#help-this-is-already-a-day-overdue-and-im-gonna-fail

[doctorguilty]

Baddddd bad bad bad very sad

My head hurts, the pressure makes me feel like it's being squeezed and crushed by rubber bands ... from sinus inflammation and dehydration and not eating probably isn't helping

I feel like I want to cry again but I'm trying to stop myself so I won't make the pain even worse

This is only, what, a week into dst? Not even winter yet.. Seasonal affective disorder is going in for the kill this year I guess. I don't know what im going to do because I'm so tired, physically and mentally and just tired of my life, there's no fight in me left. And no one will or can help me. I'm my family's least favorite and so i get the least help, doctors won't take my health seriously, my partner needs more time, possibly more than a year, before moving in with me with me somewhere. I can't afford to live on my own. I barely have energy to keep collecting scraps of money to show as income so I can continue getting food assistance.

I had a spark of hope for a while but it feels like it was a mistake to let myself have it. How much longer can I lie to myself and say "one more year until it gets better"? I mean, I can't. That illusion is broken. So what can I tell myself? It truly feels like there's nothing. Things keep getting worse. I tried so hard, I really did. I'm exhausted. Truly utterly exhausted.

Unless anyone out there (just like, the world not @-ing Tumblr dot com) has a spare 20 grand or something they'd just hand to me to live off for "one more year" (and then some) and detox from my miserable quality of life, surviving it barely even sounds appealing knowing that my physical and mental health I'll be another year WORSE than where it is now. And even then. There's not guarantee it ends there :''') its an estimate, an "if I'm lucky" estimate and it's not even considerably lucky to be in this position.

I genuinely don't know how I'm gonna keep living like everything is fine and normal while I continue losing steam to make money, make art, care for myself (I'm already down to roughly 2 showers a week and at best 1 real meal a day because I'm so tired), to keep filling out paperwork begging for assistance (I think I'm already overdue for my food stamp update), and watching other people in my family just be handed endless help while I'm patronized with "have you considered painting Christmas ornaments for a living" and interrogated about the validity of my disabilities (which I always fail to prove good enough)

Almost everyone around me is happier than me. Almost everyone else's life is on track and I'm at best simply left behind, and at worst I was someone they stepped on to get what they needed before tossing me to the side.

My life is not only painful and exhausting but humiliating. I don't feel like a person. I don't feel important. I feel like if i did die out of the blue, nobody would say they regret helping me more like people usually say, they'd just talk about how I should have done xyz better and it's my own fault (not a s*icide threat just being hypothetical like literally if i died for any random reason)

Most of everything that's happened in my life, I feel, has validated my chronic sense of worthlessness. Everyone says I'm not but prove it. Someone prove it. Someone put me first. Sacrifice something for me (and not complain what a burden I am on them!). For once. If I wasn't worthless, well, I'd be worth it, without strings attached.

It won't happen. It never happens. I have to dance like a fucking circus animal for people and then beg on my knees I'm entertaining enough to keep alive so I can do it over and over again

[ra-meat]

Posted oct 31, 2020

Here's my clown inspired art project, I'm definitely in a sort of clown loving phase right now in my life.

My (currently unfinished) art peice that was due oct 30 2020 (yesterday) that I put an instagram filter over cuz I think it looks cool, I've gotten more done sense this was taken but I still love this pic

I might post an unfiltered pic later once I finish eventually, my art has improved drastically sense I first started my blog and then completely forgot about it for a while. My first art on here was my 2019 inktober day one, and considering I've almost finished my 2020 inktober (despite it being y'know, the 31st) it's safe to say I've improved at least a little.

I'm always trying to become better so if ya wouldn't mind helping out a teen artist constructive criticism is always welcome!! (The criticism is best when it's actually things I can fix, not giving my tips on the sketch when I've already inked and things like that)

I'm also trying to start digital but I suck ass at it rn and my drawing tablet is broken so I can't really practice much on my preferred software ಥ‿ಥ

I post more on instagram,

https://instagram.com/ra_meat_?igshid=psmc21fuzvof

In case the link doesn't work my username rn is Ra_meat_ on insta and twitter

[goopyartiste]

The Sea of Pink Flowers

Prompt: Taurus for my 100 follower event

Pairing: Prohero!Bakugo x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: swearing, pure unadulterated fluff

A/N: im so sorry it took me so long to get this out ASDKDHAL ;-; i was honestly struggling so much writing this to the point where i had to take a break. my brain just didnt know how to to write down my ideas properly, but i managed to finally get it done :’). hopefully its good enough for yall and i hope you all enjoy it! (hopefully its better than the ratatouille essay)

The golden hue from the sunlight streamed in through your half opened blinds, waking you up from your slumber. You took your time to take in your surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend before the two of you left for your date. Just as you begin to stretch and make your way out of bed, your lovely boyfriend walks into the room.

“You’re lucky I let you sleep in today, dumbass,” he declares, almost annoyed by the amount of time you slept.

Still in the process of waking up, you quickly responded, too annoyed to come up with a sarcastic remark. “You call this sleeping in? Its barely nine,” you groaned, rolling over to avoid him.

You could feel the simmering frustration that Bakugo was repressing, trying to stay calm. He quickly responded, however, his mouth running faster than his thought, “Hey I could have woken you up at seven like I did!”

You huffed, mumbling out a silent whatever at his retort and throwing the blankets off your form. The coldness of the room without the blanket instantly made you regret your decision. Finding Bakugo’s rage to be a better substitute for the cold, you dove for the discarded sheets, but your boyfriend was already one step ahead of you with the blanket in hand.

“Go finish getting ready so we could head on the road. I'm not gonna let us miss this date because you couldn't get your lazy ass out of bed,” he expressed, already walking out the door by the time you stepped onto the cold and unforgiving mahogany floorboards. 

Once your excursion to the closet and bathroom was complete, you made your way to the humble kitchen, noticing the careful precision Bakugo took in packing the compact beige picnic basket. As he methodically started placing all the items into the car, you grabbed a moderate picnic blanket from the closet and made your way to the roaring vehicle, closing and locking the door to your abode on the way out.

Closing the passenger’s door, you anxiously grabbed Bakugo’s hand, halting him from accessing the ger stick. You raised his hand so hi9s knuckles meet your lips right as his eyebrows raise at the unexpected hand holding. From your peripheral, he tenses a little, cheeks gaining a slight tint of pink before they fade at your proceeding question.

“Are you sure you can take the day off today? Doesn't the agency need you, or what if a really bad villain shows up? Will this be-”

Bakugo cut you off without hesitation. “Y/N, everything’s fine. The agency let me take today off so quit your worrying. And besides, dunce face and shitty hair got it covered.”

You physically relaxed, letting out an unintentional sigh of relief as you let his hand go, both of you on your way to enjoy a long-overdue date.

It wasn't long before you two arrived at the meadow Bakugo had specifically chosen for today. As soon as the car was parked and turned off, you ran towards the emerald slope, tripping on your way up the steep incline..

Making your way up the lavish hillside, you quickly felt the wind breeze past your form, cooling you down after the long trek. Bakugo was not far behind, carrying the basket with all your wonderful goodies. As you set out to find the perfect spot for your lovely picnic, Bakugo couldn’t help but marvel at your energy. That was always something he admired about you, how you could easily light up a room with just your presence, how you could make him smile by just looking at you and your beautiful face. His own thoughts were broken by the sound of your giddy laughter.

“Hey Katsu! I think this might be the perfect spot!”

Bakugo felt a small smile form on his usually grouchy face, coaxed by the nickname you decided to give him at the start of your relationship. Before he walked over to you, his scowl returned just as quickly as it left. You grabbed a typical pink, checkered blanket out of his hands, ready to start setting up when you heard Bakugo scoff. 

“Since when did we have this shitty blanket? It’s so cliché,” he muttered, too distracted by the gaudy sheet to notice you slightly snicker beside him.

In a vain attempt to respond, you tried to come up with a snarky remark. It didn’t take long until you broke out in a fit of laughter, dropping into the lush, emerald grass below as you clutched your stomach and gasped for air.

Bakugo deepened his scowl and raised his eyebrow, “What’s so funny to you?”

“Well,” you attempt to get out, before you’re overtaken by another fit of giggles.

Bakugo stares at you, confusion written all over his face before he decides to respond. “Whatever dumbass.”

Bakugo began to unpack the premade basket, clearly fine with letting you explore the boundless expanse of jade before you. While you did try to help, something far in the distant horizon caught your eye. A vast plain of pink flowers ranging from deep magentas to a dusty rose spread out before you, shades of coral lighting your path while the sweet succulent smell drew you closer. This field was something you had failed to notice during your eccentric running, but it was never too late to explore it. As you carefully made your way over to the field, Bakugo momentarily stopped to look at you. With the sun shimmering on the dewy jade grass and the bubblegum flowers settled around you, it almost made you look ethereal. The simple smile that graced your lips as you took in the field mesmerized him. Realizing he was staring, he violently shook his head, attempting to subdue the rising heat creeping up his face all while mumbling about his own grievances with his behavior. 

Finally finished unpacking the basket, Bakugo pretended not to notice your creeping form approaching from behind. You genuinely believed that you had been sneaky, quiet enough to sneak up on one of the top pro heroes. As you drew closer and closer, you were quickly grabbed by your hips and dropped on the ground, letting out a loud yelp as the object in your hands fell to the ground right next to you. Bakugo lay on top of you, holding you in his grip and trapping you under him. 

“You should know better than to sneak up on a pro hero right?”

You giggled slightly. You know I do Katsu, but I wanted to surprise you!”

He let out a tisk, rolling his eyes.“Idiot. What did you even want to surprise me with that made you think it was good to try and jump me?”

“This.” Grabbing the fallen object, you gently placed the handmade flower crown on his head. He froze as soon as the crown touched his spiked hair, unsure how to react. Getting off of you and sitting back down on the dewy grass, Bakugo’s scowl deepened as the tips of his ears became flushed with a brilliant pink. Whether it was from embarrassment, you weren't sure

Bakugo suddenly stood up from the grass, “Come on dumbass, the food’s waiting for us.” It wasn’t until he stood up from his spot on the earthen floor did you truly realize he liked it. It wasn’t until the whole day was spent and he still had the flower crown on his head, refusing to take it off, that you truly realized he cared for it. After all, it was a gift from you, lovely pink flowers and all..

