was not the correct time to correct him to Dan, it seemed insensitive. I fumbled for words, my usual ripe vocabulary wiltling as I looked for them, but before I had decided he seemed to have pushed it all back.

"Not much of a talker are you?" He said as his eyes licked the left wing; that was the building containing copious amounts of classrooms. The trouble was, I hadn't a clue what to say. All I could form in my head were stupid questions that seemed insignificant and/or insensitive. Before I managed to filter the passage between my head and my mouth, a question seemed to slip out,
"Do you like pumpkin pie?" I honestly couldn't help but cringe at my words, here I was, with a convicted criminal, and my thoughts were solely lunch related. He gave a small snort that I assumed was laughter; I was correct.
"Yeah, a little I guess," his blue eyes were now tracing the floor,
"Well don't try the one here, rumours say they have rats in them," I plucked up the courage to look at him, and his eyes bored into mine,
"Sounds like I won't be touching it then. I'm totally allergic to rats," I laughed and a small, I guessed, genuine smile played on his lips.

The conversation we had was staggered but enjoyable. I felt good in his company. I felt like I was sat next to a small fireplace, the flames licking softly at my cheeks and the light illuminating forwards. I felt good in his company. His smile, although small and withered, felt genuine. I felt like with this felon, someone convicted of a crime, I would never be lied to. If he was unwilling to partake in conversation, he would tell me so, and if he was, it was fun and carefree. Even though he was a criminal, I felt a little safer with him than I did with anyone else.

"This reformer block blows," he said, his back against the right wing. Close up it made me feel sad. Not ill. The windows were dirty and under each one was a neglected flower box full of cigarette buts. The corners of the building had mould. I could barely look at it without feelings nauseous.

I'd been feeling sick a lot recently. My heart slowing as I felt the churn in my stomach. It made me sad that Phil would have to live there. Even though he was a criminal he deserved to have correct living conditions. He wasn't a rat.

He looked disappointed. Not malicious. All I wanted was to hug him. But I figured that wasn't correct socially and continued to fiddle with the loose strands hanging off of my jumper.
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," I mumbled, looking down at the floor. Sighing noticeably, he walked into the building. His head was held high and his bag slung over his shoulder. He was so elegant. Phil Lester.

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(The end of this chapter deleted and I've only just noticed)