E D I T E D

7k reads. ty. ly. :). also i haven't written in ages like my brain needs a while to reboot it's writing juices ... or something ... (?) ALSO, the first bit where they're in class is literally a thing that happens in my school like CAN YOU PLEASE SHUT UP I DON'T WANT TO KNOW IF SOME 17 YEAR OLD ASKED YOU OUT guh

warning: homophobia, bullying and abuse (I'm so sorry ;-;)

words: 4405

~Dan's POV~

Just another day preparing for another lesson for 14-16 year olds who either couldn't give two shits about what instrument they're playing, what they're being told or actually care about their grades.

I am 30 years old, I teach music in a secondary school (or high school) in Manchester, England. Why am I doing this? Because I have nothing else to do with my life. The boring day in the life of Dan Howell 2022 October 19th.

The bell rang as the children slowly filed into the classroom, some grudgingly, some happily. After the children settled down, I tried to begin explaining what we were going to do today.

"Hello class, today, we're going to try to learn a simple so-"

"Sorry to interrupt your lesson, Mr. Howell," the voice of Mr. Oakley, the head teacher, rang out over the increase of chatter of the other students.

"That's alright," I smiled, remembering my manners and not throwing a rage because everything was so loud and I just wanted to get on with my lesson like please can someone respect me for the hours I spend putting together each lesson to make it fun and exciting for the children, honestly, how many hours wasted each and every d-

"I just wanted to say that we have a special assembly in the hall after registration, thank you!"

"Okay, thank you Mr. Oakley."

"No problem!" And with that, he left.

I sighed knowing that I would now have to move my lesson to tomorrow so now tomorrows plans would have to move to-

"Mr. Howell, Stephanie took a picture of you and sent it to snapchat cuz she totally fancies you!"

"What? No I didn't, that was Chloe! ... obviously."

"What did I do?"

"Can everyone shut up, I'm reading."

"Oi sir, if I give you gum, am I allowed some in class?"

"Gum? Gimmie!"

"I want gum!"

"Pleaseeeee Jessica, I'm your best friend!"

"Shut up Becky."

"SPIDER!!!!"

"EEEEEEEEEE, OH MY GOD WHERE? KILL IT!"

"No, wait, stop. I'm pretty sure that it's just a weirdly shaped rubber shaving."

"But it moved!"

"SELFIE GUUUUYSSSSS!"

"WAIT DELETE IT! I WASN'T READY!"

"Take it again, take it again."

"Oooo, I look good in this one, post it and tag me."

"Nooooo, what about me? My eyebrows are uneven, Jessica! LOOK AT THEM JESSICA!"

"Oh my god, Becky you slut, shut uppp."

"Ugh, fine. Bitch."

"OH MA GAWSH, guys, yesterday, I saw the tallest lesbian like, literally, I think she was a perv."

"Oh really? Like this other girl, she was slaggin' me off yesterday. What a bitch. Probably gonna have to report her to the head of year tbh."

"I'M READING SHUT UP GUYS."

"Ha, nerd."

"Says the one who plays games 24/7."

"WAYYYYYYYYYYYYY."

"Ow! Oi, stop sticking your breasts in my face. I'm not about that life thanks."

"CLASS! SETTLE DOWN!" I yelled, rather loudly. I don't usually shout at my students. To be honest, I'm not a really strict teacher or anything. They think I'm cool, they listen to me. "Thank you. Now if we take registration quickly, we'll be able to go to assembly on time, okay?"

"But I don't want to go to assembly."

"Yeah, I wanna play music!"

"Nahhh, I'd rather go to assembly. Hate music."

"CHRIS!" I yelled, starting the register. I usually give people funny nicknames to make it more interesting.

"Yes sir."

"A-big-nail,"

A sigh was heard from Abigail followed by an embarrassed "Yes sir."

"Rack-el."

Sigh, giggle, "It's pronounced Rachel, yes sir."

"Mills on wheels."

"That's a really bad name. Yessir."

"Peeeeej."

"Yas sir."

"Becky."

"Yes sirrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."

"Jessica."

"Hello."

"Daisy."

"I AM PRESENT IN THIS CLASS AT THIS PRECISE MO-"

"Melanie."

On and on it went until we reached the final name, walked to the hall and sat down, waiting for the assembly.

