A Cold December Night

"I want something that lasts forever
so kiss me on this cold December night."

-Cold December Night, Michael Bublè

Summer is bonfire smoke and sunshine and freshly cut lawn, popsicles and road trips and singing in the car on the way to the family vacation. Summer is crop tops with tanned stomachs and flip flops smacking on the sunbaked ground. Summer is children shouting at waterparks and teenagers laughing at that sketchy gas station down the street. Summer is hot air and sunsets, cloudgazing in the park and peoplewatching at the mall with an ice cream cone. Summer is Christmas lights in the middle of July and late nights on the beach. Summer is footprints on the sand and iced lemonades from the stand two blocks away run by the neighbor's daughters. Summer is sunglasses with smudged lenses. Summer is carousels and seashells, sunrises and the dusting of feet against the pool floor. Summer is flirting at parties and laughter at too-awkward dates attempting to achieve that perfect summer aesthetic on a rooftop. Summer is young love and vivid romance. Summer is bright and warm and pure and not at all hypothermia-inducing and freezing and heartbreaking and cruel.

Unlike winter.

Winter is like a slap in the face with a hand made of frozen steel. Sure, there were the chilly winds of autumn to prepare you for the colder months, but it was all pretty colors and cable knit sweaters and pumpkin spice. Winter, instead, is brutal. Winter is brutal and cold, both symbolically and literally. Surely nothing good can come out of such harsh months.

Which was exactly what Daniel Howell was thinking on the cold December night he, literally, ran into the love of his life.

Daniel, aka Dan, Howell could appreciate winter. How could he not, with festive themed drinks at Starbucks and Christmas music and cozy jumpers? But his feelings on winter stopped there. He vaguely appreciated the season, and that was all. Really, he found the cold of London unfavorable and, frankly, irritating. All it ever did was cause him to grow irritated as he would have to wear excess clothes. Apparently, feeling as puffy as a marshmallow can really put a damper on anyone's, especially Dan's, view of winter.

He supposed, however, there were perks of winter. (Quite a lot, actually, though it took a rather long time for Dan to admit it.) There was the occasional dusting of light snow (this is London, after all) and Christmas lights everywhere. There was ice skating and hot chocolate in Styrofoam cups held by hands in thick mittens, and more Christmas lights. There was the beautiful London Eye, surrounded by trees bedecked with, you guessed it, lights. There were mall Santa Clauses and Saint Nicks, and bustling shoppers preparing for the 25th. Wrapping paper and Christmas treats and crowded streets were abundant. There was the advent calendars and the big Christmas tree outside the Houses of Parliament, and laughing, smiling, festive children.

But Dan wasn't thinking about any of that in the middle of that December, because it was cold, dammit, and he just wanted to go home.

Just a few more blocks, he was chanting in his head. Over and over and over again. Just a few more blocks. Just a few more blocks.

Dan, being a ridiculously tall man, had his shoulders tucked inward and his head down in an attempt to be compact and small. Sadly, all he was accomplishing was (still) getting squashed and also in other people's ways.

Dan had been at some sort of awkward midday get-together with a selected group of mutual acquaintances. The only person he actually knew personally was the host, and even her he didn't particularly enjoy the company of. Everyone else there didn't seem to know each other either, so the whole things was an awkward mess. He doubted any one of them wanted to be there, and no one had even spiked the eggnog to make things a tad more interesting. No amount of excessive Christmas lights and too-loud holiday music could change what an unfavorable failure the whole situation had been. Luckily, it had ended around six, so he could finally escape the agonizingly dull event in the cramped flat to go home to his small but quiet and homey flat.

But he hadn't thought the whole thing through.

He had had a friend drop him off at the flat around two in the afternoon, but only because he had been heading that way anyway and really they weren't super great of friends. They were distantly friendly and that was basically it. Dan didn't even have his number. So. He had no way of contacting his previous ride, and there was no way in hell Dan was going to ask one of the strangers from the party for a lift. He knew how crowded the buses would be because of the holiday season, and he convinced himself taking the tube would take away from his festive mood. He wasn't even in a festive mood.

But Dan, of course, listened to his irrational logic and began the long walk towards home.

