After James // phan

confidential pt. 9

I was afraid, and it was obvious. I was avoiding him, and it was obvious. I was a coward, and it was very, very obvious.

I never thought I'd use work as a way of avoiding my problems. Usually, work was my problem. But now I have a much bigger one. So I was always sitting at my desk, hours on end, upwards of six days a week, more than Louise did, more than anyone I knew did. I was in a constant state of panic. And coming home in the late hours of the night, I was always wracked with fear that I just might run into Phil again.

But two months after I had re-met him, I realised something. Something so stupidly obvious that I couldn't believe I hadn't thought about it before.

Me avoiding him made it very clear that he was onto something. It practically put a flashing neon sign above my head that said "Phil is right!". I can't believe I was being so stupid. It had been two months since he figured out who I really was. And nothing had happened to us. He obviously wasn't friends with Charlie, and didn't tell the world that he found me and exactly where I was. No, Phil was being a very civilised human being with a slightly exaggerated sense of curiosity. And he was my neighbor, whether I liked it or not. If I just introduced myself, the real me, and told him to not tell anyone, I could relax. I could stop being so tense and reclusive and maybe begin to become friends with him.

I couldn't really say I trusted him. But I had no choice. Not only did the feds deem him safe, Louise did too. And somewhere, under all the deep-rooted fear the government officials instilled within me about people knowing my true identity, I knew he wasn't dangerous. I'd have to blindly trust him, for now. And, maybe one day, he could earn it.

I took a well deserved break from responding to emails and pretending I knew what was going on in my office, and went home at 6:00. Louise looked up, startled, when I finally barged my way inside.

"Hey, James." Her concerned face softened. "You're home early." I nodded, and she went back to her baking. Always baking, that girl. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and hugged her tight. It had been a stressful past few months, but I could never forget that she was my best friend. She was my voice of reason, my help through all of this. Recently, I've been up so early and out so late that I rarely saw her anymore. So I hugged her, to make sure she knew that she was my shining light in the darkness.

Louise chuckled, and leaned her head back on my shoulder.

"You're in a good mood," she hummed. I held on.

"You know I trust you, right?" I asked, finally releasing her. She knit her eyebrows and slowed her stirring, the batter in the bowl settling as her confusion took over.

"What are you on about?"

"I trust you. Do you trust me?" She smirked, and set down the bowl.

"Yes, I do. Why are you asking?"

"I think we need to tell Phil. About us. Or. uh, me, at least." I didn't know what I was expecting. In my head, she started screaming and throwing things about. But I knew that, if she disagreed with me, she'd only calmly explain her side of the argument to me. That's one of the things I loved about her. She was usually so level headed. Which paired well with my spontaneity and over-thinking. It was when she was flustered that you needed to watch out.

But Louise just nodded, calmly, her tranquil face barely hiding the cogs turning furiously in her mind.

"Why?" she asked, softly.

"Because he knows already. I figure he should hear it from us and not have to go searching it on the internet and possibly outing us by accident. If we tell him, and ask him not to say a word, he'll be cautious and not go blabbing our secret. I believe he's a good enough person to do that for us. We wouldn't tell him much, just that our identities have to stay a secret. He's smart, he'll figure it out eventually. If he gets it from the horse's mouth, he'll understand. Don't you think?"

Louise nodded again. "I suppose you're right. This is going back on our contract, though..." she just smiled and turned back to her baking. "You'll have to do it yourself, love. There's no way I'm going to."

"That's okay. I know just the thing."

Several hours later, after the sun had set and the stars started glimmering, I was wrapped in a blanket on the freezing porch, allowing the one flickering light bulb that attracted moths in this late hour to illuminate the pages of my novel. But I was barely paying attention. I was just waiting, waiting, waiting-

"We meet again, James." Phil's voice was slightly muffled due to the cigarette he had dangling from his lips. He flipped open the lid of his lighter and held a hand against the biting wind to light the end of it. I hope you're not getting comfortable, Phil.

"Yeah, it has been a while hasn't it? How've you been?" Phil took a long drag and blew a long breath into the dark night, the smoke dancing in the sharp fluorescent light like a ghost, transfixing me.

"Same as always. Same old life, same old job." He rested his forearms on the banister and was silent for a second, flicking ash to the street below. "You read that before?"

"What? Oh, yeah." I glanced down at the book in my hands. I actually hadn't even read the pages I had skipped in the beginning, but I thought it might have been a good conversation starter. "Have you?"

"At least a dozen times." His words lingered, like he was going to say something else, maybe one of those half-interrogative-half-flirty remarks that always seemed to spill from his mouth, but, instead, he just took another long suck on his smoke.

"Cold out here," I commented softly, pretending to turn back to my book, but really just watching Phil through my eyelashes. This plan was crazy, and it probably wouldn't work. But maybe I watch too much TV and read too often, because in my head, this was the perfect setting for a perfect storyline. Once he learns the truth, a friendship, and possibly more, could emerge.

"Yeah it is. We should go back in." Phil picked a paint chip off the banister and flicked it off the balcony along with another trickle of ash. The glowing embers at the end of his cigarette were dulling. This had to be quick, time was running out.

Maybe it was having the name of a fictional hero, one from my childhood. Maybe it was the realisation that I wasn't really over this boy, not since primary school. Maybe it was the night, the cold air getting into my head and affecting my thoughts. Maybe it was all three, or maybe it was something else, that made me feel so brave. I suddenly wasn't scared of anything. I suddenly was no longer Dan Howell. I was James McCloud. I was forward, I was honest, and I was unafraid.

"I don't want to wake Darcy." A pause, while Phil drew one last breath from his cigarette. "I wouldn't mind a cuppa, if you'd like to invite me into your flat again." He chuckled, and the fiery end of his ember hissed against the cool metal of the decrepit banister. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah. Okay. Come with me."