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Lost souls never find true love if they waste it, Daniel. Be careful who you trust…
His mother’s words echoed, hard and icy, in his head. He had left his childhood home only an hour ago, the train hadn’t even reached London yet, and still the connotations of her words imposed on his safe little bubble. The bubble he shared with Phil.
Phil would be waiting for him. At least that’s what Dan hoped. Usually it was true, but he was never sure who to trust. That was the problem with not having a birthmark; not having a soul.
Your soulmate was meant to be your ultimate connection, the one person in the world who could not hurt you to any degree, and who you’d be able to contact any time.
Dan did not have the luxury of that. He’d live in fear for all of his life, as he had before, that anyone and everyone could use him and he wouldn’t know.
Well, except Phil. Phil wouldn’t do that to him.
Staring emptily, eyes glazed, out of the carriage window at the hives of crispy snow, Dan reached carefully towards his phone to text him. He’d promised, and he wasn’t one to break promises. Sure, it was a coping mechanism for his fear of being betrayed as then people would be more likely to do the same to him, but it was a good trait nonetheless.
He’d texted him this morning, a short and sweet response to a ramble about not having enough cereal since Dan ate almost all of it before he left for Wokingham. He hadn’t wanted to go out and buy any without him, either,
It was nice. It felt nice, being this domestic even if they were just friends.
Then again Dan couldn’t deny what he’d told his mother late last evening. It was too late for denial now.
The coffee had been smoking hot and the fire had been sweltering, and the snow had been falling slowly outside the darkened windows. He’d sat her down with determination burning within but it had soon been buried with hushed whispers and awkward gestures.
Dan had never been strong when it came to his own family. This was the one time he felt he had to be. To secure the future of a family with Phil.
He was in love with him. In love love.
There had always been romantic inklings between them, of course. Over the past six years too, not just the tweets and the pick-up lines from before they met in two-thousand and nine.
Still it had never lead anywhere, even without Phil exploring any chemistry he had with other people. That was possibly the strangest part about it all; Phil not making any effort in finding that special someone even when he wasn’t meant to end up with a lost soul like Dan.
Then again he had always said things would come as they were meant to.
Unlike Dan he’d most likely find his soulmate one day, since he had one.
It did hurt a little bit, but Dan wasn’t going to let that stop him. He had made his mind up, with the help of his mother, who had decided to be helpful and supportive for once and not just distant or unintentionally condescending, which had always been her reaction to their youtube careers (for example).
He’d be eternally grateful for this, and he had made sure she knew that not matter what the future held, he’d still be grateful for her help and supporting hand in the matter.
He was going to ask Phil out, with just enough courage now that he hadn’t felt in forever. May it make or break them. May it give in, or take him.
A light vibration on Dan’s knee sent him flying out of his spiralling thoughts. Phil had responded, albeit with only two simple emojis.
That familiar light fluttering burst deep within the depths of his stomach, and Dan smiled widely down at the message. The time above it pointed out it was just ten minutes until he’d reach the edges of London. Then he’d be home.
The landscape whizzed past, white and serene. It’d be nice to get all the anxiety off his chest, especially after the stress the tour brought, including for his feelings.
It’d be nice to come home again.
Dan swore under his breath, fiddling with the key for the third time in a row. For whatever reason the door to their apartment wouldn’t open, and Phil had texted him just half an hour before he arrived, saying he’d take a nap as his usual headache was starting to creep up.
He really wanted and needed Phil to rest, so no way in hell was he going to bang on pots and pans or shout into the void for him to come open the door for him.
“Dammit..” he grumbled, once again, and let his hand drop from the lock. It slammed with a metallic clang on the handle, and he winced audibly, shutting his watering eyes. The world really was against him today, wasn’t it-
Hitching breath, Dan froze when he heard stumbling footsteps approaching.
The door flew open, facing Dan with a bleary eyed and bewildered Phil, messy black hair, and glasses hanging dangerously off the bridge of his nose.
Reaching up, his hand was almost touching his face when he realised Phil could most definitely adjust them on his own. He took a frightened step backwards, jumping out of his own skin.
“Sorry!” Dan squeaked. Phil only gaped at him for a few more seconds, dribble almost escaping in the corner of his mouth, until his face split in a warm and delighted smile.
“You’re back!” he grinned, and enveloped Dan’s shoulders with one arm, bringing him inside. He let go once the door had shut behind them and they reached the top of the first stairs. The spot his hand had rested on still tingled and felt heated even without his lingering touch.
Phil turned around once Dan stopped, silent in the doorway.
“Y’know you could’ve just texted me, it’d have been easier for the both of us, Dan.” he said, still that happy air in his voice. “And the neighbours too, of course. Think of the noise complaints!”
