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There is something of a quietness, a subdued padded atmosphere born of carpeted hallways, those places where one passes but doesn’t stop, an emptiness as if sound had been swallowed and spit out in a echo from far away refracted and bouncing all around the room.
Dan can’t quite make up the intonation of Phil’s tone from the other side of the corridor, it’s all lost to a haze, he slumps on the chair he has been sitting on, leaning on the suitcase he has been carrying since they left from Piccadilly station early this morning.
The weight of it is comforting, grounding, it reminds him of home in a way, the inviting streets of Manchester, them packing last night in Phil’s bedroom, the painfully still pace at which they gathered and folded their clothes for the weekend, slumped on the green carpet, Dan laying his head on Phil’s shoulder, pressing soft kisses to his collar bone. Fluttering softly, something like love making mundanity loose it’s contours and the instant feel like it could have lasted a lifetime, the eluding sense of belonging and the excitement of the journey ahead.
A beach weekend had seemed like the best idea in the world when Dan brought it up a week prior, time away from the city, from either of their houses where privacy is more akin to stolen moments then to the the lasting peace of enjoying each others presence however they might please.
They are not exactly subtle about it, at least at Phil’s house, always standing a bit too close, looking longingly into each others eyes whenever the opportunity arises, Dan cooing with a bit too much endearment when Kathryn had gotten out the photo album and a young Phil with pinked cheeks and bright orange hair had seemed to smile directly at him.
There is only so many sleepovers two boys in early adulthood can have before it starts to sound suspicious after all.
Phil doesn’t even set up the sofa in his bedroom to keep the make belief that they are not sleeping in the same bed anymore. It would be a pointless simulacrum, no one is that dubious and yet it’s still secret, it’s still hidden under the veil of Dan’s silence, it’s the plain sight of calling each other "friends" because that’s an acceptable truth and letting off to wonderment the way it’s nothing if not a poorly concealed lie. They have never been just friends after all, they are everything and nothing at the same time, ambiguous, blurred, absolute in the way it can only be when you are certain you found something that goes beyond any definition society would pre impose; it’s not like that.
Dan is not sure what he is, all he knows is that he is in love with Phil and that feels like enough, it’s just for them to share, no one else should have the right to have an opinion on the matter, it’s theirs this, it exists in the latency of suspended kisses and lingering touches real or illusioned, the wavering screen of a Skype call, the quietness of Phil’s bedroom when they are sure everyone is sound asleep.
It’s quiet, it’s muffled, it’s promises of forever whispered in the dead of the night, it’s the possibility of next year and the apartment Phil’s wants them to share as elusive as a faraway dream that doesn’t quite pertains to reality.
Dan decided he is living in dorms when he goes to Manchester university next September, he told Phil he wanted to live the campus experience, see what it’s like to do things that are considered "normal" for once, he didn’t tell him that he was afraid of telling his family that he was planning to live with another boy, it’s not like it’s a dead giveaway but Dan rather stay cautious. They know he goes to Manchester a lot because he is visiting someone but it’s not like they know who it is, his father definitely suggested more than once that Dan has a girlfriend that lives there, he is not about to disappoint him.
He rather have this in the quietness of their own intimacy, where it’s safe and no one might pry on the exact nature of their relationship. It’s not like he can’t go to Phil’s theoretical apartment as much as he likes, as long as he doesn’t officially live there, nothing wrong in taking advantage of a loophole, a dead spot, closed doors where the little bubble they made their shared world can expand and stretch for days on end, where the pretence of platonic doesn’t have to be a thought that crosses dan’s mind, where they can be as loud as they desire because no one is there to hear.
Tree falling in the desert far of anyone’s earshot as if it plummeted in the silent of a no man’s land, without the grace of the faintest noise.
For now it’s the constant dance of tiptoeing around each other’s expectations, Dan wants to stay quiet, at least pleasantly ambiguous, stolen touches, stealth glances when Phil would want to be louder, if only a little, so they don’t have to be quite so careful when they are around his family, less cautious, let himself hold Dan’s hand if he wants to, snuggle together on the couch on movie nights without pretending that the only reason they are so close is because the blanket is too small to leave an inch of distance between them.
It’s not like he wants to stage a public coming out or anything, that decidedly doesn’t feel like a very Phil thing to do, he just wants to be himself and show everyone how happy Dan is making him, how confident, share his joy with his close world and welcome Dan into his life like a lasting feature and not a passing «just a friend staying for the weekend».
Dan feels bad he can’t give him that, at least just yet, that simplicity of being themselves everywhere that matters, of not having to hide the glee they both feel when they are in each other’s presence, of seeing Phil’s eyes light up from the bliss of being able to add "boy" to "friend".
It would be nice to be this open, this honest, this loud.
But Dan doesn’t feel ready to do that, doesn’t feel ready to conscientise with people he grew to love what all this means for him, doesn’t feel strong enough to face the memories unveiling between the lines that word would prompt to resurface.
A plausible deniability, nothing he can’t come back from if it all crashes and burns it’s not like he doesn’t like girls anymore, not really, it's not the same but it’s still kind of okay, this is just a slightly too affectionate friendship, a phase, admiration and fascination fuelled by the last strands of teenage lust.
That’s what he used to tell himself at least, when it used to be comforting in the first few months, now he wants this phase to extend to forever and to stay by Phil’s side as long as he will have him, it’s just confusing now, he doesn’t quite realise how he could have been so blind.
