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Everything is too bright and too loud, and Dan is trying to concentrate, but his head is aching. He's sure his flat is just around the corner, but he's thought that for the last two blocks, and his head is starting to spin. If he can just find that one tree...
He's not sure exactly what time it is, his phone died long ago, but judging by the lack of people crowding the streets, he assumes it's early, too early to be walking around in an alcoholic haze. But he has to get home, he can't stay out here too much longer. His fingers are frozen, and he wishes he brought a jacket. He runs his fingers through his almost curly hair, trying to focus on the task at hand.
Dan never usually gets wasted like this, because he knows damn well that he has a low tolerance for drinking, and the next day is always hell. But tonight seemed to be an exception, and he can't remember why. He doesn't think it's any sort of special occasion, and he was definitely alone, so no friends to influence him.
And he doesn't even know where's he's been all night, but most likely at that one shady bar a few blocks from his place, judging by the smell of cigarettes plastered to his skin and the taste of cheap booze on his tongue. Yeah, probably there. He surely can't afford to go anywhere else, and... ah, now he remembers.
He doesn't have a job anymore. He used to work at some obscure printing company, with crap pay and shitty hours, but he was okay with that. He'd been pulled aside, told the company didn't have the funds to keep paying all the workers, and he apparently wasn't 'important enough' to keep. He didn't think he'd be so upset by it, he'd been hoping to find another job anyway, but it was maybe the fact he'd been fired, instead of him quitting. That's be sure to lower anyone's ego.
And so that's why he's drank his night away, at some shady bar until he couldn't see straight, and now he doesn't seem to know where the fuck he is.
The sky is actually starting to lighten up now, dark blue receding into a sort of cerulean, with pink just on the horizon. It was pretty, he thought, the morning. When everything was beginning to start over, and everyone else seemed to be missing it. Dan was sure he'd be more appreciative of it if he didn't feel so shitty.
He starts moving again, putting one foot in front of the other cautiously and trying to calm down, but he stumbles slightly, giggling as he regains his balance shakily. He feels kind of hot, even though the wind is sharp against his bare arms, and everything is starting to blur, colors and sound making him dizzy, and he bends over, vomiting onto the ground in front of him. He feels uneven, like his body is different all over, but he's less nauseous.
"You okay, mate?" someone asks, from somewhere to his left. Dan mutters incoherently, keeping his eyes closed against the pounding in his head. He feels a hand on his shoulder, warmth invading the chill of the air, and he opens his eyes.
The guy standing next to him is gorgeous, that's the only thing that Dan can really comprehend. His eyes seem to match the morning sky above them, a deep kind of blue that have a sort of depth to them. His skin is pale, from what Dan can see, his vision is starting to blur again. His messy black hair is all over the place. He has a sort of ethereal look to him, like a fairy or something, and Dan giggles at the image of this guy in a dress with wings.
"You're pretty." he says, and reaches out, touching the guy's face lightly. The skin is soft, and it's starting to warm up, and he's actually blushing, this guy, and wow that's kinda cute. Dan drops his hand, grinning stupidly.
"Uh, thanks?" the guy says awkwardly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I just, uh, thought you might be lost or something. You don't look very stable. I could call a cab, if you want."
"No." Dan says immediately, shaking his head and grimacing. He doesn't want to take a cab, because he's sure he'll make a mess in the backseat, because he's not only drunk, but also gets carsick easy, and plus, he's sure his flat isn't that far. "It's, like, right there." he says, pointing in the general direction.
"What, your place?" the stranger asks, and Dan nods weakly. "You sure you can make it?" he says, eyeing Dan warily.
"You wanna walk me?" Dan asks, leaning back against the wall beside him, trying not to shiver too hard at the feeling of cold brick seeping through his shirt. He closes his eyes again, praying to god he doesn't vomit again in front of this nice and good looking stranger, who's flushing again at his open suggestion.
"I-I don't know. I wouldn't want you to, like, hurt yourself or anything." he's shuffling his feet, looking down at the ground, and Dan stares at him, before pushing away from the freezing wall and practically flinging himself onto this stranger, almost clinging to him. The guy struggles for a second, before grasping his waist hesitantly.