When Dan didn’t say anything, simply grimaced happily, it all fell away, crumbling, and he walked back up to him.
“Dan, are you alright?”
Dan nodded. The stupid smile he put on didn’t seem to be good enough to fool him at first, but a second later Phil was smiling again, though there seemed to be a cautious edge to his presence. He reached out and squeezed him, this time a warm and long while, and Dan reciprocated as best as he could.
“Just happy to be home again..” he mumbled, burying his face into the crook of Phil’s neck. It felt wet and sloppy and kinda out of place to have his lips there, but it wasn’t too unusual for them, so he didn’t bother to stop and think of why?
They let go after what felt like an eternity to Dan. The butterflies in his stomach swirled and flew as if on steroids, or high. He could never tell the different.
The feeling was just immensely exciting.
“Shall I make dinner? Hungry?” Phil asked, already glancing out the doorway.
Dan sucked in a deep, happy breath before steadying his own smile. “Sure.”
“And what would you like?”
“Anything you’d like to make. Make a feast if you’re hungry enough.”
Phil smiled wider at that, and gave his arm another comforting squeeze before pushing past him. He stood still, for a rather long while, until Phil’s scrambling and bustling pulled him out of his own head.
Yeah, he liked this. He liked being so domestic, and it was nice to be reminded so did the both of them. He liked being home, with Phil.
“Dan, dinner’s ready!”
He sank further into the sofa crease, a silent sigh playing on his lips. Of course it was, and not that he wasn’t happy for it… rather, he wasn’t so sure he was ready to see Phil again.
It may have been only forty minutes since they last saw face to face, but he’d have and certainly feel the urge to compliment Phil and his cooking once he did. There was a certain dread coming with it, which had grown since he made the decision to tell him he loved him.
Phil shouted for him again when he didn’t get up, and this time Dan complied after grumbling a bit more.
They nearly bumped into one another as he went down the stairwell from the gaming room, as Phil left the kitchen. He looked bewildered, his glasses tilted and his hair messy again, and his eyes were glassy with worry.
He was hot and fit and sweaty, too, and something about the situation froze him in place. It seemed opportune to just blurt it out.
“Dan, are you alright?” Phil asked when he said nothing, still, and the care in his voice made his heart rate pick up to a dangerous pace. “Seriously, Dan, if something’s wrong then-”
“I-”
His breath hitched in his throat.
Just tell him, Dan thought. Just tell him. You can do it. Take a deep breath, and just get it out there. It won’t hurt you.
“I-”
Phil looked into his face, concern flashing across his own.
Dan tried, and he tried, and he tried again to form the words bouncing around in his head, filling each inch of his existence. Instead his mouth simply opened and closed, and with each second that went by empty, Phil seemed to get more restless, and suddenly he was standing right in front of him.
His arms weren’t crossed, but he seemed to be more cross than anything else. Or maybe that was an endless distance from any real emotion he held in his gentle palms, and Dan was just projecting his own fears onto his kind best friend.
Deep breath, Dan reminded himself. Deep breath.
And then he pushed all the air out of his lungs with terrible force, a quiet sound escaping across his lips. He looked deep into the blues and yellows and greens of Phil’s eyes as he did.
“I love you.”
He’d finally gotten it out there, into the open air, even if sadness echoed in each word he formed using his obviously tired voice.
“And it’s fine if you don’t love me back, Phil. I’ll let you find your soulmate if that’s the case. I can promise I won’t stand in your way, it’s your happiness that you’ll find in your tattoo, after all.” he continued, staying frozen on the spot by the accord of his own solemn mind. “We can still be just friends.”
A long second of silence dragged on, clawing into his bones.
Confusion changed into shock and alarm, which then etched itself onto Phil’s pretty features. One hand was twirling with the end of his black fringe.
He had made no effort to respond, and if his gaping mouth was a sign, he was more baffled than happy at the confession.
Realisation and dread settled together, at first harsh and then suddenly dormant, in Dan’s gut. It had all gone horribly wrong, clearly.
Dan swiveled on the spot, quickening his pace. If Phil wanted nothing to do with him and wanted him to go, so be it. But then he wanted to get out of there faster than his mind or legs could ever take him. The pain would be too much to bear, to see the face of the man he loved twist in disgust at his presence, or even just look apprehensive, now that he knew.
“Dan.. I don’t have a tattoo.”
He froze, one foot a step above the other in his rush to get back up to the top floor, blood cold, pounding in his ears. “You what ?”
Phil audibly gulped behind him. “I don’t have a tattoo.” he repeated, a little louder, but Dan could still not be certain he had heard him correctly. Of course Phil sensed this, and explained himself once more. A stab at his heart, with just how well they knew each other. “I won’t find my soulmate, Dan, because I don’t have one.”
