Archive of Our Own ^beta

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, swearing, many elements of angst, implied smut, vague implication of abuse (only two lines)

Word Count: 33.6k

Fic Playlist (ordered chronologically to follow the storyline as it progresses) 

--

It was a typical Friday night on campus, the raucous alumni should be working, studying at the very least, but every surrounding bar was chocked full of students gagging for the two-for-one drink offers and the promise of unfulfilling bathroom hook-ups. Unfortunately, Dan Howell was among them.

Usually, he would be susceptibly wary to having one too many and maybe even have to carry someone else home, but after a day full of seemingly demonic lecturers and ball-breaking seminars, he was prepared to let his inhibitions go, even welcomed it.

He was out with a few of his coursemates, and it often made him chuckle, he had found himself fitting in with the most diverse group of personalities. The stereotypical athlete, jock, nerd and other prejudices Dan stood firmly against surrounded him, all clinking shot glasses and chanting some lame university mantra before downing them in one, Dan joined them after mumbling something that sounded vaguely like that of his friends.

Naturally, this would be the night he felt nothing. Not even after drink number six.

His friend Jacob, however, was in the state Dan craved. Out of his head drunk.

“Danny, Danny. Walk with me,” Jacob insisted as he threw an arm around Dan’s neck in comradery, leading him away from the group into a quieter corner of the bar.

“Something wrong?” Dan asked, not really paying the drunk Jacob his full attention as he scanned the area absentmindedly.

“I have a secret” Jacob slurred, giggling upon the delivery of the utterance. He bent his finger gesturing Dan to lean in closer, which he did so reluctantly, abiding would be much easier and smoother than the alternative, after all.

“Do you want to know the secret?” Jacob whispered, barely audible over the pounding bassline echoing from the side-speaker beside them.

“Yes Jake, that’s kind of why my head’s practically resting on your chest” Dan quipped, rolling his eyes again as he heard Jacob giggle.

“I’ve been being a little naughty recently… for nearly a year now,” he began, and Dan sub-consciously raised an eyebrow as he contemplated possible endings to the story, but he simply nodded as he awaited the conclusion, “I’m cheating on Phil”

Dan retreated back to an arched-backed position and put a large amount of willpower into not letting his mouth drop open. Or swearing. Or punching. Dan and Phil were really close friends, despite Dan originally only knowing Phil through Jacob, as Phil was on a Media course whereas Dan and Jacob were on a Creative Writing course. Regardless, Dan had always had a soft spot for Phil, and he thought of it as a lowblow when Jacob happily announced that he and Phil were together over two years ago, only months after they all started at the university as freshers. At the time, Dan simply said “treat him well or I’ll kill you”, which he meant every syllable of, he just disguised it as jokey banter. He felt queasy when Jacob wrapped an arm around Phil’s waist and pulled him close.

Now Jacob was telling Dan that he had been cheating for at least a year if not longer. Sure, Jacob was ambiguous, they were both writers after all, but he wasn’t a liar.

Besides, a drunk man’s outbursts are a sober man’s secrets.

“What?” Dan asked, balling his hands into fists, but rested them on his lap so Jacob wouldn’t see. The last thing he wanted was a bar brawl, quite frankly the thing he most wanted was to tell Phil, who was in his dorm.

“Yep,” Jacob confirmed, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis, “his name’s Logan, he’s doing History” Jacob gushed, smiling smugly. Dan wanted to punch the smile off his face.

“And I take it Phil doesn’t know?” Dan asked through gritted teeth. He wished he didn’t know why he was so annoyed, it was just that he and Phil were the better couple from day one, with everything in common and in every way compatible. Why Phil couldn’t see the same was the thing that kept Dan up at night. And inspired most of his poetry.

Dan was a respectable poet (specialising in freestyle, he felt pressured and oppressed with boundaries such as line length, structure and rhyme) at only age twenty, with a thriving blog and headlining a growing number of poetry readings with his original writing, a Creative Writing degree seemed like a natural stepping stone to helping him improve further. He initially wanted to broaden his writing in terms of genre and style, but for over a year his poems had all adopted the same theme, the same style. Unrequited love, unpursued love, and his inspiration? Always the same two blue eyes, the mildly pale skin that was almost milky in the right light, the defined features, and the plump, pearly pink lips that he wanted nothing more than to taste. Through his university career, his poems about Phil had served him well in terms of both his career and his grades, both were flourishing.

“Of course he doesn’t, why would he?” Jacob asked, seeming genuinely confused as to why Dan would ask what he did.

“I think I’m going to head back, finish the poem we have to hand in tomorrow” Dan excused himself as he stood up from his seat, and Jacob followed suit.

“I thought you did that like… a million weeks ago?” he asked, arms flailing to accentuate the exaggeration.

Dan shook his head in pity, though he played it off as another calibre, and patted Jacob on the shoulder. “Have a good night, Jake” he bid farewell before turning to walk away.

“Oh I will, Logan’s meeting me in like ten minutes”

Dan carried on walking.

Carried on walking to his dorm building, which conveniently housed all of the people he spoke to on a regular basis. It made him smile how everyone back home was confused how he was still living in a dorm building despite it being his third and final year, but Dan’s university kept an apartment/dorm building reserved specifically for third-years, so the option to live in independent housing was never a necessity. The keyring containing the key to room 4 in dorm 15 on floor 6 shifted around in the pocket of Dan’s skinny jeans as he began ascending the stairs – the lift was broken – and with every passing step he was craving his bed more and more. But there was more than just the stairwell stopping him.

Dan found himself standing outside dorm 17 on floor 3, and his knuckle hovering in front of the door. He listened, intently, but silence was all that greeted him. It was two in the morning, of course Phil would be asleep. As were his dormmates. Rather than wake Phil and everyone he lived with, Dan sighed and ran his finger down the door. He scuffed his shoe against the wall, and turned back around, heading back for the stairwell.

You’re the light, you’re the sun, you’re the moon’s milky glow.

You deserve so much, yet you receive so little, giving the world in exchange for a decaying penny.

Would I dare beseech the words ‘Be Mine’?

Now is not the time, my love,

We cannot be playing such risky games.

Dan sighed as he threw his pen down back onto his notebook and ran his hands through his hair. He had a heavily edited and perfected sonnet lined up for tomorrow – today’s – seminar, there was truly no reason for him to even consider swapping them, but he wanted Jacob to know his disapproval, even if it was through poetry. If that meant Jacob suspecting Dan’s feelings, then so be it. Dan had nothing to hide, it was obvious in the way he looked at Phil when he spoke. One of the girls on Dan’s course, Emmie, had once jokingly nicknamed him ‘Heart-Eyes Howell’ because of how longingly he looked at Phil, but she had promised to keep it a secret after he had no choice but to spill everything to her.

He signed his name at the bottom of the poem, a force of habit, and closed his notebook, slipping it into his backpack as he crawled into bed and put his head under the pillow, tugging a little too roughly on the lamp cord that dangled from his desk, plunging the small room into darkness. Again, Dan sighed, and he readjusted himself into a more comfortable, sleep-inducing position.

He fell asleep to the idea of a large cottage in the country, complete with a white picket fence, and the very same blue eyes that usually kept him awake, staring adoringly back at him.

---

Can we meet sometime today?? It’s been a while

Dan sent the text as soon as he awoke, and went about his usual mundane morning routine, preparing his speech delivery as he was going to read his new poem out in class, the poem he wrote only a few hours prior. But the words were raw, purely from the heart, and he felt no nerves whatsoever.

Sure thing! The usual place? :)

Phil’s text brought a smile to Dan’s face, it made him goofily happily that he and Phil had a specific place that they regularly met at. Dan wasn’t entirely sure anymore how he felt about telling Phil the whole cheating situation, but it was the right thing to do, and he was more than willing to be a supportive shoulder to cry on if needs be.

Sounds good! About three??

Three in the afternoon gave Dan a few hours after class to perfect exactly how he was going to tell Phil, he needed to make sure he believed him. If he were to stutter at all, he knew from his many poetry readings, what he was saying would lose its glamour, its effect.

See you then, looking forward to it!

And with Phil’s text, Dan left for his seminar, the previous night’s poem all but burning off of the page.

--

“Good morning everyone, I trust you’ve all brought your poems with you? We’ll get straight into it. Emily, if you would” the lecturer gestured to Emmie as soon as everyone was seated, and she nodded with a smile as she reeled off her poem from memory. Dan was always fascinated with Emmie’s writing style, how she was always wrote in the most faultlessly optimistic way, it was beautiful.

Dan whispered his poem to himself as other people were reading theirs, he wanted to make his delivery flawless, as everyone – including himself – had high hopes.

He was sat between Jacob and another friend of his, Davy, whom was also highly optimistic in his writing. It didn’t make Dan feel inferior in any way, not at all, it was rather Dan thought of himself as a depressant, a downer on the mood and tone of the class as a whole, as all his poems were surrounding a similar topic. But he couldn’t help it, he had his style, he was renowned for it, so he stuck to it. He dreamt of his muse most nights, and wrote about him the following morning. It was simple. Routine.

Before he knew it, Davy had finished his poem and was greeted with a round of applause, and Dan high-fived him, partly through guilt having not listened as he was wrapped up in his own thoughts, partly through pride, as he had read Davy’s poem earlier so knew what he was missing and how powerful it was.

“Daniel, go ahead” the lecturer encouraged with a small smile, and all eyes in the classroom turned to Dan. He reached for his notebook, but stopped himself at the literal last second, and interlocked his hands, straightened his posture as he made eye contact with various members of the class as he spoke.

His poem was short, concise compared to how he normally wrote, but it felt like a lifetime as he awaited feedback from his peers, and the lecturer herself was wide-eyed. Emmie mouthed ‘are you okay?’ and Dan nodded and waved off her concern, but she simply pressed her lips into a fine line as she looked around the class awaiting other feedback, much like Dan.

“Well, that’s certainly… different to your usual style, Mr. Howell” the lecturer informed him, and Dan felt some heat rush to his cheeks at her words, but he didn’t hesitate to dig a little deeper.

“Forgive me, but may I ask why?” he asked, and the lecturer smiled.

“It’s a lot more personal than your usual work. For example, usually you tend to be ambiguous and in the third person, but this little gem, well this is something else. Well done” she expanded, and Dan thanked her in a mumble and dipped his head. So it was obvious. Hopefully Jacob picked up on it too.

But he didn’t. He delivered his poem to the tune of a few generic comments, and he admitted he pieced something together at the last minute. Dan fought back the urge to snap at him saying that he did too, but he managed to keep a lid on his growing temper. The seminar was during to a close anyhow.

After politely rejecting an offer of a drink with Davy and Emmie, Dan returned to his dorm, again taking place on the office chair, slumped over his notebook. He began scrawling away as the clock ticked above him.

Ignorance is a funny thing, really, truly it is.

You used to say one time you were highly perceptive,

Is that true, my love, or are your senses simply dulled?

Dulled by misconception, by deception?

Well here’s something you might not know;

I’m here for you, in the day and in the night,

You just need to learn to look for the colour in the grey.

Dan’s immediate reaction was to screw the poem up and throw it in the bin, as what he just wrote was so generic it pained him, but he made a vow to himself since his very first poetry reading to never throw a piece of writing away again. So, he ripped the page out of the notebook and shoved it in a plastic wallet and placed it in a drawer. He was mad, mad at Jacob for being seemingly so ignorant to not understand the message of Dan’s poem, it was obvious he listened.

But there was little time to dwell, as he had a new topic at the forefront of his mind: telling the guy he’s so stupidly, madly in love with that his boyfriend has been cheating on him for a year. A delicate matter that Dan could handle one of two ways. But he cared about Phil far too much for the brutal.

And so he rehearsed.

--

He arrived at the nearby gardens five minutes early after having a lengthy argument with himself over what to wear, but the stupidity of the debacle was put in reality as his gaze settled upon Phil, who had arrived even earlier, and was sat on a stone bench, marvelling up at the canopies of trees and down at the various flowers that bloomed by his feet. He was dressed in a simple graphic t-shirt and skinny jeans, Dan bet that Phil didn’t spend over an hour planning his outfit, he never did. Never had to.

Dan simply stared at Phil for a few minutes as he gazed at the plantlife and shrubbery around him, once giggling as a butterfly fluttered just a little too close to his nose. Seeing him in such a disbelieving awe, perhaps even childlike, made Dan all the more certain of his unreturned feelings, his unrequited love. He found Phil breathtakingly beautiful, in every single way, in every sense of the word.

Eventually, he forced one foot in front of the other and made his way over, and Phil jumped up to greet him, wrapping his arms around Dan’s torso gleefully.

When they pulled apart, whilst Phil wasn’t looking, Dan quickly studied Phil’s features close up, there seemed no evidence of past tears or tear streaks, and there were no bags under his eyes. He clearly didn’t know.

But Dan could spot the very-nearly-healed purple hickeys on Phil’s neck clearly, and when Phil caught Dan gazing at them, he placed his hand over them in embarrassment and laughed nervously as he blushed furiously, which made Dan’s heart sink just that much further.  

Surely he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t break Phil’s heart, though he wouldn’t be the cause.

No, he needed to.

“Are you okay, Dan? Usually you’ve cracked at least one lame joke by now” Phil asked, genuine concern laced around every syllable despite the words spoken.

His first instinct was to nod, but he needed to persevere. For Phil’s sake. And somehow, that was all he needed to think.

“We need to talk, Phil” he spoke, and immediately Phil’s expression changed. He looked fearful, borderline terrified, like a child when called downstairs by a parent. His eyes had widened too, which made the task all the more difficult for Dan. But he couldn’t let Jacob leave Phil hanging any longer, it wasn’t fair.

“O-okay” Phil choked, pressing a couple of fingers to his throat as he gestured Dan to continue. His voice had broken before Dan even began, which made the brunet fearful of Phil’s reaction to the news.

“It’s about Jacob” Dan spoke slowly, so Phil would be completely certain of what he was being told.

“What about him? Is he okay? Did something happen last night? I knew I should’ve gone out with you all, I told him that but he insisted I stay home and oh god, is he in hospital? He’s supposed to be coming over tonight and-“

“Phil” Dan interjected, silently begging the other boy not to complete that sentence. He had heard enough already to make tears prick the back of his eyes, purely because Phil made it obvious through the influx of questions just how deeply he cared for Jacob. And that again made the task more difficult to perform.

Phil ignored Dan’s interjection and continued his babbles, and stood up from the bench, flailing his arms around as he voiced his concerns, and set for walking away, which sent Dan to resort to plan B.

He gently took hold of Phil’s wrist before he could get too far away, which silenced the other boy immediately, as he knew in that moment that something was definitely wrong, and it was something he likely hadn’t been told yet. Dan knew how to handle Phil’s overreactions, and he was thankful for it at times like the present.

“Phil, he’s fine. Just please sit down” Dan instructed calmly, speaking in soothing tones to help Phil calm down, as he sat back down beside him.

“Dan, you’re really scaring me, just please tell me what’s wrong with Jake” Phil pleaded once his breathing had returned to a normal pattern.

Dan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and attempted to make his expression deadpan, to accentuate how serious he was.

“Phil… Jacob’s cheating on you. He has been for at least a year now” Dan again spoke softly, listening to Phil’s uneven breathing as he awaited a reaction.

Phil sunk slightly, his posture sagging, and he looked up at Dan with wide eyes. “What?” he asked, eyes glittering as tears teetered on his waterline, threatening to fall.

“Jake told me when we were out last night. His name’s Logan, he does History. I’m so sorry, Phil” Dan clarified, and automatically stretched a hand out to pat Phil’s shoulder sympathetically, but the other boy winced, and shuffled out of Dan’s grasp.

“N-no. You’re lying. He would never do that, he loves me. And-And I love him. I can’t believe you’d do this, Dan…” Phil’s voice lost volume as he went on, Dan’s name practically inaudible, Dan only picking up on it through reading Phil’s lips.

“Phil I’m not-“

“Save it,” Phil spat, jumping up from the bench and beginning to storm off in the direction of the dorm buildings. But, he turned around halfway. “I can’t believe you’d do this, Dan. It’s absolutely ridiculous” he added, the darkest of expressions on his face, and voice low and monotone, yet dripping with venom.

“Please, Phil, let me-“ Dan attempted to reconcile, but Phil held up a hand and shook his head.

“Don’t bother. You’re pathetic, Dan. Absolutely pathetic” Phil cut him off, and turned back around, storming firmly in the direction of the dorms.

Alas Dan was left alone in the gardens which contained some of his and Phil’s collectively best memories, and he tried to relay any of them in his mind as he fell to his knees onto the concrete, head in his hands as tears burned his eyes and began to dampen his hands. But all he could think of was the last words Phil spat at him, maybe the last words he would ever speak to him.

You’re pathetic, Dan. Absolutely pathetic.

The words swam around his head, playing on repeat, mocking him. He had lost Phil’s friendship, the thing he valued most, and worst of all? Phil was willingly going back to a cheating boyfriend.

--

Childhood is so underrated, have you ever thought?

No worries, no life lessons, just bobbing along happily with little to fear.

We’re not taught how to live, how to love.

I ask myself ‘where do broken hearts go?’ and there is only one real answer;

Wherever you are, alone in the dark.

The poem was signed with Dan’s name as he slipped it into the same plastic wallet as its predecessor, tearing off a post-it and sticking it to the wallet, scrawling Phil on the paper, titling the content. Dedicating it.

He raked shaking hands through his hair as he continued to try to steady his breathing, still reeling from the events from a few hours prior. He knew that Jacob would be at Phil’s dorm by now, he’d probably have been there for over an hour, and it sent a shooting pain through Dan’s head just thinking of the fact, nevermind what could be going on presently.

He darted his gaze down to his phone, its illumination breaking through his pity party for a moment or two. He allowed a wisp of hope to flicker as he reached for the device, placing it in front of him as he unlocked it. He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed as he read Emmie’s name on the sender line.

We’re all waiting in the bar opposite campus, where are you??

Dan furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to think of what Emmie could possibly mean, but his mind was swimming with thoughts of Phil, regrets from the day’s events, and he didn’t have space to think of anything else.

What??

He didn’t bother expanding, he threw his phone back down on the desk with another sigh, and rubbed his sore, already puffy eyes to wipe away more tears that had begun to fall involuntarily again. His phone lit up again in a matter of minutes.

Your poetry reading?? That you’re one of the main headliners for?? You know, the one you’ve been talking about for over a month and convinced us all to go to?? Dude I literally asked you if you were still going in the seminar earlier and you said yes, were you even listening??

Fuck. This poetry reading was, potentially, Dan’s big break, the most hyped up poetry event in the midlands, and publishers, agents and avid readers alike would be milling around for the entire night. The university had put forward four of their most promising students to read in it, Dan being one of them, and had revealed to the four that there were some publishers attending that seemed very keen about their work. The thought made Dan giddy at the time, but now it made him sick.

He had nothing prepared. He left the poems saved for readings back home last time he visited in the holidays, and anything else that could be eligible was already being used in a seminar for either workshopping or coursework, and if he were to read one of those he would be plagiarising himself, which would be received with prosecution (banning, a future career scrapped before it begins, blacklisted forever).

It took him a few seconds of panic before he realised. His stare dropped down to his desk drawer, and he pulled it open to reveal the plastic wallet titled ‘Phil’ taking centre stage. Dan bit his lip as he contemplated the reaction he may receive, and if he even dared to share them with an audience. These poems were his emotions on the line, his heart on his sleeve, and was he really ready for them to be criticised and judged? For these cliché, pathetically depressing poems to be the determiner if he got a spot in a renowned anthology or not?

