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It’s not like Dan ever planned for Phil to go to parties. It shouldn’t even bother him like it does, if he’s honest, because he doesn’t even want to go himself, but he can’t help the sinking feeling in his gut telling him that Phil is having fun without him. Which he has every right to do, because Dan doesn’t even know why Phil keeps hanging out with him.
Dan sighs and turns in his bed, the sheets half-sliding off his leg. He has half a heart to pull it back because it’s autumn and he probably should or else his leg is going to be freezing in five minutes, but he decides that staring at the wall is good enough for now. It’s a light grey and it reminds him of Phil, because Phil has a beanie like that and Dan wants to borrow it, but the voice in his head tells him that’s not a good idea.
He turns back around and pulls the sheets up, bunches them in his fists. Maybe he should paint the walls a different colour, one that doesn’t make him think about Phil. He bites his lip when he realises that’s pretty much impossible – everything reminds him of Phil nowadays.
He snorts when he realises he’s basically thinking in circles. Not that it’s a surprise; Phil is pretty much the only thing on his mind, he has been for a long time. It’s hard not to think of him actually, with all the drinking and the police and Dan stomach twists when he thinks about it.
A few years ago, Phil would’ve never even thought about alcohol or cigarettes, but it makes up his entire life now. Dan worries about him a lot, it eats away at him, because Phil’s changed. He’s changed so much that Dan almost doesn’t recognise him anymore, except for when they’re alone and Phil lets Dan sleep in his bed and teases him just like he’s always done.
He closes his eyes - maybe sleep will get him out of this vicious cycle, maybe he won’t think about Phil when he wakes up tomorrow – when his cell rings. He almost falls out of his bed, heart pounding away in his chest and he squints at the screen, the name ‘Phil Lester’ glaring back at him. His fingers tremble as he presses the ‘accept call’ button.
“Phil?” he whispers, looking at his alarm clock. “Phil, it’s 2am. Why are you calling me?”
“Dan!” Phil says, his voice lilting. “Danny! I’m so fucking drunk mate!”
His fingers tighten around his phone, pressing it against the side of his face. A sudden wave of nausea comes over him - what if something’s wrong with Phil? – but all he can hear is Phil laughing, laughing with other people and though it calms him down, there’s an ugly feeling in his chest bordering on jealousy.
“Phil, are you okay?” he asks, his voice shaking. He wants Phil to be okay, but mostly he wants Phil to be with him.
“Yeah, I’m fine! I just felt like talking to you.”
Dan blushes and fights the impulse to cover his cheeks. There’s a growing feeling inside his chest, but he tries to push it down, bury it until he can’t ever feel it again.
“What did you want to talk about?” His voice sounds steady to his own ears, but he feels like he’s walking a tightrope. His friendship with Phil isn’t exactly a secret, but it’s not publically acknowledged either, because Phil prefers to hang out with ‘his kind of people’ when they’re at school, leaving Dan to sit alone during lunch.
“Nothing,” Phil says, a little hiccup in his voice and Dan can hear Phil’s friends chuckle through the receiver. “I just- I wanted to hear your voice.”
He feels nauseated, warmth blooming up and spreading through his chest like a poison that rushes into every vein it can reach. He can feel his hand trembling, his phone brushing back and forth over his ear and he wonders if Phil can hear it in the silence.
“Phil, you’re drunk.”
It’s a plea, almost, a prayer for Phil to stop talking so he doesn’t say something that isn’t true, something that he’ll regret later. Instead, he can hear Phil’s chuckle down the line, an amused one like Phil isn’t in danger of ruining everything they have, everything Dan has.
“As I’ll ever be!” He sounds happy, content, and Dan feels jealous that Phil can feel like that with other people. He knows it’s stupid, of course it’s stupid, because Phil doesn’t belong to him and he has other friends. He’d just like it if he was special to Phil, somehow.
“Hey Dan?” Phil slurs, a careful undertone to his voice. “You know I love you right?”
It’s soft, wary, but Dan hears it as though Phil shouted it into his ear. It echoes through his head, bounces down his throat until it stabs his heart, remaining there until Dan wants to scream that Phil doesn’t love him, not like Dan wants him to.
