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By the time he comes to his senses, it’s too late.
It haunts him, day in and day out, how quickly the universe turned around and crushed his dreams. He still doesn’t believe in a higher power or fate or anything like that, he believes in horrible coincidences that just happen to make his life a cycle of suffering, because that’s what he’s used to. And there’s nothing out there that’s going to lead him into happiness, all he can do is get through it and keep trying and hold onto whatever good he has left.
Phil’s friendship is good. Which is why he’s responding when Phil walks into his room to ask Dan if he should wear this shirt or that shirt.
Dan could be petty and tell Phil to wear the least flattering outfit, but it doesn’t matter because nothing’s going to make Phil less attractive or less lovely to be around. He tells Phil the truth, that the red plaid suits him well and contrasts his eyes.
Phil looks at him wide-eyed for a moment and Dan wonders if now is the moment he said too much. Maybe this is the moment he should say too much. Blurt it out. But the moment passes and Phil turns quickly. He messes with his hair in Dan’s mirror repeatedly.
The nerves radiating off of Phil are making him nervous. It gives him hope that Phil might cancel, but he says no such thing.
Dan could try to convince him to stay home, but he’s been a selfish, horrible friend up until now and he can’t bring himself to take the opportunity away from Phil to meet someone better, as much as he wants to.
Two years. That's how long they’ve been best friends, the majority of it as roommates. That’s the timeframe that Phil hasn’t gone on a date, at least, so obviously it was going to happen one day. He wasn’t going to wait forever.
Without being told all the details, he knows that Phil has never had a serious relationship and had little luck with dating during university in general, though not for lack of trying. He doesn’t understand how people don’t flock toward Phil, but then again, he was also one of the people to let Phil down easy.
It wasn’t for his lack of interest, he can admit now. More like internalized homophobia and self-hatred. It’s not that he’s past those things, but maybe he deserves some happiness anyway. It’s why he dropped out of uni to pursue Youtube, it’s why he’s talked to a couple of doctors about mental health, it’s why he said yes to being Phil’s flatmate.
Then Phil walked unannounced into his bedroom with a dating app open on his phone of all things and a big smile on his face.
Dan knew he fucked up immediately. He waited too long.
-
He still has selfish hope that the date will be a trainwreck. He can imagine it now, Phil coming home with an exaggerated story about some weirdo that asked to tickle his feet or something. But deep down, he knows it’s not going to turn out that way.
But if the date does go bad, Dan’s not going to wait a second longer and lose his chance again.
It’s a comforting idea, but then the time drags on, and on, and it’s so late that either Phil has been murdered in a park somewhere, or something worse.
When Phil gets home, Dan has the urge to scold him for not texting with his location, for being reckless staying so late, but there’s no weight behind it, just all these pent up emotions. He hears the pep in his step out in the hall and the sound of Phil humming as he brushes his teeth and he doesn’t even come to say hello so Dan stays right where he is and stares at the wall.
It’s too late.
He stays in bed until he can’t possibly ignore his necessities for living. Not that living has too much appeal right now, but his body is physically begging for a pee and some food.
He almost thinks he can get away with sneaking his cereal back to the room while Phil’s stuck on a level of Crash Bandicoot but then he dies and turns around with a too-big smile.
“Hey,” Phil says.
“Hi.”
Phil looks at him like he’s waiting for Dan to ask the question. After a couple of beats, he answers it himself.
“I liked him. And he didn’t murder me, which is always a plus.”
“That’s good,” Dan says.
“Are you feeling okay?” Phil’s smile disappears quickly.
Dan shrugs. “Fine. Bad day, ‘guess.”
Phil looks at him sympathetically. He’s used to Dan’s bad days at least.
“Dominoes later?” Phil asks.
“Yeah, maybe.”
Dan already has a foot out of the room so Phil turns back to the TV and slouches down. Dan just stole Phil’s smile from him. Maybe there is a reason this is happening to him.
