#phanfiction historical

[phanfictioncatalogue]

AU - Knights/Medieval Masterlist

Battle For Dominance (ao3) - troyiesivanie

Summary: Phil has just his job acting acting as a Jester at the Medieval Fair, today they picked him for handing swords to the jousters. There he meets The Black Knight.

Criminal - botanistlester

Summary: Medieval AU. Daniel Howell is a nonviolent sweetheart who adores his mother and sister, living peacefully until the day the Marcella Kingdom guards show up in his home, telling him he has murdered a citizen. His penalty? Death. But that is interrupted by a supposedly extinct

Dragon's Breath (ao3) - rainydipandpip

Summary: Two young mages caught between a fire, a prophecy, and a quest for power.

Fit For a King (ao3) - TortiTabby

Summary: The second part of the Ebony Crest series Daniel is the Bastard of a King & ex-Knight Philip is his love he's trying to make a life with

Forbidden (ao3) - ohhowellno

Summary: Prince Daniel is preparing to become the king it all changes when he meets a kitchen servant named Phil. As they fall in love they realize that it may not be as easy for them to be together as they thought.

Forgivable Sins (BETA) (ao3) - PhantasticFiction

Summary: Not gonna write too much here right now cause im not sure whats going on with this, i just need to know how its sounding so far, Its gonna be about a master falling in love with his servent, they are gonna get older then they are in this first chapter

Gods, Men, Kings. (ao3) - metal_arm_metal_shield

Summary: Prince Daniel had grown up in a palace; surrounded by wealth, with a life of glory laid before him He had never known want. Until his eyes beheld Philip. He could have everything he ever wanted, except for him.

i fall for the same face every time (ao3) - zsunsetz

Summary: In every universe, in every lifetime, in every world, he promises that he will love him.

In Fair Verona - A Dan & Phil retelling of Romeo + Juliet (ao3) - Art3misPlayerOne

Summary: This is my take on the first two acts of Romeo + Juliet, with Phil as Romeo and Dan as Juliet. As I'm sure you've already figured out, this isn't the traditional telling! It's inspired by the Leo/Claire version of the movie, but with a few twists of my own!

lead me astray (lead me your way) (ao3) - dykejaskiers

Summary: It's a normal Sunday evening when Dan disappears.

One minute he's there, sitting on the grass in front of Phil who's leaning closer and tilting his head, shooting Dan a questioning look – is this okay? Can we? Do you want me to?

One minute he's there, and then as suddenly as the sun disappears, so does Dan.

of damsels, knights, and fairytale endings (ao3) - artbabe

Summary: Phil is a shy baker's apprentice in a little village that is quartering knights on their way to a great battle. He catches the eye of Sir Howell, a handsome knight whom he may never see again.

Outlawed (ao3) - aphroditegf

Summary: Desperate to prove himself as a knight, Sir Phil Lester captures a criminal he finds at the scene of a burning village, and tasks himself with taking this mysterious outlaw Dan to the capital.

Something Entirely New (ao3) - xoPrincessKayxo

Summary: Written for Prompt #12- Fairytale Phil, a prince whose overprotective parents keep him locked in the castle, longs for adventure. He finally gets a chance when news of a sleeping princess reaches their kingdom. He sets off with his knight and best friend Dan to rescue her. True love saves the day, of course, but not in the way you might think

The Involuntary Time Traveller (ao3) - Pantless

Summary: Dan can't sleep, so Phil tells him a bedtime story.

thought of you often (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: On Daniel’s twenty first birthday, a man walks into his banquet hall that he hasn’t seen in years.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #au #knight #knight masterlist #medieval #historical

[adorkablephil]

Fic: The Roles We Play (11/11)

Title: The Roles We Play Summary: Dan Howell and Phil Lester work together as voice actors for BBC radio dramas in the late 1930s, but slowly begin to develop “inappropriate” feelings for each other Rating: G Word Count: 4,146 (this chapter) Tags: Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Historical AU, 1930s, BBC, Radio, Actors AU, Slow Burn, Love Letters, Past Character Death, Grief, Angst Author’s Note: This fic was inspired by the @phanfichallenge 20k History Challenge. A bazillion thanks, as always, to my amazing beta, India! I’m sorry for the long delay—blame my surgery and its complications. But we are finally done!

Also on AO3

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[ All Chapters Masterlist ]

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Chapter 11: Kathleen

19 March 2001

Marcus left to pick up some takeaway biryani from a nearby Indian place while Kathleen continued going through her great-uncle Dan’s box of mementos. Her great-uncle. Even Marcus, who wasn’t related to him, called him “Uncle Dan.” She tried it on. “Uncle Dan,” she said out loud to the empty flat, and it felt right. She smiled.

When Marcus returned with their biryani, they sat at the small table and ate together while talking about their own spouses and children, taking a break from the emotionally loaded topic of their great-uncles’ relationship and families’ reactions.

Marcus had a rather silly sense of humor and Kathleen found herself laughing several times almost against her will. Her own parents and grandparents had always been fairly serious, some of them also quite religious, and she herself had found that her husband George brought a welcome lightness to her life that she had never realized she needed until after she’d met him. She’d never noticed that humor was lacking from her life until she found it in George.

Nodding while chewing, Marcus gestured with his fork as if asking her to wait for him to speak. After he’d swallowed, he commented, “Uncle Dan often said the same thing about Uncle Phil. Though Uncle Dan had his own sense of humor, you know. Just not as … obvious as Uncle Phil’s. Uncle Phil was a little … unusual. He got a bit more eccentric with age, but Uncle Dan just always laughed and said he’d never known someone could make him so happy.” Marcus smiled and added, “I know Uncle Phil felt the same way, even though he didn’t say it as often, in front of other people anyway.”

Kathleen was curious. “Uncle Phil didn’t…”

Shaking his head, Marcus explained immediately, “He loved Uncle Dan with his whole heart. He just expressed himself more by reaching out to hold his hand, or to touch his shoulder. Uncle Phil was a very … private person. They both were. I don’t think anyone outside the family really knew they were in love. And even with us, Uncle Phil still loved … quietly. No less deeply, but less openly. Uncle Dan was more open with his emotions.”

Kathleen laughed. “Well, he didn’t get that from the rest of the family!”

“That the impression I always got,” Marcus admitted, with a less jovial tone.

Kathleen looked down at her biryani and took another contemplative bite.

******

While Marcus went to look for some sign of his great-uncle’s mementos among the jumble of belongings in a particularly disorganized closet, Kathleen continued working her way through Uncle Dan’s shoebox of memories.

There were a great many devoted love letters over the next few years, as both men had apparently served much of the length of the war. Kathleen began to feel a bit uncomfortable with this voyeuristic look at intimate words that had not been meant for anyone but the two men, but she continued to read, not wanting to miss any of the other information about their lives. Not when this was the only way she could know them.

There were even some worried, loving letters from Kathryn Lester, Phil’s mother, and it was one of these that made Kathleen stop with her hand pressed to her trembling lips.

-

2 July 1944

My dear boy,

The Red Cross located our address among your things and wrote to tell us that you have been injured and that you must spend some significant time recovering from a serious leg wound. Why did you not write to us yourself? Surely you know how much we care for you, how I, in particular, fret for your safety just as I worry for my own sons. In fact, you are truly one of my sons, and I demand that you come to me immediately so that I may nurse you myself, rather than leaving such an intimate task to strangers who do not love you as we do.

I beseech you to come home to us, dearest, and let us help you become whole again.

With the greatest affection, Kathryn Lester, whom I hope you will call Mother

-

Kathleen looked up from the letter in her hands when she heard Marcus’s footsteps. “Uncle Dan … he was seriously wounded in World War II?”

Marcus dusted himself off as if he’d been excavating an archaeological site rather than simply going through two old men’s junk closet. He sat down at the table with her and reached out a friendly hand. Kathleen set the letter down on the table and took Marcus’s hand, squeezing tightly.

“Why didn’t he come home?”

Marcus gave her hand a returning squeeze and said gently, “He did.”

Kathleen nodded in sad understanding. “Did they even … did he …” She cleared her throat and let go of Marcus’s hand with a grateful pat. “Did they even contact his parents first?”

“I’m not sure,” Marcus admitted. “No one ever talked about it, and I got the impression it was a difficult topic. I don’t know if he even had any ‘next of kin’ officially listed in his records. It might have just been chance that they found our family’s contact information with his things.”

He patted her hand gently and said, “I’m going to continue sorting through the closet. I’m gathering a pile of things to be thrown out, a pile of things to go to charity, and a smaller pile of things we can look through together when you’re done with the letters.”

Kathleen nodded wordlessly and carefully folded the letter, returning it to its envelope. Knowing he was giving her space to recover her composure, she gave him a watery smile and then returned her attention to the shoebox as he walked away.

-

15 August 1944

My true and only love,

Mother has written to me that you have been wounded and are to convalesce with her at our home. I wish with all my heart that I could race to your side to offer you whatever solace my presence might afford, but you know that my duty will not allow it. I trust that Mother will tend to you as lovingly as I myself would, for she knows how dear you are to me. Also, you must know by now how much my family esteems and cares for you for your own sake, and not only for mine. How could they not love you? How could anyone not?

I will return to you as soon as may be, and we shall be together once more and never again parted.

Most devotedly and forever yours, Philip

-

8 May 1945

My dearest love,

I write this letter in haste, for today victory has been declared in Europe and the War is truly over! My regiment leaves forthwith and my heart soars with the knowledge that I shall soon hold you in my arms again. If only I could fly directly to your side on eagle’s wings! But for now I must arrange my pack for our imminent departure for home. Home! You are my only true home, and I now return to you with the happiest, most grateful of hearts. I race against this letter to you and hope that I may be upon the doorstep even before its arrival.

Await me, dearest. I come to you!

In loving and most joyous haste, Yours always, Philip

-

Kathleen imagined the scene. Dan, perhaps in a wheelchair, sitting in front of the family home—which she imagined as being quite grand—when a car pulled up and that tall, slim young man emerged, still in his handsome uniform, his hair slicked back beneath his cap. She imagined their eyes meeting for the first time in years, years during which each had feared not only for his own life in battle but also for the life of the other. She imagined the smiles dawning on both their faces as Phil walked slowly toward the man he loved, and then more quickly until they were in each other’s arms. She wondered if they had wept.

She thought they probably had.

******

When she heard Marcus returning to the kitchen, Kathleen was sitting with her chin in her hand, gazing out the window at the garden.

“Is everything all right?” he asked with some apparent concern.

She turned to look at him and smiled softly. “I just read the letter when Philip was returning home, and I couldn’t help imagining how happy they must have been to see each other again after so long. It made me think of my own husband, how much I would miss him if we were apart for years, never knowing if we would see each other again.” She felt a bit choked up, but it wasn’t sadness she felt. “I’m so glad they made it back to each other safely.”

“They did,” Marcus affirmed.

She turned to look up at him and leaned to stretch her aching back. “I’m dead on my feet. These last few letters have left me wrung out like wet laundry, and I just want to go home and see my family. Would you mind if we leave the rest until tomorrow? Or later, if tomorrow doesn’t work for you.”

“I can come tomorrow in the evening,” Marcus replied. “Feel free to look through their other things if you finish with the letters before I arrive.”

Kathleen nodded, tidying up the papers on the table before sliding her bag onto her shoulder and saying goodbye to Marcus. She just wanted to get home to feel her husband’s arms around her.

******

20 March 2001

There weren’t any significant letters after that in the box, which made sense when Kathleen thought about it. Why would they need to write letters if they were always together? She found the deed to this house, bought in August of 1945, along with numerous birthday and holiday cards from various family members and, sadly, a black-bordered piece of elegant parchment announcing a commemorative gathering to celebrate the life of Kathryn Eleanor Lester.

The box also contained a great number of children’s drawings and scribbled household notes. One sticky note, the adhesive having long lost its ability to stick, said simply, “Don’t forget.” Kathleen wondered what the note had referred to and what had made it important enough to keep, but soon discovered that Uncle Dan had apparently kept a great many seemingly mundane notes and reminders written in Phil’s distinctive handwriting. Even grocery lists had apparently seemed important enough to save, if they were written by a beloved hand. Kathleen smiled at her great-uncle’s apparent sentimentality.

She also found a number of thank-you cards for gifts they’d given jointly, along with a few letters asking one or the other of them to be godfather to a child, some from members of the Lester family and some from names she did not recognize.

When Marcus arrived in the evening, she was still going through the shoebox, since she’d been with her children until late afternoon.

“You said they were very introverted and private,” she said to Marcus, forgetting to even greet him, so lost in thought was she.

Marcus nodded, “Oh, they were. Not very fond of crowds, those two.”

Kathleen gestured at the shoebox. “Then how did so many people care about them so deeply? It is obvious that a lot of people loved them very much.”

He smiled. “They just had that effect on people.”

Kathleen found herself once again wishing that she’d gotten the chance to know them both.

“I have a confession to make,” Marcus said hesitantly. “When I found Uncle Dan … he had something in his hands, and I took it. I was afraid that his family might … well … might throw it away … or otherwise not respect Uncle Dan’s wishes. When he knew he didn’t have much time left, he told me he wished to be buried with it.”

Kathleen gazed at Marcus with somber curiosity. What was this object that was so important to her great-uncle? “What did you take?” she asked, doing her best to make sure that no accusation sounded in her words.

Marcus reached into his bag and pulled out a battered, dirty envelope. He held it in his own hands for a moment before reluctantly handing it to Kathleen. She carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper, smooth and worn from years of frequent handling. It was a letter in the familiar handwriting. Before she began reading, Marcus explained quietly, “He took it with him everywhere. It went with him to the war, and it went with him to the army hospital, and it never left his side for decades. I did not want his family to see it as … shameful … I did not want them to discard it as so much rubbish.” Kathleen nodded seriously and turned her eyes to the letter.

-

11 August 1939

My most beloved Daniel,

I do love you. I love you most ardently, and these feelings are not new. I, too, have gazed at you with longing in my heart and wished that I might hold you close, but I did not believe you would welcome such attentions, and so I hid my emotions as best I could.

I hide them no longer. I do love you. I love you with every beat of my heart, every breath of my lungs.

I love you. I love you. I love you. Never doubt it.

Most devotedly yours, Philip

-

Kathleen wiped tears from her eyes and cheeks, then glanced around in search of a tissue. In the end, she went into the kitchen and blew her nose inelegantly on a piece of kitchen roll. She came back to the dining room table and looked Marcus in the eye. “I absolutely promise that this will be buried with him,” she choked out with conviction. “If Grandpa Howell gives me any problems about it, I will tell him he’ll never see me or his great-grandchildren again. Uncle Dan will be buried with this letter. I swear it.”

Marcus nodded gratefully, eyeing the letter in her hands with obvious reluctance to part with something so important and personal.

Kathleen held it out to him. “Would you like to keep it. Perhaps … bring it to the funeral yourself?”

His face melancholy, he replied, “I don’t think I would be welcome there. We’ll hold our own service for their … their other family, and for their friends. That letter belongs to your uncle, and so you should keep it. Just … please do make sure that he has it close to his heart in death as he did so long in life.”

“He will,” Kathleen promised, tucking the letter carefully into her bag. “I’m almost done with the shoebox, so I can come help you with the rest soon. Any sign of a box of mementos belonging to your uncle?”

“Not yet,” Marcus admitted. “The open areas are all quite tidy, but the closets are another story altogether. Uncle Dan cared a great deal about what he called ‘aesthetics,’ so I’m guessing he was in charge of the attractively tidy main areas. Perhaps Uncle Phil took care of the closets.” He and Kathleen both laughed.

Kathleen gestured at the nearly empty shoebox and asked, “Mind if I finish up here before joining you in your more adventurous task?” Marcus just grinned and nodded, then headed back down the hallway.

Only a few papers remained, and Kathleen suddenly realized that she’d been reading the papers in chronological order. If items had been placed in the box as time went by, shouldn’t the most recent letters and papers have been on the top?

Then, she pictured her great-uncle sitting at this table where she’d found the shoebox, pictured his wrinkled hands carefully removing each precious memory from the box and reliving them one by one before returning everything to the box again, now in reverse order. So these last few papers would have been the most recent ones, giving her a glimpse into the man she had so narrowly missed getting to meet. If only she had known…

Nothing really caught her eye, mostly just more household notes and a letter or two from friends whose names she didn’t recognize, until she caught sight of a sticky note recent enough that it still adhered to the paper beneath it. “Don’t forget Kathleen’s birthday!” it read in that familiar handwriting.

Kathleen’s birthday had been only two months ago, and the thought that this man, this amazing Philip Lester, had known of her existence, had even known the date of her birthday and had cared enough about her that he did not want her forgotten … she burst into tears, sobbing more than she had at any other item in the box.

Philip Lester, the man she might once have been able to call Uncle Phil, had known her and loved her without ever even meeting her. He had probably known her children’s birthdays as well, had probably wished a thousand times that he could sign his name alongside Dan’s when cards were sent to her and her family.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, weeping quietly with her face in her hands, until she heard Marcus come back into the room and hesitate in the doorway. She quickly dried her face as best she could and turned to smile at him.

“You said that you would be holding a service for Uncle Dan yourselves?”

Marcus nodded. “A service for the both of them, really. We didn’t want to upset Uncle Dan with a service for Uncle Phil when he was so … broken. We were waiting for the right time.” He smiled sadly. “It seems like the right time now.”

“Would you…” Kathleen hesitated, not wanting to be presumptuous. “Do you think anyone would mind a few gate-crashers?”

Marcus tilted his head in confusion. “Gate-crashers?”

Kathleen cleared her throat and forged ahead. “If we would be welcome … I mean, if it wouldn’t seem inappropriate … do you think anyone would mind if my family and I came to the service? Just my husband and my children and me.”

Marcus looked stunned. “You would want to do that?”

Kathleen gestured down at the papers in front of her. “Well, I feel like I know them a bit now, you know? And … well … love them a bit, too, even if I was never lucky enough to meet them.” She hesitated. “It may be too late for that now, I may have missed my chance … but it isn’t too late for me, and my children, to get to know the family we never knew we had.”

Marcus shifted slightly, standing up a bit straighter. “I think we would all like that very much,” he said stiffly, as if holding in strong emotion. “Very much indeed.”

Kathleen carefully placed the letters back into the shoebox and replaced the lid, letting her hand rest reverently upon it. “If you’re sure we would be welcome…”

Marcus smiled, there in the kitchen where their great-uncles had made so many memories together. He visibly relaxed as he walked forward and rested a few fingers on the shoebox beside her hand. “There’s no question,” he assured her gently. “As you said, you’re family.”

#phanfiction #phanfic #historical phanfiction #historical phanfic #phanfiction historical #phanfic historical #phanfiction au #au phanfiction #phanfic au #au phanfic #historical au #1930s phan #the roles we play #myphanfic

[succubusphan]

Le Roi -Chapter 1 (August 1780)

Summary: Daniel James Howell looked at himself in the lavish mirror in front of him. The intricately embroidered flowers in his clothes were mesmerizing. He wished he could stay in his suite and paint them, but he had been invited to Chateau Versailles for the celebration to honour the second birthday of Princess Marie Thérèse.

So far he had become popular among the french for his portraits of barely dressed women with mildly scandalous undertones. Lovers all across Paris had hired his services to immortalize the object of their desire for posterity, but Daniel wanted more.

Rating: M

Tags: Phil is Louis XVI, Strangers to Lovers, no heterosexuality to be seen, Artist Dan Howell, Versailles AU, Scandalous Court affairs, Some historical facts were alterated to fit the story but will hopefully be mentioned in the notes, Happy Ending meaning this do not end like they did historically. The rating is for the cheeky dash of smut I added.          

Word Count for this chapter: 2549 (Total 11374)

A/n: Written for the @phandomficfests christmas exchange for  @allthephils, one of my favourite authors and an amazing person. I hope you have enjoyed this story and it was what you were expecting. I realize this could have been so much longer but I couldn't possibly write all the intricacies the story deserves so I stuck to the main characters.

A Million thanks to my amazing Beta @thoughtathought who really tackled this fic and really brought it to life (especially for suggesting I add that scene).

Read on ao3

Daniel James Howell looked at himself in the lavish mirror in front of him. The intricately embroidered flowers in his clothes were mesmerizing. He wished he could stay in his suite and paint them, to immortalize their beauty, but he had been invited to Chateau Versailles for the celebration to honour the second birthday of Princess Marie Thérèse. It was a singular opportunity to mingle with the people of the king’s court and potentially gain a sponsorship. So far he had become popular among the french for his portraits of barely dressed women with mildly scandalous undertones, emphasising their gentle beauty. Lovers all across Paris had hired his services to immortalize the object of their desire for posterity, but Daniel wanted more. He wanted to evolve with his art and a sponsorship would give him such liberties.

  The sound of the horses outside his home announced the arrival of his carriage. One of his clients had offered to take him there since it was a long ride and he didn’t own a carriage or horses himself. How he was going to return home was a matter of luck, but luck had been on his side since he’d decided to leave his home land for a brighter future away from his family - from his obligations. It wouldn’t be hard to chat his way into someone’s carriage if the need arose. He shook his head and headed to the door, grabbing a small art piece he had created for the princess rooms if the King and Queen so wished it. 

  Daniel got in the carriage and kissed the hand of madame d'Harcourt. The trip was amicable albeit a bit boring since it took five hours to get to the Château de Versailles through a muddy road deep into the woods. The afternoon was spent discussing the history of the place they were going to. According to madame, Louis XIII had received the lands from a noble family as a gift since he loved to go hunting there and it had all started with a small hunting lodge, and three generations after, it kept growing and growing to accommodate the necessities of the royal family and the court. 

  Upon noticing his nervous state the closer they got to the destination, madame d'Harcourt asked him what was wrong and Daniel stumbled over his words to explain that he was unsure of the court manners. Thankfully, he received a lesson on the basics and madame assured him that she would stay close by to help, if needed. 

  Daniel got out of the carriage with as much grace as he could muster and extended his hand to assist his companion, who readily took it with a gentle smile. “Mercie,” she nodded at him, her posture changing completely. It was time to put on a show.

  They entered the Palace and followed the rest of the guests into what madame informed him was the “Hall of Mirrors.” Daniel nodded and did his best to control his expression. The sheer amount of gold in every corner, the chandeliers, the exquisite decorations, and all the art pieces adorning the ceiling made his heart beat faster; he felt his soul ascend, maybe he was entering a special King of heaven on earth. 

  The night was going splendidly. Daniel managed to converse with various people, mostly ladies, who were very interested in his art pieces. It seemed that compliments from satisfied noble ladies had been heard all around France. It was a hushed murmur of course, given the nature of his most popular works, but it was something nonetheless. 

  “Excuse me, monsieur Howell?” Daniel heard someone say behind him as he saw the eyes of madame d'Harcourt go very wide before she bowed and took a step back. He turned around only to be met by the Queen herself, already extending her hand to be kissed, with a small smile upon her lips. He nodded, before bowing and placing what he hoped was a respectful kiss on her hand. “Oui, your majesty. It is an honour to finally meet you.”

  Marie Antoinette’s smile widened and gestured to the lady standing not quite beside her - given the width of the queen’s dress. “This is my lady in waiting, mademoiselle Campan.”

  “My lady,” Daniel said with a small bow. He looked between the two women unsure of how to continue without making a fool of himself.

  “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, monsieur Howell,” mademoiselle Campan said with a smile that did very little to hide what was going through her mind.

  “She’s quite a fan of your work and has spoken very highly of you and the way you depict the female form, so I had to request you come and ask you to do a portrait of me. Would you be interested?”

  Daniel blushed furiously, knowing that the Queen herself had seen or at least heard of how he tended to paint women in various states of undress and wished to be potentially immortalized in such conditions. Briefly gaping at her, he answered: “I would be honoured, your majesty.” 

  The Queen smiled widely and looked at Mademoiselle Campan, who merely smirked at her. Daniel tried not to visibly frown but he could sense that he was missing something in the silent conversation of the ladies. 

  A voice pulled Daniel from his musings. “Will you introduce me to your friend, my dear?” 

  Daniel turned to his right and almost felt his knees go weak as his eyes met with the bluest eyes he had ever seen, even those of the queen. The King had an unprecedented beauty, his high cheekbones, strong jaw and arched eyebrows gave him an angelic aura. Of course the layers upon layers of lace and silks and the puffy wig made him stand out even more, but if Daniel’s calculations were correct, they were of similar height and built. 

  “Of course. This is monsieur Howell, the artist I mentioned recently.”

  Realizing he was staring, he bowed. “Your majesty.”

  “Oh wonderful, wonderful. Will you be making a portrait of me for my bed chamber?” The king asked.

  Daniel’s eyes widened. “I- I- her majesty the Queen has requested a portrait of herself, would you like one of you as well?”

  “Of course! It would be easier if you just joined the court and moved here, wouldn’t you think so? I’m afraid the ladies have been talking and we would keep you quite occupied.”

  “That’s - I’m honoured. I…”

  “Philippe! You have scared the young man! He came to enjoy a party and you ask him to move in!” The Queen laughed.

  The King laughed. “Perhaps you are right, my apologies monsieur Howell.” 

  “No, please - there’s nothing to forgive. I apologize.” Daniel felt himself blushing. 

  Philippe smiled. “Very well. Would you walk with me?”

  “Of course, your majesty.”

  King Philippe bowed to Marie Antoinette and mademoiselle Campan before turning on his heels and walking away; Daniel bowed to the ladies as well and followed him, his eyes lingering in awe at the various paintings and statues displayed in the two following rooms.

  Once they were alone, Philippe slowed his pace, waiting for him to catch up. “My apologies, I really needed to find some peace and quiet.” 

  Daniel was shocked that the royals knew his art, that they had dared speak to him, and above all, that they behaved like normal people. The night had not gone as expected. “Of course, I assume having so many people around all the time must be hard.”

  “It is, but I do love Versailles. I can usually have some private time after I’m done with my state affairs and I walk through the gardens or read a book in my rooms. That’s why the Queen and I spend so much time and energy in decorating and making our rooms more suited to us than those who used them before us; it is our own little world away from everything and everyone.” 

  Daniel nodded. “I think I understand.” 

  “Wouldn’t you like to join the great artists who have created pieces for our home? Look around you, monsieur Howell, the kind of beauty you put into the world would fit right in.”

  “I would gladly create for you, but may I ask, is it really necessary that I move into the Palace?”

  “Well, I understand that you came from Paris, so unless you wish to travel ten hours a day and sleep in the carriage, it would be the most convenient. The amount and size of works we require would take you many months, possibly years to complete.”

  “Years?” Daniel’s eyes felt near to falling out of his skull.

  “They would be highly regarded and well paid, of course. We know that we are asking for quite a bit of work.”

  “I’m afraid that I can’t even consider it as an option, the amount of money that is required to abide by Versailles etiquette… I could never afford to live here. The cost of the fabrics alone would be my ruin.”

  The King stepped forward and held onto Daniel’s hands, his piercing eyes rooting him on the spot. “Monsieur Howell, I do not invite just anyone into my court. We know perfectly well what your situation is, but worry not about such small matters, only focus on what your heart desires, anything else will be taken care of.”

  Daniel lost himself in the eyes of the king, but before he could say something he would regret, he took a deep breath and answered. “I - I will think about it… if that’s acceptable, mon Roi.”

  Philippe smirked before squeezing Daniel’s hands lightly. “You amuse me, monsieur Howell. Not everyone has enough courage to keep the King waiting.” 

  “I -”

  Philippe raised his hand. “No, no. It’s perfectly fine. I will wait for your reply, which I hope will be satisfactory.” Philippe’s smirk widened and Daniel thought he saw the King of France staring at his lips as he licked his own but a second later Philippe let go of his hands and stepped back. “I trust that you can find your way back to the Hall of Mirrors by yourself, if you don’t mind, I would like to stay here for a while.”

  “Of course. Thank you, Sire.” Daniel bowed before making his way back.

  The rest of the night was spent dancing with madame d'Harcourt, eating and drinking copious amounts of champagne. By the time the sun was rising above the palace, Daniel and his friend were on their way back to her estate in Paris, deeply asleep in the carriage. 

  --

  The following weeks had Daniel lost deep in thought as he painted the first sight he had caught of Versailles, its golden gates and beautiful gardens leading to the Palace itself. He had a one time opportunity to change his life, to reach new heights but it would depend on the will of the King and his generosity. Would it be worth it? Or would it cost him everything? 

  He sighed and ran his brush on the leftover oil paints on his palette, gently mixing three colours into the perfect shade to add more highlights. It was not uncommon for Daniel to paint when he needed to make big decisions, it helped him clear his mind and relieve some of the tension.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his favourite work, a portrait of a beautiful young girl who had once been important in his life. It was during the creation of that piece that Daniel decided to renounce his family and move to France with little to no warning. For such a radical decision with incredibly important consequences, once his mind had been made up, there was no turning back. He’d needed a change, to turn his life around and make it his own, and by god, he had done it. He didn’t regret it, not a single day. 

   Perhaps it was time for another change.

  --

  When Daniel had to pack his belongings and leave his house behind, it was madame d'Harcourt who provided transportation once again. The queen had suggested this and invited the madame to spend a few days at Versailles with her and her friends. 

  Before they entered Versailles, madame d'Harcourt checked Daniel’s lace tie and straightened his robes. Satisfied with her work, she nodded. “You’ll fit right in. They’ll love you.”

  “Thank you,” Daniel said. Madame d'Harcourt had been a good friend, his only friend in fact, since he’d arrived at Paris, despite her occasionally overbearing maternal instincts. 

  --

  Daniel accompanied madame d'Harcourt to the Queen’s rooms and was invited in briefly so that Marie Antoinette and mademoiselle Campan could greet him and welcome him to Versailles. “We will give you a day’s rest to settle in, monsieur. Today I want to enjoy the afternoon with the ladies, but tomorrow we hope to start on my first portrait,” the Queen said with a smile. 

  No less than twenty ladies were listening to their conversation and murmuring. Some discretely admiring him from behind their white lace fans.

  “It will be an honour to capture your beauty and grace on canvas. I hope you deem my work worthy to be displayed.”

  “I am confident that I will. Good day.”

  Understanding that he was being dismissed, Daniel bowed. “Good day, your majesty.”

  --

  The following day, his first important commission started. The piece would be quite big, to be hung in one of the main halls of Versailles. Marie Antoinette would be depicted sitting with the princess on her lap. Given that portraying a very rambunctious two year old would take time, Daniel suggested that Marie Térèse would be in the room, getting used to their dynamic while he painted her mother and the background. 

  The princess enjoyed spending her afternoons with them, often sitting close to Daniel with her dolls and watching him paint. It was not unusual for the king to stop by every few days to check on the progress and occasionally stay a few minutes in between meetings. He gave Daniel quite a bit of his attention, which the Queen didn’t seem to care about except when he distracted Daniel. She would roll her eyes when he wasn’t looking and mention she was tired of holding the pose. The King would excuse himself shortly after and let them continue.

  Once the entire portrait was finished and dry, it was time to add Marie Térèse. Daniel had told her all about what they were about to do and she had seen the process with her eyes so she didn’t complain at all. She sat all her dolls beside Daniel so they could watch her being painted and went to her mother’s lap. 

  “You are so good, my darling. If you stay very still, maman will give you cake later for looking beautiful in the picture.”

  “Ohh! Beautiful like maman?”

  “Even more so, my love.”

  Completing the last bit of the portrait took several weeks; Daniel's work often interrupted by pretty birds and wandering puppies. The time they could keep the child sitting was limited and they didn’t want to push her. After all, Marie Térèse would spend many hours of her life posing for paintings. 

 Next Chapter

#phanfiction #phanfic #succubusphan fics #phan au #phan versailles au #historical fic

[teaandpinkfrosting]

Hi, friends! The last chapter of The New Marguerite is up, and just like I did with Nightingale, I’ve made The New Marguerite available for download as a PDF. You can download the full story here.

I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read and supported this story. I’ve been absolutely blown away by the amount of love it’s received. It might be my favorite thing that I’ve ever written, and I’m so glad to know that you all have been enjoying it too.

As a bit of a bonus that may or may not actually be interesting to people, I thought I’d share some of the resources I used to research this story! There are some really fun digital archives out there that were an absolute treat to explore, so if you want to delve deeper into the world of opera in 1890s New York City, this is for you.

Resources

Metropolitan Opera Archives

I literally started writing this fic because I couldn’t get enough of the Metropolitan Opera’s incredible archives. Not only do they have records of every single performance, they also include details like cast and production information, reviews, and photos. I have spent hours upon hours looking through these archives and find them endlessly fascinating.

New York Tribune (Library of Congress)

Another thing that I find incredibly interesting is reading old newspapers. Copies of the New York Tribune from 1892 and 1893 were very helpful. The page that I’ve linked to here includes reviews from the Met’s reopening on November 27, 1893.

