King ◇ Phan AU

C6

Art, noun: the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power.

'Tell me about yourself?' Phil thought, a sense to chuckle crossed his mind. 'Great introduction Dan.' Then Phil realised – from the expression on his face and the tone of his articulate voice – Dan was being serious.

"Oh, er- hi I'm Phil. I am eighteen years old and yeah, that's about it."

"Nothing?" Dan questioned, confusion plastered on his face, "There must be something you're hiding."

"Well...I have powers." Phil shrugged, Dan face-palmed in shame.

"Thanks, Catherine Obvious." Dan smiled sarcastically, Phil burst into laughter, making Dan feel perplexed. He tilted his head to show his confusion.

"It's Captain Obvious, idiot." Phil said in mid-giggle, "How much do you socialize with others your own age?"

"Not that much, only when I exit the castle. And don't call me idiot, I'm the superior."

"Whatever." Phil scoffed, rolling his eyes. The room went silent for a bit, both boys drowning in their own thoughts. What am I meant to say? Phil thought. Do I lie or do I tell the truth?

"I'm actually a good artist." He ended up saying. Dan smiled, exposing his deep dimples.

"What type? Renaissance? Impressionism?"

"Street art," Phil chuckled, "You really haven't been out that much, have you?" Dan exhaled sadly. He started rubbing his eye, causing it to throb red. Phil saw the sorrow in Dan's eyes as his stomach churned in guilt. "You don't have to answer that question." He rapidly said.

"No, no, I will." He said again, rubbing his other eye frantically. "I had a brother, he was kind and funny. We used to paint portraits of each other which had splashes of colour, each bad one making us burst out in laughter, and we played football together, cheering and supporting each other when we scored a goal. I also had a mother, she was really caring and very sweet. She helped me become the kind person I am today, willing to support me in any way possible. But, the sad part is that they-" he paused, he couldn't seem to get the words to spill out of his mouth. He looked in Phil's eyes as salty droplets of sorrow formed in his own, Phil couldn't seem to resist hugging the sobbing boy, because he reached over and wrapped his long arms around Dan in comfort.

"Don't worry, I know how you feel." Phil whispered into Dan's ear.

"Y-y-you do?" Dan sniffled in reply, Phil let go and so did he.

"My parents, they w-were e-e-executed a few y-years ago." Phil admitted, stuttering a few times. He looked at the beige carpet covering the floorboards in awkwardness and embarrassment. "Let's not talk about it."

"Yeah, of course not." Dan smiled in sympathy, Phil smiled back. Dan got up from the bed and walked over to his desk, where there were two wooden seats, glossy and antique. The desk itself was matching, with the same glossy covering that shone in the sunlight. It had the same auburn colour that reminded them of autumn, and the same smooth texture that was satisfying to touch. "Wanna play Pictionary?"

"What?" Phil asked, in a happy yet confused tone.

"You spoke for yourself earlier." Dan said, sarcasm present in his voice, "and it's a board game."

"A-Alright then," Phil said, pulling out one of the chairs and taking a seat. That was until something crossed his mind. "-but shouldn't I be doing the laundry? Or maybe helping cook dinner?"

"Phil, there's something I need to explain to you." Dan started, looking to see if anyone was staring through the small, rectangular window in Dan's bedroom door – which was a dark brown he painted himself. He stared Phil in the eye, losing all sense of goofiness. "My father may want every so-called 'special' thrown off the face of the earth, but I am not like him. I would never hurt you, nor any of your kind. I actually admire your type, especially the way the Black Enigmas work. Their ways of getting 'round things are amazing; the way they use their powers to their advantage, the way they use their powers in unexpected ways, ways that the common mind wouldn't think about. I always have admired the Black Enigmas, it would be cool to meet one – not thinking about the possible killing of myself."

'He doesn't want to kill us?' Phil thought, 'oh god, I need to tell Ben.'

"Are we playing Pictionary or what?" Dan interrupted, acting like the speech he gave earlier was nothing.

"Sure. Let's play." Phil said, smirking at Dan – who was about to roll the dice.

***

"Yes! PHILIP WINS AGAIN!" Phil shouted at the top of his lungs, full of laughter. Dan was sulking again, a frown masking his face, but he soon was tempted out of sadness and started to lighten up –which was shown with an exhale of giggles.

"That's enough for me, I'm starving."

"Same."

Loud stomps came from the staircase, slowly getting louder as the person ascends.

"Phil! Sit on the bed and look bored!"

"But I'm not-"

"You're under my control so do as you're told." Dan demanded in a stern tone, making Phil silently whimper as he stumbled onto the bed. He masked his happiness with a sense of boredom, and he didn't realise that he was so good at acting.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and a girl with short, blonde hair appeared. She was holding a plate with a piece of juicy steak on top, crunchy chips smothered in salt and vinegar on the side.

"Dinner, your Royal Highness." She stated, placing the plate on the table and gracefully exiting. Phil wanted to ask about his food but he remembered: slaves don't get fed as often as the royals - and if they do, it tends to be something flavourless like porridge or bread and butter. Dan wanted to tuck into his delicious steak, but hesitated. Phil looked so down-hearted from the lack of food, but Dan didn't know if he should share. He knew his father would metaphorically kill him if he found out, Dan couldn't stand the thought of him eating and Phil starving beside him. Dan exhaled, cutting off part of his steak.

"Here, take it." He said, passing the fork to Phil, "I'm not that hungry anyway."

"You know you don't have to-" Phil started, smiling. Dan needed to get his point across.

"Really, I don't care if I don't eat for a day, you seem hungrier than me and that's all that matters."

"So you care for those less fortunate than you?" Phil asked, starting to sound like an interviewer. Dan didn't care, as long as Phil had that striking smile plastered on his face.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." Dan chuckled, taking a small bite of the steak with another fork. The amount of silverware given to Dan for one course was more than enough for 5 people, so he could live with Phil having one. In fact, Dan didn't eat a lot of his food, so he gave Phil his plate – piled with different foods – to eat.

"I don't accept no for an answer, no matter what my father says." Dan said, watching Phil start to eat the food. He took a small bite of steak, juice running down his chin; he chewed slowly, ending with an over-exaggerated swallow. Dan chuckled slightly at how he ate, just watching someone else eat – for once – didn't make his stomach rumble. He felt like he had helped Phil, yet he only knew him for a few hours. 'You have at least another few months – or years – with him, Dan.' He pondered to himself, smiling at the thought, 'you better get used to it.'

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ooooh new chapter yay

sorry for not uploading yesterday (Friday if you're reading this any other day), those writers block problems am I right?

QOTD: should I change the cover of this book?

brb gotta go get a sense of humour ^-^

Georgia Da Bae Llamacorn :D