"Stop whining," Greyson suggested, speed walking over to the fridge. "Naomi can stay as long as she wants, she's family. OJ?"  "Toss it." He did, and Phil caught it easily, his clumsiness forgotten when it came to food. "Family's overrated."  "Feel lucky. I tried for kids with Myrel for six years with no luck. Marrying your mother was the best thing I ever did. Five kids, just like that, and I didn't have to do anything!"  Phil grunted into his cereal. "Six, if you include the rodent."  "She's not a rodent, she's a baby. She's going to cry, you'd better get used to it."  "Who's going to cry?" Asked Tucker, hurrying into the kitchen and grabbing the cereal from the counter. "Amanda?"  "The rat," Phil explained.  "Amanda cries a lot too. I think her baby makes her sad."  "She's just tired," Greyson explained. "Hey, didn't you need a permission slip signed? Something for school?"  "Rocket museum field trip. I already turned it in."  Greyson leaned against the counter. "Really? Who signed it?"  "Mum did."  "That means he did," Phil explained to his bowl of cereal. He stared into it like it was trying to communicate with him, tell him the answers to his Calculus test or his problem with the baby. "He's getting good at faking signatures. You should see him do mine."  "Snitch. Greyson, would you like some eggs sir?"  "Yes please. But you're still grounded."  Tucker came up behind Phil and gave him a light smack on the back of the head.  "I need formula," Amanda declared, stepping into the already crowded kitchen. "Janie's crying again."  They all strained their ears to hear. Sure enough, the baby's wail sounded through the house from the upstairs, loud enough to hear but not loud enough to be bothersome. None of them had noticed yet; it had become a familiar background noise.  Greyson frowned in worry. "I thought you were still breastfeeding?"  "If I breastfed her every time she was hungry I wouldn't have time to do anything else. She's a hungry little baby. Lots of growing to do."  "She's fat," Phil corrected.  "Your mum."  "She's your mum too."  "Is mum up yet?" Sandy asked, coming into the kitchen and grabbing a bowl from the cupboard. Her old purple bathrobe that was two sizes too big dragged on the floor, her tangled brown hair falling in messy waves down her back. She sidestepped Tucker with ease, sliding in between the crowd of people trying to navigate the too small kitchen all at once.  A few of them shook their head. Phil continued to stare into his cereal bowl, not even eating anymore.  "She's sleeping," Greyson explained. "She had the graveyard shift."  "She did animal surgery at a graveyard?" Sandy asked, eyes wide.  "It's an expression. It means the late shift."  "And it wasn't animal surgery," Greyson explained patiently. "The clinic your mom works at has someone on site 24 hours a day, in case anyone's pet gets sick and needs help right away."  Phil's phone beeped, and he got up quickly, grabbing his backpack that was slung over the other chair.  "Have fun at school!" Greyson called out.  "Have fun selling used cars," Phil called back unenthusiastically. He walked right out the door without looking back, letting it slam shut behind him.  "He's a great kid," Greyson muttered. "Works hard. We shouldn't be too hard on him."  "School makes him boring," Tucker half agreed. "I like him better in the summer." --------  He wasn't wrong.  Phil rode the bus in silence, putting his backpack on the seat next to him so no one would sit with him. Headphones in, he pulled out his homework and started to review for his A-levels physics class.  Getting to school, he went throughout the day in silence. He talked to a few friends along the way, but all in all it was uneventful. He took a test and got another test back. B+. He'd have to do corrections.   When he got home, he went up to his room and started studying. He only had an hour until Tucker got back, and then the house would get progressively noisier and noisier until ten that night when it would simmer down, and he'd be able to study in silence again. Tucker had the top bunk, so he didn't mind Phil keeping his lamp on for most of the night, as long as the overhead light was turned off. However, sometimes his snoring distracted Phil.  After half an hour of reviewing, the rat started crying again and Phil was ready to stab someone. He changed out of his school uniform and into grass-stained jeans and a t-shirt and started going around the neighborhood, going through his checklist. Mrs.Henderson needed the hedges outside her house pruned every Thursday, and it was also the day he mowed the Howell's lawn.  An hour and a whole lot of sweat later- it was far too hot for November- Phil was knocking on the Howell's door.  It swung open after a full minute, revealing not Mr.Howell, but his son, Dan. "Hey Phil."  "Hey Dan. Is your dad here, I finished-"  The boy turned around, calling into the house, "Dad! Phil's here!"  They waited a few beats. Dan turned back to him. "How much do we owe you?"  "25 pounds."  "Jesus, you're ripping us off."  "Better your dad pays me to mow the lawn than make you."  Dan shrugged. "Probably."  His dad came running down the stairs, panting a little. "Phil! Good to see you!" He was a mess, almond brown hair sticking up almost at random. He stepped forwards and almost stepped on his son's foot if Dan hadn't stepped back.

 He scanned the front yard quickly then the boy in front of him. "How much is it again?"  "30 quid," Dan answered for Phil.  They both watched as his father emptied out his pockets, turning each one inside out hurriedly before finding the one with his wallet in it. "Ah ha! Here we go!" He pulled out a fat stack of cash, pulled off a few bills, and handed them over. "There you go. Payment for the week. Have any more leaves fallen?"  "No. That tree's been bare since the beginning of October."  He nodded quickly, stuffing his wallet into a different pocket than he'd pulled it out from. "That's great. And the lawn looks great, thanks for doing such a great job. I have to keep working now, but um, have a nice Thanksgiving!" He turned and hurried back up the stairs, skipping a few steps.  Dan and Phil watched him go. "It's two more weeks until Thanksgiving," Phil observed. "I'll see him at least two more times until then."  Dan snorted, still looking at the stairs where his father had sprinted up. "Yeah, he's a clutter-brain. Everyone tells me he's a genius, but... well, I have my doubts." He looked back at Phil. "He works in his office upstairs. All day. Sometimes doesn't even come down for meals."  Phil nodded, not really relating but at least understanding. "He's loud at night?"

 "Nah." He looked up, not really looking at anything in particular. "He hardly makes any noise in there. Sometimes I hear a crash, but that's just his clumsiness. He knocks down stuff every once in a while, but besides that, our house is usually dead."  "Must be nice. My house is always too loud to study in. You taking any A levels?"