That’s why he suggested that beach weekend the other day, after he told Phil he wasn’t quite ready to leave behind the ambiguity that there is nothing but friendship between them when they are out in the open, to make it up to him in a way, prove that he wants and values their relationship so much more than he sometimes says.
Acts over words or something people carelessly throw around.
If they are away, in a place no one knows them, or could recognise them, nothing is preventing Dan from holding Phil’s hand walking in the streets, from leaning on each other thigh to thigh in a cafe not across table, from pecking Phil’s lips hidden by the subdued clarity of an alcove shielded from streetlights, nothing is preventing Dan to act like Phil is his boyfriend, it’s no quite real, it’s a suspension of disbelief, the dream of being foreigners in a faraway land where every inconspicuous thing feels renewed in its marvel just because they are on holidays together.
The first holiday they have ever been on just the two of them, it feels like it’s important, it feels like it means something more than playing hide and seek with signs of tenderness in the rush of being found out.
It was meant as a present for Phil, just like that, no occasion needed, no birthday no Christmas, because you shouldn’t need an occasion to bring happiness to someone you love.
And Dan picked Blackpool because apparently he is not only broke but also dumb as fuck.
He sighs, straightening his back in the chair he abandoned his weight to, the suitcase looks slightly wet where he laid his head on it, great, that’s not gross at all.
This is a disaster from start to finish, no notes, Dan outdid himself.
The clock in the corner of the hotel lobby indicates that it’s a quater past six, Phil has been gone for a good fifteen minutes, something is definitely wrong, as if this day couldn’t get any worse, that’s just Dan’s luck. What is this theory again, where one bad thing happens and propels everything that could possibly go wrong, to go wrong ? An escalation in misery, a malignant genie playing with Dan’s nerves, until he snaps and probably acts like a dick with everyone within arms length.
You don’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that that means Phil. Phil who has been nothing but his lovely kind self all day, who is just now starting to get sad because he senses how what happened might have affected Dan far more than he had let transpired. Well it's not like he would be far off from the truth.
Dan feels a wave of discouragement taking over him, poking at something dark in his soul, maybe he is not worthy of a romantic getaway with his boyfriend, maybe he is not worthy of having people being there for him at all, maybe he is only worth feeling out of place and scrutinised because he never acts quite how he should.
Inevitable really, it’s not really like the world really hints at anything else.
Dan presses his hands to his face, gathering the heat of his palms to prevent the wetness he can feel peaking at the corner, tears awaiting to fall down on his cheeks.
He will be nineteen in a month, he is an adult, he is not crying, especially not crying in front of Phil.. again. He doesn’t want to seem weak even if it’s just in the eyes of someone who cares about him, not let the events of the day get to him, not let it ruin this weekend they had thought could be a parenthesis from real life, a peaking look into what their future could be if Dan was a little braver. They could have made Blackpool magical as long as they were together, they didn’t need anything else.
But real life always catches up, it’s the escalation of it all, getting to Dan, making the ground of vain wishes and throwaway promises, cave and crumble underneath his feet, graveyard of disillusionment and he can’t stand still.
He lets out a deep breath, emptying his lungs, legs shaking slightly, he needs to move otherwise he will go insane, the make belief that he is doing something, that he is not completely powerless to stop the universe trying to get to him. It’s not true obviously, but it doesn’t matter, it’s what it feels like, it’s not like he can see past it.
Dan stands up, the lights flickering above his head, the halogen giving out, the carpet pattern intricate and overpowering clashing with the wall paper, liminal in a way , this emptiness, this enclosure, the decor probably didn’t change since the seventies, it’s as if it got frozen in time.
He starts pacing, from wall to wall, he is alone it’s not like anyone can see him, counting the steps he take to try and calm himself down, head slightly dizzy from the sudden turns, Phil’s voice still audible in the distance. He latches on to it tries to focus on the fact that he is not all alone, that they are together, that everything is okay.
Everything is fine, he is fine, all fine.
One, two, three.
Everything that could have possibly gone wrong today did go wrong.
Four, five, six.
First their train was late and they had to wait for an hour on the platform.
Seven, eight, nine.
It’s May but apparently no one told the weather, they almost froze to death in their flimsy denim jackets.
Ten, eleven, twelve.
Then their correspondence at Preston railway station got cancelled.
Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.
Train strike, of course train strike.
Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.
They had to take a replacement bus, crossed the whole city to get to the terminal.
Nineteen, twenty, twenty one.
It was packed.
Twenty two, twenty three, twenty four.
They couldn’t sit together.
Twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven.
The air con was broken.
Twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty.
They arrived in Blackpool, it was raining.
Thirty one, thirty two, thirty three.
And, and... They got rocks thrown at them.
Dan stops, halted in his course to no where, the room is spinning a little. It sounds so dramatic when you put it this way, it’s not like they got attacked or anything, it wasn’t that bad.
He swallows thickly, still standing still, starts pacing again.
They had just retrieved their suitcase from the boot and started walking away in the dust alley way, when he had heard them, a group of teenage boys, maybe a couple years younger than him, sitting on the stairs of the road station, they had yelled something along the lines of “hey you with the girl jeans!” and then again “what the fuck are you wearing girl jeans?". He told himself to just ignore them and keep walking, Phil had said as such, “not worth it Dan” he whispered but then Dan felt something hitting his right leg, Phil yelping just next to him in a clear sign of surprise, more so then pain and he decided he had had enough.