Phil doesn’t coax Dan out of his room for pizza, he brings the pizza to Dan and makes himself comfortable on his bed. Dan scoots as far away as he can because he didn’t shower today but he does take a slice of pizza graciously.
“You look like a starving gremlin,” Phil comments.
Dan glares up at him. “If you get crumbs on my bed I’m actually going to murder you in cold blood.”
Phil gives in and leans over the pizza box so they’re both hunched in close to the centre of the bed. Dan avoids looking in those blue eyes with all his might.
Phil keeps looking at him though, he can feel it.
“Stephen wants to go to the movies tonight, don’t know if I should go,” Phil says.
“No?” Dan asks, chewing.
“What do you think?”
Dan feels a flash of anger that he needs to be put into this position as designated best friend, not that Phil would have any idea. He shrugs. “I don’t know, just go if you want to.”
“Maybe I will, then,” Phil says, and Dan doesn’t know if he’s imagined the slight annoyance in Phil’s voice.
They finish the pizza which is rather tasteless to Dan and then Phil leaves, and soon the front door closes.
He wakes with the resolve to not ruin his friendship with Phil over his searing jealousy. It’s a nasty, pathetic feeling. There’s more to his life than finding comfort in Phil now, there really is. He’s pumping out videos and watching his paycheck rise by margins. He’s settling into the freedom of adulthood and trying to take care of himself more than before.
There’s nothing to say things would have ever worked out with Phil. Dan was a rather horrible boyfriend in the past, alternating between hiding away and clinging obsessively, everything based around his own insecurities. He’s not going to ruin the only friendship he has that is based on a pure sense of connection and support. They’re better than that.
It’s rather easy to pretend Stephen doesn’t exist, that Dan just has some more free time at night to play Guild Wars. That the early morning hours before Phil returns are filled with nothing out of the ordinary, that marks on Phil’s neck are shadows and that Phil’s always been this happy.
He can’t always kid himself, but he can venture into five-hour-long Wikipedia dives until his eyes blur his vision.
Strangely, the thing he mourns the most is how far behind in their TV shows they’re becoming. The PVR fills up and this one part of their life feels the burden of being replaced.
“I’m heading out!” Phil calls through his door. It’s like a strange wordless agreement to ignore this person coming between them so that it won’t feel true.
Until he comes over. Dan anticipated an awkward introduction, but that doesn’t happen.
What happens is he watches Bake Off reruns until he’s bored, then he scrolls through Tumblr, laptop perched on his chest until he dozes off and the screen turns black in front of him, submerging him in complete darkness.
The rattly door lock wakes him and there’s no time to escape, two heavy footsteps and hushed voices are in the kitchen quickly. Phil clicks on the light above the stove and Dan decides the best course of action is to feign sleeping and hope he goes unnoticed. He’s sitting here in his pants for fucks sake.
An unfamiliar laugh carries from the kitchen and Phil shushes him.
“Is Dan sleeping?” A voice asks.
“Probably not, but his room is just over there.”
“Can I meet him?”
There’s a pause. “Not right now. Later.”
Dan hears a mumble in response and then… other noises. Wet noises. Dan’s chest clenches up. He opens his eyes.
He can see the top half of a man over the breakfast bar. He’s mostly blocking Dan’s view of Phil. Dan takes a risk and lifts on his elbows. Phil’s pressed up against the counter being kissed. Rather hard.
A lot of thoughts go through Dan’s mind. First that he wants it to stop. He wants to pull that man right off of Phil like his life depends on it. Then he wants to step into that spot in place of him, press up against Phil. It’s easier to imagine when he sees Phil in said position, and his dick almost immediately responds. Which is confusing.
Phil makes a high-pitched noise and Dan knows that tone is going to stay with him forever.
With an “mm” noise, Phil pushes Stephen away. “You want your beer or what?”
“Want you more.”
“Shh. Patience.”
Dan doesn’t want to have that conversation forever in his memory. He’d rather forget that immediately. His chest clenches up in a much worse way.
