Dan continues to play, his fingers dropping onto the last few keys gently as the song ends. A triumphant smile slips onto his face, euphoria bubbling inside him. He did it. He only went and did it.
He looks up. Phil's by the door, watching intently, a pleased smile playing on his features. He's probably been there all along and oh God - Dan's grin falls away; he shrinks into the stool, fingers flying away from the instrument. His face is most definitely a sweltering red. He opens his mouth, but excuses never enter the silence: Phil speaks first.
"That was great," he says. His voice is gentle and doesn't break the hum of the last few notes; his smile is timid, though Dan can barely believe that.
"Yeah?" Dan coughs out.
"Yeah. Your flow was good, and you added your own character to it." Phil comes to sit down on the stool beside Dan - it's just big enough to seat them both - and Dan flinches. He shuffles along to the far end of the stool, until the cracked cushion collapses out beneath him.
"I'm not going to hit you, Dan," he teases lightly.
"Had me fooled," Dan mutters. The words escape before he can stop himself. Phil's face twists, lips pursed.
"Right."
A silence passes in tense seconds, both aware of the piano and the questions and the boy barely ten centimetres to the side of them.
"So, did you practise?" Phil asks in an upbeat tone. It's an 'eventually' and they both know it.
"Yeah, quite a lot, in the end. And I got my friend to help me. I think I can cope, now." Dan's eyes sketch the eroded edge of the piano keys, fingers tapping smooth rhythms on his knee.
"PJ?" Phil asks. Dan thinks he's watching him but he daren't look up and see.
"Yeah." Dan nods. "Wait. How did you know?"
"I'm in his art class," Phil explains. If Dan didn't know who was beside him, he wouldn't think it's Phil speaking. Stripped of the harsh bite and sarcasm, his voice is friendly and jaunty. Dan doesn't know what's happened. "He's a good artist."
"Yeah, he is. And you? What's your art like?" Dan asks, the questions sounding forced in his mind.
"Eh, nothing much. It's note exceptional."
Dan finally looks up, smiling and looking at him incredulously. Phil's grinning knowingly, and he laughs warmly when his eyes meet Dan's.
"Was that a pun?" Dan says. Phil nods, giggles.
"It was terrible, oh my God," Dan continues, burying his head in his hands.
"That one may need a bit of tuning."
"I swear, I will push you off this stool right now," Dan's threat is punctuated with laughs. They lock eyes again, Phil pouting and Dan holding back laughs. Eventually they give in, laughing together. And it's odd to be laughing with Phil and the joke isn't even that funny, just their way of breaking the atmosphere. It dies down again, Dan coughing awkwardly.
"Okay," Phil says, turning towards the piano and resting his fingers on the plastic. "Come on, you do it too," he urges. "I want to show you something."
(Dan swallows all comments on how was he to know that's what Phil wanted; Phil's never wanted to show him something before. Because there's something in Phil's expression and his eyes, and for once it's not hostility).
"Show me what?" Dan inquires, following suit.
"A piece, silly. You said you think you'll be able to cope, now." Phil grins at him.
"Okay, it was a stupid question, point taken. Play, maestro."
Phil beams before pressing down on the keys his fingers have found, pausing every bar and watching as Dan repeats them. Phil instructs him to play chords and single notes in a buoyant rhythm, a rhythm that awakens some memory that Dan can't pinpoint. His hands have to jump across the keys, and instead of tutting when he gets it wrong, they both laugh. It takes a few times through before the beat has settled in Dan's mind, but Phil repeats it patiently. The window to the side lets in light that dapples Phil's fingers as he plays. It doesn't reflect off the keys, not quite - they aren't shiny enough for that - but the sunlight glides over them and the shell of the piano. Dan thinks he can get used to this - though he doesn't know what 'this' is.
When Dan can play it alone, the speed faster than a few minutes previous, Phil lets out a childish cheer that makes Dan laugh.
"Ready for another part?"
"Of course," Dan replies, and it sounds like the most obvious thing in the world.
"Awesome." Phil keeps smiling at him, and he seems to be excited, and Dan's too relaxed and relieved to care.
So Phil plays another part, notes scaling up and down. His fingers blur to maintain rhythm, and though Dan tries to copy, he can't find the right melody. Phil just shakes his head gently, using his own fingers to nudge Dan's into place. Dan makes a noise of realisation each time and nods, smiling sheepishly at Phil.
"What is this piece?" Dan asks, the chords coming to life beneath him as he speaks.
"You'll find out, soon enough," Phil replies. He waits until Dan finishes before continuing. "That's great. Now, which do you want to do?"
Dan shrugs. "The chords, I guess?"
Phil cracks a relieved grin. "Good, because that's what you needed to do," Dan chuckles at that, "Play that, then, and I'll join in."