***

"Hello everybody!" Mr. Oakley, the head teacher, said to everyone in the hall, "today we have a very special guest with us today who will be talking about LGBT+ rights. Thank you Mr. Lester, the stage is all yours."

Mr Lester? Lester? Please don't tell me this is the Lester because if it is, then I will cry an-

"Hi guys! My name's Phil and this is my assembly on LGBT+ rights which I'm sure your all very excited to be a part of?"

As the chorus of 'yes' echoed throughout the hall, I was sitting dumbstruck by 'Mr. Lester.' This is Mr. Lester, in the past, known as my boyfriend of whom I hurt and loved.

Does he remember me?

"So people may or may not know what LGBT+ means, correct?" Silence. " Well, LGBTQIAP stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Questioning, Intersex, Asexual and Pansexual. Of course there are many other sexualities out there which I will go over at a different time."

A hand raised from my class, Chris I presumed, "What does Transgender and the rest of that all mean?"

"I'm glad you asked," and he eyes, I swear to God his eyes, were the brightest I've ever seen them, they were practically sparkling like the sea just a bit after sunset.

"Well, let's start from the beginning then, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"So, many of you may know that Lesbian means that a woman loves another woman and Gay means that a man loves another man. Do any of you know what Bisexual means?"

Pj timidly raised his hand, "Urrr, is it where someone can love both genders? Both male and female?"

"Couldn't have explained it better," and he smiled that sweet caring smile that was once always directed at me. "Transgender?"

And as he continued to give simple definitions, I realised something that no teacher in this school could have done effortlessly. He shut them up. They were all so intrigued by what he was talking about, about how there was a whole new colourful side of the world that a lot of society either didn't know about or didn't accept.

"So now, I would like to tell you a story, is that okay?"

I snapped my head up to look at him, interested in what story he was going to tell. Maybe he told it to me once before. Phil was a great storyteller.

"So. Believe it or not, I was a student in this very school but back in the day ... people weren't so umm, accepting. I had a friend, a really close friend who told me this story. And I would like you tell you lot."

And that's when he looked me in the eye. Directly at me. At me. He knew I was here, he remembered but he didn't freak out over my presence; so I gave him a weak smile and nod, knowing what story he was going to tell. And I was scared.

Scared to re-live what had happened before. Worried of the outcomes of him telling this story. Anxious to know if we could mend the relationship we had.

"So, I was in this school, I was around 15 or 16 when this happened. My friend was gay. People called him all sorts of insolent names, faggot, cock-sucker, queer. There were so many."

I saw the broken look in his eyes and he turned his head to face me. Gasps were heard in the audience, from the children, from the teachers.

"And what happened was, was that a bully, one single homophobic person, decided that gay people shouldn't be allowed in this world. That loving the same gender is a sin. But of course, it isn't. Being gay is okay.

"This bully decided that it was a good idea, a funny idea to beat this boy up. He got rushed to A&E when they found his beaten body behind the trees, very cleverly hidden and concealed by the bushes. He had cracked ribs. His muscles had torn. He had punctured lungs. He nearly got blinded in both eyes."

Phil pushed his glasses up his nose and I felt a wave of emotion hit me, it hurt more than anything else, worse than any other pain. Apart from Phil's.

Now Phil's story is only half true. It's just that the roles of the people involved were switched around slightly.

I was the bully.

Phil was the 'friend'

And I hurt him.

***

It happened in 2009, everything went by too quickly for boys to handle. Even though I was a year younger than him (making Phil 31 now) I could pack a punch and throw around insults.

The word had got round about Phil being gay. I wasn't happy. I thought being gay was wrong. A dirty sin. A waste of oxygen. I said all these things to Phil. But I didn't realise how much it hurt him. I wasn't thinking. Mindless. Stupid.

After school, I grabbed him by his collar and dragged him behind the bike shed and beat him up. I insulted him. I beat him ... I saw him breaking.

But I don't know why I ever did that. Because, well. I was gay as fuck as well. Very gay. So why was a gay guy beating up a gay guy because he's gay?

Well, I was young. And immature. I did it for the popularity. I did it to keep my badass cool guy status up. I didn't realise anything, I was too blind to know, to care.

So one day, I tried talking to Phil. He shied away, curling up against the lockers. And I felt bad. So, so bad. I saw the fear in his eyes, he was trembling, his eyes were watering. Those beautiful blue, blue eyes. I fully took him in and I finally saw who Philip Michael Lester was.

