#Link at least has a reason behind his silence (in game and developer wise)

[mpsideadump]

You know how a bunch of fanworks for a game with a silent protagonist usually have them talking?

And then when you've indulged in enough fan content that you sometimes forget that they don't actually talk in game? Or at least don't have them voiced in cutscenes?

You guys got any particular characters that come to mind for this?

[caedmonfaith]

Method Acting

A new multichapter fanfic by Caedmon. 

Summary: Anthony J. Crowley is an A-list actor who has been in a bit of a slump over the last couple of years. A.Z. Fell is on the brink of superstardom, but has a reputation as a fuddy duddy. Their managers, Beezle and Gabriel, insist that if they pretend to date each other, it will solve both of their problems. It's only for three months. What's the worst that can happen?

Actors!AU, fake relationship, slow burn, rated E for later chapters. Updates every Monday and Thursday. First chapter below. 

Read it on ao3!

~*~O~*~

August 19, 2019

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Crowley stated blankly, shock rendering his face devoid of emotion. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It had to be a joke. “A.Z. Fell?”

“Yes. Glad to know your hearing is normal,” Beezle commented drily.

“Who the fuck is A.Z. Fell?”

“He’s an actor, and a rather good one. Surely you’ve heard the buzz about the new drama coming out, ‘Tadfield’. He’s the lead, and poised for superstardom after this film.”

Crowley racked his brain, but couldn’t call anything to mind about A.Z. Fell. The name was certainly familiar, but for some reason, he was connecting it with London, not LA. That couldn’t be right. Could it?

He shook off the thought and went back to his shocked disbelief. “I don’t understand,” he managed. “I genuinely don’t fucking understand, Beezle. I need you to enlighten me.”

“It’s simple. You haven’t had a hit in four years. Your last six movies haven’t done as well as expected—”

“They weren’t bombs,” Crowley muttered petulantly.

“No, they weren’t bombs, but given what you were doing five or ten years ago, they were a disappointment. Frankly, your star has fallen quite a bit as a result. Magazines aren’t writing about you, the paps don’t give a shit about you --”

“You say that like it’s a fucking bad thing.”

Beezle leveled a look at him. “It is a bad thing, and you know it. You know perfectly well that in this business, media silence is a death knell. If you’re not being talked about, you might as well lay down and die. But I know you, Crowley, and I don’t believe you’re done yet. You’re in a slump, yes, but I think you still have a few years of hits left in you. We just have to get people to pay attention again.”

“And you think the best way to do that is with a fake relationship with this A.Z. Fell?”

“Yes. If ‘Tadfield’ does even half of what people are expecting, he’s about to be on top of the world, career-wise. He’s already very much in demand, and highly sought after.”

“Then why the hell should he do this?”

“His manager, Gabriel, and I are old friends. He owes me a favor.”

“Some fucking favor,” Crowley grumbled.

Beezle ignored him. “You don’t have to do this. This isn’t the 1930’s, no one is going to force you. Your job doesn’t depend on it. But this could be very good for you, Crowley. I’m only asking you to go through with it for three months or so.”

“Three months!”

“Yes, at least three. Otherwise the paparazzi won’t even have time to be interested. After a few months, if you never want to see Fell again, you don’t have to. But think about it. Just think for a second. Think of your career.”

“There’s got to be some other way…”

“Oh, sure, we could do it without this, but dating someone on top of his game will open doors for you that I can’t open otherwise, or would be hard to open. It’ll propel you into the spotlight again. Your association with him will put you in front of casting directors and the like. Besides that, being linked with someone seen as stable and safe will help improve your own image. Your reputation precedes you.” Crowley scowled and Beezle leaned forward, propping their hands on their knees. “Think, you stubborn fool. Think of what this could mean.”

Crowley huffed, but he did as he was asked and thought about it. His star had fallen over the last several years, and the roles he was being offered lately were not nearly as good. Producers and directors didn’t want to take a chance on an actor who may not make a good return on investment, and Crowley hadn’t been as bankable lately. Sure, he still had plenty of money squirreled away, but he enjoyed what he did. He enjoyed the lifestyle - although he had to admit, the constant partying was getting old. And he missed working.

Beezle wasn’t done. “You’re not the only one who suffers when your career is in the dumps, you know.”