As the sun begins to lower itself to the horizon, you lay your head on his shoulder relishing in the serene atmosphere as you hear Bakugo release a gruff sigh from above. 

“You know, this day wasn’t so bad,” he spoke, relaxing from the tenderness of your emotions.

You looked up, momentarily awestruck by how peaceful he looked. Sure, his brows were still furrowed and a small frown still graced his handsome face, but his relaxed demeanor told you a different story. As much as you enjoyed this calm Bakugo, you wanted to play with him a little.

“Well you’re hanging out with me. How bad could it have really been Katsu.”

Bakugo’s eyebrow twitched slightly, clearly taken out of the moment by your snarky comment while you smirk beside him, proud of his reaction however small it may be.

“Yeah, whatever idiot.” You smiled, choosing to enjoy the serene atmosphere of the world’s natural beauty. 

The two lovers let the stress of the week become a fleeting memory, choosing to savor the pink and purple of the setting sun in peace.

Taglist (Open!):

@peach-pops @kirislut @deephasoceanmagic @katsushimaa @hannahalanib1 @estridries @art0saurus @yee-harr @shoutamajiki @spookykiri @animatedarchives @meliorist-midoriya @sugas-sweetheart @suggiebabe @justamultifandomfan16 @ohno-grapes

©️ all rights reserved to goopyartiste. do NOT plagiarize or repost anywhere.

[cutemoniic]

full offense, because i care very little about this website anymore, but people who completely and consciously refuse at providing ooc communication should be kicked out of this community. there should be a certaint rulebreaker that doesnt allow people past a certaint point with this. there should be a message that pops up over their blog with something like ''buddy, you fucked up now'' in massive blinding lights and automatically kicks them out of the website. also, this rant was overdue.

im not talking about people who struggle with anxiety regarding communicating out of character, im talking about people who can communicate properly and weaponize the fuck out of it. social/online anxiety, bad news i know, isnt shitting on someone in a group chat while having complete power to communicate to them ''hey, this x thing that happened/that you said rubbed me the wrong way, can we talk about it?'', but choosing to withdraw any form of communication to stir some drama because youre thirsty for it. social/online anxiety isn't failing so badly at communicating that even YOU cannot accept it and unload the blame on someone else completely just because you feel like this is the right thing to do. REAL socially anxious people are in the rpc community and they are doing their best to reach out to people to form friendships and meaningful relationships. imagine having the power and the abilities to communicate properly, but withholding it all because youre on a sick power trip and want to shit as much as possible over the other person just because of a slight you perceived was done towards you. when this happens, you don't moan and whine about said perceived slight: you move your ass, gather your maturity and go talk to the other person about it. if it wasnt intentional youll receive an apology and a promise to do better, and if it was intentional or the person did it in a malicious light? call them the fuck out. warn others. make a fucking storm up so they will run away in shame. but at least you will have done the correct thing: communicating.

as i talked about it before over my dualscar blog, even if on another topic, this is a community hobby: it means that we are all conjoining energies to make ourselves and everyone else a fun time by communicating with eachother. i assume that everyone that joins here, or has been on tumblr for a long time, knows that ooc communication is a necessary thing to have a pleasant experience. there's a problem? we talk about it. something happens that causes anxiety? we talk about it! it should be this simple. this should be a source of solid comfort for other people. knowing that they are more than their own muses and knowing that the other person on the other side of the screen will reach out if they are upset at them, so the problem can be tackled out. i had a few traumatic experiences based on ooc communication that shaped up how much i oocly contact others: i have been blamed for being too attached to ooc communication when the other person completely and utterly failed to communicate their share and left me to shoulder it all. i have been withheld big time ooc communication until i talked about it, and gaslight into ''but if you asked me for more ooc communication i would have used it! xd'' when in reality it wasnt true, etc. man, i have been shunned so fucking much for valueing ooc communication as i do and i can see why, today. most of the people im talking about also shadily changed names to not be recognized by these days so lol!

because ooc is a powerful tool of communication, it will be weaponized from malicious people in order to stir up drama and to have both positive and negative attentions drawn on them. it will be withheld just to make the one doing it feel powerful and make their victim feel bad. anything that will be shifted from people who believe of themselves as ''blameless'' and ''the true victims'' will be shifted into the person who just wants to have a safer experience with communication. people will literally thing ''i know i am to blame for this, but let me flip it all around or ill shatter like a mirror because i cannot face responsabilities and have the maturity of a candy cane'' and shit like this. while im usually a very empathetic person, i see shit like this and i lose it.

if you don't get why ooc communication is important, or have no intentions on changing how you communicate, you are not welcome in the rpc community.

this rant, which will obviously be taken and talked about various malicious trashtalking chatrooms to judge me for it, because this is how ''ooc communication'' is right now, is aimed to be seen by certaint people and give them strenght. i mean to tell them ''you arent alone in having been mistreated over ooc community, c'mere. lemme give you an hug''. this rant is to reassure REAL socially anxious people that i feel for them and dont want uncommunicative fuckfaces to make their experience even worse than what it is already. if you feel called out by this rant, im not up to listen to your excuses and reasons, and if you contact me looking to argue, you're gonna be blocked the moment the sound of your message hits my IMs. if instead you feel called out by this rant and want to know what you did wrong and look for advices to improve, im willing to help you if theres no victimism involved and we can talk like two mature people if you want to get better. im a patient person if you show remorse.

if someone adamantly refused to ooc communicate, manipulates you or shuns you for it, start protecting yourself if you are not ready to call them out.

inform your friends in the most neutral way that you can. ''this person has caused me grief over ooc communication by not using it/weaponizing it against me etc, and has put me into a difficult situation. be careful''. mass block them the moment they try this bullshit over your other pals too. avoid this person until they have nothing left to do but apologize and promise to be better, and once actual progresses are made make sure to have a talk with them to make them understand why this happened and what about this irked you and caused you to react strongly. if there is no remorse or apology, continue avoiding them. people will eventually come around after they are hurt too, and will need you to mend their wounds. people will start listening after it. its all a chain of events that cannot be stopped until the perpetrator of this bullshit stops and looks at their actions.

callouts aren't required.

as a final word, i will say it again: if you cannot recognize that this community is still trying desperately to find comfort in communication and you wanna do your worst to ruin it, do everybody that still has some sanity a favor and leave, because you will not be welcomed unless you radically change how you act.

[danfanciesphil]

L’Histoire Française (New Chapter)

Teacher AU (Part 8)

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Part Four)

(Part Five)

(Part Six)

(Part Seven)

(Now Available on Ao3!)

Following the small incident with the French girl, Dan makes the decision to walk with a group of students on the way back to the hostel from Châtelet, letting John take  position at the front of the pack beside Phil, for once. 

“Did you and Mr Lester have a fight, sir?” Savannah asks, giggling. 

Dan chokes out what he hopes is a dismissive laugh, not sure how best to professionally respond. “N-no, of course not.”

“So why are you walking with us?” Lydia asks him, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. 

“I thought we were overdue a bonding session,” Dan jokes in a vain attempt to deflect their incessant questions. It doesn’t work. 

Lydia scoffs, rolling her eyes, and tugs on Savannah’s hand, leading her away. 

Dan shoves his hands into his pockets, trying to appear nonchalant, and walks the rest of the way on his own. 

*

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier,” Phil says, making Dan look up from his phone. 

He’s been neglecting it for the past few days, and now he’s taking the opportunity of this short period of time between activities to scroll through his many notifications. Three texts from Tyler, one from Teddy, multiple Facebook notifications, and a missed call from his mum. 

Instead of replying to any of them, Dan locks his phone, and turns to Phil. 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Dan says, smiling. 

Phil smiles back, but he looks a little sheepish. “I lost my cool with that girl. I don’t get annoyed very often, but that was...” he frowns, and Dan stares at the unusual downturn of his mouth. “...difficult.”

“It’s fine,” Dan says, shrugging. 

He can feel the itch of curiosity simmering beneath his skin. As much as he knows it’s probably best to remain in the dark about whatever that girl had said, he can’t help but wonder. He suppresses the urge to ask Phil about it, reminding himself that if her words had been awful enough to prompt an angry response out of Phil Lester - the most easygoing, lovely, ray of sunshine the world has ever known - then Dan can be pretty sure he doesn’t need to hear them in English. 

“Can we just... forget that happened?” Phil asks, looking hopeful. 

His blue eyes shine, wide and round; Dan wonders how anyone could possibly ever refuse him. 

“Of course! Already forgotten.”

Phil smiles in relief, his shoulders drooping. “Cool, thanks. I’m gonna go tell the kids to get ready to eat.” 

“Another early dinner?” Dan asks.

“Yeah,” Phil replies, fluttering a wink at him. “Gotta leave for the surprise at seven.”

“Surprise?” Dan asks, but Phil is already slipping out of the door. 

*

Tyler Updates on le beefcake???

Tyler Daniel!! Have u snogged the  frenchie yet?!

Tyler If u return to England without at least one tale of debauchery im not letting you back in the house.

Dan lets out a breathy laugh behind his hand. 

Dan thts fine im 99% sure im gonna spontaneously combust before i get home anyway.  we’re sharing a room 😫

He sighs, glancing over at the unoccupied bed beside his; his heart pangs as he considers the fact that he’ll have yet another night of trying and failing to succumb to unconsciousness beside Phil, right here, this very evening. 

He scrolls down his messages to find Teddy’s, which are likely to be a little less excruciating in nature. 

Teddy Found any Parisian macarons yet?

Dan phil forced me to try one :’) they’re not bad.

Teddy hot. pls bring some home <3

Dan tell ur menace of a bf to stop texting me inappropriate things and we’ll see.

Tyler do you think i don’t see what you two text each other?? 

Giving up on the two of them, Dan pockets his phone again, feeling it buzzing in his pocket with more texts already. He remembers that his mum phoned, but he resolves to call her tomorrow. Right now, he’s too on edge for whatever this evening’s ‘surprise’ might be. 

As if summoned by this very thought, the door opens, and Phil steps back in, still seeming a little chagrinned. 

“Ready for dinner?” 

“Cardboard pizza and raw jacket potatoes?” Dan asks, standing from the bed. “Born ready.”