“I know.” It sounds hoarse, and he feels like has to force it out of his throat. He can almost feel Phil’s happiness through the receiver, reflected in the little and he wants to say it back to Phil, but he knows he can’t, especially not now Phil’s drunk.
“If you don’t mind I’m just- I’m going to sleep now, okay?”
The disappointed breath making a crackly sound that echoes in his ears startles him. They’re friends, of course they are, but Phil has never really admitted to wanting to talk to Dan, never mind not wanting to stop.
“Yeah mate! Don’t let me keep you up. I love you!”
It sounds so genuine and Dan can feel tears beginning to sting the corners of his eyes. He presses the ‘end call’ button, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the phone tightens. He curls up, tries to press into himself, anything to avoid the steadily growing nausea.
“I love you too,” he whispers into the darkness, wishing Phil would repeat it back at him.
He falls asleep with bitten lips and tear tracks on his face.
* * * * *
“Did you have a good time yesterday?”
Phil looks up at him, eyes wide and lined with eyeliner and Dan immediately feels like an asshole for bringing it up. There’s an unspoken agreement between the two of them to never mention Phil’s parties, because Dan doesn’t know what to do when there’s alcohol involved, and Phil looks at Dan like he’s never seen him before.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up, I-”
“No, no it’s okay,” Phil says, immediately diving forward and putting his hand on Dan’s shoulder. It’s warm, a welcome touch and Dan instantly feels like nauseating feeling in his gut disappear. “It was fine, I guess.”
Phil carefully smiles down at him and Dan smiles back. Every time he sees Phil in his room, it’s like someone hits him with a semi-truck. Phil looks at ease here, like he belongs here just like he did when he wasn’t wearing beanies and black.
“That’s- that’s good.” The swirling in his gut is back, returning gradually when Phil squeezes his shoulder and simultaneously his heart. “Do you, maybe, remember calling me last night?”
Phil frowns at him, his eyebrows turning down and he looks strangely guilty. Dan swallows and smiles up at him, hoping he looks convincing. Phil shifts from one side to another before sitting down on his desk chair, and Dan follows him, the mattress dipping slightly when he puts his weight on it. He doesn’t realise how nervous he is until he notices his fingers tapping a silent rhythm against the palm of his hand.
“Did I?” Phil asks. “I don’t remember, sorry if I said something embarrassing.”
Dan winces, biting his lip in an attempt to distract himself from the upcoming nausea. He shouldn’t do this, not now, not if Phil doesn’t remember what he said. He digs his nails into his palms, leaving behind crescents and he wants to dig them into Phil instead, because maybe that’ll knock some sense into him, maybe that’ll make him remember.
“It’s fine,” he smiles, hoping the disappointment doesn’t shine through the crinkles in his face and the crack in his voice. Phil’s face displays confusion, eyebrows furrowed and normally Dan’d do anything to smooth away that expression, but not this. Not now.
“Okay!”
Phil’s fingers squeeze his shoulder before letting go, and Dan wants to grab his hand and put it back, maybe link their fingers and never let Phil go again, but it’s selfish.
Phil isn’t his and he never will be, so Dan just lets him go with a smile like he always does.
* * * * *
The familiar lime green of the wall stares dully at him and he narrows his eyes at the concrete, desperate for some distraction from the utterly boring English class he’s about to be in. Well, the subject’s boring, but the class really isn’t.
He always likes to watch the girls in the front, the way they flip their long hair in a fruitless attempt to catch the attention of some of the guys, their perfectly manicured nails dancing over their iPhones in an intricate pattern. He’s always wondered if Phil likes watching them too – maybe not for the same reasons Dan does – but everyone knows about Phil’s brief ‘relationship’ with Brittany. Maybe that’s why Phil would never look twice at him, there’s nothing about Dan that closely resembles the pink, glossy lips and long blond hair that Brittany loves to flaunt.
Phil’s in the back, he’s always in the back, his fingers fiddling around in his pocket with a cigarette, waiting until class is over and he can go light it. He invited Dan to join them once, to stand at the back of the bike shed and smoke until he coughed his lungs out, and Dan had shouted so much Phil never offered again.