It was a pointed reminder if Crowley had ever heard one. And what’s more, Beezle was right. Everyone associated with him - Beezle, his agent, his accountants, everyone - stood to gain when he was successful and bringing home top billing pay. If he did well, they all prospered. If he floundered, they did, too. And if he floundered too much, they’d all leave him for greener pastures. Then he’d really be fucked.

“Three months, you said?”

“At least three. You get through to the end of November, and we’ll play it by ear. If the plan hasn’t worked and doesn’t look like it’s going to, we’ll stick a fork in it. But if it’s going well, we might milk it for a while longer. No longer than six months, though. Tops.”

Crowley sighed, his shoulders slumping a little, and he tried not to notice the gleam of triumph in Beezle’s eye.

“Tell me how it’s going to work.”

~*~O~*~

“I beg your pardon,” Aziraphale said politely, inclining his head forward a bit, as if to hear better. “So silly of me, but I’m afraid I must have misheard you, Gabriel. It almost sounded as if I’m going to be in a fake relationship.”

“That’s right,” Gabriel said with a bright smile, as if he was pleased Aziraphale had caught on so quickly to the most perfect plan anyone had ever come up with. A perfect gem of a plan. Aziraphale was forced to disagree.

“And just who are you proposing I have this sham of a relationship with, pray tell?” he demanded, voice chilly.

“Anthony J. Crowley,” Gabriel answered smugly.

“Anthony J. Crowley!” Aziraphale squawked. “But he’s… he’s…”

“He’s an A-list actor whose career has been on a downward swing for the last couple of years. You’re about to become an A-list actor when ‘Tadfield’ is released. You can help each other.”

“How on Earth can we possibly do that?”

“Your reputation as an actor is sterling - really, the best of the best - but no one knows anything about your personal life. You never go to parties and are very rarely social. Honestly, you’re developing a reputation as a recluse, a bookworm - almost a hermit. Certainly a stick in the mud. The words ‘fuddy duddy’ have been bandied about, and surely you can see how those would be detrimental to you.”

“I like who I am!”

“And there’s nothing wrong with who you are, Fell. But you’re boring. Boring doesn’t sell tickets.”

“I seem to be doing just fine,” Aziraphale huffed. “All my films have performed admirably.”

“They all did fine, but ‘fine’ isn’t what you want. ‘Fine’ is mediocre. You want excellence, and this will help you to get it.”

“I still fail to see how a false relationship is going to improve ticket sales - especially someone with the kind of reputation Anthony J. Crowley has. He’s a well-known rake.”

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the desk and crossing his ankles, threading his fingers together and putting them behind his head. “First of all, no one says ‘rake’ anymore. Further, a torrid relationship with someone seen as your polar opposite will drum up interest in you. You’re not an unfortunate-looking man, Fell, despite being a little soft around the middle.” Aziraphale covered his belly protectively, but Gabriel didn’t pause. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t have legions of fans who adore you and soak up your every move. Entire blogs and websites, devoted to you! You need to build an audience, and having a high-profile relationship can only help that.”

“You can’t make me do this,” Aziraphale tried. “It’s bound to be illegal. Isn’t it?”

Gabriel made a face that clearly indicated that Aziraphale was being ridiculous. “Of course nobody is making you do this. I’m just pointing out the benefits to your career if you agree to fake a relationship for the next ninety days or so. That’s all we’re asking. Three months - maybe more, if things are going well.”

“We? Who else is in on this?”

“Beezle, Anthony J. Crowley’s manager. They’re pitching the idea to him today, too, so we can get started as soon as possible.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a few moments, contemplating. It was a ludicrous idea, laughable, really. But would it work? Aziraphale had always loved acting, loved the craft, but he’d promised himself when he came to LA that if he ever made it big, he’d stay in the spotlight long enough to build up a comfortable nest egg, then he’d ‘retire’ back to London with his books and beat the boards in the West End whenever it pleased him. He’d had it all planned out… but he hadn’t quite had the success in LA he’d hoped for. He was comfortable enough, but not yet able to return to London full time. Los Angeles was still where the money was, so that was where he needed to stay for now - at least part-time.

But if Gabriel was right, this faked relationship could propel him into a higher status - which would let him see his retirement sooner. He certainly wasn’t getting any younger, and frankly was lucky to be getting the parts he was getting at his age. If pretending to date Anthony J. Crowley would open him up to more roles, what could it hurt?

Aziraphale sighed. “I must be mad.”