The fridge spills bright light into the room so as quietly as Dan can, he settles back down on the couch and closes his eyes. He wants it to be over. He wants Stephen to leave immediately. He wants the comfort of knowing Phil is alone in his bed. This man wasn’t supposed to last. Things were supposed to go back to normal.
There’s the sound of clinking bottles and the whiz of opening bottles and bumps of Phil’s clumsiness that Stephen giggles at. Then, after a couple of footsteps, Phil’s voice saying, “Dan?”
Fuck. Dan’s eyes pop open and he immediately regrets it. He should have pretended to be asleep some more. It’s too late. Phil and a stranger are staring at him expectantly. He pushes up on his elbows and pulls his knees up and pretends to look around and take in his surroundings.
“Huh? I must have fallen asleep,” he mumbles.
“Oh, well, uh, Stephen this is Dan, Dan, Stephen.” Phil flaps his hands between them and it’s torturously awkward.
“Hey, mate.” Stephen raises his beer bottle.
“Hey,” Dan says with a small salute, hating himself for it.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, same. Though kind of wishing it was in a different moment.” He rubs underneath his eyes for the sole purpose of hiding his face. At least he isn’t acting now.
Stephen laughs maybe a bit too much. “We can pretend it didn’t even happen. Anyway, you want a beer?”
Dan holds back a comment about how it’s his beer. “Nah, I better go sleep in an actual bed.”
“All right. We’ll have our real meet in the morning.” He raises his bottle again.
Dan doesn’t know if he’s more upset by the fact he’s sleeping over or how horrible it is that all of them are horrendously awkward. Phil is looking completely tense and like he doesn’t know where to put his hands when he should be the one making things less weird.
“Sounds good,” Dan mumbles. “Night.”
They both echo it off and Dan has to watch them walk down the hall together. He waits for a door to click before he quickly makes his way to his room, not even bothering to brush his teeth. He lays down and doesn’t know how he’s ever going to stand up again.
Then he learns how thin the walls really are, and how creaky Phil’s bed is. He only hears it for a moment before tearing his room apart to find his noise-cancelling headphones.
He does manage to stand up and straighten his hair and get dressed before breakfast. He feels a little out of place because Phil and Stephen are still in pyjamas. Well, Stephen is in Phil’s pyjamas.
Stephen comes right at him with an outstretched hand. Dan stares at him dumbfounded.
“I’m Stephen, nice to meet you.” He takes Dan’s hand.
Dan closes his eyes and nods. He’s still going along with that joke, then. “You, too,” Dan says.
“Want breakfast?”
Dan feels annoyed again that Stephen isn’t recognizing that this is Dan’s apartment. And Phil’s. Not his. He avoids Phil’s gaze but gets a peek at the eggs on the burner and slowly nods.
No one can tell him he isn’t putting effort into being cordial while Phil cooks and he sits and listens to Stephen’s life story. Supervisor at a restaurant, moved here from the deeper North, roommates with his best friend, too. Dan can’t help but take in his appearance now, as much as he never wanted that mental image. He looks solid, just as tall as him, with dark eyes and curls on his head, and not quite as pale as Phil, but close.
Dan really shouldn’t be imagining Phil and his boyfriend fucking, but his brain supplies it anyway. He undresses Stephen with his eyes and feels a bit sick at his own judgement. He wasn’t looking great himself last night, but at least this morning he’s more cleaned up. It makes him feel marginally better about himself.
He’s on the other side of the breakfast bar facing them, watching them talk, and Dan can’t bring himself to look up. The pleasantries feel like they last forever and then Stephen is sighing about his evening shift and standing up.
Dan watches them kiss in front of the door. He can see their lips meet at this angle and he thinks about last night, seeing Phil pressed against the counter, kissed much harder and more desperately than right now. Stephen seems like he’s really into Phil. Not that Dan can blame him, but it feels like yet another spot he’s taken from Dan. The front door closes and Dan feels like he can breathe.
He starts to gather up the dishes and Phil comes next to him to help.
“So…” Phil says.
“Mhm?”
Phil looks at him and Dan finally looks back. His eyes are wide and mouth tight.