He sat in silence for minutes, letting streams of tears fall, the only interrupting sound being his occasional sniffle as he attempted to calm himself down and stop crying. Eventually he found the energy and took the two step journey to stand in front of the floor-length mirror, and he recoiled at seeing his reflection.

He looked appalling, and he had no time to try and rectify it. He needed to attend this reading for his future’s sake, he had to put himself first for once. So, against his better judgment, he switched shirts and flattened out his jeans, and ruffled his hands through his hair once again, having no time to flat iron it to within an inch of its life as he normally did. He dashed over to the sink in his en-suite and splashed water onto his eyes in a last-ditch attempt to reduce the swelling and general redness, which of course was a fruitless endeavour.

‘I can put it down to a sleepless night’ he whispered to himself as he threw various items of clothing around his room as he searched for his leather jacket. Even his whispers were shaky and uneven, and he had no idea how he was going to survive through a three-poem reading where he needed to project his voice. Stage presence is a must for any poet, he’d always been told, and this was the night it mattered most. This was coincidentally also the night he felt the worst he’d ever felt.

His phone vibrated loudly on his desk, and upon seeing Emmie’s caller ID picture Dan swiped the answer panel straightaway and pressed speakerphone on the keypad.

“Where the hell are you, Howell?” she asked in a comical manner, way less serious than her texts were suggesting.

“I-I’m coming, I promise” Dan stuttered in response, and Emmie was silent for a few seconds before Dan heard heel clicks and the background noise on Emmie’s side of the phone decrease significantly. She had moved away from the others.

“Okay, no lies, what’s happened? You’ve been like this all day” she asked, sounding ridiculously concerned, it would have made Dan smile in appreciation if his heart didn’t feel so viciously ripped out of his chest and stomped on with steel toe-capped boots.

“I’m fine” Dan tried to insist, but his voice was still breaking frequently and he couldn’t finish a sentence properly.

Emmie was silent again, the only indication she was still on the line being the occasional zoom of a vehicle that sped by on the city roads.

“Is it Phil?” she asked after what seemed a lifetime, and the sound of his name was all it took for Dan to relapse back into his broken state, flopping face down on his bed and thoroughly soaking the duvet with his tears a mere ten seconds later. “Oh Dan” Emmie soothed down the phone, and Dan shook his head as he continued to sob, not having the strength nor confidence in his voice to reply. His sobbing was loud that she had heard it through the speakerphone.

“Do you want me to cover for you? You’re clearly in no state to-“

“No, I want to do this” Dan interrupted, speaking with a sudden burst of confidence he didn’t even know where it originated from. Emmie audibly gasped at the transformation in Dan’s tone, and asked a million times if he was sure.

Dan rolled up the sleeves of his jacket as he grabbed the plastic wallet from the desk and the dorm key that laid beside it. He needed to attend this reading for his own sake, he needed to put himself as opposed to Phil first. Phil had made his choice, albeit the obviously wrong one, and now Dan had to make his right choice.

“I’ll be there in five minutes” he told Emmie sternly, then hung up the phone and shoved it deep down in his pocket.

He locked his room and looked around the communal living room, which was empty as usual. His dormmates were all on a different course than Dan, and were usually out partying whenever Dan was sleeping, due to having a polar opposite timetable. He didn’t really mind at all, enjoying the semi-privacy that came with the privilege.

He was replying to Emmie’s third text assuring her that he was fine and up to the task of headlining the reading, and pulled open the dorm door automatically, the phone having his full, undivided attention. He even allowed himself to crack a little smile, and it felt good.

That is, until he noticed that he wasn’t alone in the corridor, and a hand was still up in the air, hovering just in front of the door.

Dan gasped and his phone dropped to the carpeted floor, thankfully cushioned by the plush fibres, but he couldn’t care less. The door leading into the communal corridors of Dan and his dormmates should be always locked when not in use due to university policy, but as Dan’s dormmates were dubbed the resident ‘party house’ at the start of the year, they had cheated their way around the alarm that should go off if the door is open longer than thirty seconds, so it was unlocked pretty much all the time now, even if nobody was around, and quite often ajar. The bedrooms were locked, of course, but the kitchen and living room were open all hours for anyone who wanted to stroll in, and the university would always be none the wiser.

Phil was leaning against the doorframe, buried in a university hoodie at least three sizes too big, red-faced, breathing heavily, and glistening tear streaks on his cheeks, reflecting from the dingy lights in the corridor. He was still suffering the after-effects of a lengthy crying session – Dan knew from experience – Phil wiped his eyes every few seconds, but he was no longer crying.

Dan and Phil kept eye contact for at least a minute, neither saying a word. Anger was bubbling up inside Dan with every passing second, seeing Phil in the state he was in was breaking his heart, and all he wanted to do was beat the living shit out of whatever – or, more likely, whoever – had caused him to be that way. In the same moment he realised that he really wasn’t over Phil at all, he had gotten no closure, and the confidence streak he had only a few minutes before had now dissipated completely.

“You were right” Phil shrugged, eyes welling up with tears with a few spilling over a second later, his voice choked and broken, shattering the casual demeanour he was trying to convey with the shrug.

Dan couldn’t do anything, he had no idea what to do, what he could do, but it turned out he didn’t need to.

Because in what seemed like a split second later, Phil had cupped Dan’s face in his hands and had pressed his lips to Dan’s gently, almost testing. Maybe, arguably, teasingly.

Immediately Dan’s mind went into overdrive, and a million and one thoughts were whizzing around his head, and he was still completely unsure of what to do, how to react. Obviously, on the one hand, this was what he’d wanted for over two years now, he’d dreamt of this moment a thousand times, and not once had he even thought about declining. But on the other hand, Phil was clearly in a state of distraught, extreme upset, and would he be taking advantage of Phil if he were to reciprocate the kiss? But neither of them were drunk, they were both well aware of what they were doing…

Dan kissed back. He kissed back passionately, just as his dream-self had done a thousand and one times, and the kiss escalated significantly when Phil realised, and he tangled his hands in Dan’s wavy hair as the embrace heated up, and Dan desperately scrambled for the light switch on the wall by the door, so they would be able to see where they were inevitably heading. He tried his hardest to ignore the salty taste of Phil’s previous tears as they trickled down to Dan’s lips as they kissed.

Inevitably, they had to break apart for breath, and Phil rested his forehead on Dan’s as both boys’ chests rose and fell as their breathing returned to normal (as much as Phil’s could, given the situation). Through the dim lighting of the corridor and the bright lights of the dorm behind them, Dan could see Phil smiling. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless. He pressed another sweet kiss to Dan’s lips, and Dan felt his cheeks heat up again.

It was then that Phil looked up into Dan’s eyes through his eyelashes, and Dan gulped as Phil licked his lips and peered cautiously over Dan’s shoulder into the otherwise empty dorm. After catching onto where Phil was looking, Dan raised an eyebrow, and Phil licked his lips again. Dan noticed that Phil’s breathing was practically back to normal, the tear streaks on his cheeks were dated, and his eyes weren’t anywhere near as damp anymore.

Phil ran his fingers down Dan’s arm teasingly and enveloped Dan’s hand in his own, and took a step into the dorm room, pulling on Dan’s hand to join him.

In one swift motion Dan stepped safely back inside the dorm and shut the door behind them, and Phil wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Dan’s waist, and pressing dainty kisses to his neck, whilst Dan locked the door. Not that anyone else would be stopping by anyway.

As soon as they were locked in, away from the rest of the world, Phil took hold of Dan’s hand again and held out his other, making a grabbing motion with it. Dan blushed once he understood what Phil wanted, and he dropped his room key into Phil’s palm a second later, and Phil giggled as he began walking down the corridor and heading straight for Dan’s room, pulling the blushing brunet behind him.

Dan took the time to send a quick text to Emmie, right before the second door that night closed behind them.

I’m going to have to take a rain check on tonight.

--

It seemed to be over in a second, yet it was the best night of Dan’s life, and it had a lot of competitors. When he reached his first hundred followers? Nowhere near. His first thousand? Nope. Hitting twenty thousand followers? Getting closer. But still nothing could come close to having Phil in his arms, the morning sunlight half-casting on his pale complexion as he slept, and Dan couldn’t help but smile down fondly at the sight.

He flicked his gaze to the digital clock that stood on his desk and read the time as 9:42 a.m., which caused Dan to smile again as he wasn’t due in for his seminar until the late afternoon. They could spend the day together, given Phil wasn’t scheduled in at any point soon.

He decided to check, and gently rocked Phil awake, and he awoke with a smile playing on his lips, and a blush stained his cheeks when he realised where he was.

“Good morning” he greeted sleepily, running his fingers through Dan’s hair, smile widening.

At least he doesn’t regret it, Dan thought to himself, and he allowed himself to smile back, wider still.

“Good morning, do you have anything to do today?” Dan asked, and Phil looked over to the clock and audibly groaned, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I’m due in a seminar in less than half an hour” he sighed, and Dan pressed his lips together as Phil set to get out of the bed, but halfway in the process, froze for a second or two then flopped back down and pulled the duvet up to his chin.

“But I think I’ll skip, if that’s alright with you” he informed Dan whilst biting his bottom lip, and Dan felt himself blush as he understood what Phil was insinuating. He couldn’t fathom any words, so settled for a vigorous nod.

“Do you have anywhere to be? Anything to do?” Phil asked, and Dan had a lengthy debate with himself in his head, all in the space of around three seconds. After weighing the pros and cons of both possible answers, his final choice was the most regrettable.

“Late this afternoon, unfortunately” he answered, and Phil pouted. He needed to go to this seminar to explain his way out of not attending the reading, and he had promised to go for a drink with Emmie and Davy afterwards, he couldn’t face letting them down again. But at the same time he would have to see Jacob, and it would be far too hard to resist not punching him square in the face. And again. And again, just for good luck.

“That seems fair” Phil shrugged eventually, and without warning leaned forwards for a swift kiss, still managing to leave Dan in awe, he was still sure he was living a dream. Which sounded pathetic, he knew, but he was a poet after all, romanticising everyday life wasn’t exactly unheard of. “Would you mind if I popped in the shower?” he asked, and Dan shook his head, gesturing to his en-suite.

And so Phil left for the shower, and Dan reached over to grab his phone, and began scrolling through the thirteen unread texts, all from Emmie following last night’s abrupt cancelling.

What’s happened

Are you okay

Are you having a panic attack

Do I need to come up

Dan

Talk to me

Okay I’m coming up

Why is your front door locked

I thought you were here alone

Wait

Fuck is that Phil in there with you??

Or some other guy?? Would you even consider anyone but Phil??

Okay you’re DEFINITELY taking me out for drinks tomorrow and we’re talking this whole thing through

Dan knew he was beaming, he finally had a taste of the enthusiasm Emmie seemed to live in, and it felt amazing. He felt as if he was riding an all-time high, and he pushed the phrase ‘all good things must come to an end’ firmly to the back of his mind.

I’ll get back to you on the whole drinks situation, but definitely soon ;)

He debated on whether to delete the emoticon on the end, but he deemed it wholly appropriate and sent the text regardless. He kept the phone in his grip as Emmie was a contender for the world’s fastest replier, and filled the waiting time by listening to the water fall in his en-suite, feeling a slight flutter in his stomach when it hit him like a ton of bricks just who was using his shower, and who had just spent the night.

Dan knew he needed to address the elephant in the room, the cheating boyfriend – he hoped and prayed to every religious icon that Jacob would now be Phil’s ex – but he wanted to get as much out of the little time he had with Phil as he could, and if that made him selfish, then he didn’t really care.

--

“Well well, here’s Mr future blacklist” Emmie greeted as Dan caught up with her and Davy in the corridor, already being there early for the seminar.

“What does that even mean?” Dan asked as he slipped down the wall to sit beside Davy, Emmie opposite them.

“It was a joke, Howell. You used to major in them” she rolled her eyes playfully but dropped the subject.

Idle chat was made for a few minutes, until Davy excused himself for a visit to the water fountain, and Emmie took no time in diving straight into interrogation.

“Why was your door locked last night?” she questioned, and Dan really shouldn’t have been surprised, yet he still was, on the smallest possible level.

“To stop twenty year-old red-headed psychotic girls coming barging in when I’m trying to sleep” Dan quipped sarcastically, and a determined Emmie tied her cascading hair into a messy bun atop her head, one less distraction from her finding out the truth.

“I would hardly have come barging in when I heard the sounds that I heard” she informed him, leaning back against the wall, arms folded against chest and a single eyebrow raised in silent accusation.

Dan felt his cheeks begin to heat up, and he flicked his gaze down to his lap, embarrassed to meet his friend’s eyes. “Okay so something might have happened” he muttered, but even with all his willpower, he couldn’t stop a smile playing on his lips.

“Finally he admits it!” Emmie exclaimed, far too loudly, causing nearby classrooms to fall temporarily silent, and Davy to run to the door and look at the two, puzzled. He returned to the fountain nevertheless. Dan didn’t say anything in reply, simply smiled wider and nodded slowly.

“Tell me everything!” Emmie insisted, taking one of Dan’s hands and squeezing it excitedly, sending both of their bags tumbling to the ground beside them. “Did he come onto you?” she asked, and Dan looked at her questioningly, a silent euphemism, and raised an eyebrow as Emmie’s mouth dropped open and she dropped his hand.

“You didn’t” she whispered, hands cupped over mouth. Dan shrugged, cheeks practically on fire, and Emmie pulled him into a hug, squealing quietly. She was clearly – as she had dubbed them - ‘phan’s biggest supporter, and it was to Dan’s relief that he had someone on his side.

“So what’s happening with Jake?” she asked as she leaned back against the wall, and Dan sighed, pulling on a loose thread hanging from his shirt.

“I wish I knew. Phil says he’s just confused” he replied monotonously, and Emmie pressed her lips together and nodded firmly, not wanting to push the matter further for now.

Just as she was about to change the topic completely and ask about the workshopping session they were about to attend, the corridor door swung open, Davy and Jacob walked towards their seminar room joking and jostling, and it made Dan’s blood boil. Jacob generally made Dan feel sick by this point, but it was a sensation that came with butterflies in his stomach, as he would always have the night before.

--

“Danny boy! It’s been too long! Fancy a night with the lads like we used to?” Jacob was as gleeful as ever as he dropped his bag on the table beside Dan and sitting in the seat next to him. Dan closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to give himself the strength to not scream and shout all that he wanted to. With a ‘stay cool’ courtesy of Emmie on his other side, Dan retrieved his notebook and pen and placed them on the table, then turned to face Jacob with the fakest and most forced of smiles.

“Not tonight, but sometime soon” he replied, and Jacob slapped him on the back as some form of solidarity, but Dan revelled in the fact that his use of ‘soon’ was as ambiguous to Jacob as the subject of Dan’s poems.

The tutor came in only three minutes late, and took no time in making the first student read out their poem. Many of his classmates’ poems were about scenery, the countryside experience, and many were about what it means to be happy. Davy wrote about a childhood memory, and Jacob wrote a half-length sonnet about a concert he attended with his friends once.

After Jacob’s poem had been workshopped by everyone else in the class, all gazes fell on Dan to provide feedback. He clenched his fists under the table, and looked down at Jacob’s scrawls and poor efforts.

“I think you need to write about more personal topics,” he shrugged, and a few members of the group nodded in agreement. “Make them emotive and such” Dan suggested, biting back a much harsher alternative that he had lined up.

“What do you suggest then, Dan? Write about the last time I got laid?” Jacob asked, prompting the rest of the class to erupt in laughter.

“I believe a three-line haiku is the minimum you’re allowed so I think you’d be a bit doomed” Dan shot back, leaving Jacob wide-eyed and the rest of the class in hysterics. He liked to imagine Jacob as a massively below-par lover, and it shone through in his sass. Dan wasn’t ready for a physical fight, but he was ever willing for a battle of words. In this case, he was victorious.

The tutor was forced to regain control over the class over a minute later as the class was still praising Dan on his comeback and laughing at Jacob, and Dan could feel Jacob’s eyes boring into him as the tutor asked him to read out his poem.

He swallowed nervously and opened his notebook, retrieving the folded piece of paper from inside the cover. It was a poem he had written hastily that morning whilst Phil was showering, it was very much a stream of consciousness with no editing whatsoever.

‘I sometimes wonder if it would be easier if we ran away at dusk.

I see your shoulders slump as you think of another,

I feel your heart beat faster when you ask if we can stay under the covers.

I sometimes wonder if it would be easier if we stayed here.

I see your eyelids flutter as you lay in my arms, I hear your reciprocity as I utter those three words.

You have my heart, my soul, my words,

You have me, my entirety, my everything.

If falling in love is this easy I don’t know why they lied,

Because I would like to stay here with you, for my whole life.’

It was as Dan finished reading his poem that he realised how significantly longer it was compared to his normal length of poetry, and bit his lip as he thought of his inspiration. Phil helped the words to flow from his fingers, helped to form coherent sentences rather than the pinings of a helpless lovestruck fool. He saw one of the girls in the group, Heather, was staring at him already, nodding in approval and mouthing a silent ‘wow’ which Dan smiled at.

Though his tutor thought it a tad cliché and some of his friends called him soppy, Dan brushed the comments off and replaced them with the feedback of his other peers, the feedback that he appreciated. Ranging from ‘you’re really into someone, aren’t you?’ to ‘I just want to know who it is!’, he breathed a sigh of relief as the focus shifted onto Emmie, and he slipped the piece of paper back into his notebook triumphantly, never losing the feeling of Jacob’s intense stare into the side of his head.

--

“Right, Howell, off for a pub lunch” Davy demanded as they piled out of the seminar, Emmie cheering behind them and repeating just how hungry she was.

“Alright, alright, my treat” Dan submitted, holding up his hands for both Davy and Emmie to high-five as they cheered with a chorus of ‘fuck yes’, laughing together all the way down to the ground floor.

The pub they had chosen to dine at was seemingly packed to the brim, and it was Davy’s beady eye that spotted the only free table, by the window in the back booth. They sprinted for it and thankfully made it, and Davy offered to fetch the drinks, and Dan handed him a ten pound note with a chuckle as Davy high-fived him again and headed off to the bar, when Emmie slammed the menu down and grinned.

“Are you seeing him tonight?” she asked, just as excited as before.

“I don’t know…” Dan replied, and Emmie sat back in the seat, arms across her chest as she dropped her gaze down to Dan’s phone on the table before regaining eye contact. “Should I ask?” Dan gave in to Emmie’s ‘subtlety’, and she nodded insistently before picking the menu back up and perusing the options.

Are you alright to meet tonight?

He refrained from adding anything to the end of the text just in case, and rested his phone back on the tabletop, finding himself checking it every couple of seconds, whilst Emmie smiled fondly.

“You know, it’s not conventional, but I’m really glad this is finally happening for you, Dan” she said, and though Dan wasn’t exactly non-emotional at the best of times, he felt tears prick the back of his eyes. To say he didn’t think he’d make any friends at university, he really lucked out with Emmie. And Phil, but for a different reason. A very different reason.

“Thankyou” Dan replied, willing himself not to blush. Emmie rested her arms on the table as she continued.

“Like, I don’t not mind him or anything, but Jacob’s an absolute twat. I mean, does he think nobody knows about that lad in History?” Emmie rolled her eyes as she touched up her makeup, and Davy returned with three pints of alcohol, placing one in front of each of them accordingly, and they clinked glasses over a celebratory cheers that none of them had failed the course so far.