With one fist fumbling with the hem of his sleeve, and the other’s knuckles going white in an excruciatingly painful way, he turned back around to face him again. The venom was strong and bitter as it swirled around his mouth, waiting to be thrown.
“Liar.”
“I’m not-”
Dan raised a hand, stopping his friend’s thoughts and words in its track.
“You lied to me, Phil Lester. You told me you had a tattoo and that you’ve been looking forwards to the day you and your soulmate would find one another.” he spat, not a care in the world but justice for his boiling heart. “You’ve been telling me that for a long six years, Phil, and only now do you care to tell me my heart has been shattering every day during that time for nothing ?!”
He glared at Phil, whose puppy eyes were bulging from his face and just as bluish green and adorable as ever. He tried to not let that deter him, and took a step closer to him, readying himself to walk away.
A sigh escaped over Phil’s pouting lips as he deterred his eyes. “Dan, I’m sorry.”
“Tell someone who you actually care about, will you!” he hissed, glaring into his averted features for a short moment, and then he pushed past him fully, leaving him and other tearfilled, harsh phrases behind.
The cold December night greeted Dan with a stern face and a judging mind. He hadn’t even bothered with putting on a coat, and was now shivering terribly. He had only wanted to get away. Maybe it was a subconscious decision, which would give him an excuse to go back to the apartment later on, once he was ready.
The very least he could hope was that Phil would still be there once he came back.
A small snowflake landed, lonely and grey, on his nose. It melted quickly, rolling like a wet crystal tear down his face as soon as it had. The sensation, surprisingly, halted his very real urge to cry.
Tall and silent buildings towered above him, silence rattling the dark windows Dan saw each time he looked up. The grey pavement collided with his heels, like a harsh reminder every step he took, pulling him back into reality each time he tried to escape from it.
He had walked these streets, day and night, with the man he loved. He had walked these streets with Phil, despite knowing he could never be loved back, only because he could trust him.
Phil had lied. The one person he had thought he could trust had lied to him.
Did the other youtubers know? Had Phil’s friends known? Had their friends known? Had Dan’s ignorance in the face of his own love and trust been a game for them, if they did? Had Phil found it funny to play with his sensitive heart like that?
He could’ve loved him all this time and he decided to lie anyways, intentionally shattering his heart with every breath they took, with every second that ticked closer to the moment he was meant to meet his true love. His soulmate.
Yet there was no soulmate. Dan could’ve held himself in that spot in Phil’s arms ages ago.
This time a real waterfall cascaded down Dan’s face. The tears froze and crystallized before they fell off his jawline, and the cold made his already reddening and numb face hurt, like someone was pricking toothpicks rather sharply into his skin.
Each breath he took the truth threw itself at the walls of his mind.
Phil’s a liar. Phil’s a liar and he used him.
The tears wouldn’t stop falling. Still he kept on walking.
Dan had walked for what felt like hours in the crisp London night went when he got tired of the white and blue stars and the dim Christmas lights. He wanted nothing more or less than Phil’s pale starspeckled body and face next to his own, and his warmth near him, a stark contrast to the bitter outside world.
He turned, and began to walk home, alone in the silent night. Somewhere far away a chorus of Christmas carols bounced off red brick walls.
The heavy metal door to their complex was within his sights when Dan saw a shadow creeping up on him.
That was odd. None of their neighbors were typically out at this hour.
They were both walking with steady steps but something odd was up with the other person’s movement. He was just about to turn and ask if the person needed help, when-
Clack!
-an excruciating pain exploded on the side of his face.
He screamed, but nothing ripped itself out of his throat but an ache. It wretched and it clawed, and it brought him hell.
For a couple of seconds he was nothing but it.
Something wet and crimson flowed down his face, in the corner of his vision. It felt warm and hot on his numb cheek, and its source was itching and invisible.
Was it blood? He didn’t know.
Dan had no clue when he hit the icy pavement, but by the time he did the world he saw was dark, and the pounding in his ears overpowered any shouts and screams that could possibly be flying around him. His eyes fluttered shut, in absolute agony.
It hurt. Like a knife twisting in his gut, or a bony, forceful hand ripping and clawing out his brain with its nails.
With a sudden burst of stars appearing in his vision, he was enveloped by a strong pair of arms which tugged gently at his hoodie, cradling him in a deep, deep, silent sleep. He couldn’t tell if they were real arms or something of his imagination.
Dan welcomed them anyways.
He never heard the sirens. The sirens, echoing in the night. He never heard Phil’s sorrowful scream, tearing into the darkness around him, trying to get him back out.
Not yet, at least.