*

As Dan is nibbling the crust of his second slice of terrible pizza, Phil picks up his fork and makes a show of clinking it against the side of his plastic glass. Obviously, it doesn’t make a particularly loud noise, so he couples it a “ding, ding, ding!”  

Dan stares at him amusedly, the overly crunchy pizza clawing at his throat as he attempts to swallow it. He washes it down with a gulp of Coca-Cola Light, wincing. 

“Attention, folks,” Phil calls out to the students sat around the table. He stands from his chair, holding his glass up like he’s giving a toast. “I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you all how lovely it’s been having you with me on this trip. Thank you for putting up with my geeking out about this wonderful city. I know you’re all far too cool for me, so I appreciate it.” 

“Aw, give over, sir,” Jonah calls out, making several others laugh. “You ain’t that bad.”

“Yeah, we’ve had a well great time, Mr Lester!” Joanna shouts, grinning. 

“We love your geekiness, sir, don’t worry!” 

“Some of us more than others, maybe,” Jonah adds, aiming a wink at Dan that he pretends not to see. 

“Aw, well thank you very much, guys!” Phil says, appearing genuinely touched by these comments. “I hope you’ve all managed to learn something too, even if it’s just how to order a croissant from a boulangerie.” 

“I’m sure it’s been a very informative trip, and that we’ve all learned a great deal, right class?” John asks, earning himself a unanimous “ye-es, sir”. 

John smiles broadly, raising his glass to Phil’s. “How about a word of thanks to our lovely French-speaking tour guide then, everyone?” 

The class send up a hearty cheer for Phil, clapping their hands and calling their thanks out loud. Dan joins in, possibly a tad more enthusiastic than could be considered appropriate, but it doesn’t really matter. 

Phil laughs and bats his hands in the air, blushing. It’s adorable. 

Once the uproar quietens, a rosy-cheeked Phil straightens up once again, addressing the group. “Right, well, as a treat for our last night, I’ve booked us all a special surprise!” He announces, grinning. The class gasp and chatter excitedly, their hands clutching at one another. “For our final evening activity, we’re all booked onto a river cruise along the Seine! I’ve hired us a boat for the night, which will be sailing us down the river for a couple of hours. There’ll be drinks and snacks available from the bar, and music playing in case you fancy a dance. So after you’ve finished eating, run upstairs and get your frocks on, then we’ll head down to the docks.” 

The class cheer animatedly, whooping and clapping. Phil grins at them all, lifting his glass in acknowledgement, and then sits back down. 

Dan stares at him in awe. “A river cruise?”

“Don’t tell me you get seasick, Dan.” 

“No, it’s just...” Dan trails off, completely mesmerised by his own thoughts of the evening ahead. Gliding along the beautiful Parisian river in the darkness, Phil at his side. 

He gulps down some Coke, trying to comprehend it.

“A bit romantic?” Phil supplies, finishing Dan’s sentence for him. “How else am I supposed to woo you, Dan? Time’s running out.”

*

“I didn’t bring anything nice to wear,” Dan complains as he drags a third meme t-shirt out of his case and discards it onto the ‘nope’ pile on his bed. “You didn’t tell me we’d be dressing up.” 

Phil laughs at him from over the top of his phone screen. “It’s not a nineteenth century ball, Dan,” he says, “you don’t need to wear anything fancy if you don’t want. I just said that because the kids like to have an excuse to glam up. Like a school disco.”

Dan frowns at him, eyes roving over his outfit. Phil has already changed in the bathroom, and he looks ravishing. He’s wearing a dark blue and black checkered shirt, buttoned up to the collar. The contrast of the colours make his eyes and onyx hair pop; it’s taking a lot out of Dan to remain collected in his presence.

He sighs in frustration as he drinks in this delicious man once again, and tries not to despair as he looks down at his discarded pile of unsuitable clothing. Why is he even bothering to attempt looking nice? In comparison to Phil Lester he’s going to look like a gangly child anyway, 

Noticing Dan’s look of dismay, Phil stands up and walks to his side. It really doesn’t help Dan to calm down at all, having Phil looking this good, this close. 

“Hey, you can borrow a shirt if you want,” Phil offers, shrugging as he places a hand on Dan’s shoulder. 

Trying his utmost not to squeak at the unexpected touch, Dan latches onto Phil’s words. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” Phil replies, gesturing to his own case. “Have a rifle through.”

“You’re a godsend, Lester,” Dan mutters, feeling Phil’s hand slip from his shoulder as he crosses to Phil’s bed and begins pawing through his open suitcase. He shoots Phil a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Phil chuckles, shrugging again like it’s nothing. “Not a problem. Kind of goes against my end goal to actively clothe you, but hey ho.”

This sort of remark from Phil should come as no surprise at this point, but Dan still feels like the floor has been swept out from beneath his feet. He lets out a mildly hysterical sounding bubble of laughter, and turns his blushing gaze into Phil’s assorted shirt pile, trying to focus on the patterns.

“Anyway, I’m just gonna go and see John about the details of the boat,” Phil says, moving towards the door. “He was supposed to phone and check it was all still okay, but I forgot he can’t speak a word of French, so I imagine he might need some help.” 

Dan forces another laugh, this one sounding a touch more normal, and just nods at him in place of actual words. Phil gives a small wave, then disappears out of the door. 

Without dwelling too much on his choice, Dan selects a dark shirt from Phil’s case, grabs his towel, and runs in the direction of the bathroom for a quick shower. 

A cold one. 

*

By the time Dan has showered, dried and straightened his hair, dressed himself, and grabbed his wallet and phone, it’s almost time to leave. Phil left the room to round everyone up as Dan was still in the straightening stage, so at 6:55pm, he’s jogging down the hostel corridor to meet everyone else already gathered in the lobby. 

“Finally,” Jonah calls out, spotting Dan as he emerges, “what the heck were you doin’, sir? Strappin’ on your lingerie for later?” 

“Jonah Frank, that is not appropriate,” John snaps, glaring at the teen. 

VP Green looks rather polished this evening, Dan can’t help but notice, swiftly taking in his dark slacks and tan blazer. Phil spins on his heel then, mouth slightly parted as though he’s about to make his own comment on Dan’s late appearance, but he pauses, mouth remaining open as he sees Dan for the first time. 

Dan’s initial thought is, of course, that he’s done something stupid and embarrassing like come down without his trousers on, or with shampoo still clumped in his hair. 

He looks down at his outfit, checking, and cards his fingers through his carefully straightened locks. The weight of Phil’s gaze rests heavily on him, lingering, but he can’t figure out why. 

He raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘what’s up?’, but Phil abruptly turns from him, a strange expression on his face. 

Weird, Dan thinks, feeling far less confident in his appearance than he had when he cast a final look in the mirror a few minutes ago. 

“Right, everyone here?” Phil asks the general mob, and the students murmur a vague affirmation. “Well, if anyone’s left behind, can someone please text them now, because we’re leaving.” 

Dan pulls his (faux) leather jacket tighter around himself, comforted by the way the familiar material has shaped itself to his frame over the years. Phil’s shirt feels taut and starchy against his skin, but he likes the idea of wearing something of Phil’s, so he’s putting up with it. 

John falls into step with him as they set off out of the hostel entrance, surveying Dan with something like surprise. 

“You certainly scrub up well, don’t you!” John exclaims, patting Dan on the back. “Who’d have thought it?”

Dan laughs nervously, a little confused by this statement. He’s only wearing a shirt and skinny jeans. Sure, he spent a little extra time preening himself tonight, but it’s hardly a groundbreaking change, surely. 

“Not so bad yourself, VP Green,” Dan replies politely, to which John barks a laugh. 

“Too kind, but I rather think my days of catching anyone’s eye are behind me, Dan,” he says with a sigh. “The dark circles tend to send them running, nowadays.”

Matthew begins shoving Jonah in the side then, angry about some unknown disagreement, and John steps forwards to intervene, leaving Dan alone again. 

Not particularly wanting to be caught up in another unsettling conversation about his over-fondness for these kids’ teacher again, Dan walks swiftly to the front of the pack in order to walk with Phil. 

“Getting a bit rowdy back there,” Dan comments, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Might have someone overboard tonight if we’re not careful.” 

Phil is staring at him again; he barely seems to be aware of what Dan is saying, which is bizarre. Usually Phil is such an attentive listener. 

“That shirt really suits you,” Phil says after a moment, which sends all the blood rushing into Dan’s head. His head swims a little. 

“Oh, th-thanks,” he manages, eyes falling towards his shoes. “Guess whoever bought it must have really good taste.”

Phil smiles, but it’s faint. His azure eyes track across Dan’s torso, searing a trail of fire into Dan’s flesh as they go. 

His tongue flicks out across his bottom lip; Dan almost walks straight into a lamppost, he’s so distracted by it. 

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Phil says.

*

It occurs to Dan only as he is stood on the wooden deck of a lightly rocking boat, gliding over the inky waters of the Seine, that he has never been on a river cruise before now. Once, during his Freshers Week at university, he’d attended a boat party, but as far as he remembers (that night had been a particularly messy one) that boat had never actually left the dock. 

They’ve been going along for around an hour, and Dan can’t seem to move away from the edge of the boat, mesmerised by the sight of Paris sliding by, a twinkling blur of golden light and colour, beautiful and dazzling. 

“So, has Paris captured your heart?” Phil asks, stood beside him, his fringe fluttering upwards in the cool breeze. 

A fist closes itself around Dan’s heart as he drinks in the sight of such a perfect, sweet smile, directed, bafflingly, towards him. 

“Something like that.” 

“‘He who contemplates the depths of Paris is seized with vertigo. Nothing is more fantastic. Nothing is more tragic. Nothing is more sublime’,” Phil says, his voice taking on a theatrical tone. “Victor Hugo said that.” 

“Victor Hugo?” Dan asks, smiling fondly.

“He wrote Les Misérables,” Phil says, “and The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” 

“Hm,” Dan says, nodding. “I reckon he was onto something. Paris is definitely... overwhelming.”

The way Phil is smiling at him is starting to make Dan want to squirm. He does not feel deserving of such warm attention, especially from someone so amazing. 

“Overwhelming in a good way?” 

Dan stares into the endless chambers of Phil’s glowing blue eyes, watching the lights of the city glimmer in their depths. “Overwhelming in a wonderful way.”

There’s a pause then, their eyes sticking to one another like they’ve been frozen in position, the narrow tunnels of their gazes fused. Light hubbub echoes in the background, of the students milling around the deck, alongside the soft lapping of the water against the side of the boat. 

