It's something in the way they met.
Not for the first time online, when they properly met, face to face. It's the way Dan sends his mobile number first, the way he trusts. It's the way he's scanning the café, shielding his eyes from the summer sun, wondering if this was the most stupid idea ever, when he suddenly spots another boy, eyes searching, and he decides it's the best idea he's ever had. Phil was never the kind to go meet up with someone he didn't know well, more likely to spend time via a mutual friend, over a long period of time. But this time it's different. He has no idea why he agreed, but as he elbows his way around the tables and sees the look of relief in the other boy's eyes when he reaches him, he's so glad that he did.
It's something in the way he plays with his hair.
Not when he's grooming, Phil has always insisted that he doesn't find it vain; he does, but adorably so. Dan will always fuss and fiddle until he decrees his appearance perfect and they can finally leave, two hours later than planned. But playing with his hair is less purposeful, more absentminded. He does it when he's nervous, around new people, then catches himself and gets all embarrassed. He does it when he's excited, waiting outside in the queue for the last Harry Potter film, eyes shining even though it's nearly midnight because he's had enough caffeine to feed the Royal Navy. The longer strands that fall down past his ears, they're the favourites. He twists them and spins them and curls them around his finger. Phil's favourite is when he's just had his hair cut and the strands are too short, but out of habit he'll play with them anyway, only to his increasing frustration.
It's something in the way he smiles.
Not when Phil can see it (although he cannot deny the way he smiles at him first thing in the morning with only party open eyes and hair mussed from sleep is utterly adorable). It's a special kind of smile that he only gets to see when he's playing back over his footage, editing, and there'll it will be. It's like nothing else he's ever seen or felt, and if someone asked him to describe it in one word, the way his eyes soften and seem lost on Phil, as if forgetting they were filming, his mouth slightly slack and the hint of a smile on his lips, he would have to say 'love'.
It's not love. Not in the way he wanted it to be. Wants it to be?
It's not love but he's not complaining. It's not how he read or dreamt it would be, falling in love with your best friend, when everything is so perfect you wonder how it's possible that you go to your bed every night and wish for even more.
It's not love.
But it's something.
Something a bit different! *Drabble dance* please review :3