“You don’t like him, do you?”
Phil sounds more matter-of-fact than disappointed, Dan thinks.
“What? No, he was nice.”
“Nice?”
Dan gives him a look. “I liked him, Phil,” he lies.
Phil frowns and turns on the tap.
“Sorry ‘bout last night. You were awake, weren’t you?” Phil asks.
“I woke up when you got in,” Dan admits.
“Sorry. That’s pretty awkward.” Phil winces. The pleasured noise Phil had made invades Dan’s mind instantly.
“Stop saying sorry. It’s fine. And we’re adults,” Dan says.
“You should have said something.”
“I thought it would be less awkward if you guys just didn’t see me.”
“Shoulda picked a better hiding spot then. Behind the couch or something.” Phil giggles.
“I’m not that fuckin’ weird. God, we all had to be awkward, didn’t we? Wouldn’t have turned out any other way with us.”
Phil laughs harder, scrunching up his eyes. “We’re doomed to awkward moments.”
“Literally.”
Phil quiets down and they wash dishes for a few moments more. He pauses and turns toward Dan.
“You know I trust what you think, right? And you can tell me anything,” he says, emphasizing the word ‘anything’.
“I know. I’m just in a mood. You know how it is.”
“You can talk to me about that too.”
“I’m fine, Phil.” He focuses on drying dishes and Phil goes quiet. It’s the silence that stretches on that makes him realize he misses Phil.
“Mario Kart would help?” he says, and Phil beams at him.
***
His memory isn’t very good. Sometimes he thinks his constant overthinking fills his brain, contorts and filters his thoughts, creates feelings out of thin air to the point that Dan can’t trust his own mind. It also means he has no idea what Phil’s perspective of 2009 is.
Dan’s perspective is a lot of flirting, a lot of jokes and pushing things and receiving compliments from Phil, and silence when it got too overt.
He hooked up with a lot of men that summer, some before the breakup with his girlfriend and some after, all men found on AOL and with little safety measures, but it’s not like Dan had all that much value for his own life.
When he was invited to Phil’s house for a weekend, parents out, he thought something might happen. And he wanted something to happen, it was on his mind many, many nights with a hand down his pants.
What he remembers of that trip is feeling safe. He remembers loud laughter that bothered shopkeepers and waitresses and deprecating jokes turning into real, heartfelt conversations and thoughts about what it means to be happy.
Phil also touched him lots, going so far as to bite at his hands and shoulder. But the scratching and petting felt nice. It was weird, but it made Dan feel like he could be weird too.
It began to make him nervous, all the purposeful touching. It’s what he wanted, right? But he didn’t want to hook up with Phil. He wanted so much more.
For the first time in his life, he had a best friend, a companion of sorts. Hooking up in tiny bedrooms and leaving before family returned home and using fake names online didn’t fit with his perception of Phil. Neither did the overbearing shame, the memories of name-calling and comments, the depression that came over him. He wanted Phil to stay safe.
On the last day, Studio Ghibli movie playing and stacks of breakfast dishes drying on the coffee table, Phil kept scooting closer. His hands began visibly trembling. He stared stiffly at the TV. Dan had seen it happen a few times, and Dan had come up with distractions that paused the moment but Phil was determined now.
Dan can remember the tingle on his skin where Phil draped his arm around his shoulder. It was so not-smooth that it was that much more endearing. Phil put his forehead down on Dan’s shoulder for a moment, pressing close with affection, and then he placed a kiss on Dan’s neck. Shivers covered every part of Dan’s body.
Dan vaguely remembers a million thoughts going through his mind but the one he settled on was that everything could be ruined. Before Phil made it up to his mouth, he gently pushed him away and said, “I’m sorry.”
Then he laughed. He regrets that now, it still makes his chest clench up. It was only because he felt awkward and wanted to play it off casually without showing all of his far too vulnerable cards. Phil didn’t laugh back, he looked crushed. Or that’s how Dan remembers it before he looked away.
“I’m sorry, I don’t…”
“It’s okay really, I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be—”
“No really, it’s fine.”
