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Dan is soaked with sweat, ears ringing and panting, he is fucking terrified. The purple glow of spotlights leaks from behind him accompanied by the loud screams and cheers from the crowd. Him and Phil had just finished the big musical number that had become quintessential to any show with Dan or Phil's name associated with it, and the fans had loved it. He should feel overjoyed; Dan had always treasured performing and to do it this time with full authenticity should feel extraordinary. In fact, it does. This new era, where Dan has been completely able to be his true self has been like a dream. So why is his stomach churning that horrid, familiar feeling that has taunted him since his childhood?
Although the Balboa Theatre spared no expense when it came to American grandeur, the backstage is a small and liminal space, with a long corridor stretching behind the proscenium arch stage connecting the two wings. The walls are a depressing grey with mysterious wires and pipes sprawled all over and dimly lit with a few, pathetic spotlights.
Dan never really knew the exact purpose of the complex mechanisms behind the stage, but his lack of knowledge looked genius compared to Phil's. They often spent the time between sound checks and last-minute rehearsals following wire trails to find out what they did. They even made a silly game out of it. Phil usually lost and would fuss about "the game being stupid anyway" as "it wasn't his job to know anything except how to entertain" while Dan laughed and tried to tease him further. He smiled picturing Phil's scrunched up nose and how he tried not to smile as Dan pestered him about it. What a stinky baby.
Then they would wait in a shared dressing room. A dressing room Dan had felt no stress in sharing with Phil, not anymore, not since last October. This time they could gladly share things, like a comfortable, double bed in a hotel room.
Dan and Phil could be the real Dan and Phil, guilt-free. And as lovely as that was, it still seemed wrong sometimes. Dan still felt the hairs on the back of his neck unsettle whenever he used the word "boyfriend". He still woke up drenched from night terrors of a world where the truth was untimely leaked. He knew it was going to take a long time to unlearn built-up defence mechanisms and paranoid tendencies, and he was aware Phil shared this struggle too, supposably that is what sixteen years of hiding a throbbing, juicy secret does to a person.
Dan was fully in his head and had ignorantly failed to notice the short, stern looking woman dabbing his face and frantically adjusting his microphone. He shot her an awkward 'thank you' smile and she simply nodded before disappearing down the corridor, her inky hair and jet-black clothing fully erasing her in the darkness. He was stood in the left wing near the mouth of the stretching space that currently separated him from Phil. He wasn’t alone. There were other people in the room, stagehands all far too busy to pay him any mind, but he could hardly tell they were there anyway.
Truthfully, Dan really yearned for Phil. He wanted to tell him how the crowd loved the song and they could call off this stupid, unnecessary ending. He wanted to tell him how the first of many shows had been a success and they could go home now. He wanted to tell Phil, he was done.
But Dan cannot tell Phil any of that. It is too late. He is here now. Choking on the idea of true joy.
Phil is in the opposite wing, probably still running off adrenaline and eager to complete the experience with one last spectacle. He had laughed when Dan first suggested it.
“No, but seriously, imagine it.” Dan continued, smirking at his poorly placed reference. Phil continued to chuckle until he realised Dan was not joking. And at the time Dan wasn’t. Well of course he wasn’t, it was less scary to imagine doing such a thing when you knew it would be off in the future and you would maybe be able to handle it. Phil looked hesitant, peeling the ice blue of his eyes off Dan to look away and seemingly consider the idea. Dan watched as his eyebrows knitted. “Are you sure?” He finally responded.
“Yes. I mean I think so. I think we deserve it. I think you deserve it.” Dan attempted a smile but was quickly ambushed by Phil propelling himself forwards, wrapping his arms tightly around Dan, ever so slightly cutting of circulation.
And yet, half a year later and across the Atlantic Ocean, Dan was filled with an immense regret. An overwhelming, suffocating feeling that he could not shake. He felt every beat of his racing heart and every lift of his frantic breathing, and it felt like it might kill him.
Stupid. Selfish. What a fucking wuss you are. Dan’s eyes began to well with the aching sting of tears and he felt hopelessly trapped in this moment. The disgusting, dull black began to encapsulate him. He had failed. He literally could not finish the show. He had failed Phil. All because he was too much of a coward. A streak of what felt like acid lingered down his cheek and spotted on the floor as he clutched his mouth in an endeavour to prevent a cry. So fucking stupid.
” Dan?”
Fuck.
“Hey, we have a couple minutes until we have to go back on, and I just wanted to check on you… since this last part is well… new?”
Dan remained still. Holding his breath as he listened to the familiar, obnoxious squeaking of Phil’s trainers' approach from the corridor.
“Dan, are you- Dan? Hey...”
Before he knew it, Dan was captured by a flying Phil who had bolted towards him, arms encasing his full frame. He had lost himself now, pressing his face into Phil’s shoulder and sobbing. He knew a couple of workers were still about, but he didn’t really care. The smell of sweat on the sparkly, silk shirt Phil was wearing was an absurd consolation that Dan was choosing not to question. “I’m sorry.” Dan whispered as he felt Phil’s hand grasping the back of his head. The sensation and tickle of Phil twirling his fingers in Dan’s curls grounded him slightly. Functioning like a typical human being becoming increasingly easier just having Phil nearby.
