Special Boy // phan

-16-

I pushed the door to my dorm open slowly, taking a deep breath in preparation, just in case my roommate was awake. He would be furious if I woke him up, and believe it or not, scalding hot meatballs hurt when they make contact with your face and neck. And he was good at aiming them.

"Greg?" I whispered, quiet enough that self-dubbed "onion boy" wouldn't be able to hear me if he was in his room but could if he was asleep on the couch; a dangerous gamble. But I'd rather him know it was me and send a few meatballs my way then release upon me the fury of a thousand fiery cows, thinking I was an intruder. It's happened too many times before.

I took a delicate step into the main hall, and glanced around. I was trying to avoid thinking about what happened less than half an hour ago, but now that I was alone and in total darkness and total silence, my thoughts attacked from the back of my head and made me need to sit down forcibly on the couch. I cringed at the loud creak it made, and then let out a breath as total silence resumed. My ever terrible roommate didn't wake up. He might not have even been here.

You're insane, I thought to myself, pulling Phil's cape over my nose so I could breathe in the smell of him. It smelled like dirt and sweat and him. I felt tears stinging the backs of my eyes. You're crazy, stupid, idiotic.

I didn't want to be jealous. This Cat girl was spending less than twenty minutes with Phil, if that. He was doing his job, and I was just his sidekick. I really couldn't have gone with him or done anything, logically. He still put his cape around me, still said my name and invited me to his place. He still trusted me with his car and with his life. And I trusted him with mine. So why did I feel so empty right now?

Maybe it was the way he so casually forgot about me. Maybe it was the way he carefully danced around the topic of his power failing, his careful avoidance leading me to believe it had something to do with me. Maybe it was the way my body felt so lonely without him next to me. Maybe it was all of that. Maybe it was none of it.

I didn't know what to do. These boy problems were nothing like the ones I was used to. I liked Phil too much, not not enough, like it was in high school. Phil sent me away, instead of forcing me to stay. I actually wanted us to happen. I didn't dread every second from then on.

I didn't know what to do. So I called my mum.

It was six am. But she picked up on the third ring.

"Hey mum," I mumbled, standing and padding out onto the balcony, sliding the door closed behind me. The sun was rising in the distance, and a few people were already milling about to morning classes. I felt my heart clench at the thought of my class in three hours. Just three hours. I had barely gotten any sleep.

"Hey Danny," she responded, slightly sleepy. I knew I hadn't woken her up, she'd always been a morning person.

A resounding 155 centimetre bundle of a blonde bob and a constant need to garden, my mother rarely didn't have time for me, now that I was out of the house. When I was younger, her job as a attorney and constant busy schedule kept her away from home more often than not. I rarely saw her up until I was about sixteen, and was having my "boy troubles" as she called them. I had always thought her power was persuasion or a booming voice or a dazzling smile, something that assisted her climb to the position of best lawyer in the city. But her power was really staples. The ability to pinch paper and create a staple to stab through it. Finding that out when I was in primary school really threw me, but not in a bad way.

She always joked I was her weakness, because all I had to do was pout and I'd get what I wanted. But my mother retired early because of her insane iron deficiency caused by her constant use of staples, so, since then, she was always able to answer my calls.

She also was the only one I let call me Danny.

I was silent for too long, so she piped up again, concerned.

"Danny? Is something wrong? Do you need a loan? Are you sick? Do you need me to call the Angels because-"

"No, no, mum, I'm okay," I chuckled, leaning against the railing with a deep breath. I heard a light laugh from the other end, and I was immediately filled with a strange sort of warmth only a mother can give you.

"So this is a social call?" she asked, and there was a shuffle on the other end as she put the receiver between her shoulder and her ear.

"Sort of..." I mumbled, feeling the burning jealous feeling come flooding back into my chest as a slight wind caused Phil's purple cape, adorned with a big blue A, to flutter around me. "I need your help." I heard her breath hitch on the line. "Not like, help help. Just.... I need advice."

"Oh," she breathed, "I thought I had to whoop someone's arse again." I felt a genuine laugh bubble from my lips.

"Can... can we FaceTime?" I asked softly. I knew it was juvenile, but I wanted to see her face.

"Of course, go ahead." There was a pause. "I don't know how to work this thing," she laughed, and a grin overtook my lips. I loved my mom. I knew I could always trust her, and that she'd always help me. I tell her everything, and she tells me everything. For a while, she was my only ally, and I'll never forget everything she's done for me.

I pressed the button and was greeted by my mother, smiling like always, deep lines in her face that seemed more prominent since the last time I saw her.

I realised, recently, that we really only saw each other when she was taking me for my monthly "abnormality check-ups", and I felt almost bad for it. She was getting older, no denying it. Eventually, I won't have her to call for my problems and woes. But I didn't want to think about that. Not now.

"So there's this boy..." I started, waiting for her to cringe like she used to. And, right on cue, she grimaced like something smelled bad.

"Same boy or different boy?" I shook my head.

"Different boy. His name is Phil. Phil Lester. AmazingPhil, as you might know him." I felt myself starting to ramble and I didn't want to stop. "I met him in a coffee shop and of course I already knew everything about him, he's AmazingPhil, and he wanted to know about me, so I told him I wasn't interested in him, like you taught me, and now I really am, and he asked me to be his sidekick and I like him a lot and I don't know what to do and I don't even know why he wants to be around me, mum. I don't know what he sees in me, but clearly he sees something, or maybe nothing, but I just don't know what to do, it's like I've known him forever." The entire time I ranted without taking a breath, my mother listened and watched patiently. But when I stopped, she paused, seemingly choosing her words carefully.

"Danny... I think there's something you should ask him."