Yeah this is a little late and yeah the others are probably going to be late from now on too because I started sixth form and I have a lot of work. Sorry about that. Thanks to AccioPhandom, KittyKat0989, witbeyondmeasurexox, CharliePanner and Thranduilseyebrows for reviewing the last chapter, they made me smile a lot :) Okay, here we go;
Phil's POV
The next time I open my eyes I am back in my bed again, the duvet both a comfort and a restraint, enclosing my body and pinning me to the bed. Already the room is a little wobbly, my eyes focusing on the wardrobe tilting from side to side, but I can feel it getting clearer, my spinning slowing down and the sharp pain dwindling to a dull ache. I roll over, a small groan escaping from my lips and grope lazily around my desk, waiting for my hand to reach my glasses. I pull them on, sitting up slightly. My mind feels like it has been stuffed with rows of cotton wool, the tiredness mixing with the pain to form a rather horrible concoction. I wrap the duvet closer around me, I kind of like the feeling of being smothered. I don't want to get up, I never want to get up again, I would be perfectly content just to lie in bed forever, with the only the duvet to hold me. Duvet's are reliable. People are not. Even through my glasses, my eyes unfocus, my brain fighting to stay alert.
I notice my desktop calendar, pushed right to the back of my bedside table, about to fall down the back into a pile of dust. I count the days along, what day is it the 20th? 26th? I don't even know anymore. Wait, the 26th is the day after Christmas? I sit up now, ignoring the rush of blood to my head. Did I sleep through Christmas? What the hell happened? I thrust my arm out, wincing at the rush of pain, and grab the calendar. It has a little red ring around the 26th and in tiny, curvaceous, black handwriting the words 'Parents return' are scrawled, and everything kind of hits me like a brick. I throw my duvet off of me, the oppressive nature no longer comforting but scary. Now I hurt for a whole different reason. Now I hurt because of Dan.
I shout through the house, my own voice ringing in my ears and splitting into my head like a hammer forming cracks in a boulder. "Hello, HELLO?" I pause, I really hope I'm not alone. Tears scratch at my throat, begging to be let out and I don't even know why. Maybe the thought of being all alone when all I really want is someone to stroke my hair and love me has just pushed me off the metaphorical cliff, causing waves of tears to splash up my throat. "IS ANYONE THERE?" My throat stings as the salty water laps against it and I wonder when it got so damaged, has there been a lot of salty tears recently? Have they corroded it all away? Or was there something more severe than that? Little details seem to have slipped out my mind and drifted away along with the blood on the floor.
I hear footsteps rushing along a carpeted floor, not banging ones but a soft indication that someone is coming. I begin to cry now, because flashes of Christmas are returning; the rushing footsteps before Dan's screams, the banging on the door like a drum. The door opens quite quickly and yet seemingly hesitantly, as if wanting to ask permission first. I am in no state to give it. Because the person at the door is not the person I want to see. He doesn't have floppy brown eyes and a crooked smile, he has jet black hair and his usually firm mouth is pursed in a small smile. I want to cry harder but I have to be grateful. "Hey" Michael whispers, seeming almost guilty.
"Hey" I manage to choke. Michael notices the tears and walks towards me, but caring, of any kind, does not come naturally to him. He looks like a robot, his movement stiff and his hands hanging awkwardly by his thighs. "Are you okay?"
"Of course not."
"Yes, of course, erm obviously." he doesn't seem to know what to say. "I cleaned up the cuts on your face and gave you medication." I sigh, my life is such a mess and I don't even care, I just want Dan. "When are mum and dad coming?" Michael's eyes fall to the ground.
"They'll be here any minute."
"What? You should have told me!" I say, trying to throw my duvet off and sit up but my head spins and flames begin to lick at my muscles, a searing and burning pain accompanied by a dull ache of in-escapism. "I debated with it." I visibly wince, "But that-" he says, pointing to me, "Is why. You need rest!"
"But what am I going to tell them? How am I going to explain?"
"You could tell them the truth."
"What? That the step-father of my boyfriend they don't know about came in and threw me to the ground. And oh by the way parents, I'm gay?"
"That's what happened?"
"Yeah what did you think?"
"I assumed that boy had done it."
"What?!" my eyes widen, "you assumed Dan had hurt me?" Michael nods sheepishly. "You didn't try to find him did you?!" my heart beats faster, as if Dan needs another beating. "Yeah, I did." he says, his head bowed.
"Fuck."
"I-I- I didn't find him though!" Michael says, holding his hands up. I nod.
"Good, because Dan would never, ever hurt me. Understand?"
"Yeah." It's silent for a while as I try to work out how to not moan in pain.
"Err Phil?"
"Yes" I say warily.
"What did the man look like?" he asks, his last words mumbled in a kind of shame. I look at him, my wariness growing.
"Err, he was tall, I remember that. He was mostly bald but with a few blond hairs left, I think. I didn't catch his eye colour, but he was relatively chunky." Michael continues to look at the floor, "Phil I'm so sorry." he says in a low voice. I'm confused and I go to speak again before I notice the steady tears dripping from Michael's eyes onto my duvet. I am shocked, I don't think I've seen Michael cry since he was a child and even then he didn't cry much. It makes my heart ache a little more than it already does, it makes me want to start crying again. It's such a weird experience, that you can be so emotionally attached to someone that seeing them upset makes you upset. I shuffle towards him, putting my arm around his shoulder and pulling him towards me, letting him fall into my chest. When did I get to be the same size as him? It's so weird because when you're a child, your older brother is the one you look up to, the one who protects you and fights for you. They seem invincible almost. But if I've learnt anything in the last few months it's that everyone's broken a little. No one's invincible; that's just a fairytale. I let him cry on, my confusion swirling in with all my other thoughts. "What's wrong Mikey?" I haven't called him that in so long.
