Off Camera | Phan

Two {Chapter 8}

"Phil, I have to tell them!" he exclaims, "Do you even know how angry they'll be if I don't?"

PJ tries to talk, "Do you want us to-"

"I'm more worried about how they'll react if you do, Dan. I remember you telling me that they got angry at you when you said a boy had nice hair," I say, anxiously.

"We should probably-" Chris starts.

"You're close to them as well. I don't want you to ruin the relationship you have," I sigh.

"Phil, I don't even care if they disown me, at this point. How bad can not having your family even be?"

I take in a large intake of breath, as I look him straight in the eyes, "It's pretty terrible, actually."

"Yeah, okay we're leaving," PJ announces, clearly sensing the tension in the room and grabbing Chris by his arm, dragging him out of our apartment.

We look at each other, in silence, for a while, until Dan speaks.

"What?" Dan asks, softly, moving closer to me.

"My mother disowned me when she found out," I tell him, looking down at my hands.

"Oh god, Phil. That's terrible. I'm so sorry," he says, sympathetically.

"And my father killed himself. He couldn't fucking handle the thought of having a faggot for a son," I spit out, angrily, "The prick."

"I didn't know," he whispers, looking ashamed.

But I ignore him and shout, "Of course you didn't know! Because you were never someone I could talk to about this! You spent your life spitting out homophobic comments at every opportunity! You were a complete dick but I stuck around because I'm in love with you!"

As soon as I realise what I said, my hands shoot up to cover my mouth and my face goes bright red.

"Phil, I... I-"

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I mumble, before rushing past him and up into my room.

I drop down onto the bed, my head falling onto the pillow as I look up at the plain ceiling.

"Phil! We can talk about this, please!" I hear Dan rushing up the stairs.

My breathing starts to become increasingly erratic, the more and more I think about what I said. How could I be so stupid? He's fragile and certainly not ready for this. Hell, I don't think I'm ready for this.

"You better open this door, Phil!" he shouts, banging his fists on the wood of my bedroom door, "Come on!"

I rake my fingers through my hair a couple of times, pushing myself further into the mattress. I attempt to steady my breathing, before hearing his voice again.

"Phil, please," I hear him sigh, as his hands drop from it the door, "Just open the door. You know, I'm not going to go away until you do."

I stay silent as my breathing begins to slow down.

"I won't tell them about us, if you don't want me to," I hear him say, "I understand and I'm sorry for pushing it. You don't want to have to see me go through what you did."

I get up from my bed and slowly unlock and open the door, keeping my head down.

"Oh god, Phil," he says, enveloping me in a hug, "I feel terrible."

"It's okay," I rest my head on his shoulder and breath in his scent, "Thank you for understanding."

After hugging for a little but, we pull away and I look into his eyes, seeing them brimmed with tears.

"Phil, we need to talk."