He turned around to face them, saw that they were holding rocks in their palms, as if that was a normal thing to do when you didn’t like someone’s fashion choice.
Throwing fucking rocks.
He gave them the middle finger in a clear sign that they should just go "fuck themselves".
It didn’t escalate.
They just walked away still carrying their suitcase on the uneven ground, Dan is pretty sure he heard them mutter “fucking fags” underneath their breath as they were leaving, he didn’t tell Phil, on the off chance that he didn’t hear, and that was it, apparently, all it takes to take a pretty bad day all the way to a freaking nightmare. It’s not like he didn’t face much worse growing up, pretty much on the daily, but it had been a while.
He doesn't remember if he was holding Phil's waist when it happened, it all went down so fast, the memories don't quite add up.
They didn’t talk about it, didn’t talk at all really, just walked under a trickle of rain for what seemed like hours but was probably just fifteen minutes, reached the hotel they had booked on the sea front, Phil went to check in, Dan collapsed in a chair in the lobby.
He checks the clock again, it’s almost six thirty, gets his phone out of his pocket to verify he didn’t mess up with the needles or something, but no the numbers shine on the small screen all the same, six twenty six, twenty now. Phil has been gone for almost half an hour, something is definitely not right, he can still hear him talk to the hotel clerk but it’s not like he can make up what they are saying, they were supposed to arrive three hours ago, maybe something did go wrong. It wouldn’t be that surprising after all.
No point in staying here any longer, where his thoughts are so loud he feels like they are hammering against his brain, point of contact, until it cracks and spills open.
He needs to move.
The suitcase is eyeing him up from the corner of the room, next to the chair, beaten up green rigid cloth, it’s Phil’s, he can’t really leave it behind, not really, it’s not like the room is out on the street, but Dan is not about to test his luck right now, losing all of their possessions would definitely be the last nail on this already so far from perfect weekend. Phil’s camera is in the front pocket as well, he is pretty sure that Phil wouldn’t even want to talk to him anymore if he somehow managed to lose it, let alone date him.
Dan feels his heart skip a bit, a drop, a suspension, it’s pointless to even entertain the thought, Phil will not leave him over something he is sure will not happen, it’s preventable, avoidable, he has his own agency for god sake, he can just carry the damn suitcase to the damn counter. Dan’s mind is not making sense anymore it's evident in the irrational thoughts racing through his brain right now, today was a lot.
He huffs, dragging his body across the room, leaning over the suitcase, not lifting it yet just looking at it as it would offer some piece of advice. It’s as if everything slowed down and he can’t quite recognize the actuality of real life passing in front of his eyes anymore. He needs to get a fucking grip, he can probably still turn this around somehow, it’s not like anyone died.
It’s a normal day, slightly worse than average day, the earth is still spinning.
He takes a deep breath, auto mode, the pretense of powering through, lifts the suitcase, feeling his muscles strain, across half the room before he remembers he can just roll it on the ground. Turns to leave the room, the wheel screech when the carpet brutally leaves ways to linoleum.
He can see Phil now, his back propped against the counter, his denim jacket still speckled with rain drops, his hair mussed and dampened, a trickle of warmth against his cheeks at the sight, he speeds up as the light grows brighter and the obscurity of the corridor subsides.
Maybe he just needs a hug.
He abandons the luggage in a corner of the reception, wobbling slightly until it stabilises, pauses for a second, he can’t really just walk up to him and count on the warmth on an embrace to lift the shadows that took home in his heart, it’s not private, Phil is talking to someone. He can’t really just stay here all the same, stuttering on his feet, waiting for god knows what to make him feel brave enough to take a step forward, in latency, in expectation.
The receptionist is fumbling with some paperwork, huffing profusely, Phil is just standing there silent, aghast, something of an incredulity furrowing his brows. Dan is close enough to hear the conversation now, no one noticed him yet, he can try and figure out what’s happening in the not quite uncomfortable lingering of his hide out.
"I am sorry Mr. Howell but you were more than an hour late and as I have already informed you the room you had booked online was given to someone else"
"Mr. Howell"- stretched over the lobby, echoing along the ceiling, called back to him, it rings in Dan’s ears, that word, directed at Phil, his last name, a warmth in his stomach, spreading as if he had lost his footing like those drops in a rollercoaster, when you feel your heart getting caught up in your throat, he can’t quite tell if the feeling simmering down in his chest is s discomfort or a bizarre form of exhilaration. He never really contemplated that, it’s not even like it could be a possibility, 2010 in the UK, it’s a stupid thought to even entertain, it doesn’t mean anything, a mere perception of awkwardness on Phil’s part, a reservation under Dan’s name that Phil didn’t correct.
So why are his palms sweating ?
Why is his mind racing at a hundred miles per hour wondering what’s going through Phil’s brain right now ?
He needs to get a grip, desperately, this was supposed to be a fun weekend not a spark prompting him to doubt everything he thought he finally managed to come to terms with.
Find answers, clarity not more questions waiting to choke him.
He hears Phil sighing, clearing his throat, something of a desperation in his voice, a pleading.
