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ineverhadmyinternetphase · 7 years

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If You Must Mourn, Don’t Do It Alone

AO3 Link

Genre: Fluff, angst, university AU, hurt comfort, sad Dan

Summary: Fiction. Phil is a Masters' student just starting at a new uni, and while he should be concerned with getting to grips with his new course, he finds himself more and more caught up with getting to know his quiet, brown-haired housemate who has a habit of disappearing.Or, Phil goes to uni, Dan goes to uni, Dan is sad, and Phil is there for him.

Warnings: hints at mental illness although this is never explicitly stated

Word Count: 40k

A/N: This is my Big Bang! Massive thanks to my beta Martha ( @headlesghost), you have been such a star catching all my errors and making everything flow so much better, as well as being a wonderful encouraging voice when I thought I couldn't get this finished. Literally would not be posting this without you.

Thanks also to the ever wonderful Meg ( @mecaka) for being such a great mod and helping me deal with my freak-out about not finishing this on time, and to my partner Charlotte ( @charlottekath) for dealing with me rambling endlessly about this, helping come up with the premise, and leaving comments scattered everywhere to make me feel like this is at least half-way decent xD

Also, there is more to this fic - I’m aware that by the end, you will see a lot of untyed ends. But don’t worry - there is an epilogue in the works ^_^

Warnings for hints at anxiety and depression, as well as general uni stress, and swearing

Title from Keaton Henson’s ‘You’

Reminder that I don’t know Dan or Phil at all and I’m not suggesting this in any way reflects reality. This is a work of fiction

…

Phil thought the house was empty, but he still wasn’t sure. Standing on the doorstep, looking at the bright red door and the awkward little garden it was situated in, suddenly everything felt very real. University in a different city - a city he knew well, but still, a new university - and a masters’ course that he still wasn’t sure he was actually qualified for.

Nerves curled up tight in his belly, until he actually winced.

The keys fit into the lock easily enough, although the door was a bit stiff and Phil ended up having to give it a shove with his shoulder to get it open. He may have misjudged his weight a little, and ended up tripping over his suitcase and falling face-first into the narrow hallway.

He really hoped the house was empty, so no one had witnessed the crash.

Standing up and dusting himself off, Phil picked up his suitcase and stepped a little further into the corridor. His parents were behind him, he knew, with a car loaded up full of all his worldly belongings. They’d come bustling inside in a few minutes, but Phil wanted to take this first moment for himself. In this house that he hadn’t had a chance to pick, moved into in the last minute when he decided to switch to study in Manchester.

Unfortunately, that also meant he hadn’t had a chance to view the house, or meet any of his housemates, beforehand. The university had emailed to inform him there were four of them, five including him, and that he was the only one with a downstairs bedroom. That should be easy enough to find, at least.

He traipsed through the first door he found and saw a living room, which in turn led to a kitchen, and a little door on the right hand side of the kitchen led through to a bedroom which Phil presumed must be his. He set his suitcase down on the bed and glanced around. The walls were a bland shade of off-white, the carpet was a scruffy blue colour, and the room was oddly square-ish in shape. There was space enough for a camera, at least.

“Phil!” He heard his mum call from the front door, causing Phil to leave his silent contemplation of his soon-to-be home and instead find his way back out to the hallway, where his mum was struggling with about five bags.

“You should have waited for me!” Phil rushed to help her.

“Nonsense, you wanted to look at your new place.” Still, she relinquished some of the bags gratefully, following his lead through the kitchen. “How’s it feel?”

“Like a house,” Phil shrugged. Everything was too empty, too quiet at the moment. He wasn’t quite comfortable.

“Well, let’s get it feeling like a home then.” His mum set her bags down on the bed and glanced around, her gaze warm, if a little judgemental. Phil sank down on the bare mattress and tried not to sigh too loudly. That was easy for her to say. He was finding it difficult to feel like this place could be home.

As if sensing his discontent, his mum turned back to him with a soft expression on her face. “Problem?”

“No. Not really.” Phil shrugged, looking around. “It’s just… not much like home yet, is it?”

“Yet is the key word.” She settled down next to him. “Wait ‘til your housemates arrive. I didn’t realise we would be the first.”

“We weren’t supposed to be.”

“Oh?”

“Someone else was supposed to arrive last week,” Phil explained, his lips turned down. “But I guess they didn’t make it. Doesn’t feel very lived in, does it?”

“That’s another thing that will change with time.” She bumped their shoulders together before standing. “Come on, let’s go help your dad.”

Phil rose to follow her, glancing once more around his room. Maybe she was right, and with time this would feel better. Phil just felt a bit like he was leaving his comfortable home to move into a box. A lonely box. After three years at uni, he’d thought maybe things would be different as he started his fourth.

But no. Still just him, a few unknown housemates, and an empty box for a bedroom.

He shouldn’t be moping. He was excited to start his course, after all, if a little terrified about what on earth he was getting himself into. And starting at a new uni meant leaving all his old friends behind. They were already starting to fall out of touch, despite Phil’s valiant, well-intentioned efforts to arrange meet-ups and days out.

It felt a little like starting all over again, but not in a good way. Phil was getting into his twenties. He thought he’d be done with reinventing himself by now.

The rest of the things were brought in from the car, and Phil was a little relieved that no one was around to see the assortment of strange and bizarre things being brought into his bedroom. The lights and camera and tripod, the endless bits of technology, and of course his games consoles, ended up in a tangle of wires at the end of his bed that he’d sort through as soon as he had time or could be bothered.

Phil’s mum was out in the kitchen, busily putting away some of his pots and pans, when she gave a startled exclamation. “Oh! I thought you said the house was empty?”

“It is?” Phil stuck his head out of the box of DVDs, sharing a glance with his dad. His dad simply shrugged and went back to putting books on the shelves above the desk.

“No, come here,” Phil’s mum called again, so Phil got up with a sigh and wandered into the kitchen.

His mum was standing with one of the top cupboards open, pointing up at the shelf. There were rows of tins there, alongside a giant bag of pasta, a few packs of noodles and some sauces.

“These aren’t yours?” His mum asked.

Phil shook his head, blinking.

“And I thought we were the first here.” Phil’s mum took down one of the tins, glanced at it. “In date. Looks new.”

“Put it back!” Phil squeaked. “It’s probably meant to be there.”

“I’m sure it is.” She cast him an amused glance, but obediently placed it back on the shelf. “Looks like someone beat us to it.”

Phil digested that for a moment, glancing around the rest of the kitchen. It didn’t look very inhabited. There were no signs of life anywhere in the house, no suspiciously creaking floorboards or the sounds of doors slamming. Everything smelled musty and a little old, a little unlived-in, a little unloved. Nothing decorated the walls. There weren’t even any fridge magnets.

“If someone else is here, they haven’t done much yet,” Phil’s mum remarked, clearly on the same page as him.

Phil nodded slowly. “Maybe they haven’t had time?”

“Well, if they’ve been here a week already…” Phil’s mum shook her head. “Anyway. I’m sure you’ll find out sooner or later. Come on, let’s get the rest of your boxes seen to.”

Phil followed her half-heartedly back into what would soon be his bedroom, glancing back at the closed cupboard door.

Being on his own didn’t seem as appealing as it once had.

---

His parents took him out for a meal that evening, then dropped him back at his new front door with a wave and a promise to call him later. Then, Phil was left on his own again. He slid his new keys into the stiff lock and shouldered the door open, almost falling forwards into the hallway. That would take him a little time to get used to.

He lingered for a moment in the shared spaces, the living room and the kitchen, just getting himself used to the new spaces. They felt cold and musty, unloved, unlived in. Nothing like a home - at least, not yet. Phil had to remember that this was still early days, that he hadn’t had a chance to put any of his own touches anywhere yet. And neither had his housemates, whoever they were. Phil was looking forward to meeting them - which must happen sooner rather than later, term was officially beginning in a week.

His bedroom was better. Phil moved through the kitchen into his little box room, and he couldn’t help but smile. His parents had helped him put up posters, and his figures and plushies were sitting in a row on top of the chest of drawers. His mum had even left three little cacti on his desk. Phil leaned over them, inspecting them closely. He hoped he wouldn’t kill them.

The room didn’t feel much like home yet, but Phil thought he would get there.

He curled himself up on his bed in his pyjamas and played a film on his laptop without headphones - the house sounded too quiet without it. Every noise echoed weirdly off the new walls and he felt very alone, a feeling he wasn’t quite accustomed to despite having spent the three years of his undergrad degree away from home. That had been different - there had always been multitudes of other students around, people constantly making noise. Too much noise, sometimes. But it was better than this eerie silence.

He must have fallen asleep at some point during the film, because next thing he knew, he was stirring, his laptop having fallen sideways across the bed and it was dark outside his new windows. Phil blinked a few times, glancing around, disorientated. He was still in bed, hadn’t even bothered getting under the covers, but at least the film had stopped playing.

It was then that the eerie silence of the house was broken by a quiet rustle from the kitchen.

Phil froze.

The rustling noise continued, and then a quiet thump like the sound of a cupboard closing echoed through the door. There was the soft padding of footsteps, and then the sound of the fridge opening.

In other words, someone was definitely in the kitchen.

Assuming it wasn’t an intruder - and Phil would have to have the worst luck to be robbed on his first day - then this must be another housemate. Someone else was living here, too.

Heart in his mouth, unnecessarily nervous, Phil slowly edged his way out of his blankets and got to his feet. He straightened his shirt, ruffled up his hair, and then made his way over to his bedroom door.

The sounds on the other side had quietened, but there was still something rustling.

Holding his breath and summoning up a smile, Phil pulled open his bedroom door.

There was a loud clatter.

Someone was standing in front of one of the counters, dressed in ruffled, casual pyjamas, a plate of pizza now on the floor in front of him. He looked completely startled, brown hair stuck up in haphazard curls, brown eyes that were widened.

Phil felt a little bad for opening the door completely unannounced.

“Hi!” Phil said, nevertheless trying to salvage this situation. “I’m Phil. I’m, um - I moved in today?”

He didn’t know why that came out as a question.

The boy in the kitchen - and he was a boy, he didn’t look old enough to be at uni at all - stuttered out something that might have been a laugh.

There was an awkward silence.

“I thought someone else must already be living here,” Phil rambled on, desperate to quieten the voice in his brain screaming that this was incredibly awkward. The boy was just kind of… staring. At him. It was actually a little unnerving.

The boy made a noise that might have been acknowledgment.

“Sorry for startling you!” Phil added hastily. “I just - I was sleeping, and then I heard movement, and… well, it’s kind of lonely, isn’t it? And I was just thinking, it’s kind of awkward to be living here when I don’t even know my housemates, and there’s nothing I can really do about that unless I at least try and say hello, so, um… hello.”

The boy was still staring at him, frozen in place.

The silence stretched on.

Phil swallowed. He edged back a step, back into the confines of his room, though he left the door open. “I should probably leave you to your pizza, huh.”

This always happened. Phil was a strange human, too much for most people, too odd to fit in. And he’d just walked in on this poor boy unannounced. Phil didn’t even know if the boy realised someone else was due to move in today, but gathering from his expression, Phil was an unwelcome addition.

Better he just head back into his room.

Phil edged back again, reaching for his door, when the boy finally made a sound that was vaguely recognisable english.

Phil tilted his head. “Sorry, what was that?”

The boy drew in a breath, straightening his back. He cleared his throat. “I… like your pyjamas.”

“Oh!” Phil glanced down, surprised. He was wearing the ones with pokemon all over them.

Another note to self: do not meet people for the first time without checking your attire is appropriate.

Phil looked up again, abashed, ready to explain, only to find that the boy had backed up. He looked at Phil with those wide brown eyes, seemingly frozen, and made another unintelligible noise.

Phil cocked his head.

The boy bit his lip, shook his head once, and then turned and darted out of the kitchen as fast as he could, his bare feet slapping against the cold tiles.

Phil watched him go, lost for words. The boy had looked lost - frightened, almost. Well, maybe that was only to be expected. He probably hadn’t realised Phil was going to be here, and he looked so young. Maybe he was a genius, brought up to uni before his time. This was one of the university owned houses after all, supposedly safer than halls. But surely this boy must have realised there would be other people in this house eventually? There were five bedrooms, after all.

As Phil glanced around, guilt twisting in his stomach that he’d scared the boy away, he saw the pizza still sitting on the floor where the boy must have dropped it.

Not only had Phil scared him off, he’d also left him without food.

Feeling even worse, Phil hunted through the cupboards until he found a dustpan and brush, and then he set about cleaning it up.

He would try again tomorrow, he decided, and explain to the boy that he hadn’t meant to be terrifying. And he’d also try and figure out whether or not the boy had been serious about liking Phil’s pyjamas. Phil couldn’t imagine that he was, but… there was no harm in trying, right?

Anything to make up for accidentally chasing him away from his food.

---

The next day, Phil woke to the sound of the front door slamming shut.

Chattering voices were sounding from the hallway, male and female. Not the boy from the night before, then, or at least not him by himself. Phil was still left highly intrigued by that encounter. He hadn’t quite been expecting his first meeting with someone new to go like that, but at least he’d broken the ice, somewhat. Maybe not as perfectly as he’d like, but it was a start, right?

The noises in the hallway were continuing, along with noises of suitcases being wheeled inside. Someone else moving in, then. Phil immediately started hunting about for clothes. He was going to go out there and say hi again, and this time he wasn’t going to scare his housemates away.

Phil wasn’t that terrifying, was he?

After a five-minute hunt around his room for his favourite plaid shirt that his mum must have packed away somewhere, Phil gave up and instead threw on an old t-shirt over his jeans. He then took a breath, opened the door, and walked out into the corridor.

He was met by the sight of a woman and a guy with green hair who looked to be around Phil’s age. They both looked up at Phil’s arrival, a little startled.

“Hi, I’m Phil!” Phil announced quickly before he could make the same mistakes as yesterday. “I moved in here yesterday.”

“Oh!” The woman’s face cleared, and she reached forward to shake his hand, smiling. “That’s wonderful. My Sean’s just moving in today, you two’ll be housemates.” Her accent was strongly Irish, startling Phil a little.

The guy - presumably Sean - rolled his eyes, but gave Phil a cheery wave. “Call me Jack.” His accent was the same as his mother’s.

“That’s not your name, Sean,” his mother sounded disapproving, but Sean - Jack?? - just rolled his eyes again.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you both.” Phil was sure he looked a little confused, though he tried to school his expression into one of warm friendliness.

“You too,” Sean-or-Jack answered. “Sorry for the mess, we’re just moving me in and apparently I have a lot of stuff.”

“Oh, that’s ok, you should have seen the state I made yesterday.” Phil shuddered. “Suitcases everywhere.”

“And so much cardboard,” Jack added. “Why all the cardboard? Where does it even come from? I swear I never owned cardboard before I arrived here.”

Phil chuckled. “Cardboard invasion.”

“Exactly. Like some sort of alien intervention. Though they’d be quite shit aliens, really.”

“Sean, language,” Sean’s - Jack’s? - mother reprimanded, turning back towards the door. “There’s more suitcases in the taxi, remember.”

“I’ll help, if you like?” Phil asked slightly timidly, but this was going much better than his encounter the previous night. And he didn’t really want to sit in his room doing nothing while they were both carrying heavy things around the house. That wouldn’t feel right at all.

Sean - Jack? - grinned at him. “Sure. Come see the giant pile I managed to bring over here with me.”

Phil chuckled nervously, but followed along.

It turned out Jack was from Ireland, and had come over as an international student. He wasn’t exaggerating about the number of suitcases either, as there were many boxes, bags and cases to bring inside and drag up the stairs to Jack’s new room. Phil got the chance to talk to him as they dragged things around, and learned that Jack was a postgrad too, studying something to do with computer gaming. Phil was instantly jealous.

“So you play a lot?” he asked, glancing down at the giant computer screen he was currently helping Jack to lift inside.

“A reasonable amount,” Jack agreed, glancing quickly down the stairs to where his mum was out of earshot. Then Jack grinned. “More than she likes, but now I can use the excuse that I’m studying it, so.”

Phil found himself smiling back without really realising. Jack’s grin was kind of infectious, and he talked a mile a minute, loudly. Phil couldn’t help but glance at the other closed doors on the upstairs landing, wondering if the boy from last night was behind one of them. If he was, would he come out and say hello? Should Phil knock? Even now, Phil still didn’t really know the etiquette of the start of the university year.

In the end, he left it, but he couldn’t help glancing frequently over the other doors just in case the boy was behind one.

Once Jack had moved his stuff in, he said he was off out to show his mum around for a while before she flew back to Ireland, so Phil left them to it. They invited him out for a meal with them, but Phil politely declined, figuring they’d want some time to say goodbye to each other. Plus, Phil was a little tired from his odd midnight encounter, and he hadn’t even turned his laptop on once that day.

Back in his room, Phil sheltered behind his laptop screen finishing up the film he’d fallen asleep over the night before. Distracted, he found himself wondering again about the boy from last night, and whether he was also sitting alone behind his laptop upstairs. Should Phil go up and say hello? He was tempted, but also… he’d freaked the boy out enough the night before. He didn’t really have to do that again.

So instead Phil spent the day on his laptop, only briefly resurfacing when he heard Jack come back from his meal. After a brief conversation, they disappeared to their respective rooms, and Phil spent the evening alone again.

Even knowing there were now two other people in the house, Phil still fell asleep feeling lonely.

---

The rest of the week saw the arrival of two more housemates. Caspar was another international student, much louder and more brash than Phil, who shook Phil’s hand with intimidating strength before promptly heading straight out to a party. The other was a girl, Louise, slightly sweeter and studying creative writing. She’d arrived with baked brownies.

“I just wanted to have an icebreaker, to be honest,” she explained, watching as Phil devoured one of the brownies in the threshold of his bedroom. “It’s always awkward to meet people for the first time.”

Phil nodded his agreement around his mouthful.

The five of them made up the house. Phil thought he’d get along with them all well enough - Caspar was maybe a bit intimidating, and Louise didn’t have much in common with him, and Jack was loud and social, but they were nice enough. And Phil had met them, was sure he could at least hold conversations with them all. The only thing was, he still hadn’t seen the boy from the first night again.

Occasionally, there would be noises from the kitchen in the middle of the night, or the odd footstep from upstairs, but Phil had never actually seen him. Phil was even beginning to wonder if he hadn’t somehow slipped out and left without telling anyone.

The cupboards in the kitchen had been loosely assigned, and Phil ended up with the corner ones. It was easy enough to see which were Louise’s (filled with endless baking assortments) and Caspar’s (mostly alcohol), but the other two Phil thought could belong to either Jack or the shy boy from the first night. One of them was filled with jars of ready-made sauces and bags of dried pasta, and the other had a frighteningly small amount of canned food shoved right at the back of one of the highest cupboards. Whoever’s that was, Phil had been sorely tempted to buy some chocolate bars or something to fill it up a little, just to make it look less sad.

Term had begun by now, and Phil quickly found himself consumed with what felt like a ridiculous amount of coursework. On top of his thesis. He’d met with his supervisor and his idea was ticking along nicely, but the sheer amount of work it took was beginning to take its toll. It wasn’t too unusual for Phil to spend most of his days out of the house, locked in the library while he frantically attempted to stay afloat.

Still, he got to know his housemates gradually, as happened when living in close proximity with them. Caspar was out most of the time, at clubs or house parties, but he always invited Phil along when their paths crossed. (Phil always politely declined - he’d had enough of partying during his undergrad). Louise was around pretty frequently, although she’d been a bit spooked when Phil walked in on her making dinner in the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Phil hastened to speak, guilt twisting in his stomach when he saw her standing with spatula raised. “Just got in.”

“It’s gone six!” Louise’s voice was still a little high-pitched, but she drew back to make room for him in the kitchen.

Phil grimaced. He was bone-weary and stiff from a day crouched in front of a computer, practicing editing techniques which were meticulous and tedious. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his room and collapse on the bed and sleep, but he didn’t feel like he could just leave. Not after he’d startled her.

Perhaps having the bedroom right next to the kitchen wasn’t ideal after all.

“So what are you making?” Phil asked with effort, trying not to show his exhaustion as he sagged against the doorframe. His bed was so close.

“Oh, just some stir fry.” Louise looked a little pink as she lowered the spatula, turning back to her sizzling pan. “I’m not actually that great at cooking.”

“Your brownies were great,” Phil disagreed.

Louise laughed a little nervously. “I’m glad you think so. I wasn’t sure if that was a bit of a silly thing to do really, sometimes it feels a bit old-fashioned? But I just didn’t want to turn up without anything, I mean, I’m kind of moving into your house--”

Phil blinked at her. “Our house, surely?”

“Well, yes,” Louise answered after a moment of silence. “I suppose. But still - being the last one, I just didn’t want to turn up empty-handed, you know?”

Phil smiled and nodded, though he didn’t really understand. His mind was still itching with fatigue, and he was just trying to think of a way out of this conversation when Louise spoke up again.

“So were you the first one to move in here?”

“Yes,” Phil answered without thinking, and then shook himself. “Wait, no! Well, not really. Um.”

Louise looked completely confused.

“There was someone here before me,” Phil admitted, “But he was really quiet. I didn’t even realise he was here for the first day.”

Louise arched a brow, spatula in hand, clearly forgetting about her dinner again as she turned to face Phil. “Oh really? Which one was he? Not - not Caspar, surely--”

“No,” Phil badly concealed a snort. “No, not Caspar. I don’t actually know his name - not Jack, or Sean, whichever way he introduced himself to you--”

“Jack,” Louise answered, a furrow appearing in her brow. “Who’s Sean?”

“Sean’s Jack. His mum said. I don’t know, it’s complicated.” Phil shrugged. “But this was the other boy. I never got his name, I think I terrified him actually? I felt kind of bad.”

“It’s Dan, I think,” Louise answered with a nod. “I know what you mean. He looked about ready to pass out when I gave him a brownie.”

Phil perked up a little. “You’ve met him?”

“I don’t know if you could call it meeting.” Louise chuckled, spatula still aloft. “I was going around everyone’s bedroom doors, asking if they wanted a brownie - I knew I was last, you see. Only he didn’t answer for so long I thought the room must be empty. Barely spoke two words to me as well.”

“Same,” Phil answered thoughtfully, remembering the look of terror on the strange, gangly boy’s face when Phil had opened his door to see him. Dan. At least he had a name to him now.

Louise shrugged with the spatula. “It takes all types, I suppose. That’s what my sister says, anyway, though I’m not sure I agree.”

“At least he isn’t an axe murderer,” Phil helpfully supplied.

Louise didn’t look very comforted.

“Anyway,” Phil said after a moment, awkwardly side-stepping his way through the kitchen. “I should let you get back to cooking. And, you know - sort my room out a bit.” Any excuse Phil could blearily think of would do. His eyelids were itching and he wanted to take his contacts out.

“Oh, sure.” Louise seemed to remember the spatula in her hand, turning quickly back to her pan. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep things down out here.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll put headphones in,” Phil reassured her, and then finally grappled his way back into his bedroom.

---

Phil ended up napping again as soon as he put his things down, falling fully-clothed face-down into his pillow and shutting his eyes for what was supposed to be a few minutes. When he blearily blinked himself awake, however, it was dark outside and his phone was weirdly beeping at him.

Disorientated, he fumbled around his blankets until he found his phone hiding under his pillow, and glanced to see two missed calls from his mum. He sighed heavily. He’d have to apologise for ignoring her later - for now, his stomach was growling at him, so even though his phone was blinking that it was 11:43pm at him, Phil still rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen.

Still in the process of waking up, Phil stumbled over to his bedroom door and pulled it open, rubbing sleepily at one eye. Thoughts still sluggish, it took him a good few seconds to process the sight that met him.

The kitchen wasn’t empty. No, opposite him, facing the counter with his back to Phil, stood the same boy from before, rumpled brown hair, oversized hoody and all.

Phil blinked. His heart leapt into his mouth and he straightened up a little, recognising that this might be his only chance to apologise for scaring the boy off the last time he’d done this very same thing, walking into the kitchen when he was cooking. Because the boy was cooking again, or at least, there was something in a pan that he was unenthusiastically poking at.

Phil held himself still, trying to think of the best way of saying hello that wasn’t going to frighten the boy out of his life again. It was a bit weird for Phil to just interrupt him, after all, but Phil’s stomach was still angrily making itself known and he hadn’t eaten when he got in before.

So Phil cleared his throat and said, as unthreatening as possible, “Hi.”

The response was expected. The boy jumped about a mile into the air, dropping his fork so it went clattering everywhere, and the thing cooking on the stove slid alarmingly close to the edge. The boy attempted to save it, but only ended up elbowing the counter and wincing as he watched the pan fall to the floor.