It’s probably why Phil doesn’t hang out with him at school, that and the fact that Dan is so unlike Phil’s friends they’d destroy him.
Phil glances up from where he’s staring at his fingers, smirking at Dan. Dan smiles back hesitantly, warmth shooting through his body as he makes a pathetic attempt to remain calm by worrying at his lip with his teeth and fidgeting in his seat.
“Good morning class!” Mrs. Piper excitedly – way too excitedly – shouts from the front as she rushes through the door, her frazzled hair flying around her in circles.
“Good morning Mrs. Piper,” he echoes together with the rest of the class who have already laid their heads down on their pen bags in a futile attempt to find a comfortable place to sleep for the next fifty minutes.
Mrs. Piper’s eyes light up with glee at the uttered welcome from the class and Dan can’t bring himself to laugh at how happy this makes her, even as he hears a few snickers come from Phil and his friends.
“Today, we have a special guest!” Mrs. Piper’s hands are waving around in the usual fashion, gesturing over to a guy standing next to the door. He’s keeping his head down, looking at his feet instead of the class and Dan winces as he remembers the hollers Phil’s friends made when he first walked in like that. “Everyone say hi to Chris!”
The class remains silent, most of them have already grabbed their phones and are frantically texting their friends and the rest simply can’t be bothered to pay attention, and Dan sees the way Chris’ shoulders droop further down when no one answers.
“Well, Chris, why don’t you sit next to Daniel?”
It’s not a surprise that the new guy has to sit next to him – there’s only one perpetually empty seat in this class and that’s the one next to him – but it elicits a chuckle nonetheless. Chris’ walk through the banks is like a walk of shame and Dan smiles half-heartedly at Chris when he reaches the chair next to him.
“Sorry for the rest of the class, they can be real assholes sometimes,” he whispers. Chris shrugs and grabs a notebook and a pen, half-throwing them onto the table.
“Sometimes?” Chris asks and Dan laughs in response. The corner of Chris’ mouth draws up in a smile and he glances up, before looking down and doodling something in the corner of the page.
“Okay, but you get used to it after a while.”
Chris actually laughs at that, but it’s not a nice laugh, more of a self-deprecating one. Dan flinches sympathetically, he knows what it’s like.
“I’m Dan Howell,” he says, looking down at the doodle of a bear Chris drew. It’s – it’s really good actually, better than Dan thought it’d be. “And you can draw really well, holy shit.”
Chris looks up at him, crinkles forming at his eyes as he smiles. “Thanks, and I’m Chris but you knew that already.”
Dan nods, turning his attention back to Mrs. Piper, who’s eagerly explaining something about Shakespeare and waving her hands around in a frantic fashion. English is the only subject he ‘pays attention to', mostly because watching Mrs. Piper move around is extremely fascinating.
“Jesus,” Chris mutters next to him. “You weren’t kidding about these guys being assholes.”
Dan turns around, only to see Chris gesturing to someone behind them. “Dude’s been glaring at me for the past five minutes.”
Honestly, Dan’s never seen Phil look truly pissed off, but this is coming dangerously close. He looks like he’s getting ready to murder someone, and Dan raises an eyebrow at him when Phil sees him looking. Phil rolls his eyes and turns back to talk to his friends.
If Dan didn’t know better, he’d swear Phil was blushing.
* * * * *
“Hey Dan!” Chris comes barging into the canteen – or well, more like Dan’s personal space because he plunges down right next to him, his thigh pressing against Dan’s and Dan would shift away if he weren’t already sitting at the edge of the bench. “No friends coming to join you?”
He coughs a bit, food lodging in his throat along with shock that sticks like bricks and Chris claps on his back a few times. Chris might be new, but if he’s observant he’d know how much of a loser everyone considers Dan to be.
“Nah,” he says after he’s chugged down most of the water in his bottle. “Don’t have a lot of those.”
Chris frowns, his hand rubbing over Dan’s shoulder blade in a manner Chris might see as soothing, but it makes Dan shiver – and not in a good way either. Something ugly crawls down his spine and he shrugs the hand off, hoping Chris gets the message.