He looked up to a reassuring smile and Phil moving a couple of inches away on trembling limbs.
The rest of that day is a blur. The movie must have ended. Dan probably offered to help clean up and Phil probably refused. Somehow, they got to the train station and that’s where the memory rushes back in like he’d been holding down the fast forward and suddenly let go. The goodbye was stilted, Phil’s arms wrapped around him tightly but Dan’s hung at his sides. The train was about to leave. He didn’t look out the window, didn’t wave goodbye, he just put his headphones in and sat in an empty row at the back of the car. Phil must have stood on the platform watching him go, but he wouldn’t know.
Please let me know when you’re home safe.
Dan didn’t answer that text except to send a quick, here safe, when he got home. Two days went by, longer than they’d gone without talking since the day they first connected online. A simple miscommunication could be repaired between friends but this didn’t feel simple anymore. Every hour that passed felt like a new fumble, another mistake to add to the pile of regret Dan had amassed.
On the fourth day, Phil texted, Dan? Are you okay?
And before Dan could respond, another message.
I think we should talk about what happened before you left.
He stared at that message for ten minutes, finger hovering over the phone. All the right words played in his head, I’m sorry I pushed you away. It’s not because I don’t want you, I do. You mean so much to me, I want to make sure we do this right. I’m happy being your friend but I’d like to be more. None of them made it to the screen.
Yeah, he typed, I guess we should. I’m sorry Phil.
He hit send and kept typing but Phil had clearly been typing too.
I shouldn’t have done that. We’re friends and I feel like I violated your trust or something. Having you at the house all weekend was really cool. You’re my best friend Dan. I hope I haven’t ruined everything.
You didn’t ruin anything Phil. He hit send just as another message came through and goddamnit, could Phil please give him a second to gather his thoughts.
You mean a lot to me, Dan. I just got my feelings confused.
Oh.
Of course his feelings were confused. Close friendship can feel a lot like attraction when you’re young and you’ve been waiting so long to just be who you are. Hormones and close proximity and shared laughter and wine can really muddy the waters. Maybe that’s what Dan was feeling too. He knew that wasn’t true but he chose to believe it anyway. He told himself it was all a misunderstanding, that his heart would sort it out. He told himself the feelings would fade. He was wrong.
***
Phil’s gone a few nights a week at this point. He comes home tipsy and smiling, giddy from whatever he’s been doing for hours. Sometimes he doesn’t come home at all and Dan hears him sneak in in the morning. He doesn’t ask for Dan’s opinion on Stephen anymore and Dan hasn’t seen him since that first awkward meeting. It’s possible they didn't work out, that Phil has been seeing some other guy or several other guys. Casual hook ups have never been Phil’s thing but denial is a tried and true coping mechanism for Dan and he’s not going to give it up now.
He really shouldn’t sit at home like this. It’s pathetic. He’s got friends but they’re Phil’s friends too, every single one of them. If he rang one up, they’d ask about Phil and he can’t fathom having that conversation right now. It would be a shock anyway, to hear from Dan. Phil always makes the plans, game nights, dinners, drinks. No one bothers texting Dan because they know he won’t respond. They reach out to Phil and assume he’s included. Dan and Phil are a package deal, were a package deal.
His routine is established now, say goodbye to Phil, scroll through Grindr for an hour, stand in front of the open fridge, give up and order take away. Lather, rinse, repeat. Tonight, he actually chatted with some bloke named Eric. They flirted until it got boring and Dan knew he’d never have the guts to meet up, so he signed off without saying goodbye. He ordered Thai food from someplace he’d never tried and settled in to play Skyrim until he felt like he could sleep.
That lasted all of thirty minutes. It started with a sour stomach and ended with Dan hunched over the toilet like a Saturday night at uni. He knew something had tasted off. This is what he gets for eating a poor defenseless chicken when he’s been trying to go vegan this year. He’s in bed, fully clothed, curled around a mixing bowl, when he hears the front door.
“No Dan this time?”
