Phil's lips are soft as they brush along Dan's cheekbones, and Dan's licking his own lips - they're so dry, why are they so dry - and Phil's breath is warm as it puffs out. Dan wants to say something, anything, but no words are coming to mind so he stays quiet. He tries to stifle the noises threatening to escape, he doesn't want to sound like some horny teenage boy. But Phil's scraping his teeth on Dan's ear, on the spot behind his ear, licking a slow stripe down Dan's neck and Phil's ever so delicately unravelling him.
The air is cold, a natural side-effect of the wintry season, but Dan's warm, Phil's mouth is hot, and underneath every layer of pleasure and excitement and Phil, Dan knows that he shouldn't be here, he knows - but Phil's distracting him, and it feels so good that Dan's allowing himself to be distracted. He'll feel regret in the morning, sure, he always does. He did last week, and the day before, and even two days ago. But right now, his only regret is that he's not doing anything.
"We should go ... inside." He gasps.
They're standing on the threshold of Phil's apartment. Dan had barely said "hi" before Phil had kissed him, and they hadn't made any attempt to move since. The hallway's lack of a radiator means the cold is slowly starting to seep its way into Dan's skin - he'd really prefer it if it didn't chill his bones.
"S'probably a good idea." Phil murmurs, his words carrying into Dan's mouth.
He drags Dan backwards, both of them stumbling, narrowly missing large injury-inducing objects such as the bookshelf in the hallway, the heater across from the lounge-room, and Phil's precariously placed tall potted house-plant.
They manage to make it to Phil's bedroom without a hiccup, though Phil does almost knock Dan unconscious in his haste to reattach their lips.
The only thing Dan can feel, as Phil's shutting the door and pushing him up against it, is the pleasure arising from Phil's touch, his lips, and the arousal that pulls deep in his gut, the need that roars loudly over the concern, the thoughts of why am I still dong this, why haven't we talked - he doesn't want to concentrate on the questions because he doesn't want to admit that he knows the answers.
"God, Dan, Dan."
Phil's moaning into Dan's mouth, the kisses turning sloppy and wet, lips sliding together as tongues dance, and it's just about enough to boost Dan's self-esteem.
I'm doing this to him, me.
Phil's slim fingers are slipping under Dan's shirt, the pads of his fingertips cool against Dan's heated skin. Dan pulls away and reaches for his shirt, pulling it off with a quick, practised ease.
"Your turn." He whispers.
Phil nods, and within a few seconds they're both topless, Phil nimbly unbuttoning Dan's jeans, and swiftly removing them, leaving them in a pile on the floor, with their shirts. Phil's jeans are a little tighter, a little harder to get off, but they do eventually join Dan's on the floor.
Phil pushes against Dan, the combined force of his mouth and his hands causing Dan to stumble backwards until he collapses onto the bed. Dan scrambles back, anxious to do more than simply kiss and touch.
Dan sighs deeply as Phil straddles him, Phil's weight pressing him into the comforter. He knows it's not a good thing, but he revels in moments like this. When he has all of Phil's attention, Phil's lips on his, Phil's hands trailing down his chest, gripping his hips, running down the muscle on his legs. Looking up at him with those beautiful eyes, usually a kaleidoscopic mixture of bright colours, now darkened with lust.
Dan knows, he knows that he should have stopped after the first time. But it felt so good, it still does, and here he is, a year later, going through the same unfortunate scenario, pretending that everything's okay, that there's more to their relationship than just video games and sex.
A year later, he still likes to fool himself into thinking that he's not still being used, that Phil loves him back, in the same way that Dan loves him.
Dan pushes his thoughts back, stuffs them in a box with a lock and key, buries them deep in his mind, for another time, another night, not now, not this night. He wants to focus on the good, not the ugly.
Phil's scraping his perfectly white teeth along Dan's jugular, forming a bruise on his collarbone that Dan's quietly glad he won't be able to easily hide.
Dan loses himself in the sensations as Phil removes the burden that is their underwear. He moans and sighs and swears as Phil smashes their lips together, flips them around, drags his nails down Dan's back. He groans when Phil opens him with slick fingers, shakes with pleasure as he settles down on top of Phil, and as Phil thrusts into him, Dan pretends the context is better than it actually is.
He chooses to ignore the reality that's forcing itself onto him, and instead loses himself in the whims of his fantasies.
It was a Tuesday, the night that Dan and Phil first met. The day itself doesn't really hold much meaning, but the events that occured do.
The path Dan walks is dark, the neighbourhood quiet, the street lit by barely glowing lamps every block or so. Everyone is asleep, or not at home - it's just him, the moon and the stars - although that is what walking around at four-thirty in the morning will do.
The stars and the moon only appear to be close though, like objects in a rearview mirror, so Dan doesn't - he can't - fool himself into thinking the sparkling balls of gas are his friends, his companions for the night.
They're not, and he's all alone.
Until Dan spots a shock of black hair atop the head of a tall boy, in bright clothes that stand out starkly in contrast with the dim, shadowy streets.
The boy's looking ahead, so Dan can't see his face, and the boy can't see him. He's not sure what to do - walk away and just forget all about the stranger, or keep going and maybe say hello without hopefully embarassing himself.
Odds are, he'll trip and fall face-first onto the concrete. Or, if he makes it to the stranger, he'll open his mouth to speak, only to find his voice box temporarily malfuctioning.