The only person who’s allowed to do that is Phil.
“Oh really?” Chris asks and he sounds sceptical, so sceptical that Dan turns around and raises his eyebrows at him, silently asking Chris to continue. “Then why is that guy – Phil? – glaring at me, again?”
Dan looks up at Phil to catch him turning his head back to his friends. He snorts and pushes Chris’ shoulder half-heartedly.
“Right. Like that’d ever happen.”
Chris scoffs silently and shakes his head and Dan has the sudden urge to just disappear, because no matter what Chris is going to say, he’s not going to like it. His fingernails dig into his palm, the slight sting soothing away the dread that’s filling his stomach.
“Look, I know not everyone’s open for the possibility of homoromantic tendencies, but you can’t tell me you’re blind.”
Dan pushes him off the bench for real this time and he enjoys the full-bodied flail that he gets to see in return.
* * * * *
“I’ve never seen this on your wall before,” Phil says, trailing his fingers over a drawing Dan pinned up against his light blue walls. It’s a pink teddy bear, one Chris made for him when he mentioned his affinity for bears – and when he learned that Dan’s family called him bear, but they don’t talk about that, no one is allowed to talk about that.
“What an apt observation Philip,” he deadpans and Phil turns around to glare jokingly at him, before sighing and leaning closer to the drawing, crinkling his nose in concentration. Dan suddenly can’t look away, his eyes glued to Phil’s nose and cheeks and eyelashes and he wants to trail his fingers over it all, he wants to-
“It’s really good. Did you make this?”
Dan shakes his head, looking down at where his fingers are fiddling with the sheets on his bed. The fabric has already started to thread and he should really stop doing it, but he can’t help himself when Phil is around.
“Chris made it for me,” he shrugs, watching as Phil swallows and promptly steps away from the drawing, his hands awkwardly hanging by his side.
“Oh.”
The room is quiet after that, almost unbearably so, their breathing the only sound in the room. Dan doesn’t know what he did wrong, said wrong, but suddenly Phil won’t look at him, focussing instead on a million other things he’s seen at least fifty times already and it makes Dan feel – cheated, somehow?
God, he’s jealous of inanimate objects now, this is really getting out of hand.
“So,” he says and he sounds breathless for some reason, breathless mixed with spite and he quickly clears his throat before trying again, watching Phil’s eyes flit over to him. “So, want to watch a film?”
“Yeah, sure!” Phil smiles, his entire face brightening in one second. It mesmerises Dan, how Phil uses his entire body to smile, the way his eyes soften beneath the layers of eyeliner and how the ragged edges of the few tattoos he has etched onto his skin ease in the slightest, yet most noticeable way.
“17 Again?” he asks and Phil laughs. It’s a bodily laugh, one that makes him throw his head back and Dan can’t help but stare at his neck, watching the skin stretching over the tendons.
“You know me so well,” Phil chuckles when he’s done, though the happy flush on his cheeks and the crinkles around his eyes that never quite go away are still there. He looks happy, and in one selfish second, Dan thinks it might be because of him. He feels his cheeks heat again and he glances away, grabbing the DVD case from where it is on the nightstand – it got a permanent place after the fifteenth time they watched it together – just to hide the colour on his face that matches his jumper.
Phil walks over to the door to turn off the lights and Dan is left to his thoughts for a second. Phil’s been in his room, been on his bed, hundreds of times, but this time it gets something buzzing under his skin, something that makes his knee bounce up and down before he stops it.
“Woah Phil!” he calls out when Phil’s flipped off the lights. “Suddenly you blend in with the surroundings!”
Phil laughs again and Dan pouts when Phil flicks him on the arm. “Move over, asshole.”
He scoots over a bit, making some room for Phil, and now they’re pressed against each other, thighs touching, shoulders brushing against each other with every breath and when Dan looks over, it feels like someone punched him. Phil looks soft in the blue light the TV is emitting, accentuating his cheekbones and his lips and everything and Dan feels want surge through him. He wants to bury his hands in Phil’s hair and tug it, kiss him until he’s breathless, but he can’t do that, because Phil’s his friend.
