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It all starts when they move into the new London apartment. Somehow Dan’s room is where all the boxes linger months later - they sit in the corner of his room, and Phil pays them no mind, doesn’t seem to realise they’ve been emptied now for a while. It’s just a thing, now; Dan stacks the boxes in a corner, and on bad days, their simplicity, and their empty shape means something to him. Eventually he begins to use them, after Phil threatens to recycle them, he randomly spurts out that he is going to use them for something before knowing what.
Sometimes the boxes make him feel spaced out – making him think about Phil and this life they’ve built together, and what any of it means. That’s when he starts piling stuff into one of them – he starts with self soothing, the five senses, stuff to ground him, a worn t-shirt that no longer fits him, but feels smooth on his fingers, a candle, the fidget spinner that Dan had been so dismissive of to watch the iridescent twirl and twirl, and so on and so forth stuff accumulates. With a sharpie, he jokingly writes, ‘Dan’s Dank Depression box’, and Phil never looks in it again, or asked what was in it – he’s good like that.
The hot smoggy heat of a London summer eventually comes steaming in. Suddenly it’s June – It’s Dan’s birthday and there are drinks out on a balcony with old friends – and even though he is scared of what is next, it feels okay. He has goals he’s working towards, pointers to follow, to try and grip hold of wherever possible - new post it notes adorn the walls of his and Phil’s gaming room come office. A new yoga mat ends up in his ‘depression’ box, a gift from Phil that he won’t tell his audience about on the next live show. Also, Dan has a man, a good man – it is an abstract to thing to think of Phil in that way for some reason. He often sees it more so from other people, the way they praise Phil to Dan, about commonplace things to him, like his kindness, his thoughtfulness, or his tenacity – it will cause him to look over at where Phil is in the room and feel his heart soar, make every question that drudged along them quietly in their shared life, coming rushing out in his mind at full forced. Realising, they were lucky, that they still stood to gain – thoughts that were not in ink and never decided, but wistfully talked about in airport lounges, hotel rooms and whoever else – a forever home, dogs, marriage and children.
It’s late November, and he doesn’t plan it, he’s going to get them coffee and muffins, and he sees it. A ring, it shouldn’t mean anything – he sees jewellery shops all the time, and he does not believe in signs. He walks in and is surprised by his own voice asking the jeweller to see it. It’s black and gold, and for a minute Dan wonder if its purely aesthetic and selfish reasons that drew him to it. But no, he looks at the engraved and intricate design wrapping around the ring, resembling vines. No, it was Phil all over.
He stands there for a while turning it over in his fingers, before:
“Do you want to try it on? It’s a male ring, should fit, if not we can resize,” Dan looks up, startled. The jeweller continues on, “It’s Victorian, gold, we’re not 100 per cent sure if it was used as a promise ring, or a wedding ring. But then it wasn’t really till the 20th century that men received promise rings.”
“It’s,” Dan starts, “I assumed men’s wedding rings were just plain gold.’
“Yeah, it’s a bit more intricate, but you know, its one of a kind that.”
‘Yeah, Phil would love it,” Dan says in an awe struck voice, and the man smiles a knowing smile, as he lets his private adoration seep through into a public space with this stranger, in this tiny jewellers but he can’t bring himself to care.
The man senses his reticence; “I can hold it for you if you want? I don’t mean to pressure you, but I do really only have one of those.”
“Uh, no, it’s fine, I’ll take it.” He says, pulling out his wallet.
He grabs the coffee from the shop over, and runs back as fast as one can car when carrying hot beverages. Phil raises an eyebrow at Dan slightly, as he places down the Christmas themed drinks, and muffins down on the coffee table.
“Uh, just be back,” Dan says, hands still stuffed in his coat pockets, face slightly red.
He goes to his room, looking around slightly madly, not sure where to put the thing, in a room that is not entirely his, which even in its velvet box, somehow feels like it is burning a hole through his palm.
“Dan? Are you okay?” He can hear Phil loitering down the hall, trying to respect Dan’s privacy but curious all the same.
Quickly, Dan all but throws it the ‘Dan’s Dank Depression box,’ pushing over his yoga mat, making sure it falls to the bottom.
“Yeah, coming,” Dan calls back, before leaving the room.
In the coming weeks he thinks about that ring constantly. Watches the box by the side of the bed, more than normal – he’s waiting to regret it, he’s waiting to turn round to the store, and return it but the idea of someone else having it, pains him. Maybe he’ll just keep it, pack it away dutifully in a year or two, when there’s time to think about bricks and gardens. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do.
The next day, he goes to get his Yoga mat, and there’s a smaller box on top of his stuff.
“Uh Phil?” Dan calls out, who appears in the doorway holding two coffees.
“Yeah?’ Phil says.
“Have you been in my box?” Phil isn’t portraying any significant emotion, and god knows he’s a bad actor, but Dan can’t be certain.
“Oh no, I just thought a smaller box would help you order things, sorry if I-,”
“Um, no it’s fine,” Dan says, smiling as he grabs his coffee, he sits with Phil on the bed for a while before going to work out – even after Phil insists, “there’s other ways to work out.”