Music

Faust is my favorite opera, and the many references to it in Phantom were what prompted me to first listen to it. For obvious reasons, there are also a lot of references to it in my story. If you’re not familiar with the opera and want a little taste, I thought I’d share a few of the scenes that feature in the fic.

Act 3 No. 9 (The Jewel Song)

Act 3 No. 18 (Faust and Marguerite’s duet)

Act 5 (Finale)

Just for fun (and because I have an intense love of Gounod), here are the two pieces from Romeo et Juliette that I mentioned.

Act 1 No. 3 (Je veux vivre)

Act 4 No. 17 (Amour, ranime mon courage)

And finally, the mad scene from Ambroise Thomas’s Hamlet and Henry Bishop’s “Home, Sweet Home,” which feature in the final chapter.

Act 4 No. 18 (Mad Scene)

Home, Sweet Home

#yes i did find a painting of faust being performed at the met in the 1890s #poto #phanfiction #my writing #history #historical research #opera

[horsegirlhob]

chapters: 1/?

Summary: Phil Lester is at the end of his rope, selling flowers on the streets of London in 1841. He seems all out of luck, unable to get a proper job because of his accent, and sending what meagre earnings he's getting to his ailing mother back north. That is until he runs into a linguist by the name of Daniel Howell, who offers to teach him how to speak like a proper gentleman. Hopefully this works out for the both of them

Based off of My Fair Lady but Dan isn't a classist dick and also there's some added homophobia sprinkled in there because Dan and Phil fall in love in the 1840's.

Tag list under the cut (Just let me know if you want to be added

@cuddly-lester @dontaskcuzidk @racheldaddow @dissociateingphil @americanphancakes  @depressedcoffeebean @iamemotrashdotcom @burnt-sienna-soup-ladles

#Dylan says things #phanfiction #phanfic #dan and phil fanfiction #please reblog/comment I need that to get me through the day #I apologize in advance for any historical inacuracies

[ncfwhitetigress-blog-blog]

Christine's Christmas Present (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/259300139-christine%27s-christmas-present?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=ncfwhitetigress&wp_originator=Pdi3iJc8aQpQlNXT8wF0QleBq%2BKHX0fsosbxeSnEol1b6dOooiH4VnB30VfdcnFtbp01wHHqPIwX2lut79QaUPqskNbPrXdo5lfjlqv%2BTD02sGVksqopnnOZmTReESKB Two years have passed since the burning of the Opera Populaire and Raoul and Christine have since exchanged vows, but all is not well. The Vicomte's love for his bedridden wife compels him on a quest to restore her passion for life and music, even if it leads him to butt heads again with an old rival. Author's Note: This story follows the 2004 movie version of Phantom of the Opera. There are some elements from the 1990 novel Phantom by Susan Kay, the 1999 novel The Phantom of Manhattan by Frederick Forsyth, and from the musical Love Never Dies, but none of those works are treated as canon in this story. I encourage you, the reader, to imagine Erik's singing as your favorite Phantom voice. I'm fond of Norm Lewis, Michael Crawford, and John Owen.

#christine #christinedaae #comfort #daae #destler #erik #erikdestler #friendship #ghost #giry #historical #hurt #meg #opera #operaghost #phanfiction #phantom #phantomoftheopera #populaire #poto #raoul #raouldechagny #victorian #books #wattpad #amwriting

[placingglaciers]

The Boy with the Rose-Colored Glasses

Title: The Boy with the Rose-Colored Glasses

Genre: Historical AU, Fluff, Angst, Teenagers, Platonic

Word Count: 27, 762 (brought exclusively to you by blood, sweat, and tears)

Warnings: Drugs, smoking, alcohol, intoxication, blood, vomiting

Description: A coming-of-age story where Dan and Phil are caught up in the frenzy of peer pressure, a garage punk band, divorcing parents, and a hint of neighborhood baseball within the fine time of August 1975 in small-town America (if you don’t mind).

Author’s Note: About a couple years in the making, no big deal (and no joke). Inspired by anything and everything, but mostly a couple things. (Please remember that this is fiction.)

The summer of 1961 provided a lovely mid-seventies temperature in the month of June on a particular Sunday. You could say that the downtown hospital parking lot means a lot to Daniel, whether he wants it to or not. You see, well, because most people are born in hospitals, and he was born rather at the hospital. In the afternoon, his mother’s loud screams of pain could be heard from streets away as his father frantically searched for a nurse inside. Within minutes, a crowd developed, and a few nurses came to save the day. There weren’t many tools or equipment to work with considering they were in a parking lot and it was too late for Mrs. Howell to be transported anywhere else; the baby was going to be born on hot asphalt. From then on, Daniel was always known for his eagerness to get a move on and see more of the world at every opportunity he got. He has a hasty, impatient personality that only comes if you were born with it. He’s simply glad the hospital didn’t put up a special sign for the strange achievement. Granted, that doesn’t stop Daniel’s parents from pointing it out every time they pass by the particular parking lot, though.

               It wasn’t the first time that this sort of thing happened to the Howell family. In fact, bad timing was what made the family in the first place. Ironically, all three Howell children were born exactly four years apart in the summer months (June, July, and August), making the summer only that much more busy and exciting. In July of 1957 on Interstate 70, Daniel’s older brother was born in the backseat of a blue Chevrolet Bel Air sedan. That certainly wasn’t the plan, of course. They lived far away from the hospital back then, but they were only minutes away from arriving. Sure enough, Daniel’s brother was born, thanks to Mr. Howell (who, granted, was freaking out the entire time) and Mrs. Howell’s resilience. He was wrapped in a navy blue jacket they discovered in the trunk, of which is still strangely stored in a box in the garage. Thankfully, they’ve purchased a new car sometime after Daniel was born. He was affectionately named Presley, after the King of Rock and Roll who was doing quite remarkably well in 1957. Daniel has always been jealous of that. He was merely named after his father.

               You’d think after the second time, the Howell’s would become better at giving birth, but that wasn’t such the case for their daughter. This time it was at a popular diner that Daniel’s family still eats at in a red vinyl booth. Certainly everyone in the restaurant wasn’t expecting a dinner and a show, but it just happened that way. Mrs. Howell’s water broke directly after suffering intense brain freeze from the vanilla milkshake she just drank. Given that Mr. Howell has been unfortunately through this before, he knew exactly what to do. The entire restaurant became chaotic and rowdy, but all rejoiced once the baby girl finally cried out. The atmosphere provided a sense of connectedness, like everyone suddenly grew closer together from observing such a feat of humankind. “Help Me, Rhonda” was playing in the background on the old Wurlitzer jukebox and inevitably became the inspiration for Daniel’s sister’s name.

               After three inconvenient instances of childbirth, Mrs. Howell determined to have no more before the fourth would be born in their local supermarket. Of course, this was more of a relief to their town than to their own family.

               Daniel has lived in the same small town all his life, right next to the river. He doesn’t know anything outside of that town. His family has never been the vacation type and everything they need is just downtown. More than that, he has lived in the same house on the same street for all his fourteen years and he wouldn’t want it any other way. At the end of the street is an old battered sandlot that no one really uses since the park is just towards the opposite end of the street. However, nine boys (and two girls) from that very street meet nearly every day on that makeshift baseball field in the summer and play from the morning to the evening when the streetlights come on and everyone’s mothers call them home from their front porches. It gives Daniel’s life meaning, even though he is merely the scorekeeper (although that isn’t necessary). Spending time outside, playing baseball with his friends is all he could ever want at fourteen.

               His best friend, Philip, is one of those friends. He lives on the other side of the street a couple of houses away. He is a…peculiar character, to say the least. Daniel is afraid he’ll forever be stuck in the year 1967. Despite the fact that the hippie movement has been fading out, Philip decided to hold on to it given that it was an “age of complete happiness and love.” Therefore, he keeps his hair long and messy; ties a silk scarf and beaded necklaces around his neck; wears a t-shirt of some type, bellbottoms or cutoffs, and rose-colored glasses that correspond with his personality quite accurately. To the team, he is nicknamed “Rosy” and he is the commentator. He even uses his mother’s old cheerleading megaphone for it and everything.

               Because of their unimportant and needless positions on the team, Daniel and Philip sit together on top of the unused opposing team’s dugout on the partially-corroded roof. To be truthful, neither one of them play all that well and the team knows it, which is why these positions were created just for them. The team could’ve easily kicked them out a long time ago, but sometimes having a few enthusiastic extra players becomes useful.

               On this particular Tuesday, the sun is close to setting, but everyone is playing just as well as when they began this morning. Daniel and Philip are up on their dugout, fulfilling their positions. Daniel has a small chalkboard with everyone’s names on it, keeping score of each individual player. He only keeps track of everyone’s runs and how many singles, doubles, and triples they get. Captain is doing the best out of everyone, of course, but J.J. is right up next to him. Shortie is up at bat, waiting for Split-Finger’s pitch. On first base is Fourth-Base-Chase, Señor on second, and Hoover on third. Since Captain is the floater, he replaces Shortie’s position as shortstop, with J.J. in left field, and Dan the Man in right field, leaving center field wide open. Grape is behind Shortie as the catcher, taunting her with his typical discouraging remarks. Now that the sun is about to set, it isn’t as hot as it used to be. The gentle breeze blows around some wrappers from their lunch out on the field. All is silent except for Philip’s commenting as Split-Finger begins his pitch.

               “Split-Finger pitches a fastball at geez, I would say a sixty miles per hour, a bit slower than his usual speed,” Philip announces in his mother’s old megaphone. “Typical split pitch.”

               “Strike one!” Grape yells as Shortie misses the ball.

               “Two more chances and she’s outta here!” Philip comments. “I’d say this will be the last of it tonight, what do you think Dan?”

               Daniel simply shrugs.

               “And Split pitches…and OOH a slider!” Philip announces excitedly. “He hasn’t done one of those in a while!”

               “Foul ball!” Grape yells out.

               “Let’s get an update on Shortie’s record for the day, shall we Dan?” Philip asks him and offers him the megaphone.

               “Shortie has made eight hits today resulting in five singles, two doubles, and only one homerun,” Daniel announces. “She is in seventh place. Yikes.”

               “Will you two shut up?!” Shortie yells from home plate, her left hand shading her eyes.

               “Ooh, feisty!” Philip laughs. He observes as Split-Finger begins to pitch again. “Let’s see, let’s see…ooh, and a slowball for a change! Resulting in strike two! Things are not looking good for Shortie.”

               “Come on!” Shortie yells at Split-Finger and swings her bat aggressively.

               “I’m just trying to adjust to your speed!” Split-Finger poorly justifies, showing off a smug smile.

               Shortie rolls her eyes.

               “And now it comes to the last, final pitch of the day, folks!” Philip announces and adjusts his pink glasses. “Shortie is known for her surprises. Perhaps she can take this one home.”

               Daniel sighs and runs his fingers through his shaggy wavy hair. “I doubt it. She’ll still be in seventh place if she does.”

               Philip punches his arm playfully. “Stop it!” He speaks into the megaphone, “Split pitches, and OOH oh no oh no. Oh my God. A beanball.”

               “Isn’t that like, illegal?” Daniel asks, trying to comprehend what just happened.

               “Sure is, Dan. Thankfully she ducked.” He shakes his head as everyone gathers around Shortie, except for Split-Finger. He puts his mouth to the megaphone, “Would you like to comment Split-Finger? Because that was a stupid move, and that’s coming from me.”

               Split-Finger walks up to their dugout and takes his Mountaineers baseball cap off, letting his sweaty, curly, dark hair free. “Hey, can I see that?”

               Philip is defensive over the megaphone, but given the tense circumstance, he hands it over.

               Split-Finger runs his fingers through his hair before speaking, “Shortie, I’ve done nothing but care for you for the past few weeks. What makes you think you can come to my house in the middle of the night and break up with me like that?”

               Daniel and Philip look at each other in shock and the rest of the team stands motionless, staring right back at Split-Finger.

               Captain shakes his head, “Okay, you know what; we’re having a team meeting! Team meeting people! Out in the dugout!”

               Philip snatches the megaphone out of Split-Fingers hands. “Team meeting in the dugout! Team meeting in the dugout!”

               “I think they already know, Phil,” Daniel says as he erases the chalkboard with his hands.

               They help each other down from their dugout and move across the field to the other dugout. The majority of the teammates sit on the benches and the others stand and lean on the wooden support posts. Daniel and Philip select a spot on a bench next to Fourth-Base-Chase and Hoover. Captain stands towards the end of the dugout, with his arms folded, not looking particularly happy.

               “Okay, first of all, great game today,” Captain begins. “Second of all, illegal pitches in MLB are still illegal pitches in this dump of a field, alright?” He looks directly at Split-Finger, “This means that you, Split, are suspended for a week.”

               Split-Finger’s jaw drops, “Wh-what?! Nobody got hurt! I don’t see why I can’t play. I’m like, one of the best players here!” He looks over at Daniel, “Right, Dan?”

               Daniel lowers his head, not exactly enjoying the position he is in. “He placed third, right after J.J.”

               “That isn’t the point! You broke two rules: one for pitching illegally and second for dating a teammate!” Captain retorts. “Relationships don’t work on the field. Period.”

               “Well it’s your fault for allowing girls on the team!” Split-Finger argues as if it’s his final resort.

               “Ever heard of Title IX?” J.J. fires back. “You’re lucky Shortie and I even play for you losers.”

               “Enough!” Captain yells once more. “Split, you’re suspended for seven days, period. Rosy, you’re gonna have to give up that megaphone because you’re playing as of tomorrow.”

               It was now Philip’s turn for his jaw to drop. “Wh-what?! I am not an adequate replacement for him! Have you seen me play?”

               “Well consider it practice then,” Captain replies, taking no more complaints for the day. “Our fifth annual end-of-the-summer neighborhood baseball game is coming up in a few weeks. We need to get ready.”

               “Why? We won the last four,” Dan the Man comments. “We’re pretty much invincible!”

               “As captain, I can’t allow ourselves to get cocky,” Captain answers, becoming more irritated the more people talk. “I’ve been hearing rumors that the East Side has been practicing extra hard this year, sneaking out at night and playing until the sun comes up and then playing all day, too.”

               “Those are just rumors!” Philip speaks up. “I refuse to be intimidated by them.”

               Daniel smiles at him, “That’s right!”

               “That reminds me, Dan, you’re playing tomorrow too,” Captain announces.

               “No, I can’t; somebody has to keep score,” Daniel simply responds.

               “In case you haven’t realized yet, we don’t need a scorekeeper,” Hoover says rather hurtfully. “We play for the game, not the points.”

               Daniel bends forward to get a good look at Hoover who was sitting on the other side of Philip. “How about you do your job and I do mine, okay?”

               “Uh, Captain, Dan and I have an announcement before we break so if you could wrap things up, that would be great,” Philip struggles to change the subject.

               “Why do I have to play anyway?” Daniel asks, getting right back to the subject again anyway.

               “Voy a la Escuela Biblica de Vacaciones próxima semana,” Señor finally speaks out.

               “¿Por qué?” Grape asks rather rudely.

               “¡Porque sí!” Señor yells defensively.

               “Look, if he wants to go to V.B.S. then let him go,” Captain sighs. “We can’t be sexist and anti-religious at the same time.”

               Daniel folds his arms, “Fine.”

               Captain finally sits down at an open spot on one of the benches. “Floor is yours, Rosy.”

               Daniel and Philip replace Captain’s spot. They are both nervous, so they keep their hands behind them and they smile awkwardly. It is quiet for a couple seconds.

               “It is with great pleasure to announce that Hopeless is recruiting new members!” Daniel excitedly blurts out.

               Philip claps his hands enthusiastically. “We are having tryouts this Friday all day in Daniel’s garage, so come with any musical talent you may have and we just might initiate you into the band!”

               Most of their teammates stare at them in confusion.

               “Hopeless?” Dan the Man asks as if he never heard of the word before. “Isn’t that your band that plays in Dan’s old garage?”

               Daniel folds his arms, “I thought I made it clear that I wanted to be called ‘Daniel’ from now on. And yes, that is our prestigious garage punk band.”

               “Whoever said it was ‘prestigious?’” Shortie asks. “All you do is make noise all day while the rest of us have to deal with our parents yelling about it. We can hear you all the way up the street.”

               “Good!” Philip retorts, struggling to defend himself, Daniel, and whatever little respect Hopeless has remaining.

               Everyone freezes once they notice the first streetlight come on right beside the sandlot. Captain breaks the silence, “Alright, well, we’ll keep that in mind.” He stands up and pats Daniel and Philip’s shoulders, “Thank you Rosy and Daniel.”

               Daniel smiles widely at him.

               “Meeting adjourned!” Captain yells out a little too loudly.

               Philip grabs his megaphone and is the last one to leave after Daniel. The sky is dusky now; the final few rays of the sun are still peeking through the trees. The crickets are singing along the road they walk on. The fireflies are coming out, a few of the teammates already challenging each other to catch one. Mothers are on front porches, calling their children’s names to come back inside. It is the same routine every summer night in this neighborhood.

               “Do you think we’ll have anybody try out?” Daniel asks Philip nervously.

               “Of course! Who wouldn’t want to?” Philip answers positively.

               “Cut the crap, Phil, tell me honestly.”

               “I really do honestly think people will try out!” He giggles. “It’ll be fine.”

               “What do you think about having to play tomorrow?”

               “Um, well, it’ll give us some practice, that’s for sure. We can totally smash East Side to pieces, but we just gotta be prepared first, that’s all.”

               “I’m not so good, Phil. I’m the only lefty on the team.”

               “That doesn’t mean anything! Since I’m replacing Split-Finger, I’ll make sure to pitch easy for you, alright?” He puts his arm comfortingly around Daniel.

               Daniel struggles not to smile, “You don’t have to do that. I’m just scared of everyone else making fun of me.”

               “We’re a team, if we make fun of you, we’re doing it outta love.”

               “Is that what it is?”

               Mrs. Howell’s voice could be heard now and she doesn’t seem too happy.

               “I gotta go, man, catch you on the flip-side,” Daniel fist-bumps Philip and begins running to his house.

               “Hey! Don’t forget to call me!” Philip yells after him.

               “I won’t!”

                                                                                               ***

               Daniel stirs his mashed potatoes absentmindedly as the dinner conversation rolls out. His father had an okay day, his mother is stressed about sales (as usual), his sister was on the phone all day with her friends, and his brother, well…

               “That does not mean that you just do whatever your friends do, Presley,” Mrs. Howell says sternly. “I’ve been telling you for years and years to stop hanging out with those people.”

               Daniel’s brother begins listing off his fingers as if he’s trying to make a point. “We didn’t get caught, no one got hurt, and we had a great time together! What is so wrong about that?”

               Mr. Howell finishes cutting his Salisbury steak and decides to jump in the conversation. “I see how your last summer before going to college should be exciting and all, but don’t try to kill yourself to do it.”

               “Oh, so what? I’m just supposed to sit around all day and babysit my sister?” Daniel’s brother complains.

               Mrs. Howell folds her arms on the table and looks at him and then at Daniel who sits slumped in his chair with little interest of the food or the conversation. “How about you take Dan out shopping tomorrow for Rhonda’s birthday presents?”

               Daniel lifts his head and glances excitedly at his brother, “Can we?”

               Presley rolls his eyes and shoves a forkful of green beans in his mouth. “I suppose I deserve this.”

               “What are you gonna get me?” Daniel’s sister asks curiously.

               “None of your business!” Daniel replies and glares at her.

               “It better be something good; I’m turning ten, which is a pretty big deal, you know.”

               “Oh please, you were named after a Beach Boys jukebox song—you’re nothing special,” Presley fires out.

               Rhonda’s jaw drops and tears almost begin to form. She looks over at her mother, “What? Is it true?”

               “Well, honey, it was a popular song at the time…” Mrs. Howell struggles with the truth, paying more attention to her napkin.

               Daniel laughs, “Yeah, and we don’t always sit at the same booth at the diner just ‘cause it’s our favorite, neither.”

               Presley’s face scrunches up, “Oh, dude, not while we’re eating!”

               Daniel sticks his tongue out at him and eats a piece of his steak.

               “Mom, what are they talking about?” Daniel’s sister asks with full concern.

               “Nothing, Cupcake, they’re just teasing you,” Mr. Howell attempts to calm the waters.

               “Let’s talk about your party instead,” Mrs. Howell changes the subject. “How many of your friends are coming over?”

               “Ummm…” Rhonda tilts her head to the side while she thinks. “I think four.”

               “Alright, when you know for sure, tell me. The party starts at five on Friday. Did you tell them that?”

               “Yes.”

               “Five?!” Daniel asks as if his entire world turned upside down. “You can’t have it at five; Phil and I have band tryouts.”

               Mr. Howell rolls his eyes and drinks some of his water, “Oh boy…”

               “Then you’re just going to have to pick another day,” Mrs. Howell reasons, finishing her mashed potatoes.

               Daniel shakes his head, refusing to give into the bad timing Howell curse. “We told all our teammates that it is Friday and Phil already has flyers made. We cannot change the date.”

               “Why can’t you have tryouts until five?” Presley asks. “It’s not like you’re expecting a whole bunch of people anyway.”

               Daniel glares at him, “It’s more convenient for my demographic for tryouts to be all day. Some people aren’t allowed out of the house until their dad comes home from work.”

               Presley arches one of his eyebrows, “You have this all figured out, huh?”

               “Yeah.”

               “Who are you lookin’ for?”

               “A bass player and keyboard man. Maybe even a laser guy,” Daniel shrugs, “Phil and I still have to figure out our production value.”

               “Production value?” Presley laughs. “Do you guys even have a sound?”

               “Yeah, loud,” Mr. Howell interrupts.

               “We’re a punk garage band—labels have no meaning to us,” Daniel retorts.

               “Alright, I’ll let my friends know then,” Daniel’s brother finally says.

               Daniel smiles.

               “For your troubles, feel free to invite Phil to the party,” Mrs. Howell tells him.

               Daniel’s eyes brighten and he smiles even wider, “Really?”

               Rhonda slouches in her chair, “No, Mom, Phil is weird! He’s gonna bore all my friends with his hippie-talk.”

               “Yes, Phil is quite a lot to handle at times, but he is Dan’s friend, who will keep him occupied during your party,” Mrs. Howell says, trying to bring peace back to the family.

               Mr. Howell checks his wristwatch, “Oh, it’s almost nine o’clock. All in the Family is going to be on soon, come on everyone.”

               The family gets up from the table and Mrs. Howell tells Daniel, “It’s your night to do the dishes, remember.”

               Daniel bites back his tongue and begins to collect the dirty dishes everyone left on the table. The rest of the family gather around the small tube television in the wood-paneled living room with Rhonda and Presley sitting on the green carpet and their parents sitting on the brown upholstered couch. Daniel piles all the plates, cups, cutlery, pots, and pans in the avocado green sink and begins scrubbing. By the time he is finished with the dishes, Rhonda is in bed and the Maude episode is halfway over.

               “All finished?” Mrs. Howell asks Daniel, watching him push the chairs in at the dining table.

               Daniel sighs tiredly, “Yes.”

               “Want to finish the episode with us?” His father asks, patting the open seat next to him on the couch.

               Daniel doesn’t answer and instead walks over to the yellow telephone on the matching floral wallpapered hallway wall. He sticks his left pointer finger into the rotary dial and calls up Philip. The line rings and rings and rings to the point that Daniel gets worried. What is going on? Philip always answers. He decides to hang up and look out the living room window that faces the street to see if Philip’s lights are still on in his room. They are, but he also notices that his mother is finally home, indicating things are probably getting interesting over there.

                                                                                               ***

               After watching Daniel go into his house, Philip continues to go to his. There is still an empty spot in front of his house where his mother typically parks. He becomes worried as she was gone before he went to Daniel’s house this morning. His father’s truck is in the driveway, though, and he can only imagine what he thinks about all this. Philip swallows nervously before going through his front door. He sees his father watching NBC, more likely waiting for Monday Night Football. He has a Narragansett can in his hands and the evening paper in his lap. The only light on in the house seems to be from the brass floor lamp right beside the faded La-Z-Boy plaid recliner chair of which Mr. Lester is lounging in. Philip doesn’t bother to say hello to him, he simply goes directly to the kitchen and turns the light on. Dinner isn’t made, nor are there any signs that it will be.

               “Where’s Mom?” Philip asks his father from the kitchen.

               “How the hell should I know?” Mr. Lester asks back irritably. “She’s been gone since six in the morning!”

               Philip’s insides become tense and he begins searching around for a note. After he checks the cream-colored refrigerator, oak dining table, telephone tablet, and front door, he concludes that there wasn’t a note in the first place. He watches an IBM typewriter commercial while standing by the floral-patterned couch before asking, “Who’s making dinner then?”

               His father sighs tiredly, “You’re fourteen years old, for crying out loud; make something yourself!”

               Philip holds back his tongue and heads back to the kitchen. He grabs the half empty bag of nacho cheese flavored Doritos and a chocolate Snack Pack from the refrigerator and a spoon and goes to his room. The first thing he does is reassure himself that his mother is fine and will come back soon. They still have back-to-school shopping to do and that was their favorite end-of-the-summer activity to do together. He can’t imagine doing it with his father. He would simply buy him the cheapest supplies and force him to use the backpack he used last year. Besides, this isn’t her first time being gone all day. She’s a lonely housewife who merely wants to see the world sometimes.

               Philip sets his dinner on his green shag carpet and heads over to his record player. He puts on Hunky Dory and closes his eyes as “Changes” begins to play, trying to forget all his troubles. In time, he returns to his floor and gets out his art supplies and paper. His job was to make promotional flyers for the band tryouts and all he has is a couple finished. He opens his chocolate pudding and takes a few spoonfuls before sketching out the band’s logo in pencil. It is his hopes that the tryouts turn out successful. They’ve been struggling as a two-man band since they formed a couple years ago. Philip never really had a problem with it, he simply likes having fun and spending time with Daniel, but he understands how important it is for the band to grow.

               By the time the record is over, Philip is finished with another two flyers. He tries to count how many telephone poles their street has and he believes he is roughly halfway completed now. He finally gets up from the floor and stretches. He sees himself in the mirror on his closet door and it is the first time he noticed since he came home that he’s still wearing his day clothes. He goes over to his dresser and takes off his rose-colored glasses, blue neck scarf, and beaded necklace. He unbuttons his purple striped butterfly collared shirt and slips off his black corduroy flared trousers and kicks them in the corner. He puts on his red plaid pajamas and gathers his trash and spoon and goes back out to the kitchen.

               “You did not have my permission to just be gone the whole day!” Mr. Lester yells angrily. “Some of us can’t do that, you know.”

               “I have my own car, for which I pay for, and I had no other obligations,” Mrs. Lester argues back. “So I went!”

               “I should just take that car off of you,” Mr. Lester mumbles and drinks more of his beer.

               Philip finally emerges from the hallway and sees his mother in jeans and a t-shirt that has a bunch of pins all over it that have acronyms like “E.R.A.” and “N.O.W.” She has the female symbol painted on her cheeks, her brown hair is messy, and in her hands is a bent sign that says “EQUAL PAY FOR EQUAL JOBS.”

               “Mom—” Philip begins.

               Mrs. Lester smiles widely at him, “Phil! Oh, how are you! I haven’t seen you all day!” She hurries over and hugs him tightly.

               “You smell like McDonald’s,” Philip mumbles in her chest.

               She lets go of him, “What did your father make for dinner?”

               Philip shrugs and glances over at him and back at her. “I don’t know, he hasn’t made it yet.”

               “What?” She looks over at her husband. “You didn’t make him food?”

               “You think that is my job?” He asks right back. “I am the one who is away at work all day. Do you really think I should come home and do your job too?”

               She puts her hands on her hips, “I expect you to be a father, which is all I ever asked from you. In case you forgotten—” she puts her hands on both of Philip’s shoulders—“he is your son too. And if I get that job downtown, this will be our new reality. You have to step up.”

               Mr. Lester mutes the television, a rare occurrence during Monday Night Football. “Job? What job? When were you gonna tell me about that?”

               Mrs. Lester becomes silent and lowers her head. She breathes a few seconds before answering, “I wasn’t going to say anything until I got it, that way you wouldn’t hold it against me if I didn’t get it.”

               “What makes you think you need to get a job?”

               The phone begins to ring but no one makes an effort to answer it. Philip knows that it’s Daniel, but he rather not have him listening to his parents yell in the background.

               “Me, I do,” Mrs. Lester points to herself with a new sense of self-confidence. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my cursed life in this house mopping floors and doing laundry for you. Because, maybe, perhaps, I was meant for something more. Just like all the other women out there.”

               He rolls his eyes, “Oh boy, better do what the women want before they start having hissy fits.” He finishes the remainder of his second can of beer, “Listen up, sweetheart; sometimes we don’t always get what we want.”

               With that, the telephone finally stops ringing and Mrs. Lester exits the room, leaving a cold chill in the air.

                                                                                               ***

               Once the morning sun peeps through Philip’s blue cotton curtains, he wakes up and gets dressed. Being that he’ll actually be on the field today, he decides to wear something more practical. He picks out a pair of jean cutoff shorts, a blue raglan shirt, white tube socks, and his dirty white sneakers. He ties a red bandana around his head, keeping his long hair in place. He finally grabs a few beaded necklaces from his dresser and drapes them around his neck and cleans off his pink glasses before putting them on his face. He checks himself in the mirror, feeling complete and true again. Just as he is about to leave, he grabs his mitt and baseball from the top of his desk, hoping today would be a good one. He then leaves his room and his house, neither of his parents are up yet, and heads over to Daniel’s.

                The sky is a light blue now and all the morning birds are out singing already. A few houses are lively as the workday has already begun. Philip casually crosses the street and walks up to Daniel’s two-story house and goes inside as everyone’s doors in that neighborhood are typically left unlocked. The smell of bacon and eggs hits Philip as he walks through the entry way and he walks over to the kitchen.

               “Phil, you’re here early!” Mrs. Howell chirps, filling glasses with orange juice.

               Philip smiles at Daniel as he slides into the seat next to him at the kitchen table. “I know, breakfast is much better here than at my house. Your cooking is amazing, Mrs. Howell.”

               Daniel’s mother blushes as she sets the glasses on the table. She turns off the stove and begins putting breakfast on the plates.

               “You didn’t answer my call last night,” Daniel comments after he takes a drink of his orange juice.

               Philip becomes distracted by Daniel’s sister dressing her Barbie dolls at the table.

               “Rhonda, no,” Daniel snatches the doll from her hands. “Phil and I don’t particularly want to see naked women this early in the morning.”

               “Give it back!” His sister yells, jumping out of her seat and wrestling with Daniel’s grip. “That’s mine! Daniel!”

               “Give your sister her doll back, Dan,” Mrs. Howell scolds, placing the plates on the table.

               “She’s playing at the table, Mom!” Daniel argues back.

               “She’s not hurting anybody,” His mother says calmly as she searches for a clear song on the kitchen radio. “Some Kind of Wonderful” comes in and she begins cleaning some of the dishes in the sink.

               “Well?” Daniel presses on, mouth full of bacon, looking at Philip for an answer.

               A spot underneath his bandana began to itch, so Philip scratches it and puts some pepper on his scrambled eggs. “Well, I did hear you call.”

               “I had a lot of important things to say!”

               “My family was busy, so I wasn’t exactly able to answer it.”

               “We have a big day today,” Daniel announces as he quickly eats his eggs.

               “What was it that you wanted to talk about?” Philip drinks his orange juice.

               “I have to tell you later. How are those flyers coming along?”

               He eats some of his eggs before answering, “I finished two more last night, so I’m about halfway done.”

               “Well we need them up on Wednesday.”

               “Alright, mellow out, man. I have it taken care of.”

               Suddenly the front door opens and in walks in Captain, with his short shorts and tight yellow polo. “Don’t wanna be late for your big day, guys.”

               Daniel rolls his eyes, “Don’t interrupt a man while he’s eating his breakfast.”

               “We’ll be right over,” Philip says reassuringly.

               Captain readjusts his navy blue university baseball cap, “Alright, don’t have us waitin’.”

               Once he leaves, Daniel and Philip quickly finish the remainder of their breakfast and head outside. They catch up with Grape and Fourth-Base-Chase on the sidewalk.

               “Things sure will be different without Split,” Grape laments. “Think you can handle it, Rose?”

               Philip twists his mouth with uncertainty, “Of course!”

               Grape shakes his head and laughs. He wraps his muscular arm around Philip’s shoulders supportively. “All you have to do is aim for my glove and I’ll do the best. No matter how bad you may pitch, I’ll make sure to save you, cool beans?”

               Philip nods his head, having little faith that he could do even the bare minimum this sport requires.

               “All this talk about Split-Finger being gone, but what about Señor?” Fourth-Base-Chase asks. “We had a good system going on.”