But, then again, what's life without a little uncertainty, right? Dan makes the potentially fatal (though not literally) decision to at the very least say 'hi'.
The boy has a recently-lit cigarette between his lips, and Dan's not quite sure how to react. He keeps walking, if only because the stranger's already noticed him and is smiling around the cigarette.
Dan throws caution to the wind, thinks "why the fuck not?", and keeps walking.
"Hi." He says, and he's really grateful that he doesn't stutter. Small miracles are savoured the most.
"Hello." The boy says, and Dan's only slightly delighted to find that his eyes are a gorgeous blue, sparkling like the stars above them that had begun to be his only friends for the night - on closer inspection he realises that there's flecks of gold and green too. like his eyes are hidden jewels.
"Nice night, clear skies." Dan says, cringing at his awkard attempt at conversation. Very small miracles, apparently.
The stranger laughs, and it's practically melodic.
"I have a theory, you know." He says slowly, drawing the words out, "That the sky is so much better after midnight. Like now, for example. I mean, just look at the beauty, the emptiness, the quiet. No distractions, no fast cars with heavy fumes destroying the earth, no mindless chatter or ridiculous noises. There's just ... nothing."
The boy speaks softly, almost wishfully - as though his mind is a million miles away from his corporeal form.
"Isn't it a little ... lonely, though?" Dan asks. He's trying not to sound like a foolish teenager, but it all sounds a little sad to him.
"It looks like a ... like a ghost town." He adds.
"That's where the beauty lies. In the simpleness, the sparceness - all this blank space, with so much potential; during the day it's all wasted, all these people that don't live, just exist. Imagine what could happen if everyone opened their eyes and saw what's truly out there. Now, with just us and the stars, there's no distractions, nothing but us and our surroundings."
The boy sighs, and takes a long drag of his cigarette, blowing it out slowly, the smoke drifting upwards. Dan tries not to breathe it in, tries not to choke on the toxic stench.
"I'm rambling, aren't I? God, I'm so sorry. I'm probably not even making any sense, sometimes I go off on these weird tangents - I even manage to confuse myself, it's crazy, honestly."
"No, I... I get it." Dan says. "I go into these weird zones where I contemplate the human existence and our purpose, why things happen. I really should be a philosphy major or something." He chuckles, now a little less nervous than he was to begin with.
The strangers eyes are lit up, as bright as the street lamps should be, and they're sparkling like they hold the secrets to unknown galaxies - Dan's not quite sure why his heart has picked up, why his hands are suddenly really warm and slippery, even though he isn't wearing gloves.
"I think this is all fascinating." Dan says, in a hushed voice.
The boy smiles, blinks slowly, and holds out his hand.
"I'm Phil," He says.
"D-uh, Dan. I'm Dan, Dan." Dan says, reaching out to shake Phil's hand, wishing internally that Phil doesn't notice his sweating hands.
If he does, he doesn't say anything about it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dan."
Dan wakes up first, before Phil and before even the sun has properly risen. He yawns and sits up against the headboard, and stretches. The curtains are parted a bit in the middle, so he can see the beauty of the sky as the sun makes its morning appearance, the purple and pink mixed in with heavenly gold. It's majestic, almost, and it's enough to distract Dan for a few minutes.
But then Phil groans, and Dan freezes because it means that Phil's waking up - the magic of his delusions fizzing out until he's forced to face the truth.
"Morning." Phil mumbles, his eyelids closed, his mouth shut, his face so calm and passive that no one could blame Dan for thinking that Phil was asleep, had he not spoken.
Dan wishes that he was still asleep, that he hadn't spoken - but then he feels ashamed, the thoughts almost treasonous.
"Good morning." Dan replies.
He looks at Phil, at the messy mop of black hair that's sticking up everywhere - he subconsciously pats his own down - at the smooth lines of his back, the silky white planes of his shoulders, and he sighs, in a sense mournfully. Here's the one thing that he desires, the one person he cares for the most, apart from his parents and his best friend - the one he loves - and he can touch and kiss and fuck, but at the end of the day, he's nothing more than a good time, worth nothing more than frequent one-night stands.
"What time is it?" Phil asks, still immobile.
"I don't know ... uh," Dan turns away, pressing the home button on his phone. His lock screen glares brightly, the white letters flashing up.
"About half-past seven."
"It's too early." Phil moans.
"Then go back to sleep." Dan suggests.
"I can't, I'm too awake now."
Dan suppresses a snigger and settles for a smile instead.
"Yeah, you look wide-awake, absolutely."
Phil blindly flails in his attempt to hit Dan - he manages to tap Dan's elbow, and Dan blames the area of the touch for the electricity that sparkes up and down his arm.
"I'm going downstairs." Dan says, eager to get away, to escape Phil's presence for just a second, just long enough for his heart to regulate, for him to catch his breath.
"If you're not up and out of bed in ten minutes ... I may not have much of a choice but to drag you onto the floor. And water may or may not end up being involved."
Phil murmurs something that sounds a lot like "yes mum", and Dan smirks despite himself, slipping on his boxers and pants.
Dan makes the executive decision to cook breakfast, scrambled eggs on toast and little pikelets, not specifically for Phil but for himself. He needs to do something for him, to make him happy - otherwise he just might break that little bit more, except this time it will shatter him beyond repair.
