The grand life of Philip | ✓

2. Shores of certainty

Cougar looked restless as he looked over Philip more than once while he slept. He finally made himself comfortable enough to tuck his head between Philip's legs and sleep.

A long, dreamless sleep.

Mrs Fork had been making endless phone calls, since her youngest son's psychiatrist was on leave. She felt as she was left stranded in a forest full of vines that choked her. She was desperate to help Philip in any way possible, but she seems to know very little about her son. Her behavior sometimes adds to his mental health, in a not-so good way.

"You need to wake up for school Philly," Clyde knocked loudly on the crooked door of Philip's room, which looked decent enough to function as a door.

Clyde had only received a mumble of agreement of his brother, so he'd left, satisfied that he woke his brother, and strangely proud in being able to help his brother in the littlest ways possible.

Nothing was strange about that as a matter of fact, it had only a simple mind of a good man.

Oh but how his heart would crumble in disappointment if he realized that he hadn't noticed the tears on his brothers cheeks that seemed to be endless.

Cougar whined, licking Philip's cheeks, urging him to get up and get on with the day.

Philip glanced at the bottle of pills on his night stand.

They were newly bought, and he looked at his distastefully. He sometimes thought that consuming it would ruin his image of himself--it made him act like someone he didn't know.

He kissed Cougar's hairy snout and proceeded to get up from the bed, the Tibetan mastiff trotting away from the room to nudge Clyde.

The teenager gingerly picked up a pill from the bottle and dropped it inside the drain in his bathroom.

He looked relieved for a moment, until he looked at himself in the mirror.

He was reminded of a boy who used to love playing with wet soil. He was reminded of a boy who fell in love with music so badly. He was reminded of a boy who always wanted to be reminded that he was never alone, since that's how he felt most of the time.

He had always believed that there was one person for another, and brushed the theory after he learned about polyamorous relationships. Still, he believed that there was somebody out there, just for him.

He wanted that.

He wanted someone to be with intimately. His sexual desires were the least of his own concerns. He looked to connect with somebody's laughter, eyes, words and soul, not their body.

And weirdly enough, he somehow already felt like he was connected with Fletcher Handerson, who knew his name not even twenty-four hours ago.

Philip stared at himself.

He wanted to choke the person staring back at him, but he could never bring himself to do that, no matter how much he hated him.

--

He had his head turned to the wall, his head down on the desk before him, while waited for his chemistry teacher to waltz in.

He was exhausted, and felt the need to drown all of a sudden.

Tears were streaming down his cheeks yet again.

He sniffed.

Fletcher Handerson, who silently took a seat next to him just before the their chemistry teacher entered the class, knew something was up the moment he heard soft sniffs from his desk partner for the moment.

He took the risk of hovering over Philip's face to see his face, and luckily, he was sleeping, tears still flowing from closed eyes.

He was crying in his sleep.

Fletcher didn't think twice to run his hands through Philip's hair, once he sat back straight.

He hadn't noticed the abrupt stoppage of the tears on Philip's cheeks.

Oh, if only Philip was awake.

Fletcher Handerson had left a little while before Philip woke up. His chemistry teacher never bothered about his students' activities in his class as long as they didn't portray any public display of affection.

He was bothered, and Philip was clueless.

"I expect better from you Mr Fork," he had spoke to Philip in a strict tone before he could join the other teachers in the staff hall for lunch.

Philip thought it was because he slept in class, and wondered why his chemistry would care since he never had before. Philip likes to sleep in his classes a lot.

It was not new.

He stood up to leave but stopped short and noticed his biology notebook lying casually on the desk in front of him. It looked a little fancy with a sticky note stuck onto it.

Thanks :)

Was all it said.

Philip gulped audibly and grabbed the sticky note, crushing the small piece of paper, ready to throw it on the bin.

If only he had read the back of the note before he threw it in the bin, he wouldn't feel so miserable.

"He could've told me in person," he whispered softly, an audible crack in his voice, and an invisible one in his heart.

He had left the classroom feeling miserable.

He didn't miss the stares he received when he walked in the hallway.

Why won't they stare?

Fletcher Handerson was basically massaging another boy's head, and people talk.

Philip had never felt so exposed.

He wanted to cry when people blatantly looked at him and whispered to their friends, some even pointed fingers.

Ignoring his hungry stomach, he speedily walked to the library, and sat on the brown couch at the far end of the library, in the Action/Adventure section, where people very rarely pick up a book to read.

But Philip read just about anything.

He picked up a book to distract himself for the time being, and stop himself from drowning in sorrow.

He didn't cry, but sniffed.

He wanted someone to hug him.

He sniffed, blindly flipping through a random book he flipped.

He knew that he was going to cry and he hated it.

Philip set the book aside carelessly and sat at the edge of the couch, wanting to pull himself together.

He cupped his mouth when he was about to sob. He absolutely despised his current situation.

He sobbed loudly, cupping his mouth to muffle the sounds escaping his mouth.

Completely oblivious to the fact that he left Fletcher waiting, he sobbed.

~

Choco publishes the chapter, done waiting for the author.

*choco grumbles*