Obviously, he quickly grew annoyed with the scratchiness of his scarf as the cool December winds pushed it against him and the on-a-mission holiday shoppers that pushed against him even as he shrunk himself down. He refused, however, to find a quicker and easier way back to his flat, for he would damage his own pride if he were to weaken against simply just the cold and people of London. He refused to give up, even if he regretted walking nearly as soon as he left his friend's building.

So, with his shrinking mechanism, with his head down and avoiding all eye contact, he evidently didn't see the dark haired man unknowingly and rapidly approaching him.

The dark haired man was just as tall as Dan, and seemed to be doing the exact same thing as he was. And they plowed right into each other.

"Jesus Christ!" Dan cursed, stumbling back from the collision. His head had slammed into something-someone-and his already sour mood was quickly declining. He glared upward, preparing himself for a quick tongue lashing to whatever imbecile who hadn't seen the six-foot-tall man in front of themselves, but suddenly he found himself speechless.

Those were some nice eyes.

A person who, also, as it seemed, was a six-foot-tall man, stared back at him in shock and surprise with ridiculously pretty blue eyes and black fringe framing a pale face.

Bloody hell.

"I'm so sorry!" the man quickly stammered, thrusting his arms out in an apologetic gesture. "Are you alright?"

Dan could only stare blankly at the stranger. Who was, huh, look at that, staring slightly quizzically at Dan. Of course he is, dumbass! He thought to himself in disdain. Say something!

"I, uh, yes. Fine. I am, I mean. I'm fine. I mean, you're fine. I mean, are you fine? Well, you're fine-I mean!-Are you alright!" he wanted to hide in a hermit shell and never be seen again. That didn't even sound like a question. "Ehem. Are you alright as well?" he finally was able to out. After mentally punching himself. Repeatedly.

The man, who Dan noticed had a deliciously Northern voice-deliciously? What the hell, Dan?-laughed. "I'm perfectly fine." He responded. His cheeks were red and his eyes were bright and Dan decided that things like that were exactly the reason he never went outside.

"Well, er, sorry again. Have a good day!" the stranger blurted after a horrendously long and uncomfortable moment of silence, and attempted to go around him. As expected, as in every awkward situation like that to ever conspire, Dan attempted to go around the other man as well. In the same direction. And almost ran into him. Again.

And so began the awkward dance of trying to go around each other, consisting of two introverted men who really just both wanted to be going home and were regretting ever even leaving in the first place.

Embarrassed and most likely fake laughs ensued from the whole situation, and the two men were finally able to part. Dan grimaced, the blue-eyed stranger smiled cheerfully, and both were able to carry on their ways.

And so they did, walking briskly in opposite directions. Dan, however, just couldn't quite shake the feeling that the stranger had been significant somehow, nor could he forget the way his blue eyes had seemed to bore into him and break into the depths of his very soul.

It was probably the cold talking.

Right?

Phil Lester was full of jitters.

Typically, Phil Lester did not simply get the jitters out of the blue. Sure, he could be jittery, just like he could be excitable or bouncy or enthusiastic or hyper. But he didn't get jitters.

At least, not randomly.

He got nervous about talking in front of people he didn't know, and speaking to large crowds gave him anxiety. But he didn't get the uneasy pacing and freaking-out kind of thoughts that he, for some "unknown" reason, was getting that December night.

He paced the length of his small living room, trying so very hard to convince himself he didn't know why he was feeling that way. He didn't know why his heart was beating at an unbalanced speed, or why he was full of energy. He didn't know why his brain was so being so ridiculously hyperactive.

But he really, truly, deeply, did.

He couldn't get that curly haired stranger out of his head.

They had interacted maybe for a minute before going their own ways, so there was absolutely no reason Phil's mind should have lingered on him. But he had just been so tall and soft and handsome with such warm eyes and curly brown hair and Phil really, really wanted to kiss him.

Sadly, the young man knew he'd probably never see him again. It was London, after all.

This cruel logic, however, didn't stop Phil from imagining a preposterous amount of scenarios involving the other boy.

Phil had absolutely no idea what he liked or who he was as a person or even what his name was, but he liked to think he liked video games and anime and cereal as well, and had a personality opposite to Phil's that complimented his perfectly. He built up a whole life for them, filled with laughter and love and so much happiness.

