Phil's P.O.VDan smirked as Joe shoved me up against a locker.
"Faggot!"
I cringed away from the crude insult and felt a cool tear begin to track down my face.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I braced myself for the punishment I received every day for being gay. At least if I fell over there was a possibility that one of them might kick me in the head and cause me to pass out.
Soon enough they had me curled up on the floor, my arms clasped around my head.
"C'mon, Howell! Why aren't you doing anything? Feel sorry for the fag or something?"
I opened my eyes in surprise to see Dan start, and then laugh.
"No, of course not. Just didn't want to get homo on my shoe."
My eyes, which had slid open briefly when I had realised Dan wasn't joining in, slid closed again and caused another salty tear to fall and splash on the hard floor.
I guess I should explain.
My name is Phillip Lester. I attend my local college, or as I call it, Hell. I don't have many friends, because no one wants to put up with the abuse I endure.
And all for one reason.
I'm homosexual.
I didn't realise how homophobic people are- at least, not until everyone in my college found out.
Before hand, I couldn't say I was popular but I wasn't particularly bullied, but I was happy. I had friends, a family that loved me and a roof over my head.
But now, everything is different. Every day, I get attacked by the same group of guys, lead by by the most attractive guy in the school- Daniel Howell. Dan arrived at the college half a year ago, and the day arrived he walked straight up to where I was being beaten on the floor, and for about thirty seconds I thought he would try to save me. That was until he joined the others.
He looked different to the others- his face, with it's dimples and almost permanent grin, looked sensitive and caring, but all of that was wrong as I found out when he joined the flock of my tormentors.
Daniel Howell was just as bad, if not sometimes worse than the rest.
When I went home at night, I would lie to my mum, tell her I fell over. Not that she really cared- she was ashamed to have a gay boy as a son.
Today was different, though.
Where I was used to being given a swift kick in the head or ribs from Dan, today he stood back with almost angst in his eyes.
No, that couldn't be right. Dan didn't care about me, he cared about nothing but himself. That was why everyone looked up to him, wanted to be like him- even me.
Eventually the boys let off and I staggered to my feet, cursing as my leg sent a bolt of pain through me.
I leaned against the lockers, breathing hard and trying to override the pain with my eyes squeezed tight. I felt an arm wrap around me and PJ's concerned voice met my ears.
"Phil? Shit man, are you okay?"
I slowly opened my eyes and gave him a small smile.
"As okay as I ever am, I guess."
It wasn't too far to my next lesson, so PJ walked me part of the way before branching off to go to his own.
Dan's P.O.V
I didn't know what was happening to me. Normally I could push down the disgust at myself when I had to cause Phil pain, but today I could see the tears brimming in his vibrant blue eyes, saw them slowly dulling as the last bit of spark faded away.
It was like a vice had been locked around my legs.
You see, I don't enjoy what I do. Whenever I see the look of pain or terror on my victim's face, I feel like someone has reached into my stomach and is squeezing it tightly in their fist. I'm scum, the lowest of the low.
I have my reasons for my behaviour.
At my last school, I told someone something I should have kept to myself. At the point I was a reasonably popular, happy teenage guy with a loving family and friends I could trust. At least, I thought I could.
So I told my "friend" this one little secret, and within hours it was all over my school.
Suddenly, the boys I used to see being thrown around in hallways, pushed against lockers and punched... I was one of them. No one wanted to talk to me in fear of being treated the same way, and no one cared to do anything more than snarl insults.
It was like I had no reason to exist. And in reality, I guess, I didn't.
That's why I moved over to this college. On my first day, I promised myself two things:
-I wouldn't trust anyone.
- I would fit in.
When I arrived at the school, the first person I saw was Joe in the courtyard. He and his gang had cornered a boy, gangly with messy black hair and wide frightened blue eyes, and were kicking him as he lay on the floor begging them to stop.
I began to walk over and heard him yell something.
"Since when does sexual orientation mean anything!"
So the boy was gay. I felt a wave of anger at his attackers for being so narrow minded and homophobic, but pushed it down before casually strolling over to the group.
"What's up?"
Joe smirked at me, and I tried to forget my disgust as I grinned.
"This little fag tried to run away from us."
He turned and kicked the boy in the ribs sharply- I tried to hide my wince.
