The Soulmate Theory (Phan AU)

Chapter 4

  The rest of the week passed without event. Dan kept trying to talk to me everyday, and I kept ignoring him. However, I did secretly watch him and the "Brit Clique" from afar, silently wishing I could be friends with them.

Two weeks into the school year, and the days became a struggle to get through. Everyone very quickly noticed that I was a loner, making me an easy target for bullying. The verbal abuse didn't bother me much, though. I was used to it from my school back home, and I knew that the people had their own issues.

Home. I though of home a lot; or, rather, home before everything happened. When Martyn and I would get home from school, and Mum would be waiting with a snack and open ears, ready to hear about our days. Martyn would talk eagerly; he was popular, did well in every subject , played football. He was the golden kid.

I would sit silently, and then Mum would say, "Dearest Philly, how was _your_ day?" And I would talk about the antics that Joe and his friend Caspar were up to, or complain about the maths lesson I didn't understand, or get frustrated about those who picked on me.

"They just don't understand, Phil." Mum would always say, pulling me into a hug. "You have such a kind heart, such a creative mind. Don't ever let anyone take that away."

I thought about these words as I walked home on Friday. Dan was walking next to me; even after two weeks he wouldn't leave me alone. He waved at me when I reached my house, and I waved back. No reason to be rude.

I could hear the yelling before I even opened the door, and I silently despaired as I quietly opened the door, not quite closing it so I wouldn't make any noise.

"MARTYN, YOU NEED TO GET A JOB, GET OFF YOUR ASS, AND SUPPORT THE FAMILY!" I heard my dad roar. I followed the sound to the kitchen, and peeked around a corner; unseen, but seeing everything.

"Support the family?! YOU'RE our dad, it's your job to support us!" I saw Martyn's face turn red from the yelling.

But I also saw my dad. Beer bottle in hand.

I left the house, and started running. I had no idea where I was going, but I just ran.

No. No no no no were my thoughts. Dad's been sober for months, why?! Why would he go back to it? My thoughts screamed at me.

After Mum had died, Dad started heavily drinking. Of all the things, he could have done, he chose to do the very thing that caused the death of the love of his life. It went on for four months after Mum died, until one night.

I was home alone, Martyn was hanging out with friends, and Dad was at a bar, per usual. I was in my room when Dad's friends dropped him at home (that's one thing to give him credit for- he wouldn't drive while drunk).

My studies were interrupted by Dad calling my name. I went downstairs, and he demanded I drive him somewhere.

"Dad, I can't. I don't have my license yet."

He kept telling me to do so.

"DAD!" I shouted. "I'm legally cannot drive yet! I'm not taking you anywhere!"

Next thing I remember was pain, and being on the ground. Then I looked up at my dad, and saw fear and worry in his eyes.

"I- I'm sorry." He slurred, before going to his room. The next morning, every drop of liquor was out of the house, and Dad started seeing a counselor.

These memories kept me running, running from the life I had now. Tears stung my eyes, and I let them fall, remembering all the good times, before.

I ran until I could run no more, and then I walked. I walked for hours, until it was dark and I came to a bridge. It was empty, no cars driving by. For a moment I considered jumping off, but decided against it.

Instead, I screamed into the dark void. I screamed for all the pain I felt, all the anger and hate I felt. At my dad, at moving, at the drunk driver, at Mum for leaving me, even though it wasn't her fault. At the kind brown haired boy who wanted to be my friend.

After a while I stopped screaming, and fell to my knees, crying. And once I pulled myself together, I got up, and started walking towards the bus stop I had seen earlier.

I pulled out my phone and put on Spotify radio, humming along to the song that played.

Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days, when our mamas sang us to sleep, but now we're stressed out.

Sure got that right.

I got to the bus station, got on the bus closest to home, when I realized something.

I had no texts or missed calls from Dad or Martyn. Nobody knew where I was.

And nobody cared.