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Dan’s dad is home early.
Phil knows before they actually get to the house, he knows when Dan pauses beside him halfway down his street and sighs, and he follows Dan’s gaze to the driveway, to where his dad’s car is parked at the end. Where it shouldn’t be. Not yet.
He’s known Dan’s family for a long time, and it’s complicated. All families are, he supposes, in their own ways. But not everyone’s family makes them take two steps back like Dan does, smooth his hair over and over, adjust his shirt collar, and rub the back of his hand furiously over his mouth.
“You look normal.” Phil tells him, keeping his voice low. “Hickey’s way down on your chest.”
He bites his lip at the way Dan tenses. All the leftover warmth and giddiness from their after-school fumbling around in the drama closet has effectively rushed its way out of his system. He figures the same goes for Dan.
“I know.” Dan finally mumbles, and he’s not sure if the accompanying eyeroll is from Phil’s dumb comment, or his annoyance at the situation or if he just wants to play it nonchalant. He’s not going to ask.
“Do you wanna just go to mine instead?” Phil offers after a couple beats of silence. “I don’t think anyone’s home, except maybe Martyn.” But Dan just muffles a groan in his throat.
“We’re already here. I’m sure he’s passed out in front of the telly already, we just have to be quiet going in.” He’s already walking again, so Phil follows along, albeit hesitantly.
“Are you sure? Because-”
“He’s an ass, Phil, but I’m not scared of him. Seriously.” Dan glances back at him, and the note of finality in his tone lets Phil know that they’re staying. So he follows along. It really isn’t a big deal for Dan, he guesses. Dan doesn’t have the same desperate, inherent need to people-please that Phil does. He just can’t imagine feeling that way towards his own family. He hopes that he never has to.
He shoves that thought away. It’s not a good time.
There’s a slight chill in the air as they walk in silence, leaves scattering along the pavement and occasionally crunching under their shoes. Phil loves this - this changing of the seasons. The orange and gold lights painted across the sky just before the quickly approaching dusk make him feel content. They’re pretty. They make him want to stop, and look at Dan, look at the shadows the sunset casts over his face, look at his eyes lit up all warm and golden-brown and just tell him he looks beautiful. Just… quietly. He would really love that.
It’s only when he turns his head to do at least the first part of that, that he realizes how far up ahead of him Dan actually is, already unlocking the door to his house and stepping inside. He’s disappointed, but there’s always tomorrow. So he sighs and picks up his pace a bit to follow behind.
*
The thing is that it was a dare, and a really stupid one. A really stupid drunk one at that. Something he shouldn’t have risked for a group of friends he barely tolerates, and Phil only pretends to like.
They’re not worth it, Dan realizes, as he stares down the kitchen table at the DVD he’d successfully stolen out of an adult shop last summer. And then at his dad sitting behind it, arms crossed and an expectant look on his face.
He’s not sure he’s ever felt this way. He’s been nervous. He’s been scared. But he’s never felt lost for breath, lost for words, lost for anything to do but stand frozen and terrified.
He can’t read his dad’s gaze, that’s not helping. He’s got a fairly good idea of what’s brewing underneath that poker face - something angry, derogatory, bigoted, something very upset with the truth in those rumors that float around town about his son being a—
He vaguely registers the sound of Phil coming in behind him over the blood rushing in his ears.
“Oh.” He hears Phil say as he walks up beside him, but his voice sounds far away. “Um. Hi, Mr. Howell.”
“Phil.” His dad responds with a curt greeting, but his eyes stay locked with Dan’s.
Please, at least not in front of Phil, he thinks. But then he hears Phil’s breath catch very softly, and knows that he’s seen the lewd, incriminating cover of the DVD case, and his father’s eyebrow raise lets him know that that’s permission enough.
“Dan,” his voice is calm, but cold. “Can you explain why your mother found gay pornography under your mattress this morning while she was cleaning out your room?”
He tries to will his heart to stop racing. It doesn’t. He could pass out at any minute.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Fuck, it wasn’t even supposed to happen at all.
“You’re quiet. I’d like an explanation.”
He should have thrown it out. Why didn’t he throw it out?
“Dan.” There’s more venom in his voice now.
Because it’s hot. Because he likes it. But no one’s supposed to know. No one but Phil.
In the back of his mind, he’s aware of the empty bottles littering the countertop behind the kitchen table, but that’s never stopped him fighting back against his dad before.
Fighting back. For the first time probably ever in his life, he has no idea how to fight back.
He’s just scared.
He opens his mouth to say something, because he won’t get away with being silent. Not with the fire he can see beginning in his dad’s eyes, his cool exterior starting to crack. No words come out of his mouth, though. He can’t think of anything but the hot tears welling up behind his own eyes and the sweat prickling his temples and forehead so badly that his hair’s gonna start curling soon if he doesn’t stop.
“It’s mine.”
