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"They're going to cancel it," Phil says.
"No, they won't." Dan sounds tired. He's got to be tired; they'd been up on skype until half two, Phil packing and Dan watching him back through a glitchy grainy internet connection. It seemed dead boring to Phil, but he hasn't seen Dan in a few days and he won't for two weeks more with this family trip happening.
Now it's just gone nine the next night and Phil's waiting for an update on the third delay of the hour. "I should have just canceled the thing in London and flown out with mum and dad."
"You wanted to take that meeting," Dan says. "It might lead to something cool."
It won't, Phil's sure. He'd seen it in their eyes the moment they took in his stained t-shirt (from a coffee incident an hour before) and his weird floppy fringe and just how generally he didn't look like someone adult enough to be in business meetings or representing some company's product on the internet.
But he'd still taken the meeting, even though it meant taking a flight that left two hours after the one his parents were on.
"I'm gonna miss the first first dinner in Florida," Phil whines. "They always do pizza the first night. I'm missing Florida pizza!"
"Is it that different than London pizza?" Dan asks.
"It always tastes better," Phil says. It's probably not the recipe. It's probably just that he's always starving and exhausted after a travel day. But that makes it seem better.
He sits upright. "Oh! It's updating. It's-"
Flight canceled.
*
He can't even ring his mum and dad to let them know.
He might be twenty three years old now, but he'd really like to be able to ring his mum. She'd fussed enough as it was, letting him fly alone without even his brother for company. He'd been genuinely offended.
He'd take the offense back now if he could. If she were here to squeeze his shoulder and tell him what to do.
"Go get them to book you on the next flight," Dan says.
"I'm supposed to be in Florida in an hour." Phil's voice is stubborn but beyond that mildly panicked. He can't adjust his brain to this yet. "I'm supposed in be in Florida with my parents."
"Yeah," Dan says, bluntly but not unkindly, not if you really know him. "But you aren't. You're in London. And you're not going to get out of London until you tell someone you need to be on the next flight. If you don't hurry fast there'll be a queue."
Phil's already up and walking, unsteady steps as he waves through hurried people. He's wearing his backpack but all it has in it are his laptop, his camera equipment, his mobile chargers, a book to read, and some snacks. "Okay. I'm walking to the help desk. I'm almost there."
"Good," Dan says, stifling another yawn. "Ring me when you're done."
*
"There's not another flight tonight." Phil's voice is doing a weird shaky thing. "They put me on one tomorrow morning. It leaves at... 10:07. That's such an odd time isn't it, why seven minutes past the hour?"
"Phil," Dan says. "Breathe."
Phil breathes.
He's alone in a big city that he's not usually alone in. He's not got his family and he's not got Dan and he's not got any of his mates he's gone exploring with.
It's night time and he's alone and he's got nowhere to sleep and-
"Get your bank card out," Dan says. "I'm booking you a hotel room. It's cheap as fuck, it's like £25, you can do that yeah?"
"Yeah," Phil says.
"You'll have to get a car there yourself though. Numbers?"
Phil reads them out without a second thought.
"I'm emailing you the booking," Dan says, and only seconds later Phil hears the ding come through.
*
Dan's only eighteen. Phil's not sure how he's gotten so good at all of this.
"I'm not," Dan admits, when Phil says that to him. "I just don't want you wandering around the city alone or like, sleeping in an airport."
"I don't even have my clothes," Phil says.
"Did you ask if they could retrieve your bag?" Dan asks. "It must have still been there if the plane never left."
Phil swallows. He hadn't thought of that. "No," he says.
Dan probably thinks he's an idiot. Phil feels like he's an idiot.
"Okay, well," Dan says. "Ask the hotel if they can give you a toothbrush and one of those mini toothpastes at least."
Yeah. Dan definitely thinks he's stupid. Fatigue and emotion linger beyond Phil's browline like a headache waiting to be formed.
"I'm supposed to be in Florida," Phil says softly. "My mum and dad will be landing soon."
"I know." Dan meets his voice just as soft. "You will be, though. Tomorrow, yeah? You'll be there tomorrow."
Phil feels very tired now. The airport is big and empty as he walks through it. He feels overwhelmed and like everything has gone wrong so nothing will go right again.
But he doesn't know how to say that to Dan, especially not when Dan's had to listen to him panicking nonstop for the last five hours. So he just says, "Yeah."