That's not to say that the smile that lights up Phil's face when he walks into the kitchen doesn't bring Dan any joy ... he wishes it didn't, but it does.
"Something smells good." Phil says, making an immediate beeline to the coffee machine.
"Too bad you can't have any." Dan comments, nonchalantly.
"What?"
"You thought this was for you too? Oh ... yeah, no. Sorry."
"Oh, I see. No, it's fine, really, I get it. I'm guessing that you don't want coffee, then..."
Dan sighs over-dramatically.
"There's a slight possibility that there's enough here for you as well." Dan admits.
"How kind." Phil says drily. He gets a second mug out anyway, a red one that depicts Dan's favourite chocolate sweet.
Dan starts thinking about how domestic their current situation is, about how he has his own special mug that he's never seen Phil drink out of before, that he's pretty certain wasn't even there before whatever this little dance they were doing had become a regular thing.
Which leads him to thinking about what it might be like if they were a couple, if this was a regular, normal thing, that came after a night of pure sleeping, not sex but innocent and unadulterated sleep.
Phil's arms, warm as they slip around Dan's waist, locking around his torso. Dan, unable to move, making it hard for him to keep an eye on the stove, not that he can find it in him to really care that much.
Dan's so hopelessly in love it's pathetic.
Phil gets two plates out, and the loud bang as the cupboard door hits the cabinet, combined with Phil's hushed "shit" - Dan had only teased him about his awful habit of leaving doors open about a million times - is enough to break Dan free of his thoughts; the road they were wandering along is too dangerous for any day, for any time, but especially this day, this time.
They eat breakfast in relative silence, and Dan tries to keep his eyes from watching Phil - a task of which he fails horribly.
"What are you up to today?" Phil asks, and Dan freezes. He hadn't thought much past, well, now.
He has no idea what to say.
"I d-don't know." He says, "I didn't really have any plans."
"Oh," Phil replies, and Dan winces as Phil's expression falters for a second before he's smiling again.
"I might see if Emma wants to hang out - go see a movie or something. I don't think she's working today." Dan says, shrugging.
"Okay. Sounds fun." Phil replies, and there's a pang in Dan's chest like an arrow through his heart, when he sees how real his smile looks now.
"Sure does." He says, but his heart isn't in it, he can't even convince himself.
He has trouble with that a lot, these days.
They play Sonic for a few hours, Dan beats Phil on nearly every level, and then Dan goes home - Phil looks ansty and on-edge, so Dan mumbles something about lunch and leaving, before he trudges up the stairs.
Once he's home, he has a hot shower, spending more time than necessary - he washes the shame and the remnants of last night down the drain, and if some salty tears are mixed in with the soap, well, it's not as if there is anyone else there to see.
He calls Emma after he's changed into fresh, clean clothes, after he's calmed down. They make plans for lunch, or really brunch for Emma, who's only just woken up - he doesn't ask her where she is, but her absence in their apartment was the first thing he noticed when he walked in.
He dries and straightens his hair, wets his face and crosses his fingers in the hopes that Emma won't notice, won't make any connections between him not being home last night and his slightly puffy eyes.
"You had sex with him." She states, casually, like she's talking about the sky being blue or the sun being hot.
Dan really shouldn't have expected her to not notice - she's always been able to tell when anything's happened, to see everything for what it is. Maybe it's just that he doesn't want her to notice, because if she can see it, then it's real, and if it's real Dan can't pretend it isn't.
"Hello Emma, nice to see you too. How are you?" Dan asks sarcastically.
"I'm sorry. Hello, Dan." Emma replies. She opens her arms and he quickly steps into them. Her hold is firm, and he feels safe and warm inside them. Even though they had only seen each other the day before, he needs to hug her, to feel loved, with certainty.
"I just care about you, you know that."
"Yeah ... yeah, I know. I'm sorry too, it was just a little unexpected, that's all."
Emma smiles apologetically, and Dan leads her inside.
The small cafe is warm and bright, and thankfully not too busy. They slide into a booth, and order two coffee's, one each.
"So are we going to talk about this or are we going to pretend there isn't one hell of a gigantic elephant in the room?" Emma asks, once they're settled.
Dan groans, as his admittedly slim hopes slip through his fingers like sand.
"I can't seem to catch a break."
"If I didn't love you Dan, I wouldn't bring it up."
Emma slides her hand across the table, and Dan lets her hold his. He doesn't say anything as she offers comfort in a simple squeeze.
"I'm just worried about you, that's all."
"I know, Em, but I can take care of myself."
Once again, Dan doesn't even manage to convince himself, and he definitely doesn't convince Emma, not that he really expected to.
"Then why aren't you?"
Dan opens his mouth, fully prepared to protest, but Emma's too quick.
"And don't try and tell me that you are, don't you dare, because I know you, and I know that you're not. Even if you can't see it, even if you aren't aware, I can see that you're hurting Dan. This is hurting you, and I hate it."
Emma's breathing a little heavily, and her eyes are shining with unshed tears - it takes Dan a second to realise what's going on, but when he does he feels terrible.
Not for himself, or for the unfortunate situation he's gotten himself into, not even for the reasons that Emma is - but because somehow Emma got caught up in his mess, and it was never supposed to end up like this.
