I really like Phil's shoulders. I like them a lot. I like how broad they are, I like their size, shape, I like how when I had my arms wrapped around his neck earlier, his shoulders felt like they could support my entire weight. I like how even now, in class, I'm sitting at the perfect angle to admire his shoulders. God, they are hot. He's hot. He's hot and I'm a complete and utter homosexual. I've decided. Well, I didn't exactly decide it, but I've decided not to fight it anymore and just let myself be feel whatever I feel, even if that means I'm not straight, so that I can enjoy Phil without feeling any guilt whatsoever. No one has to know, do they? Of course Jamie knows, and Phil sort of knows, as far as Phil knows, I'm still figuring things out, but the fact that I've kissed him more than just that first time probably goes in the direction of him leaning toward my sexuality being one that is attracted to the male species.

"Dan, can you do this for me?" Chris whines, "I don't want to do this."
"What makes you think I want to do it?" I laugh,
"I dunno, you're not entirely unintelligent," he shrugs, "Look at that Lester guy," he laughs this time, "He's got his coloured pencils out and everything."
"I like colouring," I say, and Chris looks at me as if I've grown a horn in the centre of my forehead, "Could you maybe not be a dick to him?" I ask.
"What's he got on you?" he hisses, "Seriously, Dan. What's the deal?"
"We're friends," I tell him, "Pretty good friends actually,"
"I thought he was sort of friends with PJ?" Chris queries,
"He is, but he's my friend too, and I like him,"
"You know he's gay though, right?" he asks, and maybe I really go have a horn growing out of my forehead or something.
"Yeah, so?" I shut him down, "What's your problem with that anyway?"

He seems to think about my question for a moment or so before shrugging, and telling me he doesn't know. He takes a deep breath and scribbles something down on a piece of scrap paper before pushing it across the desk to me, avoiding eye contact.
"I'm sorry," the note says, and I fold it up and shove it into my pencil case before the teacher can notice it.
"Why are you sorry?" I ask quietly,
"Because I'm slowly starting realise how much of a jerk I am to everyone."
"Yeah, I know how you feel," I chuckle quietly, "Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah?"

"You're not like, a homophobe or something, are you?" I ask him, and he looks down for a moment before meeting my gaze again,
"It's not about him being gay, Dan…" he shakes his head and takes in a breath, "It's about finding a person's weakness and targeting it."
"That's fucking awful," I reply, looking up quickly to make sure the teacher hasn't noticed anything, which she, quite thankfully, hasn't.
"It's better than being like him," Chris retorts distastefully and pulls his focus back to the lesson, after that he doesn't look at me. I know he says that it's not about Phil's sexuality, but honestly, I think it might be. You'd have to be dumb not to pick up on that, right? Like, it's not just me being paranoid about my own sexuality, is it? I let out a deep sigh and Chris's eyes shift to me for a moment, but he stays quiet and quickly withdrawals his gawk. I definitely think that his problem with Phil is that he's gay… so where does this put Chris and I as friends? Is he going to hate me too? Do I really want to continue a friendship with somebody like this?

"Dan?" mum calls as I close the front door behind me with a click that she must've heard from the dining room. I follow the general direction of her voice and she's sitting at the large dining table with a spread of papers in front of her.
"That looks fun," I murmur, taking a set next to her and picking up a few of the pieces of paper. They're bills and receipts, and that can only mean one thing. Taxes. Mum hates taxes. I'm sure most adults hate taxes, but mum hates them with a burning, fiery passion. Mum and taxes go together about as well as oil and water.
"You like maths, right?" she smiles at me hopefully,
"I'm not the top of the class, nor the most enthusiastic, but I think I could perhaps be of assistance," I smile, dragging the calculator from under her fingers, "You know, you can hire people to do this," I laugh.
"Why would I do that when I have you?" she pokes out her tongue.

