Phan Oneshots

Can I Even Complicate Your Breathing?

Summary: Pastel!Dan lives in an apartment complex and sits on his windowsill every night and sings. Punk!Phil listens to him every night.
Word Count: 3906

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There is a boy who lives across the street from Phil who has brown hair the colour of chocolate, the voice of an angel, and eyes that reflect a million stars. Phil doesn't know when it first started, but he slowly began to drift to his slightly cracked window every night just to hear the boy sing.

He always sat upon his windowsill, picking at the lint on his pastel jumpers while his lips uttered beautiful melodies that put Vic Fuentes to shame. And Phil didn't even know the boy's name, or what he liked to do in his spare time, but he could slowly start to feel himself falling for the boy.

It was idiotic in a way. Phil had never met this brunette beauty before. He never heard his voice besides when he sang in the hours of the night, he never seen him in broad daylight, and he certainly didn't know a single thing about him. And yet, Phil was in love with a voice and a boy who didn't even know he existed.

These were the thoughts that haunted him at night, cracking his window open just a sliver before crawling to his bed to browse through Tumblr. He was somewhat embarrassed by how obsessed he had become, but the moment that Phil heard the first few cords of a Pierce the Veil song come from the apartment complex opposite his, Phil's worries floated away and he leaned back to allow the pretty lyrics into his eardrums to embed in his memory.

"She sits up high, surrounded by the sun.
One million branches and she loves every one.
Mom and dad, did you search for me?
I've been up here so long I'm going crazy."

These were the words he fell asleep to, imagining pretty boys with brown hair and coffee eyes singing to him like a personal lullaby.

He was only awoken by the sound of his alarm clock, reverberating through his skull like a terrible headache. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, reaching beside him to grab his black glasses and perching them upon his nose, blinking as the world suddenly became clearer. He pushed his blue fringe out of his face, yawning as he stood up and stretched a little, his bare chest expanding and showing the various tattoos decorating his torso, arms, and neck.

There was a noise coming from next door and Phil was slightly confused because it sounded like a squeak, followed by the slamming of a door or window. He cast a quizzical glance to the beautiful brunette's window, frowning when he saw the blinds drawn, but he shrugged and decided to get ready for a long day at school.

Phil decided to just go for a casual look: black skinny jeans, a plain black shirt, leather jacket, and his favourite combat boots that made his legs look outstanding. Black was always the colour that made his blue eyes and hair pop out while still making him look like a badass.

"Looking like you're ready to murder someone as usual," Phil's mum laughed when he walked down the stairs, his boots clumping against the wooden flooring. She handed him a paper plate with two pieces of cinnamon toast and a banana on it, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead despite the fact that she had to get on her tippy toes just to reach.

"Can't leave the house without looking like I'm about to go to a funeral," Phil joked, taking the toast from her and stuffing a bite in his mouth. "I'd better get going though, I'm meeting up with Chris before school."

His mum bid him farewell, wishing him a good day at his first day of the school year. He was finally a year thirteen and there was nothing more he was ready for than to get the hell out of school and actually start his life doing things he truly cared about.