Phil instantly felt bad. That was twice now he’d ruined this boy’s dinner.

“Sorry,” Phil started hastily, “I just - you were here, and I didn’t know how to not scare you.”

The boy just stood and stared at him again.

“I just woke up,” Phil helpfully supplied, not wanting to point out the strange hour. “From a nap. Well, not a planned nap. An accidental nap.”

The boy leaned back a bit, his lips twitching. He actually spoke, his voice a little croaky. “An accidental nap?”

This was an improvement from last time. Phil latched on eagerly, nodding his head. “I didn’t mean to sleep. Just got home and kind of collapsed.”

The boy nodded slowly. He was holding himself with tension, leaning against the counter as far away from Phil as he could. But he hadn’t run off yet.

“No pyjamas today,” the boy added after a moment of awkward silence. His voice rasped like he hadn’t used it in a while.

Phil glanced down at his jeans and t-shirt, and shrugged a little wryly. “Like I said. Accidental nap.”

The boy smiled. It was a small smile, but this was definitely progress from last time.

“I’m Phil,” Phil added quickly, holding out a hand.

The boy looked at him, not taking a step closer. Phil retracted his hand, feeling a bit like an idiot.

“I’m Dan,” the boy said, still watching Phil, still not moving any closer.

Phil swallowed. He gestured to the pan lying sadly on the floor containing the black… thing… that Dan had been cooking. “I, uh. Sorry for making you drop your food. Again.”

Dan gave a quick shake of his head. “S’alright. Probably wouldn’t have eaten it anyway.”

Phil tilted his head. “Why not?”

“I can’t really cook.” Dan glanced wryly down at the black mess by his feet. “Think I burned it.”

Phil couldn’t help but agree, really. But he brightened as an idea came to him. “Well, I was gonna cook. Forgot to eat earlier. Do you want to eat with me?”

Dan’s eyes widened. His entire expression shifted from sort-of-relaxed to on-the-brink-of-panic, his face tightening, and he skittered back several steps until he was in the far corner of the room.

Phil shuffled his feet. “I just mean, like - I always make too much anyway, and--”

“No, it’s fine thanks,” Dan managed to stutter out, before he started edging as fast as he could, without actually breaking out into a run, towards the door. “I, uh - I was in the middle of something, actually, just, you know - coursework, and stuff--”

“Oh,” Phil answered dumbly. “Well, maybe another…”

He didn’t even get to finish the sentence before Dan was disappearing again, tripping over the edge of the lino out of the kitchen and into the hallway, turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

Phil bit his lip, guilt stirring in his stomach again. Now he was going to be responsible for Dan missing two meals, and that really didn’t sit well with him - especially when Dan was so quiet anyway. He wondered what it was, whether Dan was just really shy. Was he a first year? Maybe he hadn’t ever lived away from home before, or he just wasn’t used to being around other people. Phil honestly had no idea, but if he was a first year, then it would be unusual for him to be in this house.

After all, this was a university-owned building. It wasn’t like halls, though, it was separate, run by the welfare team for students who had difficulty living in halls, for whatever reason. For Phil, it was simply that he’d switched from studying in York to Manchester so last minute that this was the only room they had left available. He had no idea why his housemates were here rather than in halls.

Slowly, Phil bent down and scooped up the pan with the remains of whatever Dan had been cooking, and tossed it reluctantly in the bin. It looked unsalvageable, unfortunately, maybe Dan was right when he’d said he couldn’t cook. But Phil still felt guilt tearing away inside him as he set about making his own dinner. He couldn’t just leave Dan with nothing.

So, as Phil set about throwing some pasta into a pan, he added a little extra, figuring it couldn’t be difficult to just cook some more for Dan. He hadn’t been lying when he said he always ended up with too much. Maybe he could bring it up to Dan’s room, or something…

Except, Phil still wasn’t 100% sure which room was Dan’s. And he didn’t exactly want to run into one of the others and try and explain the situation, which really sounded ridiculous when he thought it through.

So instead, when the cooking was done and Phil had two plates of food, he wrapped one in cling film and attached a sticky-note, one of the Sword Art Online ones his old friend PJ had brought him back from Japan, saying ‘For Dan’ with a smiley face. Then, Phil fit it into the fridge alongside Caspar’s alcohol, and disappeared back to his room.

Hopefully Dan would see it at some point, and then Phil would at least know he was eating. For some reason, the idea of Dan not looking after himself properly tugged at Phil, displeasing him. He shook the odd thought away, and brought his own meal back to his room, settling down in front of a new film to watch.

---

After that, Phil didn’t see Dan again for a while.

Term continued on, and as they got into the middle of November, when everything was crisp and cold and colourful, the workload increased. Despite that, Phil still loved this time of year. The autumn leaves gathered on the corners of the roads, colouring everything in dark russet browns and reds, and whenever he went outside his breath steamed pleasingly in the air.

It also gave him an excuse to pop into as many coffee shops as he could, trying out all the different seasonal drinks, and warming his hands in the process.

The university was nice at this time of year, too. Manchester wasn’t a campus uni; rather, the buildings sprawled across the north western corner of the city, accompanied by main roads and traffic and rather too little green for Phil’s liking. As such, other than to pick up any books he needed and attend his classes and meetings with his supervisor, most of Phil’s time was spent in the house.

He saw quite a bit of his flatmates as a result. Jack, in particular, was easy to get along with - his easy-going manner and relaxed attitude meshed well with Phil, and one night when Phil got in to find Jack claiming the living room to a game of Mario Kart, Phil all but demanded to be allowed to join in.

“So what’s it like?” Phil asked as he watched his character go skidding off the racetrack again. He wasn’t bad at Mario Kart, but Jack was some kind of demon. “Studying video games, I mean.”

“Not quite as fun as it sounds,” Jack answered loudly. He whooped as he cleared the finish line. “Spend most of my time analysing rather than playing, to be honest, but it’s alright. And this guy in my lectures, Mark, he’s pretty fun.”

Phil looked over. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like, he’s American, and half the time he just giggles over the way the professor pronounces things.”

Phil frowned. “That sounds like it would be annoying.”

“Yeah, actually, it should be, but he sounds really cute when he does it, so.” Jack sounded a little flustered. Phil turned to him in surprise, noticed the way Jack was determinedly avoiding his gaze.

Phil smiled. That was sweet. And made him feel a little less alone.

“Well, if there’s a cute guy involved, I’m not surprised class is fun,” Phil answered bracingly.

Jack twisted his head to send Phil a look, and then a smile. It was a shared smile, and Phil felt warmed by it. Shared secrets, shared experience. He hadn’t really had a friend who got it like this before. PJ was great, but painfully straight, and all of the other guys from York had gone their separate ways by now. Phil was glad Jack was in the house.

“So what’s your degree like?” Jack asked. “A masters, right?”

“Yeah. In film, sort of,” Phil answered vaguely, picking his controller back up as another round started up on the screen. He hated saying I’m studying editing and post-production, that just made him sound pretentious.

Jack whistled. “So you just get to sit around watching movies?”

“Not quite,” Phil answered with a low chuckle. He concentrated on pressing the right button at the right time to give himself a proper start, and cheered when he whooshed away ahead of Jack for once.

Jack swore next to him, leaning over. “Rude, you arsehole, right, going to get you--”

The sound of the front door closing jolted Phil, and he twisted, momentarily distracted, to crane his neck and get a look in the doorway.

His heart picked up a bit when he saw a mop of brown hair.

“Dan?” He called inquisitively, Jack whooping from beside him as he no doubt overtook Phil again.

There was a scuffling sound, a moment of silence, and then footsteps padded away quickly up the stairs. The mop of brown disappeared from sight.

Phil sighed, disappointed, and turned back to the screen.

“He’s an odd one, isn’t he?” Jack mentioned, eyes glued to the screen in concentration. “I hardly ever see him, and his room’s right next to mine.”

“I think he’s just shy,” Phil cut in, feeling an odd flare of protectiveness rise in him. He didn’t like the thought of Jack criticising Dan, for whatever reason, which was strange seeing as Phil barely even knew Dan. But, from their few encounters, he’d found himself a little endeared to Dan with his wide eyes and croaky, unused voice.

Maybe it was just because Phil remembered what it was like to be a frightened first year. And besides, Dan had liked his pokemon pyjamas. That was as good a start to friendship as any.

“Yeah, and I hear him sometimes, muttering away to himself,” Jack continued, cursing again when Phil overtook him. “Fuck you. But he just chatters away in the middle of the night, and the pacing, man. I’m sorry for whatever’s bothering him, but if he could just chill out when I’m trying to sleep, that would be great.”

Phil bit his lip, but didn’t take his eyes off the game. He was determined to actually beat Jack this time, and he was currently in first. But still, he was intrigued by this news of Dan. He’d already gathered that Dan didn’t have the best sleep schedule, what with his late nighttime appearances in the kitchen, but even so. If he was up at night pacing, he must be worrying about something.

Phil wished he could think of a way to reach out to Dan without looking like a creep.

He managed to win the round of Mario Kart, much to Jack’s consternation. But then Jack had to go work on an essay, reminding Phil of the many projects he should be working on editing right then, so they parted ways with a promise to play again sometime.

On his way back to his room, Phil paused in the kitchen for just long enough to check the fridge. The plate of pasta he’d left out for Dan had gone, replaced with another sticky note - just a plain orange one saying ‘thanks :D’.

Phil pocketed the note with a smile, and went back to his room.

---

That night, Phil stayed up far later editing than he’d meant to. He always got this way; once he was immersed in a project it tended to take over all his time, until he blocked out the rest of the world and very easily lost track of time. So he was a bit taken aback when he glanced down at the clock on his laptop screen and saw 1:27am blinking back at him.

Surprised, Phil pushed his laptop away, deciding he might as well stop for the night. He wasn’t really tired, but he’d hit a bit of a wall with his project, and he could always do something else to distract himself before sleep reached out and took him. A normal sleep schedule seemed to have slipped through his fingers already, unfortunately.

It was just as Phil was debating which tv show to continue with on netflix that he heard a sound from the kitchen again.

He glanced to his door in curiosity, nerves gripping his heart, because this scenario was getting familiar. Of course, it didn’t have to be Dan, it could have been any of his other housemates in fact, but… the fact it was the middle of the night meant they were probably asleep, or at the very least, holed up in their rooms. Phil had only ever encountered Dan this late before.

The noises from the kitchen were different this time, though. No sizzling of the stove or clattering of pans. Just the odd quiet shuffle.

Too curious to leave this be, and caught up with the chance to maybe have an actual conversation with Dan, Phil slid off his bed and headed over to his door.

...But he didn’t want to just walk into the kitchen and terrify Dan like last time. That was bound to just send him running away again and abandon whatever task he was half-way through.

So, feeling a little foolish, Phil knocked on his own bedroom door, rapping his knuckles three times against the wood.

The noises from the kitchen suddenly stopped.

“It’s just me,” Phil called through the door awkwardly. “Uh, I didn’t want to terrify you this time.”

Still silence.

“That is Dan, right?” Phil asked nervously, suddenly unsure and wondering whether another of his flatmates would think he was insane.

But then--

“Yeah, it’s me,” came the awkward sounding croak. “Uh, you can come out, or whatever.”

Relief flooding through him, Phil pushed the door open, and was met with the sight of Dan crouched in front of the washing machine, laundry basket beside him. The smell of washing powder hung heavy in the air.

“Oh, right. No cooking this time, then.” Phil smiled, leaning against the frame of his bedroom door.

Dan smiled back a little awkwardly. He looked a lot smaller crouched down on the floor, long fringe hanging in front of his eyes. He’d chosen another baggy jumper to wear, too, accompanied with tracksuit bottoms that looked worn and well-loved. All around, he looked… soft. And young.

“No cooking,” Dan confirmed after a beat of too-long silence.

“So laundry?” Phil nodded, trying to scout around for an excuse to stay. It was a bit weird to just watch his flatmate do his washing, sure, but… he’d hardly had a chance to speak to Dan at all yet. “Good idea. I should probably do some at some point. I kind of… haven’t, in an embarrassingly long amount of time.”

Not the best thing to say, honestly, but it earned Phil another smile from Dan, so he counted it as worth it. Dan had dimples, he noticed. Or at least one, just peeking out on one cheek before Dan looked away and hid it.

“So was that you who came in earlier, when Jack and I were playing?” Phil asked, still scouting about for something to say. Only apparently, he’d said the wrong thing, because Dan’s face went all tight again.

“Uh. Maybe. Not sure.” Dan answered in stilted syllables, turning back to shoving his clothes haphazardly into the washing machine. Phil was amused to notice that they were sorted cleanly into whites and darks, much more organised than Phil himself ever was. He tended to just shove everything in together, colours and all, and if something went wrong then at least it added character.

“Oh, I was just wondering because you could have come and joined us,” Phil hurried to add. Speaking with Dan always made this nervous ball of energy grow in Phil’s stomach, getting tighter and tighter the more they spoke. He wanted to grapple for each extra second he might get to spend with Dan, each added moment talking to him, to draw him out of his shell if nothing more.

Dan made a non-committal grunt, and Phil’s stomach tightened further.

But then Dan completely surprised him by continuing on the conversation. “It was Mario Kart, right?”

“Yeah,” Phil nodded enthusiastically, “I think we went seven rounds? Jack beat me, but I was holding my own alright.”

“Sounded like it,” Dan confirmed, his tone growing warmer even if he still wasn’t looking at Phil. “I could hear Jack swearing from all the way up in my room.”

Phil chuckled. “I know, right. He seemed to think he should have winning rights, seeing as he actually studies gaming.”

“Is that what he does?” Dan looked back up then, something like interest buried somewhere in his expression.

Phil nodded. “Gaming society and culture, something like that I think. He did ramble about it for a while, but I was kind of tired.”

Dan’s lips twitched. “Not listening. Rude.”

“Hey,” Phil sniffed, but he was smiling. “You try listening to him ramble when you just got in from a five hour library stint.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Dan answered instead, but he looked a little looser. His dimple was still there when he turned back to his laundry.

Phil watched him for a moment, noting the slender curve of Dan’s shoulders and the way his hair fell into his eyes when he leaned forward. Dan still looked tense, a little uncomfortable. Phil was just wondering if he should make his excuses and leave Dan to it when Dan spoke up again.

“The pasta was from you, wasn’t it?”

Phil blinked. Dan still wasn’t looking up from the laundry, but Phil nodded anyway. “Uh. Yeah. Sorry, I hope it wasn’t weird - I just felt bad, you’d lost your dinner because of me twice--”

“It was nice,” Dan interrupted, his words running together quickly. “Thanks. I didn’t expect - no one ever - I mean, it was nice. Thanks.”

“Well, like I said,” Phil answered, his insides giving a pleased wriggle, “I always make too much.”

Dan hummed in acknowledgment, pushing the last of his washing into the machine. He got up to his feet, opening the tray to pour in his washing powder. As soon as the machine was turned on and the cycle started spinning, Dan backed up a step, eyes fixed somewhere on Phil’s collarbone as he jerked his thumb towards the hallway. “Anyway, I should probably. Uh. Gotta wait for this, so.”

“Oh,” Phil answered, sadly, watching as Dan backed up again. He didn’t like that sight - of Dan backing away from him, and not when they’d just managed a full, actual conversation too. “I mean, yeah. Or you could stay, if you wanted.”

Dan bit his lip, hovering by the door.

“I mean, it’s half an hour and then you have to put your stuff in the dryer, right?” Phil asked. “Why don’t we borrow Jack’s console? I can prove that I actually am good at Mario Kart.”

Dan’s face loosened up a little. “Not so sure that’s a good idea. If you thought Jack’s swearing was bad, you should hear me when I get going.”

“I’d love to,” Phil told him, and then pointed imperiously in the direction of the living room. “You’ll have to prove it now.”

Dan’s face made a funny expression. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother. Plus it might get too loud, what about the others--”

“We can shut the door,” Phil shrugged. His stomach was all warm and tight again. “It’s just for fun. You don’t have to, but it would be better than going all the way back upstairs just to come back down in half an hour, right?”

Dan held still for another moment or two before he loosened up a little, nodding slowly. “Well. When you put it like that. Prepare to get destroyed, Phil.”

“In your dreams,” Phil answered wryly.

It turned out Dan wasn’t lying. He swore like a sailor almost from the moment they started playing, racing ahead of Phil and honestly spending most of the race cruising in first place. It was strange. Phil was good at Mario Kart, he knew he was good at Mario Kart, better than average even, and yet Dan beat him soundly every single time.

“You must be cheating, or something,” Phil protested weakly as Dan cruised past the finish line in first place for the fifth time in a row.

“What can I say,” Dan answered breezily, “You signed up to this, Phil.”

Phil let out a sigh, tossing his controller onto the cushion next to him, but in all honesty, it was difficult to mind. Dan was the most relaxed Phil had ever seen him, stretched out on the sofa cushions next to Phil, one leg crossed over the other, controller in hand, loose smile on his face. His dimple was apparent, and Phil was becoming a bit obsessed with staring at it. How did it even form?

He shook his thoughts away with quiet admonishment to himself. He didn’t need to freak Dan out with his strange staring.

Another round started up, and Phil snatched up his controller, leaning forward with a determined expression on his face. “Right. This time you are going down, Daniel - what’s your last name?”

Dan snorted next to him, bemused. “Why do you need to know?”

“Because this is serious competition time,” Phil answered, “And it calls for full name usage. ‘You’re going down Dan’ just doesn’t sound threatening enough.”

“Probably because it isn’t true,” Dan answered dryly. “But it’s Howell.”

“You’re going down, Howell,” Phil growled, and then sent Dan a sidelong grin. “See? Much better.”

Dan shook his head, but he was biting back a smile. His dimple just grew even larger. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Shut up and try and beat me.” Phil was biting his inner cheek, though, as he turned back to the screen, and there was the faintest itch under his skin to sidle up closer to Dan.

He ignored it.

Dan was just desperately trying to avoid a blue shell, in the middle of some very eloquent swearing, when the washing machine beeped rudely at them.

Phil grinned as he swerved past Dan’s character, chasing towards the finish line. “Look at that. Looks like this game’s over.”

“No, no way,” Dan shook his head determinedly, and hit pause on the game just before Phil could reach the finish line.

Phil huffed.

“It isn’t fair, I haven’t had a chance to retaliate yet!” There was just the hint of a whine to Dan’s voice as he jumped up from the sofa and headed into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t you dare mess with anything while I’m gone.”

“As if I would,” Phil answered, tone offended, even as he was pushing down hard on Dan’s controller to make the buttons stick.

Dan was making noises from the kitchen, changing his laundry into the dryer, but Phil ignored him in favour of sinking into the sofa cushions. It was well past 2am now, and the first beginnings of tiredness were starting to itch at the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t want to move. Not even to take his contacts out, which he’d accidentally let in far too long again.

Phil just worried that somehow, if he left this room, the little bubble he’d built with Dan would burst. And Phil wasn’t sure when he’d ever get this chance again.

Sure enough, Dan soon reappeared, this time holding two bowls of ice cream. “It’s all I had in the freezer, but I figure if I’m going to destroy you for another half hour, I should at least offer you some sort of consolation prize.”

“Rude,” Phil huffed, accepting the bowl of ice cream anyway. “You can’t give me pity gifts until, like, it’s 10 to 0 or something.”

“It’s almost that now,” Dan pointed out with a smirk, picking his controller back up.

“Shut your mouth, Dan.”

Dan snorted, but obediently didn’t say anything until about two minutes into the race, when he ran into a banana peel and shouted something obscene.

They probably did wake up their housemates that night, but Phil really couldn’t bring himself to care. Even after the tumble dryer started beeping angrily at them, neither one of them moved. Phil was enjoying the added time with Dan, and Dan had either not noticed or was so intent on wiping the floor with Phil that he didn’t care about his abandoned laundry.

Eventually, when Phil was yawning more than he was speaking and the screen was starting to blur a bit, Dan turned to him with a smirk. “I think I have officially beaten you.”

“Shut up, you’re cheating,” Phil argued through a yawn.

Dan snorted, but he put down his controller. “I guess I shouldn’t have kept you up so long, huh.”

“Nah, this is fun,” Phil shook his head. “Plus I wasn’t tired before, so.”

“But you are now,” Dan pointed out. “Sorry. I can, uh, go. Leave you in peace.”

He sounded reluctant. Phil was reluctant, too, so he reached out and kind of awkwardly patted Dan’s arm, and then snatched his hand back like he’d been burned.

Dan looked a bit bemused.

Of course, it was then that Phil decided to let out a massive yawn again, and he shuffled around on the sofa cushions until he decided to stand up. “Yeah. I guess I should. Bed, and stuff, sleep is good.”

“Sleep is good,” Dan agreed, getting to his feet too.

Neither of them moved.

Eventually, Phil shifted on his feet, and reached out to awkwardly pat Dan’s shoulder. He wondered if he should pull him into a hug or something, but that would be strange, right? He hadn’t hugged Jack after they’d played earlier. But, then again, he hadn’t wanted to hug Jack.

He did kind of want to hug Dan.

But the worry of sending Dan scurrying away again was too much, so Phil stepped back instead and gestured to the kitchen door, which led through to his bedroom. “Guess we should head off. Your laundry’s probably missing you.”

“Probably,” Dan agreed, but his face had closed off again.

“We should play again,” Phil added quickly. “The game, I mean. You’re ridiculous at winning and I have to try and beat you at least once, for my bruised ego if nothing else.”

Dan’s lips twitched. “I wouldn’t worry too much. I had a misspent youth, that’s all. It’s probably a good sign that you’re not as good as me, you probably went outside and stuff when you were young.”

“Not that much,” Phil promised, and yawned again before he could carry on.

“You should go,” Dan murmured, but there was something softer in his eyes this time.

Phil nodded slowly, and followed Dan into the kitchen. Dan crouched in front of the tumble dryer, reaching for his laundry basket, while Phil edged towards his bedroom door.

“I’ll see you around?” Phil asked sort of awkwardly. He never knew the etiquette for saying goodbye to his housemates - he couldn’t really escape them, after all. Even if Dan had so far done a pretty good disappearing act.

“Yeah,” Dan answered, and glanced up once more to send Phil a parting smile, dimple and all.

Phil smiled back. The warm tight swirling in his stomach had loosened a bit as he pushed open his bedroom door and retreated into his own space again, the urge to continue talking with Dan lessened slightly. At least they’d managed over an hour together, playing something that had made Dan more relaxed. Phil liked that. He liked seeing Dan relaxed.

He just hoped it wouldn’t be the last time.

---

The lead-up to Christmas was a hard one for students. Phil knew this already from his time as an undergrad, knowing that there were usually deadlines before the end of the term for big essays, or there was revision to be started for January exams. Thankfully, Phil’s masters was purely coursework based, so he had no exams to worry about.

But still, there was an air of stress about the place that Phil didn’t much like. He was still spending the majority of his days out in the uni buildings, either in the library or in the postgrad building, making use of the computers and editing software that never ran quite as well on his mac. He spent many hours squirreled away in dark rooms, bent over bright screens, pulling clips together and changing settings to create the best scenes he could.

As such, the times Phil spent at home grew less and less social, and as a result he didn’t see too much of his housemates. Jack, he still saw more often than most, sometimes meeting him in the postgrad building to grab lunch together, or joining him in the lounge of their house to play some video games again. Jack had an enormous library, and he loved playing horror games as well, another thing he shared with Phil. Phil, though, was not as good at playing them, so he took to spending his time writing essays in the corner of the room when Jack was playing, watching him scream at the jumpscares. It was entertaining enough.

Louise he saw a bit of too, coming and going from her lectures with heavy anthologies and textbooks packed up in her bag. She often took over the kitchen, too, and the scent of her baking made the house smell glorious for hours afterwards.

“It’s for stress,” she explained once when Phil came home from a seminar to find her surrounded by bowls and dough, her hands covered in flour. “I’ve got a big deadline next week.”

“Oh.” Phil nodded in sympathy, eyeing up the chocolate buttons she was currently pressing into a set of twelve identical muffins. “Does it help, then?”

“Sometimes.” She placed the last button on top of the icing with a flourish, then patted her hands on her apron, her blonde hair up in a haphazard bun. “Baking lets me see that I’ve made good things, and it keeps my hands busy enough that I can’t go thinking and worrying about everything, you know?”

Phil didn’t really, but he nodded along. “Is anyone else in at the moment?”

“I don’t think so,” Louise answered, tilting her head thoughtfully.“Jack just went out to a lecture, haven’t seen Caspar since this morning.”