It was pleasant conversation for the next hour or so, and their meals had just arrived when Davy turned the topic, and Dan felt his stomach drop.

“So Dan, who was your poem about? You’re deep and ambiguous usually but this latest one was something else” he asked, and Dan bit his bottom lip as he racked his brain for an answer. He of course wanted to shout from the rooftops that he was so madly in love with Phil and that they had slept together, but Davy was such good friends with Jacob that it would wreck everything.

Of course! Just let me know when and I’ll be there x

His phone illuminated in his lap and he looked down at the text, reading it again and again until he actually took in its contents – Phil wanted to meet him again, so he obviously wasn’t completely disgusted by Dan now, which was a pleasing sign.

It gave Dan the confidence to answer Davy truthfully, albeit with a little hedging.

“A guy I started seeing recently” Dan answered, and he noticed Emmie crack a smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh you started seeing someone? That’s great, Dan! Who is he?” Davy asked, a hint of excitement and eagerness in his voice. Dan had come out to both Emmie and Davy near enough the second week after he met them, and he was overwhelmed with the reception he received. He was nervous about telling Davy, judging by appearances he wouldn’t expect Davy, the six-foot, broad shouldered boy with a shaved haircut and sleeve tattoos to be so accepting, but they both hugged Dan and told him how happy and proud they were, and that really was the foundation of their friendship.

“He’s, um, shy” Dan replied with a shrug, and Davy nodded in understanding.

“Will we ever get to meet him?” he asked a few minutes later, gesturing between himself and Emmie. Emmie stayed silent as Dan posed the question. Technically, you already know him pretty well, was Dan’s immediate response in his mind, but his more rational side added you just know him as the asshole Jacob’s boyfriend.

“Maybe someday, if he’s ready” Dan answered, and Davy nodded again, reassuring Dan that his boyfriend didn’t have to worry about meeting him and Emmie.

Though Dan didn’t know how to label what he and Phil were, hearing Davy refer to Phil – despite it being indirectly – as Dan’s boyfriend made his stomach flip in the best way possible, and Emmie smiled again, as if she knew what Dan was drawing on and repeating in his head.

A few more drinks were shared before the three set off back to their dorms, departing at different floors. Davy waved goodbye first and left at floor 2, Emmie wished Dan luck for the night ahead and left at floor 4, and Dan made the journey up to floor 6, dorm 15 and flopped onto his bed, rubbing his hands over his face.

His duvet and pillows still smelt like Phil and it was a comfort, a comfort against knowing that, in everyone else’s eyes, Phil was happily in love with Jacob and that didn’t seem to be changing any time soon. They had last night, and maybe even tonight, and that was what kept Dan hoping.

He got his phone out of his pocket and typed out a text stating for Phil to come over whenever he liked, but he realised at the last second one key thing.

He should really wash his bedsheets first.

--

It was only twenty minutes after Dan returned from the laundry room that there was a cautious knock on his door, and he made his bed quickly before opening the door just as cautiously, and a bright-eyed Phil smiled up at him (only a tiny bit, but Dan found the height difference utterly adorable).

“Do come in” Dan adopted a formal accent as he opened the door wholly, and Phil thanked him before stepping inside, and Dan firmly shut them away from the world and prying eyes once again.

“So how was your seminar?” Phil asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and Dan walked over to sit beside him.

“Pretty normal, workshopped a poem again, got the usual feedback” Dan shrugged, downplaying entirely how it all made him feel, and how he was painfully aware and certain of his feelings, it was obvious even in a poem he wrote in under ten minutes.

“Can I read it?” Phil asked eagerly, clapping his hands together, and Dan shook his head.

Phil pouted, and wrapped his arms around Dan’s neck, pulling him close, and kissed him slowly and deeply. It was a sensation that Dan was still not used to in the slightest, but it was still just as euphoric, his non-shameful addiction.

“Can I please read it?” Phil whispered in his ear, placing a soft kiss on Dan’s neck just below his ear, which made the brunet dither. His neck was usually his most sensitive area and he despised anyone being remotely near it, including past partners, but with Phil it just felt new, exciting.

Dan whined which Phil took as submission and grinned, and he watched on as Dan dug around in his bag, eventually retrieving a bulky notebook, brushing away stray pieces of paper and pens that were attached to it.

Dan took extra time in unfolding his poem in the hopes that if he took long enough, Phil would give up. It was quite the opposite. But if he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. He flicked pages and pages back until he got to the page written on earlier, which housed the feedback he received. He placed the poem on the adjacent page and slowly handed the notebook over, and Phil placed it in his lap.

He bit his lip as he watched Phil read, and Phil’s head cocked to the side as he read through the feedback.

“You must really be into someone” he read from the page, and Dan didn’t know how he was feeling in the moment, he was simply hooked on Phil’s every word, fearing yet craving his reaction. “Sounds like you’re really falling for someone” he read another comment. Dan gulped.

“I am” Dan stated, voice small and vulnerable, and Phil’s gaze immediately flicked from the page to meet Dan’s.

“What?” Phil asked for clarification, and Dan had never felt more vulnerable and insecure. He had put his heart on the line so much that he didn’t really have anything left to lose anymore.

“I really am falling for you” Dan said his thoughts outright, and it did feel a weight off his shoulders to finally do so.  “I have been since about a month after I met you” he added, feeling he had nothing to risk, and nothing to lose. What they had could end at any time, and he would rather Phil know everything and then make an informed decision.

“Are you serious?” Phil’s voice wavered, and his eyes were glistening, just as Dan’s were.

“Has it not been obvious? Phil, seeing you with Jacob kills me. It always has” Dan was pouring his heart out to someone who wasn’t Emmie for once, to the person whom needed to hear it most. As terrifying as it was, it was strangely liberating.

“I honestly had no idea…” Phil trailed off as his gaze fell to his lap, and Dan watched as Phil’s tears dotted his monochrome duvet, the lump in his throat preventing him from being able to say anything more.

There was a minute or so of silence before Phil spoke again, and Dan’s heart was racing, pounding seemingly out of his chest.

“Give me ten days” he proposed, and Dan was plunged into confusion. His silence was a prompt for Phil to continue.

“Ten days to convince you that I feel the same. I’m not so great with the words but please, give me just ten days for me to convince you that I feel the same” he pleaded, dropping the notebook onto the bed beside him and taking Dan’s hands in his, kissing them softly.

Dan felt himself begin to cry, tears falling onto their interlocked hands, and he nodded. Phil leaned in for a lengthy kiss (though cut short due to the fact they were both crying) and that concluded the night before day one.

--

Day one was a chocolate hamper delivered to his dorm courtesy of a ‘secret admirer’.

Day two was a compilation disk of songs that expressed how Phil felt better than he could himself.

Day three was a surprise visit during a particularly stressful study session.

Day four was a two-course lunch.

Day five was a ‘sleepover’ whilst everyone else in their social circle was at a block party fifteen minutes away.

Day six was a ‘sleepover’ whilst everyone else in their social circle was at various masterclasses and guest lectures.

Day seven was a walk around the local nature reserve, with occasional hand-holding whenever they were alone.

Day eight was a kiss on the lips at the bus station, when rain was pouring torrentially and their hoods were pulled past their fringes.

Day nine began with a surprise visit in the early evening, Phil’s unexpected and unannounced visits were rapidly becoming Dan’s favourite thing, and he was always far too eager to swing the door open and welcome Phil in.

Though something was different about this visit, Phil had a bulging backpack on his back, and his greeting smile was wider than usual.

“Evening!” he greeted chirpily, walking into Dan’s small dorm room and placing his backpack on the bed, whizzing around on his heels to give Dan a sweet kiss, which was happily reciprocated as always.

“What’s all this?” Dan asked with a laugh as he nodded towards Phil’s backpack, which had flopped onto its side helplessly.

“Well, ever since you showed me that poem the other day, I’ve been thinking” Phil began, and left Dan’s side to begin routing around in his bag, pulling out bundles of clothes and placing them beside the bag and placing his laptop on top of them. Dan simply looked at the contents of the bag, then to Phil.

“I hate the whole ‘me having to leave and get changed before I can come back to you’ debacle so I found a solution” he explained as he picked up the clothes and placed them on Dan’s desk before picking up his laptop, sitting on the bed and placing the laptop on his lap and patting the space beside him for Dan to fill, which he did.

“And, since you were brave enough to show me your creative efforts, I thought it was only fair to do the same” Phil trailed off as he began typing, then opened up a tab and placed the laptop onto Dan’s lap, pressing a button when settled and watched on as Dan watched his media coursework project, that Jacob had simply abashed instantaneously, stating that he ‘didn’t really care’ and really only wanted one thing.

Dan was in awe of Phil’s editing capabilities and how he was able to implement such emotion into such simple shots, and he was captivated from the very first moment, watching the events unfold silently. When the screen faded out to black Dan placed the laptop beside him and met Phil’s gaze.

“What did you think?” Phil asked, biting his lip as he awaited an answer. So far the only person he had shown it to was Jacob, which had less than the desired effect. Jacob’s criticisms and dismissive attitude made Phil incredibly apprehensive and doubtful of his talents, and Dan’s silence only furthered the anxious thoughts.

“I-I’m in awe of it” Dan whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. What he was able to articulate, Phil was able to emulate visually, it was astounding.

“Thankyou” Phil blushed, dipping his head, but Dan placed his thumb under his chin so their eyes met again.

“You’re really, really talented, Phil” Dan insisted, taking Phil’s hands.

“So are you” Phil gushed, flattered beyond belief. Somehow it just meant so much more coming from Dan than it ever would coming from Jacob.

Dan was so wrapped up in Phil’s work that he hadn’t even noticed Phil had gotten changed, now in a baggy shirt and Cookie Monster pyjama bottoms, and his glasses were on his lap. This was the first time Phil had brought pyjamas over, and it hit Dan that maybe it wouldn’t be a night of mind-blowing sex for once. Maybe it would just be the two of them, up all night talking and bonding, cementing just how special it is what they have.

“I love your pyjama bottoms” Dan complimented, and Phil looked down at them too, and shook his head slightly.

“Jacob’s always hated them. He says I need to grow up” Phil shrugged, a sigh following the action, head continuing to be in a dipped position and Dan felt a pain in his chest.

“I think they’re cute, just like you” Dan replied, and Phil’s head snapped up, scanning Dan’s features for any trace of lying or sarcasm, but he found none.

“Really?” Phil asked, simply not used to such compliments from Jacob. He even failed to recall the last time Jacob complimented him on anything except the capabilities of his lips.

“Really” Dan confirmed with a slight giggle as he joined them together for a tender kiss yet packed it with emotion, wanting Phil to get the message that he practically worshipped the ground he walked on.

“Do you want to help me with this final edit? I’ve been meaning to ask for someone’s opinion on it and Jacob doesn’t care at all, so I’ve been a bit stumped” Phil asked, and Dan had to exhale out his anger at Jacob for evidently not taking an interest in Phil and his life at all. But he smiled and nodded, and Phil retrieved his laptop and Dan helped him choose an appropriate edit and change what needed changing.

And that’s how they spent the rest of that night, sat in their pyjamas next to each other, helping each other edit their projects and exchanging kisses as rewards for completing a milestone. Dan introduced Phil properly to his blog, and Phil helped him edit up a piece that Dan had written hastily a few days earlier, and they hit the publish button together, and watched as the comments poured in, heads resting on each other and smiles ever-present on both sets of lips.

‘Your poems are so much happier recently! I hope your life is amazing at the moment and you’re very happy!’

 ‘I’m so happy you’ve found someone! I hope you’re together and happy for a very long time’

‘I was getting worried about you but I’m so glad that you seem happier now’

‘Oh he’s definitely in love, you can tell’

--

Day ten had gotten to 5pm when Jacob burst into the seminar thirty minutes late, hair dishevelled and clothes crinkled, forehead damp with perspiration.

“Sorry I’m late everyone, I had an appointment” he winked, and the class erupted into mumbles and giggles, everyone except Dan.

“I thought Logan was on a trip with the History and Art departments today” Dan muttered, showing his disapproval through his tone. Someone he went to college with was on an Art course, hence how he knew about the trip.

“Um, he is? It only makes sense to have more than two on the go, Dan. Don’t forget that Casanova over here has choice” Jacob replied smarmily, and high-fived one of his friends behind him, whilst Dan rolled his eyes and turned away, stomach dropping and suddenly feeling incredibly sick.

“Going back for round two tonight” he heard Jacob tell one of his friends a few minutes later, and it made Dan put his head in his hands, uncaring of how it must have looked to his classmates. It made him upset, Phil shouldn’t have to go through this. He didn’t deserve it. What Dan and Phil had was special, Dan was more than sure of it. They built a foundation of solid friendship, and where they were now seemed only a natural progression.

The seminar passed uneventfully and Dan strolled back to his dorm mulling over Jacob’s story, and how he seemed so proud that he had to boast about it. It was disgusting. He was muttering a string of curse words under his breath that he wanted to scream at Jacob when he unlocked his door, stopping dead when he heard a crinkling underneath his foot, and looking down at the floor in fear of what had been pushed under his door.

But upon seeing the envelope titled ‘Day 10!’ peeking out underneath of the sole of his shoe his look of fear turned to glee as he giddily tore the envelope open and tipped it upside down above his free hand, and a folded piece of paper fluttered onto the palm of his hand.

He carefully unfolded it and scan-read the contents, a grin growing on his face as he read that he and Phil were booked into a hotel the next town over for the following weekend, where they would finally be alone and free to act however they pleased.

BEST FINALE EVER

Dan sent the text straight away with a ton of cringy (yet ironically used) emojis and hugged the paper to his chest as he flopped onto his bed, wondering just how this had happened. It was only a matter of weeks before that he was crying himself to sleep over Phil, that they would never have a chance to be together.

Consider day 10 including next weekend too!

Phil also included a ton of cringy emojis in his text too, and Dan fell asleep ridiculously early that night, dreaming of all the things that he could be in the world, that maybe one day his future poetry collection could feature a double-barrelled author surname on the cover.

--

The next week rolled around, and an excited Dan was packing for the weekend ahead whilst on a catchup facetime with one of his best friends from back home, Lewis. He trusted Lewis with his life, and though Dan had moved for university and Lewis was back in their hometown pursuing a career in computer programming, they always made time for at least monthly facetimes, and Dan hadn’t spoken to him since the whole thing with Phil began. Lewis knew of Dan’s crush, sure, but not what had happened since. And Dan was all too eager to spill everything.

Dan’s stomach dropped as soon as he saw Lewis’ smile turn into a frown.

“So you’re his bit on the side?” Lewis asked, head cocked to the side and Dan suddenly felt significantly less enthusiastic.

“It’s not like that” Dan replied, voice now a mere mumble, and Lewis pressed his lips together.

“Really? Because that’s exactly what it sounds like to me, Dan. He’s having an affair with you to get back at his boyfriend. You realise that, right?” Lewis asked, making sure to emphasise every phoneme to get through to his friend.

“I’m in love with him, Lew. And I think he might feel the same, he’s more than proven it to me recently” Dan defended, voice still small, though his gaze flickered to the drawer in his wardrobe which had contents of Phil’s clothes spilling from it. It made him smile momentarily, but it was wiped away as soon as Lewis shifted uncomfortably.

“Dan, he’s doing the exact same thing that you despise his boyfriend for. If he really loved you, he’d have ended it with his boyfriend when he first found out” Lewis spelt out his opinion with sympathy, making sure that Dan was processing what he was saying.

“It’s complicated” Dan offered, but Lewis shook his head.

“No, it’s not. Jacob cheated, and Phil should have ended it there and then. He’s using you, and you’re too lovestruck to realise” Lewis insisted, taking on a harsher tone of voice to emphasise the fact he was not in any way joking or meaning it in a lighthearted manner.

“Lewis, honestly, I don’t think it’s like that-“

“Dan, come on!” Lewis interjected, “Why do you think Phil has done all this stuff away from where anyone would see you? It’s always at your dorm or where nobody else goes, and this hotel is what, fifteen minutes away? Where there’s no chance anyone you know will see you? That’s not a relationship, that’s a guilty secret and an affair”

Dan felt his eyes well up with tears as he realised Lewis was right. He was no better than Logan, and he was sure as hell no better than Jacob. He was blind to it all as the only perspective he had on the whole situation was Emmie’s, and she was always far too enthusiastic about Dan and Phil being together, she wouldn’t care by what means it happened.

“I’m sorry,” Lewis’ voice was softer now, and Dan began to cry, he felt dirty, but he felt no shame about crying in front of Lewis. They had seen each other at their worst moments. “I’ve known you since we were seven years old, I wouldn’t lie to you. I know you’re emotional, Dan, but you’re not stupid, please end this before you get seriously hurt” he pleaded, and Dan wiped his eyes as he met Lewis’ gaze through the screen, and nodded slightly.

“I’ll say it’s either me or him” Dan compromised, and Lewis nodded, a small smile on his lips.

“That’s the Danny I know and love. I’ll check in on you later, alright?” Lewis bid his goodbyes and the facetime call ended, and Dan placed his phone screen-down onto the duvet and looked over to his half-packed suitcase, the booking confirmation laying on top of it.

Tears were still falling from his eyes as he stood up on shaky legs and slowly made his way over to his desk, sitting daintily on the office chair and opening his desk drawer, the packet of poems titled ‘Phil’ staring up at him. He couldn’t tear his gaze away for at least a minute.

Through a tear-induced blur, Dan lifted them up and retrieved a blank piece of paper and placed it in front of him, grabbing a fountain pen from the pot beside him and gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The paper remained blank despite his best efforts, and Dan resorted to sobbing into his hands as the moonlight pooled beside him.

It was in the twilight hours that he lifted his head up from the desk and wiped his eyes, grabbed the pen once again and cracked his fingers, before doing the only thing he could possibly do in this situation other than cry his life away.

He wrote about Phil.

--

Dan’s 10:30am alarm came around far too soon, and he threw his pen at the pile of screwed up pieces of paper as he stood up to turn off the alarm, and returned to his desk, phone in hand, hovering over Phil’s number.

He ignored Lewis’ follow-up texts and Emmie’s wishes of luck for the weekend away (Dan couldn’t resist telling her), and didn’t venture away from his contacts list, finger constantly ghosting above Phil’s number, willing himself to call, but not having the guts.

The knock at his door still came as a shock, and as he creaked it open as to not wake his sleeping dormmates down the corridor whom would likely be unconscious til midday if left alone, to be met with a grinning Phil waving a hotel brochure in his face, Dan almost wanted to forget all that he felt the night before and all that Lewis had begged him to do.

He found himself stepping back and letting Phil in regardless.

“Ready?” Phil chirped, resting his suitcase against his legs and looking down at Dan’s which was still unpacked, and then looking back to Dan, puzzled.

“Did you forget?” he asked, and Dan shook his head, scared that any word he spoke would be submission and losing even more of his dignity.

Phil mumbled an ‘oh’ as he sat on the edge of the bed, and looked up at Dan, as the brunet ran a hand through his hair, not at all sure of how to word what he wanted to say.

“We need to talk” Dan began, taking a deep breath and exhaling shakily as he pulled up his office chair to be sat opposite Phil, whom already looked nervous and downright afraid.

Phil only nodded, remaining silent. Dan took another deep breath, and rested his hands on his legs.

“I can’t keep doing this, it’s not fair on me. You’re just using me to get back at him, aren’t you?” Dan demanded, putting all he had into not letting his voice crack.