Emma is his best friend, and this is all his fault.
"Em, I-I'm so sorry." He chokes out.
"You don't have to be sorry, Dan, I'm not angry at you, I - God, this isn't even about me, it's about you. This is killing you, Dan, I know it is. Because you want more than just this, you want him. You love him."
Emma's words are sharp, like a harsh slap to the face, and Dan's left stung, shocked.
Emma's expression doesn't change, she's still calm, and there's fondness and worry in her emerald green eyes - but now there's also fear, most likely secondhand, for Dan, because she knows what it's like, she's been in a similair position before.
"You love him," She repeats, slowly. "Which is why you're still doing this."
Emma sighs, and Dan's still shocked.
"Look, I don't care what you do in your free time, your personal life is your personal life - but I will not just sit back and watch silently while you tear yourself apart. I care when what you do in your free time turns you into this."
She squeezes his hand, and numbly, he squeezes back.
"I just want to make sure that you're okay, Dan. But if you want me to shut up, to drop this and act like nothing's happening then I will, you just have to say so."
"You don't have to ... I-I understand that you just want to help. It's f-fine."
He's a little concerned when his eyes start burning with warm tears.
"I want to help you, Dan. I hate seeing you like this. I know what it feels like and I don't want you to go through what I did."
Dan's completely, full-on, no gates to hold them back, crying now - and he can see through the bluriness that Emma is too, and he feels horrible now, because it's all his fault.
He knows better than anyone, how hard it was for Emma when she had to go through this, through an incredibly similair situation, and now he's causing her that pain again.
He's the worst friend possible.
"Emma ... Emma, what's wrong? What happened?"
Emma pushes past Dan, ignoring his questions. She heads to the kitchen, and Dan hurriedly follows her, after first making sure that the door is locked.
"Emma, Em, don't ignore me, please."
"I'm not ignoring you, Dan, I'm ignoring the situation." Emma says, opening the specific cupboard that holds various bottles of different-strength alcoholic beverages.
"But you are admitting there's a situation." Dan states.
Emma takes a long swig of brandy, wincing as the watery amber liquid slides down her throat, burning a fiery trail. She slams the bottle down on the bench, and it's Dan's turn to wince - although Emma's glare does account for part of it.
"You know that we do have glasses, right? For the alcohol."
Emma's glare hardens. "I don't think it really fucking matters."
It's then, that Dan realises just how bad the situation is.
"Emma, please don't do this, don't shut me out. Tell me what's going on." He pleads.
Emma shakes her head. "There's nothing to tell."
"Em -"
"Ashley's just a fucking bitch, that's all. No big deal."
Emma took another swig, and Dan cringes for her.
"She has a boyfriend, Dan. A boyfriend. And they're just 'oh so in love', and us, well, we were only supposed to be a one-time situation, 'an innocent fling'. She was just 'experimenting' - eighteen fucking months and we're a fling."
Emma spits out each word like it's venom on her tongue, and Dan's heart is tearing apart as he watches her, slowly and painfully.
"And you know the worst part?" She asks, not that Dan answers - he wouldn't have dared, even if he'd gotten the chance.
"I don't really hate her. I despise her, I loathe what she's done, what's she's doing, but I don't hate her. I could never hate her."
Emma is shaking, the bottle in her hand rattling as it knocks on the bench. Dan wants to hug her, to wrap her up in comfort and warmth like a cotton blanket, but he doesn't know how she'll react. So he just watches, heartbroken, as his best friend falls apart.
"I'm in love with her, Dan. From the moment her fingers slid into my hair I was smitten - I just found out that she's been lying to me for nearly two years, that she has a boyfriend that she's basically been cheating on with me, that every damn thing we had ... that I'm nothing to her ... and all I can do is blame myself. I keep wondering if I could have done something, anything to make her want to stay, to break up with him instead of me..."
"Em, it's not your fault."
"But it is! It has to be! What - what did I do, Dan? Why did she do this?" Emma asks, desperately, and it's then that she truly falls apart.
Dan is at her side before she's even let go of the bottle. He takes it from her, moving it far away, out of risk-distance.
He tugs her into his arms, and she falls to pieces inside them. Her tears soak his shirt, but he doesn't care, how can he, when his best friend is shattered. She's sobbing, heart-wrenching cries, her nails digging into Dan's back as she grips the thin fabric of his shirt in her hands, using him as an anchor, a grounding force. She rests her head on his shoulder, the warmth from his neck seeping into her skin.
The worst part is not necessarily how much she's crying, but rather that she is crying in the first place.
Emma's not the kind of person to get emotional. She feels emotions, sure, but she very rarely expresses them. She pushes any feelings down until she can't recognise them anymore, until she forgets about them completely. She'd never cried, she'd gotten close when her dog ran away, and even closer when her parents basically disowned her because they don't like her "lifestyle choices" - like she had a choice in who she is.
Yet here she was, not only admitting that she loves someone, in a romantic sense, but also sobbing in Dan's arms, and allowing herself to. She's breaking, and for the first time since Dan has met her, at nine years of age, she's doing so openly. She's letting him see the rawest, darkest parts of her, and he's not sure if it's really a good thing.
"You didn't do anything, Emma. You fell in love with someone who you thought loved you back, there's nothing wrong with that." Dan says, attempting to calm her down. Each sob is like another knife wound to his heart.
