TOO GOOD ; Phan

t w o

I walk along the pavement, dreading yet another day of school. My head is hung low, backpack slung over one shoulder. Perhaps it's my fault that I get put through shit 24/7, my fault for wearing 'girls' clothes. I pull down the sleeves on my pastel pink sweater slightly, making sure that my wrists are covered. 

As I look down, I watch my feet taking each step along the pathway, the laces on my white converse beginning to untie. I would stop to tie them up, giving me an excuse to put off from getting to school quite so early, but right now my concentration can only be on walking in a straight line, after having a panic attack this morning and now still being shaken up.

I have often panic attacks, most of them before school because of how much I dread the place. I hate every aspect of school, from lessons to teachers, but mainly the students. I can't name one student who likes me. I can name few that haven't spat insults at me because it's not in their morals, but I know that it's probably somewhere in their minds, they just won't admit to it.

Louise has never insulted me, as she's the 'I'm too mature to insult anyone' type, but it doesn't mean I haven't seen her roll her eyes at me on multiple occasions. Chris and Pj don't talk to anyone besides from each other, so I haven't received any shit from them, but I can tell when people are whispering about me, and they sure as hell do it a lot. Phil Lester doesn't speak to anyone, and probably because he's fucking terrifying, but  I can assure you that he's probably thinking something far from nice about me.

I near the end of my walk, looking up at the building dawning over me. Immediately I hear a group from across the school grounds snickering at me, nothing out of the ordinary. When I turn my head, I see the group of jocks, accompanied by their stereotypical bleach blonde girlfriends, makeup caked on which some people apparently find 'attractive'. Maybe it's because I'm gay that I don't find that attractive, but I still find some girls pretty, so maybe not.

Once I enter the building, I head into the boys' toilets, walking over to the mirrors. Obviously, I hate what I see, it's me after all. I hate every inch of myself. Running a hand through my curly, brown, hair, I hear someone coming up behind me.

"Hey, Danny boy!" They say, spinning me around. Max, of course. "Didn't think you'd be getting out of a little punishment today, did you?" he says in his classic mocking accent, slamming me up against the wall and pinning me in place. "Oh wait, little fags like you probably get turned on by this." he snaps.

"Nobody could get turned on by you." I state, and usually, I'm not confident enough to say anything back, but I did this time. I hear a snigger from across the room, so clearly there's someone else in here, but that noise is cut off by Max screaming.

"OH FUCK OFF!" 

Everything is silenced after the sound of his fist on my jaw cracks, settling what would otherwise be a loud scene. The door slams shut, so whoever was here before probably left. When Max lets go of me, I drop to the floor, legs unable to hold myself up anymore. 

The bell for first lesson rings, adding to the ringing through my ears, and I realise how long I've been sat here. With a bit of struggle, I stand up, cupping my now-bruised cheek. I deserve this, or so has been engraved into my mind.

I speed to my history lesson, stopping in the doorframe, and then continuing to my seat at the back of the class which is next to the window. I sit there because there's nobody who sits on the two-seater desk with me, and I prefer it that way. I see that the seat next to mine is occupied, sending a surge of panic through me. The person sitting there just has to be the most fucking terrifying person ever, Phil Lester. I hesitantly sit down, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible.

"Someone else joined the class so my usual seat is taken, sorry." he says, voice low and husky. No, I have never actually heard him speak until this moment, nor do I think anyone else has.

"No problem." I lie. Not only have I never heard speak before, but I've also never been this close to him. I look away, staring out of the window, in hopes of him not attempting to say more to me, which I'd be surprised if he did, as he never does.