"Cool," Dan says, drawing a tempo from thin air as he plays the chords and notes again. Two times through, and Phil comes in with the other part. The two mix in syncopation, and as it loops round Phil adds other little trills and spins and phases - improvisation, Dan reckons. It's a jazzy piece and something Dan is now sure he's heard somewhere. It makes him rock into the chords, and Phil starts nudging him with his shoulder, making him move with the music.
"Can you play faster?" Phil asks. Dan says nothing in reply, instead speeding up the incessant thump of the chords. Phil keeps up, impressive melodies igniting at each note he presses. Dan realises it feels good, to be playing aside someone, the only proof they're there the music they play and the shape in his peripheral vision. When it ends, Phil celebrates again.
"I swear I've heard that before," Dan says. His voice is shaped with a smile that he can't seem to get away from; the feeling after learning and succeeding in another piece has left him happy.
"Probably," Phil nods, "It's called Heart and Soul."
"'Cause that means a lot."
"Hey! It might do."
"But it didn't," he continues.
"Shut up, you. We have about seven minutes left, let's look at River again."
"Pedantic, aren't we?"
"Just play the darn piece, Dan."
Dan laughs to himself before falling back into the playing. Phil stays at his shoulder, turning the pages and pointing out little faults.
"I'll bring a new piece next week," Phil announces as they leave the room - together this time.
"Really?" Dan says, excitement in his voice.
"Yeah. I've got something in mind, it should be fine."
"Cool."
Phil nods once before leaving.
Dan enters the classroom, mind buzzing. The events of the past twenty minutes play as repeatedly as the tunes that twitch at his fingers. The class is full, conversations stacking up, but he pays no attention. In one corner, PJ is doodling on an old exercise book, stolen from the draw behind the three of them in Year Nine maths; in the other, the teacher is talking to someone Dan's too stunned to identify, his lanyard swinging as he nods. He settles at his desk wordlessly, and Chris turns to him with a raised eyebrow. There's no sign of the frustration, or emotion of any kind, that he was expecting.
"What? What is it? What happened?" Chris asks, watching Dan as he stares blankly at the wall ahead.
"I don't know," Dan's face crumples into a frown, words baffled. "I - don't know…"
"Wait, wait, wait, run this through me again," Chris says, gesturing with his hand as he watches Dan. They're in the park, and Chris' movement makes the swing he's hooked himself round sway. PJ and Dan are cross legged on the grass beside him, the fingers of shade from the trees just reaching them. The wind kicks through the unkempt ground every so often, and Dan pulls the hair out of his eyes before exhaling slowly, eyes travelling round the park. It's empty, the last family having left half an hour or so previous, when the sun started threatening to dip below the horizon. There were two men and three children, two of which were challenging each other for the rights to the top of the climbing frame like it was a crown. It probably was. Dan had stared for a little too long trying to make out what the lump on one of the men's chests was, smiling when he made out a baby clutched to his body. He promptly looked away when he looked up. He nodded to them when they passed him to leave, without any real reason.
"Phil wasn't a twat to me. He was in the room when I was practising, and he showed me another song to play. Afterwards he helped me with my current piece. He kept smiling, Chris, he was being nice."
"So he didn't make any sarcastic comments at all? Did he mention his previous behaviour?" PJ asks, looking as confused as Dan feels.
"Nope, nothing at all. He was practically a different person."
Chris narrows his eyes, and turns to PJ. "Are you sure you didn't cast some kind of spell on him?" he jabs his head at Dan. PJ rolls his eyes.
"No, I didn't sell his soul to the devil, Chris."
"I should hope so, too," Dan adds.
"Maybe it was because he saw you could play?" PJ returns to the topic at hand.
"Yeah, but why would you form an opinion on someone on how they can play piano?" Dan responds.
"I don't know, but maybe Phil would."
"Are you suggesting, Peej, that Dan's playing entranced Phil to fall in love with him?"
"You asked me if I cast a spell on him, you can barely talk," he retorts. "I'm just saying, after all it seemed to be Dan's playing that did something."
"Maybe he discovered there was some point in teaching me. I don't know, guys," Dan says despondently. The conversation dries as the possible explanations run out.
"It would seem we have an odd one on our hands," Chris says after a few silent moments of pondering and picking at grass. "I could always do some-"
"No!"
"Definitely not," Dan and PJ object.
"Can't say I didn't try," Chris feigns a sulk.
"Chris, it would be more useful if you - can you please stop kicking me?" PJ is cut short by Chris tapping his foot against PJ's shoulder for the tenth time.
"What do I do?" Dan asks over their petty arguing. "Oi! Lovebirds! What should I do?"
"Stop insulting us, first of all," Chris sniffs.
"Just go with it, Dan," PJ advises. "Do you know what he's got planned?"