"But I must have." She replies. "Otherwise, why ... why did she do this?"
"Because, as you said, she's a bitch. She used you, Em, for her own personal benefit, with no regards to how it would affect you."
Dan takes a deep breath, the next words he speaks are not likely to go down well, but she needs to hear the truth, most importantly from someone who does actually care.
"I'm sorry to say this, given the current circumstances, but I'm glad that you're not together, I'm happy about it."
Emma pulls back, her hands loosening on Dan's upper arms. Dan holds her shoulders, he doesn't want her to walk away before he can finish.
Emma's eyes harden again, the glare fierce and a little scary, even paired with the puffiness of her cheeks and the redness from the tears.
"Just, hear me out, okay?" Dan pleads.
Emma doesn't say anything, but she doesn't move either, so Dan takes it as a cue for him to go on.
"She doesn't deserve you, Em. You are so much better than she is, than she will ever be. If she's willing to dump you like that ... to cheat on you or with you or whatever, at all - then she obviously can't see the real you. You're beautiful, and smart, and such a wonderful, kind person, She must be an absolute, complete, imbecile if she's willing to give you up."
"Dan..."
"And, not only have I known you for just over a decade, I'm also gay, so you know that everything I'm saying has to be 100% accurate."
Dan smiles, hoping desperately that Emma will smile too.
She doesn't. She starts crying again.
Emma wraps her arms around his neck, and pulls him close. He has barely a second to wind his arms around her back before they both fall over.
So this is the way I die. Dan thinks absently. Drowning in a puddle of her tears.
"How did I wind up with the most incredible person in the world as my best friend?" Emma asks, her voice muffled against Dan's neck.
"I don't know, I've wanted to ask you the same thing a million times before." Dan says, jokingly, though the sentiment is honest.
Emma shakes her head slowly, which is more of a nuzzle in her position. But her cries have turned to laughter, a sound much like her sobbing only slightly happier.
"You're such a weirdo." Emma jokes.
"But you love me, so it's okay." Dan adds.
"Your Honour, I plead insanity." She mumbles.
"Your Honour, I plead self-defence. I was provoked, and it was entirely not my fault."
Emma pulls away, confused and a tiny bit concerned over whether he should be the one pleading insanity. Before she gets the chance to even register the trickster grin on Dan's face, his fingers are poking and digging gently into her sides.
She squeals and squirms, and as Dan chases her around their flat, he knows that she'll be okay.
Dan and Emma chat about everything but Phil, for a couple of hours. They're just about to leave, three cups of coffee and two pastries each later, that is. Dan pays, he insisted and it's as he's sliding the change into his pocket that Emma spills her secret.
"So ... I have a girlfriend." She says casually, nonchalantly, simply - like she's discussing the weather or commenting about the coffee.
Dan stares at her, then blinks a few times slowly, as he tries to process the words.
"Emma..." He says, almost like a warning. "I swear if you're pulling my leg, just to make me feel better..."
"I'm not." Emma says, a grin spread wide. Her eyes are sparkling with happiness and joy.
"Em!" Dan yells.
He hugs her, and she hugs him back, and within seconds they're jumping and grinning and squealing like proper fools - both ignoring the strange looks from the other patrons and staff.
They pull away and Dan drags her outside, where they have a little more freedom and privacy to scream.
"Tell me everything." Dan demands.
"Her name's Mallory, and she's, she's just amazing, Dan. I met her..."
Dan's beyond giddy by the time Emma's finished, but there's still a little giggle in his gut, a nagging voice in his brain that just won't shut up, so he has to ask.
"Em, love, I don't mean to diminish your hopes or anything, and I know it's been over a year, but ... are you ... how do you..."
"How do I know she's not going to do what Ashley did? How do I know I'm not going to get hurt again?" Emma prompts.
"Well, yeah."
"I don't." Emma admits. "But I have to be positive, I have to take some chances and hope for the best. I can't enter every relationship in the fears that I'll get hurt again. Or, worse than that, not open myself up to the idea of being in a relationship at all."
Emma sighs, but she's still smiling, determined not to dampen her or Dan's somewhat good moods.
"I really, really, like her, Dan. More than I honestly think I liked Ashley. And she seems to actually like me back, undoubtedly. And I know what I thought about Ash and I was wrong, but this time ... I don't know what it is, but this time feels different."
Dan hugs her again, because for a few seconds he's a bit lost for words.
"Well, good." Dan says when he pulls away. "Good for you, Em, I'm really, really happy for you. 'Bout time something good happens to you. I can't think of anyone more deserving of this than you."
"I can." Emma replies.
"Em -"
"No, just, hush. We both know that I don't agree with what you're doing but it's your choice. All I'm saying, is that whether you end up finding it with or without Phil - you deserve a good, healthy relationship, just as much as I do."
Dan nods, but he's not entirely sure that she's right.
The first time it had happened, neither of them really expected it.
Dan had come over to Phil's for cereal and video games - you know, the usual. Dan had beat Phil - again, the usual - and Phil had gotten annoyed with Dan's bragging. He'd begun tickling Dan, which led to him falling on top of Dan.
That had quickly escalated to Phil kissing Dan, at first slow and soft, and then hard and fast and heated. Dan had gasped and moaned as Phil lay stretched along his body, grinding against hin, pushing him into the couch that barely fit the two of them as it was.