Stephen. Dan’s stomach churns and he grips the bowl tight, hoping he won’t have to use it. He can feel his sweaty hair, newly drenched, sticking to his forehead.
“Guess not.” Phil says, barely audible through Dan’s door.
“Perfect,” Stephen says, “I can blow you on the sofa then.” Dan would kill for his headphones right now. Why is he so loud?
“Shh. He’s probably in bed.”
“At 9:30?” Stephen says and Dan can hear someone opening cupboards in the kitchen. “Maybe he had a date.”
“Dan doesn’t date.” Phil says.
It goes quiet then, too quiet, and Dan wishes they’d start talking again. If they’re talking, they aren’t kissing. Goddamnit, why aren’t they talking? He tries to pull himself up to find his headphones and end this torture but then there are heavy footsteps on the stairs.
“Dan, are you in there?”
“Yeah,” he says, flopping back down on his pillow, “Don’t come in-“
The door opens and Phil’s head peeks in. “Dan, oh my god, are you ill?”
“Yeah, I’m, fine.” Seeing Phil, Dan feels utterly exhausted. “You should go, I’m disgusting.”
Phil walks in and sits on the edge of the bed as if Dan hadn’t said a thing. He reaches out and presses a hand to Dan’s clammy forehead and Dan really may cry if he doesn’t get out of here.
“Oh god no, Phil. I’m so sweaty and gross. Really, you should go back to-“
“Do you have stomach flu?” Phil interrupts, “When’s the last time you ate?”
Dan shakes his head but the effect is likely lost with his head on the pillow. “Dodgy Thai food. I ate chicken. I’m being punished.”
“Oh Dan. Did you puke?”
“Can’t you tell?” Dan ventures a laugh but it comes out a miserable groan. “Just the entire contents of my stomach. No big deal.”
Phil picks up the towel Dan had dropped on the floor on his way from the toilet to the bed, and walks out of the room. Dan hears the tap turn on.
“Alright mister, out of that sweaty bed,” Phil says, taking the bowl from Dan’s arms, “that can’t be good for you.”
He wants to protest but Phil’s brow is pinched and Dan would do most anything to wipe the concern from his face. Slowly, he pulls himself up to sitting and with a deep breath, he stands on wobbly legs. Before he can collapse back down onto the bed, Phil’s arm hooks under his, holding him up. They walk to the bathroom together.
Phil leans in and turns off the tap. The tub is full of shimmering green water.
“It’s peppermint,” he says, “That’s good for tummies.”
Dan chuckles softly and doesn’t even mind the new wave of nausea it brings. The water is steaming and it does look like heaven. He’d like to strip down and climb in but Phil is stood there staring at him.
“Shouldn’t you get back to Stephen?”
A look of genuine surprise flashes on Phil’s face, “Stephen! I forgot he was here!” He laughs a little. “Call out if you need me.” He slides the bin close to the tub before he leaves.
Dan closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of the bath. He has no idea how long he’s in there but he almost feels normal when he pulls the drain plug and stands up carefully. He brushes his teeth and then brushes them again, washes his face and moisturizes, then wraps a towel around his waist and heads back to his room, watching carefully lest Stephen come out of Phil’s room.
His favorite pyjamas are laid out on the freshly made bed and there are two glasses on the bedside table, one with water, one with Lucozade. He’s dressed and climbing back into bed when Phil steps through the door again.
“I got the laundry started. Are you tired?”
“Phil you didn’t have to do all this. Go back to your date.”
Phill scoffs and pulls the duvet up over Dan. “Stephen went home. Sip slowly at first, but try to hydrate. Do you need toast?”
“No, don’t think I’m ready for toast yet.”
Phil nods and smiles, turning toward the door.
“Phil,” Dan says, “I’m not really sleepy anymore. Do you wanna maybe watch something?”
A smile stretches across Phil’s face. He’s so beautiful like this, eyes crinkled, proud of himself. Phil loves to give.
“Yeah,” he says, “let me just change into pjs.”
