Heyo!
So, first fic of 2016 and of course it's phan
Summary: soulamates au based on this post: post/120689825166/yourweeaboobs-yuekono-destiel-ismyotp "When you get a song stuck in your head, it's because your soulmate is singing it."
Word count: 1541
Warnings: swearing, OOC-ness and unedited.
Disclaimer: You're generally not allowed to own people so…
Enjoy!
—
Seriously, again - this is like the fourth time, Dan thought as 'Whatever' by Phil Lester once again started playing in his mind. His soulmate must be some kind of starstruck twelve-year-old because holy hell was his music all they played? He supposed he did kind of like Phil Lester… well he was alright, but hearing him non-fucking-stop kind of dampened his opinion.
He was kind of glad that his piano teacher only allowed him to play classics - his childish mind saw it as some kind of revenge, the thought of making whoever was on the other end listening to Mozart rather than the 22-year-old superstar.
Glaring up at the indecipherable scrawl on the board in an attempt to dispel the music from his mind, Dan copied down what he could, and inwardly groaned because he was in no way ready for his final exams.
He was tapping his foot.
Dan froze, foot poised to tap along with the music. Stop, you're not enjoying this, he told himself furiously, you're annoyed because Phil Lester seems to be the only musician they ever play - but what's even worse, is that they never finish the fucking song, and it always sounds weird.
True to his word, the song in his mind cut of abruptly in a stream of fucked up guitar chords and random drum beats.
Grumbling, Dan placed his head down on his desk. He never knew if they were playing it themselves, or if they had snuck into a recording session or if they were playing the recording of his concert and it was pissing him off.
The bell rang, drowning out the incessant guitar riffs and running vocals.
Dan slid his books into his bag unceremoniously and zipped it up, before making his way to his next class - which, thankfully, was music.
He would drown out those same three songs if it killed him.
The music teacher was great - and by great, he meant hella lazy. All they ever did was prac, and sometimes it sucked because Dan actually wanted to learn something about music but today he just dumped his bag at a random desk and sped off towards the practice rooms, where the single grandpiano in the school resided.
—
"He's playing fucking classical again," Phil Lester announced, much to everyone in the room's chagrin.
"Can't you just push through it? There's a concert tomorrow and if you don't rehearse you're screwed," PJ, his bassist, asked.
"Could you whenever that lump was listening to shit?" Phil deadpanned, gesturing to Chris, who was grinning and tapping on a drum randomly.
PJ fell silent.
"That's what I thought."
"Alright everyone, take… however long it takes him to get off the piano," his manager announced.
The crew dispersed, grumbling about how annoying it was to keep having to do this.
"To be fair," Chris smirked, "we're probably annoying the pants off him by playing the set list over and over again - by the sounds of it, he doesn't even like this kind of music."
"He does," Phil told him, "he listens to it sometimes - Fall Out Boy, MCR, that kind of thing, and when I was twenty I'm pretty sure all he did was listen to music."
They moved away from the instruments and Phil flopped down onto the couch, the shrill notes playing themselves in his mind. He chuckled when a wrong note was touched, usually resulting in a bit of banging that couldn't even be counted as music, so Phil had no idea why he heard it.
"Do you still not know who he is?" Chris inquired.
"Nah, but he's getting better," he muttered distractedly, closing his eyes.
The tune in his head changed, and Phil shot up from where he had been lying down on the couch. "He's playing Psycho," he told his friends, who had flinched at the sudden movement.
"Is that even possible to play on piano?" PJ asked, trying to think up how it would work and shrugged.
"Love, it will get you nowhere…" Phil sung softly, nodding his head, "you are on your own…"
The music faltered slightly, and he wondered if his soulmate could hear him.
"Lost in the wild… so come to me now…"
—
Dan stopped, fingers poised above the shining keys in shock.
Someone had been singing along.
It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, playing Psycho - on one hand, he wanted to get his soulmate back for the non-stop Phil Lester, but Muse.
What he didn't expect, was an all too familiar voice singing along with his playing.
Tentatively, he placed his fingers back on the ivory and continued the song.
