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It’s quiet when Dan arrives home after his journey from Phil’s.
He’s not quite sure why he expected it not to be, though. He sighs, heaves his bag onto his shoulder with a grunt, and begins heading up towards his coat closet of a bedroom. The bag, which already felt heavy as he lugged it around Manchester, feels heavier now, bogged down by the emotions he’d brought back home to Reading with him.
Dan steps across the threshold into his bedroom, and as he sets his bag down, he can already feel the walls beginning to close in on him again. He leaves the door open, contrary to normal, to give himself some room to breathe, some room to process.
He flings himself onto his bed, landing on his back. The room starts to spin slightly as he recalls the events of the past few days. Dan shuts his eyes to combat the spinning feeling, and behind his closed lids, he sees Phil, clear as day.
He sees himself with Phil from a bird's-eye perspective, bumping shoulders with each other as they wander through the streets of Manchester with no particular destination in mind. He watches as they take turns carrying Dan’s bag, trying not to spill their too-expensive Starbucks drinks in the process. He hears how they timidly flirt with each other, and cringes at how often they dance around what they actually want to say to each other.
He sees himself and Phil board their pod on the Wheel of Manchester, and even in his flashback, Dan can feel the tension lingering in the air, unable to be broken.
That is, until the wheel reaches the top, and flashback Dan and Phil lock eyes during a quiet moment. Dan watches his past self decide to be brave, and his current self’s heart skips a beat as his lips find a temporary home pressed up against Phil’s.
Witnessing himself press Phil up against his bedroom door is where it begins to feel like too much, though. Dan avoids feeling voyeuristic up until their breathing turns hot and heavy, and opens his eyes faster than he thought was possible.
He stares up at the ceiling, trying and failing at getting the sounds from his first night in Manchester out of his mind. It feels like they’re leaking out of his ears, echoing around him as they bounce off each surface in his bedroom. Dan feels surrounded, and the suffocating feeling begins to creep back towards him once more as a result.
He feels the electricity of anxiety start to run through his veins again, and his breathing starts to quicken. Dan needs something, anything—he’s desperate to try to block out the noise, and in turn, block out his emotions. He shoves his hand in his pocket, searching for the phone and earbuds he’d hastily shoved in his pocket while looking for his house keys in his bag. His right hand emerges triumphant, and he shoves the earbuds in his ears maybe slightly harder than necessary.
Dan’s thumb is trembling as he taps on the little orange music icon on his screen, and he quickly hits “shuffle,” not really caring what song comes on, as long as it’s able to drown out the chaos unfolding in his mind. He locks his phone and sets it on the bed next to him, and forces his brain to pay attention to the music rather than the memories, fresh enough to still sting.
A vaguely familiar strum of a guitar starts playing, and in the back of his mind, Dan recognizes the song as one off of Paramore’s new album, but he won’t open his eyes to check—too afraid of feeling suffocated by those brown walls surrounding him.
Dan’s not really paying attention to the lyrics, choosing instead to let Hayley Williams’s voice wash over him, but suddenly begins to tune in when one lyric in the first verse sticks out.
And that was the day that I promised
I’d never sing of love if it does not exist
And oh, that resonates, possibly a little too much. It’s exactly how he’d felt up until a few months ago, already jaded at the age of eighteen as life kept proving, over and over, that love doesn’t exist.
And maybe, just maybe, Phil might be the only exception to that rule, but that’s a thought that he won’t even consider lingering on right now.
Dan finds himself captivated as Hayley starts the second verse, hanging onto every word she sings like she’s telling him the true meaning of life. Her words hit him like a roundhouse punch, and against his will, his eyes begin to well up with tears.
Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul
That love never lasts
And we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone
Or keep a straight face
And I’ve always lived like this
Keeping a comfortable distance
And up until now I had sworn to myself
That I’m content with loneliness
Because none of it was ever worth the risk
Now Dan doesn’t believe in fate, nor is he religious, but in this moment, he feels like he was meant to hear this exact song at this exact point in time. It’s like the stars have aligned at just the right moment so that he could hear this song, with lyrics that feel like they were written with the sole purpose of him listening.
Dan’s started to fully cry as Hayley finishes the second chorus, and begins the bridge with a tone so primal that Dan feels it like a roundhouse kick to the face. He forces himself to slow his breathing, just enough so that he can hear the lyrics.
I’ve got a tight grip on reality
But I can’t let go of what’s in front of me here
I know you’re leaving in the morning when you wake up
Leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream
Dan’s too far gone now, absolutely sobbing as he’s caught in the throes of his catharsis. Just hours ago, he was in Phil’s bed, each man holding back tears at the thought of Dan having to leave so soon. It was only hours ago that Dan woke up in Phil’s arms, and transitioned from dreaming while sleeping to living a waking dream. Just this morning, he struggled to let go of Phil as they hugged for one last time at the station, wishing he could bottle Phil’s scent as proof that he wouldn’t wake up in his own, dull reality.
Suddenly, the song ends, and Dan rushes to hit the rewind button before the next song starts playing. He hits the repeat button until there is a tiny one symbol on it, and pulls up the lyrics so he can follow along as he listens this time around.
By the fourth listen, he’s got a pretty good hang of the lyrics, and plugs his phone into his speaker so he can take advantage of the empty house. There’s an unexplainable urge deep inside him, like if he doesn’t act on this feeling now, he’ll regret it. And for once, he decides not to sabotage himself.
Dan doesn’t sing along at first, but lets the music permeate through him. He lets it travel throughout his whole body, the song no longer constrained to those tiny plastic earbuds. He rides the waves of his emotions, letting them ebb and flow as they dance along the shore.
When Hayley gets to the bridge again, Dan starts to sing the lyrics alongside her, and lets himself feel. He’s not trying to imitate her, but his voice comes out just as raw and as vulnerable as hers does, and it ignites something within him.
He feels the pure joy of being with Phil in tandem with the fear that comes with being with a man. He lets the two emotions coexist, side by side, rather than each one fighting for priority. He lets the rage of his past trauma fuel his desire for Phil, instead of letting his trauma make him shy away from something he wants so badly. He lets the feeling of being wanted and wanting in return bubble up inside him until it spills over, and he stops singing, too overcome with sobs to continue.
The sobs feel all-consuming, like they’re going to overtake him until suddenly they don’t, and he finds himself back where he started, lying on his bed and thinking about Phil. His phone is still blasting out the song on repeat, and Dan removes his phone from the speaker, cutting off Hayley mid-chorus. There is a split second of silence before he hears the front door open, signaling the arrival of someone who would only care that the music is too loud.
Dan unlocks his phone and is greeted with texts he knows Phil must’ve spent longer than he’d like to admit crafting. They’re so soft, and sweet, and so Phil that if Dan hadn’t just cried out all of his tears, he’d feel like crying again.
Phil:
u havent texted in awhile 0.o u gud?
lion misses u…he thinks my pillow still smells like u xD
dont tell him but i think it does 2
Dan smiles at this, the closest he’s come to a real smile since leaving Phil at the train station. His thumbs hover over the letters as he tries to figure out how to respond to Phil without making him worry needlessly.
Dan:
i left u with some proof im not a dream <3