Dan wants to ask about Stephen. He wants to know whether Phil asked him to leave or he left of his own accord. He wants to know if he was angry. He knows he should apologize.
Phil’s back and climbing into bed next to him, tucking his legs under the covers.
“I’m sorry I fucked up your night.” Dan says as he turns his television on and looks through Netflix on his phone.
Phil waves a hand vaguely, “I’m having a great night.”
Dan remembers hitting play on the movie but that’s all he remembers. When he wakes up, the credits are rolling. There’s a string of drool stretching from the corner of his mouth to Phil’s shoulder where his head is resting. Phil’s head is flopped back against the headboard and he’s snoring lightly. Dan watches him stir and roll over, laying down without ever waking up. He turns off the television, chugs his Lucozade and switches the light off before laying down next to his best friend and falling asleep.
Dan wakes at an unusually reasonable hour. The sun is pouring through the window, glinting off of Phil’s black hair. He looks gorgeous like this, still and resting, soft. They’ve slept in the same room before but not since those early sleep overs and never in the same bed. Watching Phil’s chest rise and fall, Dan’s duvet moving with it, he can almost pretend this is his life, that Phil is his and that waking up together like this is a daily occurrence.
As quietly as he can, he shifts and rolls out of bed. He’s halfway through making pancakes when Phil shows up in the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and looking all together too cute for so early in the day.
“Are you cooking?” He says in his raspy morning voice, “You’re ill Dan, let me do that.” He tries to take the spatula but Dan shoos him away.
“I’m good Phil, all recovered thanks to you.” He smiles at Phil but looks away. “Sit. This is your thank you breakfast.”
Dan serves up two plates of fluffy American style pancakes with butter and maple syrup. Phil watches with wide eyes as Dan pours the coffee and sits across from him at the kitchen table.
“Thanks Dan. This looks amazing.”
“So,” Dan begins hesitantly, “I was thinking, I can get out of here tonight. So you and Stephen can have the place to yourself.”
Phil hums around a mouthful, reaching for his mug to wash it down.
“Um, I think I’m gonna take a break from Stephen actually.”
Dan quirks a brow in question.
“He’s very sweet but I’m just not feeling it. And I think he is.” He pushes his food around with his fork. “He wants to celebrate our three month anniversary and he talks about the future all the time. I’m not ready to be exclusive with him.”
“Okay,” Dan says, “Phil wants to play the field. I see how it is.”
“Stop it. Nothing like that.” He’s blushing. It’s just the slightest bit of pink at the apples of his cheeks but on that ivory skin, it’s obvious. “I just don’t think Stephen is the one.”
“You really believe that huh? That there’s one person out there for everyone?”
“I don’t know.” Phil looks up at Dan, catching his eyes and Dan feels suddenly exposed. “I think there is for me.”
It feels good to have Phil around again on Friday nights. Dan had really missed arguing over who gets the door when the take away arrives. He missed talking to him late at night, punchy and delirious. But what he missed the most was the silence. When Phil’s not around, Dan needs background noise, music or some television show he’s seen a million times. It doesn’t matter, just anything to fill the spaces in his mind so he can focus. When Phil is here though, they can sit together, on their respective laptops, quiet. Every so often one of them will share an idea or ask an opinion. They collaborate in looks and sounds, in the air between them and in all the things they don’t have to say. That comfort fills the spaces instead and Dan has never felt that anywhere but right here with Phil.
Tonight, as Dan picks apart a script he’s working on for a future video, he listens to Phil’s pen moving across the paper in his book of ideas. He knows it’s only a matter of time before Phil meets someone else. He’ll fall in love one day. He’ll move out. They won’t always be Dan and Phil. They aren’t a double act, a duo, a couple, they never have been. The realization hits him that he’ll be alone again. If he wants to keep his best friend, he needs to forge his independence and open himself up to other people. He needs a plan for his future and the first step is to get over Phil.
“What do you think about marathons?”
Dan is sitting on Phil’s bed flipping through his idea book, drawing little stars next to his favorites. When Phil isn’t in the lounge or the gaming room, Dan tends to wander in here. Phil looks up from the laundry he’s folding.
