Work Text:
Last night boy I met you
Yeah, when I was sleeping
You're such a dream to me
There's something about it that still rings unbelievable to you.
Your eyes are focused on Phil, captivated by the way he speaks - hands flailing around in that way that he has when he's telling a story, eyes sparkling with scattered stars amongst a sea of deep blue.
You dreamt about those hands last night, dreamt about the boy they belong to. It wasn't the first time, probably won't even be the last, this welcomed guest in your most vulnerable times. In your dream he was pressing lips on your body, tracing undiscovered patterns on your skin, the feeling of it so realistic you swear you could still feel it when you woke up.
It was impossible to stop yourself from telling him, bottom lip in between your teeth as you texted him the images still swimming in your brain, heart hammering in your chest and a stiff erection in between your legs as you waited for a reply that you knew would soon come.
How weird, that something that only a few months ago was so unbelievable is now part of your everyday life, as natural as it is breathing, the knowledge that Phil will make time for you.
You don't always feel as certain of that. Sometimes it sneaks up to you, the fear that he will get tired of you - of how much you care about this relationship that you're slowly building, word after word shared over an internet connection that is soon going to turn into face to face conversations.
“Excuse me, um, I love you"
I know that's not the way to start a conversation, trouble
I watch them other girls when they come and bug you
But I felt like I knew you, so I just wanted to hug you
It's approaching soon, the day that you will finally get to meet Phil in person. It feels like your heart skips a beat whenever you're reminded of it, the tickets for the trip heavy in your hand whenever you take them out of their envelope, afraid that if you don't check they won't be there anymore.
You’re so eager, but also so afraid. Afraid that you built it up in your head bigger than it actually is, afraid that it will turn out to be less than ideal.
It does you no good to dwell on that idea, you know that, yet you're unable to completely let go of it, the shadow of fears clinging to your shoulders as the clock ticks down the hours separating you from knowing the truth.
You spend most of your days rewatching his old videos, reading back to conversations that are weeks and months old, wondering what is actually going to happen, the moment you first see him. Sometimes it’s weird to remind yourself that you still haven’t met - it feels so real, what you feel for him, so strong that it's impossible to tell your heart to calm down, to stop caring so much.
How can you possibly do that, when all you want to say whenever he smiles at you, picture grainy because of the webcam, is that you love him?
I love you, I love you, I love you, a litany of thoughts as loud as thundering, the weight of them paralyzing your lips and drying out your throat.
I love you, the words that would spin in your head whenever you spent hours in your bed thinking about him, guilt and shame making your chest feel tight when you knew you weren't supposed to feel like that, when you knew there was someone else that deserved that love from you.
I love you, the only coherent thing in your mind whenever he's talking to you, eyes focused on your face like he can't get enough of watching you, as interested in you as he seemed to be the first time you talked.
How could someone like him survey the crowd of internet praise and see you? When so many other people, so many boys and girls, would crawl on top of each other in the digital rings of Twitter and YouTube to fight for his attention.
And in between all of you invading the space of his social media, he saw you. He extended his hand to pick you up from the crowd, surprised curiosity in his eyes and his words, “I feel like I know you”.
Is this real, baby?
(Bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum)
You like?
It still feels too easy, too unrealistic, that he would do that.
Why would he? There’s nothing special about you, not really. You were one of the many, yelling word of affection and appreciation into the void, like everyone else. There was nothing different in what you did, nothing different in the way you pushed and pushed, wasn’t it?.
Or maybe you yelled just a little bit louder, for a little bit longer. Maybe you yelled the right things, the thing that no one else was saying, the things that would show exactly how much you liked him.
And surprisingly, he liked you too.
"I love you"
Who starts a conversation like that? Nobody, but I do
But you are not a picture, I can't cut you up and hide you
I'll get you out my mind, mhm, I tried to
He likes you, so much so that he wants to meet you, that he is going to meet you, in just a matter of days.
Just a matter of days, and you will get to wrap your arms around him, feel the broadness of his chest against yours - that chest that you’ve seen without a shirt so many times now, not in a video shared for everyone to see, just for you, in the almost darkness of your bedroom illuminated by the laptop only.
It’s so easy, when it’s the two of you on Skype - and you’re terrified that you’re gonna lose it. You’re terrified that you feel too much and you won’t be able to handle it once you’re in front of him, once he’s close enough to touch and kiss and love.
Part of you want to tear the tickets in pieces, crumple them in your hands, ask your brother to hide them from you. Delete every single thing that could ruin this perfect balance that you have now, this thing that only exists on an internet connection, a collection of pixels and frames on a laptop screen that has somehow become so important to you.
A thing that you could destroy so easily, make it as if it never happened in the first place, this impossible daydream of meeting AmazingPhil.
You could stop, if you wanted to, right? You could go on without meeting him. You’ve survived long enough when you were nothing but a name in the void, orbiting the online space of AmazingPhil, trying to catch a glimpse of him that no one else would see. You succeeded, didn’t you?
You were special, you stood out, you got what you wanted. There’s no reason to become greedy, now, isn’t it?
But I just want to stand and yell
I will never dare to tell
Think I heard some wedding bells, shh, keep it to yourself
Is this real? (Is this real?)
But really, you know it’s not true. You know you would never be able to delete him from your mind, not completely; you would never be able to stop thinking about him, not when the dreams that fill your nights are all about Phil, endless loops of different situations, different ways of meeting him, of loving him, just you and him - not AmazingPhil, the character he puts on to show the outside world.
Just Phil - although, for you, it was never just Phil, not when he’s everything.
Is it normal, you wonder, to want someone so much? To imagine a future with a person that you don’t really know, no matter how much you think you do?
“What are you thinking?”
He asks with a curious voice, pulling you from the cycle of doubt that you've fallen into. His eyes are blue and bright and eager - always so eager - to know what you're thinking, to hear your opinion, to listen to every word that spills from your lips.
You've never felt as listened as when Phil looks at you, uncaring of the laggy internet connection, an obvious desire to know you.
I think that I love you, you want to say, want to mark on his skin with burning lips, a proof to everyone else that he is yours.
I don't just wanna touch you
I'm tryna turn two single people into a couple
What's your next month like? Tell me what you're up to
We can leave right now, boy, you don't need a duffle
“Just thinking about next week,” you say, trying to hide the wavering insecurity in your voice and how you want him to reassure you.
The cheeky grin that shows up on his face is enough to calm some of the doubts down.
“Oh yeah? Why, you doing anything important?” He says, tongue poking out of his mouth in such an endearing way that it's a conscious effort to stop yourself from sighing dreamingly
You smile back, because it's impossible not to - impossible to keep yourself from feeling happiness around him, albeit for a little while. You wish you could bottle him up, keep him forever with you, in your pockets, in your brain, whispering encouraging words, holding your hands when the world is too scary.
How can you pass him up, you wonder? How can you avoid falling for him, how can you stop dreaming about squeezing close to him, so much so that you become one thing, never to be apart again?
“Maybe,” is your reply, a hint of flirting in your voice, the telltale warmth of a blush starting on your cheeks at the way his eyes drop on your lips.
“Well,” he starts, leaning over the screen and invading your focus even more, “tell me more about it. Maybe I can keep you company.”
“Maybe you will,” you say.
When he smiles you make a mental note to check the tickets in your drawer, just one more time, just to make sure that they're still there, the tangible proof that in only a matter of days, you will see him - no longer just a dream.
‘Cause you're such a dream (does this end?)
If you can believe, you're such a dream to me
To me, mmm, boy, to me