"Do you and PJ ever use the study, or do you just hide out in your rooms?" she asks, abruptly changing the subject.
"We hide out in our rooms," I chuckle, "Or we do this," I say, gesturing the display of work before us on the dining table. She nods and thinks for a minute, grabbing my hand and standing up to lean down and hug me. Now, mum is a little strange sometimes, but she has a tendency to actually make sense, unlike how she is now. This was odd even for her, "Mum, are you alright?" I ask.
"Hmm? Oh, yes," she laughs, "If you can get through this small pile here," she says, tapping on the smallest pile on the table, "Before dinner, I'll double your allowance this week. Fair deal?"
"Sounds like a plan," I say as she glides through to the open kitchen and starts the night's meal.

"Do you think something's wrong?" PJ asks, draping himself over the top half of my bed. Over dinner, mum continued to ask weird questions and justify them just as strangely. Even Jamie seemed a little concerned for her, all in all, it was an interesting evening. PJ and I headed straight up to "hide in our rooms" and after about ten minutes he ended up joining me in my room.
"I don't think anything's wrong," I tell him, "She might be stressed, I mean, she was attempting taxes this afternoon," I laugh.
"Remember last year when she was so overwhelmed by them that she put all of the papers in the dishwasher instead of the plates?" PJ snickers with a grin, and yes, I do. Like I said, mum and taxes just don't work.

"I think I might ask Mia out," he suddenly blurts out,
"Jessica's sister?" I enquire, "As in, her twin? You want to ask out the identical twin of your closest female friend? Really?"
"It does sound a bit sus…" he admits, "Okay, I might not ask her out. I don't like her like that anyway," he shrugs.
"Then why would you ask her out?" I ask, "You're making about as much sense as mum is tonight," I laugh, "And Jessica would probably kill you."
"I don't know… I'm literally the only guy in our grade not to have had a girlfriend or something and I know that she likes me…" he sighs, I can tell that he knows it would be a bad idea.
"Phil hasn't had a girlfriend," I look at him innocently and he laughs.
"Phil's still been in a relationship," PJ chuckles, "You know what I mean though. Everyone's off with their girlfriends and boyfriends, kissing, holding hands, having sex, and what am I doing?! I'm studying, I'm helping in musical productions, and I'm drawing. You've at least had girlfriends, Dan!" He pauses for a moment and I don't speak, he looks like he's about to say something else. "How come you never slept with any of them?"

Why didn't I ever sleep with any of them? That's a good question, but one I don't think I really want to answer. Not now. Not ever.
"It didn't feel like the right time," I shrug,
"Didn't you want to though?" he asks, "I know that Sarah wanted to, like, she came up to me and started demanding answers when you, apparently, turned her down."
"Did she really do that?" I whine and PJ nods, "Jesus Christ. I didn't want to sleep with her because I wasn't ready to do that with her, okay?"
"Sounds like a good enough reason to me," he shrugs, "Mum says you like someone though," he laughs this time, "Why would you tell her and not me?"
"Because she pulled it out of me," I join him in quiet laughter, "But yes, I do like someone, and no, I'm not telling you who it is until a few more things are worked out."
"Aw," he pouts, "Fine…" he gets up and heads toward the door, "I'll see you in morning," he says, and then he's gone.

I had the dream again. I can't even think about the dream, it's horrible, it's… sickening. It's traumatising, and it replays in my mind from time-to-time, sometimes through dreams or if I let my conscious thoughts wander too much. I don't think I can go to school today. Not after that. Not after the dream. I know I've been wavering a bit in my moods, unsure of whether or not I'm actually feeling more depressed than normal, but today I just know that I can't go to school. If I have to go to school, I do very much believe that I would throw myself off of the roof of one of the tallest school buildings. Without really being fully aware of it, I start playing with the rubber band on my bedside table, stretching it between my fingers before it rolls down my hand and stops at my wrist, pricking up some of arm-hair in the process.
"Dan, sweetie, you up?" mum calls from behind the door, and I can't answer her. I can't bring myself to open up my mouth and speak, and it scares me because I don't know why. "Dan?" she knocks again, harder this time, and her voice is a little louder too. I'm just laying here. Silent. Unable to move myself, unable to motivate myself to do anything but allow to eyes to wander around the room, wide open, blinking only when necessary, "Daniel?" her voice sounds worried now. I'm playing with the band again. This time just pulling it out and allowing it to slap back against my skin repeatedly.

