Thank you to tffnyblows, witbeyondmeasurexox, wonderfulfun and uhnonniemiss for reviewing the last chapter, hope you enjoy this one. Here we go;
Phil's POV
We climb the stairs, the sharp edges of the steps lit only by glowing artificial light. Posters for films line the cracked walls in silver frames and my eye is caught by the dashing colours and popping titles as I trudge upwards. The stairs seem to last for ages and I have to hold back a slight groan at the introduction to any kind of exercise. This is my local cinema. It is small and old, the seats worn to a faded red and small cracks littering all the walls. There is only one screen and only one guy working here. Sometimes in my head I wish my small town would get a bigger cinema with shiny screens and giant popcorn machines and mood lighting but then I snap myself out of it. As much as I like to moan and as much as I like to wish, I love this cinema. I love it despite of it's endless flaws. I love it in spite of the fact that it only just turned digital. I love it even though the wave of buttery popcorn doesn't hit you the moment you walk through the door. I love it because it feels familiar and it feels homely and, just like old films, it feels warm and like it's wrapping you up in a giant hug.
We reach the last step and Dan sighs with a fake relief. That's what British people do, moan about things that we secretly love, like the rain or the accent. For some reason I seem to have paused on the last stone step and Dan turns to look at me. I have to stop my breath from catching as the light hits his face, illuminating his sculpted features and highlighting his dark locks. The little half smirk he wears on his lips makes my heart pound and I stumble as I start walking again, towards the double doors that lead to the cinema room.
Entering the room, the familiar sight hits me, the rows of red chairs with a few people littered around. The ceilings that scrape upwards leading to balconies above. The old signs coating the walls. This place used to be a Sunday school and posters thanking various benefactors have been left in, presumably for that homely effect that I love so much. The air feels warm and friendly. Me and Dan walk to the desk (there is nobody else there, one of the reasons I love it so much) and buy our tickets. The man on the desk knows me and his sagging face twitches upwards when he sees me, he asks me how I am as he unrolls the circle of tickets, snapping one off and handing it to me. I reply chattily. Today I am in a very good mood. Dan lingers just slightly ahead, waiting for me to join him and the man tilts his head suggestively towards Dan, raising his eyebrows. I feel the blush rise to my cheeks and I smile slightly, taking my ticket and sitting by Dan in my regular seat.
A few more people dribble into the room before the film starts, taking their pick from the many seats that still lie empty. Then the screen flickers to life and the edges roll up to reveal an even larger screen than the one that sat there before. The lights dim, the darkness closing around me. The film begins.
Dan's POV
The film is good, it's funny and clever and deep and emotional. But I am distracted. I am distracted by the proximity of mine and Phil's bodies. I am distracted by the wisp of black hair that has abandoned the rest of his fringe. I am distracted by his long white fingers, so tantalizingly close and yet so desperately far. But most of all I am distracted by his lips. His lips that are such a perfect shade of pastel pink, his lips that twitch as his eyes absorb the magic of the film, his lips that are so innocent, so unassuming, displaying his every emotion like a window to his soul. I let my eyes run over them. His head turns and his eyes catch mine, the bright blue so obvious even in partial darkness. Uh-oh, busted. He smiles, the lips sculpting themselves upwards and I can't help but smile back. His hand reaches for mine, his fingers curling across my open palm. Inside, my chest is swirling, my heart performing somersaults like it's some sort of arena but on the outside I only smile slightly, letting my emotion rampage inside.
For a few seconds we remain like that, just two smiling faces in all of the world. The screen a blur behind us and our clasped hands the centre of our own universe. But Phil's eyes are dragged away and he fixes back onto the screen, still unable to tame the twitch in the corner of his mouth. That's when the worrying begins. I am a worrier at heart, never able to assess any situation without flailing into panic mode. Is this a friendly gesture? Is my hand too warm? Too cold? Does he like me? Or does he just pity me? Any concentration I had for the film has gone and I am left gazing across Phil's face again with a hopeful expression dwindling in my eyes.