"Didn't you, queer boy?"That was the moment when I realised they only way I would fit in would be to pretend to be one of those people.
"Fucking hell. What, couldn't run properly because of his gay little habits?"
I hated myself so much when I said that.
The tall bully, who I found out to be called Joe,snorted and turned to me again.
"What's your name, kid?" he asked, even though we had to be around the same age.
"Dan. Dan Howell."
"Well, you seem like a cool guy, Howell. What do you say to hanging around with us?"
"Sure."
I looked down at the boy to see his aqua eyes looking at me, swimming with tears.
I swallowed my guilt and snarled at the boy.
"What are you looking at, fag? Fancy me or something?" At this, I aimed a kick at his ribs, trying to bite back my disgust. I told myself it was only self defence, if I didn't do this I'd be in the same situation as the black haired boy. I didn't deserve that, did I?Phil's P.O.V
Biology. Great. I groaned as I dragged myself across the room to the black and slid into the only available seat- right next to Dan.
I didn't say anything as I unpacked my bag and huddled in my seat, looking anywhere apart from Dan's face.
Thirty minutes through the lesson, I became aware of Dan staring at me.
"Hey, fa-Phil?"
I jumped at the interaction, peering through my fringe warily at Dan.
"Y-yeah?"
"Are... are you okay? Your arm is bleeding pretty badly."
I looked down at my sleeve, and saw blood soaking through the thin purple fabric. It looked as if I had accidentally scratched over one of my cuts and opened it again.
Great.
"Yeah, I'll sort it."
I pulled out my box of plasters and bandages I had learnt to carry around with me and grabbed the first roll I saw. Then came the hard part. I glanced around to make sure it was safe and everyone was looking at the teacher before cautiously beginning to pull up my sleeve.
The rows of healing cuts stung as the material pulled across them, but it was a pain I was used to and could bear. The bandage was soon wrapped firmly around my arm, making me cringe slightly as the rough fabric scratched and tugged at the tender skin.
I tucked the end under with a safety pin and examined the bandage. I had done a pretty neat job for once.
Tugging my sleeve down again, I looked up to find Dan staring at my arm. Confused, I looked down before realising he must have seen the cuts.
"Shit."
Dan's P.O.VI couldn't help but stare at the cuts that marred the perfect skin on Phil's arms. As far as I could see he had a sleeve of slashes, some deeper than others but all enough to have drawn blood.
I felt a stabbing in my chest and I drew in a shaky breath.
Had I caused this? A feeling of self loathing crashed over me as I realised I was probably responsible for at least half of those wounds he had given himself.
At this point, he finally finished bandaging and looked up to see me gazing at his arms. His eyes widened and dropped to him arm before he sagged in his seat, cheeks red with mortification.
"Shit." I murmured, as the bell rang and people began flooding out. Phil grabbed his stuff and shoved it back into his backpack, practically sprinting out of the room to escape.
(A/N: there will be triggers in the next part! Sorry!)
Phil's P.O.VShit. Dan had seen my scars... how long before that got around the college? I couldn't take the heat, and I ran through the corridors and out of the doors, not knowing where I was going. Tears streamed down my face as I sprinted through the streets, finally collapsing in a hedge. My hands shook as I fumbled around in my pockets for my penknife, before tugging it out and flipping out the sharpest blade. My adrenaline pumped around my body and I rolled up my sleeve, drawing the knife slowly over my wrist, shutting my eyes and almost groaning at the relief. The pain overrode everything that had happened that day, and gave me an outlet. Before I knew it, I had three more cuts over my wrist. I smiled at the sting before wrapping them tightly to minimise the blood loss, standing up and leaving the bloody tissues in the bush. There was no point in returning to the school, and so I began walking down the street again, more calmly this time.
Half an hour later I had got back home, and I was sat in my room trying to avoid my mother. I could hear her cluttering around downstairs, and I had no wish to talk to her. This was the time I liked most, when I was allowed to be alone for a few moments, allowed to close my eyes and pretend to be someone else for a few minutes. I was in my own world as I curled up, and there I was the opposite of what I was in reality.
Dream Phil was popular. People accepted I was gay, and I had a boyfriend. Every day, I would return to my family who loved me, greeted me with a hug, and asked me how my day was. I pretended to hate it, but in reality it was a normal, reassuring part of my day. I would go out with my friends like the teenagers I could see from my bedroom, and I would never feel alone or different. I fitted in.