*
The hotel room Dan booked is indeed small and cheap. There's a flimsy desk with chips in the plastic looking enamel and a bed that he's decidedly not going to check for stains.
Dan’s still texting him, at least. Phil hadn’t wanted to talk on the phone while he was in the taxi but he’s not honestly sure what state he’d be in if he hadn’t still been texting with Dan, letting Dan distract and ground him. But he’s all alone now and he’s got nothing else to do, so he touches his finger to the top name on his contacts list.
Dan doesn’t answer.
He texts, though - ten seconds later it comes through. sorry will ring u back in a sec
Even though he knows Dan’s not actually ignoring him, it makes something in Phil’s chest ache. He’s got no clothes, nothing to wash up with, nothing really to eat besides his snacks for the plane.
He should sleep soon, probably. He’s got to be back at the airport by eight, and even then he’s half convinced something will happen and he won’t be able to leave then either.
Maybe he should just call it a wash. Maybe he should get his luggage and go back home to Manchester and spend the whole of the next two weeks sulking in his room.
His phone rings. He snatches it up, thinking it’s Dan - but it’s not, it’s his mum, who must have gotten his dozen or so update texts. He spends a few minutes talking to her. It’s only afternoon there; he can hear the sounds of honking cars and American voices all behind her. It’s probably warm, too.
London’s having a drizzly sort of night. He’d gotten thoroughly damp in a disgusting way as he’d waited for a taxi.
Talking to his mum doesn’t make him feel better like he’d thought. She says all the right things but his mood is too far gone and all he can think about is how he isn’t there.
Maybe he’s silly for mourning the moments he misses when he knows it’s no one’s fault. But he is anyway, and when she says the international charges will be too high and she needs to let him go he doesn’t really argue it.
*
order a pizza, Dan texts.
It’s the first text to come through in almost twenty minutes. He’d assumed that Dan had probably fallen asleep. Any other night, Phil might find it cute.
not hungry, Phil texts back in place of what he really wants to ask, which is why Dan hadn’t sent him any messages in going on twenty minutes if he's actually been awake. He feels needy and shit and it would have been nice-
well i am so order a pizza. Bbq pls
Phil stares down in confusion, and then he hears a knock on the door. He’s thoroughly confused; this isn’t the sort of place that really does room service, and it’s far too late at night for cleaning people.
He squints through the peephole and his heart starts to race a bit. His fingers shake as he unlocks the chain lock from the door.
Dan’s standing there, bag slung over his shoulder and nervous smile on his face. “Thought you could use the company.”
Phil bursts into tears.
It’s not a neat, polite kind of crying. It’s the sort that happens when pressure’s been building in your heart and in your head all day long. It’s the meeting gone wrong and taking the wrong bus and the way the man in the security line made him feel like an idiot and the sick feeling of anticipation delayed as his flight got pushed back more and more and the way his taxi driver kept staring at him in the mirror and everything, just everything, feeling far too much for him to handle without his emotions just busting out of him in the least dignified of manners.
Dan’s laughing in the kindest way as he steps in and pushes Phil back a few steps, kicking the door shut behind him and folding Phil into a tight hug. Phil squeezes and squeezes and squeezes. “Why are you here? How-”
“These thing called trains,” Dan says. He’s still holding on with a solid, reassuring grip, chin tucked onto Phil’s shoulder. “I left as soon as I booked your room.”
“Why?” Phil asks. He pulls back, rubbing at his tired, stinging eyes.
“Because.” Dan tosses his bag on the bed and then shrugs his jacket off. “Because I could.”
*
An hour later they’re sat on a slightly too-small bed with a scratchy duvet in a room that smells slightly of dust but mostly of pizza. Phil’s wearing the pajama pants and t-shirt Dan brought him.
He’s got more clothes to wear tomorrow as well, and Dan’s shampoo and deodorant and body wash so he can even have a shower before he goes back to the airport. There’s something deeply soothing about knowing he’ll start off on what he hopes will be a smooth but long traveling day smelling of Dan.
He still wants to see his family. He still wants to be in Florida. But he’s also never going to turn down a bonus night with Dan.
He polishes off a third slice of pizza then leans his head on Dan’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he says.
“I’m a good boyfriend, yeah?” Dan answers, through a mouthful of cheese and dough.
“Yeah,” Phil says. He kisses Dan’s cheek, leaving a pizza-y smear of grease that Dan immediately cringes away from. “The best.”