“As a concept?” Phil says, “fine, I guess. I think I’d trip over my feet and break my bird nose on the pavement.”
“Oh definitely, no running for Philly. But what about me? I think I might train for the London Marathon.”
Phil just laughs but then he turns to look at Dan. “You’re serious?”
“Maybe,” he says, “I need to accomplish things, on my own.”
“You accomplish things Dan, all the time. I feel like you may want to start smaller.” He grins and pulls two nearly identical shirts from the closet.
“Which one?”
Dan twists his lips, thinking. “I told you last time, the red plaid is your signature look.”
“Okay, but what is your favorite shirt on me? Like, what would you dress me in if it was totally up to you?”
“Ah!” Dan says, standing and walking to the row of shelves in Phil’s closet. “Not a shirt, a jumper.” He shoves the jumper into Phil’s hands.
“Black, of course.”
“Yes, but it’s got the sparkly bits too,” Dan says, “its very you and the black looks so good on you, it’s a perfect contrast with your vampire skin. Makes your eyes pop too.”
He watches Phil fold the jumper messily and place it on his chest of drawers atop a folded pair of jeans.
“So, hot date tonight?”
“Maybe,” Phil says, “I’m not sure he likes me. I’m trying to muster up the courage by starting with the outfit.”
“Well he’d be a fool to pass on AmazingPhil.” Dan is trying his best, he really is. “Where’d you meet him?”
Phil scratches the back of his head, he does that when he’s nervous. “Um, the internet.”
Dan laughs a bit, it’s clear Phil isn’t giving him anything on this guy. He can’t blame him after the way things were with Stephen.
“You have plans?” Phil asks, getting back to his pile of unfolded laundry.
“Oh yeah, big plans. I’m gonna run to the Tesco and then I’m gonna order a pizza and then I’m gonna eat it.” Dan stands and moves toward the door. “Better get on that. Let me know what your guy says.”
“You’ll be the first to know.” Phil says without looking up.
If he’s going to sit home alone while Phil is out being doted on by some beefy Adonis named Gunther or something, Dan is going to need ice cream. Turns out he also needs chocolate, and crisps, and 2 bottles of wine. By the time he’s home, Phil is all dressed up and looking gorgeous. Dan drops the groceries in the kitchen and swallows the lump in his throat.
“You look great, Phil. Really great,” he says as he meets Phil back in the lounge, “Guessing he said yes then?”
Phil clears his throat, shifting from foot to foot.
“Not yet,” he says. “Remember that posh sushi place, the one we went to on our first trip to London?”
Dan nods. “You got a reservation?” He hears his voice crack and curses his emotional throat.
“I made it two weeks ago. Now I just have to ask you. I’ve been trying and failing all week so he we are.”
“Him,” Dan says, “you have to ask him. You said me.” He laughs in spite of himself.
“Yeah, about him, he’s you.” Phil is gnawing on his lip and staring at Dan who has no bloody idea what he’s getting at. “I know I tried this and I know you weren’t interested but maybe if we start at the beginning.”
His eyes are so hopeful, glinting in the dim evening light of the lounge.
“The beginning?” Dan stutters out.
“Yeah,” Phil says with a crooked smile, “Usually that’s a first date.” He reaches out for Dan’s hand but only brushes their fingers together before pulling back. “I don’t want to rush you but the reservation is in an hour so- will you have dinner with me?”
It isn’t often that Dan is speechless. Phil’s words are all jumbled in his head and he can’t quite make sense of them. He’s been living inside this regret for so long, it’s hard to imagine a world where he and Phil are what he’s always wanted them to be. He’s been on this edge before, when he reached out to Phil, when he told him everything, when he posted his first video. Phil’s been there for every step of Dan’s journey, every time he pushed past this feeling that he isn’t enough. This is just one more fear to overcome, one more turning point on the way to something great. One more time, he’ll take Phil’s hand and jump. There really isn’t anything left to think about and only one thing left to say.
“Yes.”