“What about Dan?” Phil asked, ignoring the little jump his heart gave, something like nerves creeping up his chest.

Louise shook her head, inspecting her cookies. “Haven’t seen him all day. Or all week, for that matter.”

Phil’s brow creased. He hadn’t seen Dan since they’d played Mario Kart, though there’d been a couple of nights he heard noises in the kitchen late at night and wondered if it was Dan. He’d never quite been brave enough to go and check.

He left Louise to her baking, heading back into his room, and settled down in front of his laptop wondering what exactly kept Dan so busy. He must spend most of his time either out or in his room. Maybe he was just very active in societies, or spent a lot of time at the library? What was he even studying?

Phil realised, belatedly, that he really didn’t know very much about Dan at all.

Term continued on, deadlines swooping around him, but the Christmas holidays were looming near. Phil was looking forward to going home, he loved Christmas. His family went for it big time, decorating the whole house with baubles, his mum cooking endlessly while wearing reindeer antlers, and his dad up the ladder fixing christmas lights to the outside of the house, humming carols the whole time. Bickering with his brother, eating too much food and laughing too loud, Christmas was a family affair for sure.

So as term drew to an end, Phil began packing up with excitement. Another good thing about coming to university in Manchester rather than York was the distance was so much smaller, he could pop home whenever he wanted. That was a big reason he’d made the last-minute switch. He used to hate the long train journeys from York just to visit his mum.

He was mid-packing in his room one day in the final week of term, music blaring loudly, humming along to Muse, when he heard the door slam shut. Phil hadn’t had any lectures that day, and his only human interaction had been a nod to the librarian on his way to the editing computers where he’d spent the afternoon, so he was a little starved of conversation. Getting to his feet, he went over to his bedroom door and nudged it open a little, peering through the kitchen to the rest of the house.

Someone was standing in the living room, bag on his shoulder, brown fringe drooping into his eyes. Dan.

Phil brightened instantly, stepping out of his room and announcing his presence with a spirited, “Hi!”

But as he stepped closer, he noticed that Dan was staring furiously at one spot on the floor, the curve of his shoulders tense, his fingers clenched around the strap of his bag.

Instantly, Phil’s tone dropped. “Dan? You alright?”

Dan didn’t seem to hear him for a minute, staring down at the same spot on the floor with his brows furrowed and his lips set in a straight line. When Phil leaned against the doorframe, rapping his knuckles awkwardly against the wall, Dan jumped and whipped around to face him, eyes wide.

“Sorry,” Phil said quickly, and wondered why he was always apologising to Dan. It just felt a little like invading something private, whenever he caught Dan alone. And yet, Phil still itched to know him better. “I heard you come in.”

Dan didn’t say anything. He just stared at Phil with wide eyes, and Phil was reminded of the first time he’d seen Dan, fixed with that same wide-eyed stare. It almost bordered on terror.

Phil swallowed. “Are you ok?”

That seemed to bring Dan back to his senses. He gave his head a little shake, straightening his back, shifting his bag on his shoulder. He coughed before speaking. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

His tone was a little shaky, and he was avoiding Phil’s gaze.

Phil bit his lip. Dan didn’t look fine, but he didn’t exactly want to pry - but he also didn’t want to leave Dan upset without asking, so he edged a step closer. “Ok, well - you can always--”

“I’m going to head upstairs,” Dan interrupted suddenly, backing away from Phil and straight towards the door. “You know, got - work to do, and stuff--”

“You’ve still got deadlines?” Phil made a sympathetic noise.

Dan swallowed, hand on the doorknob by now. “Yeah. And exams, in January - so, you know, always got to be working.” He said this with a bitter twist to his lips.

“That sucks.” Phil tilted his head, wondering how to keep Dan here. “You take breaks sometimes though, right? We should play Mario Kart again.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Dan twisted the door handle, edging out of the room. He flashed Phil a final smile. “Catch you later.”

“See you,” Phil said to the empty air as Dan disappeared once again.

Phil bit his lip. He remembered what Dan had been like when they’d played together, how relaxed he’d been sitting on the sofa, the easy line of his shoulders, the light sound of his laugh. He wondered what had happened to that Dan. It had only been a few weeks ago.

Maybe just work stress? If he’d had deadlines, and also had exams to do, he must be doing a pretty tough degree. Phil wished he’d asked.

But, as it was, Dan had disappeared again, so Phil turned away and headed back into his half-packed room, feeling a little morose.

---

Phil was the last one to leave for the Christmas holidays.

The first was Jack, who disappeared three days before the official end of term. “Got no more lectures,” he confidently told Phil, pulling him in for a rough hug. “It’s been great, mate. I’ll kick your arse some more at games when we come back in the new year, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Phil agreed, slightly breathlessly. Jack was a lot stronger than him, even though Phil was a fair bit taller. “Have a good Christmas.”

“You too.” Jack waved on his way out of the door, dragging a giant suitcase with him, ready to catch the plane back to Ireland.

The next to leave was Caspar. Phil still hadn’t got to know him very well, all he really knew was that Caspar went out almost every night and came back the next morning with a stinking hangover. He’d stopped inviting Phil after Phil had declined for the sixth time, but he always waved cheerily when he saw Phil around the house. Phil also suspected that Caspar had stolen his lactose-free milk without asking, but he wasn’t quite petty enough to bring it up. Yet.

“Is that all you’re taking?” Phil asked, a little surprised when Caspar only had a rucksack and a holdall with him on the way out of the door.

“Yeah.” Caspar laughed at Phil’s expression. “I’m not going home. Staying with a mate of mine on the course, Joe, his mum invited me over for Christmas.”

Phil blinked. “His mum?”

“Yeah, she liked me after I prank called her on his phone one night.” Caspar hauled his bags out of the door with seemingly no trouble at all. “Better than going all the way back to South Africa, so I jumped on the offer.”

“I can see why,” Phil agreed, stepping back out of the way. He waved when Caspar waved, and that was the last he saw of him that term.

Louise must have left when Phil was out at the library, but she’d left a plate of brownies on the kitchen counter with a note that read for Christmas!! :). Phil took three and left the rest out for Dan, who presumably hadn’t left yet.

The next morning, when Phil was blearily reaching for cereal, he realised the brownies were gone. He smiled.

By the weekend, Phil was all packed up and ready to leave, his suitcase thrown together rather haphazardly, when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Knowing as he did that everyone else had already gone, Phil leaped up to his feet and scurried out into the hall, wanting to catch one final conversation with Dan.

When he got there, Dan was halfway down the stairs, fringe in his eyes, struggling to drag a rather large suitcase behind him.

Phil’s eyes widened. “Oh wow, let me help you with that!”

Dan shook his head, recoiling, eyes wide. “No, no, it’s ok - you must be busy packing too--”

“I don’t leave until tomorrow,” Phil disagreed with a quick shake of his head. “And that looks really heavy, come on - I’ll at least get it down the stairs with you.”

Dan bit his lip, but he didn’t retaliate when Phil climbed the stairs to join him, reaching out to take some of the suitcase’s weight. In fact, Dan didn’t speak the whole time as they managed to manoeuvre the case between them down to the bottom of the stairs, stopping there briefly for a breather.

Phil looked at Dan closely. He looked tired, dark circles shadowing his eyes, and a little forlorn. His eyes were closed off, his shoulders tense. He didn’t look like someone about to be starting a holiday.

Phil narrowed his eyes, still holding one end of the suitcase as Dan opened the front door. “So you’re heading home now?”

“Yeah,” Dan answered, not meeting his eyes. He got the door open and turned back to the case, toeing the carpet. “I can manage from here, if you want.”

“It’s alright,” Phil shrugged. “I wasn’t doing anything. And your case is heavy, seriously, are you bringing half your life home?”

Dan let out a little laugh, a small flush appearing on one corner of his cheek. “Something like that.”

“Well, it’s a lot.” Phil helped Dan get the case out onto the street, wincing when he managed to scrape his side along the doorframe.

Dan smirked a little. “Spatial awareness alright over there?”

“I don’t have any,” Phil complained, rubbing his side. “Leave me alone.”

Dan chuckled. His gaze slid down Phil’s body, lingering, before he edged back a step. “Nice socks.”

“Oh.” Phil glanced down, saw his odd socks, one with pugs, one with foxes and grinned. “Thanks.”

“They don’t match,” Dan observed.

“No, I prefer it when they don’t.” They’d reached the street, so Phil laid his side of the suitcase down and puffed, embarrassingly out of breath. “It’s more interesting.”

Dan nodded. He tilted his head, just watching Phil for a moment, and Phil found himself standing still under that scrutinising stare. Dan looked tired. His expression was flat, morose almost, a stark contrast to the excited way both Jack and Caspar had left.

Phil felt an ache deep in his chest for this quiet, lonesome boy.

“Well, I’ll see you,” Phil said after a moment of silence.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed softly.

Phil edged back towards the front door, wanting to prolong the moment, but not wanting to awkwardly stare at Dan, who was now looking at his shoes. So he said, tentatively, “Have a good holiday?”

“I will,” Dan answered, a bitter twist to his lips. “Uh, you too.” He glanced up, pinned Phil with a sharp stare. “You’ll be here when I get back?”

Phil was a little taken aback by the depth of that question, the sharp something he could see in Dan’s eyes. But he nodded all the same. “Yeah. Just a few weeks and we’ll all be back here again.”

Dan nodded slowly, his eyes not leaving Phils. But then his gaze slid away and he stepped back, taking hold of his suitcase once more. “Bye, I guess.”

“Bye, Dan.” Phil stood there, watching, as Dan wrestled his suitcase out of the front gate and started down the road. For some reason, he didn’t want Dan to have to leave on his own.

Dan stopped once, at the edge of the road, and glanced back. Phil lifted his hand in a wave. Dan waved back, and then turned the corner, disappearing.

Phil stayed on the step for a little while longer. When he went back inside, the house felt far too empty.

---

The journey home for Phil couldn’t have been easier, just a 45 minute bus ride and then he was back with his family, who were already in the full Christmas swing. There was tinsel over the doorframe and a wreath hanging in the window when he arrived, suitcase dragging behind him, bag on his shoulder.

His mum greeted him with a smile, a kiss, and then instantly sent him into the loft to get the rest of the decorations down.

Christmas with the Lesters was an experience, and a time of year that Phil had loved for as long as he could remember. They spent the weeks in December putting up decorations and baking mince pies (which Phil liked now he knew they didn’t have actual mince in them), trying not to spoil what they were buying for each other while the front room of the house slowly turned into secret present den, full of bags and parcels that were not to be opened.

Christmas day itself was an adventure. Phil spent his time forcing his family to play board games and eating too much food, playing bad Christmas music on repeat the whole day.

It wasn’t until three days before New Year’s Day that Phil realised he’d left his hard drive full of edited videos at his uni house. It was a pain to have to go back and get it, but he really needed one of the files for his ongoing project. So his mum said she’d do a bit of shopping in Manchester and drive him into the city, so he could grab it and get a lift back without having to wait for the bus.

It was a rainy day, and the traffic was awful what with it being the day before New Year’s Eve, but they made it into the centre well enough. His mum dropped him at the edge of his street before heading into the city centre, telling him to come meet her there later.

Phil jogged down the street with his hood up, bent over, trying to avoid getting as much of his hair wet as possible. He made it to his door with the rain streaming over his head, and wrestled with the stiff lock until he finally shouldered the door open and fell dramatically into the hallway.

The house smelled musty, a little sweet. He wrinkled his nose. He knew he was the only one of his housemates to live locally, though, so he shook off his wet raincoat and dumped it on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, figuring it could dry as well there as anywhere else.

He headed into the living room, wiping his wet hair out of his face, and stopped short in surprise at what he found.

The tv was on. There was a scented candle burning in the corner. And Dan was standing in the middle of the room, eyes wide, staring straight at Phil.

“Oh!” Phil nearly tripped over his feet with how fast he stumbled backwards.

Dan just kept staring at him.

“Sorry!” Phil didn’t quite know what to do with himself. “I didn’t realise you would be here - I was just getting something, sorry--”

“It’s ok,” Dan croaked after a moment. He seemed to settle a little, letting out a breath, his shoulders slumping.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, sorry,” Phil added hastily, running a hand through his wet fringe. “I just thought no one else would be here - oops, should probably pick up my raincoat then.”

Dan’s lips twitched. He gave Phil a long look. “You look like a drowned rat.”

“Yes, well.” Phil gestured to the window. “It’s raining.”

“I can see that.” Dan’s lips twitched further.

Phil let out a half-laugh, surveying the room. The candle explained the odd sweet scent, at least, and the tv was paused on - was that anime? It looked like a screenshot of an anime, anyway, but not one that Phil immediately recognised. And Dan himself didn’t look quite as tired as he had when Phil had last seen him, at the end of last term.

“Is that an anime?” Phil settled on asking, pointing haphazardly at the TV.

Dan jumped, looking at the screen. He bit his lip. “Uh. Yeah. Sorry, I wouldn’t have stayed down here if I knew someone was coming…”

“I don’t mind,” Phil rushed. “Which one is it? That guy looks a bit like Kirito.”

Dan blinked, surprised. He looked back at the screen. “Oh, no, it’s Haikyuu.”

“Ohh,” Phil nodded, “I haven’t seen that one yet. Sports anime isn’t really my thing.”

“Me neither, but this one is actually amazing.” Dan sounded a little strangled. “Um. You know Kirito?”

“I’ve seen Sword Art Online like five times,” Phil confessed, because Dan was looking at him with a mixture of intrigue and astonishment, and it was much better than the pure fear that had decorated his features before.

Dan stared at him, silent.

“It isn’t my favourite, though,” Phil continued. “Fullmetal Alchemist, now that’s a good show.”

Dan nodded slowly, still staring in astonishment. “Yeah. Agreed on that one, I think it’s because it’s so Western. It’s more familiar to us as an audience than some of the more traditional Japanese ones.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true,” Phil agreed. “But sometimes the stranger ones are much better.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely, like sometimes you’ve got to get adventurous, then you end up with masterpieces like Evangelion.”

“Oh, no,” Phil made a face. “I didn’t get that one, it was great up until the end.”

Dan’s eyes went wide. “Excuse me? Did you just complain about one of the greatest shows ever to exist?”

“It isn’t the greatest,” Phil laughed, “No way, like, it was good but confusing, the film at the end--”

“They needed that to explain the story,” Dan argued.

Phil pointed at him. “My point exactly! If you need a film to explain your plot, maybe your plot isn’t all that great.”

Dan grimaced. He leaned back, folding his arms, surveying Phil with an unhappy expression. “Your opinions are wrong, Phil Lester.”

Phil snorted.

Dan bit his lip, watching Phil closely. “So how come you’re back here anyway?”

“Forgot my hard drive,” Phil explained. “Had to come back and get it.”

“And you came all the way back here for that?” Dan arched a brow.

Phil laughed. “I only live half an hour away, my mum dropped me off. She’s gone into town, picking up some last minute bits for New Years’, you know? Though there’s definitely enough food in the house to last for a month already.”

Dan smiled, though he looked a little forlorn. Phil wondered again just what was up with this boy, and why he was standing in the middle of a sad student house over the Christmas holidays.

He wondered if he should ask, or if that would be prying. He didn’t want to spook Dan off again.

“So I’ve got a few hours before I should go meet my mum again,” Phil added, pointing to the tv. “Want to show me what I’ve been missing?”

Dan chewed his lower lip, staring at Phil as if judging him. The moment held long between them, in which Phil’s insides twisted and he wondered if he should have even presumed that Dan would want to spend time with him - Dan could even have other people here for all Phil knew, he could be interrupting something.

But then Dan said, “Yeah, ok. Just remember, Haikyuu isn’t so much about the sport, it’s all about the characters.”

“Sounds good to me.” Phil jumped onto the sofa, smiling when Dan opted to sit down on the cushion next to him, rather than the armchair across the room. “Play away, Mr Daniel.”

Dan shook his head, lips twitching again as he reached for the remote.

They watched together for the whole episode, Dan briefly explaining what was happening, with Phil asking annoying questions causing Dan to send him exasperated looks. But after that, Phil started doing it deliberately, because Dan’s dimple appeared every time he glanced at Phil, even when he was just rolling his eyes.

After a couple of episodes, Dan paused it and sent Phil a questioning glance. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s good!” Phil said. “Surprisingly good. Like, it’s not so much about the sport, there are actual characters.”

“That’s what I said,” Dan agreed, his lips twitching upwards slightly. “You don’t even have to know anything about volleyball to enjoy it.”

“Which is good, seeing as I don’t know anything,” Phil agreed. “I like the short orange guy, what’s his name?”

“Hinata, and you can’t just call him orange,” Dan complained.

“Why? That’s what he is!”

“He’s ginger, it’s not like the whole of him is orange,” Dan argued, but his dimple was appearing again.

Phil shrugged. “Same difference.” He leaned over to grab for the remote, clicking back onto Dan’s crunchyroll account. Dan leaned forward in an aborted movement to try and stop him, and then Phil found himself looking at the entirety of Dan’s anime history.

“Don’t judge me,” Dan said, weakly.

Phil snorted, but was already scrolling through, brightening at everything he saw. “Ooh, My Hero Academia, I need to catch up on that one. I think you’re further ahead than me, though.”

“I like that one,” Dan agreed, his voice slightly more relaxed. He leaned back a little, sofa creaking, and slotted in more comfortably next to Phil. “All Might is terrifying and hilarious.”

“Yeah, and the premise is good.” Phil clicked back a few episodes, then hit play. “Watch with me?”

“Not like you’ve given me much choice,” Dan chuckled, but his tone was warm and he settled in happily enough next to Phil.

Phil was itching to lean in closer to where he could feel the warmth of Dan radiating from the other side of the sofa, wondering what would happen, if he could nestle in a little nearer. Dan felt nice, sitting next to him. Nice and homely in a way that he didn’t feel about most people.

But Dan would probably freak out and leave again, if history was anything to go by. And Phil really, really didn’t want that. He felt like they were existing in some sort of bubble again, like when they’d played Mario Kart before, when everything had been easy. But then, the next morning, Dan had jumped and run every time Phil had seen him, even just in brief flashes from the end of the hallway.

He really didn’t want that to happen again now, was already trying to orchestrate some vague reason for needing to come back to this house before the beginning of term. Dan seemed more at ease when the other housemates weren’t around. It might be easier to hold him in place when they were alone, although Phil was beginning to feel that trying to get to know Dan was like trying to hold sand between his fingers; eventually, it would slip through.

Halfway through the next episode, Phil’s phone buzzed in his pocket with a text from his mum. Done shopping, at a cafe now tell me when you’re on your way xx

“Who’s that?” Dan’s voice interrupted the anime, and Phil glanced up to find him looking straight at him.

“My mum.” Phil waved the phone Dan’s way, but bit his lip on telling him what the message said. Phil didn’t want to go and meet his mum. Phil wanted to stay there, on the sofa watching anime with Dan.

Dan’s face fell, just a little. “Oh, right. She probably needs you back, right?”

Phil bit his lip, torn. Something in him was warmed by the way Dan looked a little sad, even if he was trying to hide it - like maybe he wanted Phil there, too. And Phil certainly didn’t want to leave, not yet.

Phil shrugged. “I can stay for one more episode at least.”

Dan smiled a little, just the hint of his dimple appearing at his cheek. He turned back to the screen and hit play without saying anything else, though he did shuffle a little closer to Phil on the sofa.

Phil texted back a quick with my housemate sorry meet you later? and then settled in to watch.

It didn’t take long to receive a text back, and Phil looked down, a little surprised. Oh how nice, bring them with you! I’ll treat you each to cake xx

Phil glanced sidelong at Dan, then back at his phone, then back over to Dan again. Dan had tensed up a little, the line of his shoulders stiff, his gaze fixed determinedly on the tv.

Phil turned back to his phone, chewing his lip.

“If you have to go, it’s ok,” Dan said suddenly from beside him, tone a little forced. “It’s just anime.”

And you, Phil thought. It’s just anime and you. He shook his head, leaning in a little closer. “Actually, my mum invited you to come with us. It’s a bit late for lunch, but she said she’d buy you cake if you wanted.”

Dan turned to face him, movements fast and jerky, expression guarded. He studied Phil for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Phil turned his phone, showing Dan the text conversation with his mum. “You don’t have to, of course, but she’s nice. Not scary at all. She might talk your ear off, but she’d be happy to have you there. If you wanted.”

The request hung heavily between them, Phil’s insides twisting themselves up, vulnerable and open as he felt just then. If Dan said no, maybe that meant Phil should just stop trying to befriend him, or hang out with him, or whatever they’d been doing over the past couple of months. Maybe Dan avoiding him wasn’t out of shyness, maybe it was just because he didn’t like Phil all that much.

Dan deliberated for another long moment before he said slowly, “Yeah, sure, I’ll come.”

Phil relaxed, letting out a slow breath. And then he smiled. “Great! I’ll tell her we’ll be there soon, but we’ve got to finish this episode first. I’m too invested now.”

“Same,” Dan said, his tone warm, and when Phil glanced over his dimple had appeared in his cheek again.

Phil turned back to his phone, the smile on his face growing wider.

---

Getting into the centre of town with Dan turned out to be a bit of a nightmare. The buses into the centre were all running on a half-timetable, and it was still raining, so they ended up pressed together in a tiny bus shelter shivering from the cold. Phil protected his hard drive under his raincoat, but Dan only had a hoody, sleeves pulled down over his hands, hood low over his head.

“You should have a raincoat,” Phil said, distressed.

Dan shook his head, amused. “I can’t be bothered with one. I didn’t even plan to be here for that long.”

“How come you are here?” Phil asked, braving the question. “I mean, I thought you’d gone home for Christmas.”

“I did,” Dan agreed. “Was nice. I just… missed being here, I guess.”

“Well, this city is pretty great,” Phil agreed. “In the best part of the country. Not that I’m biased at all.”

Dan snorted. “I can’t believe you’re a local student. Why’d you want to study so close to home?”

“I just told you, it’s the best part of the country!” Phil sighed. “I missed it too much when I was at York. That’s where I did my undergrad.”

Dan looked at him anew, expression hard to read from underneath his hood. “So you’re a masters student?”

“Yeah,” Phil nodded, standing up when he saw the bus approaching. “Come on, who knows how long it’ll be before the next one.”

Dan followed him, dripping a little.

The good thing about travelling in the holiday time was that there were hardly any other people around. The centre of the city looked strange, the shops all decorated for Christmas still but without the usual huge number of shoppers desperately panic-buying gifts.

They met Phil’s mum at a cafe in a little alley. She was surrounded with shopping bags already sitting at a table. She hugged Phil and then hugged Dan too, welcoming him warmly.

“This is Dan,” Phil explained, sending Dan an apologetic look over his mum’s shoulder when he was roped into a hug. “My housemate.”

“The quiet one you were telling me about?” Phil’s mum asked, pulling back to survey Dan.

Phil winced, not quite daring to meet Dan’s eyes as he said, “Yeah, that one.”

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you.” Phil’s mum beckoned them over to seats. “Settle down, I’ll order us something. What would you like to drink, Dan?”

Dan floundered, eyes wide, looking a bit like a rabbit in the headlights, so Phil cut in smoothly and said, “Can I have a macchiato please, mum?”

“I was asking the guest first, Philip,” she told him off. “But of course. Caramel like normal?”

“Yes please.” Phil smiled sweetly at her. She cuffed him around the back of the neck.

“And for you, dear?” She asked Dan.

“Uh, can I have the same, actually?” Dan asked, voice a little timid.

Phil glanced over, surprised. Dan flashed him a small smile. “Best drink there is, in my opinion.”

“Phil would agree with you,” Phil’s mum agreed wryly, fetching her purse. “I’ll just be a moment.”

Phil watched her go, then turned back to Dan, watching the way he fit into the chair uncomfortably, his legs folded and back stiff, hands primly in his lap. He wondered if he’d just made Dan more uncomfortable for suggesting this - if maybe they should have just stayed in the house somehow, Phil could probably have staved his mum off for another hour at least.

“It’s nice here,” Dan said suddenly, voice quiet. Phil craned in a little closer to hear him. “I haven’t been into the centre much.”

“Yeah?” Phil asked, a little surprised. But then, he’d known Manchester before he moved here. He supposed moving to a new city and trying to get to know it, as well as starting at university, was probably going to be a bit of a challenge. “So did you literally just move up here in September?”

Dan nodded, eyes sliding sideways to avoid Phil’s gaze. “Yeah.”

“So you’re in your first year?”

“Yeah.” Dan’s lips twisted into a wry smirk. “Can’t imagine doing three years though, to be honest.”

