silence ; phan

five

I panic every time Phil has to tap my shoulder to grab my attention; because during lessons I have to concentrate on my work, so I can't look at him to know when he's talking. I don't think he thinks anything weird about it, though, because he just goes on as he did before, talking about random stuff which makes me chuckle.

Arguably, I could just not pay proper attention to my work, but I have good grades, and I'm not letting that change. We walk out of the lesson at the end, having had none of my- our friends in the lesson, so it's just us, which I don't mind. Honestly, groups are stressful for me, cause I have to guess who's going to talk and look at them, and then not speak if someone else in the group is, which I do a lot, but I think people just think I'm enthusiastic, so it's fine.

We walk to the bench, being the first there, which means we have first dibs on where to sit. There's really no difference depending on where you sit, but I take the glory out of it anyway, sitting at the end, as it means I'll have a good view of everyone, so I won't have to turn my head, and I'll be able to see when everyone's speaking.

Phil sits beside me, and I smile. Friends are something that I don't come by often, so, the raven haired boy quickly making his way into the small bubble of people I like is a good thing. I've taken a quick liking to him, his bubbly attitude that I don't need to hear to know that it's there.He seems very optimistic, despite having had no friends or not even being noticed for so long, which sounds shit, to be honest. 

I can't imagine being able to smile like that after being so lonely, I'd be complaining about it, but he's not. He's just seemingly happy about making friends now.

Everyone else arrives, but they all keep to a different conversation than what Phil and I are talking about, which I like. I've never liked someone instantly before, but now I have. He's different to the others, always uncertain about what he says, even though he's funny and nice. Constantly making sure his fringe is perfect and fixing his collar. I find it different, and I like it. I like him. I can't get too close to people, though. That'd mean we'd talk a lot, and talking a lot would lead to him finding out. 

"Can I have your number?" He asks, and I nod my head, ripping the corner of a sheet of paper off and scribbling down the digits, handing the paper to Phil, my writing slightly smudged, which I blame on my left handedness. I turn my hand to see the ink on it and laugh to myself.