Couldn't Have Been Clearer (PHAN)

Chapter Two // Blue Eyed Beauty

Dan's POV

        I struggled to make my tie not choke me as I walked into the school building, finding a group of buff looking guys and girls with skirts that almost showed their underwear to be the only people partially crowding the hall. I wiped my sweaty palms on my trousers, shaking slightly. I was an eleventh grader who just transfered schools because of my father's work. I could have stayed with my mother who, of course, stayed behind after their divorce. But, when I had the choice, I went with my dad.

        See, my mum was addicted to alcohol, and usually lashed out on either me or my dad. Soon enough, Dad put in a job transfer when she started to get into serious trouble with the police officers of our small suburbual city outside of the major city of London. He wanted to get away from her considering everyone knew each other and were pretty much affraid of coming near us, or pitied us. So, Dad gave Mum two options.

        Option one was, we moved into the city and she'd sign up for at a rehabilation center and a support group for alcoholics along with anger managment counciling so she could clean herself up some. And by some, I think he meant all the way.

        And option two was, he moved her to a different suburbual town and divorced her.

        She chose option two.

        During the whole process of divorcing papers and custody orders, I became slightly depressed. Not that my parents were getting divorced, oh no. It was that I never saw Dad because he was either always at work, in court, or getting a good three hours of sleep. I watched him as he poured himself strong black coffee each morning and night, so he could stay awake. I felt bad, especially when I offered to make him dinner or lunch or breakfast, but he insisted on making me something mumbling that he was a terrible father.

        I would reply with, "Your not a terrible father. Your a wounderful father. You just have a load going on." Then, I would watch as his eyes would rim with tears and he would end up silently crying, which made me sob. I can't stand it when my father cries.

        When the court gave me the decion to either go with Mum or Dad, I was confused until the explained that I was old enough to make my own decions. I immediatly chose my father.

        But, Mum was always sobered up for court and seeing the hurt expression on her face made me feel dissappointed. Dissappointed in myself for not caring.

        I was knocked out of my almost never-ending stupor by the crowd of jocks and girls with short, short skirts as they started walking in my direction. I panicked suddenly, but then calmed myself. Maybe they weren't coming towards me.

        Boy, was I wrong.

        They asked me what my name was and where I came from and where I lived and asked me if I was straight. I raised my brow at the last question and then realized that they must be homophobic, considering they seemed like they were just waiting for me to say "Of course I'm straight."

        That's what I lied about.

        See, I knew that I was gay when I was little. Then, when I was twelve I thought I was bisexual. Finally, last year, I came out to my dad telling him I was gay. I defiantly knew I was gay.

        He took it rather well when I came out. He was supportive, even gave me a pat on the back with the encouraging words, and I quoet: "Good thing, that. Women are insane."

        Currently, I stand in a main hall- the second I believe -where they were telling me about all the gay, lebian, and bi people.

        A girl, maybe a senior, with curly dirty blonde hair, short, and curvy, was talking about a guy. "His name is Phil Lester. He's a lonely kid and the e-a-s-i-e-s-t target. Couldn't kill a fly to save his life." The crood group laughed, and I gave my best fake laugh, trying to fit in.

        I hated fitting in.

        I felt like there was a burning on the back of my neck. Like someone was staring at me. I turned around and found that a boy with stunning raven black hair, a petite nose, soft looking-lips, and a pale complexion was staring at me. And his eyes- don't even get me started with his eyes. They were a piercing crystle blue that I got lost in from across the hall. I smiled and waved at him.

        Soon, I found out what his name was. "That's Phil Lester!" whailed someone, angerly. "The fag must fancy you, Dan."

        No matter what, I could not tell them that maybe he didn't fancy me, but so far, I certianly fancied him.