Give Me Some Of That Bass // phan

The Currents

"How can you think you're serious?
Do you even know what year it is?
I can't believe the scary points you make"

***

It was almost eleven at night, and Phil had been trying to stay awake for the last hour and a half. He didn't usually take late shifts at his dad's restaurant, because he wasn't a big fan of working at all, and he didn't need the added exertion on top of homework and band practice. But lately, he'd been needing a distraction that didn't have to do with staring at his bedroom walls until he got dizzy or talking to other people, and this was the only choice. At least he got paid for it.

The place was empty, long since rid of the late night occupants and the other employees who actually had lives and plans, so that now it was just him and his dad, and the occasional flickers of the fluorescent lights that painted shadows on the walls out of the corners of his eyes. It was boring.

"Don't you usually stay up until three in the morning?" His dad walked out from the kitchen carrying a large box, grunting as he set on the counter, and turned to his son. "Didn't think a late shift would be too much of a challenge for you."

"Not like I have anything to do," Phil said tiredly, resting his chin on his folded arms. They were technically still open, but no one else would come in at this hour, not compared to the flashy, more extravagant and expensive cafés and diners just around the corner. This was more of an afternoon place, where curious passerby stepped in to see what an area like this had to offer that allowed it to still even be in business. Phil sighed. "When are we leaving?"

"Soon as I'm done taking inventory." His dad opened the box and started piling stuff onto the countertop; mustard and ketchup, napkins, and silverware. "Why don't you make yourself useful and organize the cash register, you know Mike always makes a mess of it. I swear, it's like he's never seen proper money before in his life..."

Phil pushed himself off of the counter and headed to the register, sighing heavily when he opened it and saw how much of a mess it really was. He didn't have enough physical effort for this right now.

A sort of docile calm fell over the two of them as they worked their separate jobs, and the only sound was the occasional scratch of pen against paper from his father and the clink of change against the counter as he sorted it all out.

It was times like this he liked having such a reclusive relationship with his parents. They could sit in silence for as long as possible, not uttering a single word about their personal lives or anything outside of what needed to be said at that exact moment, and it didn't matter. It did seem a bit unhealthy and worrying, but right now, he could do with some time to himself.

But then there were times when his parents did ask about his life. Maybe just to fill a silence they felt was too awkward, or to try and seem like they were interested in what he had been up to lately, but it was always unplanned and uncomfortable.

Tonight was just not his night.

"So," his dad started, not looking up from whatever he was writing. Phil glanced at him uneasily. "How have things been lately? Doing good in school and all that?"

Phil bit his lip, pausing from what he was doing. "I guess, yeah," he muttered. It wasn't like he didn't want to talk, just...maybe some other time. Like, a few years from now. "I'm doing a lot better in Physics." Despite his previous lack of enthusiasm towards the constant tutoring with Holden, he found that it actually had helped him improve his grades, which was at least one less thing to worry about.

"Wow, words I thought I'd never hear." He laughed at Phil's scowl. "And, uh, what about the mystery someone you've been seeing behind our backs?" Sometimes, it was very weird to realize that they knew next to nothing about his personal life, despite the fact that he was the one who made it that way.