This is wrong, did cross his mind, but he'd quickly dismissed it, choosing instead to focus on Phil's fingers under his shirt, the likely-to-leave-bruises pressure as he'd gripped Dan's hips.
After all, how wrong could something really be, if it felt so damn right.
Dan is back at Phil's a week later - the longest amount of time they've not seen each other since they started this deal a year ago. But this time, Dan is determined that things are going to be different.
"We should watch a movie." He says as he walks in, ducking around Phil to escape his hungry kisses.
"Uh - okay. What movie do you want to watch?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe we should have a look. Hey, do you have any popcorn?"
Phil does have popcorn, and as he makes it, Dan selects a movie he thinks they'll both like. Nothing particuarly special, it's not exactly a date, they're just friends. It's just a movie.
"Whiplash?" Phil asks when he returns with the salty snack.
"Yep." Dan replies. "It looks really good, so I thought we could watch it."
Except, it turns out to be so much more than just a movie.
"Holy..." Phil begins.
"Fuck." Dan finishes.
"They're both a little messed up - emotionally and psychologically - so they pick another movie, this time something a lot safer.
"How about this?" Phil asks, and Dan grins.
"I think there's something about you, Philip." He replies, and nods.
The movie plays, and Dan curls up on the couch. He's not tired, he just wants to be comfortable. And if he's feet are pressed up against Phil's legs, well, that's just because it's a small couch.
The night after Dan first met Phil, he gets a text message.
Phil: Hey Dan! :D So, I know it's kind of late-ish, but I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat? Maybe?
Dan stares in shock for a few minutes, before he remembers that Phil is probably waiting for a reply.
Dan: Hi! I'd love to, sounds fun! :D
An hour later, they're eating and chatting like life-long besties.
"Gengar is not the coolest Pokemon." Dan protests.
"Uh, yeah it is. But then again, you probably think it's Jigglypuff or Goldeen or something."
Dan just shakes his head, as though Phil is acting like a child or something.
Phil laughs, and Dan tries not to think too much about how nice it sounded.
They stay for a while, learning more about each other, and how much they have in common. But, all too soon they discover how quickly the time has passed, and they are both disappointed.
"It's getting a little late, or rather early, I suppose..." Dan says, reluctantly.
"Yeah, I guess it is." Phil pauses. "...Do you want to come back to mine? I don't mean to be weird or too straight-forward or anything - I'm just having a lot of fun, and I think it would be a shame to end it now."
Phil's cheeks are flushed, possibly from the heat - Dan feels quite warm too.
"I agree." He says. "It would indeed be a shame."
Phil drives them back to his house, where Dan marvels ar Phil's apartment, and a little at Phil. Then he discovers Phil's endless plethora of nerd memoribilia.
He doesn't leave until late the next morning. The didn't have sex, but their relationship - if you could call it that - has manifested itself, and Dan knows that something is there, between him and Phil. He just doesn't know what it is.
Dan wakes up first in the morning, and his heart stills in his chest.
Somehow, he's managed to move a lot whilst he was asleep, as apparently, did Phil.
They're both lying stretched along the couch, Dan tucked in front of Phil, his back pressed up against Phil's warm body. Phil's right arm is draped over Dan, and he's not quite sure what he should do.
He knows he has to leave - a) he's not really supposed to be there in the first place, and b) it's not a good idea for him to stay, lest something happens that's not healthy for him in his slightly compromised state, and of course c) he not-technically-but-kind-of promised Emma, in other words, that he wouldn't keep doing this. At least, not until he works out what the long-term expectations are.
Emma was right, as she always is, Dan is in love with Phil, but he doesn't want to get hurt because of it. He saw Emma go through this, he doesn't want to repeat it with him as the leading man.
He just has to escape Phil's hold, that's all. Simple.
He manages, barely, through slow movements, intricate wiggling twists and shuffles. It's also incredibly helpful that Phil is an amazingly heavy sleeper.
Like, sleep through a blazing fire heavy sleeper.
He collects his things, accidentally lingers his gaze on Phil's dozing figure for a few too many seconds, and then he's gone. He hopes, as he steps onto the Underground, that Emma's out with her girlfriend or occupied with some other activity.
Dan's excited to tell Emma- he doesn't know what it is exactly that he and Phil were doing, what they have, where they stand. He just knows that he'd had a really good time the night before, and as his best friend, Emma was the first person he wanted to tell.
Emma doesn't seem as happy about it as he does though.
"So, you two are just friends, or ... what?" She asks.
"Just f-friends, I suppose." He answers, feeling suddenly rather strange.
"Okay."
"I really like him though." Dan rushes to admit, although it comes out small and almost reluctant.
Emma stops still, and it's barely a second before she turns around, staring at Dan with wide, disbelieving eyes.
"Do you want to repeat that?" She asks, slowly.
"I like him, Em. A lot."
Emma sighs, and runs a hand through her dark caramel locks.
"Just be careful, okay? Make sure you're both on the same page before you actually do anything, yeah?"
Dan nods. He elects to leave out the part where he and Phil had kissed ...and had sex.
It doesn't really feel like the right time to bring it up, anymore.
Luck is apparently on vacation.
On Pluto.
