Chapter Text
The day after the party was the second day of tryouts. Somehow, I had actually found a sport I wasn’t half bad at. Both Phil and Chris talked to me a lot and both seemed pretty impressed by how I was doing. To be fair, I was pretty impressed with me too.
Practices started the next week and I couldn’t help but thank fate that I wouldn’t have to go more than a couple of days without seeing Phil. And playing quidditch. Because, obviously, the sport was my first priority. Obviously.
The next few weeks were spent figuring out for the first time in my life how to juggle a sport and classes and constant daydreaming. Kyle didn’t talk to me much, but I couldn’t really be bothered to worry about it. It felt like I couldn’t even leave my dorm without him questioning where I was going. I suddenly found myself with nothing to say to him. Our pet names, once cute and fluffy, now seemed childish and sad to me. Our long strings of emojis in place of real conversation stopped being amused and started seeming pathetic – like an excuse to continue a conversation that ended the day I moved away.
One rainy afternoon I found myself desperate to talk to him, as it had been days since our last practice and god knows a few days was a few days too long. My excuse came in the form of quidditch equipment. Chris had mentioned a whole list of things we could/should have but I wasn’t sure what exactly I should get or where I should get it. I did get both his and Phil’s numbers though, just in case. Finally, I could talk to Phil again without seeming like a stalker. Even though I kind of was a stalker.
Me: hey phil! it’s dan. i was just wondering what that link for the mouthguards was again? thanks!
0161 496 0582: Hi Dan! I think Chris put the link on the team’s Facebook page but if you give me a second I can find it for you!
Me: ok thanks!
0161 496 0582: https://www.sisuguard.com/nextgen/
Me: thank u!! also, i hope it isn’t too much to ask but i don’t have a car here and i need to get knee pads and athletic tape, could u maybe drive me to the store?
0161 496 0582: Yeah, of course it’s not too much! We did specifically offer rides, didn’t we? Plus, I need to go anyway.
Me: ok :) when r u free?
0161 496 0582: How about tomorrow afternoon at 3?
Me: that works, see u then!
I quickly saved Phil’s number into my phone – “Phil :)” …no that’s too much… “Phil Lester <33333” …jesus Daniel, that’s way too much… I settled for a simple “Phil Lester”, although that didn’t accurately portray my unjustified level of happiness whenever I saw his texts show up on my phone.
I then went to the link he sent me, bless Apple products for integration and not having to type out the entire link because the message was sent to my laptop as well, and bought the mouthguard.
The rest of the evening and night passed with far too much anticipatory excitement to do anything but lay in my dorm room jittery and attempting to distract myself with Muse.
The next morning passed quickly with classes and attempting to maybe not procrastinate so much for once and get some actual work done. Finally, 3 o’clock arrived and I could stop anticipating and start remembering how to reign in my lovesick puppy-ness so that I could be a real person when he arrived.
On the way to the store, I discovered yet another reason we were meant to be together forever (ugh stop it Daniel) – he played nothing but Muse the entire ride there. I expressed my own love for them and we bonded over our favorite songs and albums. Once we got to the store, we wandered into the football section, lamenting the high price of the balls, because honestly they’re just stupid round pieces of rubber and plastic, and joked around between the aisles for a while before grabbing what we needed and heading to the checkout.
It felt like we had already been friends for years the way the conversation flowed so easily.
A couple weeks later, was to be our first tournament. It was going to be the one that we hosted as our autumn tournament. Chris told everyone we had to have our mouthguards by then. Mine had arrived but I hadn’t gotten the chance to mould it, due to the lack of a stove or other apparatus to boil water on in my dorm. Luckily, Phil had the brilliant idea of us making ours together at his and Chris’s house.
I went over to what was aptly titled “The Quidditch Haus” and we spent a couple hours moulding, remoulding, and remoulding the mouthguards again and again because we kept talking or laughing and messing them up.
The day of the tournament itself arrived and I scored my first in-game (and maybe ever) goal and forced myself into the space next to Phil for the post-tournament team picture. It felt like the first really good day I had had in a long time.
That night there was another party with the other teams that had attended the tournament at the Quidditch Haus again. Once again, I showered, spent like 5 hours working my stubborn curls to a level of straight I couldn’t possibly compete with, and made myself look as good as I possibly could. I hoped that night I would finally be able to get closer to Phil.