"Yes I know, but please can’t you do anything for us ? We have nowhere else to stay can’t you give us another room ? I’ll pay the difference if it’s more expensive, please"
Phil’s voice break at the end of the sentence, he is clearly distraught, today was a lot for him as well Dan realizes. Of course it had been, he tried to keep spirits up for both of them, he took charge when Dan, couldn’t too enthralled in his own misery to even notice and pay attention to Phil’s own feelings.
He can be such a self involved prick sometimes.
This freeze lurking has lasted long enough, Dan walks up to Phil, stopping when he is close enough to him to feel the damp heat radiating from his body, when he can see the raindrops obscuring his glasses, he looks so small like that, so lost. Dan leans in, resting his shoulder on Phil’s, letting their fingers brush against each other, the smallest of touches, trying to impulse into it as much depth as he can, make it meaningful, in place of words, the ground of a tie between them, a proof of contact, let slip all he feels before he can hug Phil for good, prove to him that he is still here, that they are not alone as long as they have each other.
"Hey"
Phil’s voice immediately calmer, softer as if it had been coaxed in warm honey, a smile he throws his way and Dan heart flutters, a shine catching in his eyes. He breaks contact as elusive as if it never existed.
"Hey"
A bit louder, a bit less affected, a bit more formal. He is not quite sure why he broke the moment. He turns to the receptionist, eyebrows raising as if she finally noticed his presence.
"And you are ?"
Dan stumbles, suddenly at lost at what to say, caught of guard when he should have expected the question. They are sharing a room but it’s not like that means anything, but it was supposed to be a romantic weekend where they let each other be a couple in public, or at least not quite hide it so much. Dan just looks at her as if he had forgotten how to speak along the way.
"Dan he is my-"
Dan cuts Phil off, unsure of what he was going to say, he is not even sure why it matters, or why it should matter.
"Friend, friend we are on a bro trip"
"Bro trip", really Dan ? Is it even something people say ?
He said friend twice, way to not make it look suspicious, just great, he kind of feels like crying right now, it’s not exactly that he is sad more so tired of all this, this week end is building up to be a giant mistake. It’s all just so stupid, all these labels and stuff, it shouldn’t matter, and yet he would much rather have everyone perceive them as "just friends", it’s just easier like that, safer maybe.
Phil throws him a quizzical look, says nothing else, the receptionist is looking between the two of them trying to decipher something maybe before she turns back to Phil having probably decided he is the responsible adult in this situation. Dan just looks at the floor, picking the speckles off sparkles from the waves of blue linoleum, it’s horrifyingly kitsch, he feels embarrassed all of a sudden, certain he made a fool of himself, he would rather be anywhere but here. He hears the receptionist huff once again in the distance.
"I can’t guarantee anything Mr. Howell but my manager gets here in an hour maybe he will be able to do something, in the mean time why not leave your suitcase here and go have a walk on the pier ?"
The sun is setting, Dan has zero desire to go back outside in the rain, but apparently it’s what’s happening. No point in staying here anymore, a second longer really, where he can feel the air tightening in his throat and a shiver lingering between his spine, so he takes the cue, walks away, just like that, leaving Phil to deal with the logistics of the suitcase he himself carried since Manchester, retreating to the gloomy loneliness of the seafront mimicking his own desperation.
He can still hear Phil thanking the girl in the distance, he feels bad for a second, bad that he abandoned him once again because he is incapable of handling his own emotions. and before he knows it, or even managed to process how truly bizarre he must have looked from an outside perspective, rushing out, the glass doors open and he can feel the cold air envelop him, rain trickling down his back as if it never stopped. He is going to be soaked again in less than a couple minutes, but he can’t bring himself to quite care, at least he is alone now, the suffocating atmosphere of the hotel nothing but a vapid dream.
He is alone now and at least he can breathe.
When Phil finds him, he is sitting on a bench facing the sea. He stopped, collapsed, dropping his weight on the damp wood, hasn’t moved since, on the pier, the immensity of the grey reaching and spreading in front of him, it’s as if he could touch it, immerse himself in the water, glassy, unmoving, turmoiled by the wind blowing his fringe left and right, focusing on it, as if could offer some kind of shelter, a certainty of everything being all alright because the ocean is the same as it always is, unbothered by his futile concerns, strong, powerful, fearless.
For as far as he can remember Dan always liked the sea, found comfort in it’s boundless vastitude, as far as his eyes can reach, continuing far past the horizon, an end of the world, one that isn’t daunting or even physically present, an immateriality he would fixate on until the anarchic throbbing of his heart would halt its frenetic rhythm and settle into a quiet stillness.
That’s one of the first thing he noticed about Phil in the beginning, how his eyes called to the infinite shades of the sea, imbued with the same kind of light, from grey, to blue, to green, speckled with gold flakes as if the the sun was reaching through its depths, a sense of calmness, a safety that he had wished he could drown himself within.
He feels Phil sitting next to him, his weight making the bench wobble slightly, dip by the presence that just made itself evident.
"Hey"
He hasn’t looked at Dan yet focusing on his hands, fiddling with his thumbs, head down as if he is afraid of what he might find in Dan’s eyes if he dares to look up.
"Hey"
Dan answers and it drops back into silence as if neither of them had decided what to say just yet, letting it simmer in the tension of all that should be spoken out loud and probably won’t. Dan grabs Phil’s hand threading their fingers together, the warmth of an embrace he is not quite ready to give him. An electricity coursing, anything but calming, he holds on, he is not allowing himself to break contact this time. Read between the lines, measure the leap to take when he will brave enough to talk again.
