What Others Don't Know- Phanfic

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Phil's POV:

    Dan put his arms out as we entered his room. "Welcome to... casa de Dan? I don't know... I'm bad at Spanish..." he spoke with laughter trailing his words.

    I rolled my eyes at how bad he was at Spanish, even though we were already into the second quarter of the year."I'm only in Spanish one!" He defended himself, still laughing. "I started it at my old school and the Spanish class here kinda just picked up where I left off which is convenient."

    I opened my mouth, intending to say "Why did you move towns and schools, anyways?" but decided against it, closing my mouth before any sound left it. Dan seemed not to have noticed as he looked around his room as if it was his first time there.

Dan and I spent the entire morning together, leading into the afternoon. We talked endlessly about our interests, listening to music all the while. Dan had just about finished his smoothie, which I took pleasure in. I liked that he consumed something with calories.

    Dan read me some things he had written in a galaxy spiral notebook, which I thoroughly enjoyed. It just was so... deep. There's no other way to describe it. He's the least shallow person I've ever met. If people knew the most shallow guy in school was hanging out with the "freak" I don't know what they'd think.

    They obviously wouldn't think he's just another one of my conquests because nobody knows I'm bisexual except for my mums and Peej. Not even Dan, although it might be obvious with how much I hugged him so far today.

        "Hey, Phil?" I hear Dan say after minutes of comfortable silence, listening to the lyrics of Guns For Hands.

"Yeah?" I reply, continuing to look at my phone.

"Do you... Do you mind if I put on a poem that I— that I really like?" He spoke, his words crawled out with apprehension.

    "Yeah, go for it. I've never really listened to poetry before. Hopefully I like it, you definitely seem to!" I replied, smiling and nudging him with my elbow.

    "Yeah, I really do." He replied, sitting forward and taking his phone off his nightstand. He turned on his phone. I looked back at my own while he typed in his password as to not be rude.

When he was logged into his phone I looked back at its glossy screen. As he tapped on the search bar I saw the recent searches included: Depression poems, Button Poetry, Shane Dawson, and Breathe Me -Sia

    The poem started to play through the Bluetooth speaker as he set his phone back on the nightstand.

"Explaining my depression to my mother, a conversation. Mom, my depression is a shape shifter—" the speaker spoke. Dan turned and laid down, his head resting on the pillow. He was lying in his side in a fetal-like position and facing the rest of the room rather than the wall.

He took a deep breath and before I even knew what I was doing I started to lie down next to him. I faced him, smiling.

Thankfully, Dan seemed to have a queen sized bed. Without this factor, we would've been face-to-face. Considering we had just started really talking today, that didn't sound like a great idea. I closed my eyes, not exactly in an effort to keep them shut. It was simply just a very slow blink.

When I opened my eyes again, Dan had his shut. His face was beet red and he looked like he we doing his best not to smile the biggest smile that could manage to be painted on his face. His mouth was all screwed up, looking as though he had eaten something sour.

    "Mom says 'I thought the problem was you can't get out of bed' I can't. Anxiety holds me a hostage inside of my head, inside of my house. Mom says 'Where did anxiety come from?'Anxiety is the cousin, visiting from out of town, depression felt obligated to bring to the party. Mom, I am the party! Only I am a party I don't want to be at." The speaker spoke its words as I shut my eyelids again.