Eventually, Dan gathers himself, clearing his throat as he turns back to the sight of the illuminated buildings at the water’s edge. They pass under a bridge, lit up and gorgeous; dark, softened shadows caress Phil’s profile, sweeping across his porcelain skin, as though they can see how beautiful it is. As if they want to touch it for themselves. 

“Beautiful,” Dan whispers without thinking. He starts, scrambling for words. “I mean, this is beautiful. The boat, the river... You’re good at surprises.” 

“Thanks,” Phil says happily. “I love surprises.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Phil says, looking at him. “Can’t you tell?”

Dan frowns, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you were a surprise,” Phil says, like it’s obvious. “You might be the best one I’ve ever had.” 

He’s never going to be used to the flirting, Dan thinks as his muscles seize up, his breath catching in his throat. Something about this time felt a little different though, Dan can’t help thinking. This time felt softer, truer. 

He shakes his head free of the absurd thought before he runs away with it. 

There’s no point entertaining the thought that Phil is doing anything other than being a flirtatious little minx, as always, just for the hell of it. 

Phil chuckles at him then, probably in response to seeing how hard Dan is concentrating. Then, he leans in, bringing his mouth to Dan’s ear.

“What would you say if I asked you to do something irresponsible with me?” 

There is no response available in Dan’s brain, short-circuited as it is by that illegal-tackle of a question, so he just gapes at Phil blankly, trying to process it. 

Phil laughs again, then grabs Dan by the forearm and drags him away from the edge, towards the cabin of the boat. 

* 

As it turns out, ‘something irresponsible’ turns out to be drinking. 

The bar on this boat is supposed to only serve soft drinks this evening, under Phil’s express instruction, but after five minutes of Phil’s charming grins and witty repartee, the bartender agrees to make an exception for the two of them. 

They get a bottle of wine between them, hidden under Phil’s jacket. After just one glass, Dan can feel the bones and muscle in his body becoming lighter, his laughs bubbling up with ease. His hands become magnets, drawn to the polars of Phil’s arms and back, seeking out his addictive warmth without permission. 

They wander around the deck, pressed against each other’s sides, sneaking dribbles of wine into their plastic cups out of sight of the kids. 

John is preoccupied in what looks like a deep conversation with the captain, so they’re able to keep their irresponsible behaviour from him, as well. Phil asks Dan a plethora of questions, about his past, about his family, about his future plans and life goals. Dan does his best to answer them, but keeps reminding Phil that there’s simply no way he could possibly give any answer that will satisfy, because he’s just not that interesting. 

Phil disagrees vehemently each time Dan says this, which is ridiculous, but it’s quite sweet too, so Dan doesn’t really mind. 

On their third loop of the deck, they find that a handful of the students have found some chairs, and arranged them in a circle beside the outer wall of the cabin, out of the path of the icy wind. The students cheer as they notice Dan and Phil strolling by, and call them over.

Propelled in no small part by their alcohol-softened, happy moods, they wander towards the group, pink-cheeked and smiling. 

“Come play a game with us, sirs,” Savannah calls out, her eyes already glinting with mischief. 

Jonah barks a laugh at this, but nods fervently in agreement. “Yeah, grab some chairs, Mr Lester.” 

A mistrust of this situation immediately cloaks itself over Dan, but he’s in too much of a good mood to really mind it. He ignores his instinct to refuse the offer, and sits in a chair Phil finds him, hands wrapped around his plastic cup, still.  

He glances at Phil as if to check this is within the rules, and Phil just shrugs at him, managing to somehow discreetly pour some more wine into his own glass, shielded by his jacket. 

He tucks the bottle beneath his arm, expertly concealing it from the kids as he sits to Dan’s right, the two of them nestled between Jonah and Bethany. 

“So, what’s the game?” Dan asks, sipping wine as casually as possible. 

“Aw, you’ll love it, sir,” Jonah grins, raising his own glass, full of something that looks suspiciously like a spirit. It can’t be though, Dan thinks in confusion. It must be apple juice. “It’s called ‘Never Have I Ever’.” 

The bottom drops out of Dan’s stomach. He turns to Phil, sat beside him, sending him a horrified glance. Phil looks weirdly nonplussed about this answer, and just shrugs at Dan, smiling. 

“Phil,” Dan hisses at him, “we can’t. Not with students.”

“Come on, if it gets out of hand we can just get up and leave,” Phil says in a voice which sounds an awful lot like the alcohol is persuading him not to fully appreciate the weight of his own decisions right now. 

But partly because it’s warmer here, sat with the others out of the wind, and partly because he doesn’t want to appear a joy-kill in comparison to Phil, Dan just sits back in his chair, reluctantly accepting his fate. 

“Okay, so Katie’s starting,” Jonah declares, grinning at the girl in question. She glares at him, but sighs in acceptance. 

“Alright, never have I ever... been to Paris.” 

The group groan at Katie, rolling their eyes as they all take a sip from their glasses. Dan drinks some wine, catching Phil’s eye amusedly, both of them acknowledging the hilarity of this situation. 

This, Dan considers, is something truly irresponsible. 

“Never have I ever gotten a tattoo,” Bethany shouts out from Katie’s left. 

“What?” Dan cries out, horrified. “Aren’t you all, like, twelve?” 

Everyone splutters with laughter, including Phil. 

“Mr Howell, we’re fourteen!” Savannah cries out, indignant. 

“S’not much better,” Dan mumbles, but he’s blushing faintly. 

He glances at Phil, just in time to see him take a discreet sip of his wine. Dan’s eyes widen in shock, and he suppresses the urge to ask him aloud what the fuck kind of tattoo he has, and more importantly where. 

Luckily, everyone is too distracted by Jonah gulping down his own drink to notice. 

“What have you got, Jonah?” 

“As if he has!” 

“No way could he have gotten a tat,” Matthew cries, but he doesn’t sound totally sure. 

Jonah just waggles his eyebrows at everyone, grinning. “If you wanna have a go at finding it Savannah, I’d let you.” 

Savannah rolls her eyes, grimacing, and the others chuckle. “Isn’t it time for someone else’s go?”

“It’s Mr Howell’s turn, innit?” 

Dan, who is still busy gawping at Phil in disbelief, snaps his head back to the others at the sound of his name. “Huh? Oh, right. Um,” he swallows, mind racing as he struggles to think of something appropriate. 

Phil is smirking at him behind his glass, and it isn’t helping. Every time Dan has ever played this game in the past, it has inevitably dissolved into almost cruelly specific, hyper-sexual questioning designed to get people to admit their strange kinks and embarrassing anecdotes. Not to mention, to get people wasted. 

That, for obvious reasons, should probably be avoided this time. 

“Uh, never have I ever,” Dan begins, no idea where the sentence is headed. “Thought Mr Lester was my favourite teacher.”

The others groan and cackle at this, practically falling off their chairs in order to protest.

“Mr Howell, you sap,” someone shouts.

“Why’re you suckin’ up to him, sir? You’re not even in his class!” 

“Can you be more up his ass, Howell?” 

“Mate, you are so whipped.” 

“Alright, alright,” Dan laughs, the alcohol in his system helping him to take the comments in his stride, “you’re all drinking though, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, and you as well, sir,” Jonah points out. 

Dan shrugs in agreement, taking a gulp of wine as well. Everyone else in the circle takes a sip, which is kind of sweet. Dan sneaks a look at Phil, who is looking rather embarrassed, but pleased. 

Phil laughs awkwardly then, but nods his thanks to the group nevertheless. “Very sweet everyone, thank you. Good to know that if you were drinking actual alcohol right now, your favour for my teaching methods would currently be getting you all plastered.” 

The others laugh, and Dan smiles at the joke, feeling warm and light. 

“Your turn now, sir,” Jonah tells Phil. 

“Hmm,” Phil says, sighing. “Never have I ever...” he sneaks a look at Dan, who   can immediately tell that he’s got something evil planned. “...secretly straightened my hair every morning for years to hide the fact I actually have curls.”

The look Dan gives Phil is one of utter betrayal. He sighs heavily, glaring, and tips a little more wine than planned into his mouth. 

The students laugh and shout their disbelief, which only makes things worse, as their astonishment only proves that Dan had, until this point, been fooling them with his painstaking straightening every day. 

“In other news, Mr Lester and I are no longer friends,” Dan announces, shooting Phil a look of pretend anger. 

Phil just laughs at him, not looking the tiniest bit sorry. He tilts his glass to Dan, and winks. 

“Boyfriends now is it, sir?” Jonah asks, laughing at his own joke. 

Dan shuts his eyes in mortification, realising a second too late that he’s being a tad too casual with Phil to be considered appropriate right now. When Dan opens his eyes, the game is moving on, thank heavens. It’s now Jonah’s turn.

Dan’s stomach immediately flips as he realises this, and he tries his best to suppress the urge to give Phil a look of anticipatory fear. 

“Okay, never have I ever...” Jonah pauses, his eyes narrowed as he sweeps his gaze across the faces in the circle, assessing. He lands on Dan, and lingers a moment longer, a slow smirk spreading over his mouth. “Had a crush on Mr Lester.” 

Oh, fuck.

Every single pair of eyes in the circle turn towards him, and Dan can honestly say that he would rather the boat suddenly split in half and let him tumble in a Leonardo DiCaprio-style act of heroic sacrifice, into the depths of the Seine beneath. 

*

His head in his hands, elbows on the cool metal railing of the boat’s edge, Dan feels a gentle hand placing itself between his shoulder blades. He shudders at the unexpected touch, knowing exactly who it belongs to. 

“Dan, it’s okay,” Phil says, his voice like a soft, sandy shoreline after miles of aggressive, churning sea. 

Dan lifts his head from his hands with a great sigh, staring out into the clusters of houses and shops and bars lining the banks of the river. In his peripheral vision, he notices Phil coming to lean on the railing beside him, close enough that their elbows brush. 

He wishes, in a small sense, that Phil would move away. Every second he spends so close is only making this crush Dan can’t help harbouring that much worse. 

“Phil, this is not okay,” Dan finds himself saying. 

He’s dropped his wine glass somehow, somewhere, and he misses it suddenly. He’s certain that there was some left inside. He could use some dutch courage in order to say what he feels like he needs to, right now. 

