Alive (Phan)

TWENTY ONE (part 1)

"I don't think it's going to fit!" PJ called from across the driveway. 

"We'll make it fit!" Phil shouted back as I lugged my suitcase toward Peej's car.

"Why do you have to own so much crap?" Peej complained as I approached the back of the car.

"Why do you have the world's smallest car?" I retorted, sticking my tongue out at him.

"Right blame the car," PJ rolled his eyes jokingly, taking the suitcase from me.

"You do have the world's smallest car," Phil pointed out. 

"Right back up your boyfriend," PJ teased with a laugh, shoving my suitcase into the trunk with my other thingr things. 

"You better be planning on hugging your mother before those boys take you away!" Mum called out the door.

"Better go hug your mummy then," Peej giggled.

"Shut up!" I laughed, poking him in the side.

"Hey!" Phil grabbed my finger, "None of that. Go to your mother!" 

"Fine," I chuckled, heading back to the door. "Mum!" I called, "I'm leaving!"

"Hug me," she smiled, appearing from the kitchen. She wrapped her arms around me. "You gonna survive without me?" she teased.

"I could ask the same," I smiled.

"Yes you could," she teased, standing on her tiptoes to kiss my chin. "And yes I can."

"Me too," I laughed.

"Come home though," she added, "Don't just abandon me."

"How could I?" I asked, "I couldn't go two weeks without your cookies."

"Get out of my house," she laughed, giving me a little push, "And take this," she held out a record.

"John Cougar Mellencamp, " I read, "Mm, gross!" I stuck out my tongue in mock disgust. 

"It's his best album, take care of it," she teased, "Alright, go on then!"

"Love you!" I called through the door.

"Love you too!" she answered.

"Ready?" Phil called from the car.

I nodded. "Oh looks like everything fit fine to me!" I exclaimed, shooting PJ a look.

"Whatever," he said, rolling his eyes, "Get in!"

***

Moving in with Phil and PJ was arguably the best decision I made that year. Phil and I pushed our beds together, but for the most part the three of us always fell asleep in a tangle of blankets on the floor. Peej and I played Halo during most of the time we probably should've been studying and Phil took advantage of my turntable to play all of the Muse albums he had hanging on the wall. Phil also forced me to watch a lot of anime-- which I usually  liked-- and read every manga he owned-- which I enjoyed very much. 

"Lit is ruining my life," Phil declared one day about two weeks after I had moved in, "Do you understand this at all?"

"Probably," I said, closing the manga, "What are you working on?" He shoved his book towards me, groaning.

"How am I supposed to write an essay over the theme of the play if I don't even understand it?" Phil asked.

"If you didn't understand the play, why didn't you just ask me to explain it?" I asked, scooting over towards him and taking the book from him.

"I don't know," he said, "I just-- I don't know."

"Did you read it?" I asked, causing Phil's face to flush.

"Of course I read it," he said, less than convincingly, "I mean-- I-- I was going to read it," he admitted, his face falling.

"Phil," I moaned, "Why didn't you read it? You like to read."

"Yeah, comic books," he said, "Not boring, old plays."

"But you do films," I reminded him, "That's like a play."

"Well it's different if I'm in it," he said, "because I'm, like, invested in it, you know?"

"So get invested in the play! Here," I handed him his book back, scooting close so I could look over his shoulder, "Scene 1: you be Clarice and I"ll be Pantalone."

"Really?" Phil asked, giggling at my suggestion.

"Really," I insisted, "Dad and I used to do it all the time when I was little to help me memorize lines. It'll help I promise!" Phil turned and stared at me for a minute, silently.

"What?" I asked, "Your line is first!"

"You just-- mentioned your dad," he pointed out.

"Oh," I said, "I-- I guess I didn't realize. Sorry if that's weird."

"No," he shook his head, "It isn't. I just-- You've never even mentioned him before."

"Yeah," my voice trailed off. "I guess actually dealing with things makes them less painful to talk about, you know?" I suggested after a moment.

"Yeah, I guess," he said. I was sure he was going to say something else, but he didn't.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, avoiding my eyes.

"What is it?" I prodded, "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing, honest," he smiled at me, "Let's read!"

"Okay then," I chuckled, "Go!"

"Okay," he cleared his voice and began, "Well, go on daughter. Don't be shy. You're engaged and this is your ceremony." He turned and looked back at me, "This is weird."

"No it isn't it's commedia," I said, sticking out my tongue and reading, "Silvio, here is my hand and with it my heart. I promise to be your wife. Okay, now you read Silvio's part," I whispered.

"Okay. And I to be your ever loving husband." He leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek. 

"See there, you're getting into it!" I said, poking him in the side, "Well done., " I read, "Now it's legal, and there's no tuning back--"

Two hours later, PJ returned to the room to find Phil, wrapped in a makeshift dress that we had fashioned from a sheet, and I reenacting the final scene from A Servant of Two Masters, using our beds as a stage. 

"Why did you conspire to drive us crazy?" Phil read, in ridiculous mock-horror.

"What is happening?" PJ laughed, dropping his bag in the doorway.

"Oh, hey Peej, we're just--"

"Don't break character!" Phil scolded me, still speaking in a high-pitched feminine voice.

"Right," I giggled, "