Author's Note: The moment you've all been waiting for ... Dan and Phil finally see each other again at Louise's birthday party! I'm afraid they don't just immediately kiss and make up and live happily ever after. But ... baby steps.

Chapter 11
Pretending

Phil was more obsessed with his phone than he'd ever been at any other time in his life. He was always on the alert for notifications of videos Dan had uploaded, or notifications of Dan's tweets, or texts from Louise about how Dan was doing, or even the occasional text from Dan himself, though those were rare.

He'd known that he loved living with Dan. He'd had other flatmates before, back in uni, and he knew the difference between just living with people and truly connecting with them, but he hadn't realized how much Dan had become a part of his moment-by-moment existence until he'd spent months living without him.

So yes, now he was living off whatever crumbs of Dan's life the other man chose to share with him, and it felt utterly pathetic. He was 30 years old, for heaven's sake, and he was watching his phone every moment in hopes that something Dan-related would appear. He was in love, and desperately unhappily so. In love with someone who'd shown no interest in seeing him in months.

Dan looked better in his most recent video. Happier, healthier. And that made Phil glad, but also … it made him wonder if Dan missed him at all. But then … there had been the Tonberry plushie in the background of the last video, lying on the pillow of his bed. Phil remembered when he'd given Dan that plushie, so many years ago, and how the teenage boy had cherished it. Did its presence on Dan's bed mean that he'd been remembering those good times, that he'd been thinking of Phil? He hoped so.

In his own videos, Phil had tried to be his usual cheerful self, but fans in the comments had made it clear that he wasn't entirely succeeding. They said he seemed subdued, that he seemed sad. He hoped that was just "phans" projecting, assuming that he would be sad without Dan, and that it wasn't actually a reflection on his demeanor, but he couldn't help but suspect that his true feelings might show more than he would like. He always made sure that the fairy lights over his headboard weren't in the camera shots, because he wouldn't want anyone else to know how sentimental he'd been when he decided to hang them there … how pathetic and lonely. Or how comforting their feeble light was in the dark at night, reminding him of Dan's bedroom in their old flat. Like he'd found a way to have a piece of Dan here with him.

He watched Dan's videos avidly, but they made him self-conscious, made him remember that terrible argument in the lounge, made him remember things Dan had said about wanting to do something meaningful with his life, implying that the kind of videos he and Phil made together didn't accomplish that goal … that Phil's sort of videos weren't meaningful or important or … enough. Not enough for Dan, anyway.

But Dan was doing what he'd said he wanted: he was making videos about important issues, and in his most recent video he'd even come out as not identifying as male, not buying into the binary definition of gender, which had surprised Phil … not to mention quite a few of the fans. The fan response had been mostly positive, though, which Phil was glad of. Dan was taking real chances, revealing so much about his private feelings, and Phil was glad the fans weren't hurting him more because of it. Phil kept an eye on Dan's subscriber numbers and was happy to see them climbing again. Perhaps he was attracting some different kinds of viewers now with his new type of content, but people were definitely watching.

They were watching Phil's videos, too. Fewer of them, of course, since he'd had fewer subscribers than Dan for years now, but he still had his loyal viewers. But he'd lost some faith in the worth of his own content. Dan had considered it beneath him, and now Phil was doubting himself for the first time since his own teen years. His videos seemed like nothing but froth compared to what Dan was doing. Why was anyone watching him at all? He kept going through his notebook of ideas, kept making a new video every few weeks, but there was a sense of going through the motions, putting on a happy act to try to cheer other people up when inside all he felt was alone.

When there weren't new Dan videos to watch or tweets to read, Phil ghosted around his still-new-feeling flat, sitting on the not-right sofa, watching melancholy anime by himself. He'd been watching a lot of "Fruits Basket" lately, remembering how he and Dan had watched it together and Dan had shown the not-blackness of his soul by falling in love with the show's core message of acceptance and kindness. Phil kept hearing lines in the anime that reminded him of Dan. At one point, Yuki said, "They say that we should love ourselves first, before other people learn to love us, but it's not as easy as it seems. Sometimes, we need someone to accept us and love us first, then we would learn to see ourselves through that person's eyes and learn to love ourself." Phil hoped he had been able to do that for Dan, because Dan did seem to be doing a better job of loving himself than that insecure man-child Phil had first met at the Manchester train station.

