Give Me Some Of That Bass // phan

In Bloom

"And stop calling me out, we're never going to
Put the pieces back together
If you won't let me get better"

***

Phil didn't get a chance to see Chris until after school. He wasn't at lunch with the rest of their group, and Phil searched almost every classroom trying to find him, but with no luck. PJ had made it pretty clear that his message was of utmost importance, and Phil was trying his hardest to relay it, but his friend was nowhere to be found.

"What do you think he even meant?" Grayson asked, standing at Phil's locker and staring off into space, as if pondering this very philosophical, earth-shattering question. "'The journals aren't working'. Seems pretty cryptic, doesn't it?"

"Who knows what goes on in PJs head," Phil sighed as he closed his locker.

Neither Grayson nor Elliot knew about Chris and PJs dark and dreary past together, and it looked like it would stay that way for a while. Phil had only told Gray about PJs message to him because he knew something was up, and he would probably be more willing to help him find Chris if he had at least some of details.

Phil was starting to wonder just how confusingly tangled Chris and PJ were; it was obviously something only the two of them would know about, something personal and unique. He didn't know how Chris would react to him reiterating PJs words, didn't know if he would get angry about it or silently obsess over it and shut himself away again. There was just no telling with that guy. He just hoped it wasn't one of PJs evil ploys to get Chris distracted and emotional before FTC.

It seemed like every time one mess got cleaned up, another one was forcing them to get dirty all over again, and it kept getting worse and worse. There was no telling how long they could keep it up until something broke, something that couldn't be fixed easily.

He drove Grayson home silently, and when he was alone again, he tried his hardest to pile all of their current problems into one organized mess to deal with one at time.

Between Chris and PJ, and PJ and Dan, and Dan and Phil, and Grayson and Elliot and FTC and school and his parents...there was no fucking breathing room. He was holed up in this tiny box, completely overwhelmed with all the responsibilities that everyone was shoving onto his shoulders, and it was hard enough keeping his head above water without all of it pushing him down, but now he was tasked with trying to find a solution to all of it and not fuck it all up again. They had to know by now it was something he wasn't good at.

He drove the Chris's house and was relieved to see his car parked in the drive way. He didn't know what he would have done if he wasn't here.

"What's up?" Chris asked when he opened the door, still in pyjamas; he'd probably been in bed all day. "Nobody's dead, are they? You have this weird look on your face."

"What? No." Phil shook his head. "I just have to talk to you."

"Oh." Chris sounded suspiciously disappointed by that, but he stood to the side and let Phil in anyway.

The house was clean, everything put in its proper place and nowhere near the idea of even cluttered, but Chris's room was a war zone of tangled clothes and cords strewn across the floor and various cups on almost every flat surface. He claimed it was his way of presenting his personality in a physical way, but everyone knew he was just too lazy.

Phil closed the door behind him, and Chris flopped back onto his bed, pulling his laptop onto his chest. "So what do you want to talk about?"

Phil sat at the desk. "Why didn't you come to school today?" he asked. He wasn't purposefully trying to avoid the subject, he just didn't want to cause any problems so soon. He didn't know how sensitive the words PJ had given him were, and it was clear how much it would affect his friend if it turned out to be something he couldn't deal with.