I Like Not Being In Reality.

Chapter 1

Phil cried out in pain as a taller boy, Jamie, he thought it was, punched him square in the face.

"I thought I told you to be quiet, faggot," he hissed, grabbing him by the collar and spitting in his face.

"Hey Jamie, let me have a go now." Another thug from the background called out. He appeared to be sat with some random slut on his knee, who was sat with her arms above her head holing the bleachers we were all under. Phil didn't mean to be a prude; he liked to think of himself as very un-prude like, actually; but really? This wasn't exactly helped by her shirt (Or tight strip of fabric) which was barely covering her chest. He felt his faith in humanity slowly decrease.

"Oh," Phil thought to himself, "So he was called Jamie. Yay me. "

The new one came walking up, wearing his baseball cap backwards and his trousers so low that he had more underwear on view than pants. Spitting on the ground he cracked his knuckles, preparing to deliver a punch so strong that Phil guessed he'd pass out. "He looked like such a moron," Phil mused. "I bet his mother's proud of him."

Phil closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

A fist connected with his nose, and everything went black.

When Phil awoke, he couldn't see anything. He thought he was dead at first. He felt pricks of cold stabbing him, like a needle of ice penetrating his bruised skin. He winced at the contact, the slightest movement making his entire body ache.

He yelped slightly as he felt someone reaching down and shaking his shoulder slightly. His eyes shot open as he gasped in pain.

"Are you ok?" The stranger asked. He was about 6 foot, tanned and had hazel eyes to match his dark hair.

"Y-yeah, I just, uh, fell over and, uh, bumped my head..." he lied.

"I'm not stupid." He sighed and looked Phil all over. "Do you want me to walk you back home, in case they come back? I'm Dan, by the way. Dan Howell."

Phil blushed slightly. It wasn't really obvious, seeing as his face was bloodied and covered in his own tears anyway, but he felt his cheeks flush and felt immediately self-conscious. "I'm Phil Lester. And if it isn't too much to ask, could you? I don't think I'd be able to walk all that way on my own. Last time I did, I collapsed in this alley and had to get my mate Charlie to come pick me up."

"It's no problem, honestly. All I was gonna do was come back here and listen to my music anyway, it gives me something to do." He said with a slight laugh. Phil couldn't help but notice how cute Dan was; the way he got little dimples whenever he smiled, the way his eyes had a certain sparkle. Even his laugh was cute. "Uh, how're we gonna get you up? I don't want to hurt you again,"

Phil took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I'm used to it..." he said, standing up and staggering slightly.

Gasping, Dan ran over and supported him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. This has happened loads and I've been able to sort myself out."

Taking one of Phil's arms and wrapping it around one of his own shoulders, Dan began to slowly walk away with the older boy. "So," he began, a smile in his voice. "You come here often?"

Phil laughed slightly, his mind drifting.

"Hey! You're ignoring me! I know people, and I can tell if one's ignoring me. It happens often enough."

"Sorry, I was somewhere else then for a moment."

He playfully shook his head in mock dismay. "I don't get you daydreamers. I don't see the appeal in pretending something that isn't real is!"

Phil smiled sadly and looked at Dan. "I like not being in reality."

A/N; Wow. That was terrible. Don't shoot me. Just friendly criticize until I can get this bitch perfect. I know it's short, but if this attracts any interest I'll make the next chapters longer. R&R for free freaking Delia Smith cookies!