"… I could use someone like you…"
Dan smiled - he was really good, whoever he was.
"Someone who'll ki-i-ill on my command, and asks no questions…"
Wait.
Dan had heard this voice before.
He recoiled away from the piano like it was on fire.
That was fucking Phil Lester's voice.
No.
No way.
This isn't happening.
What. The actual. Fuck.
He slammed his fingers down and a harsh jumble of mismatched notes in a feeble attempt to calm himself down and get his fucking voice out of my head.
Beethoven's Fifth. Focus on that. No one can sing along to that. Because there's no lyrics you see so there's nothing for Phil fucking Lester to sing to.
But that wouldn't happen anyway, because Phil Lester isn't his soulmate.
Nope.
Dan played until his fingers felt stiff from being stretched and sweat was beading on his forehead.
He calmed down, and thought for a moment.
Phil Lester definitely wasn't his soulmate… but if- if he was then…
Dan took a deep breath, ignored how much of a laughably bad idea this was, and took out his phone. OfficialPhilLester, he typed out, I Write Sins Not Tragedies, Panic! At The Disco.
Post.
There, the tweet as out there for the entire world to question, but if - on the off chance that a big-shot like Phil Lester would ever see his tweet - he was-
And I'm not saying he is, Dan's mind helpfully interjected.
-My soulmate, then he would know, wouldn't he?
Dan set his phone aside, stared at the monochromatic keys of the piano, regretted everything he had ever done, then began to play.
—
"Anything interesting on twitter?" PJ asked conversationally.
Phil shook his head. "Nah, maybe we should do a Q-and-A to pass the time?"
"Phil you hate Q-and-A's," Chris pointed out, "you say we always get stupid questions."
"Well we do!"
Chuckling slightly, Phil mindlessly scrolled through his mentions.
Danisnotonfire: OfficialPhilLester I Write Sins Not Tragedies, Panic! At The Disco.
What?
Was it a song suggestion? Was Danisnotonfire telling him to do a cover? Was it just a general a wild song appeared! situation? What?
Then it happened.
Phil dropped his phone and for once he didn't even care if it cracked because oh god it was happening.
Surely, it was a coincidence, right?
But it can't be because that's what the tweet said and then straight after-
"Phil!"
"Phil what's wrong?"
He stared at his friends, wide-eyed and gaping. "Look at this tweet," he gasped, grabbing the phone off PJ - who had managed to save it from disaster - and unlocking it, before subsequently shoving it back at him.
"I Write Sins Not Tragedies," PJ read aloud, "yeah ok, good song- what about it?"
"It's in my head."
You could have heard a pin drop.
"No fucking way," Chris laughed, "that's just - wow."
Phil nodded, uncertainty edging his thoughts. "Yeah but it's a popular song, maybe it's not him?"
Pj rolled his eyes and checked danisnotonfire's profile.
The song ended. All was silent except for the sound of PJ's fingernail tapping on the screen as he refreshed the page.
danisnotonfire: OfficialPhilLester Centuries, Fall Out Boy
Then it happened again, and Phil felt like his chest was being filled with cotton balls - light and fluffy and making it hard to breath.
—
Dan sighed as his fingers lingered on the last notes of the song. Alright, he thought to himself, two songs, that was what I told myself. If he hasn't caught on by now I'll just have to accept that I've got a… Phil Lester impersonator? as a soulmate.
Reaching over for his phone, he ordered himself not to get - nervous, happy, expectant - excited when he saw the (1) bubble on his DM's.
(It could be anyone after all. Honestly, it could be any of his friends. Y'know all those friends that he doesn't have.)
What he did however, was stand up abruptly, making the piano stood scrap horribly against the polished wooden floor and fall down with a sickening crash when he saw who it was that had messaged him.
OfficialPhilLester, danisnotonfire
Um… hi.
22/9/15, 11:30 AM
No. Fucking. Way.
—
So there's that. Idk what it is with me and soulmate AUs like I need to chill.
Please tell me what you thought and any mistakes I might need to fix up ^_^
As always,
Thornsword.
