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Dan’s hair is a mess - the dirty mirror he’s staring at himself in isn’t doing well to give him more than a shred of confidence as he prepares for the evening. He doesn’t remember the last time he made an effort to look good going out, and he knows he’s failing even as he passes another handful of gel through his hair to try and make the curls look less dry and neglected.
Dan doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, and he doesn’t want to go on this date.
Henry - the guy he’s been texting for the past two weeks - is nice. He has short blonde hair and a bright smile and blue eyes that look like the inside of a deep lagoon. He is clever, the kind of guy who studies English Literature at Oxford University, and his messages to Dan never stray into waters anything short of pedestrian.
They learn about each other on a surface level; what kind of food they both like, where they grew up, what their goals are for the future. It’s all perfectly pleasant, yet guilt eats away at Dan’s chest every time he finds himself annoyed at the sound of Henry’s notification on his phone.
No matter how hard Dan tries to find something wrong with Henry, he never can. He’s been sent flowers on two occasions since they first met online. He doesn’t feel pressure to respond to his texts right away despite having exchanged numbers quite early into their… acquaintance? Friendship? Relationship?
Dan shakes away the thoughts in the mirror and pulls out his phone, greeted by a notification that Henry will be waiting outside the restaurant for him in just under thirty minutes. There are a couple of pleased emojis at the end of the message, too. Dan doesn’t open their chat. He orders himself an Uber and waits by the door making a mental catalogue of the plants he hasn’t fed or watered in days.
Letting someone new try to learn him feels wrong. The idea of it makes his skin prickle under the denim jacket that’s hugging his shoulders. Dan has to force his attention onto something else or he’ll end up texting Henry and telling him he can’t make the date because he has to take care of a sick cat he doesn’t have.
In the ten minutes it takes the car to arrive, Dan has watered every plant in the house and slipped on his boots. They’re too tight, pinching his toes and heel, but he knows they look good. They add an unneeded couple of inches to his height that he assumes someone like Henry might be into. His dating app profile had said he’s 6’0, giving Dan a natural three inches over him.
It’s not often that I find men who are both taller than me and so breathtakingly attractive, Henry had written once. Dan forgets what he responded with - each time he texts Henry, he doesn’t really register the words forming on the screen until he gets another reply. If Henry likes it, Dan keeps going. Their relationship is quite that simple.
He imagines Henry waiting for him as he gets into the car and feels it hum to life beneath his thighs. Has he cut his hair just to see Dan for one night? Is he wearing a suit and tie? Has he sprayed himself with his best cologne or put on his favourite watch or made sure to book a table far from the bathroom but not too close to the entrance to be gentlemanly?
Dan’s questions are answered once the car pulls to a stop outside the restaurant. Henry is there, his blonde head of hair standing out against the backlighting of the restaurant, and he’s holding a bouquet of mixed flowers. Dan is hesitant to get out of the car, but he does so anyway and pays his driver, offering him a grateful smile as he shuts the door and watches the car drive away.
Henry hasn’t seen him yet. Dan steals a moment to take in his appearance - from a distance, he looks impeccable. He’s wearing a white shirt without a tie, the sleeves fully buttoned but revealing a shiny silver watch clasped around one slender wrist. His hair is shorter than Dan remembers from the photos, but it looks good.
“Good evening,” Henry greets once he spots Dan and approaches him, “these are for you.”
Turning his lips up, Dan takes the flowers and inhales their scent. It’s too strong for him - he’s always been sensitive to smells, but Henry doesn’t know that. Dan ignores the uneasy feeling in his gut at that thought and takes Henry's offered arm instead. The inside of the restaurant is much darker than the street had been, but Dan rather enjoys the ambient lighting as they make their way towards the front desk. There’s a lady dressed in red and black who greets them and offers to take their coats, and then Henry lets go of Dan to lead them to their table.
It’s small. Dan wouldn’t need to reach very far if he wanted to touch Henry’s shoulder, and he worries that their plates won’t fit on the tabletop. Henry smiles winningly at him as they sit down, pulling out Dan’s chair for him and receiving a soft ‘thank you’ for the gesture.
“I love this place - it’s so private, you know?” he comments, straightening his collar and fixing Dan with an intense stare, “I’ve wanted to bring you here ever since we met.”
At that, Dan’s skin prickles, but he hides it remarkably well.
