Misfit (Phan AU)

Chapter One

*Phil's POV*

I glanced in the mirror again, confused by how invested I was in my appearance. It wasn't that I wasn't happy with it or anything, I just wanted to be certain I didn't mess anything up today. It all had to be perfect, after how long I'd had to build up to this moment. I'd been anticipating this day for years now, waiting until I was completely ready to take the next step. I was finally moving out, getting my own place. Well, technically not my own, as I'm currently going to meet with my roommate, but close enough. It was still a very big deal to me.

I wasn't the type to rush into things, taking the time to plan ahead and think every single aspect of the decision through. It wasn't that I was a perfectionist per se, I just liked to know things were worth it before I went through with them. I guess that's why this outfit choice was so important to me. I wasn't just moving out today, I was meeting the person I could end up living with for years, testing the waters to see if this was the right decision or not. Basically, there was a lot of stuff depending on how well this meeting went. I wanted to make sure everything went right, at least on my part.

I ended up wearing my most expensive shirt, one that I'd bought nearly a year ago to celebrate the grand opening of my store. I'd only ever worn it that once, stashing it aside for when I finally managed to go on a serious date with someone. None of that romance stuff had ever panned through though, and in a sense this was even more important than a relationship anyway, so I figured it was okay to break it out of hiding.

There was no denying how nervous I both looked and felt, no matter how many layers of fancy clothes I threw on. It only grew worse the more I let myself think about it, pondering how much I really knew about this guy. He was younger than me, by four years. That could either be something that didn't matter at all or really ruined everything, but judging by how mature he seemed in all of our messaging, I didn't think the latter would be the case. If anything he seemed even more mature than me, always using long words that I had to look up the definitions of and never a single emoji in his messages. That didn't really help me out though, not when I let my thoughts drift in the opposite direction. What if instead of him being too immature to stand he's too mature to stand me? What if he looks down on me like I'm some sort of idiot? He's obviously very smart, just from communicating with him through texts. 

We hadn't really talked all that much either, only really to set up a meeting time and place and for me to ask a few questions about the living conditions. His answers were always right to the point, leaving barely anything for me to cling to in hopes of continuing the conversation. So I didn't, I just left it at that until I thought up another important question. I figured he was just busy, or maybe not very technology savvy and didn't like texting. Either way, I'd be able to ask and confirm with him today when we finally met up in person.

"Phil! You're going to miss your bus if you don't hurry!" I tensed, forced out of my thoughts by my mother's helpful reminder shout from downstairs. I took a deep breath, gathering everything I needed off my dresser, where I'd arranged it all the night before. I wasn't sure how extensive his questioning would be, but I wanted to have everything just in case. And with that, I was stumbling out of my room, flicking my head to the side to get my hair out of my eyes before continuing down the stairs. 

I rushed into the kitchen, realizing I'd gone off track enough to completely miss the time I was supposed to start making breakfast. I breathed out a sigh of relief as my eyes fell on my mother, watching as she set a full plate of food down at the table, clicking her tongue loudly. I blushed, thankful when she settled for a glare rather than giving me the familiar lecture on eating regular meals she held so close to her heart.

I sat down at my usual spot, wasting no time as I dug into the food. She walked around the kitchen, occupying her time with dishes and other small chores. I knew just watching the way she hovered around that she was only waiting for me to finish eating, but I also knew better than to call her out on it.