“You’ll be mad if you don’t do this. I promise, Fell. This will work. Three months of your life to secure the rest of your life. You’d be crazy to turn that down.”

He wasn’t so sure about that, but acquiesced. “Tell me how this is supposed to work.”

[jestbee]

Ships that pass in the night (Chapter Eleven)

Title: Ships that pass in the night (Chapter Eleven) Tags: Alternate Timeline, AU, Slow burn, strangers to friends, friends to lovers Words: 4480 Summary: Dan and Phil are YouTubers. The catch? They’ve never met, and Phil doesn’t want them to.

Author’s Note: After a short break, this is back! Thanks for sticking with me, I’ve really missed this :D

[AO3 Link]

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] [Chapter Seven] [Chapter Eight] [Chapter Nine] [Chapter Ten]

The videos come out over the next four weeks. Dan visits often. When one is uploaded they’ve developed a sort of ritual of waiting for each other to watch them and Dan will text Phil sometime in the evening, or he won’t, either way he’ll show up. Phil ends up giving him the code for the downstairs door because it’s easier to just let him in when he knocks than it is to buzz him up since he knows he’s coming anyway.

There are a few times, after the video has finished and they are plunged into the quiet darkness of Phil’s flat, that they move on to other videos, or a DVD, or video games. Prolonging the moment when Dan has to leave as though neither wants it to come. Dan sleeps on his couch a few times, and he’s always there in the morning.

It’s cosy and warm and Phil is getting to used to it, which is dangerous, especially when he knows it has a shelf life. Their video will be uploaded soon, and then there’s the wrap party for the whole group, and then they will have run out of excuses and Phil will have to deal with these feelings he has once and for all. To get over them, or to burn away with them, he hasn’t really decided.

PJ, at least, is the same as he always is. He drops round too, complaining he hasn’t seen Phil in ages and carting with him some weird card game that Phil can’t really get his head around but is trying his best at.

He’s just lost another hand, sat cross-legged on his living room carpet opposite PJ at the coffee table when there is that ever-familiar knock at his door. Phil gets up immediately.

“Expecting company?” PJ asks, his face surprised at how unsurprised Phil’s is.

“It’ll be Dan,” Phil explains with a shrug

“Dan?” PJ repeats. “Dan Howell?”

“Yeah.” Phil forgets that this is strange and unusual behaviour for Phil Lester.

“Since when does Dan Howell drop by your flat?”

“Um… since… you know, we worked together on the project. It’s just for that community thing, we watch the videos together when they’re uploaded. He’s probably here to watch tonight’s I forgot to tell him you were over. Should I have asked him to cancel?”

“No,” PJ smiles, his eyes twinkling with something that might be pride, but Phil has no idea what he has to be proud of, “the more the merrier.”

With a short nod, more to himself than to PJ, Phil goes to answer the door.

Dan doesn’t wait for an invitation inside, simply barrels in, chatting non-stop as he drops off a carrier bag in the kitchen.

“I think you’re rubbing off on me,” he says, disappearing around the doorframe and out of Phil’s view.

Phil has no choice but to follow, just to keep up with whatever the heck it is Dan is going on about.

“Some guy on the tube on the way over here was quacking. Actually quacking, like a duck. I thought it was just you that attracted strange people but honestly…”

He keeps it up, the constant drivel of commentary, drifting from the kitchen once he’s deposited his bag, and heading to the living room.

“Is it catching do you think? The attracting strange people thing– oh. Hi. You’re PJ.”

Dan is in the doorway and turns his head back over his shoulder to look at Phil.

“Wow. I'm… such a dick. I totally didn’t know you had company. Because I just presumed didn’t I? Wow. Sorry. I'll… leave you to it.” He takes a few steps backwards but Phil moves up behind him and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be silly,” he insists, “We were just playing this weird game, you should join us.”

“That okay with you?” Dan asks PJ.

“Sure mate, the more the merrier,” PJ repeats, looking around Dan at Phil with an amused expression.

Dan gives Phil a last look of apology and then crosses the room to sit down opposite PJ on the carpet.

“What are we playing?”

Phil smiles at the two, they make a good picture, like a dream sequence of what his life might be like if he socialised more. Friends gathered and comfortable in his flat. But it’s like he’s watching it from the outside, too stuck in his own head to really immerse himself in it.

