monochrome brushstrokes // phan

chapter 3

Dan had just finished shading in the man's cheekbones when he heard a knock on his door. He carefully washed off the brush he had used, setting it by the commission he had finally begun. When the brunet checked the peephole, he was met with a familiar pale face with jet black hair. Dan frantically wiped his sweaty palms on his pleated skirt, praying that he didn't smear any paint on it. Jesus Christ, Dan. It's just your new neighbor, not some childhood crush you had when you were like 12. Calm the fuck down. You're gonna make things awkward and then he'll hate you and you'll get so much hate from the thousands of fans he has and damn he has such nice abs. Oh god... snap out of it! Dan fiddled with his fringe for a few seconds before he opened the door.

"Hey Phil," he greeted, trying his best to keep his voice even. Don't think of his abs, don't think of his abs.

"Hey Dan," the raven-haired man grinned. "I just came to bring you some headphones, since you said how the band had been distracting you before. I know our music is pretty loud, so I tried to get ones that helped cancel sound the best. It's the least I could do."

Dan eyed the expensive headphones in Phil's hand. He immediately felt heavy with guilt. This stranger must have spent at least $400 on headphones, for him! "No no no, I'm sorry but I can't accept those. It's fine, besides, your music isn't too bad." he quickly replied.

Phil cocked his head slightly, "So... it's not good either?"

Dan felt his face turn beet red as he panicked and blurted, "Noit'sreallygoodIwatchedlikeseveralofyourmusicvideosandtheywerereallygooditwasgreatyouguysaregreatIloveyourmusic." The younger man immediate covered his eyes with his hands in embarrassment.

Phil's eyes twinkled with amusement, "Dan, are you alright?" He's so cute when he's flustered. The vocalist's gaze flickered over the brunet's outfit, taking note of how well the short paint-streaked skirt framed Dan's hips.

Dan slowly lifted his head from his hands. "Yeah, I just didn't sleep well, that's all."

"Awww why?" Phil asked worriedly, thinking about how he had spent his night thinking about Dean.

Dan hesitated before swiftly changing the subject, "I'm sorry, I left you standing out in the hall. Come in." He closed the door behind the other boy. Phil's gaze burned into Dan and it was a matter of seconds before he scurried away to avoid it.

"I'll go make tea. Sorry for the mess, I wasn't expecting someone today, haha." Dan added the forced laughter at an attempt to reassure Phil that everything was fine. After all, that's what his dad wanted him to tell people who asked about the incident.

The ebony-haired man wasn't convinced one bit. While he did want to find out what was wrong, he didn't want to pressure Dan into confessing something that he didn't want to. "Dan... I know something's wrong. You don't have to tell me, but I'm worried about you."

Dan felt a surge of annoyance at this. "You don't even know me, why would you care?" he snapped, instantly regretting his words afterward. He was just trying to help and you pushed him away. He's the first person who made an effort to do something nice for you after what happened and you yell at him in return. No wonder everyone hates you.

There was a long silence until Phil spoke up tentatively, "Dan, I may not know you now, but I'd like to if you'd let me."

Dan wasn't sure how to reply to that so he busied himself with pouring the tea instead. "What kind of tea do you want?" he called, his voice coming out shakier than he anticipated.

"Black, if you have any." Phil replied, unsure if he had offended the brunet in some way. He studied the detailed painting on the wall, his eyes following every dip and curve of the brushstrokes. It was quite beautiful, despite not being in color. The picture displayed a headless person with a storm cloud floating over the area where the head would have been. It wasn't like a cheap Halloween costume with unrealistic blood spilling down the sides of the neck. In fact, there wasn't a drop of blood in the painting. There was something beautiful and haunting about the piece that Phil couldn't quite place. Dan's voice interrupted Phil's thoughts, causing him to tear his eyes away from the art.

"I... um... have your tea." the brunet quietly murmured, placing the steaming cup in front of the vocalist. 

"Thank you," Phil smiled, trying to relieve the awkward tension that gathered between them in the past few minutes. "Did you paint this?" he gestured to the black and white painting he had been looking at.

"Yeah, it was originally vent art. It reminded me of bad times so I tried selling it, but as you can see, that didn't quite work out." Dan faintly chuckled.

"It's beautiful, Dan." Phil breathed. Almost as much as you. The older boy wasn't sure what caused him to do it, but he reached across the table to rest his hand gently on Dan's. 

Dan flinched away quickly at the sudden touch. He hid a pale blush behind his fringe, sipping on his tea.

****

Dear Diary,                                                                            February 5, 2010

I got away with only 50 lashes today. I guess father must have been in a good mood, perhaps the neighbors had stopped asking him about me. I've never felt so dirty and unclean. My grades are plummeting but I couldn't care less. The stares and taunts follow me down the halls, but I've gotten used to them. It's not like they'd know what it felt like to be violated by their own uncle, to be humiliated by someone who you trusted. I wish I was dead.

- Dan

******

author's note // this !!! came !!! out !!! angstier !!! than !!! i !!! planned !!! okay but i needed to update so i rushed and idk i might edit this later on but i think i'll start adding in dan's old diary entries from when he was 16 and i apologize for not giving any trigger warnings and such.