Phil looked slightly taken aback, but shook his head slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“Then why haven’t you broken up with him? Why are you stringing us both along like this?” Dan no longer cared how needy he sounded, he was too hurt to care. His heart was in his throat as he awaited a verbal response.

“I-I don’t mean to be” Phil’s voice broke, and a few stray tears spilled down his cheek. All Dan wanted to do was kiss him until he no longer felt upset, show him just how he felt, but for his own sake, Dan stayed where he was, and closed his eyes and exhaled, trying to calm his erratic breathing and not to cry himself.

“It’s either me or him, Phil” Dan stated, and it came out harsher than he planned. It caused Phil to visibly shiver, and he wiped his eyes (a useless action as more tears just ran over his fingers now) as he exhaled, the same attempt to calm himself as Dan had done previously.

“You say it as if it’s not obvious” Phil croaked, voice so broken it was barely audible, but Dan heard loud and clear, and watched as Phil wiped his eyes a few more times, not having the heart to ask what he meant. Because if he chose Jacob, Dan’s heart would be shattered. In a metaphorical sense, sure, but he would feel it. His poetry would feel it. He wouldn’t be able to hide it.

Dan remained silent, not willing himself to pry any further, and waited for Phil to clarify. Somewhere along the way during the silence, Dan gave into himself and began to cry too, just the sight of Phil in such a broken state was enough to give him chest pains, he would have to be as heartless as Jacob not to be affected.

“I choose you” Phil whispered a few minutes of silence later, and Dan’s eyes widened in shock. He was not expecting that. He was hoping, praying for that answer, of course, but he didn’t expect it. Phil hesitantly met his gaze, and he chuckled weakly at seeing Dan’s shocked expression.

“What?” Dan asked, just wanting to be undoubtedly certain. He was surely dreaming, he was sure the past few weeks had been just an extensive dream, and he would wake up at any moment, alone and pining for Phil as usual.

“Of course I choose you” Phil confirmed after a calming exhale, and Dan allowed himself to smile – though only slightly, his tears made it a difficult job – as Phil took his hands and kissed them softly.

They sat holding each other’s hands until they had pretty much calmed down fully, only the occasional sniffle or crying-induced hiccup was a giveaway, until the under-eye circles would surely be setting in the next day.

“So where do we go from here” Dan spoke as rather a statement than a question, and Phil squeezed his hands.

“I’ll talk to Jake. Tell him it’s over. I want to be with you, Dan, and I don’t care how pathetically cliché that sounds” he replied, a determined glint in his eyes where tears no longer resided.

Dan couldn’t help but smile widely at hearing Phil speak of ending his relationship was Jacob, it was what he deserved.

“You know, I don’t really want to leave for that hotel anymore. I’d much rather just spend the whole weekend right here” Phil shrugged.

“Sounds good to me” Dan agreed.

“I can still make up day ten to you though, right?” Phil asked, biting his bottom lip and looking at Dan through his eyelashes.

Just the stare made Dan flustered and caused a blush to stain his cheeks, and Phil grinned as they shared their first kiss of the day, both parties packing as much emotion into it as possible.

--

The following weekend, Dan had his first poetry reading in a shockingly long time, and Emmie and Davy had insisted on tagging along for moral support. In reality, they just enjoyed the free glasses of champagne. But Dan didn’t mind, it was always nice to have someone there that he knew.

“You have the poems, right?” Emmie asked backstage as she and Davy were helping Dan with last minute preparations.

“Yes, Emmie, I have the poems, the sole reason we’re here” Dan smirked, and Emmie nudged him in the arm playfully as she stated it was ‘better to be safe than sorry’.

Dan looked down at his notebook in his hands, filled with poems that Phil had both inspired and helped him to write over the past few weeks, and smiled to himself as he recalled the times.

It was then that Davy slipped away in pursuit of more champagne, and Emmie leaned in close so she wouldn’t be heard.

“Why isn’t Phil here?” she asked, and Dan gulped.

“He’s talking to Jacob, telling him it’s over” Dan explained, and Emmie cupped her hands over her face as she jumped up and down in excitement, drawing the attention of a few other people backstage, but they soon turned back around, uninterested.

“He is? That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you!” she squealed quietly, and Dan nodded, smiling even wider.

Emmie continued to enthuse about the situation, stating how she was excited to see Dan and Phil finally make their relationship public and such, but shut up abruptly as Davy returned, handing them both a glass of champagne, which Dan knocked back instantly for courage, and Emmie sipped tentatively.

The current poet was wrapping up their final poem and q&a session, and after a good luck pat on the back from Davy and a high-five from Emmie, Dan was walking up to the infamous podium with which he was once well acquainted, notebook in hand, preparing to spill out his innermost feelings in written form to the crowd of people who were waiting for him, he noticed there were a lot more than normal.

He exhaled out any anxiety as he flipped open his notebook to the first poem of his reading, he was a professional at this, this was what he wanted to do with his life. Now his poetry had a deeper level, another layer, and it was time to see if it would go down well with the masses.

Dan captivated the audience from his very first poem ‘Really’, and kept them hooked on every word throughout his other chosen poems ‘Pill’, ‘City Lights’ and ‘Boy’. The audience roared in applause for a fair few minutes as Dan fought to keep his blush to a minimum, and awaited the question and answer session that was standard for most poets at the readings he’d attended.

The first came from a middle-aged woman dressed in brightly coloured fabrics. “Such beautiful language, such exquisite metaphor usage from someone as young as twenty. May I ask your inspiration?”

“Um, there’s someone special that came into my life recently. The most cliché answer in the world, but actually true” Dan replied with a laugh that many of the audience shared, and the woman thanked him before a young-ish man in a fancy striped suit cleared his throat to speak.

“Yes, Daniel. I have read all of your past works, and I’m impressed. You’re very talented. However, I must call into question the subject matter of your poetry as of now compared to then. Your former poetry is arguably deprecating, and dark in places, but what you just delivered was quite the opposite. May I ask why the change?” he asked, and Dan felt his cheeks heating up.

“Well, the special someone has surely made an impact, I suppose you could say” Dan replied with a shrug, and the man didn’t seem convinced, but thanked him anyway.

A familiar voice then posed the next question.

“Are you in love with this person?” Emmie asked from the side of the crowd, evidently having ran down the stairs whilst Dan was reading just for the purpose to ask that exact question.

Dan dipped his head to look back at the last poem he read, and his gaze fell upon Phil’s doodles in the corner of the page, that he had drawn when Dan had fallen asleep in his arms.

“I think it’s safe to say that, yeah” Dan confirmed with a smile, and Emmie beamed at him in return. She opened her mouth to ask a follow-up question, but someone beat her to it.

“Do they love you in return, if you don’t mind me asking?” a woman seemingly in her early thirties asked, a baby balancing in her arms as she looked up at Dan expectedly.

“I like to think so… we haven’t exactly had that discussion yet” Dan answered, shifting position awkwardly as the woman aww’d, as did other various members of the audience.

He probably looked like a schoolkid with a petty crush, but Dan did not care in the slightest. His life seemed to finally be falling into place. He had the guy of his dreams, his career in poetry seemed to be getting back on track, and he was doing well on his university course.

The audience then dropped the topic of Dan’s personal life, and asked more general questions about his past and present (and occasionally future) poetry, which he answered in a dignified, professional manner, and Emmie watched with a smile as she noticed Dan often glance down at his notebook and grinning when he returned from it, her friend was finally happy.

--

The seminar titled Writing Now did nothing for Dan. It never had, he doubted it ever would. It was 2 and a half hours of a past-his-prime lecturer ranting about his (in his own words) fucked up life, and how he hadn’t gotten laid in years. He also rubbed his stomach a lot, which Dan put down to being a nervous habit, but maybe if he actually did some teaching and help his students on the course they were doing then he wouldn’t have to stand in front of fifteen disinterested people whom would rather stare at their split nails or watch paint dry than be there listening to him.

It was a promising seminar, at first, with the guy being a published poet and all, Dan was excited. He was all but bright eyed and bushy tailed as he arrived early on the first session, eager to get taught by a self-proclaimed professional in his dream career. When the lecturer had conveniently forgotten to bring all the anthologies and collections that he was published in, Dan’s interest was well and truly lost and never to be found again.

The seminar group, surprisingly, had always stayed as one rather than separating into cliques. All fifteen (if they all ever bothered to show up, which hadn’t happened since their induction week back in their first year) sat around eight pushed together desks, entertaining each other whilst the tutor rambled on about some girl he slept with back in secondary school which nobody believed for a second.

Davy was texting, and Emmie was planning a new short story, leaving Dan alone and awkward, not feeling comfortable enough to strike up conversation with anyone else. Heather and two other girls were chatting amongst themselves and occasionally breaking into synchronised giggles, and Jacob and the other boys in the group were speaking obnoxiously loudly, for everyone to hear about their latest conquests.

And finally, Dan could join in. If he wanted to stoop to their level.

“Yeah check these out” Jacob requested as he pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal a cluster of hickeys on his neck. One of his friends wolf-whistled and another flicked them to make Jacob wince, and Dan rolled his eyes.

“Which one did this then?” one of his cronies asked, and Jacob chuckled.

Dan’s hands clenched into fists beneath the table.

“Number three, obviously. But, I have to admit, number one does them better” he shrugged, and his friends laughed.

Dan’s blood ran cold, was Phil number one? Still?

Surely not, since he had gone to break up with Jacob the day before, that’s why he wasn’t at Dan’s reading…

“Speaking of, how long has it been since you did it with number one? Haven’t you been going through a dry spell recently?” someone asked, and Dan found himself digging his fingernails into his palm, and out of the corner of his eye he saw that Emmie was now staring narrow-eyed at Jacob too, waiting for his answer.

“Yesterday, mate, he can’t get enough of the good stuff” Jacob answered with a smirk, and Dan was sure his heart had torn into two. He wouldn’t even be able to articulate the feeling onto paper.

He felt a hand on his arm, and he turned to see Emmie looking back at him sympathetically, mouthing an ‘I’m sorry’. His head was spinning, was Jacob doing this on purpose?

“He’s obviously playing mind games,” Emmie mumbled so only Dan could hear, “Phil evidently told him that you’re together and now he’s trying to get inside your head”

Dan swallowed back the lump in his throat and tried his best to convince himself that was the case, it had to be. Phil wouldn’t play him like this.

He was ready for the seminar to end more than ever, yet it was the first time in Dan’s university career that he dreaded hearing the words ‘writing exercise’.

“Right, we’re going to try an exercise called the ‘poetry engine’. I want you to split your page into two columns,” the lecturer began, sitting up on a tabletop to face the students, and Dan blinked back tears as he did so, sniffling occasionally to help the process, he couldn’t let himself break down, not in the middle of a seminar when he would be back at his dorm in under an hour.

“I want you to write ‘sea’ at the top of one column, and ‘beach’ on top of the other. You have ten minutes to write a mini poem on both topics” he tapped his watch to accentuate the fact, and immediately everyone around Dan began scrawling away in their notebooks, and he was jealous. He looked down at his own page, two blank columns and a bone-dry well of inspiration.

“Now, rip the page down, separating the columns” the lecturer instructed after ten minutes had passed, and Dan looked down solemnly at his still empty page, having nothing to work with whilst everyone around him held two poems in their hands, awaiting further instruction. Dan threw his pen onto his notebook and sat back in his seat, defeated. His mind was fried, and he just wanted Phil. What calibre of want was a different story, though.

“I want you to write a new poem, using the two you’ve already written. Move the columns alongside each other, mixing and matching the sentences to make a blend of them. This technique is actually what got me my first ever publication, so it can lead to good produce”

Immediately the group set to work, sliding their papers up and down, and scribbling down any mixes that made vaguely logical and grammatical sense, and Dan ran a hand through his hair. He had already been published a few times, so he felt considerably less pressure by what the lecturer had said, but the intense stare from the front of the room was enough to force him to pick up his pen and begin creating a whole new poem, he knew it would be different from everyone else’s, everyone else in the class seemed to be so positive, and Dan was once among them merely weeks before.

“Okay, does everyone have something to read aloud?” the lecturer voiced loudly from the front of the room a few minutes later, and most students nodded meekly, some confidently.

Then came Dan’s most hated aspect of the course, the workshopping and reading aloud section, which was always a popularity contest. He sighed as the first student picked up their notebook and began reading their blended poem, rereading his own and shaking his head at the content.

As he thought, everyone else’s was positive and bubbly, referencing past family holidays on the beach and scuba diving in pristine, crystal-like foreign seas. Jacob’s was indirectly about screwing around on the beach, earning bro-fives from his friends and snorts of disgust from some of the girls, and Davy spoke of visiting a relative who lives on the coast.

“Go ahead, Dan” the lecturer prompted, and Dan gulped. He was never the best at improvisation, so he was stuck with his three-minute scrawl. He had crossed out the title four times, as if it was the most important aspect. The whole process was an attempt at diverting his thoughts and focus away from Phil and where they stood with each other.

He must have stayed silent for a while, since Emmie subtly nudged him in the arm, and realised everyone around him was staring at him like he had two heads. They all knew he was shy(ish) after three years, but somehow it still baffled them when Dan was hesitant to speak aloud to them – but not in front of crowds of strangers, which was completely different.

“It’s called ‘Nothing’,” he began, and a girl from across the table piped up with ‘how original’ but after shushing from the rest of the group, Dan had no choice but to continue.

‘Connotations are a thing I’ve never understood.

Perceptions are unique, as unique as the love I kiss all over your skin.

Do you remember when I asked you to run away to the sea,

I promised the life you’ve dreamed of.

Now, where everyone sees twinkling blue I see black,

Where many fantasise, I fear to swim.

Where many feel a silky sand, I feel a bed of glass.

I scream a denotation of my affection to you, you’re wrapped up in a metaphor.

Connotations are a thing I will never understand,

Saying you’re in love when you’re making me numb.’

Many of the members of the group were wide-eyed and looked at each other with a ‘what the fuck’ glance, and others just stayed still and silent. Dan himself wasn’t entirely sure when precisely the poem diverted away from the topic of a beach and sea and turned into a personal dilemma, but Phil still evidently infiltrated everything he did. The lecturer didn’t even comment, just nodded and then moved onto Emmie.

He remained deadly still, eyes down at his notebook, reading his own words over and over as Emmie’s voice was distant, speaking of ‘let’s just run’ and ‘catching the sun’s sought-after kisses’. He wanted to be in everyone else’s mindset, he wanted to write of positivity, of happy thoughts, but his mind had gone back to its dark tendencies.

His gaze kept flicking over one line in particular, where everyone sees twinkling blue I see black. He realised five minutes after reading it aloud that he wasn’t talking about the sea. He wasn’t talking about anything of the sort.

Colour connotations always seemed to seep into his poetry.

He may as well have admitted his heartbreak outright, it would’ve been less obvious.

--

Can you come over?

Dan sent the text as soon as he shut his dorm room door behind him, and threw the phone onto the bed and flopped down next to it, completely clueless of what to do. He couldn’t call on Emmie, she was convinced Jacob was playing mind games. He couldn’t call on Lewis, he would just state he was right and rant about how Dan should have known better. He couldn’t call on Davy, he had no clue about the whole thing.

Someone’s eager today, give me five minutes!

Dan didn’t reply, not even with the same two heart emojis that Phil sent. He simply threw his phone back down and awaited Phil’s arrival, every second passing giving him an increasingly unbearable chest pain. It was either his metaphorical heart being ripped out of his chest again or a longing for Phil, he didn’t particularly want any of them to be a reality.

Dan remained silent as he let Phil in, and sat back down on his office chair as Phil leaned awkwardly against the wall just out of the doorway. He was worried about Dan’s silence and his intense stare, it was wildly unlike him.

“Are you alright?” Phil asked, squirming slightly under Dan’s stare.

Dan took good notice of the fact Phil was wearing multiple layers including a baggy hoodie, concealing him from the chin downwards. He didn’t respond still, simply remained staring at an uncomfortable Phil whom suddenly felt the heat of the confined space.

It got to the point where he felt that he was suffocating, and had no choice but to take off his hoodie, causing his shirt to ride up a little, and Dan leaned forward in his chair, placing his head in his hands. He saw the splatters of purple against Phil’s pale torso down to just above his crotch.

“I knew it” he groaned, pressing his palms firmly against his head, so the tears wouldn’t spill over the sides of his hands.

“Oh my god no, Dan, please” Phil pleaded as he stepped forward and attempted to take Dan’s hands, but Dan turned away and wiped his eyes, feeling only the tiniest bit angry. A whole other emotion was at the forefront of his mind.

“You told me yesterday you were telling him it was over, and we could be..” Dan trailed off as a fresh batch of sobs fell from his eyes, and Phil sunk to his knees, using his weakened strength to turn the chair back around to face him.

“I’m just a fool, aren’t I? The lovestruck idiot? Thinking that you could actually commit to one person, nevertheless me?” Dan found himself shouting, his tears surprisingly not affecting his volume and clarity all that much.

“What are you saying?” Phil asked, looking up at Dan with streaming eyes, seeming genuinely broken.

“This was nothing but meaningless sex to get back at him, was it? And there’s me thinking you could actually give a fuck about what I feel. I must be one hell of a lay” Dan spat as he stood up, sending the chair flying backward into the radiator, and Phil flinched, never having heard this tone of voice from Dan before.

“You don’t understand..” Phil attempted to defend himself, but Dan wasn’t finished. He still loved Phil though he had yet to tell him so, and wanted to believe whatever he was going to start spouting, but he was hurt beyond belief and words were beginning to pour out of his mouth before his logic had a chance to process them.

“No, I understand. I understand perfectly” Dan emphasised the word, “I was just the bit on the side, the one you’d never take to meet your parents, the one you’d cut all ties with in a month’s time when we graduate university. I was the one you both laughed at behind my back” he sank back into the chair completely defeated, head in hands once again.

“You don’t understand, Dan! Will you give me a chance to talk?” Phil shouted, still not having the strength to stand up and voice strained due to the excessive amount of tears.

“Two minutes. Then get the fuck out” Dan snarled, sitting up in his chair and bringing his knees up to his chest.

“Look” Phil prompted, taking off his shirt to reveal more of the purple patches, and Dan’s throat made a guttural sound that came out as a whine, and he could only just make out the colour contrast through his blurred, tear-induced vision. “Touch them” Phil said softly, shuffling a little closer to Dan and guiding his hand over to his chest, and rubbing his index finger gently over one of the purple patches just above his belly button, and swept Dan’s fringe from in his eyes so he had a better chance of seeing.

“Look at your finger, Dan” Phil whispered, and Dan used his free hand to wipe his eyes until he could vaguely see better and his focus settled on the hand that Phil was still holding in front of him, and how his fingertip was now tainted purple.

Dan physically couldn’t say anything due to the sizeable lump that had taken residence in his throat, and he simply made eye contact with Phil and awaited an explanation, still breathing erratically from all the crying.

“All day yesterday I was helping one of my friends on my course with her final project. My character is a tad promiscuous, if you get what I’m saying. But the paint or food colouring or whatever it was that she used isn’t coming off easily, I was up until eight this morning trying to scrub it off in the shower but it keeps only coming off in these tiny little parts and it’s barely made a difference” Phil explained, taking Dan’s hands in his again as he awaited a response.

He deserved Dan to blow up at him like he did, it was perfectly understandable. They looked like hickeys, and his friend’s artistic vision was that exact result, but with him promising to talk to Jacob the day before it was more than likely that Dan would’ve gotten the wrong end of the stick.

“So y-you didn’t…” Dan didn’t finish his question as he rubbed more fingers over various patches on Phil’s skin, each time coming away with purple stained fingertips.