“It isn’t that bad. Actually first year was my least favourite,” Phil remembered. “Loads of boring theory.”

“What do you study?” Dan asked, fixing Phil with a keen gaze.

Phil let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “Uh, English Language and Linguistics for my undergrad. Post-production now, though, like video stuff. It isn’t as boring as it sounds, I promise.”

Dan’s eyes had gone a bit wide. He stared at Phil with something difficult to discern in his eyes, something that Phil might have said was close to awe if that wasn’t completely ridiculous.

“Seriously?” Dan asked after a moment. “You can do that?”

Phil laughed, rubbing the back of his head, slightly flustered. “Uh, yeah. Well, I am, anyway.”

“That sounds amazing,” Dan answered with what might have been a touch of envy in his voice. He looked away from Phil quickly, as if realising he’d been staring just a little too long, and sat up a little straighter as Phil’s mum returned to her seat.

Lunch wasn’t awkward at all, as much as Phil had feared it might be. His mum was smoothly welcoming, as always, filling him in on the family gossip, telling him off for missing his great-aunt’s birthday (Phil had sent a card, he swore), and informing him that Martyn was bringing home a guest for New Years’ Eve.

“Swedish, I think,” she added over the rim of her cup. “Red hair. Looks very cute, I think she might be a keeper.”

“Oh yeah,” Phil answered, remembering the way Martyn’s eyes had lit up as he spoke about her.

“No idea how they met, of course.”

“DJing in London, I think,” Phil shrugged. “That’s what he implied. She does music too, I think.”

Dan caught his eye from behind his slice of cake, sitting mostly untouched, eyes wide. He mouthed something at Phil that might have been your family is amazing.

Phil grinned into his coffee. He agreed, as it happened.

His mum was welcoming to Dan as well, of course, calmly asking his opinion on the Manchester Christmas lights and whether or not the lack of snowfall this year was good. She stayed deliberately away from any questions surrounding uni, or Dan’s home life, for which Phil was grateful. He didn’t know much about Dan himself yet, after all, the last thing he wanted was for his mum to inadvertently scare him off.

Phil found himself watching Dan more often than not as conversation went on. Dan was sitting with his back ramrod straight, and his eyes kept darting around like he wasn’t quite sure where to land them, or how long to look at one particular spot. But as time went on, he settled in a little, his shoulders curving downwards. He answered every question Phil’s mum asked with polite grace, his words maybe a little forced, but tinged with warmth.

It was also a bit amusing to see Dan on his best behaviour. His accent was more noticeable when compared with Phil’s mum’s soft tone, and he spoke like he would address an elderly relative, or someone he treated with respect. Dan also made sure to help with the bags when they were getting ready to leave, taking more than his fair share.

“You don’t have to, you know,” Phil reassured him quietly as they headed towards the street they’d parked their car that morning.

“I want to,” Dan disagreed, red-faced and a little out of breath. “Making a good impression, and all that.”

Phil didn’t bother trying to hide his smile.

“Besides,” Dan added, watching as Phil’s mum unlocked the car, “Your mum is amazing. And your family. Is your brother really a DJ?”

“Well, he’s trying to be,” Phil snorted. “Living in London. I think it’s more of an excuse to party. Not my scene at all.

Dan sent him a softly amused look. “Not a party animal, then?”

“Do I look like one to you?” Phil asked, mock-affronted.

“Well…”

“Have I ever said yes to Caspar?”

“Well, not that I know of.” Dan bit back a smile, looked down. “But then, I don’t know everything about your life.”

You could, Phil almost said before he stopped himself. You could, if you wanted to.

Phil shook the errant thoughts away, instead pulling himself back to the moment, to this Dan who was still smiling, shyly looking down, all long limbs and gangly sharp corners. He was as tall as Phil, if not a little taller, Phil realised with a start. He hadn’t spent all that much time standing beside Dan yet.

He still wished he knew why Dan’s shoulders always slumped down, why he would only smile for so long before his face fell again.

“Thanks for coming,” Phil said lowly after a moment of silence. “I liked it.” He wished there was a better way to sum that up, a better way to say I like your company, Dan, please let me have it more. But he didn’t. Not yet. Not when he was still afraid Dan might skitter and run at any moment.

As it was, Dan smiled at him again, just a small twitch of his lips hidden mostly behind a brown fringe. “It was good. Your mum is cool.”

“Am I not cool?” Phil huffed, asking before he could think it through. He wished for a moment he could snatch the words back, but then Dan’s smile widened, just a little, just enough.

“You’re alright,” Dan answered, but it was with such warmth to his tone that it sounded like he meant something much more.

Phil’s answering grin spread wide across his face.

Phil’s mum reappeared then, bustling as ever, all the bags packed away. She took the last few off Dan and then pulled him into a final hug, which Dan returned with minimal surprised spluttering.

“It was lovely to meet you,” she said warmly as she drew back. “You’re welcome any time. And keep my youngest out of trouble, please?”

“Excuse me,” Phil huffed.

Dan just sent him a cheeky grin before nodding graciously to his mum. “I promise, Mrs Lester. I’ll look after him.”

Phil muttered under his breath, but he couldn’t be too mad. Not with the way Dan had grinned.

Dan stood awkwardly on the pavement at the side of the road as Phil’s mum clambered back into the car, but Phil waited a moment before following her. He knew he did have to follow her, wanted to go back home and spend New Years’ with all the family gathered around again.

But Phil would be lying if he ignored the aching press in his chest that wanted to stay close to Dan. An ache that was only growing larger the more time he spent around Dan. Phil didn’t want to analyse it too much, didn’t want to dwell on something so fragile, so impossible. He just wanted to enjoy what little time he was gifted to spend with Dan.

Dan wasn’t looking at him again. Instead, he was staring down at the pavement, tugging on his hoody sleeves, still damp from the earlier rain.

“This was nice,” Phil tried, and in a desperate bid not to sound cliche and boring added, “Hinata’s still ginger. My mind won’t change on that no matter how many more episodes we watch.”

Dan let out a laugh that seemed to surprise even him. He crossed his arms in front of himself, took in a deep breath, and lifted his head to meet Phil’s eyes.

Phil was struck by all the emotion hiding away in that expression.

“I’ll just have to show you more later,” Dan said bravely, his voice wavering just a little bit.

Phil’s heart gave a loud thud. Warmth trickled slowly through his veins, sluggishly, like even his body was nervous to get excited. Everything felt so fragile still - like Phil could so easily misstep and never talk to Dan again, scare him off for good.

He wanted to hug Dan. Phil’s mum had hugged Dan. He should get the chance too.

“You will,” Phil agreed, and then swallowed the last of his nerves and stepped forward, pulling Dan close.

It was awkward. Dan clearly hadn’t been expecting Phil to get so close, so remained tense with his arms folded between their bodies, a soft squeak emitting from his mouth. Phil only held for a moment, trying not to drown in the warmth radiating from Dan even out on this cold wet Manchester day, but as he drew back Dan managed to untangle his hands and tugged him back in again, returning the hug softly, cautiously.

It was the best moment of Phil’s life.

“Happy new year,” Phil said as they parted, for real this time. “I’ll come back. I’ll see you.”

“Yeah.” Dan smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. “You could - I mean, you could text me. If you wanted.”

Phil’s eyes widened. “Yeah! Are you serious - yeah, that would be great!”

“Give me your number.” Dan’s voice still trembled a little, but he stuck his phone out towards Phil with determination.

Phil took it without question, desperate not to let this opportunity slide by once again saying the wrong thing. He saved his number in Dan’s phone and gave it back to him, tactfully ignoring the way Dan’s hands were trembling.

“Text me anytime,” Phil said assuredly, “Anytime. I only live forty minutes away.”

It was a dumb thing to say. Dan already knew that. But Phil just - he wanted Dan to know that he wasn’t alone, here. It was horrid to think of Dan going back to that lonely, kind of crappy uni house with no one to keep him company. And it was nearly the new year, too.

“You can get back from here, right?” Phil checked, suddenly feeling a little guilty. He’d dragged Dan out here, after all.

Dan flapped a hand at him. “Yeah, no worries. I’ll be fine. You should head on, don’t want to keep your mum waiting.”

“Yeah.” Phil bit his lip, kept looking considerately at Dan. He wished this wasn’t another goodbye, not when that curious pressing ache in his chest only felt like it was growing larger.

He looked at Dan for another moment before turning, giving a final awkward wave as he clambered into the passenger seat next to his mum.

Dan gave him a two-fingered salute in return, and then stood on the pavement watching the car until it was completely out of sight, and Dan was just a small figure standing far away, unreachable once again.

---

New Year’s Day came and went with much celebration on the part of Phil’s family, although Phil himself found the occasion a little lacklustre this year. He didn’t know why - his extended family had all come around again, great-aunts and distant cousins and grandparents galore - but something about the occasion just didn’t feel quite as much worth celebrating as usual.

Maybe he was just getting old.

It also didn’t help that he’d been unable to get the thought of Dan, sitting alone in their cold little student house, out of his head. He hadn’t been back in touch with Dan since the day they’d gone to the cafe, and he was desperately regretting the fact that he hadn’t got Dan’s number in return for Phil giving him his. Dan had never texted him. Phil tried not to read too much into that - there wasn’t even anything to read into - but it still hurt a little.

Phil tried to analyse why briefly, but he’d never been one to get super in touch with his emotions. He simply felt the fleeting bite of loneliness and then let it pass on by - even if he recognised himself well enough to know he was missing Dan.

What was there even to miss, though? He hardly knew him. Dan certainly wouldn’t be moping about Phil, but still - the idea of Dan sitting on his own over the holidays just didn’t sit quite right with Phil.

By the time Phil moved back into his student room, all of his other housemates had already returned. Caspar, loud as ever, was first to greet him, gleefully drinking beer in the kitchen with his friend Joe - the one he’d stayed with over Christmas. They invited Phil to join them, but Phil politely declined the request before escaping to his room again.

Maybe that wasn’t the best way to go about making friends, but Phil had seen the kind of nights out Caspar liked. It really wasn’t his scene at all, he’d had enough of that in his undergrad years, thank you very much.

Louise he saw the next morning, baking in the kitchen again. He leaned against the wall to chat for a while, grimacing when he saw the copious amounts of muffin cases laid out ready to line.

“Stress baking again?” He asked.

Louise nodded, her hair up in a frazzled bun. “Never do no work over the holidays. Ever.”

Phil made a sympathetic noise. He also had a large backlog of work sat waiting for him on his hard drive, there was no need to remind him how much work was thrown at them as soon as they started back at uni.

Jack was, of course, as predictably as ever, playing video games when Phil went up to see him. He’d invited Phil into his room a couple of times to play some PC games together, and they had a good catch-up while they competed. Jack was someone Phil actually got along with, so it was nice to spend some time with him again,talking about all of the differences in their traditions and what had happened over the holiday.

“You’ve got to have Christmas cake for breakfast,” Jack said stubbornly as he led his character up a mountain. “Otherwise it’s not really Christmas.”

“I just don’t know if I could stomach that much in the morning,” Phil thought, morose.

“Bet you could if it was pancakes,” Jack said wisely. “Christmas cake is basically the same, you know.”

“In what way is it the same?” Phil complained, shaking his head when Jack tried to justify himself. He grinned. “You Irish people are just strange.”

“Shush your mouth with your tea and biscuits,” Jack responded, but he was smirking, so Phil figured it was ok.

They concentrated on the game a little longer, Phil’s wizard almost managing to hit Jack’s thief in the face, and then Jack asked, “So what else did you get up to during the break, then?”

“Oh, well,” Phil smiled a little, “Saw lots of family who I don’t remember all the names of. And came back here and saw Dan, too.”

“I feel ya on the family front,” Jack agreed with a chuckle. “But Dan? You guys had plans to meet up, then?

“Not exactly.” Phil bit his lip, wondering why this conversation was making his stomach tighten up a little. “I came back to get my hard drive, and he was just here.”

“Just here?”

“Just… here.”

Jack frowned, a little crease appearing in his forehead. “What was that about, then?”

“He didn’t really say,” Phil answered, realising as he said that how true it was. “He just mumbled something about missing this place.”

“I can’t imagine that being true.” Jack cursed when his character missed a puzzle piece. “Fuck. Well. Each to his own I guess, but that does strike me as a little odd.”

“It’s just Dan doing what he wants,” Phil said defensively, wondering again where his need to always defend Dan came from.

“Oh, sure,” Jack agreed easily enough, “But he’s just very quiet here. I didn’t really think he enjoyed it enough to come back, you know?”

Phil nodded, thinking that over quietly. He’d not really thought of it like that before, but come to think of it, Dan rarely did seem happy here. He rarely smiled, and when he did, they were small smiles. Nothing like the giant grin that had creased his whole face up that time he and Phil were playing Mario Kart.

Phil wondered why that might be, and then reminded himself that it was none of his business.

“So you guys hung out a bit, then?” Jack asked again during the loading screen for the next level.

“Yeah, it was nice. My mum took us out for lunch.” Phil wondered if there was anything strange about that - but either way, he’d said it now. Didn’t really matter.

Jack turned to send him a look. “Oh, I see. So he’s met your mum, has he?”

Something about the way Jack said that had the hairs on the back of Phil’s neck rising a little. He could feel his ears going red. “Yeah?”

Jack didn’t say anything else. He simply smirked.

“It isn’t like that!” Phil defended himself desperately, even while still not being 100% on what it was he was defending. “She just - I was sitting watching shows with Dan, and mum wondered where I’d got to, so I just - she said it was fine!”

“I’ll bet she did.” Jack’s lips twitched.

Phil hit him with a pillow. “It isn’t like that. Shut up.”

“I’m just saying!” Jack tossed the pillow back onto the floor and scooped up his controller again. “Wouldn’t be anything wrong with it if ya did.”

“I know,” Phil mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “At least, I know you think that. You and that guy from your class, after all.”

This time, it was Jack’s turn to go a little pink. “I don’t know who you mean.”

“You were talking about him before.” Phil lifted a brow when Jack only went pinker. “Matt? Mark?”

“Mark,” Jack confirmed, and refused to acknowledge Phil’s gaze. “And it’s nothing. At least, not yet it isn’t.”

Phil grinned. He picked up his controller too and rubbed his shoulder against Jack’s. “When do you have class with him again?”

“Thursday. But I’m meeting him for a presentation planning session tomorrow.” Jack was still steadfastly refusing to meet Phil’s look.

Phil’s grin only widened. “Oh. Right. Presentation planning.”

“Shut your goddamn mouth.” The back of Jack’s neck was red.

Phil laughed. “Well, let me know how planning your presentation goes.”

“I will at that,” Jack answered, and then stubbornly opened the game again, steadfastly refusing to meet Phil’s gaze.

---

Term was busy, as was probably to be expected. Assignments were falling out of Phil’s ears and he had numerous essays and projects with deadlines to be met all within the first few weeks. This meant he had missed a few lectures because he got so deeply buried in his editing that time passed before he knew it, but, with a couple of very apologetic emails sent he was still on track to do well. He wanted a distinction in his Masters if he could get it and he knew he was nearly there if he could just push through the next few pieces of work.

As such, he didn’t see too much of his housemates, buried in the university buildings as he was. The software on their computers was much better than what he could afford on his laptop, so he ended up spending most of his time there, only really going home to eat and sleep.

One lunchtime around three weeks into term, Phil gave himself permission to head home early, too tired to really focus anymore. An afternoon off wouldn’t kill him, plus he’d woken that morning with a sore throat, and he’d really much rather stave off a cold early than work through it and let it get worse. So, feeling stuffed up and miserable, he fit his key into the stiff door and shouldered it open, pausing a moment inside to catch his breath.

That’s when he heard a voice coming from the living room.

Phil paused, staring at the closed living room door. He knew that voice. It was Dan. Dan’s voice, coming from the living room, and he sounded upset.

“I don’t know if that would work, though.” Dan’s voice was muffled through the wood, but Phil could still catch the words. “Like, it’s so late, and I--”

He cut off, and there was silence before Dan started up again. “Ok, ok, so if I -- yes, if I did that, what would happen next? Like, I don’t know -- can you tell me?”

There was an edge to Dan’s voice that sounded almost like he was pleading. He sniffed again in the silence, and the next time Dan spoke, his voice was choked up. “Yes. Yes, I guess that’s the only way, then. I’ll just-- um--”

The silence this time was painful.

Phil felt immensely guilty. He hadn’t closed the front door behind him, had made no sound to announce his presence. He also got the distinct feeling he shouldn’t be eavesdropping on this conversation.

It was a relief when Dan’s muffled voice sounded again. “Ok. I’ll see you then.”

Silence stretched on again, Phil’s heart in his mouth, and then he heard the sound of rustling movement from the other side of the door. Biting his lip, Phil reached behind him and firmly closed the front door, then pushed the living room door open and strode right on in.

Dan was standing in the middle of the room, staring at him like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

“Sorry!” Phil raised his hands, his voice a little raspy from his sore throat. “I keep scaring you every time I come in, sorry.”

Dan just stood there, staring at him. He looked just the same as he had done over the holidays, his hair maybe a little longer, straightened to within an inch of its life. He was thinner, maybe, or maybe Phil was just remembering him wrong. But there was something just a little off about Dan’s expression - maybe mostly because he was pale, and there were shadows under his eyes.

“It isn’t you,” Dan said quietly, his voice a croak.

Phil tilted his head. “What?”

“You’re not scaring me. Like, it’s not you.” Dan’s voice was trembling a bit, and he folded his hands tightly in front of him, his phone clutched in one hand. “I’m just - I don’t know, I just. It’s hard.”

“Yeah,” Phil agreed fervently, because he didn’t know exactly what Dan was referring to but right now everything felt very hard.

Dan’s lips twitched.

“How are you?” Phil straightened a little, dumping his backpack on the ground by his feet. “I mean, just - you never texted me, so. How have things been?”

Dan’s expression tightened, closing off. Phil instantly regretted his words. “Not to, like, make you feel guilty - it’s obviously fine you haven’t texted me, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just--”

I missed you hovered on the edge of Phil’s tongue, but he bit it back, saying instead, “I just wondered how the rest of your holidays went. And how you’re finding term.”

Dan had relaxed a little, though he was still standing in the middle of the room with his arms tightly folded across the front of his body. “Oh. It’s fine. And - I’ll text you. I mean. I did want to.”

Phil tried to push down the rush of warmth that Dan’s words sent through him. Instead, he just smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah.” Dan was still giving him a searching look. “Did you - I mean - how long were you standing there for?”

Phil tilted his head, his heart rate picking up a little.

“I mean, did you hear anything?” Dan’s voice shook.

Phil bit his lip. He couldn’t lie. He was a terrible liar, his mum always said, and everyone could see right through him.

His silence was apparently enough, because Dan’s face crumpled.

“I didn’t really hear anything!” Phil’s voice went a little high-pitched. “Just that you sounded sad. Are you ok? I mean, if you want to talk - obviously it’s none of my business--”

“I’m ok,” Dan interrupted him, and his eyes were warm even if his face was still tight.

“Ok.” Phil let out a breath. “Well. That’s good.”

Dan jerked his head in what might have been a nod.

They stood there for a minute, silence stretching awkwardly between them. Phil didn’t want it to end. He had Dan here again, and being in his presence made something just fit inside Phil’s chest, like a longing ache he hadn’t really noticed was suddenly quieted. Dan’s company was good. Dan was good.

Dan also looked a little nervous, so, to stop him from bolting again, Phil blurted out, “Want to play Mario Kart again?”

Dan started, glancing at Phil through his fringe. For a minute, Phil thought he might say no, but then--

“Yeah, alright then.” Dan straightened up, his shoulders falling, and unfolded his arms to brush his fringe out of his eyes. The dark circles were more present, but so was the warmth in his gaze. “If you’re ready to lose again.”

“We’ll see, Howell.” Phil shook his head, walking over to grab the controllers.

It took a while, but eventually, Dan started to relax. He settled into the sofa next to Phil the same as the last time they’d played, his shoulders lowering and his posture slowly getting worse as he slid down the cushions.

It probably also helped that Dan was always winning.

Phil’s bruised ego was countered by the way Dan’s dimple gradually appeared the more they played, the way he inched up the sofa towards Phil until their arms were brushing slightly, how his voice grew more and more sure of himself as time passed. This was what Phil had missed. This feeling of warmth, of knowing Dan was there, talking to him, by his side. It felt… right.

“You really are kinda shit at this game,” Dan said casually after a few rounds. He was slumped over so much that Phil had to look down at him, and appeared to be building himself some kind of nest out of the stray blanket that someone had left in the lounge.

“I’m not!” Phil defended himself. “You’re just some kind of legend beast.”

“What the fuck is a legend beast?”

“I don’t know, but you’re definitely it.” Phil bit his tongue as he swerved around another corner, in close second to Dan.

Dan simply chuckled, but then leaned forward in concentration, and Phil felt a stab of pride that he was actually making Dan concentrate for this one (Dan had actually won the previous game while using his face on the controller, just to show off. Phil let him off because it made Dan grin when he won and his dimples were ridiculous).

Phil also leaned forward, matching Dan completely, and pushed his character onwards until they were neck and neck.

“No, fuck you, you fucking--!!” Dan screeched, pressing hard on the controller, but then Phil zoomed around the final corner just a tiny bit ahead.

Phil passed the finish line with a whoop, tossing his controller down and bouncing in celebration.

“Fuck the fuck off,” Dan groaned, biting both lips when he glanced sideways at Phil.

“You’re just pissed that I actually won for once,” Phil taunted, biting back a smile when that made Dan chuckle.

“You got better items than me, it wasn’t completely fair,” Dan defended, his tone getting just a touch whiny.

Phil shook his head in mock despair. “You just can’t admit that I actually won for once.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t, the game didn’t work.”

“Dan,” Phil said with an exasperated chuckle. He glanced down then, only to see Dan still slouched, staring up at Phil with those warm brown eyes and an expression that was soft and content all at once, the same warm sensation from before flooded through Phil’s chest, filling him up until he felt like he was full of it.

Dan caught his look, returning it with one of affectionate sarcasm, which only made the warm feeling swell further. Phil bit his lip, wondering just what it was about Dan that made time with him feel like it was existing in a different frame, on a level far removed from their daily university lives. He hadn’t once thought about his deadlines the whole time they’d been playing.

“Rematch?” Phil asked hopefully.

Dan bit his lip, his face closing off a little again. He shook his head. “No, I - uh, I have some stuff to sort out, actually.”

Phil nodded, trying not to let his disappointment show on his face. “Uni work?”

Dan’s face twisted up further, his forehead creasing.

“Or not,” Phil added quickly. He remembered the phone call Dan had taken earlier, wondered exactly what might be going on to make him sound so choked up. He wished he could just ask, but Phil had a feeling that doing so might be the quickest way to make Dan bolt again.

As it was, Dan just sent him a slightly tired smile. “Something like that, yeah.”

“Well, ok.” Phil took in Dan’s long messy hair and the hoody he wore with the sleeves pulled right down over his hands. “I’m just downstairs if you need me.”

Dan’s smile grew a little wider, but he set his controller aside neatly, stood up, and left without saying anything more.

---

After that, Dan disappeared again.

Phil was actually growing a little worried. He saw his other housemates with some vague regularity, in the kitchen making meals or putting shopping away in their cupboards, or occasionally sitting in the living room making use of the sad overused sofas that came with the university house. He was on good terms with all of them, even Caspar, whose life was about as far removed from Phil’s own as it could be.

But Dan - well, Phil honestly just never saw him. Aside from the odd sound of late-night scuffling in the kitchen, or an occasional scamper of feet straight upstairs when the front door slammed shut, he might as well have just dropped off the face of the earth. It was different even to how it had been in first term - by now, Phil thought the usual settling-into-uni nerves should have died down a little, and he felt like he and Dan had had enough good encounters to make things easier for them.

But no, there was nothing. No text from Dan, either, and Phil wished more than anything he’d been able to get Dan’s number off him.

As it was, Phil took to leaving little pieces of chocolate in the fridge with post-its marked ‘for Dan’, occasionally sliding in some of his leftovers in bowls wrapped in cling-film too. The food always disappeared, once with a little scribbled note on the back of one of Phil’s post-its that might have said ‘thank you’ in some kind of unreadable scrawl.

Phil tried his best not to worry, until one day he came back in from another long day at uni and checked the usual pile of post left on the kitchen table, and paused when he saw one addressed to Daniel Howell.