A slow nod and a flick of his gaze up as he sips his glass of water seem to satisfy Henry, because he relaxes in his seat and watches Dan’s throat bob when he swallows. Then, he flags over a waitress and turns his attention onto the menu. Henry also offers to pay for their meal in full, and Dan weakly protests before ‘giving in’ - he knows Henry is rich, and the food they ordered wouldn’t be a drop in the ocean that is his bank account.
“If you really want, you can buy us dinner another time,” Henry winks at him, cool and smooth, and Dan fights the urge to press his fingertips into his eyes.
He doesn’t respond with words because they’ve all left him by now. All Dan can think about is how uncomfortable his shoes feel on his feet and how bad his hair must look in this low lighting. Henry hardly keeps his attention through their starter and main, but Dan pretends to listen because he’s nice. Henry cares about polo and feminist literature and wearing colours that don’t even count as colours, and he buys Dan dinner and gets him flowers and pulls out his chair and he’s nice.
Just before dessert, Dan’s focus is drawn to a low voice approaching from behind him. He thinks it’s rude to turn his head so suddenly in a respected establishment like this, but something in his body tells him he needs to.
Dan Howell has three seconds to process what he sees before there’s a startling smash by his feet and he’s forced to look down, watching his red wine seep into the floor and the stem of his glass roll up to his heel.
“Christ!” Henry exclaims, abruptly standing up and grabbing tissues to clean up the mess. Dan’s body slides into autopilot mode and he copies his date, rubbing wine into the carpet whilst heat prickles behind his eyes. At some point, Henry takes his arm and leads him back into the foyer, sitting him down and instructing him not to move.
Dan doesn’t think he could if he wanted to.
His mind flashes between now and a minute ago, when he’d looked behind him and met eyes so blue he’d recognise them anywhere. His heart had lurched up into his throat at the same time as his body had stopped listening to his brain, leading him to drop his glass of wine onto the floor and cause a problem for everyone around him.
Still, he doesn’t care, because Phil Lester had looked at him for the first time since they broke up, and his hands were still shaking because of it.
Dan’s first thought is that he should tell his therapist. After all, she had been the one to convince him that downloading a dating app might help him learn more about himself, and the chances that his first date in six years would see him make a fool of himself in front of his ex-lover are so slim that it feels ridiculous.
Dan is starting to panic - the foyer is too open and he knows he is visible to the entire restaurant from here, so he goes to the first place he can think of and slips into the cloakroom. It’s dark and quiet in there, soothing to his senses, but Dan finds the light switch because he doesn’t want to risk falling over or bumping into something and hurting himself.
Five or so minutes pass before Dan hears another voice again, and it turns out to be Henry looking for him.
“Daniel? Are you okay? Where did you go?”
Dan doesn’t respond, listening out for the telltale sound of Henry retreating and blowing out a relieved breath when he hears it. His eyes slip closed and he tries to regulate his erratic breathing - in for four, hold for four, out for eight. It’s the technique his therapist taught him to use in the event of a panic attack, though it’s effective when centering himself in any intense situation.
And Dan is pretty sure that seeing the love of his life for the first time since he broke their relationship in two counts as an intense situation.
Silence ensues once he calms down. His feet are screaming at him to do something about the pain his shoes are causing him, so Dan unlaces them and kicks them into the corner. His socks on the carpet feel wonderful as the pressure is relieved, and Dan can finally lean his head against the wall opposite the door and relax.
Hopefully, Henry has taken the hint that Dan won’t be coming back for dessert, but Dan waits some time longer just to be sure. When it’s been around ten minutes, he lets himself think past the present and sighs.
Seeing Phil had brought forward a whirlwind of emotions that Dan doesn’t have the capacity to unpack right now. He wants to cry out of relief and grief at the same time, feeling guilty for having gone out with a good man like Henry when he’s still so hung-up on his ex-lover. Dan’s thoughts lead him around in dizzy circles until he has to close his eyes against them, but it’s at that moment the door behind him opens and more light spills in through it.
“Sorry - I’m just looking for my coat.”
The voice that speaks is familiar enough that Dan starts to relax before he even turns around. He debates staying as he is, back facing Phil, a stranger in the love of his life’s eyes. But then, the door opens wider and Phil steps into the small room and Dan’s body acts for him as he spins to look at him in his entirety.
