Outcast ✧ Phan

Eleven

mem·o·ry
noun
something remembered from the past; a recollection.

I stared up at the ceiling, the chipping white paint strokes from when the house was built capturing my train of thoughts as I let them chug through my head.

Its been around two weeks since the first time Phil came over to my house for study group. As extremely cliche as it sounds, those weeks were feeling like the best two of my life so far. We, Phil and I, have gotten much closer. The feeling I get with Phil continues to jerk me around, and all the voices in my head never fully fade away, but I can't help but notice how things seemed to have gotten better.

My library times in school are less lonely and silent now, since Phil spends them with me. We haven't hung out anywhere outside of school or "study" hours, but I want to.

My dad, also, hadn't touched me or yelled at me for some time. I haven't self harmed, either. I smiled to myself, wanting to enjoy the bliss as much as I possibly can.

My phone in my pocket vibrated, and I pulled it out. I had a text from Phil.

From Phil: Hey

I typed out a reply, letting conversation take hold. This is pretty much what it looked like:

Me: Hi
Phil: How's life? :p
Me: Not bad, actually. How about you?
Phil: Same.
Phil: Off topic, but wanna hang out sometime?
Phil: Like outside of study group and school and stuff
Me: Hmm, let me check my schedule
Me: Yes okay I think I can squeeze you in
Phil: Tomorrow?
Me: My schedule says im quite busy tomorrow, but I can manage
Phil: Yes because we all know how busy you are xD
Me: Shut up xD
Phil: When n where?
Me: How about somewhere other than my bedroom floor for a change hm?
Phil: Your bed? ;)
Me: You wish
Phil: Psh fine your loss
Phil: How we go see a film after school?
Me: Okay what film?
Phil: Minions is looking promising
Me: God phil no
Phil: Okay let's just pick one when we get there ok?
Me: Ok, it's a date
Phil: Yup, I gtg, bye x
Me: Bye x

I tossed my phone beside of me, grinning like an idiot. When you break through that shy little shell of Phil's, its almost like meeting a whole new person. Underneath the fumbly, quiet one I first saw at school is a fun, considerate, and slightly flirty Phil Lester.

I really knew I didn't deserve him as a friend. He was so perfect in every single way, and I was, well, the exact opposite.

I almost wished I could tell Phil about my powers, but last time I told somebody, things got messy. My powers weren't the only thing I was keeping secret from him, though. The feeling I get around him is only becoming stronger. I'm not entirely sure, myself, what it is. Even if all the signs are pointing to some kind of crush, I don't want to believe it. Phil was the only friend I have, and I wasn't about to fuck everything up because of some small feelings.

I sat up in bed and looked around my room for something to occupy my interest. I've had enough thinking for today.

I walked over to my closet, searching for a distraction and opening the door. The hinges made an unpleasant creaking sound, and I sat crisscross style in front of the mess of boxes and old picture albums. I poked and prodded through them, until my eyes caught on a certain box, one shoved way into the very back.

It was a metal box, many years old, and had a rusty padlock on it. I reached forward and dragged it to me by the lock, flinching when the metal snapped in half.

My jaw unhinged itself and hung agape as I opened the box. Inside was something I hadn't seen in a long, long time.

In all its glory, there lied my old question book.

Its had to have been, what, seven years since I last wrote in it? I couldn't remember in the slightest why I locked it away like a misbehaved animals. I had used the notebook to write down any questions I had, about anything in the world, then found the answers and later added them to their corresponding questions. From what my memory serves, it had been nearly my most prized possession, aside from the teddy bear my mum gave me. My gaze flickered over to the stuffed animal sat atop my bed currently, its little red sweater as cute as ever, then back to the pages.

I flipped through the book, skimming the old paper with my fingertips grazing the words as I read. The memories flooded back, sending a sharp pain into my heart. Many of the questions linked to bad experiences, ones I didn't want to remember, yet still I continued reading page after page.

I sighed when I got to the back, the inner cover holding multiple random scribbles that had been acquired over time, closing the book and standing. Instead of shoving it inside of the closet, hidden from the light of day and whisked away like a forgotten memory as my younger self had wanted, I put it on my desk. It sat in the middle of the surface, my scribbly handwriting from many years ago on the tattered front in smudged sharpie: Daniel J. Howell.

A/N - sorry its short, also, 200 reads?!? ahhHHhdgcusjdhhdksisjs thank you all so much this is amazing I'll try to make the next chapter longer I promise but like hOOooommyyGoood 2 0 0 inDividual hUMan bEiNgs chOse to rEAd tHis PIeCe of sHit stab me with a dull spork I can't breath