And I crushing.

My walls went down, I felt like a monster.

I built them back up again as soon as I saw the gang. Phil and I made eye contact and I knew what he was saying through those tear rimmed eyes. 'Do it. Your reputation matters more than my health anyway. I don't matter.'

And do you know what I did? I dragged him by the collar, pulled him outside behind the trees and beat him up. All that rage of not being my true self, of being scared, of getting humiliated by the 'cool guys', everything I kept inside was let out in punches, kicks, slaps, insults. His ginger hair made him look like he was on fire.

The gang got tried and left and by then, Phil was in so much pain and I could tell. By the trembling of his fingers, by the quiver of his lips. All I wanted to do, there and then, was to hug him and tell him everything was alright.

But obviously it wasn't.

What I did was, I kissed him on his bloody forehead and ran away. I ran away from everything like a true coward would. But I knew he smiled. I knew he understood. But I also knew he was upset, angry, humiliated. I knew he wouldn't forgive me anytime soon.

I wanted to cry because of what I did. I texted Janice to see if I could come over. She was busy studying apparently. Weird, she always invited me over if she wanted to study.

The next day, Phil wasn't in school. Or the next. Or the next. He wasn't in school for 2 weeks and 3 days. When it was the 19th of October, he came back, wearing glasses. Dyed black hair in a swoop over his right eye. Black clothes only with an assortment of multi-coloured bracelets. Crutches.

He avoided making all eye contact with me. But he didn't shy away like before. He stood up tall, brave, proud. And despite all the shitty things I had done to him, I felt proud too. I wanted to tell everything to Janice, but she was rarely ever around, only appearing when I had to have my cool guy act on. She was ill, she had to study, she was tired, she was lazy. She made up all of these excuses.

The 'gang' didn't mess with him that day, nor did I. I came out as gay because the way I feel inside was too much for me. Too much. I forgot about everything else - nothing mattered. They beat me up, obviously.

But do you know what happened? Phil saved me. He really did, that day. He saw me lying in the exact spot where he himself was beaten to a pulp, and rushed over to me. Tended to my wounds, made sure that I was okay.

I was, it was nothing compared to what Phil had been through. We went to a park that day, missed 3 lessons of school.

"I'm sorry." I whispered timidly.

"It's okay."

And we started talking about things we liked, things we hated, what happened and why it happened, the past, the future, the present.

***

As the day dimmed, we got closer. And I mean emotionally and physically. He was leaning into my shoulder now as it was getting warmer. My head still hurt.

"You're actually a really nice person Dan."

"I'm sorry Phil. I really am." I breathed out, wrapping my arm around his waist gently, scared that if I put any pressure on him, he would get hurt. "I was such a asshole."

"I know."

And we stayed like that for a while. Until Janice called me. Oh, great timing Jan.

"If you love me let me gooooooooooo! If you love me le-" Phil pulled away from me as my ringtone blared out. Janice.

I awkwardly coughed before picking up. I forgot about her. Y'know, status. Popular. Gotta have a hot girlfriend even if you're a flaming homosexual. But then I told everyone ... does Phil know now? Is he confused? Oh God, I have to tell Janice everything ... I really hope she understands. She's still my friend.

"Heya Janny."

"Sup babe," I heard her melodic voice ring from the other end. Phil must have heard too, he shifted away from me alarmingly quickly. I sighed.

"What's up?"

"I'm breaking up with you."

She said it in that voice. You know? That voice where they're all like 'You-know-what-I'm-breaking-up-with-you-because-I-can-and-maybe-I'm-cheating-on-you-but-you'll-never-know-because-bitch-I'm-breaking-up-with-you-so-I-don't-have-to-tell-you-anything-anymore-bye-sucker.'

Tears welled up in my eyes just as I was about to spill my heart out to her.

Why am I so emotional even though I like boys? This shouldn't be a big thing for me, I was going to do this anyway. Because I thought she actually cared. Yes, I had a reputation to uphold but I wanted a nice girl. She was a friend to me. A close friend. I knew something was up these past couple of weeks.

She started going out more, getting drunk. Avoiding me nearly all the time. Being bitchy. I guess she suddenly realised that 'Hey, I don't need to hang out with this weird guy. I can be more popular than him 'coz I have big boobs and I'm hot so why the fuck not.'