That evening Dan orders storage boxes on Amazon Prime. He transfers everything into there, and puts the ring into the smaller cardboard box, within the much bigger box, which he puts at the bottom of his wardrobe. It’s 10 days to Christmas and Dan hasn’t bought a Christmas present for Phil, and to calm himself, he pretends it’s simply slipped his mind, and that the ring, is definitely, definitely not that present.
They get another Amazon parcel, some DVDs and books for friends, Dan grabs up the box to put it in recycling, and somehow he wonders into his room and puts the smaller box into it – convincing himself its just a way to hide it.
It is a day before Phil leaves, and they are exchanging gifts tonight, drinking and probably having a lot of sex. Dan is staring into his open wardrobe, still in pyjamas, there is a box wrapped in silver paper with a bow on it, he feels a quiet sense of calm, until Phil sneaks up on him.
“Jesus fucking,” Phil is already clingy, and wraps his arms around Dan’s waist, kissing down his neck. “No peeking at presents,” Dan says, resolutely closing the wardrobe door, and turning into Phil and kissing him – which surprises Phil as Dan isn’t usually one for long morning make outs. Dan grips Phil’s shoulder as they kiss, feeling out the shape of his torso – he feels intoxicated, grounded, and sure, reminds himself that Phil is nothing to be scared of. This is nothing to feel scared of.
They get to the presents, once they are well into their second mulled wine.
“Presents, presents!” Phil chants, like an excited child. Dan rolls his eyes, before putting his drink down and going to grab the box.
Phil simply pulls his out from under the sofa – he is the worst at discretion, but Dan’s still utterly charmed.
“Oh, shiny and big.” Phil says as he comes into the room, Dan laughs and winks, and Phil makes grabby hands for it before Dan has even fully sat back down.
“Uh wait a sec – you first.”
Phil pouts, and rolls his eyes, “fine.”
Phil’s present to Dan is a black leather journal, and pen, there are few other knick-knacks, as well, but the journal feels most significant, and suddenly Dan can feel his heart swoop up into his throat.
“Dan,” Phil says softly then, reaching to touch his hand. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”
Dan looks down, shit; I am, he thinks, quickly putting the present down – making a joke about too much wine before thanking Phil by gushing the appropriate, and deserved amount.
“Uh, here open mine now,” he says, unceremoniously shoving the box at Phil.
It’s only when Phil is looking at the box, that Dan thinks, fuck, I don’t know what I’m going to say. Words, I haven’t thoughy about -
“Is this your old depression box?” Phil asks, having already peeled off the first layer of silver somewhat, “thought you got rid,” he mutters, rather mindlessly.
First layer down, and Dan has to give him some scissors to get through the tape with. Second box down, Phil rolls his eyes slightly, ‘Dan…’ he whines.
Dan finds it in him to be excited now, and smiles “keep going,” he says.
Phil pulls out the next box, and opens it to… another box.
“Honestly, Dan? Is this a prank? Are you secretly filming? Have I annoyed you or something?” Phil asks, exasperated now.
Dan is laughing slightly at this point – completely forgetting to worry at how he’s going to articulate what the thing means, will he even need to, he wonders. Phil is down to the last box now, and underneath he’ll see a red velvet ring box. Dan takes a deep breath, almost can’t look. He could stop this now; say it’s a joke.
Phil grabs the scissors again, sighing.
“Uh just, be careful,” Dan warns.
Phil becomes more alert now, there’s definitely something actually in there, he knows that at least now and he regards Dan for a second, before carefully running the scissors along the tape. Phil falls silent and Dan squints an eye shut, Phil pulls the red box out, his hand trembling as he does.
“Fucking hell, open it then.” Dan says, perhaps spoiling the moment somewhat – but he can’t help it.
“But Dan, what would you –,” Dan just widens his eyes meaningful and Phil opens the box, ring staring right back at him.
Dan should definitely be saying something. Or Phil maybe. Yeah. He’s not sure. Should have thought this through, Phil slaps a hand over his mouth, and the sound seems to reverberate in the silent room.
Phil looks up, and there are silent tears welling in his eyes, and in that moment all Dan wants to do is hold him but instead, he grabs his hand away from his mouth and the ring too, and slips it onto his left ring finger – it’s only slightly loose.
“God, sorry, I’m meant to ask the question first aren’t I?” Dan says, mesmerised by the black and gold against Phil’s skin but manages to meet Phi’s eyes.
“Will you marry me?” Dan asks, impressed with the clarity, the lack of tremor in his voice. He always knew, what he and Phil were, what they meant – but it was still a choice to ask, everyday is a choice with them – one they make over and over again. And Dan was happy with this particular choice, and certain Phil would follow with him.
‘Yes, Dan, yes, of course. Dan it’ so pretty, I –“ Then he shuts up and kisses Dan on the lips and all over his face, till Dan can’t help but laugh, feeling slightly lightheaded.