Phil turns to face him, smiling as ever, seeing nothing amiss because he’s a big, sunny orb of optimism and cheer. 

“They’re just bored kids, don’t listen to them,” Phil says, one shoulder shrugging in dismissal. “They’re teasing you to get a reaction, but they’re just talking crap.” 

“But it’s not crap, is it Phil?” Dan almost shouts, the words bursting from deep within his chest, as though they’ve been crammed in for too long, shoved down into the depths, hidden. 

Dan can feel Phil turn his head in surprise at the outburst, but he doesn’t meet Phil’s gaze. Instead, he continues to stare stubbornly out at the shore, swallowing thickly. His hands ball into fists.

“They’re saying all that stuff because they know,” Dan continues, hearing his own voice take on a whiny quality, but not being able to stop it. 

“They know...?” 

Dan looks skyward, wondering how much mortification one human person can physically withstand before they dissolve into a squishy pink pile of liquified sludge. 

Is he really going to have to spell this out?

“Yes,” Dan confirms, teeth gritted. “They know because I stare at you, and I laugh too loudly at your stupid puns, and my whole body goes bright red when you wink at me, or smile at me, or say anything even vaguely flirtatious.” 

“Um... I don’t know if I get what you mean-”

The adrenaline flooding through Dan’s veins just from trying to stumble through this conversation is swirling with the alcohol already lacing his blood, making everything shimmer and pulsate. Dan can feel his hands shaking, and the thud of his frantic heartbeat is practically deafening. 

He groans, cutting Phil off, and covers his eyes with his fingers. “It’s just...” Dan starts to say, no idea where he’s going with this now, “it would all be fine, wouldn’t it, if you were boring? If you were some random - admittedly hot - but, like, ordinary, worksheets and PowerPoint presentations type history teacher, with just the one language up their sleeve, and no sense of humour.” 

Dan can feel Phil’s eyes boring into the side of his head, and he knows he should just shut the fuck up, because he could be ruining everything, and it’s really not worth it, but he can’t. Alcohol has always been like truth serum to Dan, has always made him too honest, has always been the key to unlock the floodgates of his closed-off personality. 

“But you’re not,” Dan says, allowing himself one sneaky little glance at Phil’s wide-eyed expression before dragging his eyes away. “You’re exciting and intelligent and spontaneous. You’re an exceptional teacher, and you’re everyone’s favourite, including mine. And you’re too flirty, especially with me, which just makes it all so much worse. You call me cute, and pretty - because I think you did say pretty to that baker - and you wink at me, and say things just to see me blush. You stand too close to me, so much, all the time, so close that it makes me think that maybe, possibly, you might...” Dan pauses. “But you don’t! You never do! You just step away again, and it’s not fair, because the kids can all see it, written all over my fucking gobsmacked face, and-”

Dan’s not certain how it happens, but one moment he’s complaining, rambling at Phil, hunched over the railing, and the next he’s being pushed up against a nearby pole, Phil so close that Dan can feel the moisture on his breath.

He blinks, his sentence falling away from his lips as he stares into the impossible, never-ending oceans of Phil’s eyes. They shine with life, an excited kind of exuberance that makes them appear even brighter, even more colourful.

Dan swears he can see gold flakes flickering in their depths.

A second passes, and Dan realises he can hear the thudding of Phil’s heart, can feel Phil’s hands resting on his hips, just beneath the hem of his jacket. 

“Phil, I swear to fucking God,” Dan whispers, his heart going so fast he thinks it might be humming. “If you move away right now...” 

Phil lets out a very small little laugh, and Dan can feel the breeze of it tickle against his chin. “Then what?”

The effort it takes not to surge forwards and kiss Phil is astronomical, and Dan can feel his bones beginning to ache from it. He lets out a tiny noise of frustration, and something about it seems to ignite Phil’s reflexes. 

It’s just as Dan is really wondering if he might be about to die of yearning, that Phil leans in, closing the gap between their mouths, a few inches, and a thousand, long, exhausting, miles.  

Considering that they are standing so close, it perhaps shouldn’t feel as much of a surprise as it does, but Dan feels the shock slicing down to his core. 

The  soft give of Phil’s lips pushing against his. 

The incremental tightening of Phil’s hands against the bones of his hips. 

The overpowering warmth of his lean body, pressed in a hard line against Dan’s front. 

He loses the ability to move, or think, or react. He can only stay motionless, stupefied, as Phil kisses him, his mind a white, blank void, his joints taut. A few seconds tick by, and Dan’s brain gradually begins to turn its cogs again, just enough to propel him into the sensation of Phil’s lips, kissing back as his hands grapple for purchase around Phil’s forearms. 

It’s over in seconds. 

A kiss so fleeting, yet so charged, that it literally leaves Dan breathless. 

His lungs seize up, and he stops respiring, mouth parted in astonishment as Phil leans away. He’s smiling very slightly, a secret tucked into the whites of his eyes. 

“Dan,” he whispers, shaking his head, “do you honestly think all this is one-sided?” 

Before Dan can possibly begin unravelling that heavily knotted mess of a question, three chattering teenagers round the corner of the cabin, and Phil leaps backwards, his hands slipping from their hold on Dan’s hips. 

“Oi, oi!” Jonah calls out. 

Of course it’s Jonah, Dan thinks, eyes fluttering shut. 

“What’s all this then, sirs?” Jonah is grinning madly at them; Dan turns away from him because he simply does not trust himself to respond in any way, even in terms of body language, without making this entire situation a thousand times worse. “Havin’ a li’l snog on the Seine?” 

“Mr Howell and I are going over some curriculum matters, Jonah,” Phil says sternly, though there’s a slightly amused lilt to his voice, if Dan is not mistaken. “We can’t be spending the whole night playing silly games with you and your friends. Go and find Mr Green if you need something.” 

“Ooh, sounds like we’re interrupting something, guys,” Jonah says to Matthew and Joanna, stood beside him; Matthew lets out a low whistle. “We’ll leave you to it, sirs.”

The others snigger, hiding their laughter behind their hands, and start to walk off. Dan turns, ready to demand a thousand answers from Phil about what just happened, but before he can speak, John rounds the corner as well, bumping into Jonah and the others as he does so. 

He catches Dan’s eye, appearing exasperated, and stalks towards them. “Ah, there you both are! I’ve been going mad trying to find the two of you. I was wondering if you’d swum back to shore!” 

Dan shakes his head, dazed. “N-nope.” 

“Sorry, John,” Phil says, sounding a little hollow. “Didn’t mean to go AWOL. We’ve been... supervising Jonah and some others.” 

John sighs, glancing over at where Jonah, Matthew and Joanna all loiter nearby, still glancing over at Dan and Phil, making some rather obscene gestures when VP Green isn’t looking. 

“I see,” John says, “well, I’d appreciate a hand with Caoibhe and Regina, if you’re not busy. They both seem to be suffering with some seasickness, so...”

Dan phases John out at this point, turning as discreetly as he can to stare at Phil, who is looking at John as though he’d rather the older man dove off the side of the boat. 

“Sure, sure,” Phil murmurs distractedly as John rambles on. “Look, John, we’re more than happy to help. We’ll see you by the bathrooms to help with the sick girls in five minutes, okay?” 

“Five minutes?” John asks, bewildered as he looks between Dan and Phil. “Why, what do you need to do for five minutes?” 

A pained expression passes over Phil’s features, and he casts a brief, apologetic look at Dan, sighing. 

“Nothing,” he says through his teeth, dredging up a strained smile from somewhere. “Lead the way, John-o.”

John turns on his heel, walking briskly back the way he came, past Jonah and friends, towards the cabin of the boat. Phil falls into step behind him, maintaining a far slower pace, and Dan, still not sure what the fuck is even happening right now, shakily walks beside him. 

Once John is just out of earshot, Phil leans towards him, sending Dan’s pulse skyrocketing once again, and whispers one, solitary word. 

“Later.” 

*

Later, as it turns out, is not until the boat has docked once more, their party of teens and young adults have disembarked, and they have herded a gaggle of hyper, partied-out students back through the cobbled streets to the L’Hotel Montparnasse.

Try as he does to maintain a collected air of professionalism, Dan spends the hour and a half proceeding Phil kissing him in a dreamy, dumb, stupor. He finds himself unable to answer the simplest questions asked to him by students, and cannot even seem to hold himself upright for longer than a few minutes without swaying to one side, busy as he is with replaying the moment over in his mind. 

Phil, on the other hand, seems to be holding himself together rather well, from what Dan can see. He casts several loaded, meaningful glances at Dan, a thousand apologies and promises curled within the azure depths of his eyes. 

As they walk home, past the Champs-Élysées, Dan feels Phil’s fingers curl very briefly around his hand. 

But it’s gone before he knows it. 

Eventually, after what feels to Dan like years, they reach the hostel. Between the three of them, John, Phil and Dan count up the students, and send them all off towards their rooms. 

“Dan,” Phil says in a low voice. Long fingers curl around Dan’s wrist. “Why don’t you go up to the room? John and I will just make sure everyone’s packed and ready to leave.”

“Right,” Dan almost whispers, eyes glued to the hand wrapped around his arm. 

“See you upstairs,” Phil says, releasing him. 

Dan looks him in the eye, breath caught. “Okay.”

*

It seems to take hours for Phil to get back to the room. Dan doesn’t dare do anything but wait for him, legs tucked uncomfortably beneath himself on his bed, fully dressed still, right down to his shoes. 

He’s taken his jacket off, but only because the air is suddenly stifling in here, though he hasn’t noticed it until right now. His mind whirls, a rickety fairground ride caught in a high wind, its flashing novelty lights streaming through the night sky as it careers from left to right. 

He can feel the indents of Phil’s lips, moulded into his own, he’s sure. Carefully, he lets the tip of his tongue run over the thin, slightly chapped skin, tasting what’s left of him. 

His fingers drum against his leg as he replays that one moment, the moment to trump all moments, over and over. 

Do you honestly think all this is all one-sided?

What had Phil meant? Could he have been implying that, somehow, miraculously, he feels the same way Dan feels? Impossibly, it seems that he might even be saying he has been feeling it all along. All this time.

How is that possible?

To distract himself, lest his over-analysis drive him mad, Dan reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out his phone. 

Dan Ty, I think something is about to happen.

Dan Help me.

