Adumbrate || Phan

Vehemence

Third wheeling is never fun.
Especially if it's your best friend.
I sat in silence whilst Chris and PJ rambled on about some sketch they were planning to make together- something about a train?
They wanted me to be a newspaper in it.
Or something like that.
They were getting really excited, both trying to speak over one another, idea upon idea. Every time one of them said something good, they'd kiss. Literally so gross. I was mainly just focusing on trying not to vom although I was distracted by other things.
"Sup Danny boy?" Chris asked. I jumped out of my daydream to find Chris and PJ both looking at me. I smiled weakly.
"Nothing. Just contemplating how one would project the emotional spectrum of a newspaper." Chris shrugged, continuing to ramble on about all these weird ass characters but PJ kept his eyes glued to me.
"Have you heard from Phil recently?" He asked. I flinched slightly but turned round with my eyebrows furrowed.
"No? Why would I have?" I asked. He shrugged.
"Don't know. I haven't either, he won't answer me. I'm a bit worried but my cars broken down so I can't really get over there." He sighed.
"Well, he's a big boy, I'm sure he can look after himself." I mumbled, playing with my hands awkwardly. Was he ignoring PJ because of me? No. He's fine, we aren't even friends, we never were.
PJ scratched his head and sighed again.
"Look do you think that you could go over there and check on him? For me? I know you know where he lives. It's been days since we've spoken." I nibbled my lip. I knew I couldn't go over there but I literally had no excuse. Plus, he was giving me these huge, puppy dog eyes.
As I said before, you can't say no to PJ.
"Um, okay. I guess." I said, shrugging. PJ smiled at me gratefully.
"Thank you." I smiled back before grabbing my keys and coat and heading off back to Mishita Close.
-
I pulled up to his house and none of the lights were on. The air was cold and my breath came out in clouds of mist. I wondered if I looked like Phil when he smoked.
Stupid question. He looked too hot. And like he would soon die.
I walked up to the door and knocked lightly.
No answer.
I knocked again louder.
Still no answer.
I then knocked much louder and at a higher frequency until I heard a "ALRIGHT CALM THE FUCK DOWN" from the other side of the door. The door swung open to reveal Phil with messy hair in trackies and a hoodie, back to his old, holey, odd socks. He looked at me with no emotion at all. I smiled awkwardly.
"Hi," I said. He didn't reply, continuing to just stare at me. "Um, yeah, PJ said you weren't answering so I said I'd come to check you were okay so..." He kept the same blank expression.
"I'm amazing. Just call me Amazing Phil." He said sarcastically. I sighed.
"Look, I'm really really really sorry for what happened with the whole thing in town. It was not my place to get involved or judge or whatever. What I did was wrong, you can do whatever the hell you want and I shouldn't say anything about it, it's your life for gods sake." I blurted out. Phil didn't give off any sign of changing emotion, he didn't say anything but he did open the door fully and walked into the house. I guessed this was an invitation for me to come in so I followed, holding my breath as best I could from the smoke-soaked walls. I walked in to see Phil sat down on the sofa bed and picking up a half smoked cigarette from an ash tray. He shifted his head as if signalling for me to sit down. I did just that.
"Aight, guess I have some explaining to do." He said. I shrugged. "Okay, so, let's go back to when you first came over here and you saw those boxes I picked up for my neighbours. Remember?" I nodded. "Remember what they said?"
"No, it was in some weird language b-"
"Latin, to be exact. They said 'arque', 'deluttitat', 'bibere' and 'fumigant'." Phil spoke Latin beautifully. If only I'd known the meaning of the words then. "Translated 'arque' means 'to inject', 'deluttitat' means 'to swallow', 'bibere' means 'to drink' and 'fumigant' means 'to smoke'." He looked to the floor. My eyes widened as I began to realise.
"Wait, so your neighbours are drug dealers?!" He shifted awkwardly in his seat and took a big drag from the already small cigarette.
"Not quite. See, they aren't really my neighbours boxes."
Oh?
OH.
Phil was a drug dealer?!
What the-
He dealt drugs?!
Illegally.
That was literally his job.
I didn't know what to say.
I just said the first thing that came out of my mouth.
"Aren't drug dealers supposed to be rich?" I realised what a twat I sounded like after I said it. He just sighed.
"I don't get the money, Dan."
"Who does?" Phil took a long drag from the orange stub until it burnt his fingers and he dropped it in the ash tray, hissing in pain.
"My dad." He spat out before sucking on his index finger. I furrowed my eyebrows at him. He removed his finger from his mouth and continued. "He made me start doing it when I was fifteen to pay for everything I owed him like clothes, food and all that shit. I only get about 1/5 of the actual money."
"That's awful." I said. I was a bit lost for words.
"Yeah, well, that's why all the weird stuff happens. When I asked you to pick me up from the scrap yard I was getting chased by some junkies who didn't have the money, when we saw that man in town. All that. The only perk is that along with the drugs, they send me free cigarettes," He said, producing another one and lighting it up. He looked down at it and screwed his face up. "They really are vile."
"Why do you smoke then?" I asked. He looked at me and blew out a grey cloud.
"Did you know that one cigarette shortens your life by eleven minutes?" I shook my head. "Yep. I smoke about twenty a day. How many minutes is that? You're in school aren't you?"
"Phil, I haven't done maths in two years."
"Just do it." He said. His voice had gone all rough so I wasn't going to argue against him. I did the sum quickly in my head.
"Err.. two hundred and twenty."
"Right. I have been smoking that amount since I was fourteen. How many minutes of my life have I wasted?"
220 x 365 = 80300 x 7 = 562100
"Five hundred and sixty two thousand, one hundred. Shit, Phil." I said. He shrugged.
"I never was good at maths but I do know that if I keep inhaling these cylinders of tar, my life is going to end a lot sooner than it was planned to. So at least something positive comes out of smoking." He inhaled again and held his breathe for a while before releasing the smoke.
"You're.. you're trying to kill yourself?" I asked. He smiled.
"Oh god, no! I just desperately want to die a slow painful death and I want it to come ASAP."
"W-why?" I asked, more taken aback by this than the actually drug dealing.
"Well, yanno, a shitty life should at least have a dramatic death people can remember me by and why not now? I haven't really got especially much to live for."
"That's not true, Phil."
"I'm afraid it is, Daniel." I couldn't even comment on him using my full name. I had a huge lump in my throat. My mouth was dry. I never realised it was this bad.
"Yo- you have PJ?" I said hopefully. Phil scoffed.
"Yeah, like he actually gives that much of a shit about me. He couldn't even be arsed to come over here himself. He was too busy getting with his little bum chum."
"Well, er, I came." I said. He turned round to look at me and smirked.
"True. Do you care about me then, Daniel?" I looked to the floor. I could feel his eyes glued on me.
"Well, yeah. You know I do. I bought you a coat." I expected him to roll his eyes and continue to smoke but when I looked up, he was still staring at me. His cigarette was in the ashtray. "You're the only person who's ever seen me cry." He whispered. Tears suddenly pricked his eyes. He continued to stare at me. I sat still, unsure of what to say or do. He leaned forward and looked into my eyes. "You know, with the moonlight glowing on you like that, you really do look beautiful." I gulped.
Did he really just call me beautiful? I tried to speak but my words came out all jumbled.
"Pff, I mean, no, I- look at you! You're so, you know, like-"
"Vulnerable? Weak? Assailable? I-"
"Gorgeous. You're, er, you're quite gorgeous. Kinda. Haha." He looked at me and shook his head. My cheeks burned scarlet.
What was happening? I shifted awkwardly in my seat, my phone in my back pocket.
In that moment, either fate came in and worked a miracle or I sat in a funny way but suddenly, Northern Downpour started playing softly out of my back pocket.