“Are you going to put it on, or?”
Dan blinks, biting down on his lip to avoid the embarrassment and anxiety tugging at his stomach. He didn’t notice he’d been staring, too caught up in his own thoughts, his desires. He can't help but see the faint blush on Phil's cheeks as he reaches for the remote before biting his lip in embarrassment once again. He presses the button quickly, dropping the remote on his nightstand afterwards and putting his hand on his thigh, right next to-
Next to Phil’s.
He can already feel the heat radiating from Phil, burning into his side like a mark – a mark that Dan wants to be real – but now their fingers are brushing, and the buzzing returns. Dan can feels his palms sweating already and he clenches his fingers for a second, pushes his nails into his thighs to remind himself not to do it, but Phil keeps brushing his fingers against his, making Dan’s heart race to the rhythm of their touches.
He spends the rest of the night wondering what would’ve happened if he’d grabbed Phil’s hand.
* * * * *
“Dude, did you hear who I’m going to have to do the group project with?” Jake – one of Phil’s many, many asshole friends – says, and Dan braces himself. He knows who, of course he knows, because it’s him.
“Not Dan Howell I hope,” someone answers in return and Dan grabs the edge of the table at the dread he feels low in his stomach, the nausea that’s slowly bubbling up.
“It is Dan Howell dude! I’m so fucked!”
He can feel it coming before it happens, can feel the panic starting rise, his heart beat-beat-beating out of his chest and he stands up, making all eyes fly to him and he can’t deal with this right now. He walks away until he’s out of there, out of the canteen and all the people in there before he slumps down against a wall when he can’t bring himself to move anymore.
It hurts. Everything hurts. He feels like he’s going to die. He grabs at hair, frantically pulling at the strands, anything to distract from the people around him, the voice inside his head telling him he’s not enough.
The voice is right though and he pulls harder, until his knuckles turn white and he bites his lip to stop himself from screaming, biting and biting until he feels it splitting beneath his teeth, the metallic taste of blood hitting his tongue.
He distinctly hears Chris talking to him, but it’s not enough, nothing is louder than his head. Chris is standing over him, bowing over him and talking down and it’s not good. Dan doesn’t know what to do, he wants this to end, he wants to escape.
“Hey Dan,” someone says, gentle hands brushing over his shoulders. “Hey, it’s me, it’s Phil.”
Phil, it sounds familiar. He grasps at Phil’s arms, tries to push him away because he wants to be alone right now, he doesn’t want anyone to see him like this.
“Dan, it’s okay, try to breathe for me.”
He’s heaving apparently, gulping for air and he doesn’t realise it until Phil says something about it. He tries to breathe, tries to listen to Phil, but it isn’t working, nothing’s working and he just wants it to stop.
“Dan, I’m going to pick you up, okay? I’m going to pick you up and we’re going to walk outside together, get some air.”
He finds himself nodding, but he doesn’t know what Phil just said, he can’t listen to it because it’s too much. He hears everyone whispering, can see them pointing through blurry eyes and he feels himself shake again with another sob as Phil pulls him up and tight against him.
“It’s going to be okay, Dan. I’m here, it’s going to be okay.”
He gasps when cold air suddenly hits his face and he’s pulled down again, set down on cold steps of stairs and a hand’s running through his hair, another cupping his jaw.
“It’s okay, Dan. It’s okay.”
It’s being repeated and Dan remembers now, Phil. Kind, gentle Phil who’s always been there for him, who loves him. He feels Phil grab his hand, feels him push it against his stomach as he leans closer, whispering, “Breathe with me, Dan. Just breathe with me.”
He feels himself calm down, the shaking stopping a bit until he’s only crying, muttering an involuntary ‘sorry sorry sorry’ over and over again. Phil shushes him and pulls him close, hugging him and running a hand over his back.
“It’s okay,” Phil whispers into his hair, kissing the top of his head and Dan wants to cry all over again, because he wants Phil to be like this with him all the time.
Phil just hugs until he’s calmed down, and even then, Dan isn’t ready to let go.