               “I’ll throw in a couple Spanish words and it’ll be like he isn’t even gone, bien?” Daniel says.

               “Look, Daniel, all I want you to do is catch the ball when I throw it to you,” Fourth-Base-Chase tells him almost pleadingly.

               “Man, you guys are actin’ like we never played baseball in our lives!” Daniel complains. “Who do you think recruited you two idiots?”

               “He has a point,” Philip chimes in, “I’ve been in little league since I was in the first grade.”

               Grape and Fourth-Base-Chase remain quiet for the remainder of the walk to the field. When they finally arrive, everyone is in their positions, with Captain waiting to bat. Grape finds his mask from the dugout and Fourth-Base-Chase and Daniel grab their mitts from one of the benches. Since none of the teammates are responsible enough to bring their equipment every day, they end up leaving it in the dugout, which has worked successfully so far. Once everyone is in their positions, all eyes are on Philip as he stands up on the pitcher’s mound—a place that has only been for Captain and Split-Finger for the past five years. The hot morning sun beats down on the back of his neck and all is silent. He’s regretting not practicing with Daniel before they left, but he understands they had no time anyway.

               He breathes in and determines his pitch. In his mitt, he holds the bottom/front of the baseball, gripping with his thumb and middle finger. He bends his pointer finger so that his knuckle is against the ball. He then bends his left leg up, and brings it down, having his right arm come out. He rotates his body by bringing his arm forward and his chest towards his knee, following through. The ball is released in a fast knuckle curve pitch that Captain barely hits. The team cheers in amazement and Grape throws it back at Philip, who is smiling widely. Hardly ever does Captain get a strike.

               “You didn’t think I had it in me, huh?” Philip teases Captain.

               Captain bites his bottom lip and prepares to bat, not saying one word.

               Captain ends up hitting a double, and even though he was playing for his own team against Philip, Philip feels happy for him considering he’s not certain if he can hit a double himself.

               Once Philip gets the hang of it, he begins throwing nasty and deceiving pitches that result in a lot of his teammates hating him. He even strikes out Daniel, but that’s because Daniel is a terrible batter. By lunchtime, Philip only bats a few singles. If Dan the Man didn’t catch his last hit, he would’ve at least had a double.

               “I have to tell you something,” Daniel says to Philip while removing his turkey sandwich from its saran wrap. It was Hoover’s mother’s turn to bring lunch this time and she always brought the most amazing food for them. Daniel and Philip are both sitting on top of their dugout since they haven’t had an opportunity to this entire day so far.

               “Yeah?” Philip asks, peeling his banana.

               “Mom is making Presley take me out tonight to get Rhonda her birthday present.”

               Philip nods his head as he takes a bite of banana, “Do you know what you’re gonna get her?”

               Daniel pops open his Pepsi and takes a long swig before answering, “I’m not sure. I’ve wanted to ask if you wanted to come with us tonight.”

               Philip swallows some of his sandwich before asking, “Am I invited?”

               Daniel tilts his head, “Well…”

               “Why do you want me to go?”

               “Because it’ll be fun and we’ll get to bug my brother.”

               “But your brother’s so cool,” Philip shakes his head, “I don’t think I can keep insulting him for much longer.”

               Daniel rolls his eyes and takes a giant bite of his sandwich. “I just wanna get out of this neighborhood for a while. Excuse me for trying to get you in on all the excitement.”

               Philip thinks back to last night and how desperately he wished he really wasn’t alive while his parents were fighting. You’d think after years of this he’d get used to it, but home still has never been his favorite place to be sometimes. He takes a few sips of his Pepsi and makes his decision. “I’ll go, as long as I can put on new threads before we head out.”

               Daniel shakes his head, “I was planning on going right after practice today.”

               Philip glances down at his dirty cutoffs and tube socks, “You want me to go shopping like this?”

               “You look fine!”

               He sighs, “Okay, well, I’ll go like this then. But I don’t have any bread, so don’t expect me to pay for anything.”

               Daniel rolls his eyes, “That’s half of the fun—we’ll make Presley pay for it.”

                                                                                       ***

               Once it becomes cooler and the sun is lower in the sky, Daniel becomes relieved. He has much respect for Señor now. Catching the ball from Fourth-Base-Chase is rather difficult on top of the fact that he has to be touching the base simultaneously. If not, he has to throw the ball to Hoover, and given by his quite appropriate nickname, he is practically a professional on third base. And if that doesn’t work out, he’d have to throw it to Philip, who is just as good at catching as he is. He only manages to hit a couple doubles, but he mostly strikes out or gets singles. Philip is lucky as he hit the only triple today, although that doesn’t say much as there were quite a few homeruns. Given that Daniel is a natural at scorekeeping, he guesses that the top three players of the day are Captain, J.J., and Grape. Philip and he are at the bottom of his imaginary scoreboard, though that is rather expected.

               “Don’t worry Dan, by the end of this week; we’ll be playing like naturals again,” Philip assures him as they walk out of the field.

               “Too bad by the end of the week we won’t be useful anymore,” Daniel replies sadly. “Señor and Split-Finger will be back before we know it.”

               “We’re always useful to the team!” Philip says in his usual way. “Our team is like an orchestra; if two instruments are missing, you’ll know it pretty quick. We all need each other.”

               Daniel rolls his eyes, “I’m just excited practice is over. Now we get to go to the mall!”

               Philip brushes off his shorts insecurely, “You sure I look fine?”

               “If anything, you look better than me,” Daniel admits, picking at his tight rainbow striped tank top.

               Philip throws his ball into his mitt a couple times, “You played good today.”

               Daniel smiles, “Nuh-uh, you liar. You got a triple!”

               “Right, among all those other homeruns. Even Fourth-Base-Chase took one home.”

               He punches his arm playfully, “Hey, whatever happened to that rosy attitude everyone likes?”

               Philip blushes, shrugs, and kicks a rock to the curb. “I guess I’m just nervous.”

               “What? About my brother?” He shakes his head, “That guy’s a chump! He brushes his teeth in the shower and sleeps all day. Not to mention he hates cereal and doesn’t watch cartoons!”

               “That’s the thing, Dan, maybe watching cartoons and waking up early is lame,” Philip scratches underneath his bandana. “We’re getting older now; we have to start doing things differently.”

               “W-well, who said that?” Daniel is beginning to become worried by the way Philip is talking.

               “You said so yourself when you started telling everybody to call you ‘Daniel’ from now on.”

               He purses his lips and stays quiet for a few seconds. “I never told you to call me Daniel.”

               Philip doesn’t reply as they enter the Howell’s driveway. He admires the 1972 AMC black Gremlin parked beside him. It is Daniel’s brother’s, of course, and even though Philip isn’t a car type of person, he is jealous. He fixes his hair in the reflection of the passenger window as Daniel goes inside to get Presley.

               “I’m taking this spaz, too?” Presley complains once he exits the house and sees Philip in the driveway.

               “He meant that endearingly!” Daniel makes sure to tell Philip.

               Philip casually throws his ball in his mitt before speaking, “Hey, Presley.”

               “Yeah, hi,” Daniel’s brother unlocks the passenger door and opens it. He brings the tan seat forward and points inside. “Get in.”

               “Aw, why can’t I sit up front?” Daniel complains.

               “Because we’re picking up my girlfriend,” Presley answers plainly.

               “Did you tell Mom?” Daniel asks, folding his arms.

               Presley gets in his face, “I don’t have to if she doesn’t find out about it.”

               Daniel huffs and gets in the car with Philip following. Presley starts the car, with “Fame” blasting loud in the speakers. Daniel and Philip cover their ears until Presley turns it down and backs out of the driveway.

               “You like David Bowie, too?” Philip asks Presley, trying to find some kind of similarities between them.

               “Uh, sure,” Presley comments nonchalantly. “This is his new song, right?”

               His eyes brighten up, “Yeah! If you listen closely you can also hear John Lennon in it, too.”

               Daniel rolls his eyes, “I told you to start listening to punk bands for our muse!”

               “I’m trying!” Philip shouts back.

               As they drive through the neighborhood, Daniel asks, “So, what are we all gonna get Rhonda?”

               “Maybe one of those Easy Bake Ovens so she can start making us food,” Presley jokes.

               “Uh, no!” He disagrees. “She could poison us!”

               “You know what I always wanted?” Philip asks, trying to look into other people’s houses through the car window.

               “Hm?” Daniel asks back.

               “One of those Spirograph things. They look so cool.”

               “You don’t even want a new guitar?” Presley asks him, pulling in to a driveway that most likely belongs to his girlfriend.

               “Are you kidding me? Do you know how many yards I had to mow to get my Strat?” Philip shakes his head, “I don’t think so.”

               Presley laughs and honks his horn. Presently, his girlfriend comes out of the house wearing a palazzo style red halter jumpsuit with white platforms and her straight, long, golden brown hair evenly parted down the middle.

               “Whoa,” Daniel breathes out, watching her walk to the car.

               “Oh please, stop acting like you never seen a girl before,” Presley comments.

               “We have company, I see,” Presley’s girlfriend says as she enters the Gremlin.

               Presley rolls his eyes, “My mother’s idea.”

               “It’s a good thing we have a girl to go shopping with now,” Philip says, seeing the positive side to this.

               “Shopping?” She asks. “I thought you said we were going to the drive-in?”

               Presley sighs as he backs out, “We are, but I haven’t told them yet.”

               “But Presley!” Daniel shouts, a bit shocked. “We are supposed to get Rhonda’s birthday present!”

               “Don’t worry about it!” Presley shouts back.

               “The drive-in?” Philip asks, bewildered.

               “Yeah, well don’t let everyone thank me at once,” Presley says sarcastically as he begins driving down the street. “Do you think Jaws is still playing?”

               “Jaws?!” His girlfriend asks with astonishment in her voice. “You’re taking two little boys to see Jaws? What is wrong with you?”

               Presley laughs, “It won’t be that bad!”

               “You know I hate sharks,” Daniel tells him.

               “You don’t have to watch it if you don’t want to,” Presley eventually says. “There are tons of other things to do at a drive-in than to see the movie, she and I know that pretty well by now.”

               His girlfriend punches him playfully, “Presley!”

               “We’re not making out, if that’s what you’re implying,” Philip says dryly.

               Daniel his Philip’s leg, “Phil!”

               He shrugs, “What?”

               “Everyone shut up!” Presley turns up the radio and holds his girlfriend’s hand in an over-the-top fashion. He begins to sing off-key, “You are so beautiful, to meeee…”

               Daniel and Philip cover their eyes and groan in the backseat.

               “Presley!” She exclaims in embarrassment and squirms in her seat.

               “You’re everything I hoped for!” Presley continues while laughing.

               “Gross!” Daniel shouts. “Get a room!”

               Presley finishes out the song just as they enter the drive-in. He pays for their tickets and continues to the Jaws screening. They luckily locate a parking spot towards the back. Once a trailer for Rocky Horror Picture Show begins playing, Presley quickly takes out his wallet and hands Daniel and Philip five dollars.

               “Get us some popcorn at the concession stand,” Presley tells them rather seriously.

               “Wait, I want to see this first,” Daniel says, eyes glued to the windshield.

               Presley quickly obstructs his view, “No you do not, now get us something.”

               “Please?” Philip stubbornly chimes in.

               “Please,” Presley dryly says.

               Presley’s girlfriend gets out of the car so Daniel and Philip can get out. As they walk to the concession stand, Daniel fiddles with the five dollar bill and thinks a bit. He glances back at the black Gremlin and then back at the money in his hands. “Phil, we’re going rogue.”

               “Rogue?” Philip asks back. “What does that mean?”

               “We’re ditching my brother and his girlfriend and spending all the money for ourselves.”

               Philip nods his head, “Alright, I’m in. I probably wasn’t gonna survive the night otherwise.”

               They decide to get whatever five dollars could give them, which was a lot of popcorn, a couple candy bars, and two cans of Pepsi. They make their way pass all the cars with their arms full of popcorn all the way to the front, making certain to avoid Presley’s car. There are already a lot of people up here on blankets and in lawn chairs, but that doesn’t bother them much. They hardly ever went to the drive-in, so they are certainly not complaining about anything. Finally, after eating half of their snacks and the sun is completely down and the trailers taking their good ol’ time, the movie begins. However, the more Daniel sees the shark, the more he becomes uneasy. Philip has to admit he is fairly scared, too. They are sitting close together, hiding their eyes with their arms.

               “Phil, I can’t take this anymore!” Daniel cries.

               Philip finishes the rest of his Pepsi. “Wanna grab my ball and mitt from the backseat and play catch or something?” The idea has been in his head for quite a while now.

               Daniel sighs with relief and gathers his trash, “Better than this.”

               They throw their trash away in a nearby trashcan and cowardly walk up to Daniel’s brother’s car. They notice that Presley and his girlfriend are in an intense make out session and are nearly tempted to walk away.

               Daniel knocks on the passenger door, “Uh, hello?”

               The couple break apart and Presley looks at them in a daze. “Where have you two been?”

               “We came here to get Phil’s stuff,” Daniel says, not bothering to answer the question.

               “What did he leave?” The girl asks.

               “My ball and glove,” Philip answers, his voice sounding small.

               “You two are the cutest little things,” she says as she reaches behind her seat and grabs the baseball and mitt. She hands it over to them.

               “Yeah, well, we’re even more adorable when we play,” Daniel terribly flirts back. “Wanna watch?”

               Philip hits him in the abdomen. “He means thank you. See you later.”

               “What was that for?!” Daniel shouts at him while they find an empty spot to play.

               “You’re terrible with the ladies, have I ever told you that?” Philip tells him.

               “Yeah, well, we can’t all be Fourth-Base-Chase,” Daniel replies irritably.

               They discover a vacant area near the concession stand and they begin to throw Philip’s baseball back and forth. They do that for what seems like hours as they quickly develop a smooth rhythm. With the team, they play rather terribly, but together they do remarkably well as they can play at their own pace. It is one of their favorite past-times. Once they notice that the movie is over, they decide to head back to the car. When they do, they see Presley and his girlfriend hanging out with a bunch of their high school friends at the picnic tables talking, laughing, drinking, and smoking. Philip becomes tense.

               “Presley, we’re ready to go home now,” Daniel says, the words coming out of his mouth sounding a bit childish in front of a bunch of graduated seniors.

               “Dudes, chill,” Presley says all too calmly and takes a swig of his beer bottle.

               “Are you drinking alcohol?!” Daniel freaks out, never seeing his brother like this before.

               “Ugh, someone hand him a joint,” someone behind him says.

               Presley holds his hand up, “No, no, we are not having my kid brother get high.”

               Daniel purses his lips and stares right back at Presley, eyes full of rage.  “Hand me one.”

               A girl comes up from behind him and hands him an unused spliff.

               “Daniel—” Presley begins.

               “I’ll tell Mom!” Daniel threatens. “I’m sick of you getting me in trouble! Stop telling me what to do!” He inspects the spliff. “How does this thing work?”

               “Dan, I really think this is a bad idea,” Philip says anxiously in Daniel’s ear.

               Daniel shrugs him off, “You’re gonna try it with me, aren’t you?” He looks at him intensely, “I don’t want to do this alone.”

               Philip bites his bottom lip and worriedly glances up at all the other older teenagers. “Will we die?”

               The group bursts out in laughter. The same girl who gave Daniel the joint takes the opportunity and lights it.

               “Just drag it like you do a regular cigarette,” she tells him calmly.

               “You think he ever smoked from a real cigarette before?” A guy tells her.

               She sighs, “Just breathe in, hold it, and then breathe out. Soon you’ll be hanging loose in no time.”

               Daniel does as she instructed, feeling nervous and inexperienced, and he coughs out the smoke. Philip pats his back and he offers him the spliff. Philip takes his time to stare at it.

               “Well don’t waste it!” A few people say.

               So Philip takes a drag and his reaction is about the same as Daniel’s. He feels wrong and terrible about it, but he looks at Presley and all his friends who appear to have accomplished much more in their lives than he has. They once ruled the school at one point. He can’t be childish about this in front of them. Perhaps this is what he meant when he told Daniel they had to start “doing things differently.”

               “Here, let me try again,” Daniel says and grabs the joint from Philip’s hands. He smokes it again, only coughing a little bit afterwards.

               The crowd around them cheers and continues their…evening festivities.

               Daniel and Philip take the spliff and sit out on the cool grass alone. They can see the stars better now that they’re away from the bright lights of the concession stand.

               “Don’t they look like you can reach out and touch them?” Philip asks, smoke coming out of his mouth.

               “What?” Daniel asks back, taking the joint in his hands.

               Philip lies back on his back and reaches out his arm, “The stars.”

               Daniel takes his final drag of the night and looks up at the night sky. “I suppose so.” He lies beside Philip. “Do you think we should ask for another one?”

               Philip shakes his head, “No.”

               “What time is it?”

               “How should I know?”

               “Hey guys, let’s go home,” Presley’s girlfriend suddenly says behind them.

               Daniel and Philip become startled and they get up from the grass, Philip making sure to grab his glove and ball.

               “You two are spaced out, man,” she tells them, “and all you did was share one cigarette.”

               They return to the black Gremlin, with Daniel beginning to become anxious. “Oh man, oh man…” he mumbles.

               “What’s wrong?” Philip asks him, becoming worried as well.

               Once Daniel finally sees his brother he asks, “What time does the mall close? We have to get that birthday present!”

               Presley doesn’t say anything. He simply opens his hatchback and reveals a Sears bag that has a pink Barbie doll box in it.

               Daniel sighs with relief. He then hurries to hug his brother, “You are the best!”

               Presley wrestles out of his brother’s grip, “Okay, okay, now we really need to get you home.”

               Daniel wasn’t certain how long the drive home was, but they seemed to arrive much quicker than what he hoped. He knew he didn’t fall asleep, so perhaps it was the music. Listening to the radio on a summer night’s drive with the windows down always transported him to someplace carefree and made him feel happy inside. Also, of course, he was high for the first time, which may be the main reason for the way he is feeling. After they drop of Daniel’s brother’s girlfriend, they finally pull into the Howell’s driveway.

               “I’ll walk you home,” Daniel tells Philip like he has no other option.

               “It’s just across the street, I can do it,” Philip says anyways.

               Daniel walks him over nonetheless and it is a dreadfully slow walk. He wants to take in the neighborhood silence and how alone they are and how the stars and the moon look above them and the coolness of the night air. He feels like he is in another dimension, somewhere outside of his mind and constricted thoughts. Plus, he isn’t sure if he wants to say goodbye yet to Philip. Oddly, his mind can never decide what time it is or how long anything should take or be or what is late or early according to typical standards. If he could stay like this forever, he wouldn’t mind.

               When they finally enter the house, they notice that only one light is on in the kitchen.

               “Phil?” Mrs. Lester says. She comes running to the front door in a panic and turns on the floor lamp in the living room. “Where have you been?”

               Philip hugs his mother, “I was out with Dan and his brother.”

               “Doing what?” She asks back.

               “We were shopping for my sister’s birthday present,” Daniel lies.

               “At eleven o’clock at night?”

               “Is that what the time is?” Philip asks back.

               Mrs. Lester takes a closer look at the two of them. “Why are your pupils dilated?”

               Daniel shrugs, “Aren’t they dilated all the time?”

               Philip yawns and walks towards his bedroom without much energy left inside him. “What does ‘dilated’ mean?”

                                                                                               ***

               Philip stands at his bathroom doorframe, nervously fidgeting. “Dan, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

               “You say, right after I’m fist-deep into your father’s hair gel,” Daniel responds.

               Ever since this morning, Philip noticed that Daniel is acting differently. He’s wearing his black Led Zeppelin t-shirt, but for some reason he poorly cut the sleeves off. His jeans are tighter than usual and he’s wearing a bunch of those temporary tattoos you get from gum wrappers. Now he’s going through his father’s hair gel, of which his mother can come in at any moment and get him in deep trouble. Philip doesn’t think it has to do with what happened last night and all the smoking, but he doesn’t know where else Daniel is getting these ideas.

               Daniel begins lathering up his hair and putting it in long spikes. “What do you think?”

               Philip readjusts his pink glasses on his nose, folds his arms, and says, “I think you’re an airhead.”

               Daniel continues spiking his hair anyways. “If I dye my hair, my mom will kill me, so I have to do the next best thing.”

               “What was so wrong about your hair before?”

               “Because everyone has the same style as me! I want to be different.”

               “You’re gonna get me in trouble!” Philip whispers.

               Daniel suddenly stops gelling his hair and looks closely at himself in the mirror. His eyes widen and he lifts up his right arm and examines his armpit. He then grips on the yellow sink’s edge and breathes heavily. “Oh my God.”

               Philip curiously walks further into the bathroom. “What’s up?”

               His fingers gently brush over his upper lip. “Holy crap! Look at this!”

               Philip takes a hold of Daniel’s chin and closely inspects his upper lip. He can only see a few dark hairs, but he is surprised as he never seen them before until now. “Wow, pretty soon you’ll be looking like Dan the Man. We’ll have to give you a new nickname or something so we won’t get you two confused.”

               “Dan the Man practically has a full mustache and all I have is like, three hairs.”

               “Two.”

               Daniel rolls his eyes, “The point is, it’s gonna take a while to get a full beard going.”

               “You want a beard?”

               “Seems manly enough,” he lifts up his arm again and sighs. “But at this rate, I’ll probably have a beard on my armpit before I ever get one on my chin.”

               Philip groans impatiently, “Come on, Dan, are you done yet? I am not wasting our half-day off from baseball just to stare at you in my bathroom.”

               “Thank God for ninety degree weather,” Daniel says as he walks out of the bathroom. “I don’t think I could’ve stood one more second on that field.”

               “You’re wearing a black t-shirt,” Philip comments as they go into his room. He straightaway sets out his art supplies on his floor and resumes to his flyer-making. “Why don’t you put on some music?”

               Daniel gets up from Philip’s green bed and goes over to the record player. “Have any preference?”

               Philip takes a while to answer, “No…”

               Daniel turns to him, “Phil, I know you better than that. What do you want to listen to?”

               Philip blushes, “Elton John.”

               He sighs disappointingly and rolls his eyes, “Don’t you listen to any good music?”

               “The music you’re talking about gives me a headache. Besides, you’re a piano player; I thought you’d appreciate it.”

               “Part-time piano player.” Daniel searches through his records. “Jeez, Phil, you have all his records or what?”

               “Play Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only the Piano Player,” Philip says as he sketches out the band’s logo once more.

               Daniel widens his eyes, “Isn’t that a mouthful.” He takes the record out and sets the needle on it. He then glances at the back of the record cover to look over the track list. “Hey…”

               Philip laughs and sticks out his tongue, “Why did you think I wanted to play it?”

               “Daniel” begins playing and Daniel himself falls back on Philip’s bed again.

               “It’s about a Vietnam veteran coming home and wanting to have whatever life he had before the war.”

               “Deep.”

               Philip shrugs, “I suppose.” The two of them become quiet and let Elton John and Philip’s magic markers fill in the silence. Philip can also hear his mother turn on the vacuum cleaner in the living room, understanding that she’s in another one of her moods.

               “I’m thinking about getting my lip pierced,” Daniel blurts out in the middle of “Elderberry Wine.”

               Philip shoots up his head to look at him, “No you are not!”

               Daniel shrugs, “Why not? All we need is an ice cube and like, a safety pin. I’m sure you have those around here somewhere.”

               “Because you’re doing enough by getting my old man’s hair gel all over my bed!”

               He rolls his eyes, “I want to do something different before we get into high school.”

               “You are! We’re getting serious about our band and we’re actually playing baseball. And you know what? I bet we’re gonna win that game, too.” Philip puts the finishing touches on the flyer. “Besides, you smoked weed last night. Shouldn’t that be enough for you?”

               He groans, “Are you almost done?”

               “With this one, I am.” Philip shows the flyer up to him.

               Daniel takes it to have a closer look and he smiles. “Dude, you never told me you were an artist!”

               “I am a man of many talents, what can I say?” Philip says proudly while retying the orange floral silk scarf around his neck.

               “How many more do you have to make?” Daniel flips over on his abdomen and looks down at Philip’s “work station” on the carpet.

               “Like, three.”

               He groans again. Clearly, he underestimated the time it takes into making the flyers, let alone trying to make them look appealing.

               Philip takes out another piece of paper and begins sketching the band’s logo again. “Got somewhere you need to be?”

               “I want us to practice in my garage before my dad comes home.”

               Philip glances up at his digital alarm clock radio on his bedside table and sees that it is only one thirty. “We’ll be out of here in an hour or so, I promise. I’ll just book it.”

               “No, no, no, you need to take your time.” Daniel flips on his back again. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know.”

               “Yeah, but Rome isn’t made out of notebook paper and markers.”

               The last song on side A of the record ends and Daniel gets up and flips it. “Have Mercy on a Criminal” begins playing and Daniel takes Philip’s red clackers from the desk and starts playing with them. He is bored out of his mind already. Therefore, Philip sighs loudly and starts drawing faster since he knows that he is becoming antsy. The clacking becomes more frequent and just about drives him crazy.

               “Where’s Crystal?” Daniel asks, being nosy with Philip’s desk.

               “I think she died,” Philip answers, writing the important information of the tryouts in permanent marker.

               “She’s a rock, that’s impossible.”

               He bites his lip, “I think my dad found her one day and threw her out.” He shakes his head, “Whatever. I’m a bit too old for that anyway.”

               “You’re saying that I should give up Ruby?” Daniel asks, each word followed by an annoying clack.

               “No, no, Ruby is loved and accepted at her home. Crystal just…got in the wrong hands.”

               “What a shame. I was beginning to think they were good friends.”

               He laughs genuinely, “Oh my God.”

               Daniel smiles back and finally sets the clacker down. He goes over to Philip’s mirror to check his hair out. “Still going strong, Phil.”

               “Whatever!”

               Approximately ten minutes after the record is over, Philip is finally done with the flyers. They go to the messy Danish teak desk in the living room and find the stapler among all the papers that appear to be in another language to the two simpleminded boys. Philip quickly says goodbye to his mother and the two of them go outside and put up the flyers.

               “Goodness, I hope it doesn’t rain between now and Friday,” Daniel comments as they post the final flyer on the telephone pole nearest to his house.

               “It won’t!” Philip says, even though he has no idea and is frankly worried it might will.

               Daniel takes them to his garage and together they pull up the door. Inside is a makeshift stage set-up. The walls contain shelves of white and clear plastic containers that Mrs. Howell manages and tools and whatever Mr. Howell uses around the house and for his car. Outdoor equipment is piled up in the back corner hidden behind the black sheet Daniel was barely able to put up as an improvised backdrop. In the center of the garage are the instruments. Daniel’s red Pearl drum set is towards the back, with the Hopeless logo etched in permanent marker on the kick drum. To the right side are the keyboard and a few amplifiers. The other side is where the bass is supposed to be, but they haven’t quite figured that part out yet. Finally, the center is where Philip’s guitar is. Philip grabs his Strat and sits down at one of the green beanbag chairs on the left side of the garage next to the “bass.” Daniel goes behind the backdrop and grabs a few Pepsis from the garage refrigerator and also his black lyric book from on top of the keyboard. He hands Philip his drink and sits down beside him with a sigh.

               “So what’s the plan on Friday?” Philip asks, popping open his can.

               Daniel does the same and widens his eyes, “Oh, I forgot to tell you! Tryouts have to be cut short to five P.M.”

               Philip looks at him disappointingly, “You should’ve told me that before I wrote ‘ALL DAY’ on the flyers in capital letters.”

               “My sister is having her party/sleepover at that time and apparently the two don’t mix well.”

               Philip laughs, “So we’re crashing it, right?”

               He takes another sip of his drink, “For sure.”

               Philip begins strumming his guitar, “I suppose it’ll be fun. I still don’t think anything can top last year though with your Super Soaker.” He chuckles, “Man can your sister scream!”

               Daniel’s mind is on something else, something that has taken over his thoughts since this morning. He’s been waiting on the appropriate time to take action, but now that he’s in his garage for band practice, he supposes there isn’t a better opportunity. He taps his foot until he can’t wait any longer. From his back pocket, he takes out a cheap cigarette lighter and two joints. He takes one up to his mouth and lights it.

               The sound of the lighter immediately stops Philip from playing his guitar and he looks up. “Daniel! What—what are you doing?! What is that?”

               The smoke comes out of Daniel’s mouth as he laughs, “You’re not gonna believe it!”

               Philip looks around in a panic, “We are so dead!”

               “Chill out!” He takes another drag. “My mom made me gather up all the laundry this morning and I found these in Presley’s back pocket of his jeans from last night.” He laughs and shakes his head. “He would be the dead one if I didn’t find these first!”

               “So you just decided to use them on your own instead of giving them back?”

               “Yeah! Last night was so fun!”

               Philip resumes his guitar playing. “I had nightmares from that movie.”

               “You remember that?” Daniel takes another drag and puts his head back on the beanbag. “I barely do.”

               Philip rolls his eyes, “Don’t tell me you actually like getting high.”

               Daniel shrugs and flips through his mostly blank notebook, “Maybe we can actually write good songs for once.”

               “So we’re becoming the Beatles now?”

               Daniel rolls his eyes and quickly lights the other joint and hands it over to Philip, “Here.”

               Philip hesitates.

               “God, what kind of retired hippie are you?”

               Philip glares at him from over his glasses and grabs the spliff. He gazes at it for a few seconds and takes a drag. He exhales the smoke, shakes his head, and continues playing.

               Daniel begins scribbling in his notebook and eventually finishes smoking. “Hey, what rhymes with jacket?”

               “I don’t know, man, how should I know?” Philip coughs a little while breathing out smoke.

               “I’m wearing my leather jacket…” Daniel mumbles, drumming his pencil on the notebook.

               “You don’t even own a leather jacket,” Philip tells him.

               “It’s the principle of the thing! Who said songwriting had to be honest?”

               Philip strums his guitar while trying to come up with an appropriate tune for Daniel’s so-called “song.” His mind is more relaxed now and his mind is racing with more creativity than ever before. Perhaps Daniel was right. After a while, he spontaneously adds to the lyric, “While making such a racket.”

               “That was good!” Daniel says, quickly writing it down. “See, I told you that punk has always been inside you; you just needed to dig a little.”

               He rolls his eyes, “Great, we came up with a couplet. We’re officially rock stars.”

               Daniel closes his notebook and sets it down, having enough of songwriting for the day. He brings up his arms behind his head and looks up at the cobwebbed ceiling. “It’s a start, at least.”

               A loud car engine starts coming down the street and comes up Daniel’s driveway. Immediately Daniel puts the cigarette lighter back in his pocket and tries to act normal.

               “What’s up, you dorks?” Presley welcomes them, arms full of plastic grocery store bags.

               “Hey, Presley!” Philip says.

               “What’s in the bags?” Daniel asks although he doesn’t really care.

               Presley takes a few seconds to look at his brother, his head tilted and eyebrows scrunched up. “Don’t tell me you actually thought doing that to your hair was a good idea.”

               Daniel blushes and purses his lips, “What are in the bags, Presley?”

               “Stuff for the party. Mom says you gotta help put things away.”

               Daniel rolls his eyes, groans, and gets up to help his brother.

               Philip gets up as well and puts his guitar back on its stand. “I’ll catch you on the flip-side, alright?”

               Daniel waves at him, “I’ll try to call you tonight.”

               Philip casually walks back over to his house, making sure to glance at all the flyers they put up on the way there. He feels somewhat proud of himself. He notices that his father is home early from work by his car being in the driveway. His stomach tightens, washing away any positive feeling he had left in him. He braces for impact as he enters the house.

               “I don’t see why you can’t be supportive for me!” Mrs. Lester yells at her husband in the kitchen.

               “I’m just trying to make sure that you don’t end up in a place you don’t want to be!” Mr. Lester argues back. “All I’m saying is that people like you should just stay home and take care of the house.”

               “‘People like you?’ What does that mean? Women?” She puts her hands on her hips and looks at him with fire in her eyes.

               He takes a while to answer, “That is—no, not necessarily.” He waves his arms, “Look at all the work you have to do! Stick to what you do best. Why would you want to give that up?”

               Mrs. Lester leans on the messy kitchen island counter and grips the edge, struggling to calm her breathing. “All I’m going to be doing is sitting at a desk and answering phone calls all day. And, if I’m lucky, I’ll get to go to meetings. I don’t see how you can’t share the housework with your son and me.”

               Philip hides behind the curio cabinet in the living room and watches his parents more intensely.

               His father shakes his head and searches for something in the refrigerator. “I swear, ever since that tennis match everyone’s been thinking women can do anything.” He takes out a can of Dr. Pepper and slams the door. “Well they can’t!”

               “It’s been going on for a lot longer than that!” She argues back even louder. “We need the money, so for it to be equal—”

               “I can get a second job if we need to!”

               “Don’t interrupt me!”