She knocks on my door again and I can hear a second voice from just outside my door,
"Is everything okay?" he asks mum, and I don't hear her give him an affirmation or a denial,
"…Just go down stairs, honey, and can you send your dad up, I think he's in the kitchen?" I hear her tell the owner of the voice, it's obviously PJ. Suddenly I'm feeling really guilty. I'm worrying her enough that she hasn't even opened the door for fear of what she might find,
"Daniel?" Jamie calls out after a couple of minutes with another rap on the door, "Dan, are you awake?"
There's some muffled whispering outside the door and I can't make out what they're saying,
"Sweetie, we're coming in," my mother's scared voice projects through the wood. The door handle turns and the door is pushed open. Mum's face looks as terrified as her voice had sounded.

"Dan, is there a reason you didn't answer us?" Jamie asks, carefully picking his words so that they don't sound like an accusation. I can't speak. All I can feel is the tremble in my jaw and the same feeling again as it somehow travels down my arms. "Daniel, what's going on?" his voice seems to soften as the tears begin to form in my eyes. Fucking hell, I'm so pathetic… This is ridiculous. What are they going to write on my note to the school?
"To Whom It May Concern,
Daniel Howell was unable to attend school today as he was feeling too sad to get out of bed.
Thank you,
Mr and Mrs Liguori."?
Yeah, not fucking likely.

"Honey, are you okay?" mum asks, sitting by me and pressing her hand against my forehead. This time I manage to answer simply by shaking my head. I'm not okay, and I'm not going to lie about it because lying just feels too exhausting right now. "Baby, what's the matter?" she continues, wrapping her arms around me a little as he holds me up from my bed. All I can muster is a small whimper. Almost a squeak. Pathetic. After a few more moments of mothering, she lets me back down against my pillow and she's moved away to whisper something to Jamie.
"Dan, I need you to use your words, okay?" Jamie coaxes, "Do you want to talk to just your mum, or just me, or both of us? It's up to you, and those are your options, but if you don't say anything, none of us can help, okay?" It's probably a little helpful to our situation that Jamie's a senior social worker with a Masters in Social Sciences, he at least knows how to not be an ignorant jerk in regards to my… issues.

I take in a deep breath, preparing myself for speech, I can't even explain why it's so difficult today, and slowly, I'm speaking,
"Jamie." If I have to talk to someone about something that I can't talk to anyone about, I'd rather it not be my mum. She doesn't deserve to hear her son talk about things like that; she deserves happiness, and love, and support. A good family like Jamie and PJ. Mum nods and kisses my forehead before smiling lovingly at me and letting herself out, closing the door behind her on her walk downstairs to the kitchen, probably to talk to PJ and tell him everything's okay.
"Talk to me?" Jamie suggests as he takes a seat next to me where mum was sitting before,
"I can't go to school," I state bluntly.

Jamie seems to think this over for a second before answering me,
"Okay, and can you tell me what reason there might be for that?" he asks.
"Because I don't feel okay."
"Physically not okay, or…?"
"Both. Everything. All of it," I tell him quietly, and I'm not lying.
"Did something trigger this, or have you been feeling more down than usual and today it's just too much?" he enquires, "I've noticed you behaving a little differently again."
"Both." I repeat in a small voice, addressing his first question.
"Okay," he smiles reassuringly with a small, knowing, nod, "Let's talk about what's triggered this, then we don't need to worry about school today. Sound okay? Doable?"
"Okay," I answer, because while usually I'd throw myself from bed and launch myself from a cannon to get away from talking about anything, I can't bring myself to even drag myself from my bed.
"Alright," he smiles again, "We're doing well, it's not even eight in the morning and we've gotten one thing sorted."

