He hasn't spoken a word all morning. Not that he doesn't want to - no, his voice was gone when he woke up this morning, and he hasn't left the room for fear of his parents wondering about the bruise that's still causing him to limp a little.
They assume if he doesn't leave the room that he's not feeling up to coming to school today, so he waits until the front door slams shut before he dares make any noise.
He's straight to the piano when they've gone. As his hands linger on the keys for a second before he starts playing, he lets his eyes flutter shut, but then they snap right back open again? Phil? Why would he be seeing the image of the boy that didn't do anything to help him? He shudders and shakes it off, pressing down to start playing.
The notes start off forced and a little disjointed, as they always do when he practises like this. Then his fingers find the right combinations and they start to play out a sad little tune, its melody up and down and everywhere and yet still somehow fitting perfectly. For a few moments the notes are low and slow, controlled and contained, and for the next few they're high and fast, a rhythm skilfully kept.
Try as he might to push him away, Phil keeps jumping into his head, and he continues playing a little louder as he tries to figure out why. He did nothing to help, but then he did nothing to hurt either. And that's probably the first time that a normal hasn't tried to beat him, or worse, on spot for looking at them. Plus, he is pretty. Really pretty.
God damn it. Dan cannot be developing a crush. On anyone, let alone a normal. He hopes he's wrong.
He takes his fingers away from the keys and leans back in his chair. No, he has to think about this logically. He's only properly actually noticed Phil once. That's not enough for a crush. Plus, he knows nothing about Phil, he could be a total twat for all he knows. At the end of the day, helping Dan once doesn't make him a good person, and seeing him when he closes his eyes doesn't mean Dan has a crush on him. No, it's far more likely this is all just out of gratitude, a kind of love sickness that'll pass in a day, maybe a week, from the shock of someone actually kind of treating him like a human being.
With a low growl he smashes the keys in front of him in anger. Today, for all he knows at school, the person that spared him yesterday is laughing at the video of a cock being shoved down his throat against his wishes. Phil didn't help. No one ever helps.
He buries his face in his hands and pushes his palms into his eyes. The last thing he wants is to cry. That'd be absolutely pathetic.
Before he gets the chance to have tears fall down his face, his phone buzzes, and he smiles weakly. There's only one person that ever actually texts him, and that's the one friend that he has. He's not sure why she sticks around, after all, he's not much fun to be with and besides, she doesn't even go to his school anymore. She's an impure, just like him, but differently (and, really, more normally) it's purely because her parents couldn't afford the genetic engineering that would remove the label plastered on her.
Carrie Hope Fletcher: u okay?
For a second, he considers not replying. She's probably in school, and he doesn't want her to worry too much. Then again, he's probably worrying her more if he doesn't text her. He usually sends her a message before school to tell her he's okay, but it slipped his mind today and he doesn't want to push her away anymore than he already has.
Dan Howell: not really. I'll see u later, usual place?
Moments after he replies she texts back confirming than they can meet. Dan smiles a little as he puts down his phone, looking back at the keys.
Really, he should be working on the piece for his music class tomorrow. He can get away with one day off school, but any more and there'll be questions that he doesn't really want to answer. Considering the stereotypes of impures, he's a really bad liar.