“No, Dan, I didn’t. I meant what I said. I choose you” Phil whispered, and pressed a gentle kiss to Dan’s forehead, and the brunet wrapped his arms around Phil’s torso, and rested his head in the crook of Phil’s neck.

“You’re probably going to get a purple cheek if you keep nuzzling me like that” Phil chuckled, and Dan just nuzzled into Phil more, to prove a point.

“I don’t care” he confirmed, and tightened his grip, pulling Phil closer.

They stayed in the embrace for at least a minute, pulling apart eventually and facing each other again, shuffling awkwardly on the worn-out carpet fibres. Dan dipped his head to look at his lap, feeling mortified.

“I’m sorry” Dan spoke quietly, voice still not having fully recovered. Phil smiled.

“It’s alright, I kind of expected it. I just didn’t want to have to go through the awkward explanation of not being able to get fake hickeys off of my chest so I kind of layered up” Phil laughed, and Dan cracked a small half-smile, which faltered after a few seconds.

“Also, you were technically right. I mean, I am still cheating on Jacob with you, I guess. Since I didn’t get the chance to speak to him yesterday with helping my friend and all” Phil added with a sigh, and Dan shook his head, just wanting the whole morally wrong situation to go away. He wanted to scream in public that the guy he’d be pining after for nearly three years was finally his, but he had to settle for writing it discreetly, veiled in a metaphor and obscure similes.

“Are you going to?” Dan found himself asking, out of hope more than anything.

“Of course I am. I’ll do it first thing this weekend. I’m helping my friend out for the next two days and I’ll be with you for the nights but first chance I get, I promise” Phil stated, squeezing Dan’s hand.

There was still one more thing that was plaguing Dan’s mind. The only thing that was stopping him from tackling Phil to the ground and peppering him with kisses.

“Jacob said you two slept together last night” Dan blurted out of the blue a few minutes later, taking Phil by surprise.

They regained eye contact again, and Phil’s head lolled to the side.

“He what?” he asked, seemingly genuinely dumbfounded and the slightest bit angered.

“He said you’re the best at giving hickies, you slept together and that you couldn’t get enough. Still can’t get enough. He also referred to you as number one”

“I presume that’s not because he likes me the best,” Phil rolled his eyes, “one out of how many?” he asked.

“Three” Dan replied sharply, and Phil scoffed in disgust.

“I can’t get away quick enough” he mumbled, and Dan let himself smile. He deserved to, after just hearing that.

“It’s blatantly not true, by the way. He’s obviously just saying that to keep up his reputation as a player. I bet he still doesn’t even know that I know” Phil said with a shake of his head, and Dan giggled.

“It’s like that episode of Friends. I bet he doesn’t know that we know he doesn’t know… you know?” Dan smirked as Phil threw his head back in laughter.

“You’re such a nerd” he laughed as he feathered a finger beneath Dan’s chin and closed the gap between them.

--

The next night they ran up to the roof of the dorm building, sharing a single blanket. They were looking up at the stars when Dan broke the pleasant silence.

“This is literally the most cliché thing of all clichés” he commented, and Phil feigned offence.

“Well excuse me, Mr future bestselling poet. You’re a writer, I thought writers and poets loved this kind of thing, like one in every four poems and stories involve stars” Phil defended, sticking out his bottom lip, which Dan kissed swiftly.

“Is that an official statistic?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re an official statistic” Phil shot back, and Dan threw his head back in laughter.

“And this is why I am the writer” he gestured to himself, and Phil shook his head playfully, wrapping an arm around Dan’s waist and pulling him close, and Dan rested his head on Phil’s chest, feeling utterly content and safe in his embrace.

More minutes of pleasant silence proceeded, Dan feeling himself being lulled into slumber until Phil spoke up, his chest rising as he spoke. The only other sound was the distant pounding of bass music from a local nightclub that was a hotbed for randy university students every night, and the occasional drunken giggles that echoed through the streets.

“What kind of house do you think we should get when we finish uni?” Phil asked quietly whilst absentmindedly playing with Dan’s fingers, but Dan heard loud and clear.

“We’re getting a house together when we leave uni?” Dan asked, feeling his heart begin to race. This was the first Phil had spoken about them having any kind of future together, it was new and exciting, and everything Dan could ever want.

“Well, you know, if you want to. I was thinking we could get one with extra bedrooms so we can make one a games room and I can kick your butt at Mariokart every night, and we’ll have a dog, of course” Phil expanded, and Dan felt his smile grow as wide as it possibly could.

“You’ve thought about that?” Dan questioned as he lifted his head from Phil’s chest and turned to face him, cross-legged.

Phil shrugged, and Dan could tell from the dim glow from the nearby lampposts and the moonlight that Phil was blushing.

“I think about us a lot. That’s really endgame, since we’ll be broke as soon as we leave, but we can put in a deposit on a flat and decorate it with all the nerdy merch that we want” Phil marvelled, and Dan nodded vigorously.

“Dan, would you mind if I tried something?” Phil asked a few seconds later, and Dan was launched into confusion, but nodded nonetheless.

Phil bit his lip as he reached out for Dan’s hand, and enveloped it in his own.

“I’m not one for words as much as you, and to be honest, I’ll probably stumble on them if I try to say this right, but…” Phil trailed off as he held Dan’s hand over his chest where his heart lay beneath.

“Feel it beating?” he questioned, and Dan simply nodded, having no idea where Phil was heading with it.

“It’s beating for you. I know it might sound stupid and quite frankly saccharine, but it’s true. You’re the last thing I think about at night and the first thing I think about in the morning, you’re the one who’s always on my mind, and your kisses are solely what keep me going sometimes. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I think I’m in love with you, Dan”

Dan’s head was spinning at a million miles an hour, he knew he was crying, but he couldn’t find the perfect combination of words to reply with. He had dreamt about Phil saying such things to him, prayed to a god he doesn’t believe in that someday Phil might love him back, and using magical wishes he didn’t have.

What he eventually replied with, would probably have killed the mood if he were in anyone else’s company.

“Writing tip number one, avoid using sickening clichés as to not turn your audience away” he recalled from his Creative Writing handbook, and Phil simply blinked a few times then burst into laughter.

“Hey, I was trying to be poetic alright, leave me alone” he joked, folding his arms across his chest and pouting comically. Being around Phil was just so easy and Dan didn’t need to overthink what he said like he did with everyone else, and that was what cemented his feelings more than any other dominating factor.

He gently pushed Phil to the ground and hovered over him with a newfound confidence neither of them knew Dan had inside of him, and kissed him passionately, pouring as much reciprocity and emotion into it as he could, and when they both pulled away, grinning like bashful schoolchildren, Dan leaned in close to Phil’s ear.

“I love you”

--

The remainder of the week Dan spent with Emmie, reciting the final module’s poetry coursework to each other before submitting it for grading, and helping each other make appropriate corrections.

“When’s your next reading?” Emmie asked on Saturday morning, in between circling clichés and metaphors to change.

“Next weekend” Dan grinned in excitement, feeling butterflies in his stomach. The performance bug had bitten him again well and truly, and he couldn’t get enough of his readings.

This was their final module, after handing in all classes were optional. After his reading, Dan would be heading home, as were his friends (though some had other activities than the reading) and the thought of being able to introduce Phil to his family and friends back home made him shiver with excitement, they could be a proper couple soon.

“Have you decided which ones you’ll be reading?” she asked, and Dan bit his lip.

“I’m torn between about six, three melancholy and three upbeat that I had some help with” he explained, and Emmie chuckled.

“Some help with,” she repeated and shook her head with a smile, “meaning for every line you wrote, you had another makeout and when the poem hit its climax so did you”

“Emmie!” Dan exclaimed, stifling a giggle as he spun his head around to check if anyone else milling around the 11^th floor helpdesk had heard, but nobody had bothered to. He was relieved.

They slid their portfolios across the helpdesk synchronously, and the clerk smiled widely at them as she stamped their folders and handed them their receipts for proof.

“Good luck” she smiled, and Dan and Emmie nodded in thanks as they left for the lifts, breaking into laughter as they arrived.

“We probably looked demonic, we didn’t say a word and did everything in sync” Emmie said between fits of laughter, and rested a hand on the wall for stability. Dan was just as hysterical, and stumbled into the lift with a hand clutching to his hip to avoid stitch.

They continued to laugh right down to the 5^th floor, where they departed the lift and practically skipped out of the building, gleeful in having every last module completed for good.

“Hot chocolates? My treat?” Dan suggested, and Emmie clasped her hands together and jumped up and down.

“You know how to keep a friend, Howell” she replied, before linking arms with Dan and eagerly tugging him in the direction of the city centre.

Rather than sacrificing their conversation and having it contaminated by other customers in the packed coffee shop just to keep in with their university student stereotype, the two left with their hot chocolates and headed for the gardens near campus, sitting on a bench overlooking fountains and lush green lawns.

“So when is Phil doing his duty?” Emmie asked, taking a sip of the frothy beverage cradled in her hands.

Dan immediately retrieved his phone to see if he had a text from Phil saying that it was done, he knew that Phil was heading over to Jacob’s dorm and was probably already there, but the lack of communication was worrying him deeply.

“Oh my god did I say something I shouldn’t have?” Emmie grimaced, and mouthed a silent sorry as Dan shrugged a little.

“Anytime today, but I thought he would have texted me by now” Dan mumbled, looking down at his inactive phone which posed no notifications.

“I’m sure he’s there now, and they’re just arguing. His first thought probably isn’t to pull out his phone and give you live updates” Emmie attempted to lighten the mood, but Dan didn’t respond. He was staring into the fountains which spouted from the ground, and a million and one prompts popped into his mind, many including his future children paddling through them and squealing in delight. More included him and Phil standing in front of the fountains in matching suits, grinning widely as they held up their interlocked hands, showing off the golden bands proudly placed there.

Emmie watched Dan lost in thought, and she was about to say something when she saw a tear trickle down his cheek and splash onto the plastic lid on top of his paper cup, but he shook himself out of his trance and not another tear fell. Even as close as they were, Emmie still considered Dan a closed book, and it was almost impossible to decipher what he was thinking most of the time.

More minutes of silence passed as they listened to the trickling water and the sounds of people enjoying the weekend, children running around laughing and playing, couples sharing kisses and whispered affections as they walked by hand-in-hand.

“You know, this is where I wrote ‘Someone To Chase’” Emmie stated quietly as she leaned back against the bench, twirling a piece of shiny red hair around her thumb, glassy-eyed.

Dan remembered ‘Someone To Chase’. It was the lead piece of Emmie’s second year portfolio, speaking of an ex-boyfriend who took pleasure in leaving her keeled on the bathroom floor with bruised skin and bleeding out. It was her only ‘negative’ poem that she had written in all the time that Dan had known her, and it broke his heart even more when he found her in that exact position once, and had to escort her to the closest doctor’s surgery.

“It was a place of tranquillity when things were at their bleakest. A happy place, if you will” she continued, and Dan glanced at her, and her smokey eye makeup was slowly shifting south as she silently cried.

Dan shuffled a little closer and wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders, and she leaned into him as she proceeded to sob, and shake erratically. He knew that she had repressed the memories of her ex, rightfully so, and in order to make Dan feel better she had unleashed them. Because he was so wrapped up in Phil and Jacob.

He rubbed Emmie’s arm and shushed soothingly as she continued to sob, shielding her face from passers-by.

“Please read ‘A Lot Like Love’ at your reading” she requested in a broken voice, still choked by her sobs. It was a poem that Dan had written for Emmie in an attempt to lift her spirits in lieu of her breakup, and it was one of the things that brought them closer. It was a poem with a lot of emotion tagged to it and a whole lot of sentiment, and Dan had refrained from choosing it for any of his past readings out of consideration for Emmie and the memories it may have brought back for her.

“Of course” Dan replied with a small smile, and Emmie cracked a ‘thankyou’ before breaking down again, and Dan continued to help in whatever small ways he could.

“Dan” she spoke up a considerable amount of time later, and sat upright, rubbing her eyes.

Dan nodded in encouragement for her to continue, and smiled supportively.

“Do you really love Phil? Like really? It sounds childish I know but please, for me, answer seriously” she asked, sniffling and wiping her eyes again, dabbing at the skin around them.

“I really think I do. We told each other the other day. I think this could be it, you know” he replied sincerely, and Emmie managed a smile, and took Dan’s hand.

“Then for me, please, stay together. Take on this fucked up world together, and be his everything. This may be the poet in me speaking but please, have the life that I could never have, and tell him how you feel at every possible opportunity”

If it were any other situation, Dan would’ve laughed and joked with Emmie to cut down on her overuse of clichés, as she is told in every workshop session. But seeing the girl at her most vulnerable, fragile, hunched and in shaking sobs, all Dan could do was nod and pull her into a hug, as she cried into his shoulder.

--

Dan returned to his dorm an hour or so later, dropping his bag on the floor triumphantly as he stretched out his arms and let the sunlight pour over him, the universe was thankful he had completed his final module, too.

After a quick text to Emmie to make sure she was holding up okay and a particularly long shower, an anxious Dan paced around his room, craving some kind of contact from Phil, every two seconds clutching his phone and unlocking it, never to see a ‘1’ pop up over the messages app.

A notebook lay open on his desk, and he caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye, and stared at it for a few seconds, fingers twitching and toes curling. The soft breeze whipped the corner of the page up slightly, almost appearing to wave him over.

And so Dan did what he always did. Gave into his poetic urges, and wrote about Phil.

We’re standing at crossroads and you’re afraid.

Light beckons us to the right, promise entices us to the left.

You can’t tear away from the darkness behind us, the stormcloud of a metaphor that haunts you.

As I take your hand in mine we will take the step,

The step forward, the step for us.

Taunting smiles in the shadows make you wince, your past claws at your feet,

But I am here, and that will never change,

Let’s live a cliché, make a ripple in time.

Dan liked the idea of referring to his and Phil’s relationship as a ripple, he’d taken to writing it into his recent poetry. It was a thought he had during one of his infamous late night ponders when he couldn’t sleep, when Phil was fast asleep with his head on Dan’s chest.

They were a ripple in the sense of change, a ripple from Phil’s unhappy relationship with Jacob to his and Dan’s gleeful one, a ripple from Dan’s heartache to his aching sides after a ‘sleepover’.

They were a ripple in the sense of unpredictability, they could have happened at any time, and they could go in any direction. Phil could still have been in denial of Jacob’s affairs, and Dan could have not been the one that Phil went to when he found out for himself. They could get engaged and run off and elope anytime, they could keep themselves to themselves and nobody except Emmie, Lewis and Jacob (Dan hoped by this point) would know.

They were a ripple in the sense of they found each other beautiful, soothing, calming.

Evidently, so did Dan’s devoted followers. He scrolled down the comments and feedback for his latest poems, he hadn’t done so in a while, didn’t know how they had reacted to the whole ripple comparison.

Many were swooning in adoration, stating how they were so happy Dan had found love and how well this positive writing style of poetry suited him. Most were in awe of Dan’s ability to articulate such simple imagery as a ripple on water into poetry, and still be inkeeping with his newly adopted style. Comparing to eyes he could go swimming in, to glossy black hair he ran his fingers through with ease, to the boy he got lost in entirely.

As he copy and pasted his latest poem into the publish box, he took the liberty of adding a message at the bottom informing about his feature in next week’s reading, knowing his followers would like to know as it was a big deal, and how it would be streamed on a website and a link for them to peruse.

Clicking publish made the brunet slightly giddy, and he smiled behind his hands as he watched the hit counter on his latest publication skyrocket as it was shared around, and glanced down at his phone, smile faltering at seeing the screen black, not having illuminated in ages.

After only fifteen minutes, his inbox was bursting with comments from his followers, all praising the poem with the highest graces, and his eyes widened as his eyes scanned over a message from a follower in the Netherlands, informing him that they would be travelling over to England specifically to see Dan perform in the reading, he meant that much to them. He cupped a hand over his mouth as he continued to scroll down his inbox, he was overwhelmed with the feedback, and even more overwhelmed with how many of his followers were planning on attending the reading, and the hundreds more that had promised to watch the livestream of it.

It put Dan’s career in perspective for him, this next reading could be endgame. His ticket to the big leagues, poet wise. He would be finished with university completely in a matter of weeks after getting his final grades back, and this poetry reading invited publishers and benefactors alike to listen to the talent. Also managers and publicity, but Dan had a good relationship with his manager and he was more than fine with his publicity all coming from his blog, as that was what had gotten him started in the first place, a sense of sticking to his roots. The poetry game hadn’t gone to his head, at least not yet. The thought made him chuckle.

He was refreshing his new poem again to see the new wave of comments when he was interrupted, a gentle rap on his bedroom door, gentler than usual, but he knew it anywhere. Phil’s knock.

Dan took a deep breath before closing his laptop, standing up from his office chair and walking to the door, holding his breath as he opened the door cautiously, wary of the expression he would find on the guy stood there.

Sure enough, Phil had tear streaks down his cheeks and was sniffling to accompany his heavy, inconsistent breathing. Dan immediately took his hand and led him inside, closing the door behind them, and watched as Phil perched on the edge of the bed, looking down at his lap.

He was almost as bad as he was when he turned up at Dan’s dorm all that time ago after having found out for himself about Jacob, but this time, instead of making out with Dan furiously, hungrily, Phil was avoiding eye contact at all costs and tried to make himself as small as possible.

Dan stood unsure of what to do as he watched Phil continue to sob quietly, and Dan placed one hand on his desk and ran the other through his hair, contemplating what options he had to take with this.

In the end, he chose the most abrupt.

“D-Did you do it?” he asked, finding his own voice choked slightly, just upon seeing Phil in such a state.

Phil didn’t respond for a few seconds, then wiped his eyes and looked up, at the bulletin board above Dan’s desk.

“Funny, Jake has the exact same stuff on his” he stated as he nodded towards the various university documents and schedules which littered the left side of the board, and Dan tightened his grip on the edge of his desk.

“That’s because we’re on the same course…” he replied, and Phil mumbled a ‘right’ before continuing to look anywhere but at Dan. “Phil. Did you break up with him?” Dan was uncaring if he came off as needy. Because he was.

Phil bit his lip as a new batch of tears streamed from his eyes, and he flicked his gaze to Dan’s before shaking his head slowly.

“Why not” his question came out more like a statement, his voice rock steady, faultless. The polar opposite to Phil’s.

“I-I can’t,” he croaked, running his index finger below his eyes to catch a row of falling tears, “I just can’t”

“Why can’t you” Dan’s voice was still steady, surprisingly not having betrayed him quite yet.

Phil was still looking up at him, and he shook his head and shrugged. “It’s safe, and we have the history” he replied, voice weak, yet stronger than his previous croak.

Dan dropped to his knees, and crouched in front of Phil, taking his hands.

“But Phil, so do we. We have history, almost as long as you and him, but we have a foundation. We know everything there is to know about one another, surely you must see that we’re a better match” Dan was gushing, he knew he was, but he wanted to get everything off of his chest to give himself the best chance of winning Phil over to his side once and for all. The future together that they had spoken about was tearing at the seams, the joint flat crumbling away like the paintwork on the outside of the dorm building.

“I know we are,” Phil stated and squeezed Dan’s hands, “but Jake and I just have this… connection, I guess”

Dan snatched his hands away and Phil bit his lip again, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as to keep further tears at bay. It failed.

“You’re trying to say we don’t?” Dan sounded defeated, broken, as he fell completely to the ground, shuffling backwards until his back hit his desk.

