Chapter Text
"How attached to this shirt are you?"
Phil turns away from his laptop, sufficiently distracted, and sighs. "Pretty attached, Chris. That's why it's in the 'keep' pile."
"Just checking," Chris says brightly. He drops the bright tee back on the pile, still unfolded and taking up prime real estate on the foot of Phil's bed. "I see packing is going well."
"I'm busy," Phil defends himself, minimizing the Neopets tab before Chris can call him out for it. He's just checking it out because Dan keeps making references to it and, unlike some of the other sites they'd wasted their youths on, it's still a functional website. His research folder takes front and center again, reminding Phil of what he's supposed to be doing right now.
"Yeah, I can see that," says Chris.
"Do you want something?" Phil asks, exasperated.
The way Chris grins at him makes Phil regret asking. He reaches out and spins Phil in his desk chair until Phil starts laughing and whining for him to stop. "Peej is making dinner, by which I mean he's the one using the Dominos app. You're going to come down and eat with the rest of us. We're playing board games."
Phil is still giggling a bit, but he tries to school his expression into something disapproving. "It's not just the three of you, is it?"
"Nope," Chris says unapologetically. "You're saying goodbye to everyone who lives here, mate. Do you need a crash course on their names?"
"Oh, fuck off," says Phil. "I know their names."
It's a bald-faced lie, but Phil is pretty sure he can get through pizza and games without knowing everybody's names. Chris shrugs, uncaring even though he clearly doesn't believe Phil.
"Come downstairs when you're done with your," Chris pauses intentionally, "date."
Phil looks at the clock on his laptop, surprised by how much time he'd apparently wasted in the Neopets games. "Oh, okay. Sure."
He's so busy getting Skype to cooperate that he doesn't even notice Chris leaving, but that's okay. He isn't planning on spending hours shut in his half-packed room or anything, but it's six o'clock on Wednesday and that means Dan is home.
The internet takes a couple minutes to actually connect the call, but then Dan's pixelated face is beaming at him from the screen. Phil grins back and settles his chin in one of his palms. "Hi."
"Hey, you," Dan says happily. Their face is bare and they're wearing the shirt that Phil had loaned them back when they'd first met. One of their knees is pulled up to their chest and there's a ferret skittering across their shoulders. Phil feels a pang of longing that's getting more and more familiar the closer he gets to the moving date. He'd figured that knowing he's moving to Manchester soon would make things better, but instead the pining is just getting worse. The days are moving too slowly and too quickly at the same time.
"How was class?"
Dan brightens. "It was good! I got to debate with this one jackass for a few minutes over the definition of eco-fascism."
"Sounds... fun?" Phil teases, settling his headphones properly over his ears so that all he can hear is Dan.
"It was, actually," says Dan. "How is writing going?"
They laugh at whatever guilty expression flits across Phil's face. Before they can remind Phil that this was his idea and that he's supposed to be good at self-discipline, Phil sticks his tongue out at them.
"Writing can bite my ass," Phil mutters. "I miss other people telling me how to do things."
Dan smiles knowingly. "No you don't."
"No, I don't," Phil agrees. He hears the doorbell and pulls a face. "Ugh, I have to go. We're doing a dinner with all the housemates as a, like, going away thing."
"That sounds fun," Dan hums. They pick up Tofu and wave one of his tiny paws. "We'll be here when you're free again. We miss you, dork."
"You know, Sophie asked me if I'll need an enclosure at my flat," Phil says, lips twitching. "And I think maybe she has a point. If Tofu and Pixel miss me this much already, how are they going to feel when I'm around all the time? I think joint custody is the solution here."
"You're an idiot," Dan says, fond. "Stop stalling and go be social."
With a deep, dramatic sort of sigh, Phil nods. "Okay, okay. I'll call you back when I'm done."
"You'd better."
Dan blows him a kiss and Phil pretends to catch it, just to let that familiar cackle surround him and make the late winter darkness seem a little brighter.