Ok. So Phil wasn't interested in Dan romantically. That was fine. Dan could deal with that.
It wasn't like he'd even know what to do with a boyfriend anyway. They could put a few drunken make-outs behind them, even laugh about it, and carry on as friends. It was probably for the best that way.
That's what Dan tells himself at least. And it does work. Sort of.
The weeks drift by and Dan and Phil slip back into their old patterns. They hang out, watch movies, Dan tags along to a few weekend parties. Everything goes back to normal for a while. Or at least a minutely stiffer, slightly more distant normal.
XXX
They didn't have a falling out. No unkind words were said, and there wasn't a confrontation. Nevertheless, Dan and Phil began to drift apart. They were impeccably cordial but a little less honest with one another. Phil stopped by less frequently and started leaving early when he did, texting distractedly before making his excuses.
As much as Dan tries to deny it, he knows that he and Phil aren't quite as close as they used to be, and he blames himself. Surely Phil must have noticed his little crush, his overreaction to their drunken antics, and now things are weird. Not overwhelmingly so, but they are.
Dan didn't call him out on it, though. He doesn't want to seem needy and uncool. He's petrified of Phil picking up on his feelings for him and the inevitable humiliation.
Dan vows to act normal, or at least whatever his best guess at what that might be. He wasn't ready to let go, desperate to keep Phil in his life in whatever capacity he could, and so he lied and said he didn't mind.
XXX
Phil began spending more and more time with a girl named Jenny. She was pretty and popular and always laughing. Dan thought she was vapid and insufferable.
He attempted to befriend her, though, since she seemed to be becoming a permanent fixture in Phil's days, but she didn't seem any fonder of him than he of her.
Even when not physically present, Jenny began intrude further into the times Dan and Phil shared. She featured prominently in Phil's stories; she demanded his attention over text and phone call and social media, and whenever Phil offered some vague reason for having to head out early, it wasn't hard to guess where he was going.
Dan just smiled and acquiesced, trying to keep the hurt from showing on his face and the jealousy that seethed in his stomach at bay.
It wasn't that Dan even thought that they were together. Not that that was any comfort. If they'd been sleeping together, it still would have hurt, but it would be understandable. It would be closure.
As it was, Dan simply couldn't measure up as a friend to Phil, only there to fill the time when somebody better wasn't available.
"You don't mind if I head out, right?" Phil asked twenty minutes before the end of a movie that he'd barely paid any attention to, busy slipping his phone out of his pocket every few moments in a not-even-a-little-bit-inconspicuous gesture.
"No problem, have fun." Dan rearranged his face into a smiling mask with rather alarming ease. He'd had plenty of practice lately.
XXX
Far more than Jenny, however, Dan's real problem was that he couldn't seem to stay mad at Phil. He never stood up for himself, not really, and so nothing ever changed between them.
Phil would blow him off, again, and Dan would resolve to break it off. Just walk away and try to hold on to whatever self-respect and sanity he still possessed. If Phil wasn't willing to put the time and effort into their friendship, why should he?
But then Phil would call or stop by, and Dan's resolve was washed away before he even knew what was happening.
Phil never apologized for treating Dan badly, never acknowledged it or acted like anything was amiss. As the least confrontational or intimidating person Dan could imagine, he never broached the subject himself. In fact, he even began to question if maybe he was just being oversensitive and blowing everything out of proportion. Maybe this was just how normal people acted?
Phil would joke around and make Dan smile, melting away any lingering anger with his goofy antics and charm.
Previously a loner living an uneventful life in a sleepy Southern hamlet, Dan wasn't used to dealing with the tumult of emotions he experienced. He was buffeted about, through waves of alternating disappointment and hopefulness, seemingly helpless against the tide of Phil's capricious moods.
It was a cycle, and Dan was trapped inside. Dan realized this, but he didn't quite know how to break free. And to be honest, he wasn't quite sure that he wanted to.
Phil simply carried on, for all appearances blithely unaware of the turmoil that he put Dan through.
XXX
After the last time, Dan had sworn that he was done, over it. They'd had plans to see a gig in town. Just a college band, but Dan had been listening to them off bandcamp for a while, and he'd been really excited to see the show. He thought Phil was as well.
They'd planned to meet at the venue around 7, since Phil was coming from a dinner with Jenny. Obviously.
Dan had arrived around ten past, knowing that Phil was bound to be "fashionably" late, but of course, he was still too early. He leaned against the building next door, playing a game on his phone and trying his best to look inconspicuous.
By 7:30, Dan was starting to get really antsy. He felt like everybody was staring at him, wondering what kind of loser came to a concert alone. Being too distracted to stay alive for more than ten seconds at a go in his game, Dan gave up, composing a text message instead.
"Hey man, I'm at the gig. You want me to grab us tickets?"