PJ begins to explain the rules of the game and while Dan’s brow furrows slightly, he nods as if he understands. Phil hesitates only briefly before taking a seat next to Dan, crossing his legs so that their knees brush, even though there is really no need for them to. PJ crooks and eyebrow over Dan’s head as looks down at the cards, Phil pretends he doesn’t see.

They play a few hands and Phil still doesn’t really understand the game, but he has an excuse for not really paying attention this time. PJ and Dan get along famously, laughing and fondly chiding each other in a free and easy way Phil envies with every fibre of his being. They haven’t socialised much before tonight, Phil knows, but he thinks they’ll leave as friends. It warms something in him to think of the two closest people to him getting along. Which says something about him if he includes Dan stand-in-friend-for-the-sake-of-the-internet Howell as one of the people closest to him.

“I brought beer,” Dan says suddenly, as if just remembering, which is a new development, because he doesn’t usually.

Were they meant to drink it alone? Did Dan bring beer for him and Phil to drink while watching the latest youtube community video? It wouldn’t be entirely strange, he supposes, but still, it’s a novelty and for some reason it sends Phil’s mind wandering to imaginative places. So much so that he doesn’t catch himself as he watches Dan leave the room, a small sigh escaping him as he disappears.

“Phil,” PJ says, knocking him from his trance.

“Um, yeah? Sorry, what?”

“Phil…” PJ looks kind of mad, the space between his brows shrunk into a dipped line, harsh and judgemental, “I said you should make friends with him not fall for the guy.”

“Wha-what?” Phil stammers, “What the hell are you… talking about?”

It’s a token protest at best, because PJ doesn’t look like he’s believing it and Phil isn’t putting much emotion behind it.

“Oh god,” he says instead, dropping his forehead into his hand. Their voices are low, dipped so that Dan can’t hear them.

“On the one hand,” PJ is saying, “I mean… it’s great that you're… you know, getting out there. But… Phil, come on, is it wise? After everything that–”

“No, no, no” Phil says, his hands waving wildly in front of PJ’s face as if trying to push the words back into his mouth, “No no no. We’re not… He doesn't…. No.”

“Okay,” PJ says finally, patting ineffectually at Phil’s hands to get them to stop, “Like I said, I’m glad you’re getting out there. You know, not that long ago you wouldn’t have been able to… you found it difficult. But… I mean Phil, another YouTuber? Really?”

“I know,” Phil says, shaking his head and dipping his eyes, not even wanting to see how pathetic he is reflected in PJ’s expression. “I’m dealing with it. It’s all over soon anyway and then it won’t matter. Like you said, maybe it’s just the start of me like getting out there a little bit… yeah. After this… I can… you know… move on to something… better.”

PJ only gets as far as nodding in reply before Dan is back in the room carrying three glass bottles of beer. It isn’t the horrible kind that Phil usually hates, the ones he gets stuck holding at parties, it’s the light Mexican kind, laced with tequila or similar. He’s jammed a wedge of lime into the rim of the bottle and Phil knows the sour will mix with the taste of the beer and tequila and end up tasting quite nice.

They play a few more hands of the game while they sip, and Dan fills the awkward silence with his large, brash personality and Phil is thankful for it because he has no idea what he would say to either of them right now. His head is full of PJ’s disapproval, because of course this is all a stupid idea, given his history, and he’d honestly turn it off if he could but one look at Dan, sweeping the fringe from his eyes with the back of his index finger while staring down at his cards and Phil knows it’s hopeless. Just the sweet curve of his mouth twisted into a slight frown at a bad hand is enough to flip Phil’s stomach over.

PJ leaves soon after, needing to get home to Sophie, and Phil walks him to the door.

“He’s a cool guy,” PJ is saying, “Just… be careful.”

“You know I always am,” Phil sighs, “Too careful. Isn’t that my problem? You’re always saying that is my problem.”

PJ nods, “I know. Maybe some of that caution has rubbed off on me. Mostly I just don’t really understand because … well, Dan is very out-there isn’t it? Social media wise. I thought that’d be the last thing you wanted.”

“It is,” Phil insists, “I don’t actually… look, I’m not going to do anything. It’s an infatuation, he’s cute or whatever and I’m dipping my toe in.”

“If you say so Phil, looks a little more than a physical crush to me though mate, you’re fairly gone on him.” “I can’t be,” Phil shrugs, “can I? Another Youtuber? Please… there are so so many reasons why that is the most insane thing I could possibly do. And anyway, Dan would never… it’s not like that.”

“I’m not arguing with you on any but that last point,” PJ says, “He’d be a fool not to. Just…”

“Be careful,” Phil repeats, “I know.”

PJ nods, hugs him very very briefly, staying out of Phil’s space in a way he appreciates when he’s feeling this prickly, like his skin might erupt into flame, and then he leaves.

He returns to the living room and to Dan who immediately begins expounding on how much fun the game had been and how good it was to get to know PJ a little more and–

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes I’m fine.”

“…okay.” Dan says, his eyes narrowing briefly, “If you say so. You want to watch the community video now?”

“Yes.”

They watch the video, and then a few more. Dan slides closer to him on the couch, their legs pressed together from hip to knee even though there is more than enough room for them to sit with space between them.

Eventually they end up with animal videos and autoplay taking over their choosing of them and Dan is wavering between awake and asleep and Phil silently pulls the blanket from the back of the couch like he always does.

“I should go,” Dan whispers into the darkness that has fallen over Phil’s living room.

“If you want to,” Phil replies, moving to put the blanket back again.

“I said I should” Dan clarifies, “not that I wanted to. I’m not good at making wise decisions when I want something. I’m trying to get better at that.”

Phil doesn’t try to make sense out of Dan’s tired babbling, instead just passes the blanket to him and Dan does nothing but hug it to his chest. He can make out Dan’s profile in the light of the laptop, the curve of his nose, the dip of his dimple thrown into stark relief in the harsh glow.

“Me too.” Phil says finally. Knowing that Dan is not a wise decision, but he keeps making it, over and over.

“You’re always careful,” Dan insists, sleepily.

“Maybe I’m trying not to be,” Phil breathes, the words only barely there on his exhale. “Or I’m not as good at is as I used to be.”

There is a beat of silence, thick, heavy and loaded with suggestion. Dan turns his head to look Pil square in the face, his eyes soft, and Phil thinks if there was ever a moment that something could happen it would be now. Something rises in his chest, dangerous and reckless, like the pull to the edge of a building, making him want to tip forward just to try something for once, to put himself out there. But it passes, and he tries not to feel too disappointed when Dan lays backwards, stretches out on his couch, kicking out at him lightly.

“Go on then, get out. Let me sleep.”

Phil laughs, letting the lightness of it ease the dull throb of pain in his heart and stands. He closes the laptop lid, tucking it under his arm and leaves Dan to sleep. PJ is right, he needs to be more careful, this is starting to get out of hand.

–

He’s more restrained after that. Heeding PJ’s advice and his own nagging conscience telling him how stupid he’s being and he begins to school himself back into the realms of AmazingPhil. Perhaps, he argues with himself, if he can just be the person he’s supposed to be, the one that Dan likes from the internet, the one that can give him all the things he wants, the follow count and the recognition, Dan might stay.

He’s aware how crazy that sounds, how close it is to falling into a repeat of behaviours that have gotten him in trouble before, and how he’s prolonging the thud thud thud of painful longing in his chest by wishing Dan will stay close by, but that pain is the only reminder he has that he’s still capable of feelings at all. He’s scared that without it he’ll go back to how he was before, friendless and isolated, and now he’s had a taste of what it could be, easy and carefree, he wants more of it.

It’s easy to slip into the persona and if Dan notices, it is only in the small glance of a frown every now and again when Phil makes a particularly off-kilter comment more suited to his channel than how they’ve been recently. He doesn’t offer comment though, simply gazes at him or else flicks his eyes to the side to avoid it. Phil watches it happen but doesn’t do anything to correct himself because at least Dan is staying, for now.

Phil is tweeting, too. Giving little glimpses into their times hanging out and Dan replies regularly. The fans are going crazy over the ‘domestic’ nature of them and speculation is rife. It’s pretty accepted in their corner of the internet that the 'surprise’ video at the end of the month is going to be theirs, so by the time the day arrives the hype online is intense.

“This is going to change things for us,” Dan is saying excitedly.

He’s in Phil’s flat again, on the side of the couch that is slowly becoming his and Phil has even bothered to buy snacks his time, something Dan had teased him about because as far as hosting goes Phil hasn’t been great up to this point.