"Do you wan’t to talk about it ?"
Phil asks and his voice is quiet, cautious as if he is not quite sure what he is bracing himself for just yet. He squeezes Dan’s fingers with his own, assuring him that he is here, that he always is, that all he wants is to listen, an assuming touch leaving way for Dan to take the cue if he wants to.
Dan hums, moving his head slowly from left to right, a contradictory nod, he is not ready to be that vulnerable right now. He huffs in just a breath.
"No, not really"
They retreat back to silence, Phil’s brows are furrowed, anxious thoughts probably racing through his mind, Dan wants to reach out and soothe it with his thumb but he doesn’t, squeezes back in response as a speck of tenderness thrown to their joint hands in place of anything else. He doesn’t know why he is so painfully still, why he doesn’t rush and collapses into Phil’s arms, why he doesn’t nestle against his chest and let himself be invaded by the beating of his heart as if both of their breath had found the same length.
Phil moves slightly, clears his throat, something is definitely bothering him but he is trying to not let it show, not to worry Dan more than he already is probably.
"You know I was going to say friend right ? at the hotel ?"
Phil says at last, an air of resentment obscuring his voice, and then again a bit louder, a bit more assured, as if he had finally found the courage to speak his mind and call Dan out on his behaviour.
"I know you are not comfortable with that stuff, it’s not like I want to shout it out loud to the world either you know ?"
Dan braces himself to speak, he can’t really keep ignoring Phil anymore, it’s childish, puerile, he is supposed to be an adult. He takes a deep breath emptying his lungs, invading his pupils with the stone cold grey of the sea, settling himself, hoping his voice will not reflect how close to crying he really feels. He says.
"It was supposed to be a romantic boyfriends getaway"
And it sounds a bit stilted when he says it like that, a bit artificial, something older people would say bragging to their friends around a bottle of expensive wine, it doesn’t really pertain to the reality of sitting on a bench, soaking wet in god forsaken Blackpool. it's not something Dan would have said if he hadn’t thought it was what Phil wanted to hear when he suggested it a week ago. He feels like a child saying that, it’s sounds out of place in his mouth, wrong in a way, a superficiality as if it was all they were to each other, a pointless label to fit into a societal standard.
"Really mate ? Thought we were on a bro trip"
Phil smiles at that, he is not upset maybe, just concerned, a look shared, lingering, Phil’s hand coming to remove Dan’s fringe from where it fell into his eyes, the softest of touches. Dan doesn’t want him to let go.
A smile stretching his lips in return, an endearment glazing the tears he could feel peaking at the corner of his eyes into vapour wave, he hopes Phil can feel just how much he truly loves him, even if he hasn’t been that good at saying it lately.
"Shut up I panicked !"
Dan huffs a nervous laugh, escaping, bouncing around the raindrops. He feels better all of a sudden as if nothing is just quite as heavy as he thought it was. He can do that sometimes let himself be overtaken by the doom, the pointless catastrophizing and forget the light, like when it’s been raining for a while and you forget the feeling of the sun warming your skin still exists.
He moves slightly, grappling a few inches, angling himself closer to Phil, letting their thighs graze against one another. Phil lets his head fall on Dan’s shoulder, black hair tickling the curvature of his neck.
"You didn’t need to do all that Dan, all I wanted was to be able to tell my dad that we are together so he stops trying to set me up with the daughters of people he works with, he wouldn’t have minded either, I didn’t need you to plan some kind of grand gesture, it’s not really like we can afford a weekend away anyway"
And it’s so on the dot that Dan can’t quite believe how stupid he has been, it’s not the public display of love that is meaningful, it’s the little things, the assurance that you are in this together, no matter what anyone might think. It’s trust he realizes, trust that they both value what they have and it’s not just a fling or experimentation, that it’s lasting, that’s it’s love in a pure, open, safe way, the certainty that it’s reciprocated to the same depth, the same loudness, without doubts hindering a perfect picture, a certitude echoing through every fibre of their bodies that if this might not be forever, it’s at least worth holding on to the possibility that it could.
"Hence why we are in Blackpool Phillie, because I am both broke and dumb"
Phil laughs at that, the soft giggles shaking his body nestling in between Dan’s shoulder blades, he smiles, it all seems so stupid right now, this pointless argument that almost broke through. The rain feels less heavy, akin to a dribble awaiting for the sun to return, it was never a storm, just a passing mist.
Phil stands up, dragging Dan, still holding hands, his expression encouraging and soft as if all that happened today was really just a blip in their perfect beach weekend just the two of them.
"Come on, I am sure Blackpool is not all that bad, they have crepes over there!"
He points to a stall, a bit further in the distance along the pier, a bright red awning adorned with doodles of Phil’s favorite sweet treats, impulsing life to the surrounding monochromatic industrial landscape. Dan hadn’t even noticed it was there but count on Phil to gage at the possibility of sugar from a mile away. He stands up, helping himself with the tie of their joint hands, relying on Phil like he always does, simply because he can.
"We can probably still turn it around"
Dan obliges mumbling and when Phil looks back at him, the tenderness of his smile reaching his eyes, he looses himself in the resounding shimmer of his iris as if nothing else existed but the echoing promise of the perfect beach day they enfold, ocean sapphire blue, hit by the rays of golden sun in the blinding angle that makes it impossible to look away from.