* * * * *
Everyone around him reaches for their phone as the standard ringtone goes off, signifying an incoming message, and Dan grabs frantically for his because he swears he felt it vibrate against his leg. Most people are already putting theirs away with a disappointed – and slightly embarrassed – sigh by the time he’s got it out of his skinny jeans, and his heart starts beating faster when sees he has a message from Phil.
‘hey do u want to go see thg mockingjay pt2 together?’
It’s an unassuming question, but Dan knows it’s because they haven’t hung out in awhile – two weeks – and as much as he doesn’t believe it sometimes, Phil wants to hang out with him too.
He bites his lip, licking over the still healing flesh. He really should stop chewing on his lips so much, it’s going to permanently scar one day. It’s just something he can’t help, because he does it whenever he’s nervous which is, unsurprisingly, a lot.
‘nah sorry i’m going w/ chris already’
He wants to know what Phil’s thinking right now, if he feels rejected or if he just doesn’t care. If Dan himself is honest, he’d rather go with Phil than Chris – even though he’s majorly biased. He feels like an asshole, letting Phil down like that, and he feels the familiar weight of anxiety settle in the spot it’s carved for itself in his stomach.
‘okay’
He can’t stop biting his lips for the rest of the day.
* * * * *
He texts Phil back a few days later. Phil hasn’t been talking to him, hasn’t even looked at him for the past few days and every time Dan bumps into him he gets so an overwhelming with of anxiety that quite literally crashes over him that he’d rather avoid Phil.
‘hey want to hang out?’
His finger hovers over the ‘send’ button for a few agonising seconds, ones where Dan isn’t sure if he should do it, ones where his stomach flips and flips until his vision becomes slightly blurry. He immediately regrets it when he presses it though, wishes he could undo it with everything he’s worth – which is, admittedly, not a lot.
He almost has a heart attack when Phil answers his, his phone slipping minutely in his sweaty palms.
‘sorry i’m busy today’
That’s – well, he should’ve seen it coming, but it doesn’t stop him from hunching forward, doesn’t stop him from feeling his stomach plummet with disappointment and anxiety.
‘how about this weekend?’ he tries, feeling hopeful, maybe a little bit, but it all stops when Phil replies
‘no sorry’
It’s straight forward, painfully so, and Phil doesn’t even bother to give some sort of explanation. It stings, like a knife carving into his chest.
He knows he did something wrong, he must have if Phil decides to shoot him down like that. Phil’s never ignored him, never been angry at him, and it scares Dan a lot.
Mostly because he doesn’t know what he did, and he has no way of finding out.
* * * * *
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Chris asks him when they’re in Chris’ room together and Dan’s been staring at the crap on Chris’ nightstand for longer than he probably realises. Dan doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or cry when he hears the question.
“I don’t know,” he bites out and he flinches when he notices how bitter it sounds. “That’s the problem.”
Chris has a carpet on his floor instead of wooden boards that creak every time you step on them and Dan finds himself weirdly obsessed with it. It’s a light brown with a few inevitable stains here and it gives it a – rightfully so – worn appearance. Phil has the same kind of carpet, though it’s in the living room and not in Phil’s actual bedroom – and Jesus, he needs to stop thinking about Phil.
“What happened?”
He laughs. It’s a loud, hoarse laugh that sounds so incredibly self-deprecating that he can feels the corners of his eyes sting – because isn’t that the million dollar question? Dan doesn’t even know what happened, and Phil won’t tell him because Phil doesn’t talk to him anymore.
“Just-“ he chokes out, gathering his wits before trying to continue. He’s started fiddling with the sheets again, and, if Chris doesn’t stop him, he’s going to ruin them, seeing as the fiddling is more like clutching. “Phil won’t talk to me and I don’t know why.”
“I’m sure it’s okay.”
It’s not though, because Phil won’t talk to him, he’s ignoring Dan and it’s all wrong, makes him feel like absolute shit, because he doesn’t know what to do. It feels like the room is getting smaller and smaller, caging in on him just like his stomach as his fingers begin to tap endless rhythms against the wooden bedframe.
“Looks like you were wrong about the homoromantic tendencies.”
It feels like a final nail in the coffin when he says it, strangely final and he tightens his grip on the frame until the wood digging into his palms gets too painful to hold on to.
