//synesthesia// a phanficton

Dan's POV

    On my walk to school I met up with Phil. He looked gloomy this morning so we stopped at a bench. This moment felt classic and real. Though a pinkish-grey cloud hovered around Phil, he tried to look happy. "Hey Phil," I asked softly.

    "Yeah?"

    His voice sounded tired. It was the smoke emitting off of a burning cigarette, diving off of the nicotine roll. Tired and calm, yet beautifully tragic and sad. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, and I almost did, but we were only friends. 

    "Yeah I'm fine," he said, smiling softly. 

    But I knew he wasn't fine. No one this sad could be fine. I felt his sadness seeping into my soul. "Well I'm here for you," I said, looking into his eyes. 

    His eyes were like the ocean, clear and blue but yet dangerous and full of emotion. I could drown in them. "I like your eyes," I blurted out.

    "Ah sorry, sorry-"

    "No no, it's okay. Thanks Dan," he said, giving me that warm cloudy smile. 

    I averted my eyes and smiled at the ground. We sat in silence for a bit and then Phil spoke up. "Okay Dan, I'm not really okay. I haven't been for a while. I don't tell people who I've just met these kinds of things about me. I just am tired and sad. I can't really say much else right now, except that I trust you and I'm glad you're here for me to talk to."

    He smiles at me and I do it. I give him a hug. Warmth explodes through my body. He holds me tightly in his soft firm arms. Nothing could possibly trump this moment. The color pink flooded my vision. His arms held me as I held him closer. The pink was exploding throughout my body and finally he let go. We let go. My vision went back to normal but he still lingered on me. That pretty pink color would stain me forever. I held my rose tightly to my chest. He was my rose. The smell he left would stay forever. He smelled like a freshly picked rose from a vanilla farm. The warm, vanilla, rose-like fragrance could drive me wild.

    I looked up at my rose. His ocean-blue eyes looked at me with uttermost innocence. "C'mon."

    I stood up and so did Phil. My world shifted. Everything felt right as I walked to school with him. The rocks still told me the same things. Everything still reminded me of the dad that I had or the color orange. But there would always be that lingering smell. That lingering essence of Phil. And it dawned on me as I scoped out Phil. The way his tongue stuck out ever-so-slightly if he were to laugh or smile. The way his eyes crinkled. The way he brushed his fringe away. I was infatuated with Phil, like I had never been with anybody else.

Author's Note: sorry for the inactivity and the crappy chapter.