He had a warm feeling about the stranger, as if he really would see him again. But even if they did somehow meet again, what's to say he would be anything like what Phil built him up as in his head?

Phil really did want to see him again, though actually it was rather unjustified.

He continued to pace.

Days passed, and Christmas Eve was fast to come. The holidays were in full swing by the next time Dan went for a walk in the middle of chilly, crowded, lovely London.

The young man found himself in the midst of a swarm of people, though he shouldn't have been surprised. It was December 24th, after all. But he was actually quite happy that night.

He had got into an argument with his family a few days before, and he greatly disliked human interaction, so he was spending his Christmas alone. But Dan was content, and with the brightly lit world around him, he didn't feel as alone as one might have thought.

With a gingerbread latte in a red Starbucks cup in hand and a warm black jacket wrapped around him, he was just out to enjoy the happiness of the beautiful city around him.

There were still people about, doing incredibly last-minute shopping for the next morning, along with loners and couples alike who were probably wandering around the city for the exact same reasons as he was. No one tried to talk to him, and he was silent as he strolled along, but he was happy. Dan smiled, really and truly smiled.

As he walked, he caught sight of a happy couple on a bench. They were both dusted with the wispy snowflakes that had begun to drift lightly about, and they were both bundled up in warm winter gear. They had holiday cups, just as Dan did, full of piping hot beverages and wide smiles on both of their faces. Dan's mood dimmed a little then, when he felt an empty tugging inside of his heart.

His eyes stayed locked on the laughing couple, and for far longer than they should have. He was paying absolutely no attention to the path in front of him, and for the second time that month, he ran into a dark haired stranger. And almost screamed because he was so surprised, but noticed the strange familiarity of the boy who had crashed into him.

It was the same one, with the gorgeous blue eyes and Northern accent. The one who he hadn't been able to get out of his head since that fateful collision weeks before. Dan's heart lifted considerably. Instead of apologizing to the other young man and awkwardly speed-walking away (again), Dan just smiled.

"Hi." He breathed. They were nose to nose, and the wide-eyed stranger didn't show any signs of backing up.

"I just keep running into you." The other boy whispered back. Dan grinned, and took a tiny step back just to you know, keep it cool.

"My name's Dan."

"Phil."

Dan smiled. He just kept smiling. He smiled and smiled and smiled and thought his face mught very well just split into two. "I remember you."

Phil's already wide eyes grew larger then in disbelief. "Me too." He murmured, a slow blush creeping across his face.

Dan opened his mouth to say something, but then, looked up and spotted something that made his heart feel like it was thudding against his ribcage and was going to burst out of his very chest.

Mistletoe.

Phil noticed Dan's uplifted head, and looked up as well. Of course they were standing underneath randomly placed mistletoe. Of bloody course.

Dan's thoughts shifted then from a nervous, slightly infatuated wreck to, well, something else. He looked back at Phil, whose eyes probably couldn't get any wider. Phil took a deep breath, and said quickly, "I want something that lasts forever, you know, and now this is the most cliché and fanfic-y situation I've ever been in and I can't help but think I should kiss you. For the greater good of the universe, of course. Because that is just what you do in situations like these, when you want something that lasts forever. Like, this is a very important memory in the making."

Dan began to laugh. He was still standing ridiculously close to him, so he lifted his arms up and wrapped them around Phil. Phil automatically wrapped his arms around Dan's waist in response. "I've never thought about it that way. Instead of trying to make memories, I've always just tried to have fun."

Phil's grin took on a whole new light then. "So let's have fun then." He pulled Dan closer. "Can I kiss you?"

Dan didn't reply, and instead closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Phil's.

I guess this is my answer, Phil couldn't help but think as Dan's lips opened his. He felt like he was flying. Kissing the curly haired stranger was a lot better than he had thought.

Dan had been wrong about winter. Winter could be beautiful and full of warmth and magic too.

A/N: peeps okay yes yes I know that was so grossly overdone and cheesy but tbh that's kind of the point of whatever this thing is? This thing, by the way! This "thing" is gonna be a collection of, like, oneshots about Christmas and Phan and such that I will write every now and then up until December 24th or 25th. Because I was in the festive mood and thought the song was v cute. Yeah. So anyways, thank you all for reading this, and I'll see you lovelies soon!