Kyle had threatened suggested a few times that he could come up and surprise me, so I was constantly on edge. Kyle didn’t know I had Snapchat because he believed that if I did have it I’d be sending nudes to every guy, girl, and nonbinary person who I happened to befriend. Every time I would think even for a second that he'd be making the trip up to Manchester, I’d quickly delete the app only to find that he wasn’t serious or he was lying and re-download it. It was getting tiring having to constantly juggle wanting to have a proper “uni experience” while simultaneously maintaining a long-distance relationship with someone who I still believed was worth it.
At the party that night, I somehow ended up on “Drunk Burger duty”, which is exactly what it sounds like – people were drunk and wanted burgers so I cooked them for them. Last I had heard, Phil was outside or in the basement with Chris some of our other teammates and their other friends. He had said he wanted a burger, which was why I started making them in the first place, but then he had disappeared, leaving me with a bunch of people I hardly knew and currently had no interest in knowing. It was just me and about 4 other guys all standing around the kitchen. One guy, Nick, was completely hammered although the party had barely started and we were attempting to get him to drink some water so he wouldn’t wake up and die from the hangover the next morning.
Somehow, the topic of people not being honest about their feelings had come up. They were all complaining how no one ever told them if they had a chance with them or not. I mentioned how I had no problem telling someone when they didn’t have a chance with me. I found it easier, I said, to just tell the person, instead of waiting for them to make things awkward when they made their move. Then Nick spoke up –
“Alright Dan. Then tell me, do I have a chance with you?”
I looked him in the eyes and, though he looked pitiful, realized I had no choice but to be honest. Curse my big mouth.
“No.” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too harsh. As all the guys in the room started to laugh, Chris popped up out of nowhere and asked me to come with him. There was a sense of urgency so I quickly followed him out of the kitchen into the living room.
“Chris, what’s up? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Phil. He’s having a panic attack and I don’t know what to do. Can you see if you can help him?”
“Yes, of course. Where is he? Do you know what caused it?”
Chris shrugged and sighed then said, “He’s in his room,” then ran back downstairs outside.
I hardly knew Phil. Chris was his best friend. What was I supposed to do that Chris wouldn’t be able to? Even with my doubts, I made my way down the stairs and knocked on Phil’s door. I could hear him loudly crying inside and my heart plummeted. Here was this beautiful human and something had hurt him enough to make him sound like that.
“come in,” a small and broken voice called. I opened the door slowly and moved into the dark room, closing it softly behind me.
“Hey,” I said in the gentlest voice I could, “can I come lie down with you?”
Phil made a little noise of consent so I moved over to the bed and lay down behind him, wrapping my arms around him. I remembered that when I used to get panic attacks a lot the thing that always helped me calm down the most was when my mom would wrap her arms tightly around me. It always made me feel more grounded.
“I need you to do something for me, okay?” I asked quietly.
“mhm,” Phil moaned out the sound like the weight of the world was crushing him.
“I need you to breathe while I count, okay? I’m going to count to 7 while you breathe in, then you’re going to hold your breath for 4 seconds, then breathe out for 8, okay? It’s going to be hard at first but I promise it’ll help.”
Phil agreed so I began counting. Slowly but surely, he began to calm down a bit. Once he was calm enough to, he spoke.
“Who is this?” Phil asked softly.
“It’s me, Dan,” I replied.
“Oh.” Phil’s voice broke a little bit on that word and he started crying again. I held him a little tighter, hoping that would help. He hadn’t pulled away so at least it wasn’t doing any harm.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
“Not yet, if that’s okay,” Phil said, sounding a tiny bit calmer.
“Of course,” I replied, “let me know when you’re ready.”
We laid there in his bed for a little while until he was able to calm down enough to breathe properly and stop crying as much. As he took slow, deep breaths, I gently rubbed his back and tried to keep counting so he could control it.
“I’m ready,” he said meekly, turning onto his back a bit more so he could look at me.
“Okay, go ahead,” I encouraged.
“Um, okay. Um, I’m going to tell you something, okay, but you can’t tell anyone. Please, like no one at all. I’ve never told anyone this but I need to.”
I swore up and down that I would never tell anyone whatever it was he was going to say, and I meant it. Whatever could make Phil feel so horrible that it put him through this much anxiety was not something that I could ever share.
“Um, okay. So, I was hanging out in the basement with Chris and Lia.” I remembered meeting Lia earlier that day. She was the previous president and one of the founders of Manchester’s quidditch team.
“Okay…” I said, wondering where this was going.
“And they were talking and Chris was flirting with her and– and–” Phil sighed, before continuing. “And I don’t know. I just broke. Dan, you have to promise, please never tell anyone this, but–” he paused again, struggling to admit whatever it was.
“I’m in love with Chris.”