cliché (phan)

nine

tw// mentions of abuse

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"What the hell was that all about?" I hissed to Phil who sat across from me. He sipped his smoothie before shaking his head.

"You shouldn't go on a date with him, that's all."

I smirked. "I shouldn't, or you don't want me to?"

"Maybe a little bit of both. Besides that's so insensitive to just ask you that- especially in front of me."

I giggled. "Jealousy problem?"

"I do not have a jealousy problem! I just like to keep what's mine!"

"So you have a jealousy problem," I repeated. "Wait- mine?"

Phil immediately began to blush. "I-I didn't mean to say that."

I laughed. "Whatever you say, Lester. Anyways, what happened before class? You got all nervous and shaky."

Phil shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Either you tell me or I go back to school."

"You wouldn't."

"Okay you're right; but I will bother you about it."

Phil sighed, paying for our food before grabbing my arm and dragging me out the cafe. Without another word, we got in his car and drove to the back of the school, the both of us hopping out and I followed him to the empty soccer field.

We sat down on the bleachers and I looked at him.

"When I was younger," he began. "My mom loved theatre. Any type of it, too. Operas, plays, musicals, all of them. She'd take the whole family to go watch plays. I never liked them. I was like my dad. My dad always liked sports. But my brother. . . He got my mom. He's a theatre nerd too."

"So one day, when we watched a play and there was an abusive relationship, mom wouldn't stop crying that night. So she came out and told us that our dad had hit her more than once, but she didn't want to leave him for our sake. We told her we should all run away, except considering Nick and I weren't even teenagers yet, she knew it would be too hard. So we stayed."

"Oh no," I breathed.

"Then we finally understood. He never hit us, but he definitely made us feel like shit. Called us names and never helped out with anything, using work as an excuse to be a lazy piece of shit. Finally after awhile we moved out and now we're living with my grandma. Haven't seen my dad in. . . four years."

I exhaled, and after a long, comfortable silence, I spoke. "Well, let's have a race, shall we? Just to boost your mood."

I took his hand and we began trudging to the track. Our feet on the line, Phil began to count. "One. . . Two. . ." suddenly he had taken off running. "Three!"

"Hey! Asshole!" I shouted after him, chasing to catch up with him. We ran the whole track and I ended up winning.

I dropped to my knees in the grass, panting, and Phil collapsed on top of me. I groaned and he rolled off, laying on his back next to me. I turned over and mimicked his position. I looked over at the sunset, admiring how beautiful the sky could be at times like these.

"You're fast, Howell," Phil panted out next to me.

I grinned. "You're not so bad yourself, Lester. I was slower than my grandpa. And he's dead."

His eyes widened and I looked over at Phil who burst out in laughter, and I immediately joined in too.

In between fits of laughter he rolled over on top of me, push-up position and hovering over me. I looked up at him, watching my breaths form in little puffs in front of his face. He leaned forward until his lips were just barely brushing against mine and smiled.

"Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?"

And with that, Phil Lester kissed me. I instantly melted into his touch, surprised at how good he was at this. Althrough, this was my first proper kiss, considering the elementary school dares didn't count. Especially since one of the girls threw dirt at me afterwards.

I moved my hands up and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt collar, tilting my head to kiss him harder. We pulled away to breathe and began giggling breathlessly, Phil's forehead leaning on my shoulder.

"I-" I began, but we were cut off all too soon.

"Who's out there?"

It was a security guard, flashlight on and guard dog leashed by him, sniffing around.

"Shit!" I hissed. "Get up!" The both of us shot up and began sprinting, but Phil was falling behind. Grumpily, I slowed to a stop and turned, taking his hand and beginning to drag him along with me. We ran to the fence and climbed over.

I landed fine, however Lester hit the grass right on his but. I burst out laughing, covering my mouth to keep quiet as the shouts of the man grew louder.

"Shut up," Phil whined, cautiously standing up and petting at his newly-bruised buttcheek. "At least I can still top."

I whacked his arm playfully and we walked down the sidewalk until I felt his fingers slip through mine. I blushed and was instantly grateful that it was dark and hard to see.

I looked over at Phil. "One day I really am going to go to jail because of you."

Phil shot me a lopsided smile. "Well, handcuffs plus you don't sound too bad to me. Not to mention the sexy uniforms."

I punched him in the side and mumbled under my breath, giggling. "Hey, Lester?"

He looked back at me. "Hm?"

"Was that your first kiss?"

Phil shook his head. "But definitely the best one," he responded. I grinned dumbly, looking down at our intertwined hands. "What about you?"

"Yeah," I replied sheepishly. Phil stopped in his tracks.

"Really?" He blinked. I nodded, locking eyes with him. "Was I good?"

"How should I know? The only thing I've ever kissed was my mother's cheek."

Phil laughed. "I'm sorry I almost got us arrested. Again."

I rolled my eyes, stopping when I realized we had arrived at my house. "It's fine, although I do know one way you can make it up to me."

Phil raised an eyebrow, a small smirk growing on his lips. "And what's that?"

"Kiss me again," I smiled.

He chuckled. "Gladly."

And then our mouths connected again, and I was in heaven until I heard a door open.

We pulled away and I turned to see none other than my own mother, pink bathrobe on and coffee mug in her hand. She squinted her eyes and blinked. I cleared my throat, Phil hiding behind me.

"Hi mom."