 "Yeah, I'm in a few of your classes. Calc, and Lit. And forensic science, but that's not A levels."  Phil nodded, his cheeks a little warmer. "Sorry. I don't really talk much in class."  "I don't either. But I still look up every once in a while." He sighed. "I'm just procrastinating by talking to you. Have to write an essay. I'd rather throw myself into oncoming traffic."  "While I'll let you get to it then."  "Which one, studying or throwing myself into oncoming traffic?"  He shrugged. "Either or. But if you do decide to end it all, let me know so I can have your room. I'd be able to get stuff done so much quicker if I had some quiet."  Dan smiled. "Okay. I'll give you a heads up, put your name in my will maybe?"  "Definitely. See you around, Howell."  "See ya Lester."  As Phil walked home, he counted the money Mr.Howell had given him. Thirty pounds. Phil had been working for the Howells for at least a year now, and every single time he got paid he was asked how much it cost. Mr.Howell was clearly a cluster-head, and that was a nice term for it. ---  Phil knew he'd made a mistake the second the words came out his mouth.  The teacher was out for the period in general health and nutrition class, and no sub had shown up, so they got their desks all in a circle and decided to play a game of never have I ever. Phil didn't have any friends in this class, and he hadn't really talked to anyone in it recently, besides Dan, but that one time a week ago on his porch had hardly counted. Apparently, Dan and him had four classes together total. Phil had looked up in each class long enough to check.  The game was going fine for a few minutes. Phil, who never went out or did anything especially stupid, had most of his fingers up still. And then it got to the next person.  A girl, who smiled and proudly declared "Never have I ever kissed a girl."  Laughing, some people making noises and their friends put fingers down until someone noticed Phil didn't put any down. "Phil, did you put a finger down?"  He could feel his heart jump a little. "No."  All eyes were on him. "You've never kissed a girl?"  "I'm gay."  The reaction was immediate. Wide-eyes-open-mouths-chairs-scooted-back-worst-case-scenario "I didn't know there were any fags at our school!"  A few football players looked mortified. "We had gym together! Were you checking us out?"  "What? No!"  "Oh my God, he's kissed a dude!"  "That's disgusting!"  "I can't believe-"  "I'm sorry I'm late, class," the nutrition teacher stated, hurrying in through the front door of the classroom, coat and bag in hand. "My car had a problem and had to be towed, and my phone ran out of battery so I couldn't call anyone. Please arrange your desks back in their proper order, and we'll get started."  Everyone hurried to do as she said, doing their best not to touch Phil. They acted as if he had the plague, like his gay was contagious.  After a few minutes, they were all in their seats. Phil looked around and realized that there was a ring of empty desks around his seat. ---  Word traveled like wildfire.  After that class, he was afraid no one in the hallway would want to touch him. But to his surprise, only a few people seemed to know what had happened.  He practically ran to his next class. He sat down and put his head in his arms, mouthing the words it's going to be alright, it's going to blow over, no one will care, no one will care...  And no one in that class did care. Or so it seemed. Phil did his best not to look up.  He ate lunch in that class. Hopefully, already everyone in that God forsaken class had forgotten.  But by the time it was passing period again, it seemed like everyone knew. During lunch, everyone had been able to go on their phones and talk to their friends, and people stared at him in the hallway like he'd grown a tail.  "Gay."  "Homo."  "Lester, yeah, the boy with the black hair and the pasty skin-"  Phil put his headphones in at that point, drowning them out in music. He'd fucked up. ---  Dan answered the door that afternoon. As soon as he saw Phil, he scowled. "Dad! He's back!"  Phil leant up against the doorway, his breath shaky. Dan's expression made him want to curl in a ball on the floor. "Do you hate me too?"  "I'd be stupid not to."  "Because I'm a fag," Phil clarified.  Dan looked back, making sure his father hadn't appeared yet. "Because you can't keep your big mouth shut. Didn't you know that it'd ruin everything?"  Everything? "Everything?"  "I'm here!" Dan's dad appeared on the stairs, running down so fast it was a miracle he didn't trip. "How much?"  "25," Phil said quickly, daring Dan to correct him. He didn't need his help.  "25," Dan's dad agreed, quickly pulling out the bills. "Such a great thing you're doing, I'm sure everyone in the neighborhood appreciates it. I've always hated mowing the lawn."  "I've never minded it," said Phil, trying for an upbeat tone. "Good exercise."  "You kids need lots of exercise," the man agreed. "Daniel here does boxing. Great full body workout, keeps you healthy. Sorry, I've got to-"  "-get back to work," Dan agreed, glaring daggers his way. His dad didn't notice, just turned and left, back up to his office.  Phil turned to Dan. "I didn't know you boxed."  "I didn't know you were a fag," he sneered, turning and slamming the door in Phil's face.  He blinked. "Um, okay. Well... I guess I'll see you later too then." ---  "Anything interesting happen at school?" Phil's mum asked.  They went around, all of Phil's younger siblings sharing. Tucker got an A on his blah blah blah, Sandy got asked out by blah blah blah, and Phil's youngest sister, Anna, got made fun of for wearing her hair in a side braid when all the other kids wore theirs in a french braid.  "Kids can be cruel," Greyson advised, his paternal wisdom straight from a parenting book. "You can't let them get to you. The only people who are bullied are people who let themselves get bullied. You have to stand up for yourself..."  Blah blah blah. Blah blah. Blah. Phil was amazing at toning his family out at the dinner table. Now if only he could tone them out as efficiently when studying...  "And Philip? How was your day?" His mum asked brightly.  "Fine."  "Anything interesting happen?"  "No."  "How'd you do on that Lit exam?" Greyson offered with a smile.  "Fine."  ---  It was ten at night. Amanda was on her phone in the next room, the paper thin walls barely muffling her voice. On the top bunk, Tucker snored obnoxiously.  Phil closed his eyes and tried to think about Moby Dick. He had to study. He could not fail A-levels Literacy.  He was smart enough for this.  Would he have any friends when he went to school tomorrow? -------  Cereal. Backpack. Bus. School.  Yes, he still had friends. Yes, they accepted that he was gay. No, they didn't want to talk in the hallway. Yes, they were still his friends. You're right, you should have kept it to yourself, they said. You just royally screwed yourself over.  Class. Class class. Bus. Home. Study. Change. A note was stuck in the back pocket of his navy, school-issued trousers.  Faggot.  He threw it away, then thought better of it and tore it up, then threw it away.  By then Tucker was home, and soon Sandy and Anna were too. The house got louder and louder, and Phil's focus became less and less.  Finally, he gave up, tossing his folders and notebooks into his backpack, and heading out the door. ---  The bagel shop also sold coffee. However, it tasted horrible. Phil bought a small cup.  He chose a corner table and dropped his backpack, digging through it to find his materials, and sat down, immediately starting to write. He had to write a five-page report on the first half of Moby Dick, and he wrote without thinking.  Phil felt the presence next to him before he saw it. "Moby Dick? Interesting. You liking it?"  Phil looked up. "Hardly. What are you doing here Dan?"  He waved his bagel, making a duh expression. "I'm actually just leaving now. Enjoy the Dick book. But knowing you, I'm sure you will." He bit down on his bagel, reached out and knocking Phil's half empty coffee over, spilling all over the paper and his lap. "Oops."  He left, and Phil was left staring at the mess. Only half aware, he pushed his backpack and the book aside before the coffee could stain them. The pages he'd written so far were already ruined. He looked over them, trying to read what was written.  It didn't matter. Nothing he'd written had any sort of meaning or rhythm, and he'd used the same example at least three times. He balled the papers up and threw them away. ---   People pinched him in the hallway. He didn't know who it was but knew from the snickers it was the same people. He didn't react.  "Ooh, I think he likes it," a voice giggled. "Maybe he wants you to do it again."  "I bet he'd like it more if there weren't so many people here," another voice remarked quietly. "He'd be on his knees before you could snap your fingers, so desperate to get-"  Phil stuffed the headphones in his ears, turning his music on quickly. The louder the better. He tried to walk faster, ignore the looks. He really tried. ---  "Phil, anything new and excited happen at school today?"  "No."  "You've been giving the same answer all week! Surely something must have happened."  "No, nothing has. I presented that Health and Nutrition thing."  "Oh! That's nice, how'd it go?"  "Fine," he lied. "Can I be excused? I'm meeting with a friend."  He was exused, and as quickly as possible got his backpack and got over to the bagel shop. A cup of coffee in hand, he made his way to a table more out of the way than the first one, plugging in his music.  Peace and quiet, he thought, because music doesn't count as noise. My closest friend. ---  He couldn't afford to go to the bagel place every day. He was saving his money for uni, and mowing lawns didn't make that much.  