Dan could feel his lip trembling in an effort to form something, anything, to say. But he was caught between making up something about his hair straightener, blaming the hickey on someone else (there was literally no one in Dan's book that would have been believable, anyway), and denying the knowledge of its existence. But he already had his hand up to his neck; that cut out not knowing about it. He couldn't make up a person fast enough. And an excuse that it was a burn or rash... from what? Foolishly, he hadn't given a thought to what sort of explanation he'd have for anyone who saw it. And... now he'd been giving Phil the look a lion's prey gives when it is caught unawares, just about to be devoured, and his just-too-long silence had already given the answer away.
But Phil, through some miracle of being the nice person he was, still had the grace to make sure. "Is that what I think it is?"
Dan was half tempted to play dumb and ask what exactly Phil thought it was. But he knew better. He just nodded mutely, watching his flatmate's face, which was unreadable.
The coffee he'd been drinking was already rising in his stomach. Phil was going to know. Phil's going to know and he's going to know I didn't tell him-
"Did I...?" Phil didn't finish the question, and because he didn't need to. They both knew what they were talking about. They both knew Dan knew what they were talking about. Dan nodded again and wished he could close his eyes to shut himself off from the reality that his entire cover had just been blown. And now Phil was going to start yelling at him, and then they'd stop being friends, and he'd lose Phil forever.
But instead, he watched Phil loosen his jaw a little and say, in a very tight, controlled voice, "What happened last night?"
Dan exhaled and scratched the back of his neck to save himself a little bit of time. Phil knew he hadn't told the whole story now. And there wasn't anything that could stop him from finding it out. But he wasn't yelling... Might as well say it how it was.
"You joined that game that was going on by the kitchen, right?" Dan started uncertainly. Phil gave an affirmative grunt. "...Right," Dan muttered, trying to imagine his sweet, docile friend downing shots. "You were gone for a really long time, and PJ told me he'd found you in the bathroom and I needed to take you home."
"In the bathroom?" Phil's brow creased. Did I throw up?"
Thank God, he doesn't remember. Maybe he didn't have to tell Phil everything. "Um... yeah, you did. When I came in, you were um... drunk..." Dan faltered, unsure whether it was an intrusion upon Phil's dignity to let him know how bad the scene had been. "You weren't having fun, so I said we could go home. I helped you downstairs and..." Dan swallowed. "We took a cab home, and I put you to bed." Phil looked up sharply. "By yourself," Dan added with force.
"Alright..." Phil leaned back to steady himself against the fridge; Dan hadn't noticed how close he was. "I still don't understand. So when did thishappen?" He gestured to the mark below Dan's jawline. Dan bit his lip; Phil's voice had an edge to it now.
"Um, well. That was on the stairs." Dan fiddled with the edge of the countertop, trying to figure out what exactly to say. Phil's eyebrows shot up into his fringe.
"Were you drunk?"
Dan wanted desperately to hide somewhere, preferably a hole in the ground where no one would find him for at least the next hundred years. "No."
Phil didn't say anything. Dan's eyes dropped downward, fixing on his own fingers and their relentless picking at the counter.
"Dan... we can't keep doing this." Dan's fingers paused. Phil swallowed hard. "I'm your best friend. I'm your flatmate. I'm not... I'm not... someone for you to play around with."
"What?" Dan looked up, startled. Dan, playing around with Phil? Phil was the one who kissed him! "I didn't ask for you to come onto me-"
"Well it certainly looks like you enjoyed it," Phil said acidly, and Dan's throat and eyes stung, because he knew there was something to what Phil was saying, but he didn't want to admit it. A hickey didn't just appear of its own accord. It would have taken some time to form, and that meant time in which Dan didn't seem to mind his flatmate kissing him. And he was guilty.
"Phil, it wasn't like that!"
"What was it like, then?" Phil sounded close to tears, and all the sudden his eyes were glassy. No, no, no, this couldn't happen, not again. "Because if it wasn't 'like that', what was it? Nothing? Is that what everything I do is to you? Nothing? Is that everything you do means? Because it's been more than once, now." Phil stepped away from the fridge, turning his back, probably so Dan wouldn't see the tears.