The journey isn't too long, but it's longer than it should be. The stranger clearly isn't the strongest human being, because he's making little progress with Dan hanging off his shoulder, and he's breathing sort of heavy. Although it might also be the fact that Dan isn't exactly helping. He has his face buried in the guy's neck, inhaling his scent of vanilla and spice that kind of makes him smile.
They take about three wrong turns and try ten different doors before they found any success. Dan fumbles with the key, finally getting it in and twisting, and stepping into the dark apartment with the guy following behind him. He's glad he turned off the lights, that would do nothing for his headache. He slumps against the wall, and hears the door close behind Phil.
"Thanks." Dan muttered, keeping his eyes closed even thought there wasn't any lights on. "For that."
"It's fine, really." The guy said. "Wouldn't want you to get hit by a car or something."
Dan laughed, and then pushed away from the wall, making his way unsteadily down the hall and to his bedroom. He heard the guy cautiously following behind him, probably making sure he didn't fall.
Dan collapsed onto his cold bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes. He groaned into the pillow. He could feel a headache coming on already.
Suddenly there was a blanket being pulled over him, and Dan gratefully snuggled into the warmth. He cracked open an eye and saw the guy leaning over him.
"I'm Dan, by the way." He said quietly, and he thought that the guy wasn't going to answer, but then.
"I'm Phil."
~ ~ ~
Dan wakes up the next morning with the biggest headache and the strongest urge to vomit up everything he's eaten in the last month. His whole body is heavy with sleep and he can barely open his eyes.
Getting out of bed is the most difficult thing, he barely keeps from falling into the bedside table.
Dan stumbles his way down the hall and into the kitchen, because he really need some coffee.
But there's someone already there. A guy, who Dan doesn't know, at least he thinks he doesn't. He's not too clear on what happened last night, the guy could be some one night stand he brought home.
The stranger turns around then, holding his own steaming cup, and nearly jumps when he sees Dan. "Oh." He says. "Hey there."
Dan grumbles in response, but how he remembers the guy. The one who helped him back home when he couldn't even see straight last night. "You're the fairy guy, right?"
"The.... what?" The guy replies.
"Phil." That's the only word that seems to register from last night, and Dan knows it must the guy's name. "What're you doing in my house?"
Phil blushes slightly at his accusation. "I, I didn't think you'd mind. I mean, you were pretty out of it, and I didn't want to just leave you alone. In case you, like, choked on your own vomit or something." He trailed off, twisting the cup in his hands anxiously.
Dan hummed in acknowledgment. "Sorry, if I was a mess or anything. I get kinda weird when I'm drunk."
"It's fine." Phil replied, smiling. "You weren't too.... weird."
"I must have said something." Dan insisted. "Come on, tell me. Cause I don't remember a thing."
"I mean." Phil mumbled, flushing even more. "Just. You said I was pretty."
Dan paused, assessing the very embarrassed guy in front of him. He must not have been too out of it then, cause he was cute, even if he was blushing furiously.
"Was that too out of line?" Dan asked.
"No, not at all." Phil replied. "A compliment's a compliment. Just, not very many people actually say things like that to me."
"I don't see why not." Dan said, and he knew that flirting right now wasn't too good of an idea, because he wanted nothing more than to curl up on the floor and nurse his hangover until late at night. But he couldn't resist. "You're very attractive."
"T-thanks." Phil stuttered, tugging at his shirt. "I, um, I actually need to go. I'm suppose to be meeting my parents later. I just, wanted to make sure you were okay."
Dan nodded, and they stood for a second, before Phil smiled at him and then went to leave. Dan was watching him, probably looking like a creep.
"Wait." Phil said suddenly, turning back and staring at Dan nervously. "Maybe we could.... maybe we could see each other again. Sometime. Like, I don't know. We don't have to never see each other again."
Dan smiled at his anxiousness. "Are you suggesting we go out sometime?" He asked, and Phil nodded. "Well, I guess I wouldn't be opposed to the idea."
And then Phil wrote his phone number on some stray paper and left, and Dan waited until he was gone to lean heavily against the wall. He was too exhausted to make any coffee now.
Dan sighed, and headed into the living room, falling onto the couch and almost instantly diving back into unconsciousness.