"I had a dream… I think it might have been a nightmare," I say, too tired to lie. It sounds totally pitiful, laughable even, "It was my dad."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Dan… Do you want to talk about it? It might help if you do," his calm voice suggests. I nod, and he smiles his reassuring smile once more.
"It's a memory. Lots of memories. Similar memories, but they're all so different, but also the same… Actually, I can't talk about it," I stop myself before the tears spill, "Jamie… I hate him. I hate him because I love him, and I hate him because…" oh no, here come the water works, "because I miss him so much even though…" and I can't finish because I'm sobbing. I'm sitting in bed and sobbing to PJ's dad. I'm fucking pitiful.
"Even though?" he encourages me, and he looks a little wide-eyed because I've never spoken about my dad to him before. Not once in the last ten years have I spoken about him to Jamie. Or mum. Never mum. Never.
"Even though he hurt me by leaving and- and…" I cry quietly.

"I'm sorry, Dan," he says solemnly, "It must be really hard knowing he's out there somewhere, and trying to cope with feelings about him, but I do know that that's completely normal, so you're not crazy or anything," he says, obviously trying to instil some sort of confidence in me.
I'm sure he's right. I'm sure it is normal to struggle with things like your dad leaving you, but it's more than that, and I don't know how to tell him. Or anyone.
"Yeah," I shudder, and drop my head so that I'm looking at my duvet-covered right leg and almost bare left leg that's hanging out from under the covers, and close my eyes, listening to Jamie.
"You're so strong without him, Dan. Look at you, you're smart, and a hard worker, and a good person. No, you're not perfect. Yes, you're struggling with some things, but you're an incredible person," he says and places his hand just on the top of my knee, and I almost yell out the words that come from my mouth, high in pitch and quick in succession. Too fast for me to even know what I'm saying. What the hell just happened?! Why did I react like that?! What did I even say?!

I look up and see that Jamie's moved away. No. No! I'm a freak and I've scared him off! Another dad gone because of me. No. Oh, no, it's hit me. I practically screamed, "No, dad! Please don't touch me!"
Oh no. Oh god. What have I done? I'm crying, and I'm panicking. Oh no. I've fucked up, I've really fucked up. Why can't I stop crying, for fuck's sake?!
"Dan…" Jamie finally speaks up after what's probably been minutes of my crying and silently begging the gods for him to forget this entire conversation, "Dan, I need you to talk to me, okay? This is very important,"
"No," I state, "No, it is not important. I lied and I'm sorry, you can ground me and we can forget about this."
"Dan, this is important because you are important. I know it wasn't a lie, Daniel, and no, I can't just forget about this," he informs me.
I shake my head, "Please?" I beg him, "Please, let's just pretend this never happened. This never happened because that never happened."
"What never happened?" He asks strategically,
"My dad, n-never," I stutter, "…he never d-did anything like… Th-that."

Stuttering? Really?! Fucking hell, brain! Can't you just help me be convincing for like, one fucking moment?! He's looking at me, obviously too scared to move closer for fear of my reaction, but too scared to move further away because doesn't want to seem like he's not here for me. He's unsure of what to say, concerned that if he says the wrong thing I'll shatter into a million pieces but genuinely terrified that if he doesn't say anything I'll never open up again – he'll never have another opportunity. It's clear that he doesn't know what to do. If I were one of his cases it would be different, he would handle this professionally, but this is personal to him. He loves me. I'm essentially his child. Actually, he adopted me years ago, I'm legally his child too. This is different. I think I'm done sobbing. There are still some tears, but no more heaving.