“I think you’d be surprised,” Chris says and when Dan looks over to him he’s smiling - fucking smiling like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him - and if Dan was someone else he’d probably have punched Chris right now, just to get that expression of his face.
Chris’ hand lands on his, pries his fingers from where he’s holding on to something, he doesn’t know if that’s his sanity or reality, but he can’t bring himself to care. Chris’ fingers ghost over his palm and knuckles and the gentle, barely there touches remind of Phil, the way Phil’s fingers glide over his shoulders and arms as he hugs Dan, and it hurts him more than it soothes him.
“God, could you just stop talking in riddles for once?” Dan jokes - or well, tries to joke - just to alleviate the air of its unease - an unease that dents everything around them..
“No way! It’s all part of the mystery act!”
He feels like he can breathe again when Chris stops, when his hands leave Dan’s to gesture wildly into the air and Dan feels a smile turning up the corners of his mouth despite himself.
“You’re ridiculous,” he says and it sounds fond, way too fond to actually sting and he sees it reflected in the sudden twinkle in Chris’ eyes.
“Your mum’s ridiculous.”
Chris bursts out in ridiculous laughter, his entire body shaking as he looks at the probably incredulous expression on Dan’s face. He can’t believe Chris honestly just made a ‘your mum’ joke.
“Oh my god, I’m leaving.”
Dan makes no move to get up though, instead shifting back further onto the mattress until his back hits the wall. Chris just laughs as he hisses when his cheek hits the cold glass of the window behind him.
“Fine, I never wanted you here anyway,” Chris smirks and Dan pushes him off the bed with his foot in retaliation.
Chris spits out a string of expletives that leave Dan wheezing with laughter, and Dan thanks that maybe, if Phil left, he’d still be okay.
* * * * *
The red light from his alarm clock gives off a glare that has him wince as he presses the button. It’s three in the morning and Dan just got woken up by his cell going off again, and it feels like a strange déjà vu.
He grabs his phone as angrily as he possibly can - which isn’t a lot, considering he just woke up and is still half drunk from sleep - and scowls at the name on the screen, before his heart stutters involuntarily.
Phil’s calling him.
It’s almost a dream and a nightmare combined, a strange hope bubbling up in his chest together with a dread that makes him want to vomit. He accepts the call, wincing as the sheets slide off his torso and he’s hit with nothing but cold air.
“Jesus Phil, what do you want?”
He doesn’t mean for it to come out so biting, so angry, but it does anyway. It makes him feel strangely guilty, but he crushes it quickly, because Phil is the one who should feel guilty, Phil is the one who did something wrong.
“I’m sorry, Dan. I never meant to hurt you.” It sounds so small, so fragile, that Dan’s heart breaks into a million pieces all over again, the shards cutting open his insides.
“Are you drunk right now?” he asks, sitting up on the edge of his bed. The air outside of the sheets is frigid, but it helps to wake him up as he rubs the crust out of the corners of his eyes.
“I am,” Phil says, his voice wavering - with nerves? lowered inhibitions? - as he speaks. “I just- I needed to forget because you don’t like me anymore.”
It stings, bites at him until he feels like there’s nothing left of him. He can feels his own hands shaking, and he unwittingly bites at his lip.
“What do you mean?”
It’s not really a question he wants to ask, but he knows it needs to be. The possibility of this ending horribly scares him, fills him with more questions and self-doubt and it makes him want to dig his nails into his thighs.
“You’re with that Chris guy all the time and you never have time for me anymore.”
Phil sounds offended, like Dan did something wrong by having a friend and for the first time in his life, he feels angry at Phil.
“You’re the one that’s ignoring me!” he shouts into the receiver, harder than he probably should but he can’t really bring himself to care right now. All that matters is that Phil’s being a self-centred asshole and ignoring Dan.
“Only because you’re ignoring me!” Phil shouts back, a broken sound that makes Dan’s anger melt away. It’s quiet after that, too quiet, apart from the sobs that make Phil’s body shake and fill Dan’s ears with static.