There’s light blond where there used to be black hair and it’s combed and textured to perfection. Dan’s eyes rake over Phil’s face, shamelessly taking in the smile lines that have lengthened since they last saw each other and the sharper line of his jaw. He’s wearing a white collared shirt with the buttons halfway undone and Dan doesn’t stop himself from appreciating the chest hair peeking out from under it, though he wishes he had permission to touch him. Black dress pants lead down to smart shoes and Dan can only assume Phil is here on a date, which makes him feel like a dick for ogling him so obviously in this tiny little cloakroom.
“Oh.” is all Phil can seem to say. There’s apprehension in his eyes, the same way they used to get when Phil told Dan he was nervous about something.
“Hi,” Dan blurts out. His brain makes him say it and he’s about to apologise, but then Phil’s mouth is twitching and he smiles. It’s a small smile but a gift that Dan will treasure if they never see each other again.
“Hi,” Phil echoes.
Dan would say something more but his brain is too busy running the same thought on a loop in his head. He’s talking to Phil. It's been years and he’s talking to Phil Lester.
“I saw you freaking out earlier - are you okay?” Phil asks.
Dan nods out of habit, as he does when anyone asks him that question, “yeah, all good. Just a lot of people staring, you know?”
“You never liked being the centre of attention, yeah,” Phil hums, holding eye contact with Dan as he recounts an intimate detail about his ex-lover, “glad you found a place to hide.”
“Me too.”
Phil gestures towards Dan, then asks,
“How’s your date, then?”
“Huh?”
At Dan’s confusion, Phil elaborates with an amused tone.
“The guy you were with? He came looking for you earlier and left when he couldn’t find you.”
“Oh,” Dan shrugs, “I probably won’t see him again.”
The confession seems to pique Phil’s interest and he raises his eyebrows in surprise.
“Oh?”
Dan tries being casual when he says his next words, but neither of them can deny the implications of them.
“Wasn’t really my type, to be honest.”
“That’s okay. Not everyone is compatible.”
Phil meets him right where he’s at, and Dan is so grateful that he considers kneeling and praying in thanks to the thing in the sky for not making this moment awkward..
“Yeah.”
Then, the room feels tension-filled as Phil shuffles around, and Dan doesn’t know what to do with his hands to not look strange. He doesn’t know what comes next - should he tell Phil he misses him? No, that would be way too forward. Asking Phil to stay and have dinner with him falls at the same end of the spectrum, and just like that, the only two things Dan can think to do are ruled out entirely.
“Well, I should probably get going,” Phil says after a long few moments, and Dan springs into action once he realizes that the words mean Phil won’t be right in front of him for much longer.
“Wait, before you do,” he hastily says, refraining from grabbing Phil’s arm to keep him still. In an instant, he has all of Phil’s attention, and just like when they were together, he has no idea what to do with it.
“Uh,” Dan fumbles for words, finding them just in time, “do you want to get… coffee with me this week? But it would be really nice to- it is really nice to see you. You can say no. Actually, you probably should say no, you seem busy and I don’t want to inconvenience you-”
“Dan,” Phil cuts him off softly. The shaking of Dan’s hands stops the moment Phil says his name.
“I’ll come for coffee with you.” Phil says quietly, “does Friday work?”
It’s Tuesday. Phil wants to meet Dan for coffee in three days’ time.
“Yes,” Dan responds instantly, though he’s got a therapy appointment to cancel over the phone tonight and a reason to keep severely cryptic, “text me if anything changes?”
As he says it, Dan has a realisation that hadn’t occurred to him before. It makes his stomach turn to think about it, but he has no reason to blame Phil for something he doesn’t know has happened yet.
“Unless you don’t have my number anymore,” he says sheepishly, “which is fine, I can just give you it again.”
“I still have your number.”
The five words send sparks of hope skittering down Dan’s spine as he nods frantically. Phil’s smile is tight, and Dan realises he probably needs to leave the cloakroom before it gets weird that he’s been in here so long.
“I need to go, but I’ll see you in a few days, okay?” he says, draping his jacket over his arm. Dan watches him intently, committing his new appearance to memory as Phil turns and opens the door.
“Yeah, see you,” Dan says, and then Phil is gone, but there’s a lightness in Dan’s chest that he hasn’t felt in years and hope feels so within reach he can taste it.
On Friday, Dan will sit down for coffee with the love of his life, and he can’t help but smile about it when he leaves the cloakroom.