Chapter Text
Morning settles softly over Phil's flat. It's so ordinary, it's almost forgettable. Almost. The kettle clicks off with a dull sound. Steam curls faintly into the air. Phil moves through the space on autopilot, mug in hand, laptop already open on the table. His inbox is full of notifications, but nothing urgent. It's all routine in the Lester household. He takes a sip of his tea, grimaces slightly at the heat, and scroll through emails he's not fully reading. Outside, a car passes. Somewhere upstairs, a floor creaks. It's normal.
Then, there's a knock on his apartment door. It's out of place, because nobody visited Phil at his flat. Sure, they went out together, but not at his residence. Phil pauses, mug hovering midair. for a second, he considers ignoring it. Then, the knock comes again, more insistent. He sets the mug down and crosses the room. Faint unease threads in where there wasn't any before.
The door opens, and a courier stands there. He hands over a thick envelope. It's heavy, and stiff. "Sign here."
Phil does, barely thinking, eyes already drawn to what he's holding. The courier leaves without another word. The door shuts, and silence returns. Phil turns the envelope over in his hands. His name is printed on the front. A law firm logo sits in the corner, very unmistakable. Just beneath it says: NOTICE OF LEGAL ACTION.
The words don't register at first as he opens it. It's just shapes, and ink. Meaning lagged behind, and confusion flickers. Then, his heart drops to his stomach. He stares at it a second longer, grip tightening slightly around the edges. ".....What is this?"
Phil doesn't remember sitting down. One second he was standing, and then he's here, the paper already in his fingers. He unfolds it carefully, like it might change what it says. The first page is dense. There's blocks of text, structured and formal. His eyes skin, but don't quite land until something catches: BREACH OF CONTRACT.
It's bold, and centered. Phil frowns. "No!" He exclaims, turning the page. There's another section highlighted: Failure to deliver agreed promotional content within specified deadlines
His breath stutters. "...No. I-- I didn't---" he starts, but the words fall apart halfway through, because, he did. Not all of them, and not intentionally, but enough. He flips, faster now. There are names of sponsors, more than he expected. Dates, and missed deliverables. Another clause is bold and unavoidable: Financial Damages.
Numbers follow, very large numbers. They don't feel like numbers. They're so abstract, and feel misprinted. Phil blinks at them, trying to make them settle into something logical. They don't settle. "This isn't--" He mutters, shaking his head. "This can't be right."
There's more pages. It just continues one after another. He goes back to the first page, like maybe he misunderstood, and he'll read it differently. The same words stare back at him, clearer now. He swallowed hard, grip slipping on the paper. "I- I didn't do that!" He nearly shouts, standing up. The document is still in his hand, slightly crumped now, no longer held with care. He paces one end of the living room to the other. Turns, and goes back again. "Okay," He mutters. "Okay, just--"
He runs a hand through his platinum blonde hair, exhaling sharply. "I'll figure it out.." He says, but the words don't stick. HIs thoughts are already slipping, pieces together. He remembers signing contracts, late at night, skinning more than reading. He trusted it would be manageable. His calendar filled too tightly. Dates stacked on top of each other until they blurred. He told himself he'll get to it tomorrow. The memory flashes sharp, how casual and unconcerned he was.
"Okay, no, there's-- there's a way through this," He says, voice uneven with worry. "There's always something--" He says faster, like he can grab onto a solution mid thought. "There'll be a clause, or a-- some kind of--" he tries, but his words trail off. He read it. There wasn't anything like that. It was just terms, and conditions. He pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead, trying to force his thoughts into order. "Think!" He mutters. "Just... think."
But every time he tries to follow one thread, it branches into three more. More missed deadlines. More names. Too many to count. His breathing starts to feel off, more shallow and too fast. The room feels wrong. "I didn't ignore it," He says out loud, like he needs to hear it. "I just--"
Delayed it. Pushed it. Assumed he'd fix it before it matters. Phil stops in the middle of the room shoulders sense, hands hovering uselessly at his side. "It mattered..." He says quietly. He knew that deep down somewhere, and he still let it slide. He grabs his phone, and dials in his managements numbers. It rings, and rings, then goes to voicemail. He hangs up before the tone finishes, already opening his laptop again. He opens his emails, and they're scattered, and half formed. Urgent. Need clarification. Please respond ASAP. He sends three, then a fourth. He refreshes, with no response.
His leg starts bouncing under the table as he pulls up the contracts again, actually reading them this time. He reads them properly, line by line, and it gets worse. Clauses overlap, and deadlines stack on top of each other in ways that don't make sense. Deliverables scheduled within hours of each other, across different sponsors. Another requires simultaneous promotion. They all contradict each other. Phil leans back slowly, the screen glowing too bright in the room. This isn't just disorganized, like most things Phil did, it's straight up impossible. His hands fall back into his lap.
The panic doesn't spike this time. It settles, heavily on his shoulders. It felt cold, like someone's nails clawing down his back. "I can't fix this alone.." He whispers, staring at his screen. Then, he goes to the search bar. His fingers hesitate, then start typing. 'Contract lawyer.' He enters, and results flood in. There are too many, and some are too vague. He clicks one, skims it, then closes it. 'lawsuit defense.' he types in. More results, and articles. There are adverts that all promise the same thing in slightly different fonts. None of it sticks. He exhales sharply, then types again. 'Best lawyer UK.'
This time, a single name begins to repeat. There are rankings, reviews, and case summaries. "Daniel Howell..." Phil quietly says out loud. the cursor blinks in the search bar as he clicks through. A profile page opens, and he scans. 'Contract Law Specialist', 'High Profile Cases', 'Consistent Defense Record'
He opens another tab, a legal directory. "Known for precision and aggressive litigation strategy..." Phil says, running his chin. There was a line that made Phil stop. 'Ruthless in contract law.' it says. "Ruthless?" Phil murmurs. The words feel aggressive, and not comforting. His eyes flick back to the document on the table, then back to the numbers, then to his screen. Whatever this lawsuit is, it isn't safe. He scrolls further and reads case summaries, wins, and settlements. They're situations that look complicated, and yet, are resolved under Daniel's defense.
Phil gulps. He doesn't like the idea of handing everything over to someone like that. Someone controlled, and unforgiving. His gaze drops to his hands. He himself feels useless. What else could he do? He clicks onto the contact page, a simple form. Name, email, message. His cursor blinks in the empty field. He types, then deletes, and starts again. This time, he doesn't overthink it. He just writes: "Hi. My name is Phillip Lester. I think I need a lawyer. I'll send my case file over."