               Philip rolls his eyes, runs his fingers through his long hair, and passes through the living room. He’s beyond tired of the same thing every day.

               “Phil?” His mother asks with concern in her voice. “When—when did you get back?”

               Philip hesitates and keeps his eyes on the beige shag carpet. “Mrs. Howell always asks me why I’m always at her house,” he shrugs, “I just never thought the answer was so clear until today.”

                                                                                               ***

               The weather is much cooler than it was yesterday, around seventy-five degrees, but the team is still sweating underneath the unforgiving August sun. Philip is up at the pitcher’s mound. He’s wearing one of his father’s old baseball caps that shade his eyes from the sun. His rose-colored glasses are for the same purpose, but nobody including himself considered them as sunglasses—they were merely his glasses. He’s also wearing an old white Tigers school t-shirt tucked into his flared brown trousers he got when he was in seventh grade and went to that football game that one time. He stares down at Daniel who is at bat and still ridiculously wearing black in this type of weather. Thank God his hair is back to normal, though.

               Philip decides on pitching a low-ball only as a joke to mess with Daniel. However, just as he is about to go into his windup position, he recognizes that something is wrong.

               “You can’t hit it,” Grape quietly taunts Daniel behind him. “You can’t.”

               Daniel shakes his head and looks straight at Philip, gripping the bat more. “Stop it.”

               “You’re the one with all the statistics, so tell me, how many hits have you had all season?”

               Philip pitches his low ball, but Daniel doesn’t swing. Grape throws it back to him.

               “Shut up,” Daniel tells him through gritted teeth.

               Grape spits on the ground, “You’re nothin’ special. Your mama sells Tupperware from her living room.”

               The words practically sting Daniel’s skin and he is fed up. He throws the bat on the ground, turns around, kicks Grape backward from his crouched position, and stands powerfully over him. “What did you say about my mother?”

               The team slowly gathers in, Philip immediately running up to Daniel’s side.

               Grape struggles to stifle his laughter. “I said your mom sells Tupperware from her living room like the desperate woman she is.”

               Daniel screams while he hurls his body on top of Grape, understanding that Grape himself is well over two times larger than he is. Daniel pulls up his collar, bringing up his body from the ground and tearing some seams, and let’s go, letting Grape’s head slam into the dirt. Following that, Daniel’s fists make contact with Grape’s face, but not for long as Grape sucker punches Daniel in the nose. Daniel groans out in pain, clutching his bloody nose, but still not giving up the fight as he uses his right hand to get back at him. Despite Philip being a downright pacifist, he gets in on the action and begins to yank at Daniel’s body to get him out of there.  After three attempts, he finally manages to pull Daniel off of Grape. Being that he can’t let Daniel lose like this, he attempts to slap Grape rather unsuccessfully. Grape’s strength easily overpowers him to the point where he is certain he won’t leave the field the same person as when he entered. In due time, Captain finally yells out and separates the two of them.

               “Meeting! In the dugout, NOW,” Captain practically orders.

               Everyone ashamedly marches over to the dugout, sitting in the same spots as usual. Captain stands up front, his head low, and remains quiet for a long while, allowing the silence to express the amount of disappointment he is feeling. He pinches the bridge of his nose before speaking.

               “I don’t know what to do with any of you anymore,” he finally tells them, keeping his eyes on the ground before looking at everyone’s faces. “What is going on? Is it because of Split-Finger being gone? The stress of the big game? School coming up? The heat? Tell me!”

               Everyone keeps their head low and doesn’t answer, feeling like the questions asked were intended to be rhetorical.

               Captain sighs, “What happened to us? We all used to get along and now we’re mistreating and beating each other up.” He bites his lip and stares long and hard at them. “We grew up together. We all lived on the same street since we were born. We’ve been in the same class since Kindergarten. We stay at each other’s houses like we’re family. Because that’s what we are. We are a team.” He shakes his head, “I did not create this team for us to turn on each other.” He leans on one of the support posts of the dugout, “You know what the East Side team is made up of? A bunch of random kids from all over town. Their parents drive them there. They have actual tryouts and kick people off because they’re not seen as worthy anymore. They even make money off of their games by selling popcorn and whatnot!” He looks at all of them again while he lets his words settle. “And you know what we got? Nothing even close to any of that! We are our own support system.” He shakes his head, “Our parents don’t give a crap. We can’t afford to kick people off. And we’re broke as hell. But we still come here every day and lift each other up. That is what this is all about.” He drops his arms by his side, “I don’t even care if we win or lose that stupid game!” He steps in closer, leans his hands on his knees, and looks intensely at all of them. “Because they will never understand what it’s like to be on this amazing team.”

               Hoover puts his fist out, “Yeah!”

               Everyone follows until the team is gathered in a circle with everyone’s fists at the center.

               “GO WEST SIDE!” They scream and lift their arms.

               “Alright, alright, everyone calm down,” Captain tells them. “Let’s be practical. I think we all need to take a breather. On Monday morning, I want to see everyone on this field by nine A.M. with their best attitude—” he takes a quick glance at Philip—“which, for you Rosy, won’t be all that hard.”

               Philip smiles and blushes.

               “Alright, let’s all go home!”

               Everyone begins filing out of the dugout and the sandlot, all going back to either their houses or the park on the other end of the street. Philip helps Daniel out of the field as he is understandably in pain.

               “Do you want to talk about it?” Philip asks him softly, keeping his arm around him.

               Daniel clutches his nose as it is still bleeding rapidly. “Just get me home, please,” he tells him breathlessly.

               Philip nods his head and takes him to the Howell house as quickly as possible. When they finally arrive, there are several cars parked in the driveway and on the street. They gradually make it inside and interrupt a rather important meeting.

               “And this collection comes in a shade of orange—Daniel?” Mrs. Howell looks up at her son in fear. A group of neighborhood women are sitting around in the living room listening to her Tupperware sales pitch and drinking Arnold Palmers. Daniel notices J.J.’s, Fourth-Base-Chase’s, and Hoover’s mothers on his brown upholstered couch.

               “Don’t worry!” Philip tells her. “I’ll take care of it!”

               Mrs. Howell jumps out of her seat in a panic, “Is he bleeding?!”

               The women gasp.

               Philip tries to stand in front of Daniel to hide him. “It’s nothing, really.”

               “I keep telling my daughter that-that-that field (if you can even call it that) is too dangerous for a girl to be at,” J.J.’s mother comments, still in disbelief of the state Daniel is in.

               “J.J. is one of the best on our team!” Daniel argues, splattering blood everywhere.

               “Oh, that horrible nickname again!” J.J.’s mother puts her hand up to her forehead in distress.

               Philip becomes irritated by how much time they are wasting. “Can we please go before we ruin your carpet?”

               Mrs. Howell sighs and returns to her seat, “Be careful!”

               Philip helps Daniel up the stairs and guides him to the bathroom. Daniel plops himself on the toilet, rolls up some toilet paper, and shoves it up his nose. “How do I look?”

               Philip laughs, “Gorgeous.”

               He rolls his eyes, “Grape annihilated me.”

               Philip grabs a washcloth from the towel shelf and runs it over some warm water at the sink. “Yeah, and Grape is a giant compared to you. No way is he only fifteen.” Philip squeezes the excess water from the washcloth and brings it over to Daniel. He brushes the brown wavy hair from his forehead away and tries to wash off all the dried up blood. “You’ll be fine pretty soon,” he offers his characteristic encouraging smile.

               “Out of all the days my mother chooses to have her Tupperware party.”

               He laughs, “I was thinking the same thing.”

               “I’m gonna feel this in the morning.”

               “All we have to do is sit at a table in your garage tomorrow. I’ll try to do all the heavy lifting.”

               Daniel removes the toilet paper and feels around his nose. “Did it stop?”

               Philip looks closely, “Yeah, I think so.”

               Daniel throws away the bloody evidence of his nosebleed and rises from the toilet. “Great game today, though.”

               Philip follows him out of the bathroom, “I know.”

               Daniel glances back at him as he opens his bedroom door. “That lowball…I saw what you were trying to do.”

               Philip giggles and enters the messy bedroom. “I wanted to have a little fun.”

               Daniel limps his way to his bed and climbs in, pulling the covers to his chest. He closes his eyes, sighs, and opens them to see Philip simply standing there. “You’re staying, right?”

               Philip offers a sympathetic look, “No, I’m sorry, Dan. I should probably go apologize to Grape.”

               “Oh, typical you.” He thinks back to the fight and looks at Philip who has a scratch on his face and his t-shirt is halfway untucked. He feels bad. “Thanks for trying, anyway.”

               Philip’s eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. “What do you mean?”

               “After years of hearing your anti-war rants, you were pretty quick to throw in those punches today.”

               Philip blushes, “Am I a fraud now?”

               He shakes his head, “No, just a good friend.”

               Philip smiles at him and walks up to the side of the bed. He ruffles Daniel’s hair and says, “Get better soon. I see you in the morning.”

               “You’re not gonna call?” Daniel asks, strangely worried for some reason.

               “I don’t want to bother you.”

               He yawns, “Okay.”

               Philip leaves his room quietly and goes downstairs and out the door, understanding that all eyes are on him. He stands out on the sidewalk and looks down the street, trying to remember which house is Grape’s. He oddly sees his mother over at Shortie’s house talking and laughing with Shortie’s mother on the front porch. His eyes continue searching nevertheless and catch the blue two-story house on the other side of the street with pink hydrangea bushes in the front and a yellow painted metal porch glider on the front porch. Philip takes his time to walk over, feeling nervous all of a sudden. It takes all of his courage to knock on that white screen door.

               “Yes?” Grape’s older sister answers. She’s typically away at college, so Philip doesn’t know her that well.

               “Is Grape around?” Philip asks awkwardly.

               Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Grape?”

               “Your younger brother?”

               She rolls her eyes and yells from where she is. “Michael! Some white boy is at the door for you!”

               Grape presently appears from the shadows with a bag of frozen peas on his forehead and a can of grape soda appropriately in his hands. “Rosy?”

               “Do you all really call each other by those dumb names?!” Grape’s sister asks in disbelief.

               “Can you give us some privacy?” Grape asks.

               She rolls her eyes, takes one final look at Philip, and leaves.

               “What are you doing here?” Grape asks him curiously, taking a sip from his can.

               Philip fidgets with his hands nervously. “I wanted to apologize on behalf of Daniel and I. You see, I was only protecting him since he’s my best friend and he was just…in a mood I s’pose. He really does admire you, just only when you’re not insulting his family. And believe me; my actions today do not represent me as a person. I am the very definition of a pacifist. Went to Vietnam protests and everything with my mom.”

               Grape sips some more and nods his head, “Cool.”

               “So we good now or something?”

               “Yeah, man. The first taste of the Grape isn’t always the sweetest.”

               Philip laughs, feeling more comfortable now.

               “No, but really, I admit I took it too far.” He removes the peas from his head. “Like Captain said, we gotta take care of each other.”

               Philip nods his head, thinking of something else to say. “Oh, hey! Dan and I are having band tryouts tomorrow! Interested?”

               Grape finishes the remainder of his grape soda. “Nah man, I don’t think your little punk group would appreciate a funky saxophonist.”

               Philip’s blue eyes bulge out of their sockets, “You play the saxophone?!”

               “Yeah, man. I play on the school band. Have you never been to a football game?”

               Philip pulls at his t-shirt a little. “Only once.”

               “Oh, brother!” Grape pulls Philip in by the shoulder and takes him up to his bedroom.

               Philip didn’t intend to spend the next two hours at Grape’s house, it just sort of happened. It turns out that Grape really is talented on the saxophone. He played a couple songs for Philip, who was completely awestruck. They also played Trouble while Grape exposed Philip to a side of music he never really paid attention to before. He listened to artists like Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, Aretha Franklin, The Temptations, and James Brown. And it felt good. If Daniel was there, he’d be complaining the whole time, claiming that it isn’t “punk enough.”

               “Thanks for having me over, Grape!” Philp says happily as he is about to leave.

               Grape gives him a fist bump, “Anytime, my man.” He rubs the back of his neck in hesitation. “Hey, you can always call me Michael whenever we’re off the field, alright?”

               Philip is stunned by this information. “You don’t like being called ‘Grape?’”

               “No, I do, but you know me now, like really know me.”

               Philip sticks his hand out, “Call me Phil, then.”

               Grape shakes his head and narrows his eyes at him. “I like Rosy much better.”

               Philip shrugs, “Okay, see you Monday then.”

               Grape says goodbye and Philip walks down to his house. His mood is exceptionally positive despite the fact that he was involved in a fight today. He thinks about going to the record store sometime next week to check out a few of those artists Grape told him about. Of course, he’ll have to check his piggybank first. He walks into his house while smiling, but stops dead in his tracks when he sees his mother and father sitting on the couch looking up at him.

                                                                                               ***

               “Hey Dan, I got you something,” Presley barges into Daniel’s room.

               Daniel opens his eyes slowly, “What is it?”

               Presley drops the black trash bag that was in his hands on the floor and rushes over to the bed. “Oh my God! What happened to your face?”

               Daniel props himself up on his pillow. “What do you mean?”

               “It’s all over your pillow, too! Gross!”

               Daniel glances down and sees his pillowcase has a rather large crimson stain on it. His hand immediately goes up to his nose and feels dried blood on his upper lip. He curses quietly. “I was in a fight.”

               Presley’s jaw drops, “No way!”

               He nods, “Phil just left to apologize.”

               His brother takes ahold of his chin to take a look at his face better. “Sure hope this gets better by the time we take pictures for the Christmas card.”

               Daniel rolls his eyes and nods his head over to the plastic bag on the floor, “What did you get me?”

               “Oh, right!” Presley gets up and lifts the heavy trash bag on Daniel’s bed. “Mom had me go through all my clothes since I’m going to college soon.”

               “Neat, hand-me-downs,” Daniel says, unimpressed.

               “You’ll like some of the stuff, I promise,” Presley says as he leaves the room.

               Daniel takes a long sigh before rummaging through the trash bag. He discovers a bunch of old t-shirts and jeans that would inevitably become useful when he doesn’t have any more clean clothes to wear. At the very bottom, however, to his pleasant surprise he finds a studded leather jacket and a worn denim jacket. His hands brush over them like they cost well over a million dollars. Ideas and thoughts race through his mind. Excitement rushes through him so much that he jumps out of bed, hurries right over to Presley’s room, and hugs him tightly.

               “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Daniel exclaims in his chest.

                                                                                               ***

               The silence could be cut with a knife. Philip simply stands and stares at them on the couch, waiting for one of them to say something, anything that would just finally kill this exchange of awkward eye contact.

               “Phil, honey, what happened to your cheek?” Mrs. Lester asks, clearly avoiding whatever she needs to say.

               Philip touches his cheek and feels dried up blood where he must’ve been scratched. “Practice just got a little rowdy, that’s all.”

               “Where’s my baseball glove?” His father asks him, unafraid to show where his priorities are.

               “I…must’ve left it on the bench,” Philip answers. “Dan got pretty hurt, so I had to make sure he was okay.”

               “Oh, how is he?” His mother asks with concern.

               Philip looks at the both of them, wondering what is seriously going on. “Fine. Is there something you want to tell me?”

               Mrs. Lester avoids eye contact and she scratches the back of her head.

               Mr. Lester on the other hand rubs his thighs before letting it all hang out. “Your mother and I are thinking about separating.”

               “No, we are not thinking about it and stop acting like ‘divorce’ is some kind of bad word,” Mrs. Lester tells her husband and looks over at Philip. “Your father and I are getting a divorce. There.”

               In the back of Philip’s mind, he knew this was going to happen, he just didn’t know that it would be so soon, not to mention to actually come true. Married couples fought all the time, right? Better than keeping it all inside. They have a child to take care of and a house to pay for and a future to think about. But this…this just ruins everything. What happens now? No one he knew had divorced parents, despite the fact that is all people are doing these days. Divorce couldn’t possibly be happening to his parents. They’ve been one of the many constants in his life. This can’t be happening. Not to him. Out of all the families out there, divorce came right to their doorstep. Philip knew that they didn’t really like each other most of the time, but at some time they had to be nice to each other. How else did they fall in love and have a child? What would life be like now?

               “Phil, you’re not saying anything,” His mother interrupts his thoughts. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

               Philip opens his mouth but no words come out. He is utterly speechless. His throat begins to burn and his head becomes hot quickly.

               “It is the best for all of us, obviously,” His father says quite matter-of-factly.

               A cry creeps out of Philip’s mouth and hot tears begin streaming down his cheeks. He takes off his pink glasses and tries to dry his face with the back of his hands. Breathing calmly becomes rather incredibly difficult at the moment for him.

               “Oh please, you had to have seen this coming.” Mr. Lester says without one hint of sympathy for his son.

               Philip’s body uncontrollably curls inward as his cries become more intense. He takes off his baseball cap and repeatedly runs his fingers through his hair, almost pulling it, so for the moment he’d be feeling something else than the ache of his own heart.

               “Philip, just take your time,” His mother calmly says. “We have a lot to discuss.”

               Philip doesn’t want to discuss anything. Why weren’t they asking if he was okay? Why wasn’t one of them running up to him and hugging and kissing him, trying to make him better in some way? Don’t they still care about him?

               His father sighs loudly, “We should’ve waited. I told you this was bad timing. Almost as bad timing as the Howell’s.”

               Philip calms down once he remembers his best friend and how much Daniel at least still cared about him. He sniffles loudly and wipes the last of his tears on his t-shirt. “I’ll have you know…that I understand that this is none of my fault.” He sniffles and struggles to catch his breath from all the crying. “But I sure as hell wish it was because then I’d feel like I had some kind of control of it.” He quickly walks to his bedroom and slams the door shut, his crying almost immediately returning.

               Music. He needs to listen to some type of music. He grabs Fleetwood Mac’s latest album and puts the needle on track four, “Rhiannon,” and throws himself on his bed. Crying seems to be all he feels the energy to do at this point, so he does simply that, allowing the music drown out his thoughts and transport him to somewhere much happier.

                                                                                               ***

               The moment Daniel sees Philip’s front door open, he begins running across the street to meet him, barely containing the excitement within him. “Phil, Phil, Phil, guess what?!”

               Philip puts on a wide smile and adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “What’s crackin’?”

               Daniel smiles and turns around slowly, “Well, what do you think?”

               Philip folds his arms and notices that Daniel is wearing a studded leather jacket with a bunch of safety pins stuck in every place imaginable. Underneath it, he’s simply wearing a V-neck striped top and jeans with holes at the knees. His hair is just like it was when he put Mr. Lester’s hair gel through it. He even has a fake tattoo of a spider on his neck. Philip bites his lip while struggling to come up with the right words to say. “Well, um, it’s different…”

               Daniel grabs on to Philip’s arm, “Come on, I have something for you!” He continues to drag him over to the opened garage where a card table is set up. A few notebooks with pencils are on top of it as well as cups of water. Two fold up chairs sit behind the table, one of them with a denim jacket draped over it. Daniel picks it up and handles it a little bit before speaking again. “You won’t believe how much time I spent in my mom’s craft room last night.” He rolls his eyes and groans. “But! I think it turned out pretty neat.” He hands him the denim jacket excitedly.

               Philip’s eyes wander over the denim until he turns the jacket around to the back. His lips stretch into a smile as he reads the word “ROSY”  from random iron-on patches. In the center, there is a large red rose iron-on patch. His insides practically burst with happiness as he puts it on over his floral button-down shirt and rolls up the sleeves a bit. He then looks at his best friend and pulls him into a tight embrace, holding him close for a long while.

               “Uh, yeah, you’re welcome,” Daniel says, suggesting that Philip should let go.

               Philip eventually does and takes his seat at the card table. He writes down on his notebook, “AUDITIONS,” and draws a line straight down the middle, writing “GOOD” and “BAD” on the two sides. Daniel puts up signs in the yard and comes back and does the same to his notebook.

               “What time is it?” Daniel asks after a long uneventful while, doodling in the margins.

               Philip shrugs, “I don’t have my watch on. I left my house around eight.”

               He sighs and sits back in his seat, “This is gonna be a long day.”

               “At least we don’t have to get yelled at for skipping practice.”

               “Are you kidding? That fight was the best thing that happened to us! Maybe more people from the team can try out.”

               Philip rubs his sore neck, “You can say that for yourself. I have bruises all over me.”

               “And I have a pillow soaked with blood, get over it. Hopeless is rising from the ground today. Soon the unimaginable will happen. We’re gonna be rock stars, for crying out loud!”

               “I’m glad I’m not the only positive one around here, then.”

               Suddenly, footsteps come up from the sidewalk and the driveway. It is Señor, still in his pajamas and barefoot, with a tambourine in his hands.

               “Welcome to the Hopeless band tryouts!” Daniel exclaims. “Please state your name, where you are from, and what position you intend on filling. After, you can play us a little something.”

               Señor clears his throat and pulls down his undershirt a little. “I am Señor from Down the Street and I am here to play the…the uh…la pandereta.”

               “We don’t need—” Daniel begins.

               Señor begins playing his tambourine and sings, “Este es el día, este es el día, que hizo el Señor, que hizo el Señor…”

               Daniel and Philip listen to him respectfully although they have difficulty in following the words. Philip is impressed at how well Señor plays and he enjoys his enthusiasm. Therefore, he writes Señor’s name in the “GOOD” column.

               Once Señor is done singing, he takes in a deep breath and smiles widely. “I learned that song at E.B.V. this week. What do you think?”

               “Well, clearly you have some talent!” Philip tells him happily.

               Señor blushes, “¡Gracias!”

               Daniel looks at Philip, wondering what he is doing. “Yes, but, we are unfortunately not looking for a tambourine player, as I had tried to say earlier.”

               Philip glares at him, “But he plays it well, doesn’t he?”

               Daniel nods and laughs nervously, “Yes, but—”

               “Yo comprendo,” Señor says a bit sadly. “Thanks for giving me a chance, at least.”

               “Oh, Señor! Don’t be sad!” Philip says, not giving up. “Maybe…we could possibly…if we ever need a tambourine sound, you will be the first one we call, okay?”

               Señor offers a weak smile and shakes his tambourine as he leaves.

               “We’ve missed you all week!” Philip makes sure to say. “See you on Monday!”

               When he is completely out of eyesight, Daniel turns to Philip. “What was that?!”

               Philip shrugs innocently, “What?”

               “We can’t just put everyone who tries out in the band! My garage is only so big!”

               Philip rolls his eyes, “Oh please, I was just trying to be a good friend and teammate. He played well and you can’t deny that.”

               “True, but what punk band has a tambourine?”

               Philip takes a sip of his water and doesn’t bother to answer.

               The next few hours provides an interesting amount of talent to Daniel and Philip. A few kids whom they don’t know play a guitar and sing. An entire other garage band comes and plays them one of their own songs as if this was some type of “battle of the bands” event. Daniel and Philip simply sit there motionless while the singer violently head bangs to the terrible drumming. Daniel isn’t even certain how these kids know who they are, considering the flyers were only limited to their small street. After that, an entire daycare comes over and the kids play their cheap musical instruments for them. Philip thinks that it’s cute, but Daniel believes their reputation and integrity as a band has went completely out the window.

               “People are completely disrespecting the seriousness of what a tryout even is!” Daniel complains once the kids leave. “This isn’t ‘come play music for us,’ this is ‘come see if you have the guts to join our band.’”

               “It was just kids having fun,” Philip counters. “They were fun and they had good energy to them. I liked it.”

               “We should have a line going down the street by now!” Daniel shakes his head.

               “Be patient! We have plenty of time left.”

               The following audition comes from Shortie and J.J. who bring their own keyboard.

               “We are Shortie and J.J. from Up the Street and we are going to play ‘California Dreamin’’ by The Mamas & the Papas,” J.J. introduces and stands behind the keyboard. She begins playing and sings, “All the leaves are brown.”

               “All the leaves are brown,” Shortie sings and sways her hips.

               “And the sky is gray.”

               “And the sky is gray.”

               “I’ve been for a walk…”

               Daniel and Philip politely listen and watch them play. Daniel is relieved that at least someone was taking this seriously. They both can admit that the girls play well together and are talented. The down side to it all, Daniel thinks, is that they weren’t playing the correct genre.

               “On such a winter’s day,” J.J. finishes and smiles at them. “So, when will we know if we’re in the band or not?”

               Philip first claps for them before speaking. “You guys were wonderful! I think the answer is clear, right Daniel?”

               Daniel looks at him and back at the girls, “Of course. You failed.”

               Shortie and J.J.’s jaws drop.

               “We’re been practicing all week after baseball!” Shortie exclaims. “What didn’t you like about it?”

               “You played a ten year old song from some sunshine pop band,” Daniel shakes his head. “That’s not gonna cut it in this innovative hard punk band.”

               J.J. rolls her eyes, “Oh please, you guys are so full of yourselves.” She points over at Philip, “I bet there’s not one ‘punk’ thing about Rosy over here.”

               Philip’s cheeks turn the same shade as his glasses. “She has a point, Dan.”

               “Shut up!” Daniel says and turns to the girls again. “I’m sorry.”

               “Is it because we’re girls?” Shortie asks almost defensively.

               “Hopeless is open to anyone who enjoys music, so no,” Philip explains, knowing that he has a lot to talk about to Daniel after this.

               “We enjoy music!” Shortie tells them.

               Daniel sighs, “How about we consider you and let you know officially on Monday?”

               “I can work with that,” J.J. says as she unplugs her keyboard. “See you then.”

               As they walk out of the garage, they run into Hoover.

               “You might as well turn right back around, Hoover,” Shortie warns him. “It’s not worth it.”

               Hoover widens his eyes and watches them leave. He then looks at Daniel and Philip in fear and gradually makes his way into the garage. He clears his throat, “Um, I’m Hoover from Next Door. D-do you want me to start or something?”

               Philip offers a friendly smile, “Of course! What will you be singing?”

               Hoover shakes his head and points over to Philip’s Strat. “I’m gonna play the guitar.”

               Philip glances at his precious guitar and back at him. “You live next door and you didn’t think to bring you own instrument?”

               “I don’t have a guitar.”

               “Then how can you play?” Daniel asks.

               “I take lessons every weekend and I’m not allowed to bring the guitar I use there home,” Hoover explains.

               “Then how can you ever practice?” Philip asks him, seriously doubting any talent he may or may not have.

               “I don’t,” Hoover simply answers.

               “Then how will you ever be good at it?” Daniel questions, taking a drink of his water.

               “I never said I wanted to be good at it,” Hoover answers in the same tone as before.

               “Then what’s the point of trying out?” Philip asks him, trying any way possible from having Hoover from touching his Strat. “You just said you weren’t good at playing the guitar.”

               “I wanted to see what all the fuss is about,” Hoover replies. “J.J. and Shortie were right.”

               Philip bites his lip and gets up, hating himself for actually doing this. He takes his guitar from its stand and plugs it into the amplifier. He strums a little before carefully handing it over to Hoover. “Be careful with it, please? This is my baby.”

               Hoover smiles at him, “I knew I could count on you, Rosy!”

               “What will you be playing for us?” Daniel asks him, folding his hands on the table.

               “My teacher is stuck in the ‘60s so we’ve been practicing on Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘I Am a Rock,’” Hoover answers.

               “Classic!” Philip says, eager to listen to his performance.

               “Okay, you may begin,” Daniel tells him.

               Hoover strums the familiar intro to the song and begins playing rather well for someone who is simply taking lessons. He plays the entire song through with little inaccuracies.

               “Great job!” Philip says, clapping for him. “Your teacher would be proud.”

               “Well, he’s my dad, so he sorta has to be,” Hoover says, suddenly embarrassed.

               “But you just said you weren’t allowed to take your guitar home with you?” Daniel asks, curious now.

               He shrugs, “Some of us…don’t live with our dads.”

               Daniel shakes his head, “Hoover, how many years have I been living next door to you? Who is that man in your house then?”

               “My mom’s husband.”

               Philip scratches the back of his head, becoming uncomfortable. “Thank you…Hoover. Unfortunately we already have a guitar player, but please don’t give up!”

               Hoover takes the guitar and gently places it back on its stand. “See you Monday, I guess.”

               “That doesn’t make any sense,” Daniel says once Hoover leaves. “I’ve known Hoover’s dad my whole life.”

               Philip bites his bottom lip, “You think you’d know someone…”

               Daniel shakes his head and finishes the remainder of his water. “I don’t even know what’s going on anymore, apparently.”

               A loud engine comes up the street and the wheels screech to a halt directly in front of Daniel’s driveway. Daniel notices a few of the people in the orange Ford Pinto as Presley’s friends. In fact, one of them really is Presley. They all rush out of the car and before Philip can see what is in their hands, eggs start being thrown at them. It felt cold and slimy against the boys’ skin and they hold their arms up, trying to figure out somewhere to hide. Presley’s friends are relentless and keep throwing, the garage soon becoming a yellow yolk-covered mess.

               “Presley! Stop!” Daniel yells out, flipping over the card table. The two of them seek shelter and hide close together behind the table.

               The sound of the eggs cracking against the contents of the garage soon stops and the Pinto quickly speeds down the street. Daniel and Philip slowly rise from behind the table and take a look around. The entire garage is covered in egg shells and yolk, ruining a great deal of the items in it.

               “Oh no!” Philip cries as he heads over to his pathetic-looking guitar, not even taking a moment to think about his clothes or hair.

               Daniel tries to brush off the yolk from his leather jacket. “I hate him!”

               “Quick! Go get some paper towels and stuff!” Philip tells him, tears streaming down his cheeks.

               Daniel quickly arrives with a few rolls of paper towels in his arms and begins cleaning up the garage. “I knew,” he says angrily, taking yolk off some plastic containers, “I knew something like this was gonna happen. We made ourselves vulnerable.”

               Philip sobs as he carefully removes yolk from his guitar. “I want him dead.”

               Daniel is surprised at how serious Philip sounded. He turns around and sees how absolutely devastated he is at his guitar. He goes over to him and puts his arm around him as a way to comfort him. “How bad is it?”

               “It’ll still work, but definitely not the same,” he rests his head on Daniel’s shoulder, giving up.

               “I’ll get some Q-tips to clean all the hard parts, okay?”

               Philip simply nods his head.

               After carefully cleaning Philip’s Stratocaster and the rest of the garage, the two of them determine to take a break from the tryouts. Daniel finds a couple gloves and a baseball among all the outdoor equipment and they play catch in the front yard just like they did when they were at the drive-in. And they play like that for hours, taking a lunch break in between, and resume to throwing the ball back and forth. Not a single person came to try out for the rest of the day, which is fine by them. They mutually decide that they don’t really need anybody new at the moment, anyways. They have a lot to work on first and if it was going to take a lifetime, then so be it.

                 The party guests begin to arrive by five and Daniel and Philip quickly get out of the way. Being that there isn’t really anything on television until eight o’clock, the two of them decide to help set up the party. They put up some purple streamers around the living room and the dining room. Philip tapes a bunch of paper together and makes a colorful “HAPPY BIRTHDAY RHONDA!” banner across the entry way into the kitchen. After that, they blow up some pink balloons and tie ribbon to them. By the time they regain their breath, Mr. Howell comes home with a couple boxes of pizza. All the girls from upstairs fly down the stairs and invade the kitchen and eat at the dining table. As there isn’t enough room for Daniel and Philip, they choose to eat out on the back patio while taking turns on Presley’s old skateboard. Following that, it is time for the most anticipated event of the evening.

               Rhonda and her four friends sit at the newspaper covered dining table while Daniel and Philip stand at the side. Mr. Howell plays The Beach Boys’ Today! album as he does every year on Rhonda’s birthday, without her ever really paying attention or knowing who is actually singing (ironically, she never liked The Beach Boys). Mrs. Howell sets out squeeze bottles full of fabric dye, vinyl gloves, rubber bands, gallon-sized plastic bags, and paper towels. There is a pile of damp white cotton t-shirts at the end of the table and Philip gets excited.

               “To remember Rhonda’s tenth birthday, we are going to make tie-dye shirts!” Mrs. Howell says excitedly. “Has anyone done this before?”

               Philip, the one with a drawer full of tie-dye shirts, raises his hand.

               Mrs. Howell looks at him with unsurprised eyes, but still smiles. “Of course, you Phil; everyone practically knows that already. I’m glad I have a helper then. The first thing we are going to do is wrap these rubber bands around your t-shirt.”

               Everyone grabs a t-shirt and a handful of rubber bands. Daniel watches as the girls struggle and Philip as he masters his so-called “twist and wrap” method. All Daniel does is crumple up the t-shirt like the rest of them and wrap rubber bands around it.

               “Alright, next you use the squeeze bottles to dye a section of the t-shirt made by the rubber bands,” Mrs. Howell explains next.

               The girls begin grabbing for the bottles while Daniel and Philip wait patiently.

               “How does mine look?” Daniel asks Philip, genuinely wanting to know.