He feels his heart plunge all the way down to his feet when his dad’s glare flickers rapidly over to Phil. He’s not looking, but he hears Phil breathe in, probably shakier than anything he’s ever heard.
His dad crosses his arms and examines Phil for a moment. “Pardon?”
Dan finally forces himself to turn his head, and wishes he hadn’t because Phil looks scared absolutely shitless. Like he’s about to cry, even, flushed and shaking. But he just tugs his hands through his hair and breathes in again and stares at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but dan’s dad.
“It’s mine, Mr. Howell, I’m sorry.”
Oh, his voice sounds awful. He sounds wrecked. Dan wants him to stop.
Phil keeps going, though. “Dan lets me keep it stashed here because I was scared of my parents finding it, a-and he said you guys don’t go in his room so he just- he hid it here for me.”
Phil’s an awful liar, but in this case, Dan doesn’t really think it matters. The whole thing would be a mess either way. And when Dan glances over at his dad again, it seems like it’s taking hold.
He nearly shits himself at the sound of the chair scraping against the floor when his dad stands up, swiping the DVD off the table and making his way towards them.
“You some kinda queer, then?” He asks when he stops in front of Phil. He glances between the DVD case and Phil’s terrified, terrified eyes. Up close, he smells way too boozy and Dan feels sick with it.
Phil’s voice when he answers is unbelievably small.
“I-I guess so. Yes.”
Dan doesn’t know if his heart rate is speeding up or slowing down right now. He doesn’t even feel like he’s here; he’s just floating above it all watching his dad and his best friend, his boyfriend, the boy he loves, hold each other’s gazes until his dad finally steps back and hands the DVD over. Phil receives it with shaking hands.
“You’re not my son, Phil. So I guess I can’t tell you what you’re allowed to watch in your free time.”
Phil swallows thickly. So does Dan.
“But it is my house. So keep it out of my house.”
Phil nods and practically sprints out the door. Dan’s dad gives him a final passing look before he trudges out the back door towards the garage.
Dan collapses into a kitchen chair.
*
He doesn’t remember walking home. He doesn’t remember going to his room or changing out of his school uniform or sitting back down on his bed. He comes back to reality when he glances away and realizes the DVD is still sitting on his desk in plain sight. He nearly trips over himself getting up, snatching it and shoving it as deep into his backpack as he can.
And then he paces.
Calm down, Phil.
He’s not going to calm down, but he also deserves to be in a panic. He hears his phone vibrate on his pillow, over and over, and a cold pit of dread settles in his stomach because he knows it can only be Dan. Dan could be mad at him. He hopped into the situation without any logical thinking because he has a lot he could lose from being outed, but Dan has more. Dan soaks up so much bullshit already. So many horrible words, so much taunting, even violence. Hate that he doesn’t deserve, that makes Phil’s chest ache, that makes him want to hold Dan and shield him from everything bad forever instead of flying scared under the radar the way he usually manages to do. That might change now, he reckons. He feels ill, but he goes to his bed anyway and flips open his phone.
[dan]: you shouldn’t have done that
[dan]: fuck phil why did you do that
[dan]: i cant believe you did that
[dan]: jesus christ
[dan]: phil
[dan]: im sorry
[dan]: im so sorry
[dan]: please just text me back so i know you’re ok you don’t have to say anything else
[dan]: phil
[dan]: im sorry please
[dan]: please
He scrolls between messages and his heart sinks more with each one. Dan’s not angry at least. But guilty isn’t much better.
He takes a minute to collect himself before he sends a reply.
[phil]: im ok
[dan]: fuck thank god
He chews his lip as he reads over Dan’s response, taking a deep breath before sending another.
[phil]: did you think that i wouldnt be
[dan]: idk. i wouldnt be
Phil scrubs a hand down over his face. He doesn’t know what to say. He hates Dan’s reply, but that isn’t Dan’s fault. He just hates that that’s how it is. He wants Dan to be okay.
Another message comes through before he can send anything back.
[dan]: i dont know whats gonna happen now. i dont know who hes gonna tell
The cold pit of dread returns with a vengeance, icier than before as he stares dumbly down at his screen. i dont know who hes gonna tell blurs in his vision.
[phil]: you think hes gonna tell people?
[dan]: hes not really the type to keep shit like this to himself
[dan]: i bet he goes around telling anyone wholl listen just hoping that itll get them to stop saying shit about me
Downstairs, Phil hears the door opening and the sound of his parents coming in with dinner, Martyn bounding downstairs two at a time after his mum calls for them, the scent of Chinese takeaway beginning to waft through the house.
He’d normally be thrilled, but he’s really not very hungry. All he can think of are his thoughts from earlier, sympathy for Dan’s situation, and desperate hope that he’d never have to be in the same one.
His family loves him. He knows that. But when it comes down to it, there’s really no telling.
Another two vibrations cause him to snap out of it.
[dan]: phil?
[dan] im sorry, fuck. i thought you knew.