He waits, staring at his phone, muttering “reply, reply, reply” under his breath. There’s no excuse for Tyler not to. That guy never has his phone more than two feet from his hand. 

Sure enough, around fifteen seconds later, Dan’s phone buzzes in his palm. Then it buzzes again. And again. 

Tyler WHAT

Tyler DAN OMG

Tyler Are you about to bang him?!!

Dan’s face immediately pales, and he drops his phone on the bed. Christ, he is not prepared for this, emotionally speaking. 

Dan I DONT KNOW

Tyler WTF is happening??? HOw are you texting me??? WHAT HAPPENED

Dan he kissed me

Tyler WJHAT

Dan We were interrupted. Now Im  waiting in our room for him

Tyler WHATOMGFdFFSD

Dan TYLER DO YOU HAVE ANY ACTUAL ADVICE COS THIS IS JUST MAKING IT WORSE

Tyler ok ok ok ummmmmm oh wow

Dan looks down at the three dots pulsating under Tyler’s response in despair. If this is Tyler’s idea of advice, he’s royally fucked. 

Tyler ok so just breathe. he’s already  made the move! you know he  likes you

Trying to follow Tyler’s instructions, Dan inhales deeply, filling his lungs with some much needed oxygen. His heart is still jackhammering, but he does feel a little more clear-headed. 

Tyler from the sounds of it he might try and go for it - do u  want something to happen??

Dan swallows, trying to conjure up the insane scenario of actually getting physical with Phil Lester, the man of his (until now) very fictional daydreams. 

Dan think i might combust but fuck yes i do

Tyler then just let it happen hun! Teddy says use protection 

Tyler i say have fun and tell me every fuckin  detail bitch

Dan chuckles, unable to help himself from laughing at Tyler’s typical absurdity, and at that moment, there is the distinct sound of the door being unlocked from the outside.

Dan freezes in shock, dropping his phone onto the bed, Tyler and Teddy forgotten. He can feel the beads of sweat pearling on his brow, dampening his fringe. It will curl in the moisture, Dan thinks, irritated. But then, Phil had said once that he actually quite liked the curls. 

The door opens, and Phil steps into the room, his jacket still on. The corner of his mouth tilts upwards as he locks eyes with Dan, and he closes the door softly behind him, not once looking away. 

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Dan squeaks back. 

Smiling still, Phil moves further into the room, shrugging off his jacket as he goes. He reaches into the inner pocket before discarding it onto his bed, and pulls out a half empty bottle of whiskey. 

“Look what I confiscated from Jonah,” he says, his smile growing a little wider. 

Dan’s eyes fall to the bottle, barely registering it. He tries to nod, but can’t seem to do more than jerk his chin a little. Phil chuckles lightly, then reaches down to unscrew the cap. 

“It would be irresponsible of us not to dispose of this, don’t you think?” Phil asks, taking a sip of the whiskey. Dan’s eyes hone in on the amber liquid, trickling between the purse of Phil’s lips. He takes the bottle away from his mouth, eyes glinting. “Wanna help me get rid of it?”

Before Dan can answer, Phil is moving towards him, climbing up onto Dan’s bed. In itself, this is enough to make Dan want to scream, but then Phil is hooking a leg over Dan’s thighs, straddling him, his knees settled snugly either side of Dan’s hips.

Dan chokes on his own saliva, every droplet of blood in his body rushing south as Phil settles himself comfortably in Dan’s lap. Phil looks down into Dan’s face, still amused, and takes another sip from the bottle. 

He holds the bottle out for Dan then, one eyebrow raised. Dan grabs hold of it, taking a large swig, mostly because he doubts he will be able to manage to stay coherent throughout this if he’s sober. 

Hyper-aware of how restricted his movements have become with Phil on top of him, Dan leans back as far as he can and places the bottle on the bedside table. 

He leans back up, his body thrumming with adrenaline, and then Phil kisses him, fiercely, harshly, like he can’t stop himself from swooping in and stealing the kiss from Dan’s lips. His lips are fiery with whiskey and warmth; Dan imagines he can taste every molecule, every atom that makes him up. Can feel the singing of their sister particles floating in distant galaxies, as they sense the collision of their mouths. 

It is glorious. 

He hears the cataclysmic swell of a symphony at its climax, and the lovestruck cry of a great, majestic whale. The white noise roars in his eardrums, and Dan wonders why everything is so loud, until he realises that his own heartbeat is the instrument making the cacophony.

He clutches at Phil’s arms, trying helplessly to pour as much as he can into this one joining of their mouths. His fingers claw and cling, desperate to pull him closer, despite how pressed together they already are. 

Phil is pushing him backwards, and Dan is about to fall back onto the mattress, he’s sure, but then Phil’s hands are fisting in his shirt, hauling him upright again.

Phil’s lips slide from his, peppering hard, insistent kisses across the flush of his cheek, dragging over the line of his jaw. Dan gasps as he feels the scrape of teeth, just below his ear, and then biting at the lobe, teasing and too, too much. 

“Ça fait des semaines,” Phil whispers, sounding almost pained, “que j'en avais envie.”

Dan shudders; he has little to no idea what Phil is saying, but it doesn’t even matter. He imagines he can hear the sinful tone dripping from each syllable, and it only makes everything ten times headier, more euphoric. 

“Fuck,” Dan whispers. 

In another circumstance, he might feel embarrassed at being so ineloquent in the face of Phil’s beautiful, natural slide into his second language, but right now he literally cannot think of any word that sums up his current tumult of emotions better.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Dan cries out, his hands clutching at Phil’s shoulders as he feels the older man move his searching kisses to Dan’s throat. “Wait, Phil, I- AH!”

Phil pauses, having just sunk his teeth very lightly into the spot just above Dan’s collarbone. He pulls away cautiously, leaning backwards to look Dan in the eye, mildly alarmed.

“Ça va?”

Dan can’t help but splutter a laugh, nodding his affirmation, though in truth he’s not totally certain. Is he really okay, right now?

“S-sorry,” he manages, somehow, to spit out. “It’s just... my neck, um, it’s- it’s really, um...”

Dan trails off, mostly because his cheeks feel like they’re about to burst into flames. 

Phil quirks an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his mouth. “Oh.” 

Dan doesn’t have time to respond before Phil is leaning back in towards him, sealing his lips back against the skin of his throat. Dan sucks in a sharp intake of breath, at once jerking backwards and pulling Phil close. 

He squirms as Phil begins sucking at the skin, his teeth digging in to the soft flesh; it will definitely leave a mark, Dan thinks, unable to stop a small whimper escaping. 

His neck is ridiculously sensitive, it always has been. Dan’s last girlfriend, Stephanie, had tried giving him a hickey once, whilst drunk, and she’d sucked so hard that the bruise had stayed deep, dark and ferociously noticeable for weeks. 

As Phil bites at him, just the right side of painful, teeth worrying at him as though he wants to devour Dan bit by bit, he thinks he wouldn’t care if Phil marked him permanently. 

Eventually, just as Dan’s efforts to keep his embarrassing whines under wraps begin breaking apart, Phil leans away, finding Dan’s lips again and kissing hard enough to bruise. 

“Tes baisers sont comme une drogue,” Phil moans against his mouth, then takes Dan’s lower lip between his teeth.

Dan is sure he’s about to pass out, partly from the lack of oxygen managing to work its way between their kisses, and partly from the thrill of this, of just being immersed, so heavily, in Phil, in his touch and weight and taste. 

“Phil,” Dan whispers, dumbed. 

At that moment, like a bucket of icy Seine river water being thrown down upon their heads, a knock raps at the door, loud and even. 

Phil rears backwards from Dan, his head whirling to face the noise so fast that Dan feels a little dizzied. 

Neither of them speak. Phil turns back to Dan slowly, a look of dread passing over his face. It occurs to Dan, belatedly, that they are currently in an extremely incriminating position, in the eyes of anyone on the other side of that door. 

He meets Phil’s gaze, suddenly terrified. 

Another knock sounds, longer and more insistent this time. Phil rises from Dan’s lap, scooting off him entirely, and scrambles into a standing position beside the bed, pink-cheeked. 

He runs a hand through his hair, tugs at his rumpled shirt and fusses with his collar for a moment, before heading towards the door. Dan watches him do this, bewildered, still in a stupor; it’s only when Phil turns to give him a look, one hand on the door, that Dan realises he probably needs to sort out his appearance too. 

He smooths down his hair, hands shaking, and attempts to gather the many, many loose, tangled threads of his unravelled emotions. 

Dan casts a look around his immediate vicinity, looking for anything incriminating, and spots the bottle of whiskey, still perched on the bedside table. He grabs hold of it, tucking it out of sight, beneath the bed. 

Phil sighs in relief, nodding at him, then takes a deep breath, and pulls open the door. 

John’s raised fist sails through the air into nothing. 

“Oh!” John exclaims, straightening up. “You are awake. I thought you might’ve gone to bed already.” 

Phil forces the most pretend-sounding laugh Dan has ever heard. “Oh, um, no not yet.” 

“Best be getting those pyjamas on soon, then!” John says brightly. “Up bright and early tomorrow!” 

Phil nods, smiling at John. “Yep, we will, don’t worry.” 

“Just wanted to check the times with you,” John continues, placing a halting hand on the door as Phil inches it closed. “The bus is leaving at what time, did you say?” 

“Um...” Phil flounders, casting a look over his shoulder at Dan, clearly at a loss. 

For some reason the number springs into Dan’s otherwise blank mind. He holds up nine fingers. 

“It leaves at nine,” Phil says, turning back to John. He fakes a yawn, fanning a hand over his mouth. “Anything else, John? You’re right, we should probably get to-”

“What time should we get the kids up?” John asks, still chipper.

“Um, I- I don’t...”

“Is Dan in there too?” John asks, pushing the door open wide. 

Dan freezes in alarm, sure he’s got ‘I was just snogging Phil’ stamped across his forehead. Instead of gasping in horror however, John just smiles at him, sending a little wave from the doorway. 

Dan returns it, meekly, trying not to be too obvious about sending little ‘help’ glances at Phil, who is still stood, despairing, by the open door. 

“Ah, there he is!” John says. “What time should we send round a wake up call, d’you think, Dan? About seven-thirty? We’ve got to squeeze in breakfast for them, which we can do at about eight, and then they’ll probably be ready by nine I should think as long as they get their things together...”

