(also available on Ao3 /works/5116673)

1. "I don't want to go."

It was, by far, the best day Dan had ever had. His mind swam with black hair and blue eyes against pastel sunsets, with tube station noises and jittery butterflies long since dissipated. With familiarity and adventure, with cold air and warm kisses. And as he lay, curled up in warm sheets, engulfed by pale skin and dark hair, warm arms on top of him, laying still – he breathed in the scent of what was old and new at the same time.

Meanwhile, the sun began to peek through the bottom of glass windows, a million rays spilling out onto the bright room, spilling onto the buffy poster and the blue checkered duvet.

The universe, cruel as it was, was sending him the message that it was over.
He turned and was met with a pair of swimmable eyes, eyes so full of hope and ambition and imagination.

He stared into them, trying desperately not to drown.

Though this was their first day together, it already felt comfortably familiar, like a molded crease in a chair, created by sitting down in it many times.
And in his eyes he saw the world and he saw that he knew, that he had seen the rays of sunshine.
He lifted his hand to push back the midnight hair of his bedmate, the hair that dared to obscure his view of those pools of icy blue and mossy green.
He paused, feeling the rays of sun spill onto his bare foot, sticking out from underneath the warm covers.

"I don't want to go."

Silence.

And then he felt the taller man practically jump onto him, all long limbs, shaggy hair and ambition, and before he knew it, he was trapped by his embrace.

"Then don't."


2. "You're a dork."

"Hey, Dan!", yelled Phil, sticking his face into a curiously large cabinet that seemed to go on forever, "I think I found a portal to another dimension.""Oh, shut up," replied Dan, a smile on his face, as he set a brown, cardboard box, sealed with parcel tape that read "mugs", on the empty counter.

Phil beamed back and took his face out of the cupboard, closing it behind him, turning to face the brown-haired boy, "That's the last of it then?"
Dan smiled a relieved smile, "Yep."

They looked at each other with nervous excitement that dangerously bordered on terror.

"So we actually did it," Phil said, meeting Dan's brown eyes, elatedly.

"I guess so," Dan responded back, meeting his gaze, just as eager.

They stood in their new apartment, their new home.

Sure, the tile in the kitchen was partially cracked, the tap was broken and came off in your hand, and the radiator sounded less like a machine and more like a screeching demon out of the gates of hell – but it was theirs.

They stood, staring at each other, with matching goofy smiles on their faces and anticipation in their hearts.

Before Dan could even blink, Phil was no longer there.
A flurry of black hair, yellow and black checkered plaid, and pale limbs was the last thing he saw before he was face-up on the ground, an eager Phil on top of him, limbs wrapped around his black sweater.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, when the first thing his brain could register just spit out, "Phil – did you just glomp me."He heard his heartbeat and could feel his lungs breathing in and out.

The assaulter in question lifted his head just enough to give Dan a view of blue eyes, pink at the edges, filled with water.

"Yes".

Seeing Phil crying sent a lightning bolt through Dan, his entire body re-wiring in a heartbeat.

And so he just laid there, embracing the dark-haired boy back, not saying anything but saying everything at the same time.
He smiled into the plaid-checkered shoulder, inhaling Phil's scent.

"You're a dork, you know."

And then he felt Phil's smile press into his neck, and a million pounds lifted off of his heart.


3. 'Of course"

They've lived in their Manchester flat for years, leaving it with little marks of their own, proof of their existence; like the slightly tan coffee stain in the corner of the carpet when Phil dropped his Hello Kitty Mug, and the scratch on the wall when Dan didn't realize that one of his tripod legs was sticking out whilst trying to carry it back to the closet.

The seasons have changed, and time has passed, and now Dan is taller than Phil, and the dark-haired man can no longer bend down to ruffle his brown curls in the morning and plant a kiss on the top of his head.

Their channels have grown and now they draw all their income from their videos – doing their job by sharing their lives and creativity with others.
Now they have to be careful of what they say, carefully editing out all the kisses and glances that last a little too long, quietly putting on the persona of friendship only, not wanting to give ammo to the arsenal of people deciding their lives for them.

