wrists ; phan au ✓

3.

phil was walking around a cold london. all his friends had ditched him, claiming they were "at a party", which phil knew too much about them to know that it wasn't true.

his friends had ditched him, but he didn't necessarily care. he was fine on his own. his brother was with his friends, probably playing football in a run down stadium that he had broken into.

phil wished he could do that. he wished he was with the popular group, probably doing drugs. drinking alcohol on the weekends and smoking on the week days. study on the weekdays, and turn up on the weekend, stuff like that. phil never was that kind of boy. he wasn't insecure, he just kept stuff to himself. he was the silent kind, but loved to socialize. no one ever understood phil; phil didn't even understand himself.

he walked inside the nearest coffee shop, and ordered a black coffee. the waiter looked at phil's wrist, snorting. "kind like you aren't welcome here." he pointed to his wrist.

phil looked at him with wide eyes. stuttering, he said, "what do you mean?"

"i mean that you're gay." he started laughing. the rest of the line behind phil laughed, along with the waiter's co-workers. phil stormed out of the place looking flustered and flushed. he wasn't sure if it was the cold air or if it was himself being embarrassed he was like this.

he ran home, cold air running through his messy hair. he didn't even bother to fix it; no one was going to make fun of it for his messy hair. it was for his wrist and the name on it that he was getting made fun of.

he hastily unlocked the front door of his house, and ran up to his room before his parents could question what he was doing. crying, he laid face down on his bed.

he didn't want dan.

phil just wants to fit in.

phil just wants to be "happy."