"Why?" My voice cracked a little and Phil looked over at me in a skeptical confused innocent puppy dog way.

"Because there's this guy who-"

"Y'know what Janice? I liked you. And that's saying something because I fucking hate everyone." Hot tears were starting to spill. "You were a nice person. Now you're just a fucking slutbag looking for the nearest guy to fuck up. Well you know what? FUCKING FINE. LEAVE ME. I THOUGHT OF YOU AS MY FUCKING BEST FRIEND. YOU KNEW EVERYTHING ABOUT ME. I TOLD YOU EVERYTHING. I FUCKING TRUSTED YOU TO BE THERE WHEN NO-ONE ELSE WAS. YOU KNOW HOW IT IS AT HOME." I was crying now, tears fell onto my lap and my throat went dry.

"Shame. Tyler fucked me which was so amazing last night. Then Troye came over and we had a sort of threesome thing going but Connor came over and things got really awkward 'coz he got really angry and then shit went down and I was just there naked lying on the bed like-"

"Hey guess what, bitch."

"What you fucking faggot."

I took a deep breath, wiped my tears away, giggled and smiled. "They're all gay." And hung up.

I sighed. Tears still fell down my face - how come my best friend turned into such a bitch? How come I hadn't realised sooner?

"Hey umm ... are you okay?"

"Fine," I sniffed away my tears and weakly smiled knowing that all my walls had been broken, smashed to the floor, and there was no burden to stop me from flirting now. "So you like me?"

"W-wh-what? Where'd you get t-that idea from?" He was blushing intensely whilst laughing as if it were the most ridiculous thing anyone could have ever said. "No ... sorry to disappoint?"

"Well, my ringtone suggests otherwise."

"Haha. Very funny."

If you love me let me gooooooooooo! If you you love me let me gooooooooooo! 'Coz these words are knives and often leave scars, the fear of falling apart and truth be told I never was yours. The fear, the fear of falling apart.

Phil slid back next to me and huddled into my side. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder.

"Definitely do not love you. See?" He mumbled into my shirt.

"I see." I smiled gently and all thoughts of Janice, of being popular, of being hurt, were erased from my mind.

Phil and I lived a happy life as far as boyfriends go. We went out on dates, kissed, had snuggly movie nights.

We moved into an apartment in London together. Our own little apartment. Our own little life. Together.

Then things got a little ... painful. Complicated.

After five years of being in each other's lives, of being in perfect harmony together, he left. He left me alone.

I woke up one morning and swung my hand over to the left side of the bed. "Phi-." My hand searched around. I always woke up before him. "Phil? PHIL?" I panicked, I searched the house, checked my texts, called him 5 times. I went back to the bed and found a note.

Dearest Daniel James Howell.

19th October 2015

Dan. Dan. Oh my God, I love you so much. You know I do. You are my everything.

But ... everything wasn't enough.

Dan, I know what we had was real. It was love. But those five years were five years of pain I couldn't live down. I don't think you understood what you did to me before that. I understand that your reputation was everything to you - I was quite clearly very important.

But my health was important too. It just wasn't important enough.

I know you must be thinking 'but that was in the past!' Well, I've been going to the doctors a lot recently. My health has gone downhill. The stress and anxiety levels are making it worse. 

By being around you.

Dan, I know that you loved me. But what you did to me hurt. It hurt beyond repair.

You broke me.

You hurt me.

That day, the day on the park bench when we talked, was the day I thought I could be fixed. I really thought that I could be fixed by you. I thought I could have a chance at happiness. A chance at true love and compassion.

I would always take a bullet for you. I just didn't realise you were the one pulling the trigger.

I thought this over so many times. I don't know how you feel about this. I thought of suicide the first 2 years of us being together.

My heart rate was beating faster than it ever had before. Is this ... a ... suicide note? No. No. That's not right. I know how Phil feels about suicide. He wouldn't have. Could he?

But suicide? No. That wasn't needed. That would be a sign of absolute and utter defeat. I still want to live. I just want to be happy. Unafraid.

Dan. I'm doing because I love you, okay? You may not love me but I. Love. You. More than anyone or anything.

So Dan, I want to say that, yes. I am still alive and on this world. I am just not with you right now. Nor will I ever be.