               Philip twists his lips, “Yours will definitely have a unique design, that’s for sure.”

               “Oh, I know what that means,” Daniel says, trying to rearrange the rubber bands.

               “Dan, its fine,” Philip says, grabbing the blue dye and dying a section of his shirt. “I actually wanna see how it’ll turn out.”

               “Why? So you can brag about how good yours looks?” Daniel says as he dyes a section yellow.

               Philip smiles and continues dying his t-shirt.

               “Once everyone is finished, put the t-shirt into a plastic bag and close it tightly,” Daniel’s mother explains. “Then Dan can take them outside!”

               Daniel glares at his mother and puts red and green dye into his t-shirt next.

               Philip finishes dying his shirt with red and yellow dye and puts it into a bag and takes off his dye-stained gloves. “So excited to see how everyone’s looks!”

               “Whoa! What’s going on in here?” Presley loudly says as he enters the room, caught off guard by how the dining table transformed.

               “You missed tie-dying,” Philip says flatly, remembering what happened earlier in the day.

               “I’m sure that was exciting, especially for someone like you,” Presley says, becoming disinterested and backing out of the dining room.

               “I hope you die!” Philip yells out.

               “Better yet, I hope Elvis dies!” Daniel adds. “We almost lost an important band member today!”

               “What’s this talk about Elvis dying?” Mr. Howell walks in with a tub of vanilla ice cream in his hands.

               Daniel gathers some of the bagged t-shirts. “Nothing, Presley is just being a big jerk.”

               “He egged us!” Philip blurts out, grabbing some of the bags as well.

               Mr. Howell’s forehead furrows and goes back into the kitchen. “Is that why there isn’t any eggs in the fridge?”

               Presley nervously laughs while stealing a piece of pepperoni pizza, “Mom used them all to make the cake!”

               “No, Mom did not use them to make the cake,” Mrs. Howell says, feeling invisible. “Mom had to borrow some from the neighbors because we suddenly didn’t have any.”

               “Presley!” Mr. Howell exclaims. “Those cost fifty-nine cents a dozen!”

               Daniel and Philip go out the back door to the patio and set all the bags on the glass outdoor table.

               “I’m sorry for all of this,” Daniel apologizes, trying to position the bags neatly.

               “For what?” Philip asks, pushing up his jacket sleeve a little.

               “My family,” Daniel answers tiredly.

               He smiles softly and shrugs a little, “I really don’t mind. That’s what I like about being at your house.”

               Daniel opens the door to go back inside. “Good, ‘cause it’s only gonna get worse from here.”

               They enter the house as everyone sings “Happy Birthday” for Rhonda. Hurriedly, they go to the dining room to join and sing along. The candlelight flickers on everybody’s faces and Rhonda seems to be the happiest girl in the world. Daniel remembers when he, too, only had ten candles on his cake. He can’t believe how much time has passed so quickly. By the time ten more years will pass, he’ll be out of college, doing whatever 1985 would have to offer him. He can’t even imagine what that would be like. The profoundness of that thought gets drowned out by the darkness once Rhonda blows out the candles and everyone claps. Presley turns the lights back on and Mr. Howell begins serving people. Once Daniel and Philip get their share, Daniel suggests for them to eat it up in his treehouse.

               Daniel’s treehouse is one of his favorite places to be considering his house is fortunate enough to have a tree in his backyard. The view from up there is spectacular and they watch as the sun gradually sets across the sky. There isn’t much to the treehouse; it was simply built by Mr. Howell and a friend of his, Fourth-Base-Chase’s father. Daniel merely keeps a blanket and a few books up there as it’s the only place he can find peace and quiet to read. It has been Philip and his clubhouse for a good while and a lot of important things have been said in it over the years. Daniel isn’t even certain if high schoolers hung out in treehouses anymore, but he sure hopes they do. He’d hate to give up this spot.

               “It doesn’t seem so long ago that we were ten,” Philip says as he has a piece of Mrs. Howell’s homemade birthday cake.

               “I suppose, then, with that logic, being fourteen wouldn’t seem so long ago either when we’re eighteen.” Daniel sips some of his fruit punch before adding, “But eighteen sure feels so far away now.”

               “Do you think we’ll be as mean as Presley when we’re his age?”

               “Being as the tide rolls, we most likely will. Might as well start praying for Rhonda now.”

               Philip giggles, “Do you think we’ll have girlfriends too?”

               He shrugs and finishes his ice cream. “I don’t know, I never thought about girls that way.” He gazes at the sunset for a few seconds. “Like when I see Shortie or J.J. I just see…a person, you know? Am I missing something?”

               Philip shakes his head, “You don’t need to feel anything. The worst thing you can do is force it.”

               Daniel’s eyes are still on the sunset. Suddenly, he oddly remembers that he has a few joints in his jacket pocket and he offers one to Philip.

               “Is this a thing now?” Philip asks. “Where did you even get these?”

               “They were all in Presley’s pockets when he gave me all his old clothes.” Daniel lights his joint with a cigarette lighter and does the same for Philip. “It’s like he’s practically giving them to me now.”

               Philip doesn’t hesitate to take a long drag and he slowly exhales, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and feeling relaxed already. He isn’t as scared to smoke as he used to be. Perhaps it’s because of Daniel pushing it on him or the particular way the conversation is. “He should start cleaning out his pockets more often.”

               “I sure hope my mom cleans them out before doing laundry.” Daniel breathes out the smoke as he talked. “I don’t want my clothes washed with a bunch of weed.”

               Philip lies on the blanket and props his head up with his left arm. The sky is purple and blue now, giving the treehouse a dim, comfortable feel. He takes another drag and closes his eyes. “We’re probably missing out on Rhonda opening her presents.”

               Daniel runs his fingers through his hair, “Like I care. I’ll see it all in the morning.”

               Philip’s mind gets lost in the trance of twilight and the drug passing through his body. “Remember when getting an Etch-A-Sketch was the most exciting thing in the world?” He takes his final drag on the spliff. “Now what’s exciting? Nothing.”

               “Are people supposed to get depressed when they’re high?” Daniel asks, finishing his joint as well. “Because I feel that’s all what you are when you smoke.”

               Philip shrugs, “We should get back inside before we can’t see the ladder on the way down.”

               Daniel agrees and they return to the house and go up to Daniel’s bedroom. They slip into pajamas (Philip wearing something of Daniel’s, as usual) and set up a game of Connect Four on the bed. After a few rounds of Daniel winning easily, Philip determines to distract him with some conversation.

               “I know something you don’t!” Philip teases as he puts in a red disk into the grid.

               “I’m sure you do,” Daniel says, indifferent by the suspense Philip terribly set up. He puts a black disk into the grid, making three in a row.

               Philip immediately put his red disk where Daniel was going to make four in a row. “I apologized to Grape, and he—”

               “Oh yeah? How did that go?”

               “Fine, anyway, he played his saxophone for me and he—”

               “He can play the saxophone?”

               He sighs, “Yes, anyway, he told me his real name!”

               “Don’t even tell me it because then I’ll look at Grape never the same again.” Daniel puts in another disk, making four in a row. “Yes! Beat you again, sucker!”

               Philip looks at him in annoyance. “It’s Michael.” He crawls further up the bed and gets under the covers, laying on his side away from Daniel.

               “Just like your middle name?” Daniel says, putting the game on the carpet and getting into his bed next to Philip.

               “Yeah. Aren’t you jealous I knew that before you?” Philip turns on his other side so he can look at Daniel again.

               “We didn’t all start out with nicknames, Phil,” Daniel tells him, taking the rose-colored glasses off of Philip’s face and putting them on his bedside table.

               Philip’s eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the standard coloring of his surroundings. “Yeah, but Grape was always Grape to me. That’s how Captain introduced him as.”

               “Okay, there were a few originals, but the rest had to earn their name.” Daniel folds his arms, “All I am is Dan. Why can’t I be something cooler?”

               Philip pokes him in the side, “You’re cool to me.”

               Daniel laughs, “Stop it!”

               Philip’s poking quickly turns into tickling until Daniel runs out of oxygen from laughing so much. Philip leaves his arms were they are on Daniel’s abdomen and scoots closer to him. “This okay?”

               Daniel nods and reaches up to turn the light off, allowing his blue lava lamp on his dresser illuminate the room.

               Philip rests his head against Daniel’s shoulder. “Thank you for the jacket. I don’t think I properly thanked you yet.”

               Daniel smiles, “You didn’t need to, really.” He rubs Philip’s arm that’s around his waist. “Go to sleep,” He yawns loudly, “We can talk about today tomorrow. I just want it to be quiet for now.”

               Philip soon finds himself dozing off to the rhythm of the rise and fall of Daniel’s abdomen and the warmth between them. And his dreams take him to much happier places than where they usually do.

                                                                                               ***

               The Saturday morning sunlight shines through Daniel’s half-closed striped window curtains and onto the bed. Philip has been awake for roughly ten minutes now, but he hasn’t mustered the energy to do anything about it. He finally looks over at Daniel who is curled up on his side. His eyes look over the alarm clock and he sees it is nearly nine-thirty. He reaches over and puts on his pink glasses and runs his fingers through his messy hair. Then, he puts his hand on Daniel’s shoulder and gently shakes him.

               “Dan, wake up. It’s almost nine-thirty,” Philip says, his voice a little scratchy. “We’re gonna be late for Gilligan.”

               “They’ll still be on that desert island if we don’t watch it, don’t worry,” Daniel says sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

               Philip sighs and shakes him again, “Come on!”

               Daniel slowly props himself on his elbows. “You go downstairs and turn it on while I go to the bathroom.”

               Philip smiles and jumps out of the bed. He quickly leaves the room and goes down the stairs quietly. When he enters the living room, he is greeted by quite a surprising sight. Daniel’s sister and her friends are sleeping on the floor in their sleeping bags. Rhonda’s new gifts are in a pile at one end of the living room and the ripped wrapping paper is on the other end. Some dirty bowls, plates, and cups from the cake and ice cream are still strewn about. Philip steps over the five girls carefully and turns on the television to ABC. The theme song of The New Adventures of Gilligan just finished, but he still is right on time. He then plops himself on the couch, sitting Indian-style, and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Momentarily, Daniel comes down, his hair sticking in all kinds of directions, and sits beside Philip.

               It is the way it usually is on Saturday mornings. It is quiet and the television volume is a little low as sleep is still heavily in the air. The two of them share a crocheted blanket throw and yawn every once and a while. The sun creeps softly into the room and the morning birds can be heard from outside. One by one, the girls wake up and watch the cartoons as well. Barely anybody moves from their spot in the living room. Through experience, Daniel understands that by the time The Jetsons come on the house will be loud again. He and Philip would be somewhere outside, Rhonda’s friends will play with her new toys until their parents come and pick them up, Presley will be arguing about something with his father, and his mother will be talking on the phone to some other mom in the neighborhood. However, for right now, the peace and the stillness of the morning is enough for right now.

               In the middle of Shazam!, Presley’s footsteps come pounding down the stairs. He notices all of them in the living room, eyes glued to the television, with a sort of trance in the air. He doesn’t say anything for once and instead goes to the kitchen. Within ten minutes, he comes in with plates with pieces of cake on them and serves everyone. Daniel thanks him and takes a plate for himself. He is reminded that sometimes Presley really is a good brother and can see there is some type of value to him. Presley cares about them somewhere deep down in him and when he shows it, it isn’t seen as proud, but as mature and responsible.

               Daniel was right. By the time it is noon and The Jetsons are on the television, the house comes alive once again. It begins with Rhonda fiddling with her new toys, then his parents coming down the stairs, and Presley asking some outrageous favor. Daniel and Philip decide to get some fresh air for the day and they go back out to the backyard. They first notice the bags on the patio table.

               “Let’s open them!” Philip says excitedly.

               “Has it been long enough?” Daniel asks, poking at the bags.

               “Oh yeah, well over fifteen hours I would say.” Philip tries to find his t-shirt. “We forgot to put our names on the bag.”

               Daniel finds his quickly as he mostly used only yellow, green, and red dye. He takes it out of the bag and takes the rubber bands off. He unveils it and is quite disappointed. “It’s a mess.”

               Philip reveals his as well and he is proud and happy. “My favorite part of tie-dye shirts is when the colors start to fade and it isn’t so bright. Then it gets more comfortable to wear.”

               “I might never wear mine,” Daniel admits, looking at the perfect spiral on Philip’s shirt.

               Philip looks at Daniel’s shirt. “Oh no, it’s fine! It’s very unique.” He then holds out his own shirt. “And this? This is nothing. I can do way better than this.”

               “We all know you can, Phil,” Daniel says flatly. “Do you want to go see who’s at the park?”

               He lays out his shirt. “Sure! I really miss hanging out with the team.”

               The two of them head back inside and put on some clothes, Philip making sure to wear his jacket again. They then go up the street for a change to the park to see what all it had to offer. It is always a surprise to them. Today Fourth-Base-Chase and Split-Finger are there playing basketball. And Daniel and Philip sit at the picnic tables doing what they do best, commenting and keeping score.

                                                                                               ***

               “And third base gets taken by J.J.!” Philip yells into his megaphone. “Taking the advantage of Shortie tying her shoes!”

               It is Monday and there is finally a full team on the field. By how well everyone is playing today, they certainly have missed each other. There has been no arguing, and if so, it isn’t anything serious. Philip missed his megaphone and Daniel couldn’t wait to get back to his chalkboard. It is nearly eighty-five degrees and drink breaks have been bumped down to every twenty minutes or so. There has been a nice rhythm between players, obvious proof of their exceptional teamwork.

               “Have you missed pitching yet?” Daniel asks Philip, keeping his eyes on the diamond.

               Philip shakes his head, “Split-Finger is so much better than me. You saw the last three pitches—incredible!” He holds his megaphone up to his mouth, “Alright! Grape is up at bat, Captain replacing him as catcher. Let’s see what Split-Finger has for the Grape!” He waits for Split-Finger to pitch. “Oh! And another fastball!”

               “Strike one!” Daniel yells.

               “I hope Grape knows what he’s doing,” Philip says worriedly and Split-Finger pitches again. “Alright, a curveball. I’d say about seventy/seventy-five miles per hour. And Grape did not take the bait. This is getting interesting, people!” Split-finger pitches once more.

               “Foul!” Daniel yells out.

               “And it was a classic split-finger pitch! What is going on?” Philip shakes his head. “Hey Grape! If you keep standing in the sun like that, you’re gonna turn into a raisin!”

               The team laughs and Grape yells out, “Shut up, Rosy! You’re not funny!”

               Philip sticks his tongue out at him. “Just hit the ball! That’s all we ask of you!” Split-Finger pitches for the fourth time. “Finally! Grape bats the palmball and only manages to take first base. Great job, nonetheless!”

               “Water break!” Captain yells out.

               Everyone begins running to the dugout and grabbing their individual water bottles. Philip opens the green cooler he brought here and takes out the lukewarm water pitcher that is about halfway full (the other pitcher is empty). The team forms a line and Philip fills the water bottles.

               “Who’s winning so far?” Dan the Man asks Daniel.

               “Not you, that’s for sure,” Daniel tells him, his words coated with attitude. “Top three are Captain, Hoover, and J.J.”

               “Where do I place then?”

               Daniel takes a long drink of water before answering, “Sixth.”

               “Oh, thanks.”

               “That’s all the water!” Philip announces after filling Dan the Man’s water bottle.

               “Oh come on!” Split-Finger complains as well as the three people behind him.

               “¡Estoy muriendo aquí!” Señor complains dramatically.

               “Rosy, go home and get some more then!” Captain tells him impatiently being that he is the last in line.

               Philip sighs and places the lid back on his green cooler. “I’ll be back, I guess.”

               “Do you need some help?” Daniel asks him.

               “No, I got it,” Philip answers and makes his way out of the field.

               Philip really wishes someone else had a cooler they could use. This is the third time he has to go back home and refill the pitchers. He might as well hook up his gardening hose and bring it all the way down here. He wouldn’t exactly mind if it wasn’t so hot and his house was somewhere exciting to go to. Ever since his parents announced their divorce, he’s been walking on thin ice. Everyone avoids each other and it is quiet—the bad type of quiet. He mostly stays in his room now as he is too uncomfortable to be anywhere else in the house. The tension is borderline unbearable. They don’t eat dinner or watch television together anymore and Family Game Night has been obviously put on hold. It is much different now. And Philip’s not certain how long he can survive it.

               Philip enters the house with a little difficulty as his mother’s boxes are accumulating. She decided that she should be the one to move out and have a place of her own. The papers are still not signed yet, but she thought she should better get a head start. Philip still isn’t sure how all of this will work, but he rather not think about it. He hasn’t told Daniel anything about it yet and it’s been killing him. Perhaps the reason why he is so hesitant is that he might have to move in with his mother, wherever that may be. And leaving his best friend behind is not an ideal situation, especially since he needs him the most right now. Besides, won’t Daniel think of him differently now that his parents are getting a divorce? He’s been thinking back to Hoover’s audition and remembering how Daniel acted. Maybe he should get started on getting to know Hoover better soon.

               As he makes his way to the kitchen, he sees something he is certain he will never unsee again. His insides twist and heat rushes to his ears. By what he just saw, apparently he should get to know Shortie better instead. Shortie’s mother pulled Mrs. Lester close and kissed her in the kitchen. And Mrs. Lester kissed back. Philip never saw anything like it before. The only person he saw his mother kiss was his dad and himself. But this type of kiss was different. His mother appeared…happier. Was this why his mother wanted to get a divorce? Philip feels like he’s going to throw up. This is too much change. Too much.

               Philip barges in the kitchen without a word because right now he’s had enough. He drops the cooler on the ground, opens it, and takes out the pitchers. He turns on the sink and begins filling one of the pitchers, leaning on the counter on his hands.

               “Um, Phil…” his mother clears her throat.

               “I saw what happened and I don’t want to talk about it,” Philip says sternly, not bothering to turn around and look at her.

               “I’m sorry…but you have to know—”

               Philip puts the other pitcher underneath the tap and finally turns around. “Do you even know how much all of this is affecting me or am I just invisible to you?” Hot tears begin forming in his eyes and overflow just like the pitcher in the sink. “This is all happening too fast! I’m already having a hard enough time with life as it is!”

               His mother comes forward and attempts to hug him, but he shoves her away. He looks at Shortie’s mother who is simply standing there awkwardly.

               “I have baseball practice to go to.” He turns off the tap and puts the pitchers back into the cooler. He grabs a few of the ice cube trays from the freezer and dumps the cubes in both of the pitchers. Without one word, he takes the cooler and hulls it back down the street to the sandlot. He’s furious, but he feels so small and out of control at the same time. Right now, he’s simply glad to be out of that house.

               “Finally!” Split-Finger says once Philip reaches the dugout.

               Philip opens the cooler and begins refilling everyone’s water bottles silently.

               “Hey, what’s wrong?” Daniel asks him once everyone has their water. He looks at him with complete concern.

               Philip barely looks at him and he shrugs. He fills his own water bottle and closes the cooler.

               “Your eyes are red, I can tell even behind those glasses of yours,” Daniel tells him, folding his arms. “Now, either you’re high or you just finished crying.” He steps up closer to him and pushes the rose-colored glasses up on Philip’s forehead. “And you don’t smell like weed. So again, what’s wrong?”

               For a moment, Philip feels like telling him everything. He takes the glasses off his forehead and holds them in his hands. It takes everything in him not to cry. He rubs his eyes as if they were simply itchy. He struggles to find the right words to say.

               “Phil,” Daniel says fearfully, “put the glasses back on.”

               Philip does just as he was told and looks at him, expecting another instruction.

               “Now tell me, what is wrong?”

               Philip hits his arms at his sides helplessly. “Nothing that I know of.”

               “Something happened from this dugout to your house and I need to know.” Daniel was really serious now as he talked with his hands and didn’t once break the intense eye contact.

               Philip runs his fingers through his hair and he sighs irritably. “Why is it such a big deal?”

               “Because you’re my best friend and if someone hurt you, I need to do something about it.”

               “Hey!” Captain yells out from the pitcher’s mound. “Are you two gonna join us or are you just gonna stay there? ‘Cause it’s not fair for the rest of us for you to be sittin’ in the shade.”

               Philip begins walking out to their dugout. “My mom just yelled at me because I promised to wash her car today. I just got emotional for some reason. It’s the heat, you know?”

               Daniel just looks at him and then back to the dugout and says not one word more about it.

                                                                                               ***

               Being how great the Howell’s are about timing, back-to-school shopping this weekend had to be cancelled because Daniel’s parents had to go to the hospital. His grandfather was in a rather fatal car accident and his parents made the quick decision to drive up and visit him. They left Presley in charge, which is, of course, one of the worst ideas they could’ve come up with. Daniel is certain worrying about his first day of high school won’t be worth it considering he won’t live past Monday. By the way things have been going, it’s like Presley is asking to get in trouble.

               “Shouldn’t we be mourning over the potential loss of our grandfather?!” Daniel yells at his brother as he brings in bags of chips, cases of alcohol, and plastic cups.

               “Until Mom tells us that he died, I don’t see the reason to sit around bein’ all depressed,” Presley reasons. “Now call up Phil because I have a big job for you guys tonight.”

               “Like what?” Daniel asks, folding his arms and watching his brother place junk food all over the dining table. “Babysit Rhonda?”

               Presley laughs and shakes his head, “Your first gig!”

               Daniel’s eyebrows scrunch up, “‘Gig’? What are you talking about?”

               “What kind of party is it without music?” Presley asks, popping open a can of Budweiser already.

               As his words slowly begin to register in Daniel’s brain, a smile creeps across his face. Immediately, he runs out of the house without even bothering to put on shoes and across the street. He then impatiently pounds on the door.

               “Yes?” It is Shortie’s mother for some reason.

               Daniel is confused. He looks over at Shortie’s house and back at Philip’s to make sure he is at the right place. “Um, I need to talk to Phil.” He tries to look inside, but all he sees are piles of boxes.

               “Phil, your friend is at the door for you!” Shortie’s mother yells into the house.

               “Why are you at Phil’s house?” Daniel asks her while he waits.

               “I’m good friends with his mother,” she answers as Philip walks past her.

               Philip closes the door after himself breathlessly. “What’s crackin’?”

               Daniel’s mind is still on the boxes.

               “Dan? You had something to tell me?” Philip tries again.

               Daniel shakes his head and finally looks at him. “You won’t believe it!”

               Philip looks down at Daniel’s feet. “Where are your shoes?”

               “I got too excited! Guess what Presley just asked me!”

               Philip shakes his head, “How should I know? I thought we weren’t speaking to him anymore.”

               “Oh, after this, we ought to worship the very ground he walks on!”

               He rolls his eyes.

               Daniel grabs his arm to get his attention. “No, listen to me! He’s having this huge party tonight and he wants Hopeless to play!”

               “What!” Philip exclaims in disbelief. He can’t help but smile at this incredible news.

               “Yeah! So come on, we gotta come up with a set list!”

               “Let me grab my shoes,” he says, opening the door.

               Daniel starts dragging him off the front porch. “It’s more punk without them.”

               At around nine o’clock, Presley’s friends and their friends begin piling in the house and the backyard. Daniel and Philip set their instruments out in the yard underneath the treehouse and put up a sign that says “NOW TAKING REQUESTS.” Daniel said earlier that they’re not quite prepared to play their own songs yet (and that may be because they only have three), so they thought they could do covers for the whole night. He’s wearing his studded leather jacket again with the jeans with the holes and only an undershirt underneath. Philip is wearing his denim jacket as well and his newly tie-dyed shirt that is slightly too big for him. He’s wearing a pair of cutoffs and no shoes, as Daniel didn’t allow him to wear them. Presley floats around as more and more people show up. Daniel is beginning to think there won’t be enough room soon. They’re all drinking, talking, smoking, and laughing with one another. Some even make out and take off their clothes. Someone started a bonfire in the center of the yard, making the atmosphere warm and golden. Daniel can bet that his sister is up in her room crying. Presley locked her in there so she wouldn’t go downstairs and call their parents. Daniel doesn’t really care as this is his first party and he’s not even technically in high school yet.

               Daniel and Philip played music for a good hour and a half. They developed quite a large crowd and they got people dancing (if you can even call it that). Daniel wasn’t sure if it’s because they’re high and drunk, but he’ll take the attention any day. They didn’t even play their best since they didn’t know how to play half the songs. But they played anyway because that’s what they liked to do best. They eventually finished with Sweet’s “The Ballroom Blitz” and collapsed on the cool grass beneath them, covered in sweat and the rush of performing.

               Within five or so minutes, a few older boys see them and offer them a few joints. Daniel and Philip don’t say no to them and continue to smoke whatever that is handed to them. By eleven-thirty, Philip is sure he can’t feel a single thing anymore and Daniel’s limbs feel like noodles. And they stay like that, laughing hysterically at absolutely nothing, for a lot longer than what they think.

               “I feel…soooo…great,” Philip says, moving his arms up and down like he is making a snow angel in the dried up grass. “Like…”

               “No, I totally feel you, man,” Daniel says, completely spaced out of his mind.

               “I don’t ever want to go home. This here? This is my home.” Philip looks up at the glowing shadows the bonfire creates against the treehouse.

               “What even is home, man?” He asks him. “Is it just four walls with a roof over it or is it here?” He pokes Philip’s chest.

               Philip stares at him blankly, “I don’t know.”

               Daniel laughs loudly and looks around at all the people. “We gotta get a taste of what’s in those cups.”

               Philip glances at all the plastic cups in people’s hands and notices how happy and free they are. He immediately rises from the ground and helps Daniel up too. They continue to wander around aimlessly trying to find the alcohol.

               “Hey, where did you guys get that?” Daniel asks a group of girls standing near his patio table, pointing at their cups.

               They all laugh at him and one of the girls looks closely at his face. “Are you high out of your mind?”

               Daniel purses his lips, “Maybe.”

               “Just tell us where you got that stuff from!” Philip says a little too loudly.

               “In the kitchen,” she replies, backing away from them.

               They gradually make their way to the kitchen where it is quiet, empty, and dim. The kitchen table is an absolute mess, but they sure find what they’ve been looking for.

               “What should we drink first?” Philip asks, becoming overwhelmed by all the options.

               Daniel scratches his head, “Uh, why not a little bit of everything?”

               Philip shrugs and opens a can of Coors. “It’s all the same anyway.”

               They then start opening every bottle and can they see of practically each type of alcohol and slug from each one. Even some of Mr. Howell’s special alcohol is consumed (although Daniel has no idea where Presley got it from). After each taste, their throats burn more than the last one. By the end of it, they quite understandably don’t feel the greatest. Their vision is slightly distorted and they can’t walk without nearly falling over. They eventually make it to the living room floor, which isn’t even that far. Someone turned on a radio loudly and they can hear “Magic” playing from the patio. It is a bit muffled, but Philip doesn’t mind.

               “Ho, ho, ho, it’s magic, you knowwww…” Philip sings off-key.

               “Don’t these people know real music?” Daniel complains, his words already slurring together.

               “It’s a good song!” Philip counters defensively.

               They stay quiet for a while, listening to the rest of the song and letting the alcohol run through their system.

               “This is it, Phil,” Daniel says, his voice almost breaking. “School starts on Wednesday and I don’t even know what I’m going to do.”

               Philip turns his head and he sees his best friend crying. He gently brushes his hair away from his forehead. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

               Daniel is now sobbing. “You’ll be with me, right?”

               Philip scoots closer to him and he drapes his arm over Daniel to comfort him. “Of course.”

               Daniel sniffles and tries to dry his tears with his leather sleeves. “I’ve been trying to grow up more these past few weeks and now I suddenly realize I don’t want to grow up. I still want to be a kid. What’s wrong with me?”

               Philip rests his head against Daniel’s shoulder. “I don’t think smoking all that weed proved anything. Not to mention, you being this close to putting a hole in your lip.”

               Daniel covers his face with his hands. “We’re so stupid!”

               Philip turns over on his abdomen and takes Daniel’s hands away from his face. “Hey, I got to tell you something important.”

               Daniel looks up at him and sniffles, “What?”

               Philip gazes at him a few more moments before speaking. “M-my parents—”

               “Oh my God!” Presley yells from the kitchen. He soon appears in the dining room, looking at Daniel and Philip on the ground in the living room. He is furious. “Daniel! What have you done?!”

               Daniel immediately sits up from the ground. His stomach tenses and he covers his mouth. He quickly gets up and runs to the trash can in the kitchen. He first dry heaves and then vomits a few times. Presley and Philip follow and watch him.

               “Oh no!” Presley runs his fingers through his hair. “No, no, no, no, no!” He glances over at Philip. “Did you drink all the alcohol?!”

               Philip stands there unsteadily and blinks at him. “Uhm, not all of it. We just had a taste of each one to see…”

               “I’m-I’m-I’m so dead!” He begins cursing and helping his brother out. He rubs Daniel’s back and looks around the kitchen, trying to figure out what to do.

               Philip’s stomach also tenses and he pushes Presley out of the way and throws up in the trash can as well.

               “You guys are complete idiots!” Presley yells.

               “Don’t yell at us!” Daniel says breathlessly. “You’re the one with a bunch of alcohol around minors.”

               “Well I didn’t think you two were sharing a rock as a brain!” His brother yells back. “Alright, alright, alright. Here’s what’s happening. You two are going to ride this out and not say a word—A WORD—to Mom and Dad. Understand?”

               “Why should we listen to you?” Daniel asks back.

               “If you keep quiet about the party, I’ll keep quiet about why half of Dad’s booze is gone!”

               Daniel covers his ears, “Alright, stop yelling!”

               Presley grabs two blue Tupperware cups from the cupboard and fills them with tap water. “Drink as much water as you can.” He hands them the cups.

               “Why?” Philip questions, drinking the water anyway.

               “Because you need to stay hydrated so your hangover won’t be as bad in the morning.”

               “What’s a hangover?” Daniel asks, drinking the water as well.

               Presley does a face palm and he shakes his head. “Oh my God. Just-just do what I tell you, okay? And stay inside.”

               Daniel rolls his eyes and watches his brother leave.

               “Dan, do you think we’ll die?” Philip asks him after drinking more water.

               Daniel glances at the vomit-filled trash can, the empty alcohol bottles on the kitchen table, and the reckless people outside. “I sure hope so.”

                                                                                               ***

               Daniel isn’t sure how his brother did it, but they managed to escape the weekend with only minor consequences. Their parents never found out about the party at all. All they got in trouble for was locking Rhonda in her room. And Daniel is happy about that. Because he rather be stuck doing the dishes for seven days straight than to miss this iconic ballgame.

               The West Side team sit at their usual dugout dressed in their actual uniform—a yellow raglan with “WEST SIDE” written in permanent marker on the front (Philip drew the baseball logo). They all wear baseball hats of their own, some from thrift stores, some from their dads’ closet. Philip made sure to bring his cooler again as it is about eighty-three degrees. It is approximately one in the afternoon and the team has been practicing since nine. Now they wait for East Side to show up.

               “They should lose three points for being late every year,” Daniel comments as they all stare at the empty entrance of the sandlot.

               “That’s just their way of intimidating us,” Captain says. “Making us wait in the heat like this…”

               Suddenly a herd of cars come slowly up, being escorted by a police car. Each car has the official baseball team’s flag attached to the hood, flowing proudly in the wind. The five shiny cars finally park in their own made-up parking spots and boys in legitimate baseball uniforms pile out. They wear crisp blue caps, stirrups, and jerseys with bright white knickers. Daniel notices that their cleats—cleats—don’t even have a speck of dirt on them. He looks down at his once-white sneakers that have a small hole at the side. Parents begin setting up lawn chairs and their water boy sets up the drink dispenser in their dugout. The coach makes all the boys stand in line while he counts them.

               “He’s new,” Split-Finger comments, indicating the coach.

               “Didn’t their coach last year have blond hair?” Hoover asks everyone.

               “Yeah, and he had biceps as big as my face,” Dan the Man answers.

               Their coach comes walking over. “You guys have a coach I can speak to?” He asks them.

               Grape pushes Captain towards the man. “You’re lookin’ right at him.”

               The man looks at Captain up and down. “Are you serious? What are you? Fourteen?”

               “I’m fifteen and yes, I run this team,” Captain says, standing much taller than anyone has ever seen. “Five years ago I gathered the best in our neighborhood, sir.” He puts his hands behind his back. “And here we are.”

               The coach glances at the pathetic team. “You must live in some neighborhood then.” He looks at Captain again. “Is there an adult I can speak to?”

               “There are adults all over this town, sir!” Captain answers and everyone behind him laughs.

               The coach sighs irritably, “Fine, with you having the home advantage, we will be batting first.”

               Captain folds his arms and smiles at him. “I do believe that’s how the game of baseball works.”

               “Just get out on the field!” The coach yells and watches at the team walks towards the field. “Hey, wait a minute!”

