Dan's POV

"Daniel, have a wonderful first day, luv," mum chimed from the kitchen, dangling a brown paper sack with his name on it, "don't forget your lunch, dear."

He groaned at the cluster of tiny hearts she had doodled beside his name in sharpie, "Gee… thanks mum… but don't you think the hearts are a little kiddish? Please tell me you didn't put a note somewhere too."

She spun around and cupped his cheeks in her hands, gazing into his eyes with prideful sadness. "Oh, my little boy is all grown up!" she sighed, planting a kiss on his forehead, "too good for notes and the like. Tomorrow, you can have a perfectly plain grown-up lunch if you wish." He blushed and tugged away. He always felt so awkward when she got nostalgic.

"I'm not that grown up, mum. But I should go… I want to arrive half an hour early so I can find my class ahead of time."

She checked her watch and nodded, handing him the lunch. "Sounds good, darling. Now go, make some friends!"

"I already have friends!" I groaned, "I have PJ and Chris, what more could I need?"

With one final goodbye, I rushed out the door. It was already starting to get cool, the last hints of summer heat draining from the darkening sky. I fished through my backpack for a while until I found a black hoodie and slid it on, flipping the hood for maximum mysteriousness.

I hadn't realized how close I was to the school, since I had only had the time to listen to 'I'm Not Okay (I promise)' three times before I arrived at the tall, metal gates, which were vaguely reminiscent of a Hogwarts-esque design. I shut my eyes tightly and gulped as my fingers mindlessly traced the masonry of the stone border.

I felt sick as a dozen questions suddenly flooded my mind. What if I don't end up with PJ in my class? What if I get shitty options? What if I get lost? Late? get on the wrong side of a teacher? I -

I shook my head violently and pull my hood down, taking one final calming breath. "Is you a wuss?" I mumbled to myself. Convinced I wasn't, I placed one ginger step beyond the gates, followed by another and another.

I can do this.

I can -

"Stop!" someone shouted, and I froze. Slowly I craned my neck, searching for the source of the voice.

"Oh shit."

Out in the field, near the sports shack, four teens of varying sizes were swarmed around someone… and they seemed to be kicking him. Their dark hoodies concealed their faces, making me feel rather uncomfortable in my own.

"Please… stop it! You're hurting me!" I heard the voice sputter as I jogged towards them. I stopped a few feet away, hiding behind the shack. I had to assess the damage before I could do anything…

Besides… was it worth it? I didn't want to get on their bad side so early in the game, that's social suicide, but -

"P-please…"

My eyes widened as the boy on the ground moaned in pain and turned towards me, his hand outstretched… his eyes pleading. The bullies noticed immediately and turned towards me, though I managed to duck behind the wall before they saw me. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized what I had to do.

"Right," I mumbled to myself, "I'm going to regret this." The door to the shack was unlocked and I rushed in, searching around desperately for something… anything, to fight back with. Several mesh nets filled with volleyballs dangled from hooks on the ceiling, a few stray footballs were strewn across the floor, and a few discs were stacked on a shelf. Working quickly, I dove for a metal bat that was propped up against the wall and rushed back outside.

"Oi," I growled, clutching the bat tightly in my sweaty palms, "leave him alone."

Two of the bullies noticed the bat and took off immediately, sprinting at full-speed towards the school. The two larger ones, however, weren't very intimidated by a thin boy with a fringe and skinny jeans. I gripped the bat and darkened my gaze.

There was a moment of silence as the two dumb-faced thugs stared at me, at the bat, and then back at me. I caught a glimpse of the boy on the ground as he curled into a ball and moaned, blood trickling from his nose and cut lip.

My attention was pulled back to the bullies when they both began to chuckle. "Fuck off mate, you don't scare us."

"Scared your friends." I retorted.

"An' they'll pay for that later, but don't make me hurt you too," the other spoke, cracking his knuckles, "you look like this boy, y'know. Both got the emo hair and the faggy jeans." I groaned internally. Of course, more homophobic slurs. Just great!

"I wasn't aware my jeans had a sexuality, but thanks." I could see their shoulders tense, which gave me an idea. I'd have to think fast. It was clear that even this bat wouldn't be enough to hurt them, since I had the strength of a six-year-old. "So if you idiots have a problem with me, then go right ahead and try and catch me, twats. Or are you too utterly stupid to understand a simple command? Come on boys!" I spoke in a high-pitched, eager voice, as if I was calling over a dog and not two gigantic brutes, "come on! Come here!"

"Get him!" the taller one hissed, and they both lunged towards me. Startled, I swung the bat as hard as I could, which connected with his side, winding him and leaving him gasping on the ground, clutching his side in pain.

I dove for the boy, who was still lying there, and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him onto his feet. "Can you run?" I asked worriedly as I helped him up. He winced in pain.

"I-I don't think so…" he whimpered. The remaining lad, who had paused to help his cohort, sneered at us and rose to his feet, walking towards us with a malicious grin.

"Get on my back." I commanded quietly.

"W-what? I-"

"Now!" I yelped as the bully drew nearer. The boy, still dazed, leapt on and though he was quite a bit taller than me, I was too focused on escaping with my life to worry about my aching back and wobbly knees. As we reached the entrance, I set the boy down and helped him up the stairs. The bully, who had been jogging after us, grunted in frustration between pants and gasps for air.

"This isn't over, queers." he spat as we rushed inside. I slid down the wall, breathing heavily. The boy leaned beside me, and we sat in comfortable silence for a spell.

Eventually, he caught his breath and managed a weak but grateful smile. "I… thank you… I thought they were gonna kill me!"

I shook my head and smiled. "No problem, I couldn't just leave you there… what did you do to get beat up before the first day even started?"

"They went to my primary as well. The bullied me all through last year…" he sighed, "it still hurts a ton, but I'm used to it." He absentmindedly wiped at his still-bleeding nose.

"Let's go to the bathroom to get you cleaned up…" I said worriedly, guiding him towards the men's toilet, "will you be okay? Are you going to go to class looking like this?" I gestured to a few bruises that were forming on his cheeks and nose.

He took a wad of tissue paper and used it to plug the bleeding, wetting another piece and using it to dab at the dried blood. "No," he said with a faint shake of his head as he began rummaging around in his knapsack, "I came prepared." After a few more moments, he withdrew a small compactor and open it, revealing foundation.

It was an extremely pale tone, just like his porcelain skin. He began to blend the makeup over his bruises until they had almost completely vanished. If I weren't any the wiser, I'd say he was perfectly fine.

"That's impressive! But…" I trailed off.

"But what?" he asked, placing the compactor back in the bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Well, you know, have you tried telling someone? A teacher? Your parents?"

He simply chuckled sadly. "Of course I have. I've tried everything. But the more I struggle, the more I sink." He fell silent and I swear I could see the sting of tears in his eyes. After a few moments, he spoke again in a much cheerier tone. "I'm Phil Lester by the way." He extended a hand.

I shook it with a smile. "It's nice to meet you Phil. Call me Dan."

"Well, Dan, thanks for saving my life." And with a gentle smirk, he had vanished from the bathroom and into the hallway, just as the bell rang.

Phil, huh?

I like that name.