Presumably, that must be Dan. Phil had never seen post to him before, strangely, and this one - it looked official. It wasn’t handwritten, so it couldn’t be a family letter. Phil frowned, hesitating over it. He wouldn’t open it, of course not, but he’d be lying if he said his curiosity wasn’t piqued. Phil turned over the envelope and paused when he saw the uni postmark stamped on the back.

The university was writing to Dan. That was strange - as far as Phil knew, direct mail from the university itself was very strange, as most things happened over email.

Biting his lip, Phil put the envelope back on the pile with the rest of the post and backed away. Should he bring it up to Dan? No, that would be an invasion of privacy, and Phil still worried about overstepping the mark and making Dan retreat again. He didn’t want that to happen. He really enjoyed spending time with Dan, and he didn’t want that to end. Well. If it ever started up again.

The front door creaked open behind him, and Phil jumped, spinning around to stand in front of the post as if that would hide the fact that he’d been awkwardly spying on his housemate’s letters. But it was just Jack, green hair dripping a bit from the rain as he tumbled into the living room and dumped his bag on the sofa.

Phil made a sympathetic noise, still standing awkwardly in front of the table. “Oh. Hey. Wet outside?”

“It’s always fucking raining in this city,” Jack mumbled, shaking his dripping head. “I thought we had it bad back home.”

“Don’t be rude about my hometown,” Phil complained absent-mindedly, even if Jack was right and 90% of the time it was raining in Manchester. His mind was still on the letter, the official looking words that spelled out Dan’s name.

He was worried. He let himself admit that much.

“Thought you’d still be at the library, to be honest,” Jack commented. Sometimes they met up there, seeing as Jack would be on the computers too a lot of the time, but lately Phil had been a bit too distracted with his work and making sure he had enough time to pop to a supermarket to pick up some more chocolate for Dan.

“Today was long enough,” Phil disagreed, shuddering. “Once my thesis is over I’m never going near a desktop again.”

“I feel ya,” Jack agreed with a short laugh. He left his bag on the sofa and headed into the kitchen, opening up the fridge. “Oh, your chocolate for today is gone. The mystery man must have been down then.”

Phil felt the back of his neck warm up slightly. “Oh. You’ve seen that?”

“Could hardly miss it, there’s a new post-it note every day.” Jack fished out a yoghurt and shut the door again, leaning back against the counter and fixing Phil with a look. “So that thing with you and Dan is still going on, then?”

Phil grew even warmer. “You still seeing Mark, then?” he countered.

The distraction worked, but not quite in the way Phil had wanted. Jack just let out a quiet laugh and glanced down, curling his fingers around the yoghurt. “Uh. Yeah. But something’s happening with that, whereas I have yet to see you and mystery man in a room together.”

“It has happened,” Phil defended himself, weakly. “Just not for a while.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“I’m more interested in you and Mark,” Phil tried again. “Let’s talk some more about that.”

“Or you could tell me what’s up with the kid who barely ever leaves his room,” Jack countered.

“There’s nothing up with him,” Phil said quickly, feeling that same need to defend Dan. “He’s fine. Great, actually.”

“If he didn’t pace around at 2 in the morning, I’d maybe agree with you.”

“Does he still do that?” Phil asked before he could stop himself, biting his lip. It felt wrong to be prying on Dan using someone else. Like an invasion of privacy.

Jack nodded, though, matching Phil’s gaze. “Almost every night, I hear him through the wall. And I haven’t actually seen him in weeks, despite his room being right next to mine. That ever strike you as odd?”

Phil bit his lip, but his silence said it all.

Jack made a noise of assent as he fished in a drawer for a spoon. “Something’s up with him, I’m sure. If you can find out what I’m sure it will only do him good.”

Phil’s mind flashed back to the letter sitting on the table.

“But it’s his business,” Phil disagreed uncertainly. “I can’t invade where I’m not invited.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t know how to invite you.” Jack shrugged, heading back into the lounge to scoop up his bag. “Look, all I’m really saying is maybe you should talk to him. Nothing will happen if you don’t, you know.”

Phil hovered in the doorway, watching him, mulling over his words. He didn’t say anything else as Jack left to head upstairs, but Jack’s words stayed with Phil for quite a while after that.

Phil knew enough to piece together that something was troubling Dan. He ached to be able to help him, but Phil was just terrified of stepping too far and sending Dan hiding back into himself again. He thought back to Dan on the sofa playing Mario Kart, sitting in a cafe opposite his mum, smiling that wide smile that made his dimples crinkle and his face crease right up. That was the Dan he wanted, that he was privileged to see it. He didn’t want to make Dan upset, to close off from him again.

But maybe that would be his only option. After all, right now Phil only had radio silence and a couple of memories to go off.

Biting his lip, Phil turned back to the table and studied the letter addressed to Dan again. He could bring it upstairs. Dan could always turn him away, or just not answer the door, if he didn’t want to interact. That thought made Phil’s insides crease a little, but trying had to be better than this constant silence, didn’t it?

Surely that had to be right.

Before he could chicken out of it, Phil picked up the envelope and headed for the stairs.

As usual, all the bedroom doors were closed. Phil went straight to Dan’s, pausing outside for a moment, just staring at the bland white wood. His heart was picking up speed, pulse beating in his throat, but Phil drew in another breath and steadied himself.

He reached out and knocked.

Silence.

Phil tried again, knocking and adding a soft, “Uh, Dan? It’s me, Phil.”

There was silence for another heart-rending minute before Phil thought he heard a quiet scuffle. Then, the door was creaking open just an inch and one of Dan’s eyes peeped out, fringe falling in his face as per usual.

“Hi,” Phil said, not denying the warm sensation that sparked through him just from being in the same space as Dan again. He did his best to suppress it.

Dan looked at him for a moment before licking his lips nervously. “Hi?”

“Hello.” Phil let out an awkward laugh, then held out the letter. “Uh, this came for you, and I just - well. Thought I’d bring it up, I guess.”

Dan opened the door a little wider, and Phil got a peek at bland white walls, a desk in the corner piled with paper, a TV behind a messy pile of clothes.

“I haven’t read it,” Phil quickly clarified as he handed the letter over. “Obviously.”

Dan’s eyes scanned over the print, his eyes dimming when he saw the university stamp. Phil didn’t like that expression on him at all.

“It’s probably nothing,” Phil added, glancing down at where Dan had one headphone hanging out of his ear. Recognising the music coming from it, he glanced back at Dan in surprise. “Oh. Is that Muse?”

Dan paused, visibly stilling. He looked up from the envelope back at Phil and lifted one brow. “Uh. Yeah?”

“Which song?”

“Citizen erased. Felt the most appropriate.” Dan’s voice sounded husky, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. His fringe was messier than normal, rumpled and waving a bit at the top, and he appeared to be wearing a loose-fitting pyjama top and sweatpants. Easily the most casual Phil had ever seen him.

Phil’s heart gave a funny little flip.

“That’s a good song,” Phil rushed to add. “Best album, too.”

Dan gave him a searching look, the envelope crushed in one fist. “Yeah? What’s your favourite song on it?”

“New Born, easily,” Phil answered, sensing the level of testing in Dan’s tone. He was pleased when Dan’s face softened slightly.

“That’s my favourite too. Well, that and Plug in Baby.”

“Yeah, that’s like, my fifth favourite Muse song ever.”

Dan made a noise of assent, still staring up at Phil with something close to curiosity. His eyes were still dim, though, and his demeanour was low. Quietly, he said, “Why do you always know the same things as me?”

Phil bit back a smile and lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Maybe that’s just what happens sometimes when you meet someone.”

“No,” Dan shook his head quickly, “No, I don’t think so. I think it’s much rarer than that, like, if that was the case then I would have met so many people before who liked the same things as me, or, like, at least knew about them.”

“Maybe you just weren’t around the right people before.” Phil softened his tone, looked at Dan closely. Every little window into Dan’s life was only adding to that strange longing ache in his chest.

Dan didn’t answer, but with the way he was frowning at the floor, Phil wasn’t so sure he agreed. That made Phil sad, for some reason.

“Thanks for the chocolate,” Dan added after a moment of quiet. He glanced away, eyes sliding sideways to avoid meeting Phil’s gaze. “I appreciate it.”

“I like doing it,” Phil answered softly, not adding at least it lets me know you’re eating something when I haven’t seen you in the kitchen in weeks. “Besides. I always buy too much food.”

“And you share it with me?”

“And I share it with you.”

A small smile took over Dan’s lips before he seemed to realise it. His dimple just peeked out from his left cheek, his entire expression softening until he looked younger - probably as young as he was, a first year, more than likely just 18. Phil’s chest ached a little more.

“If you like Muse, you should see this,” Dan said suddenly, his tone a little shaky but his eyes determined. He opened the door wider, enough to let Phil in.

Phil paused for a moment, looking at Dan as if to check this was really ok, and then stepped forward into Dan’s room. He was met with a bit of a mess, if he was honest - there were clothes strewn all across the floor, the bedcovers were hanging half-off the little single bed, and the desk was an unrecognisable mess of papers and folders with a laptop balanced precariously on top.

Dan ignored the rest of this, though, instead pointing up to the wall above the bed where there hung a giant Muse poster with images of their complete discography.

Phil let out a rushed, impressed breath, and ran straight over to it, tripping over piles of clothes on the way. He stared in open admiration. “This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I know, right,” Dan answered wryly. “It’s probably the coolest thing I’ll ever own.”

“Can I have joint custody please.” Phil admired it for a long moment, ignoring Dan’s surprised stutter behind him. He turned to survey the rest of the room, not wanting to take advantage of Dan letting him in, but also completely afire with curiosity.

Under the mess, there seemed to be some order. There was a law textbook lying by the foot of Dan’s bed (upside down with it’s pages a little tattered, but still recognisably a law textbook) and some indiscernible scrawl littered over the papers scattered over the desk. Underneath the pile was something that looked a little like a piano keyboard, maybe, but it was so buried under piles and piles of books and paper that it was hard to make out. In the corner sat the TV with multiple wires and games consoles piled haphazardly on top of each other, but the row of games and DVDs were neatly arranged in alphabetical order.

Phil glanced up at the wall and saw the usual pinboard that was provided with all of the university-owned student rooms. Phil’s own was covered in photos of his family and friends from back home, and a few of the better memories from his undergrad days in York, but Dan’s - Dan’s held one photo in the middle, of Dan holding a dog in his lap, and surrounding it were a series of post-it notes.

All the post-it notes that Phil had left him in the fridge.

Something in Phil’s heart stuttered. The photo of Dan and the dog was adorable, and Phil slightly wanted to coo over it, but what was more touching was the fact that the only other thing covering his wall were Phil’s post-it notes. Where were Dan’s family? Where was the rest of Dan’s life?

“I hope that’s ok.” Dan’s voice piped up from behind Phil, softly nervous. When Phil turned to look at him, Dan was following his gaze, staring determinedly at his noticeboard. “I mean, I can take them down if it freaks you out.”

“No,” Phil said instantly, a little helplessly. “No, it’s nice. I’m glad you kept them. Or, like - I’m glad you got them at all.”

A small smile twitched at Dan’s lips. “It’s been nice. I like that you… I like getting them.”

Phil nodded, looking at Dan and feeling a deep sense of yearning. He wanted to know this lonely boy, to understand what was keeping his eyes downcast and his words unsure. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t any of Phil’s business. Even this window into Dan’s life was more than Phil should have asked for.

“I will text you,” Dan said suddenly. “I will.”

Phil wondered whether Dan was trying to convince Phil, or himself.

“I’d like that,” Phil said warmly. “A lot.”

Dan looked up at him then, and for just a moment, their eyes met. There was warmth deep in Dan’s eyes, but timidity was all that appeared in his expression. It made Phil’s chest tug, but he had no idea how to go about fixing it, or even if he should. Dan could be difficult to read.

“Anyway, so,” Dan’s eyes shifted away, his fingers twisting in the sleeves of his hoody. “I should probably get back to work.”

Phil clucked his tongue sympathetically. “Have you got essay deadlines?”

Dan’s expression twisted a little, his voice lowering. “Something like that, yeah. Got a phone call to make.”

“Oh, I hate those. Gotta sound like a responsible adult.”

“I know, right,” Dan agreed wryly, but he still avoided meeting Phil’s eyes.

Phil nodded slowly, then took a step back towards the door, tripping once again over one of the piles of clothes strewn across the floor. He could read well enough when nothing more would come of a situation, and Dan was looking about ready to bolt.

“Text me, I’d like that,” Phil said finally before he headed out of the door.

Dan stood watching him, his expression dropping with every step Phil took away.

---

A few hours later, in the middle of the night, Phil’s phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

Unknown number: so i said i would text you so i am but honestly im crap and have no idea what to say

Unknown number: so hi i guess

Unknown number: its cool you like muse why do you like all the things i like

It didn’t take a wild guess to know who was responsible.

Phil bit back a smile, his lips curving even though it was the middle of the night and he had a seminar in the morning. He was still happy because Dan had actually texted him. He had Dan’s number now. That had to be a step in the right direction.

Only… the right direction towards what? What exactly was Phil hoping for here? He wanted to get to know Dan, sure, but Phil was a little confused as to why it felt so important to him. All he knew, really, was being around Dan made warm loveliness settle in Phil’s chest, and he liked it.

Phil decided not to analyse that feeling too much as he texted Dan back, saving his number safely in his phone.

Phil: because I have the best taste in everything and apparently so do you

Dan’s reply came through almost instantly, which made Phil interested enough to reach out and put his glasses on so he didn’t have to hold his phone right up to his face to continue the conversation. Any contact with Dan was rare enough that Phil felt like he should take full advantage of the moments when he was able to talk to him, however that may happen.

Dan: i mean im not going to argue with that but like

Dan: how is it that every time im doing something you come in and are all like oh yeah i do that too its great

Dan: like obviously im not complaining i just dont get how someone can like anime and muse and even have the same taste in coffee

Dan: who are you

Phil grinned as he replied.

Phil: a spiritual being created exactly to cater for your needs

The next message from Dan took a while to come through, which left Phil gnawing at his lips, a ball of nerves curling up in his stomach.

Dan: tbh i wouldnt even be surprised at this point

Phil grinned, pleased that his last message hadn’t weirded Dan out enough to make him stop talking. On the contrary, they texted back-and-forth late into the night, until it was the early hours of the morning and Phil’s eyes were itching, discussing everything from Muse’s latest release (Dan liked it more than Phil did) to which ship was better in Free! (Dan passionately ranted over the course of six text messages how his preferred pairing was better than Phil’s).

Eventually, Phil couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore and dropped off to sleep, but when he woke up in the morning slightly late for his lecture with barely enough time to grab some cereal before he had to leave, he had a new message from Dan sitting in his messaging inbox.

It was a good feeling.

They continued to text on-and-off the whole time Phil was headed into uni, on the bus into the centre of town, and even sneakily during Phil’s seminar (he was good at hiding his phone under his desk). Dan was much chattier over text than he had been in person. He sent Phil pages-long replies, paragraphs of text discussing his in-depth reasons for liking a particular character, or explaining just how much a show had touched him. He was intelligent, that was for sure. Sometimes the things he said went a little over Phil’s head.

In short, it was one of the better days Phil had had in a while.

Phil stayed in uni after his seminar was over, guiltily dedicating at least a little time to his coursework. Most of his masters’ year was turning out to be spent in the dark little basement, clicking away at the specialised editing equipment, but at least today he had Dan’s texts to keep him company.

A few hours later, Phil caught the bus back to the house and let himself in to find the place empty. That wasn’t unusual - most people had lectures during the day, or spent time in the library (or out with friends, in Caspar’s case, but Phil wasn’t judging). Phil didn’t mind. He quite liked having the space to himself.

He dumped his bag in the living room and went to put the kettle on, feeling the need for a coffee in the itching of his eyes. Then he settled on the sofa and pulled out his phone, catching up on some of the texts he’d been ignoring while working in the library.

Nothing new from Dan, but there were a couple from his mum that Phil set about answering.

There was a creak from upstairs.

Phil jumped, glancing upwards. The creak sounded again, followed by a set of heavy footsteps tracking across the ceiling right above Phil’s head. Then they came back the other way, coming to rest over in the corner by the TV.

A puzzled crease appeared in Phil’s brow. Everyone should be out at lectures, shouldn’t they? So unless he was currently in the company of an axe-murderer, then one of his housemates was missing a lecture. Or maybe it got cancelled. That happened too.

Just then, his phone buzzed again, and Phil glanced down to see a new text from Dan.

Dan: there arent many redeeming factors in that film but i will excuse it for Chris Evans face so theres always that to fall back on i guess. The writing is just really atrocious

Phil smiled, going to reply, when the creaking from upstairs started again. Quick, measured footsteps crossing above his head.

Phil glanced up, then back down to his phone, then up to the ceiling again.

Dan could be texting from a lecture. That could certainly be true. But he could also be texting from right above Phil’s head.

Phil bit his lip, mentally scanning through the layout of the rooms. He was rubbish at visualising things, but he knew Jack’s room was at the front, and his was next to Dan’s, which meant Dan’s must be at the front too. Dan’s room logically must be one of the ones above the lounge where Phil was sitting just then.

Phil chewed on his inner cheek for a moment, deliberating, before sending a reply to Dan.

Phil: I disagree with you, any Captain America film is genius. In fact I challenge you to watch it with me so I can show you. I’m about to make popcorn. Come down and join?

He held his breath for the tantalising few moments after he pressed send, sitting frozen on the sofa. The footsteps above him had stopped again.

Then, a reply came through from Dan.

Dan: ok sure just dont expect me to change my mind instantly :P

Phil let out a relieved breath, his shoulders loosening. He hadn’t realised quite how tense he’d been feeling until he started to relax, only he sat up all straight again when he heard quiet footsteps descending the stairs.

Phil got to his feet, hovering by the sofa, and then considered sitting down again. Wouldn’t it be weird for Dan to walk in to find him just standing here? Or was that an ok, normal thing to be doing?

Too late now. The door slid open quietly, and then Dan was standing there, sleeves pulled down over his hands, hiding behind his fringe.

Phil smiled, relaxing all over again. Dan looked just as nervous as he felt, if not more, and his hair, much to Phil’s surprise, was curling a little. He still managed to hide behind his fringe though.

“I’m warning you,” Dan said quickly, his words tripping over themselves in an effort to get out of his mouth, “it’s going to take a lot to get me to like this film. I’m really not 100% sure that Captain America can be done justice in film version.”

“You will see,” Phil rumbled ominously, and then strode over to the DVD player. “You’ve seen the first one, right?”

“Yeah, of course, who hasn’t?” Dan snorted.

“Well, I don’t know, you could have been in hibernation when that happened.” Phil slid in the disc and then went back to the sofa, where Dan was still hovering uncertainly. But when Phil sat, Dan slid easily enough into the seat next to him.

Phil liked having his warmth back by his side.

“I’m in hibernation now,” Dan mumbled under his breath, tugging his long legs up onto the sofa cushions and pulling his knees into his chest.

Phil glanced at him sidelong, wondering just how true that was. Dan was in casual clothes again, just loose jogging bottoms and a jumper, and he was pale. It didn’t look like he’d been out of the house that week, let alone just that day.

But Phil didn’t comment. Instead, he just said, “Sorry to have pulled you awake. Please don’t attack me like a bear.”

The corner of Dan’s mouth tugged upwards. “If you behave.”

Phil chuckled softly, fishing the remote out from under the cushions (he had no idea how it ended up there; Jack, probably) and handed it to Dan. “Why don’t you get the menu set up while I fetch popcorn?”

Dan looked at him for a moment, his eyes wide and bright, before he nodded and took the remote. His hands were bigger than Phil’s, Phil noticed with a slight shock. Sometimes he forgot just how tall Dan was - it was easy to do so when Dan so often stood folded in on himself.

Phil swallowed, turned, and headed into the kitchen. He didn’t know why being around Dan suddenly made him want to analyse the size of his hands or the state of his hair, but something always tugged at him to learn as much as he could about Dan. Perhaps it was just because Phil only really got to spend time with Dan in small pockets, so he had to analyse as much as he could in the few moments they did spend together.

All Phil knew was that he really enjoyed any time he did spend with Dan.

Phil, of course, had a selection of microwave popcorn to pick from - but his favourite was sweet, so he went with that. When he came back into the living room with a bowl full, Dan was looking fixedly at the TV, remote paused over the play button. The line of his shoulders was stiff and tense.

Phil slid back into the seat next to him and balanced the popcorn precariously between them, until Dan darted a hand out to steady it. Phil grinned at him. “Thanks. I’m not very good at not dropping things.”

“Same,” Dan answered fervently, and then instantly went for a piece. He made a bit of a face. “Sweet?”

“It’s the best!” Phil defended himself, grinning. “Can’t watch a film without a sweet snack.”

“Sweet and salty is the best,” Dan disagreed, his voice growing firmer with every word he said. “Then you get the best of both without having to commit to one or the other.”

“Nope,” Phil disagreed.

Dan rolled his eyes. “You have to at least try it before you shoot me down like that.”

“Well, you’ll just have to come shopping with me next time to make sure I get it right,” Phil shrugged, warming a little at the small smile his words sent across Dan’s face.

Dan bit his lower lip, glancing away, and then picked up the remote to start playing the film.

Phil didn’t mind. He was happy to watch, to have Dan by his side, to have a little longer learning more about him and enjoying the warm, content sensation that spread through him whenever he spent time with Dan.

Phil still wasn’t thinking too much about what that might mean.

---

“Ok, so it wasn’t that bad, but I still don’t see why the winter soldier had all that fuss made about him,” Dan said once the film ended.

Phil made a face, a little miffed. They’d both slid down the sofa while they were watching, the popcorn bowl on the floor between them. Dan’s arm was pleasantly pressed against Phil’s side.

“Don’t look like that,” Dan chuckled, the corner of his mouth pulling up again. “It was still a good film.”

“But you don’t like the winter soldier,” Phil complained. “I thought you had good taste.”

“What can I say, I like Chris Evans,” Dan shrugged.

Phil made a face, but conceded. “Maybe your taste isn’t completely horrific then.”

“Unlike yours.” Dan’s tone was light, and he twisted around to poke Phil in the shoulder. “No salt in your popcorn at all, this is a crime against--”

The sound of the door opening stopped Dan in his tracks. The door swung open to reveal Jack, dripping from the rain outside, bag slung over his shoulder, messily trying to lock the door behind him.

Dan’s mouth snapped shut so fast Phil was worried he’d give himself cramp.

“Oh, hey guys.” Jack came casually into the room with them, dumping his bag, and Phil could feel Dan tensing up beside him. Without thinking, Phil reached out and gently rubbed his hand against Dan’s shoulder, aiming to comfort him.

Dan started, but didn’t move away.

“What’re you watching?” Jack asked, taking a seat on the sofa across from them.

Phil bit back the urge to just tell Jack to go away, you’re making Dan tense, and instead replied, “Captain America. I was showing Dan that some sequels can be good.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack turned to Dan inquisitively, which just made Dan tense up even more. “What’d you think?”

Dan swallowed visibly, biting both his lips hard. The silence stretched for a split second too long.

“He agrees with me,” Phil swiftly intervened, “Of course. Who wouldn’t agree after witnessing such perfection in its entirety?”

He felt Dan’s shoulder shake a little under his touch.

“Gotta agree with ya there, mate,” Jack said with a smile. “Although Chris Evans is far more entertaining to watch.”

Dan bit his lip, but Phil could see the corner of his mouth lifting. He still stayed silent, though.

“Shut up, both of you are wrong,” Phil complained, kicking his legs out against the carpet and stretching. His arm was still resting against Dan’s shoulder, and he caught Jack’s knowing little stare. Phil could feel himself flushing slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jack got up to his feet again, stumbling towards the kitchen with a yawn. “I’m making coffee, anyone want one?”

“Yes, definitely,” Phil answered fervently, but Dan went stiff beside him again.

Phil shot Dan a quick look. The look Dan sent him back was bordering on desperation, and it made Phil’s chest constrict.

Dan just looked so terrified.

“I, uh,” Dan whisper-rasped, voice too low for Jack to catch from the other room. “I have to go.”

Phil’s heart sank in his chest, but he did his best to keep his face neutral. He lowered his voice to match Dan’s, daring to give Dan’s shoulder a squeeze. “Yeah? You sure?”

Dan nodded frantically, his fringe falling across his eyes once again. Phil resisted the urge to swipe it away and tuck it behind Dan’s ear. His hair was getting long enough.

“I just, I have to,” Dan whispered again, and then jumped to his feet before Phil could say anything else, turning and disappearing back up the stairs with scampering, light footsteps.

Phil’s heart sank further, and he fell back into the cushions with a sigh.