John rambles on for another minute and a half, during which time Dan just nods and tries to remain calm. He focuses on regulating his breathing, his palms clammy and damp with the effort of trying to look normal. 

“Anyway!” John says at last. “I’ll leave you to it then, boys. Thanks for a lovely trip! It’s been grand! See you in the morning.” 

Then, with one final wave, he’s walking away, back down the corridor towards his room. Phil shuts the door quietly, the little click still loud enough to make Dan wince. 

Once they’re alone, Dan melts, flopping back onto his mattress, his muscles screaming in relief, released of tension. 

“Holy shit,” Dan says, blood pounding in his ears. 

Phil is being awfully silent, so Dan sits up at once, terrified that this interruption will have slapped him into sense, and that he’ll have changed his mind about whether or not it was a good idea to kiss Dan at all.  

“Phil?” Dan asks timidly, finding that his feet are wandering away from him, standing up off the bed and walking over to the door. Dan only stops when he’s standing right in front of Phil, hands balled into fists, heart pounding. “Are you okay?” 

Phil stares at him, chewing the thumbnail of his left hand. He flicks his gaze over Dan’s face once, and then steps forwards, shoving him (carefully) against the nearest wall. 

It’s delicious, tasting his lips again, and Dan welcomes them as they crash against his; the sea shore, spread wide and inviting for the turbulent, sapphire waves. 

And then, as quickly as it came, it’s over. Phil steps away, jumping backwards as if Dan’s skin is alight. Dan travels with him a few inches, not expecting the sudden loss, and then just stares in bewilderment. 

“Dan, we- we can’t,” Phil tells him, his eyebrows creased in regret. “I’m sorry, I just... we can’t. Not- not now.”

“What?” Dan blurts out, confused. 

“Dan,” Phil says, pained. His hands flap through the air, shaky and unsure. It’s so unlike him, Dan thinks, to seem this muddled. “I’m a teacher... you’re a teacher...”

“Actually-”

“Teaching assistant, whatever,” Phil cuts in. He cards a trembling hand through his hair. “The point is... we’re at work right now. Technically, I’m on duty, and so are you. What if there was an emergency? What if the kids needed... anything? I can’t be... we can’t be...” he trails off, cheeks stained with pink. “Do you see what I mean?” 

Dan lets out a sad, frustrated little “no”, but his eyes don’t match it. 

Phil sighs at him, sadly. “Trust me, I hate this as much as you do.” 

“Not possible,” Dan mutters, wondering whether Phil is actually expecting Dan to be able to go to bed right now, what with the searing, bubbling arousal still coursing through his veins. 

Phil steps towards him, hand outstretched, and then he draws it away, seeming to catch ahold of himself just in time. 

“I think I’ll, err...” Phil scratches at his head, whirling round on the spot. His eyes land on his open suitcase, and he goes to it immediately, grabbing his pyjamas. “I’ll just go and, um, change. In the bathroom.” 

He hugs the pyjamas to his chest, carefully side-stepping Dan in order to get to the door. Before he disappears into the hallway, he gives Dan one final, guilty look, coupled with one of something like longing, his lip caught between his teeth. 

The door clicks shut behind him, and Dan slides down the wall at his back, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. 

Well, he supposes once he’s down there, his jellified legs were going to give out eventually this evening. 

*

“Can you at least sleep with me?” Dan asks, still not sure whether he’ll survive the night; he’s so frustrated he thinks he might splinter into shards at any moment,  

Phil turns to him, eyes wide. “Um...” 

“Just sleep,” Dan clarifies, reddening. “In my bed, with me. Nothing... else.” 

Phil gnaws on his lip, seeming conflicted. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” Dan asks, his jaw clenching. 

If he has to stare at Phil across the chasm between their separate beds after this, he thinks he might actually burst into flames. 

“You’re...” Phil sighs and sits down on his bed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Very kissable.”

Dan blushes immediately, a smile catching him off guard as it spreads over his mouth. 

“Is that a problem?”

“Mm,” Phil replies, mouth quirking in an amused smile. “It is when I’m trying to resist you.”

“Why are you doing that, again?” 

“Not sure,” Phil chuckles. “Think it has something to do with being a responsible guardian?”

“Sounds boring.” 

“Totally.” 

There’s a silence then, loaded with their unspoken desires. Phil sighs again, sounding resigned, and he peels back the covers of his own bed, about to climb in. 

Dan can’t allow it. 

“I promise I won’t kiss you,” Dan says, urgent. “I’ll stay right up against the wall, away from you. You won’t even know I’m there.”

Phil looks at him, smirking. “I think I’d remember.”

“Please?” Dan begs, desperate now. 

He can feel his heart straining, urging Phil to say yes. His eyes widen, puppy-like, and he holds Phil’s gaze, willing his resolve to break. 

After a moment, Phil lets out a small grunt of resignation. “Okay.”

Dan can’t quite believe he won, but he doesn’t have time to feel surprised for too long, as the next minute Phil is slipping under his covers. As promised, Dan scoots right over, plastering himself against the far wall, but Phil’s hands wrap around his waist at once, pulling him in, their chests crushed against each other. 

Dan stops breathing. 

Phil’s chest is warm and solid. One of his hands is caught between them, meaning his palm is pressed to the soft cotton of Phil’s t-shirt. His heart thuds beneath Dan’s fingers, steady, but faster than it should be. 

Phil removes his hand from Dan’s waist in order to take off his glasses, and leans away for a moment to put them aside. He turns back, his arm finding its place once again, like it belongs there. 

“Just so you know,” Dan whispers as Phil moves forwards, their noses bumping softly. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to get very much sleep.” 

Phil smiles sleepily, his eyelids fluttering as if they’re seconds away from closing. “That’s okay,” he leans in, breaking his word as he closes the distance, for one, fleeting moment, between their lips. “Tu peux partager mes rêves.” 

(Part Nine!)

(Translation of the French can be found here!)

[chaotic-genius]

I'm fuming with anger and need to write my thoughts down, don't mind me

I mean I knew my future mother-in-law could be an absolute asshole but hearing that I'm being called unreliable and useless by that stupid old useless hag set me tf off

I only heard about it because my partner had to lie to her again that I'm escorting him to the dentist and he's not going alone because otherwise she would ''be worried'' that he's too weak (due to ED) and stuff and would call me that again

I know I'm not perfect but EXCUSE ME???

Am I unreliable because of the many many times I had to come to help transporting your huge ass loads of groceries?

Was I useless for removing your stupid broken fridge because the new one would be delivered the next day??? Or for calling my dad to drive the extra 110km to come remove and dispose of the wooden construction said fridge was standing in so the new one could be moved there???

Or, oh you know, taking care of your childs mental illness, trying to build him up after a week spending with you where he's getting worse mentally, living off of like 30 bucks at most each month to pay for the eating disorder he developed because of your failed parenting and that he still has to live with you, going for almost 6 years now, and you not doing anything to make anything better or easier for him, no, guilt tripping is fun and you're neeever at fault for anything that happens, it's always the others, of course of course

Oh and remember the time me and my dad drove your child to a clinic (that's 4 hours away btw, making 8 hours on the road while my dad has sick legs) that could've helped his ED getting better but first of all you didn't feel the need to come with us because you "knew this would fail anyway" and when he called you for help or support all you had to offer was threatening to kick him out if he returned and didn't stay? Making him and me hella su*cidal again before we returned anyway? Fun times!!! I'm sorry I was so useless and unreliable while you're such a saint (and no im not wishing that you'd drop de*d asap wdym)!

Ughhh I'm sorry it's just

I'm so super mad

I'm putting so much effort into everything to make the time he's with me as best as possible, making him realize he's not useless or hopeless and is actually loved and deserves so much good and that he has a bright future ahead (with me and everything)

And he also can't hate her because she's the last family member he has and sometimes can't blame her because of her troubled past and yet has to lie very often to not trigger her and that's very exhausting

But he also doesn't want to leave when he's with me because of her but has to because he's costing me so much (I'm already almost 200€ overdue each month to keep him longer) but that's all I have to offer and I still have to put up with being called unreliable and useless??

((for the record, things are gonna get better and change hopefully this year but idk due to covid. but that's something else, this was just to vent about being falsely blamed (yet again) for somebody elses failure))

[5hfanfiction]

Too Close To Home - Chapter 16

Camila Cabello Had A One-Night-Stand With A Girl

A very surprising photo of singer Camila Cabello surfaced the internet today. This morning, a girl named Alycia Debnam posted a rather explicit photo (picture below) of the not-so-innocent Cuban-Mexican singer.

The girls were seen with a random girl whom we recognized as Alycia going out of a club late last night. There were also snaps of them in the club in Dinah's snapchat.

The photo was trending through every social medias and luckily, we managed to contact the woman who took the picture just a few hours ago.

“Yesterday, I was out at this club that just opened. That was the time I saw Camila [Cabello]. She was drunk and dancing in the middle of the dance floor. At first, I didn't remember how I knew her but something pulled me to her." She said.

"She looked at me invitingly and we danced through the night. She eventually brought me to her friends (current members of Fifth Harmony and Lauren's fiancé). That was when I realized who she was. But I didn't really fangirled then. We all played games and drank. It was fine and everything but at one point, Lauren [Jauregui] and Camila got quite moody.”

“It wasn't because of anything. I don't think they're not in bad terms. Actually, they seem quite close. Lauren seem to look at her [Camila] a lot." She said when we asked if the girls hated each other.

"For the short time I've been with Camila, she never once mentioned Lauren or anything that says that she was or is romantically involved with her. But what the hell do I know?”

So there you have it, Camilizers and Harmonizers.

We all know that the girls have been close this past year. With Camila birthday celebration and the outing they had last month. But how do you guys feel about the cute reunion? How about Camren, do you think they happened at one point? And more importantly, how's your reaction about Camila's picture? Was it surprising? Do you think she's gay, bi or just having fun? Comment your opinions below.

I scowl as I finish reading the article. Drama just keeps on coming to me. I don’t get it. What’s so interesting about a girl having fun? Everyone has sex once in a while.

The management would be so pissed. For years since I was in Fifth Harmony, they seem to push me towards the straight, pure and innocent girl but the photo just killed two birds with one stone.

