Open Eyes (Phan)

Nine

Dan

Why?

Why did I have to open my big mouth?

Phil probably thought I was insane. The false pity in his eyes made me wish the floor would open up and swallow me. I felt my insides melting under his gaze. His crystallizing blue eyes drilled a hole through my stomach, tearing me apart bit by bit.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Dread pooled like an oil rig in the pit of my stomach. I stared at the edge of the wooden table. Occasionally I would glance up to survey my surroundings. But the cafe table was a magnet, pulling my eyes back every time.  I was terrified to know what he thought of me.

Phil's hand slid into my peripheral and tapped the table a few times to get my attention.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I lifted my gaze.

I wasn't sure which scared me more. The fact that he was already watching me, or that I couldn't read his expression.

"I'm really sorry, Dan," he told me softly. He'd said that twice now, though I highly doubted that he really meant it. I shook my head in dismissal.

"It's fine," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "You didn't know."

"I'm still sorry."

I blinked.

"W-Why?"

"Because no one deserves to go through that," Phil said simply.

Immediately the voices taunted me, sneering at me in their disgusting way.

Little does he know.

That's all you deserve

For everything you've done

You useless little shit

Don't tell him

You can't let him know about you

About us

I clenched my hand into a fist and dug my nails into my hand. I bit down hard on my tongue, willing the pain to drown out the snickers. It took a few moments for the voices to quiet down enough so I could hear myself think. If only Phil knew, that my mother and brother leaving was only a small portion of my hellish life.

I inhaled a deep, shaky breath through my nose, held it for four seconds, then exhaled slowly.

I glanced up at Phil. His blue eyes instantly trapped me. He smiled softly at me. And I didn't know what to do.

"How about we talk about something else?" Phil suggested. I nodded, my breath steadying. Relief coursed through my limbs, and my heart rate gradually slowed.  "What about school?"

I shrugged. "School is school."

Phil tilted his head to this side like a confused dog and gave me a quizzical look. "What do you mean by that?" He asked.

I could feel his gaze piercing into me, but I kept my eyes on something else. The table. My cup. Another person. As long as it wasn't on him. "Same bullshit, different day." I said with another shrug. Phil laughed softly. That was a sound I could definitely get used to. His laugh was the sound I'd been wanting to hear my entire life. 

"Yeah, I didn't really like school either."

"Why not?" He looked kind of sad all of a sudden. He had an expression on his face that I was all too familiar with. Like he was remembering something he'd rather forget.

"I didn't have any friends in school. I was the invisible kid. Which means I didn't get pulled into any sort of drama. But it's lonely, you know?" Phil shrugged, like he was shrugging off the memories. "I wasn't bullied or anything like that, so I guess that's good." He gave me a faint smile.

I didn't understand how Phil could end up being the invisible kid. He was so likable. So charismatic. It was a little easier to breathe around him. It was almost like there was this little bubble of fresh air around him, where the heavy smog cloud of life couldn't reach. Being around Phil was like taking a breath of air after being underwater. He was the kind of person you could talk to for hours and never get bored. The kind of person that anyone could be friends with.

"Did you get good grades?" I asked him. I knew Phil was smart. From the few conversations I'd had with him, I knew that much for sure.

"Yeah," he replied. "I did. I worked hard in school. I didn't ace every class, but I passed. What about you?"

I did everything I could to keep myself from snickering. Was I getting good grades? No. Was I passing? No. Not even close. The only two classes I was passing were piano and art.

I shook my head slightly. "Not really." Phil frowned. His eyebrows knitted together and his forehead scrunched up.

"Oh? Why not?" I really hoped this didn't changed whatever opinion he currently had of me.

"I don't go very much." I answered. It wasn't a lie. Most of the time I didn't show up to school. And when I did, I still didn't go to all of my classes. Yeah, I was that kid.

"Why not?" He repeated. Why did he keep asking this question? I didn't want to keep answering.

He's going to find out about you

Don't let him find out about you

Shut up

You piece of shit

"It's just not my thing," I mumbled. God, I just wanted to die. My heart was beginning to pound again. My palms became slick with sweat.

Phil nodded his head slowly in agreement. He replied, "I can understand that. I wasn't a stranger to skipping class now and then."

Phil didn't strike me as the kind of guy who would skip class. But then again, Phil didn't strike me as the kind of guy who wouldn't have any friends.

He didn't seem to realize though, what I meant by not very often. He didn't realize that I probably only went once a week. And I spent most of that time hiding in the library or the bathroom. But I certainly did not want to answer any more questions. So I simply nodded along with him.

We fell into a silence that somehow managed to be awkward and comfortable simultaneously.

"Are you finished with that?" Phil suddenly piped up, gesturing toward my cup.

It was still full. I had barely touched it. The sweet, rich flavor had become bland and tasteless on my tongue.

But I nodded anyway.

I picked up my cup, choked down one more gulp, and tossed it into the black trash can in the corner. Phil did the same.

We walked out side by side. We walked to the corner and stopped. I looked over at Phil.

The quiet breeze blew his ebony fringe out of his eyes. The tuffs of hair fluttered out from his head. His eyes sparkled with warmth. This guy. This freaking beautiful guy.

"Where are you headed?" Phil asked me.

I tilted my head across the street. "That way."

The taller boy pointed behind him. "I go this way. I'll see you later?"

He doesn't want to see you again.

He's being nice.

Who would want to see you?

"Yeah, sure." I answered. He smiled at me. And his little pink tongue peeked out from his teeth. His eyes crinkled and got impossibly warmer.

"Great!" And with that, he turned and began walking away. His long, slender legs moving in a steady rhythm. I waited two seconds before I crossed the street and headed home.