“You’re different. It’s just so easy with you, everything is so effortless and you make everything so beautiful and I feel like I can completely be myself around you” Phil sighed and placed his head in his hands, and Dan just continued to stare, his gaze locked firmly on Phil’s sagging form, no plan to deviate away.

“But” he continued for Phil, knowing the conjunction would be coming. Of course, he was right.

“Jacob and I have the history” Phil repeated from before, and Dan got a kick of anger, which propelled him to jump to his feet, and speak with emphatic, flailing hand gestures.

“That’s no fucking excuse for him cheating on you with two other guys, Phil! I’ve had history with my neighbour’s cat since I was six but that doesn’t mean I want to spend time with it now we have Colin at home!” Dan didn’t care he was shouting. He also didn’t care at how lame his comparison was, though he was definitely sure now that he was a dog person thanks to Colin.

Phil didn’t seem to pick up on the weakness of Dan’s comparison, and somehow found the strength to raise his own voice. Not to the same level, but definitely loud enough for at least the rest of the flat to hear.

“But it’s exactly what we’ve been doing, Dan! I’m no better than he is!” Phil pointed in a random direction, indicating he was indirecting Jacob, “I’m cheating on him like he’s cheating on me! It’s not fair on anyone!” he shouted.

Dan had no idea what to do, what to say. His brain was fried from the past few minutes, his heart shattered and bleeding upon his metaphorical sleeve. He knew that Phil must be speaking on impulse, what they had was more than what Jacob and Logan or Jacob and whoever the hell the third guy was had, they were in love. At least, Dan was. Unequivocally.

He considered just speaking whatever was on his mind, not bothering to run everything through his poet-approved filter in his head. But with a fast-paced argument such as the one he was sadly partaking in, he had no other choice but to speak on impulse himself.

What he came up with was far from perfect. Ammunition to further the argument.

“Did he not think to ask why you haven’t seen him in fucking weeks? Did he not find that weird? That his boyfriend didn’t bother to see him?” Dan shouted, and Phil’s cheeks reddened in anger as he conjured a reply.

“He apologised for that, and said he’s going to work on it. He assumed I was busy with my final projects, he wanted me to have my space. He texted every few days, and that was enough” Phil’s voice was surprisingly calmer, contrasting entirely to his angered expression.

“It was enough because you’ve been with me every night!” Dan replied sharply, and Phil’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open slightly, yet he didn’t respond. He stayed in place a few seconds longer, then stood to his feet, turning in the direction of the door.

“You know, I don’t have to deal with this. I wanted to come up here to have a civilised conversation with you, talk things through. But if you can’t even handle that then I have never been surer of my choice” Phil spoke bitterly as he took his first steps towards the door.

Dan huffed in frustration and raked his hands through his curling hair, perspiration forming on his forehead as he desperately racked his brain for something, anything, that would make Phil stay with him. He needed Phil. And he was losing him, to his cheating boyfriend.

Without even thinking, he launched forward and grasped Phil’s wrist gently, stopping him in his tracks and causing him to turn back around. Stray tears were falling from his eyes and his breathing still wasn’t completely normal.

Still acting in the moment without giving their logic time to catch up, they were kissing, hungry for and deprived from each other, hands tangled in hair and arms moving to wrap loosely around each other for stability as they staggered backwards a few steps.

It lasted for at least a minute without breath, both sets of eyes firmly closed as Dan tried to articulate exactly what he wanted to say into the kiss, and he had no idea how Phil was feeling, but he was kissing back just as much as Dan was.

It felt familiar, it felt comfortable, it felt right.

It felt alien, wrong, when Phil broke apart too soon, stepping backwards and biting his bottom lip as he ran a hand through his hair. Dan remained where he was, temporarily paralyzed to the spot, lips still tingling from the kiss as he could only watch Phil inch closer and closer to the door.

“Please, Phil. At least give me one more night. For old times’ sake” Dan pleaded, voice strained and croaked, legs shaking as he was losing his strength. He was the human embodiment of desperate, but he didn’t care in the slightest.

Phil stopped for a second, and looked back at Dan over his shoulder, a rogue tear dripping down his cheek as he turned the handle, the light from the corridor pouring in the room.

“I’m sorry, Dan, I can’t. For older times’ sake”

Dan sunk to his knees and wept, he wept so much. Then he wailed, then he sobbed. Then he cried for the rest of the night, composing three-page-long text messages that he never sent.

Dan had read a lot about heartbreak. He had read that it was completely different from heartache, which was pining. Heartbreak was practically a near death experience, and it was very real, in no way close to how it was romanticised in films and daytime tv dramas. He read that in some cases it was irreparable, and heartbreak can drive people to do terrifying things, unforgivable things, irreversible things.

--

“You did the right thing, mate, letting him go” Lewis comforted sympathetically after his initial jokes were not well received on the facetime session Dan couldn’t help but initiate at 2am. Lewis was always awake, miraculously.

“But I didn’t want to let him go! I tried everything to get him to stay, but nothing was good enough. I’m not good enough” his voice dwindled into a silent sob, and Lewis was silent himself for a few seconds, which was highly irregular.

“Everything happens for a reason, Dan, you need to remember that” Lewis spoke with great confidence, and for a moment, Dan let himself believe that maybe the whole situation was for the best. But then he saw one of Phil’s socks sticking out from underneath his bed and the tears renewed and he began to wail once again, leaving his childhood friend clueless of what to do or say.

“You weren’t joking when you were in love” Lewis mumbled, thinking Dan couldn’t hear him, but Dan nodded into his duvet anyway, knowing Lewis couldn’t see. The pain in his chest was not getting any easier, and what only added insult to injury was his phone never lighting up with a text notification.

Dan kept his head buried in his bedspread as Lewis stayed silent on the other end of the call, playing through a million scenarios in his head about what would be the best course of action to take with regards to the current situation. All Dan could do was cry and hope Phil would return to make it all better. He sounded like a schoolgirl with a bad crush, but they were their own kind of cliché and Dan adored living it.

“Listen, I have to go get some sleep since I have an exam later today so we’ll talk soon. Hang in there, buddy, I promise it’ll get easier” and Lewis hung up, just like that. The one person that always had all the answers was at a loss for words to help Dan.

He knew Lewis didn’t have an exam, he knew his schedule. Everyone was slowly turning their backs on Dan, and he was finding himself appearing to live inside one of his early poems, from his darkest days.

--

Dan had never dreaded a seminar more. After a sleepless night and hours upon hours trying to make himself look at least half alive in the bathroom mirror, it looked all in vain. Dark bags laid beneath his eyes and his eyes were still slightly bloodshot from all the crying, and his posture was awful. He struggled to even stand up straight, his previous positioning being curled against his bedframe sobbing into his pillows in the pitch darkness, not even the sounds of his dormmates and their ‘friends’ drowned out his tears.

As he entered campus, it appeared as if every pair of eyes was on him. People would make no effort to tear away their stares, and Dan heard countless giggles come from people once he had passed them, and snide remarks aplenty. He simply tightened his grip on his backpack straps and continued walking, trying not to trip over his own shoes. The sooner he got the seminar over with, the sooner he could go back to his room and cry again in privacy. He hoped that he could pass his appearance off as being the product of a sleepless night of either drinking or studying, but it seemed that was a lost cause. Everyone knew, to an extent.

The people milling around the lifts stared with wide-eyes, and more stared when the lift ascended to level 10. Dan wiped his eyes as a subtle message of ‘I can see you staring can you not’, which seemed to work. He was the last one out of the lift, and kept his gaze fixed firmly on his shoes as he walked down the corridor to his classroom, looking up sporadically to account for doors.

“Dan are you okay, mate? You look rough” Davy asked in concern as Dan approached the room, where a few of his coursemates were already in their seats. Dan sat beside Davy and rested his head on his backpack, pinching his leg to stop himself from crying again.

“A few too many last night?” Davy was insistent, and Dan sighed to himself, realising he couldn’t sail through the seminar with no questions asked. He lifted his head and made eye contact with his friend, and watched Davy’s expression fall from a smile to a hard frown.

“What happened?” he asked, and Dan bit his lip. It would kill him to explain the whole thing, especially since Davy was oblivious to the whole scenario in the first place. It was at that moment that Dan noticed Jacob hadn’t yet arrived, and he clenched his fists under the table, bundling them beneath the sleeves of his oversized jumper that he was wearing for comfort.

Dan swallowed back the lump in his throat as he attempted to speak for the first time since Lewis’ abrupt end to the earlier facetime call.

“That guy, you know the one” he croaked, wincing at the sound of his own broken vocals, and Davy grimaced slightly upon hearing Dan’s gruff tone.

Davy nodded in understanding and smiled sympathetically, offering all the bullshit advice Dan would expect most of humanity to give during a breakup. The kind that was more mocking and rubbed salt in the wound rather than helping. He didn’t want anybody else but Phil.

Davy then insisted upon respecting Dan in such a difficult time and left him be, turning to converse with the other people that had arrived and sat around them. Dan rested his head back where it previously was, the fabric on his backpack seemed to be brilliant at absorbing silent tears.

Dan’s phone interrupted his minute-long pity party, and he jumped backwards, back colliding with the chair, to read what had popped up on his screen, praying for it to be and not to be Phil.

He needn’t have worried.

Emmie was going to be a couple of minutes late, and wanted Dan to cover for her. Of course. Though it did give him a bit longer to compose himself as to avoid her extensive interrogations. Which were pretty much inevitable, but Dan didn’t feel anywhere near ready enough in the present.

He took a deep breath as the tutor entered the room spouting off about the coursework they had to mark for the freshers, and gritted his teeth as Jacob entered behind them, speaking obnoxiously loudly on the phone.

“I already told you, I love you more! Yes, of course I’ll be over tonight. Yeah, okay, I love you more. Listen I really have to go, I’m in class right now, okay bye” he grinned as he sat in the seat on Davy’s other side, and Dan set to retrieving his notebook and pens out of his bag for something to do other than punching Jacob repeatedly in the face.

“Was that your main squeeze?” one of his friends – Dan didn’t care or notice which – asked, and Jacob threw his head back in laughter.

“Original squeeze, yes” he answered, and they high-fived. Dan wanted to roll his eyes, but they were so raw and swollen that the simple action would be agony. So Phil had no problem ringing Jacob but couldn’t make the effort to even text Dan.

“You know, I think I might really be in love with him. Sounds weird but yeah. I might call things off with the others” Dan froze as he waited for Jacob to say something further, leaving his hands resting on his notebook and his phone feeling as if burning through his pocket.

“Are-are you serious?” someone asked in disbelief, and tense moments of silence followed. Dan wanted to scream the question in repetition, but he waited in silence, chewing on the inside of his mouth as his blood ran cold waiting for Jacob’s response.

“Of course I’m not fucking serious, are you stupid?” Jacob roared with laughter, playing his answer off as if it was obvious. Dan guessed it should have been. But it did nothing for his anger levels.

It seemed instinct, for him to slam his hands on the desk as he stood up, throwing the book and pens back into his bag and grabbing it from the table and storming out of the room, leaving the door creaking on its ancient hinges, leaving without a word, a silent classroom of people behind him. This was university, he wasn’t obligated to be in any classes, and that was what made him feel better as he tapped his foot impatiently waiting for the lift to take him back down.

When it eventually pinged open, he didn’t waste any time stepping inside, completely ignoring his red-headed friend who stepped out before him, only noticing Dan as the doors closed and the lift began its descent. Naturally, his phone went off a few seconds later.

--

It was six in the evening when his tears seemed to slow down, and the sun had disappeared, its remnants hiding behind the thick city cloud as his dormmates collectively slammed their doors shut, ready for yet another night of boozing. They had recently taken to skipping classes, going on all day benders, resting for a couple of hours then heading out in the night to do it all over again. They never bothered to invite Dan.

He watched his latest tears drip down onto the shower floor, mixing with blobs of the raspberry shower gel that Phil had left a few weeks prior. Dan wanted to ration it, use it only when he missed Phil most. He had used half the bottle in just under a day already.

Fifteen minutes later he was curled up on top of his bed again, clutching a pillow whilst sobbing into another, wearing a pair of Phil’s mismatched socks. One of the few things he had left of him, now.

He had managed to stave off Emmie’s visit by promising to call her when he was ‘happier’ and ready to talk about it, right now he needed to grieve the relationship and he was thankful that she was semi-respectful. She was just deeply concerned, he knew, but Dan didn’t really care about anyone’s opinion of him except Phil’s.

Earlier in the afternoon he managed a power nap, and it was no shock he dreamt of Phil. He even cried in the dream, except it was the complete opposite scenario. They were happy tears, shed over them holding a contract for a flat together.

It disintegrated as he realised he was dreaming and he was ripped away from it and thrown back into warped reality.

His phone was resting on the bedside table, and it was almost a foreign sound when it began ringing.

Dan sighed as he reached for it, his friends’ persistence was lovely in essence, but he really just wanted to be sobbing into his pillows, they were very understanding. He was about to swipe reject and act as if he hadn’t gotten the call, but when he saw Phil’s caller ID picture on the screen, he gulped and took a deep breath before slowly swiping accept.

He had prayed for this moment, but there was an air of awkwardness as soon as the call began, and a little part of Dan wanted to hang up, that way he could still be in his delusion that they just might be okay, that it wouldn’t be awkward.

“Hi” he couldn’t figure out Phil’s voice, a single syllable not being enough to determine whether he sounded just as broken. But, provided he was on the phone with Jacob earlier and with him the night before, Dan presumed not.

“Hi” Dan replied, throat feeling suddenly dry and scratchy.

“I won’t insult you by asking how you are, I know you hate small talk” Phil stated, and Dan placed a clasped hand to his mouth in an attempt to quell tears that were already pricking the back of his eyes just from hearing Phil’s voice, more so from hearing Phil sounding completely fine. He hadn’t even apologised, commented on how bad Dan sounded like everyone else had.

“So, um, Emmie told me you have a reading next week” Phil said after Dan replied to his last statement with silence. Phil’s voice broke at the end of his last declarative, and Dan immediately jumped to an upright position. Could that possibly mean Phil missed him too? His voice never usually broke for no reason, at least Dan had never heard it.

“That’s right” Dan confirmed, immediately slapping the palm of his hand to his forehead, recalling how stupid he probably just sounded. But, everything he could have said would be wrong in his own judgement, his words were what lost Phil in the first place.

He didn’t even care that Emmie had obviously pieced everything together and told Phil of her own accord, probably as an attempt to get them back together. That was Emmie’s style, hopeless romantic and the biggest supporter of Dan and Phil’s relationship. Whatever remained of their relationship was a whole other debacle.

“She said something about wanting to rally everyone together to go and support you” Phil explained, and Dan squeezed his eyes shut, willing for the awkwardness to dissipate.

“That’s nice” Dan responded, squeezing his eyes tighter when realising his past two responses had been extremely similar and extremely close-ended. Phil coughed nervously at the other end of the phone, and Dan shook his head slowly.

“Do you, um… Do you want me there?” Phil asked, and Dan froze. Phil sounded, for the first time, extremely vulnerable and his breathing became heavier as he awaited Dan’s response.

In his current state, Dan had forgotten to pull across the curtain, and the moonlight shone into the room, bouncing from his headlamp and reflecting on his desk drawer, which still housed the packet of poems simply titled with Phil’s name. It was truly the kind of marvel that even Dan couldn’t make up, an unmistakable sign from some unknown force he believed existed. The light also settled upon his bulletin board, settling on the opaque post-it note with his manager’s phone number scrawled on it.

Dan kept his gaze firmly on his desk drawer as his fingers gripped tighter around his phone.

“Yeah, I definitely want you there” he informed adamantly, an undertone of confidence he didn’t know he possessed.

--

A few nights later he tried to drink away his feelings, a sensation he hadn’t tried to recapture since before the whole thing with Phil began. The last time he felt so sober despite having so much was when Jacob spilt about his affair, and the memory was bitter in Dan’s mouth as he smacked the shot glass back onto the bar, startling Davy beside him.

“Don’t you think you’re having too much too soon?” he asked cautiously as he watched Dan call over the bartender and order another of the same, and Dan shook his head, his eyes too raw to cry anymore. Which was the ultimate benefit, considering why he agreed to the night out anyway.

“I’m in university, Davy, let me live up to this one stereotype” Dan mumbled as he downed the new shot, and Davy remained silent as he sipped on his own drink, wondering what was going on in the brunet boy’s head, why he was acting this way.

Dan moved onto drinking bottles, but he could still only hear Phil’s voice as he walked out on him a few nights before, and see the crystal eyes reflected in the frosted glasses above the bar. No matter what percentage of alcohol he tried, nothing could erase Phil from his memory. He posed potential poetry subjects in his head as he drank, wondering how he could articulate what he was feeling into words that would move the audience – persuade the audience, perhaps.

Emmie staggered out from the bathrooms around ten minutes later, giggling drunkenly as she slammed down a napkin between Dan and Davy, and placing her hand on top of it.

“I wrote something,” she slurred, throwing her head back in laughter as she removed her hand and pushed the boys’ heads closer to the napkin, and the two words that were scrawled (barely legibly) on it.

“That’s your name” Davy observed, and Emmie nodded in pride, snatching the napkin back up and placing it in her bag.

“And I wrote it all by myself, I didn’t need him” she babbled, and Davy raised an eyebrow in confusion but Dan simply took a sip of air from his already empty bottle, remaining silent.

He knew Emmie was drinking to forget too, ever since their tearful conversation in the gardens a few days ago, Emmie had been noticeably different, and Davy told him that her latest poem that she brought in for a workshopping seminar was dark, shockingly different to the norm. Dan hadn’t been in that day, as he was wrapped in his duvet sobbing into his pillow whilst listening to a breakup playlist.

It was hard to judge who had a better day.

As soon as Happy Hour ended at 4am, a lot of the students made their way out of the bar in pursuit of another, but Emmie was too far gone to survive anywhere but home. Dan and Davy made sure she got into her flat alright then made their way to their own, Davy placing his hand on Dan’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I hope it all works out. I don’t like seeing you like this” he commented sympathetically before departing for his own flat, leaving Dan stood in the middle of the corridor unsure of what to do. He wanted to cry, he wanted to run to Phil, he wanted to curl up in bed and never show his face anywhere ever again.

Instead, he slowly made his way to his room and sat in his office chair, chewing on his pen cap as words slowly started to string together in his head, and he wrote down loose sentences as best he could, putting them all under an umbrella title – Show Me The Bottom Of This Bottle.

Pulling the duvet over his head at the ripe time of 5:15am, Dan had time to reflect. He couldn’t sleep, that was for sure, and if he were to pop his head out from underneath the duvet his gaze would immediately fall upon Phil’s clothes piled in the corner, that he hadn’t come to collect and Dan couldn’t bring himself to part with.

Cling to a wisp of hope, that was Dan’s recent motto.

He fell into a light slumber on the pillow that still smelt faintly like Phil, clutching another to his chest, legs entwined with each other to emulate the way they once were, but it would never be the same. Never enough.

--

Two days later came the reading.

Dan awoke twenty minutes before his alarm at 7am, surprisingly with a spring in his step as he made his way into the bathroom to shower. He liked to believe the raspberry shower gel would bring him luck as he smothered it onto his skin.

He replied to texts from his early-rising grandparents and spoke on the phone to his parents assuring them it was fine that they couldn’t make it, they had attended at least one before. His dad always insisted ‘if you’ve been to one, you’ve been to them all’ and that was what they both stuck by. Not that it mattered all that much to Dan.