The next Thursday, when he went to the Howell's house to collect his money for that week, Mr.Howell answered the door for once. "How much?"  "25 pounds. Is Dan at boxing?"  "Hmm? No, he's upstairs studying."  It took longer than normal for Mr.Howell to find and count the money. Phil shifted uncomfortably on the porch. "Dan's pretty lucky. I have to study at the Bagel shop by Main, my families so loud."  "Oh, you could always study here," Dan's dad said easily, counting out the pound notes. "Downstairs on the dining room table. Plenty of room, my wife works until nine most nights, and Dan studies upstairs, so there's plenty of room."  Phil blinked. "Are you serious?"  "Of course! You seem like a nice boy, I trust you. And you wouldn't be bothering either of us. Come over tomorrow with your study stuff, and you can just go at it. You seem like a nice boy."  On one hand, Dan hated his guts. On the other...  "Okay. Yeah, thanks Mr.Howell, I really appreciate it." ---  It took three days for Dan to notice him.  Phil let himself in after the first day, when Mr.Howell said it was easier for everyone. Then he studied at the dining room table, the house so quiet he questioned whether anyone was home at all.  He came back the next day, and the same happened. And the next day was shaping up to be the same, when Dan came downstairs to get a snack and stopped in his tracks. "What are you doing in my house?"  "Reconsidering my life choices," Phil answered immediately. "I should've taken easier classes. School is whooping my ass."  Dan walked over, surveying the mess of school supplied splayed across the table. "I bet you like that though."  Phil attempted a smile. It didn't work. "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm kinky."  "You didn't deny it," Dan noted. Before Phil could defend himself, he was talking again, saying "But actually, what are you doing in my house?"  Phil rubbed his temples painfually. "Your dad said I could. I needed a quiet place to study."  "And you can't study at your house because...?"  Phil looked at him like he was an idiot. "Because I need a quiet place to study," he repeated, slower, as if to help Dan process it. "I have four siblings, not to mention the rodent."  "The rodent?"  "My sister had a baby. She never shuts up."  "The sister or the baby?"  "Both." Phil tilted his head to the side, considering. "Mostly the baby though."  "Cool," Dan deadpanned. "I'm going upstairs."  "Have fun."  He didn't respond. ----  Across Phil's locker, the word 'Twink' was spray painted, bright green. He tried to wipe it off with a wet paper towel, but it did nothing. ----  Beep. "The number you are calling is not available. Please leave a message, after the tone." Beep.   "Hey Peej, it's Phil, I was just wondering if you wanted to go the new movie theater sometime, check it out. I don't care what we see, um, you can choose. So... yeah. Call me back." Beep.  Beep. "The number you are calling is not available. Please leave a message, after the tone." Beep.   Beep. "Hey Mark, it's Phil! Do you wanna hang out sometime? It feels like it's been forever. So, uh, yeah, call me back!" Beep.  Beep. "The number you are calling is not available. Please leave a message, after the tone." Beep.   Beep. "It's Phil, I heard you and Julie broke up? Just wondering if you wanted to rant or talk about it or whatever. We could grab lunch or something. Um... yeah. Call me back." Beep.  Beep. "The number you are calling has been disconnected and is no longer available." Beep.   Beep.  ----  "I'm going to die," Tucker was saying, laying on his bed with his head hanging off the end. "I'm actually going to die."  "It's only report cards," Phil reassured. "You're smart. You'll be fine."  "I did horrible in Science this quarter. I didn't even turn in my notebook, I forgot. Mum's going to kill me!" He rolled over, staring at his older brother miserably. "I wish I was like you and actually liked school."  "I don't like school."  "That's all you ever do though. You go to school, then you get home and study. How could you not like school?"  Phil shrugged. "Guess I don't really like the people there. We don't really see eye to eye." ----  "Dunk! Dunk! Dunk! Dunk!"  "Better close your eyes, bum-chum!" Phil's head was dunked under, water pouring onto his face as they flushed the toilet. He sputtered for breath, the chanting and cheering being literally drowned out by water.  They let him go and he threw himself forwards on the disgusting bathroom tile, coughing and spitting, desperate for air.  "Funny. I always thought that you'd swallow."  More laughter. Phil wanted to cry, or die, or kill them or all three.  The bell rang, and everyone dispersed, leaving him in a wet pile of tears and toilet water. ---  Dan was staring at him.  Phil had done his best to dry off, but he could only do so much. He refused to let the bullies make him miss class though, especially Calculus. He already hardly understood the class, he couldn't afford to miss a full day of instructions.  Phil tried to ignore the other boy's gaze on him, instead listening to the teacher. "...I'm sorry, but I don't let anyone take home the textbooks. We have a class set of 30, and that's all the district will provide for us for the next 20 years, basically. However, if you'd like you can stay after school..."  Dan was still staring at him. What happened? He mouthed from across the class.  I'm gay Phil mouthed back. He didn't know if Dan understood or not, but the boy's eyes widened, and Phil could tell that he'd made sense on at least some level.  After school that day, Phil was studying where he always did when Dan sat next to him. "Finish Moby Dick yet?"  "Last night. It was amazing, a fine piece of literature, blah blah blah."  Dan nodded. "I hated it. I still have twelve pages left to go."  "The last bit isn't so bad. It's better with the end in sight."  Dan nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. On a scale of one to ten, how gay exactly are you?"  Phil almost got whiplash from how fast Dan had turned the conversation around. "Um... I don't know. I'm not that gay."  "You're lying," Dan observed. "I'm not going to hit you or anything. Or make you go swimming like your friends from earlier did."  "They weren't my friends."  "I didn't think so. Now come on, scale of one to ten, one being straight and ten being so gay that you-"  "Ten." Phil cut him off, not sure if he wanted to hear the rest.  Dan's eyes widened. "Seriously? So you'd-"  "I'm very gay," Phil agreed. "So gay that I've never kissed a girl and never want to. So gay that I can't even imagine dating a girl, or marrying one, ever."  Dan leaned forward, interested. "So you'd like, suck dick?"  Phil winced. "In theory."  "And you would like, take it up the ass, and-"  "God Dan, please shut up. Maybe. I don't know, are you offering?"  Dan's eyes got wide.  "It's... it's a figure of speech," Phil explained, backing up. "Not a real question. Now, can I get back to studying, or-"  "Yeah, yeah!" Dan stood up so quickly he almost knocked the chair over. "Yeah, I was just curious. You can go back to studying, you're just like... the only gay person I know."  "There's more of us," Phil said, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. "Other gay people at our school, in fact. There have to be, the stats don't lie."  "Not that any of us would know it. After everything happening with you, you'd have to be stupid to come out at our school."  Phil scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah. I guess you're right."  "Yeah!" Dan took a step back, then shuffled forwards, bumping against the chair unceremoniously. "I'm going to go... study!"  "Okay," Phil responded with slight amusement. "Have fun."  "I- I will!" He turned around and almost ran straight into a wall. He quickly sidestepped, then was up the stairs, turning into what was assumably his room.  Phil shook his head, smiling only a little bit. ---  "The game's coming out in the New Year, but I want to preorder it now. Then I can get it as soon as possible. It has these super amazing graphics, honestly, I want to a design class or a graphic art class or something like that so I can learn how to do that sort of animation, because have you seen it? It's so cool! It's too expensive, but I'll get it anyways, I have some money saved up..." Phil trailed off, looking around. "Why are you all looking at me like that?"  Greyson was the first to clear his throat. "Um, it's just you've been so quiet lately. Is there anything new, or anything? You've been spending a lot of time away from home. New friends?"  Phil shrugged. "Not really. Just... the game I guess." His shoulders slumped forwards slightly.  "Tell us more about it!" His mum prompted quickly. It was the first time in a long time that she'd seen her son so vibrant, and she wasn't about to let him go back to sulking so fast.  Phil perked up. "Yeah, it's got these controllers..." ---  "No you spoon, it all goes back to the limit definition of the derivative. You have to define the variables, see, here..." Dan underlined a few numbers, gesturing with his pencil. "And then.... multiply here...." He was completely entranced in the work, marking and drawing lines connecting the dots, getting wrapped up in the math of it.  Phil didn't really remember how they got in this position, with Dan sitting at the table with him, showing him how to do the homework. Phil had had no idea, and he still didn't fully understand it, but it was becoming easier.  "Like this," Phil muttered, taking out another pencil and adding onto the equation Dan was writing. "You square it." 

