nineteen

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tw// described mentions of abuse

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I had fallen asleep early, until Phil called me at four in the morning crying.

With his last cries over the phone, I hung up, climbing out my window in black boxers and a food-stained sweatshirt.

I biked the whole way there, and when I got there, cop cars and ambulances were parked outside his house. I instantly went wide-eyed, hopping off my bike and sprinting through the open front door.

"Phil?" I called out, then paused once I realized how many people were in here. At least five cops were stood in the livingroom and I spotted Nick, who was being chatted to by one. I rushed over. "What happened? Where's Phil?"

"You can't be in here, kid-" A cop began to protest, but Nick cut in.

"He's my brother's boyfriend," he snarled to the officer, then looked back at me, his cheeks tear-stained and body shaking. "He's upstairs. He's locked himself in his room and he won't come out, I think you're the only person that can get him to."

I nodded once before pushing past crowds of people, hurrying up the stairs and to Phil's bedroom door. I pulled on the knob but realized it was locked, so I knocked twice.

"Lester? Baby, it's me. Please let me in, it's just me and only me. Nobody else is out here."

I heard footsteps from inside the room and the door unlocked, and I stepped back as it slowly opened. Out peeked Phil, his viewable eye bloodshot and teary. "Promise?" He murmured, his voice broken and scratchy.

"Promise."

He pushed open the door to let me in, quickly shutting it afterwards. I looked over his room, seeing it was clean. Except he had a forming bruise on his left cheekbone, and marks like fingers on his throat. I stared.

"I didn't think he'd do it," Phil breathed, eyes watering again. "We were all eating dinner and he just came in, and he fucking reeked of alcohol, and he just started yelling at my mom saying that this was his house and he was allowed to come in whenever he pleased, then he hit her and I stood up from my chair and told Nick to go back in the room, and he did and I walked up to my dad and. . ."

I stepped forward, noticing how fast Phil's breathing was getting, and wrapped my arms around him. "Hey, sit down, alright?" I offered, trying to get him to calm down. He nodded, following my lead to sit down on the edge of the bed. On instinct, he took both my hands in his, taking deep breaths. "Now explain what happened- but slowly. Don't push yourself."

Phil nodded, licking his lips. "My dad. He promised he wouldn't get drunk, remember?" He began. I blinked to show him I remembered. "Well I didn't tell mom that he visited, because I know how anxious she gets when we talk about him. . . But tonight, for some unknown reason, he decided to just waltz right in wasted. My mom got angry and started shouting at him to get out, then as soon as he started stomping over to her, I got up. . ."

"Lester. . ." I trailed off, squeezing his hand and sighing. "You stood up for her, didn't you?"

"I tried to, Howell. I even told Nick to leave the room so he'd be okay. He listened after awhile, and as soon as he left I started swearing at him and telling him to leave her alone while my mother just cried and begged for us to stop fighting. Then I threatened to call the cops, and that's when he hit me and shoved me out of the way and just kept kicking me, and my mom was screaming, and Nick had his phone so he called the cops. He started hitting my mom once I couldn't move and he knocked her out. They took her to the hospital but let me stay with Nick, and they arrested my dad."

My eyes widened and I took him in my arms, letting him lean into my lap as he cried against my sweatshirt. "I'm so sorry this happened. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"He never hit us before," he sobbed. "Never. He fucking promised, Howell."

"I'd never hurt you," I told him, and he hugged me tighter at that.

"I know you wouldn't. I wouldn't hurt you either, number twenty."

I grinned halfheartedly, taking his face in my hands and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I love you, number nine."

He didn't reply, but I knew it wasn't because he didn't feel the same. It was because Phil Lester was so sad that he couldn't even form such positive words, considering how many negative words were flooding his brain instead. And that was okay, because saying you love someone isn't always what means the most. It's showing someone you love them that is most important. Because actions speak louder than words, and us two knew that.

"Phil Lester?" A cop's voice rang out from behind the bedroom door.

"Coming," Phil called out, clearing his throat. We stood and I locked eyes with him, keeping my hands on his shoulder.

"Are you sure you can talk to them when you're in this state of mind?" I asked. He nodded, wiping his hands on his pajama pants.

"With you, I can do anything."

I flashed him a lopsided smile and hugged him once more, following him out the bedroom. I stood next to him, keeping our hands interlocked while Phil told the officers what happened.

I heard familiar voices from the doorway and turned to see my mother and father walking in with worried expressions, but when they spotted me they grinned, running forward and hugging me.

I let go of Phil to hug them back.

"I went to your room to say goodnight but you weren't there, and considering the only person you talk to is your boyfriend-" my mom breathed.

"He's not my-" I began to protest.

"What?"

I locked eyes with dad. He doesn't know.

Phil finished talking and noticed the situation I was now in, stepping forward and rubbing my back reassuringly.

"I- he- we. . ." I exhaled. "I don't know what we are," I admitted. "But I love him, dad. And I know you're not okay with the whole gay thing, and that you think it's not normal, but-"

"Dan, I'll still love you no matter what you choose to do in life. I was raised differently so my opinions are different on certain things like sexuality. But this won't change our relationship. In fact I hope we can become closer after this. . . I realize now I haven't been a very supportive and interactive father. Hell, I haven't even gone to any of your games."

"Phil!" Nick called, and Phil gave my hand another squeeze before wandering over to his brother. Dad kissed mom on the cheek before leading me to the foot of the steps for more privacy.

"Look Daniel, when you become a parent, you have an idea of the perfect kid. The perfect kid is a child who does everything you want them to and is whatever you want them to be. Now that's not what happens in a world like this, but as a parent, you still love 'em no matter what," he ruffled my hair and I smiled down at my feet. "You know how work gets, buddy. I've gotta keep you and mama happy, as a dad that's always your top priority. But I promise I'll come to your next game."

"You promise?"

He chuckled, raising his pinky up. "Pinky promise." We intertwined fingers and stood up, and then Victoria came running in through the doorway in High School Musical pajama pants and a loose t-shirt.

Nick, Phil and I all stared at her outfit and she spoke up.

"My mom bought me them, I swear."

Then we all hugged until our arms hurt.

cliché (phan)Onde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora