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fiction-phan · 7 years ago

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Ghostly

Summary: Dan Howell has been able to see ghosts his whole life. Things have gone from bad to worse now that his mother remarried and he finds himself sharing his new room with Phil, avery good looking guy. A guy, who happens to be dead.

Words: 22.7k

Rating: Mature

Read it on AO3

A/N: I’m not even sure what I’m going to say. I wrote the first few paragraphs of this story back in December 2016. I was going to post it for one of the days of the 25 days of christmas but I started getting so many ideas that I knew it would be too long for that. It took me months to get it completely done. I stressed, I panicked and I cried because I wasn’t sure I was going to finish it in time. Somehow, I did it. This story is like my little baby and I’m so, so proud of it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

(Btw, don’t let the title get to you. I promise the story is much better than the title I came up with in five minutes)

Big thank you goes to @findmeinthekingdm. She was the best beta I could have asked for. From rewording sentences that made no sense to pitching me new ideas, she was essential for this story to be posted today. Thank you for dealing with my procrastination.

Thank you also to @gay-lizard-dads for the amazing art. You’ll get to see it soon, I promise.

Warnings: Mentions of death. There is a short mention of homophobia in the beginning of the story. It’s nothing too bad but you should be aware it’s there.

Dan was ruined. His mother obviously hated him, his father wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, and his friends had lost interest in him the second he said he was moving to a different school. It’s not as if it was something he chose himself. He couldn’t be blamed for his mother choosing to remarry someone who lived two hours away from his school.

If you asked him, the obvious choice would have been to drop this guy and find someone more accessible who wouldn’t ask for them to pack up their whole lives and move two hours away from their home. His mum clearly disagreed, judging by the dark stare she gave him when he dared to share his opinion.

Confronting his mum had resulted in an hour long rant from his mother about the beauty of falling in love, which only made Dan roll his eyes. “Falling in love is a beautiful experience that makes you do the craziest thing, the most thrilling things, no matter how stupid it may seem,” she said.

“Even if it means packing up everything and going to a place you’ve never been to?” Dan replied in the most monotonous way he could manage. Dan bit his tongue in order for him not to blurt out a sassier reply. All that coming from a woman who divorced twice, with one marriage that didn’t last a year. Hilarious.

“It’s well and good for you, mum, but I’m not the one who fell in love, so why the hell am I the one who’s stuck packing my whole life away?” He muttered angrily under his breath just as he taped up the last box with his belongings. He couldn’t get over how stupid the idea of them moving. Not only was he going to have to change schools in order to go to one closer to his mum’s future husband, but he was also expected to move into his house with them.

At first, Dan didn’t think it sounded too bad. Apparently Clive owned a larger than average house which would be an improvement over their minuscule apartment. He should have known that Clive owned a big house for a reason.

Imagine Dan’s shock when he found out that Clive had three sons. Three sons. He was going to have to share a bathroom with three tiny devils running around his feet and expected to take it with a smile. Not to mention that he couldn’t risk uttering a single complaint lest causing the end of his mother’s third marriage before it even happened.

Dan protested, of course he did. Not once, not twice, but countless of times. His mother found a way to shut him up, threatening him to leave him with his father if he didn’t stop complaining. And Dan did shut up. As much as he wasn’t happy about having to move away from where he had lived all his life, he would gladly take that option over having to live with his homophobic father who had quite a few choice words to share with him when Dan finally had the guts to come out to him. Needless to say, it didn’t go so well and they barely ever spoke anymore. Dan imagined that living with him would be like hell on earth.

His mum seemed to think that changing school meant Dan would no longer surround himself with criminals. If only she knew that Dan chose to have friends like that because it meant he didn’t have to let anyone get too close to him. Having people close to him meant forming relationships and feelings, both things Dan couldn’t allow himself to have.

It’s a never-ending cycle, and Dan seemed to be the only one who constantly has to face this. Dan had “friends” telling him they’d be there for him through thick and thin, but the second he does something that seems weird to society, they drop him like a hot potato and pretend they never even knew him. Dan learned it the hard way. How could eight-year-old Dan possibly have known that it wasn’t normal for kids to suddenly start seeing dead people and attempting to talk to them?

The first person he told was his mum who freaked out and started looking for psychiatrists she could send him to because, in her words, ‘he clearly was taking her divorce from his father really hard and that made him see things that weren't really there’. Her words, not his.

All the visits to specialists and psychiatrists did absolutely nothing. He kept seeing dead people and they still kept trying to communicate with him. No matter how many times he said that he didn’t have any idea who they were, they kept asking him for help in getting them out of the limbo they found themselves in.

It took him a while, but he finally figured out that the trick in getting his mother to stop sending him to specialists was to lie his way out of it. It hurt having to tell his mum that he was fine now, that he wasn’t seeing dead people anymore, but he kept seeing more and more of these people.

When lying to his mum, Dan lied to himself too. Every moment convincing his mum that it probably was a figment of a child's imagination that got a little carried away, he told himself the same exact thing. It's just my imagination. There's a little voice at the back of his mind chanting "You didn’t see anything. Your mind is just playing tricks on you,” but all he could see was a dead lady standing by his door frame. He felt her stare on him, and he felt violated, but he didn't dare to look or to speak up. The fear of seeing her sent shivers down his spine. She didn't look particularly ghostly, but there's just something about knowing she doesn't belong in his room.

He just ignored it. Ignorance really is bliss sometimes.

Dan should have known. After his mother’s reaction, his ‘gift’ was a secret he needed to keep to himself. It clearly wasn’t something normal and everyone would treat him differently like he was a freak. Dan’s not a freak, and he hated every moment spent having to see ghosts, and at the same time, living, breathing humans treating him as if he belonged in a mental institution if he hinted at the fact that he could see dead people.

Dan persevered. They don’t see it but he does. He decided to act as if everything about him was as normal as his peers but, as his mother said, love makes you do the craziest of things.

When Dan was thirteen, he was absolutely sure he was head over heels in love with his best friend. Thinking back on it now, it makes Dan cringe. His so-called feelings of love were enough for Dan to come clean to his best friend.

Dan had told his friend that he could see dead people. He helped them fix or get over the bad things they had done in life so they could leave the limbo they found themselves in and move on to the afterlife. Add that to the fact that he was gay, and Dan should not have been so surprised over the reaction he got.

Ollie had looked absolutely disgusted and called him names that was hard for Dan to forget to this day. He should have known that Ollie wouldn’t keep his mouth shut and Dan quickly became the school’s laughing stock; the faggot who can see dead people and talk to them.

He’ll never forget the months of bullying he endured just because he trusted someone with his deepest secret. That’s when he learned that people can’t be trusted, and someone like him couldn’t have any kind of relationship with anyone. He wasn’t ‘normal’ -- whatever normal meant -- and it was about time he accepted it.

Luckily enough, his mother remarried for the second time a few months after the incident and he changed schools. He attended a school where no one knew who he was or what he could do. He would never be normal as long as he kept seeing dead people, but as long as they don’t know about his condition, they wouldn’t consider him a freak. Dan got the fresh start he wanted.

That didn’t mean he wanted to be alone. He quickly learned how to fit in with the outcasts of his new school. He tried to ignore their bad habits and sometimes straight out offensive behaviour so he could have people to hang around with at school. No harm done. His mother clearly disagreed, though. She thought his “friends” were the reason why he never brought anyone home for her to meet and why he was so against the idea of moving home. Again.

Knowing that arguing was futile and not wanting to risk his mum going through with the threat of sending him to live with his dad, left Dan with very little he could do. He was just going to pack his stuff in boxes for the second time and hope there would not be a third time.

In the end, packing was better than thinking about the upcoming wedding.

The wedding was anything but extravagant. Dan never considered himself liking weddings and his mother’s was no different. However, he admitted that his mother actually looked really happy. Maybe moving would not be so bad if it meant his mum’s happiness didn’t just vanish after the wedding.

Luckily for Dan, there were no ghosts hanging around at the wedding, hence enjoyed a drink or two without anyone interrupting him and without having to disappear from his own mother’s wedding. His step-brothers did try to initiate awkward conversation with him but he was quick to start avoiding them after that.

Even though he was going to have to start living with them in the same house, Dan didn’t have any interest in involving to playing the part of a loving family. He agreed, albeit reluctantly, to move into a house with his mother’s new husband and that’s as much as he was willing to compromise.

Dan and his mum spent the previous week packing everything up into labelled boxes in preparation for their move since his mum was adamant that they spend the first night after the wedding in the new house. All of their belongings were taken to their new house by the removal guys, and now all that was left to do was for Dan to actually go to the house and start unpacking his stuff.

Not that he was in any rush to do that. As long as his room has a bed he can readily sleep on, and all his toiletries are out of the box, there was no need for him to rush the unpacking process. He only hoped that this was going to be the last time he would have to pack his whole life away only to have to unpack it again somewhere new.

It was more work than it was worth.

A few hours into the wedding, Dan started getting restless. It was nice to see his mum in a pleasant mood, but he was very much looking forward to leaving the party and get into bed for a good night’s sleep. Parties were never really his thing and it only got worse when he swore to keep socialising with other people to a bare minimum.

He could only drink so much before his mother started directing worried frowns on his way, and so he soon found himself leaning against the wall in a corner and hoping his mum and her new husband didn’t take too long to cut the cake.

It seemed his wishes were finally answered since the photographer hired by his mum was soon pulling him to the very front so that he could take a photo of the whole ‘family’ together as his mum and her husband cut the cake together.

Dan tried his best to smile in a way that was considered realistic. He glanced at his mum and they shared a look. While his mum’s smile was warm and content, he prayed that his smile mirrored hers, and was not one of boredom. Thinking about getting to go to his new home after eating a piece of cake made it a bit easier.

After the cake has been cut and distributed among the guests, many people started saying their goodbye. Dan tried not to look overly happy when his mum let him know that they were going to leave soon so he could go home first.

He was aware that ideally he would have told his mum that he was fine with waiting so that they could all leave together as one new happy family, but he just couldn’t bring himself to actually tell her that. He just wanted to go home, get changed out of the uncomfortable suit he was forced to wear and get into bed.

So with a quick goodbye to his mother and an awkward handshake with Clive, he was off.

Now that Dan was on his way to what could be considered as his new home, he couldn’t help feeling a little uncomfortable. The only time he was taken to visit their new home by his mum was a few days before the wedding, when they had taken a few boxes that could fit in the car. His mum insisted on showing him his new room, maybe as an attempt to get him feeling excited over their upcoming move.

Dan didn’t hate the room his mum chose for him. It was spacious and there was a large window that allowed for a lot of light to shine inside. It was a nice upgrade that almost made their move worth it. Almost.

Now he found himself having to go to this new house by himself and Dan couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding somewhere he did not belong. He was almost inclined to turn back and return to the party in order to wait for his mother so they could go to the house together for the first time.

The thought of having to return to and force himself to engage in conversations with people he has never even seen before in his life quickly changed Dan’s mind. Clive’s house was going to be his new home now and so Dan needed to get used to going in and out on his own. Sure, he would have felt more comfortable going in with his mum for the first time but he had no intention of ruining the last few minutes of her wedding day.

He got out his new set of keys as soon as his home was visible down the road. He didn’t waste much time looking at it from the outside. Dan was looking forward too much to finally getting some well needed rest. It had been a very tiring week but Dan could finally put it all behind him. Dan unlocked the door and quickly made his way inside, planning on preparing a nice hot bath to relax before going to bed.

Imagine his shock when, on walking into his new room, he realised that the room was inhabited by someone else. Someone who was not exactly alive.

“What the hell?”

This could not be happening to him. Of all the problems Dan had thought of regarding moving to a new home, he had never considered having a ghost in his room to be one of them. The ghost looked equally surprised as him, but that didn’t make Dan feel much better.

“I didn’t expect to see anyone coming in this early,” this man - this ghost - said nervously. He glanced at the clock that was already on Dan’s bedside table. Midnight. “Well, that’s not too early either,” the ghost admitted.“ It’s been awhile since anyone has come to stay in my room. My name is Phil,” the ghost said, smiling at him brightly. Dan wasn’t buying it.

Dan’s brain went through the two things things he wanted to do when he arrived home: take a relaxing bath and then sleep the night away. Instead, what he got was a ghost in his room who, unlike most ghosts Dan had met before, seemed to have no intention of starting a fight. That could mean two things: either Phil was still not aware that he was dead or he’s a harmless ghost.

Judging by what he said, Dan guessed it was the latter. That made things a little bit easier for him as it meant he didn’t have to break the news that Phil was dead and no longer exactly human. Few were the ghosts who took that piece of information well and Dan winced when he remembered back on all the times he ended up with bruises on his body because of that.

That didn’t mean Dan was at all happy with the current situation he found himself in. It was quite late in the evening and his week was tiring, to say the least. He didn’t have the time to try and get Phil to move on to the afterlife. Phil the Ghost would just have to wait.

“I think you mean my room. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re dead, so that means the room is not yours anymore. If you could kindly leave so I can get some sleep, it would be very much appreciated”, Dan said, already moving around the room to get the things he would need for his bath.

Phil’s smile was quickly wiped off of his face at Dan’s attitude. “Excuse me? I might be dead but this is still my house and you are still in my room. I’ve been staying here for years so, if anyone should leave, it should be you.”

Dan groaned and fought the urge to hit his head against the wall a few times. Of course he was stuck in the bedroom inhabited by a ghost. A ghost who did not seem the least bit inclined to get out and leave Dan alone.

“Look”, Dan started, trying to take on a different tactic. “I know you’re probably excited over finally meeting someone who can see you even though you’re a ghost. You probably can’t wait for me to start helping you fix whatever it is you need to fix so you can move on to the afterlife. I promise I’ll start helping you tomorrow, but for now I just need some rest. It’s been a hellish day, so I’ll repeat myself: get out.”

Phil looked confused and offended. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. I have no intention of going to the ‘afterlife’, as you called it, and I was perfectly happy here until you barged in, demanding that I leave.”

Dan was quickly coming to his wit’s end. He realised that he could stay in the middle of the room arguing until he turned blue in the face, and Phil would still be adamant on not leaving. Dan considered his best option: to ignore Phil and carry on with his plans regardless of the ghost currently sitting on his new bed.

He grabbed a towel and changed out of clothes, then walked to his ensuite bathroom, ignoring the pair of eyes following his every move. Dan slammed the bathroom door shut, hoping to get across to Phil just how pissed off he was feeling.

There wasn’t much he could do about the ghost situation at the moment. The following day, he would politely ask his mum’s husband for a new room and hopefully this whole mess would be put behind him.

“Absolutely not,” his mum said, crushing all his hopes and dreams of getting a bedroom that was not inhabited by a ghost.

Dan’s night with the ghost was not as horrible as he initially thought it would be. Phil barely talked to him at all and was gone most of the time. That didn’t mean Dan was going to stick around.

His bedroom had always been the one place he could go to that felt safe and private. He could do whatever he wants to do in it and no one would be the wiser. Dan lost count of how many times he slept naked at night when he got too hot or walked around naked when he forgot to take a towel to the bathroom. There was no way he could do that knowing there was the chance a ghost could have just appear out of thin air and see him in that vulnerable state.

He needed a new room. Surely, in a house as big as this, it would have some spare room he could use instead of the one that he was given.

Apparently not.

His mum refused to ask Clive for a new room. “I don’t see why you would want a new room. You have the biggest bedroom in the house because Clive wanted to get on your good side, and you’re the only one who doesn’t have to share anything. What’s not to like?”

It’s not as if Dan could tell her all about finding a ghost waiting for him in his new room when he got back from the wedding, so instead he tried to come up with a half-assed excuse that wasn’t convincing.

“I’m used to noisy rooms and this one is so quiet. I couldn’t sleep properly last night so I thought maybe I could get a bedroom that was facing the main road instead?” Dan wanted to hit himself the second he opened his mouth. What sort of excuse was that? His mum was not going to believe him and she isn’t the one to be blamed.

HIs mum raised her eyebrows at him, clearly have caught him lying, but she didn’t call him out on it. Instead, she suggested something that made Dan’s skin crawl. “I’m sure James would love to make some room for you so you can share with him. His bedroom is facing the main road so it’s just what you’re looking for and you can get to know each other better. You would have to share a bathroom but I’m sure you won’t mind”.

Dan’s plan had backfired completely and he wasn’t sure how he was going to get out of it. Even the idea of the ghost in his room catching him sleeping completely naked was more appealing than the thought of sharing a room with one of his new step brothers. Not just any step brother, but James. He was one of the most disgusting persons Dan had ever met and sharing a room with him is equivalent to Dan voluntarily entering his own personal hell. That was not something what he wanted now.

“You know what, I think I’ll just stick with the room I have now but thanks for the offer. I think the quiet will do me some good once I get used to it. Help me think better and… stuff,” Dan rambled, slowly backing out of the room, making a hasty retreat. He didn’t fail to notice the amused look on his mother’s face and, with a sigh, admitted that she played him really well.

Dan was left with only one choice. He was going to have to learn to share a bedroom with a ghost, at least until he could figure out the reason why Phil couldn’t get to the afterlife, and then try to help him out. He tried not to think about the fact that Phil didn’t seem inclined on leaving the world of the living and move on to the afterlife.

He walked into his room and somehow managed to keep himself from jumping a foot in the air when he caught sight of Phil sitting on his bed as if he was the king of the bed. Dan refused to admit that this probably was an everyday occurrence for Phil. Whether it was or not, Dan planned on putting a stop to it.

He fake coughed in order to get Phil’s attention and then went straight on to business. “My plan to switch rooms failed so I’m stuck here, at least for the time being. I understand that, technically, this is your room as much as it is mine, but we’re going to have to establish some ground rules.”

Phil grunted, and didn’t look particularly happy about it, but Dan couldn’t care. His goal is to win himself some privacy from this ghost. Dan’s the one alive and breathing. This is his room anyway.

“First of all, no random appearances in the bathroom. I don’t want to feel paranoid while taking a shower because I’m scared you’ll just pop up out of nowhere and see me naked. Also, you’re capable of knocking. Please do so before coming into the room so I can at least expect your appearance.” Dan didn’t think he was being too unreasonable with his requests. It’s what everyone with a roommate would expect in order to live peacefully.

Phil was not of the same opinion. “You think I’m going to be knocking to come into my own room? If anyone here should be knocking, it’s you! How dare you just show up here and expect me to live like a guest in my own home? Who do you think you are?”

Dan probably looked like a fish out of water. From the second he laid eyes on him, Phil seemed like the kind of guy that was very difficult to anger. Dan was surprised that he managed to do so after just two encounters. He was not about to back down, though. This room might have been Phil’s at some point but he was dead now and Dan was the rightful owner.

Phil just had to deal with it.

“I don’t know if you’ve realised this but you’re dead,” Dan said, starting to lose his patience. “The one thing you should really be doing is trying to figure out a way to move on so you can leave me alone and I can finally get some privacy in this stupid house.”

That seemed to be the worst thing to say. Phil started turning red (or as red as you can turn when you’re a ghost) and then simply disappeared with a pop.

Maybe Dan had finally gotten through to him.

He didn’t.

The following night, Dan was woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of banging coming from his bathroom.

“What the hell?” he muttered, quickly getting out of bed to check what all the commotion was about. He could only stare in bewilderment at the sight of Phil throwing bottles of shampoo and body wash onto the floor.

“What in the world are you doing?!” Dan shouted, and then bit his tongue, realising that it is the middle of the night and he doesn’t want to wake anyone up.

Phil looked at him in what appeared to be satisfaction, and then threw one last bottle to the floor just to spite Dan before disappearing as if he was never there in the first place.

Dan really wanted to think that this was all a big misunderstanding. Maybe Phil needed to use the shower, and he accidentally dropped the bottles he wanted to use. Even with his brain feeling muddled with weariness, Dan could tell that was probably not the case. Why would a ghost need to take a shower?

The truth was that Dan knew perfectly well what Phil was doing, he just couldn’t believe it. The ghost was trying to get back at him for trying to put up some boundaries. “I can’t believe this is the thanks I get for not exorcising him and instead trying to make things go smoothly.”

He went back to bed, hoping that this would be the last time before his patience wear off.

That wasn’t the last time.

In the next few days, Phil continued to try his very best to make Dan’s life difficult. It started off with a mild disturbance; an instance that was similar to how Phil woke Dan up by throwing bottles in the bathroom. But now, it was going downhill.

Dan still turned bright red whenever he remembered catching Phil peaking from behind his bedroom door as he was changing into his pyjamas for the night. The only reason he didn’t start yelling on the top of his lungs, screaming to lecture Phil the Ghost about privacy, and reminding the ghost the importance knocking was because he didn’t want to wake up the rest of the people in the house. If he was caught, how would he explain to his mum the reason why he was yelling at the wall about privacy?

He hadn’t gotten off before they moved out, and Dan was feeling particularly lustful. He hadn’t gotten off since before they moved out and now Dan was feeling the effects of it. He was never the kind of guy to go too long without having a little bit of fun, even if by himself. With everything that had been going on since he moved, Dan just never found the time.

Phil’s presence, or the fact that he can poof into thin air without a warning, had been the constant reason why any of Dan’s plans to enjoy himself were ruined. He didn’t consider himself to be very shy but certain things were meant for his eyes only. However, the ghost had cheekily seen him changing into his clothes more often than he should. There was no way Dan was letting the ghost see him in the midst of pleasure.

Strangely enough, it had been a few days since he saw Phil. Even though a part of him knew that it was probably a ploy so as to get to him when he least suspected, a more hopeful part wanted to believe Phil had finally given up and was leaving him alone for a few days.

Whatever the reason, Dan was not about to waste an opportunity like this. He hurriedly grabbed an extra towel, and walked into the bathroom, feeling excited. Dan made sure to look his doors, in case any living person in this house decided to barge into his room. Even though Phil could easily appear wherever he wanted to, at least he was secured from one thing, and that allowed him to be a little less paranoid than he already was.

Dan stood under the shower and waited for the warmth to kick in. He tried not to think about how he preferred his bed than being in the shower. He didn’t let his mind go there. Phil’s a creep and Dan really wanted to avoid feeling embarrassed. This was his chance, and Dan was not going to waste it.

All thoughts of Phil were gone from his head as he slowly started moving his hand up and down, letting out small huffs and moans with each drag of his hand. One thing was for sure, Dan was never going to go so long without getting himself off again.

He spent the next few minutes in the same way, moving his hand up and down and making sure to change his rhythm every once in awhile in order to keep himself on his toes. Dan could feel himself getting close, but he still made sure to keep his noises under control. The last thing he needed was for his mum to hear him or even worse, his new “family”.

Dan used one hand to hold on to the wall and kept pleasuring himself with the other, making sure to increase his speed just as he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge. He was so close, just a little longer and he would get there--

“Oh my God.”

Dan quickly whirled around when he heard a voice behind him and almost caused him to slip in the shower. He could feel himself turning bright red the second he realised it was Phil staring at him with his mouth wide open and looking him up and down; flustered.

Dan quickly tried to cover himself as much as he could with his hands and then threw the bottle of bath wash he was using at Phil’s head. He missed.

“Get the hell out of here!” Dan hissed, wanting to get out of the shower and push Phil out himself but not wanting to risk exposing himself more than he already had. Thankfully, that made Phil snap out of the daze he seemed to have found himself in and quickly walked out of the bathroom by walking through the wall; probably the same way he had let himself in, but not before getting one last look at Dan which made the latter turn rosier out of embarrassment.

With the knowledge that Phil was safely out of the bathroom, Dan turned around once again and made a quick work of rinsing himself off. The lustful mood he was in before had completely disappeared just like his hard on, and now all he wanted to do was to get out of the shower, get dressed and then find a corner to hide in for the rest of the month.

Just the thought of facing Phil after what had just occured made him wish the ground would just swallow him up so that he never had to look at the ghost again.

Dan quickly dried himself up and got dressed then walked out of the bathroom. It was time to give the ghost a piece of his mind. He was putting up with way too much and Phil was clearly taking advantage of it. Walking in on Dan during such private moment was the last straw.

His anger ebbed out when he noticed Phil sitting on Dan’s bed, looking petrified. “I didn’t mean to walk in on you like that!” Phil defended himself as soon as he caught the sight of Dan. “I thought I’d mess with you because I haven’t done that in a while so I decided to scare you while you were showering. I didn’t know you would be doing… other things.”

Dan could feel himself turn red in embarrassment again at having the ghost remind him of what the latter saw. Even though he wanted to be angry at Phil for barging into the bathroom on him during something that should have been private, he couldn’t find it in himself to yell at him.

It was clear by the look on Phil’s face that, even though he wanted to be mischievous and get on Dan’s nerves, it was never his intention to sneak a peek at Dan while he was busy pleasuring himself. It was also clear to Dan that Phil was not going anywhere and they needed to figure out a few ground rules if they were to cohabit without a problem. Dan hadn’t seen this situation coming when he tried to make a truce with Phil in the beginning, but with the ghost finally seeing the point, it might be a good time for Dan to try to establish a protocol.

Dan sighed and sat down next to Phil on the bed. “What happened today cannot -- under any circumstances -- happen again,” he started, and was glad to notice that Phil was nodding vigorously from the corner of his eyes. At least they were finally on the same page.

Despite wanting to solve the matter, Dan’s mind muddled with trying to come up with a solution to their dilemma, and he couldn’t think of something that would allow him to have the privacy he wanted.

It was then that Dan recalled the time at his old school -- the time when he heard a couple of students talk about what students in university do to get some private time when they are in shared dormitories. Dan figured that that could actually work for him and Phil without being too awkward.

“I could use a sock”, he said, and but pressed his lip to keep himself from laughing when he saw the baffled look that Phil was giving him. “Students at college tend to wrap a sock around the door handle when they don’t want their roommates to barge in on them. Maybe we could adopt that system ourselves so no more awkward encounters like today happen again?”

Phil seemed to be a little confuse, and it reminded Dan of the fact that he knew next to nothing about the ghost who was inhabiting his room with him. Phil could have died years before Dan was even born and he wouldn’t know because he had never bothered to ask.

“How old are you exactly?” he asked, a little hesitant to know the truth. “I mean your real age, not how old you were when you died.”

Phil seemed to be in thought for a few seconds before he answered. “I think I might be thirty years old this year. I can’t be sure, though. It’s hard to keep a proper track of time when you’re dead. All I’m sure of is that I was twenty-two when I died.”

Dan couldn’t help but feel relieved. If he had to be stuck with a ghost sharing his bedroom, at least said ghost wasn’t much older than him. The situation they found themselves in would have been a lot creepier if the ghost Dan was stuck with was double his age.

“You’re old enough to know about the sock method then, right? I put a sock on the doorknob, and you’ll know that I need some alone time, and you’re not to interrupt me. Do you think you can do that?”

Dan half-expected the ghost to argue and say that this was his house, not Dan’s, and he wasn’t going to be stopped by some stupid sock on a doorknob. But Dan was pleasantly surprised when all Phil did was nod in acceptance of Dan’s idea.

“That sounds good to me. I wanted to apologise again. It’s true that I had no idea what you were actually doing in the shower,” he started, being kind enough to ignore the way Dan’s face turned cherry red at being reminded of the incident earlier. “It was wrong of me to just barge in like that, no matter what you were doing.”

Dan was not expecting an actual apology from the ghost, who just a few days earlier, was yelling at him for being an intruder. This left Dan off guard, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to reply. In the end, he just settled for a thin smile and a nod.

His plan was to leave it at that, but then Dan remembered that he was not the kindest to the ghost when they first met and, in retrospect, had said things that he shouldn’t have said. Phil was not the only one who needed to apologise.

“I’m sorry too,” Dan finally said, figuring that he needed to get their misunderstandings out of the way. “I wasn’t the nicest to you when I got here, and I could have been a little more understanding of the fact that a stranger was walking into your home; trying to order you around.”

Dan almost made a joke over the fact that he didn’t really need to apologise for walking into his room in the first place but changed his mind at the last second. Something told him Phil would not appreciate the joke, especially after he had finally apologised.

With all the apologies out of the way, Dan decided this was the right time to bring up something that had been making him curious ever since he found Phil in his room. “You never did tell me why you didn’t move on to the afterlife.”

He realised it might not have been his greatest idea when he saw the way Phil’s face closed off when he brought it up. They were finally making progress and acting friendlier towards each other, but it seemed as if Dan somehow managed to ruin it with just one sentence.

“I don’t really want to talk about it, and I don’t think it’s any of your business anyway.”

Dan wanted to accept that as his answer and move on, he really did, but curiosity always got the best of him. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I can help you if you want. I’ve helped many ghosts who were stuck here get to the afterlife.”

Phil scoffed at that and shook his head. “My apology did absolutely nothing. You’re still trying to get rid of me.”

Dan could understand why the ghost would get that impression, but it really wasn’t the case. Now that they got a few things out of the way, he was no longer in any rush to get rid of him. He was genuinely just trying to help, but it seemed like his good intentions were not getting through to Phil.

“I can understand why you would get that impression, but I swear this isn’t me trying to get rid of you,” Dan explained, trying to get through to Phil. “I genuinely just want to help. It can’t be easy hanging around on your own with no one to keep you company.”

He managed not to upset Phil even more with his answer and even got a small smile in return. “I appreciate you wanting to help me, but I’m fine. You get used to it after a while and besides, I’m not completely alone anymore. I’ve got you to keep me company.”

Dan tried not the let his words affect him but ultimately failed when he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. How they had gone from arguing and fighting to enjoying each other’s company was beyond him, but Dan couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Their relationship improved after the conversation. Phil was always careful to knock before walking into his room, and Dan soon found himself comfortable enough with the ghost to open up like he never had before, not even with Ollie.

“I’ve been able to see dead people since I was very young,” he said, as he was lying in bed with Phil lying down next to him. “At first I didn’t realise they were dead. I would see someone staring at me, and I would point them out to my mum, only to be told that there was no one there. It took me a while to figure out not everyone could see what I was seeing.”

Dan let out a humourless laugh; thinking back on what he went through from such a young age. “At first my mum just thought it was harmless imagination. She thought I was pointing out my imaginary friends to her. She freaked when she realised I had been serious all along. That’s when the visit to the therapists started.”

He felt a hand settle on top of his and he squeezed in return to show Phil he appreciated his comfort. Dan learned from their budding friendship that Phil was a really good listener. He always let Dan finish what he had to say before making any comments and knew just how to comfort him silently.

“They all had something different to say. Some said I was delusional, others thought I was experiencing hallucinations. Most of them thought it was just my way of showing how upset I was over my parents getting a divorce. It didn’t matter that I kept telling them I was glad for their divorce because it meant I didn’t have to hear any more fighting.”

A part of him still couldn’t believe that he was speaking about this out loud to someone for the first time in his life, and he wasn’t getting judged. He wasn’t sure what was making him trust Phil so much.

Maybe it was the fact that the ghost already knew he could see dead people, so he knew he wouldn’t be judged over it. Whatever it was, Dan was grateful for it. It felt really good to finally be able to open up about a part of himself which he had always kept hidden.

“When the therapists started talking about giving me medication, I panicked. I knew what I was seeing was real. There really were dead people trying to talk to me, and they weren’t just a fragment of my imagination. In the end, I figured out that the only way to get everyone off my back was to lie and tell them that I stopped seeing dead people. It worked like a charm.”

Dan still felt bitter when he remembered how accomplished everyone looked when he lied. As if their useless treatment and telling him over and over again that what he was seeing was not real, was finally working. As heartbreaking as it was as a child, Dan couldn’t help but to think back on that moment with a degree of happiness.

Lying to everyone got him out of a situation he hated being in. There were no more therapists behaving as if they knew better than him, and his mother stopped looking at him with eyes and words brimmed with worry and fear. He could finally live a normal life with his friends, even if that didn’t last very long.

He had already told Phil he was gay, and recalling the ghost’s reaction after telling him just what Ollie did, never failed to put a smile on his face. Phil had demanded Dan to tell him just where Ollie lived so he could give him a little visit for revenge. Dan couldn’t bring himself to remind Phil that he could not really do much to Ollie considering he was a ghost and no one could see him. It was the thought that counts, anyway.

Once he was sure he was finished with his story, Phil turned to look at him, and Dan was shocked to see him looking so sad. It was true that what he told Phil was not a happy story, but it still amazed him to see someone else looking so upset on his behalf. It was a new feeling and Dan found himself feeling fonder of Phil.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. It can’t be easy, but I can’t say that it’s an unfortunate ability to possess. If you weren’t able to see dead people, we never would have met, and I would have kept on walking aimlessly in this life with no one to communicate with.”

Even with the pain and suffering Dan went through because of his ability to see the dead, he still couldn’t disagree with Phil. It’s true that they didn’t get along at first, but now Dan couldn’t even imagine himself coming back home from school without finding Phil ready to greet him in his room.

Even Dan’s mum was starting to notice a difference, and even commented on the fact that Dan seemed happier these days. She thought it was because of his new school and the new house, but to Dan, his happiness comes from coming home to see Phil. He finally had someone to listen and talk to after so many years. Dan could finally say he was content.

Of course that wouldn’t last forever.

“You’ve been so honest with me”, Phil suddenly said, shaking Dan out of his thoughts. “You’ve told me about being gay, about Ollie, and now you’ve even told me about what you went through when you were younger. I haven’t even told you why I never moved on to the afterlife.”

Dan found himself suddenly sitting up straight after hearing that. It was true that Phil never brought up the topic again after Dan offered his help. Dan was still curious about it, but never brought it up himself because he wanted to respect the ghost’s wishes. He wanted to wait until Phil was ready.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Talking about personal things that still hurt us… It’s hard. I don’t want you to tell me just because you feel like you owe me. You don’t. I told you all of that because I trust you. I want you to do the same. Tell me only when you’re ready.”

Phil was quick to reply. “I know I don’t have to tell you, but I want to, because I trust you.”

Knowing that Phil trusted him enough to talk to Dan about something grievous warmed his heart. It was a good feeling, but he shouldn’t fail Phil’s trust in him.

Phil took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to say. “Ten years ago, I was sleeping in this very room. I woke up in the middle of the night because I could hear screams and shouts coming from outside. At first, I thought it was some drunks having a fight or something but, when I looked out of my window, I realised they were all looking at my house in horror. The whole thing was on fire.”

Dan could only look at Phil in shock. Clive had never mentioned anything about the house being burnt down when Dan and his mum moved in. Granted, Dan never really asked him anything about the house, but it was still a shock to hear.

“I quickly ran to the door to get out even though I was already thinking it was going to be hopeless. You know this room is at the very top of the house. The chances of me getting out of my room and downstairs safely were slim, but I didn’t want to just give up. Turns out, it didn’t matter. My bedroom door was locked from the outside, and there was no way for me to get out.”

Even though Phil didn’t say it, Dan could still assume what he meant. He was killed. Someone must have locked the door from the outside, then set fire to the house with the intention of Phil being trapped inside with no way of getting out. “It was murder.”

Phil nodded with a bitter smile. “Yeah. That’s not why I can’t move on to the afterlife though. I.. .never found out who murdered me. From what I figured, the police carried out an investigation but, by the time they put off the fire, the whole house was in ruins, and they could barely even identify my body. There was no evidence -- everything was destroyed by the fire. The case was filed as unsolved.”

Dan wasn’t sure what he could say. He desperately wanted to help Phil to find peace after years of uncertainty, by moving on to the afterlife. Dan didn’t even know where to begin. If the police were unable to find anything after investigations, Dan doubted he was going to have any luck in finding Phil’s murderer.

“I’m going to do everything I can to help to uncover the truth, Phil,” he promised.

Phil smiled at him, but Dan could tell that the ghost was convinced that there was nothing Dan could do, and he wasn’t exactly wrong. But Dan was determined not to give up.

You deserve to know who killed you. I know it might seem impossible right now, but so does seeing the dead and… Here I am,” Dan said, gesturing to himself, making Phil laugh.

“Thank you,” Phil said with a smile. That only made Dan more resolute to find out the truth.

“Dan, you’ve been on your laptop for days and haven’t gotten any closer to figuring it out. If I had known you would act like this I would have never told you what happened. You haven’t done your homework in three days!”

Dan could only roll his eyes at Phil. “Please. If I wasn’t looking things up, I still wouldn’t do my homework until my teachers threatened to expel me so I’m really not doing anything different.”

Phil looked like he wanted to argue but it wasn’t as if Dan was lying. He was never the kind of person to finish his homework early and always tried to find whatever excuse possible to simply not do it at all.

“Fine, don’t do your homework but at least stop wasting your time searching for things you won’t find. Whatever it is you’re looking for, you won’t find it on the Internet. It happened ten years ago, Dan.”

Dan was on a streak; looking through the internet in the hopes of stumbling on something that could help him in his search for Phil’s murderer, but Phil was right. The chances of finding anything remotely useful about a case that happened ten years was almost impossible.

He stopped typing and scrolling long enough to give Phil a dirty look. “It’s like you don’t even want me to find out who murdered you. I know that the internet is most probably not going to give me what I’m looking for, but I can’t just do nothing. I’ve already looked through every newspaper in the library with no results.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to find out the truth. I just don’t want to see you waste your time on something that happened ten years ago.”

Phil just didn’t get it. Dan needed to find out the truth. He wanted to help out Phil more than he ever wanted to help any ghosts he has encountered before. It just so happened that Phil’s case was the hardest one he had ever tried to solve.

Usually the dead people who ask Dan for help just want him to deliver a message to loved ones or want to know how their families were doing. Once, there was even an old lady who wanted him to find a new home for her dog. Never before did he have to play detective and attempt to solve a murder.

It suddenly hit Dan. “I think I’m searching for the wrong things. You said the police gave up because there were no evidence, and yes, it’s unlikely I’d find any if they can’t even find anything. But maybe I can look something up about my… power,” he said.

Dan thought his idea would be received well by Phil, and the ghost would finally offer to help him out rather than leaving him to look things up on his own, but all Dan got was a sigh. “What are you going to look up, Dan? ‘I see dead people in the streets and need to know how to help them cross to the other side’. I’m sure that is going to give you a lot of trustworthy results and not swindlers, taking money from people who are grieving.”

That was not the attitude Dan was looking for. “You know what, I’m not doing this for fun. You’ve been stuck in this limbo for ten years and I’m doing my best to try and help you out. I would appreciate a little help rather than you trying to demotivate me,” he snapped.

Dan was more than aware that he was fighting a losing battle. He was not going to find any evidence about who killed Phil and the chances of finding anything remotely helpful about his power on Google was slim.

He knew all that, but Dan still didn’t want to give up. Phil was turning into the one person who meant the most to Dan and it killed him to see Phil stuck in a limbo with no way out. He just wanted to help, so having Phil constantly telling him to give up was getting on his nerves.

Phil didn’t seem to have any intention of backing down. “Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want your help? I’ve been here on my own for ten years and suddenly you show up, trying to change everything. Maybe I don’t want to go to the afterlife. Maybe I just want to stay here and talk to you and have actual conversations with actual people after years of only having myself for company.”

Dan tried to ignore the guilt feeling that was starting to creep up. It never occurred to him that Phil might not want to move on to the afterlife. He just figured that since Phil opened up about the reason why he was still here, it meant he was finally ready to accept Dan’s help and that he was ready to move on. He also tried not to think that Phil moving on to the afterlife would mean never seeing him again. The thought hurt Dan.

“You can’t possibly want to stick around here, Phil,” he said, trying to reason with him. “I enjoy your company as well but I’m the only person you can talk to. No one else can see you. And I’m going to get old, Phil. I’m going to get old while you stay exactly as you are because you’re dead. Is that really the life you want for yourself?”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Phil snapped; he looked hurt. “Don’t you think I spend every moment thinking about having to watch you grow older, while I stay looking exactly the same? I think about it all the time, but it doesn’t make me want to leave. I appreciate you wanting to help Dan - I really do - but I should be the one to decide what I want to do.”

Dan wasn’t sure what he was supposed to reply. On one hand, Phil’s words warmed his heart. Phil enjoyed spending time with him as much as he did. He didn’t want to leave him. On the other hand, Dan didn't want to be the one keeping Phil from finally moving on to the afterlife to live a better life.

“You’re right, I can’t tell you what to do. I can’t force you to help me find out the truth, and I’ll accept your wish not to move on to the afterlife if that’s what you want. But you can’t stop me from looking. I will keep on looking for ways in which I can help you so that, if you change your mind, I’ll know what to do.”

Phil seemed disappointed and it was clear he disagreed with Dan, but at least he didn’t argue. Dan was going to count that as his victory. He was going to respect Phil’s wishes and secretly celebrate the fact that he was going to have Phil all for himself, at least for the time being.

But no one was going to stop him from looking for answers.

Dan spent weeks searching for answers and he wasn’t any closer to finding out anything than he was at the start.

Looking through Google gave him nothing but disappointment and frustration as he could only find websites of people claiming they could talk to dead loved ones for a price. Dan didn’t doubt for a second that these people were all frauds and not like him.

At least they were all frauds, until he stumbled upon a particular website which did not seem as shady as the others had. At first he was uncertain, as it was a website dedicated to the supernatural and Dan never considered himself as anything. At the most, he could say that he considered himself to be a medium.

Or he didn’t, until he stumbled upon a particular post written by a guy who appeared his age. What caught Dan’s eye was the fact that this guy described everything Dan went through from when he was young; when he started seeing dead people.

His logic was telling him that this was all coincidence and this guy was just joking around or lying. There was no way there were other people like Dan out there, who knew what it was like to be like him.

Even knowing that the chances of this being fake were high, he couldn’t help but try to get in contact with the person who wrote the post: Maurice.

Dan quickly typed out a message and sent it to him. He made sure not to say anything about his own abilities, instead he kept the message general. He just wanted to learn more about Maurice; not expose himself.

Maurice was quick to reply. He told him all about seeing his first dead person when he was six years old and telling everyone at school about his ability. Much like Dan, it resulted in him getting shunned by all his classmates.

Dan tried not to fall for anything, but he couldn’t help it. Maurice’s story almost matched his experiences - and they were convincing. He couldn’t help but to consider that there could be some truth to it.

Dan then messaged Maurice back, asking him to meet up before Dan changed his mind. If there was any chance of other people out there having the same ability as him, he wasn’t going to waste it. He might never get another chance to learn about himself.

It didn’t take long for Maurice to reply and agree to meet up. They quickly settled for a place and time and agreed to talk more face-to-face.

After setting up their appointment, Dan began to regret his rash decision. He thought of what Phil would say if he were ever to find out Dan agreed to meet a total stranger to discuss about his power. There was no doubt in Dan’s mind that Phil would be completely against it.

That was mostly why, in the end, Dan decided not to tell him anything about it. Dan was going to come up with some excuse of why he was going out, then meet up with Maurice. If things went well, he would tell Phil about it, and if it didn’t go to plan, Phil wouldn’t know anything in the first place. It was a fool-proof plan.

Now all Dan needed to do was to meet up with Maurice and hope that he was not making a big mistake.

Dan was relieved to find out that Maurice really was telling the truth about seeing dead people, and he was only a few years older than him. One of the biggest fears Dan had about this meeting was not having known anything about Maurice, not even his age. At least now he could confirm that he was not old enough that Maurice could pass as his dad.

“Do you know anything else about people like us… apart from being able to see dead people”, Dan asked curiously.

Now that he knew someone who was in the same boat as him, Dan was desperate to find more about who they were and what they could do. Dan found it hard to believe that all he could do was see dead people. There have to be other things he could do, maybe even something he could do to help out Phil.

Maurice did not disappoint. “Did you seriously think that all you could do was see dead people? After all these years, you’ve never figured anything else out?”

Dan could feel himself turning red. How was he supposed to learn anything else about his power when, until a few days ago, he was certain that he was the only person in the whole world that could do this? Not to mention that half of the time he was too busy trying to hide his abilities from everyone else.

“Are you actually going to tell me what else we can do, or do I have to guess?” Dan asked sarcastically. So far, he was not impressed by Maurice’s attitude towards him.

“It’s not as simple as a lecture. There are things which I can’t describe but I can definitely show you. If you’re interested, that is.”

Of course Dan was interested. He would not be here if he didn’t want to learn more about his ability. He would be back home and hanging out with Phil.

“What else can people like you and me do then?”

The last thing he was expecting was for Maurice to smirk and shake his head. “I’ll show you everything you want to know and teach you. However, we can’t possibly do everything today and it’s getting late. How about we meet up another time?”

Dan was starting to get the impression that Maurice didn’t have much interest in talking to him about their abilities, and was much more interested in getting into his pants instead. The hungry look he was giving him only confirmed his suspicions.

He was so close to saying no and going back home, but then he thought of just who was waiting for him back at home. Phil. He needed to do this if he was going to have any luck in finding out a way to help out Phil get to the afterlife if he ever changed his mind.

“Fine, we’ll do it your way. I’ll meet you next week at the same coffee shop, and you can show me everything I need to know. Happy?”

Maurice wasn’t done trying to get what he wanted. “One meeting is not enough to get through everything. There’s a lot for me to teach you. I’ll make you a deal. We’ll meet at my place every Tuesday at five and I’ll teach you everything you want to know.”

Dan had no doubts over what Maurice was doing now. He didn’t have any actual interest in teaching him, and at this point, Maurice was just taking advantage of the situation. He must have realised that Dan was desperate for more information and decided to gain something from it.

At first thought, Dan didn’t have any intention in saying yes. Maurice didn’t interest him in the same way, and it was clear that they both wanted very different things from each other. Thinking about Phil again quickly changed Dan’s mind.

He needed Maurice, whether Dan liked it or not. Without him he was not going to learn anything new about his abilities and he would not be of any help. He wasn’t happy about having to spent so much time with Maurice, but it was clear that there weren’t many choices for him to choose from. Maurice got nothing out of helping him out and so he was not going to settle for anything else than what he was offering.

“Fine, it’s a deal. But I’m only meeting you for an hour every week. No more and no less.”

Phil wasn’t going to be happy about this.

“You did what?!” Phil yelled, looking at Dan as if he completely lost his mind. Dan couldn’t blame him, but there was no need for yelling.

“I know it sounds bad, but there’s a reason why I agreed in the first place. He’s going to teach me more about my ability, about what else I can do other than seeing dead people,” he rushed to explain.

Phil didn’t seem to be unfazed. “You agreed to meet a complete stranger without telling anyone about it, and now you’re telling me that you’ve agreed to go to his place once a week. Dan, I shouldn’t be telling you what a stupid idea this is,” he said, sounding exasperated.

“You know nothing about this guy. For all we know, he could be lying about seeing dead people and just using it as an excuse to take advantage of you. You can’t just show up to his place like that.”

Dan knew that what Phil was saying was true, but he also knew that he didn’t have any other choice. “What he told me fits perfectly with what I have experienced ever since I started seeing dead people. I don’t think he’s lying, Phil, and if there’s any chance for me to learn more about what I can do, I have to risk it. It’s the only way I can help you.”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say judging by the way Phil clenched his fists and looked away from him. “I’ve already told you that I don’t need your help! We agreed that you will give me the choice and going around to strangers’ homes for ‘lessons’ is not giving me a choice.”

Dan was getting tired of his attempts at helping being thrown back in his face by Phil over and over again. “I said I’m going to give you the choice and I have no intention of going back on my promise. But I want to have it all figured out in case you change your mind. Besides, did you ever think that maybe I’m not just doing this for you? That maybe after years of thinking I’m the only one who can see dead people, I’ve finally found someone who is like me? Who can understand me?”

Dan made sure not to mention anything about how Maurice did not particularly impress him with his attitude. Phil already seemed to be on edge, he didn’t want to end up making it worse. Let Phil think that he was happy to hang out with Maurice.

Phil let out a resigned sigh, then shook his head. “I don’t know why you even bothered telling me. It’s pretty clear to me that you never had any intention of listening to what I have to say. Go, hang out with Maurice. See if I care.” With that Phil disappeared and Dan was left alone in his bedroom, staring at thin air.

This had gone even worse than Dan was expecting.

Phil didn’t really talk to him for the next couple of days. He was adamant on telling Dan just how bad of an idea hanging out with Maurice was.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Dan? Because we’re talking about spending an hour every week with a complete asshole who only wants to get in your pants. It’s dangerous.”

Dan had enough of this. “I’m going to his place to learn more about my abilities. How is that dangerous? Besides, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Can’t you just trust me?”

Phil didn’t bring it up again after that but it was clear that he was not happy about the situation but Dan didn’t care. Phil would eventually get over it, and he would have more knowledge about what he could do.

The first session with Maurice wasn’t bad. He still tried flirting with Dan, but it never went further than that, and he did keep his end of the bargain by explaining to Dan more about their abilities and what they could do.

He even introduced Maurice to Phil and, even though the ghost was determined on hating him, at least now he could no longer give Dan grief over meeting with a stranger.

The problems only started later on, when it seemed as if Maurice was starting to get more confident in his advances on Dan.

“Not everyone can do what I do,” Maurice said. “I’ve met people whose powers are not strong enough; they can just hear dead people. Others can see them. People who are more powerful tend to have more capabilities. I have a good feeling about you.”

Dan ignored the smirk Maurice was directing his way. Instead, Dan only focused on the new information he was given. He could certainly do more than just hear dead people; Phil was proof. Not to mention that Dan could also touch them. Maybe Maurice wasn’t exactly wrong. “What can you do?”

Dan regretted asking Maurice the question as soon as he saw the shade of cockiness on the latter’s face.

“I’m glad you asked. I can do more than just talking to the dead. I have the ability to remove someone’s soul from their body and replace it with someone else’s. That’s pretty cool, but I think my favourite ability is being able to travel back in time. I’ve always wanted to be a time traveller.”

Dan wasn’t sure whether Maurice was just taking the piss or was being serious. Both abilities sounded far-fetched and he couldn’t help but think that Maurice just made them up to mess with him. Then again, even speaking to dead people sounded far-fetched to someone who couldn’t do it.

“Wouldn’t removing someone’s soul from their body kill them?” Dan asked, saying the first thing that came into his head.

Maurice shrugged. “Essentially, yes.”

Dan would have taken a step back from Maurice if he could. Maybe Phil was onto something when he said Maurice could be dangerous. Someone who went around ripping people’s souls from their bodies didn’t seem like the sort of person Dan wanted to be associated with.

Maurice must have noticed the effect of his words on Dan because he quickly backtracked. “I only did it once and I didn’t know what I was doing. I was still new to this whole thing and it just happened. I don’t make a habit out of ripping souls out of people.”

Something about the way he said it didn’t convince Dan. He was so invested in this new tidbit of information he got from Maurice that he barely thought about the fact that apparently Maurice could travel back in time.

“I think we should call it a day, I’m not feeling very well,” Dan said. He needed to get away from Maurice to try to process what he had been told.

“You’re leaving already? It hasn’t been an hour and our deal was that we meet up for an hour once a week.”

Dan knew he was right. Their deal was an hour every week, but he couldn’t force himself to stick through their meeting; not when his mind was filled with thoughts of people painfully having their souls ripped out of their bodies, leaving them in a comatose state. Dan’s thought was going to be the death of him.

“I know, but I’m really not feeling well today. We’ll continue next time.”

Maurice didn’t seem to be buying it, but at least it didn’t seem like he was going to argue. “Fine, we’ll continue this next week then. I’ll just give you something so that you don’t miss me until I see you again next week…”

Before Dan could get a chance to react, Maurice had already leaned in to kiss him. Dan quickly pushed him away in order to put more space between them. “What the Hell do you think you’re doing?!” Dan hissed.

Maurice didn’t even look remotely guilty. He was still smirking at Dan as if he hadn’t just kissed him out of the blue, given that he must have sensed that Dan wasn’t interested in him.

“Oh, come on, Dan. You must have realised that I like you.”

Unbelievable. Dan could not believe that Maurice was acting as if nothing was wrong. “And you must have realised that I have zero interest in you whatsoever, and yet you still kissed me. I think these meetings were a mistake. Don’t expect to see me next week,” he said, making a move to grab his bag. He was stopped by Maurice.

“I don’t think you want to do that, Dan,” said Maurice in a provocative voice that creeped out the wits of Dan. “At least not if you want to keep on seeing your precious Phil.”

That stopped Dan right in his tracks, turning cold. “What did you just say?”

“Let’s just say that I did a bit of research after you introduced us and I know where he is buried. I could very easily exorcise him if I wanted to. Do you really want that to happen to poor Phil?”

Dan wanted to punch the smirk off of Maurice’s face. He did not want to keep attending these ‘lessons’ with Maurice, not after what happened. Maurice made his intentions clear. Dan could see that he didn’t have any real interest on helping him learn more about his abilities.

As much as he wanted to tell Maurice to get lost and never see him again, he knew he couldn't do that. Dan wasn’t sure if Maurice was serious about exorcising Phil. He didn’t have any way of knowing if Maurice could really exorcise Phil to the afterlife, but he knew that he couldn’t risk it. Phil meant too much to him.

Maurice knew that, which is why he was looking so smug, like the cat that got the cream. “So, I’ll see you next week?”

Dan left without another word, but they both knew that he would be back.

Dan didn’t mention anything about what happened with Maurice to Phil. The ghost already hated him, and Dan didn’t want to give him more reasons to do so. Phil would probably insist Dan to stop seeing Maurice, even if it meant Maurice might carry out his threat of exorcising him. Dan couldn’t let that happen.

He also refrained from telling Phil about his newfound abilities. Maybe it was because he wasn’t sure about it himself, or maybe it was because he wanted to forget everything that happened from the second he met Maurice.

It was his fault he was in this situation in the first place. Phil warned him it was dangerous to meet up with a stranger and to take ‘lessons’ from him, but Dan didn’t listen. He was so excited at the idea of finally meeting someone like him and knowing more about his abilities that common sense went out of the window.

Now Phil was in danger and it was all because of him. The thought of Phil getting exorcised… Phil who was a great listener, who trusted him enough to tell him how he died, who spent hours watching movies with him.

Dan admitted - at least to himself - that what he felt towards the ghost was more than the merely caring for a friend. However, it was completely ridiculous, and Dan knew that the chances of something more happening between them were slim. Phil was dead while Dan was very much alive.

But Dan would never let anything bad happen to Phil, even if it meant he had to keep seeing Maurice once every week.

“What’s up with you?” Phil asked, shaking him out of his thoughts. “You’ve been acting weird ever since you came back from meeting that guy. Did he do anything to you? Because if he did I swear I will-”

Dan cut him off before Phil could go on a rant on just what he would have done to Maurice if given the chance. “It’s fine, nothing happened. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Phil didn’t seem to believe him, but quickly gave up and changed the subject. “Do you want to watch a movie tonight? We haven’t done that in a week.”

Dan wanted so badly to say yes and be able to spend some quality time with Phil to forget everything about Maurice. Unfortunately, he couldn’t.

“I can’t. One of my stupid stepbrothers is throwing a party in the garden today, and my mum wants me to supervise while she and Clive are gone. Something about making sure things don’t get too wild,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Phil looked disappointed, but he nodded. “That’s fine, I understand. If your brother is involved in the planning of the party, then things are bound to get pretty crazy. I’ll leave you to it and wait for you here.”

Dan was hoping Phil would offer to keep him company during the party. No one he knew was going to be there except for his stepbrothers, and watching on while a bunch of teenagers were dancing horribly, drinking bottles after bottles of alcohol wasn’t exactly his idea of fun.

However, he understood why Phil wouldn’t really want to hang around. It didn’t really seem like it would be his kind of scene either. Not to mention the fact that Dan would be the only one capable of seeing him so he would be his only form of entertainment.

“I’ll try to sneak up here at some point, if things don’t get too crazy.”

Dan was positive he wouldn’t have any problems doing so. After all, what was the worst that could happen?

Things ended up going very badly.

It started like any other party did. People arrived and, after mingling, most of the guests moved on to the drinks table.

The music was a little too loud for Dan, but nothing worried him more than the party annoying neighbours and the impending noise complaints. Overall, it seemed like it was a fun night, and Dan was positive that if no one was being disruptive, he would able to sneak up to his room to hang out with Phil sooner than he thought.

Of course, that was when things started going wrong.

Dan was just about to head up to his room when he heard shouting coming from behind him. Since his mum made it pretty clear that he was responsible during the party, it was up to him to figure out what was going on and put a stop to it.

Dan groaned when he realised that the shouting was coming from two guys who seemed ready to attack each other. Dan deduced that they were both drunk and probably didn’t know what they were doing.

Dan asked people around him quickly, asking why the two drunk guys were almost throwing punches at each other. He was told that the two guys were fighting about a girl, and that only made Dan want to groan louder. Why couldn’t they just resolve their situation in a friendly way instead of ruining his plans to hang out with Phil?

He considered letting the two guys ‘discuss’ it between them, but knew he would have to interfere when one of them threw the first punch. His mum would kill him if she found out he let a fight break out in their garden.

Dan wasn’t a fighter and always preferred to hide in the shadows, especially when it meant avoiding fights, but today was not his lucky day.

“Guys, stop this. Someone is going to get hurt.”

They both seemed very uninterested in what Dan was saying, and so he found himself with no other choice than getting in between them in the hopes that he could speak some sense to them. He should have known it wasn’t a brilliant idea to do so.

His reflex hadn’t kicked in when a punch landed between his cheek and the bridge of his nose. Dan fell onto the ground, wincing from the impact of the punch.

Dan could feel blood oozing from his nose, and he was almost sure it was broken. The two guys who were fighting in the first place where nowhere to be seen and the rest of the guests were quick to leave when they found Dan on the ground, hurt. No one offered to help, but Dan could hear murmurs around him. He was on his own.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this embarrassed. So much for trying to end a dispute. Dan quickly pulled himself up before more guests could see him, and ran to his bedroom only to come face to face with Phil.

Shit. He forgot that Phil was waiting for him in his room to watch a movie in case he managed to sneak away from the party.

Phil looked shocked. He wasn’t expecting for Dan to be done with the party so soon, and definitely not with blood gushing out of his nose.

“What happened?” He asked, quickly snapping out of his stupor, reaching for a wet towel from the bathroom. Phil pulled Dan to sit, and held his head up then pressed the wet towel to his nose as gently as possible. “Do you think it’s broken?”

Dan really didn’t want to recount the story of how he tried stopping a fist fight between two guys, then ended up being the one getting punched, so he tried keeping it as vague as possible. He wanted some of his dignity to remain intact.

“There was a bit of a fight but nothing big. I don’t think it’s broken, but I’m no doctor.”

Phil realised Dan was feeling embarrassed about it, so he didn’t push him further for explanations. He just held the towel to Dan’s nose in silence until the bleeding subsided, then popped away for a minute to get Dan a bag of frozen peas. “I don’t know if these will be much help, but I’ve seen they do it in movies, so I thought you could give it a try.”

Dan couldn’t help but to smile at what Phil said, but winced painfully since smiling apparently didn’t help his aching, probably broken, nose. Dan took the bag of frozen peas and held it up to his nose. The coolness of the bag helped slightly in numbing the pain. Dan nodded at the ghost gratefully. “Thanks, this helps a lot.”

Phil selected the movie they would be watching that night, so that Dan wouldn’t feel uncomfortable with Phil worrying over Dan’s condition. They spent the next two hours enjoying the movie and each other’s company.

By the time the movie was over, Dan was half asleep and his head was resting on Phil’s shoulder. If he wasn’t so tired, he would think about moving away, giving the ghost his space since they were practically cuddling, but he didn’t. Instead, Dan just edged closer with the excuse of feeling cold.

“Thanks for taking care of me.

Phil just shrugged it off with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. It actually wasn’t so bad. I’m just glad your nose wasn’t broken, although it’s probably going to bruise for the next couple of days or weeks.”

Dan wasn’t too upset about it. This was much better than having to go to A&E for a broken nose, then having to explain to his mum how he broke it when he was supposed to be the one in charge while she was gone. It was better for everyone this way.

“Still,” he said, lifting his head slightly to look at Phil. “I appreciate it, so thank you.”

Dan didn’t know who leaned in first. It could have been him, but it could also be Phil. All he knew was that they were kissing, and Dan was enjoying it. He was enjoying it a lot.

Or at least he was before he felt Phil pushing him away, and he found himself sprawled on his back on the bed, almost falling off, looking at Phil in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Phil was looking more panicked by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m so sorry.”

That only left Dan more confused. What was Phil sorry about? Wasn’t it obvious that Dan wanted that to happen, and was willing to kiss Phil back? “There’s no need to apologise. I wanted that.”

Unfortunately, his confession did nothing to calm the ghost down. “Don’t you get it?” Phil finally snapped, looking at Dan as if he was the one freaking out. “I’m dead and you’re very much alive. Nothing can come out of this! I’ll end up ruining your life.”

Phil made a compelling argument. It wasn’t exactly something Dan would argue against, considering he was often thinking the same thing whenever he thought of the ghost. But having Phil saying it out loud somehow made it worse. Dan didn’t want to think that their relationship was a mistake.

“But in what way could you ruin my life? I know you’re dead, and I’m one of the few people who can see you, but we can figure something out. Don’t you want to at least give it a try?”

For a second Phil looked tempted, and Dan was sure that he managed to somehow convinced Phil, but it didn’t last long.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that to you.”

Phil was gone within the blink of an eye, leaving Dan to stare at the empty space Phil had left behind.

Dan didn’t have a clue of where Phil was, but he definitely wasn’t in his room. He didn’t catch a single glimpse of him since they shared their kiss which meant the ghost was hiding from him.

It’s not that Dan was expecting anything, considering the ghost was completely freaking out the last time he saw Dan, but it still hurt. Dan thought they had finally gotten somewhere when they kissed. Instead, it went downhill.

One step forward, two steps back.

Things would have been easier if Dan had any idea where Phil was hiding. He could corner him and convince him to talk before the ghost could disappear once again.

Unfortunately, Phil managed to keep his distance from Dan. Phil didn’t even seem to care what was happening between them, and Dan could feel himself going crazy. Dan just wanted to talk. Was it too much to ask?

This kept going for a while until Dan decided that it was time for some drastic measures.

He got up one morning and left for school as usual. He attended the first two lessons and then, when he was absolutely sure both his mother and Clive would have left the house, he made his way back home. Dan thought it would be the perfect way to corner Phil since the ghost would not be expecting him back home so soon.

His plan ended up failing since he couldn’t find Phil anywhere in the house. Dan could have just given up. Phil couldn’t hide from him forever, and eventually, they would get the chance to talk. But Dan didn’t want to wait. It was something they needed to talk about.

I did say that drastic times call for drastic measures, he thought.

“I’m sick and tired of this Phil,” Dan yelled, trying not to feel foolish over shouting into the wind. He impatiently waited for a reply. No reply from Phil.

Dan knew that the ghost was listening to his every word. He just needed to figure out what would make Phil snap and come out from hiding.

“I’m serious, Phil! You know… you’re not the only one who kissed me lately,” Dan said challengingly, though a part of him regretted it for taking it too far.

“Maurice gave it a try last week. I stopped him, told him I wasn’t interested. I might just go back right now; finish whatever we left off. Not that you would care, right, considering that you’re still ignoring me.”

Dan smirked when he heard a dull thud that came from behind, but quickly recovered. “Interesting that the thought of me making out with Maurice made you change your mind.”

“He kissed you?” Phil asked, bewildered, completely disregarding what Dan had said.

Dan needed to be really careful about what he had to say next. Phil didn’t need to know about what Maurice told him about Dan’s other abilities, and definitely not the fact that Maurice had threatened Dan.

“He did, when we met last week. I didn’t let him kiss me. I did what you did: I pushed him away,” he said. Dan knew he was being petty, but he couldn’t help it. He, too, kissed Phil, and was pushed away.

Phil looked distraught, but he quickly turned away to leave Dan once again.

Dan quickly grabbed a hold of Phil’s arm before he could disappear again. “Stop that! You’re behaving like a child. I’m not going to jump you and force you to kiss me. I just want to talk.”

“I like you Dan, I really do. But if you want something more out of our relationship, that’s too much to ask; it’ll never work. I’m dead and you’re alive. I can’t take you out on dates, I can’t meet your parents. You’re the only one who can see me. A relationship where we would be happy and alive would make no sense!”

Dan knew that already, but he didn’t care. He liked Phil more than he had ever liked anyone before. Dan realised that he was acting selfish, but all he wanted was a chance to be with the one he loved.

“I know our situation isn’t normal. Hell, it’s so unusual that it’s laughable; madness. But do you really not want to give us a chance?”

For a moment, Dan was certain that Phil was actually thinking about it. Dan wanted to give him more of a reason to say yes. “If you’re so worried about not being able to take me out on dates, I have just the solution. I know a place, it’s near the lake. It’s well-hidden; no one knows about it. We can go there as often as you like. Maybe for a picnic and… other things.”

Dan’s words seemed to be the push Phil needed to finally take the leap. He inched closer, and pulled Dan in for a kiss he had been dreaming about ever since their first kiss. Dan broke the kiss, but positioned his forehead against Phil’s. “Took you long enough,” he mumbled.

Phil rolled his eyes, and kissed Dan again.

“So, that lake you mentioned,” Phil said, as he pulled away from the kiss, “want to go there some time?”

As much as Dan hated Maurice, he wanted information. But their meeting was over promptly, and Maurice didn’t give him any information. Dan lost count of how many times he avoided the the stranger’s advances.

Maurice couldn’t care less even after Dan told him he was seeing someone. Dan observed Maurice and deduced that the guy seemed like the kind of person who wasn’t used to being told no, and so he behaved as if he was oblivious to the fact that Dan wasn’t interested in him. If it wasn’t for Phil, he would have left Maurice ages ago.

He jumped when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, but quickly smiled when he realised what it meant. Their meeting was coming to an end, and he could finally leave and go on a date Phil promised him in the morning.

Dan got up to leave, but was blocked at the door by a smirking Maurice. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in staying for a little longer? I’ve got a bottle of wine that we can share.”

Dan refrained himself from rolling his eyes. Instead, he politely shook his head. “Thanks, but I actually have a date that I need to get to. Maybe next time,” he said, even though in his head he was already thinking of how he was going to avoid another proposition from Maurice for the following next week.

Maurice was obviously not happy about it, but at least he let Dan leave without anymore complications.

Dan quickly made his way to the lake, and was glad to find Phil waiting for him at the entrance of the park. “I spent an hour with Maurice. I had to ward off his advancements, so I hope you brought food. I’m starving.”

Dan knew that mentioning Maurice’s name never failed to make Phil jealous, even though the ghost was aware that Dan was not interested in the guy. A little jealousy never hurt anyone, and that’s why Dan liked to bring him up occasionally.

Phil pulled him in for an intense kiss, and Dan smirked. Bingo.

Since Dan was the one who knew where the hidden area was, he was in charge of leading the way.

The view did not disappoint Phil. The area wasn’t spacious, so they didn’t have much space to move around, but they had a perfect view of the lake, shining under the sunlight.

Phil took care of spreading out an old blanket for them to sit on, then took out various foods from his bag. “You better appreciate the effort I went through to get all of this prepared without anyone catching me. Explaining to your mum or step-father why sandwiches were floating in the air in the kitchen wouldn’t be fun.”

Dan couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the thought of that. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that as he was the only one who could see Phil. What Dan deemed as normal would freak other people out as they can’t see ghosts, like his mum once did.

Dan took a bite of the sandwich and smiled. “Well, you’ll be happy to know that your efforts were very much appreciated. This tastes great; just what I needed after a long day.”

Phil tried to look as if he didn’t really care whether Dan liked the sandwiches or not, but Dan could tell from the blush on Phil's face, that he appreciated the compliment.

Spending time together like this made them forgot that that they were not like the usual couples. Like this, enjoying each other’s company, and soaking up the sun, it was easy to forget that outside of their little world, things were not as straightforward.

Dan sometimes couldn’t help but think of what his mum would say if she were to meet Phil. She would probably say that Phil was a good influence on him and she would probably be happy that Dan had finally found someone he loved and cared about, after the mess that was Ollie.

He always tried to quickly shake himself out of such thoughts. Thinking about things that could never happen would lead them to nowhere. He wanted to enjoy the times he got to hang out with Phil like this with no interruption.

Dan saw Phil sneakily move his hand in order to take the last sandwich, and quickly snatched it from under his nose, laughing at the affronted look the ghost aimed at him. “Better luck next time,” he said, taking a bite of the sandwich.

He should have known that Phil would not let him get away with it, and that was how they spent the rest of the day chasing each other around the little clearing and kissing softly on the blanket whenever they got tired of running.

Things were going great for Dan for the first time of his life, but he couldn’t help but to make the mistake of thinking it was going to remain that way.

Maurice quickly ruined his good mood and optimism during their next meeting.

“You know,” Maurice began as soon as Dan walked in, not even offering his guest a simple ‘Hello’. “When you told me you couldn’t go out with me because you were seeing someone, it never even crossed my mind that you would lower your standards so that you could date a ghost.”

Dan felt his blood run cold. Maurice was never supposed to know that he was dating Phil. That was supposed to be their own little secret. Even though Phil never failed to let him know just how much he didn’t like Maurice, Dan knew the ghost wouldn’t be stupid enough to go and confront Maurice without telling Dan.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, acting as undoubtedly clueless as he could. For all he knew, Maurice was just guessing, and it just so happened to be right. Dan needed to be careful not to validate Maurice’s assumptions, and Dan’s secret with Phil would be fine. At least that was what he thought at first.

“I couldn’t help but feel curious when you told me you were actually dating someone. I wanted to know who this person was, but I knew you would never tell me, so I followed you,” he admitted, a smirk stuck firmly on his face.

“Imagine my shock when I saw you kissing that ghost you’re always so adamant on protecting. Everything makes a lot more sense now.”

Dan was at a complete loss of what to do. Maurice had seen them, and that made it difficult for him to somehow lie his way out of it. He remembered Maurice’s threatening words that convinced Dan to agree to weekly meetings with Maurice in order to protect Phil.

That was before Maurice was aware of Dan’s relationship with the ghost. Dan got the feeling that things were about the get a lot worse.

“I don’t think I’ve ever pursued anyone who has told me no before, and you’ve done it over and over again. You rejected me so that you could be with a ghost who’s been dead for years?” Maurice hissed, smirk dropping off to be replaced with a grimace. “He can’t give you what you want, but I can. Think about it, Dan. Are you going to spend the rest of your life with someone only you can see?”

Dan was terrified. This was the exact situation he wanted to avoid, and he didn’t know to what length Maurice would go to. That didn’t mean he was going to let anyone talk about Phil like that.

“Phil might be a ghost, but he’s ten times the man you are,” he snapped.

That was the wrong thing to say.

“You’re going to regret saying that. Have you forgotten that I can do things you haven’t learned yet? I can go back to the past and stop Phil from getting himself killed in that fire. There won’t be any ghost for you to kiss, then. Or there will be, but he’ll have no idea who you are.”

Phil was right, Dan admitted. He shouldn’t have ignored the risks and he shouldn’t have agreed to the weekly ‘lessons’ in the first place, knowing that Maurice was interested in other things. What was he supposed to do now?

Maurice wasn’t lying about what he would do. Their ‘lessons’ consisted more of Dan ignoring Maurice’s flirts than learning anything, but it goes without saying that Maurice was still more knowledgeable than Dan was.

If Maurice really could go to the past and keep Phil from getting murdered, then Dan had no way of stopping him. Dan didn’t have a clue on how people like them could go to the past. And even if he did, what was he supposed to do? Tie Maurice up until he gave up and taking them back to present time?

Dan didn’t have much time to think things through. He could see Maurice’s skin losing colour, almost as if he was turning into a ghost himself, and it was then it dawned on him that he didn’t know anything.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out when and how your little boyfriend died. I’ll admit that I haven’t got a clue of who killed him, but that’s not going to matter when I get to be the one saving him from death. You should be thanking me, because I’m about to give him a second chance at living. If you really liked him, you would be helping me, not stopping me.”

That made Dan pause. As much as he hated Maurice, he couldn’t deny that he had a point. Wasn’t he the one who was desperate to learn about who killed Phil in order to help him get to the afterlife? He should be all for the idea of giving Phil another chance. No one deserved it more than him.

But Dan wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Judging by the fact that Maurice looked so transparent that Dan could barely even see him anymore, whatever Maurice was doing was working. Dan wasn’t even going to get a chance to see Phil for the last time.

He couldn’t let that happen. Before he think about it too much, he jumped forward and grabbed onto Maurice’s hand.

Everything turned into a blur.

When Dan regained consciousness, he was greeted by the sight of Maurice glaring at him. “What the Hell is wrong with you? I could have killed you!”

Dan tried not to think too much about what could have happened to him if things went awry, instead, focused on the situation he found himself in.

It seemed Dan had somehow traveled to the past with Maurice when he grabbed onto him. It meant that he still had a chance of saving Phil. All he needed to do was keep Maurice from stopping Phil’s murderer.

But it made Dan pause. He could stop the murderer and save Phil. It meant Phil wouldn’t have to spend years stuck in a limbo. It meant he wouldn’t have go through the pain of being burnt alive.

The only downside to this was the fact that Dan would never see Phil again. He would lose the only relationship he ever had in his life. The only true friend. But was that more important than Phil getting to live his life?

Dan was being selfish, he knew that. Maurice was about to give Phil something which Dan hadn’t been able to give himself, and instead of being happy for him and trying to help out in every way he could, he was planning on putting a stop to it.

If Dan really loved Phil like he thought he did, then he knew what he had to do - he needed to do everything he could to keep Phil alive. Phil would get another chance at life and, hopefully, when he did eventually die, he would not be stuck in a limbo, unable to move on to the afterlife. It was the least he could do for someone who had made such an impact on his life.

Maurice seemed on edge. He probably thought that Dan was still intending on trying to stop him. Little did he know that Dan had decided on doing the very opposite of that, even though it was killing him on the inside.

“No need to keep staring at me like that. I’m not going to stop you. I’m going to help you.”

The bewildered look on Maurice’s face helped making Dan feel a little better. At least until Maurice managed to shake off his shock and gave him his signature smirk - the smirk that never failed to make Dan’s skin crawl.

“I knew you would get it eventually. Honestly, it took a little longer than I had hoped for, but at least you get it now. Don’t see this as me trying to ruin your life. Think of it as me helping your little ghost friend out.”

Dan took a deep breath. He needed to stay on Maurice's good side for all the help he can get. Punching him in the face like he desperately wanted to do would probably be counterproductive. It was hard not to try and wipe that stupid smirk off of his face, though.

“Don’t get cocky. I’m going to help you because I love Phil, and he deserves a second chance. I still can’t stand you and, once we get back, you can forget about our weekly sessions.”

Maurice ignored him and started walking towards a house that shared some similarities with the one Dan currently lived in. Whoever rebuilt the house after the fire decided to keep some of its original characteristics. But somehow, it reminded him of his room, where Phil would be waiting for him. Dan’s heart ached.

Dan quickly followed Maurice and grabbed his arm to stop him. “What exactly is the plan? We can’t just break into the house and drag Phil out. Not to mention that we still have no idea who murdered him in the first place.”

Maurice didn’t seem worried at all. In fact, Dan would actually dare say that Maurice knew more about Phil’s murderer than he was letting on.

“Did you think I was going to travel all the way to the past without having a clear idea of what I was working with and what would need to be done?” Maurice snapped, then rolled his eyes. “Have faith in me, Dan. I happen to know that your little friend’s parents had the tendency to leave the backdoor unlocked in the afternoon, because Phil was always around. We just need to get in and find Phil.”

Dan could only stare at him. “How the Hell do you know all that? Phil couldn’t have been the one to tell you, he would have told me first. Not to mention he happens to hate your guts.”

“I didn’t need your ghost’s help to figure everything out,” Maurice said, exasperated. “You shouldn’t forget that you’re not the only one who can see dead people, Dan. I can see them too, and I’m more experienced than you. I saw the ghost of Phil’s father lurking near your house. Did you know your boyfriend had a really turbulent relationship with his dad? Or should I say stepdad?”

Dan could feel a ball of dread dropping in his stomach when he heard of Phil’s father because he got the feeling that he knew where this was going. “What does his dad have to do with anything?”

“Do you even need to ask me that, Dan?” Maurice asked, beamused. “Phil’s stepdad was the one who murdered him. They never got on well, and Paul felt like Phil was always trying his best to turn his mother against him. One day, they got into an argument, and Paul had enough. He waited until Phil was sleeping then set the whole house on fire. I found it quite ironic how he did everything out of fear of losing his wife but risked her life as well in order to get rid of Phil.”

Dan was left speechless. He had no doubts that even if he had spent months looking for information about what happened on the night Phil was murdered, he would have never figured out the truth. He would have never realised that the person behind the whole thing was Phil’s own stepdad. It certainly didn’t help that Phil had never confided in him regarding his relationship with his family members.

Phil lost his life because a person he considered family hated him enough to murder him. He was left to burn alive in his own bedroom because his stepdad considered him to be a danger to his relationship with his wife.

“So how exactly are you planning on saving him?” Dan managed to mumble once he got his emotions under control.

“Simple. You get Phil out of his room and out of the house. I’ll stop his stepdad from burning the whole house to the ground.”

“You do realise that there is nothing remotely simple about your plan right?” Dan said, if he should be taking Maurice seriously. “How do you expect me to convince Phil to listen to what I say and get out of the house? In case you’ve forgotten, ‘alive Phil’ doesn’t know me. I think the chances of him trusting an intruder are very slim.”

All Maurice did was roll his eyes. “Introduce yourself! Do whatever you did to get the ghost interested in you and use it on this Phil. Charm him. Flirt a little.”

Dan could already tell that this whole mission was going to end up disastrously. If Phil’s chances of not dying that night rested on him having to trust a complete stranger who intruded his home, and flirting him, then Phil was as good as dead.

However, Dan was aware that they didn’t have much time. It wouldn’t be long now until Phil’s dad sneaked out, and they needed to get to work before it was too late.

“Just to be clear, I still think your plan is shit, but there’s not enough time to come up with something else. I’ll try my best to get Phil out of the house, but it’s going to be hard, so you need to keep his dad from setting fire to the house,” he said, already making his way around the house in order to get to the back door.

Just as Maurice said, the back door was unlocked, and Dan didn’t have any trouble making his way inside. His mind flooded with Phil’s recount of the night he died, and he quickly figured where Phil’s room was located, and didn’t waste anymore time.

Dan tried to move as quietly and quickly as possible. He couldn’t afford someone hearing or seeing him. It would raise a lot of questions that he would not be able to answer, not to mention ruin their whole plan.

He couldn’t help but hesitate once he finally got to Phil’s room - the same room he had been sleeping in for the past few months. The same room where he met Phil for the first time, and where they eventually started getting to know each other. The room where Dan fell in love with Phil.

Dan was determined to save Phil, and it would be as if everything they had shared together, never actually happened. Dan was terrified that the second he saw Phil - his Phil - alive and well, he wouldn’t be able to go through the ordeal. He wouldn’t be able to stop his murder from happening, not knowing that, in doing so, he would never be able to see him again.

Taking a deep breath, Dan reached his hand out and opened the door. It revealed a dark room, and Dan saw a figure - Phil - on the bed, sleeping soundly. How was he going to get Phil out of his room to somewhere safer?

Knowing that there was no time for him to waste, Dan shuffled closer to the bed, then hesitantly tapped Phil on the back in an attempt to wake him up. When that didn’t work, he tapped the latter’s shoulder with vigour. Phil tousled in his bed. Dan was pleased to see Phil slowly waking up.

At least, until Phil bolted up when he saw an unfamiliar figure looming over his bed, startled, and before Phil had the chance to scream, Dan quickly covered the latter’s mouth preventing Phil from waking up his mother and stepfather.

“Please don’t shout! I’m not going to hurt you,” Dan said hastily. He hushed Phil who was retaliating under his grip, and Dan listened attentively for footfalls. His first mission was cleared. Now, time to convince Phil to trust him. “Look, I know you have no idea who I am, but I’m here to help you. I’ll remove my hands if you promise not to scream. I just want to explain myself. Do you promise?”

Phil frantically nodded.

Dan hesitantly removed his hands from Phil’s mouth. He was relieved when Phil kept his word. “I know this sounds insane, but I’m here to… I’m here to save your life. Hear me out! Someone is going to murder you in a few minutes and you don’t deserve that. That’s why you need to listen to me, and you need to get out of the house right now, for your own safety,” Dan said quickly. He was under immense pressure, and their time was running out, and Phil’s refusal to cooperate is something he didn’t want to deal with at the moment.

But to Dan’s surprise, Phil simply jumped out of his bed and did what Dan said, no questions asked. But this Phil wasn’t Dan’s Phil even though, deep down, he knows that his Phil was in this Phil.

The air was unusually still, and Dan was nervous. He saw Phil’s face; scowling. Dan didn’t expect for Phil to burst out laughing after Dan intruded his house, his room, and his sleep.

Once he calmed down, Phil turned to face Dan, looking angry, nonetheless. “Look,” Phil began to speak for the first time. “I have no idea who you are, or what you drank before you barged in here but clearly, you’re a bit out of it. I’m not as cruel as other people who live in this house, so if you walk out right now, I won’t call the police.”

Dan had known that Maurice’s plan was stupid and it had no chance of working, but he was still a little disappointed. A part of him had been hopeful that maybe this Phil he was facing would feel whatever connection they shared back in the future, but it was clear now this was just Dan’s wishful thinking.

“I’m so sorry,” Dan said, leaving Phil looking confused. “I know you don’t believe me right now, but I’m doing this for your own safety. If you don’t get out of the house, you’ll die.”

Dan grabbed Phil’s wrist. Phil was still disoriented, and Dan started dragging him out of the room, but Phil was not making it easy. He quickly fought back. He knew they were not going to make it outside if they continued like this.

“Please just listen to me, we have to go outside…”

“Let go of me! You’re out of your mind for breaking into my house, expecting me to believe some crazy story about someone trying to kill me,” Phil said, pulling his wrist and kicking his feet to try and break Dan’s hold on him.

“It’s not just anyone, it’s your stepdad. You had an argument today, didn’t you? He’s still pissed at you and thinks you’re trying to break him and your mum up and he’s going to get rid of you!” Dan hissed desperately.

It didn’t matter what he said. Phil was not interested in listening to anything Dan had to say, and Dan couldn’t blame him. If their roles had been reversed, Dan surely wouldn’t believe a stranger that broke into his home and started spouting out crazy stories about a crazy stepdad wanting to kill him too. Who was he kidding? Dan definitely wouldn’t believe it.

He was just about to let Phil go and start thinking of an alternative plan when he heard it. There were voices coming from outside. “No, no, no, it’s too early…” Dan muttered to himself, quickly getting up and moving to the window. The sight of fire was unmistakable.

“Dan!”

He whirled around at the sound of his name, to be greeted with the sight of a panicked looking Maurice running into Phil’s room.

“What the Hell is going on here?” Phil snapped, looking between them like the apocalypse was coming. “Look, I don’t know what the Hell you two think you’re doing but it’s not funny and you need to get the Hell out right now before I call to the police.”

Maurice ignored Phil. “We need to get out of here right now. I couldn’t stop his stepdad. I tried to reason with him, and then used force when he wouldn’t listen to me, but he hit me. Let’s go,” he said, taking a hold of Dan’s hand and starting to pull him out.

Dan shook Maurice’s grip off him and moved back. He quickly walked over to Phil, who at this point was starting to realise that what Dan had been telling him might not have been so crazy.

“Listen, I know this is all probably really overwhelming but we need to leave or we’re going to end up burning alive.”

“I-I can’t..”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Maurice snarled before pulling on Dan’s hand again. “His stepdad surrounded the whole house with fuel. This place is going to burn down before you know it. Let’s get the Hell out of here.”

But Dan couldn’t leave. He couldn’t leave Phil to die, not after he travelled so far into the past to stop everything from happening. Maurice was right, if they left now the ghost version of Phil - his Phil - would still be there to welcome him home, but it wasn’t worth it.

The Phil welcoming him back in his time would just be a shell of the man he was seeing in front of him right now. He was a version who could be seen only by Dan and others who shared his gift. The man he had slowly fallen in love with deserved so much more than that.

But Dan wouldn’t be able to live knowing that he saved his own ass and left Phil… the real Phil… to burn alive.

“I can’t… Maurice, we can’t just leave after all of this. He’s going to die in here. I love him, I can’t leave.”

Maurice looked at him like Dan had lost his mind.

“What difference will it make? Instead of him just dying, you’ll be dying with him. Is that what you want? Sacrificing your life so you can die together like Romeo and Juliet?” Maurice sneered in a mocking tone. “Suit yourself, but I’m not hanging around to watch it. I’m out of here.”

Dan could see Maurice start to fade out, and all he could do was stare at him with wide eyes. He never liked Maurice, but he had never thought that he would abandon him like that.

“What the Hell is wrong with you people?”

Turning around, Dan saw Phil staring at Maurice with complete bewilderment. “I have no idea what the Hell you’re talking about… both of you, but I’m not stupid. I understand if you don’t want to save me because you don’t know me, but you obviously know each other. You can’t just leave him here,” he said, pointing at Dan.

Dan heard a creaking noise coming from underneath them. They didn’t have a lot of time. A look at Phil let him know that the other was aware of it too.

“If he wants to risk his life to stick with you, then he’s more than welcome to do that.”

Another creak, another warning that they were surviving on borrowed time. The floor was not going to hold them up forever. The house was burning down and it wouldn’t be long until it gave out underneath them.

Maurice was almost gone at this point, and Dan felt helpless. Dan and Phil were doomed.

Everything was a blur to Dan after that. He saw Phil running towards him and covering his body with his own. Phil pushed him towards Maurice and all he could do was grab on to the vanishing boy. The floor underneath them gave way straight after, but before his mind started working, Dan’s body spinned and saw Phil’s face looking sad and horrified at the same time, and then all Dan saw was complete darkness.

The first thing he saw when he came into consciousness was white. Looking around he realised that he was staring at the white walls of the hospital. “W-What am I doing here?” Dan thought to himself.

A hand squeezing his own brought his attention away from the hospital walls to the figure sitting beside his bed. What he saw made Dan’s breath caught in his throat.

Phil. His Phil. Not the one in the past who had no idea who Dan was. This was the ghost, but Dan couldn’t help but to think that he preferred him like this or maybe he was just biased because the ghost was looking at him with adoration.

“What happened?” Dan croaked, at which point he allowed Phil to help him sit up and drink half a glass of water.

“You were stupid, that’s what happened,” Phil said, but his harsh words were softened by the fond tone he uttered them in. “Next time, when you decide to travel back in time to save someone’s life, how about you let me know so that I’d at least know what to expect?”

Dan couldn’t quite understand how Phil knew about what had happened. Had Maurice woken up before him and admitted to everything?

Phil must have caught the confused look on Dan’s face because he sighed. “I know your sessions with Maurice usually last an hour, so when you didn’t come back home after two hours, I started getting worried. I dropped by at Maurice’s and found both of you passed out on the floor. But I saw another body there with yours.”

Dan froze. There was no way they could have brought past Phil here with them when they travelled back to their present time. But who else would the third body belong to if not past Phil? A nod from Phil confirmed his suspicions.

“Is… is he okay?” He asked, unsure of what he was supposed to say in a situation like this.

Phil sighed and shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m in a coma. Well… not exactly me. My past self. No one knows for sure what’s wrong with me, but I think I have an idea. My past self can’t live in this time; not when I’m inhabiting this time as a ghost. You know what I mean?”

This was all so strange and so new that Dan wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t anymore. He still understood what Phil was trying to tell him, regardless of his circumstances. Phil from the past couldn’t live in this time with ghost Phil still around. He was dying.

Dan should have never messed with time.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Phil gave him a weak smile and squeezed his hand again. It seemed as if they were both left without words after what happened.

“What’s going to happen to you?”

Phil sighed and that’s when Dan knew that it wasn’t going to be good news. “I can’t be sure but I don’t think I have much time left here. My body is slowly dying, and you helped me figure out who murdered me all those years ago, so it won’t be long now until I get to go to the afterlife.”

Now more than ever, Dan wished he had somehow stopped Maurice from going back in time. He knew it now: messing with time caused consequences, and those consequences hurt more than one could imagine.

He tried to save Phil from the fire because he knew he deserved another chance, but when they didn’t manage to do it, he really thought he would be able to go back to his Phil and enjoy their time together. He failed to realise that finally knowing who murdered him would mean Phil would finally be able to move on to the afterlife without anything holding him back.

Phil must have realised how devastated Dan felt. Phil felt responsible to change the subject. “Can you walk?” When Dan slowly nodded, Phil continued, “Come on, I want to get a look at myself again. It’s so strange seeing myself alive again, even if in a coma. I’d gotten used to looking pale and no one being able to see me.”

Dan let out a watery laugh and allowed Phil to lead him to the Intensive Care Unit.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw Phil’s body lying on the bed. It was surreal seeing Phil’s his chest moving up and down slowly with every breath he took, despite having to have a ventilator to help him breathe. Even unconscious, he looked breathtakingly beautiful and it pained Dan to know he was dying. He didn’t even get the chance to hug him and feel his warmth rather than the chill he always felt when hugging Phil’s spirit. The sound of the ECG machine beeping loudly but steadily made Dan’s heart clench. At least Phil was still alive.

Dan was about to say that Phil looked beautiful when he noticed Phil slowly fading away, almost like Maurice did when he travelled back in time.

Phil let out a shaky breath then gave Dan a sad smile. “I guess it’s time for me to go,” he whispered, voice cracking with emotion.

Dan desperately wanted to be strong because he knew that, at the end of the day, this was something good, even if it hurt him. Phil had waited years aimlessly for the chance to move on to the afterlife; he deserved to finally get the chance to move on.

It still didn’t stop Dan from tearing up. “I’m going to miss you,” he said in a shaky voice, trying to get his emotions under control.

“Me too,” Phil said, taking a hold of his hand and squeezing it. “Thank you… thank you for trusting me, for being my friend, for doing your best to help me out.”

Phil leaned in to kiss Dan for one last time and, in doing so, his hand brushed the leg of his unconscious body. They stopped, and the next thing Dan realised, he saw Phil’s body covered in white light and Phil was gone in a blink. Dan was finally alone in the ward with nothing but Phil’s lifeless body on the bed.

He dropped into a chair and rested his head against the bed sheets. With Phil gone, there was no need for him to be strong anymore, and soon found himself crying. “I love you,” he mumbled, taking Phil’s cold hand into his. The sound of the ECG machine made Dan become aware of Phil’s current state. He wasn’t dead.

That was when Dan felt his hand being gripped tightly, and his head snapped to look up. Phil’s arm moved. Dan saw Phil’s pale knuckle gripping Dan’s own. Dan stood, alarmed. He saw Phil frown, but slowly trying to open his eyes, trying his best to adjust to the harsh white light in the room.

“Phil?” he asked, alarmed.

“W-where am I?” Phil’s raspy voice said inaudibly, but Dan gets closer to him to hear Phil repeat his question once again. “Where am I?”

“In the hospital. I-I’m gonna get the nurse. W-wait, I’ll be back in a second,” Dan panicked, rushing out to find a nurse.

“Dan!” His mum called from downstairs. This was the third time she was calling him but there was still no sign of Dan coming down the stairs. Dan was taking his time. Going to the Winter Dance with his boyfriend will only happen once in a lifetime, and Dan wanted to look as perfect as possible. He wanted to live the moment and… maybe he wanted to make a big entrance too.

Dan reached for his phone to check for messages, but realised that he had made everyone waited for him for five minutes. Standing in front of the mirror, he was satisfied with how smart he looked. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror, and promised himself a great time at the dance. Quickly, he grabbed his phone and keys then started to make his way downstairs.

As he was making his way down, he caught sight of his oldest stepbrother hurriedly making his way upstairs with an armful of books. “Am I about to start seeing pigs flying? Because if you are actually studying, then anything can happen.”

All he got in return was a glare, but his stepbrother did stop before entering his room. “Hey, Dan,” he called out. “You look good.” Before Dan could say thank you, he had already closed his door behind him.

That was the only positive interaction they had so far.

Dan looked down onto his feet to watch where he was stepping before he rolled down the stairs, but when he looked up, he smiled at the sight that greeted him.

Clive was asking everyone who happened to be in his way to taste some new dish he was preparing for dinner. His mum was playing around with the camera in her hands, trying to figure out how it worked.

And then there was Phil. Dan couldn’t get over how Phil looked absolutely breathtaking in his black tux and bowtie. He couldn’t wait for the Winter Dance to end so he could have fun taking off Phil’s tux when they were spending the night at his boyfriend’s new apartment.

Dan stopped short at the sight of Phil, and he had to bite his lip to keep himself from showing everyone just how much it was affecting him.

It was a pretty typical family scene of the parents making a big deal out of their child’s first school dance and their date picking them up, but to Dan, it meant something more. Because his family could actually see his date.

He was dating someone real and not a ghost that only he could see. He was going to attend the school dance with his very real boyfriend, and he got to show him off to all his schoolmates, instead of going alone like he planned all those months ago.

Dan’s mum was the first one who saw Dan walking down the stairs. She gave him a big smile and gestured for him to come closer so she could fix his bowtie. “You look stunning, sweetheart,” she said and, to his horror, he felt himself blushing at the compliment.

He gazed at Phil who was still talking to Clive, and their eyes met. Dan caught Phil’s grin, and the next second, Phil’s attention was on Clive. Dan guessed Phil had to present himself as likable to Dan’s parents.

“So, I see you’ve met Phil,” Dan said as his mother fixed how bowtie.

Dan’s mum smiled tenderly. He missed his mum’s motherly smile. Dan had no doubts that after years of worrying over her son not having any friends, she was over the moon when Dan revealed he had a boyfriend, even though he was a few years older than him.

“I have,” his mum said. “It’s lovely to meet you, Phil,” she said, smiling at Phil. “Come over here Phil so I can take a photo of you two together.”

Dan groaned but moved closer, moving his arm around Phil’s back.

“I won’t hear any complaints from you, young man,” she said sternly, but smiled to indicate that she wasn’t serious. “I deserve to take many photos of you two after you hid the fact that you have a boyfriend.”

Dan’s mum took enough photos of them to fill up a whole album before she finally allowed them to leave and start heading for the dance. He waved goodbye, promising his mum to be back home safely after the dance, even though the both knew he probably wouldn’t be back before lunchtime the next day, and then made their way to Phil’s car.

Well… more like Maurice’s car. Maurice had felt guilty for almost leaving Dan to burn alive with Phil and he offered to lend Phil the car for the occasion when he came over to apologise to Dan.

A part of Dan wanted to say that lending his car was a small price to pay for almost leaving him to die, but then he remembered what Maurice had told him before he left. “You two are meant to be together. Phil protected you even when he had no idea who you were. I could have never done that. He really loves you.”

Dan thought maybe they could make peace.

Dan just hoped they weren’t stopped by the police on the way to the dance considering Phil had no licence, or birth certificate, or school reports so he could start attending college… nothing really. They were still working on it.

They were lucky that Maurice had once again helped out by getting Phil a job. At least Phil now could afford his own apartment.

Once they arrived at the school, Dan found himself having troubles controlling his giddy smile when he walked down the hall with Phil, holding hands. He could finally show off his dashing boyfriend.

Just as they were passing in front of the back doors, Dan caught sight of a man walking around aimlessly. The greyish tinge to his skin proved he was a ghost. He knew that the responsible thing to do was to help him, but tonight, Dan just wanted to be with Phil at the dance. He swore to himself that he would look for the man to talk the next day.

“Want to dance?” he asked Phil, before leading him to the dance floor.

“We should talk to that man tomorrow, see if we can do anything to help,” Phil said, slowly swaying to the beat.

Dan nodded in agreement before he realised what his boyfriend had just said. “Wait… you can see him? The man walking around near the back door?”

Phil nodded with a chuckle. “I can definitely see him. Why, is that a problem?”

Dan shook his head, dumbfounded. “No, but… that means you can see dead people too.”

“Apparently so.” Phil paused. “That means we can go on supernatural adventures together, helping them cross over to the afterlife. Maybe we can start a business or something,” he joked.

Dan rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile. Phil… his Phil, was no longer a ghost. Instead he was just like him. “I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

A/N: So there you have it! My fic for the Phandom Big Bang 2017. Like I’ve already said, I’ve been working on this for almost a year and it’s surreal to finally have it posted for everyone to read. With almost 23,000 words, it’s also the longest oneshot I’ve ever written. I hope you enjoyed it and, if you did, make sure to let me know! Like, reblog, send me asks! I reply and appreciate everything.

Now look forward to the 25 Days of Christmas 2017, starting on December 1st!

#phanfic #phan #phan angst #pbb2017 #phan fluff #pbb 2017 #phan smut

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tenderdnp · 7 years ago

Text

we’re already each other’s, yet you aren’t mine

beta: @star-crossed-phan

artist: @just-another-phanfic + a pt. ii of her art is here!

word count: 26.2k

rating: PG-13; genres are romance, fluff, and angst

warnings: mild language, homophobia (internal and external), mild homophobic slurs, alcohol, hints at sexual intimacy

summary: in a time where tattoos bloom upon the skin out of nowhere - dan is a boy who paints watercolor roses in his backyard and has a single hidden marigold behind his ear, all while phil, who has tattoos of daisies around his ankles + shoulders, writes poetry on the front porch next door. (a high school, art student au)

author’s note: aaaa my first pbb fic!! :’)) thank you so much to kayla for betaing this! you are so sweet, and we talked more than just about editing which was so lovely. bless you for sticking with me even though the word count went from what was supposed to be 5k straight to 25k; you’re a real one! and thank you to kat for being a great pinch hitter artist, your moodboards make my heart go !!!!!

and a p.s. — this fic was inspired by @demonphannie’s post and @audaw’s art. ty for existing

moodboard by @just-another-phanfic

. . .

For centuries, humanity has held art to the highest of esteems. Early neanderthals began it all with their coarse hands, withdrawing the dirt from the earth below their feet to leave marks upon rugged stone walls, the ones that would convey the beginnings of history. In the millenniums that followed, an elitism has formed around the most talented ones who have managed to make a name for themselves. The names of these creators are commonplace in many households amongst the nations; buildings are erected with the mere purpose of showcasing such artistic creation.

Perhaps it is for that reason that the phenomenon in which ink would envelop one’s skin was thus regarded as a wonder, rather than as an alarming fright.

Despite seeming harmless, precaution took place of course: scientists all over the globe have dedicated themselves to research the peculiar tattoos. Theories ranging from genetic mutations related to the brain’s creative processes to shifts in the earth’s overall physical environment resulting in a strange seismic change have arisen, but nothing about their origins have been confirmed as of yet. For that matter, nothing has been confirmed as to how exactly they appear either.

<<>>

It’s the sound of lips on skin and lips on lips that makes his shoulders tense and his hair stand on end. He can’t ignore them, they’re only three lockers down after all, and his peripheral vision just happens to be especially keen. Dan Howell has the new girl -new as in she had literally transferred into their art school several days ago- pinned against the locker’s cold metal, his lips pressing against hers again and again. It isn't a shock, really. She is likely his latest rendezvous, i.e. the new girl in both the real and alternative sense.

The probable truth of that fact makes his gut twist.

His thoughts are confirmed by gossipers in the hallway, their ringing giggles unintentionally piquing his interest. Their conversation automatically separating from the bustle of bodies and hallway sound, he listens in on their eager chatter.

“Did you hear who it was this time?”

Her friend squeals —was that necessary?— in response. “No I haven't! Who?!”

“It was Erin—”

“Erin? The new girl who came in and started here last week?”

“Yes! Well, she came in a totally different way last night,” he could hear a smirk and a wink in her voice. The if you know what i mean was a little more than heavily implied, making him internally cringe. “Everybody’s saying that they just locked eyes across Chris’ living room and like, totally fell in love. Or lust. You know how it is.”

“Of course,” the friend laughs knowingly, “Not a single girl has ever lasted too long.”

From there, as the conversation topic shifted, his attention followed. Suddenly irritated, he shuts his locker with a slam, not loud enough to gain the passerbys’ attention, but enough to snap Dan and Erin (she has a name now) out of it. By the time he turns around, Erin shoots a mildly peeved glance his way. Familiar words of it's always cloudy except for, when you look into the past, one night… flow from his worn earbuds to hit his eardrums as he makes his way to class, clearing his mind and relaxing his annoyance.

He shakes his head to himself, and puts a little smile on his face. It happens all the time, so he shouldn’t be bothered. Today is gonna be a good day.

He can feel it.

<<>>

As per usual, he is the first one in the classroom. It is a basic english class, because despite being at the art school for written work and thus having several writing and literary classes under his belt, he is still required to take a “basic” class for the english language.

His efforts to convince the principal to change his situation (that other students have voiced to have as well) otherwise was, needless to say, futile.

The class bores him a bit, but it’s not like he can do anything about it. More often than not, he keeps to himself and simply chooses to not actively participate in class. Besides, being one of the teacher’s favorites due to having a particularly advanced grasp of the material is not necessarily the worst thing in the world (plus it gives him time to write rather than pay attention).

Several minutes pass before Dan enters the classroom. As per usual he is the last to enter, with Erin in tow. Her blonde curls are even more all over the place than they usually are and his typically perfectly straightened hair is a little less than perfect; to add even more to that, their clothes are crinkled, leaving little to nothing to the imagination as to what their shenanigans were. The teacher makes no comment but a slight disappointed exhale and a passing gesture of the hand for them to take their seats before he opens up the class for the lesson.

“Now for the past two weeks we have been talking about poetry…” Mr. Lamansi begins, clapping his hands together. “And for today in particular, we will be focusing on Walt Whitman’s Song of the Open Road.”

The class proceeds by his calling on various students in a random fashion to take turns with reading stanzas, his choice sometimes falling on the ones with their hands raised and other times upon those who were purposefully remaining quiet and avoiding eye contact. Phil allows himself to take advantage of this time to freewrite, allowing his pen and mind to wander.

brown is all sorts of golden in the sense it gives...

“Phil? Could you read these few lines for us?”

At the teacher’s interruption, Phil looks up and nods, proceeding to put down his pen and stand up from his seat as every other student had. His hands hold his textbook as he prepares himself to speak, but the moment he opens his mouth, Mr. Lamansi stops him.

“Actually Phil,” Mr. Lamansi begins, “Can you come up and read in front of the class? This is one of my favorite parts.”

Phil bites his lip. “Y-yeah. That's fine.”

Everyone’s focus is on him as he strides towards where the teacher directed him to go. He’s not a fan of this kind of thing you know, being the center of unwanted attention that is, and each stare only seems to be encouraging the swirls that are slowly appearing on his lower back. Once he reaches his spot in the front, each set of seemingly judgemental eyes causes buttercups to rapidly pop up on a concentrated spot on the inside of his wrists, mapping the places where he feels anxiety and unease.

An awkward cough to clear his throat and break the stillness of the room comes first. Then, he begins.

And it's captivating.

“The earth expanding right hand and left hand, The picture alive, every part in its best light, The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted, The cheerful voice of the public road—the gay fresh sentiment of the road. O highway I travel! O public road! do you say to me, Do not leave me? Do you say, Venture not? If you leave me, you are lost? Do you say, I am already prepared—I am well-beaten and undenied—adhere to me? O public road! I say back, I am not afraid to leave you—yet I love you; You express me better than I can express myself; You shall be more to me than my poem.”

His voice pulls at the heartstrings of everyone watching him, or at the very least, grabs their gaze so that they don't look away. Other students were bored and monotone in vocal delivery, but his take on it is deep and rich. It's lovely, and all the students (okay, except maybe a select few, but you can't win them all) are listening. Breathtaking is definitely the right word to describe it, for the full classroom of rowdy adolescents are nearly completely silent.

Unbeknownst to him, when he's finished, Dan’s lips are parted oh so slightly in a sort of soft awe.

As Phil sits back in his seat, his face burns red, a murmur of applause going through the room. His teacher praises and thanks him, but he pays it no mind. His eyes shift down at his desk as he brainstorms and works on a poem for the rest of the period, until the bell eventually rings.

Now mind you, Philip Lester was usually very observant. His eyes were open, all the time— as a poet he had to take inspiration from every facet of the world around him. However, perhaps if his mind didn't force itself to replay the most anxious of moments, and he wasn't so distracted by his writing, Phil would have caught how peculiar it was for a certain Dan Howell to throw a fleeting gaze at him just before leaving the room.

<<>>

philip michael lester. flashback; age four.

Life was pretty nice when one’s age was still a single digit number.

While his mother was cooking, Phil was sat in the chair at the dining table. Legs swinging in the air because he was far too short to reach the floor, with a face of curiosity he pointed a small finger at what was on her bicep.

“Mum, why does your skin have different colors there?”

She briefly stopped her stirring upon the stove, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion a little before she saw what he was pointing at and laughed in understanding. “This?” she clarified while she smiled, pointing at the tattoo of a concert ticket that lay on her upper arm.

“Yeah!” young Phil exclaimed, nodding eagerly. “And Daddy has one too!”

His mother hummed in agreement and continued to make supper. “Indeed he does,” she laughed, “And that's on purpose you know. The first time I met him was at a concert.” Her voice became wistful as she continued, “I was sold a counterfeit ticket and because of that was absolutely devastated, with tears in my eyes and all, and was on the way to being sent home. On my way out, I had bumped shoulders with your father. We were completely knocked down to the floor! And then…” Her hand stopped once more as her words trailed off.

“And then he noticed my eyes and asked me what's wrong. Once he heard about what had happened, he told me that his friend became sick and that he had a free ticket. Only if I wanted it of course. I accepted it, we ended up having a great time, kept contact, and eventually started dating. I got one half of a concert ticket on my left arm, and your father had a concert ticket on his right.”

“Wow! Now you two are matching, right mum?”

“Yep! They say that nothing’s been proven but if anything,” she turned towards her son and made a pointing gesture to emphasize her words. “This appeared out of love, I’ll tell you that.”

“Love?”

“Yeah, love.”

Phil’s cheeks beam with a smile. “Love sounds so nice.”

As she sets a bowl of Phil’s favorite soup in front of him, an easy reply comes as a response. “Oh it is, dear. It really is.”

<<>>

“Just milk and a bag of crisps? Again?”

Phil places his tray down with a playful eyeroll. “Peej, you know it's because I’m not hungry.” He sits down next to his best friend, unzipping his backpack to take out his phone and aimlessly scroll while they’re chatting.

With his mouth still full, PJ says pointedly, “Yeah sure.” He swallows his food. “I’m just worried sometimes, you know.”

“I know,” Phil laughs, “And I appreciate it.”

PJ does a cheeky little grin and wave with a jokingly bashful, “Aw you’re making blush and all Philip, but let’s cut the sap.” He takes another bite of his lunch. “So how are you? How’s your day been so far?”

“Ugh,” Phil groans. He stuffs his face with practically six crisps at once, annoyed. He had nearly forgotten about how his day started, and now PJ had reminded him. He chews rapidly before he swallows so that he may continue talking.

“Dan was making out with some girl this morning at the lockers… It was obnoxious. Annoying as hell.”

PJ just smirks. His body leans in closely, accompanied by a wiggle of his eyebrows and reply in a teasing tone, “Are you sure annoyed is how you’re really feelin’ Philly? No jealousy because of ‘ol pretty boy—”

“How are things going with that film project?” Phil quickly interjects PJ’s sentence with his cheeks suddenly red, making PJ immediately drop both his smirk and the topic. Ooo ouch, how touchy.

“It’s good! It’s going. I hope to actually start the filming part soon.”

Pride for his friend swells in Phil’s chest. “That’s great!”

“Yeah I guess, but I’m stuck with the script. I’m really lacking inspiration,” PJ mutters, his eyes looking back down to his food.

“Oh, I totally get that,” Phil nods with a wave of his hand. “It’ll pass, don’t worry.”

The other laughs, immediately dismissing the comment. “Pff, yeah right! Coming from the guy who never stops writing ever.”

“Peeeej! Trust me, I’m serious! Okay listen—” Phil’s voice softening, almost as if he was revealing a big secret. “Sometimes you just need a break, you know? Or to look for inspiration in unlikely places. You have to have a muse.”

“Aw Philly, are you saying that you have a muse?” PJ smiles.

Before he can answer, Phil catches a glimpse of Dan walking to join his group of friends, and in doing so, Dan passes by he and PJ’s lunch table. Phil only lets his eyes linger for a moment more before he turns to look back at PJ, and gives him his response, letting out a low hum first. A cheeky hint of something is playing at the edges of his lips.

“I guess you could say that.”

<<>>

brown is all sorts of golden in the sense it gives as much warmth as a gentle sun when it touches every bit of soil and soul of the earth a sign that even angels admire from afar, a bronzy glow of the ages - p.l.

<<>>

“Now creative writing has a key word: creative. And what does creative mean?” implores freshly graduated teacher Miss Caroline (who, at the beginning of the year, refused to be called Miss Alabang due to it apparently being “too formal”). A resounding lack of feedback comes from the class. Rolling her eyes in response, she shoots them all a you guys are useless look, accompanied by the typical seriously you could do better eyebrow raise.

Not many people are in this particular class, so theoretically, there should be more student engagement. But oh, on the contrary, it was not working out that way.

Throwing her hands up in the air with a passion, she exclaims, “It means to think outside of the box of course! Which is why there will be an interesting new project for the midterm. Never before done, never before seen by this institution.”

She begins to pace around the room, her voice rising and falling in a way that seems to soar over students’ heads and then capture their attention, while her gaze creates eye contact with each and every person to guarantee their engagement. “This project,” she says with a pause for dramatic effect, “will be a collaboration with the art students.”

“Exactly right.”

Art teacher Miss Land enters the scene. Her chin is raised with a sort of delicate poise and her hands are held behind her back, a contrasting yet pleasing juxtaposition that is a great complement to Miss Caroline’s own casual stance and posture. While Miss Caroline has a voice that projects itself as much as her eccentric presence, Miss Land’s is a bit more subdued in the sense that listeners had to concentrate more to hear her.

“The idea is to bridge together visual art and written art…”

“...essentially taking words and bringing them to life.”

“Both pieces must be able to both stand on their own, yet inspire one another. A mix of two mediums that are strong individually, yet when put together, fabricate something that reaches beyond what one could achieve as a solo piece,” Miss Land elaborates.

“Any questions?” asks Miss Caroline. The students helpfully provide her the deafening silence that fills the room in response.

Miss Land nods. “Good. My students, please don’t crowd around the door. Line up against the front, please.” She gestures to the front board, each art student awkwardly shuffling to their own spot, standing expectedly as the creative writing students sat and looked upon them with neutral expressions. Most are calm and collected except for a select few, who shift in their seats at the thought of working with unfamiliar people and a medium they didn't know. Among the art students is new girl Erin who couldn’t care less, and she has a hand on Dan’s arm while she whispers into his ear. He chuckles, and makes playful a face back at her as if saying, “Shh, we’ve got to listen now.”

Miss Land then glances at Miss Caroline, sharing an exchange of the eyes before coming to a silent understanding. From there, Miss Caroline addresses the group as a whole.

“So I’m going to randomly choose a student from my creative writing class, while she,” placing emphasis on the last word and looking pointedly at Miss Land, “will randomly choose an art student of her own. Okay? Sounds good. So first off: Eli Romano.”

“...Louise Pentland,” completes Miss Land.

“Andee Steiner with…”

“Erin Romer.”

“PJ Liguori.”

“Chris Kendall, you’re up.”

“Philip Lester…”

“...Dan Howell.”

As partnerships are created one by one, it is so interesting to see the reactions of each couple (couple used for the lack of a better term here, of course). For example, Eli, Andee, Louise, and many others seemed like the type to not mind whomever they were to be assigned to. Erin on the other hand? No one missed the huff she let out and the scrunch of her nose when she heard that she was not assigned to Dan. Chris Kendall stuck his tongue in his cheek with a smirk then let out a big grin when he sauntered over the PJ’s desk, while PJ himself held a soft smile.

In regards to Phil, he kept it together. If together meant his leg started bouncing at a great speed, that is. As long as no one looked below the desk, no one would notice. His fingers start picking at the ends of his sleeves. Buttercups were starting to appear.

And Dan was just an enigma. Nothing in the eyes, nothing in his stance, only a polite smile.

Once the partner assignments are completed, papers are handed out, and a direction is given for everyone to go with their respective other half of their duo, the art students disperse and fill the empty seats. Immediately, chatter begins to diffuse throughout the previously quiet room.

Squeaks come from the moving of chairs and desks, along with slight oomphs of backpacks being tossed down to the linoleum floor and pushed to the side in order to be out of the way. Phil bites his lip as Dan sits in the desk next to his own, and with every ounce of effort in his body he tries to make sure his voice is steady when he breaks the ice between them.

“So, I guess we have to exchange info right?”

“I guess,” Dan replies simply, scratching his neck awkwardly. “I don’t really know, but I guess there’s not really any other option. I mean, what else can we do.”

Not too far from them is PJ, who leans back in his chair and sends a questioning glance over to Phil, who then does a small shrug in reply. Turning back to Dan, he purses his lips a little before continuing. “Okay, so uh, my number is…” Phil lists the memorized numbers with ease, then repeats it once more. “You got that?”

Before Dan can even nod, the bell rings, and out of nowhere Erin grabs Dan’s hand right for the two of them to immediately bolt out the door.

<<>>

Dan is reading over the paper that the art teacher gave them earlier. He wants to start brainstorming, the concept of combining two different art forms seems really interesting… It would probably be best to discuss it with his partner, though.

His partner: Phil Lester. Dan knows him, he lives next door to him so how could he not, and they have gone to school together for a while now. Yet despite having known him all these years, he only knows of him. Dan has never spoken a word to Phil, to his knowledge.

Although he never paid mind to him before, when Phil read Song of the Open Road in his english class today, Dan admits that he was surprised. He never expected something like to come from him.

Dan takes out his cellphone, tapping the screen to reach the number that he put in earlier. Because Erin pulled him out before he could tell Phil his own digits, he is forced to be the one to text first. He types a quick message, and hits send. Better now than later.

from dan, to phil:

hey it’s dan. meeting in the library after school tmrw sound good?

He doesn’t expect a reply, but for some reason it’s like he’s waiting for one. When he thinks about it, Phil seems like someone he would want to get to know better. He seems interesting.

This project may actually be kinda fun.

A reply comes a minute or two later, and it’s like Dan has something caught in his throat when he rushes to see the message.

from phil, to dan:

Okkie dokes! :D

Aw. Dan can’t help but smile to himself. Heh, how cute.

<<>>

Phil ends up arriving first. In his defense, he spends most of the time in the library anyway, and extra time gives him the chance to pick the perfect spot: one with a lot of sunlight, and where not a lot of people are studying. And besides, there’s nothing wrong with wanting for today to go well, right?

Dan arrives about ten minutes following the school’s ending bell, and Phil doesn’t even notice him walking through the door. He’s got his head in his notebook, as usual.

“Bye, see you later,” bids Dan, giving Erin a quick kiss on the cheek. Although he begins to head off, he remains facing her, walking backwards, giving a little farewell salute and a quick wink to match.

Erin calls after him. “Goodbye baby, have fun with the project!” She accompanies it with a chippery wave back, and blows him a kiss right before orients his body forward so that he could see where he is going.

Phil looks up from his work, disturbed by the noise. Dan has spotted him, eyes lighting up in recognition, and he is starting to make his way to the table. When he gets there, it is a moment when first impressions are made.

For Phil, it’s like an up close confirmation of everything he has admired from afar. Everything is so lovely, and the way the sun hits Dan is so nice. His eyes aren’t just brown, they fit every descriptor that Phil has wrote with— caramel, golden, earthy, warm. Choosing this spot was the right choice.

As for Dan, he is taken aback by the scribbles of sentence fragments and various adjectives and lines that cover the pages of Phil’s notebook and Phil’s hands. They’re like stories that others want to read, but won’t understand, because Phil is the only one that can tell them.

He doesn’t know it yet, but he is one of the few willing to listen.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Dan grimaces, feeling guilty that he was the second to show despite being the one to set up the meeting in the first place. When he grabs the seat next to Phil to sit down, he misses the edge of the chair and the sound of his bum hitting the hardwood floor echoes through the library, making Phil laugh and Phil’s heart swell.

Embarrassing. Still grinning, Phil holds a hand out, helping him up. Dan lets out a laugh as well, Phil’s attitude spreading to him.

“Don’t worry about it Dan, I was willing to wait for you.”

<<>>

His car purrs as it rolls into the driveway upon his arrival home, having just come from hanging out with friends after school. Dan loves going out with them, but to be frank, it gets exhausting sometimes.

Right now, he kinda wants to take a nap.

A chirp comes from the car as he hits the buttons on his keys to lock up the thing, and the moment he unintentionally shoots a glance at the house next door happens to be the same moment that Phil looks up from his spot on the porch.

Phil looks down at his feet right when their gazes meet, before choosing to raise his head once more and give Dan a little wave. “Hey,” he mouths.

A moment of hesitance, then Dan smiles and takes a step forward. As if it’s an invitation, Dan walks over and sits next to Phil, joining him. The last time they had talked had been over text a day or two ago, and they have only met up once more since their initial meeting at the library. The steps creak a bit at their weight and their legs nearly touch, but not quite.

Slowly but surely, they are warming up to one another.

“So what are you working on? Are you working on our project?” Dan leans a little into Phil’s side to get a better look at Phil’s notebook, while remaining careful as to not be too invasive of his space. A writer’s notebook is like an artist’s sketchbook: a secluded place for the expression of thought. The cover is worn and the pages are messy, Phil’s writing ranging from neat print to rushed scrawls. Anyone could tell that that little notebook was the receiver of a lot of love. Dan’s heart skips a little at that thought; it always makes him happy when a creator is passionate about their own work.

“Yeah actually,” Phil replies, not looking up. He keeps writing as he completes his thought. “Just brainstorming about various ideas.”

“Is it okay if I stay here?”

Phil nods. “Yeah, I don’t mind.”

A few minutes pass of comfortable silence, and Dan even took out his own sketchbook from his backpack. He keeps making a few strokes then erasing, feeling the urge to do something as Phil is sitting beside him seemingly within an endless river of creative flow. He breaks the silence as he wonders in a whisper out loud, “You know, people always see you writing in that thing.” Dan then pauses, attempting to formulate his question before he voices it. “How do you… How do you constantly have something to write about?”

Phil is quiet, thinking before he comes up with a response. “It’s about being honest I think.”

“Honest?”

“Yep, honest.” Phil affirms. His pen stops writing for a second, and he makes a motion towards his body, looking forward rather than directly addressing Dan. “Let whatever is in you tell the story you know? They don’t have to be complete ideas, you just need to let them exist. Like how our tattoos appear on their own, but still tell our story to others, in a way.”

As Phil rambles on, without realising, Dan is sketching Phil’s profile. Glancing up to look at him while he speaks to give an occasional sign that he’s still listening, his wrists make little flicks and strokes across the page, while his hands are especially careful with shading. Dan spends quite a bit of time on Phil’s cheekbones, for he can’t seem to get it right.

He grins softly. Phil seems to be all angles and sharp edges, and it’s kind of enticing.

“...And most of all, with honesty, you know what is real.”

<<>>

“You know Phil, this is a bit clingy.”

“Clingy? May I remind that you were the one calling me at two in the morning for the past week and a half.”

“Pbbbt, but you said you didn’t mind!”

“Yeah, you’re right��”

“Damn straight I am.”

“But anyways, you didn’t call me tonight, and I was still awake, and now here we are.”

“I don’t need your excuses, Lester. So what do you wanna talk about? Because we’ve got all night.”

<<>>

According to Dan, working at a Starbucks coffee shop is ‘too corporate,’ and that is why they are at a local cafe now.

Chris and PJ are here as well. They’re doing a cute little “study group” thing, but instead of studying they are discussing their projects. It’s always good to have someone to bounce ideas off of, and brainstorming is better when one is able to hear feedback from other people.

They’re all casually chatting, as friends of friends all together.

What’s strange though, is this: Chris is being particularly touchy towards PJ. It was playful touches at first, to his arms and to his sides, but then all of a sudden he put his arm around PJ’s shoulders. PJ didn’t acknowledge it at all, but the expression on his face was one of someone who was definitely flustered.

Dan raises an eyebrow at Chris upon seeing this, the other only responding with an eyebrow raise back as if in a challenge of, what? Something wrong?

And as for Phil, his tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth as he has a shit-eating grin, simply amused.

It becomes a source of small unacknowledged tension, but no one brings it up and they all continue their relaxed chatter. Each of them grab several pastries and a coffee each, scones and croissants and the like, “brain food” being the excuse for all of the sugar in their purchases. They then head towards a table by one of the cafe’s huge windows that overlook the London street.

PJ speaks up about their projects first. “So, what’s your guys’ idea?”

“We’re going for a kinda… like… nature-y? Is that the right word?” Phil looks at Dan, who just kinda shrugs. “Theme. Something with the forest, or the ocean… We don’t know for sure yet.”

Chris nods, and looks at Dan. “Colors?”

“Earth tones, I would guess,” Dan replies, taking a bite from his scone.

Chris hums in approval. “Some cooler undertones would work nicely with that, I think.”

“How about you guys?” asks Dan.

“Something with a whole lot of bold color. That’s kinda all we got.” PJ shrugs.

“We’re just rolling with it,” Chris barely manages to add, mouth full.

Phil points his question towards PJ. “And how’s the writing?”

“Well I haven't had too much time to really develop it, I've been working on stuff for the poetry slam…” PJ says sheepishly, momentarily preferring to watch himself stir his coffee over looking up.

“Spontaneity is the best kind of creativity!” Chris exclaims defensively, yet mostly excitedly, He lists descriptors as he counts them off on his fingers, voice all sass and eagerness, making everyone laugh. “It's gonna have a lot of color, it's gonna be bright, and it's gonna be cool as heck!”

“Poetry slam?” Dan inquires. “Our school has that, PJ?”

“Yep! It's open to all the students but mostly english students enter, I’ve been bothering Phil to join for ages—” When PJ moves his hand to point at Phil, the porcelain of his coffee mug hits the table and his drink becomes a brown puddle of a mess out of nowhere. It had narrowly missed his crotch, and thank goodness, not a drop fell upon the notes of his that were scattered on the table in front of him.

Chris’ eyes widen, and he reacts quicker than all of them. “I’ve got this,” he assures PJ, immediately rushing off to grab napkins, but not before leaving PJ with a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine!”

When Chris is out of earshot, Phil immediately gives PJ a look.

PJ’s face only gets redder, and he folds his hands in his lap. “Shut up he didn't mean anything by it…”

But Phil is relentless, and he’s not buying PJ’s denial at all. He doesn’t stop giving his old friend that look that is all smiles and muffled laughs. Eventually, PJ breaks and bursts out with, “Okay, I admit it, he might’ve maybe asked me out yesterday…!” Phil smirks, and finally lets out the laugh he was holding in. “But to be honest I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

Throughout the past few moments of Phil and PJ’s exchange, Dan had remained silent, gaze bouncing between Phil’s knowing grin and PJ’s not-at-all-subtle blush. It is for that reason that when he makes a comment it catches them both off guard, even though it was more of an observation to himself, if anything. With his chin in his palm and his elbow resting on the table edge, Dan murmurs, “Huh, that's why Chris looks so happy. He's probably the happiest I've ever seen him.”

“Yeah,” says PJ after hesitating a little, addressing Dan’s words. He bites his lip, the corners of his mouth hinting at turning up as he admits the truth. “He makes me really happy too.”

“Happy enough to write about?” asks Phil with a smile, referring to their conversation from way back when. Dan sits, listening still.

PJ doesn’t look at Phil directly, but his hand unconsciously reaches up to his face to briefly touch where Chris has left a quick kiss earlier. If you looked closely, a little tattoo of a planet was beginning to fade into view.

“We’ll see.”

Chris finally returns, a wad of napkins in his grasp. Carefully he begins dabbing at the mess, nudging PJ’s papers aside so that they would be out of the way, all while PJ has a look that is entirely of affection all over him, as Chris pays no mind.

Very casually, PJ throws a question into the air. “So, what time and place?”

Chris crumples up the napkins, the coffee mess finally cleaned up, and heads towards the nearest bin. “For what?” he calls, throwing the trash away.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about our date already.”

Standing in place a couple feet away, Chris is frozen and his jaw goes slack, and PJ can’t help but giggle. Chris is simply beaming now. He rushes to the table to directly talk to Dan and Phil, words rushed and excited. “Sorry to cut it short lads, but we’ve got a date to plan,” Chris says matter-of-factly, adorned with an adorable little salute. After that his hands move to help PJ pack up his things, and in a matter of seconds everything is put away.

When they head towards the cafe door, PJ flashes a sheepish expression to Dan and Phil and mouths a “Sorry about this,” followed by a sincere, “Thank you.” Before they disappear, Chris then grabs PJ’s hand in his— holding it up to his lips to place a quick kiss on the back of PJ’s hand.

Cute.

As for the left-behind-two, an hour and a half more passes before they make any real effort to go. The company is lovely even if they aren’t talking. They are simply working in silence, both lost in their own creative worlds, and it is only when a worker comes up to them and asks if they would like to order anything more (to which they politely declined) do they begin to clean up their space.

“They’re cute together,” says Phil, a comment that breaks the stillness between them.

“Yeah,” Dan replies nonchalantly. He closes his bag after putting away his sketchbook and pencils bag, and slides the strap on his shoulder as they both head towards the door. To no one in particular he adds, “They’re really happy together, aren’t they?”

The edges of words seemed to be tinged with a bit of longing, if you listened hard enough.

When they step out of the cafe, Phil immediately rubs his arms, his breath forming a small cloud with each exhale from the oxygen in his lungs and the brisk air. “Heh, I didn’t expect it to be this cold today…”

Almost hesitantly, Dan places his own jacket upon Phil’s shoulders. The gesture isn’t acknowledged at all, and he just keeps walking, ignoring the fact that the chill was now getting to him. He refrains from rubbing his own arms, and just shoves his hands into his pockets. He only did as any friend would do.

In the meantime, Phil just stands there, not knowing how to react.

Steps ahead now, Dan merely waves his hand before quickly putting it back into the pocket of his jeans, beckoning Phil to walk a little faster. “C’mon Phil, let’s go home.”

<<>>

phil: <IMG_0981 is attached. View image?> phil: LOOK AT THESE DOGS!!!!! phil: IT’S A DOG WHO HAS A GUIDE DOG

dan: asagAFGAAJHLHFW dan: THAT’S THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER S E E N

<<>>

philip michael lester. flashback; age eleven.

He stood outside, garden hose in hand. His mother had told him to water the plants around the front porch, and that is exactly what he did. Although the job required focus, it did nothing to prevent him from becoming lost in thought.

The age of him and his peers was one where crushes were all too common. Girls were talking about cute boys; boys were talking about cute girls. However, no one really made Phil feel the way that other people claimed they felt— Samantha from maths lent him a pencil once? That was kind of her. But he would only want to become friends with her and nothing more, he was sure.

A yelp of surprise escaped from him when he suddenly realised that the water had begun to pool around his feet amidst his musings, which formed a damp patch of grass that was well on its way to becoming a muddy puddle. Quickly, he ran to the side of the house to turn off the hose, and started to make his way back inside.

Before he crossed his driveway to head towards the small path that led to his front door, out of the corner of his eye he noticed something roll across the road.

It was a piece of white chalk. The neighbor’s, to be more precise, who appeared to be outside as well. A rare occurrence it was: Phil had only seen them a handful of times before.

Tentatively, he took the chalk piece into his hand. Heading towards who was kneeled in the driveway next to his own, in front of a house with freshly trimmed grass and no garden, but did have a single weeping willow. As his steps drew him closer, more details about his neighbor, a somebody about his age, came into view.

And honestly? Phil couldn't help but be left dumbfounded.

The pretty boy in front of him had equally pretty hands. With those hands of slightly tanned skin he was creating art out of seemingly nowhere; slender fingers fabricated gentle strokes, images of flowers and stars, along with daisies and planets and angels amongst them stole Phil’s breath to allow for only awe to remain.

Phil was almost nervous to disturb him. If he did, it would be like catching a doe in a forest clearing— one moment peaceful, until a slight sound frightens them away. So because of that, he made sure to be careful.

His voice of “Um, this yours?” was a whisper full of gentleness that seemed mindful of the delicate flowers that the boy in front of him seemed to be growing out of the pavement.

Immediately, the boy looked up, revealing brown eyes that perfectly matched his brown curls. “Yes, thank you,” the boy replied quietly, carefully taking the chalk piece from his extended reach. His fingertips lightly grazed against Phil’s, which left Phil’s hands tingling.

In the three days that followed, Phil had fireworks tattooed upon his fingertips (and more often than not, from then on, one could catch him writing poetry on the front porch in an effort to catch a glimpse of the boy again).

<<>>

Dan throws a bag of McDonald’s on the library table, the sound of its impact resounding through the quiet studying of students. And if that’s not enough, he follows up with a loud, “Eat up babes, let's get to work!”

Laughing, Phil does an exaggerated fake gasp. “Dan! Watch your volume!” Reaching over the the table, he grabs the bag off the table, still noticeably hot. When he opens it, a little whiff of steam comes up, caressing his face. “Besides, why'd you buy this anyway?”

Dan shrugs, taking a chicken nugget and shoving it into his mouth. While he’s chewing he responds, “I’ve been noticing that you never have food when we work on school days, and we usually work during lunch. It's always just a drink and like, a bag of chips.”

Phil shrugs back, head tilting as his words trail off. “I just find eating to be a waste of time…”

Dan holds up his hand, cutting his words short as his voice trails off. “Don’t even give me that bullshit Phil, it’s because you’re always writing and you think you have no time for eating, so just eat a little bit or so help me.” He nudges the bag closer to Phil so that it hits Phil’s chest. Dan’s eyes shift to the side a little, and his voice becomes a bit demure. “Just… Take a break from that carpal tunnel catalyst, and dig in, alright?”

Phil opens the bag reluctantly and sighs, taking a bite of a french fry. His lips are pursed into a pout, for what Dan said was pretty much on the nose. He doesn’t mean to avoid eating, honest, it just… happens that way.

He smiles. The fact that Dan noticed and bought him food is such a sweet gesture, and the more Phil chews, the more Dan looks satisfied. Dan claps his hands together right as Phil swallows.

“Cool, now let’s get started.”

Today is final drafts day.

In order to proceed with the final production of their project they have to refine their drafts, and that is what today is dedicated to. For their work to not go to waste, everything has to be absolutely perfect (but to be fair, a poor outcome resulting from the two of them is actually quite doubtful).

“I’ve got these so far,” indicates Phil, pulling out various disheveled papers. They’ve got red ink that make it look like his writing went through a bloodbath, with elegantly chaotic black scrawls to match. He holds them out to Dan and is a bit sheepish about it, kinda embarrassed by how messy it is. “You can look through them right now if you want, but they’re not that great…”

Dan shakes his head, automatically dismissing Phil’s putdown of himself. “I doubt that, Phil. I absolutely doubt that.” He accepts Phil’s writing from Phil’s outstretched hand, and exchanges it with a few ripped out sheets of his own from his sketchbook, graphite smeared and all. “And here’s mine, they’re really sketchy and not as refined as they could be, but you should get the idea.”

When they’re looking over each other’s rough pieces, Phil’s fingers linger over the calculated strokes of Dan’s drawings, all while Dan is floored by Phil’s words.

Dan has never gotten the opportunity to see Phil’s work like this before. He’s taking in everything, soaking every word and descriptor in, and he makes sure he does not miss a single stanza. He never was someone with a way with words, that’s why he stuck with visual arts. But he is thankful that he was given the opportunity to read rawness such as this.

Then suddenly he notices a little something. A little bit that doesn’t seem to quite fit in with the rest catches his eye, a little snippet of a thing that was barely legible and had the last word cut off.

‘n ‘ol brunette has got that teasing grin skipping class and hands that have likely committed sin that ugly little shit messing with my h

When he reads it he snickers, and when he points to it and holds it up to Phil, he can’t keep his laughter in and he justs bursts into a giggling fit. “Aw, Phil,” his tone entirely both sing-songy and teasing, “Guess now I know that you think that I’m an ‘ugly little shit.’” Dan does a little pout. “Do you not think I’m cute?”

“Pfff! Please,” Phil sputters, realising what exactly Dan was pointing to. “Who says that’s about you?”

“I mean we could just address the ‘hands that have likely committed sin’ part…”

At the sound of that, Phil interjects quickly. “Fine, you’re adorable!” Barely processing the thought, Dan thinks, “Pbbt, so are you,” and Phil suddenly puts his index finger in front of Dan’s lips in a shhhing motion.

“What’s going on—”

“No no no, shush!” Phil holds a finger up, as if motioning “Hold on,” and Dan takes the hint and complies. Phil’s eyebrows are scrunched, clearly thinking.

“What?” Dan asks, after a few moments pass.

Phil takes both sets of their work from their respective spots and lays it upon the space in front of them, spread out but distinctly separate. He purses his lip, unsure at first then proceeding to rearranging a few. “Why don’t we… write about...” Phil picks up a sketch from Dan’s side and a page or two from his own. He hands the chosen ones to Dan, who takes it with a raised eyebrow. “This?”

Dan slowly nods, shifting through the papers and ultimately agreeing with the choices. He turns his body, his eyes looking up to meet Phil’s. “So that’s it? That’s our theme?”

Phil answers his question with an affirming hum, and when he starts explaining it just to clarify they find that they were on the same page all along. “It’ll be about humanity in its rawest form—”

“With earthy elements and other aspects of nature—”

“How we all have stories—”

“...and what makes a human human is emotion.”

Phil’s grin reaches from ear to ear. “Perfect.”

“Fuck yeah!” yells Dan, pounding a fist on the table. He holds up his palm for a high five, which Phil happily reciprocates.

When he hears a loud SHHH! come from behind him, Phil’s eyes widen, for it is most likely the librarian telling them to politely shut the hell up. He looks at Dan and silently scolds him, mouthing “Language!” to which Dan merely giggles, his laughs muffled as he tries to keep quiet.

“Fuck you,” Dan mouths back.

Phil rolls his eyes and smirks. His reply comes with a chuckle: “You wish.”

<<>>

Forget about Monopoly being end-all be-all relationship ruiner. With the way the game was currently going, Mario Kart should be the holder of that title.

“EAT MY ASS,” yells Dan. With every turn, he turns as well, because he insists it ‘helps me play better!’. His body rams into Phil’s side as he mimics the motion of the kart on the screen.

A breath leaves Phil’s lungs with an oof as Dan nearly knocks him to the floor. He automatically bursts into a laughing fit, pressing into the buttons of his controller even harder. “NEVER!!”

At this point they’re practically sitting on top of each other, and seem to have ignored the whole concept of sitting on the bed rather than the floor. Legs crossed, his knee touching his knee, the room is filled with giggles and playful banter as they keep jabbing each other in the side as they play.

When one shouts, and the other pouts— the game is officially over.

Dan crosses his arms, and presses his lips into a thin line. He withholds himself from bitterly throwing the control to the ground, but he does cross his arms. “Good game,” he mutters.

Shaking his head, Phil rolls his eyes at Dan’s dramatics. He gives Dan a pitiful pat on the back, and gives his reply all-too-knowingly. “Oh just let it out, we both know you’re a sore loser.”

A sharp inhale through the nose, and a slow exhale through the mouth.

Followed by a swift headbutt by Dan to Phil’s shoulder.

“OW!”

Dan jokingly starts to lightly punch Phil in the back, sides, and shoulders, shouting, “YOU WERE THE ONE THAT HIT ME WITH A FUCKING SHELL AT THE END I THOUGHT WE WERE PLAYING RELATIVELY NICE!!” He pushes him down, Phil chuckling at Dan’s sad attempt to push him over (noodle arms are not that effective, Dan has learned). “I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!”

They land on the ground, the punching turning into tickling. Phil rolls around in an effort to avoid Dan’s attacks, but each attempt is futile, and instead his stomach hurts from the laughter and his face aches from the grin on his face that reaches from ear to ear. “See,” Phil laughs in between breaths, “What an incredibly sore loser you are.”

Dan finally sits back up, smug at Phil’s ‘defeat.’ “Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” He holds a hand out to Phil, and they pull each other up so that they are both standing. “I still totally should have won though.”

At a suggestion to take a snack break, the two head downstairs towards Phil’s kitchen. They continue to chat, and as Phil moves towards the pantry, he makes a gesture for Dan to take a seat at the dining table.

When Phil turns around, he not only has various food in his hand, he has a smile on his face. He walks over to the table and sets a plate of cookies in front of Dan, making Dan look up from his phone and eagerly move to grab a cookie of his own.

“You know, where you're sitting right now, is where my mum told me about what tattoos were.”

With a mouth full, Dan manages a, “Really?” Phil nods, and Dan swallows the last bits down his throat. “Was it like, a serious talk?”

Phil is at the counter now, he has decidedly chosen to make hot chocolate for the both of them. He mulls over Dan’s question as he gets the hot chocolate mix out. “Hm, no? Not really. I was like five or something. How about you? When did your parents tell you?”

“Oh, uh…” Dan grimaces, suddenly feeling awkward. “They— they never really told me? I kind of just found out on my own. From classmates, and the internet, and stuff. They never brought it up, and I never really asked…”

“Oh.” For a moment, Phil stops moving. “So they didn’t even tell you where they come from?”

“What do you mean? No one knows where they come from. Isn’t there still no confirmation from scientists about their origins or whatever?”

“Yeah, but my mum told me.”

Phil hesitates a little, the tiniest bit embarrassed.

“She told me they came from love.”

Dan sputters, laughing, nearly choking on his food. Phil doesn’t say a word and continues to prepare the drinks. “No offense Phil,” Dan chuckles. “But really?”

“I know, I know. But at the same time, there’s no harm in believing in things like that, don’t you think?” Phil hands a mug to Dan, who takes it gratefully. They clink their mugs together and drink a bit at the same time. Phil laughs when Dan makes a face at how hot it is, and Dan rapidly starts blowing on the drink to decrease its intense heat.

“Love though? Quite doubtful.”

“Are you not a believer in love? How about you and Erin?” Phil takes another sip from his hot chocolate. When a little residue is left on his upper lip, his tongue easily leaves and licks it away in a moment. “How are you guys doing?”

Dan’s eyes don’t quite meet his, sounding distracted. “Oh we’re great.” When he looks back up at Phil, Phil’s expression is expectant, waiting. Dan quickly rushes to elaborate on his previous sentiment. “She’s lovely, and so sweet! Every date I’ve been on with her has been amazing. She’s incredible. I like her a lot.”

Phil nods. “I’m glad.”

After that, he says nothing more.

He takes Dan’s now-empty mug from his hand, and washes it after his own. Dan’s eyebrows are scrunched in thought, he’s staring at his phone again, but he’s not really processing what’s on the screen at all.

Phil finishes up rinsing their cups in the sink, and puts their mugs into the dishwasher. He dries off his hands with a hand towel. Once he’s all done, he asks Dan, “You wanna go back upstairs and keep playing?”

Dan’s phone vibrates.

from erin, to dan:

Hey babe! I’ll be finishing up work soon, you wanna come over?

Rather than unlocking his phone, he reads the message as it is on his lockscreen. He ignores it, and shoves the phone back into his pocket.

Dan smiles up at Phil. “Yeah. Let's go.”

Phil grins back, and as he leads them back to his bedroom, he has his hand on Dan’s back. The atmosphere is nice and easy. Uncomplicated.

He makes a comment about how Dan is ‘totally going down’ again, but to be honest, Dan isn’t really listening.

Later at night, in his own room, Dan takes off his shirt before he goes to bed. He always sleeps shirtless (that is nothing new), but it’s different this time: for if he had looked in the reflection in the mirror behind him, he would have noticed that there were dandelions on his back exactly where Phil had touched before.

By the morning though, they are gone.

<<>>

phil: I remember you saying you had a test today, good luck! phil: The universe may test ya like this but I believe in ya

dan: oh shush go pay attention in class dan: but ty that’s v nice dan: u’re too good for me

<<>>

“Aw, they’re so cute together!”

These are the words that seem to be just about everywhere: in the comment section of various social media, in the giggles of the hallways, in the not-so-subtle gestures and points of the cafeteria crowd. They can't seem to go anywhere without encountering what seems to be a fan club around the two of them.

But don't get him wrong. Because there is nothing wrong in the first place.

Erin is a lovely girl, and they have been together for a while, three weeks almost four weeks now. And that is far longer than any previous girl of Dan’s. With a wild head of curls and an even wilder personality, she is a whole lot of fun, and he loves to admire the beautiful ink upon her arms. She has these beautiful gradients of rising suns around her arms along with clouds that often change in hue.

Each and every time she goes on her tiptoes and she wraps her arms around his neck to place a kiss on his lips, he can’t help but be reminded of the idea of them, both in regards to the tattoos themselves and of him and Erin as a couple. Of all things though, he is reminded of Chris’ party especially.

Additionally, as if that isn’t enough, there are whispers of new ink starting to bud on her hands. Rumors that the new ink matches his own spread like wildflowers, even though so few have seen the hidden marigold to the extent that there are doubts of its existence. The possibility of Erin’s budding flowers being identical to his still makes his own blossom burn at the thought.

Because even though he did say that there was nothing wrong, there is an issue. And that issue is that nothing has happened to his own skin.

Besides the common flare ups of ink that happens to most people including himself, the only thing constant that he has is the single flower on the spot behind his ear, and that has been been on his skin for years.

Maybe he could— No. He couldn’t.

Could he?

It wouldn’t hurt —it couldn’t hurt— if nobody found out.

Besides, it couldn’t hurt to fake tattoos for a while, right?

He ignores the prickling of stars appearing on his ribcage, and takes some skin-safe ink to his own arms to mimic what Erin has on her own body. When the prickling starts going around his abdomen and begins to reach his shoulder blades, he still pays no heed to it.

He just continues on.

With each mark and movement of his nimble fingers, his stomach turns once more, even more so as he recalls the words that Phil mentioned before. What he said about honesty, about truth. This thing, what Dan is doing right now, he knows is the exact opposite of that.

He shakes his head in an attempt to shake the words off his mind. Phil has nothing to do with this. Phil has nothing to do with the state of Dan’s feelings for Erin. Why is he thinking of him at a time like this? For that matter, why is Dan doing it in the first place?

To be brief, he does not want to be rude. It’s not like Erin isn’t a nice girl anyway, so it’ll be fine. It will only be for a little while until those typical boy-girl feelings become stronger, because that’s how it works. That’s how it should work. And it will. There’s no reason to not reciprocate what Erin evidently feels for him. Naturally, it will all work out.

Yet if he were to take Phil’s words to heart right now and be honest, in reality, Dan was actually pushing certain feelings away.

Dan touches up the final details of clouds on his forearm, and presses his lips into a straight line, shoving the spiraling feelings that were welling up in his chest far deep into the ground below his feet.

If he were to be honest, he was actually just pushing certain feelings away… And with regards to other things, he was simply burying them further.

And covering them up.

<<>>

daniel james howell. flashback; age thirteen.

“...NOW AS A RESULT THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT IS CURRENTLY HOLDING DISCUSSIONS IN REGARDS TO THE POSSIBLE LEGALIZATION OF HOMOSEXUAL MARRIAGE. THERE IS NO FURTHER INFORMATION AT THE MOMENT, BUT RADICAL ADVOCATES FOR THE LGBT COMMUNITY ARE CURRENTLY LINED UP IN FRONT OF THE GOVERNMENT HALL—”

A harsh, snarky tch came from Dan’s father, his blatant irritation had jarringly interrupted the newscast that came from kitchen radio. In his hands the steak knife threatened to start shaking with his tight grip, his knuckles whitening to nearly match the teeth he was gritting in anger. “Those homosexuals,” he spat, while he slammed the table with his fist at the same time, “Those homosexuals need to get the fuck out of our country, or better yet off our planet, or I will BEAT THEIR ASSES!!”

His mother simply took a napkin to her lips and daintily dabbed at her mouth, taking a breath before she added input of her own. “Now honey, some of them may be nice,” her tone calm and even. With a voice tinged with what seemed like genuine concern she continued, “I just don’t understand, they can’t have children, so why even bother if they can simply choose a lovely lady or a strong man?” She reached across the table to squeeze her husband’s tense fist. “If anything dear, I think it’s just a trend.”

The entire “discussion” only progressed from there, all while Dan remained silent. His shoulders hunched in as if he was going to fall into himself, he ate his food with minimal noise whether it be chewing or cutting into it for a bite, merely taking everything, every comment— “It’ll blow over, for this it just sounds ridiculous”, retort— “Ridiculousness has wrongfully made it’s way to the law of the land!”, and remark— “To put it simply, the gays need to know their place”, in.

Eventually he asked if he could be excused (he was given permission by a grunt of acknowledgement from his father and a nod from his mother).

Dan’s room was his sanctuary. Constantly he would go there for escape, or to remain in solitude with his thoughts, and this was one of those times. From the back of his closet he revealed his unfinished painting, taking it from its resting spot and placing it upon the floor so that he could resume his work. The canvas was one that he left alone but kept coming back to—maybe he would finish it one day. A year or two had passed since his work on it began.

His paints were in his lower bedside drawer, and he took those out as well. Every movement was routine, a relaxing habit, and essentially his mind was a step ahead of his actions. But perhaps the ease of not thinking only gave way for other, bad thoughts to come.

The harsh tongue of his father as he spat out the words “those homosexuals” could not leave his ears and only further buried itself in his mind. The comment made his hair stand on end, even though he didn’t know precisely why. Dan knew that he couldn’t like boys. Liking boys was wrong. Boys like girls, and girls like boys. Nothing else. And why would Dan care about liking boys anyway? Dan liked girls.

why would he care why would he care why would he care—

His chest was heaving. He only snapped out of his train of thought when he realised his breathing had become erratic, his chest heaved and his hands were shaking and his heartbeat was far too rapid for it to be normal. At an attempt to relax he tried to breathe, he inhaled and exhaled in time as he closed his eyes.

Darkness came.

Darkness came, and colors followed. Shades of blue, green, and yellow. His painting was actually composed of only that particular color palette, a set of hues that seemed to be set in not only his subconscious but also within the motions of his brush. They reminded him of someone’s eyes, but no one he knew. They reminded him of the ocean, of waves he wasn’t used to.

They were always comforting. Those colors never failed to ease him.

Through his open window, he heard the neighbors’ garage open, and he opened his eyes. The sounds of their laughs made their way into his room, which made him smile a little. Those laughs eased him too. The family next door must have arrived home.

Within his own house, dinner had presumably ended. He could hear his parents’ footsteps in the hallway outside his bedroom door, their bickering anything but quiet. “I don’t want him drawing, I don’t want any of that sissy shit.”

That was his father.

“He is super talented and we should be supporting our son!”

And that was his mother.

He put on headphones to drown out it all, and dipped his brush into his paints. This time, he focused on blue. As his strokes hit the paper, shivers went up his spine as a tattoo of tree branches spread out across his back, and as its roots went down to his hips; the only signs of life that the tree’s branches held was the idea that it used to be budding once.

<<>>

In basic english, the poetry unit is coming to a close. For the past couple of days, the students have been presenting their favorite poetry pieces to the class, an assignment that the teacher thought would be a fit way to wrap up the unit.

“Dan, you’re up,” calls Mr. Lamansi.

Finally, now he can get this done. He is the last student that needs to present.

Although he isn’t nervous, his heart is pounding incessantly in his chest. He definitely has jitters, a finite flow of energy that is coursing through his veins and he can’t seem to calm it down, and everyone can definitely tell. Who couldn’t? His hands are trembling so much.

The amount of anxiousness in his body makes this whole ordeal feel like confessional.

Before he actually starts, he awkwardly coughs to clear his throat. “Um, I picked a part from that poem we read a long time ago? Walt Whitman’s Song of the Open Road?” Mr. Lamansi then nods and jots the title down, and makes a motion for Dan to begin.

When he makes an attempt at a taking a deep breath, he hears a whisper. Turning his head slightly he sees Erin, who makes a silly face at him, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing a little. Instead, he opts for a simple smile.

And then he (he couldn’t help himself) casts a glance at Phil, who's beaming at him, all warmth and encouragement and support. Dan’s small smile widens just the littlest bit more. What did Dan ever do to deserve a friend like him?

With that, his shoulders relax, and he breathes.

Swallowing his worry, Dan feels ready now.

“I will recruit for myself and you as I go; I will scatter myself among men and women as I go; I will toss the new gladness and roughness among them; Whoever denies me, it shall not trouble me; Whoever accepts me, he or she shall be blessed, and shall bless me.

Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear, it would not amaze me; Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d, it would not astonish me. Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons, It is to grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep with the earth.”

When he finishes, he does everything in his power to not completely rush back to his seat. He tries to keep it cool, but he can feel his face burning, and if anyone looked hard enough they could see little leaves and thorns popping up along his collarbone.

A couple seats away, Phil’s heart is swelling. For some reason he feels like this poem has an underlying importance to Dan, and if he were to reread the lines to himself perhaps he would even realise what its significance even was. For now though, that was something that Dan could keep all to himself. Phil is proud of him for standing in front of the whole class like that (Lord knows that Phil’s confidence in his own public speaking is quite mediocre at best).

Small moments like these only fuel Phil’s admiration for this boy, and this time he can't help but feel pride and a sense of wonder all at once.

In Dan’s pocket, Dan’s phone vibrates. Before sliding it out, Dan quickly glances at the teacher to check whether the coast is clear, and upon ensuring so, he reads the notification under his desk.

to dan, from phil:

You did so great!

The small gesture is so sweet, and although it isn't much, it makes Dan undeniably happy. He has this expression of light, a grin reaching from ear to ear. While he can't see it himself, he swears the marigold behind his ear is tingling for the bud of another golden flower.

As they are leaving class, Dan comes up to Phil’s side and puts a hand on his shoulder to catch Phil’s attention before Phil has the chance to head off in the other direction.

“So, see you later?”

Cheeks red, Phil replies shyly, “Yeah, see you.”

<<>>

Soft taps are hitting metal, and Phil knows that Dan doesn’t even need to look to see who it is. He already knows it’s Phil. When Dan shuts his locker and he pokes his head out, saying “Heyy!” with a huge grin and the cutest dimple, Phil can’t help but to match with a smile that’s equally as big.

If someone told Phil that he and Dan would be friends one day, he would doubt them. But right now, he’s chatting with his crush, they’re face to face, laughing and shining with ease and happiness. Phil is on top of the world.

But Dan reaching up to close his locker door placed Dan’s arm at Phil’s eye level, and for a moment, Phil saw Dan’s tattoos up close. When his hand eventually falls back to his side, Phil’s eyes linger over them for a moment more. He has forgotten something important, something more prominent than the dimple in Dan’s soft cheek that Phil adores. The tattoos are a reminder: Dan isn’t his.

The wings on any of the butterflies Phil has in his stomach rapidly frumple, suddenly shy and abashed, and his smile can’t help but falter a little.

<<>>

Even though they don’t have an audience or anything because everyone has already headed to class, when Erin is kissing him, he’s not really kissing back. At all. The hallways are pretty much empty and the only sounds that remain are her lips on him. But even then, he can’t focus on her. If anything he is much more interested in absentmindedly playing with her hair.

Erin pulls away from him, noticing his lack of enthusiasm. She places a kiss on the marigold behind his ear, a tender thing, but to him it just burns. “Love, what’s wrong?”

Dan only brushes the question off, the ringing of the first tardy warning bell easily makes it so he doesn’t have to answer much. “Nothing, I promise.”

The expression in Erin’s face shows that she doesn’t buy it. “Oh Dan,” her voice sympathetic, one hand rubbing the space on his back between his shoulder blades.“Let’s just ditch class and go to my house? I can make you feel better and get you out of this funk.” She ends that last sentence with a wink.

As gently as he can, he pushes Erin off of him, politely giving her a cordial smile. “Uh, maybe next time?” His eyes not-so-subtly look away from her, and he just scratches the back of his neck, with his shoulders hunched stiffly. He starts to open his mouth to say something, but abruptly, the second late bell rings this time. “Let’s just head to class, alright? We’re gonna be late.” From there, he attempts to make his leave.

Erin hastily grabs his arm before he can make it too far. Her grip is firm.

“What has been with you lately?”

Despite sounding tender, she definitely comes off as confrontational. All the little things she has been noticing about him for the past few weeks begins to spill out of her one by one, in the form of pent up evidence supporting a suppressed argument.

“We’ve barely hung out, you rarely approach me first, and don’t think that I haven’t noticed that you hardly ever text me back anymore,” her voice cracks, just the slightest bit, but it is not vulnerability, it is only irritation. When she looks at him, she makes perfect, dead on eye contact, as if daring him to look away.

She starts getting louder. Her face is getting more red and more frustrated, the emotion further emphasised in her tone. “I thought I had it. I really did! I thought I was in one of the most important relationships of my life— here I thought I was different, and that I changed the ‘unattainable Dan Howell’…!” In a flash, it all shifts and she suddenly becomes a bit reserved. A bit meeker, wishful. Regretting and inhibited. Her voice is quieter. “…And that I found a really, really sweet guy.” She smiles the smallest bit, but her eyes are dull.

Her fingers start fiddling with the ends of her hair, and she looks down at her feet. “Instead, you just seem disinterested.”

“Look Erin, it’s not you it’s me—”

At that, her glare rises up once more, red lines suddenly appearing in wings at the ends of her eyes, further emphasizing her vexation. “Stop.” Her index finger threateningly pokes his chest with nearly every word that she says. “Don’t you even dare give me that load of bull. shit. I had to have done something.”

“You didn’t do anything, I promise,” Dan tries to reassure her, but he can tell that in the same way she didn’t believe him when he said was fine earlier, she absolutely does not believe him right now.

“Dan, don’t lie to me,” Erin huffs. She then furrows her eyebrows and kinda tilts her head and frowns, but it’s not directed at him, not really, and Dan knows that it means she’s thinking. When the corners of her mouth turn up a little and she shakes her head and laughs to herself, that is when he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to react. And he certainly does not anticipate the words that would then exit from her lips.

“I bet it’s that boy. It’s that boy, isn’t it?”

Dan bites his lip, his words are caught in his throat, and for some reason he can’t make himself reply.

A moment passes. One that lasts a beat too long for it to be salvaged.

“Oh.” Her voice and face suddenly falls and softens. It’s evident that she did not expect her ‘revelation’ to actually ring true. “Oh, Dan. I’m right aren’t I?”

Dan’s brows raise and his eyes widen, his hands waving frantically in an effort to convince her of the truth. “No!! No no, no way. We’re just friends, plus, I think that you’ve forgotten that I’m straight.”

Erin sighs. “But straight boys don’t look at other boys —well, just a single boy in your case— like you have, Dan. It makes sense now that I think about it, and honestly why didn’t I see it before, and I don’t care about the whole ‘gay thing’ if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She turns away and opens her locker, packing a few things into her bag, then slides one strap on her shoulder. “Love is love, and who am I to deny that?” Instead of then moving her body to face him, she bites her cheek. Her head tilts to the side a bit as she looks down. “I just hate that I had to find out like this.”

“Erin, I’m telling you!! We’re just friends!!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” she waves, brushing him off. She doesn’t move, hand still on the locker door. She only turns her head so that he can look at her when she makes her point. “But baby, it’s obvious. And if you still can’t see it, then maybe you should stop and take a good look at what you’re missing.”

“You’ve got it all wrong—”

“Look…” Erin lets out a low exhale and lets her eyelids fall over her eyes, slamming the locker hard enough to both make the sound echo off the walls of the now empty halls. To her relief, it also effectively shuts Dan up. She sounds tired. “I’m gonna head home alright? I don’t really feel like being here anymore. You can go back to class.”

After beginning to walk off, she stops after only taking a few steps.

Her back remains as the only thing facing towards him.

“Dan?”

He hesitates before responding. “Yeah?”

Before she speaks, she takes a second to articulate what exactly she wants to say. Even though it’s not a goodbye, it sure as hell feels like one.

It’s like a final admission.

“You… You were a good time. Even if you ignore me after this, since we’ll just be classmates, say hi once in awhile, yeah? And consider who’s important to you. Really, really consider it,” she then angles her body a bit to look over her shoulder, so that their eyes may meet one last time. Her lips tilt upwards a little bit at the corners, but even that is twinged with a hint of sadness. “That Phil boy… He really does make you smile.”

<<>>

They’re walking home, and the warm tones of the sky perfectly complement the warmth of the caramel macchiatos in their hands. Phil had treated them to the delicious drinks once school was over, despite Dan’s protests, and the late afternoon sun showed that they definitely ended up spending a little bit more time at the coffee shop than originally expected.

Oh well. Becoming lost in a sea of conversation of topics they could no longer remember gave them a much needed break from thinking about anything —or anyone— at all.

When they reach Dan’s house, Dan fumbles for the key and unlocks the door. Noticing that is Phil hesitating at the welcome mat still, Dan laughs. “C’mon,” he invites Phil in warmly, as he starts removing his shoes and places it next to the front door after closing it. Dan motions for Phil to do the same. “Let’s get started.”

Tonight is the night they finish their project. With only visuals remaining, and their use of a different type of surface for their piece, they only have the next several hours to complete it.

Dan grabs blankets for them to sit on and he tells Phil where to find the paints they need, and together they make their way towards the backyard. With perfect weather accompanied by a lovely sky, it is no wonder as to why it is their work space of choice this evening.

Outside, the air is quiet. The only noises come from the soft hum of suburbia and the chirping of crickets. “I work here often,” Dan says, his voice casual and not as loud as it normally would be.

Phil nods. “I understand why. It’s peaceful out here.”

They start setting up, picking a clear spot in the grass. Dan tosses the blankets to the ground and they both slide their backpacks off their shoulders, and Dan leans down to take the supplies they need out of his bag. As he is getting situated, Phil asks if he should get ready now. Although Dan just passively gives him a “Yeah, yeah,” he can’t seem to resist looking up when Phil turns around to slip off his shirt.

Phil isn’t the most fit person in the world, but he is certainly a bit toned, and the movement of his shoulder blades and back do something to the heart beating in Dan’s chest. The first thing he notices even before that though, are the daisies that seem to go all across Phil’s shoulders. They are admittedly quite hard to miss. That too, gives Dan this tingling feeling that starts in his chest and spreads through his arms. He can’t put a name to it, but it’s just that the flowers seem so endearing. Because oh, how lovely is that?

When Phil turns and faces Dan again, he catches Dan looking at him. Quickly, Dan looks away, but by then it’s too late, and Phil is standing there flustered, hints of pink coming off like paint splatters and freckles on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose.

Suddenly self-conscious, Phil shifts the moment’s attention to something else when he quickly moves to pick up one of the many blankets that Dan brought outside. When he hands one end of the blanket to Dan, Dan takes it with a sheepish smile.

For a split second, their fingers graze each other’s, before parting so that they may set the blanket down upon the grass together. After they put the blanket on the ground, Phil rubs his fingers together. A reaction, he can’t help it: last time there were fireworks, after all.

And even though his hands show no ink this time when he checks, by God does it feel like the moment was electrically charged.

“So, where do you want me?” asks Phil, the question effectively gently breaking the comfortable silence.

Dan laugh cuts through the thick air between them. “Pff, Phil,” He teases, “You know that anywhere is fine as long as we’re together.”

Phil shoves him playfully in response, making Dan grin, and the pink in Phil’s cheeks becomes just the tiniest bit redder. “Oh, shut up!”

“Lie down on your stomach here,” Dan gestures to a certain spot right by Phil’s feet, “Just relax okay?”

Phil follows Dan’s orders, and underneath him, he can feel the rustling of the grass. He rests his head on his arms, closing his eyes, his voice muffled by his mouth being covered. “Don't worry about me. I trust you.”

Dan chuckles. “I would hope so.”

The scenery around them seems unreal. The setting sun’s light gently lays a golden cast upon everything in the backyard, as if graced by Midas’ touch. Flowers and plants of every color grow here: a personal rainbow, a trove of jewels. Even the grass is a true to life representation of ‘the grass is greener on the side,’ for Phil knows that the grass on his side of the fence is wild and unkempt.

The atmosphere of it all is airy and seraphic.

Dan awkwardly squats down while muttering an apology, for in order to begin the actual painting process, he doesn’t really have any other option besides straddling Phil’s back. Of course he could just sit down next to Phil… But then he would have to work sideways, and that would simply not be optimal.

He shifts in an attempt to make himself as comfortable as he can, and he makes sure that Phil is okay too.

Next to Dan lies the sketches of what he wants to achieve for the piece. Their idea is to demonstrate and illustrate what the definition of humanity, with an emphasis on the relationship between man and earth. The execution of Dan’s vision involves painting upon Phil’s back, sort of as a way to mimic the concept of tattoos and tell the story of man.

It is now time to work.

Underneath him, Phil’s skin is clear, pale, and soft. Like a blank canvas would, it invites him to have his way with it, a call to let his hands take over his mind. When Dan does any kind of art, he doesn’t like thinking at all due to its hinderance on creative flow. He takes a deep inhale, counting the seconds that pass as oxygen comes in, and lets a deep exhale pass his lips.

His fingers lightly trace the flowers upon Phil’s back, taking in the detail of each and every one of them. The intricacy of it all is so pretty, and almost delicate.

Finally, Dan starts.

The coldness of the paint makes Phil shiver.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Phil laughs awkwardly, “It’s cold, that’s all.”

Dan can’t help but laugh a little too. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. I’m gonna need a steady surface though so…”

“What should I do?”

“Hmm…” Dan starts, trying to think. He makes a long, broad stroke with his brush. “Maybe you can like, I don’t know. This might sound dumb. But maybe you could recite some poetry to me?” Dan dips his brush into the water, cleaning it off so that he could change colors. “It’ll distract you from the cold. It can be from the project, your own stuff, whatever. Tell me anything on your mind.”

Phil thinks it over, taking about a minute to contemplate over what he wants to share.

While he thinks, the sun finally finishes setting, and the moon eagerly moves to replace it. No longer is the sky burning ablaze with oranges, vermillions, and magentas; instead it’s all dark. Only a star or two glimmers. Everything is void except for the light of the moon that only seems to shine on them two alone.

“Yeah okay,” he agrees. “Alright.”

Another breath. “This is one of mine,” Phil adds.

Then a beginning.

“in a field of forget-me-nots, he’d try to forget them a lot the one who made his heart bloom from freckles that were like seeds, and smiles like sunshowers: pulling handfuls of grass out of the ground beneath him and picking petals of any flower he touched, choruses of ‘like me’ and ‘like me not’ in a golden air

there was something about them, who with hands made soul out of oxygen of every color and texture and medium who made his knees shake and his cheeks redder

Dan’s breath hitches. Phil continues, seemingly not noticing, and Dan shakes his head to shake the ridiculous thoughts out of his mind.

So what if the story seems to tell of a boy in love with an artist? It doesn’t mean anything.

“for although they was a mere windowpane away, their red threads seemed to be nothing more than fishing lines leading them to a separate sea and him to an empty shore

The brush in Dan’s hand has completely stopped moving. His arms have goosebumps, and although he can see that Phil has goosebumps across his skin too, Dan is sure that his own are not from the brisk air.

He bites the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he’s reading too much into it. Maybe it’s not even about him.

But is it too strange to say that Dan doesn’t seem to mind at all?

Before, Dan wished that Phil could see what he’s making while he was making it, but he is very thankful that Phil can’t see him right now. His free hand reaches to cup the side of his face, and under his palm he can feel the heat radiating off his skin. Although he can’t see it on himself, his suspicions are basically confirmed, and he has a good guess as to what is there.

Because at this moment, only visible by the moonlight, Dan has a fierce blush— a coalescence of roses and carnations on his neck that reach and bloom upon the apples of his cheeks (along with a few freckled stars).

More stars that could be seen in the night sky, to be precise. Side-by-side a whole garden that rivals the one that is blossoming around them.

“so from the coastline, he would admire them —this caramel boy— and he would watch the boy pull in the many fish of the sea as for he, he would merely sit writing words in the stand with a tidal wave heart that consumed him and stole the air from his lungs”

The chill of the night is starting to set in, but he feels like he’s on fire.

<<>>

They finish incredibly late. The idea of time is lost to them, and honestly they can’t tell the difference between the the evening’s final hours and the earliest hours of the next day.

Phil fell asleep towards the end, and Dan finds it endearing. The rise and fall of Phil’s back, along with the faint sounds of his breathing, are the only things keeping Dan company in this standstill of a night.

“Wake up,” Dan murmurs. He nudges Phil gently. “Get up, Phil.”

Begrudgingly, Phil sits up. He yawns and ruffles his hair, and as Dan begins packing up the supplies, Dan makes sure to keep a watchful eye on Phil to make sure that he doesn’t ruin the painting. Ultimately, he tells Phil to sit on his hands to ensure that no excessive movement leads to crackling in the piece.

Once Dan has returned everything inside, he comes back out to see that Phil is still sitting there, and the sight makes Dan chuckle a little. Phil has his eyes closed, clearly he dozed off despite sitting up; how he managed to do it, Dan doesn’t know.

He first lifts up Phil’s right thigh, then Phil’s left, sliding his hands out from under his legs. He keeps his hold on Phil’s palms and pulls Phil up so that he can stand, then picks up the last blanket that is left on the ground so that he can sling it over his shoulder.

With Phil’s hand in his, Dan carefully guides him inside, to a seat right beside a window.

“Dan…” Phil is still incredibly sleepy, his voice groggy. “Dan, what… What are we doing…?”

“It’s okay, I’ll handle it. You’re alright,” He assures him. “I’ve got you.”

Dan proceeds to sit Phil up in a chair. He makes sure to be gentle. Phil’s eyes keep going back and forth between either being open or closed, his eyelids eventually settling for the middle ground of being drowsily half-open; his body is simply too sluggish for him to stay completely awake. He is doing his best, though.

While Dan does have a soft yellow light lit up so that he can properly operate the camera, he had picked this spot next to the window so that the light of the moon could hit the piece just right.

What a good choice that is.

He snaps a couple photos. He takes some shots that are up close, in addition to others that showcase the big picture. The ones that are closer show all the detail; they show every single one of the strokes and the way the colors seamlessly blend into one another. Those are his favorite, for they caught what the eye wouldn’t normally catch.

The paint doesn’t completely hide the imperfections of the skin and Dan loves it. Humans aren’t perfect, and it only further emphasizes their project’s theme, but it also makes the piece uniquely Phil as much as it is uniquely Dan’s.

Click. And that one’s nice too.

This photo frames everything perfectly, it is one of the far-away shots: showing how Dan’s depiction of a skeleton matches exactly where Phil’s own bones would be. Amongst the rungs of Phil’s ribcage, Dan weaved an entire garden of flowers, blossoms come in azure, olive, and honey, and all of the other related shades.

Where the veins would run through, instead of being where the blood would run its course, it is red thread intertwined with vines, and it even leads all the way through Phil’s arms and hands. Where there is empty space, Dan filled it with a mix of daisies and stars, along with the colors of a midnight sky, the sky’s colors are a contrast almost as striking as Phil’s hair to his pale skin.

It isn’t a physical manifestation of the poem Phil recited to him, no. But if Dan said that he didn’t think about doing that, he would be lying. Dan ended up completely disregarding his original drafts and ended up giving into what his hands and mind seemed to want to do, and this was it, a portrayal that was a likeness to the relationship between nature and man, with a subtle hint at man’s idea of a red thread fate (perhaps Phil’s poem had more of an impact than he originally thought). And it turned into something lovely, he thinks. He hopes.

It almost resembles how Phil makes him feel inside.

How Phil seems to make everything bloom in color.

Softly, he taps Phil on the shoulder. “C’mon, wake up, Philly,” Dan whispers. “You did great.”

Phil rubs his eyes. They’re fully open now. “Oh hi Dan…” he replies, “I know I’ve been awake, but I think I can actually think… Coherently now.”

Dan smiles. “Don’t worry about it.” He holds a hand out to Phil, to which Phil accepts, and he pulls Phil up so he can stand. “I handled it. It all turned out fantastically.”

Phil stretches, and yawns. Then his eyes widen, face suddenly full of worry. “Wait, what time is it?? I never told my mom what time we’d finish—”

“Why don’t you just stay here?” Dan suggests. Phil looks at him and tilts his head, thinking it over. “It’s so late anyway, and my parents won’t mind, they’re out on a business trip anyway.”

Phil nods, “Okay. Alright, I’ll just let my mom know.”

Then they go to the bathroom upstairs, and Phil follows. While they are walking, Phil sends a quick message to his mom: I’m still at Dan’s, just right next door. Staying the night. I would’ve told you sooner but I fell asleep. Love you ❤❤

Upon reaching the bathroom, Dan gets a hand towel from the closet, and runs the towel under the sink. Out of nowhere, Phil laughs, and Dan turns to look at him, eyebrow raised, perplexed and wanting an explanation.

When all Phil says is, “Heh, Howell with a towel,” Dan smacks Phil in the shoulder playfully and can’t help but laugh too.

Dan then adds a bit of soap so that it will wash better. Before he starts to clean the painting off, Phil sees the piece in the mirror and loves it. “You’re so talented,” he whispers, and Dan’s ears flush with pink, he’s positively bashful. “It really is a shame that we have to wash it off.”

“Yeah,” is all Dan can reply. “It is.”

He finally starts washing Phil’s back, watching the colors smear together into something incomprehensible. Abruptly, Dan hesitates, really taking in the situation. “This isn’t weird, right?” he asks.

Phil doesn’t miss a beat. “No, you’re just helping me. I wouldn’t be able to do it properly myself.”

Dan can’t seem to argue with that, and so he finishes. When he’s done, he tells Phil to wait a moment. About a minute or two passes by, and Phil is humming to pass the time, and when Dan returns, he tosses Phil the clothes of his that he grabbed. Then he shows Phil how to use the shower.

“So those clothes are just some of mine that you can borrow,” Dan finishes. “My room is just across the hall when you’re done.”

Dan’s hand is on the door handle already when Phil stops him. “Oh wait, hold on! Before you go…” Phil pulls him back to the counter, and takes a new towel from where he saw Dan take one from earlier.

He does just as Dan did, and runs the towelette under water with a bit of soap, and he cups Dan’s cheek with his hand. He dabs at Dan’s cheek gently, cleaning up paint that had somehow made it’s way to Dan’s chin and other miscellaneous parts of his face.

“I didn’t know you had freckles,” Phil whispers, continuing to tenderly clean Dan up. “I love them.”

The comment automatically makes Dan flustered. His cheeks threaten to flare up, as they usually do at words like that, but he wills every atom to his body to refrain from doing so in that moment. He can only hope that it works out like that, though.

He barely manages to utter the two words. “Th-thank you.”

Eventually Phil finishes, and Dan subsequently leaves and retreats to his room. He uploads the photos from the camera to his laptop while he waits for Phil to shower. Once they are uploaded, he is pleased to see that they did indeed turn out as great as he thought. He starts editing, retouching them a bit here and there, just overall playing with the exposure and sharpness of them.

Fifteen minutes go by, and he’s still editing. That’s when Phil comes in, having lightly knocked on the door before entering, with his hair damp and Dan’s t-shirt and pajama pants on. In response to the opening of the door, Dan spins in his chair to watch as Phil comes in.

And there is just something about Phil in Dan’s clothes that makes him look so incredibly cute, that Dan has no other option but to smile.

Phil walks over to look at the photos that Dan has pulled up on his laptop. He asks if he can see the others, and Dan turns back to the screen to watch Phil scroll through the rest of them.

“Oh, Dan…” Stunned by the photographs, Phil is breathless. The lighting is spectacular, and the attention to detail is amazing, and none of it goes unnoticed. “These are beautiful.”

He says some more things, but to be honest, Dan stopped listening. He’s just looking at Phil instead. That is, until Phil turns his face too.

Their faces are so near.

And their lips are so, so close.

Phil pulls away though, and Dan feels strangely empty. But why does he feel like that? he asks himself. He instantly shakes off the thought, getting up from his seat and heading to the closet to grab some pajamas. “You can just sleep on the bed Phil,” he states simply, “I’ll just take a quick shower.”

In the shower however, the thought of Phil can’t seem to escape him. Yet again, he pushes it away.

Nothing happened, and besides, it’s just Phil, he thinks, but it’s like he’s reassuring himself.

Nothing more.

When Dan is done, he heads back to the room, in far comfier clothes. As he opens the bedroom door, Phil cracks an eye half-open at the sound. Dan walks over to the bed, leaning down so he is looking at Phil at eye level.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Phil yawns, and pulls the covers up a little. His eyebrows scrunch up, and his eyes squint a little, questioning. “You have curly hair?”

Dan grimaces, a bit embarrassed. “Mmm, yeah. I always straighten it though.”

Phil reaches over, taking a curl in between his two fingers. “It’s like a little pig tail,” he giggles, “Why do you keep getting more and more damn adorable, whenever I learn more about you?”

This time, Dan doesn’t even acknowledge the comment, except for the playful hint of the corners of his lips turning up. He then stands up straight, and heads towards his desk. “I’m gonna edit a little more before I hit the sack. Good night you little shit.”

“Goodnight,” Phil calls.

Dan is editing for another twenty minutes more before he decides that it is time for him to finally sleep. He makes his way over to the bed, and he would lie down, but Phil is in the middle, looking cozily wrapped up in the black-and-white duvet.

Dan smiles softly. As he adjusts the covers so that it covers Phil’s feet, followed by tucking him in a little more, he mutters and laughs under his breath, “And I am the one that looks more and more adorable? Has he even seen himself?”

When he’s all done, he takes one of the extra pillows on the bed and tosses it to the ground. He then goes out and grabs one of the last clean blankets, and tosses that to the ground as well.

He doesn’t mind sleeping on the floor tonight.

<<>>

phil: We definitely did great on that project! :D

dan: hECK yeah i hope they grade us soon

phil: alhfdlhls What if I told you that they did already??

dan: W H A T dan: but they usually take ages??

phil: It’s been a couple days materino phil: Plus like, my teacher told me that she graded ours first sooo,, phil: In THEORy it should be up by now! ;P

dan: omgomgomg i just checked and it’s uP

phil: And??

dan: WE GOT AN A

phil: YAY!! All thanks to your amazing art!!

dan: pbbbt your writing is the loveliest thing ever don’t even come for me dan: like shakespeare who?? i don’t know her

phil: Oh shush asdfgjjhg phil: That’s so sweet I hate you

dan: nooooo don’t hate me

phil: Don’t worry Danny boy phil: I don’t think I ever could.

<<>>

The rain outside is dreadfully heavy, and Dan is late. Usually, that wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, but he had been doing so well with being on time these past few weeks. Since there is no point to alarms if they don’t even work as they should, alarm clocks are dead to Dan now.

When he runs in, he looks so scattered. Sleeves are three-fourths rolled up, creating a look that lies somewhere between rushed and on purpose, and to add to that his hair is frizzy, he has mismatching socks (well, one is black and the other is dark grey, but still). A white umbrella that has baby pink ribbons all over it completes the whole ensemble.

Honestly? A fashion icon.

Phil sees him on the way to his second period class, and he has to cover his mouth to keep from giggling at the sight of Dan looking completely frazzled from the rain. One little laugh does escape him though, but he can’t help it: what is likely Dan’s little sister’s umbrella makes Dan look cute as heck.

Yet when Phil begins to lightly run towards him to give a quick hi, something doesn’t seem right.

Dan’s tattoos seem… Blurry?

At first glance, the ink seems to be what Phil expects it to be. That being, what Phil knows to be on Erin’s own arms: grey, stormy clouds. Yet at the same time— it seems to have changed?

Phil is just standing in place now, stopped in his tracks, a fair distance away from him still. He isn’t looking up close, the exposed skin on Dan’s forearms show it all. The texture is off and that the colors are melding together in an unnatural way, and overall it is just wrong.

Phil continues to stand by and watch.

Dan rolls up his sleeves more, revealing his whole arm. When he reaches into his locker, he takes out a variety of art supplies, of various mediums and hues and purposes, and begins to mess around a bit with the tattoos. As if he’s touching up.

Why would he need to…? Oh.

They’re fake. The tattoos are fake. And scratch what Phil said earlier— they are not blurry. They are smeared.

Dan finishes his work relatively quickly, and by that time, Phil has already begun heading to class, asking himself whether or not the scene he just watched unfold in front of him was real. Whether the sight of Dan amending the ink on his skin was true, or if it was a sleep-deprived induced dream. Yet no matter what he tells himself, he can’t deny what he saw.

Eventually Dan looks up and sees Phil’s distant figure. When he lets out an, “Oh hey! Phil!”, a moment passes that seems like a reluctance to greet Dan back. But Phil turns around, because that’s the kind of person he is, and he waves. Dan swears that it seems a bit stiff, though.

After that, Phil doesn’t acknowledge anything else.

He simply bites his bottom lip and keeps walking.

<<>>

(2) missed calls from Danny Boy.

<<>>

“Hey Phil! Let’s head to the library for lunch?”

Phil forces a smile. “Maybe another time, Dan? I have to… uh, go to a teacher.”

<<>>

You missed (5) Skype Video Calls from Daniel Howell.

<<>>

dan: hey why rnt you replying to me? dan: phil, did i do something? ✓ read 9:22 PM

<<>>

Rumors are spreading all across campus. The hallways are littered with whispers and gossip of the school’s proclaimed ‘It Couple,’ and even teachers are chatting about it in the teachers’ lounge. Everyone seems to be aware that Dan and Erin had a falling out, but to be fair, it wasn’t necessarily hard to guess. No one needed to hear it from the source.

It is evident from how they no longer walk together, sit together, or talk to one another. Even more apparent, Erin’s arms no longer displayed the sunrises that everyone believed (she, included) to represent new beginnings and the birth of something new. Instead, it is now rain. It is stormy clouds on a setting horizon, the sunset for the sunrise, to match the end to the beginning.

Even the flowers she had, the precious flowers that convinced even the doubters of her and Dan’s love (if you could call it that), are wilting.

There are claims being made; there are those who are attesting to seeing Dan leave parties early with people on his arm while he has his hand on their waist, as he leads them out the door and to his car. Some said it was Dan whose neck and chest was splattered with purple from what the night had entailed, others said it was his company who adorned the marks. People told of the moans that would come from bathrooms, bedrooms, and even in one instance, a closet, where sounds of ecstasy made passerbys envious and left his partner of the night a pleasured mess.

Amongst all of Dan’s hookups, there is one thing they all have in common: they are all boys.

And that common fact makes Phil’s heart go from skipping a beat at even the mention of Dan’s name to sinking six feet below the floor.

Girls? That he can handle. He can handle it because he is used to it, he has been used to it for years. But Dan being with boys puts Phil on an even playing field— Phil isn't different from any of those boys. He has gone from watching on the sidelines to being an average player on the losing team.

When it comes down to it, these are the truths: he is in love with someone who, until the project, hadn't spared him a glance for years. He is in love with someone who —he was sure of it— had tattoos that were ingenuine and painted on. He is in love with someone who is known for playing the game, for having issues with commitment, for being someone who picked up people then dropped them like flies.

He is in love with someone who lies.

And so now Phil sits on his front porch, writing, restraining himself from going beyond the brink of tears. For someone who treasures honesty, the truth hurts. No matter how much he tries to hold himself back, two or three droplets still manage to escape, smudging some of the words that were written out of a mix of anger, disappointment, and emptiness.

They were words written by a heart who lost the game, a game rigged by a player of the most gut-wrenching emotion.

<<>>

skin of freckled honey and a body of clouds, sweet and soft— in the same way that only thoughts could fabricate the idea of how your lips taste. fabrication does not compare to the reality of it all though and no one ever warned me, for although tattoos of roses don't have thorns blood pours from the prick in my fingertips because i picked you - p.l.

<<>>

Everything is white noise. His surroundings are a blur and his head is pulsing intensely from the conglomeration of far too much alcohol and far too loud music. He can barely feel himself existing within his own body. The bustle of people dancing around him, the sounds of the DJ and the people singing and screaming at the top of their lungs, and the scent of sweat and booze: it’s all much more than he wants in that moment.

But to be fair, he does not really know exactly what it is he wants.

Whoever he is kissing is much more into it than he is, for he isn’t into it at all. He’s barely there, just a shell of a kiss upon the person’s lips. A disappointment for anyone sober to be honest.

Yet the other one couldn’t care less.

“S-so do you wanna, like,” the boy, probably two years younger than him, stammers as they separate for a breath, “Take this somewhere else?”

Numbly, Dan nods. No harm in going along with it, right? “Y-yeah. Yeah, okay.”

On the drive to Dan’s house, the boy (Justin? Jake? Josh? Oh forget it, just calling him J will be easier) is texting rapidly. The entire drive is silent except for those keyboard clicks and the nervous tapping of J’s foot, and from the light of J’s phone screen, Dan can see that J is sporting a huge grin on his face. Dan doesn’t even have to see the texts to know what they are about.

If he were to guess, it would be J bragging to his friends about how he is getting to sleep with The Great Dan Howell™ and how “OMG HE CAN’T BELIEVE IT.” Or you know, another statement that is equally as dumb.

It makes Dan feel sick.

When they actually arrive, things escalate from Dan leading J into his home with his hand on the small of J’s back, to rapidly making out on the couch. The way J kisses him is incredibly zealous. Dan tries his best to match his passion, but his efforts fall short. It’s just different, for Dan’s kisses are intense in a different manner; his lips press against J’s lips and skin in a way that is almost forceful, as if trying to forget about something.

But regardless of how fervent they both currently are, it all stops the moment the boy reaches to unbutton Dan’s jeans.

Immediately, Dan breaks away.

The boy, Jared, Jace, whatever his name is, looks confused. He leans in in an attempt to just restart where they left off, but Dan only shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says quietly, pushing him off. “I can’t do this. I’m so sorry.”

He gets up, and the younger one awkwardly follows, the way the boy carries himself shows that he is definitely disappointed. When they reach the front door, the boy takes a second to send a quick message, letting his friend know that he needs a ride, knowing what Dan will say next.

“Go home,” Dan tells him, his voice gentle as he opens the door. “You’re sweet, but go home. Please.” A nod from the other passes as a silent “Alright then, goodbye,” and Dan knows that he’ll never see the boy again. When Dan shuts the door and locks it, he runs his hand through his fringe, letting out a groan that comes from deep within his chest.

He makes his way upstairs eventually. When he gets there, he sits upon the edge of the foot of his bed, elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands, pulling at his hair. His knuckles are white when he forms a fist, fiercely punching the bed once. And that’s the point where he just yells.

Dan yells so loud that it genuinely scratches his throat, it is of such volume that it bounces off the walls of the empty house.

Next, he just allows himself to fall onto the bed. His body sprawls out in the center, amongst all of his sheets that should seem familiar, yet somehow don’t smell like home at all. His eyes are squeezed shut. One hand reaches up to rub his one eye, the other arm rests in place and remains outstretched.

After some time, breaking the quiet, a soft gravelly whisper finally leaves his lips. “Dang, she might’ve been right all along…”

<<>>

chris: i heard from pj that u + phil aren’t on the best of terms right now chris: you okay mate?

<<>>

daniel james howell. flashback; age sixteen.

from chris, to dan (and 63 others):

party tonight. my house (u should know the address, lmk if you need it tho) until whenever u wanna leave ! gon be lit be there or be square lads

He only had a little bit of time before Vanessa —well, because she insists he actually calls her Van— arrived. Chris Kendall was having the party of the summer to celebrate the end of the school year and the beginning of vacation because his parents were out of town, and he and Van agreed that they would go together.

As a casual thing of course, nothing serious.

The party started in about half an hour. Black skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees and a shirt he knew he looked good in was the look of choice for the night. He nearly chose to leave his hair in waves, but after he ran his fingers through his fringe he ultimately decided against it. His hair looked stupid if it was anything but straight.

Right when he was straightening the last curl, the doorbell rang. How perfectly timed, and even their arrival at the party was perfect too: not too early and not too late. As soon as they got there, they were greeted by the mob of people who were bumping along to the music. While they gave quick greetings to their friends, they quickly made their way into the center, amongst all those who were dancing like it was the night of their lives.

Van had her hands on his chest, her moves sensual and easy. She’s dancing with him, and Dan doesn’t hate it, because any onlooker could tell that she was very attractive. She’s pretty, and admittedly they have had fun together before, but Dan had realised for a while that he hadn’t been actively interested in her for quite some time.

But who was he to decline her company when they should be having fun?

“Let’s go grab some drinks,” Van commented, as she took his hand to drag them both out of the cluster of partying bodies. Even before she reached the drinks table, people started to hand her drinks as if they knew exactly what she wanted. She grabbed two, nudged Dan with her elbow, then held out the one cup out to him. “Drink some, Dan!”

Dan made a face, unsure. “I dunno, I don’t usually drink much…”

She gave an ‘ol pbbbt and a playful eyeroll that clearly meant that she didn’t want no for an answer. Van gestured towards the cup in her hand once more, and with her eyebrows raised up at him, she follows up with a plead. “C’mon! Take a fuckin’ sip babe.”

Giving in, he took the drink from her, downing it all in a matter of gulps. Van laughs, and they went right back into partying.

However, whether he realised it or not, one sip had quickly turned into multiple sips. And sips turned into finishing the cup, and one finished cup turned until multiple finished cups, and then he completely lost count. He’s completely, he thought as he hiccuped, he’s completely —as his friends would say— tabled.

If he’s honest, he had no idea how much time had passed. He just knew that he was currently all over the place, dancing one moment, chatting the next, then suddenly beer pong or something after that. When the music got softer, that’s when his drunk high started to diminish too, and that’s when he started to get tired.

He terribly needed a bed.

It was at this time that he started to head towards the stairs (anything after that however, he couldn’t recall for the life of him).

<<>>

Why is Phil doing this?

Dan knows he’s not imagining it. Dan can feel Phil distancing himself away from him more and more with each passing day, and he just wants to know why. It’s not just ignored texts, Phil won’t even glance at him. And that’s what really hurts about it all.

At lunch, he goes to “their” spot in the library, but Phil isn’t there. He brings food and everything, but even if he waits, Phil never shows. As a matter of fact, he isn’t in the library at all. To add more salt to the wound, when Dan goes to the cafeteria to check out the lunch table where PJ, Chris, and Louise sit at, Phil isn’t with them either.

Even when it is time for class, Dan is determined. He shows up first rather than last in an effort to try and sit by him. Dan will get him this time he’s sure, because he knows that Phil likes having time to himself in the beginning of class. Dan knows Phil. Dan is positive that he is right in this notion —there is no way he wouldn’t be— and when Phil walks in through that door, Dan will just talk to him and everything will be normal again.

But as if he’s aware of Dan’s plan, Phil ends up arriving last. Every time.

<<>>

“Please Chris!” his tone is embarrassingly pleading, but Dan doesn’t care. Anyone could be listening in on their conversation as they’re strolling the halls, but Dan doesn’t care about that either, he just grabs Chris’ arm and begins shaking it violently as he keeps begging (these are clearly some great persuasive tactics he’s using, perhaps he should consider becoming a lawyer).

“Pleaaaseee!! Talk to your cute boyfriend for me!”

Chris stops in his tracks, nearly making Dan stumble. He stares at Dan dead in the eyes. “Okay first of all, only I can call him cute, back off. And second,” he says the last parts slowly as he takes a couple tentative steps forward. “I don’t think it would be smart. If anything, you can talk to my cute boyfriend yourself.”

Dan lets go of Chris’ arm, letting out a small reluctant exhale. “Okay. Fine.”

It takes a while. Dan has to wait until the afternoon finally comes to an end in order to talk to PJ, and even then, it takes a good chunk of time to convince him. Dan’s proposition is for PJ to somehow provide Dan with an opportunity to talk to Phil.

At first, PJ declines. Right away.

But then he manages to go from “Oh, I don’t know Dan…” to “Alright, okay,” after a little over an hour of persuading. After Dan explained the circumstances, and with a bit of begging, PJ changed his mind. He makes it clear that he’s not the most supportive of Dan right now due to Phil’s current state, but that he is appreciative of the fact that he did make Phil so happy before.

And above all, there is one thing that PJ can’t deny, and that is that Phil deserves closure. If anything.

PJ looks away from Dan, not able to directly meet his eyes. He scratches the back of his neck, before turning to face him once more, voice firm. “He’ll meet you in room 109, alright? Tomorrow, fifteen minutes after school ends. I’ll tell them there’s a meeting for a club he’s in or something. But if you miss it… That’s on you. This is the only chance you’re getting.”

<<>>

The clock on the classroom wall shows that seven minutes have passed since their supposed meet-up time. Not that he was counting or anything. Understandably, Dan can’t help but to feel on edge, for what if PJ changed his mind?

What if Phil never comes?

Out of nowhere, words start coming from the other side of the door. “Yeah, this is the room. Text me when you’re done, and I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Thanks for letting me know about this meeting Peej.” That one is Phil. That’s definitely him. “You’re a great friend.”

The door then opens with a flourish. Phil closes it behind him.

Dan coughs, making Phil turn around. He does a small wave and says meekly, “Hey, Phil.”

Phil’s eyes widen and the color drains from his face. “Oh no. Oh no no no…”

“Phil, please listen to me—”

“But I don’t even want to talk to you…” Phil’s firmly points out. He is looking all around the classroom, at every place and every thing except for Dan. Annoyed, he mutters, “I knew that something was up when PJ said there was a meeting for a new writing program. It just seemed sudden, and I never heard anyone talking about it or anything…”

“Phil, please talk to me?”

“And why should I?”

“Please.”

Instead of responding right away, Phil walks over to Dan, and gets all up his face. He nearly spits at him, and to be honest, he kind of wants to. Inked images of flames are flickering from his bottom of his neck, threatening to reach his chin. He entire demeanor is radiating with bitterness. “Don’t you get it? Can’t you take a hint?” He crosses his arms. “You’re with her, and I’m a total idiot, and you can just live your happy lie. Ignorance is bliss, right?”

“What are you even saying, I don’t understand…” Dan’s voice trails off, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Brashly, Phil grabs Dan’s arm, hastily rolling up the sleeves. His lips are pressed into a straight line as he takes out his water bottle from in his backpack. Proceeding to pour a bit of water onto Dan’s forearm, he then takes his hand and rubs across Dan’s skin.

The ink smears, as Phil expected.

A sharp intake of breath comes from Dan. His eyes widen, and suddenly it’s like something has lodged itself in his lungs. Frantically, he waves his hands, crying, “Phil, whatever you’re thinking right now, don’t believe it! There’s more to the story, I promise you…” Phil doesn’t respond, he simply twists the bottle cap closed and slips the water bottle back into his bag. “Can we just talk? We need to talk, Phil!”

Phil’s voice is hard and stilted. He doesn’t acknowledge what Dan is saying, not really, but his words speak directly to him. “Dan, if anything, you have to understand this: the project is done, so there is no logical reason for us to talk anymore—”

This is where Dan attempts to shut Phil up. Hurriedly, he had leaned in to close the space between them, with the aim for a chaste kiss on the lips. Just so Phil would stop talking and calm down. That kind of thing works in the movies, right?

But Dan misses.

He misses because Phil turned his face, so that instead of his lips, Dan would hit his cheek instead. A futile attempt overall. When they return to simple eye contact, Phil is anything but pleased. Dan grimaces. He’s worried now.

“Art students,” begins Phil bitterly, “are the worst.” He moves his head so his fringe is out of his face, and all of his focus is on Dan. He shakes his head, a forced chuckle almost escaping his lips.

“Just so you know,” Phil’s eyes are like steel. Unbearing, unyielding, a disclosure with resolve. His words are steady. “I was pretty damn close to falling in love with you.”

Dan’s expression has become a mess of emotion, his voice laced with a desperate want for Phil to stay. Yet Phil is already for the door. “Well I’m pretty damn sure—”

Phil cuts him off one last time, his fingers lingering on the door handle. His face turns so that Dan can see his profile, but can’t see his expression. To be fair, he doesn’t need to, for the impenetrable accusing, disappointed tone of his voice is undeniable.

“Do you tell that to everyone you sleep with?”

<<>>

philip michael lester. flashback; age fifteen.

Apparently this party was supposed to be a big one. More so than usual anyway, and that was why James had forced him to go— and that was why he was here. People seemed to be filling up the house to its brim, and the scent of sweat and alcohol blended into what Phil guessed to be whatever Nirvana imagined teen spirit would smell like. When Phil and James arrived, they were greeted with the same chorus of “heyyy!”s that all the other houseguests probably had to endure.

They had only stepped through the entrance moments ago when James had nudged him in the side with his elbow. “I’m just gonna go and mingle, yeah?”

Phil just passively nodded him off in reply, and turned around to head towards the living room. Before he makes his leave, James patted him on the back with a brief, “‘Kay mate, I’ll be back in a minute.” Phil rolls his eyes, because he highly doubts that. Yeah, yeah. That’s what he said every time.

An hour and a half passed on by. To elaborate, an hour and a half was how long it took for Phil to finally look up from his phone, get up from his spot on the couch, and go to the kitchen for a change of pace, and maybe a drink perhaps. His journey to the kitchen was mildly ruined however, when he realised James had been preoccupied —and was still preoccupied— with making out with someone in the hallway.

Phil simply pursed his lips, blatantly ignored it, and headed towards the drinks. Despite being close, the two were never actually close. As evidenced, that guy was never really a good friend anyway.

Life sucks sometimes, you know? Phil grabbed the nearest drinkable-looking liquid. but before he could pour himself anything, he was stopped. Someone else was offering a red solo cup to him.

“Are you looking for something harsh, or you just want to let loose?” The person says.

“Let loose,” Phil affirmed, with a shrug. “I just want to have less of a crappy time to be honest.”

“Well then here you go mate,” he replied, as he handed him the drink. “I’m PJ by the way.”

The conversation took off from there. Introductions were made, and so were jokes and banter; overall they were having fun getting to know one another. PJ was a film-video major, and was studying directing, writing, and special effects. It turned out that they both attended the nearby arts academy, and that they were in the same lunch period. Numbers were exchanged, and agreements to hang out were arranged.

It seemed like a friendship was to start. One already far better than the one with James.

“It’s been great talking to you Phil,” PJ grinned as the conversation came to a close, patting Phil on the shoulder. “I gotta make my way out though! The party host is a past friend of mine, and I just wanna see if I can give a cheeky hello.” With that, he turned and headed off with a little salute.

“See you!”

And with that, the night went on. The party dwindled down, and as early morning approached, people transitioned from either quietly chatting or leaving, to being completely knocked out or sleeping. The sleeping ones included Phil amongst them, who had succumbed to that heavy-eyed feeling on the stairs. It was one of the only places left that was free: his peers littered the couches, the floors, and the hallways. Along with all of these people, there were cups, half-eaten pizzas, and a whole lot of other trash that were haphazardly left upon every surface and within every possible nook and cranny of the house.

The music that had previously been blasting loud enough to vibrate the whole block had now been turned down to a lower volume, presumably by someone who did so out of the courtesy of others. A simple light pulse could be felt through the floor, and it stood as the only sound left to resonate through the house.

Well, except for the footsteps of one person. A person who, in their completely hammered state, had decided that he wanted to sleep in the comfort of a bed, and was thus attempting to trudge their way to a bedroom. That was before they tripped on Phil.

Who was on the stairs.

Blocking his way.

Phil’s eyes kinda squinted and fluttered open, eyebrows furrowed as he half-woke up from the sound of whoever fell near him. Once he realised that someone was helplessly lying face down upon the steps, he made the effort to help them up. Even though he himself did stumble a couple of times.

He placed an arm around the person’s shoulder, and the other did the same back at him. In their matching hazy, sleepy states, they made their way to the bedroom together, nearly tripping on more than one occasion as they attempted to hold each other up on the way up the staircase.

A couple fumbles, and they were finally at the top.

“Are we nearly there?” The guy asked, sounding out of breath.

“Yeah,” Phil replied quietly, as he pushed open the first door he came across. “Yeah, nearly.”

When he opened the door, it was easy to tell that it was probably the master bedroom, for it had a bed fit for kings. The duvet looked silky to the touch, and the pillows looked fluffed to homey perfection. It just seemed so, so inviting.

The music from downstairs could still be fairly heard from where they were. The boy Phil was holding onto sorta hummed along and tried to spin them around the room in a dazed dance.

A laughably graceful spin, an uncoordinated dip. “Mmmm, mmm mm mmm…”

It all quickly went downhill though. Expectedly, rather than dancing, they instead clumsily fell onto the bed, the covers being as soft as they looked. Phil giggled as they fell down.

One person on one side, and the other person next to them. They laid down together, back to back, not touching and ready to fall asleep. Phil’s eyes began to close once more. Both of their breathing patterns were becoming slow and even.

Rustling all of a sudden came from the other side of the bed, the shifting of sheets were followed by a genuine, dazed slur of question. The guy spoke at a volume that hardly goes above a hummingbird’s whisper. “Hey, doyouthinkit’sstrangethat… I don’t know. That society is simply made, made up of concepts that are in… inherently real and. And not real?”

Reluctantly, Phil turned on his side to face him so he could reply. He yawned, and shrugged. His voice is gravelly. “I don’t know. Maybe. Some people see marriage as just being a piece of paper.”

The stranger nodded, seemingly accepting his answer. “That’s, that’s true...” He paused for a moment, taking a second to think before he voiced his next thought. “Hmmmm, next question: why are we here?” His voice was more stable now, despite all the alcohol in his system. Probably because he was more awake due to holding a conversation.

“If this is an existential question, that’s too much thinking.” Phil’s face scrunched up as he attempted once more at a better response, but inevitably gave up. A mostly-tired tipsy brain is only capable of so much at two am. “It’s too early for that, mate. Sorry. But if you’re asking for why I’m at this party? Then it’s because,” Phil moved his body so he could be more comfortable, resting his head on his arm. “Well, my friend forced me to come.”

The other one’s body mirrored Phil’s, moving in the bed as he did in order to better situate himself. He replied with a nonchalant shake of his head. “I did mean it as existentia-whatever, but eh, you’re right. Too much thinking. I’m here because of a friend too.”

Somehow, they began to talk about everything. And by everything, it meant just that: worries, fears, existential thoughts, random animal facts. They became so relaxed yet so awake, because if they closed their eyes they would miss these fleeting moments of an almost trance-like unreality. There were no holds barred. Everything left was raw.

After a while, there was a lull. It’s either that or they have fallen into a comfortable silence, Phil truly didn’t know. They were both still lying face to face —but also not really looking at each other— in an absentminded stupor. The stillness was broken when the guy reached over, almost as if he wanted to play with Phil’s hair. He hummed and muttered, “You kinda look like my neighbor, you know?” Phil’s eyebrows only raise slightly in response, like a silent question of “Oh really?”

Dan pursed his lips with an mmhm, decidedly rubbing the black locks in between his fingers and brushing Phil’s fringe out of his face. “You are the prettiest boy I have ever seen, you know...”

After hearing those words, Phil took the other’s hand into his, away from playing with his hair. He brought their hands down to rest in between the both of them, fingers interlocked. Chrysanthemums quickly bloomed on the boy’s face in a blush, which then faded as fast as they appeared. “And that is you, to I,” said Phil.

The boy laughed, the flowers reappeared on his cheeks for several moments fiercer and brighter than before, right before they faded again once more, slowly this time. A soft rosy patch of red on the apples of his cheeks was all that was left behind upon his flushed face. “What are you, a poet?” he jokes.

“Maybe,” Phil smiled.

Whoever made the first move after that moment wasn’t relevant. It was just that at one point they were no longer at an arms’ length away from each other, but yet they somehow had moved closer to one another. Close enough for Phil to see that this pretty boy had the prettiest eyelashes and the softest brunette hair, and for the other to see his three favorite colors within Phil’s eyes. They were simply lying down amongst shared bedsheets face-to-face, alcohol on their breath; two boys with no care in the world.

Phil moved forward just the slightest bit more, letting go of the guy’s hand to move and kiss him behind the ear first, where a tattoo of a marigold immediately began to bloom. Then Phil continued and left soft kisses down the male’s neck.

In response the boy sighed with the quietest ah, nearly moaning from the slightest touch. With the utmost tenderness, he ran his hands across Phil’s shoulders and down Phil’s arms, letting one hand rest on Phil’s waist before he leaned in and gave him a peck of a kiss, making the both of them smile.

“Your touch is so gentle,” Phil says to him. Echoing the other’s words from earlier, Phil continued in a teasing tone, “What are you, an artist?”

The boy only winked, with a hint of a knowing smirk. “Maybe.”

That portion of humanity’s daily twenty-four hours in which the ongoing evening merged with the early day, and when the stars met the morning sunrise, was not only comprised of only the physical world that night, but also of the whispers of yes between strangers and the unspoken confessions between two people who had somehow already met. Perhaps through a past life, or unknowingly, a connection even closer than that.

Because even acquaintances can be something more.

In the morning, it’s skin against skin, amid silken bedsheets and marks from the night before. Their legs were entangled with one another— leaving daisies around Phil’s ankles, while the boy’s arms around him left daisies upon Phil’s shoulders.

When Phil awoke, sunlight had only begun to trickle in. Reluctantly he moved to break away from the guy’s hold, careful to not wake him up, and groggily, Phil grabbed for his phone that was on top of the nightstand.

Four missed calls. Seven texts. His mother must be worried sick.

from mom, to phil:

Where are you Philip???!!!! I’ve called you so many times!! I trust you to be alright, but please contact me to ease your old mother’s heart. Come home as soon as you can, dear. Call me.

Phil sat up on the edge of the bed. Cellphone in hand, he immediately dialed for his mother. As it rang, he began to shuffle around the room to pick up his clothes off of the floor. Pants here, shirt there. Boxers somewhere. The phone rang five times, to which afterwards it then went to voicemail, accompanied by the traditional “Please leave your name after the beep!”. While he struggled to put his jeans on, Phil pinned the phone in the nook between his shoulder and ear.

“Yeah, mom? Sorry I didn’t answer or come home right away, I fell asleep at the party from last night. I’ll be heading there now. Don’t worry, I’ll take a taxi or uber or something.” A quick message and then he hung up, it was just a sign to let her know he was okay. Finally, he slipped his shirt on over his head.

Before he left, he took one last glance at the boy in the bed. It was only at this point does he realise exactly what happened last night. He wasn’t a stranger at all, in fact Phil knew him, he knew him much more than he would like to admit.

The boy was Dan. Dan, the one Phil admired from afar, the one he wrote about in secret.

Phil bit his lip, feeling a twinge of something twist his insides. It’s a mix of guilt and some other emotion. His stomach did not contain butterflies, oh no; right now his ribcage swelled with bumblebees. Stabbing the inside of his chest, filling his lungs so he couldn’t breathe.

But perhaps that was only fitting. Because that couldn’t stop him from confessing the fact that this sight of Dan left Phil a bit breathless.

A state that left Dan looking so vulnerable, while at the same time, looking so damn gorgeous.

Leaning down, Phil’s fingers grazed Dan’s forehead so that he may push those adorable curls aside, and his lips left a light kiss on Dan’s forehead, just above the space between his eyebrows. A farewell that would have to suffice, for after that Phil went back home.

When Dan awoke, he woke up to strewn sheets and duvet, and a slight tingling of where someone had left their mark— literally. There was a small red heart where Phil unknowingly kissed him, along with even smaller ones splattered along his hairline. When he touched them, they gave him a pleasant feeling, but at the same time he was just confused.

On Monday, when he went back for the last day of school, he hid the hearts under his fringe. If anyone were to catch a glance at them, he’d say they were freckles.

The matching redness of his cheeks and his glance towards the floor alluded to otherwise, though. And the way he picked at his shirt collar that hid a hickey or two showed that he was a bit unsure as to where exactly they came from.

<<>>

It has been almost three weeks since he first started avoiding Dan. At first it wasn’t on purpose at all, it was simply a reaction. He felt like he couldn’t help it— he just didn’t want to be around Dan for a while. Being around Dan felt like a confrontation.

But now, Phil is well aware that he has been purposefully distancing himself from him. From ignoring Dan’s texts and calls, taking a different route to classes, and turning the other cheek when Dan attempts to catch his attention. He has been doing it all.

And each and every time he does it, it hurts him. The feeling of contrition makes his insides wrench.

A new tattoo appeared on his thigh a while ago. It’s a clock. Every time he avoids Dan’s persistence, another crack appears on the clockface.

Needless to say, the clock is very close to being completely shattered.

People say that time heals all wounds, and at this point, Phil is praying that the saying rings true. The very idea of disingenuity tears him apart, because if something is built on falsehoods, does it even have any true worth? The answer is no, it doesn’t.

If he were to consider the amount of time he has spent on Dan, Phil has worn his heart on his sleeves for years. Dan was never his, but yet Phil feels like he lost him.

So much of himself, more than he’ll ever want to admit, has gone into this boy. It’s too much. Putting more of himself into someone who does not seem to value him to nearly the same extent is exhausting, and ultimately emotionally draining. Letting it continue on isn’t right.

This is the right choice. Phil is making the right decision, for he is considering every element of the bigger picture. So what if he didn’t hear Dan out back then? That he didn’t listen to what Dan had to say? He’s sure that Dan will just try to cover up his tracks, and move on. He’s sure that Dan’s just that kind of guy, the one who sees everything as temporary, ultimately forgetting about Phil in a matter of months. Dan will just be dishonest because it benefits him somehow. Phil is positive about that.

Because more than anything, Phil doesn’t want to be in love with a liar. And that’s what Dan is.

He needs to put everything behind him.

Phil needs to end it all tonight.

<<>>

pj: Are u sure

phil: I’m sure.

pj: Alright. I let her know. She says you can be the last performer so you should be ready by then

At the last moment, Phil took into consideration what PJ told him about the slam poetry night, and he asked PJ to let the teacher know that he wanted to participate in the school-run event taking place at the local cafe.

Phil decides to do it because such a great number of his poems are about this boy. PJ was right about Dan being his muse; Phil would write stanzas upon stanzas based on him in messy scrawls in the margins of his school notes and frantic jots on his hand.

If he mentioned eyes, the color would always be brown. If he wanted to create a particular atmosphere, it would almost always be one of warmth. And if they were about love… Phil wrote from experience, because that was an emotion he was all too familiar with.

That is why this performance tonight needs to happen. He needs to get all of this pent up emotion out of his heart and into the world, rather than keeping his feelings restrained to the confines of himself, wishful thinking, and paper.

Phil glances at where the current poet is standing. Whoever is at the microphone right now is doing great, and it is only making him more anxious. The audience is clearly affixed to their words, eating it all up, and clearly enjoying the show.

Remember, tonight is not about the actual performance, Phil whispers to himself.

His palms are laying flat against the table in front of him; an abundance of the poems he has written are scattered all over the surface. There are scribbles in various pen colors and the worn papers are even ripped in some places. Any onlooker could see that these pieces were nothing but the tangible forms of pure amour.

After tonight, the burn he feels in his chest at the thought of him will stop, and the ashes of discarded literature will be its only remains.

Itwillstopitwillstopitwillallstop.

A vibration sends a tremor through the table when his phone screen lights up.

from dan, to phil:

where are you?

Phil picks up his device and shuts it off. Although it could be said that this night was about Dan, it is mostly about Phil, it is about Phil’s feelings, it is about Phil putting it all behind himself. He needs this.

Because it’s justified, right?

Two taps are hitting on his shoulder. It’s PJ, who actually ended up becoming a spur-of-the-moment volunteer to manage the behind-the-scenes for tonight. He leans in to whisper to Phil. “You’re on in a minute or two.” And almost as if he could sense Phil’s worrying, he continues and reassures him with, “You’ve got this, you’ll be great. I believe in you.” PJ clasps his hand on Phil’s shoulder, and gives it a squeeze. At that, he corners of Phil’s lips turn up slightly. He really is grateful for having a friend like him.

“Thank you.”

The supposed minute or two passes by quickly, and soon enough they are introducing Phil’s name. “The final poet of the night,” is what they say. Phil takes a deep breath and goes under the spotlight, the cool metal of the microphone in his hand is doing its best to calm him. He holds onto it tightly. With the spotlight in his eyes, and the cafe lights dimmed, he can’t see the audience at all.

Perhaps that’s for the best. For more reasons than one.

Because right when Phil opens his mouth to begin, someone quietly enters into the cafe. Despite the fact that the slight little twinkling of bells signaled his entrance, no one pays any heed to him.

He chooses to sit in the back.

And Phil notices nothing at all.

“brown is all sorts of golden, in the sense it gives as much warmth as a gentle sun…”

After a few poems, some cafe patrons swear that they see a shadow move from the back of the cafe to the front, as if to listen to the poet better.

“...for although tattoos of roses don't have thorns, blood pours from the prick in my fingertips because i picked you”

With every line, with every poem, with every eloquent sentence having their origins rooted in enclosed secrets, each word that leaves his lungs also lifts a small weight off of his shoulders and manages to carry it over to listening ears. Everything is on the line tonight. Every emotion is on Phil’s sleeve, not just his heart, and every person in the room is hanging on to each otherworldly wordy confession that falls from his lips. And speaking of confessions, Phil’s biggest one is coming up. He wrote it last night, so it’s fairly new.

His final poem. About everything.

Including the night from two years ago.

“young days are of bubbles and bubble gum little girls are so kind, they are so soft that little boys can’t help but fall for them with their small smiles and neat handwriting from tentative hands for a crush and descend

however, i never took the plunge for i saw a boy who was softer: with a subtle cotton candy blush who grew daisies from concrete and carnations on flushed cheeks

a mirage, admiration from afar became inkstained fingertips and etched scrawls on every surface imaginable

(he had freckles that were far more than just constellations, they were made of stardust)

adolescent times; time stopped for one drunken night when only the moonlight was sober, an evening full of whispers and kisses and care that faded when faced with the sun

artists are known to create somethings out of nothings with elements derived from the earth, they turn strokes into paintings clay into sculptures a-and unspoken promises—”

He coughs, his voice caught up in his throat.

“and unspoken promises into h-hope”

Phil’s voice is wavering. His eyes aren’t on the audience anymore. Instead, he’s staring at the floor.

Hands shaking.

“poets are known to write about tragedies and this is no exception there is red on those hands: is it from the words of my pen, your paint on my skin? or perhaps from the thorns from the flowers that bloomed, with your smile that could make the heart grow fonder

perhaps he truly loved her but his smile could tempt a lover

and my dear, even the lawfully good fall into temptation.”

He’s out of breath now. By the end, he was just rushing to get the last few words out, and he was straining his throat. His eyelashes are wet, he can feel them, and he knows that he’s probably on the brink of crying.

Phil bites the inside of his cheek. If he doesn’t, he doesn’t know what will come next. He stays standing there for a moment more, doing a small nod and awkward bow. Barely registering the trickling of applause, his shoulders curl in and he crosses his arms, one hand reaching to rub the place where the all too familiar daisies bloomed.

Would they still be there?

When Phil steps out of the light, it is an unexpected sight. Dan is there, right in front of him: one of Dan’s hands is all tremors while the other is reaching up to his face, desperately wiping away his salty tears. Dan’s hair, in those beautiful curls Phil loves, are in disarray; Dan’s lip trembles; Dan’s eyes are red and looking up at him through wet eyelashes that match his own. It is a state of vulnerability that only God should see. And seeing that? That is the breaking point.

A truth revealed. Barely louder than a bumblebee’s hum, that Phil almost misses it, but good thing that he happened to be great at reading lips.

“I love you,” Dan whispers.

Now that is true the breaking point. At that moment, Phil breaks into sobs, and they both reach out to one another to each other into a bone-crushing hug. “A conversation between us is long overdue,” one of them mumbles into the other’s neck, and the other one just nods, unable to respond with words.

They’re in tears.

<<>>

“I wrote poems about you, you know. Mostly on my front porch. I would never see you, but I always hoped that I would catch a glimpse of you.”

“I would paint in my backyard, among all the plants. I loved painting roses in watercolor, they were my favorite, but so many paintings of mine were made with three particular hues: blue, green, and yellow. My favorite colors. And they just so happen to be the colors of your eyes.”

<<>>

Out on a sidewalk curb, two boys sit with a cup of local coffee. “It’s good to support local businesses,” one says, “and Starbucks is overrated.”

“Yeah I know, you’ve told me,” the other replies. “I remember everything you tell me.”

He puts his head on the other boy’s shoulder. The other boy lifts his hand to gently wipe away the tear stains on the boy’s cheek with his thumb, while the boy softly places a kiss on the other one’s neck.

<<>>

You have (1) voice mail from Philly-delphia.

“I’m sorry for distancing myself from you. Call me back? Let’s meetup and talk. Bye bye.”

<<>>

“I’m sorry for not telling you the whole truth. But please know that I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t even being honest to myself. I don’t think I have been honest to myself for a long time now.”

“Dan, it was immature for me to assume. To be frank? Out of line. It was stupid for me to be upset over what you were doing with your own life. What you do isn’t my choice, and I shouldn’t have been so personally affected by it.”

“We’re our own people, of course. I know you know that. And besides, I get where you were coming from.”

“What do you mea—”

“If I lost you, I probably wouldn’t be thinking rationally either.”

A pause.

“...I shouldn’t have acted like you were mine, when you weren’t mine to own.”

“A fair point. And you’re completely right. But I think you’ve had me since the beginning, Phil Lester. I feel like I’ve finally found something that I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

<<>>

dan: let’s take it slow?

phil: That sounds perfect.

<<>>

For centuries, humanity has held art to the highest of esteems. Early neanderthals began it all with their coarse hands, withdrawing dirt from the earth below their feet to leave marks upon rugged stone walls that conveyed the beginnings of history. In the millenniums that followed, a sort of elitism has formed around the most talented ones who have managed to make a name for themselves. The names of these creators are commonplace in many households amongst the nations; buildings are erected with the mere purpose of showcasing such artistic creation.

Perhaps it is for that reason that the phenomenon in which ink would envelop one’s skin was thus regarded as a wonder, rather than as an alarming fright.

There are two people though, who have it all figured out. No matter how many times you ask them, they will always give the same answer: if anything, they appear out of love, they’ll tell you that.

They have graduated now. They are at a graduation party right now actually, and their time at their high school art academy has finally come to an end. Blood, sweat, and tears have been spilled all over the canvases and films and publications and music at that institution, and now every student can only rely on hope that their work does not go to waste as they move on to pursue the rest of their future.

But for now, that kind of worrying does not exist.

There are no drinks this time around. Okay, maybe one or two, and perhaps they are a little tipsy as well, but they are definitely not drunk. They are, however, definitely on a bed again.

Dan and Phil are lying together on a bed again.

Phil throws a question into the air between them. “You know, this is how we met?” Although the words come out in a way that sounds like a rhetorical question, Dan nods.

“I wish I remembered more,” admits Dan. Phil squeezes his hand, and this time, it’s Dan’s turn to ask a question. “Do you regret it?”

Phil thinks for a moment. “I regret how it happened. So in that way, I do, a bit. Maybe even a little more than a bit. Even though I remember that night, the details of it all are hazy, and we weren’t really in the best state of mind.” Dan curls into Phil’s chest, looking up at him as he listens to him speak. Phil affectionately looks back at him. “But then again? I don’t regret that it took place. In some ways, I feel like that night was our starting point.”

With Phil’s arm wrapped around his waist, they are only a breath apart from one another. “And now we’re here,” whispers Dan. His lips pepper a few soft kisses upon Phil’s skin.

Phil echoes Dan’s words with a fond smile, placing a kiss on top of Dan’s head. He absentmindedly runs a hand through the brunette’s waves, Dan finally confident enough to adorn the curls after all those years.

“Yeah, and now we’re here.”

When Dan then comments on how far they’ve come and Phil marvels at how much they’ve grown, it is to be noted that their growth is not just a growth of spirit, or of themselves as people. It’s also evidenced, it’s also proven that is, by their skin.

The single marigold behind Dan’s ear is now a small gathering of flowers. Its stem winds down his neck, its petals and leaves falling to meet the leaves of the tree that grows on his back. The tree on his back is grand, absolutely lovely and absolutely bountiful. Its signs of life are held within every branch, and where the roots end on his hips, are a freckling of small hearts. According to Phil, it is because it thrives off love (“that’s so cheesy,” dan always says. laughing, phil always replies, “it’s supposed to be cheesy!”).

In the meantime, Phil has a whole garden on his shoulders, with flowers of every hue and type. If he ever took the time to search up the meanings, they would not only mean love, but forever, and admiration, and warmth, and together. Upon his ankles are the cutest little succulents and cacti, pretty little plants that are hard to kill. They remind him to remain grounded, and who it is that helps him do so, a representation of how hard it would be to forget the one who is such a big part of his life.

They are kissing slowly now, every touch between them is an embodiment of care and devotion that would put the bond between the moon and tides to shame. Nothing else exists around them. The future is unknown, but as said before, worries don’t exist here.

Because if they are being honest, they are ready for anything.

<<>>

“Mon enfant! I give you my hand! I give you my love, more precious than money, I give you myself, before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me? Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?” - Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road

(and also, those would happen to be the same lines that dan would propose to phil with a couple of years later.)

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obsessive-fics · 7 years ago

Text

Title: Drink Up Your Movements (Still I Can’t Get Enough)

Rating: T

Word Count: 7.9k

Summary: All Dan, an extremely skilled ballet dancer, wants to do is make it through the next dance competition. So extra rehearsals with Izzy, a ballerina he’s known forever, are just another step towards the win. What he doesn’t expect, is the constant, extremely distracting presence of Izzy’s older brother, Phil

Playlist

Art: Coming soon!

Warnings: None

A/N: Thank you so much to my beta @botanistlester for encouraging me and putting up with all of my random questions and to my artist @noreallywhatareyou

[Read on Ao3]

There were two things in life of which Dan was absolutely certain of. The first was that he loved ballet more than anything in the world. The second was that he absolutely, without a doubt, despised Phil Lester. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. Phil's younger sister, Izzy, was in his class, and as a result he was forced to see his smug face every week smirking at him and making him miss his grand jetés.

This week was no different. Dan and Izzy had stayed after class to practice their big lift. Izzy was the ideal lift partner- she was almost as tall he was, but had enough core control to make herself weigh almost nothing. Really all Dan had to do was stand behind her and make her look good. He both envied and admired her.

"Iz! We were supposed to be home an hour ago," Phil called, strolling into the studio like he owned the place. Dan was so shocked he almost dropped her. You were not supposed to interrupt a rehearsal. Ever. That was the first rule they were taught, and Dan lived by it. Yet here was Phil freaking Lester leaning against the mirror like he hadn't done anything wrong.

"You can't be in here," Dan finally spluttered out, letting Izzy down as gently as he could.

"Sorry Dancing Queen, but this is kind of urgent," Phil replied, with absolutely zero urgency in his voice.

"First of all, do not call me 'Dancing Queen' ever again. Second, I'm serious. Whatever it is can wait," Dan snapped. He was definitely not getting distracted by how deep Phil's voice was or by how blue his eyes were. Nope, he was completely composed, if a little red faced.

"It's fine, Dan. We can practice at my place tomorrow after school," Izzy promised, picking up her duffle bag and hoodie. Dan wanted to protest, to offer his house instead, or the studio- maybe Ms. Jill would let them in between practices. But Izzy was already hugging him- clear Izzy speech for "I’ve made up my mind and you can't change it." He sighed and hugged her back.

"Sure, Iz. I'll see you later," he told her, resigning to his fate. Maybe Phil would be out of the house every time he came over. Maybe this would be the last time he'd ever have to interact with him.

"See you around… Dancing Queen," Phil called trailing after his sister. Wishful thinking never helped anything.

The next day at school Dan spent all of lunch complaining about Phil.

"He just walked in! Who does that?" He ranted to everyone that would listen.

"Dan, don't you think you're a little... Fixated?" Louise, one of the other ballerinas asked.

"Fixated! On that arrogant jerk? Of course not... did I tell you he had the nerve to call me-"

"Dancing Queen. Yes, we know. But as cute as your crush on my brother is, I come to school to get away from him, not discuss him for hours on end," Izzy butted in, rolling her eyes and taking a fry off of Dan's tray.

"I do not have a crush on him! I hate him! He has zero respect for what we do or proper etiquette," Dan argued, sliding his tray over before Izzy could get her hands on any more fries.

"I'm flattered you think highly enough of me to talk about me so much," a smug voice said from behind him. Oh no.

"What do you want?" Dan demanded, turning around. Phil was standing there, Chris and PJ on either side of him, looking as smug and arrogant as ever.

"Just came to tell my baby sister I'll be giving her a ride home. Riling you up is an added bonus," he answered lowly.

"Well mission accomplished, can you go now?" Dan asked as coolly as he could manage. Phil had the nerve to look amused, of all things.

"Gladly. See you tonight, Dancing Queen," he said, leaning in so only Dan could hear. And then he was gone before Dan could manage a response.

"Oh my God!" Carrie squealed once he was out of earshot.

"What?" Dan wondered, covering his ears. He loved all the other ballerinas, but sometimes he couldn't help but wish he had male friends.

"What do you mean ‘what’, you two were eye fucking that entire time!" She pointed out excitedly.

"We were not. I was glaring at him, because I hate him, remember?" Dan replied (He was not being defensive, okay? He wasn't).

"Yeah, right. You definitely don't look at any of us like that," Louise teased, poking his side.

"I also don't hate any of you," he reminded her. Him, attracted to Phil Lester! As if.

"Suuuure," the girls chorused teasingly. He really, really needed to make some male friends.

"You have to."

"No, I don't."

"You promised!"

"No, you assumed my answer was yes."

"Daniel James Howell, if you're not at my house in the next five minutes, I will come and get you."

"... I'm outside."

Izzy opened the door grinning smugly. Apparently, that ran in the family.

"I don't see why we have to rehearse here," Dan grumbled following her inside.

"Because my living room is bigger- and has hardwood floors," Izzy explained pointedly.

"Stupid carpet," Dan complained as they entered the living room. Of course. Phil was sprawled across the couch, video game controller in hand, eyes narrowed, tongue poked out in concentration. It was almost.... Endearing, his mind supplied, but he stomped the thought out as soon as it came.

"See something you like?" Phil asked, not taking his eyes of the screen.

'No' was what Dan wanted to say, but what came out was, "You wear glasses?"

"... Yes?" Phil answered, for once sounding caught off guard.

"Oh," Dan said, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

"Out of the living room, Four Eyes. Dan and I have to practice," Izzy interrupted, standing in front of the tv.

"Iz! I was gonna beat my score!" Phil whined, and Dan really needed him to stop bickering with his sister and to stop wearing pjs and glasses, like, well a normal person. It was distracting. Dan looked over at the tv, noticing the Mario kart start screen. Perfect.

"I'll tell you what. If you can beat me, we'll go. But if I win, we're rehearsing. Now." Phil smirked, his arrogant persona back.

"You're on, Dancing Queen."

"Is it too late to add 'don't call me Dancing Queen?' to this?" Dan asked exasperatedly.

"Yes. Yes, it is." Dan rolled his eyes and grabbed a controller.

"Ugh, boys. I'm gonna change. You better be done when I get back," Izzy said heading for the stairs.

"As you wish," Phil called back, voice equal parts teasing and affectionate.

Phil, as it turned out, was terrible at Mario Kart. Dan beat him three times before Izzy came back downstairs.

"HA! Who's a queen now!" Dan cried jumping up victoriously.

"Alright, alright, I give," Phil conceded with- was that a smile? Not a smug look or a smirk. Dan couldn't help it, he smiled back and took a mental picture. Who knew when that expression was coming back?

