Couldn't Have Been Clearer (PHAN)

Chapter 3 // Film Class

{A/N: a mandatory read}

I am currently writing on my phone. No indents.

Phil's POV

Shuffling inside of my classroom, I tried to forget about the milk-chocolate haired boy. Hardest part was though, was that I couldn't.

Every time I tried focusing on my work, my mind wandered off to imagine what is voice must sound like, what his personality was like, what music caught his attention, and those deep, dark, brown eyes. I had to snap out of it. I didn't even know him.

Worse of all, if Paul and his gang found out that I- I fancied him, I would be more than beat to a bloody pulp. I would be killed.

After the bell rung, I practically sprinted to my next class. My second period class was my favourite- Film. Best of all, it would probably take my mind off of him...

Film was one of those extracurricular classes that wasn't mandatory at all, but still looked great on college applications. Me and about three girls sat in a small run down- dare I say -classroom, when it was more of a broom closet. The teacher was also my drama club instructor of music.

His name was Mr. Jennings. He was a daft old man with salt-and-pepper hair with a matching beard. He had a pot belly and had half moon glasses. He was my favourite teacher of all time.

I was, like always, the first one in the classroom, even before Mr. Jennings. Out of instinct, I pulled out my iPod and shoved my ear buds in my ears. I hit shuffle and smiled slightly, closing my eyes, as 'Save Me' by Muse played. I played it low enough just to hear the door creaking open. My eyes popped open, looking sheepishly up at the clock. 9:24.

Mr. Jennings usually came into the classroom smelling oddly of paste and coffee at exactly 9:30, where he would ask me if I'd found 'a special mate'. Then, at 9:34 the three girls would come in, mummbling apologies for being and saying it wouldn't happen again. But, everyday was the same, every time the same. So, Mr. Jennings would accept their apologies, but say, don't promise something you can't actually give. Which, would be them being on time.

Maybe he was just early? But, I didn't smell the stomach churning aroma of coffee and paste. Instead, it was replaced by the sweet smell of vanilla, cinnamon, and... malteasers?

I looked over as the chair next to me, which was usually occupied with the emptiness of space, was pulled out and sat upon by- him.

I took out my ear buds. He looked at me, eyes sparkling. "My name is Daniel Howell. I prefer Dan."

"Phillip Lester," I practically breathed out. I cleared my throat, "But, I bet you already know that, considering you're one of Paul's now. You'll be beat for talkin' to me, you know."

Dan nodded, but shrugged solemnly shrugged. "I could care less."

I felt a rosy blush spread across my cheeks. I tried hiding it behind my fringe, but obviously failed, seeing his lips curl up at the the corners. I looked up more at his face and saw the most adorable little dimples appear.

"I have a question for you, Phillip-"

"Please," I interrupted. "you can call me Phil. One L, not two."

His smile increased, his eyes sparkling. The eyes that engulfed me into their warm brown colour that I felt I could stare into all day. "Okay, Phil, I have a question for you," his smile turned into a straight expression, furrowing his brows. "Are you- are you really gay?" His stumbled, his voice a quiet hush.

I slouched down into my chair, hiding even more behind my fringe. "Yes." I whispered back, all most inaudible.

"Hey, he said, making me look up. His gorgeous smiled was back. "It's cool. I'm not homophobic."

"Then you'll definitely fit in with Paul's group." I said sarcastically.

Just then, at 10:30, Mr. Jennings walking in, smiling cheekily. "I see you've met Dan, Phil."

I nodded, pushing hair out of my eye.

"Found a special mate?" He asked.

I smiled, and replied with my usual reply: "Not a single one, Sir."

xxxxx

"Molly, Jessica, and Michelle," Mr. Jennings spoke. "I want you to sit together."

The girls shuffles over to one another, sitting side-by-side.

"Dan and Phil," he said. "well, you're already sitting next to each other."

We all chuckled.

"Anyway, we will be working on a project for the upcoming winter dance. It will be a masquerade. So, Dan and Phil, I ask it you both work on the academical side of masquerade. Such as, the history, the point of which originated, the exact point of masquerade. Phil, I ask if you do the commentary. You have a wonderful speaking voice

"Girls," he paused, taking a sip of coffee. "I ask of you to interview a few choice students. An exact count of five males and five females. Ask them questions. Brainstorm them. They could either be acedemical, or just a simple question such as 'Would you like to have a continuous run of masquerade dance every year?' Of course, you would re-word it for the illiterate fools not taking my class." His lip twitched into a smile.

We laughed again.

"You will be able to work on this for three weeks. The week before the dance, which will be in a month from now, is when we will add them together. Class adjourned." He finished.

We still had five minutes before the bell went off, signaling third period, so I turned to Dan. "What's your number?" I asked.

Dan shrugged. "I don't have a mobile, but I have a landline."

I gave him my flip phone. "Add your number?"

He did.

I tore out a piece of scrapbook paper and wrote down my number for him. He took it, leaving the class.

I was nervouse for this assignment.

{A/N}

Long chapters, yes or no?

~TC