Mahal means "love" in Filipino. Random fact: if you say "mahal kita," that means "I love you." If I hadn't used the word tadhana for a different story, that would've been the word incorporated in the title. And darn it too, because destiny is a huge part of this fic.
I'm still fricking obsessed with the red string of fate (Asian concept of soulmate. Ya'll, this is gonna be how I'll explain to my kids one day about destiny). I love the different types of soulmate AU's floating around the fanfiction world. So you know what? How about I join in with my own style? And what better way to create my soulmate AU concept than using an inspiration all about soulmates? I think the red string of fate perfectly resembles what Dan and Phil are, because in the Chinese version, just because two people are destined to meet doesn't necessarily mean they'll be a couple. Phan may not be a couple in IRL, but they certainly will in this fic.
The front door is slammed.
He stands there, stunned and regretful. He falls to his knees, his head swarming with dozens of hollow phrases. He's numb. Miserable. Resigned to a possibility that he has fully lost the person that gives his life meaning.
He collapses on the lush carpeted floor. His stomach churns. There's an unopened bottle of whiskey in the refrigerator. Pills in a bathroom cabinet. Toxic chemicals somewhere under the sink. Temporary or permanence. Any of the options can do the job of forgetting Phil.
His nostrils flare. He's paralyzed. No existential crisis compares to the muddle of depression he's feeling. He's struggling to comprehend why he remained ignorant. He knew they were growing distant. From 2009 in Manchester to today in London, the encompassing passion in the beginning deteriorated within the last few months. The camera captures a mirage. Minus the camera, their closeness is a somewhat fraud.
Minutes pass. He lies still. Steady breaths. Dejected. Remorse. If only he had taken action to mend the remote space that grew between them. He left it to chance that the space would shrink. He was dependent on their red string. As long as they have the unbreakable thread, he would never lose Phil.
He took the string for granted. Being oblivious, it's because of him that their connection is being destroyed.
"It's not enough. I need more from you."
"I want more from you too."
"Want is different than need. If you want more, then I don't need you anymore."
He didn't understand what the stark contrast is between the two terms. Want and need are synonyms. Almost the same. He wants to be with Phil all the time. He also needs to be with Phil. What was it about wanting more that infuriated Phil?
Now he knows. The clarity sinks him further into sorrow. Want versus need is similar to jealousy versus envy. Want is envy. To want something is a wish to have something that you don't have in your possession. Need is jealousy. To need something is a wish to keep something you already have firmly in your possession.
Phil needs Dan because he's scared to lose him. When Dan said he wants Phil, it seemed as if he implied that Phil isn't his anymore.
Dan insulted Phil. Phil took offense. That was why Phil left after he made the comparison.
He lifts his head. He sits up. His throat is dry. He's hungry. Thirsty. His body craves for nutrition. His heart is starving for love.
He peers down at his hands. The non-visible knot wrapped around his left pinkie shimmers. His eyes follow the trail of the string. The string resembles a chewed rope. One rough pull could rip it in two. When he blinks, the shimmering dims down. The unseen string fades away.
The red string of fate. The belief that the heavens ties a red string of the pinkies between two people that are soulmates. Since birth, the two people are meant to be. The string can stretch, tangle, be disoriented in any way. No matter what, it can never break. The two are fated to be lovers.
There are exceptions. There are circumstances that can cause the indestructible red string to break. If the string breaks, the two people can't be together again. The string can't be fixed. Their destinies will lead them to be without another lover for the rest of their life.
The string isn't there for everyone. It takes an extraordinary bond for it to appear. The myth is a myth because only the people that have red strings are aware that the myth is real. The only red string people can see is their own. People won't know who is on the other end of their string until the day they see their soulmate face-to-face.
Dan and Phil are two of the exceptional people that the heavens chose to use a red string for.
Ever since Dan was young, he was curious about who his soulmate is. He was baffled by how an Asian myth is real. He couldn't believe that a string that only he can see is a fortune for his love life. As he grew up, he perceived romance differently than most males. He didn't take love seriously. He dated girls to blend in with everyone else. His ex-girlfriend was the closest he thought that his string was connected to the wrong person.
