Opposites Attract ➣ Dan X Phil

Chapter Three ➣ Phil

Two young men walk together - polar opposites of one another. One is smiling, the other glaring. One is skipping, the other is slouching. One is pastel, the other is punk.
Phil cannot help but keep glancing at his bandaged wrist. The pink jumper only half covers it, and he can't help but wonder whether or not it was a terrible idea.
I could just wear sleeves for the rest of my life.
No, that's an even more terrible idea. Honesty is always what trust is built on, and trust is what love is built on.
He wonders what his parents will say. I mean, yeah, he's twenty-one, clearly old enough to make his own decisions, but their opinions mean a lot to him.
Phil pushes the door open, automatically holding it for Dan, and someone else going to leave the cafe.
The two earn a few looks. Well, mostly Dan. It's common to see Phil around town, and he's so friendly he knows pretty much everyone nearby.
Dan, however, with messy hair, a ripped and dirty outfit, and tattoos inked into his skin, gets frowns. A few tuts, too.
"Millennials these days," Someone mutters.
Dan seems hesitant, but more annoyed that offended, so Phil tugs on his sleeve, pulling him to the booth in the corner
"This was a bad idea," Dan mutters, glaring at the table. Phil notices his tongue trailing over the inside of his lip piercing repeatedly.
"Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter what they think, just be yourself," Phil nods earnestly.
Dan rolls his eyes a little, "you sound like a cheesy cat poster from, like, the sixties."
"What do you want to eat?" Phil ignores his comment, instead sliding the menu over to him.
"Don't care." Phil notices how opposed he now seems to the situation, and decides to try and lighten the mood.
"Okay. I'll get you some chips and a coke."
That's what punks like, right??
"So, how many questions can I ask?" Phil leans forward, meeting the other boy's brown eyes with his own.
"How many?" Dan raises an eyebrow a little.
"Well, like, a question per pound that your meal costs or something," Phil shrugs lightly.
He groans a little.
Phil tilts his head. He really wants to know more about Dan. He really wants to help him. He was achieving both over this, but Dan's constant negativity to his ideas is rather off-putting.
Dan must have noticed Phil's slight pout, and with a roll of his eyes glances down at the menu. "That's 9.45, so nine questions."
"Can I have ten? Please?" Phil pushes with a hopeful glint in his eyes.
"Fine. But you're down one now," Dan's usual cold scowl twists upwards into a cold smirk.
"What! No fair, take it back." He frowns, but... a smirk is better than a scowl, I guess.
"No chance, kid." Dan glances over Phil's shoulder distractedly for a moment, before seeming to realise his mistake, quickly looking back to Phil.
"Will you please just stop calling me kid?! I'm twenty-one!" Phil complains, furrowing his eyebrows.
"No I will not. Eight questions left," Dan's smirk makes Phil shrink back into his seat.
This guy is good.
"How is that f-" Phil cuts himself off hurriedly, his pale cheeks reddening into a soft blush.
He thinks over a few question ideas as he orders their food, distractedly mumbling, "A portion of fries and a coke, and a kids chicken nuggets and chips with a chocolate milkshake please."
The waitress nods and walks off.
Dan sniggers a little.
"What?" Phil frowns.
"And you say you aren't a kid. Seven questions left," Dan shrugs.
Ughhhhhh.
He couldn't be bothered to protest this time.
"Um..." Phil finds himself stammering for a while. None of the questions he can think of are good enough. So he decides to start with simplicity. "What's your favourite colour?"
"Fucking hell. That's all you got?" Dan rolls his eyes, eyeing Phil up as he realises he was serious. "Black."
"Mine's blue," Phil hopes that Dan might want to get to know him too.
"Lemme guess. A pastel blue, or some cheesy shit like the blue of the sky," Dan mutters.
"No, just blue," Phil shrugs. Honestly? He loves all shades. It was hard enough to choose just one colour, let alone a shade. He loves all blues. From the turquoise-y kind of colour, to a diamond blue, to a, predictably, pale, pastel blue.
After a slight raise of the eyebrow, Dan sighs a little, "Six left."
Think, think. THINK. I don't want to admit it, but Dan's right, that was a lame question. Ummm...
Their food arrives before Phil can think of a good enough question. Phil smiles politely and thanks the waitress, who smiles back before scurrying off to serve another table.
Dan stares at the steaming plate, in almost-wonder.
"Go ahead," Phil smiles a little to himself.
Within a second, Dan begun shovelling the food into his threat, clearly starving hungry.
Phil picks up the knife and fork and eats his fries slowly, one by one, with an occasional sip of his drink.
Then he remembers a question he'd been wondering for a little while, and waits until he finishes his mouthful before speaking, "What's your last name?"
Dan looks up silently with a mildly dark but mostly unreadable expression before replying. "Howell."
"Dan Howell?" Phil's eyes widen a little. "As in Daniel James Howell?"
Dan nods a little, swallowing and muttering, "Yeah. Three left."
"You're Daniel James Howell?" Phil hisses.
"That's my name, yes. Don't wear it out," Dan mutters. "Two left."
"You're the guy that murdered his family?" Phil whispers, shrinking back a little into his seat. He remembers the news report like it was just yesterday. It took the police ages to figure out whom exactly had put a bullet in Mr and Mrs Howell and their younger son Adrian, but eventually they found the murder weapon. A gun, missing three bullets, with Dan's finger prints on it. They'd never caught him.
The punk sat in front of me is a wanted criminal.
Something flashed across Dan's eyes, and the brunette glares at the older boy, with such fierceness Phil actually considers running away in fear. "I didn't. Fucking. Do it. And if you tell anyone, anyone, who I am, where I am, I'll fucking make sure you join them. Got it?" There was something in his tone. Something that made Phil realise he wasn't joking.
He swallows a little and nods, managing to stammer out, "O..okay."
Dan stands up and goes to leave.
Phil stands too, grabbing his hand, "Wait, I've still got one question left, and you haven't finished your food!"
"I'm not hungry," Dan replies bluntly.
"Can I have your number?" Phil looks up at him pleadingly.
Come on. Please.
Dan stares at him in hesitation before rolling his eyes a little, telling him quickly before storming out, slamming the cafe door so hard behind him everyone flinches and turns to look at Phil, left alone.
Phil's too busy quickly typing Dan's number into his phone to notice a hooded figure quickly stand and follow him.

Awwwe, Phil got Dan's number! He seems to be getting what he wants - which is more attention from Dan. But who was the dude following Dan? Did Dan murder his parents? Should Phil really be running away, instead of towards, Daniel James Howell?
Keep reading to find out ;)))
Also if you're wondering about the Dan/Phil thing in the chapter titles, that basically just means whose perspective I'll be focusing on in that chapter - whose thoughts will appear, who to follow if the two go separate ways etc.
Anyway.
QOTD: How are you feeling today?
- Wolfie xx