               The team turns around.

               “We can’t play with girls, it’s unfair,” the coach tells them.

               Captain looks at J.J. and Shortie and then back at him. “Sir, if you’re intimidated by two fourteen-year-old girls, then I believe we have a much bigger issue here.”

               “It’s not our problem you weren’t smart enough to recruit girls!” Shortie yells at him.

               “What if they get hurt?” He asks back.

               Philip narrows his eyes at him. “Treat them like anybody else?” Then over his shoulder he says, “Who is this guy?”

               Captain steps forward, “If you’re threatening us, Mr. Coach Sir, then I think it’ll be best for you to forfeit and get off our field.”

               “If you can even call it that,” the coach mumbles as he walks over to his team.

               The West Side team simply shake their heads and get into positions: Grape as catcher, Split-Finger as pitcher, Fourth-Base-Chase on first base, Señor on second, Hoover on third, and Shortie as shortstop. In the field, J.J. takes left, Captain at center, and Dan the Man in right field. Daniel and Philip almost forget where to go until Captain tells them to go back to the dugout and wait until somebody needs to be switched out.

               Before the game begins, the East Side team takes out white spray paint and paints the proper lines of the diamond. The West Side team cringes at the vandalism, but remain quiet as they rather end this day with a win than with a fight. Finally, by one-thirty, a batter is up, Number Six, and Split-Finger pitches.

               Daniel doesn’t quite pay attention to the game as the East Side team has set up a fancy scoreboard of their own. Instead, he watches as more and more cars come in and people set out their lawn chairs to watch the game. “Whatever Captain said about intimidation, he’s right,” he says as he glances at their empty side of the field. “We look like a bunch of orphans.”

               “We don’t need no fan club to play well, Dan,” Philip says, watching one of the batters, Number Eight, get a strike. “What makes the East Side the East Side is that they have actual grown-ups involved. You see them over there acting all snotty and entitled?” Philip shakes his head, “I bet they know nothing about their team at all, let alone baseball.”

               Daniel laughs, “You’re right. You’re absolutely right!”

               Three hours. Three hours underneath the hot August sun throwing and hitting a ball around a field. The score was excruciatingly close at times. Each player on both sides was giving their absolute best. Clothes were drenched in sweat and covered in dirt. Split-Finger pitched and pitched as well as he could every single time. Everyone in the outfield and on the bases worked together smoothly, in rhythm and in sync with each other, knowing how the other would react seconds before anything would happen. They played baseball like it was their second language—completely fluent and rolling off the tongue so beautifully. They were a team in the highest respect. And, somehow, the team with no flock of cars or cheering fan club or drink dispenser or even stain-free socks, took home the cheap plastic generic trophy.

               The West Side baseball team cheer for themselves as they run down the street, their street, making as much noise as possible, all the way up to Captain’s house; the very house that started this whole thing in the first place.

               “Isn’t that beautiful?” Captain says as he places the trophy next to the other four cheap trophies on his top shelf in his bedroom. He is standing on his wooden desk chair, dusting some of the other trophies. The rest of the team is piled in his small bedroom, looking at the trophies in pride.

               “I don’t think I felt so proud before,” Fourth-Base-Chase says to no one in particular.

               Hoover takes off his baseball cap and holds it over his heart. The rest of the team quickly follow after that and contribute a moment of silence to the trophy.

               “We’ve come a long way, West Side,” Captain tells them, turning around on the chair. “Some of you were nine years old when we started this thing, and here we are five years later. I mean this honestly, I don’t think I ever wanted to grow up with anyone else but you guys. Oh, what the hell?” He puts his cap back on. “What does that have anything to do with baseball? We won. East Side keeps coming in with all this new standardized crap, and here we are running on Rosy’s tap water.”

               Everyone laughs and Daniel playfully punches Philip in the arm.

               “The point is, we’re entering high school in two days.” He puts his hands on his hips. “I’ve been thinking, as we grow older, we have to remember that we’re not just a team on that field. We’re a team when we eat lunch together at school or when one of us is going through a hard time. Sure we play baseball, but that can’t be the only endgame we have here. Right?”

               “Everything alright, Captain?” J.J. asks him, the room dead quiet.

               Captain pinches the bridge of his nose and he sniffles, “I know what high school was like for my brother.” He shakes his head and a few tears stream down his face. “I don’t want to lose you guys!”

               Philip makes his way up front and grabs Captain’s hand. He looks up at him and adjusts his glasses. “We’re right here.” He shakes his head, “We haven’t gone anywhere.”

               Captain nods his head and lets out a cry. He steps down from his chair and embraces Philip tightly. Soon everyone gathers around in a group hug, respecting the seriousness of their situation. After a few minutes, Captain lets go of Philip, though he still keeps an arm around him. He looks around at his family and finally understands.

               “You’re all right here,” he says, nodding, the words feeling honest and true.

               “If you don’t speak at our graduation, I’m gonna protest,” Grape says, his words acting like curtains being opened in a dark room.

               “Class of ’79, my man!” Captain says, smiling and giving Grape a high five.

               Everyone lets out one last sigh, feeling good and loved.

               “Alright, let’s all go swim!” Captain says. “I know that’s all you’ve been really waiting on me to say!”

               Everyone cheers and busts out of the bedroom and back on the street. They run up to the park and to the public swimming pool. Being that everyone wore their bathing suits underneath their clothes as by tradition, they quickly strip and jump into the deep end of the pool one by one. Feeling the cold water rush around never felt so good to Daniel. He felt awake and alive. It was a welcoming to a new beginning almost, letting off all the sweat and hard work that led him to being here.

               They practically take over half of the pool for roughly an hour. It was nice for them to simply have fun together and not play baseball or have a disagreement with one another. They enjoyed each other’s company. And it wasn’t because they won or anything. They would be doing this either way, not letting some point system tell them who’s really worthy. So they jumped and dived and cannonballed and splashed and raced and floated and kicked and waved for however long they desired. In time, they hear the faint music of an ice cream truck and they all jump out of the pool, grab their clothes, and run to the street once more.

               Daniel gets a chocolate sundae and Philip gets a strawberry cone, with Captain paying for everyone. The group begins to go their separate ways to home or back to the park. Daniel and Philip go where they usually go when there’s nothing left to do on a late summer’s day.

               The county jail is set between the river and a downtown busy street. The very front door leads to the sidewalk. Daniel and Philip sit across the street on a bench, looking at all the barred windows. They don’t know if any of the inmates could see them, but they liked to taunt them and flash their freedom in their faces anyway. Ironically, their freedom is fleeting quickly before them and soon they, too, will be trapped into a system. Granted, the jailing system is much harsher and unfair, but no one leaves high school an unchanged person.

               “Oh man, what a day,” Daniel sighs. He scoops up more of his sundae and savors every bite.

               “Truly phenomenal,” Philip agrees, licking at his cone.

               Daniel picks at his damp raglan. “You know, some of the things Captain said were right. No matter how cliché that dude is, he can really move a crowd.”

               Philip nods his head, “Right on.”

               “You’re gonna be with me, right? In high school?”

               He smiles, “We’ve already been through this!” He puts his arm around Daniel, “Man, I’d take you to prom if I could!”

               Daniel looks at him, “Seriously?”

               Philip laughs, “I’ll try.” He eats more of his ice cream before speaking again. “I believe that we are strong enough for whatever the universe gives us. If not, well—” he shrugs his shoulders—“the universe wouldn’t exactly have given it to us in the first place!”

               Daniel leans into Philip as he laughs. “Are you still gonna wear those stupid glasses in high school?”

               Philip takes his glasses off and looks around him, amazed at how dull the world actually is. He folds them on his lap and has more of his ice cream.

               Daniel takes the glasses and puts them back on Philip. “Don’t do that. You always scare me when you do that.”

               He lets out a chuckle, “Why?”

               “Because…” Daniel looks at him, trying to find the words to say. “Because. I don’t need you looking at the world like everyone else, too.”

               Philip takes a few seconds to respond. “You know where I got these? I found these at a yard sale for three bucks back in ’68. I’ll let you in on a secret, too. You don’t need a pair of glasses to change your outlook on anything.”

               He sighs and rolls his eyes. “I thought you were going to tell me something important. Instead you just gave me something straight out of some Woodstock hippie’s mouth.”

               Philip puts his glasses back on and finishes the rest of his ice cream cone before saying anything else.

               “In about three months, I bet we won’t even be the same people anymore,” Daniel lets out. “We’ll be doing things we never thought we’d ever be doing, but having to do them anyway. And we’ll be talking to people we still haven’t met yet. And maybe those people will still be incredibly important in five years from now, but today, they don’t even exist to us yet. We may not even remember today, or how the pool chlorine smelled like or how dirty my shirt got on the field or what this sundae tasted like. We won’t remember anything we said either. I can repeat this over and over again for the next ten years of my life and it still won’t change. I’m going to grow up and miss everything. The trophies on Captain’s shelf will get dusty. We’ll stop playing baseball. We won’t be playing music anymore. I’ll have to move out of the only house I’ve ever known. I’ll need to start calling everybody by their real names instead of nicknames. What then?”

               Philip can barely breathe now. Daniel kept on talking and talking and it inevitably led him to a very dark place. His stomach is all in knots and his throat burns. “My parents are getting a divorce.”

               Daniel finally stops talking and he looks at him intensely. “Are you serious?”

               Philip’s hands rub at his damp swimming trunks and a cry escapes from his mouth. His face heats up and tears begin to fall. “Yeah.”

               “Oh Rosy…” Daniel’s arms wrap around Philip and he pulls him closer and closer.

               Philip breaks down in sobs in the crook of Daniel’s neck, “I don’t think I can take it much longer.”

               Daniel just keeps rubbing his back soothingly. “Do you know what’s gonna happen?”

               Philip shakes his head, “Lately it’s like I don’t know anything anymore.”

               “Oh dear…” Daniel pulls Philip away and he holds his hands and looks at him seriously. “How long has it been like this?”

               Philip shrugs, “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know how you’d react.”

               Daniel shakes his head, “You can tell me anything, Phil. Even if you think I won’t like it. Chances are, I deserve it. Call me an airhead if you need to. Tell me everything. I’ll be here for you. Always.”

               Philip grins at his lap, “You’re an airhead.”

               Daniel takes the rose-colored glasses off of Philip’s face and wears them for himself. He taps Philip’s shoulder so he can look at him. “Hey, everything’s gonna be alright.”

#phan #phanfiction #phan au #phan fluff #phan angst #platonic phan #teenagers #phan historical #one shot #tw #it feels so good to be finally finished with this #but now that means i have no idea what to do next haha

[dansphlevels]

will u do part 3 of yellow roses? i love it so much your writing is honestly great

Yellow Roses pt. 3 of 6

Read part 1 here, part 2 here, or read the whole thing on Ao3 here.

Summary: Dan has a wife who just loves the flowers he keeps getting for her. Unfortunately, she doesn’t know about the attractive florist who sends hidden messages with each bouquet that her husband might just be falling for.

Length: 2.3k words

Themes: historical,  language of flowers, flowershop au, forbidden love

Daniel went through five stages in the process of getting over Phil. 

The first, was regret. He regretted his actions, his illegal, immoral choices that had led to him kissing another man. He promised himself he would never make a mistake like that ever again. He would learn to forget Phil.

It had been two weeks already with no contact. Daniel shouldn’t have been counting.

The second stage was emptiness. Because when you find someone that makes your heart feel full, and you push them away, you can’t help but feel like they took your lungs with them. Daniel learned what love was, real love, and without it he felt like he had to relearn how to breathe.

Who knew that Dan could hold his breath for so long?

The third stage in the process of getting over Phil was denial. They never had anything, Dan insisted, just some flowers and some messages and two simple kisses. He was being silly for not moving on. Yes, Dan was silly indeed. The fourth stage was misery. As it turns out, learning to breathe again without your lungs is not fun. The fourth stage was also a sort of mixture of the other three: Dan grieved his choices, both kissing Phil and ignoring Phil, got mad at himself for feeling empty, and continued to convince himself the feelings weren’t even real. All while being miserable.

 Dan was quite the catch. Daniel was still in the fourth stage when the boys who had kissed were given their prison sentence. One year in lock down for committing the unforgivable crime of kissing someone of the same gender. Daniel had told them, letting them know that afterwards they would not be allowed to see each other again. Daniel was content being miserable for a while longer. But then it happened, an it that no one was truly prepared for, that sent Dan spiraling over the edge of what he could handle, and before he knew what he was doing he was out the door, his feet leading him where he’d been yearning to go for the past two weeks. And that’s when the fifth and final stage of getting over Phil began.

—–

It was wrong. It was very, very wrong, but Dan refused to stop walking. He had on his formal jacket, as he always did when he left the house, and put his hands in his pockets casually as he walked. No one had to know what he was planning to do. The boys had run away. Dan was still processing what it meant. Apparently, they couldn’t stand the thought of being apart. Dan’s mouth felt dry, and his stomach churned. He didn’t relate to them, not one bit. He was doing fine without Phil. So they took off, running away with what measly possessions they had. To start a new life, Dan supposed. Together. That word hurt. Together. Because Dan had felt so lonely these past few days, and together was something he longed for. Together. After the police left, Dan decided he’d go on a nice little walk to the city. It was at least half an hour away on foot, and normally he would take one of his horses, but as he was in need of a stable boy, that wasn’t likely. The two boys also stole his horses. But as far as he could tell, that’s all they stole, so he didn’t care. They’d get farther that way. Why are you rooting for them? Dan thought to himself. They’re criminals!He decided not to think about it. He should do his best to avoid relating to them, if at all possible. After all, he had a wife, and- Oh, who cares?As Dan walked, he admired the flowers on the edge of the road. Not as beautiful as Phil’s, but then again, was anything? As beautiful as Phil’s flowers, that was, not as beautiful as Phil. Well….Dan’s thoughts were too jumbled to function. He could name some of the flowers, anyways. Some were very wild, too wild for his book, and some were just unfamiliar. Others were likely weeds. But every once in a while he’d come across ones that were familiar. A yellow one called Cowslip, with lots of little flower heads shaped like bells. Dan only remembered them because their meaning was very strange. Along with being a symbol of birth and death, they also hinted at mischief and adventure. Such a strange combination and Dan hadn’t understood it until just then, as he walked along the country roads about to do something very stupid that could go very horribly.He considered it for a moment, then reached down and plucked a half dozen stems, quickly hiding them in his jacket pockets. After all, what are those pockets for, if not holding flowers?The flower that Phil had given him, the allusive blue rose, had held up surprisingly well for having been held in his coat pocket. Dan had stared at it for a lot longer than he should have, thinking about the meaning. “‘Giving someone a blue rose symbolizes ‘I want you, but can’t have you’”, Dan said out loud, before realizing what he was doing. He couldn’t be seen talking to himself out and about; the townspeople had enough gossip about him without knowing he talked to himself about flowers. As the city neared, Dan tried not to think about what he was doing. He had never been to where he was going before, but it shouldn’t be too difficult to find. And sure enough, right on the edge of the town was a large greenhouse, attached to a little store. Dan turned and pushed open the door to the store without stopping to consider what he was doing. “I’d like to talk to one of your florists,” Dan said to the cashier, feeling like an idiot. “Phil… I’m sorry; I don’t know what his last name is.” And suddenly, Dan realized just how ridiculous he was being. He barely knew the man, and here he was, falling for him?But all of his reserves melted away when Dan saw him. Tall, with messy black hair and wearing hideous gardening clothes that were covered in dirt, and an ever present little smile, not enough to be silly, but enough to show a sort of happiness that very few people had. The smile grew when he saw Dan, but the florist did his best to hide it. “Oh, Da- Mr. Howell. You’re here for the tour of the gardens?” Dan could barely speak. How could he have missed someone this much, that he hardly even knew?—-The gardens started in the backroom and continued on through a little walkway into the greenhouse, which seemed big already from the outside, but from the inside was absolutely enormous. “Some flowers need different amounts of light than others,” Phil narrated as they walked, “So some are kept in the dark all day, and some are kept in the light. And we use a special mixture of fertilizer to grow the flowers in, which is why some people notice they are extremely high quality.”Dan was completely in awe as they walked through the greenhouse, walking along rows upon rows of greens and purples and yellows, every color one could imagine and some that felt brand new to Dan. “Yes,” he muttered dreamily, “I noticed.” Phil glanced around to make sure the door was closed and they were alone. His easy, carefree expression melted away, being replaced by one of…. concern? “Dan, what are you doing here? What happened?” Dan blinked a few times, trying to snap out of his daze. “Yes…. Um, I wanted to see you.” He mentally kicked himself for being so awkward. “I mean… the flowers. I wanted to see the… gardens!”Phil cocked his head, letting a little smile poke through. “Huh. For some reason, I don’t completely believe you.” “Well, you should,” Dan argued indignantly. “I’m a man who likes flowers, get over it.” This caused Phil to laugh, and oh, Dan wanted to melt at the sound. So light, so carefree…. he couldn’t stop his feet from rushing him forwards slamming his lips against Phil’s, kissing him desperately. Phil stepped back in shock, but after a moment kissed back lightly before pushing Dan away. “Dan… what was that?” He looked even more surprised at Dan’s actions than Dan was. “I mean… it was good. I like kissing you,” he muttered, blushing. “But… why’d you do that?” Dan’s heart was pounding. They didn’t have much time, before someone came in, or at least questioned what they were up to. He’d have to speak fast. “These past few days have been miserable,” he spoke quickly, trying to get it all out before they were caught. “I missed you, Phil, I really really missed you and I can’t sleep and I feel so empty without you, and I tried to move on, I really did! But I couldn’t, because I have feelings for you, and I can’t-” Someone pushed the door open, entering the greenhouse and grabbing some containers off the ground, whistling as they left. Dan tried to catch his breath. “And I can’t- and I miss- and, Phil, I just-” “Woah there, calm down,” Phil offered, placing a hand on his arm comfortingly. “I missed you too.” And all of a sudden, Dan didn’t feel quite so empty. “I’m sorry for barging in,” he offered. “How about you show me some of the flowers?”—- Dan went home beaming, happier than he had been all week. He and Phil had talked for hours, about flowers, about life. Apparently, Phil didn’t want to work at the flower shop forever. He dreamed of leaving the town where he’d lived all his life and going somewhere new, he didn’t care where, just somewhere far away where he could plant his own flowers, and start a shop of his own. “Most people don’t know the right way to grow flowers,” he had said, gently caressing a brightly colored tulip. “They think all flowers need the same amount of sunlight, the same amount of water, everything. And I want to show them that… well, flowers are like people. They’re all unique, and not everyone needs the same things.”At that point, Dan thought of the boys once more. They were to be arrested because they loved each other instead of women like everyone expected them to. “They’re unique, and not everyone needs the same things.” Phil had also given Dan a rather gorgeous bouquet, full of deep purples and blues, and the darkest red roses Dan had ever seen. Dan had asked what they stood for, but Phil insisted he decipher it himself on his own time. Then, before he left, Phil pulled him into another kiss and asked when they could see each other again. “At the river? Tonight?” He begged, their bodies so close they could be imprisoned just for all the contact. Dan wanted to say yes, but instead, shook his head. “Rose wants me to take her to a play tonight. Can we do it tomorrow?”Biting his lip, Phil looked away. “No. I’ll be working at a wedding that day, they ordered dozens of roses.” Dan snorted. “Clichés.” “But the day after that? Please?” He inhaled, wondering what he was doing, how he was allowing himself to fall so hard for this man. “Yes. At the stream.” “I’ll see you then,” Phil offered. “Yes,” Daniel agreed. “I will see you then.” And then they kissed, and Dan never wanted it to end.

——

But it did end. And before too long, Dan was back in his best formal suit, with his wife at his elbow, and he was painfully reminded that his life might not have room for Phil in it. Rose kept talking to him, and Daniel smiled and laughed, but didn’t put much effort into conversing with her. For whatever reason, it felt wrong. He felt as if he had to make a choice, but didn’t know what the choice was. He thought of it all throughout the play, and in bed, staring at his ceiling. His wife slept with him again that night, however, their clothes remained on. He hoped she wasn’t going to make a habit of it. Not that he didn’t like having someone with him in the emptiness of the night- on the contrary, he liked it too much. Daniel was a lonely man, who enjoyed the warmth of a person next to him.But there was that choice, the allusive decision that Daniel must make, but by then he had figured what it meant. One of the other, a choice between two objects of affection. Because surely Daniel loved his wife as much, if not more than the florist? This was safe, he was happy- what was there to decide?Except for the fact that Daniel wasn’t ready to let the florist go from his mind. So instead, he pondered the question endlessly, not allowing himself a choice. Maybe… there was a third option? After all, why did Daniel have to sacrifice his safety for love? Why did he have to sacrifice anything at all? So when he saw Phil again, Daniel allowed himself to kiss the man, under the darkness of night and the watchful gaze of the moon. And he allowed himself to lie in bed with his wife when he got home, and pushed the guilt aside. He had been forcing himself to choose one or the other, Rose or Phil, safety or love. But why couldn’t he have both?

Part 4 / Fic Masterpost / Ao3

#flowershop au #flowers #yellow roses #historical #chaptered #oneshot #like it was origanally a oneshot but now its a chaptered fic #like yeah #Dan and Phil #answered #dansPHlevels #fanfic #fanfiction #phanfic #phanfiction #phan

[dramaphan]

There still being people who make that is a little yikes, like I usually don't yuck anyone's time but explicit rpf is fucking weird and gross (dead historical figures are more nuanced, but this isn't)

That’s why the absolute only type of phanfiction/art I’m completely against is smut. No need to be making that shit about real dudes. I don’t care if they’re “technically a character in fic” or whatever shut up you’re weird. If they’re dead then fuck it, whatever. But if they’re real people and still goddamn alive??? Come on now

#ask

[phanficawards]

Phanfiction Awards 2019!

Welcome to the Phanfiction Award Nominations! This year, things are going to be a bit different! We’ve merged with the @phanfictionawards (which are already running right now but will be moving to this blog) and will be using some of their categories and some of our old ones! There are also a couple rule changes, so make sure to keep reading to check them out! 

As the Awards are on Google Forms again this year, we’ve limited Nominations to one nomination per award per person. You will need a google account in order to place nominations, however this will also allow you to edit your nomination forms as often as you like until nominations close on New Years Day. Please note, however, that while we will not be checking in on nominations until the forms are closed, any person who leaves more than one nomination to one award will have their nominations discarded. This does not mean your entire form is null and void, just that one question.  The lack of character limit is only to allow ample room to fit the full fic title, author name, and website, not to allow more than one answer to be given.

Only fics started and in the year of 2019 will be included. This applies to chaptered fics as well. The only exception is the “Best Fic Completed in 2019″ Category. 

Remember to pick the fic that you personally think deserves to be nominated the most, even if it is a hard choice. Take your time and make sure you’ve nominated the fic you want to nominate most by the January 1 deadline! After that, we’ll have a tiebreaker vote if necessary to determine the top 5 nominated fics for each category. We’ll give you until January 7 to read the nominated fics, and then voting will be open until January 31. On February 1, we’ll announce the winners!

NEW THIS YEAR!  To allow multiple fics to get well-deserved recognition, each fic is only eligible to win first place in one award. Nominations will remain the same, but if the same fic places first in multiple votes, it will only win first place in the one it won by the highest margin in. In the others, the second place winner will be bumped to first. Secondly, we are discouraging any form of self-promotion if you have been nominated as this can easily sway voting. A simple ‘hey guys! I was nominated for the phanfiction awards!’ will be fine, but a ‘hey guys! I was nominated for these awards on these fics and if you like those fics, maybe you can vote!’ can lead to a disqualification of those fics in the final results. To keep the voting fair, we’ll be checking to see if authors are swaying voting in any way.

Below are listed Categories and the Awards under their form with added explanations to help you understand what each Award is for.

Best By Genre:

Best Angst - best angst fic of 2019

Best Fluff - best fluff fic of 2019

Best Smut - best smut fic of 2019

Best Combination - best fic including elements of angst, fluff, and smut

Best Au - best overall alternate universe fic

Best Reality - best fic based on dan and phil’s real world and history

Best Slowburn - best fic that made you feel the burn of their slow going romance

Best Crack Fic - best fic that was clearly written as a joke in 2019

Best Horror Fic - best horror fic of 2019

Best Hardcore Smut - best fic where it’s PWP–porn without plot

Best Historical - best historically based fic of 2019 (e.g. WWII-based fic)

Best Sci-Fi - best science fiction fic of 2019 (e.g. alien or dystopia based)

Favorite Genre of 2019 - overall favorite genre of 2019 (e.g. angst, fluff, smut, au)

Best By Trope:

Best Parent!phan - best fic in which Dan and/or Phil has kids, written in 2019

Best Punk x Pastel - best fic in which one of them is pastel and the other is punk, written in 2019

Best Coffee Shop!Au - best fic in which Dan and Phil meet in a coffee shop, written in 2019

Best Songfic - best fic based off a song in 2019

Best 2009!Phan - best fic based off of Dan and Phil in 2009, written in 2019

Best Polyamorous Fic - best fic that features Dan and Phil romantically or sexually involved with a third person

Best Teenage!phan - best fic in which Dan and Phil are teenagers

Best Present!phan - best fic based on Dan and Phil in present time

Best Fem!phan - best genderswap fic of 2019

Best Omegaverse - best omegaverse fic of 2019

Favorite Fanfic Trope of 2019 - favorite overall trope of 2019 (e.g. Pastel/Punk, Coffee Shop, Soulmates)

Best By Length/Status:

Best Drabble - best fic written in less than 1k words

Best Oneshot - best fic posted in one chunk

Best Chaptered Fic - best fic posted in chapters

Best Long Fic - best fic with 50k+ words

Best WIP - best Work in Progress

Best Abandoned Fic - best fic that an author no longer is working on but still deserves recognition

Best Undiscovered Fic - best fic with under 50 notes that deserves more

Best Series - best series as in it’s a fic with more than one part–but not chaptered!!

Best Miscellaneous:

Most Unique Storyline - fic with the most original storyline in 2019

Most Unique Writing Style - fic with the most interesting and unique writing style in 2019

Best Fic to Make You Smile - the fic that you couldn’t stop smiling at in 2019

Best Fic to Make You Cry - the fic that made you an emotional wreck in 2019

Best Fic to Make You Laugh - the best written fic in 2019 meant to make you laugh

Most Cliche Fic - best written cliche-based fic of 2019 (e.g. meet-cutes in a coffee shop) 

Most Memorable - the fic from 2019 that you’ll never be able to forget

Best Characterization - the fic with the best characterization of Dan, Phil, or both in 2019 

Best Fic to Have You on the Edge of Your Seat - the fic in 2019 that made you feel like you were constantly on the edge of your seat 

Best Original Character - fic that used an original character best in 2019

Favorite friend of Dan and Phil to add to a fic - Cat, Bryony, etc.

Best Overall:

Best Author of 2019 - the author you think rocked 2019

Best Author - your overall favorite phanfic author

Best Up and Coming Author - author who began writing fics within the last year

Best Beta Reader - the beta reader who you feel deserves recognition

Best Ao3 Fic - best fic only posted on Ao3

Best Tumblr Fic - best fic only posted on Tumblr

Best Wattpad Fic - best fic only posted on Wattpad

Best Collaboration - best fic with 2 or more authors

Best Fic of 2019 - best fic written AND finished in 2019

Original Categories (Categories from the old Phanfic Awards!) 

Favorite Phan Blogger - for your favorite phan tumblr blog!

Favorite 2019 Dan Moment - favorite moment involving just Dan

Favorite 2019 Phil Video - favorite video Phil did alone

Favorite Phan Moment of 2019 - favorite Dan and Phil moment that happened in 2019

Favorite 2019 Dan Tweet - favorite Dan tweet of the year

Favorite 2019 Phil Tweet - favorite Phil tweet of the year

Most Memorable 2019 Dan Instagram Story

Most Memorable 2019 Phil Instagram Story

Best Platonic Fic - best fic where Dan and Phil are platonic friends

Best Fantasy - best fic written in a fantasy-esque setting (Hogwarts, Supernatural, Alien, etc.)

Best Trope - best trope-based fic (Pastel/Punk, Coffee Shop, Soulmates, etc.)

Best LGBTQ+ - best fic dealing directly with LGBTQ+ issues

Best Universe Augmentation - best fic based on reality with one fact changed to change the world (e.g. Dan and Phil as they are, but they didn’t meet until later)

Alternative Work Award - best fic written in an alternative style (e.g. poem, texting)

Pure Fluff Award - the best, fluffiest fic of 2019

If you have any more questions about the category or our merger, check out our FAQ, and if you can’t find your answers there, send us an ask!

#phanficawards #phanficawards2019 #phanfic #phanfiction #phan #dan and phil #daniel howell #amazingphil

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Historical (5) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four

Back Seat Bingo (ao3) - existingcourage

Summary: Phil, a young television and radio personality lands Dan, an upcoming producer as a co-worker. Friendship is inevitable, but what happens when life, love, and fear gets in the way? A 1950’s Phan AU.

burden and blame (ao3) - CapriciousCrab

Summary: He never meant to stay. A man who makes his coin at the tables, Dan's learned the hard way not to stick around after pocketing his winnings. Then he met a fragile barman and everything changed.

Burning Bibles (ao3) - cherryheartz

Summary: ♡ "i was about to roll up, would you like to join?" i patted the grass next me. with a confused look phil finally sat on the ground.

"what are you rolling with?" he asked staring at the items i had laid out before me; a grinder open and filled with weed, a diary, a pink pocket knife, a lighter and a bible.

i carefully opened the bible and ripped out a page. phil winced and stared at the bible in shocked and looked up at me with a scared look across his face.

"don't worry, baby, jesus wouldn't mind," i smirked. ♡

Dearest, Dearest (ao3) - QuietBubbles

Summary: A collection of love letters written during the Great War between two young soldiers. Hope you enjoy! <3

friday nights at the underground. (ao3) - heyitsnxel

Summary: Dan and Phil go to an underground punk show in 1970's London.

i fall for the same face every time (ao3) - zsunsetz

Summary: In every universe, in every lifetime, in every world, he promises that he will love him.

if you've got the stuff, i know how she likes it (ao3) - iihappydaysii

Summary: In 1960s California, Dan and Phil and their wives are all in love with each other.

Lester's Bail Bonds (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan Howell is a flight attendant who gets caught smuggling illegal money for his boss. When he gets arrested, he meets bail bondsman Phil Lester, who gets him out of jail. Being threatened on both sides by the cops and by Dan’s terrifying boss, Dan and Phil develop a plan to double-cross both parties, take the boss' money, and run away together. Will they be able to pull off the heist?

Let Me Love You (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: Dan opens his bedroom door and sees a little white square of notebook paper lying on his pillow. He reads Phil’s scrawled handwriting, “Sorry to miss you Danny, I’m stopping by Franklins before class. Meet me for a malt shake tonight, usual time?” An au fic about postcards and milkshakes.

Little Piece of Eternity (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Phil Lester is finally content in a new life. He has a wife and a house now, and he just wants to forget his past - the war; and before that, the boy who broke his heart and the person whom Phil had spent decades searching for.

And yet, somehow, the ghosts in his head find a way to come back to life. Because the doorbell rings, and Phil opens the door to find Dan Howell standing there.

Stars (ao3) - brookwrites

Summary: Dan grew up in a normal 1930s London family with his parents and little brother. everything was completely and utterly normal… until the bombs started dropping. When Dan was fifteen his father went off to war, and when he was sixteen he and his brother Hayden were sent off to a foster family in rural England. he looked up at the stars and couldn’t help but wonder how something that beautiful could exist in such a broken world. just when he thought things would never get better, Dan met Phil, and he became the shining star of his life. but when Phil turned eighteen and went off to war, Dan couldn’t help but wonder when, if ever, the stars would twinkle the same way again.

Summer’s End (ao3) - Allthephils

Summary: Dan’s magic is something to be hidden but a new tutor brings him out of the dark.

the fisherman’s guide (ao3) - watergator (orphan_account)

Summary: it’s 1956 and phil is a lighthouse worker who wants to write, and dan is the handsome stranger that washes up on shore one night who can’t remember who he is, but does know how to fish

The Roles We Play - adorkablephil

Summary: Dan Howell and Phil Lester work together as voice actors for BBC radio dramas in the late 1930s, but slowly begin to develop “inappropriate” feelings for each other.

thought of you often (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: On Daniel's twenty first birthday, a man walks into his banquet hall that he hasn't seen in years.

what lies beneath the waters (ao3) - watergator

Summary: prompt: cryptids

phil works at the loch ness monster museum where he meets a boy named dan

(when you gonna realise) it was just that the time was wrong (ao3) - The_Blonde

Summary: Phil works in a coffee shop. Or at an animal sanctuary. Or at a university. Maybe he’s a Youtuber. Maybe he runs an editing firm. Sometimes he’s in the 1920s. In all of these places he has dreams. In all of these places he is in love with Dan. It’s just trying to work out which time is the right one.