Dan fiddled around, scrolling through his depressingly short contact list and clicking through screens at random while he waited for a response.
By quarter till 8, Dan decided he'd take a lap around the block, and if he hadn't heard from Phil, he'd just go in without him.
As he rounded the last corner, he scanned the small crowd around the entrance, his gaze searching longer than strictly necessary to spot a 6'2" man with black hair and an affinity for brightly colored checked tops.
His heart sank further into the pit of his stomach, but Dan decided he needed to man up and just go inside. Phil may have stood him up, but he wasn't going to stop Dan from seeing this show on top of it.
The band was good, Dan supposed, but he'd been too consumed by a feeling of acute awkwardness as he stood alone in a crowd of people to really get into the music. On top of that, he mind was churning, torn between imagining possible perfectly reasonable explanations for Phil's absence and crafting a satisfyingly biting rejection to Phil's sure to be forthcoming apology.
Caught up in the crush of people moving towards the exit after the show, Dan dared to check his phone again. Let's see what Phil has to say for himself, he thought.
Oh. Alright then. Still nothing.
On the trudge back to his room, Dan started imagining Phil having been in some sort of accident. Should he go try to find him? Make sure he's alright?
Thinking he sounded entirely too like his mother for comfort, Dan decided no. As much as he hated to face it, the chances of Phil acting like an ass far outweighed the possibility of some kind of tragedy. If Phil didn't want to talk to him, he didn't want to talk to Phil either.
It wasn't until 6pm the following evening that Dan got a text off Phil. "Hey sorry I couldn't make it last night. I got into some trouble with the Senior on my hall. Maybe another time, yeah?"
Seriously? Dan felt a flush of hot anger wash over him. Not only was it some lame excuse, but he could have easily let him know before the show last night. Or at any point before now. And that was a pretty shite excuse for an apology.
For once, and probably far past due, Dan actually got mad. He was angry at Phil for blowing him off and acting like it was no big deal. He was angry at himself for putting up with this kind of treatment for so long and for still being hung up on Phil. He was such a fool.
He got himself so worked up going over every transgression as they kept popping into his mind, getting more and more affronted by Phil's behavior and disgusted with his own.
Finally deciding enough was enough, Dan pulled up some loud, angsty music leftover from his earlier teenage years on his ipod and went outside for a long walk, hoping he could burn off some his anxious energy. It took a while, but it did work.
Maybe a bit too well, in fact. The next day, when Dan ran into Phil on the way to class, he just didn't really have the energy or the desire for a confrontation. No having ever heard back from Dan, Phil seemed to finally have picked up, at least a bit, on the fact that Dan was upset. He made an attempt at a proper apology, explaining something more about what had happened that night and how crazy everything got that was somehow supposed to explain why he'd never contacted Dan.
To be honest, Dan hadn't paid that much attention. He was so over Phil's bullshit excuses. But instead of calling him out on it, Dan found himself tiredly accepting the apology, just wanting to move on.
Dan realized he wasn't ready, or maybe just not strong enough, to cut Phil out of his life entirely, but he also couldn't keep dealing with the constant disappointment.
He would have to compromise. Dan decided that he just couldn't ever expect anything from Phil. He'd just assume that he wasn't going to call or show up or do what he promised. That way, he could be pleasantly surprised whenever Phil did pull through and skip over all the disappointment and resentment in the meantime. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest approach, but it sure had to beat what he'd gone through the last few months.
XXX
Then it's half midnight at another party. In a basement somewhere, celebrating one occasion or another, music blaring.
"We need to hang out together, just the two of us. We can get drunk and go out. And we should do dinner first," Phil said excitedly.
He had his arms looped around each Dan's' neck, their faces inches apart, obliviously whispering his plans and adoration. Phil was wasted, but Dan had just begun. Phil keeps tilting his head, looking like he's going in for a kiss, and it's all just tearing Dan up inside.
Because he's been disappointed before, and he knows that Phil's just drunk.
Dan forces himself to hold back, even though he so wants to give in. He's been dreaming of a moment like this for months, but...
It's not real, he doesn't mean it. That was the mantra looping in the back of his head, bolstering his resolve.
He humors Phil, scheming ways to rekindle their friendship or whatever the hell Phil's got into his drunken mind, but he doesn't let himself believe any of it. As much as he'd wished for Phil to say all these exact things to him, he's not deluded enough to think that his hollow promises will ever amount to anything real. He's been burned one too many times, and he's finally learned that it's safer to just expect nothing.
So as much as it pains him, Dan's also more than a little proud of himself as he pulls away from Phil, turning his back and slipping off into the crowd.
If nothing else, at least he's no longer a soppy, naive kid setting himself up for disappointment. It's not much comfort, but Dan clings to it as he fights off the tears threatening to choke his already ragged breathing.