They’re not on the laptop this time, instead Phil has hooked up YouTube on his TV for the occasion, wanting to bring a little bit of something special to the proceedings seeing how he’s convinced this is the last time Dan is going to be in his flat, the project is over, they don’t need to hang out anymore.

“You think one collab is going to have that much of an effect?” he asks, fishing a Dorito from the bowl on the table and crunching on it happily.

“I think the amazing video you made is going to showcase your talent and increase your subscriber count, yeah.”

He says it so casually, as if bestowing the praise is easy for him, effusing from his being like water, drenching over Phil, cooling him.

“The video we made,” Phil corrects, shaking his head, trying not to allow the compliment to take root there, “the concept was your idea, really.”

“But I couldn’t have done it without your amazing filming and editing skills, Phil. You’re truly talented, you could direct big movies one day.”

Phil feels his face colour and he shoves at Dan’s arm to distract himself, “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” Dan insists, laughing so that his whole face lights up and Phil wants to take it in his hands and swallow it down.

“But your story telling was what made it great, you have a real knack for the way you put words together… maybe you should write the movie script. Or star in it. You’re great at acting. I’d let you have creative input on the cinematography too.”

“Cheers,” Dan says, eyes dancing through the sarcasm. “I’ll just do all the work and you tell them where to point the camera? Seems like a fair split!”

Phil imagines then what it might be like to work with Dan on something bigger, a larger project that combines their talents into something their audiences could enjoy. He thinks about how that would mean getting more of Dan’s attention, more of his time, more of those smiles aimed directly at him, so wonderful and bright he could go blind from it.

He tries to remind himself not to get too attached to them, because this is ending tonight. This is the last time.

They refresh the page once more and the video is there, their phones chiming in perfect sync as they each receive a notification.

“Here we go,” Dan says.

Phil just nods and clicks play.

Watching the video in this space is strange. They’ve seen it before, countless times, played back on Phil’s computer while they edit, but this is different. They aren’t perched on separate chairs for one, but are as close together on his couch as they always are. And they can’t make changes, if they see anything they don’t like this time, it’s out there for the world to see.

“I’m glad we didn’t change anything,” Dan says in a hushed tone, doing that thing where he reads Phil’s mind a little bit. “I’m glad you talked me down from my crazy neuroses about it.”

Phil huffs a laugh, because the thought that he can help anyone with their issues is astounding, because he can’t sort his own out so he’s no idea how to do it for anyone else.

“The video is great,” Phil assures him again, doing the impossible and reaching out to pat at Dan, meaning to go for his arm but finding his hand drop on his knee. Dan doesn’t visibly react so he probably gets away with it.

The story on screen is once again tugging at him. He watches as Dan’s character is lit solely by the glow of a laptop screen, head surrounded by a duvet. It’s the perfect depiction of a lonely teen watching YouTube for solace. It will resonate with the viewers in a great way, but Phil too understands that longing to be apart of something.

His own character going about the business of making videos, scrolling through twitter and then, yes, noticing the lonely teen finally. Then a montage, a series of Tweets, Skype Calls, Text Messages before finally… a bustling train platform, Phil stationery by the stairs and Dan making his way across, slow at first and then at a run, almost colliding with him.

“You’re real,” Dan had said, which hadn’t been in the script but had been a better line than the one that they’d planned. Phil grins, wide and happy and they turn, heading off for whatever adventures await them.

There’s a final shot, a video Dan’s character has made finally being uploaded, Phil looking on supportively, so the cycle can start again. This doubles out to screen after screen, thumbnail after thumbnail, depicting the growth of the community if everyone encourages each other, reaches out, works together. It doubles and doubles until the screen is impossibly covered in screencaps, Dan’s lost amongst the crowd, the colours of them forming the YouTube logo which sits for a second before the screen fades to black.

“God,” Dan says when it ends, Phil reaching to stop the next video from playing.

“Yeah.”

“I sort of wish…” Dan starts before trailing off.

Phil pokes at him, a pointed finger sinking into the flesh of his upper arm. “What? You seeing editing mistakes?”

“No,” Dan clarifies, turning his full body, hitching one leg up onto the couch so that he is leaned in towards Phil. “I just sort of wish that something like that had actually happened sometimes. Like, I was that guy, watching YouTube by myself in my room. It would have been nice to meet someone back then, a good friend.”

Phil nods, because at the time Dan is talking about he could probably have done with a good friend too. Something a little more honest, innocent, something not tearing him up from the inside.