They have grown and changed and developed, and Phil now no longer startles Dan with hug-attacks and surprise kisses, but with cuddles on the couch and pale fingers running through brown hair in the night.

Dan is more paranoid, not wanting to be labeled by others before he could even begin to label himself, not holding hands in public anymore or walking to close – subscribers occasionally recognizing him and asking for a photo as Phil stood off to the side, carefully avoiding looking into those brown eyes.
And suddenly it feels as if their time in Manchester is done. And it's not a sudden feeling as much as it is a gradual realization, slowly making itself aware over time, burrowing into the back of their minds.

And one day it's cold outside, so they are on the couch, engulfed in blankets, watching LOST, and it goes to commercial. Phil breathes out, almost able to see his breath in the cold air, "Dan?"

The sleepy boy with mussed brown hair, head on his lap, gives a "hmmmm?" of reply.

Phil pauses, choosing his words carefully.

"What do you think about… moving?"

And Dan is quiet and his heart shatters into a million pieces, his chest physically aching, and he's thinking "of course – all good things must come to an end," and he can't help himself so he looks up at Phil, brown eyes vulnerable and delicate.

When Phil looks down into Dan's eyes he widens his and drops his head to Dan's- kissing his soft lips.
He draws back and looks into the brown eyes, curious and practically begging for an explanation.

"You know, you'd be coming with me…. If that's alright?" Phil breathes quietly, lips still only inches away from the other boy's.
Relief floods and crashes upon Dan that it almost seems to flatten him before lifting him up, flying high, high above.
And his heart put itself back together, and instead of beginning to bury old memories, ones that would sting with emotion, his mind began to allot space for new memories – new things, waiting to happen.

And then he saw that Phil was still staring at him, blue eyes expectant and just a little bit scared,

And this time it was Dan that pulled Phil down into a kiss, entangling his fingers in the dark hair.

And he pulled back, smiling brightly, looking into hopeful blue eyes,

"Of course."


4. "I promise"

They're living in London now, have been for a couple months – long enough for them to not get terribly lost every time they use the tube now and to start recognizing the familiar landmarks hat line the way to their flat.

The days have blended together, domesticity and the sound of ambulances outside their window waking them up at night.
The hours, which one seemed to drag on forever, are now full of radio shows and interviews - gaming videos and have a routine – Dan getting up, blurry-eyed in the kitchen, waiting for Phil to wake up so they could watch anime together while enjoying their breakfast and each other's company, absentmindedly preparing a coffee for Phil in preoccupied anticipation.

All the while, they seemed to share the same heartbeat, so intuned to the others routine.

Dan would reach for a mug before Phil even began to ask for it and Phil snuggled up on the sofa next to Dan before he could even ask him to join – constantly in sync.

They fought less now, too, not that they had ever fought a lot before, but now disagreements were few and full-blown arguments were rare.
Perhaps it was because they had less time for such things, or perhaps they had managed to join together in a way that was surprisingly symbiotic.
And so they found themselves under a black and grey checkered duvet, Dan inhaling the scent of coffee that lingered on Phil's hair while Phil tapped away at his laptop – glasses on and eyes glazed over.

Somewhere in between sleeping and talking they had found themselves in this place, Phil sitting up in bed with his laptop, Dan leaning against him.
Once Dan was able to shake himself from his still-groggy state, he looked at Phil's computer, and in the reflection of the screen he saw scared, blue eyes.
This fully woke him.

He inhaled and buried his forehead in Phil's shoulder, temple pressing against the black-haired mans' collarbone. Phil turned slightly to plant an absent-minded kiss on the brunette's cheek, eyes still fixed on the screen, cheekbones highlighted by the artificial light.

A comfortable silence followed, in which all Dan could hear was the steady beating of Phil's heart.

"Dan…", intoned Phil, slowly, melancholy in his voice.

Dan lifted his head and sat so he was facing Phil, "yeah?"

Another silence, this one not comfortable in the least.

Phil grappled with his words,

"I… I'm sorry."