He spent the next half hour scrolling through the comments on his blog, smiling widely at the messages piling up in his inbox, from followers saying they either were en-route for the evening’s reading or their excitement for the livestream later in the day, and countless messages of luck.

Many poems also had comments of ‘will you be reading this one?? I hope so!’ and such, and Dan didn’t reply, but shook his head anyway as he patted his notebook which laid beside his laptop. He had another look through the lineup for the reading and he smiled, the poetry game never changed. The new, relatively unknown up-and-comers at the beginning, veterans in the middle, and the poets of the moment saved for last. Dan was second to last.

Some poets also in the reading had emailed their good luck wishes which Dan returned, and spent an hour or two reading through their work. Generally, he seemed to be amongst a talented throng of poets, which was incredibly refreshing.

His dormmates were still sound asleep when he slipped into the kitchen, fixing a bowl of cereal and chewing nervously, he hadn’t been this nervous since his very first reading. He knew that his friends would still be asleep, too, and he didn’t dare to try Phil, despite Dan knowing Phil always woke up early.

Dan even did everyone else’s chores for them as a way to pass time, and he shook his head as his gaze flicked over the ‘chunder chart’ that hung on the wall, all of the other students whom lived in the flat’s names listed, each with multiple tallies beside it. A ‘getting lucky’ tally hung beside the chunder chart, and Dan shook his head in disbelief at the tallies on the chart. He was thankful he wasn’t around to hear most of them, a little plus in having opposing schedules and timetables to literally everyone else in his flat.

The flat was filled with memories just of the past few months alone, and Dan leaned against the doorway of the kitchen as he reminisced. He wrote ‘The Truth’ over at the dining table after Jacob had referenced Phil in one of his poems. He wrote ‘Fluidity’ whilst sitting in front of the only window in the kitchen room, looking up at the darkened sky as tears dotted his page. It was still crinkled to this day. He wrote ‘Commodity’, a haiku, as soon as Phil had left after the first night, and danced around the kitchen clutching it to his chest in disbelief that it had happened.

A box of Phil’s favourite coffee granules stood stagnant in the back of Dan’s designated cupboard, and that was all it took for Dan to run out of the kitchen with a hand to his mouth as to not wail and begin to cry again.

His laptop was still pinging with notifications, and he flipped the lid down without bothering to look, and continued to neglect his phone that still sat on his desk. He sat on the edge of the bed with his notebook on his lap, and focused on his breathing.

“You can do this” he told himself calmly, inbetween various breathing exercises he had been taught over the years, “Do it for yourself, as well as him”

He nodded at his own advice and slammed his hands on his notebook, jumping up from the bed with a small and semi-forced smile. After stuffing everything hastily into a backpack he grabbed his jacket from the hanger and headed out of the flat, the slight spring in his step having returned.

The reading always provided transport for the poets, and Dan was only sat on the wall in front of the dorm building around two minutes before the car pulled up, the reading’s sponsors plastered over the side of it in fluorescent colours and cringeworthy slogans.

“I know, you should try driving around in it” the driver joked as Dan climbed in the back seat, clearly having seen his shudder of second-hand embarrassment at the car’s outer décor.

“Are you ready for today?” the driver asked, and Dan placed his backpack onto his lap and hugged it to his chest, for a reason he didn’t really know.

“It’s quite daunting, with this being a special day and all” Dan replied, his mind only focusing on the fact Phil would be in the audience, and this would be his last-ditch attempt at winning him back.

“Oh I know, kid. A lot of bigwigs and reporters there. This could be your big break” the driver stated chirpily, and Dan smiled and nodded along. The driver clearly didn’t know anything about Dan nor his standing in the poetry world, and he certainly didn’t know why Dan classed the day as so special. Then again, nobody did. Nobody except himself.

Are you on your way? I managed to talk them into allowing you to read four poems. You owe me one, Dan!

Dan smiled widely at the text from his manager, after a pleading phonecall a few days before she had promised to try and talk the reading’s organisers and producers into letting Dan read an extra poem than everyone else. It was unlikely to begin with, and he had no idea how she managed to pull it off.

But it was exactly what he needed.

“What are you smiling at, kid? Someone special texting you? Making plans?” the driver enquired from the front seat.

Dan looked down into his backpack and saw the packet titled ‘Phil’ staring straight back up at him.

“Yeah, something like that”

--

Hours of rehearsals filled his day, and supportive texts from Emmie and Davy kept him smiling, and he tried his best to ignore the fact there was no further contact from Phil. But, then again, Dan knew more than anyone that Phil was unpredictable, and that he shouldn’t really expect anything from him.

Throughout the rehearsals, Dan refused to read any of his new poems and instead read some of his old ones, smirking slightly as he left the podium to a chorus of ‘I’m so glad you’re reading that one’ and ‘your old stuff is my favourite’. Nobody had any idea that he wouldn’t be reading any of them. Instead the new ones stayed tucked safely inside his notebook, still unheard by anyone else’s ears.

The venue was trimmed to the heavens, fairy lights draped around every doorframe and end tables topped with trays of pink champagne littered the main hall. It always took Dan’s breath away for a moment, that he was somewhat regarded in a career with such perks as these readings.

He was ushered back outside by a security guard, pushed back in front of the flashing cameras from local newspapers and various poetry sites, forced smile on his face. The other poets among him had brought with them their other halves, and the bitter winter air was unforgiving as Dan tried his best to compose himself at the thought of being there alone, when mere days earlier he wouldn’t have been.

Freckled teenagers pushed their way to the front of the crowd, recording devices and phones in hand as they asked any passing poet they could find for tips to share. Most waved them off and made their way into the venue, but Dan milled around until they caught sight of him.

“Wait, you’re Dan Howell, right? The one with the huge blog following?” a blonde-haired girl in a wavy ponytail asked excitedly, hair swishing from side to side as she fumbled in her pocket for her phone, and her friend tapped on her own phone quickly.

“I guess that’s me, yeah” Dan replied with a smile, flicking his gaze behind to see some older poets shaking their head in disapproval at him, as they continued chatting to newspaper journalists and other media professionals.

He shook off their disapproval and glanced at the illuminated screen the girl had shoved in his face, quickly realising it was one of his most recent poems.

“You wrote this?” she asked, cocking her head to the side as she pursed her lips together.

Dan nodded, biting the inside of his cheek as he awaited her critique.

In the venue behind him he heard thunderous applause, and soon realised that he was now the only poet outside talking to people, the reading was being introduced and he should really be inside himself, preparing. Most members of the journalism crowd had either dispersed or ran inside to catch the action, only a few remained, comparing pictures and responses to questions. Dan shuffled from one foot to another in contemplation, but ultimately remained rooted where he was.

“It’s absolutely amazing, I don’t know how you do it” she shook her head in disbelief and Dan thanked her, still not having the first clue how to accept compliments.

“Wait, this one’s my favourite” her brunette friend interrupted, shoving her phone into Dan’s face, displaying the very first poem that Phil helped him edit and post, and he bit his lip as he felt tears very slowly begin to prick at his eyes.

“Th-thankyou” he replied, putting all of his effort into not letting his voice break, and both girls looked to each other in confusion, before the brunette cupped a hand over her mouth.

“Wait are you not together anymore?” the blonde asked, and Dan looked down at his shoes for a moment to compose himself.

“I’m sorry?” he asked, feigning obliviousness, like he had no idea in the world what they were referring to.

“Well,” the brunette coughed nervously, “it kind of gives the impression that the time you wrote this you were, you know… in love”

I still am, was what his immediate reaction was to respond, but he swallowed back the small lump in his throat and settled for a dismissive shrug. He thought the topic was dropped and he set to turn in the direction of the venue, but he was interrupted by the other girl.

“And here, in your recent ones… it seems different. Amazing, still, of course. But different. Like something happened” the blonde explained, gesturing down at her phone screen.

“And we saw that in your blog comments you had said something about being in love a few weeks ago at your last reading” the brunette added.

“Muses and inspirations change all the time,” Dan began, bullshitting any excuse as to not start sobbing over Phil once again, “I really wouldn’t read all that much into it”

Both girls nodded in understanding, though it was obvious none were dense enough to actually believe he was being sincere.

“Um, thankyou so much for talking to us” one said as they both took a step back, and Dan smiled and spouted some formalities his manager had insisted he said to anyone he spoke to about his poetry, before the girls turned and walked away, leaving Dan outside alone, looking up at the venue with a newfound fear running down his spine.

As he padded towards the entrance, the fairy lights seemed much dimmer, and every champagne glass seemed that much emptier.

--

“Where have you been?” one of the organisers hissed as Dan walked into the backstage area, grabbing his arm and tugging him over to the group of poets whom were practising performing for each other. They looked like a gaggle of zoo animals, and Dan immediately pondered an idea for a haiku, smiling to himself as he formulated it in his head.

“You know when you’re on, right?” the organiser interrogated, battered clipboard in hand and a variety of pens resting on their ears.

Dan nodded, and the organiser followed suit before turning on their heels and zooming off around the curtain and back into the main hall, as one of the main benefactors for the evening was finishing up their speech. Someone of authority from Dan’s university was also speaking at some point as the university was one of the reading’s sponsors, but he wasn’t all that fussed about being around to hear it. Some freshers were also reading at some point, the university’s ‘rising stars’ as they put it, which Dan always thought was downright insulting to the other students on the Creative Writing course that didn’t get selected. He boycotted listening on principle.

The bag on his back seemed a lot heavier as he rested it on the ground, his notebook and the plastic wallet seeming to have gained the weight of lead. Was it a metaphor or personification, he wondered, as he looked down at it, sighing as he caught the last few lines of a nearby poet’s final poem.

His breathing was hitched as the other poets grouped together to discuss performance techniques, speaking loudly and regular breaths. But nobody seemed to want to talk to the brunet in the corner with the sweeping fringe, head dipped to the floor and notebook clutched to his chest as he shook his head, seeming at a loss for what to do.

His phone saved him from tears, and he whipped it out of his pocket faster than ever before, swiping ‘answer’ before he even noticed who was calling, just thankful for the company.

“Where are you? We’re near the back” Emmie informed, and Dan smiled at hearing Davy’s booming wishes of good luck in the background, and Emmie shushed him.

“I’ll be right out” Dan replied, and Emmie was silent for a second or two. Dan thought she had simply forgot to hang up, but upon hearing her sigh and background noise fade out, he clutched his phone that much tighter.

“Phil’s here, by the way” she spoke quieter than before, evidently having moved away from the group as the other voices were now distant.

“Th-that’s great” Dan stuttered, biting down on his bottom lip, not sure how he was feeling. He looked down at his notebook, the cover may as well be transparent, he knew every single word that was scrawled in there. He had practised solidly for days, from the second he finished each poem to in front of the mirror that very morning.

“Yeah,” Emmie trailed off, and Dan knew her well enough to know there was a conjunction coming.

“But” Dan prompted, and Emmie sighed again.

“Jacob’s here too” she stated, and Dan felt his body tense. He should have predicted it, in all fairness, now they were all lovey-dovey again. It made him sick, and he had never felt more tossed to the side, like an unwanted, defective toy abandoned by a greedy child.

“Thanks for letting me know” his voice was audibly weaker than before.

“It’ll all be okay, Dan” she comforted through the phone, and he took a deep, silent breath before nodding to himself, willing himself to believe her.

--

“There he is! Our very own famous person” Davy jeered as he threw an arm around Dan’s shoulders as he joined his friends at the back of the hall, and Dan laughed.

“Famous person is definitely better than future Mr. blacklist” he joked, referencing Emmie’s nickname for him a few weeks before, and Emmie swatted his arm playfully.

“Listen, as long as you don’t plagiarise yourself and hand stuff in on time, I take it back” she held her hands up in surrender before Dan rolled his eyes and pulled her in for a hug.

“They’ll be back any second” she whispered, and Dan squeezed her tightly to thank her for the pre-warning, and as they pulled apart, Dan could feel Phil’s piercing stare from the other side of the room.

They were walking hand-in-hand, Jacob wearing brash and outrageous fashion and colours, Phil wearing black and dark blue. It was a complete contrast to how he usually dressed. Maybe he appreciates colour symbolism, too, Dan’s poetic mind suggested, and his heartbeat increased that much more.

Dan and Phil never remained eye contact for longer than a millisecond, so quickly that it couldn’t really be classed as eye contact, Phil would always either blink then be looking a different direction, or turn his attention to somewhere behind him so there was no chance Dan could intercept his gaze. It only made the metaphorical hole in Dan’s heart ache worse.

“Danny!” Jacob bellowed as he and Phil made their way over to the group, letting go of Phil’s hand to stretch out his arms to envelope Dan in a hug. Phil stood beside Davy, watching intently yet cleverly darting out of Dan’s gaze every time.

“How many times have I told you not to call me that” Dan mumbled in annoyance as Jacob pulled him in for a ‘bro hug’, which Dan had never fully grasped the concept (nor the purpose) of.

The tension was palpable as Dan waited for Phil to speak a word, or even just smile at him.

He didn’t.

“So you’re back together” Dan observed, nodding to Phil and Jacob’s once again interlocked hands, and Phil nodded meekly, Jacob simply raised an eyebrow.

“Never apart” he replied with a grin, and squeezed Phil’s hand, winking to Dan as Phil’s head was turned, causing Dan’s hands to ball into fists.

How the hell Jacob was still getting away with what he was doing, Dan would never know.

But tonight was him putting all his cards on the table. A last-ditch attempt, if you will.

And as Dan was pulled away again by the same organiser from before, a chorus of good luck’s originated behind him. As he turned to reply to Emmie’s call of ‘text me when you’re about to be on’ his gaze locked with Phil’s for the first time, and suddenly it all came flooding back to him, and his lips curled upwards slightly as he saw Phil let go of Jacob’s hand.

--

The backstage area was slowly emptying as more and more poets took to the famed podium and read their pieces, each to thunderous applause and tedious question and answer sessions after each one. After completing the reading, each poet sat down with different magazines, newspapers and journals for interviews, like a press junket minus the exotic locations.

“Howell, you’re on in half an hour” a (finally) different organiser stuck her head around the curtain to inform him, and he smiled and nodded in understanding before taking another deep breath, and texting to tell Emmie the news.

If it makes you feel any better, they haven’t held hands since

He couldn’t help himself smiling at her last text, maybe Phil was still in two minds. Maybe Dan still had a chance.

He knew that, deep down, he shouldn’t have to chase after Phil. If he spoke to anyone except Emmie (and Lewis, for different reasons) about the whole situation, they would tell him to give up and that he’d find someone better in the future. But Dan didn’t want ‘someone better’, he didn’t even want the future if Phil wasn’t in it. They had admitted to loving each other, and Dan knew Phil meant it, that the words packed as much sincerity and emotion as Dan’s did. But that’s why Dan wrote them as a ripple, a deviation from what is normal, a ripple in water symbolising friendship. Phil was a ripple in Dan’s life, one that would stretch forever.

The thought kept him smiling through the next few poets’ readings, and he sketched down poem ideas and metaphor comparisons to pass the time, scribbling down anything that popped into his mind.

Good luck :)

The first form of contact he’d had from Phil since the phonecall came as a surprise. He had neither the time nor the effort to overanalyse the meaning of the smiley emoticon on the end, rather tacked one to the end of his ‘thankyou’ and sent it off, slipping his phone back into his pocket and taking a final deep breath before picking up his notebook and the plastic wallet and walked over to meet the organiser who placed him at the foot of the stage, ready to replace the previous poet immediately.

As Dan was announced onstage, and he climbed up to the podium, his friends cheered loudly at the back, and a fair few members of the audience cheered extra loudly too, and Dan felt his cheeks heat up as he realised they must be his devoted followers whom had travelled who knows how far just to see him.

“So, um, I’m Dan Howell and I’ll be reading four poems for you tonight. One old, three brand new, never before seen”

Immediately, he spotted his manager shrugging to the organisers, nobody knew that Dan was reading new poems that hadn’t even been published anywhere yet. He never would have been allowed to if he would have asked beforehand, never mind being allowed to read three of them. Wide-eyed reporters and literary critics were already scribbling into their little notepads, ready to rip into Dan’s work as soon as he read it out. His followers that he could identify smiled and clapped again in support, and Emmie and Davy looked to each other in confusion. Phil’s gaze was locked on him, and Dan swallowed nervously as he tapped his fingers on the side of the podium as he waited for the murmurs to die down.

“So without further ado,” he began, willing his voice not to break and his emotions not to get the best of him, “this is a poem that I wrote for a friend that was going through a hard time and this was all I could think of for how to help them. This is A Lot Like Love.”

The room fell silent, except for the shutters of polaroid cameras and camera phones, all attention in the room on Dan and Dan alone as he swallowed back a bubble of anxiety.

“Little girl lost, waiting to be found.

He promised you the world but gave you a note, smudged I love you’s amongst kisses from another.

Little girl lost, are you ready to be found?

He left you here, bright lights shining down, his promises on your fingertips.

You were in my arms not speaking a word,

They said it was shaky, but you pulled through,

One thing you said resonated as I sat by your bedside, your lids fluttering closed;

After it all, it still felt a lot like love”

He sighed a breath of relief as applause greeted him, and at the back of the room Davy wrapped an arm around Emmie’s shoulders as she cupped her hands over her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. Dan smiled at her and she mouthed a ‘thankyou’ before wiping away some tears.

“I just love how haphazard the style of this poem is, it’s one of my favourites” a bespectacled man near the front of the crowd commented once the applause died down, and in the moment Dan forgot that a brief question and answer session followed each individual poem.

“Um, thankyou” Dan replied, unsure of how to properly respond. The poem was written when his head was all over the place with Emmie in the hospital, and he paid no attention to structure. Not that he did usually, specialising in free-verse poetry, but this poem was always different for him. Initially, it was to go nowhere beyond being given to Emmie, but upon her insistence to post it on his blog, the rest was history. It was also a follower favourite, its ratings and interaction statistics were staggering.

“May I ask the inspiration? I saw on your blog you said it was dedicated to someone, as you also said previously, but I’m curious”  a voice from somewhere in the crowd asked, and Dan flicked his gaze to the back of the room to see Emmie shaking her head in plea, and he nodded subtly before turning his attention back to the crowd, in the general direction of where the voice originated.

“Just a very good friend of mine whom was going through a rough time. The ‘haphazard style’ as referenced before was used to connote the character’s wrecked thoughts, not being able to focus on anything and such” Dan explained, and there was a general murmur of appreciation from the crowd, as well as the man from before nodded in acknowledgement.

Whilst one of the organisers then shushed the crowd of any further questions and insisted that Dan had to continue on with his next poem, he took the time to cast his gaze back to Phil, who now had his arms wrapped around his own torso, looking down at the ground.

“Go ahead, Mr. Howell” the organiser snapped Dan back into the room and prompted him to start his next poem, and he mumbled a sorry before flipping over the page in his notebook, to a poem titled Triple.

“Sorry is underwhelming, I believe.

Apology, regret, guilt.

It’s my heart on the line, your heart in another’s,

Blinking away feelings and brushing off touches.

I don’t like it here.

I stand still whilst you walk with another,

Boredom falls from your eyes and betrayal creeps in the shadows.

But guilt?

That’s just how we do”

He kept his stare firmly on his notebook as the applause began, exhaling a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding. Having never shared these poems anywhere before was daunting, as he had no idea how they would be received, and hearing the same amount of applause as usual was a relief.