He doesn’t realize that he’s crying until a rogue tear actually splatters onto his keyboard, and he hastily wipes both cheeks.
[phil]: i did i guess. i just didnt really think about it
[dan]: what are you gonna do?
His mum calls him again from the kitchen, something about hurrying up before his mushu pork gets cold.
[phil]: i dont know
[phil]: i gotta go now tho. mums calling me for dinner
He’s about to set his phone down when it goes off again.
[dan]: i need to see you
[dan]: tonight? your back garden? please
He smiles, just a little, and wipes his cheeks one more time.
[phil]: yeah, of course. midnight?
[dan]: always
Phil can’t really do anything besides nod to himself, typing out a quick heart before throwing his phone down for real. He stays sitting on his bed, listening to the sounds of his family downstairs. It makes his heart race again and his palms sweat, but he takes a deep breath nonetheless, stands up on shaky legs, and heads down to the kitchen.
*
It’s getting to that time of year where it’s pretty cold in the dead of night, but Dan really doesn’t regret not wearing a sweatshirt. His body’s running hot; it has been for hours, hiding out in his room and flinching at every noise in the hall and stealing careful glances at his dad over dinner. He doesn’t want to think about how easygoing he’d looked, just knowing that having a gay kid was gonna end up being a problem for some other parents instead of him. In the back of his mind, he’d wondered if his dad was even fully convinced. But he supposes denial can be very powerful.
He walks as quickly as he can to Phil’s house, but Phil’s already waiting for him in the garden by the time he gets there, sat on the swing that hangs from a large, sturdy tree.
He hardly even gives Phil time to stand up before he bolts straight into his arms, which might be why Phil nearly tumbles over on impact, but once he steadies himself he wraps his arms tightly around Dan’s waist, tucking his head into the crook of his shoulder and sighing.
Dan sighs too. He’s not sure what to even say, so he just stands there for a minute, arms clutching Phil’s shoulders and cheek resting against his silky black locks and he breathes him in, the clean, slightly spicy scent of his shampoo and body wash and fabric softener and every scent that Dan’s grown to love the most, every scent that makes Phil’s arms feel like home.
When he does speak, he finds himself welling up almost immediately. He’s not going to cry, he doesn’t deserve to cry, not in front of Phil. Phil would tell him otherwise, he knows that, but he’s not going to.
“I’m sorry.” He whispers, and turns to press a soft kiss to Phil’s forehead. He said it a million times over text, but that’s not enough. He doesn’t know if it will ever be enough, anything that he does. “I’m sorry, Phil.”
Phil shakes his head, but when he burrows further into the side of Dan’s neck, he hears him sniffle. His heart breaks. “It’s okay.” Phil whispers, and then it’s Dan’s turn to shake his head.
“It’s not okay.” He whispers back, and finally pulls away a little. “You took a bullet for me, you shouldn’t have had to—”
He pauses then, because even though he can see Phil’s eyes and cheeks glistening in the moonlight, there’s a small, bitten back smile on his lips. He furrows his eyebrows and reaches out to wipe some of the wetness away. “Phil?”
“Um. I told them.” Phil says with a shaky sigh, followed by a soft, disbelieving laugh and he drops his gaze briefly. “My family, I mean. I told them I’m gay.”
He stares at Phil for a while, the words taking a moment to register. “You… oh.” He whispers, because he doesn’t know what else to say, and then tugs Phil over towards his house, where they slide down against the wall and onto the ground, and then kiss again. And again.
“I just wanted them to hear it from me.” Phil tells him when they break apart. “You know, not anyone else.”
Dan feels a stab of guilt, then. He knows it’s not his fault that his dad’s a dick. But the guilt is there anyway. He thinks it’s there to stay for a while. He smooths his hand over Phil’s shoulder and down his arm, until their fingers slide together and their joined hands rest easily in Phil’s lap.
He finds it hard to look at Phil when he asks, but he does finally ask. “So… how was it?”
Phil scoots in closer to him, stretching his fingers out where they’re slotted between Dan’s before curling back in again. “Alright, actually?” He tells him. “I mean, weird. I think they were all surprised, but. They took it pretty well.”
“Yeah?” Dan’s chest warms at the thought of Phil’s family’s acceptance and love. He doesn’t even bother thinking about his own family, and leans in to kiss him again. Phil’s lips are soft and gentle and taste slightly like Haribo.
“Yeah.” Phil whispers against his lips and then pulls back to lean his head on Dan’s shoulder. “I think it’ll take them a while to get used to it. But mum and dad both said they were glad I told them. And Martyn was really cool. And then they all hugged me, and… yeah, then we didn’t really talk the rest of the night. But I feel okay.”
Okay is good. Even if it’s just okay for now. There’s going to be more, though. More to sort out. More stuff that’s probably not gonna be okay. He knows that, and he knows Phil knows, because he clings a little tighter.
For tonight, though, it’s okay. So Dan just sighs and clings right back.