With you by my side (ao3) - TsingaDark

Summary: Dan, a grumpy, hot-chocolate-loving and book-writing vampire, wants nothing to do with humans. Phil, a cheery, coffee-loving and colourful human, wants to get to know Dan.

Or, the one where vampires are nothing like in movies or tv shows and Dan has had enough of being hunted by humans and only wants to read his book in peace and quiet, please and thank you.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #au #historical #historical masterlist

[adorkablephil]

Fic: The Roles We Play (6)

Title: The Roles We Play Summary: Dan Howell and Phil Lester work together as voice actors for BBC radio dramas in the late 1930s, but slowly begin to develop “inappropriate” feelings for each other Rating: G Word Count: 6,941 (this chapter) Tags: Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Historical AU, 1930s, BBC, Radio, Actors AU, Slow Burn, Love Letters, Past Character Death, Grief, Angst Author’s Note: This fic was inspired by the @phanfichallenge 20k History Challenge. A bazillion thanks, as always, to my amazing beta, India! This chapter, in particular, gave me some trouble (due to rl stress), and India was my total hero.

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[ All Chapters Masterlist ]

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8 January 1939

Dan arrived at rehearsal the next day only to find Phil unexpectedly absent. He waited and waited, watching the door, because he and Phil usually chatted a bit before the rehearsal started, but that tall, slim form never appeared.

“Mr. Lester has been called away on urgent business,” Drury announced at the start of the rehearsal, making Dan start. He looked around in hope of some explanation. “It is regrettable, of course, since he plays one of our most important roles in this production, but Mr. Joseph Walker will be reading his part during the rehearsals until Mr. Lester is able to return. He fully expects to return before we broadcast on 18 January, but if he is unable to be present by that time, or if he is unable to attend enough of the rehearsals, then Mr. Walker will read the role of Jack in his place.”

Dan had great difficulty focusing on the rehearsal and flubbed his lines several times. Drury grew increasingly impatient with him until finally he simply cut the rehearsal short, sniffing disapprovingly, “I hope we shall all find ourselves more fully present and focused tomorrow.”

Unsure what to do, Dan went home and phoned Phil’s house. Gemma answered the phone, sounding coolly polite as she informed him that Mr. Lester was with family at present and might be away for some time. When Dan pressed for more information, she simply told him that Phil had given her no estimated date of his return and that there was not, to the best of her knowledge, any family tragedy involved.

Phil had simply decided he must spend some time with his family.

He’d said nothing about this the previous night when they’d been chatting after dinner, so something must have come up quite suddenly. And Dan did not understand why Gemma seemed so much less friendly. Was it perhaps that her easy, teasing demeanor depended on Phil’s presence? Or was it something so simple as feeling more formal on the telephone than in person? Whatever the reason, it made Dan uneasy. He had been looking for reassurance in phoning Phil’s home, but had received none. He knew it would be inappropriate to request the phone number of the Lester family residence, so he did not ask, no matter how much he longed to do so.

Had the baby suddenly fallen ill? Dan hoped dearly that young Steven was safe and healthy. Or Mrs. Lester? He thought of the woman gently kissing him on the cheek at Christmas. He thought of each of Phil’s family members in turn and fervently wished them all well.

Most of all, he hoped that Phil himself was well. Why had he not phoned? Why had he sent Dan no message whatsoever? Why had he simply left without a word?

Dan changed out of his suit and into a comfortable pair of slacks and the oatmeal-colored jumper Mrs. Lester had knitted for him. He curled up on the sofa in his lounge under a thick blanket and sent all his anxious good wishes winging toward the north.

******

13 January 1939

After what seemed an interminable length of time, Phil reappeared at rehearsal one morning, and Dan immediately ran to him. “Is everyone well? Is young Steven in good health? Are your parents well?” he asked in a torrent of words, voicing all his worries of the past week.

Phil smiled a little, though he looked rather more pale than usual and a little sad. Phil did not reach out to rest his hand on Dan’s shoulder or arm as he had so often done in the past, but just looked down at the floor and then back into Dan’s eyes. Dan braced himself for the worst.

“I’m sorry I left you with such uncertainty,” Phil apologized, but he seemed distant. He had been gone from London for days, but the tone of his words now made him seem even further away than he had been yesterday, despite their now being in the same room. “I just … needed to be with my family for a time. But they are all well. You needn’t have worried.”

Dan frowned. “But of course I worried! You left without a word, and all I knew was that you had returned to the north to be with your family. You’ve never done such a thing before, so I assumed something serious must have happened.”

“As I said, I apologize for worrying you. They are all well, and … send you greetings.”

Dan felt terribly confused. “Are you quite well, Phil? You seem … different.”

But Drury called the rehearsal to order, and Dan never got a real answer to his question.

When rehearsal had finished, Phil left abruptly without bidding Dan farewell.

Dan spent another evening on his sofa, wearing the oatmeal-colored jumper for comfort, trying to remember the happiness he had felt with Phil and his family at Christmastime, only a few weeks ago. He heated a tin of soup for dinner and went to bed quite early, though he lay awake, unable to fall asleep, for a very long while.

He did not understand what had gone wrong.

******

14 January 1939

When Phil arrived at rehearsal the following day, his smile seemed a bit more natural, less forced, and he chatted with Dan both before and afterward as was their usual habit, though he did still seem slightly subdued. He did not suggest that they go to the pub or otherwise spend time together that evening and simply took his leave after some polite chat.

Dan stared after him, feeling lost.

******

18 January 1939

Drury decided that Phil had been gone for enough of the rehearsal time that it would be best to have Joseph Walker play the role of Jack. Phil graciously acquiesced, but Dan himself felt quite put out. Phil had been so excited to perform this particular play, and he himself had so looked forward to their characters’ lively banter … playing opposite Joseph Walker was a tremendous disappointment.

When he heard Joseph Walker’s aristocratic voice speak the line, “Then a passionate celibacy is all that any of us can look forward to,” he wanted to weep. At least previously he’d had a beautiful friendship with Phil, even though he knew it could never be anything more than that.

Now it seemed he had lost even the friendship. Had he done something to offend Phil? And, if so, why did Phil not simply tell him what he had done, so that they might clear it up? Surely they were good enough friends to weather a storm or two?

At least, Dan had thought they were.

******

24 January 1939

“Would you like to stop by the pub for a drink before heading home?” Phil asked after the repertory company’s business meeting to discuss upcoming productions and potential casting.

Dan looked at his friend in surprise. This was the first time since the dinner at Phil’s house, more than two weeks ago, that Phil had initiated any social interaction beyond a polite chat at the BBC. Dan had tried to suggest that they spend time together once or twice, but Phil’s apparent lack of interest had discouraged him. Always a bit in awe of Phil, even after they had become more comfortable with each other, Dan had been hesitant to continue asking after being rebuffed.

So Phil’s invitation to the pub felt like rain in the desert. “Yes,” Dan agreed eagerly. “Yes, I would love to have a drink with you. I’ve missed our time together.” He bit his lip, worried that he had said too much, but Phil smiled faintly.

Phil’s cheeks looked a bit pink when he admitted, “I have missed you, as well.”

They went to the pub across the road, as they had done on previous occasions, and Phil ordered his usual sweet cocktail. Dan ordered an old fashioned.

“Old fashioned again,” Phil commented for no apparent reason.

“Yes,” Dan replied. “I rather like them.” He took a sip.

“I’ve never been much of an old fashioned man,” Phil said, and then took a sip of his sweet concoction. His face looked surprisingly melancholy for such a banal conversation.

“How are your family doing?” Dan asked, still puzzled about what had happened with all that.

Phil smiled. “They’re fine. You can stop worrying, Dan. I’ve already apologized for alarming you. I just … I needed to be with them for a while. But I’m back now.” His eyes still looked troubled. “I would not want anything to adversely affect our friendship,” he said seriously. “Your regard means a great deal to me, and I’ve come to enjoy our time together very much.”

“Of course nothing would affect our friendship,” Dan replied, concerned. “Why should it? Is something the matter? Did I … was it me? Did I do something?” This was the question he’d most feared to ask, afraid of what Phil might say, but Phil only shook his head, looking down into his drink and stirring it absently.

“No.” He glanced at Dan and then away. “No, of course not. You’ve done nothing wrong.” He met Dan’s eyes, and Dan could not read his expression, but it certainly was not a happy one. “You’re a good man.”

Dan raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t go that far!” he joked.

Phil smiled at him and reached out to rest a hand on Dan’s shoulder for the first time in weeks. “I would.”

******

27 January 1939

They were doing Shakespeare again: Hamlet, this time. Phil, as one of the BBC’s most enduring stars, had the title role. Dan had been assigned the role of Horatio. Drury seemed to like Dan and Phil’s easy camaraderie and so had taken to quite often giving them roles as characters who were friends. Horatio was a plum role for Dan, probably more prestigious than any other role he had played in the repertory company thus far, so he was quite excited. His character appeared in almost every scene, as did Phil’s, so they would be spending a great deal of time together in rehearsal, and Phil would be able to indulge his love of puns again. Despite being a tragedy, Hamlet was chock full of wordplay.

The role assignment meeting drew to a close, and everyone stood up from the table. Dan walked to Phil’s side and asked casually, “Care for a drink at the pub?”

“Er … I’m going to a film this evening, actually.” Phil flushed and looked away in apparent embarrassment. “Nothing that would interest you, but I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“Oh,” Dan tried not to let his disappointment show. “Going with some friends?”

Phil’s flush deepened a bit. “Despite what you may think, I don’t have a large number of friends. And I’m not acquainted with anyone who shares my interest in horror films, so I’m attending the film showing alone.” He tilted his chin up a bit, as if feeling defensive. “There is nothing wrong with a man going to the cinema on his own.”

Dan raised his hands in surrender. “No, of course not! There’s nothing wrong with attending a film showing alone. Unless, perhaps, a friend might like to join you?” He smiled tentatively. It seemed a risk to invite himself along so brazenly, but he and Phil had been carefully finding their footing again, returning slowly to the easy comfort of their friendship, and so he was willing to take the chance.

“You wouldn’t like it,” Phil protested immediately. “It’s nothing intellectual or philosophical. Nothing intellectually challenging at all. Just a frivolous bit of something frightening, for you know I love a good horror story.”

“I do know that,” Dan replied. “And while my reading tastes may differ from yours, I must admit to enjoying a good horror film. Not all my tastes are so fussily pretentious, you know.” He grinned at Phil.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you were pretentious!” Phil gasped in denial.

“Of course not,” Dan’s grin grew wider. “That’s why you were going to invite me to come with you to see … what is the film you’re seeing this evening?”

“It’s called The Face at the Window,” Phil replied, sounding very unsure of himself. “Are you certain you would want to go to a horror film?”

“It will not be the first, nor that last, that I watch with pleasure. I love a good scare! Having your company will only make it all the better.”

After a long hesitation, Phil eventually suggested, “Well, if you are certain, let us get a taxi. We may get dinner near the cinema, if you like.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Dan replied honestly, and he felt as if everything in his world had fallen back into place.

******

10 February 1939

Despite Phil’s extensive social connections, it had taken him some time to find a new club that suited him. “You must come,” he insisted to Dan. They’d gotten over their mysterious awkwardness entirely now and were as close as ever. “They have an actual gaming room which allows non-members! They’re much less snobbish than my previous club. I don’t know why I ever tolerated that place—it must have been the popcorn.” Phil tapped a finger against his chin. “Perhaps I shall be able to persuade the new club to forgo the cucumber sandwiches.” Dan laughed.

Phil’s new club had two rooms in which non-members were permitted: a quiet lounge similar to the one at Phil’s previous club, and a gaming room complete with a billiards table. The gaming room was noisier than the lounge, since men played games in pairs or small groups, but everyone still kept their voices low.

Dan and Phil played a game of billiards—primarily for the novelty, as they’d never played the game together before—but then returned to their favorites: chess and goofspiel. They played a round of each, chatting quietly over their games, until Phil made some remark that made Dan laugh inappropriately loudly. He clapped a hand over his mouth, then made a silent grimace of apology, but Phil told him, “I love how you throw your head back when you laugh with your entire being. Few people appreciate life enough to show that kind of joy. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. Let them look.”

“I don’t really think of myself as a joyous person,” Dan objected.

Phil shook his head. “But when you laugh like that, the truth shows through. There’s joy in your heart. There may be sadness there, too—and you may not see it yourself—but the joy is there.” Phil’s blue eyes shone with intensity.

The heart Phil spoke of beat faster. As he had told Phil upon their first meeting, Dan did not think of himself as a particularly cheerful or happy person, but he had experienced more happiness since meeting Phil than he had any other time in his life.

“It’s because of you,” he told Phil honestly. “I’ve never had a friend like you, never known anyone who made me laugh the way you do. So thank you. Thank you for bringing more joy to my life.”

Phil looked down and blushed. Dan became aware of the intimacy and sentimentality of their conversation and glanced around self-consciously at the men scattered around the room playing chess, billiards, bridge, and other card games.

“Have you discovered yet whether they serve popcorn at this club?” he asked to dispel the seriousness of their interaction.

“Alas, they do not,” Phil replied, looking up again, having regained his composure. “But I simply cannot tolerate an establishment that excludes my most valued acquaintances, regardless of how fine the snacks they offer.” They both chuckled. “I shall simply have to ask my own cook to learn how to make it.”

At that precise moment, a servant appeared at Phil’s elbow and spoke quietly into his ear. Phil’s eyebrows rose, and he nodded with a smile. After the servant had left, Dan asked, “What did he ask you?”

“You shall see,” Phil responded mysteriously. But only a moment later, the servant returned with tea service and a bowl of popcorn, all of which he placed to the side of their table so it would not interfere with their games. Phil explained, “Apparently, when I inquired about it at my first visit, the club considered my request and decided to add popcorn to their menu. I like this club better and better!”

“And no cucumber sandwiches,” Dan pointed out with a chuckle.

“No cucumber sandwiches!” Phil exclaimed, making other men turn their heads to look at them.

Dan smirked and said, “This time it was you who were too loud.”

“Somehow,” Phil replied, “I get the feeling that this club will not be so quick to evict us. I think less and less of that previous club. What a bunch of stiff-necked prigs! I’m so glad you exposed their true nature. Why, I might have continued quietly among their company indefinitely if you had not discomposed them with your utterly inappropriate, raucous behavior.” He giggled, his tongue showing at the corner of his mouth.

Dan looked at his friend, at the beauty and elegance of his features even as he delighted in life like a child, and thought, Oh no. No. I cannot feel this way. Not for him. I must not lose his friendship, but I know such would surely happen if he were ever to know. I cannot feel this way. I must not feel this way. He shuffled the cards so that he had a reason to look away from Phil’s face. He watched his hands for a long moment as they manipulated the deck of cards.

“Are you quite all right?” Phil asked, sounding concerned.

Dan looked up, forcing himself to look at his good friend’s face with a bland expression, and replied, “Of course.” He forced a smile. “I’m fine.” He looked down to shuffle the cards a few more times, though they were no doubt thoroughly mixed by now. He hoped Phil did not notice how his hands shook. He looked for something to say, anything except what he was thinking. Something proper. Something appropriate. Something a man in his position was expected to say. And then he remembered. “Dora will be arriving in London in two weeks to visit her aunt. She’ll be in town for a month, so we should be able to arrange that dinner soon. I know she looks forward to meeting you.”

With his eyes so determinedly focused on his hands and the cards, Dan missed the shadow that passed across Phil’s face as he cleared his throat and replied stiffly, “Of course. Of course. I’m sure it will be lovely to meet her.”

******

28 February 1939

Even with Dora in town, Dan did not see her often, and still spent much of his free time with Phil. He called on her at her aunt’s home three times during the first week, however, to make sure that he did not seem inattentive or unappreciative of her presence, even if their engagement was primarily just a convenience for both of them. They just did not have a great deal in common and spent much of their time together discussing old school friends in Wokingham. Dora still saw them all often, as few of them had moved away as Dan had done, and so she told him all the news about their lives.

Dan had never been close friends with any of them, and many of the men she spoke of so happily were those who had bullied him when they were boys, but he pretended interest.

Dan had never been close friends with anyone before Phil.

Eventually the scheduled evening came when Dora prepared dinner for them and Phil came to visit. Dora was all aflutter as they waited for Phil to arrive, smoothing her carefully waved blonde hair and applying fresh lipstick. She kept repeating how excited she was to meet a true radio celebrity, which Dan found hurt his feelings a bit. He now appeared on the radio as often as Phil, often as his co-star in their dramatic productions on the BBC, but Dora did not consider him as worthy of regard?

No one in Wokingham ever had considered him worthy of much regard. That was why he had left. One of the reasons.

Phil arrived at the door looking handsome and elegant in his well-fitting but not-quite-fashionable suit and hat. Dan took his hat and overcoat, hung them up, and then turned to introduce him to Dora, who hovered nervously in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Dora, allow me to introduce you to my friend, Philip Lester. Phil, allow me to introduce my fiancée, Dora Williams.” Phil bowed to Dora and smiled.

“I am delighted to meet you, Miss Williams,” Phil said with a friendly smile. Not the smile Dan usually saw, not the smile reserved for him, but the smile Phil showed to strangers and work acquaintances. Dan felt surprise that he could so easily differentiate between Phil’s different smiles. Then he tried to focus on the social situation rather than aspects of Phil’s face.

Dora nervously plucked at the skirt of her flowered dress and smiled at Phil so that her dimples showed. Many in Wokingham had called Dora and him a matched pair because of their dimples. Did Phil find dimples attractive? Would he find Dora pretty, with her pale hair and bright blue eyes? Dan’s stomach turned at the thought.

Dora seemed uncharacteristically quiet, probably too anxious to speak, so Dan guided them into the lounge. “I’m afraid my flat compares very poorly to your lovely home,” Dan told Phil. He explained to Dora, “Phil’s house includes, among other things, a solarium full of beautiful plants.”

She turned to look at Phil with wide eyes. “I do love flowers,” she remarked brightly.

Dan hoped that Phil would not take this as an implied request for an invitation to Phil’s home, because that would seem quite rude, so he hurried to interject, “I would give you a tour of the flat, but I’m afraid there isn’t much to see.”

Phil walked to the piano in the corner of the lounge and ran a hand along its lid. “This was what I was most interested in seeing, in any case. I do hope you’ll play for us after dinner?”

Dan felt his face grow hot, but nodded. “Of course. I know we have spoken of it often, so I perhaps owe it to you after all this time.”

Dora exclaimed, “Have you never heard him play? Oh, he plays so wonderfully!”

“No!” Dan replied quickly. “I do not play very well at all. Dora is too kind. Please do not develop unrealistic expectations.”

“I’m sure Miss Williams is quite honest in her admiration for your playing,” Phil replied with a kind smile to the young woman. “But please do not feel anxious that you must impress us. I have looked forward to hearing you play for so long that you might simply smash your head into the keyboard a few times, and I would no doubt be pleased to listen.”

Dan laughed, but Dora looked confused. Not everyone appreciated Phil’s sense of humor. When she heard Dan laugh, though, and saw the good humor on Phil’s face, she gave a small, self-conscious giggle.

Dora had made a roast for them, and Phil complimented her cooking in glowing terms, though Dan knew Phil flattered her more than she perhaps deserved, as the Yorkshire pudding was rather soggy and the vegetables undercooked. Dora cooked tolerably well, but even her own family teased her about her lack of prowess. They often joked that it was the reason Dan had not yet married her.

And at that moment, Dan found the topic suddenly brought up in conversation as if conjured by his thoughts. “How long have you and Dan been engaged?” Phil asked Dora politely.

“Oh,” Dora blushed under Phil’s attention. “We’ve been betrothed since we were 18.”

Phil’s eyebrows flew up, and he glanced at Dan questioningly.

“Yes,” Dan verified with some embarrassment. “It has just … never seemed like … quite the right time.”

“My friends tease me,” Dora admitted with an amused smile, “because we have been engaged so many years, when so many of them have long since married and have children, but I know that it will happen when we are ready.”

Dan felt a twinge of guilt at Dora’s words. He knew that they should marry, that he should have a family and live the life his parents had planned for him, but he just had not felt able to do so. Not yet. And Dora had never seemed overeager, either, so it just … never happened.

After dinner had been cleared away, Dan played piano for them in the lounge. Though Dora had seated herself on the sofa, Phil chose an armchair some distance from her. Dan hoped nothing was wrong there.

He first played for them Beethoven’s "Für Elise,” explaining that he had heard the piece as a child, and that it had been the originating source of his lifelong interest in the piano.

“You never told me that,” marveled Dora, and Dan realized that he had not discussed the piano very much with her. Despite the enthusiasm she had shown in her conversation with Phil, he had not played often for her, either, because she had shown little interest.

When he finished the piece, he told Phil, “I always longed for piano lessons, but never had them. I cannot read music, and I’m afraid I learn only by ear.” He supposed he spoke to both of them, really, but he only saw Phil.

“But that is a great talent!” Phil insisted. “Playing a piece of music after only having heard it is impressive indeed!”

Dan blushed and looked down at his fingers still resting on the piano keyboard. “Shall I play you some Rachmaninoff next?”

Phil and Dora both nodded eagerly, and so he began playing the composer’s “Piano Concerto No. 2.” He realized quickly his mistake, however, for it was an intensely romantic piece, and he thought only of Phil as his fingers moved across the keys. He was a cad. To play this piece, thinking of Phil, when the woman he had sworn to marry sat in the same room, was unforgivable.

Of course, it was wrong to play this piece while thinking of Phil at all.

When he had finished, he sat with his head downcast, his hands resting in his lap, while Phil and Dora both exclaimed about how beautifully he had played. “I made a great many mistakes,” Dan said quietly, but they persisted in their praise. Phil’s pleasure seemed genuine, but Dan guessed that Dora merely followed his example. She had no great love or understanding of music.

Without another word, without any warning, Dan began playing a ragtime piece. He could not remember the name or the composer, but the lively rhythm served well to break his melancholy mood. When he had finished the song, he looked up to see Dora looking quite shocked and Phil delighted. “I’m unfamiliar with that tune, and even that style of music, but it was wonderfully cheerful and lively,” Phil declared with a smile that lit a fire in Dan’s heart.

“Er … yes,” Dora said hesitantly. “It was very … different. I’ve never heard you play anything like that before.”

“I like a great many different kinds of music,” Dan explained. “I thought perhaps we could use something a bit more upbeat.”

Phil walked to the piano and stood beside it, gazing at Dan. “I enjoyed it very much. Thank you for playing for us.” He clapped a hand to Dan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I do believe this was the highlight of my week!” Then he released Dan’s shoulder and turned to look at Dora. “Please do excuse my familiarity,” he apologized with some apparent embarrassment. “Dan and I have become quite close friends these past few months, but I did not intend…”

“No, of course, it’s fine,” Dora said. She glanced between Phil and Dan as if wondering why Phil had apologized. Dan found himself wondering, as well, for Phil hadn’t done anything untoward.

Dan played the piano for them a bit more, and they all engaged in idle conversation, until eventually the evening naturally wound down.

Dora left before Phil, as her aunt would certainly not consider it appropriate for her to be alone at Dan’s flat without any others present. “It was really so wonderful to meet you!” she gushed to Phil.

Phil took her hand and pressed it gently between both of his, saying, “It was lovely to meet you, as well, Miss Williams. I hope we shall meet again often.” For a moment Dan actually felt jealous, though he was confused about his reasons. Was he jealous that Dora seemed attracted to Phil? Or that Phil seemed attracted to Dora? The twisting in his belly told him the answer, but he tried to keep a friendly expression on his face as they all said their farewells.

At the door, Dora held her face up for Dan to kiss her cheek, which he dutifully did, and she gave Phil a last beatific smile before running outside to get into her taxi.

“Why did you say all that to her?” Dan asked abruptly as soon as he and Phil were alone.

Phil looked confused. “What do you mean? What did I say wrong?”

“All that stuff about how you hope you’ll see her again often. Are you … were you flirting with my own fiancée right in front of me? In my own flat?” Dan demanded.

Phil just stared at him in obvious incomprehension for a long moment. Then he let out a small laugh, but it didn’t sound amused at all. He lifted a hand to rub pale fingers against his forehead as if trying to smooth the furrows that had appeared there.

“Dan, you are my closest and dearest friend, and I hope to have a long friendship with you for many years to come.” He spoke slowly and patiently, sounding somehow sad. Dan’s emotions still roiled within him, though, and he waited for Phil to say something that actually addressed the issue at hand: to wit, Phil flirting with Dora right in front of him.

Phil looked into Dan’s eyes, and his emotions showed openly on his face. Dan had hurt him with the accusation, and he suddenly felt a rush of shame. “Dan, this woman will be your wife—she will be by your side for as long as you live—so it is important to me that she approve of me as your companion. I hope I impressed her favorably this evening, for her good opinion matters to me a great deal. I would hate for her to develop a dislike of me that might someday lead you to end our friendship.”

“That could never happen,” Dan insisted immediately. He would never abandon his friendship with Phil, no matter what anyone else said or thought about him. Dora could harangue him for the rest of his life without convincing him to set Phil aside.

“Dan,” Phil said gently, waiting until Dan met his eyes. “She’s going to be your wife. She’ll come before everyone else in your heart, and so even if she were not a perfectly sweet girl, I must yet court her good opinion out of fear. I hope she liked me this evening.”

“How could anyone not like you?” Dan asked, though despair swamped him for no good reason he could name.

Phil sighed. “I hope you will allow me to meet her again before she leaves town so that I can… Dan, surely you must see the situation I’m in. I am at her mercy. If she chooses to dislike me, then I may lose your friendship forever. I cannot let that happen.” He took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes in apparent weariness or some other emotion Dan could not identify, then put them back on. “Please, allow me to make a friend of her, so that I may keep a friend in you.”

******

3 March 1939

Though Dan vigorously denied the necessity of it, Phil insisted that he would very much like to take Dan and Dora to the cinema before she left town. At length, Dan reluctantly arranged it, and the three met to attend a showing of Errol Flynn’s The Adventures of Robin Hood. It was not quite the sort of film that Dan or Phil would have chosen on their own, but neither did they find it objectionable … and Dora was quite excited to see the film.

Dan enjoyed the film more than he had expected, as he found the action sequences engaging and the humor occasionally clever. Phil, too, seemed quite cheerful as they left the theatre, though Phil tended toward cheerful in the general case. Dora was bubbling over with delight.

Phil suggested, “Shall we have a brief drink before we part, so that we might discuss the film a bit? It may be that I shan’t see Miss Williams again before her departure. I know of a quaint pub nearby that would suit admirably.”

Dora giggled girlishly and said, “Yes, that would be lovely!” before Dan even had a chance to say anything. He felt excluded by their interaction and his mood began to darken.

They walked the short distance to the pub and found seats at a table together. Phil asked Dan, “What did you think of the film?” But Dan merely shrugged sullenly. Phil gave him a concerned look, but Dan pretended great interest in their surroundings. The pub was well-lit and attractive—the sort of place a gentleman might entertain a lady after a date at the cinema. Dan looked back at Phil and Dora and scowled.

“You know, Phil, I think you quite resemble Errol Flynn in his role as Robin Hood!” Dora gushed.

When had Phil invited Dora to call him by his first name? Dan could not remember, but it seemed overly familiar and inappropriate behavior between a single man and another fellow’s betrothed.

“I’m sure you are wrong, Miss Williams,” Phil replied. He put a slight stress on her name, which led Dan to conclude that perhaps Phil had not invited Dora’s familiarity. If that were true … Dan wondered if he should be embarrassed by Dora’s behavior. “If anything, Dan himself looks more like the hero of the film, with his wavy brown hair and pronounced dimples.” Phil smiled at him, and Dan felt his sulk recede a bit. Phil had noticed his dimples? And found his hair attractive?

“Oh, no!” Dora insisted, sipping daintily at her bright pink beverage. She’d been relatively quiet the first time she’d met Phil. What had caused this difference? Dan thought back to how he had told her that Phil wished to spend time with her again before she left town and wondered if perhaps she had misunderstood. Had Dan given her the wrong impression? “You look much more the romantic hero,” she told Phil. “The aquiline nose, the high cheekbones, the engaging smile!”

Phil blanched, looking to Dan in a helpless plea for assistance. He clearly had no idea what to say in response to Dora’s indecorous flirting. Dan gazed back at him and smirked, shrugging a shoulder as if to say, “What can I do?”

Interesting that he had been so upset when he believed Phil to be flirting with Dora, when he found the opposite only amusing. It was rather fun to watch Phil squirm.

“I assure you, Miss Williams, I am no hero. If faced with danger, I would no doubt run away as fast as my clumsy feet could take me! And I would most likely trip during my flight!” He grinned, obviously hoping that Dora would go along with his self-mockery. “Not to mention the fact that Robin Hood rode horses throughout the film, and I am deathly afraid of the beasts. I’m sure Dan is much braver than I. Do you enjoy riding horses, Dan?”

Dan saw how Phil had tried to shift the conversation, and he felt much less cross now. He felt as if he were watching a game, observing Phil’s desperate attempts to extricate himself from a socially awkward situation.

Before Dan could even answer the question about horses—which he did not, in fact, know how to ride, though he had no particular fear of them—Dora reached hesitantly toward Phil’s face and asked, “May I remove your spectacles? I believe your eyes are much more beautiful than Errol Flynn’s, but I can’t see them properly behind the glass.”

Phil jerked his head back, looking extremely uncomfortable, and shot Dan another look pleading for help. Dan realized that Dora was making a fool of herself, and that he had been allowing his friend to suffer simply to assuage his own jealousy. He felt quite a cad for abandoning Phil to such an awkward situation when he knew such social niceties could make his friend anxious. Phil had often told him that it was why he preferred the quiet at the club, and why he valued his friendship with Dan. Though he felt confident in professional situations such as at the BBC, he often felt quite nervous in less formal social situations. He’d told Dan he’d never felt so comfortable with someone else socially, so at ease, with so little anxiety.

And here Dan had been enjoying watching his friend struggle with those very problems, because of his own petty jealousy.

“Dora!” Dan chided. “You barely know Mr. Lester.” Though Dan himself always called Phil by his first name, he chose to be more formal in this case to point out to Dora her own inappropriate behavior. “I know you mean no harm, but manners are somewhat different in town than in the country.”

Dora lowered her hands away from their reach toward Phil’s face, and her lower lip protruded in an unattractive pout. “I do apologize, Mr. Lester, if I overstepped.” She sounded like a sulking child.

Dan felt ashamed on various levels. He felt embarrassed by Dora’s inappropriate behavior, but more importantly he felt tremendous guilt at subjecting Phil to her advances without offering any rescue.

Phil’s shoulders relaxed, though Dan had not even noticed them growing tense, and he smiled hesitantly at Dora. “No harm done, Miss Williams. I hope we can still be good friends?”

Dora smiled, but looked unhappily chastened. “I do believe I’m ready to return to my aunt’s home. Could you fetch me a taxi, love?” she asked Dan. She rarely called him such pet names, and he wondered if she was just trying to pretend that she hadn’t been nearly throwing herself at someone else in his presence. But he simply nodded and stood. He glanced at Phil, uncertain about leaving him alone with Dora at this point, but Phil smiled and gave just the slightest inclination of his head to let Dan know that everything was all right. Dan returned the smile and went to the bar to request that a taxi be called.

Once Dora had left with barely a glance at either of them, Dan and Phil sat quietly at their table for a long moment before they both began to speak at the same time.

“I’m so sorry…” Dan began.

“I’m so sorry…” Phil also said.

They looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh. “You have nothing to apologize for,” Dan assured Phil firmly. “Dora behaved abominably, and I should not have let it go on so long. I’m sorry for allowing her to make you so uncomfortable.”

Phil shrugged awkwardly. “I hope I did not offend her. I do still wish for her to have a good opinion of me.”

“Oh, I think she has a very good opinion of you,” Dan joked.

Phil frowned. “Dan, this is no laughing matter. If I’ve given offense…”

Dan rested a hand on Phil’s arm and insisted, “You have done nothing wrong. And nothing Dora could ever say to me will ever change my mind about my regard for you and for our friendship. I promise you that.”

Phil still seemed to fret, but he did so silently. Dan tried to distract him with discussion of the film, including mockery of some of the more ridiculous stunts, and soon Phil was laughing with him, quite relaxed and apparently happy. They spent another hour together in the pub, and Dan found that it was by far the most enjoyable portion of the evening.

When they parted, Phil reached out to embrace him briefly with a grateful smile. They hadn’t touched each other thus very often, but they had done so a few times before, such as at Christmastime and when they had not seen each other for several days.

