arms // {phan}

chapter three - dan

Chapter Three- Dan:

I had never been so excited to go to school in my entire life. I was lying in bed, the covers twisted around my legs that had been dancing a jig the whole night. I was staring at the clock on my bedside table, counting down the minutes until I could go back and see nothing but blackblackblackblack and ohmygodblue.

I was wearing a giant dumb smile on my face, the kind you got when you looked at pictures of small animals for too long. And my smile- it grew- taking up my whole face- no- the whole room- no- the world.

Because I, Daniel Howell, might have just made a friend.

Yesterday, I came home the same way, my balloon head dangling somewhere in the clouds- because I, Dan Howell, might have made a freaking friend! Forget 2012 world ending, this is how the world really ended. Or mine anyways.

I'd walked through the door, into the lounge where my parents were sat, whispering to one another. Their expressions were ones of shock and surprise as they looked up at my balloon head and I- happiness practically drowning the room- no- the world.

    "Honey, what's up?" my mom had asked.

    "Son?" my dad had said. Worry was swallowing both of their tongues but I didn't care.

    I didn't respond, but this time it wasn't because I felt like a waste of space, or I felt as though I had to trap myself inside a cardboard box- within my chest- the one with the words "MEGA fragile" stamped on the front.  

    No, now I physically couldn't speak even if I wanted to because I was on Cloud 9- no- in another galaxy- floating up past the telephone wires and birds and everything. I was invincible.

    I remained like that for the rest of the night, doing nothing but smiling like the biggest dork in the universe.

    I glanced at the clock again, still counting down the minutes.

    It was 5:34 a.m. That meant only 259 minutes until I could see nothing but blackblackblackblack and ohmygodblue.

    As I continued to smile like a complete loon, and waiting until it would be considered a non conspicuous hour that a fifteen year-old boy would be up at, I thought about him. Him. The only him I'd thought about in the past 12-hours.

    I thought about his jet black hair, that looked like ravens nested in it. I thought about his gait, hands in his pockets, a slight limp in his right leg, most likely caused from a childhood injury. I thought about his eyes, like gems stuck into that cavern of his, like a secret ocean just hell bent on swallowing me inside. I thought about his angular face and the scowling expression- the one he let me draw yesterday. I thought about how he stood up to Logan and Eli- the two Neanderthals- and nearly made them piss themselves. I thought about his drawing of me- the one in my sketchpad- the one I'd looked over what felt like a thousand times. I thought about how he stared at me while drawing it- his gaze basking my face in warmth, turning it red until I was a tomato with shoulders. I thought about his white t-shirt, with cuffed sleeves that showed off his collection of tattoos. I thought about him without the shirt, his white porcelain skin just begging to be drawn. I thought about him without any clothes o-

Wait.

I sat up quickly, the smile sliding off my face and shattering to the ground. I felt my balloon head pop and float back down to the space between my shoulders. My cheeks were hot as I replayed that last thought, my hands fisted over my lap.

Oh God, I thought. Was this what I was feeling?

I'd known I was gay for while; it wasn't that difficult to figure out once puberty came 'round and I was sporting boner every time I saw the male facique.