We're Not Friends | phan

2: The First Meeting

Daniel Howell

Dan knew too much about Phil Lester, without having ever talked to him.

And it was more than he ever cared to know.

That was one of the consequences of going to a small school.

Phil moved to Reading when he was eleven (Dan had no idea where from), and he enrolled in Dan's primary school. The only reason Dan first noticed him – even way back then – was his height.

They were both unusually tall.

Dan hit his growth spurt at a young age, meaning he was a prime candidate for the junior league football team. He also towered over every other eleven-year-old at the school, and some short teachers, except for Phil.

The kid, one year ahead of Dan, was already nearing 5'11.

It was nice to have another freakishly tall person around, despite the fact that they had entirely separate friend groups and never talked. Sometimes when Dan was across the playground trying smuggled cigarettes with the other 'popular' kids, he'd glance over at the swing-set and see Phil Lester, gleefully swinging away, unaware of how awkward his lanky arms and legs looked attached to his body. It gave Dan more confidence, just seeing someone else that looked like him.

Not that Dan would admit that, of course.

As they got older, Dan would find himself unwittingly noticing Phil in a classroom, or in gym class. He wanted to see how Phil handled himself. How Phil moved.

Phil was unbelievably uncoordinated. And clumsy.

Dan made it his mission to be the exact opposite of Phil.

He trained extra hard during practice, he dedicated all of his free time to exercise. He was determined to make full use of his height, his weight. Even as he stopped worrying so much about his physical prowess, he was too deep into the habit of noticing Phil. 

So, he watched. Throughout secondary school he distantly registered how much Phil changed.

The kid stopped trying in gym class, or even showing up at all. He dyed his formerly bright ginger hair black. He started wearing odd outfits, clothes that Dan would never put on in a million years. He befriended those weird, art-obsessed emo kids. And according to rumors that inevitably circulated around the school, he was gay. Not exactly out and proud, but not hiding anything, either.

He was Dan's polar opposite.

Dan – in an oddly self-critical way – supposed that from age eleven to now, age seventeen, he hardly changed at all. He still hung out with the same jocks that he met in primary school, he still wore the same type of clothes, he still dedicated most of his free time to football practice. Sure, he learned some new skills: he played (shitty) piano, and studied philosophy, and wrote rough screenplays for shows that would never get made, but he would never tell another soul any of that. Those were his deep secrets. If his friends found out, they'd either tease him relentlessly, or drop him entirely.

This year Dan found it increasingly difficult and exhausting to hang out with his old friends, but at least he wasn't completely alone.

That was probably the worst thing Dan could imagine.

Rejection terrified him.

So after hearing that his failure in English might get him permanently kicked off the football team, eliminating any chance at a university scholarship, as well as spilling coffee over himself, and then seeing Phil Lester of all people jog up to him...

Let's just say he wasn't in the best mood.

"Howell," Phil panted. Everyone at school called him Howell, so it wasn't exactly weird, but it still felt surreal to be talking to Phil Lester at all.

Then Phil said something he absolutely did not expect.

"I have a proposition for you."

Dan raised his eyebrows. As always, his immediate response to any unsettling situation was sarcasm. "Is it to burn that atrocious outfit?"

His outfit was atrocious. He was wearing blue overalls pulled over a baggy, rainbow-striped jumper with a turtleneck.

Phil's eyes narrowed. He seemed surprised, but his response was immediate. "That's a little funny, coming from a guy who wears a letterman jacket every day."

The insult stung. Dan wondered if the coffee stain on his shirt was visible. "You don't seem that amused."

"I said a little funny," Phil retorted. "As in, a tiny bit. A minuscule amount. Hardly worth smiling for."

Dan rolled his eyes. This wasn't how he expected Phil to act. For all of Dan's subtle observations, he'd never had a real conversation with the kid. "Get to the point. What's the proposition?"

Phil paused. For the first time, it seemed like he became aware of their surroundings, and the fact that they were completely alone in the long hallway. "Can I tell you in the cafeteria? I need to grab food before I explain."

Dan squinted at him. "What's gonna take you that long to fucking explain?"

It was like Phil could sense the hostility boiling in Dan's chest. He even took half a step backward. "It's about – well. I was on my way to see Mrs. Benedict, and I couldn't help but overhear–"

Dan crossed his arms tightly against his chest. Of course Phil Lester had been the tall person lurking in the doorway while he and Mrs. Benedict were talking. "What did you overhear?"

"I just – look. I'm not going to tell anyone. I can help you get your grade back up. That's part of the proposition."

"Why would you want to help me?" Dan asked.

"Look, can we please go to the cafeteria? I'm starving, and there's only thirty more minutes before sixth hour." At Dan's obvious hesitation, Phil brought his intertwined hands up to his chest, almost like he was pleading. "I'll get straight to the point, I promise. I can help you."

Despite Dan's lengthy reservations and his overall fury directed at school, at the people around him, at Mrs. Benedict, at Phil himself... He couldn't help the tiny, idealistic pulse of hope just below his skin. Could Phil actually help him? He had no idea and no reason to trust him, but if he walked away now, he was most certainly screwed.

"Fine," Dan said.

He didn't know at the time how a single word could change the course of his life.