In my incessant worrying, I accidentally jerk my hand slightly and Phil turns once more, his eyes lighting up and the glare off the screen lighting up the right side of his face. And just like that he is kissing me, his carven lips touching mine and his hand snaking it's way into my hair, caressing my ear, his long elegant fingers clutching the back of my head. I can barely think, it feels as if my head has been filled with air. It only lasts a few seconds but those few seconds seem to shine brighter than the last few months of my clouded existence. I start to wonder about the existence of angels and whether Phil could really be one and whether this could really be happening and I go to pinch myself awake before realising that nobody had said anything in the last few minutes and that Phil was staring at me, his teeth tugging on his lower lip nervously.
"I'm sorry." whispers Phil and I am confused before it sparks me. He has taken my silence to mean that I didn't want him to do that and that I don't like him. But he can't think that, that's not true. I don't know how to express my feelings in words so I just crash my lips to his again, feeling him and smile and feeling my fingers tingle as magic runs through my veins.
The film progresses as a series of hand squeezes and sidelong glances and soon it is finished. I look across to see Phil as the light floods the room once more and he beams, still not dropping my hand as we shuffle past the seats and out into the corridor. Here our smiles grow and Phil leans down to kiss me again, slower this time, no screen blaring behind us reminding us of reality and no awkward glances from strangers. His lips move alongside mine and I move my hands, this time getting to run my hands through his hair like I had dreamed of doing.
Outside, darkness has fallen and little stars twinkle in the sky like holes in the blanket of the night. I wrap my coat closer around me before joining my hand back to Phil's, feeling completely comfortable. The wind is back again and it shakes the lampposts slightly letting the chalk-like glow waver across the pavement. I am too busy thinking about Phil and the light and the stars to notice the small stone wall that lies in my way. With an intake of breath, my foot knocks into the stones and I trip, stumbling over the end of the wall. I almost hit the floor but Phil catches me in his arms, hauling me back up to my feet.
"You really are clumsy aren't you?" Phil says.
"It's your fault."
"How is it my fault?!"
"You're such a distraction."
"Well I am sorry, I cannot help being so drop-dead gorgeous."
"Well could you try? If I hang round with you much longer I am going to end up breaking a leg."
"I don't think it is me. I think you're part clown."
"Damn it, now my secret is out."
"Don't worry you can trust me."
"Can I though?"
"You can trust me with anything." Phil says, his eyes suddenly a lot more serious and his voice having dropped an octave.
Phil walks me home, the winding streets lit only by moonlight. We talk and talk about all sorts of things from the possibility of an afterlife to Pokémon. We reach the top of my street and I stop still, the weight of anxiety and misery hitting me, making me fall further in my current state of elation.
"What's wrong?" Phil says.
"Nothing, this is my street, I can go from here." Phil looks wary but kisses me quickly before taking one last longing look and walking into the distance, his coat fluttering in the wind. I take a deep breath and walk. The street glistens with raindrops and the moon lights them up making it seem more like a diamond pavement than one made of the harsh material of concrete. Even from the pretty pearl gates of two houses along I can hear the shouting. Above me it starts to thunder as the rain starts. Thank you, nature, driving me straight into harms way. A lightning strike flashes and the whole street lights up in a rather eerie glow and I almost expect zombies to start crawling from the drains. I scurry forwards, I don't want to stay here, I don't want to go home, I just want to be clutched in Phil's arms but he is gone. Reluctantly I open the door to my house.
The words hit me like a tidal wave. The usual angry torrents swarm the air like tracker jackers and I set my sights on the stairs, hoping I can run up them before he notices I'm here. I race towards them but my legs are shaking and I trip on the first stair, whacking my chin hard enough that my teeth rattle. I feel a warm metal-like substance fill my mouth. I hold the tears back. When you feel so happy you only have further to fall. I look up, my head feeling sore and catch the scene, the light bursting through the slightly open door; the shadow of John with his hand held high and my mother cowering below like a puppy, except no matter how hard she tries to submit she can't escape it. I feel a tiny squeak fall out of my mouth, I feel so hopeless. The shadow figure turns around and his eyes harden. I jolt upwards and run up the stairs, ignoring my scraped knee and bleeding jaw.
I run to my room and slam the door shut, jumping over my bed and hiding behind it, knees tucked tight to my chest. The last thing I see is his feet, standing firmly in my doorway.
Yes I am sorry this isn't as long and I am not really happy with how it turned out but than you for reading and please please review! :)