I could stay in my little world for hours until my alarm clock rang at seven.
I dragged myself out of the old bed, pulling on a tight shirt and my skinniest jeans, brushing my hair out of my eyes and climbing out of my window. My mother wouldn't realise I had gone out, wouldn't bother to check on me at all.
My tatty vans hit the concrete outside my window and I began my nightly walk, down through potentially unsafe alleyways and behind a small, suspicious looking pub. Behind there a whole cluster more people stood, leaning against buildings and some smoking. I quickly scanned the prostitutes, checking for potential competition.
A few girls stood together, dressed in traditional slutty fishnets, skirts and bras or corsets. There were some others scattered around, keeping to themselves, and even some knocking back alcohol to take away some of the memories from tonight. There were very few male ones like myself, just about three guys in V-necks and skinnies.
That was both good and bad, because that meant it was likely I would be picked up. If it wasn't for the fact I needed the money I wouldn't even know this place existed, but fact was as my mother didn't give a crap about me I needed some way of bringing in money without any qualifications, apart from shit GCSEs. Turns out some people will pay out a decent amount for an nineteen year old college boy with hopeless eyes and a scarred body. I hated the way it made me feel, like some dirty rag that could be shared, passed around getting more and more damaged and jaded every time, but it's what I had to do to keep myself fed and clothed.
Soon enough, a car drove up and a guy stuck his head out of the window, his eyes scanning the whores before finally resting on me. He didn't look too bad- he wasn't so much older than me and he looked pretty sorry himself as he beckoned me over.
I walked confidently over like I had been taught, and leaned into the window space.
"Hi, I'm Phil."
"Charlie. So, are you going to get in or what?"
Dan's P.O.V
I followed Phil as he ran, keeping a good space behind him all the way out of the gates and along the winding streets until he stopped suddenly. I hid behind a wall as I watched him climb behind a load of bushes.
He left about twenty minutes after, and I slipped behind there to see what he had been doing. A pile of bloody tissues confirmed my suspicions- he had cut again. I sighed before standing and following Phil again down the paths.
It was days like today that I was glad Phil only lived across the street from me as he slipped through his front door. He was acting strangely, and I wanted to figure out what was happening.
He stayed inside for hours, until finally emerging at just after seven. I ran out and tracked him again, frowning as he wound through dark allies and round the back of a pub- "The Hare-chaser inn" that frankly looked like it should have been shut down a long time ago.
I peered around the corner- and gasped.
Phil had stopped in an area behind the pub with other people. A closer look confirmed they were whores, girls with slutty clothing and guys in tight apparel. At first I thought he must be lost, but then a car drew up and the driver beckoned Phil over. I watched, my heart in my throat as he sauntered over to where the guy in the car was waiting. Within moments, he had climbed into the car and was driven away.
So Phil was a prostitute. I slid down the wall in disbelief, shaking my head at what had been revealed to me. There was only one thing I could think to do.
Pulling myself together, I put my hands in my pockets and tried to pull a neutral expression over my face, before walking over to where a group of girls in bras and shorts clustered.
"Hello, ladies." I smirked flirtatiously at the whores, and they looked at me with interest.
"Hey, there." A busty blonde had stepped forward, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking straight into my eyes confidently.
"Hi there."
"You don't happen to know anything about that one that just got in the car? Phil?"
"Oh yeah, he's pretty new. Only been doing this for six or seven months. Shame he's gay, really. Considering he's covered in scars and all, he does pretty well- he probably gets much more pick ups than anyone else here, apart from maybe Chris. Why?"
I shrugged. "Just wondered, he looked like he really didn't want to be there. Anyway, can I buy any one of you ladies a drink?" I figured I could get some more information if the girl was drunk.
The blonde cocked her eyebrow at me.
"You do realise we're prostitutes, right?"
"Yeah, I was just figuring it's probably preferable to standing out here all night. So, you up for it?"
"Sure." she smirked at me, and pulled a jacket on over her cropped bodice.
"Let's go, then."
A/N: I actually don't know what was happening to my brain when I wrote this, but it turned out alright so I thought I would upload it and see what you guys think. I'm sorry it's so weird, please don't judge me! Anyway, let me know what you think! C:
