He Hung -Phan-

T H R E E

"Hey, shithead."
Inwardly, I groaned at the insult but I looked up at my father and smiled innocently, "Yes, father?"
A smirk curved at this lips before quickly disappearing.

"I'm leaving for two days. I want you to have this list of chores done by the time I get back, and if they're not done you will receive severe punishment." He handed me a notepad full of small and almost impossible tasks to complete in two days. I nodded at him and continued to scrub the blood off the walls from yesterday's occurrence.
I loved when he left, it gave me time to heal and be free to speak without being spoken to. Plus, Phil can come over, if he wanted.

Later that evening, my father had taken his duffel bag and stuffed it into the trunk. He hopped in the car and sped off without a single goodbye.
I watched his dingy car turn the corner before running inside and slamming the door shut.
I practically skipped to my window and slid it open, waiting to see Phil appear.
I watched his room intently, and watched Phil as well. He was laying on his bed, a laptop in his lap as he was watching god knows what.
He suddenly shut the laptop and hopped off his bed, stretching his arms above his head. In doing this, his shirt rode up his stomach and I got a glimpse at his pale stomach and somewhat cute bully button.
His eyes wandered around before he looked out the window, seeing me smirking at him.
His face broke out into a smile and he stuck his head out his window, laughing.

"Were you watching the whole time?" He asked curiously. I nodded my head, laughter bubbling from my throat. He grinned even wider and then looked behind me, silently asking about my dad. I shook my head at him and said, "Come over, he's going to be gone for two days!"

After I got that sentence out, Phil had already left his window and sprinted from the house. I listened to the front door slam beneath me and footsteps hastily advancing to my door.

The door busted open so hard it was almost taken off its hinges. A body ahoy through the frame and pounced on me, knocking me back onto my bed.

His body hovered above mine, our eyes meeting the the world freezing for a fraction of a second. Heat rose to my ears and I could tell Phil was getting more embarrassed by the second. He lingered above my body for a second longer before jumping off my body and distracting himself with something in my room.

Anxiety settled in my stomach as he neared the drawers of my desk. I wanted to tell him to back away but I'd have to explain to him why I said that and I'm not ready to tell. Instead, I did something worse.
I jumped up from my bed and snaked my arms around his waist. I felt his breathing hitch and I stopped breathing for a second too.
I know he wanted to ask why I was doing this but he wasn't about to break the silence and neither was I.
My hands locked around him and we backed up slowly together. My back hit the bed, and my arms untangled from him. He slowly switched to where his face was looking at me, noses just centimeters away from each other. His eyes darted to my lips and back, and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was.

I lifted my head and met his lips with mine, and he kissed back gently. At first that is.
After a while, my hands wandered around his body, and slipping his shirt off in the process. He groaned slightly and the pressure in my pants increased.
The moment his pants were off is when we lost all control.

.

I woke up the next morning feeling a little sore, but happy for once. Slightly muscled arms draped over my shoulders, a hard surface pressing into my back. A soft snore emitted from Phil and I laughed silently.
Taking his arm from over me, I slipped out of bed and then almost collapsed to the ground. My hips felt like they had been through the cycle.
With the way Phil and I were, I'd say the comparison is quite alike.

I was already done making four pancakes by the time Phil woke up, enough for both of us to have two. We were silent as we ate, words were not needed for how we felt. Quietly, we ate the browned and fluffy pancakes, and quietly we kissed each other goodbye.
He promised to come over tonight to hang out, after I got done with the list of things my father gave me to complete.
When the door shut, I sighed and began to scrub the already clean walls.

Phil's POV

When I got through the door of my home, I was immediately bombarded with questions from my mom.
"Did you have fun? Was his father there? What did you do? Why is your shirt all crinkled?"
I grimaced at the onslaught of questions and smiled politely.
"Yes I had fun, no his father wasn't there, and my shirt it all crinkled because I spilled water on it and wringed it out."
She nodded approvingly and then continued to mop. In reality, Dans hands had ripped off my shirt and caused it to get crinkles but that was okay, the night we had made up for the questions I got.

Even as I worked on my homework, my mind went back to him. My brain seemed like it was hardwired to think of his skin, his gasps, his eyes that looked up at me full of love. Or lust.
I snapped out of my haze and glanced out my window. There he was. His chocolate hair shining bright. He wiped off sweat from his forehead and dropped the broom on the ground.
His gaze wandered over to his desk, where a pained look creased his face.

My eyebrows knit together in confusion. What was in his desk that made him seem so hurt? His chest heaved up and down like he just ran a marathon. I gasped as tears slipped from his eyes and I bit back the lump in my throat when he took a razor from his chest by the window.
He didn't look at me. He didn't know I was watching his every move.
He hadn't realized that he left his blinds open and I could see him take his wrist and slid the sharp blade into it.

Hot, salty tears poured from my eyes when I saw him do that.
I started to sob when I realized I didn't make an attempt to stop it.