Dan nods. "He said he'd bring a new piece next week."
"Just stick with it, then. See what the new piece is."
"Definitely stay," Chris pipes up. "I want to find out how good he is at playing that violin he brings along."
"Well of course you'd say that."
"And what's that meant to mean?"
Dan and PJ start to laugh, and soon enough the conversation is forgotten, the question left crumpled in the bottom of Dan's school bag.
"How did the lesson go?" is the first thing Dan's mum asks him when he walks into the house.
"I really hope you weren't standing there for half an hour waiting to pounce on me," responds Dan as he toes off his shoes, leaning on the stair rail to do so.
"Nah," she says, "Just twenty minutes."
"Right," Dan says.
"So, how did it go?"
"Okay, yeah. I finally managed to get that piece right. Getting a new one next week."
"Great! How's the teacher?"
"I haven't really formed an opinion yet," Dan shrugs, avoiding the question in the only way he can see fit. "He was a bit off to start with, but I think it's getting better, yeah."
"Is he helping you?"
Dan shrugs again, rushing up the stairs as quick as he can without looking suspicious.
At the moment, everything seems to be one big shrug.
Dan's sat on his bed, laptop open in front of him and homework left on the floor beside him, equations staring up at him. He can smell some kind of barbeque despite the fact it's still April and the moisture that hangs in the air is as common a visitor as the stars. He should be solving the problems - even without the threat of detention, Chris will be asking for the answers on Monday - but the only thing his mind can focus on appears to be is how he has no fucking clue what Phil is doing. His thoughts go round in circles and his music playlist is on its second repeat but he hasn't bothered to change it. People have always been a point of interest and confusion for him, apparently, and Phil is no different. Amongst thinking about how pissed off at him he is, what made him change his mind and whether he'll mess up this new piece and what will happen then, Dan finds himself wondering what he's going to say next lesson. Somehow "Why the fuck are you being nice to me?" doesn't quite cut it.
It's been like this for all day.
Having nothing else to do, he slopes off to his keyboard. He just sits there, fingers running randomly over the keys.
There's a soft wrap at the door, and Dan grunts in response. His mum enters, hovering by the door.
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah," Dan sighs. She perches on his bed, studying him as he continues to robotically press on the notes.
"Play something for me?" she asks sweetly.
"What?" Dan's taken aback.
"Play your piece. I'd like to see what my son's been up to. Please?"
He doesn't exactly have anything else to do.
"Okay," he agrees. "It may be a bit crap, though," he warns, setting the piece on the stand.
She shrugs. "I won't know any difference."
Dan hums in agreement. "Now?"
"Whenever you're ready."
"That's now, then," he says, and plays. Maybe it's his frustration that makes the beginning stiff, and he winces at each wrong note. He can remember PJ telling him to carry on even if he goes wrong, so he does, calming himself enough to play the rest okay. When he turns back round, his mum's smiling.
"That was very good," she comments, standing and hugging him from behind.
"Ew, get off me," Dan teases, and she tuts.
"Okay, okay," she surrenders. "See you later, then." The door swings shut, and Dan's left with the keyboard again.
He finds himself playing 'River Flows In You' over and over again.
Thursday rolls back round. Dan's week has been quite empty without the dread for the lessons and the practising. He's been in his room and though he used to be happy with just sitting there, now he wants to get up and do something. He plays the Yiruma and 'Heart and Soul' through sometimes, and he focuses on the piano parts of the music he listens to, wondering if he could play it, one day.
He turns up early again. Partly because the sooner his questions are soothed the better, partly because the three of them have been quietly waiting on tender hooks for the lunch to roll round. It has been driving Dan round the bend, slightly.
To his surprise, Phil's already there, tinkering on the piano. He knocks on the door, and Phil greets him with a smile. He's wearing his glasses with the thick frames, and they lift on his cheeks as his face scrunches up in an enamoring grin.
"Didn't scare you off then," he says, returning to the seat beside the piano again.
"Not quite," Dan mutters. He finds himself watching Phil closely, how he smiles at him and doesn't pull out a book, and he has no clue why he's started acting like they're best buddies.
Dan's started to think it's all one big wind up.
"So," he places his hands on his knees, "What's this new piece?"
"I don't know if it's okay…" Phil says as he rummages in his bag, pulling out the new stack of paper and putting it on the stand, and it seems like he's trying to hide the title until the last possible moment.
"Starlight, by Muse? Are you kidding?" Dan exclaims, looking across at Phil.
"What? Is that bad?" Phil bites his lip.
"Bad? Dude, this is like the best possible piece for you to choose!" Dan enthuses, eyes indecisive on whether to settle on Phil or the music.
"Yeah?" Phil perks up again. "So you like Muse?"
"Love them," Dan confirms.