"I'm just so, so sorry."
"About what?"
"I swear to god I didn't know, god knows if I did know I wouldn't have told him, but I was so pissed at you that I wasn't thinking straight, I mean I didn't really know his intentions and now-" he sits up staring me in the eye, "you're all busted up" he gestures towards my nose and the bruises on my face "and heartbroken and poor fucking Dan-" his words are broken up into pieces as he begins to sob. He rambles when he's upset or shy or embarrassed- just like me. It reminds me that we are brothers- it doesn't really feel like we have been for the last few years or so. "Do you want to tell me?" I say, in my best comforting voice, bringing it out of somewhere deep within whilst trying to hold my own tears in. "I'm just so fucking sorry." He never swears.
"Just tell me! I won't be upset!"
"Oh you will."
"Michael, just tell me." I say, looking into his eyes, but he casts them away from me and focuses back on the floor, simultaneously shuffling backwards, further away from me. "Well err- the reason that Dan's father knew where Dan was is because I told him." he rushes the sentence out so fast that it takes me a while to process what he said. He looks up at me, as if waiting for my reaction. I don't really know how to feel because all I can feel is anger. "YOU WHAT?"
"It wasn't on purpose I-"
"GET OUT"
"But..."
"GET OUT." This time Michael scarpers, his eyes brimming with tears as he shuts the door behind him. And I burst into tears, full on wails, punching at my mattress as if that will do any good. I can't stop myself, all of the injustice and all of the pain has just welded itself into a giant ball which is now being kicked at me repeatedly. I can stop the tears from falling and I can't stop my mouth from wailing. And then I hear the front door open and familiar voices shout through the house. Voices that I haven't heard in a few weeks.
Dan's POV
And so I am back here. Back to this waster life once more, back to beatings and back to alcohol and back to loneliness. I never really realised how lonely I had been before, until I knew what it was like not to be lonely. Until I knew what it was like to have a Phil in your life, someone to talk to, someone to care for you, someone to love. The more I drink, the less motivation I have to get out of here. If there is a way out of here. There are bars on my window now. My title as window-leaper is no more. I could go down the stairs except he is there and even when he's gone he is still there. Because where else would I go but Phil's house? And he knows where Phil's house is, it is no longer a safe haven, maybe it never was.
The shadows seem to be snatching at any happy memory of Phil, feeding on them like dementors and now when I think of Phil all I feel is missing him, all I feel is him hating me. I forget about his smile, I forget about his arms around me. And the bottle in my head is screaming my name, it seems rude not to oblige. I lift it to my lips and tilt it down my throat, enjoying the burning sensation, at least it's a feeling, at least it's not grey.
Phil's POV
"We're home!" I hear a high and feminine voice ring out through the house. It has been a while since I have heard that. I know my parents are home, I know they have just come back of holiday, I know that they are happy, I know that I am embarrassing myself. I know all this, this information is tucked away in my mind somewhere and yet I can't stop wailing. It's just all too much, all too fast. It's like I was already teetering on the edge of the cliff and then Michael pushed me over. I don't want to stop and so I don't. "What's that noise?" I hear my mother say, "Michael what is that? PHIL. Is that Phil? What's wrong with Phil? Michael stop crying, what's gone on here?" her voice gets more and more high pitched as the sentences run on, until eventually she reaches some kind of mouse stage. I can hear her worry and yet I don't stop crying. Because I am selfish and I want attention. I hear my parents footsteps down the hallway, quicker than usual, the beats closer together. I hug my knees, somehow now I feel the sense to stop. Because I am going to have to explain, and that's the last thing I want to do. Coming out as gay is a big step, coming out as gay and that you have a boyfriend and said boyfriend's father beat you up and then dragged said boyfriend away and now you are crying and don't know what to do is like trying to throw yourself over a gorge; you're not going to make it.
"Phil, honey." mum rushes towards me, sinking into the bed and wrapping her arms around me, letting me cry into her chest just as I had let Michael do before. Michael. Now my wailing fit is over, I don't really know how I feel about Michael, there is a whole army of feelings marching around me, but which soldiers to use? Mum strokes my hair and I cry harder, affection seems to do that to me, if I'm upset about something, everything else piles on top of that until I am just a ball of sadness, all of my mistakes filling me like jam inside a doughnut. "Ssh, it's okay" my mother soothes as I feel my dad sit down on the bed too.
I cry and cry and cry, I cry for Dan, I cry for my pain, I cry for Michael and I cry for Carter and I cry for every stupid mistake I ever made and I cry because I'm a terrible person and I cry because I don't deserve the arms around me and because I didn't deserve Dan and I cry because right now I hate the world more than I ever have before.
But even though it seemed unlikely at one point, the tears stop and I am left with a desperate urge to curl into my arms and fall asleep. "I love you so much, you know that right?" Mum says, kissing the top of my forehead.
"Me too, son." And it makes me want to cry all over again because I don't deserve this- I really don't- but I hold them back because it's time to explain. And I finally feel ready. "It's kind of a long story."
"We have all the time in the world." says mum, with an encouraging smile in my direction and it helps me, it fills me up with warmth from the inside. Because not only am I going to tell them something that I've kept quiet for so long but I'm also going to trust them with something- and that feels pretty damn good. And so I tell them, watching their faces fall as the story goes on.
I am sorry that this was a little bit of a filler chapter, but don't worry the next chapter will be full of action! (I hope) Thanks for reading and please review ?