 Dan stared at it for a long moment, blinking. "Um, no. You don't square anything. If you wanted, you could root it... actually, you probably wouldn't want to do that. Here, look." ---  It made more sense for them to work on their homework together. Phil didn't remember when it was decided, but one day Dan started bringing his work downstairs and working at the table with Phil, going over problems together and complaining back and forth. Dan was good at calc. Phil was better at Lit. Neither of them liked forensics. And both of them thought that generally, government class was stupid and signing up was a mistake.  They were talking one day when one of their phones went off in the pile of papers and notebooks scattered across the desk. "Get it," Dan suggested, nodding to the pile.  "Well it's not my phone."  "That's not my ringtone. You probably just usually have it on mute."  "Who would be calling me?"  Dan shrugged. "Well answer it!"  Phil jumped up, digging through the pile and flipping over his near-empty backpack, grabbing the phone and answering at the last second. "Mushi Mushi?"  There was some crackling at the end of the line.  Phil caught his breath. "Hello?"  Silence. Then, after a beat, a low deep voice growled "you have seven days to live."  "Dan, it's for you." Phil handed the phone over to the very confused Dan.  "Hullo." He paused, listening to the voice. Phil could barely hear it.  "Seven days..." it whispered guterally.  "Thank God," Dan mumbled in reply. "But can we speed up the process a bit? I have a test before that. Could you just kill me now?"  The voice seemed to consider this. "Not now. Tonight."  Dan clicked flirtily. "I'll light some candles. See you at 7." He closed the phone, hanging up with a grin. "Friend of yours?"  Phil shook his head, smiling lightly. "Nah, little brother. He got his own phone last week and has been prank calling people ever since. I'm actually kind surprised it's taken him this long to try it with me."  Dan laughed. "Amazing. I always wanted to have a little brother."  "I don't know. Tucker's all right, but I'd prefer to have my own room. Then I wouldn't have to come over and invade your space every day."  "You're not invading my space." The air seemed to crackle with electricity, or maybe something a little more dangerous. Then it disappeared. "Have you seen my room yet?"  "No. Wanna give me the grand tour?" ---  Phil had never had his own room. Dan practically had his own floor.  "There's Dad's office, which he spends about 23 out of 24 hours in, so it doesn't really count. But they technically sleep in their room downstairs, so I have loads of space."  Dan's room was at least twice the size of Phil's, and it looked even bigger with a double bed instead of the bunk beds that took up most of Phil's space. The bed had hidden storage under it for Dan's clothes, and next to it sat a nightstand crowded with figurines from animes, little mementos, and a few condoms.  "Nice," Phil said dryly, staring at the latter, which was out in plain sight.  "Um, ignore that!" Dan opened the drawer and swept the condoms and a bottle into it, closing it quickly. "No one ever comes in here, so it's not like I need to hide them."  "No one ever comes in here," Phil repeated, picking up an empty wrapper from the floor. "Yeah, I believe you."  Dan snatched the wrapper out of his hand, stuffing it in the drawer with the others. "Shut up." His cheeks had turned a bright pink.  "Why do you have two desks?" Upon further inspection of the room, Phil realized there were two desks inside of one, one in each corner opposite the bed. Only one had a chair by it, and that was the only one with papers on it. The other had a stack of discarded clothing on it, like it had been downgraded to a laundry hamper.  Dan looked where he was staring. "Oh, that's dad's old one. He gave it to me, like I'd have use for two."  Phil shrugged, glancing around. Nothing else was of much interest to him, unless he was willing to ask Dan more about the condom wrappers, which he wasn't.  "Wanna get a snack? I'm hungry." ----  The coffee tasted much better at the Bagel shop when he was sat at a table for two. It turned out, Dan was actually quite funny, though most of his jokes were horrible and caused Phil to snort so hard he almost directly inhaled his coffee.  Other new information learned: the bagels at the bagel shop taste about as bad as the coffee. Dan got one, and it was so stale he could tap it against the table and make a noise like horses galloping on pavement. Dan ate it anyways.  The whole building was so warm. Phil felt like he was wearing a woolen jumper. How long had it been since he'd felt so warm? Too long.  Dan smiled wide and laughed loud. And Phil did too. His cheek muscles ached from so much exercise after so much disuse. ---  Phil was just setting his stuff down on the Howell's dining room table when Dan called him upstairs. When Phil got to the top of the steps and peeked in his room, Dan was sitting in his rolling chair, the end of a pencil between his teeth. "Do you want to bring a chair up here? I don't get the Lit assignment." ---  There were few things that felt better than leaving school for holiday break. Actually, two, to be exact: leaving school for Summer Vacation and leaving school for good.  Dan whooped, tilting his face up to the starry sky and leaning back, stumbling only slightly. The brown paper bag he clutched in one hand sloshed around with his movement, the drink inside it still half full.  Phil's drink was half full too. It was strange- earlier that school year, he would've called it half empty. But lately, a lot of things were looking half full.  "I'm gonna to be an astronaut when I grow up," Dan slurred, stalking forwards, eyes trained on the stars. "'m gonna see the stars up close, and personal. Get all up in their space." He squinted, daring the stars to disagree.  "Is that what you're studying at uni-"  "Don't say that word!" Dan commanded quickly, cutting him off. "Evil. I'm in a good mood, satyr, don't ruin it with your talk of the future."  Dan's insults had been getting more and more interesting ever since they did the unit on The Odyssey in A-levels Lit. Dan had done an essay on the various ways mythology was ingrained in the culture of the time, and needless to say, he'd gotten a bit into it.  Phil took a big swig from his bottle, letting the liquor pour down his throat like molten lava, stinging and burning his tongue. They walked in curved lines, words slurred but brains still mostly aware. The empty space in their bottles wasn't enough to get someone drunk, but luckily for them, it wasn't all they'd been drinking that night.  "I hate parties," Dan mumbled. Most of his filters had been strewn on the floor, sloshed around and discarded like bad mouthwash. "Too many stupid people."  "It was your idea to go," Phil reminded him.  "Stupid," he repeated. "I don't even like dancing."  Phil raised the bottle to his lips and gulped, doing his best to wash the memory away. Dan had danced with a girl, some stupid brunette who was significantly smaller than him. They'd danced, and then made out, before Dan pulled away and spat on the floor. No one cared. It was too late and the air smelled too much like vomit and beer for anyone to care.  Phil wished he didn't care. "You like her?"  Dan didn't need to ask who he was talking about. "Not really. Just someone to dance with, someone to kiss." He sipped from his bottle, stopping to giggle lightly. "Not that you'd know anything about that."  "In my defense, I can't kiss people. Nobody around who'd want to."  "Oblivious potato you are." He cackled up to the sky, eyes gazing around as if waiting for Zeus to appear and pluck him from the ground. "'My name is nobody'," he quoted, smiling vaguely.  Phil shook his head, trying not to think about The Odyssey any more. Dan was referring to the passage where the brave Odysseus was face to face with the monstrous cyclops, Polyphemus. When asked his name, Odysseus replies 'My name is nobody'. Later, he stabs the cyclops in his one eye and escapes with his men, and Polyphemus chases him blindly out to the shore screaming bloody murder. When the other cyclopes on the island hear him and ask what's wrong, he screams 'Nobody stabbed me! Nobody stabbed me!' and Odysseus is able to escape.  He stared at the boy next to him, face illuminated solely by the thin scrap of moon that was visible. Phil wondered if he was thinking about the Odyssey too.  "She was a horrible kisser," Dan mumbled. "Tasted like cigarettes." He turned and looked at Phil sincerely, voice scratching out, "Don't smoke. I don't want any campfire kisses."   Then he stumbled forwards, continuing to walk, quoting: "'Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than a man.'"  Phil giggled. "You should probably head home now. Sleep it off."  Dan nodded tiredly. His shoulders were weighed down visibly, as if he still carried his backpack jammed full of expectations and textbooks. "'There is a time for many words,'" hiccup "'...and there is also a time for sleep.'" ---  Phil awoke with a pounding headache and a light blush across his cheeks. ---  "Your friends can't come over on Christmas," their mum insisted. "Christmas day is for family only."  "Sweetie, let's not be unreasonable. They just want to have fun! What about Christmas Eve?" Greyson suggested, ever the mediator. Sandy stared at them from across the dinner table, her puppy dog face on maximum level.  She frowned, thinking it over. "Fine. But Sandy, only bring one or two friends over, we hardly have enough room for everyone in the house as it is. Phil, could you go to the store sometime this week and get hot coco and eggnog?"  "And whipped cream!" Sandy added excitedly.  "Probably need two cans," Greyson agreed.  Phil nodded, making a mental note. "And, um, if Sandy is having friends over, do you think I could invite someone too?" ---  Phil sat on the carpeted floor, leaning against the maroon couch. His hands were wrapped around the warm mug of eggnog, and he sipped it slowly, trying to savor it. He was only allowed one glass, as Greyson insisted that it was important not to start drinking too young. Needless to say, Phil wasn't about to tell him about his and Dan's activities the week prior.  Dan sat closely nestled next to Phil, also with a single mug of eggnog and an overly festive jumper. The main difference was, Dan's was black with a reindeer on it, while Phil's was covered in reds, greens and whites. When Dan first saw it he claimed Phil looked like an 'obnoxious candy cane', to which Phil replied with something that wasn't supposed to be sexual, but of course Dan ended up taking it that way.  Dan was very warm, and their arms pressed against each other, though Phil reminded himself that it was because there was so little space. Sandy and Anna had friends over, meaning that there were currently around a dozen people in the sitting area and kitchen, which were made even smaller by the almost invasive presence of the plastic Christmas tree. "We should get a real one this year!" Phil had suggested upon seeing Greyson carrying the box down from the attic.  "No can do," he'd replied easily. "Real Christmas trees are a potential fire hazard. Do you know how many people get electrocuted watering Christmas trees naked, a year?"  No, Phil had not know, and no, he did not enjoy that mental image.  Dan was quieter than normal, sipping his eggnog and observing the goings on of the family and extras.  Finally, Phil spoke up. "I'm glad you could come. Are your parents celebrating with friends?"  Dan shook his head. "Mum might be. But Dad's spending the night in his office. Hopefully he'll get up and go to bed before it's time to open presents."  Dan's father was an extremely intelligent man, with a spattering of fancy degrees and an extremely prestigious job. But Dan talked about him like he was a deadbeat.  "It's weird being here," Dan admitted. "I've never had siblings."  "I've never not had siblings. I used to hate it, middle child syndrome and all that. Now... I don't mind it as much."  "I bet not. Especially since you don't have to study at home anymore."  Across the room, Phil's younger sisters and their friends laughed loudly, talking in quiet, fast voices among themselves. In the background, the song 'Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree' played, and Amanda and Tucker danced to it on the small stretch of floor in between the kitchen and living room. Amanda looked happier than normal, probably since Janie finally managed to go to sleep and hadn't woken up since the party started. Tucker smiled too, though he looked a little embarressed to be seen dancing with his big sister.  "Come on," Phil urged, feeling a sudden impulse. "Let's dance."  He got up and pulled Dan to his feet, ignoring his complaints. "But I have two left feet!"  "I have four!" Phil retaliated, yanking Dan over to the tile floor and grabbing his other hand, spinning him.  "How is that even possible?" Dan complained, spinning and catching himself on Phil's hand. "Now I know why you're failing Calculus. You can't count!"  They swayed, doing something that almost resembled dancing.  "Everyone dancing merrily, in a new old-fashioned way,” The music played.  More people moved over, starting to dance along. Phil tried not to cringe as he saw his mum being tugged over to the floor, Greyson pulling her over to dance.  "I'm not failing Calc," Phil defended, intertwining his hands with Dan's more comfortably. "I have a B minus!"  "Potato po-tat-o." Dan spun him, and Phil only stumbled slightly. "You're right, you have no coordination."  "What's that quote?" Phil recalled. "'The gods don't give out all gifts at once..."'  "'Not build and brains and flowing speech to all. One man may fail to impress us with his looks but a god can crown his words with beauty, charm, and men look on with delight when he speaks out.'" Dan looked like he was somewhere else, reciting the quote easily. "'Never faltering, filled with winning self-control, he shines forth at assembly grounds and people gaze at him like a god when he… when he walks through the streets. Another man may look like a deathless one on high but there's not a bit of grace to crown his words. Just like you, my fine, handsome friend.'"  "Wow."  ‘Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree’ ended. Dan didn't seem to notice that there was no more music. He seemed to be staring at Phil's lips, his own lips parted slightly.  "Wow," Phil repeated again. "I'm genuinely impressed. I can't remember quotes for the life of me."  "They spoke to me," Dan replied with a shrug, trying to start swaying again to the beat of the new song playing, Let It Snow.  The weather outside is frightful. But the fire is so delightful. And since there's no place to go. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. ---  Christmas day was exciting, but not like it usually was. They each got a few small presents from their Mum and Greyson, and Amanda, Phil, and Tucker each had a present for each family member. Sandy and Anna couldn't be bothered to buy presents, but they were young enough that it was excusable.  