If all our life is but a dream
Phil smiled widely. He really did look gorgeous.
Fantastic posing greed
Then we should feed our jewelry to the sea
He sat back and closed his eyes, listening deeply to the music. I couldn't help but stare.
For diamonds do appear to be
Just like broken glass to me
And then she said she can't believe
Genius only comes along
In storms of fabled foreign tongues
He looked up at me and saw me staring.
Tripping eyes, and flooded lungs
He began to move closer.
Northern downpour sends its love
My heart was beating like a deranged drum.
Hey moon, please forget to fall down
He looked out the window.
Hey moon, don't you go down
His eyes were illuminated by the moonlight.
Sugarcane in the easy mornin'
He looked back to me and leaned in even closer still.
Weathervanes my one and lonely
I felt his lips on mine and I could no longer hear the lyrics.
I wasn't sure if it was wrong.
It felt right.
He tasted of cigarettes and chocolate Lynx.
He clung on tightly to me, grabbing desperately to my tshirt.
His hair was soft on my cheek.
So were his lips.
On my lips.
On my jaw.
On my neck.
I could hardly breathe.
This was happening so fast.
Should it even happen?
He took every short breathe I had, as if he was trying to claim them for his own.
I thought I might faint.
I pulled away and attempted to compose myself, holding my head in my hands and taking deep breaths.
"Sorry," he mumbled, standing up. "I forgot you were only a kid." He then walked out the door, leaving me alone in his house.
My blood began to boil.
No.
He wasn't doing that again.
I walked out to his front garden.
He was standing there smoking. I took the cigarette from him and threw it to the floor. He looked at me, surprise filling his face.
"You're not getting away that easy." I whispered to him and pushed him against the wall of his house, kissing him again. It was different this time.
I didn't worry who saw.
I didn't worry if it was wrong.
I didn't think about the future.
I didn't think about the past.
I didn't care.
I didn't see fireworks.
I just saw Phil's beautiful eyes shining in the moonlight and I can tell you, I have never been more thankful to that glowing piece of rock in my life.