"Do you think they will have caramel drizzle ?"
Dan grabs Phil’s arm, hunching them forward, starting to walk, goal within reach at the fast pacing of their not quite coordinated steps.
Everything is fine, they are together, they were never appart.
"Come on you dork, let’s go get that crepe, my treat"
The lights are flickering all around Dan, colourful LED, as they are walking through the arcade, dancing in unison as if they were trying to prevent the gloom from stepping in, open front view to the pier, the sea in the distance. It feels like a parentheses, the freight of Blackpool doesn’t quite permeate, it’s not exactly warmer, the outside is just there but it feels like it somehow, the sweetness of his strawberry and cream crepe he just finished still on his tongue like the evanescent reverie of a summer day at the fun fair, lingering the scent of pulled sugar almost perceptible if he closes his eyes.
It’s as if it all dissipated, lost to a daze of forthcoming long lost memories.
Phil by his side, casual chatter, a comfort, a safety, laughing about nothing just high on the joy of being together, as it always should be. Something that belongs to the life he has right now, not the one he used to exist within, childhood memories tainted by the obscuring shadow of loneliness, the thought that he was never someone’s first choice, the thought that he had never had a best friend.
Phil smiles at him, grabbing his hand, dragging him along in front of an absurdly tacky console, shining lights, over sexualised drawings of women in bikinis at the back of a motor cycle grabbing to the back of buff men, Phil already perched himself on the half figure of a Harley Davidson, pressing the buttons in a anarchic manner to try and make something happen.
He has a best friend now, he has so much more than that.
Dan might be annoyed at anyone else not picking up the on the obvious conclusion that it doesn’t work, but it’s Phil so he is only endeared, gently laying his hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly to get his attention.
"I don’t think it works Phillie"
Phil hums, considering it for a second, raising an highbrow and pointing to an "out of order" sign on the side of the machine Dan hadn’t noticed.
"Oh yeah right"
He steps off, holding tight on Dan’s arm, reaching the floor in a rattling noise, leaning on him for a second longer than he would have needed. They start walking off, standing close exploring a different corner of this mostly "out of order" arcade as is now made clear by the numerous signs sticked to the sides of the machines, they didn’t even see at first, it’s liminal in a way, a bit unnerving, the kind of place Dan wouldn’t feel quite comfortable wondering around alone, all lights and emptiness, nothing to latch on to, he tightens his hold on Phil’s arm.
Just to feel his weight against him, the confiding soundness of his presence, the denim scarping in between his fingertips, small movements back and forth, feeling and letting his mind wonder off far and away to Phil’s bedroom just before they left, when in the darkness of slumber, Phil had whispered “I love you” and this time Dan didn’t say it back, just pretended he was asleep, breathing softly against his naked chest.
He doesn’t really know why in hindsight, they had said it countless of times already in the beginning, before they even knew each other, when he was just a YouTube fan lurking in the shadows, “I think I am in love with you” left to be forgotten in the depths of the comment section.
he doesn’t know why he didn’t say it back last night, maybe it means too much now, they have have been together for half of the year, it holds a different weight, a different loudness, a boundless resounding echo that calls to the possibility of something he isn’t quite ready to conscientise just yet, he wouldn’t mind forever with Phil in theory, in practice it’s a rise of issues, too multitude to count, arguments he doesn’t feel like he can deal with, would rather runway and never come back than have to acknowledge in plain light all this means for them, for him, leave it whispered to the dead of the night when he feels brave enough to do so.
Quiet, oh so quiet and the feeling that as long as no one knows it can exist for as long as Phil will desire to have Dan by his side.
"Do you think I should get a motorbike ?"
He is brought back to reality in the span of a second, Phil smiling mischievously by his side, the quadricolor lights shining his eyes from inside out, rainbow birthed out of his pupils reflecting, an interrogative look thrown his way.
"What ? No, why would you do that ? The license you have is the courtesy of your instructor winning the lottery and giving zero fucks"
Dan laughs, Phil soon joining him, an easy giggling shying away his interrogations to the back of his mind, mindless enjoyment, where they are doesn’t really matter in truth, Phil can make any place be impulsed with that sense of marvel Dan felt he had lost when he was still too young to do so, it’s nice to have it back somehow, even if it’s through a scape way.
Finding something you thought you had lost somewhere along the way, to the scurries of life, misplaced.
"Come on, I think the claw machines are working!"
Phil hurries forward, grabbing Dan by the sleeve of his jacket, dragging him along, running in the arcade as if they were the only two people in the world, the make belief that they are, only the sound of their steps skittering against the wavering metal floor.
Breaching to dreamland, subdued suspension, gliding through a getaway door to the 80’s, in a way a reminiscent of the arcade in the decrepit shopping center in Wokingham, the one where he used to anxiously wait for his mum to come and get him when she used to drop him off. Only he isn’t scared now, no monsters hiding in the corners of his mind, waiting to blind him and catch, by surprise his body shivering against a hidden glitched console.
Stumbling against Phil’s back when he stops abruptly at the sight of the first machine.
"Choose whatever you want I’ll win it for you, my family used to call me claw master Lester!"