I have moved away. I took every one of my possessions - apart from you - with me. I don't know if you noticed, but I left lion. Just as a small reminder so that you don't forget me forever.

I changed my number. I have still kept yours though. Don't you dare spam me if you find my number. You know how much that annoys me. 

I am not in England anymore. Not in Europe for that matter. I am far, far away, Dan. Don't come looking for me. Don't.

This is for your own good though, okay? I chose this day, this day specifically, to leave. It was the day we met. The day we met properly. I could never forget the way those bruises looked on your dainty, beautiful face. The gentle gleam in your eyes when we started talking. The small dimple that formed whenever you smiled. Of course I had to fall for the bully.

I guess you could call this day our anniversary.

We also planned to get married on the 19th of October, 2022, didn't we?

I'm sorry. This is our final goodbye. But, to be honest ... where's the good in goodbye? I may deem this as a mistake in the future. I can take this mistake; but I can't take the ache from heartbreak.

Daniel James Howell. I love you. So much.

Live your life well. Don't mourn me - even if I'm still alive. Find someone new. Get a proper job. Love someone and treat them right. Not like how you treated me. Please. I'm begging you.

We won't stay in touch.

Philip Michael Lester x

***

I fell into a deep depression. I actually did try to find him. I looked everywhere. I couldn't find him. Spent too much of my money travelling and asking around.

I had failed in living.

I got a job. Worked at a school.

He left me, 19th October 2015. Now it's 19th October 2022. And he's standing here, right in front of me.

I had lived 7 painful years alone, constantly tired, constantly afraid.

I decided to do something. You would have thought that I would have been angry at him. I was still mourning. Still upset. Still needing.

***

The assembly finished. The children dispersed.

"Phil." I whispered.

I walked up to the stage where Phil was talking to other teachers. I waited until they left.

"Ph-Phil?"

"Hello."

He said it in a way that one might greet a stranger.

I stood dumbfounded, just staring at him. His beautiful blue eyes. His dyed black fringe that swooped over one eye. The slight stubble on his chin and upper lip.

I couldn't help myself. I ran up to him and almost knocked him over with the impact of my weight. I squeezed him tight.

Tears seeped into his shirt as I mumbled into his shoulder "I missed you so much. I love you. Please please come back."

I expected arms to wrap around my waist, or his head on mine. But no.

A small but polite push parted me from him.

"Wh-"

"Sorry, but you are?"

What. What. What?

"Dan ... Howell? Re-remember? Daniel James Howell? C-can't you remember Phil?" Surely it can't have been appearance wise. I had barely changed. Grown taller, more muscular, slightly tanned. No laugh lines to be seen though.

"No, I'm sorry. Am I supposed to know you?"

The dirty sadness filled me up just like a balloon. What does he mean he doesn't remember me? We had something - something special for what? 5 years!

"Y-yes actually."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I have to leave now. I have to pick up my kids from school. Y'know how it is." He laughed, brightness filling up his features. Love.

He had moved on. Had children. Led a happy life. And me? Stuck in a job I have no care for. No friends or social life. Not a happy life like he'd asked 7 years back.

"Oh. Okay. S-sorry to keep you waiting."

I turned away from him and collapsed onto the floor. How could something so right turn out so wrong? And after all this time. Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading and hoping that he would return. So sick and tired of all the needless beating myself up about it. It hurts. He's here right in front of me and he is hurting me in ways no-one could ever imagine. Maybe this is fate. Karma. Payback.

"I'm sorry. Goodbye Dan."

But as you walk away, further and further, you don't hear me say, "Where's the good in goodbye?"

~Phil's POV~

"Oh. Okay. S-sorry to keep you waiting."

I had lied, straight out to the person I loved - and still love. My heart was breaking. I never knew he worked here!

This was too hard for me. Lying was enough. Acting and saying that I can't remember him. That was beyond unforgivable. Saying that I had a family? No. Words can't fathom the emotional pain that is in my heart right now.

Tears were cascading down my unusually pale cheeks. I had to get away. Now.

I walked away with a heavy heart and fat tears rolling down my hollow face.

"I'm sorry. Goodbye Dan." I said in the most normal, casual, formal, polite voice I could muster.

I walked to the door and just before I left, I heard a weak, fragile voice reply saying "Where's the good in goodbye?"

I broke him more than he ever broke me. 

I hurt him.