Then he met Phil. The day they met in 2009 was the day he learned that Phil Lester is on his end of the red string.
Their relationship progressed easily from friendship to lovers. Phil is a serene, calm person. He's always more comfortable whenever Phil is around. His life became streaks of watercolors. Their love is a majestic painting. He felt blessed that the gods were perfect cupids.
He wonders if the gods are asleep. His relationship with Phil lately is stagnant. The string started to shred during the same time they began spent less time with each other. They used to do everything together. But sometime after their worldwide TATINOF, the real world called for their attention. Their schedules made them too busy to be with each other. Although they still did Dan and Phil collaborations for their YouTube videos on their respective channels and regularly uploaded videos for their gaming channel, their personal lives changed from being together all the time to a few hours in close proximity with each other per day. Occasionally, he goes through 24 hours without once seeing Phil.
Their bliss didn't last forever. The building tension exploded. They had no particular plans for today. Phil suggested they do another Dan vs. Phil video. Dan was about to leave the flat to do grocery shopping. He told Phil they could shoot the video later. Phil, however, didn't want to wait.
"Really? The supermarket? Do that tomorrow."
"I can do that now. We have nothing to do."
"So you're putting the supermarket as a priority over me now."
"Phil, what has gotten into you? I said we can do the video when I get back."
"Will we? Aren't you the one that always forgets? What if you come back and decide that you're too lazy to do anything?"
"What are you talking about? What's going on?"
"I should be asking you that question."
The conversation quickly escalated into a fight. They fought about the issue that plagued Phil's mind more than it did Dan. They said hurtful words to one another.
Shouts and tears. Glares and growls. When Phil left, Dan realized that he was at fault. The fight wouldn't have happened if he noticed sooner that he's the reason for their troubles.
The sun sets by the time he rolls himself into a sitting position. He checks his phone. No text or call from Phil. Dan is clueless about where Phil is.
His fingers types and sends a text to Phil. I'm sorry for everything I said just pls come home
He leaves his phone on the sofa. He walks into the kitchen and microwaves a slice of leftover pizza from Dominoes. He pours himself a mug of whiskey that's almost reaching its expiration date. He's going to be alone tonight. He deserves some comfort food and a drink for a few hours of neurological relief.
He carries the plate and mug back to the lounge. He sits down on the sofa. He immediately goes for the alcoholic beverage. The liquor trickles down his throat. He finishes a third of the drink before going for the pizza.
A half hour later, the familiar fog swamps through his brain. A dull burn lines his esophagus. Tiny splatters of tomato sauce and a few crumbs is all that's left on the plate. Through his bleary vision, he grips one arm of the sofa and stands up. He leaves the mug and plate on the coffee table, clumsily dragging himself to his bedroom.
He's half sober. If he drank the entire bottle of whiskey, he'd have a terrible hangover tomorrow morning. His goal was to lessen the gloom in his head. Right now, he feels lighter. He's a balloon. He's floating. It's enough for him to be in the clouds. One more gulp and he'd be in the galaxy. He doesn't have to be too high up to push his problems at bay.
He wanders aimlessly in his room. There's an impulse that his subconscious is jostling him to do. He can't pinpoint what it is. Does he have a deadline that he forgot about? Did he misplace something? Is he expecting someone soon?
He faces the side of the room where his piano is. Behind the piano are a wall of pictures. His caramel eyes lock on a Polaroid photo distinctive from the rest. It's the one that they used for their book. Sharpie-drawn cat whiskers are on their faces. He's wearing his signature black shirt with the halo imprinted on the center. Phil is wearing a green and black plaid shirt. He remembers the sweet kisses they shared before they took the photo. He remembers bare skin and earth-shattering orgasms in the hours after they had the photo developed.
A hashtag is written on the white space on the bottom portion of the photo.
#lovewins
Love does win. Thanks to the string, Phan exists. The hashtag is a perfect representation of their relationship. They never allowed popularity to reach into their heads. They are internet icons while still being goofy and down-to-earth.
