Made Of Paper {Phan}

~Chapter_Three~

Sometimes the light catches your hair in ways that I can't even begin to fathom let alone explain. Your eyes could bring the weakest to their knees, and your smile could bring in the furthest of tides when the sands are too dry to hold. Your voice could bring the weakest to life. I envy your ability to withhold the truth, and I wish I could be so bold. But I am not bold, I am italics, and you are bold. Together, we've created a story. Our story is magical, and not even the strongest willed could tear our pages. I admire the person you've become, and the person you should have been, and have been before. I will never stop and find myself admiring another. I could never find it in myself to lift the pages of whatever we are and tell the world I don't want you, because I am not as talented as you are. I miss your lies, lie to me again.

The clock hit one, meaning it was the perfect time for Dan and Phil to spend the rest of their afternoon sitting under their tree until it's time for their final class. He couldn't say he's greatly looking forward to it, but what he wants wouldn't make a difference. Phil would get to see Dan during school period breaks, and nothing would change once they've left for good. There was no real reason to desire leaving because it wouldn't change anything at all... he'd just feel lonelier.

As Phil made his way down the halls, he tripped on a foot meticulously placed out before him sending him, and his notebook, toppling to the ground reminding him immensely of every sad kid he'd ever seen in any movie ever. Phil loved underdog stories, he didn't, however, love being the underdog himself.

"Watch where you're going, Lester."

Sad eyes watched him then, but he wished they wouldn't, he wished they'd either stare on in oblivion, or hatch him with something else. He refused to be next. He wasn't about to give up become someone like that asshole was waiting around every corner. He was not going to become the sad, pitied, underdog. He was just having a bad day, one bad day, that's all.

"Phil?"

"Dan?"

More eyes watched as Dan helped him from the floor, his dark jeans scuffed from his knees, helping him bring his book and his book bag back to his shoulder before glancing around at the solemn echoes of sad spreading through the corridors like a rabid disease as Dan's name left his lips and he and Dan left them behind. His thoughts on leaving then changed, and suddenly, he couldn't wait to be anywhere but.

"Are you okay?"

Those were the first words spoken after sitting themselves down in the area they'd practically claimed for themselves. The happy masquerade Dan wore bleeding un-knowingly as Phil attempted to remove his mask completely. Don't hide that pretty face. Don't hide those pretty emotions.

"You should smile more, Dan."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Then what's the point?"

"I like it when you smile."

That made Dan smile. If only a bit.

"See? That looks much nicer."

"You can't force someone to smile, Phil." He shifted in his place, his face falling once again. "It kinda defeats the purpose."

"I know... I just like your smile."

"I like your smile as well."

Both smiled at that, real smiles. It was nice, Phil thought silently, when they could both share real smiles together as if they'd never really left their faces at all, but of course, they had.

"You know, Dan. Today's our last day."

"Oh, how could I forget about that, Lester?"

"Please don't call me that..."

"What would you rather I call you?"

"My name?"

"Nahh, that's old now."

"No it's not!"

They both laughed, the afternoon atmosphere enveloping them in a silent sense of warmth and comfort destined to retreat soon enough leaving them once again shrouded in a thick layer of unknowing... Phil never seems to know what to do anymore, nor what to feel.

"You want me to call you Daddy?"

Phil's face flushed an extremely pigmented shade of crimson rose causing Dan to practically roll around with a contagious bark of laughter erupting from his entire frame as he held his sides.

"What's so funny?"

"You didn't say no!"

Deeper red still.

Phil didn't like the colour red; too many memories. He didn't like red, and he didn't like the marks on Dan. He didn't care for pencil sharpeners then either... he began only using pen.

"Well then I'm saying it now!"

"Too late for that, mate!" Dan laughed some more. "Or should I say, Daddy?"

"I hate you."

"You love me!"

"You wish, Howell!"

"What? I don't get a cute nickname?"

Phil thought for a moment.

"Okay, Danny."

Dan's laughter stopped and was replaced by Phil's thick, sly smile.

"No, Phil, no. Anything but that, come on!"

"Sorry, Danny, but I like it. It suits you!"

"I swear I'll stop calling you Daddy, please, Phil, no!"

"OH! So now you wanna call me by my name?"

Dan chuckled and threw himself at Phil, tickling the boy's sides as both of them rolled about, heavy breathing with happiness passing between then as the two laid there on the grass under the old tree around the back of their old school.

"Okay! Okay, Dan, Okay!"

"Oh? So now its Dan?"

"That's your name, isn't it?"

"Good call, mate."

They both quietened down again, letting the giggles echo out and die off with the wind as both watched each other, nothing was said, they just watched and smiles as the other existed, both marinating in jut how lucky they were to have each other. Phil feared he would go crazy if Dan ever left him again. Dan was his point of sanity, the weight holding him steady, and he always would me, no matter what.

A further few moments were cast around before both dug into their bags and brought out their books, one blank and the other lined, ready to sketch and write within the inspiration of each other lingering close to the other. Dan would force the pencil to mark up the paper as if it were the last time he would ever get to, and Phil forced the pen to bleed a thousand cursive letters of remembrance as a quick tear fell from his eyes.

As he finished, he looked up to a troubled, almost ever so slightly trembling Dan, scratching the paper with sadness and something close to anger, he wasn't too familiar with. Phil had seen Dan sad many times before, but never once had he ever seen him angry. The look he wore was usually only uncovered as a joke of theirs.

Phil lowered his pen, and Dan packed his book away, the brown eyed boy closing the distance between then and engulfing Phil in a tight, warm, almost apologetic embrace. Phil cried against his shoulder as if he might never see him again.

"I miss moments like these with you, Dan. I miss them so much... What happened?"

"I know... but I'll never leave you again... I promise, okay? I know, I miss them too..."

"No, you don't."

"Try me."

"You can't."

"I do."

"I love you..."

Silence. Complete and utter silence, not a whisper of anything but nothing at all and still some.

"We need to back, Phil..."