"J-Jamie… I'm sorry…" I utter in what seems to be the quietest voice I've ever used,
"You've done nothing wrong," he says, "You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?"
"Yeah…" I breathe, avoiding eye contact.
"I don't want to pressure you into talking about this, but I need you to understand the importance of this okay? You know that talking about this, even if it's not to me, is really important and that this is very serious," he says, still careful not to move, or touch me, or even look at me for too long. I knew this would happen. I knew things would change. It hasn't even been a few minutes and things are changing and- oh no. Oh no. He's going to tell mum. No.
"Please don't tell mum," I beg, eyes wide and full of terror, "Please don't tell her. Or anyone. Please."

"We'll work this out, okay? We'll sort things out so that you're comfortable with whatever happens and so that we know that you're alright as well. We don't need to tell anyone right now, you and what you want are the most important factors right now," he says calmly.
"Don't you- don't you have to go to work?" I ask, hoping that he'll look at the time and fly out the door to work and leave me for a while, but his gaze on my features doesn't waver in the slightest and he shakes his head.
"I don't work on Tuesdays," he reminds me, "Remember?"
Oh. Right. I picked a fucking great day to ruin my own life.

"Please don't think I'm… whatever, but um… could you maybe hug me?" I ask awkwardly and breathily, Jamie nods and gives me a smile that I can really only identify as safe. He shuffles closer to me and wraps his arms around my trembling body, and I feel safer than I ever have in my entire life. Now Jamie knows all of my secrets, and while that's terrifying, it's also comforting.
"I'm going to go talk to your mum and let her know that you and I are going to spend some time to sort things out today," he tells me, pulling away from me gently as I nod in response, "I'm not going to tell her what's happened, alright? I'm just going to tell her that we're okay and that she can go to work and PJ can go to school."

Exhausted, I flop down onto my bed and bury myself in my blankets, taking in a deep breath and closing my eyes. Jamie and I talked all day. The second mum and PJ left, both reluctantly of course, Jamie suggested we migrate to the living room and from there he set up an appointment for next week to give me some time to think about things and decide if I want to talk to him or someone else. Our conversations were all over the place. I didn't go into any detail whatsoever about what happened with my dad. I'm not ready for that. I don't know if I ever will be, but I know that now I might not have that luxury. We talked about my medication, and my school work, and PJ, and Phil, and Chris, and me, and my mental health stuff, and for a little while I did vent about how I miss my dad despite everything. It was a strange, terrifying and confronting day. I'm just thankful that he didn't send me off somewhere. Don't ask me where, I have no idea, but for some reason it was a legitimate concern in the back of my mind.

There's a light tap at my door and PJ opens it before I can answer, he knows he's allowed to do that, and he lets himself in, closing the door behind him. He climbs under the covers beside me and wraps his arms around my curled up body. I've been in and out of bed for the last couple of hours while Jamie stayed downstairs to get some things done.
"Are you okay?" he asks,
"Yeah," I say, "Just crazy day,"
"Dad said not to ask you too much about it…" he trails off, and I roll over to face him properly.
"It's okay. You can ask whatever you want," I tell him, because I know he's not going to be able to even think of anything like what's really going on and knowing he has the freedom to ask will probably put his mind more at ease. He's not going to be anywhere near close to spot on.

"What happened this morning?" he asks, scanning my eyes for answers, "You didn't try to do anything, did you..?
"No, Peej! No, no, I wouldn't do that to you guys. I felt really bad. Like, really bad. So bad that the idea of going to school today made me want to legitimately die," I answer him honestly, "Your dad really helped though. A lot."
"You didn't miss anything today, he informs me and takes a deep breath, "Why don't you refer to him as your dad too? You know that he is, and I know that you have your own dad, but…"
"Because I'm scared to use that word. I don't want him to leave me too…" I answer, my voice quiet and meek, "When someone asks about my 'dad', like a normal person asking a normal question, assuming I'm from a normal family situation, I think of Jamie. I think of your dad. But I feel like there's some barrier, and I don't know what it is, but it's there and as long as it's in place, I don't think I could call him that."