Every time. Every time he felt like he and Dan were having a good time, talking and laughing, every time he got Dan to relax and show a glimmer of something warm and lovely, something spooked him and Dan ran off.

Phil wasn’t mad at Dan, of course not. He just wanted to understand what was going on, and hopefully never ever make Dan look at him with that terrified, desperate expression ever again.

Jack reappeared then with two steaming cups, setting one down in front of Phil. He sat on the opposite sofa again - good, not in Dan’s spot, even though Dan had definitely disappeared again - and sent Phil a determinedly knowing look.

Phil looked back, the back of his neck growing warm. “What?”

“What?” Jack mimicked, and chuckled. “Want to tell me what you and lover-boy were whispering about?”

Phil choked.

Jack burst out laughing, loudly. “All cosied up together, I thought I was interrupting something when I walked in.”

You were, Phil thought, but didn’t say it out loud. He knew at some point he was going to have to address the growing feelings cradled in his chest, the warmth and comfort he felt around Dan, the way his heart beat just a little faster when he was in the room. But not yet. He wasn’t quite there yet, he needed to do a lot of thinking before he was willing to face that issue.

“So go on,” Jack nudged him again. “Anything finally happen between the two of you?”

“Shut up,” Phil mumbled again, curling his feet up onto the sofa so he could hide his face in his knees. “It’s not like that.”

Jack snorted. “Sure it isn’t now. But I guess you’re planning to do something about that.”

Phil curled further into the sofa, avoiding looking at Jack. His skin itched. He was never good with talking about this kind of thing, had really very little experience in the matter, and he still didn’t want to address the feelings growing steadily stronger with every encounter he had with Dan.

But he didn’t want to think about it yet. And not with someone else present.

“Maybe,” Phil mumbled eventually, peeking slowly up at Jack. “But I’m not sure. You can’t tell him.”

Jack raised both hands, palms out. “None of my business. I wouldn’t. ‘Sides, if I attempt to talk to Dan again I think he’ll faint, so.”

“What do you mean?” Phil queried, actually sitting up in interest.

Jack shrugged. “Just, you know. He’s a quiet one. I attempted to befriend him in the first couple of weeks and he could barely string two sentences together. After that I figured it was better to leave him alone.”

Phil’s chest ached in the most bizarre way. He thought of that, of Jack with his too-loud voice and exuberant energy, thought of that mixing with Dan’s sharp, ragged edges and carefully concocted shields, and winced.

“He’s not always like that,” Phil said, defending Dan again. As ever. “He just - I don’t know, I think he’s struggling with something. But he - sometimes he has this smile, and then he just looks warm, and I just want to help him.”

Jack was sending him the most knowing of knowing looks.

“But it’s not like that,” Phil pressed, an edge of desperation to his tone. “Is it?”

“That’s not something I can answer,” Jack shrugged, but there was a touch of kindness to his tone that made Phil implicitly trust him. “I think you know, though. When it’s there. You just know.”

Phil looked at him closely. Jack’s expression was softly fond, his eyes a little distant. Phil smiled. “Yeah? So you just know with your Mark, then?”

The effect was instantaneous. Jack started, the mug in his hands tilting sideways so a few drops of coffee dripped onto his jeans. He cursed, lunging for the tissues in the centre of the table.

Phil chuckled. “See? Not the easiest thing to talk about.”

“No, but I have at least actually gone outside with Mark,” Jack pointed out.

Phil bristled. “I’ve gone outside with Dan!”

“With your mum, Phil, I don’t think that should even count.”

“It counts,” Phil argued. “Totally counts. Besides, when have you ever gone out with Mark?”

Jack sat back with an arrogant grin. “Last week. We went to one of those escape rooms.”

Phil lifted his brow.

“Don’t look like that,” Jack grumped, “We were talking about them for ages. How video games have found their way into real space now, you know? It’s fascinating. Mark has a really cool theory, actually--”

Phil smiled to himself, settling into the sofa. He could listen to his friend ramble, actually enjoyed Jack’s talking, and Phil was happy for him too, but his thoughts were still stuck on Dan. On that terrified, panicked expression he’d had right before he ran out of the room.

Something tugged in Phil, the knowledge that something was wrong. He just didn’t know how to fix it.

---

That night, after Jack had gone back upstairs and Phil had retreated to under his bedcovers, Phil’s phone buzzed with a new text.

His heart picked up a little when he saw who it was from.

Dan: sorry for being a fail i didnt actually want to run out on you earlier

Phil waited a while to see if another text would come through - Dan was a nervous texter, he tended to send multiple messages in a row - but after a few minutes of nothing, Phil decided to reply himself, and started typing.

Phil: it’s alright, can I ask why though? You seemed a bit

Phil paused before he hit send, thinking of what on earth he could type next - he wanted to know what was going on, was desperate to reach out to Dan and stop him from ever looking so panicked and terrified again, but he was also still afraid of scaring Dan away. It would be so easy for Dan to just slip out of his life again, and Phil really, really didn’t want that to happen.

While he was contemplating what to do next, another series of texts came through.

Dan: and now i made it awkward

Dan: sorry i do that a lot but you probably realised that by now

Dan: theres like no filter on me

Dan: i think i missed out when they were being delivered

Phil smiled, biting his lower lip. He rolled over onto his front, still buried in his bedcovers, and thought hard about the boy sitting in a room just above him, so close. And yet he still felt so distant.

Phil wanted to change that. And sure, he may not completely know why yet, may not want to address the underlying feelings that were steadily growing stronger, but he wanted to bring Dan closer, and he thought he knew a way how.

He deleted his earlier draft text completely and typed out a new one.

Phil: I’ll send a filter delivery pigeon to your door asap. In the meantime, want to come get coffee with me tomorrow? I like no filter Dan

He hit send with the largest amount of butterflies jumping around in his stomach he’d ever felt in his life. So much so that he shoved his phone under his pillow as soon as he’d pressed send and rolled over onto his back, pressing his face into his hands.

He felt like a teenager, and he was 22 years old. No one should have the ability to make him feel like this anymore.

But Dan did. Dan always had, oddly. Since the very first day Phil had heard him scampering around in the kitchen, and opened the door to find Dan on the other side, Phil had been caught up with knowing him, knowing his story, spending more time with him. And it didn’t matter that Dan disappeared sometimes, that he was hard to pin down - Phil still wanted him around, still wanted to know more. As long as he was never pushing Dan too far.

But how was he supposed to know? He didn’t really know Dan, not yet, as much as it felt like he did. But maybe he could, if Dan would agree. If they could spend some actual, scheduled time together, and it didn’t constantly feel like they were dancing around each other.

Plus, it would get Jack off his back.

Phil bit his lip, rolling back over to hide his face in his pillow. He hated this bit, when the feelings were so uncertain and there was nothing solid to go on, when he was poised on the brink of wanting but didn’t quite know what he wanted yet. Did he want Dan? Did he just want to know more about Dan?

Phil thought of the smile Dan gave sometimes when they were together - the giant beam that would spread across his whole face, crinkling his eyes until they were almost closed - and his stomach fluttered.

There was his answer, he guessed.

As he lay there with his face stuffed in his pillow, he felt his phone buzz again.

Dan: yeah sure

Phil’s heart leapt.

Dan: but only because i know youve got good taste in coffee

Dan: will it be just us or?

Phil bit his lip, poised on the brink of replying. If he said yes, just us, that implied something that he wasn’t quite sure he was ready for. But on the other hand, he hadn’t planned for anyone else to be around.

In the end, Phil went with honesty.

Phil: just us

The few seconds it took for Dan’s reply to come through were gut-wrenching.

Dan: k good

Dan: see you tomorrow?

Phil felt his whole body relax with relief, his fingers slowly unclenching from around his phone. He’d been more tense than he realised; he thought he might be getting cramp in his foot.

...Ok, apparently he got a little too relaxed. His fingers loosened so much on his phone that he dropped it straight on his face.

Wincing, Phil picked it back up and squinted at the blurry screen, bringing it back close enough to his face to see without finding his glasses again.

He smiled as he texted back.

Phil: see you tomorrow

---

Phil left the house early the next morning, as he did every day, to get to the university library in the middle of Manchester. The city was bustling even this early, full of commuters and tourists as well as the other tired, heavy-bag-carrying, coffee-bearing students like him. But today, Phil felt warm. He had plans with Dan later, after all.

He had plans. With Dan.

He’d texted Dan that morning, just to see if he was still up for it, and Dan had replied immediately yes. So they were going to meet for lunch in the library cafe after Dan’s morning lectures.

Phil was weirdly not nervous. Maybe it would hit him later, but mostly he was just excited. To finally get a chance to see Dan during his normal day, to see what he was like when he wasn’t a quivering mess in their house.

He still hadn’t properly addressed the feelings that were burrowing further and further into his chest, though.

Phil didn’t get much work done, he was too distracted. But he still spent most of the morning dutifully staring at a computer screen, editing bits of clips together for a formative assessment that was designed to tell him where he was at currently. It wasn’t due until next week, so there was plenty of time to finish, which meant Phil didn’t feel quite so bad when he dawdled, thoughts of Dan first and foremost in his mind.

Lunchtime rolled around, and Phil tried not to smile too much as he shut the university computer down. He also tried not to look too smugly at the other students still busy beavering away on their computers as he made his way out of the building, heading straight for the cafe by the entrance.

Dan had got there before him. Phil saw him almost immediately, standing awkwardly tall in the corner of the foyer next to the cafe door, trapped amongst a throng of other students leaving their lectures. He looked out-of-place, his hair neatly straightened, dressed in jeans and a strangely low-cut t-shirt instead of the sweater he’d grown used to seeing Dan in. It was strange.

Phil shook the thoughts away and headed straight for Dan, cutting a path through the crowds easily enough. Dan didn’t notice him, though, even when Phil was close enough to see the glint of his phone screen.

Phil tapped him on the shoulder, and Dan jumped a mile.

“Sorry!” Phil hastened to say, apologetic. “I was really trying not to scare you this time, too.”

“Jesus fuck,” was Dan’s elegant reply.

Phil laughed, taking Dan in. He still looked young, despite his height, all sharp edges and bony corners. But his eyes were filled with something soft when he met Phil’s gaze.

“You came up to me out of nowhere, how was I not suppose to be afraid,” Dan said, his tone actually a little bit whiny. He slid his phone into his pocket, the shape still visible because apparently Dan favoured the tightest jeans known to mankind.

Phil made a concerted effort not to stare too hard as he led the way into the cafe. “I didn’t appear out of nowhere, I just came up out of the basement. I hate that place, it’s so dark and it smells of stress.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Dan answered dryly, standing behind Phil as they joined the queue to the counter.

Phil snorted. “Agreed. Have you ever been down there?”

Dan went curiously still. He gave his head a quick, sharp shake.

“Oh, well,” Phil screwed his face up, “You’re not missing out on anything at all. Can’t wait until the day I never have to go down there again.”

“Why do you spend so much time there?” Dan asked, eyes flicking up to scan the drinks menu as they neared the front of the queue.

Phil sighed heavily. “I need the software on the computers down there. Otherwise I would never choose to sit somewhere with no sunlight. Even with headphones in it feels like the kind of place I’d bury my grandma, not spend all my time.”

Dan made a curious sound that might have been a snort-laugh, his lips pulling up slightly. His eyes still looked a little nervous as they stepped up to the counter to be served, though.

Phil spoke before Dan had a chance to open his mouth. “Two caramel macchiatos, please. Unless your taste has changed over the past month?” He turned questioningly to Dan.

Dan closed his mouth again, giving Phil a small smile. “No, it hasn’t.”

“Good.” Phil smiled back at him, getting caught up in the way Dan’s little smirk made the shadow of a dimple appear on his left cheek. He shook his head quickly, turning back to the counter. “Do you want to go grab a table?”

“Sure.” Dan’s voice was hollowly amused as he shouldered his bag and disappeared into the throngs of students lining up for lunch.

A few minutes later, Phil started walking carefully in search of Dan with the tray containing their drinks , but of course they still managed to spill. He hoped Dan wouldn’t mind too much.

It wasn’t difficult to find him. Dan had managed to squeeze into one of the two-seater tables by the window, tucked away from the crowds. It was raining outside, the windows steaming up, and Dan had his chin leaning in his palm, sleeves pulled down over his fingers.

Cute. The whole scene looked cute, and warm, and it was doing very funny things to Phil’s insides.

He really needed to address these feelings growing in his chest, and soon.

Dan glanced over, caught sight of him, and a small smile immediately twisted his lips upwards. Phil smiled back and got so distracted that he tripped straight over a girl’s walking stick, managing to spill even more of their drinks than he had before.

A quick apology to the girl and a few more hasty steps later, Phil finally made it to the table, setting the drinks down amid raucous chuckling from Dan. Phil huffed at him good-naturedly. “Hey, stop that, I can’t help that I’m clumsy.”

“I don’t think that could have gone any worse,” Dan snickered. He reached out with slender fingers to right their mugs, going straight for the serviettes and mopping up the rest of the spillage.

Phil settled opposite him and grinned.

Dan glanced up as he passed Phil a mug over, arching one brow. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Phil bit his tongue on his first answer, which was because you look beautiful in this light and I kind of sort of want to squeal because I’ve got you out alone for the first time ever. But that wouldn’t work. That would be exactly the kind of thing that scared Dan off, and that was the last thing Phil wanted to do.

“I don’t know. I just like having you next to me.”

Well, crap. That wasn’t what Phil wanted to have come out of his mouth at all.

Dan, however, was taking it with good grace, if the surprised little smile and the dimple that jumped to his cheek was anything to go by. “Well, that sucks. I’m not even next to you right now.”

“Close enough,” Phil shrugged, trying not to show the way his heart picked up when Dan leaned closer to grab a spoon.

Dan glanced up at him again, lips twitching. “I don’t know why. I’m shit at being around you, I keep running away.”

Phil let out a slow breath, considering his next words very carefully. Dan’s gaze had slid away again, suddenly becoming very preoccupied with swirling his spoon in his coffee, the froth making patterns in its wake. There was an opening there, an opening to ask Dan why, to find out a little more about what might be going on in his head. If Phil dared to start the conversation.

Dan bit his lips, fingers shaking a bit around his coffee, and Phil decided to be brave.

“I don’t mind,” he started carefully, watching Dan jerk his head up to meet Phil’s gaze again. “I mean, it’s fine that you run away. Well, like - I’d obviously rather have your company, but - it’s fine. I get that you need to do that, sometimes.”

He didn’t. Phil didn’t actually get it at all, but he’d recognised enough of Dan’s behavioural patterns to see that that was how he responded to some situations. He may not know why, or what made it happen, but he wasn’t going to make Dan feel bad about it.

Terrified he’d said something wrong, Phil relaxed a little when Dan seemed to deflate. Dan’s eyes flickered sideways again, his hands curled around his mug, but he didn’t look like he was about to run. Not yet, anyway.

“I do need to do it sometimes,” Dan said slowly, his voice low and difficult to catch in the crowded cafe. “I wish I didn’t, but. There it is. I can’t seem to get anything to go the way I want it to in life generally, so no reason you should be any different.”

There was an odd bitterness to Dan’s tone there that Phil couldn’t quite unpack.

Phil tilted his head. “Can I ask - like, you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, but - is there anything that makes you run? Like, if you don’t want to - I mean, what’s going on?”

Too much. Phil had asked too much, and Dan was going to run, and he was never going to see him--

“Yeah,” Dan said quietly, interrupting Phil’s thoughts. “What’s going on. That’s the height of the question, really.”

Phil looked up quickly, saw the way Dan had curled forward in his seat slightly, fingers wrapped taught around his mug. He was worrying his lower lip with his teeth, eyes downcast.

Phil wished he could make him smile again.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Phil murmured eventually. “Not if you don’t want to.”

Dan looked up at him, and for a moment, his eyes looked terrified.

That look made Phil’s chest ache.

“It’s alright,” Phil said with a tinge of desperation. “You really don’t have to tell me. Just - I’m here, ok? Whatever’s going on, whatever happens. I’m like, literally just downstairs from you most of the time. I’m here.”

Dan just stared at him for a long moment. But then his expression shifted into something softer, the corners of his mouth pulling inwards as he bit both lips, ducking down to hide behind his fringe.

Phil leaned forward involuntarily, reached out and tucked Dan’s fringe behind his ear.

Dan froze.

Realising what he’d just done, Phil jerked away, heart leaping to his throat. His pulse beat in his ears as he stared, but Dan just - Dan just looked back up at him and gave a soft smile.

“Sorry,” Phil said hoarsely. “I just - it’s nice to see your eyes.”

Crap, again. Did Phil just have zero control over his mouth right now? He could not have made himself sound any creepier.

But Dan just smiled more widely, the corners of his eyes crinkling, his dimple growing deeper. “I’ll make sure to keep looking at you, then.”

Phil smiled back, and tried to quell the surge of hope that rose in his chest.

“And thanks,” Dan continued, voice barely more than a murmur. “I appreciate it. Really. I’m shit and not good at saying what I mean, but - thanks.”

“No problem,” Phil answered earnestly. He watched the small smile that appeared on Dan’s face and felt a small stab of satisfaction. “I mean it, too. Besides, no one else has the same taste in films as me.”

Dan leaned forward, his eyes glinting. “Now, there’s something. You like literally everything I like, how does that even happen?”

“I have no idea,” Phil answered solemnly, “But it means I’m going to subject you to weekly film nights. You can’t go on any longer without watching the entirety of Marvel’s cinematic universe.”

Dan bit his lip, but his eyes were warm and lovely. “Well. If you’re going to insist, doesn’t look like I have much of a choice, do I?”

“No, you don’t,” Phil said decisively, and this time he didn’t even try to quell the warm surge of hope that spread through him.

---

After that, it became almost routine to start seeing Dan regularly, which was something Phil never could have imagined at the start of the term. Instead of only getting a glimpse of Dan when he sporadically appeared in the kitchen, all Phil had to do was send Dan a text at 8pm every Friday, and Dan would appear downstairs.

Both of them had realised that on Friday nights the house was relatively quiet - Caspar was always, without fail, out at some party or other; Louise was either relaxing in her room or out with friends; and Jack had a regular gaming slot with one of the university societies (that Mark just so happened to attend, too). So it wasn’t difficult for Phil and Dan to set up shop in the lounge, with the DVD player, popcorn, and both of their large (and growing) film collections for entertainment.

On one particular week, Dan mentioned that Phil’s choice of popcorn (invariably sweet or toffee flavoured) was kind of crap, and, upon listening to Phil’s arguments in defense of the sweet varieties, declared that he hadn’t truly lived until he’d tried sweet and salty (which Phil had always turned his nose up at, because salt in his sweet things? Really?!

Phil’s denial led to Dan grabbing his wrist, sending him a serious look. “We need to get you to try some. Like, immediately, this is a matter of urgency, Phil.”

“Well, you’ll just have to come to the shop with me, then,” Phil said, arms folded, still with a hint of a pout on his face. Dan had dared to insult his snacks, after all.

A fleeting look of surprise crossed Dan’s face, but then he straightened up and matched Phil’s height with a look of equal seriousness. “Alright then. Someone’s got to introduce you to proper favours.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Phil huffed. “I’ll be back from uni at 4. Unless you have a lecture then?”

A shadow crossed Dan’s face, but it was gone before Phil could catch it, replaced instead with a sardonic smirk. “4 it is, then.”

Phil gave a decided nod, just about managing to resist sticking his tongue out at Dan.

Sure enough, the next day Phil came home from the library basement where he’d once again been sat editing his project for hours on end, eyes itching, and dumped his bags in his room. When he headed back out into the kitchen, he found Dan standing in front of the fridge, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Phil started, surprised, just for a second. Dan caught it, though, and bit his lip, chin in the air. “Heard you come in. Had to make sure you hadn’t forgotten about our trip to try and force some good taste into you.”

“Rude,” Phil huffed, on his way to the kettle, brain still fogged over with computer screens and video editing. “Also. Coffee. And it’s rare to see you out of your room.”

Dan bounced after him, pulling the sleeves of his hoody down over his palms again. Whenever he did that, it made something inconveniently warm thud in Phil’s chest, and he had to suppress a surge of affection so strong it was difficult to ignore. So he turned his face away, focusing on getting down his favourite mug from their cupboard.

“Coffee?” Dan questioned, arching a brow. “It’s, like, almost evening.”

“No, no, this definitely still counts as afternoon,” Phil disagreed.

Dan snorted. “It’s still late for coffee. You’re going to be running on a high for the rest of the day.”

“Well, then, you’ll have fun dealing with me, won’t you?” Phil lifted the kettle as soon as it was boiled, pouring the water into his mug and stirring the powder frantically.

Dan just watched him, a small, soft smile playing about his lips. There was something fond in his tone as he said, “Guess I will, yeah.”

Phil wasn’t quite with it enough to grasp whatever second-layer meaning their conversation had taken on, not without caffeine in his system. So he picked up his mug and practically inhaled his first sip, leaning back against the counter with a sigh.

Dan watched him, the smile turning into something of a smirk. “Are you secretly a caffeine addict?”

“No,” Phil shook his head.

Dan raised a questioning brow.

“I’m not!” Phil argued. “...At least, there’s nothing secret about it.”

Dan burst out laughing, his dimple appearing deep on his left cheek. Phil resisted the urge to poke it. “You’re far gone, Lester.”

“Perhaps.” Phil sipped again, sighing as he settled down. “Anyway. You ok with going to Tesco? I know it’s a bit of a further walk, but I need to grab some more cereal, so.”

Dan nodded quickly. “Yeah, sure. I’ve never actually been there, so.”

“You haven’t?”

Dan shook his head.

“Woah,” Phil tilted his head, considering him. “So where do you do your shopping, then?”

Dan lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, turning away so his fringe fell across his eyes. “Wherever I can.”

Phil narrowed his eyes, but let it go for now. There were lots of places in town, maybe Dan just shopped after his lectures. It was also absolutely none of his business.

Phil finished up his coffee and they both headed for the door, wrapping up warm for the still-wintry February air. It would be March soon, with Spring ushering its way in, but for now Manchester was still predominantly full of fog, rain, and cold.

On the walk there, Dan ducked his head and stuck close to Phil’s side, ducking in behind him whenever they passed other students on the busy walk. While their house wasn’t in as busy an area as some of the blocks of accommodation, it was still right in the middle of the student district, meaning the streets were always thronging with crowds of people. Dan seemed to shy away from them, mostly just sticking by Phil.

The same was true when they actually got to the supermarket. Phil wandered through the aisles, heading straight for the snack section, with Dan tagging along behind him. Dan seemed to shrink in on himself a little when they were in public - avoiding the crowds, keeping his eyes glued to the floor or to Phil.

Phil, in return, stayed close, and left Dan’s slight clinginess unmentioned.

“There we go,” Dan said, satisfied, as soon as they reached the popcorn aisle. He grabbed Phil by the sleeve and tugged him over towards the shelf, ignoring the other people going the other way.

Phil let himself be dragged along, momentarily distracted by how close Dan’s fingers were to his.

“This is what you’ve been missing,” Dan announced proudly, reaching straight for the sweet and salty flavour. “Honestly, your life is about to change forever, Phil, you don’t understand.”

“I don’t,” Phil agreed honestly, and reached up to grab some of his trusted pure sweet flavour as well.

Dan watched with a disapproving frown. “You don’t need that.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, Howell, you’re not my mum.”

Dan rolled his eyes, but there was a fond smile at his lips again. “Thank fuck for that. I’d have pushed you back before you were born.”

Phil’s nose wrinkled. “Gross. Also, rude. I’m a delight.”

“Sure you are,” Dan snorted, but it didn’t come out sounding harsh at all.

Phil glanced over at him, saw the way Dan’s eyes were dancing and the hint of his dimple appearing on his cheek, and warmth blossomed in his chest.

He pushed it away, turning away, feeling the back of his neck going red.

They headed to the cereal aisle next, and Phil reached straight for his favourite - country crisp.

Dan’s eyes widened. “Wait. You eat that too?”

“Yeah?” Phil glanced at him, surprised. “You do?”

“Yeah. Or I would, but my boxes keep disappearing from the house.” A suspicious crease appeared in Dan’s forehead as he looked at Phil.

Phil bit his lip. Well. He had been surprised at how long it took him to run out of cereal.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, Phil, would you?” Dan asked, folding his arms and fixing Phil with a look.

Phil widened his eyes as much as possible. “Um. No. Why would I?”

Dan shook his head, lips quirking, and Phil cursed the fact that he’d always been a terrible liar.