“I do too,” he agrees, “I wish things were different. But hey, you got into YouTube anyway!”

“I did,” Dan nods, “I procrastinated the hell out of it, and I probably could have done with something as encouraging as that but… I got there eventually.”

“I’m glad,” Phil says, honestly. “Twitter time?”

Dan nods and pulls out his phone.

They spend some time replying to fans on Twitter who have seen the video, answering questions about it and saying that no, short films isn’t something they’ve done before but yes they’d enjoyed it. Someone asks if they’d ever work together again and Dan is diplomatic in his answer that he loves collaborating and is always open to people with great ideas. It doesn’t really answer whether he’d work with Phil again specifically, but Phil doesn’t press the issue because Dan is a master at saying only exactly what he wants to on social media, and nothing more.

They give up after about forty five minutes because they can’t possible answer everyone, as much as phil would like to, and it’s beginning to descend into the 'phan’ side of things and Phil knows those interactions are best left well alone. They don’t even need to discuss it.

When they’re done Phil reaches for the remote to put something else on, it’s the same gesture he’s done a bunch of times so he’s mildly surprised when Dan begins to stand.

“I should go,” Dan says.

“Should?” Phil asks, bravely, “Or are?

Dan’s face relaxes into a kind of smile, it is one for all intents and purposes but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes in the way that Phil is used to. Instead, they look flat and sad.

"I am.”

“O-Okay.” Phil says, standing as well, “I'll… show you out.” Which is stupid because Dan knows where the door is, he knows all the corners of Phil’s tiny flat by now, he’s spent time here enough.

The walk to the door is like a funeral march, a slow plod to the end of all of this, there are no statements of 'see you tomorrow’ and no promises of anything else nestled between them. It’s done, and as much as Phil might have longed for this moment a month or so ago he finds that it’s sitting heavy on him, like a stone.

“This is it,” Dan says, redundant because Phil knows what his own front door looks like.

“This is it.” Phil repeats.

Dan shrugs into the jacket over his arm, running a hand distractedly through his hair, shuffling and fidgeting, doing everything not to meet Phil’s gaze until finally, he takes a breath, looks like he’s decided, and looks up.

“Thanks for… everything,” he says, “I had a really good time on this project.”

“Yeah…” Phil hates the sound of his voice, it’s wispy and pathetic, all tangled around those pesky feelings churning in his chest so that it can’t come out the way he intends, “me too.”

There is still no suggestion of anything more, and Phil wants to say 'let’s do it again’ or even something as flimsy and intangible as 'see you soon’, he wants to say these because he can’t say 'stay’ or 'don’t go’.

Instead he says nothing more, because on top of the thin way his voice is stretched, he can’t trust what words would come out were he to attempt anything at all.

Dan slips into the silence, leans forward, arms extended. They wrap around Phil’s shoulders unexpectedly and pull him close. He doesn’t keep himself bent away this time, presses against Phil’s body tightly, toes nudging at the tips of Phil’s own and Phil can hear the rush of breath escaping him in his ear.

He doesn’t know what to do, simply goes with his instinct, with his want, and curls his arms around Dan’s waist, holding him tighter, trying to communicate something, anything at all, just with the touch.

“Take care,” Dan says as they part, and this is worse than goodbye. Goodbye could mean 'later’ it could have anything bundled into it. 'Take care’ is final, and it stabs into Phil’s chest, the warmth of Dan’s body long gone, and takes root.

“You too.”

Phil feels himself drift as Dan takes hold of the door handle, sparing him another little glance as he slips into the hallway and then a small, casual wave, as if nothing is wrong even though it feels like Phil’s world is crumbling away.

He watches as Dan rounds the corner at the end of the hall, memorising the soft curve of his shoulders, the broad expanse of his back. He lets the image sit for a while, closing the door to his flat and wandering back to his living room to gaze at the space Dan has left on his couch, wondering how long it will take before he stops thinking of it as belonging to him, before he stops expecting him to show up of an evening.

It’s done, he tells himself, it was great while it lasted but it’s time to start the business of getting over it. Like PJ said, it was just a way for him to get out there a little bit, he’s proved he can do it, it’s time to move on to something a little wiser, something that doesn’t scare him beyond belief… something that doesn’t make his heart beat wildly and his palms sweaty and his head float. Something that doesn’t make him as happy as Dan might have. It’s time to just let it go.