I Don't Need to Know Your Face

-Prologue-

The tale begins and ends with two boys like waves from different oceans.

//

Dan is dismal. Maybe his lack of confidence came from that, or the fact that everyone around him could sense it. When your black clothes stop becoming your aesthetic, but your mood; like you're attending the gloomy funeral service that is your own life; then is the time when you can say you've reached the depressing record of dismal-ity.

Phil was sunshine. Not the type to burn your skin and make you sweat, but that comforting sunshine that pokes through the clouds after a lot of cold days. That pale sunshine that represents hope that you may be able to keep your arse this spring. Yeah, I think that I've made a good enough metaphor to represent how he radiated happiness.

Both boys had never once said hello. Dan thought he was all too dreary to talk to someone like Phil Lester. He didn't know who he was, but he's seen his face with all of his friends. He felt rude even walking past them like his sadness would dampen their echoing laughs.

It was all in his head. He was always in his own head.

//

Dan appreciates his honors English class. He appreciates his emo seat in the corner where no one ever sat in all of the other classes, because no one wanted to sit so far away in a corner.

Or maybe it's because they knew it was his. No one was nessecarily scared of Dan, but he was brooding and over six feet tall and they would rather leave him alone.

He didn't mind.

Dan laid his head down on the wide wooden surface of his desk. He tapped his foot along to a beat of a song by All Time Low stuck in his head. This was where he was most comfortable in school.

Everyone is silent as they take in what the teacher is saying. This class was probably the best class their teacher, Mr. Reid, had. Here he felt as if he was being listened to.

Dan wonders what that feels like.

As class starts to come to an end, Dan writes on his desk almost unconsciously, "You're just a daydream away."

The spark was a lyric.

His handwriting has never been the best, but he tries to make it as neat as possible. He's marking this desk as his own.

Before he knows it, class is over and the bell rings. He gathers his stuff, and makes his way to the door after everyone else is pushing out, only to run into somebody trying to get in.

Dan takes his eyes off of the floor to see who he had rammed into, and almost faints when they meet with stunning blue ones.

"Woah, you're pretty," Phil says, barely above a whisper as he is distracted for a second. Dan doesn't hear it, but Phil shakes his head, "I'm so sorry," he apologizes, "I'm a bit of a clutz, and I tripped on my own shoe."

Dan opens his mouth, but he can't speak because Phil Lester is talking to him, and no one, escpecially Phil Lester, ever talks to Dan.

His words come out as sounds and struggles to say 'no, it's fine.' But he can't. Phil is sort of, no, absolutely beautiful--and when you get this close to him, just wow. Dan isn't used to it.

"Are you okay?" Phil asks.

"Um, I yeah...uh, thanks um I uh yeah," Dan answers. Then in fear, darts from the room feeling extremely panicky. His head is spinning, and he feels like an idiot for being scared to talk to someone. Instead of going to his next class Dan runs into the bathroom, slamming a stall shut behind him as he attempts to breathe.

His heart his racing and so is his brain. Anxiety is pulling at his heart and contorting his lungs as his eyes blur a bit. Panic attack. He tries to think of something; anything--comforting enough to pull him back to reality.

He racks his brain for calming things, and then he sees rain. Yes, rain, and he can hear it too. Tapping gently on his window, and the roof, and he can smell coffee. If he thinks hard enough he can feel the same warmth, and amazing taste of it on his tongue. He thinks of blue eyes. Gentle, yet wild blue eyes staring into his brown ones.

And that's all it takes for it to go away.

Dan Howell is dismal.