A smile reaches his lips. Happier times. Sticking together through thick and thin. Their guarantees of forever. Moments when the love was strong.
Phil is his world. Dan's heartbeat synchronizes with Phil. Losing Phil is his lungs shriveling, gasping for air. He won't be able to breathe. Love is what keeps him afloat. He drowns in Phil's azure eyes. Without Phil, he has nothing. Life would cease to matter.
"Come back to me," he whispers, his mouth brushing against the photo.
He made a mistake.
Don't leave me, Phil. This can't be the end of us.
He inches away from the wall. It kills him to be away from Phil. He binge-watches AmazingPhil videos whenever Phil is on vacation. If they were born as conjoined twins, he wouldn't mind. At least he'd be humanely glued to a man that he won't tire of.
He stumbles to his computer table. He falls back on the rotating chair. He grabs a black composition book behind his Apple desktop. His vision isn't too blurry. The fog is clearing up in his head.
His impulse is to write. Writing is his source of contentment. He could write a novel if it wasn't for his procrastination. He settles for writing short pieces in a notebook that only Phil has ever read.
Poems. Fanfiction. Short stories. He writes what he can rack up.
The words flow like a river. There's no specific direction to what he's writing. The ballpoint pen makes letters to form an extension of his emotions. Pieces of his heart is spilling on paper.
Phil: pensive, herculean, influential, lecherous. He's the torch that illuminates the darkest trenches. His brilliance touches to places beyond my soul. Pale and statuesque. A moving statue of long limbs. Our hearts beat as one. We're linked because we are both submerged in radiant colors. His tongue, his ears, his nose, his mouth, his fingertips. Every inch of him is mine and mine alone. His grins, his frowns, his laughs, his smirks. His feelings are my feelings. I care for him more than anyone else. His silhouette is blending, disappearing into the invisible tomorrow. When days are dark, he's all that I need. I need him. If I want him, I see him as adequate. Adequacy isn't what he is. He is a shade of blue that's turbulent, but emanates perfection. If I'm lost, he'll be there to find me. The red string is rending at the seams. If I can't repair it, this is the end that is never supposed to come.
He sighs. That's it. He's too exhausted to continue any further.
He goes to his bed. He close his eyes.
He might be lucky. This could all be a bad dream.
~:~
Sleep overtakes him.
He dreams of a Phil that still loves him.
~:~
A man returns. He pauses in front of Dan's room. He hesitates, but turns the doorknob.
Dan is asleep. The room is pitch black. He squints. Dan's notebook is open. Upon closer inspection, the date shows that it's a new entry.
He takes the notebook back to his room. He turns on the light. When he reads the entry, he feels his own heart shattering.
"Dan," he murmurs. "I'm still yours."
Is he too late?
Has Dan given up on them?
No.
Their string is still intact. He can repair it.
We're meant to be. I'm a fool if I don't fight for us.
~:~
The echo of an amicable sound wakes up Dan. His eyes snap open. When he holds his hand up, he finds a lone red thread tied to the pinkie of his right hand. He's perplexed that he sees nothing on his left pinkie. That's odd. He was sure that he heard the red string calling to him.
He sits up. Getting off the bed, he follows the length of the thread. It trails outside his room, down the hall, and to Phil's bedroom.
The door to Phil's room is open.
Phil stands there, the other side of the thread tied to his right pinkie.
"Hi," he says.
"H-Hey."
There are tears and apologies. The anger has significantly decreased.
Closer and closer they step toward each other.
They embrace.
Dan sobs.
Phil cries along with him.
Wrapped in their personal bubble, the invisible red string shimmers.
The ragged appearance is gone.
The string is whole.
Their destiny is still with each other.
I think this might be my best angst piece up to date.
I don't know British English. I'm an American. I can think like Dan, but I can't 100% write like him, sadly.
Feel free to use this concept if you wish. I'm quite disappointed that the red string isn't popularized in fanfics. It's basically all about fate and destiny, which I know many of you guys love to read. So please spread the love for this myth!
Until next time.
~ AA