Dan huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes, a blush coloring his cheeks. It’s notoriously impossible to grab something from a claw machine but it still warms his heart that Phil wants to try. Go through the effort just to impress him, that he still makes the effort to flirt, albeit in a dorky way, even if he already has Dan’s heart secured in the crook of his palm.
"Shut up they did not ! Claw machines are a capitalistic hell scape meant to trick people, dangling in front of your eyes something you can’t get, it’s the whole point Phil"
It’s Phil’s turn to roll his eyes, focusing on a machine near Dan, eying a Pokemon plushie, vibrant yellow clashing with the obscurity, the corner they retreated into away from the blinding spots of the arcade front and the lingering rays of daylight soon ending.
"Shush, I am a magician I speak to the claw, it does as I say"
Phil leans against the glass, pressing his ear to the machine, whispering something non sensical, overhyping his facial expression to add to the ridiculousness of the situation, grinning at Dan from ear to ear. He comes to lean next to him, glancing at the Pikachu from the corner of his eye, a monstrosity near the front, in yellow polyester dead beady eyes looking at nothing, lighten by the spot right on top of a pile of various plushies. It would be the easiest one to catch but it isn’t the most appealing, not something he would really want to posses, not something that he would proudly parade around, or tweet about.
"You know what Lester, instead of a Poundland Pikachu if you really are the claw master win me this"
Dan leans closer to Phil, hair tickling his neck, the heat of his cheek brushing against his, a rattling breath at a proximity they haven’t shared all day, a call back to the previous night when they fell asleep in each others arms, tangled in Phil’s small bed.
He points through the glass, taps lightly, the reflection of the lights on the plain surface trembling, angling his finger to the right slightly, near the back, in the shadows, a small cuddly monster, a grinning face in obscuring shades of beige and brown. Phil follows Dan’s direction nodding imperceptibly, concentration already settling on his features, eyes fixated, transfixed by the goal he has set his mind to.
"It’s from "Where the wild things are" right ?
Phil asks drawing his focus back to Dan, wide open eyes trying to decipher something from his expression, a silent understanding in mere looks that this means way more to him than a generic Pokemon plushie could ever. Dan nods breathing slowly, letting the fondness of Phil’s smile trickle down his face, soothing something deep in his heart, crystalizing, a sense of serenity, of settlement.
"Yeah that’s Carol! I used to love this book as a kid"
Phil taps on his shoulder lightly, raising back to his full stature, eyeing the machine up and down, hand pressed to the glass.
"Well I am winning it for you, putting that bloody smile back on your face and making sure it stays there, in the mean time tell me why you liked it"
Dan can’t help but smile at that, it seems absurd sometimes this kindness, this unconditional trust Phil has in him, this desire to make him happy no matter what even if Dan has been far from pleasant all day long. It doesn’t really make sense to him, it’s the type of mysteries he can’t quite grasp, the reasons behind this infatuation, an enigma he doesn’t want to solve all the same, the potentiality of Phil’s tenderness, of his care, of his love. He gets to revel in it, it’s all that matters.
"What the book ?"
Phil nods once again, opening his Buffy scratch wallet, retrieving a two pound coin from it, inserting it in the machine with a rattling noise, and so Dan carries on, picks up where he left off.
"I used to read it when I was about seven or eight something like that, it’s the story of a boy who goes to bed without dinner, gets taken to another world"
Phil is looking straight ahead, hands on the joystick, moving it around the glass box to get used to the sensitivity of the mechanism. Captivated in the scope of Dan’s full attention.
"He meets monsters there, a flurry of them, at first he is scared but as the story goes on and he starts acting like a tyrant, hungry for the power he doesn’t have at home, I guess it’s about control in a way, one he can only have in his subconscious"
Phil moves the claw above the plushie he is aiming for, adjusting the metal frame, from left to right, nudging at the joystick slightly, Dan has probably never seen him this concentrated, like ever, it’s like he is in a zone, a time of catching and meeting his goal where nothing seems to be able to distract him. There is something almost mesmerizing about it, how hard he is trying just because Dan asked him to, he feels valued somehow, by this demonstration, by this performance of devotion and genuine interest, it’s not something he is used to, this concern, this effort.
A two pound gift at the risk of missing it entirely worth so much more than anything that could have been bought with money. A small gesture in place of a grand one, acts over words.
"But when he leaves the monsters are sad, they miss him, they want him to stay, even if he wasn’t the best person to them, they don’t care, they love him unconditionally, it’s stupid I know but I identified with him as a kid, because I was scared and sometimes acted like a brat, didn’t want to let anyone in, I guess it gave me hope in a way that I could still be loved by someone despite how flawed and wrong I thought I was for the world"
Phil finally stops angling the claw around, certain he found the right spot, just above, slightly to the left, where you could just imagine that it will latch both to a torso and a leg, a spot where it feels possible that it could work, a mastery of positionnement.
Dan knows it probably won’t, work that is, but it doesn’t matter, it’s the thought that counts and that heartfelt moment they just shared.
Phil presses the final button and the claw goes down, impossibly slowly, it’s as if time stopped, Dan can see he is holding his breath. It matters to him, it matters so much. Sometimes he thinks Phil is just a dream he made up, he seems too good to be true, Dan doesn’t deserve this kind of love, pure and unconditional one that a bad day or several bad days a month can’t shy away, immaterial and yet nothing has ever felt more real to him than that bond they share, there is something absolute about it, something that can’t be broken.
