All He Wrote // Phan AU

Chapter 1.3

Okay so I couldn't get it done last night I apologies I tried. 

But here it is!

Short but full of angst.

That was a lie.

But I hope you enjoy and remember someone loves you.

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Baby pink - The feeling of being overwhelmed, questioning, or confusion. Synonyms: Confusing, Misunderstood, incomprehensible, curious.

Dan's P.O.V

I was dreaming about his lips before I woke. Convinced I was still in my uniform state of subconsciousness I felt his lips on mine and slackened my jaw as I pressed my lips harder against his. Eyes wide, I stare into his. Okay so I'm not dreaming.

Within an instant, hand flies to throat. The slight pain when I turn my head, directly beneath my jaw. Mouth falls open, staring at him in disbelief.

There's no mark, you're fine sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

That, coupled with his fingertips on my neck, I'm putty. Places his lips where it hurts, smirking into my skin. The pressure in the bottom of my chest unbearable, curling up through my lungs in strangled gasps.

You idiot.

He releases me from his graspless hold around my throat. His lips are soft and taste like cherry Chapstick. Its 10:47. He's kissing me at 10:47. Not only the brief period of midnight that we held like flowing water in cupped hands. His hold cheek, mine his neck.

And then each other's as we walk down the street in the direction of my house. He has my hand at 12:22.

The park. We sit on the swings. I watch the leaves crunch under boots and the early morning frost dissolve beneath the midday sun. He watches me as far as I can tell, with one hand in the pocket of his jeans and the other in mine.

His hands are soft and covered in faded messy writing.

From the same black pen I used to write over his heart.

Phil's P.O.V

Completely basking in the rays of morning we unhurriedly dressed and packed for the day, while Dan showered I filled a backpack with a blanket and some snacks, knowing that there is a park somewhere between my house and his. Once he reappeared dressed in a pair of my black jeans and a sweater I took his hand and kissed it. I was joking but he still blushed and hid his face behind his sweater paws. I kissed his cheek and we set off. I kissed my mum on the cheek, Dan hugged both my mum and dad, and we were gone.

Down three streets then around a bend we found a park, not secluded nor private in anyway but a park, and so we crushed the frozen dew beneath our feet as Dan jogged over to the swings with me in tow. We never let our hands slip, as if holding onto the feeling of his lips on mine, the memories of midnight, the hope of whatever we could dream for.

I pushed Dan on the swing and watched his legs flail like a baby birds as he fell back down from the heavens.

For the second time.

Then we lay down the blanket and us ourselves with it. We watched the sky as Dan painted the clouds the way he did with my ceiling stars and we drank lemonade from the bottle because I forgot to bring cups. We kissed and we laughed and I asked Dan questions that he answered with over the top gesticulation and periodical facial movements.

I told him a bad joke and he laughed.

Melodic and sweet.

A chuckle beneath his breath and a hand over his mouth as he shoved my shoulder and I fell to the ground. And there he lay beside me, his head on my chest, his ear to my heart listening to the faint pitter patter behind the bars of my rib cage.

We lay there. And I ran my fingers through his hair as we watched people walk by, some with children, some with dogs, some alone. And we ignored the looks children and older men shot our way. And Dan slept, beneath the warming sun that shone through the clouded sky.

And again I thought of kissing him but I let him sleep.

It has been a week since I first sat beside him in the second row of history class. Only a week we have known each other however it feels like it has been forever and a day. He speaks to me, in his own little way, with his gestures and his expressions. He asks questions without the weight the words hold. He holds my hand. And my eyes. And the world.

But then my chest starts to hurt and I suddenly realise that although he's here, he can't magically make everything okay. You can only fix things with glue, not gold. My heart pounds even faster than usual, and faster still than when Dan is on my chest. The faint beats becoming fainter and then that's when my phone goes off.

Dan's P.O.V

A phone rang and woke me but I was too comfortable to move. I settled closer into his chest as he awkwardly shuffled to retrieve it without 'waking' me. But he never spoke, almost as if it were an alarm, but almost immediately after the noise died I feel him grab me lightly by the shoulder and gently shake me awake.

Feigning weariness I open my eyes and look into his, a tear in the corner of his left eye.

I have to get home are you okay to get back to your house from here?

Place my hand on his cheek and press the pad of my thumb to the tear. His voice slightly strangled and groggy, his breathing quick.

I'm okay, don't worry.

He says it with a smile and a kiss on my hand so I leave it. He knows what he's doing. I nod and move to pack the bags before he grabs my wrist with a quick and fluent movement.

Dan, do something for me please? Can you write me something? Write the best thing you have ever written.