Blue Neighborhood (Phan)

FOOLS

"I just don't get it!" Dan exclaimed, throwing down his pen, aggravated.

"You're getting better," Phil encouraged, "You really are."

"Yeah right," Dan rolled his eyes, "Poetry is stupid. It makes no sense."

"Gee, thanks," Phil said, a little hurt.

"What you like poetry?" Dan asked, still annoyed.

"Well, yeah," Phil said, blushing. There was a moment of silence as Phil stared at the ground, uncomfortably.

"Sorry," Dan said, scooting a little closer to Phil and nudging him, "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"You're fine," Phil said, still not looking at him.

"I just feel like I'm getting nowhere," Dan admitted.

"It's only been two weeks," Phil pointed out, "You'll learn. You just have to give yourself some time."

"I don't have time," Dan sighed, "SATs are coming and the end of this semester is coming faster and I have to have my English grade up or—"

"Calm," Phil chuckled, "Maybe you should try writing some."

"What?" Dan raised his eyebrows.

"Writing some poetry," Phil clarified, "Then maybe you'll understand it better if it's, like, closer to home."

"You really think that'll work?" Dan asked.

"Works for me," Phil shrugged.

"You write poetry?" Phil felt his face go red again.

"Yeah," he said, staring at his hands, "I guess."

"Read me some."

"Not likely," Phil laughed.

"I'm serious," Dan said. Phil met his eyes and it seemed like he was telling the truth. "I'm not gonna make fun of you or anything like that."

"Really?" Phil asked, unsure.

"Yeah," Dan smiled.

"You swear?"

"Cross my heart," Dan swore.

"Okay," Phil said, "I'll bring some with me tomorrow."

"Swear?" Dan teased.

"Cross my heart," Phil giggled, "but you've got to finish this."

"I will," Dan promised.

"I mean now," Phil laughed, handing Dan his pen. "Now, focus on the context—"

The next day the two boys sat in their usual spot, leaning on Dan's sofa in front of the coffee table.

"Did you bring it?" Dan asked.

"Yeah," Phil said, embarrassed, pulling a worn red notebook out of his bag.

"Wow that's all poems?" Dan asked, eyes widening as Phil flipped through the ink-covered pages.

"Yeah," Phil felt his usual Dan-induced blush rise in his cheeks, "But I' only reading you one."

"What?" Dan asked, disappointed, "That wasn't in the deal!"

"Well maybe I'll read you more if you get your English grade up," Phil teased.

"What are you, my mom?" Dan asked, annoyed at how the younger boy patronized him.

"Shh," Phil shushed, "Or I won't read at all."

"You have to. You swore." Dan reminded him.

"Right," Phil rolled his eyes. He avoided Dan's eyes, lowering his head as much as possible as he read.

I am tired of this place, I hope people change

I need time to replace what I gave away

And my hopes, they are high, I must keep them small

Though I try to resist I still want it all

I see swimming pools and living rooms and airplanes

I see a little house on the hill and children's names

I see quiet nights poured over ice and Tanqueray

But everything is shattering and it's my mistake.

What if we run away?

What if we left today?

What if we say goodbye to safe and sound

And what if we're hard to find?

What if we lost our minds

What if we left them far behind, and they're never found?

And when the lights start flashing like a photobooth

And the stars exploding

We'll be fireproof

My youth is yours

Trippin' on skies, sippin' waterfalls

My youth is yours

Runaway now and forevermore

My youth is yours

A truth so loud you can't ignore

My youth is yours

But only fools fall for you, only fools

Only fools do what I do, only fools fall

Only fools fall for you.

"Wow," Dan said, his eyes wide in awe, "You—you wrote that?"

"Yeah," Phil bit his lip, is face even paler than usual. "Did you like it?"

"Like it?" Dan asked, "That was—it was fucking amaz—it was—wow," he stuttered, at a loss for words.

"It—it's nothing really," Phil grinned at how flustered Dan was.

"No that was—Wow," Dan repeated, "You could get published."

"It's not that good," Phil said.

"No it is, honest," Dan insisted, "Can-can I?" he reached for the notebook that Phil had left open on the coffee table

"Oh! No, you don't want—" Phil reached for it, but it was too late. Phil felt his heart rate accelerate and his entire body get weak as Dan's eyes traveled over the page with the poem Phil had just read written on it. "Dan, please—" But it was too late.

Dan's face went bright red and his expression was one Phil couldn't read as he noticed the title for the first time.

Phil wasn't sure how it happened, but the next thing he knew Dan's lips had locked with his and they were kissing and his fingers were in Dan's hair and Dan's hands were on his neck and the notebook laid on the floor at their feet, still open to the page with the poem titled Dan Howell.