Dan felt his heart tighten in his chest and desperately tried to appear casual, feigning disinterest in his voice as he spoke, "About what?"
Phil did not meet his gaze and a wave of panic washed over him, his heart beating faster and faster.

When Phil finally spoke his voice was small and broken.

"About me."

Dan sat up fully, "What?"

Phil looks up from his computer and there are tears in his eyes, making the blue already in them seem to shine even brighter, "About me… about everything."
The tears are falling down his face now, lines of water streaking down his pale cheek, and he refuses to look at Dan still.

"I'm sorry that I'm not good enough for you."

Dan refused to let Phil get another word out before the dark-haired man found himself engulfed in Dan's warmth.
Phil let himself press into Dan's cheek, smelling the familiar scents of hair spray, cinnamon, and Dan.

"Where did you possibly get that idea from?" Dan's voice pierced through the silence like an arrow, slicing the atmosphere.
They stayed, entangled, both leaning equally on each other for support.

Phil's voice, quietly, echoed from his throat and seemed to reach the depths of Dan's heart, "I just, I thought… you didn't want me anymore."

Dan only held Phil tighter, wrapping his arms around the other man's pale body.

"Phil…", Dan choked out, not loosening his grip for a second.

He found those pale, blue-green eyes of his, the eyes he loved so much, and placed a gentle kiss upon his pale forehead.
They separated, slowly, until their foreheads were pressed together, noses almost touching, eyes wide and full of hope.

Dan licked his peach lips, trying to will his voice to work.

"I would never leave you."

And blue-green stared into brown and they were in their own little world, just Phil and Dan and the universe, and the world seemed to temporarily stop spinning around them.

"Promise?" Came a low whisper, barely a heard.

Dan smiled, tearfully, as he made the easiest promise he'd ever keep, "I promise."

And then it was just Phil and Dan and the universe again, and they sat like that for a while, watching the worlds unfold in each others minds.


5. "We did it."

It's dark now – nearly midnight, and they are standing, hand in hand, beside each other – not moving, barely breathing.

Dan looks at Phil, gazes into blue eyes, perhaps for reassurance, before turning back, fingers still hooked and intertwined.
He inhales deeply, inhales the scent of ink and sweat and ambition, the scent of time and change, of progress.

This time it is Phil who looks at Dan, light eyes iridescent against the white light,

"What do you think?"

Phil is still looking at Dan, so the brunette turns to look at him, identical looks of emotion in each pair of eyes.

Dan smiles, his heart feeling like it was about to overflow with emotion, bubbling into his smile and his eyes.

"It's perfect."

They looked at each other again before turning to the poster in front of them, the bright letters that read "The Amazing Bok is not on fire", along with the release date and their pictures, glossy and shining in the light.

Phil breathed out, breathed out all the worry and anxiety and let it give way to flurries of nervous excitement.
He gripped Dan's hand even tighter, clinging onto it like a lifeline, which, in its own little way, perhaps it was. He let his astonished voice fill the room with three short words.

"We did it."

And Dan could do nothing but exhale and smile, a full, radiating smile, his mind awhirl with color.

"I guess we did."

And they were left hand in hand, souls intertwined, staring at this little world that they'd created together – just the two of them.


6 (BONUS): "I do"

It's been a long time since Manchester apartments and YouTube gaming videos, so long that these things are more remnants, pieces of former lives, than actual, tangible memories.

So much has changed, and with it, so little at the same time.

And the blue eyes that Dan looked into now were one of the things that had not changed, one of the things that had remained resolute, through everything that had passed.

Sure, the eyes were older, and the blue had lost its youthful undertones, but, still, looking into those eyes produced the same feeling in his heart then it had thirteen years ago, the first time he had been looking for them at the train station.

And now, it seems, he had finally found them.

And now it was silent, so incredibly silent, and everyone sat, a collective intake of breath on their tongues, all eyes forward, focused on the brunette, fitted in a black suit.

And those blue eyes were no longer scared, no longer full of worry.

They were, now, full of hope.

And so he smiled and kept the easiest promise he'd ever made.

"I do."