"Daniel James Howell, where were you?" Emma asks, reminding Dan suspiciously of his mother. Emma had always spent way too much time with her, and it was really starting to show just how much his mum had rubbed off on her.
"I was ... I was out." He says.
"Yeah, okay, sure you were. Out."
Emma shakes her head, and when she speaks it's almost a plead.
"Dan, please don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying, I was out."
"Well, all I know, is that this morning I went out to breakfast with Mallory, assuming you were asleep because you're never up before noon unless you absolutely have to be. And then I came back and it was basically lunchtime, or your brunch-time, so I went to see if you were awake ... and you weren't even there. And now, here you are, suspiciously in the same clothes you were wearing yesterday. So, I'll ask you again - where were you?"
Dan can see the concern filtered through the anger in Emma's bright green eyes. He knows it would only do even more damage if he continued to lie.
"I was at Phil's." He admits, sheepishly.
"But," He's quick to add. "We didn't do anything, we didn't even kiss, I promise. I went there because I was bored and I didn't want to bother you in case you were busy, on a date - I hadn't seen him in a week or so, I just wanted to spend time with him. We watched some movies and we fell asleep." Dan conveniently leaves out the cuddling part.
"Nothing else happened. I'm not in love with him because the sex is good."
"I-I know." Emma says, sounding a little hurt by his words. "I wasn't ... I'm just concerned."
"Em, I know you're only trying to look out for me, and I appreciate it, I really do. But I am a grown man, and I know what I'm doing, okay?"
Emma nods, and Dan steps forward to hug her before she can start crying.
"You're right, I'm sorry. Did you have fun?"
"Yeah, I did." Dan says.
And he's a little surprised to realise that, yeah, he did. He'd had a blast, even without pressing his lips to any part of Phil.
'That's what being in a proper relationship is like' his brain tells him.
Dan tells his brain to shut up.
Dan can't pinpoint exactly when he got used to Phil's smoking. One day it bothered him, and then suddenly he doesn't really notice it.
Strange, how spending so much time with someone can alter the way you react to things. Even stranger, how used to their existence in Phil's life he'd become.
"We should go somewhere." He says one night. He's lying on Phil's bed, the pale blue sheets pulled around his waist to protect him from the cool air. His gaze is locked on Phil, who's standing at the window, cigarette in hand. The moon is full and bright, and it basks him in a luminescent, delicate light.
He reminds Dan of an angel, if a somewhat deadly one, with the smoke wafting around him.
"Like where?" Phil asks, turning his head to look Dan. Even in the low light, Dan can tell his eyebrows are raised, knows without having to look that there is an amused smile playing on his lips.
"I don't know ... anywhere, everywhere. We should just take a break, go somewhere for a while, just get away, you know? We could hop into your car, go to the store, get some food, some cigarettes for you, and just drive. We could blast the radio and not stop until we want to. We'd never even have to stop if we didn't want to."
Dan knows that it all sounds a little whimsical, a little far-fetched. He speaks with wanderlust, and it's all a bit too serious, too big of a commitment for them - their relationship isn't really defined, or even that stable, and realistically this could shatter it all.
But he also knows that he would anything for Phil - there is nothing he wouldn't do, really.
Which he supposes is what love's like - not that he's entirely sure if he's in love with Phil yet ... ten months is and isn't a long time, depending on how you look at it.
Then again, friends go on road trips all the time. There's no reason friends-who-sometimes-have-sex-one-of-whom-might-be-in-love-with-the-other-one can't.
Right?
"Just, hop in a car and see where the road takes us?" Phil asks, amusement light in his tone.
"Yeah, basically. I don't mean, like, now, just ... sometime. It just sort of sounds like a good idea, you know?"
Phil nods, and Dan watches as Phil took a long his drag of his cigarette, the end flaring.
"I mean, yeah, now's probably not a good idea, but you're right - it does sound like a good time."
"We could travel England." Dan suggests.
"But no further than Manchester city centre?" Phil asks, jokingly.
Dan sticks his tongue out, and it doesn't matter to him if Phil can see it or not. "We could venture a little further."
Phil laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound to ever reach Dan's ears - in his opinion.
"What a big step for you, Daniel. I'm so proud."
Hearing those words, even in a somewhat mocking sense, makes Dan smile even more.
"Well, people do change, you know?" Dan says.
Even if, deep down, he wonders how true it is.
Phil stopped smoking a few weeks after that night. He said it didn't feel good anymore, and he didn't want to poison himself while he was still young. Part of Dan wondered if it was because he mentioned the trip. Another part stomped on the first part and told it to keep it's figurative mouth shut.
Dan decides that he can't live a semi-lie anymore. He needs to tell Phil, even if nothing good comes out of it, at least, he can live in the knowledge that he's not lying anymore.
Dan: Hey! Is it okay if I come around? I sort of need to talk to you.
One agonisingly pregnant pause later...
Phil: Yeah, sure. Is everything okay?
Dan: Yeah. Just want to talk.
Phil looks concerned when he opens the door, but Dan just says a hurried greeting, and steps past. He heads directly for the lounge-room and Phil trails closely after.
"Dan is something wrong - you're freaking me out a little bit."
Dan just sucks in a deep breath. His hands clench into tight fists, the bite of his nails grounding as they dug into the soft flesh of his palms.
I can do this, I can do this...