PJ seems to think about this for a moment before nodding,
"Okay," he says, letting out a deep breath, "Phil asked about you today."
Phil asked about me? He asked about me when I wasn't at school? He cares about me? I can't help but smile at the idea that he thinks about me when I'm not around. PJ catches my smile,
"I'll have to call him later and tell him I'm not dead," I joke, "He's coming over on Friday," I tell PJ.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I know you're not going to be home, but it seemed to fit well because mum and Jamie won't be home either. It'll be kind of relaxed, you know?" I beam,
"That's good," he smiles back, "I think Phil is a good friend for you. I mean, he's a good person, and you need that."
"Don't we all?" I chuckle, and PJ moves in closer with a light laugh, "I'm sorry for being so difficult," I tell him, closing my eyes because who knew that crying so much could make you so tired?
"Don't worry about it, it's not your fault" he whispers, and his grip loosens a little as he closes his eyes and he joins me in drifting off to sleep.

"Boys, it's twenty minutes until dinner!" mum's voice calls out, jolting me from my slumber, and PJ's rubbing his eyes, clearly just having been woken up as well. I curl myself up a little more and feel a slight disruption in the process. Oh no. I'm hard. Oh god. I quickly roll over, facing away from PJ in an attempt to hide my shame, and holy fuck, it's not going away. Apparently my brain is making up for not having seen Phil today by having some REALLY inappropriate dreams about him…
"Twenty minutes of sleep until food," PJ mutters, pulling the duvet up over his exposed arms,
"Hey, Peej?" I say shakily, and he responds with a grunt, "I forgot to ask, can you grab me that book from your room, the, um… one for English?" I ask,
"Now?" he moans,
"Please?" I ask, "Before I forget or lose motivation to finish off the question sheet on it?" PJ groans slightly and drags himself from my bed, and I instantly feel the shift in temperature now that he's gone into his room to find the book. The second he's out the door, I grab my towel, draping it over the 'affected area' and bolt to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and turning on the shower to… take care of my problem before he knows what's happening.

The second I step out of the bathroom, redressed in the same pyjamas as earlier because, let's be honest, I couldn't care less about what I'm wearing today, PJ comes out of his room and looks at me with a strange stare.
"Mum says it's dinner in like, five minutes," he says, "I left the book on your bed, and um…"
"And what?" I ask, and he stops for a second and I notice there's something in his hand. My phone.
"…You got a text," he mumbles, "I went to put the book on your bed and it started vibrating and-"
"Chill, I've never cared if you read my texts before, what's the matter?" I ask, taking a few steps forward as he hands me the phone. It's from Phil,
"Received 6:23pm – Phil: Missed you today, babe ;) xx"

I can practically read the smirk in his text, the really cute one that makes him seem all dominant, yet completely adorable, at the same time.
"Dan, are you sure you're not giving him the wrong impression?" PJ finally asks, breaking the momentary silence.
"I'm sure, Peej. We're friends, we muck around! Me and you say things like that to each other sometimes, it's nothing," I answer,
"Yeah, except neither one of us is gay and we've been friends for longer than five minutes," he retorts, and I don't know why but I suddenly feel a little hurt, ergo a little defensive too.
"What if I was gay?" I proposition him, "What if I was gay, would you still treat me exactly the same? Stupid little comments like that and all?"
"I- well, yeah… You're my best friend, but that's different," he says, "You and I are pretty much brothers, we're best friends, we're very different from you and Phil. I'm just worried that maybe you're giving him the wrong impression…"
"I'm not."
"Have you, I don't know, told him that you're straight?" PJ asks slowly,

"PJ, Phil and I have talked a lot more about my sexuality than you and I ever have," I say coldly, "He doesn't have the wrong idea." I turn away from him and hurry down the stairs with tears in my eyes because apparently that's how I'm responding to things now. With tears. I don't know why that conversation has affected me so much, but suddenly I'm sitting at the dining table across from Jamie, whom looks at me with concern once more. Before he can say a word I shake my head, and with that PJ is sitting next to Jamie on the other side of the table. Not even mum's funny anecdote about her day is enough to lighten the mood. Dinner is uncomfortable, to say the least.