edge

one

can see everyone's deepest secret.

They're the words that float above Dan's own head. In the mirror, the words are reflected, distorted with twisted letters each time he angles his face slightly differently. Despite the infinite ways he tilts his head to see those letters differently, they never fail to display the same five words. There's nothing he wants to hide more desperately than this.

Dan slips his hand into his pocket, revealing the top-half of his phone to check the time. He lets out a deflating sigh when he sees that school begins in a grand total of twenty three minutes. He has a fifteen minute walk to school, combined with the fact that he isn't even fully dressed yet. Dan curses under his breath as his clumsy fingers attempt to coordinate enough to quickly button his shirt and he loosely hangs his navy blue tie around his neck - he can tie it properly later.

"Bye mum," Dan shouts as he stuffs his lunch in his bag amidst the mess of books, paper, rubbish, pens and pencils and an open pencil case - an explosion of the neat belongings he owned at the beginning of the year.

"Bye Dan," his mum replies, beginning to walk downstairs to see her son, however he's already escaped out the door and is walking quickly down the pavement.

Dan tries to avoid looking at his mother. She's nice, she tries hard to be a good parent and she does a lot for him, however when he looks at her he can't stand her own deepest secret. Dan loves his father too, it just seems that his mother doesn't as much, or at least, not anymore.

The autumn breeze kicks around fallen leaves and tousles his hair as he walks, the usual cover of grey clouds blocking him in. It will probably rain later, knowing England and its dreary weather, yet he can never seem to learn from past mistakes and always ends up walking in a heavy downpour. Dan does his tie up properly and shivers, wrapping his arms closer towards his body as he's only wearing his thin, white school shirt - he left his stupid jumper and blazer at home.

Thirteen minutes later, Dan arrives at school with his cheeks burning red from either exercise, the cold slap of the air or a combination of both. The bell has just begun to echo through the grounds, awakening and stirring all the scattered figures to head to their classes. He joins the flow of kids and keeps his eyes on the floor - he's found that's easier. When Dan sees peoples secrets, he feels like he's doing something wrong; invading on their privacy, reading a secret diary and, despite the fact he can't control it, he's always left with the aftermath of guilt. Besides, everyone's secrets are usually quite similar, or at least, they rarely change.

Dan does have a book, secret diary of his own, though. A small, black hardcover journal which is one that needs a key to open. It's full of secrets, however they aren't his own to know. It's the secret diary of everyone he knows or knew. He knows it's stupid to keep the book, but it's a habit to help him.

Dan has a limited supply of friends, mainly due to the fact he doesn't want to particularly ruin multiple lives with all the secrets he can see, however he has a few close friends who he's very fond of.

"Danielle," Lance calls when Dan enters the classroom, "where were you this morning? I know you're a late riser but I think this is a record! Also, you're looking especially good this morning. Nice drowned rat who then walked into a snowstorm look."

Dan scowls as he slumps in the seat beside his grinning friend. Lance, who's short, chocolatey hair is attractively tousled from the wind, cheeks dotted with freckles and hazel eyes glinting in an annoyingly perfect way. He tries not to compare that with his own brown, straggly curls which he's neglected to straighten, dark bags and freckles which made even his dimple look sad.

"Don't call me Danielle, and I woke up late," Dan grumbles, still staring at his desk as if it was responsible for every bad thing in his whole life, even his fucking sad dimple.

"Yeah, late and on the wrong side of the bed," Lance laughs, staring amusedly at his miserable friend.

"It's not funny, the world is against me," Dan mumbles, opening his bag to see the mess inside and sighing deeply, seriously considering dumping half the content in the nearest bin.

"Aw cheer up Mr Grumpy," Lance says, leaning over and ruffling Dan's hair, "it could be worse y'know."

"Yeah," Dan says, dumping a crumpled notebook and two pens on his desk, "how was your weekend?"

"Terrible, my sister's boyfriend is an asshole," Lance says, pulling a face, "I want to protect her but she just doesn't see it y'know?."

Dan nods and is about to reply when the teacher walks in to begin the class, her hardened expression somehow more emotionless than usual and the ends of her grey coat blowing out behind her.

Dan knows another reason for Lance to dislike his sister's boyfriend, however is unsure what to say. When he's met his sister, the words floating above her head is enough to drag Dan's guilt through the dirt, but he doesn't know what to do. He has no evidence.

Lance's own secret isn't anything to drastically worry about, however Dan feels the pang of guilt for knowing it all the same. Whether Lance will ever tell him or not is up to him, but he's right not to trust him.

The door swings open again and the embodiment of all the stolen sunshine walks into the room. Phil Lester and his bright smile grace the classroom, five minutes late into class. Of course, he manages to bypass the teacher by simply smiling sweetly at her. It seems being the most liked student in the whole school has infinite advantages.

Phil Lester is effortlessly friendly, always willing to help and offer smiles and throwing sunshine over everyone within a five meter radius of him and those ocean eyes. He's almost so sickeningly happy and sunny it makes Dan loath how good he must feel.

Even Phil's secret isn't that dark or sad. Last time Dan checked, Phil Lester's biggest secret was the fact he's quite poor, making his sunny, caring nature oh-so-more miraculous. But he hasn't looked at Phil Lester's words in at least six months. Now sat in front of him though, the smiling Phil Lester has different words, words which feel like a stab into his heart, guilt and sadness deflating his heart even more.

It seems the school's sun is losing light, burning out;

Phil Lester is on the edge of suicide.