With a slight adrenaline boost, he lifted his head up and met the crowd’s reaction, but his gaze went to one person and one person only, as he intended to for every poem. Besides, each poem bar the first was for Phil, so his was the one reaction Dan craved the most. Admittedly, he was craving a certain kind of reaction, and he allowed his lips to curl upwards again slightly as he watched Phil brush off Jacob’s attempt at holding his hand again, and Jacob rolled his eyes as he made his way to the exit, probably in search of more alcohol.

“Who hurt you?” a voice asked from near the front of the crowd, and an ageing woman with dyed roots had her hand on her hip. Dan was at a loss for words, not wanting to say a name or answer the question at all, but upon hearing the audience laugh at her question, Dan simply laughed along, conveniently getting out of having to answer. This time he didn’t dare to look at Phil.

“Poem number three, if you would be so kind” the organiser requested from the side of the stage, and Dan nodded before switching his notebook for the plastic wallet, sub-consciously running his fingers across Phil’s name before retrieving his third chosen poem, leaving the audience in confusion of what he was doing, hearing only the press-stud of the plastic wallet through the echoing microphone.

“This poem is a little more personal,” Dan swallowed back any doubts he had about sharing it, “and it’s called Cloudgazing”

He watched the reporters scribble his words down into their notepads before diverting his attention down to the crumped paper upon which his poem was written, on a particularly bad night after the breakup when his pining for Phil was at its probable peak, a night when he knew that Phil was with Jacob.

“Standing at a crossroads once again.

Misery is all that’s left, tears are right.

You’re up in the sky, wrapped in a cloud with aluminium lining, worthy of a downfall.

Warmth is desolate, you’re gone now, a wisp of what we once had.

Originality is a sin, feelings are taboo.

A thing I miss?

The thing I miss most is me and you”

Throwing all hope of subtlety out of the window, his gaze immediately went to Phil at the back of the room, who was already staring right back at him, eyes noticeably teary even from a distance away, and a sizeable gap now between him and Jacob, who had returned at some point Dan didn’t notice. Or particularly care.

“The metaphors are simply beautiful” a female voice commented from somewhere Dan couldn’t pinpoint, but he thanked her nevertheless and answered other general questions, cleverly hedging around any questions which enquired about his inspiration, or, more specifically, the name of said inspiration.

The inspiration whom was now sporting tear-streaked cheeks at the back of the room, Emmie stroking his arm comfortingly as his boyfriend couldn’t care less, downing glass after glass of free champagne.

“Your final poem, if you please, Mr. Howell” the organiser requested, and Dan nodded, sighing deeply as he retrieved another piece of paper from the wallet, again running his fingers across Phil’s name as he closed the wallet and placed it at his feet along with his notebook.

His fingers gripped the sides of the podium, this poem packed more emotion than the others, for him personally. He could still feel Phil’s stare, as he could everyone else in the room, seemingly hooked on Dan’s every word. Being a poet, he should be used to it, but being internet based on his blog eliminated that luxury.

“So, um, this is my final poem, the one that’s kind of the most important to me,” he laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck as the reporters scribbled his words down furiously, “and it’s called Little Whisper”

“If I had a time machine, you would be here.

If I had a voice, I’d scream your name in the darkness.

Blinded by anonymity, my name coming up as unknown, I’m in tatters

A word so comical yet imagery and metaphor so severe.

We’re a ripple on the waters of what is right, testing, a ripple in the sense of unpredictability.

This is for you;

My everything, my entirety,

Open me up and take it all.”

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the sides of the podium even tighter, his eyes burning as he tried desperately to quell the tears that were brimming. The applause gradually overpowered his need to cry (his need to cry hysterically, that is) and he lifted his head, which was a tedious task when so overcome with emotion, to be greeted with a whooping audience, a few teary eyes for people in the crowd. For the moment, he avoided looking to the back of the room, not feeling quite ready to register Phil’s reaction.

Dan had given Phil everything he had in an attempt to win him back, and Dan honestly didn’t know what a rejection would do to him, especially in his current state.

When the applause was brought to an end by the organiser’s erratic flattening hand gestures, Dan moved his hands out of view from the audience and placed them behind the podium, and began to twiddle his thumbs whilst he awaited questions and probably criticism. He had unwillingly adopted a certain childlike vulnerability, with putting his raw emotions onto paper and reading them out for potentially hundreds of thousands of people to hear (judging by how many people filmed it, providing they’d share it around, as well as however many people were watching live).

“I have a burning question, if you wouldn’t mind answering it” a girl around Dan’s own age asked with a raised hand, separating her from the sea of voices posing a million different questions, and upon being selected by the organiser, she tightened the ponytail on the top of her head, and Dan felt his body tense, he had never felt more under scrutiny, nor under the spotlight.

“Now, Daniel, I’ve noticed that you’ve always managed to avoid the topic of inspiration. But please, answer me this: have all the new poems that you’ve read tonight been about the same person? The same inspiration?” she asked, her stare piercing, Dan thought she’d make an amazing interrogator.

But it was true, something Dan had always prided himself on was never naming nor even hinting to any inspiration for any of his poems, it was why one poetry review blog once referred to him as ‘the mysterious rising star you have to look out for in the future’ a few years ago.

Dan swallowed back the lump in his throat, and momentarily gazed over at Phil, who was still staring back at him, curiosity in his eyes, and Emmie still had a hand on his shoulder in support. She smiled supportively at Dan, and Jacob was nowhere to be seen.

“Yes. I’ve had the same inspiration for the past three years. Every poem you’ve read in that time, the happy ones, the sad ones, the lust-connotations and the love clichés, all about the same person. With the exception of A Lot Like Love, of course” Dan sputtered out the words before his logic could process them, and he saw a few members of the audience widen their eyes in both shock and curiosity, and recoiled slightly as a chorus of ‘who’ began to ripple through the crowd.

The burning of his eyes intensified as tears battled to escape, and Dan took a deep breath as he looked down at his hands, taking a second or two to collect his thoughts, the time was, however, interrupted as the chant of ‘who’ became louder and more persistent.

He had given all he had to win Phil back. He had nothing else left in him. So at this point, what did he have to lose?

“Do you want to know who my inspiration has been for the past three years? Every blog post, every poem you’ve all praised and complimented me on, the person I’ve lusted after in my early pieces, fell in love with as documented in the poems, and who broke my heart in my most recent? The person I’m putting everything on the line for?” he knew he was probably hyping the revelation up, but Dan never broke eye contact with Phil as he spoke, and watched the other boy tear up again, shake his head in disbelief as Dan lowered himself down to the microphone, making his voice louder and more than crystal clear.

“Phil Lester”

Silence fell upon the room, only the furious scribble of pencil on paper and the speed-tapping of fingers on touch screens, and many glances from one audience member to another on what to do with the information.

Davy’s mouth was open as he turned to face Phil, and Emmie had a hand to her mouth in shock, shocked that Dan had just came out with Phil’s name after years of secrecy.

The only sound that interrupted the silence was the creaking of the metal exit door, the mop of floppy black hair that escaped into the night, the faint sound of sobbing accompanying it.

Immediately, Dan dashed down from the stage and darted to the exit door, completely ignoring the countless people behind him who shouted his name, the night air biting at his perspiring forehead as he swung his head from side to side in a sad attempt to spot Phil, shouting his name breathlessly.

--

The bitter air plastered Dan’s sweat-laced curls across his forehead as he sprinted around the perimeter of the building, shouting Phil’s name into the pitch darkness and an apology usually tumbled from his lips afterwards.

Once the adrenaline began to fade out and his heart felt as if it was literally pounding out of his chest, his body refused to move anymore, and he leaned against the brick wall and panted, shaking his head in frustration as he ran a hand through his hair and scuffed his shoe against the gravel.

For all he knew, Phil could be anywhere, could have ran and found Jacob and they could be in a taxi back to the dorms preparing for a night of what Dan feared, and the very thought caused an angry growl to escape his mouth and into the night, and he leaned his head against the brickwork and cast his mind back over the events that were more than likely still fresh on everyone’s minds.

His phone hadn’t vibrated once, not a text nor a call. He only tried to call Phil once, and the automated voicemail robot was less than helpful to cooperate. He slipped it back into his pocket and swallowed thickly, listening to the distant hubbub of the reading, the reactions to his sudden exit.

Someone was on the podium as a single voice was far louder than any other, though still muffled, the crowd’s voices milling together in one mocking tone, laughing at him that he had let Phil go. His one and only chance slipped through his fingers, and straight into Jacob’s.

The booming voice from the podium silenced all of a sudden, and the volume from the crowd increased. Still, Dan couldn’t make out a word, but he guessed that the organisers had called an emergency intermission whilst they figured out what to do, because Dan had messed it all up. Just like he’d messed it all up with Phil.

But a sound he heard crystal clear, significantly louder than the rest, was the sobbing around the corner from where he was.

It was unmistakably a male, and Dan felt a lump in his throat as he straightened himself up from the wall and took a deep breath, and stepped carefully – his upset had thrown his equilibrium off completely – around the corner, resting a hand on the wall as his vision attempted to focus on the sobbing entity, amongst the general darkness which was a bigger nuisance than it was a beautiful, bittersweet metaphor.

“Did you really mean that?” a small voice asked, and Dan squinted, soon identifying the sagging form, knees hugged to chest, back against the wall.

Dan gulped and slowly made his way over, sliding down the wall to sit beside him, not daring to touch him, at least not yet.

“Of course I did. I wouldn’t put my whole career on the line for a cheap laugh” Dan replied sincerely, picking at his nails as he awaited a reaction. He shuddered to think of the reception he’d receive whenever he went back inside.

Phil sniffed from beside him, and Dan bit his bottom lip as he awaited Phil to say something, anything.

“So everything you’ve written since freshers year, everything you wrote that brought you thousands of followers and even got you published... it was all for me?” Dan couldn’t fully identify the emotion behind Phil’s tone of voice.

“For you and about you”

“Oh”

The tension was palpable. He still hadn’t reacted properly, and Dan’s head was spinning, a million and one things he wanted to say but none came out, instead just a seldom exhale of breath, mixing into the atmosphere in front of him due to the cold weather, swirling before dissipating completely, much like he’d love to do himself.

His heart was in his throat as he heard movement, the gravel moving from beneath Phil as he shuffled closer to Dan, and rested his head on his shoulder. Instinctively, without even thinking, Dan wrapped an arm around Phil, and his eyes widened in realisation a second later and he grimaced as he attempted to slink his arm back, but as Phil laced their fingers together and leaned in closer, Dan swallowed back another load of questions.

“You know, there’s nobody else I’d rather be out here with, right now” Phil spoke quietly as if he didn’t want to ruin the moment, and Dan felt a shiver down his spine.

“There’s,” he stopped himself to take a deep breath and try again. This had to be perfect. “There’s nobody else I’d rather be with in general. My forever if you’d want that”

“That’s nice to imagine” Phil replied, and squeezed Dan’s hand. Dan didn’t know what that meant, but he took full notice of the fact that Phil didn’t reciprocate what he said, not in the slightest.

“Well what can I say, I’m a poet, I’m supposed to be good at getting you to imagine what I say” Dan babbled, and shook his head at realising how badly he was going off on a tangent and how obvious it was that he was hedging around his main question.

Phil chuckled beside him, then sighed in contentment. At least, Dan hoped it was in contentment. He was in no state to be accurate in his analytics.

“You definitely are. Those poems were beautiful” he commented, and Dan felt butterflies in the pit of his stomach. He hoped the conversation that he was so badly craving was finally happening.

“Would it be sickeningly cliché of me to say ‘like you’ in response to that?” Dan asked, and Phil laughed again, and squeezed his hand.

“Definitely, even worse than my clichés that night on the roof” Phil replied, and Dan sighed dramatically, causing Phil to laugh again. Dan loved the sound of Phil’s laugh.

“Though I have to say, I fell in love with the idea of us being a ripple” Phil stated a few minutes later, and Dan gulped in preparation to interrogate further. It was finally happening.

“Do you agree with it?”

Silence.

“I’d never thought of it that way, but yeah. I really do. You were a ripple in what was my normality, and one that was so needed I can’t believe it took me so long to notice. But you were really ebbing along silently for all that time?”

“If by ‘ebbing along silently’ you mean writing all my frustration, lack of affection and sexual anguish into poetry for thousands of people to critique and interpret then yes. A beautiful metaphor, Philip” Dan praised, and Phil swatted his arm playfully. Impeccable aiming, given the pitch darkness they were still sat in.

“I’m not as good as you, okay? We’ve established this before. But yes, a beautiful metaphor nonetheless. An inciting incident if I’ve ever known one”

“Claims to not be as good as me but can correctly use the term inciting incident. Such logic, Phil” Dan rolled his eyes (the action effectively wasted).

“I read a lot” Phil quipped back, then let go of Dan’s hands and placed them on his own knees. “Stand up” he requested, slowly getting to his feet, and Dan followed suit, continuing to keep a hand on the brickwork in case his body and gravity were still working against him.

Their movement set off a nearby motion-sensor floodlight, bathing the two in light. It bounced off of Phil’s tear-streaked cheeks, and Dan automatically stepped forward to wipe them away with the pads of his thumbs, and Phil fell into his touch almost instantly, causing a small smile to creep on Dan’s lips.

Once he retrieved his hands, not knowing what else to do, Phil’s hand brushed against Dan’s forehead, sweeping his wavy fringe to the side, threading some strands through his fingers. Though, due to the perspiration and the cold air, most of the hair was stuck to his forehead and had to be peeled off in order to be swept, and Dan bit his lip to supress his laughter as Phil’s hand dropped back down to his side.

“Damn, I thought that would be romantic as hell” Phil shook his head as Dan let out the laughter he was holding in.

“Ah hell, famous for its romantic connotations” Dan replied with a raised eyebrow, bursting into laughter again as Phil shot him an are you serious look.

“Oh shut up” Phil giggled as he wrapped his arms around Dan’s neck and pulled him closer, the gap between them closing as they began to kiss, gentle and sweet.

By far it was the most tender kiss they had ever shared, not one filled with passion and hunger as the past ones always were, but rather the silent exchange of ‘I need you’, and the silent confirmation to the other of ‘I’ve missed you’.

When they broke apart, Dan’s fingers brushed down Phil’s arm as he took his hand, and Phil looked down at their interlocked hands with a smile, which made heat rise to Dan’s cheeks.

“So what happens now” Phil’s question was more like a statement, and he bit his lip as he looked up at Dan, eyes glimmering with an emotion Dan couldn’t decipher.

“You-you choose” Dan’s voice was small and vulnerable, and Phil shook his head slowly, biting harder on his lip.

“Please don’t make me choose” he pleaded.

“You have to, Phil” Dan insisted, feeling an ache in the pit of his stomach.

“Dan-“

“Think about it. You choose him, you open yourself up to being hurt over and over again, you let him think that’s okay. You choose me, you choose us, the ripple, we can have everything, the world is ours. Everything we said that night on the roof, I know you remember what we said, we can have that. That and more. I’m yours in every way, but I need to know that you’re in this too, with me” Dan’s voice broke at the end of the sentence, and tears were dripping down Phil’s cheeks as he diverted his gaze down to the ground, and used his free hand to wipe his eyes. He made no attempt to break his other hand from Dan’s.

Phil opened his mouth to reply, but a third voice interrupted, in the near distance.

“Phil, are you out here? We need to get back, I have a lecture in the morning” just hearing Jacob’s voice made Dan’s free hand ball into a fist, and he pressed his lips together as Phil shook his head again, remaining silent yet tears falling faster.

Dan swallowed back a batch of his own tears, feeling them burn the back of his eyes.

“Phil, please. Please choose me. Fuck, I know I’m not perfect but I can try. I’ll be everything you deserve, I promise. Please don’t leave me” Dan pleaded, voice breaking on multiple words, and Phil met his gaze, eyes still flooding with tears.

“I can give you everything” Dan’s voice finally gave up on him, and Phil cupped Dan’s cheek.

“I know you can,” Phil whispered, thumb stroking Dan’s skin as their gazes locked. “And I love you, so, so much” he leaned in to press a shaky, gentle kiss on Dan’s chapped lips, tasting the salty tears that were still falling.

Jacob’s voice was only a few seconds away now, and as Phil looked over Dan’s shoulder in the direction the voice was emanating from, and he bit his lip, Dan shook his head vigorously, gripping Phil’s hand tightly in his own shaky hand.

“No, no, Phil, please” Dan begged, feeling his knees about to buckle from beneath him, as Phil shook his head, gripping onto Dan’s hand just as tightly.

“I love you, we can work through this, I can give you everything you want and more, I-“

Phil cut Dan off in the middle of his list of promises with a swift kiss, and wiped away some of Dan’s tears with his thumb, resting hand in the same position as before, and Dan fell into his touch as a last-resort attempt to keep contact.

“I know you can, Dan,” Phil’s voice was hoarse, as Dan’s was, and Dan sensed what was coming. He shook his head again and gripped Phil’s hand once again, willing the tears to stop so he could prove that he was strong. He failed. “But we have the history” Phil croaked, as the gravel behind Dan crunched under someone’s feet.

Phil looked over Dan’s shoulder again, and nodded at the person stood behind him, and slowly dropped his hand from Dan’s cheek, and loosened his grip on Dan’s hand. He slowly began to inch away, untangle himself from Dan.

“No, no, Phil, please don’t-“

“I’ll never forget you, Dan Howell” Phil whispered breathlessly before stepping backwards then walking behind Dan.

Dan spun on his heels and was met with the sight of a broad-shouldered Jacob, expression deadpan.

He opened his mouth but Phil shushed him by pressing a finger to his lips, and then slipped his hand into Jacob’s, and they set off in the direction of the car park.

Dan had no breath left to fight with, not enough lung capacity to scream Phil’s name. He tried his hardest to run after them but his knees buckled, and he barely made it around the corner before sinking to the ground on his knees, sobbing into his hands and tugging on his hair, his eyes burning and tears streaming as the gravel pierced his skin, and the floodlight turned off.

The front door to the building was wide open as someone had left it open when escaping for a cigarette, and as Dan sobbed, he had no choice but to overhear the final poet that had stepped up to the podium.

She spoke confidently, articulating every syllable clearly, not a peep from the audience interrupted her.  

When I hear forever, I used to scoff.

Hide away in the shadows of my discontent, sob into the night as I lay alone,

Wails of desperation and sobs of loneliness echoed through the vacant bedrooms.

Nobody can love you the way I do, nobody can make you feel more secure,

For now nobody saves me the way you can, save me from myself,

For my head is a scary place, I fear my own thoughts.

I never meant to get attached to you,

But if love is a drug then get me addicted, I don’t want rehab, I’ll never quit.

Because you’re my favourite puzzle, my perfect enigma,

You’ve got me right until the end, right until forever.

--

Final/parting A/N;

W o w  okay I can’t believe Ripple is over, this has been my project since September 2015 and although at times I’ve hated it and occasionally it’s caused me a lot more stress than enjoyment to write, I’m still going to miss it now it’s out in the world, but I am overall pretty proud of it. A lot of time, effort and emotion has been poured into this fic, I can assure you (though I know I’m terrible at poetry, I do not claim to be a good poet whatsoever).

This is actually the longest thing I’ve ever written in my life, not even just in regards to fanfiction, so I’ve literally put all my effort into this, because I usually bail on something after 10k so to push myself to finish this fic all by myself is a really big achievement and hopefully it was worth the wait for you all, and you enjoyed it?? (please let me know if you did)

But yeah I’ll stop waffling on now, thankyou so so much for reading and making it this far, and going on this journey with me, I appreciate it a lot x

Social Media; Twitter / Tumblr / Spotify 

xxxx