“Ok, well, maybe a little bit,” Phil admitted, biting his lip. “I just assumed it was mine! Sorry, it was in the cupboard and it’s the same cereal, and I’m always a bit of a monster in the morning.”

“So you’ve been stealing my cereal?” Dan didn’t sound angry - rather, he looked and sounded like he was biting back laughter.

Phil squirmed. “By accident! And, look, you can have what I buy today.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dan disagreed, still looking thoroughly entertained.

“We can share, then,” Phil said determinedly.

“It’s really fine.” Dan lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug again, leaning against the shelf. He was so tall his head was perilously close to the highest items. “I don’t eat much anyway.”

Phil frowned. “What do you mean?”

Dan shrugged again, tilting his head forward so his fringe covered his eyes again. “Not much. Just that - you know, I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Phil narrowed his eyes, glancing closely at Dan. “I don’t hear you in the kitchen much, Dan.”

Dan’s lips quirked. “Yeah, well. I don’t spend much time there.”

“Do you cook?” Phil asked, then grimaced. “Sorry. Not that it’s my business. I just - you know, hot food is good. Generally. As a concept.”

Phil really needed to learn when to shut his mouth.

Dan was still smiling, though, just a little, even as he stared at the ground, thoroughly refusing to meet Phil’s eyes. “I attempted cooking, briefly. Last term.”

Phil lifted a brow. “Attempted?”

“Yeah.” Dan’s lips twisted into a sardonic smirk. “Burnt pasta though, so. Gave up pretty quick.”

Phil let out a soft laugh. “You burnt pasta? How?”

“I don’t know!” Dan shook his head, daring a quick peek up at Phil. “I just put it in the pan and it set on fire.”

Phil snorted. “Wow. And I thought I was bad. Did you put water in?”

Dan blinked. Then blinked again, more slowly. “...You’re supposed to put water in it?”

“Oh, Dan.” Phil’s tone was affectionate, warmth sprouting in his chest again. He reached out to pat Dan on the shoulder, glad when Dan no longer flinched away under his touch. “It’s ok. I’ll show you how to cook sometime, it’s not too hard once you get the hang of it.”

“Yes, well,” Dan muttered, looking away. There was a tiny red patch appearing on his left cheek, something Phil noticed happened on the rare occasions he managed to get Dan flustered. “Not like I need much, anyway.”

“You still need hot food,” Phil told him, watching as Dan leaned away from him. “When was the last time you had a proper meal?”

“Too long,” Dan answered, and then folded his arms in front of his chest, curling inward a little. “Anyway. Doesn’t matter. I’m fine, ok?”

Phil eyed him closely, but delicately let the subject drop for now. Dan was still avoiding looking at him, instead becoming intensely interested in a patch on the floor, and Phil was still a little scared of pushing him too far, of scaring him away. Because the truth was, Dan was slowly starting to become a fixture in Phil’s life, insinuating himself into every corner, until Phil found it difficult to not be thinking of him every few minutes, something reminding him of Dan.

They headed home soon afterwards and continued with their Friday night films, and Phil tried Dan’s popcorn and conceded that yes, actually, sweet and salty was a better combination than any of his favourites.

Phil may also have started cooking himself extra portions of dinner at night, and leaving the leftovers in the fridge on a plate labelled ‘to Dan’.

He never got any replies, but the plates did disappear before reappearing fully-washed the next day, and that was enough for Phil.

---

Weekly film nights led to more open discussions between them, and while they tended to steer away from some of the more difficult topics - Phil had never once broached anything about Dan’s personal life, and Dan only offered the tiniest glimpses - they still learned more about each other every time. Phil knew that Dan swore worse than a sailor once he got going, inventing such colourful curses that sometimes Phil’s ears went red. And it also got easier and easier to make Dan smile that wide, crinkly-eyed smile with every week that passed, as Phil learned more and more about the things that made Dan laugh.

And Dan - Dan was easily and quickly becoming Phil’s favourite person to spend time with. No one quite got Phil’s odd sense of humour like Dan, and yet Dan never failed to laugh along, to join in, and poke gentle fun at the ways Phil saw the world. In contrast, Dan’s own wit was sharp and dark, often self-deprecating, and although Phil appreciated it, it sometimes made him wonder.

He often wondered about just what was going on in Dan’s life.

Aside from their Friday film nights, Phil still barely saw Dan at all. He’d never once seen him outside the house after their first coffee trip, (date, not a date, who even knew?) and he only very rarely heard late night scuffles in the kitchen that were presumably Dan. Phil was still spending most of his days inside the university library, though, so it could just be that he was out whenever Dan left his room.

That didn't seem to be the case though, not according to Jack anyway.

“I’ve seen him a record of three times this month,” Jack told him as they sat playing a co-op game together in Jack’s room one Wednesday afternoon. “And two of those were because I was waiting for him to come out of the bathroom.”

“And the other one?” Phil asked, not even bothering to hide his curiosity. Jack knew all too well just why Phil might be asking about Dan’s whereabouts.

“Caught him for five seconds in the landing on my way downstairs,” Jack shrugged. “He mumbled something and disappeared into his room faster than lightning.”

Phil bit his lip. His chest felt tight, thinking of Dan like that, scared and shy and desperate.

“You must see more of him than that, though,” Jack said knowingly.

Phil could feel the back of his neck grow red, and so, in an effort to deflect attention, he made his character punch Jack’s in the game.

Jack sent him a sideways smile. “It’s ok, you’ll just have to promise me that he’s actually strung more than two sentences together in your presence.”

“He has,” Phil argued, defensive of Dan, as ever. “He’s actually really funny. And he’s so sarcastic, and witty, and his hair’s actually naturally curly, did you know?”

“I did not,” Jack answered, bumping his shoulder into Phil’s side. “So is Mark’s. Maybe we both have a type.”

Phil grinned at him. “How’s that going?”

“Oh, it’s going,” Jack answered, and the way his eyes crinkled up told Phil all he needed to know.

---

One Friday night, though, things weren’t as good as they usually were.

Phil knew something was different the moment Dan appeared down the stairs. Dan’s hair was straightened to within an inch of its life, hanging sharply down his forehead, and his eyes were dull and glassy. He met Phil’s gaze with the briefest of smiles before his expression quickly fell again.

Phil’s chest tightened at that look. “Hey. You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Dan answered automatically.

Phil bit his inner cheek, watching as Dan flopped down onto the sofa beside him. He shook his head. “You don’t look it.”

“Gee, thanks.” Dan slid out a half-laugh, avoiding Phil’s gaze. “Way to build up my confidence there, Phil, that’s just what I needed to hear.”

“Sorry,” Phil answered, “I just. You normally look so great, and then today you just--” he bit his lip, frustrated.

Dan twisted a little sideways, daring to flick a glance at Phil before quickly looking away again. “Just what, Phil? What do I look like?”

Phil tilted his head, shuffled a little closer. His eyes tracked traces of what might have been tear-tracks on Dan’s cheek, and his chest tugged again. He laid a careful hand on Dan’s shoulder, grateful when Dan didn’t flinch away. It had grown common for them to slide close together when they were watching their films, or playing games, whatever they did on their Fridays together. But it was still always something of a relief when Dan didn’t flinch away from him.

“Tired,” Phil answered honestly, and Dan looked up at him again, their gazes catching. “You look tired.”

Dan’s lips twitched into just the hint of a sardonic smirk. “Accurate.”

“What happened?” Phil asked before he could think better of it. “Did you pull an all-nighter, or something? I know it’s still essay season, but sleep is good, Dan.”

“Yeah.” Dan’s smirk fell a little, and he sank back into the sofa cushions with a sigh. His arm pressed warm against Phil’s side. “I mean, sleep is good, probably. I don’t know. I’ve forgotten.”

“Dan.” Phil’s tone was reproachful.

“I know, I know, shit, you’re worse than my mum.” Dan’s lips twitched again, self-deprecating, sardonic. “Just. It’s been a fucking hell of a day, you know? I had to interact. Sent an email, and everything.”

Phil mimed a shocked gasp. “An email? The pinnacle of difficult tasks, that is.”

“Tell me about it.” Dan let out a half-hearted chuckle, but as with everything that night, the laughter didn’t quite reach his eyes. He still looked dim, his expression darkened by the heavy bags under his eyes.

“Seriously, though,” Phil murmured, chest tugging at the way Dan sank still further into the cushions, away from him, like he was trying to hide. It was always risky, pushing this kind of conversation, but Dan looked soft today. Like he was on the edge. Phil didn’t want him to fall any further away. “If something’s up - well, like I said before. I’m here. If you wanna, I don’t know, talk about it?”

Phil’s voice pitched up pathetically, and he glanced away from Dan for the first time since Dan had entered the room, focusing instead on playing with the remote. He still hadn’t started the film. That was all Dan was here for, after all, just watching a film with him. He wasn’t really there for Phil’s company.

But then, gentle fingers wrapped around Phil’s wrist, and Phil jumped, looking up to see Dan staring at him curiously. His hair had fallen forwards, straightened and too-long, hiding one of his eyes almost completely. But for the first time that night, he was offering something that was close to a real smile.

“I know,” Dan said eventually. “Thanks. I just - I told you, I’m shit at being around you.”

“Because you kept running away,” Phil repeated, and dared to lean a little closer. Dan didn’t move back. “But you’re not running away anymore, Dan, are you?”

The question hung between them for a moment, in which Dan’s eyes flickered searchingly over Phil’s face, and Phil felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“I’m trying not to,” Dan finally managed, voice cracking a little.

Phil melted. Instinctively, he reached out and covered Dan’s hand on his wrist with his free hand, holding them together.

Dan started, glancing down, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

“I’m glad,” Phil said softly. He could feel his pulse racing in his throat, but Dan wasn’t pulling away, so he wasn’t going to either. “Dan, what’s wrong?”

Dan drew in a shuddering breath. He glanced away again, looking down at where his free hand was curled in his lap tight enough for his knuckles to have turned white. His shoulders were bowed, his eyes downcast, and in general, Dan just looked lost. He looked unhappy, and alone, and lost.

Phil hated seeing him that way.

“I just,” Dan murmured, his fingers shaking under Phil’s hand, “I just can’t make it work. I can’t make anything work, Phil, nothing I ever do is enough.”

Phil’s chest ached. He squeezed his hand on Dan’s, felt Dan’s skin warm and close against his, sensed him trembling. Dan was quaking.

“You’re enough for me,” Phil half-whispered. “This is enough. You’re enough, Dan.”

Dan closed his eyes, let out a trembling breath. His free hand reached up, brushing his hair out of his eyes, and he risked a quick peek at Phil.

Phil’s breath caught at the look in his eyes. Desperation and sadness looked out at him from Dan, hidden behind a barely-held-together mask.

“What is it?” Phil asked helplessly, still gripping onto Dan’s hand between both of his own. Not letting go. Afraid that if he let go, Dan would disappear forever. “Is it your work? Essays, exams?”

Dan’s eyes fluttered shut. He bit his lower lip, hard.

“You’re worth more than your work, Dan,” Phil pressed on, desperate to wipe away that look on Dan’s face. “Whatever it is, essays or exams or anything - none of it’s worth you looking like this.”

Dan let out a sardonic half-laugh. He folded further into himself, curling his knees up on the sofa with them, and then he leaned sideways until his head was cushioned against Phil’s shoulder.

Phil held his breath and went completely still.

“It’s nothing like that,” Dan mumbled into Phil’s sleeve. “Don’t worry. I’m fine, I just. I’m fine.”

Phil didn’t believe him, not even a little bit. But Dan was curled up against his side, and Phil was rendered completely immobile, afraid that even the tiniest moment might send Dan skittering away again.

“If you say so,” Phil murmured eventually, daring to rest his head gently against Dan’s. “Just. Whatever it is, I’m here.”

Dan’s lips twitched against Phil’s sleeve. He closed his eyes, let out a gentle breath. “I know. Thanks. I do appreciate it, even if I’m shit at letting you know.”

“You’re not shit,” Phil said, his tone getting just a little bit sharp.

Dan flinched, pulling away a little, and Phil instantly reached out to grab him, holding him in place. “No, Dan, I mean - you’re not shit, ok? I like this. I like spending my Fridays with you.”

Dan gave him a searching look, and past the bags under his eyes and the sadness in all of his sharp corners, Phil saw him sag just a little with relief.

Dan’s lips twitched again, not quite a smile but definitely not a frown either. “Thanks. And same. Highlight of my week, honestly.”

Phil’s mouth curved upwards before he realised, before he could school his expression into anything else. But Dan just smiled back, and then determinedly reached out and plucked the remote from Phil’s side. “But we need the film, you know? Stop being good and listening to me, let’s just watch something instead. My pick this week, right?”

Phil bit his lip, watching the way Dan was determinedly not looking at him, instead focusing solely on the remote in his hand. Past the brave front he was putting on, Phil was sure he could see that Dan was still struggling. But if Dan wanted to ignore it, then Phil wasn’t going to push him any more. Not when he’d already been given as much as he had, more of a glimpse into Dan’s life.

“Right, your pick,” Phil agreed, and settled himself into the cushions, letting the conversation slip away.

They fell back into their normal, easy routine, pointing out their favourite moments, the continuity errors that Dan always spotted more than Phil, and which of the actors was the most attractive. (Dan seemed a good deal into the male lead, which gave Phil a slither of hope which he quickly attempted to squash). And it was normal, and good, and Phil almost forgot about how troubled Dan had appeared.

Until, a little way into the film, Dan leaned sideways and tucked his head into Phil’s shoulder again, finding the little hollow in Phil’s neck, under his chin.

Phil went still for a moment, taking in a breath, and Dan shuffled closer until he was pressed almost fully against Phil’s side. Phil felt his pulse fluttering in his throat again, his chest tightening in an almost delightful way, the warmth of Dan against him sending electric sparks through his veins.

He let out his breath slowly, reached down, and nestled his hand against Dan’s. Dan almost instantly gripped onto Phil, sliding their fingers together, and clung on with a hint of desperation.

Phil rested his head gently against Dan’s, gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and felt Dan relax against him.

They watched the film like that, curled up together, until it got late and they were both yawning through their sentences. But neither one of them moved, not until long after the credits had finished rolling and the screen had gone dark.

“Thanks,” Dan murmured eventually, breaking the heavy, expectant silence. He’d shuffled about during the film until his head was against Phil’s chest, and Phil’s arm hovered on the sofa above him, not quite curving down around Dan’s shoulders.

“For what?” Phil mumbled through a sleepy yawn.

Dan pressed his head once into Phil’s chest, and then sat up, moving away. Phil missed his warmth almost instantly.

“For being here,” Dan answered simply, and then got to his feet and headed across the room, slipping his disc out of the DVD player.

Phil watched him, blinking himself awake. His head felt heavy, but this conversation felt like it was important. Dan was avoiding looking at him again, focusing on finding the right cover for the DVD, and Phil ached to see his expression, ached to be near him in a way he still hadn’t quite addressed.

“I’m always here,” he answered eventually, watching the curved slope of Dan’s shoulders. “For you. Any time.”

Dan turned, sent Phil a small smile. “I know. And I’m grateful. Even if you do leave your socks all over the floor.”

“It doesn’t bother anyone else,” Phil implored.

Dan shook his head, smirking as he rose to his feet again, DVD back in place. “I think maybe they’re just too polite to tell you, because you’re too adorable to upset.”

Phil blinked up at him. Then he grinned. “Adorable? You think I’m adorable?”

“I didn’t say that,” Dan backtracked quickly, but he sounded… was that flustered?

Phil sat up a little straighter, blinking past the tiredness fogging up his brain to instead send Dan a wide, lopsided smile. “You think I’m adorable.”

Dan ducked down so that his fringe fell across his eyes again, biting back a smile. “Well. Maybe. Just a bit.”

Phil didn’t bother trying to quash the little jump of happiness Dan’s words gave him. He’d take every little thing he was given, even as Dan bent down and picked up one of Phil’s socks that was, indeed, on the floor, and proceeded to throw it at him.

Phil ducked with a little squeal. “Hey! This isn’t the way you treat adorable things, Dan!”

“Fuck’s sake, shut up,” Dan retorted, but his tone was fond.

“You also shouldn’t swear at things you find adorable.”

“I’m leaving, goodbye, you actual living shit,” Dan laughed, and strode over to the door.

“Sleep well!” Phil sing-songed after him, and rolled over on the sofa, pressing his face into his hands. Dan was gone, but Phil could still feel the phantom warmth of him against his side, his head tucked into Phil’s shoulder. Phil bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut. His stomach jumped, his chest aching, yearning for more warmth.

These feelings were developing faster than he realised, and he needed to put a lid on them quickly if he was going to protect himself. Only, he really, really didn’t want to. And something in Dan’s expression kept giving him hope, enough that he didn’t let go of the small cluster of want that had buried its way firmly into his chest.

---

After that, things returned to relative normality. Phil was still working, still had deadlines pouring in from every corner (but he’d started receiving feedback from his professors, too, and they’d all been good so far, which gave him a happy little boost). His and Dan’s Friday nights had fallen back into their normal routine of laughter and warmth, and if Dan sat a little closer to Phil than before, and Phil occasionally rested his hand against Dan’s, then neither of them mentioned it.

But Phil still never saw Dan outside of their friday night sessions. It wasn’t that unusual - Manchester University sprawled through the city in such a way that it was perfectly possible they’d never pass each other - but he never even saw Dan elsewhere around the house. The closest he got was occasional footsteps above his head, and late-night scuffles in the kitchen that were gone by the time Phil managed to stumble, bleary-eyed, to his door.

So it was a shock when, one day as Phil was heading out of the library to go to lunch, he saw a tall, familiar, lanky shape coming out of the building opposite him, bag slung over his shoulder, straightened fringe falling across his forehead.

Phil stopped in surprise. He paused on the pavement outside the library entrance, letting the crowds move past him in the dripping rain as he watched Dan step out onto the street, gaze fixed on his shoes. He was wearing a black hoody this time, hood pulled up against the rain, and black skinny jeans that looked so tight Phil wondered how he even managed to walk in them.

It was strange, seeing Dan in the outside world.

But Phil wasn’t about to let him get away, so he strode forward quickly, hefting his rucksack onto his back, and shouted, “Dan!”

Dan flinched for a moment, still a few people away, but then started walking forward again.

“Hey, Dan!” Phil sped up, pushing apologetically past a girl who was much smaller than him, and reached out to touch his hand to Dan’s shoulder. “Hey!”

Dan turned slowly, his face tilted down so that his fringe covered the majority of the left side. It was getting long, longer than Phil’s now, and Dan had his eyes downcast, focused somewhere on the ground near Phil’s left shoe. “Hey, Phil.” His voice was small, but he managed a quick peek upwards and something that might have been a flash of a smile before he went back to studying the ground.

“Hey.” Phil wasn’t to be dissuaded by Dan’s slightly morose tone, too caught up in the novelty of catching Dan outside of their slightly-dreary student home. “I didn’t expect to see you here! I was about to grab lunch, you wanna come?”

Dan took half-a-step back, his shoulders visibly tensing. He swallowed. “Um…”

“There’s a place around the corner that does soup for half-price,” Phil added quickly. “Especially if you look stressed and say you have a project due in the next three hours that you haven’t finished yet.”

A croaky half-laugh escaped Dan’s mouth before he had a chance to catch it. He flashed Phil another slightly crooked smile from beneath his fringe. “That sounds incredibly specific.”

“Well,” Phil amended, “May have happened to me once or twice. What do you say? Wanna come?”

Dan took in a slow, deep breath. His shoulders were shaking a little, Phil noticed when it took Dan more than a second to reply, and the fingers of his right hand were clenched tightly around the thin sleeve of his hoody. His eyes were still downcast, the line of his shoulders tense and quivering.

After a quick look closer, Phil could see Dan’s eyes were squeezed shut.

“Dan?” Phil took a hesitant step closer, feeling a small stab of relief when Dan didn’t immediately skitter away. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Dan answered, too quickly, “No, let’s just - yeah, let’s go get lunch, I--”

“Dan?” Phil could hear the break in Dan’s voice.

Dan looked up at him, and Phil was shocked to see a glint of a tear in his eyes.

Then Dan curled inwards on himself and broke.

A small, broken sound escaped from him, something close to a whimper, and Dan broke right there on the pavement, curving in on himself until he was hunched in a ball. His bag fell to the ground with a dull thud, both hands pressing to his eyes, his shoulders quaking.

Phil’s chest throbbed, aching, and he crossed the remaining step between them in an instant. This time, he didn’t hesitate to do what his instincts told him - not when Dan looked so lost, so alone, so small despite the fact he was at least as tall as Phil was.

Phil reached forward and tugged forcefully at Dan’s shoulders, pulling him into his arms.

Dan flinched, struggled for a second, and then melted against Phil’s chest. He hid his face somewhere near Phil’s shoulder, so that all Phil could see was the top of his head and his mussed hair, the soft cloth of his black hoody warm against Phil’s side. Phil could still feel him quivering, hear the almost-inaudible fast, high breaths that rushed, trapped, out of Dan’s throat.

“Dan,” Phil murmured, and squeezed Dan as close to his chest as he could.

That warm something was back in Phil’s chest, pressing against his throat and catching in the corners of his eyes. He was full of it, overwhelmed, as he cradled Dan carefully against his chest in the middle of the street with no clear idea of what was happening, or what he was doing. He just knew that Dan was, somehow, not ok, but here and in Phil’s arms and right then that was all that Phil could think past.

“S-sorry,” Dan hiccoughed eventually, his voice cracking, and Phil immediately shushed him.

“No, shush. I just--” Phil pulled away, just a centimetre or two, but Dan came with him, refusing to lift his head out of Phil’s chest. Phil bit his lip, almost suffocating in the pressing ache that filled him.

Dan was so sad. And Phil had no idea why.

“Dan,” he almost whispered, so close that his words were almost pressed into Dan’s hair. Phil held himself carefully, not daring to move closer, and yet aching with the warm willful want to be near Dan. “What is it? What happened?”

Dan twisted against him, curling himself up even tighter until he was just a gangly quivering mass of limbs somehow collected in Phil’s arms. He was silent for several long moments, or as silent as possible when he was still gasping little short breaths, his fingers squeezed together pressed somewhere against Phil’s warm jumper.

“I,” Dan started eventually, then stopped to squeeze his face against Phil’s shoulder. He didn’t move away when he spoke again, just twisted enough that his words could make their way out. “I don’t even know - fuck, where do I even start, I just--”

“It’s ok,” Phil cut in, “Don’t worry, it’s just - Dan, something’s got you like this and that, that’s not ok, so - what is it? What happened?”

“Fuck, I’m so embarrassed,” Dan whisper-croaked, and shoved his face back against Phil’s chest. “Just, like, I don’t know - swallow me up or something, fuck, I can’t do this.”

“It’s ok,” Phil murmured, squeezing Dan tighter against him. His pulse was fluttering somewhere in his throat, and he could feel Dan’s fingers grasping at his jumper, tugging and twisting and just too close. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Dan mumbled, and then his voice broke. “I’m fucking failing, Phil, I - it’s over, that’s it, I’m gone. Done. Officially.”

Phil pressed his face into Dan’s hair, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I’m fucking done.” Dan drew in a breath, Phil felt his chest moving. “They kicked me out. Or, like, I left. I don’t even know. But that’s it. I’m done, and now - now--” He was trembling again, his words forced out, caught between Phil’s shoulder and neck. “Fuck knows what happens now, honestly.”

Phil paused for half a second, eyes widening, but then Dan didn’t give him much time to think before he pressed himself back against Phil and started full-out sobbing into his jumper.

Phil swallowed, arms tightening around Dan as he pulled him closer. They were getting a few looks from other people on the street, so Phil tightened his hold and gently edged sideways, bringing Dan with him until they were huddled in an alcove, out of the rain, away from most of the prying eyes.

Phil stood there, and held Dan, and stayed stuck in place as suddenly everything came crashing down around him.

It was starting to make sense. Why he never saw Dan outside. Why Dan never seemed to go to any classes, or be writing any essays. Phil had never even seen Dan with a book open before. He’d just assumed Dan didn’t want to talk about his work, but maybe - maybe something else had been going on this whole time, and Phil had been completely and utterly oblivious.

He tightened his grip around Dan, leaning in as close as he dared, running one hand gently up and down Dan’s back as Dan kept his face pressed firmly against Phil’s chest. Phil looked down at him and felt completely, utterly helpless.

“It’s ok,” Phil murmured again, even though he had no idea if it was, still had no real idea what was even going on. “Dan, it’s ok - you can tell me. You don’t have to, like, hide it - or anything - you don’t even have to know what’s going to happen. Just-” he bit his lip, hating that his words had no visible effect on Dan, but knowing that they couldn’t.