"Sorry to ruin the mood, but Dan is here to rehearse, remember?" Izzy pointed out, crossing her arms.

"Right. Sorry Iz," Dan said pulling off his jumper and realizing entirely too late that he was just wearing a t-shirt and tights. His face heated up, and he did his best not to appear self-conscious as he felt Phil’s eyes on him, with an intense, but unreadable expression.

"It's fine, I understand. Can you guys move the coffee table?" Izzy asked sweetly. Dan sighed- she was going to grill him about what happened while she was upstairs.

"Sure, Iz," Phil answered, and Dan pretended not to notice that he'd been staring at him up until that point.

After they moved the coffee table, Phil disappeared without saying a word while Dan changed into his ballet slippers.

"Is that how you pick up boys, then? Challenge them to Mario Kart?" Izzy teased. Dan wanted to protest, but it was no use.

"Works on girls too. Do you want to try it with or without the music?" He asked, in his best attempt to change the subject.

"Well it's clearly working. I usually get a text when we ride home together, not a personal reminder. I think he likes you," Izzy whispered theatrically, completely ignoring Dan's question.

"Shut up, he does not. With music then?" Dan asked opening up the music app on his phone.

"Yeah, we should do the whole routine so we know we can go straight into the lift without focusing on it too much," Izzy agreed, tying her laces. Dan nodded in agreement and went to get in position.

"I also think you should ask my brother out," Izzy said, almost making Dan miss his count. Of course she said that right before they had to start, so Dan settled for glaring at her before allowing himself to focus and become lost in the music.

They went through the entire routine, completely in sync as always. Izzy was graceful and effortless, the music seeming to flow through her. When she leaped into his arms, Dan wished they were in the studio so he could see how good they looked. He gently let her down and they transitioned into the jumps perfectly, before going into their double pirouettes and striking the last pose Ms. Jill had taught them.

"Please tell me that looked as good as I think it did?" Dan asked, going to turn off the music.

"You know I don't settle for anything less than perfect, but that was pretty close," Izzy agreed grinning.

"Think we'll have it together in time for competition?" Dan asked grabbing both of their water bottles.

"Let's keep working on it, and we'll see how it looks in class next week," Izzy replied taking hers. Dan nodded. Izzy was definitely the harshest critic out of all of them, so satisfying her was nearly impossible. Getting an 'okay' from her was an honor.

"I don't understand you guys. I thought it looked good," Phil said coming downstairs.

"That's because you're not a dancer. We could just move side to side and it would look good to you," Izzy told him rolling her eyes.

Phil shrugged, unbothered, and went into the kitchen.

"He's a klutz," Izzy whispered comically.

"Am not!" Phil called back, as if predicting her comment. Izzy rolled her eyes.

"You should see him awkwardly bounce around at parties. Anyway, let's run it again." Dan put his water down and got into position. You did not want to get distracted when rehearsing with Izzy- she was ruthless.

"Looking good, Dancing Queen," Phil called from the doorway of the kitchen. Dan ignored him in favor of making sure he was doing this dance to the absolute best of his ability. The last thing he needed was to give Phil something else to tease him about.

“Dan! That was the best you’ve ever done. I mean, you’ve always had great form, but that time… Where’d all that passion come from?” Izzy asked once they were done.

Dan shrugged, because, ‘I was thinking about how much I hate your brother,’ was not something he wanted to admit out loud. “You inspire me to be better Iz,” he settled on instead. Izzy grinned proudly.

“Thanks. I think we’re good for today. Same time tomorrow?” she asked handing Dan his phone.

“Sounds perfect. Bye, Iz,” he said hugging her and leaving.

Lunch was a complete disaster. Dan had barely even sat down before everyone started talking all at once.

“Is it true?” Louise asked moving so she was sitting next to him.

“Lou, please, I really don’t wanna talk about this,” Dan pleaded looking down at his tray.

“But Izzy said-” Carrie broke in before Dan cut her off.

“Well she was there wasn’t she? So it must be true,” he told her. Whatever Izzy told them was probably completely romanticized, but he didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now. He just wanted one day that wasn’t centered around Phil fucking Lester.

“Walk with me, Dancing Queen.” Dan didn’t even need to turn around. Of course he’d manage to show up at that exact moment. He briefly considered fighting him on this, but staying here just meant more questions Dan didn’t even remotely feel like answering. Also, maybe spending time with Phil wouldn’t exactly be the worst thing in the world.

“Fine. I’ll see you guys in class,” he announced standing up.

“I don’t know how you do it. Being around all of them for more than five minutes makes me wanna scream,” Phil said conversationally as they walked. Dan was confused. Where were they going? And why?

“Relax Dancing Queen. You looked miserable over there. We were going out anyway, so I figured I’d save you,” Phil explained with a shrug.

“I did not need to be saved. Sure they can be a little overbearing, but they’re my friends,” Dan argued in a huff.

“So you want to go back?”

“Definitely not.”

Dan ignored Phil’s smirk in favor of studying his jumper sleeves and followed the other to the car.

“Took you long enough,” Chris called when they climbed in.

“Dancing Queen, I trust you know Chris and PJ,” Phil said in lieu of a response.

“Yes. And for the last time, stop calling me that,” Dan replied, already regretting this.

“So you’re in Izzy’s dance class?” PJ wondered. He sounded genuine enough, so Dan decided to try and be nice.

“Um, yeah. We’ve been dancing together since we could walk,” he explained sheepishly. Male ballerinas weren’t something people were usually very accepting about and he wasn’t sure how well it would go over here.

“That’s so cool. We’ve been to a few of your guys’ recitals, actually,” Chris told him.

“Wait, really?” Dan asked, shocked.

“Of course. Izzy would never let us live it down if we missed one,” PJ explained.

“Plus Chris is in love with her,” Phil teased, earning an “Am not!” and a shove from Chris.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell her,” Dan promised, then, “Where are you guys going anyway?”

“Diner downtown. We’re starving and the food in the cafeteria’s terrible.”

“Right, of course.”

Mary’s was a quaint restaurant in what everyone in town referred to as the Centre, but was really only a few shops and a parking lot. Dan spent most of the ride debating whether or not to mute the dance class’ group chat while Chris and PJ argued over music selection.

“We’re here, Dancing Queen. Unless you want to stay in the car and text,” Phil teased, opening the door for him.

“Actually shut up- I don’t have to be here remember?” Dan pointed out petulantly, but he was already climbing out of the car.

“Last time I checked, I was the one saving you from a horde of gossiping ballerinas.”

“… Fine. Let’s just go.”

Spending lunch with Phil, Chris, and PJ was… surprisingly pleasant. Dan was apprehensive at first, but then Phil brought up how he’d destroyed him in Mario Kart, and everything just faded away after that. As it turned out, he and Phil had a ton in common- from music taste, to movies to tv shows.

“I’m actually gonna throw up,” Chris whined after they’d made yet another obscure anime reference and dissolved into a fit of laughter.

“Sorry,” Dan said, trying not to laugh, but Phil just grinned at him and stole a chip from his plate.

“Tell. Me. Everything,” Izzy demanded the minute she opened the door.

“I’m not gonna tell you anything. We’re going to rehearse so Ms. Jill doesn’t skin us alive tomorrow,” Dan answered, pushing past her.

“Okay… Well, just so you know, my brother asked for your number when he got home,” Izzy sing-songed while she tied her hair up.

“He did?” Dan asked before he could think better of it.

“Nah, I just gave it to him. I like to think of myself as a professional matchmaker,” Izzy announced gleefully. “Now let’s get started.”

“I hate you so much.”

“You’ll thank me later, just don’t drop me.”

“Tempting, but we need you for competition.”

Their routine looked better than ever after being run a few times, and Dan almost couldn’t wait for competition. They were definitely going to win gold this year.

“Hey, you’re here! Do you wanna come see if there’s a video game I can actually beat you at?” Phil asked coming down the stairs. Dan, trying very hard to ignore that he was wearing glasses (again), just nodded for a second.

“Obviously we know I’m better than you at pretty much every game, but if you wanna find out for sure,” he answered once he collected himself.

“Will you two stop flirting for a second? We have a competition to prepare for, remember?” Izzy broke in, shattering the moment (Was it a moment? No, it was nothing).

“Iz, I’m exhausted. If anything needs work, Ms. Jill will tell us tomorrow,” Dan reasoned, ignoring the very knowing look she was giving him.

“Okay, fine. But if it looks sloppy I’m gonna tell her it’s because you were playing video games instead of rehearsing,” she announced, leaving in a huff.

“So Player One or Two?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

Four different games and a Studio Ghibli marathon later, Dan realized it was after dark, and about ten minutes to his curfew.

“My Dad is gonna kill me, I should go,” he said apologetically searching around for his shoes.

“Do you need a ride? It got pretty cold out,” Phil pointed out, reaching for the giant bowl of popcorn they’d nearly finished.

“That’s okay, I live pretty close. I’ll um, talk to you tomorrow?” Dan wondered, praying that didn’t come out as hopeful as it felt.

“Of course- hey, at least take a jacket,” Phil offered, holding up a leather jacket.

“You know, you wear a lot of leather for a nerd with a plushie hoarding problem,” Dan remarked, but shrugged the jacket on.

“I do not have a problem.”

“You have three different Totoro plushies- why do you need three?”

“I was sad to see you go, but if you’re only here to shame my decorating choices, I take it back.” Dan laughed, pausing in the doorway.

“You didn’t have to walk me out,” he said, but the smile in his voice said otherwise.

“Wanted to. Night, Dancing Queen,” Phil answered, and there was that stupid smirk again. Honestly, what would it take to wipe that ridiculous expression off his face?

“Okay, that’s it. I hate you so much,” Dan answered, probably less annoyed than he should have been. Phil just stepped forward, and zipped up his jacket.

“If you think this is hate, then I guess I hate you too. Bye, Dan,” he said, pulling away.

“Right. Well, good to know you, um… Know my name. I’m going now,” he announced turning away and walking towards home to get the warm feeling he’d gotten from their proximity completely out of his mind.

“And then he said ‘if you think this is hate, then I guess I hate you too.’ What does that even mean?” Dan complained to Louise the next afternoon at the barre.

“Probably that you’re way more obvious than you think and that he likes you too,” Louise answered as they switched to frappés, their favorite warm up to do at the barre, next to dégagés.

“This is why I don’t tell you things,” Dan muttered, resolutely ignoring the flutter in his chest that hoped maybe she was right.

“Oh, come on. You’ve been texting nonstop since Izzy gave him your number and you wore his jacket all day today,” Louise said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Louise! Daniel! If I catch you talking through another warm up, I’m going to make you do the entire thing again by yourselves.”

“Yes, Ms. Jill.”

The week leading up to the competition was a complete blur. He spent so much time at Izzy’s rehearsing, his mother suggested he just stay there for the week. Which was meant to be a joke, but they had work to do, so their parents reluctantly agreed to let him crash on the couch for a few days.

It was during this week when Dan was woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of someone bustling around in the kitchen. He briefly considered the possibility of there being an axe murderer in the house before deciding to go check it out for himself.

“Oh, hey, did I wake you?” Phil asked, sitting on the counter with his hand in a box of cereal.

“Um, yes? What are you even doing?” Dan replied, confused.

“Midnight snack.”

“At one thirty?”

“That’s the best time to have one.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go stare up at the ceiling, as there’s no way I’m getting back to sleep now.”

“Better idea. Since we’re both up now- why don’t you teach me something,” Phil suggested closing up the box of cereal and putting it back in the cabinet.

“What, dance related? So you can fall over and break something?” Dan teased leaning in the doorway.

“Hey! I’m not that bad,” Phil protested with a pout.

“Prove it then. Come on, we’ll start easy.”

With that, the pair moved into the living room where there was more space.

“Okay, this is first position-”

“I know what the positions are, you think Izzy would let me get away with knowing absolutely nothing?”

“Shut up- how was I supposed to know you actually pay attention to your sister when she talks?”

“Have you ever tried not listening to my sister when she talks?”

“I’m still alive aren’t I?”

“Exactly my point.”

“Okay, fine. We’ll start with poses. Can you do an attitude?”

“What, this thing?” Phil asked leaning forwards in an attempt to get his back leg off the floor. It would be an attitude if he wasn’t wobbling and flailing his arms to keep balance.

“Not that bad huh? Here, look, you don’t need to move your arms, your body will balance naturally. I’ll fix that in a minute, but first straighten your leg. And for the love of God, point your foot,” Dan reprimanded moving so he was standing in front of the other.

“How’s this?”

“Better. It’s okay to breathe too, you know. Actually, it’s encouraged. Now to fix your disastrous posture. Keep one arm in front of you and the other out to the side. Ninety-degree angle,” Dan instructed, guiding Phil’s arms himself.

“This is kinda harder than it looks. Not ballet as a whole, ballerinas are more disciplined than most athletes. But like, Izzy stands like this while she makes breakfast. And she’s been doing that since she was four.”

“Maybe a passe would’ve been easier- Not on relevé though,” Dan suggested while pushing Phil’s shoulders down. As it turns out, having a ballerina for a sister had done nothing to better his posture.

“I didn’t understand about half those words. They sound pretty when you say them, though.”

“I thought you listened to Izzy when she talked,” Dan teased, looking up for the first time. And, oh. They were really close.

“Yeah, well, I might be better at faking it than I let on,” Phil admitted with a completely unfair sheepish half smile. And then he fell over, sending both of them crashing to the floor.

“Izzy wasn’t kidding when she said you were a klutz,” Dan said.

“She really wasn’t,” Phil admitted, sending them both into a laughing fit.

Eventually their laughter died down enough for them to realize the (compromising?) position they were in. Dan thought they were close before, but now they were literally flushed against each other. He could see the flecks of green in Phil’s startling blue eyes.

“What?” Phil asked, catching him staring.

“You have really pretty eyes,” Dan told him before he could talk himself out of it.

“You have really pretty everything,” Phil replied, making Dan’s entire face turn bright red. That was not the answer he had been expecting at all. He was dimly aware of the fact that they’d been sprawled out on the floor entirely too long, but Phil was looking at him with an open, unreadable expression that made it entirely impossible to move.

“We should probably get up,” Dan pointed out a few seconds later.

“Probably,” Phil agreed, but neither of them made any attempt to move, which just sent them into another laughing fit. This one, however, ended the second they caught each other’s eyes.

“Can I..?” Phil asked, leaning in slightly. Dan just nodded, not trusting himself to say anything, and was about to close the gap between them when they heard footsteps approaching. They sprang away immediately, scrambling to get up off the floor before anyone saw the way they’d been lying together.

“Relax it’s just me,” Izzy said rolling her eyes and stepping into the living room.

“It’s not- We weren’t-” the pair scrambled to explain, but she just waved them off.

“Calm down, it’s not the first time I’ve caught my brother down here with someone.”

“It’s not?” Dan asked, turning to Phil, who was staring determinedly at the floor.

“This is the first time recently of course! I’m not helping, am I? Look, I just came downstairs to remind you we have a competition in two days and you need your rest. No time for distractions,” Izzy explained with a pointed look.

“You’re right. I’m going to bed right now,” Dan promised, knowing he would get a full-blown lecture if he wasn’t at full energy the next rehearsal.

“Good. I suggest we all go to bed- in our own rooms,” Izzy said with such finality it’d be impossible to argue. Then, satisfied, she headed back upstairs.

“I should probably go back to my room now. The last thing I want is Izzy lecturing me about how I don’t take her craft seriously,” Phil said once she was out of sight.

“A smart choice. I’ll, um, see you tomorrow then?” Dan said, shifting awkwardly.

“Definitely. Maybe I can finally beat you at Mario Kart,” Phil suggested, effectively erasing any awkwardness that had formed between them after getting caught.

“Ha! You wish,” Dan replied and just like that, things between them felt comfortable again, if only a little unfinished.

“Good night Dan.”

“Good night.”

Dan lay down on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. There was a lot going on in his head that he didn’t particularly want to think about. For one, there was no denying it anymore: he definitely had a crush on Phil. And he was pretty sure they would have kissed if Izzy hadn’t interrupted. But where would that have left them? Not that it mattered much anyway; Izzy had made it clear that it was way too close to competition for him to be worrying about this. He sighed and texted Louise. She wouldn’t get it until morning, but she was the only person he felt comfortable sending his middle of the night rambles to. Well, the only person he didn’t have a massive crush on.

“I’m going back home tonight,” Dan announced walking into the kitchen the next morning. He’d been texting Louise all morning, and they’d come to the consensus that the best thing to do was distance himself and deal with his feelings after competition.

“Competition is literally tomorrow! You can’t go home now,” Izzy pleaded, dropping her spoon into her cereal.

“We have a dress rehearsal today, we know every part of this routine frontwards and backwards. The best thing about me having been here all this week is that we got lots of extra practice in. It’s going to be fine,” Dan reassured her the best he could.

“I swear to God if this is about my brother-” Izzy started with a glare, but was cut off by the sound of footsteps.

“If what is about me?” Phil asked, wandering into the kitchen in pjs and mismatched socks.

“Nothing. I’m just… I- I think it’s best if I stay at home,” Dan explained, wishing this conversation was happening anywhere but here. Izzy sighed loudly, grabbing he cereal and stomping out of the room.

“You better be absolutely flawless at rehearsal today, Howell!” she called over her shoulder.

“So… You’re not staying here anymore? It’s not because of last night, is it?” Phil asked, looking worried.

“No! I mean… I just really have to focus on competition right now. You heard Izzy, I can’t afford any distractions,” Dan told him quickly.

“Am I a distraction then?” Phil asked with a smirk. Dan rolled his eyes but couldn’t help his smile.

“The biggest.” Phil smiled then, an actual genuine smile, the one that lit up his face and took his hand. Dan decided immediately this was his favorite of Phil’s expressions, a close second being the pout he wore whenever he lost at a game.

“I had a question for you, but I don’t want to distract you further,” he said, holding up their linked hands.

“Izzy would probably have you beheaded,” Dan agreed, smiling back.

“Damn right I would. Now please stop this gross display of affection before I throw up,” Izzy said, walking into the kitchen with her now empty bowl.

“I should go. I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Sure you don’t need a ride?”

“I can get to school by myself, you know. Besides, I like walking.”

“Okay… Sure you don’t want a ride?”

“Rain check,” Dan replied, squeezing his hand one last time before letting go.

“See you later, Iz,” Dan added, turning to Izzy who rolled her eyes and waved goodbye. He waved back and headed to the living room to grab his stuff.

Dress rehearsal was a mess. The routine was perfect, everyone was in costume at the right time, and the lights and music hit all the right cues. No, it was the downtime in between run throughs that were the problem.

“I think I’m actually going to get a cavity from how sweet this is,” Louise announced dramatically. She and Izzy had decided to go through his texts and were reading conversations he definitely hadn’t wanted them to see.

“When does this water break end?” Dan muttered helplessly, sliding deeper into his seat.

“Aw come on, I think it’s nice. It’s about time, too! You were in denial for how long?” Louise asked pointedly.

“I was not in denial,” Dan protested, but Louise just looked at him, unimpressed, and turned back to his phone.

“You should’ve seen them this morning, Lou. Holding hands and smiling at each other! It was equal parts nauseating and precious,” Izzy broke in handing her the bottle of water they’d been sharing.

“You were holding hands?” Louise practically squealed and Dan made a note to never do anything in front of Izzy ever again.

“I mean, kind of? It’s really not that big of a deal-” he started to explain, but was mercifully interrupted by Ms. Jill calling them to attention.

After another complete run through of their routine, the dancers sat in a circle around their teacher as she gave her usual “day before competition” speech.

“You have all worked so hard, and I’m so proud of each and every one of you. No matter what happens tomorrow, you did your best and that’s all that matters,” she was saying, but Dan was only half listening. He was much more interested in the text Phil had just sent him, asking if he knew that when elephants were reunited with their friends, they made happy sounds and cuddled really close, complete with visual aids. He was still smiling at the elephant gif when Ms. Jill wrapped up her speech and implored them all to get some rest before the big day.

The dancers all applauded and thanked her for all her hard work, before breaking up and erupting into excited chatter. Dan, still only half-listening, just followed Izzy and Louise around and waited for them to be ready to head home.

Dan awoke the next morning with the same mix of excitement and nerves he always felt before a competition. He checked his phone to see how much time he had before it would be time to leave and smiled when it lit up with a “Break a leg!” text from Phil. He read it over a few times, before replying and going to get ready.

The air was practically buzzing in the convention center as ballerinas from different studios sat huddled together, awaiting the announcement that would begin the competition. Dan was sitting next to Izzy as they waited for Louise to get back from perfecting her stage makeup.

“I’m so nervous,” Izzy said, glancing around at the other groups competing. Some were stretching, some were helping each other adjust their costumes, and some were standing by the concession stand, munching on overpriced pretzels. All in all, not the most intimidating set up in the world, but Dan could see where Izzy was coming from.

“We’re gonna be fine. You can do this routine in your sleep. Just remember what Ms. Jill says: be in your body, not your mind,” Dan reminded her in his best attempt at comfort. They’d been friends for years, and after many a breakup or failed audition, he was getting better and better at knowing exactly what to say to put Izzy at ease.

“How do I look?” Louise asked walking over, her makeup completely perfected, and not a hair out of place.

“You look amazing,” Izzy replied, reaching up to touch her hair self consciously, “Can you fix my bun?”

“Iz, you look perfect,” Louise assured her, “But I’m going to make you look even more perfect.”

Dan watched Louise pull all of Izzy’s bright red hair into another perfect bun in about two minutes. He’d seen her do this at pretty much every recital and competition, other dancers lining up to have her work her magic, and somehow it never got less impressive.

“Will all performers report backstage?” A loud voice boomed over the speakers, startling everyone in the room.

“I guess it’s time,” Dan said, standing up and grabbing his dance bag.

“Let’s do this,” Izzy and Louise replied determinedly, and the trio made their way backstage where Ms. Jill was giving her usual pre competition talk.

“Okay, our routine is number 57, which means we’re about in the middle. The judges will be starting to get fatigued, so I want you to wake them up. As much energy as you can, okay? And remember - be expressive! No one wants to watch a dancer that looks bored. Alright, break a leg, all of you.” She nodded, satisfied, and gave them the smile they’d come to learn meant she wished she had time to hug each of them. Instead, she held out a hand. “Circle time.”

Circle time was what they called the ritual they did before every performance, competitive or otherwise. They stood in a circle, holding hands. Ms. Jill would start, squeezing the hand of the dancer next to her, and that person would squeeze the next person’s hand, and so on, until it reached Ms. Jill again. It was meant to spread positive energy and bring them closer together.

It was super awkward the first year of classes, but then everyone bonded over how much they hated it, and Dan knew without a doubt even if Ms. Jill wasn’t there, they’d probably still do it. They completed the circle and did a quick chant before going to watch the other routines on one of the tvs set up in the room.

Finally, after what felt like eons of waiting, they were called to the stage. They lined up in the wings and watched as the previous group struck their final pose. Dan shot Izzy a reassuring smile, which she returned determinedly, and then the stage went dark. They waited a few seconds for the previous act to start leaving the stage before running to their places.

The minute the lights went up, Dan was completely in his element. He let his mind go blank, allowing his body to take over and move with the music the way he’d been trained to. He stole a few quick glances out at the audience; everyone was watching in complete silence, but they all seemed to be paying attention, which was good. Audiences tended to get a little restless once the competition had been going on for a while. Most of the performance was a blur, as usual, a mix of muscle memory and adrenaline, but the lift earned a big reaction from the audience and the rest of the routine went perfectly. Dan basked in the enthusiastic applause from the audience and blushed when he caught sight of Phil standing up next to his and Izzy’s parents and cheering loudly. The lights dimmed and they hurried to get out of the way of the next act.

“That was amazing! I’m so proud of you guys, the judges really took notice,” Ms. Jill told them once they were all huddled backstage. They all took a quick moment to celebrate before dispersing to take off their slippers, touch up their hair and makeup, or grab a drink of water.

Dan was putting his slippers back into the bag when he noticed someone in the doorway waving him over. He looked to see Phil standing there holding a bouquet of flowers and walked over to him.

“Hey- I think Izzy went to get a snack, but I could give them to her if you want,” Dan offered once he got closer.

“Oh! Um, actually… these are for you?” Phil replied, holding them out sheepishly.

“Oh.” Dan took the flowers, and blushed looking down at them. Orchids. His favorite.

“Yeah. I just… My parents always get Izzy flowers when she performs and I remember you saying these were your favorite so I tho-”

“Phil,” Dan broke in, cutting him off.

“Yeah?”

“You’re rambling,” Dan pointed out, but he couldn’t help but smile.

“Sorry. I do that sometimes.”

“I’ve noticed,” Dan teased.

“Shut up,” Phil said laughing, and the two relapsed back into silence.

“I should get back, but um… thanks for the flowers,” Dan said finally.

“Oh, right. Do you still say ‘break a leg’ if the person has performed already?” Phil wondered.

“That’s… A really good question. I have no idea,” Dan answered shrugging.

“Well, I'll see you after you win then,” Phil told him smiling encouragingly.

“Definitely.”

Dan waved, and turned to walk away when he felt a tug on his wrist. He turned around, confused to see Phil staring at him determinedly. Before he could ask what was going on, Phil shook his head, and then kissed him, soft and slow.

“For luck,” he explained, pulling away.

“Oh… Thank you,” Dan said, still slightly in shock.

“That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“Well, you could always… Do that again maybe?”

“Of course,” Phil answered laughing, and then they were kissing again. It was a little awkward, with Dan having to hold the bouquet out of the way, but it was also completely perfect. Until the squealing started.

“Finally!” Louise and Izzy cheered, causing the two to jump away from each other.

“Sorry about them,” Dan apologized, before glaring at his friends pointedly.

“Don’t be. I’m gonna go back before my parents realize I’m gone,” Phil told him, reaching down to pick up the flowers Dan had dropped when they were interrupted.

“Right. We’ll, um… Continue this later?” Dan wondered hopefully, taking the bouquet back.

“Definitely,” Phil answered with a smirk, and then he was gone.

“Look, I’m really happy for you guys, but I would appreciate if I didn’t have to watch you and my brother suck face,” Izzy said, scrunching up her face.

“No promises,” Dan replied smiling down at the bouquet.

Izzy just rolled her eyes. “Come on Lover Boy, let’s go watch the other acts.”

Soon, every act had performed at it was time to announce the winners. Dan lined up with the other dancers, ready to go out on stage.

“Remember, I’m proud of you all no matter what. You’ve worked so hard, and that’s what’s important,” Ms. Jill told them as she lead them to the stage. They all murmured their appreciation, but everyone was thinking the same thing- they had to win this.

Once all of the ensemble groups were in formation on stage, a host came out holding the cards that had all of their fates tucked away inside. The host gave a brief welcome, making a few jokes that garnered polite laughs from the audience. And then it was time.

“In third place… Entry number seventy five, Swan Lake!” The group stood up and moved to the front of the stage, accepting their trophy. Their routine had been good, but Dan had noticed that the execution was a little sloppy. He quickly turned his attention back to the host, eager to hear the name of their entry called.

“In second place… Entry number twenty, Once Upon a Dream!” the host announced cheerfully. Another group of ballerinas ran to take their place next to the other group. This was it- either they’d won first place, or they hadn’t placed at all. Dan crossed his fingers on both hands.

“And finally, the winner of best ensemble, in first place… Entry number fifty seven, Young and Beautiful!” the host announced with a cheer.

That was them! They’d won, they’d actually won! First place, Dan couldn’t believe it. He stood up with the rest of the ballerinas to take their place at the front of the stage. The host handed Izzy the trophy and put out his microphone. “Can you tell us what studio you’re from?”

“Ms. Jill’s Elite Dance Centre!” Izzy exclaimed proudly. The cheering continued for a little while longer, and once everyone calmed down, the groups exited the stage so that the solo competitors could find out their rankings.

“First place! Congratulations!” Ms. Jill all but squealed once they were backstage. The ballerinas all ran forward and gave her a huge group hug (which was quite a feat, considering there were about fourteen of them).

“I want you all to get lots of rest okay? This means we’re officially going to the World Ballet Competition, and I need you all to be at peak performance level,” she instructed.

“Yes, Ms. Jill,” they answered in unison, but most of them were too excited to even start thinking about Worlds. They’d won! It was an exhilarating feeling, one they basked in for as long as possible before going to get changed or leaving to celebrate with their families.

“Dan! Are you coming to get dinner with us?” Louise asked after they’d finished changing.

“Not this time- there’s somewhere else I have to be,” he explained, barely containing his excitement.

“Oh, of course. Say hi to Phil for us,” Louise teased, poking him.

“Will do!” Dan called over his shoulder as he left.

“You won! How does it feel?” Phil asked the minute he saw him.

“It feels kind of amazing, actually. I still can’t believe it,” Dan answered. He’d been replaying the moment in his head over and over again, but that did nothing to lessen the shock.

“I can. You and Izzy practiced non-stop,” Phil pointed out as they walked.

“I wouldn’t exactly say non-stop, Mr. Come Play Videogames with Me I’m Bored,” Dan joked.

“Okay, fair point,” Phil replied laughing, “But still.”

“Still.” They fell into silence then, neither of them sure how to proceed- it seemed like they’d been building up to this moment for months, and now that they were here, neither of them were sure exactly how to proceed.

“Do you wanna go to Mary’s?” Phil asked finally, after what felt like an eternity of awkward silence.

“Yes,” Dan answered, nodding quickly.

They sat in the corner booth of Mary’s, squished together on one side and sharing a brownie sundae. The familiar environment eased some of the tension, and they slipped back into conversation easily.

“So… what exactly were you gonna ask me yesterday?” Dan wondered after their conversation died down a little.

“Oh! Um… Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to… Go out with me?” Phil asked in reply, searching his face for any kind of reaction.

“What are you, twelve?”

“Dan,” Phil whined in protest, but Dan just laughed and kissed his pout away.

“Is that a yes then?”

“No, I kiss everyone I’m about to brutally reject,” Dan replied, deadpan.

“You’re a brat, you know that?”

“You like it though.” Phil shrugged noncommittally, and then they were kissing again, lazy and sweet.

“Hey! You two! You can’t do that here, this is a family restaurant,” their waitress scolded, placing the check on the table

“Oh my God,” Dan groaned, hiding his face in Phil’s arm, which was currently shaking with laughter. He purposefully avoided eye contact with everyone in the restaurant as they left.

“The sun is setting, come on!” Phil called excitedly the minute the were outside.

“Where exactly are we going?” Dan asked, but he let himself be pulled along.

“We’re gonna watch the sunset,” Phil explained as they walked, hand in hand.

“You just live for cliches don’t you?” Dan teased, but he couldn’t help the fond smile that spread across his face, completely without his permission.

“Just humor me. Please?” Phil pleaded, pouting slightly. As if Dan was ever going to say no to him.

“Okay, okay.”

They walked until they came to a clearing that lead out to a small cliff. Phil dropped himself down unceremoniously at the edge and patted the spot next to him. Dan shook his head, but sat down, curling into his side, pulling his arm around him. They sat in silence for awhile, watching as the sun turned the sky shades of orange and red. Dan couldn’t even remember the last time he stopped to appreciate a sunset. It was nice. Really nice.

“See? How amazing is it that we get to witness this? And it happens every day,” Phil said, and Dan could practically feel the excitement radiating off of him.

“It’s really nice. I’m glad we’re here right now,” Dan admitted, for once not feeling the need to hide his sincerity behind a joke.

“Me too,” Phil answered softly, smiling at him in a way that made Dan feel warm all over. He pecked him on the cheek, and turned his attention back to the sight before him. Phil kissed his temple, wrapping his arms tighter around him, and Dan focused on taking a mental snapshot of this perfect moment to look back on whenever he needed it.

There were two things in life of which Dan was absolutely certain of. The first was that he loved ballet more than anything in the world. The second was that sitting here, watching all the colors of the sky, he could feel himself falling- where exactly, he wasn’t sure. But he knew Phil would be there to catch him. He couldn’t wait.

#pbb 2017 #phandom big bang #phandom big bang 2017 #phanfiction #Phanfic #enemies to friends to lovers #teen AU #ballet AU #my fic

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