“Phil, please don’t cry,” he says, pleads, because he doesn’t want Phil to cry. He wants Phil to be happy, mostly with him. He doesn’t want Phil to be sad, because no matter how shitty Phil’s actions were, Dan’s still in love with him. “Where are you?”
“Sullivan street,” Phil chokes out, like he can’t get enough air and it makes Dan spring up and walk over to his closet to put on some jeans and a jumper.
“That’s two blocks away, I’ll come get you, okay?”
It’s more a demand than a question, but he hears Phil mutter ‘no no no’ in between stuttered breaths and gasps and Dan makes up his mind. “You’re going to stay at mine.”
“I love you, Dan,” Phil whispers into the receiver, and if Dan wasn’t so focussed on Phil right now he wouldn’t have heard it.
“I love you too,” he whispers back and then he hangs up, shoving the phone in the front pocket of his jumper, half-running down the stairs in an attempt to get to Phil as fast as possible.
Phil might be a selfish dick, but - and no matter how cliché it might be - he’s still Dan’s selfish dick.
* * * * *
“Oh my god, did last night really happen?” Phil moans, rolling onto his back in his bed, in Dan’s bed. It startles Dan awake, and he shoots up before he remembers that - Phil, he picked up Phil. Phil is in his bed.
“If by last night, you mean getting drunk and calling me, then yes, it did,” he says, his voice throaty and thick with sleep. He rubs at his eyes to wake up and stretches, and he blushes when he realises Phil is staring at him.
He blushes harder when Phil flushes in return.
“I’m sorry, Dan, I shouldn’t have-“ Phil promptly shuts his mouth, and Dan is struck by how delicate Phil looks like this, surrounded by white sheets and with smeared eyeliners on his cheeks. “I’ll just go now, get out of your hair and I won’t come back this time, I promise-“
Phil’s already moving, kicking the sheets away from his legs before climbing off the bed, and Dan quickly puts a hand on Phil’s shoulder - Phil’s naked shoulder, his brain helpfully supplies - and pushes him back down.
“No, you’re not doing this again, you’re going to tell me what you told me last night, but now do it in an orderly fashion,” he says, trying to make his voice sound like it’s authoritative, but he knows it probably isn’t working. “You’re not allowed to leave this bed until I say so.”
Phil isn’t looking at him again, preferring to stare at the floorboards and his bare toes against them and it aggravates Dan. He has a right to know what happened.
He lays his hand on Phil’s shoulder again, trying to give him courage, console him, anything to help Phil talk, make him feel comfortable with Dan, but instead Phil flinches. Dan moves his hand away like he’s been burned.
“You’re so busy with Chris that you don’t have time for me anymore. I’m scared you want me to leave, but I’ll spare myself the pain of hearing you see that and go voluntarily, so if you just-“
“I said sit down.”
“I’m sorry Dan, I was being a dick, but I couldn’t just see you like that, all happy with him, and I-“
“Phil Lester, are you jealous?” Dan asks carefully, feeling like he’s treading on thin ice, threatening to break with every step he takes.
“Maybe,” Phil says, and Dan isn’t imagine the red tint on his cheeks this time. He touches Phil’s shoulder again, just brushing over the skin and he feels it erupt into goose bumps beneath the pads of his fingers.
Phil still isn’t looking at him, fiddling with his thumbs instead and Dan smiles, saying, “God, you’re an idiot.”
He feels panic rush through him when Phil looks up at him, his eyes questioning and filled with hope and Dan laughs before cupping Phil’s jaw and pressing their lips together. Phil wobbles for a second, grasping at Dan’s shoulder and pulling him closer, on top of Phil, and Dan makes a muffled noise of surprise.
He resists the urge to whine when Phil pulls away, almost like he’s regretting this, but instead he pushes closer to Dan and rests their foreheads together.
“I love you,” Phil whispers, breath fanning out over Dan’s face and Dan feels like he’s going to explode, his heart beating out of his chest. He loops his arms around Phil’s neck, plays with the hair at the nape of his neck and then drags Phil back in. Phil’s mouth is warm against his own and softer than he expects. He slides his fingers into Phil’s hair, just because he can, and he smiles against Phil’s lips.
“I love you too.”