Speechless

Chapter 1

A/N

So basically, i wrote this fic for PBB3 with the help of my wonderful beta @sleepeatandfangirl.tumblr.com and wonderful artist @sweetnessofimperfections.tumblr.com

Please enjoy the fic and remember that i love to get feed back!

(P.s the submission date for this fic was set on my birthday,how cool is that!... You may continue...)
- M

***

Phil
Ten years old

Phil Lester, being the ever curious boy he was, had first started asking questions about everything and anything ever since he had first learned how to structure a sentence, but one question always stood out to him above the rest.

Ever since he was little, his parents would always read him fairy tales about the wonderful swirly writing that seemed to just magically appear on people's wrists and, once he got older, they told him the story of their own sentences and how they had met. By the time he was ten, Phil had a pretty substantial amount of knowledge of what the writing was.

"They are first words that your soulmate will ever speak to you." His mother had explained. "A soulmate is the one person in the world who is perfect for you. They're like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle that fits perfectly into your life and completes you."

Phil had listened in awe as his mum explained to him that how, when he's old enough at seventeen years old, his own soul mates words will appear on his wrist and how he'll then always be waiting for the one person who would say those words to him.

"You mustn't spend your life looking for the person who'll say this to you though, Phillip," She had said "because it's the moment when you're not looking, when you'll find them."

But it seemed that the one question he had always wanted the answer to, was the one question that wasn't able to be answered. "Why? Why does the writing appear?" Phil was ten now and had been asking different variations of the same question for years, but was never able to get a straight answer.

While Phil may always have a lot of questions to ask and things to say, he only ever sparingly asks the teacher questions and talks to the other students. Due to his naturally high anxiety levels that he's had ever since he was little, it made it hard for him to start talking to people that weren't in his immediate family. Ever since his older brother, who used to help and encourage him to start conversations with the other children and would stick up for him whenever he got picked on, left for high school at the end of last year, Phil was left completely on his own. Phil was stranded in a primary school filled with other children that he was completely sure hated him and with teachers that practically ignored his existence, but he was happy just sitting quietly at the back of the class, waiting desperately for the last bell to sound so he could go back to the safety of his home and his family.

***

At the start of the new school year, Phil was introduced to a brand new subject, named ISW, this stood for Irregularities of Soulmate Writing, or Speech Writing as some called it. This new subject taught the class all about the very few, unlucky people that never have writing appear on their wrist and, therefore, don't have a soulmate.

Phil started to become bullied more than usual after that day...

***

His mum was in the middle of telling him another story of the fantastic writing that would supposedly appear on his wrist one day. He tried to listen, he really did, but his mind continued to wonder about the possibilities of him never having a soulmate and those continuous thoughts made the once, seemingly wonderful, stories start to lose their magic.

***

He wasn't quite sure how it happened. One moment he seemed to actually be getting along with people for a change and the next moment he was practically laughed out of the playground, running away and hiding in the boy's toilets in a locked cubicle. What he said that was so funny to the rest of his classmates, he had no idea. All he knew was that it must have been bad, 'Like everything else I try to say', he thought. Phil was now sat atop of a closed toilet, his knees hugged tightly to his chest as he tried to stop his body shaking and the tears from rolling down his face. He just wanted to go home.

***

After having sat hugging himself inside the boys toilets for about fifteen minutes, still too scared to face the other students and not at all wanting to drag himself through the English class he would be having after this lunch finished, he decided to fake a stomach ache so that he could go home.

***

The ride home in the car was silent. Throughout the journey, Phil caught the feeling that his mum knew that he wasn't sick, but she didn't ask him about it. She always seemed to know how to treat him when he had days like these and knew that the best thing to do would be to let him talk when he's in the mood for it and not to try and pull it out of him. For this he was thankful, although his mum probably assumed it was due to another panic attack, which wouldn't have been a complete lie.

***

Once they arrived home, Phil waited outside the door, bag slung over his shoulder, as his mum unlocked it. Just as they stepped inside, his mum stopped him from walking by putting her hands on both of his shoulders standing in front of him. "Are you okay?" She asked gently as she looked down at her son, who nodded slightly in return. She let out a small sigh and an "Alright" before kissing him gently on his forehead.

Phil ran up the stairs to his bedroom, engulfing himself within his blue and green check duvet and sitting cross legged with it hanging over his head, hugging his small toy lion tightly to his chest.