After all the presents had been opened, the adults went into the kitchen and started preparing lunch, and Phil and Tucker wrestled around a bit. Phil may be 18, but he would never be an adult to his parents, just as Amanda had a job and a kid, but she still sat at the kids' table at family gatherings.  Tucker was small for someone his age, still in early high school, but he was a decent wrestler. Phil had the size advantage, but it was a pretty even match.  "I wanna do karate," Tucker said later, after they were done. "Or boxing. Or wrestling, I guess. Something like that."  A memory tugged at the back of Phil's mind. "Dan does boxing, I think."  "You think?"  "His dad mentioned it once," Phil explained. "I don't know if he still does, actually. He never talks about it."  "That's a weird thing not to talk about," Tucker observed. "If I did boxing, I'd probably never shut up about it." ---   "It's never come up in conversation, I guess," Dan explained, kicking off his snow boots. It was still Christmas Day, just a little later, and Dan had walked over to Phil's house to collect him. 'My house is quiet and I'm bored,' he'd explained, shivering in the cold. 'Come over?'  Phil had taken his first opportunity to ask about Dan's boxing, and sure enough, he boxed. "I go to practice three times a week, compete most Sundays, and train most nights before bed."  "And you've never thought to mention it?"  He shrugged. "It's not something I talk about. It's... weird, you know? I have like... a personality, that everyone knows, you know? And boxing just doesn't fit into it."  The two boys walked upstairs to Dan's room automatically. Phil sat on his bed. "Why not? Boxing is cool."  "And obviously I'm so cool," Dan muttered sarcastically. "I have like, negative two friends."  "You have me."  "Yes, there is that. But as you are the only openly gay student in our school, that doesn't score me much points." He winced. "Sorry."  Phil tried not to be offended. "Well, you're not wrong."  "If you wanted, you could use my locker at school," Dan offered quickly, desperately. "I don't use it. And then, you wouldn't have to see... you know..."  He was referring of course, to Phil's locker, which still had the word 'twink' spray painted across it. Phil had tried to scrub it away, but nothing worked. He'd reported it to the office, but to his knowledge, they hadn't even bothered to try to get rid of it.  Phil exhaled shakily. He hadn't thought about the bullies ever since the break started. He shook his head, changing the topic of conversation back to boxing. "You said you trained? Where?" ---  Phil had never realized that Dan's mom never parked her car in their garage. He also never realized that Dan's dad didn't even have a car.  "He's too much of a social recluse to have a car," Dan explained, leaning against the wall of the garage. Instead of being a space for parking cars, it had been converted into a gym of sorts, with a tattered old punching bag in the middle of the room. Pushed against the walls were boxes, some filing cabinets, and a new looking bench press covered in clothes and gloves.  "I don't use that," Dan explained, seeing Phil's eyes train on the press. "It's too boring."  Phil walked around the punching bag, observing where the material was faded or torn. A few spots were patched up with duct tape, and a few spots looked like it was about time they be patched up.  Phil noticed something out of the corner of his eye and walked over to where an open cardboard box sat again the wall. Dan realized what he was doing too late, and by the time he shouted "Wait!" Phil was already leaning down.  "Trophies?"  "I'm not any good," Dan promised. "Most of them are just participation!"  Phil pulled one of the medium-sized ones out. It was covered in a layer of dust, which he brushed aside. "Second place?"  "It was a small event!" Phil looked up, and for the first time noticed how panicked Dan looked. "Could you please put it back? Hey, I got the new Zelda game, do you want to try it out?"  Phil wanted to ask more about boxing. Obviously Dan was being modest; the box was stuffed full of trophies, and there were other boxes in the room. Did they contain the same things?  But when he saw Dan's expression, he knew there was no way he could push him any further. For whatever reason, Dan was ashamed of boxing, or something like that. Phil wanted to know why.  But now was not the time to ask. "Yeah, cool. Show me the game?" ----  Phil didn't not welcome school back with open arms.    Something had happened over the break. What, he didn't know, but everyone was glaring at him which such malice he wondered if he'd killed someone without realizing.  He pulled his headphones out, allowing himself to hear the chatter. His next class was on the other side of the school, and after he'd been walking a few minutes, he'd heard a shred of conversation that made him keep listening.  "....grounded. Chuck was caught sleeping with him-"  "With Lester?"  "Yeah! I mean, who else would he sleep with? It was a dude, and his dad got so pissed he beat him."  "Dude. How'd the fucking fag get Chuck to sleep with him in the first place?"  "I dunno, but now he won't be able to play in the game on Friday. We really need a win if we want to make it to regionals..."  Phil put his headphones back in his ears. Apparently, there were at least two other gays going to his school: Chuck, and another boy who'd been caught sucking him off. -----  "What happened?"  "Got in a fight."  "With who?"  "This guy at school." Correction: these guys at school. "We had a difference in opinion." ----  Dan prepared him an ice pack. "I heard the news. About, you know, you and Chuck."  "I didn't do anything with Chuck. I don't even know him that well."  "I know you didn't." Dan zipped up the bag of ice, handing it over with a towel. "Hold this over your eye, it should help the swelling."  "Doctor Daniel," Phil teased, taking the ice thankfully. His eye was beginning to swell shut, and his chest ached. At least he could hide bruised ribs. It wasn't so easy with the eye.  "You caught me at a bad time," Dan admitted. "I was going to practice now."  "Sorry. You want me to go, or... can I watch?"  Dan almost considered it. Phil could see the gears turning, but the awkward smile made his answer clear. "Sorry, I think you'd better go. I think it'll be a rougher workout today, I've got some... stuff to get out."  "Stuff to get out," Phil repeated. "Yeah, I can go. See you tomorrow?"  "Yeah, sure. And stop getting in fights, bruising doesn't suit you."  "That, we can agree on." ----  The rumors kept swirling. Chuck was not gay, it seemed, he'd just been put in an awkward situation and took advantage of it. "A mouth is a mouth," he laughed with his friends. "Trust me, I didn't want the fag to touch me but he wanted it so bad, you should've seen him. So wrecked." When his friends asked more about it, he replied quickly "No, I didn't like it! If he was a girl it would have been so hot though. He was so sweaty his hair got really curly- yeah, like that. Don't worry though, he'll pay for it. Trust me on that." ----  Dan was so sweaty his hair got even curlier than normal.  "Woah," Phil said as soon as he saw him. "Boxing practice?"  "Yeah. I'm getting ready for a big meet, have to be prepared." He took the strap of one of the gloves in his teeth, ripping it off easily. Phil tried not to stare too much. "Anyone else give you crap today?"  "Anyone not give me crap? It's fine, school's over. I don't have to see any of them again until tomorrow." He willed his voice not to crack, his hand not to shake. His head hurt from being slammed against the lockers.  Dan nodded, not making eye contact as he took the other glove off. "How's Calc going? I wish that he just let us take the book home, it'd be so much easier."  "It would." Phil didn't really know what else to say.  "I'm going to... erm, I'm going to do my homework in my room again. Come with?"  Phil's head throbbed. "Yeah. Sure." ----  Phil didn't know when he snapped. But if I had to say a moment in the altogether miserable week, it'd probably be when he was laying on the floor of the boys' bathroom, sopping wet from the swirly. After they'd dunked him in the toilet, they'd used him as a mop, swinging him around by his legs and splashing water on the ground for the back of his favorite hoodie to clean up.  Then they left him, far more interested in getting out of the school than they were in beating up the fag.  Phil laid there, not bothering to get up. His favorite hoodie was filthy, with dirt and toilet water and he didn't even want to know what else. And he was all alone on the bathroom floor, his bus having already left.  And something snapped.  Phil stood. He tore off his jacket and stuffed it in the trash can, hefted his backpack, and only made one stop before marching out of the school and walking all the way home. ---  Phil went home and changed out of his stupid school uniform into comfortable work clothes and went around, doing his yard work for the day. Then he went home, got his backpack, and marched to Dan's house, going straight up to Dan's room without knocking.  Dan wasn't wearing pants. "Phil! I didn't-"  "I stole something."  Dan blinked. "Um, what?"  Phil opened his backpack on Dan's bed, dumping half of it out and pulling out a Calculus textbook. "I was angry- I'm still kinda angry- and I'm failing the class." He paused. "And I'm not giving it back."  Dan blinked. It took him a little too long to process. "I'm not wearing pants." He repeated.  "You mentioned that already. I just stole a textbook."  "Yeah, you said that too."  They both were frozen.  Phil cleared his throat. "You can put on pants now. If you want."  "If I want," Dan repeated.  "I mean, I don't care."  "No, you'd probably actually prefer I don't put my pants on."  Phil scowled, messing with his backpack. "Don't put words in my mouth."  They were quiet for a few more moments.  "I'm going to put pants on."  "Okay." ----  Studying was a lot easier with the calc textbook. ----  "We could just sit on the floor," Phil suggested, eying the small couch wearily.  "Nah, this is better. Come on, hop up." Dan sat down, bowl of popcorn in hand, and patted the small space next to him.  Phil sat, the couch so small there was no way for them to sit without touching. "It's a good movie," Dan said, "so don't you dare fall asleep."  "I promise I won't," Phil laughed, snuggling up to his friend, albeit still cautiously.  Dan started the movie and leaned against Phil, his head on his shoulder. ----  Phil fell asleep during the movie.  But it was okay.  Because so did Dan. ----  "Oh, hello boys."  Phil had been half awake for a few minutes, not wanting to move. He was too warm, too tired, and besides, Dan was still asleep. "Hi Mr.Howell. We watched a movie last night, and fell asleep."  Dan snored, snuggling closer to Phil.  "I promise it's not as bad as it looks-" Phil started, but Mr.Howell cut him off quickly.  "Oh no, don't worry about it. I know about you two, Dan has boys over all the time. He didn't tell me specifically, but I notice things."  Phil blinked, still only half awake. "He has boys over all the time? What do you mean?"  "Well, not since you've been dating I'm sure. We've never talked about it, but I know he's homosexual, or bisexual, or whatever the kids call it these days. I'm not as oblivious as all that."  Phil blinked again. Apparently, Dan's dad wasn't that oblivious, but Phil certainly was. ----  Dan woke up a few minutes later.  "Crap, I fell asleep," he said as if that weren't already obvious. "Wait... don't tell it's morning already?"  "We both fell asleep," Phil admitted. He observed Dan as he stretched, pulling himself up. The words you're gay? got clogged in his throat, refusing to come out.  Just like Dan. Funny how that works. ————

They were in Dan’s bed. It was late, and they were both just a little drunk on exhaustion and booze. Not drunk enough for their thoughts to be incoherent or their voices to slur, just drunk enough for Dan to quote "The Odyssey" every other minute.  "You know you’re my best friend, right?" Dan said quietly. He was staring at Phil, his eyes slightly lowered. Phil sighed contentedly, his eyes trained on his 'best friend's lips.  "Yeah, I know. You’re my best friend too." Phil shuffled slightly, wondering if it’d be too gay to cuddle up closer to Dan. Then again, it sounded like Dan was also gay, at least partially. Maybe it’d be okay.  He was stuck. He was stuck, right in between wanting to kiss Dan and not wanting to lose him, because he knew that out of the two options, he could likely only choose one. And he couldn’t loose Dan.  Shoveling the sidewalks as quickly as he could just so he could be paid by the neighbors and get to Dan's house as fast as possible, just to study. Going to the bagel shop for a special treat and eating the almost indigestible bagels and coffee, because it was convenient and it was quiet and he’d go anywhere with Dan, really. He like being around him a bit too much, and eventually it’d probably screw him over, but for now, it was worth it.  They liked going drinking Friday nights. Always some party, and if there wasn't, there was always booze for sale. They didn’t drink every week, but they did when they could. When Dan was tipsy he often lost track of personal space, and he’d bump into Phil or stand so close that Phil would wonder if he was going to kiss him. But then he’d pull away, saying something about why the government had set them up for failure, or ramble on about textual themes. He loved quoting the Odyssey. They walked through an empty field to get home most times, and it was just out of the way enough that they could see the stars, and Dan would say something about how "It is the wine that leads me on, the wild wine, that sets the wisest man to sing, at the top of his lungs, laugh like a fool – it drives the man to dancing... it even tempts him to blurt out stories better never told." And Phil just listens and smiles and wonders if Dan somehow managed to memorize the entire Odyssey, or if perhaps, he recites it in the shower.  He loved Dan. That much was clear. He loved him like a best friend. He loved him a little more than that maybe, loved him like he was angry, loved him in spite and loved him in secret. And it seemed as though Dan loved him as a best friend too. And there was that love, that love that Phil had no idea what to do with, so they could drown it out with booze and homework and chit chat and stale bagels and complaining about their families/classes/experiences/lives, but you can never truly drown love, love can swim.  Phil wonders if there’s a quote about that somewhere in The Odyssey. The entire story is about a man, Odysseus, trying to get back home to his wife Penelope. The journey is painful and long, but when he comes home, it was almost as if he’d never left. Phil supposed that the love between Odysseus and Penelope was buoyant too.