The management knows about my sexuality. I actually told them right after I left Fifth Harmony, hoping that I was free enough to open up to the public. Unfortunately, they thought that I would get a wider audience if I stay in the closet for a few more years. I didn’t know anything then so I thought that they know better so I just complied.

But after more than a year staying in that claustrophobic closet, I felt the need to come out. So even if I’m quite sad that I got outed like that, deep inside, Im sort of happy that it’s out there. People know now.

But again, that wasn’t ideal. Who wants their naked picture on the internet for everyone to see? I’m just glad that she had the decency to at least not take a picture of my private parts.

How would my management react? They’re gonna be so mad. Would they fire me? Is that possible?

I start panicking at that thought. I’ve come so far, only to be demolished by a meaningless one-night stand. Oh My God. Are people going to label me as a slut now? Haters are pretty simple minded and I’m sure they would think that. I’m sure they would think that I do that often, only to be caught now. But I’ve never done that before.

Alycia is honestly the second person I’ve ever had sex with. The first being Lauren. I was just so frustrated and so dry from 2 years that I thought that it was a good idea. Basically, I was driven by desire and lust. Is that why people say that you can’t make decisions according to desire? Is this my backlash for not listening to Lauren? Is this my karma? Is karma even a thing?

I start panicking more now. My eyes are blurry from the tears that seems to pour out when I was thinking. My breathing is hectic and shaky. I grab my phone and luckily, I know where the contact app are and clicked at the first option I could find.

Of course, the universe being a usual bitch, Lauren came through the line.

“Hello?” She asks. She is seriously the last person I wanna call. I’m kind of embarrassed because I didn’t listen to her. I thought that she was only thinking about her own feelings, that’s another factor that pushed me to sleep with Alycia. But now that what she warned me is actually happening, I can’t help but feel ashamed.

“Camz?” She repeats since I haven’t answered her, “Are you okay? You’re breathing really loudly.”

“I-I’m fi-ne,” I croak out, even if it wasn’t as convincing as I hoped it would be.

“What happened?” She asks.

Again, I didn’t reply. I was too busy thinking about how to end the call before it becomes obvious that I’m panicking.

“Camz?? What’s happening? You’re scaring me.”

I take a deep breathe, trying to compose myself but failing miserably since she asks, “Are you having a panic attack? I’m coming to your room.”

“Do-ont, I’m oka-y.”

“Too late.”

A knock comes a few moments later, indicating that she’s here already so I can’t really do anything but open it.

After a minute attempting to open the door with my shaky hand, I succeeded and Lauren immediately barge into the room.

“Camz.. are you okay?”

I just look at her with my blurry eyes and she knows what’s happening. She wraps her arms around my, releasing endorphins into my body, immediately making me calmer. She then led me to the couch, still wrapping her arms around me while we sit.

After what took about 15 minutes, my breathing finally becomes normal, she releases her hold and lean back.

She takes her phone out and punch a few numbers. She brings her phone to her ear while still holding me with her other arm.

“Hey Dinah… Yeah I know… I can’t come today… I’ll go tomorrow… I’m sorry… It’s just that this is more important… I’ll record it tomorrow… Can you tell the producers I’m sorry… Yeah, thanks.”

And with that, she puts her phone back to her back pocket and continues putting her energy on trying to calm me.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter.

“What? Why?”

“I’m sorry I called you. I’m sure you would’ve preferred doing anything else than this. I’m also sorry that I didn’t listen to you when you warned me about her. If I listened, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“What happened?”

“You haven’t checked your social media?” I ask.

“No?”

“Well, long story short, the girl I hooked up with took a picture of me whilst I was asleep and posted them so now, everyone knows I hooked with a girl.”

“Damn… Was that why you had a panic attack? The fact that you got outed?”

“I mean, honestly, I don’t mind that part.. It wasn’t how I pictured it but it was long overdue. I just don’t know how the management will react. I have a feeling that they’re gonna call me for a meeting or something soon.”

“Well, you know what?” She asks rhetorically, reaching out to take my phone from the coffee table, shutting it off before putting it back, “today’s your last day before you have to go back on the road, they can’t take that away from you. So what do you wanna do today?”

“I was planning on having a lazy day before performing tomorrow.”

“Then we’ll do just that,” she responds, leaning against the couch, turning on the TV in front of us with the remote.

“Wait.. You’re staying?”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“I-” I start, “nevermind.”

She lets it go and just watches the TV. We fell into a comfortable silence. I don’t know what happened but at one point, our shoulders touch, causing warmth to spread through my body. The simplest touch could do this to me, imagine if we were kissing.

We spent about an hour staring at the TV, barely talking. But I wasn’t even watching the show, I was busy side-eyeing Lauren’s profile subtly.

“You know, staring is deemed rude in some culture..” she says at one point, still watching whatever’s in front of her.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I was just joking. Actually, please stare some more, it’s actually boosting my self-esteem,” she jokingly says as she turns her head to me.

“Jerk..” I say, causing her to laugh loudly.

Her laugh dies down after a minute. We just sat there, looking at each other. The mood shifts suddenly when she asks, “did you remember what happened yesterday?”

“Barely.. I drank a tad bit much.”

“Uhh, well.. Do you remember when we played Truth or Dare?”

I crack my head open, trying to recall everything that happened. Luckily, I begin to remember chronologically instead of those typical flashes of scattered memory that just makes people’s head spin some more. I smile as I remember Normani and Dinah kissing like there was no tomorrow.

But then.. Lauren. My heart constricts as I recall what Lucy said. The memory seemed vivid enough and I can’t help but feel hurt again. I know it happened a long time ago, but it still didn’t help. It felt like Lauren is now deliberately scratching my almost dried bruise, making the bruise raw again.

“I’m sorry,” she releases. She probably knows what I’m thinking about from my facial expression, “I wanted to tell you. But-”

“When?”

“What?” She cocks her head, narrowing her eyes as a sign of confusion.

“You said you planned on telling me. When did you plan it?” I raise one of my leg up to the couch so I could fully turn towards her.

She looks dumbfounded, she didn’t anticipate that I was going to ask that. I knew she just wanted to say what I want to hear. If it wasn’t for Lucy, I probably wouldn’t have known.

She said we were best friends, even before we happened. But why was Lucy never a subject? Were we even friends in the first place? If so, why didn’t I know jackshit about this?

“I thought so,” I sigh, defeated. “You weren’t really sorry for not telling me, you were sorry that you got caught. It’s different.”

She looks down at her knotted fingers, a few tears seem to flow down her cheeks to her jaw, collecting tears at her chin.

“But it’s okay,” I began, making her snap her head in my direction, “it doesn’t really matter now anymore.” Her hopeful expression faded at my last statement.

It’s true though. As much as I’m mad about it, what good would it do to dwell on it further? Yes, I feel betrayed and deceived, but at the end of the day, Lucy is still her endgame. So why the hell would it matter if they had history before?

“Yeah..” she sighs.

“On a more pleasant note, Im glad you found your The One,” I smile, a sad one but a smile nevertheless, “Remember when we were 15 and 16? We dreamed about being famous. We talked about boys and how you want to marry the person who you know before we were well-known. You also wanted the person to be so similar to you, having the same thoughts and knowledge. I’m glad that Lucy reaches all your expectations, eventhough she’s a girl.”

She laughs softly now, tears still streaming down her face, “Indirectly, I think I was talking about you. We-”

“Stop,” I interrupt, “just stop.” I was hurt already, I don’t think I need another trip down memory lane. I’m emotionally tired. I’m already in pain. I feel so drained already and it’s still a little after 2pm. My brain is pounding, my heart is aching painfully, I’m looking at the girl that got away. What good would it do to talk about the days where everything was fine - great even - and simple?

“Sorry..” she mutters.

And at that, we continue watching the movie. But the stupid elephant was back and just stared at us. The tension was thick and I felt the need to lighten the situation.

“You wanna try writing on a song together?” Just yesterday, we made a deal to write a song together so why not do it now?

“You wanna do it now?” she asks.

“Now is as good as any.” I walk to my room, only to come back with a pen and my journal. The journal has a few deep entries but most of them were just ramblings and scattered song lyrics I don’t really use. The journal is leathery and white, with my name imprinted in front of the book.

I place the journal down at the coffee table and slide down to sit on the carpeted floor. She followed suit, causing our knees to brush each other. I move my knees up so it doesn’t touch, to somewhat create a barrier between her and me. She frowned when she realized what I’m doing but said nothing.

“So what song do you want it to be about?” I ask as I open to a fresh page, free from any type of ink.

“Love,” she says without a beat,.

“What about love?”

“A dead relationship,” she says with such simplicity. I squint my eyes, confused as to why she wants to write that since there’s nothing wrong with their relationship. Just as I want to ask she beats me to it by interpolating, “it’s not based on Lucy, it’s based on any relationship in general. An internal battle between whether they should break up or not.”

“Right,” I say, still unconvinced but decidedly lets it go.

We spend at about 30 minutes discussing about the base of the song.

Lauren’s phone rang from her back pocket. She takes it out, Lucy’s name temporarily imprinted on the phone.

“Hey baby… Oh, I’m at Camila’s.. Oh, okay.. Yeah, I don’t mind, take your time. We’re just chilling here so it’s okay.. Yeah, alright… You too,” she says through the phone. I can’t really hear the other side of that conversation so I don’t really know what’s happening. She ends the call after that, putting her phone on top of the coffee table.

“Lucy?” I say in the least noisiest way possible.

“Yeah, she said a friend is in LA and they’re going out.” This was another thing I see in Lauren. The amount of trust she has on Lucy is huge.

Back when we were together, it was hard. Lauren was a very possessive person and she was jealous at the littlest thing I do. We fought about it a lot; whether it’s about a guy I clearly have no interest in like Shawn or a girl I only see as a friend like Ariana or Taylor. No matter what I do to try to reassure her, she was too hard-headed to trust me.

Hell, even now… Just two days ago, she was jealous of Ariana. It kind of hurts, knowing that Lauren has never trusted me the way she trusts Lucy.

We spent the next few hours conveying our thoughts and feelings to the song. It was easy writing with her, probably because we have some kind of bond that I don’t seem to have with the other songwriters I’ve worked with. Lauren understands me to a personal level and vice versa.

At the end of the day, we seem to be pretty proud of our creation - or our baby if you must.

The only obstacle now is how to convince the label to include Lauren for the song. I want her on it because she deserves it just as much, if not more.