my freudian slip - phan

iv.

Phil has never been a bad kid. He's never been expelled, never gotten in much trouble, but even he knows he's fucked up.

He's ran until he's out of breath, each city street passed inspiration to go to the next- and the next– and one more–

Why, is what most of his brain preoccupied with at the moment, while the other figures out that going home now would be a death sentence. The school's most likely already called his mum and there's no use going yet. I'm so dead, he thinks.

There's a city bench next to a hardware store, and even though school has already gotten out, he doesn't want to look suspicious. His uniform is a mess and the last thing he needs is nosy pedestrians seeing blood on some his hands and start to ask questions. Finally allowing himself to take off his sweater, he notices the sweat practically dripping off the corded navy.

Before he can relax though, a voice startles him into looking up.

"You're kidding me."

Dan is staring down at him, a hand still and a look so similar. His uniform is gone, and in it's place is a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of frayed jeans. The usually polished look of his hair is also in pieces now, the remnants of the pomade sticking it together like cheap tape.

"What happened to you?"

He gestures to Phil's bloodied hand. "I could ask the same about you, to be fucking honest here mate."

Phil almost forgot. "Oh-" He attempts to hide them under his sweater, but Dan is already starting to laugh.

"Finger someone a little too young?" He's laughing now.

"Wh-"

"Oh you little fucker-," he's struggling for breath, "Why would you do something so stupid?"

Phil digs his hands deeper into the sweater. "I didn't finger anyone!"

The laughter continues to bounce off the concrete buildings. "Oh-Oh man–You beat some kid up, didn't you?"

Phil feels his face go lax. "How'd you know that?"

"Your hand is bloody and you don't have a bruise anywhere. Also you're out at 8 o'clock and on a Tuesday night and I don't think you've ever 'proper fucked a girl."

There's a silence as Phil continues to look down. "I hate you."

"Only the truth."

"Why are you out here anyways?" Phil asks, annoyed.

Dan rolls his eyes. "None of your business, frankly." He turns to leave with a curt spin. "Bye then."

"Where are you going?"

He doesn't stop. "Home," he yells over his shoulder.

"Hey- wait up!"