Dan allowed himself to soak in the warmth of Phil’s arms around him, however brief the embrace. And then they broke apart, and went into their separate taxis with the understanding that they would see each other again at the BBC on the morrow.

And so Dan went home to his silent flat where he lay alone in bed that night, trying very hard not to let his thoughts linger on the scent of Phil’s skin, the texture of Phil’s wool overcoat, and every other detail of their affectionate farewell.

******

[ Continue to Chapter 7 ]

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[succubusphan]

Le Roi - Chapter 4 (March 1781 - May 1788)

Summary: Daniel James Howell looked at himself in the lavish mirror in front of him. The intricately embroidered flowers in his clothes were mesmerizing. He wished he could stay in his suite and paint them, but he had been invited to Chateau Versailles for the celebration to honour the second birthday of Princess Marie Thérèse.

So far he had become popular among the french for his portraits of barely dressed women with mildly scandalous undertones. Lovers all across Paris had hired his services to immortalize the object of their desire for posterity, but Daniel wanted more.

Rating: M

Tags: Phil is Louis XVI, Strangers to Lovers, no heterosexuality to be seen, Artist Dan Howell, Versailles AU, Scandalous Court affairs, Some historical facts were alterated to fit the story but will hopefully be mentioned in the notes, Happy Ending meaning this do not end like they did historically. The rating is for the cheeky dash of smut I added.          

Word Count for this chapter: 2550  (Total 11374)

A/n: Written for the @phandomficfests​ christmas exchange for  @allthephils, one of my favourite authors and an amazing person. I hope you have enjoyed this story and it was what you were expecting. I realize this could have been so much longer but I couldn't possibly write all the intricacies the story deserves so I stuck to the main characters.

A Million thanks to my amazing Beta @thoughtathought who really tackled this fic and really brought it to life (especially for suggesting I add that scene).

Read on ao3 | Read from the beginning

After a few blissful weeks, Daniel started to notice the court members whispering behind him everywhere he went, particularly the ladies. Some eyed him curiously, some looked outright suspicious. He felt as if he was starting to lose his mind, so he made the decision to bring it up with Philippe. He could only hope that he would not be sent away, as many Kings before him had done to their lovers when they became an inconvenience. 

 Philippe was not happy to hear the information, but he’d kissed Daniel’s worries away and assured him that he would find a solution. 

 Two days later Daniel and Philippe joined the Queen and mademoiselle Campan for a stroll through the English Garden.  

 Daniel found it incredibly odd to be chatting amicably with his lover’s wife but Marie Antoinette’s sweet disposition made it impossible to dislike her. After all, she had always seemed very happy to see him and she had always treated him fairly when he was painting her. 

 “Philippe tells me that people are whispering about you. This can be very dangerous, particularly if it’s also in connection with him,” Marie Antoinette said with a gentle smile.

 Daniel nodded. “Regrettably. Do you have any suggestions about what I should do? I don’t want to put any of you in danger.”

 “I do, in fact. We have already discussed this and we think it’s the most suitable option, if you are willing to take part in our plan,” the Queen said briefly looking towards her mademoiselle.

 “Are you sure?” Philippe asked with wide eyes. “I had thought of it, but I didn’t think you would accept.” 

 “Of course,” said Mademoiselle Campan. “It won’t be long before they start whispering about me. What a better way to keep our personal lives private and safe from public scrutiny than to forge an alliance. It’s quite perfect since confessing would serve no one’s interest.”

 “I’m not sure I understand,” Daniel said. 

 Mademoiselle extended her hand towards him with a smile. “Would you be my husband, Monsieur Howell?”

 Daniel looked at Philippe, who nodded encouragingly. Daniel held her hand awkwardly as they continued walking. “We wouldn’t - Would we have to -?”

 She shook her head. “Not unless you expect children. I’m happy helping Marie with her own.”

 “Wouldn’t people question the lack of children in a young marriage?” Daniel frowned.

 “We could say that I haven’t been able to carry a child. Since we are not heirs to a wealthy family, people shouldn’t care much,” the mademoiselle said. 

 “Very well, but first…  I'm afraid I don’t even know your name.” Daniel offered his elbow which she readily took and they walked a step behind their lovers.

 “Jeanne Louise Henriette Campan, but you may call me Henriette.”

 “Henriette. How do you feel at the prospect of being a madame?”

 “I wish it could be with Marie, but this is as close as we will ever get. Are you ready to stay with me when they need to produce another child?”

 Daniel’s stomach turned but he sighed. This really was the best they could do. “I am, or I will be. It’s part of their duty.” 

 “Quite right,” said Philippe. “If you excuse us, ladies, we have other matters to discuss.” 

 Philippe and Marie exchanged a smile before the King slowly started to make his way to a nearby waterfall.

 Daniel raised his eyebrows briefly but didn’t ask. He bowed to the Queen and his future wife before following Philippe. 

 “Sit,” Philippe said, and it sounded so much like an order that Daniel didn’t question him, opting to sit on the grass. Philippe sighed, “Sorry, I meant - please, take a seat. You can use one of the bigger rocks by the water, if you wish.”

 “Philippe, my dear. We both know I would probably stumble and fall, only to die drowning in a shallow artificial body of water.”

 The King laughed clutching at his stomach. “True, we are both so… clumsy.”

 “Maybe that’s why we get along so well.”

 “Perhaps,” Philippe said, the smile turning into a frown. “I wanted to speak to you about something.”

 “Is something wrong?” Daniel asked, his stomach twisting with the need to know what had Philippe so worried. 

 “Ever since I met you -” Philippe said. “Well… you are constantly on my mind. Your presence is -” 

 “Philippe, come,” Daniel said, extending his hand towards the King. “Sit with me.”

 “On the grass?” Philippe wrinkled his nose. 

 “Yes, on the grass… unless you are scared of bugs.”

 Philippe took his hand and sat beside him, crossing his legs to be more comfortable. “I am not scared of bugs.”

 “I’m glad. Now, will you tell me why you brought me here?”

 “I asked you to come with me because I needed to tell you something important.”

 “You didn’t ask at all,” Daniel smiled, poking Philippe’s side.

 The king rolled his eyes unable to contain a smile. “Fair enough. I didn’t ask. Will you let me continue?”

 Daniel nodded.

 Philippe started absentmindedly pulling at the grass as he spoke. “I know that I’m asking you to make a big sacrifice by marrying Henriette, but I would like to... I need to tell you that -” Daniel caught his hand away from the grass and brought it to his lips for a kiss, nodding at the King to continue. 

 Philippe smiled. “I’m only suggesting it because I want us to be able to be together. I want you to live close to me, and to be able to hold you often, to kiss your lips, to hear your laugh.” He looked into Daniel’s eyes with longing. “Daniel, Je t’aime .”

 Daniel gasped but his smile didn’t falter. “How cruel of you to tell me such a thing where I cannot ravish you. Please know that I am doing this for myself, because I want to be close to you. You are the most intelligent, caring and funny man I have ever known. Every day I wake up smiling, thinking of when I’ll be able to see you again. Your smile makes my heart go crazy, because I love you .”

 Philippe smiled and stood up so quickly that he stumbled and almost fell into the water but Daniel caught him just in time. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

 “My bed chamber, of course,” Philippe said, pulling Daniel to his feet with a laugh. “Let’s take different paths, whoever gets there first wins.” 

 “That’s unfair! Your guards won’t let me in if you are not there!” Daniel laughed but Philippe was already on his way.

 --

 The whispering continued but the suspicions about Daniel’s character were mostly attributed to him being English. The court decided that his main interests were continuing to work as the preferred royal artist and finding a suitable woman with good connections to marry and who better than the Queen’s lady in waiting?

 Jealousy spread around the court, many questioning how someone outside La Noblesse could be regarded so highly by the King and Queen to be favoured with such a match. Daniel was now the closest person to the King except for his personal secretary and he hadn’t needed to meddle in politics to get there. 

 The wedding was quite the celebration, albeit smaller than the usual Versailles celebrations, and being invited was a privilege. 

 Shortly after the wedding, the young couple moved to one of the Queen’s rooms since she had expressed her need to have her lady in waiting close to her at all times. A sort of nightly ritual was established. The King’s and the Queen’s rooms were connected by a private passageway, so Daniel and Henriette being in the Queen’s set of rooms allowed them to easily reunite with their respective lovers without the risk of being caught sneaking around Versailles in the night.

 Daniel found it incredibly uncomfortable when the ladies in the court started to express interest in being his lover. Apparently, a rumour was being spread that he pleased madame Campan like no other husband did for their wife. He was attentive towards her, walked with their arms joined and complimented her constantly. He had even made a few portraits of her both alone and with the Queen. But, above all the other aspects, the moans coming from their bedroom was what turned Daniel into the most desired man in Versailles - after the King, of course.

 When a woman had the courage to whisper into Daniel’s ear about being interested in receiving the same treatment, he excused himself and went to have a talk with his wife. He was annoyed, but he couldn’t really be mad at her when she laughed so joyously and assured him that it had been entirely accidental. The Queen’s wink in his direction indicated otherwise, but he let the ladies have their fun. 

 Through the following months, the four of them became close friends. They spent time together, as a family, playing with Marie Thérèse more often than not. In 1784, they welcomed a new member to their little family: Louis Charles, the Dauphin. 

 Daniel found that his heart really could melt for Philippe’s children and he never said no to spending time with them. He was no stranger to changing the children’s clothes if they got dirty and helped in feeding them. Philippe would often braid the Queen’s long hair as they chatted about their philanthropic projects, Daniel painted and the children ran around.

 At times Philippe would be too busy with state matters to join them, but Daniel would always join him in the night and hold him tightly, hoping that they would never be apart.

 --

 Philippe knew of Daniel’s worries, of his absolute devotion to their family and to him. It was unfair that they couldn’t live their lives as they wished because of societal views. Philippe wanted to marry Daniel.

 And so the King commissioned a beautiful gold ring encrusted in emeralds to match his own and one night, alone in their bedroom, they promised to love each other, to honour and protect each other for the rest of their days. 

 That summer night in 1785 they became husbands, even if it was only in their hearts.

 --

 Life had its ups and downs. The ups usually related to their small family, the downs related to the court, the council and the forsaken reforms they kept rejecting. Philippe trusted Daniel’s opinion in these matters when he was too troubled to push the council with his own ideas, so he confided in his lover before going to sleep that the situation was dire. The king had started to receive a lot of criticism for his proposed reforms as well as for dropping them when people opposed him. 

 The idea that La Noblesse should pay tribute for their wealth was laughed at and rejected. Philippe tried to lead by example and donated from his own money to build new hospitals. Marie Antoinette had created several homes for alone mothers with their children and widows without a family, but nothing worked. France was in ruins in consequence of his ancestor's excessive spending and the corrupted system that relied on those who had less to pay tributes. Two times throughout his reign Philippe had proposed it only to withdraw the topic when the council rejected it. This made him look weak in front of his subjects, but Philippe was not born to be a King, he had admitted as much to Daniel. His father and grandfather had died before Philippe was an adult, and so had his older brother, the true heir to the throne. “I was supposed to be the spare,” he had whispered. 

 With the vitriol towards his family rising and le tiers état falling deeper and deeper into poverty due to the price of bread rising uncontrollably, Philippe became a shell of his old self. 

 In 1788, deciding to prepare for the worst, he sent his children to England along with madame Campan. In a last attempt to save his country, he presented his reform once more and took it to the Parliament but he was met with rejection again. 

 Sensing the impending uprising, Philippe woke Daniel up in the middle of the night a mere eight years after he had joined the court and begged him to take the carriage waiting for him. His belongings already packed so Philippe asked him for one last favour. “Please, my darling, leave. Leave and be free and safe and raise our children to be good and honourable people.”

 “I do not want to leave without you. Please don’t ask this of me,” Daniel pleaded.  

 Philippe brought Daniel’s hand to his lips and placed a kiss on his wedding ring. “Remember when I gave you this ring? You promised you would do anything for me without hesitation. I need you to do this - for me - so that I can make the plea for my life alone without them having anything to hold against me. Please, go and keep our family safe.”

 Daniel pulled him into a bruising kiss. “Promise me,” he murmured against his lover’s - his king’s lips. “Promise that you will live.”

 “I promise, mon cher . I will see you again.”   

 Daniel walked as silently as possible, following one of the guards, trying to quiet his sobs with his hands. Philippe watched him get into the carriage from his window and hoped it wouldn't be the last time their eyes met.  

 The Revolution started two days later. The people broke into Versaille and went straight for Marie Antoinette, killing the guards and entering her set of rooms. “Madame Deficit!” as they called her, was long gone, sleeping in her bed was a young maiden usually tasked with the cleaning. The queen had left her most of her belongings and advised her to use her rooms but to be careful and identify herself as soon as she saw strangers entering. 

 The crowd continued on to Philippe’s rooms, where he sat, waiting. “No need to use force, messieurs . I am willing to abdicate and leave everything behind. Monsieur Robespierre, if you would sign the papers on my desk, the title will be yours to do with as you wish.”

 “France shall be a Republic!” Robespierre shouted. 

 “That can be arranged without spilling any more blood. The people left in Versaille are workers trying to survive: please spare them. I have renounced the crown already.”

 “It wouldn’t be enough. The people want blood: they want vengeance. They want to make your family pay and they want to make sure they never return to claim the throne.”

 “My family is long gone and safe, I’m afraid. If blood is what you demand, then you can have mine.”

 Robespierre pulled out his gun and fired. The people outside screamed in terror. He opened the door to the balcony and addressed the crowd. “Le Roi se meurt!”

 Murmures erupted amongst the people, the volume increasing by the second. The French realised that their country had no ruler. Some cheered, some were horrified that everything had ended so abruptly and without a trial. Robespierre escorted the King’s coffin to Paris as the commoners swarmed the palace of Versaille and took anything they could carry.

 Next Chapter

--

Historical annotation: The fact that it took them 7 years to actually consummate the marriage is real, the potential reasons are some peepee problems with Louis or in other theories, it's attributed to the inexperience of both of them. Since he is described as not interested in sex almost at all and he never took lovers my theory is that he was Ace.

The fact that he attempted to make things better for the lower class people is also real and the creation of several institutions at their expense is as well. Marie Antoinette was from Austria and her family was accustomed to being philanthropic. Louis and she paid for medical bills and gave money to the families of people that were in an accident with their carriage, etc. She never said "Let them eat cake," Which was the last straw for the commoners when someone spread the rumour.

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[phanfictionawards]

The Phanfiction Awards: 2019

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What is this?

This is an awards ceremony for the what you think are the best Phanfictions of 2019! You can nominate people/fics in the Google Form linked in each header for each set of categories. You can nominate as many or as few on that form, but please only nominate one person/fic per category! Then, on December 30, the nominations will close. On January 1, we’ll release a list of nominations (the top five for each category) with each fic linked. You’ll have one week to read them, and then voting will open on January 7 and remain open until January 31st. Then, on February 1, we’ll announce the top three winners from each category. If you’re still confused, check out our faq!

Essentially, this is the same as our awards last year, just that we’ve added some new unique categories and we’re much better prepared (hopefully, fingers crossed)! 

Disclaimer: Due to past concerns and negativity regarding rating fics, we’d like to reiterate that we do not mean to pit authors against each other by doing these awards. These awards are meant to be a fun way for people to vote and nominate their favorite works. We’d like to remind people that if their fic doesn’t get nominated to please do not take it as your writing is not good! Your fics are good without “us” telling you they are! So please don’t let these stop you from writing! 

What am I allowed to nominate?

You can only nominate one fic per category, and it must have been started in 2019, which will hopefully prevent a fic from winning for multiple years. The ‘best fic completed in 2019′ category is the only exception!

What efforts are you making to make this a fair contest?

You’re only allowed to nominate and/or vote once for each category, and the voting will be done on Google Forms to help keep us out of it as much as possible. Each fic is only eligible to win first place in one award. Nominations will remain the same, but if the same fic places first in multiple votes, it will only win first place in the one it won by the highest margin in. In the others, the second place winner will be bumped to first. Secondly, we are discouraging any form of self-promotion if you have been nominated as this can easily sway voting. A simple ‘hey guys! I was nominated for the phanfiction awards!’ will be fine, but a ‘hey guys! I was nominated for these awards on these fics and if you like those fics, maybe you can vote!’ can lead to a disqualification of those fics in the final results. To keep the voting fair, we’ll be checking to see if authors are swaying voting in any way. 

CATEGORIES

To nominate for each category, tap/click the bold/italic header and you’ll be led to the Google Form! NOMINATIONS ARE OPEN NOW!!

Best By Genre: 

Best Angst

Best Fluff

Best Smut 

Best Combination 

Best Au 

Best Reality 

Best Slowburn 

Best Crack Fic 

Best Horror Fic 

Best Hardcore Smut (fic where it’s PWP--porn without plot)

Best Historical 

Best Sci-Fi 

Favorite Genre of 2019 

Best By Trope:

Best Parent!phan

Best Punk x Pastel 

Best Coffee Shop!Au

Best Songfic 

Best 2009!Phan 

Best Polyamorous Fic (Fic that features Dan and Phil romantically or sexually involved with a third person)

Best Teenage!phan 

Best Present!phan 

Best Fem!phan (genderswap fic)

Best Omegaverse

Favorite Fanfic Trope of 2019

Best By Length/Status:

Best Drabble

Best Oneshot 

Best Chaptered Fic 

Best Long Fic (Fic with 50k+ words)

Best WIP (Work in Progress)

Best Abandoned Fic (Fic that an author no longer is working on but still deserves recognition)

Best Undiscovered Fic

Best Series (Series as in it’s a fic with more than one part--but not chaptered!!) 

Best Miscellaneous:

Most Unique Storyline

Most Unique Writing Style 

Best Fic to Make You Smile 

Best Fic to Make You Cry 

Best Fic to Make You Laugh 

Most Cliche Fic 

Most Memorable 

Best Characterization 

Best Fic to Have You on the Edge of Your Seat

Best Original Character (Fic that used an original character best)

Favorite friend of Dan and Phil to add to a fic

Best Overall:

Best Author of 2019 (The author you think rocked 2019)

Best Author 

Best Up and Coming Author (author who began writing fics within the last year)

Best Beta Reader 

Best Ao3 Fic (Fic only posted on Ao3)

Best Tumblr Fic (Fic only posted on Tumblr)

Best Wattpad Fic (Fic only posted on Wattpad)

Best Collaboration (Fic with 2 or more authors)

Best Fic of 2019 (Fic written AND finished in 2019)

#phan #phanfiction #phanfic #phanfiction awards #phanfiction awards 2019

[awesomesockes]

Common Ground

Summary: As the dirt walls of his half-dug foxhole collapse in front of him, Officer Cadet Daniel Howell finds himself face-to-face with another soldier. To make matters worse, this one is wearing a German uniform.

Or:

In which Dan and Phil have a rather unorthodox meeting when their foxholes collide.

A/N: this fic (code name: craig) is an idea i’ve had for quite a while, maybe years, and here it is! finally… always good with some historical aus amiright?? i really really like it and i hope you will too (please i need love) also thanks to bethany for writing in the boob-hand-motion. i guess you’ll have to read it to laugh with us lmao

Genre: Historical (WWI), fluff, humour-ish. Warnings: Mentions of blood, war themes. Words: 2371

Common Ground

After stretching his body and throwing his head back for what felt like the millionth time that night, the sun was finally starting to rise. The sky slowly began changing colour to a beautiful mix between blue and orange, and he was once again able to see his breath in the frosty air. Hard to believe he’d ever be grateful to see that again.

In those early dawn hours, the world seemed awfully quiet. Only the sound of his own shovel hitting the ground echoed in the silence. Every strike of the tool burned his palms as he continued to move the heavy, half-frozen dirt from one side of the foxhole to the other in a never ending motion.

In another hour, they’d start shooting again, and all memories of the morning stillness would quickly be forgotten.

So there he was—Officer Cadet Daniel James Howell, serial number 0945065, only eighteen years old—standing knee-deep in muddy water, contemplating the irony of how the hole he was currently digging for protection from the enemy also had the distinct possibility of becoming his own grave. He couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous it all was.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, the dirt walls came crashing down around him. They landed in the water surrounding his feet, causing mud to splash up and cover the few remaining clean spaces he had left on his uniform. The dirt found its way into his mouth and nose, and he had to cough a few times before registering what had just happened.

At first, he figured he’d just hit an unstable part in the soil to cause the collapse, but then he saw the tip of a boot sticking out from under the mud, and his heart began pounding in his ears.

Dan stared down at the man who had just appeared before him and was now scrambling to free himself from under the pile of dirt. “Looking for something?” Dan asked hoarsely, brushing off his sleeves.

In a moment, the other man was free of the mud and had leapt to his feet. His hands were now fumbling around near his hip. Dan, who was still squinting from the dirt in his eyes, suddenly found himself with a gun pointed at him. His hands flew up into the air.

“Wow, hey. If you shoot that thing, it won’t be just the two of us. People will be swarming here in seconds. You understand what I’m saying?” Dan tried desperately, backing away from the broken wall that stood between them.

The stranger was covered in dirt from head to toe. Like looking in a mirror, Dan took in the sight before him. The same mud, the same freezing water, the same miserable expression. Even their breaths were synchronized.

“Leutnant Philip Michael Lester, 52067,” the soldier spat out, loud and clear. “Stehe bleiben.”

“I wasn’t tryi-”

“Ruhe! Und legen Sie die Schaufel auf den Boden!” Philip said in a commanding tone, nodding towards the shovel Dan was holding above his head in surrender.

“Oh, sorry.” He dropped the shovel, which quickly sank to the bottom of the knee-deep water and disappeared. “Do you speak English? Er… Englisch?”

“A little,” came a shaky reply.

“Great…” Dan mumbled, mostly to himself, and maintained eye contact with his new “friend”.

Silence fell upon them as the sun continued to rise, finally high enough to shine into their, now shared, foxhole.

“You’re bleeding,” Dan pointed out nervously, breaking eye contact to look at the dirty wound along the other’s hairline. Blood was slowly trickling down his forehead and mixing with the mud on his cheek.

The soldier blinked in confusion and slowly moved his left hand from the pistol to the side of his head. An expression of surprise was clearly painted on his face. Dan gradually lowered his arms back to his sides.

“Hände hoch!” the German suddenly yelled, sending Dan jumping backwards, almost tripping over his own feet, with the feeling of his heart leaving his chest.

“I don’t know what that means!” he pleaded.

“Äh… hands up!”

Dan instantly complied. Once again they were standing face to face in silence, breathing heavily.

“We can’t stand here all day. I’m unarmed, I swear.” Glancing over his shoulder Dan caught a glimpse of his rifle, which was standing at least fifteen feet behind him in the foxhole.

Unarmed. That seemed to be the key word. Before Dan got the chance to say anything else, the German collapsed backwards onto a pile of dirt with his head leaning against the side of the trench. All colour had left his face, though he still held the gun in one hand.

Dan exhaled heavily and started running his fingers through his already messy hair, only now realising how much he was shaking as the adrenalin was leaving his body. He glanced over at his neighbour, who seemed to be in the same state.

“I can help you with that. The bleeding. Hilfe?” Dan moved carefully towards the collapsed part of the foxhole. Stepping over the pile of dirt meant stepping into hostile territory. Even though the situation seemed to have calmed, that simple act was enough to set him on edge again.

“Philip, right?”

“Phil, Bitte.” Some colour seemed to have returned to his cheeks since he’d sat down.

“I guess I’m Dan.” Dan pulled out a partly clean handkerchief from his chest pocket and tossed it over to Phil.

“Danke,” he slurred in response, accepting the piece of cloth with shaky fingers.

Dan leaned his head back and took a few deep breaths, finally regaining some control over his own body after the shock of having a loaded gun pointed at his head by the presumed enemy.

“Beautiful morning, huh?” He rubbed his hands together briskly, trying to get some feeling back in them. The black gloves he wore stopped short of covering his fingertips—perfect for gripping the shovel, but lousy for keeping warm. He cupped his hands over his mouth and exhaled hot air into them.

“I do not know about that,” Phil snorted. “Cold.”

“I guess you’re right. I haven’t been able to feel my feet since September.”

“Me neither.” A small smile became visible across Phil’s lips.

The cloth was more red than brown by now, as Phil’s injury continued to bleed. Head wounds always bled an alarming amount; even before the horrors Dan had seen in his past nine months fighting on the frontlines, he’d known that.

Dan watched as the other soldier retrieved a small first aid kit from his chest pocket. It mainly contained gauze, but that would do.

“What do you suggest we do?” Dan asked quietly, still processing what had just occurred. The odds of two foxholes meeting were miniscule, and yet here they were. Two sides of the war, standing in the same pit.

“Cover it up and not speak of it again,” Phil mumbled from his side.

Dan nodded in agreement and started searching for his shovel in the icy mud.

This soldier wasn’t much like Dan had expected. Then again, he didn’t really know what he had expected his first face to face meeting with the enemy would be like. But it sure wasn’t this. Phil seemed much more human than the rumours would have him believe. At least more so than anyone Dan had encountered in no man’s land. Although, everyone was.

“If we start from that side…” Phil suggested, and pointed to Dan’s right with the hand that wasn’t trying to contain the bleeding. “Normally I would have a work plan…”

“We have to move that side first, or it’ll continue to collapse.” Dan pointed at the opposite wall. “See that hole there?”

“Nein,” Phil sighed heavily. “The heavy frozen dirt must be at the bottom. You start over there.”

“Why are Germans always so commanding?” Dan mumbled under his breath, but he began moving the dirt Phil had indicated.

“Why are the English always so messy?” came a quick reply.

Surprised that Phil had even heard Dan muffled words, the Englishman looked up, only to meet two determined eyes. “Even your cars give up half way.”

Dan stopped digging and tightened his grip around the shovel’s handle. “At least you can stand to look at our cars,” he spat back.

“Maybe I should just declare you prisoner of war. This would be much easier.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I have the gun, yes?” Phil reminded.

“And I have this shovel.” Dan kicked the end with his boot. “You don’t look much like you’d use that gun anyway.”

A fresh wave of anger seemed to come over the German and once again, Dan was staring down the barrel of a gun. Phil’s hands shook even more than the first time as he fumbled with the pistol.

In one quick motion, Phil raised the gun straight up toward the sky and pulled the trigger.

Dan shut his eyes and covered his ears, yet nothing but a wet sounding click echoed in the trench.

“Well, that was bloody terrifying,” Dan giggled, allowing himself to smile while waving his hands in the air. “England surrenders.”

At this point, he swore he could see smoke coming out of Phil’s ears. Before Dan got the chance to wipe the grin of his face, Phil hurled his gun directly at Dan’s head. Dan just managed to duck out of the way, and the gun landed with a splash in the water a few feet behind him.

Phil was left looking furious. Even given as familiar with grenades as Dan was, he was sure this soldier could be mistaken for one.

“Now we’ve got that out the way, can we move on?” Dan asked.

Without another word, they both resumed moving the dirt in short, aggressive movements. A few angry glares were exchanged. With every deep sigh that Phil let out, Dan had to keep himself from hitting the man over his already injured head with the shovel.

Finally, Dan had had enough of the awkward tension. “You speak good English, you know,” he ventured.

“Danke.” Phil’s shovel made a clang as it hit a rock. “You speak horrible German.”

“I took French.”

Phil stopped digging for a second to glance towards Dan. “Voulez-vous parler français?”

“Show off…” Dan muttered.

Dan caught a quick smile forming on Phil’s lips. As soon as their eyes met, both men quickly turned away again, back to task at hand.

xx

Dan paused working and rested his chin on the end of the shovel, looking thoughtfully at his companion. “One thing I have to ask…”

Phil grunted in response, so Dan went on, “Is it true that the German daily rations are six sausages and one potato?”

Without stopping, Phil glanced up just long enough to reply, “No, we get mustard too.”

“Really?”

Now the German paused and cast Dan a look of exasperation. “What do you think? Is all you drink tea?”

“How would I know?”

Shaking his head, Phil went back to the task of rebuilding the wall. Dan was still leaning on his shovel, looking at Phil with interest.

“What about girls?”

“What about them?” Phil wheezed. “Are you asking if they also eat six sausages and one potato a day?”

“No, I’m just asking…” Dan continued. “Do you have any?”

Phil glanced back over at Dan with one eyebrow raised. “Well, not here.” At this point Phil had already moved about two feet of dirt back into the space between them. As much as Dan hated to admit it, the Germans definitely were efficient. And Phil had been right about the work process after all.

“Is it true German girls have… you know.” He swooped his hands in front of his chest in an exaggerated fashion.

Phil sighed. “When you dig foxfoles all night and shoot people all day, everything becomes meaningless.”

“Even girls?”

“Even girls.”

Dan let out a small huh and looked back down at his boots. The sun was finally high enough to shine into his eyes, forcing him to squint when he looked up again.

“What about the lads?”

Dirt suddenly started raining down Dan’s neck.

xx

The wall was almost at chest height, and lifting the dirt that high was becoming increasingly difficult. Dan’s shoulders were burning again—every muscle in his body was aching. He couldn’t wait for this to be over so he could head back to camp and snag a few hours of sleep.

A single gunshot sounded in the distance and both men stopped moving—only their heavy breathing remained in the air. It was beginning again. The war had awoken once more; the calm stillness of the night was forgotten.

“Düsseldorf.”

“What?” Dan turned his head to meet Phil’s eyes. They were back to looking lifeless, yet somehow full of concern.

“Düsseldorf. That’s where I live, should you ever find yourself lost in Germany.” He was only visible from the neck and up, indicating that their job was almost complete.

“Wokingham. If you ever find yourself lost in England,” Dan responded nervously. Another gunshot echoed above their heads.

Phil gave a quick nod and swallowed the lump in his throat.

At this point, it was only possible for Dan to see glimpses of the other soldier’s head over the remaining gap in the nearly intact wall.

“Oh… Dein Taschentuch!” Phil said hurriedly, holding out the formerly white piece of cloth as far as the wall would allow him. Dan could just spot the initials his mum had embroidered in the corner of the handkerchief—D.H.

“Keep it,” Dan replied. He was standing on tiptoe now to peer over dirt.

Phil smiled back—a true, genuine smile that made his eyes light up for the first time that morning. “Thank you.” He grasped the fabric tighter in his fingers and lowered his hand back down.

Dan grinned in return. Then he lifted up one final shovelful of dirt to fill the gap, and Phil was gone.

The fighting was picking up pace now, and Dan could hear cannons in the distance, followed by shouts.

“Hey Phil?” he breathed, his voice mixing with the sounds of the war.

“Ja, Dan?” floated back a voice.

“Merry Christmas.”

thend

- read my last phanfic: Wonderful Wonderful - read my next phanfic: Paper Airplanes - read my new chaptered phanfic: Renegade - on mobile and want all my fics? no problem!

#phanfiction #phanfic #phan #phanfluff #phanfic au #war #fluff #20003000 #read it #au #historical #oneshot #aunew #fluffnew #2k3k #humournew #oneshotnew

[minniti]

i need a little money right now, and i want to write for you!

Hey there—I know times are difficult for everyone, and that, unfortunately, really includes me at the moment. It looks like my internship and source of income for the summer fell through, and I’ve been struggling to find another job to make a few ends meet. So I would like to write for you!

You may know me as the author of Aria in the Snow, a novel/fanfiction set in the 1920s that won awards in Best of the Best AU, Best Originality and Best LGBTQA+ in the 2016 Phanfiction Awards. I’m currently in the process of parsing it out to self-publish, but it’s available to read online here.

I’m currently writing any fanfiction or original creative story you may want. I LOVE writing, and would be so happy to see any dream you wish to read come to life. I’m happy for you to be as involved as you may like in the process, from just giving me an idea to helping me plan all the details. I know exactly what it’s like to want to read something hyper-specific with your favorite characters/people and finding nothing.

What I’m adept at writing

Historical pieces

Heavy, difficult emotions (death, mental illness, abuse, etc.)

Romance

Nuances of gender and sexuality

What I’m comfortable writing

Anything: Yes, seriously. You tell me, I’ll do it.

Prices 

Broadly speaking, I’m asking for 50¢ every 100 words. I’m offering discounts as word count goes up.

Drabble (500-1k words) — $2.50 to $5

Free drabble for every referral!

One-shot (1k-2.5k words) — $5 to $10 — Up to 10% off

Long-fic (2.5k-5k words) — $10 to $18  — Up to 27% off

“Big Bang-ready” fic (10k) $30 —40% off

Novella (25-50k) $60-125 — 50% off

Examples

My AO3 

Selections from current original orojects 

Payment

PayPal 

Ko.Fi

Please like, and I’ll follow everyone who reblogs!

#thank you thank you thank you!!!! #fanfiction #fanfic #phanfic #phanfiction #aria in the snow #fic commision #fanfic commision #fanfiction commision #writing commisions #mine #original writing #original characters