Phil tilts his head. "You have a good music taste, too."
"One of my many pros."
Phil laughs, and starts to spread out the sheets, leaning over Dan to do so. From what Dan sees in the first few seconds, it's the piano part with the voice over the top. It starts with the steady bass before the melody, corresponding with the voice for a while before going into the part that sits underneath in harmony, the part Dan has heard many times before.
"It's quite complicated, in places," Phil explains. "But you can do it."
"Sure about that?"
"Of course," Phil says eagerly.
"Of course," Dan echoes hollowly. He can hear Phil sigh beside him.
"Look, Dan, I'm sorry, I-"
"You confuse me, you know?" He's interrupted Phil, but it seems they both understand that Dan should speak. He doesn't know what he's going to say but apparently some part of him does, because he keeps going. "You act all horrible to me, all sarcastic and clever. You laugh at me and push me around. And suddenly you're acting like I'm your best friend. It doesn't make sense."
"I know. I'm not really going to be able to offer a great explanation, but I can try. With me, it tends to be hate everyone until given a reason otherwise. And for me, hating someone is being sarcastic and such. Tells you a lot about me. And you didn't seem to care about playing and learning? Which is understandable, but given I already 'hated' you, it was annoying. But then I find out that you've tried. And, God, this is going to make me sound so lame, but hearing you play the piece was my reason otherwise? And it wasn't that I decided to be your best friend, it was that I decided to be kind to you and help. It just so happened that we just...clicked. It doesn't really make sense; I confuse myself…" he hesitates, finger tapping on his knee. Dan hasn't looked up yet. "I know it-"
Dan tries to be angry at Phil. He has every right to. Everything has moved fast but it kind of makes sense, so-
"No, it's okay. I understand," Dan finally looks up. "Well, I mean, I don't, but you don't either. And I understand as much as you do." He smiles at Phil, properly smiles, and Phil smiles back. The past few minutes have evidently helped out the both of them.
"So that's why that's happened, and can we pretend it didn't? I totally get it if not but…"
"Of course."
"Great," Phil says after a short pause. "Let's get started, then."
Dan takes another look at the music. Phil talks him through properly on what to look at first, pushing his glasses up his nose every so often.
"Lots of sharps," Dan whistles when Phil points him towards the key signature. Phil laughs.
"Indeed."
The music builds as it goes - that much Dan can tell even though they only focus on the first page. It starts with quavers, before the instrumental comes in, followed by the voice, and so on. The notes move together in octaves alongside the steady bass hand. Phil suggests seeing where the notes line up to help him play, so he does. Phil plays each bar for him after he's figured it out, and then Dan will play it through until he can roughly do it. It goes along like that for the first two pages, and Phil prompts Dan to put everything together. Dan trips and struggles but all Phil does is giggle and tease him lightly, using words like 'Idiot' in - what Dan hopes is - an affectionate way. He guides Dan's hands the first time Dan plays each bar. Dan thinks he'd be doing a better job if he wasn't busy thinking about how Phil had just been kind, and yet they clicked, and how everything has changed in an odd way (and how warm his ears are starting to feel). Down to music, like the music he's now attempting to master, apparently.
"Can I hear your violin playing?" Dan asks after the third time of playing through. The clock says the lesson is nearing it's end, and Dan is just enjoying this new found freedom that means he can ask whatever he likes. He can see the instrument beside Phil, not as protected by his body as it usually is.
"No," Phil says.
"You're enjoying this power thing a little too much, you know," Dan says, his factual tone making Phil laugh.
"I'm saying no because you need to practise. That's what we're here for. And anyway, it's not exactly the best playing in the world."
"How long have you been playing?"
"Since I was four?"
"There we go, then," Dan concludes, shooting Phil a triumphant look. Phil rolls his eyes.
"Just play the piece, you loser."
Dan laughs quietly, doing as he's told.
"So if you practise those two pages this week," Phil says as they both stand. He puts the sheets together, waiting for Dan to get his bag before handing them to him. Dan then waits while Phil gathers up his bag, violin case clutched in one hand.
"Will I get to hear you play if I manage it?" Dan asks slyly.
"No," Phil shakes his head, lips curling. "But one day, I promise. I remember seeing that there's a violin part for it, actually," he muses, pointing to the music in Dan's hand.
"C'mon, please?" Dan begs.
"I dunno…"
"But it's relevant!" Dan persists. "And I really want to hear you play."
"Not next week. But sometime soon, when you can play it all."
"Fine." They walk out and into the corridor as it starts to fill with students.
"Thanks," Dan says as they part ways.
"No problem. See you next week?"
"See you next week," Dan confirms, and they smile at each other again before departing. For the first time, Dan actually believes himself when he says he'll return, and the promise doesn't daunt him.