Broken Rules - Phan

Part 9

It had now become difficult to hang around with Phil Lester without feeling weird. I knew he felt the animosity too; the air always seemed to be thick with tension. He made my hands clammy and he rose my temperature. Many people in books and independent writings will use cliches- such as fireworks or hands fitting together like puzzle pieces- and they always seemed tacky. But, as much as I hated to admit it, Phil Lester had me up in knots.

A writer will usually tell you about how the lover's mouth sat perfectly framed on their face and how their teeth shone in a neat, straight row. And it was difficult to say otherwise. Because when you like somebody that much, it's difficult to find fault in them.

I couldn't hate Phil for the long, painful stares he pierced me with, I couldn't hate him for the sleepless nights he gave me and I couldn't hate him for the flawless imperfect way he held his crooked frame under an oak tree. What I could do was lust over him. For long periods of time. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Every second I could pluck my brain away from reality, I delved into my own little world full of Phil and I.

It was becoming sad and obsessive. But I seldom minded. Phil had started to show piece by piece of his art to me and I felt like the luckiest person in the world. To behold such wonder was like stepping into a dark cave. When the light sparked into it the whole room lit up with coloured crystals of every kind. And it was always beautiful.

"Dan?" I snapped from one of my many dimensions into the last class of the day; English. "Hyperbole," Mr Palmer looked at me with a disappointed glare. "What is a hyperbole, Howell?" I pleaded him with my eyes not to embarrass me, but that seemed to anger him. "You've missed two of my classes just this week and you can't even explain to me a simple language technique?" His voice was filled with fury and his eyes practically glowed red. I could see the steam pour from his ears as I grabbed what little English knowledge I could remember from the back of my brain.
"Its an exaggeration, sir," the redness in his face left like water through a plughole,
"Thank you, Dan," he massaged his temples with his fingers and muttered under his breath, "finally."

He was now affecting my school work. Great. I had always kept up a steady image in school. Hardworking, always on time and all around golden boy. But now I was so consumed will knowing Phil Lester that I didn't own any of those traits anymore. I felt like my soul purpose was to unwrap him and figure him out. Because he had so many layers, insert shrek pun, and so many pasts hidden behind those crystal eyes of his. And I wanted to document every single one of them.

*******
Chris knew something was wrong. He knew something was off. The way I was handling myself was different, Chris could tell this. However PJ was none the wiser. He was never one for observing, noting down or noticing things. Once Chris had dyed his hair red and PJ hadn't noticed a thing until I mentioned it; his head was always in the clouds.

"Philly," Chris said with his sly and smirking tone, "it's time we had a little chat," his hazel eyes stared into mine as if he were trying to unfold the realities I'd hidden in the corridors of my mind. "D'you mind peej?" Chris asked, his fingers brushing PJ's shoulders lightly. He shook his head tamely, his mind obviously somewhere else. As per usual.

Just as I was about to leave the usual bench to have a quick chat with Chris. Phil appeared. Now, as you might have guessed, I dropped everything in that moment just so I could watch him approach. His black ink glittered in the low sun, his chapped lips were met by a swiping of his tongue and suddenly there was gloss, his black hair shone like a beacon, his eyes glistened furiously and his piercings appeared silky as the sun silently continued to blaze downwards.

There are many things people can say that can cause you anxiety. When a teacher calls on you when you do not know the answer, when you don't want to hang out with someone and so you have to fake plans. But I'd never been riddled with so much anxiety from four words. Four words left his beautifully mismatched face, four words that shook my entire being. I was suddenly cold all over as I racked my brain for what was about to unfold. Just four words.
"We need to talk."

~~~~~~~

Oh trouble in paradise, not that there is a paradise but lets assume there is yay. (I may just be adding author notes to up the word count and thus make my chapter live up to my standards) I'm not one for long chapters anyway....
FUCK IT 856 WILL DO