Dan twisted away a little, his eyes squeezed shut, and he still looked so small and lost that Phil felt something sharp twist in his chest.

“Come on,” Phil said decisively, suddenly, cutting through the sharp tension that had been building up between them. “That cafe, round the corner, also does the best hot chocolate in Manchester. And I’d know. I’m a local. It’s the crying cafe, you’ll love it.”

Despite everything, Dan hiccoughed a laugh against Phil’s chest. He didn’t look up, but he did murmur, “Why the fuck is it called the crying cafe? And why exactly would I love it? I mean, appropriate, for obvious reasons, but--”

“It’s not actually called the crying cafe,” Phil explained, “But it’s where I always go when I’ve been crying. So many essays were written there. And, like, post-break-up blues, not that Sarah ever really knew we were dating and I was, like, twelve, but--”

“You,” Dan said, with some kind of slow wonderment, “Are absolutely ridiculous.”

Phil huffed out a laugh. He shifted his arms a little, gripping Dan’s shoulders, and gave him a crooked smile. “Yeah. So. Want to come have a ridiculously creamy hot chocolate with me?”

Dan looked up at him, eyelashes crusted together and cheeks messy with tear-tracks, and nodded. “Sure. Why the fuck not?”

Phil nodded determinedly, slid his hand down until he was gripping Dan’s elbow (not quite daring to grab his hand, instead, which was what he was yearning to do), and led Dan down the street.

---

“I haven’t been to a lecture in months.”

Phil almost choked at the change in tone. He was sitting opposite Dan, two steaming mugs of hot chocolate topped with ridiculously indulgent whipped cream and marshmallows sat in front of them. Dan had been quiet when they got here, sticking close to Phil’s side and hanging onto his coattails when they went up to the counter. Phil had ordered for both of them, and then led Dan straight over to the seat in the corner, one of the booths where he was tucked safely away from prying eyes.

Now, Dan was looking morosely at his whipped cream, eyes dim. There were still tear tracks visible on his cheeks.

“How come?” Phil asked eventually, hesitant.

Dan let out a low laugh, a harsh sound in the warm quiet of the cafe. “I don’t even know. I just, like. The last one I went to, way back, like, halfway through first term - it was horrific, everyone was nodding along to the lecturer and taking notes and asking questions and I was just like, sat there thinking I had no fucking idea what the hell was going on, and like, I didn’t even care?”

Phil tilted his head, curious.

Dan caught his look and smirked, ducking his head and hiding his eyes behind his fringe again. “I know, right. It’s awful. I should be able to, like, make myself care, make myself work, but I just - I didn’t care. I don’t care. I pick up a law book and like, I can see the words but they don’t make sense and I don’t even want them to? I just have, like, zero interest. I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Phil answered immediately, like a reflex. Like Dan had to know, surely he had to know how good he was.

Dan just laughed again, once, harshly. “Yeah. Maybe. Either way, I’m fucked.”

“What happened?” Phil asked again, itching to reach across the table, at where Dan’s hand was just lying open by his mug. He bit his lip, restraining himself.

Dan gave a half-shrug, lips twisting into a wry smirk. “Everything. And nothing. My tutor noticed I hadn’t been going to anything and sent a message to my department, and they made me come to a meeting. It didn’t help that I hadn’t been handing any essays in either, and then the exams in January - I just didn’t go.”

Phil’s chest tugged. “What did they say?”

“They were, like,” Dan bit his lip, fidgeting in his seat. “They were nice about it, don’t get me wrong, but like - they just made it clear that I couldn’t keep going the way I was. Explained all the options to me, like I could either get my shit together and start actually working, or I’d have to take a year out and restart again in September, or I could just. Leave completely.”

Phil twisted his hands together in his lap to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing for Dan again. He swallowed, trying not to think about uni without Dan in it - his life, without Dan in it. Not something either of them needed to worry about right now. Not when Dan still looked about three seconds away from falling apart.

“So what did you do?” Phil eventually risked asking.

Dan bit his lip, staring down at the table. “Well. That meeting happened back at the end of last term, and I already told you I didn’t go to my exams after that, so.”

Phil tried to ignore the sharp twisting in his chest, speaking around it. “So you - are you leaving?”

The words hurt as he said them.

Dan’s fingers curled into a fist where his hand still rested on the table, and he answered hollowly, “I already did.”

Phil blinked, confused.

“After,” Dan murmured huskily, and then cleared his throat. “Um, after that meeting, I told them I was going to start working, but I just - I didn’t. I’m fucking lazy as shit so I didn’t do anything, and my tutor kept sending me emails to go in and see him but I just ignored them all.”

“Dan,” Phil said, nothing like a reprimand, more like a soft exclamation meant to comfort. “You should have said, I’d have --” he stopped, what could he have done? “--I’d have been there.”

Dan’s lips twitched upwards a little, and he flicked a quick glance up that caught and held on Phil’s face.

Phil’s breath stopped.

“You were,” Dan said simply, and then leaned in a little closer, like he was hunting for something Phil hoped he could provide. “Every time something happened. Like, I came back over Christmas trying to actually get some shit done - revision, or whatever - and nothing was going right, I still couldn’t make myself work, and I was just feeling more and more like shit - and then you showed up.”

Phil bit back a smile, placing both his hands on the table to stop the still-recurring itch to reach out and hold Dan’s fingers still where they tapped insistently against his mug. “I did show up.”

“Yeah.” Dan let out a small chuckle, still meeting Phil’s eyes directly for once. “And that was - like, that was a good day. Talking to you. Your mum is awesome.”

“She is,” Phil agreed sagely.

Dan’s smile broadened. “Yeah. And that was like, the week I realised that I just couldn’t catch up. I’d missed too much, even if I wanted to work. Which I still didn’t. And then term started and I had exams and I tried to go, I did, but like - I didn’t know anything, I would have failed so badly. And I didn’t want to embarrass myself like that in front of all those people I hadn’t seen in months--”

“It’s ok,” Phil jumped in quickly when he saw the way Dan was tensing up. His fingers flexed, edging closer to Dan’s across the table. “No one could blame you for that.”

“Yeah, well,” Dan’s words were harsh, “They should do. I can’t fucking believe the mess I got into, honestly, like how the fuck did I manage to screw everything up that badly? Because of course my tutor noticed that I didn’t show, so he called me and talked me through interrupting my study, because basically there’s no way in hell I can catch up now. I officially fucked up too much.”

Phil’s chest twisted and this time he couldn’t stop his hand from reaching across the table to cover Dan’s.

Dan twitched, but didn’t pull away. He also still didn’t meet Phil’s eyes. “I just, like - it’s done. My tutor sent me the forms, I filled them in, finally, and then today I just officially gave them into the department.” His lips pulled up into a half-smirk. “And then you showed up again. Right after my final meeting with my tutor. Bad timing, Phil.”

“I don’t think so,” Phil disagreed instantly. “I think it was the best timing.”

Dan glanced up at him, confused.

“If I hadn’t, then you’d just have been sad on your own” Phil pointed out, stumbling over his words a little, not sure how to make them sound right. “And that isn’t right. Like, Dan - you don’t have to be alone, not if you don’t want. And hard things always seem harder when you’re on your own, at least that’s what I always find.”

Dan was staring openly at him, expression going from self-admonishment to questioning to softly amazed.

Phil squirmed. “I just mean, like. It sucks you were going through all that on your own. I wish I could have been there.”

Dan continued to stare at him, his lips just starting to curve upwards. And then he flipped his hand over under Phil’s, holding onto him when Phil started to pull away, and slid their fingers together.

Holding hands. Phil was holding Dan’s hand.

“But that’s just it, Phil,” Dan murmured, eyes dark and twinkling as he looked at Phil. “You were there. This whole time, you were the only one that was there.”

Phil’s lips parted, eyes widening.

“Like,” Dan bit his lip, glancing away again, but this time the movement was more shy than sad. “I don’t even think you get it. I’d be, like, sat in my room stressing about a deadline and you’d show up and start rambling about Muse. Or I’d finally brave it and go down to the kitchen and there’d be a post-it in the fridge with some chocolate, and like - it made me smile, even when that was honestly the last fucking thing I felt like doing.”

Phil bit his lip, glancing down and feeling his chest slowly thrum with building warmth. He remembered going into Dan’s room and seeing all the post-its collected on the wall in a neat little display, the way Dan had looked at him with too-long sleeves pulled down over his palms, nervous.

His heart picked up its pace in his chest.

“It was important,” Phil said, squeezing his fingers around Dan’s. “I wanted you to know I was there.”

Dan looked at him, a soft smile playing about his lips. “I did. You made sure of that. Like, you probably don’t even remember this, but--”

“I probably do,” Phil disagreed immediately. “I remember almost everything where you’re concerned.”

Dan blinked, shifting about in his seat, growing a little flustered. And was that a hint of a blush appearing on his left cheek?

Phil tried to shake away the dim flare of hope that rose inside him.

“Well,” Dan continued, coughing, “I honestly don’t know if you’d remember this. But one time, you got home just after I’d been on the phone, and you came barreling in the same as ever, all sunshine-and-fucking-smiles, but you picked up pretty quickly that something was wrong. And instead of like, pushing me to talk about it, you just asked if I wanted to play mario kart.”

Phil tilted his head, studying Dan. He remembered the moment Dan was talking about - overhearing a conversation clearly not meant for him, not really knowing what was going on other than that Dan looked sad, and Dan should never look sad. Not if it was in Phil’s power to change it.

“I remember,” was all he said, and Dan glanced up, gave him a soft smile.

“Yeah. Well, that was when my tutor called to tell me about interrupting. Asking why I hadn’t gone to my exams.” Dan’s expression twisted up, locked in hurt and self-deprecation. “Didn’t go very well, unsurprisingly. And I was standing there, feeling like a shitty mess, and you - you just asked if I wanted to play, like I was just a normal human instead of a complete fucking wreck.”

Phil squeezed Dan’s hand tighter, a small crease appearing in his brow. “You are a normal human. You’re, like, so much more than a normal human, Dan.”

Dan gave a harsh laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“No, I mean it.” Phil leaned closer, their half-drunk hot chocolates forgotten, and squeezed their fingers together. “I don’t even know how to say it. I don’t think I could.”

Dan met his gaze, eyes dark but turning soft, and Phil was overwhelmed by the warmth that spread through his chest, filling up his throat, choking him. He was drowning in it, drowning in the way Dan looked at him.

“How do you do that?” Dan whispered finally, leaning in a little, his head so close to Phil’s.

Phil swallowed, eyes locked on Dan’s cheek where there was a definite red patch forming. “Do what?”

“That.” Dan stared at him, open, lost. “Just say things like that. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

Phil stopped short, desperately stamping down on the hope blossoming in his chest. Now was not the time. He still hadn’t properly addressed the feelings that bloomed whenever he was in the vicinity of Dan, the warmth that spread through him, the knotting in his stomach and the rising beat of his heart. He wasn’t prepared. And he’d never thought in a million years there’d be a chance they were reciprocated.

But right now, with the way Dan’s gaze was heavy on his face, and how open he was; how open he’d been throughout this entire afternoon - Phil was struggling.

“How does it make you feel, Dan?” Phil whispered into the small space between them.

Dan swallowed, expression closing off just slightly before he said, “Like, to you, I might matter. Like in this giant pointless mess of an existence, you might just be the one thing that makes sense.”

Phil didn’t dare to move, didn’t dare to speak.

“But I don’t know.” Dan’s voice had lowered to the barest murmur, and he looked away from Phil again, expression tightly controlled. “Maybe I’m just talking shit, reading too much into things. Making a mess of everything again.”

“You’re not,” Phil said quickly, the words slipping out before he could catch them. That stupid hope was rising in his chest again. “You’re not, Dan.”

Dan looked back up at him, shoulders tense, his lower lip red from him biting it.

The warmth in Phil’s chest tightened.

“You do matter to me,” Phil said, pushing the words out before he cowered away. “More than I can say. And you might be a mess, but to me, you’ve been the best thing about this term.”

Dan sat up a little straighter. Phil thought he saw something close to hope hiding in his eyes.

“I don’t know how to say it,” Phil admitted, biting back a laugh. “But you mean a lot. Like, when you’re in a room I want to keep you there and wrap you in blankets so you can’t leave.”

Dan snickered. “Bit creepy there, mate.” But his eyes were shining, and this time with something warmer than tears.

Phil smiled at him, softly. “I mean it, though, Dan. All of it.”

Dan bit both his lips, eyes warm, meeting Phil’s gaze head-on. “I… actually think I might believe you. Which is a fucking miracle, honestly, after I’ve been so shit with you.”

Phil’s forehead creased. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it took me like a fucking month to text you after you gave me your number.” Dan laughed, the sound less harsh and more gentle this time. His fingers were warm in Phil’s as he gave them a gentle squeeze, and Phil’s heart stuttered in response. “And, like, running away half the time you were there. I didn’t mean it. I just - didn’t think I deserved it, I guess.”

Phil’s chest tugged. He leaned in close, gave Dan’s hand a reprimanding tug. “Well, you do. You deserve the world, Dan. And I don’t care how long it took you, or how much of a mess you think you’ve been - you’re still far and away the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Dan stared at him, warm, his expression a little daring. He ducked in closer, inclining his head towards Phil. “Is that what I am, Phil? Your best friend?”

Phil bit his lip, the flutter of his pulse in his chest giving him away. He swallowed. “I mean, you are, definitely. But.”

Dan arched a brow, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But?”

Phil let out a rushed breath. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Yes,” Dan replied immediately, his voice caught in a half-laugh. “Yes, I am.”

Phil stared at him, struggling.

Dan grinned. “I’m holding your hand in the middle of a fucking cafe, Phil. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Phil laughed again, leaned in close, watched as the tension fell away from Dan’s shoulders at his words. “I like you, Dan. A lot. Like, more than a friend, a lot.”

Dan bit both his lips to hide his smile, but his dimple still appeared on his cheek.

“Have dinner with me?” Phil asked, hand tight around Dan’s to stop his shaking.

Dan looked at him, eyes dark and warm and soft, dimple growing deeper with every passing moment. He relaxed completely into his seat as he said, “Ok, Phil. Yes.”

Phil matched Dan’s grin with a wide one of his own, and tightened his hold on Dan’s hand.

---

They took their time on the way home. On the one hand, they were both feeling a little silly, not helped by the fact that as soon as they walked out of the cafe, Dan reached out with an oddly determined look on his face and took hold of Phil’s hand.

Phil started, surprised, for only a second before he leaned in closer and tightened his grip.

Dan hadn’t said anything, but the look on his face, the soft glow from his cheeks that might have just been from the cold and the depth of his dimple told all that Phil needed to know.

They walked closer together, too, bumping shoulders, sharing small sidelong glances, and smiling whenever they caught each other’s eye.

But another reason they took their time was because Dan was slowly, slowly opening up. Every few steps he’d say something else, admit to another thing that had happened to him over the past few months, and a lot of it made Phil’s heart twist, aching with the knowledge of the pain that Dan had been going through, unnoticed, right under his nose. It made Phil feel helpless, but the strength of Dan’s hand in his reminded him that Dan had made it through, that he was somehow strong enough.

“I actually didn’t leave my room for a few weeks,” Dan confessed softly a little way down the street outside the cafe.

Phil shot him a look, bumping their shoulders together.

Dan sent him a small smile, eyes soft. “Sorry. Depressing shit, isn’t it? I probably shouldn’t be telling you.”

“No, tell me,” Phil disagreed instantly, without a second’s hesitation. “I’d much rather know all of it, Dan.”

Dan frowned at him, a crinkle in his brow that Phil itched to smooth out. So he did, reaching across with his free hand and lightly brushing his thumb against the centre of Dan’s forehead.

Dan closed his eyes under the touch, edged a little closer until they were pressed together as they walked. “I don’t know why. Honestly, Phil, none of it is good. The only good thing about this entire year has been you.”

Phil bit back a smile, relishing the burst of affection that flooded through him. But he still shook his head. “I don’t care. I still want to know everything. And this year isn’t over yet, Dan.”

Dan shot him a sidelong look. “How the fuck do you always stay so positive? Seriously, please, share your secret.”

Phil laughed. “Would if I knew it. But, Dan--” he squeezed Dan’s fingers, shot him a slightly more serious look. “I mean it when I say I want to know. Like, you’re so quiet sometimes, and all this was happening and I didn’t know--”

“I didn’t tell you,” Dan shrugged, glancing down. “And I’m good at hiding things.”

“I know.” Phil leaned in a little, squeezed Dan’s fingers again. “But just. When you want to tell me, I’ll want to listen. That’s all.”

Dan glanced at him again, and this time, his look was a little uncertain. “Do you really mean that?”

Phil looked over, saw the uncertainty hiding behind Dan’s eyes, and pulled them both to a stop. He turned to face Dan in the middle of the busy street, ignoring the mutters from the people who had to walk around them, and placed both hands firmly on Dan’s shoulders.

Dan looked up at him, eyes wide, expression the most vulnerable Phil had ever seen.

“Dan,” Phil promised gently, “I mean it. I promise. I’ll always want to listen to you, always, no matter how happy or sad what you’re telling me is.”

Dan bit his lower lip, expression tightening. He relaxed a little in Phil’s grip, and Phil could feel the tension leaving his shoulders, could see the way Dan’s eyes grew warmer.

“I believe you,” Dan answered, and there was something close to wonder in his tone. “Which is really fucking strange, actually.”

Phil shrugged, taking Dan’s hand in his again and continuing down the street. “Well, it’s true. Tell me. How bad has it been these past few months? Really?”

“Really fucking bad,” Dan answered, his tone off-puttingly light. “Like I said, I didn’t leave my room for weeks. And when I had to, like, sprint to the bathroom or the kitchen, I’d do it really late, when no one else was awake.”

“Jack said he heard you pacing,” Phil remembered.

Dan twisted to look at him, expression difficult to read. “You and Jack talked about me?”

“He brings you up, sometimes,” Phil answered, feeling the back of his neck growing hot. “He, uh. He kind of picked up on, um, on --”

“On?” Dan prodded when Phil didn’t continue the sentence, nudging his shoulder against Phil’s, eyes bright.

Phil rolled his eyes, shoved Dan back. “On how I was feeling about you. He laughed at me a lot.”

Dan snorted, biting his lip. “Oh. Well. I don’t know how - I had no idea.”

Phil looked at him questioningly. “Really? Not at all?”

Dan shook his head, glancing down at the ground again to avoid Phil’s gaze. “No. Well, like, when I thought I picked up on something I assumed it was wishful thinking. Like, no way could it be real, it was my imagination running wild and I had to ignore it.”

Phil squeezed Dan’s hand, leaning in. “Well. That’s not correct, is it.”

“No,” Dan agreed, and smiled so widely his eyes crinkled up. Phil’s favourite smile on him.

“So you haven’t been sleeping much?” Phil asked, pressing the point a little when Dan’s face screwed up. “Sorry, Dan, but like. If you haven’t been taking good care of yourself then I need to know, so I can tell you off when you do it again.”

“A right pain, you are,” Dan said, but his tone was fond. He glanced down again, letting out a low sigh. “Yeah, no, sleep isn’t really a thing. I either do too little or too much of it. And then, like, some days getting out of bed is just impossible.”

Phil nodded, squeezed Dan’s hand again. “And eating?”

Dan flicked him a sidelong glance. “Aside from what you left for me, and whichever bits of cereal I managed to grab that you didn’t steal, haven’t been doing much of that either.”

Phil bit his lip, pushing away the stab of pain that Dan’s words brought him. He could see how hard it was for Dan to be admitting to this - could see it in the faint crease that still sat in the centre of Dan’s forehead, in the tense line of his shoulders, the slight dimness hiding in his eyes. But Phil really wasn’t sure what to say, didn’t want to say the wrong thing. He wasn’t terrified of scaring Dan away anymore, not exactly, but he was afraid of misstepping, of saying something that would hurt him.

In other words, Phil was a bit out of his depth.

He squared his shoulders, leaned over, content in the knowledge that Dan was here, holding his hand, walking next to him instead of hiding or running away again. So Phil smiled, glanced at Dan, and said determinedly, “Well, then. You’re going to eat with me, every evening. And I’ll send you up to bed at a reasonable time, after we do something fun. Mario kart, or film watching, whatever.”

Dan stared at him with something close to incredulousness. His lips parted, caught on words he didn’t say, just staring at Phil as they walked on down the street.

Phil bit his lip, wondering if he’d already said the wrong thing.

But then Dan knocked into his side, smiling so wide as he glanced down that his dimple appeared. “Right demanding fuck you are, Lester.”

But Phil could hear the fondness in his tone, the inherent thanks hidden away behind his words.

Phil relaxed a little, and squeezed Dan’s hand again. “Yeah, well. Get used to it.”

Dan glanced sidelong again at him, his eyes warm and dark and dancing, and Phil thought he could get lost in that gaze for hours.

---

They made it home, eventually, hand-in-hand, tumbling through the door amid laughter and finger poking and That was completely your fault, Phil, you tripped on the fucking doormat and fell into me - and glanced up to find Jack standing half-way up the stairs, glancing down at the front door with one brow arched and a stack of dirty mugs hanging from his hands.

Dan shrank a little bit behind Phil, but didn’t remove his hand from Phil’s.

Jack glanced down, raised his brow higher, and then huffed out a laugh. “Well, fucking finally.”

“Shut up,” Phil said indignantly, but he could hear Dan let out a small chuckle from his position pressed up against Phil’s back.

Jack shook his head, expression highly amused. “I’m not even gonna ask. I don’t wanna know. Finally, Phil, though, honestly, it took you long enough to get up the balls to tell him.”

“Shut up,” Phil said again, huffing when Dan laughed a little more audibly this time.

Jack peered over Phil’s shoulder to meet Dan’s eyes, and Phil felt Dan tense a little behind him, but he didn’t move away.

“Honestly, you should have heard the whining I’ve put up with the past few months,” Jack said directly to Dan, pointing at Phil. “He’s a mess. Look after him.”

“I will,” Dan said, surprising Phil a little. He could feel Dan’s fingers quivering in his, could hear the slight tremor in Dan’s voice, and as soon as he spoke Dan shrunk back behind Phil again.

Jack, much to Phil’s thanks, didn’t say anything about it. He just saluted them both and continued down the stairs, past them, to the kitchen. “The others are out, and I’m going to meet Mark in a minute, so the house is yours.”

Of course. It was a Friday night. Their film night, as ever. Phil turned to share a look with Dan, saw the warmth and fear and slight happiness all mixed up together in his gaze. He squeezed Dan’s hand, tilting his head questioningly, and Dan sent him a small nod and a soft smile in return. Code for I’m alright, I’m staying.

Phil didn’t bother attempting to hide his smile. “We’ll stay down here, then.”

“Just clean up your popcorn this time,” Jack berated from the kitchen.

Dan and Phil shared a look, and it was one of warmth, and comfort, and familiarity. This, at least, was familiar, even if there was a new closeness between them, a new heaviness to the atmosphere around them.

But Phil was more than ok with it, and if the way Dan pressed himself into Phil’s side was anything to go by, then he was perfectly content with it too.

“No promises,” Dan said, and flicked Phil’s cheek lightly. “This one’s a bit of a mess.”

“Rude,” Phil argued, and tugged Dan over to the sofa. “Shut up. It’s my turn to pick the film, and I’m going to deliberately pick something you hate unless you’re nice to me.”

“I’m always nice to you.” Dan crashed on a sofa cushion, curling up, and sent Phil one of the widest, brightest smiles he’d ever seen. “Far too fucking nice to you, actually.

Phil looked at him, curled up on the sofa with his oversized hoody and wide smile and soft, warm eyes, and that warm something in his chest bloomed again, spreading through him until he was tingling from head to toe. And Dan looked back, and smiled like he knew exactly what Phil was thinking, and stretched his hands out towards him in an obvious invitation.

Phil didn’t hesitate a moment before folding himself onto the sofa beside Dan, and this time he didn’t have to restrain his urge to reach out and wrap his arms around Dan, pull him close, or run fingers through his hair. Dan rested against him, warm and comforting and familiar, and nosed his way into Phil’s chest.

Phil glanced down at him, bit back a smile, and gathered him close.

“Gross,” Jack commented on his way to the door.

“Shut up,” Phil shot back, eyes closed, head rested against Dan’s. He heard the door slam shut behind Jack and smiled, pressing his face into Dan’s hair, relishing the warmth of having him close, finally.

Dan curled up closer, winding himself firmly into Phil’s arms, and Phil thought that he’d never felt more content.

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