"No, Phil- Phil, listen! You were upset, alright, you were crying, and I was just trying to help you down the stairs, okay, I didn't know what to do..." He set his hand on Phil's shoulder, and Phil shrugged it off.
"You didn't know what to do, so it was all fine? Because everything is meaningless to you?"
Dan attempted to walk around to face his friend, but Phil just turned away again. Dan gave a frustrated sigh. "Stop it, Phil, that's not true and you know it. I threw you off and we went home and you didn't even try anything else, okay? Nothing even happened!" Dan was near shouting now, and he willed himself to calm down for the sake of his flatmate's well-being. Phil sniffled.
"So it really didn't mean anything to you," Phil said quietly, his voice dead.
"What?"
"Nothing... none of it meant anything. You're just going to keep pretending like nothing ever happened." Phil squared his shoulders and finally looked up, and Dan saw that there were, indeed, tears rolling down his cheeks. There had been far too many of those lately. How many had been ones Dan hadn't seen? "You were just going to pretend like everything was fine. You weren't going to tell me at all."
Dan didn't reply, but his omission was answer enough. Phil nodded to himself.
"And to think, I thought..." he shook his head. "I think I need to go get some fresh air."
Dan couldn't say anything. He couldn't think of anything to do while he followed his flatmate to the front room, watching as Phil gathered his silvery space coat from the closet and pulled it on. Everything Dan said made it worse; everything he withheld, Phil had found out, and it had all added up to ruin Phil that much more than before. Except there was one thing Phil didn't know, and if Dan didn't say it now, he'd never say it.
"I kissed you," Dan whispered, and he was almost afraid Phil wouldn't hear it over the rustling, but Phil paused.
"You what?"
"I... kissed you." Immediately Dan regretted saying anything as emotions flashed behind Phil's eyes, none of them looking particularly happy. "I made sure you were cleaned up at PJ's, and I tried everything to stop you crying, and I put you to bed. And I... kissed you goodnight." Phil was listening, but his eyes weren't on Dan. They were far away, locked on something Dan couldn't see. "It's not what you think at all, Phil. It's like..." He wanted to say something meaningful. Something to show Phil that he was sincere in everything he'd done so far. Because the man standing there at the top of their stairs, the man who was about to walk away, was the most important person in his life, more than anyone could ever know. But the feelings were all muddled, mixing and mashing with confusion and fear, and all he could get out was, "...I don't know. But it's like something."
Dan held his breath. Phil stared at him for a few seconds with wide eyes, then he smiled. Sadly.
"Dan... I don't think you even know what you mean... you're confused." Phil turned and started to thump down the stairs. "I'll be back," he called, and before Dan knew what was happening, Phil was out the door and into the outside world.
Dan stood numbly. What had Phil just said? Why... why didn't Phil believe him?
Dan knew why. He had acted poorly to Phil because, like Phil had every right to say, Dan was confused. And he hadn't gotten up the nerve to say one goddamn sure thing about how he felt, and now the man he loved was gone. And when Phil came back, it would be over. Things would never be the same again.
The man he loved. He knew that; yes, that was that something. It was that nice feeling, it was the something, it was the reason why he was so fucked up about this. Love. Because he loved Phil. But he hadn't admitted it to himself until it was too late.
Maybe... maybe he could fix things. Maybe. And maybe not. Right now... right now he needed someone to know what he was feeling, and he couldn't wait however long for Phil to get back and only end up botching their friendship all over again.
He needed to tell someone. And someone had just offered a listening ear last night.
Dan took his phone from his pocket, almost disappointed that he didn't have any texts or calls from Phil, and found the contact he wanted, pressing the little green dial button and waiting for it ring.
"Hello?"
"Hey PJ. Are you busy right now?"
Dan heard some shuffling in the background. "Nah... just cleaning up a bit."
"I'm coming over."