———— "Because of you, Chuck wasn’t there for the game. Because of you, we lost."  Phil backed up, the three boys stalking towards him until he was flush against the lockers, banging against them with a little clanging noise from the cheap metal. He knew where this was going. Chuck stood to the side, cracking his knuckles. In front of him, Trevor was the one leading the assault, his dirty brown hair falling in front of his eyes. Caleb stood to the other side of him, dumping his backpack on the ground as if he didn’t want it holding him back.  "It wasn’t me," Phil insisted again like maybe this time they’d listen. They didn’t, just continued pressing forwards until Phil had pressed himself so closely against the locker he could feel its hinges digging into his back. Phil’s gaze fluttered from one boy to the next, looking for any signs of hesitation, some sort of human emotion. He found nothing.  He swallowed. "I have standards. I wouldn’t get anywhere near his dick."  The first punch came before he’d finished his sentence, a sharp pain across his face that made him slam back against the lockers. The rest came in rapid succession, his ribs, his face, his stomach. He doubled over, gripping his stomach and desperately trying to protect his head as fingers dug into his head and shoved him to ground.  "This is for being a fag!" Phil’s breathe was torn from his throat, forcefully expelled by a harsh kick to the lungs.  "And this is for costing us regionals!" Chuck's voice, and a swift kick to the head. Phil wondered if he knew that it wasn’t him who he slept with, and was caught by his father. Phil wondered if he cared.  Phil tasted blood. His body twitched away from every blow until he was curled up in the fetal position on the dirty school floor, and as he was being attacked on every side all he could think about was how stupid it was for him not to book it out of school as soon as he’d had the chance.  A filthy shoe made contact with his face, and he tasted blood. Phil covered his head with his hands, just wishing them to go away.  "What the fuck are you doing? Hey, get off of him!"  The kicking stopped temporarily, but Phil didn’t dare try to get up. There was a scuffle, and then a body was slammed against the locker.  Phil looked around quickly then scrambled to his feet, his assailants more busy with someone else. A new person had appeared, his body shoved up against the locker as he yelled back and forth at the bullies.  A balding teacher left his classroom, coffee mug in hand. He watched the fight for a moment, then retreated back into his room, locking the door behind him.  Phil was frozen in shock as Trevor was kicked backward, stumbling a meter then falling on his ass. The person was still shoving the other two away but somehow managed to rear his arm back and punch Caleb so hard he crumpled against the lockers.  Dan grabbed Chuck by his greasy blonde hair and yanked his head down, making contact with his knee. Phil flinched, taking a step back so he was leant against the wall, still catching his breath but in too much shock to move. Dan spun Chuck around and slammed him into the lockers with so much force Phil’s back ached in sympathy.  Dan was bleeding, a long scratch right under his eye from a nail or something. He had a split lip. But he didn’t look any weaker from it, hardly even seemed fazed.  He held Chuck against the locker, holding an elbow directly under his chin, but then adjusted his hands so he was holding Chuck still by his neck. Dan panted and wiped some of the blood on his face away. Chuck's hand came up to cup his own bleeding nose, but Dan slapped it away, pulling Chuck back and slamming his head against the locker easily.  "I hear you’ve been spreading rumors," Dan muttered. His voice was deep and gravelly, but he stared at Chuck easily, not intimidated in the least. "People seem to think that Phil was the one you were caught with."  To his side, Travis started getting up, but before he could Dan kicked him in the stomach so hard he fell back down. "Shh, listen." Dan brought his attention back to Chuck, who wouldn’t look at him. "Who was it?"  "It was you," he admitted. "You were the fag. You think you’re so special Howell, thought you could keep it a secret-"  Dan slammed him against the locker again, and Chuck shut up, his hands flying up to Dan’s hands still wrapped around his neck, trying to get him to loosen his grip.  Dan licked his lips. "Listen up, all three of you. Stop screwing with my boyfriend. Or they’ll be hell to pay."  He let go of Chuck, shoving him down onto his knees as he stepped back. "Feels familiar, doesn’t it? You on your knees. All we need now is a broken lock on your door and your raging father, isn’t that right?"  He took another step back, glancing over his shoulder and grabbing Phil’s collar, pulling him into a kiss. It was sloppy and tasted like blood, and Phil could still hardly catch his breath, and nothing was processing, because was Dan really kissing him?  Dan pulled away, but still held onto his collar. They stayed there a moment, eyes interlocked, when the next impact came.  Dan was thrust against the wall, stumbling to get up. Travis stood over him. "Cocksucker," he snarled, raising his foot to stomp Dans lights out. But Dan was too fast, grabbing his leg and yanking him down. They wrestled on the floor for a moment until Dan came up on top, muttering something about Travis being 'surrounded by cocksuckers' before landing another punch.  They started brawling for real, hitting and punching and clawing and before Phil knew it, he and Chuck were locking eyes and running over to pull them apart before they could kill each other.  Finally, a few teachers ran down the hallways, shouting something about stopping, and all five boys had just enough time to stand, regard each other harshly, and glance down one last time. "Fuck you," Phil spat, before balling his fist and punching Chuck square in the jaw before turning and sprinting away, Dan right on his heels.  He hit the door with so much force that it actually hurt, but everything hurt at this point and Phil was bleeding and so was Dan and they had to get away before anyone spotted them. They sprinted around the side of school, panting turned into exhausted laughter as they turned the corner and collapsed against the brick wall. It was that type of pained laughter that physically hurt, because Phil’s ribs were definitely bruised and maybe worse, and his hands were stained with blood, and he was definitely imagining things because Dan was there too, the area right under his right eye splotchy and red.  "I can’t believe-" Phil started, but they didn’t have all day for him to say everything he didn’t believe had happened, but somehow, through the pain in his knuckles in the ache of every breath, he knew it was real, it was very real. "You kissed me," he said finally, looking up at Dan with a look of respect. "You actually kissed me."  "After all that just happened, that’s what you’re thinking about?" Dan’s entire face was contorted by the smile, and he looked like such a wreck but Phil couldn’t care because there was no way he looked any better. "Sorry about that, by the way," Dan added, wiping some of the blood on his lips away. "I thought it’d be dramatic. Scare them off. Didn’t work that great."  "Yeah, no shit." Phil tugged on Dan's collar, pulling him close but stopping him before they actually collided. "Thanks. I appreciate it." He eyed Dan, the cut on his cheek, the split lip. "You look like a mess."  "You do too," Dan agreed. "I want to kiss you again."  Phil yanked him into another kiss, tasting of blood and exertion and sweat and a little bit like hot chocolate. "I’m not going to be able to stop," he admitted, halfway through the kiss.  "Its fine," Dan mumbled against his lips, not even bothering to pull apart. "I won't either."  They kissed for what could have been hours before Phil mumbled "My hand hurts," and they finally pulled away. ————-  "You’re doing so good!" Phil handed Dan his water bottle as he took his mouth guard out, wiping his sweat away from his forehead.  "Only a few more matches." Dan’s eyes had this far away look to them. He never had so much pride in anything but his competitions. It was one of the reasons why Phil insisted on coming every week.  Dan drank from the water bottle as someone jogged over, patting him on the back roughly. "Hey champ, nice match! Who’s this?"  Dan’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Phil. His lip had heeled, and the cut under his eye had faded, but he looked the same as he did the day they first kissed. Sweaty, with his hair plastered back away from his forehead, but so proud and happy Phil couldn’t help but smile.  "This is Phil. My boyfriend."  Phil’s heart literally fluttered in his chest.  "Oh yeah? Phil, do you box too? Bet I could find you a decent instructor, huh?" He nudged Dan’s side playfully.  Dan laughed. "Nah, Phil doesn’t box. The last time he punched someone, he broke his thumb. It’s a pretty good story though."  Dan’s friend's eyes widened with interest. He looked to Phil. "Oh yeah? Tell me."  "I don’t know, it’s a little crude. I doubt you can handle it," Phil teased.  "Oh come on, try me!"  "Well..." Phil tugged his bottom lip in between his teeth, looking at Dan as he tried to decide how mean he wanted to be. "It all started when Dan got sucked off by the most popular boy in school..."