He thought maybe Dan had done that for him, too.

They'd loved each other, hadn't they? In some way. At least, he had loved Dan, and he thought that Dan had loved him too, at least as a friend. He wasn't sure about that last part … but the Tonberry plushie gave him hope.

Louise's birthday was coming up, and Phil knew both he and Dan would be invited to whatever gathering she decided to organize. It would be the first time he'd seen Dan since the end of TATINOF. Almost six months. Phil was nervous. Would Dan ignore him? Would they be polite and formal? Or would they fall into their old comfortable banter without missing a step? He had no idea what to expect.

When the night actually arrived, Phil dressed with more care than usual, choosing his blue shirt with the hearts on it, because it was his favorite. They were going to a fairly nice restaurant, so he wore a black blazer over the shirt with a pair of black jeans and thought he looked reasonably smart. He messed with his hair for half an hour before he considered his fringe tolerable.

He decided to walk to the restaurant, since it was only about a mile from his flat and he wanted to work off some of his nervous energy. When he got there, everyone else had already arrived and were milling around the waiting area before being seated. They were all familiar faces, and Phil began hugging people hello immediately, moving from one person to the next, until suddenly he was face-to-face with Dan. He'd been hugging everyone, so it seemed awkward to avoid hugging Dan, but they'd never really hugged much. He leaned in for a light, casual hug, but was surprised when Dan wrapped his arms around him and squeezed more warmly than he had expected. Dan usually wasn't so physically affectionate. When they pulled apart, Phil looked into Dan's face, but Dan stepped away and looked down at the carpet, then over at Louise with a big smile for the birthday girl. He walked away to talk to her, leaving Phil standing there with empty arms and a sore heart.

When the table was ready and everyone seated themselves, Dan and Phil sat next to each other purely by habit, but it was only once the meal had started that Phil realized what a mistake that had been. They did not, as he had hoped, fall back naturally into the old banter. Their conversation was stilted, and Dan spent most of the time talking to Louise, who was seated on his other side. They seemed to have become quite close since she'd come to Dan's rescue some weeks previous. Phil picked at his expensive food and looked around at the familiar faces, all smiling and laughing, and he forced a smile onto his face and tried to pretend to be enjoying himself.

But Dan knew him too well, and began shooting him concerned looks half-way through the meal. Phil broadened his smile and widened his eyes and began telling a funny story about a woman who had talked to him on the Tube last week. But Dan was frowning. He interrupted, leaning close so that no one else could hear as he asked quietly, "Phil? Are you okay?"

Phil beamed at him. "Of course. Where was I?" And he launched back into the story. But Dan looked troubled.

Over dessert, Dan commented that making videos was much more challenging when he couldn't just run them past Phil for advice when he was done. Phil was stunned into silence for a moment, then replied, "You could always send them to me and I could look them over for you." He had visions of collaborating with Dan again, discussing their videos, working together…

But Dan was shaking his head slightly. "I think it's good for me to have to struggle through it on my own, at least for a while. It was too easy, always being able to get your help. I need to learn how to manage alone. But maybe when I've had enough of struggling, I'll come crawling back, begging for your expert editing tips." Everyone laughed, but Phil didn't, feeling spurned. He smiled, though, pretending.

Pretending and pretending and pretending.

When everyone was milling near the front door of the restaurant, taking leave of each other and giving hugs goodbye, Phil made sure to hug Louise warmly, but then to avoid being near Dan. He didn't think he could handle another of those close hugs without losing it entirely and bursting into tears in front of everyone. So he just made sure that plenty of people were between them, and then waved a jaunty goodbye to the group before putting his hands into his coat pockets and striding away on legs that were thankfully long enough to get him away before anyone—like Dan—even realized he was leaving.

When he got home, he changed into his pyjamas and a warm jumper and made microwave popcorn, despite the fancy meal he'd just eaten. He'd barely picked at his food, anyway, too nervous with Dan sat right beside him. He sat down on the sofa with his bowl of popcorn and turned on "Fruits Basket" again. He was in the mood for some kindness and compassion. And maybe Yuki would have more wisdom to offer.