"I am not sure that’s the message of the story really, I think it’s about behaving and accepting that your parents know best or something, but it’s not what I took from it, it’s not what I remember it for, I just wanted to be friends with the monsters I think, they were far more humane than the people I had in my life at this point, they never hurt me, or Max I mean they never hurt Max"
Dan feels a tear rolling down his cheek, he doesn’t bother to stop it, letting it disappear in the obscurity beneath his feet.
The claw catches, grabbing the cuddly monster exactly where Dan had thought it would and Phil had planned, right in the center, where the padding is the thickest, latching on to a leg as well just for good measure. It begins to rise in the air, lifted from the crowded sea of creatures, rescued from the loneliness of the machine, Dan is sure it will eventually just slide off, the claw losing its grip, after all no one is supposed to win at these games, the odds are against the player.
He follows the movement closely, gasping every time it as much as wobbles, awaiting the inevitable fall and the loss of this plushie he attached so much to, it never works, it’s pointless to harbour the hope that it somehow will. And yet as the claw approaches the front of the machine and the box it’s supposed to fall into, Dan feels thrilled by the possibility of victory, all doubts escaping his mind, finger crossed, anticipation arching his brows, he might have stopped breathing.
The claw finally reaching its goal, releasing its grip and the plushie falls exactly at the right place, at the right time, miraculous in a way, like something that wasn’t meant to be and still is.
"Oh my god Phil you did it!"
Dan is screaming, probably way too loud and too enthralled by Phil’s skills for such a small thing and yet he doesn’t have a bone in his body to care. Joy filling his heart like a million fireworks exploding all at once.
"Told you I would, claw master Lester"
Phil simply says, a sigh of relief at the breach of his lip, an attempt at winking, unfortunate closing both his eyes in the process.
Dan wants to kiss that smug look right off his face, he is not sure he ever loved Phil quite so much than he does in this moment, it’s almost overwhelming this feeling, the intensity of it, rippling all across the room, filling it, he feels like he might drown.
Phil leans down retrieving the plushie from the door of the machine, handing it to Dan, both hands in front of him, in offering.
"God I love you so much"
Dan throws fast glances left and right, checking no one had the audacity of venturing into their shelter and when he is sure they are all alone, he rushes forward, making Phil stumble against the glass, keeping him there, grabbing his face with both hands, the plushie pressed in between their hearts beating on the same wavelength, and he kisses him, open mouth, heated and assured, a certainty, a trust, a loudness evident at the encounter of their joint lips.
United once again in a soul kiss that could have lasted a life time.
He keeps mumbling sweet nothing, little «I love you» against Phil’s mouth, press of the lips, smiling widely high on the joy of them, just them because it’s enough, enough for Blackpool, enough for anywhere in the world, it should always be like that.
A buzzing coursing through their bodies and they part if only a little, a few inches of distance so Phil can grab his ringing phone.
"Yeah, yeah it’s me, wow, what ? Really ? Yes of course we will be right there, ten minutes"
Phil hangs up, still holding his phone in his hand, dangling it in front of Dan, a smile even brighter than a few seconds ago enlightening his features.
"Guess what!"
Excitement readable in the way his eyes are shining, the blue of his iris speckled with glimmer of rainbow reflected from the flickering lights. His hair are messed up and frizzing at the edges, his glasses are skewed on his nose, and yet Dan is impulsed by the certitude that he never looked so beautiful.
"What ?"
An impossibly large grin barring his face, contentment nestled in his heart, just waiting to hear the good news.
"They have no more normal rooms available, so they are giving us the master suite with the sea view for the same price, plus a bottle of champagne for the trouble!
Dan can’t quite believe it, he would pinch himself to make sure he is not dreaming if his hand were not occupied grabbing Phil’s waist.
You can always turn a bad day around after all, and this is like a 180 rocking the whole world upside down.
"Your luck must be rubbing off on me!"
Phil laughs softly, tongue poking at the side in that way Dan is entirely too fond of, so he kisses him again, a quick peck to Phil’s chapped lips, lingering for a second. Phil grabs Dan by the hips moving forward slightly.
"Come on you can kiss my pretty face plenty more once I am in a dry room with a flute of champagne in my hand"
Dan giggles, grabbing Phil’s waist, holding the plushie right against his heart as they leave their hidden corner, walking back to the front of the arcade.
"Count on it Mr.Howell, your lips will be sore by the time I am done with you !"
Dan smiles as Phil ducks his head down, the returning sunlight catching the freckles on his blushing cheeks.
"Or so am I called, sorry you know me I panicked"
Dan laughs, leaning against Phil’s chest, his hand still holding onto his waist, the sea infinite and boundless in blue shimmers shining at the corner of his vision, bright, bold, loud, beams of gold reflecting on it’s surface.
"And yet such a steady hand for the claw machine! but it’s not like I mind"
And when Dan says this, he means it truthfully, in every sense it could entail, forever lingering on the edges, like a distant projection he can almost touch from the tip of his fingers. Manchester as the first step to this future together within arms length.
"Hurry up! And stop being so adorable otherwise I won’t be able to resist kissing you before we get to the hotel!"
And they laugh, and Dan’s heart flutters and flutters as they run on the pier like two idiots in love, the "Where the wild things are" cuddly monster dangling in the soft spring breeze in between them.