” Hey... It’s okay. Dan.” Phil softly spoke into Dan’s ear. “We can stop now. It’s okay. You have been so brave and to have finished a whole stage show dedicated to us or phan or whatever is really special Daniel. I’m so proud of you.” Dan felt Phil gently pushing him off only for his face to be taken between Phil’s dainty hands. His fingertips slightly caressing Dan's cheeks as he began wiping the tears from his eyes. “I love you.”
Tentatively, Dan raised his doom like stare to look Phil in his piercing eyes and subsequently felt a burning sensation. He looked so beautiful in the sparsely lit space. The yellow light shon from his frosted tips to his pretty, starry eyes and he didn’t look remotely upset with Dan, he looked happy. Phil deserved to be happy. Phil deserved sunshine after hiding himself for so many years. Dan wanted to give him that sunshine incredibly badly. Even if it is going to be uncomfortable and frightening… as Phil had already given up so much and the fact he was willing to give up this as well scratched at Dans heart.
He sniffled, placing a hand over Phil’s and allowing himself to linger in the moment, in the safety. Just for a bit until he broke it off, suddenly clasping both of Phil’s hands and holding them tightly in a weird attempt to motivate himself. Phil’s eyes widened, flinching from the sudden unexpected movement.
” I can do it.” Dan finally forced out hoarsely. “I can do it for you.”
“But y- “Phil began, except Dan was decided now and stubborn enough to stick with his decision, no matter how scary. Dan cut the poor man off with a forceful kiss that only fuelled the fire burning inside him. The soft impact of Phil’s lips against his own reeked of comfort and home and he had been even further emboldened by it.
Phil recoiled seemingly speechless and Dan was already racing around to make sure the finale was advancing as planned. He wiped his face with the bottom of his own black, beater top and fiddled with his mic, likely messing up whatever the poor woman did to it before. Then he heard it, the fatal sounds of his own winnie the poo voice booming from speakers. An achingly acquainted highlight reel, put together by Dan himself, had begun to play from a large screen centre stage. It was a montage adjacent film of all ten videos labelled ‘Phil is not on fire,’ counting down from the most recent in the series. Counting down to where it all began.
” Get ready. We are doing this.” Dan beamed as Phil scanned him hastily, looking slightly shell shocked at the sudden brutal change of Dan’s demeanour. He opened his mouth hastily. “I’m sure.” Dan interjected. He was now, and the light ignited in Phil’s face confirmed that. He looked like a child on Christmas as his smile neatly met his eyes. “Go quick! You need to be in the right wing ready.” Dan snorted, stifling a laugh over Phil’s instant bliss. This is going to feel amazing. The noise of squeaky trainers disappeared down the corridor leaving Dan to listen to the intimate sound of his past. This will all be worth it.
Then he heard the original. The first harmless, little q&a video that he had travelled all the way to Rawtenstall for. The start of the insane life he never knew he would get to live. Thoughts of difficulties growing up fizzed up at the back of Dans mind, yet the reminder that he is in fact safe now, with his best friend, with his soulmate, quieted them down. Giggles of his silly younger self began to fade and the hot blood rising within him reminded Dan of his cue. He slowly walked onstage spotting the mass of people in the right of his peripheral vision; however, he knew to keep looking straight despite their reawakened wails of enthusiasm.
Across from him, Phil was matching his slow journey to centre stage as a new video began playing beside them. It was still Phil is not on fire footage, but a new unseen clip. Dan had rewatched it thousands of times when writing this section of the show and fully recognised the little laugh his past self let out at the beginning as he held eye contact with twenty-two-year-old Phil. “You look so cute with those whiskers.” Phil said softly to video Dan who much resembled a tomato. Current Dan remembered how he had begun to lean into Phil in the clip, and the sounds from the many people beside him confirmed that was happening. The old footage was very sweet, personal. Dan valued it passionately and the concept of sharing it with the world still unsettled him.
Video Dan and Phil were so close to reaching each other, mirroring real Dan and Phil who had just about made it to centre stage, until the video abruptly cut off. The soft gasp from the overexcited and now slightly disappointed audience pleased Dan as both him and Phil glanced across at all the people they had just baited. The silence whirring around them, purple glow illuminating them both in the new emptiness of their production. Dan took the sight of Phil in, to see he is smiling sweetly, …patiently. He was waiting. Dan’s heart lurched. He was not going to make him wait any longer.
He grabbed Phil violently by the face and pulled him in, in one big swooping movement, sloppily pressing his lips against Phil’s. Dan felt Phil’s hands find refuge on his back. Grasping with a built up desperation. Blackout. Silence. Well, Dan was fairly sure it was not ACTUALLY silent as his phandom seemed to lose their minds over just about anything, and this? This was everything. Though now, it was just him and his favourite person, partner through life meeting each other like they had done filming their first ever youtube video together. This display wasn’t fan service. It was a reclamation of years lost to secrecy. It was Dan and Phil having the bravery to love in front of an audience.