I can't do this.
Although he doesn't notice it, Dan begins to shake, small tremors rattling his body, like electricity racing through him.
"Dan - you're shaking!" Phil walks over to Dan, and places a hand on his forearm.
The touch seems to anchor Dan. And, unfortunately, also unravel him.
"I'm in love with you!" He blurts out.
Phil's touch on his arm burns, like he's being branded, forever fated to have Phil's hand imprinted on his skin, a constant reminder.
"W-what?" Phil stutters.
"I'm in love with you, Phil, okay? I love everything about you, big and small, annoying or adorable, and I've been in love with you for, most likely, as long as I've known you."
Phil takes his hand off Dan's arm, and the removal of contact seems to burn even more than the actual touch did.
"Dan I, I'm sorry, but I ... I don't feel the same way. I mean, sure I like you, and you're one of my best friends, so I love you in that way, but ... I, I have a boyfriend now. I didn't when this started, but ... now I do."
Dan's blood runs cold. He's not sure how it's still even running, considering he's pretty certain that his heart's just stalled and crumbled like dust, scattered around his organs like fallen ashes.
"But we ... this ... how..."
"What we have, or I suppose had - it was all just fun, Dan. We were both single, it was a logical decision. It wasn't ... it didn't actually mean anything special, Dan. Not like that." Phil says, and he sounds like he's scrambling for words, like he's reaching out but the words are just simply too far out of his reach.
"Nothing special." Dan echoes.
"And now, I mean I'm with Adam now ... I'm sorry, but it's not really the best idea to continue this." Phil continues, speaking as though he hadn't even heard Dan.
"Yeah..." Dan says, all emotion stripped from his voice.
"But we can still be friends, right?" Phil asks, and he sounds so honest and hopeful that Dan's not sure if he wants to scream or cry or just crumble into a million pieces like his heart.
"Friends."
And just like that, what miniscule fragments of Dan's heart that had been clinging together in a desperate attempt to stay together, are shredded beyond forseeable repair.
Dan stumbles home, his mind blank and his body numb, empty, devoid of feelings.
Emma's not there when he gets home, so he calls her up, frozen fingers tapping memorised numbers as he collapses onto the couch, phone in one hand, bottle of who-knows-exactly-what in the other.
He trips over his words, and he's not even sure how she understands any of it, but she promises to be there as soon as possible. He can hear someone else's voice in the background, but he's not too concerned with who it is at the moment. Emma also threatens the safety of Dan's limited edition Doctor Who figurines, if he dares endanger his own safety.
Dan's not nearly inebriated enough to not take her threats seriously.
He hears her swearing softly, before he actually sees her, and he braces himself, mentally, before he realises that there's not actually any point.
"Oh, Dan." She whispers, and he knows he must look like an awful mess, he doesn't even have to look at her to know that sympathy is written all over her face.
"I told h-him." Dan chokes. "And he s-said that he has a b-boyfriend."
Emma makes a sound of pain - at least, Dan thinks it's Emma, but then he realises that the noise came from him.
"But we can still be friends." Dan says, distantly.
"Friends. Nothing more than friends, we were never anything more."
Dan doesn't really like how bitter his voice sounds.
But then again, he also doesn't really care.
Phil may have stopped smoking.
But Dan's only just gotten started.
He drowns himself in deodorant, almost choking on it, he sucks on mints like they're boiled sweets, all in the hopes that no one will notice - and by no one he means Emma, because she's the only one who sees him anymore. He doesn't leave the flat these days, unless he absolutely has to.
Emma knows, though, she can smell it on him, hidden under the overbearing cologne, and in his room, outside his room.
She doesn't say anything, not yet. She's allowing him this window of freedom, of silence, because she knows that he needs the time and the space to come to terms with what's happened, to begin to mend his broken heart.
She's always keeping a close eye on him, however, making sure that he's not doing anything fatal or extremely harming.
Emma is giving him a week or two more, before she steals his cigarettes and demands he talk to her. Because he will talk to her. Whether he wants to or not.
Dan knew, all along really, how it was going to turn out.
No one stays really good friends, no two friends have a regular benefits deal for a year, without at least one of them falling for the other, or it all ending horribly - just as it now has.
The most annoying part, is that he also knows that he won't ever stop thinking about Phil.
Whether it's because Phil's his 'first love' or just because they've been so intimate, he doesn't really know.
All he does know, is that nothing will be the same for him again. His life, his outlook on the world, his memories of the past year are all tainted with Phil, and the ponderings of what could have been.
He's still friends with Phil, he doesn't think he could just shove Phil away, remove him from his lfie and pretend that he never existed.
He just ... he can't.
Emma doesn't understand, because while she thought she was in love with Ashley, her situation was different.
Phil never technically cheated on, or with, Dan, and Emma wasn't friends as well, like Dan and Phil were are.
So, maybe fate wasn't actually on his side. Maybe his luck ran out, or maybe he just didn't have any to begin with. Regardless ... he knows he'll stay friends with Phil, just as they had said.
Because it's practically impossible for anyone to distant themselves from someone like Phil Lester.
And Dan is most certainly no exception.
For anyone in France, for anyone who knows of someone there, a victim of the recent attack or not, my thoughts are with you. It's a tragedy, it shouldn't have happened, and I'm regretful that it did. #PrayForParis