phils pov

I watch maybe-Dan pull out of the parking space as my heart sinks. The feeling of a metal ball growing heavier in my gut deepens with the distance between my car and maybe-Dan's car driving away, and I realize how insane I'm being. Just because it looked like he was typing on his phone after I sent messages to my soulmate, which I noticed only because I creepily watched him for several minutes, and because I felt some weird attraction to him (yeah, those are called hormones, thanks, puberty) suddenly he's my soulmate?

Forcing myself to get a fucking grip, I shake off the encounter, steel myself, and drive home. But I just can't shake off the feeling, that gut instinct deep within myself that's practically screaming at me to listen to what it's saying. So on the ride back to my house, I decide there's no harm in doing a little investigating. I mean, I should at least know for sure this boy's name if I'm considering the possibility of being with him for the rest of my life.

A few minutes later, I'm pulling into my driveway and haphazardly parking my car in the garage. I don't brake as soon as I should, and my back slams into the seat as I'm jolted around the car by my sudden stop. I get out and take my backpack out of the backseat, then, slinging it over my shoulder and sighing at my shitty park job, I shut the car doors a bit too forcefully and enter my house.

My mom is at work by now, and both my parents won't be home for another couple of hours. It's nice having the house to myself; I like the peace and quiet I didn't usually have as a kid. I walk through the kitchen, grabbing a box of crackers from the cabinet as I go, and head upstairs into my room. I toss my backpack onto my bed and then sit down at my desk. There's a bookshelf next to it, and I wheel my rolly chair to the edge of the chair mat and lean over the armrest to scan the shelves.

My eyes glance over my favorite novels and comics, books I've read for class (and haven't touched since), video games, and other assorted trinkets decorating the bookshelf until I find my yearbook from last year. I reach over and ease it out, then bring it into my lap and roll back over to the center of my desk. I flip through it, skimming the pages until I reach the "People" section. Faces flash before me, and I try to associate the awkward school photos with that boy from today. Finally, one picture jumps out at me and my brain instantly makes the connection; my eyes flit to the side of the page, and there his name is listed.

I was right. It's Dan.

Dan Howell. Daniel Howell. Daniel. Dan.

I smile slightly and then my eyes drift back over to his picture, his quirky smile just barely showing his teeth, his not-quite-done hair with a curl out of place, his faded black t-shirt no doubt having some band's album cover on it. Finally satisfied with at least knowing this boy's name, I close the yearbook and replace it on my shelf. But I wish I can say that's the last of my investigating today. I'm ashamed to admit I may have done a little bit *cough cough* more investigating.

I scour the school website, the local paper, and just straight up google his name for anything else I can find on him. I find his parents Facebook's, his private Instagram (damn), and some other people's social media's who are either friends or relatives of his, along with a couple articles relating to him. I discover he is or was a part of a local music group where he played keyboard by an outdated announcement from the venue. I discover he and his parents are members of a Catholic church in the area from the church's newsletter listing names of those confirmed from several years ago. And I discover he got third place in a short film festival's teen division a few years ago from the organization's website. After deciding I've found everthing I can from literally stalking this boy online, I pick up my phone, open Instagram, and request to follow him.

I instantly regret it. Panic starts to set in. He saw me after school today, too; what if he knows I was stalking him? Why else would I just randomly request to follow him?! I glance at the clock and realize it's been an hour since school ended. I've been stalking this guy. For an hour. I look back at my computer open at my desk, displaying all of Dan's achievements and relationships, his life, and I begin closing all the tabs in disgust. Hopefully, now that it's been an hour he won't make the connection and think I'm weird, just searching for him on Instagram. I sigh and flop onto my bed, waiting.

dans pov

I'm laying on the couch in my living room watching Netflix (as usual) when a notification from Instagram pops up: [danielhowell]: Phil Lester ( amazingphil) has requested to follow you. I look at it in confusion for a second as I try to think of anyone I know named Phil. I can't place the name, so I leave the request to deal with later and return to watching an episode of Friends I've already seen a thousand times. 10 minutes later, after it's over, I close Netflix and return to my kitchen for more snacks, opening Instagram as I do so. Clicking over to the page, I open this Phil guy's profile to check it out. His name is listed in his bio as well as the name of my school and the year he graduates. It's the same as mine, so he must be in my grade; I click confirm on the request and also request to follow him.

About a minute later as I'm munching on some Goldfish, I see he has accepted my request so I tap on his profile once again. He only has a few posts, mostly boring nature pics from past vacations, but he also posted some pictures from homecoming last year, a large group of guys with only a few girls, which isn't surprising. A lot of people think it's kind of pointless to go out with someone if you haven't gotten connected yet, and at our age not many people have. I scan the picture and recognize many of them, and then I get to the guy on the far right and- it's the guy from today. In the car. Next to mine. With the staring. And the typing. And the suspicion, the feeling, that this boy is my soulmate.

The Goldfish lay abandoned on my kitchen table as I rush upstairs to my room. I grab my yearbook from last year from one of my desk drawers and quickly flip through the pages to find Phil Lester, the name listed in the bio. And- there he is. Philip Lester, page 154. I stare at his lopsided grin, his floppy black hair, his pressed blue button-down that perfectly brings out the color of his eyes. He's beautiful. I smile as I gaze down at him, then I close the yearbook and ridiculously hug it close to my chest like a wistful teenage girl in love. Well, I'm a teenage boy in love so I guess- wait. In love? I don't even know him!

Carefully, I take my yearbook and flip it open to the page again. When I glance down at his smiling face again, I know. I know he's my soulmate. I can't explain it. I just... I do! I almost laugh out loud with glee. I guess the universe really knows what it's doing, I think with a small smile.

I close the yearbook and put it on the corner of my desk, certain I'll be opening it again just to look at him once more tonight. We can't be together yet, because I know I'll have to work on my super religious parents first and tell them about everything. But I'm going to tell them tonight. Maybe not all of it, but at least tell them I'm gay. It won't be easy. I glance at my yearbook, then my phone, knowing that he's only a text message or a phone call away. Talking to my parents won't be easy. Being open about myself to my friends, to my school, my community, won't be easy. But I have to. For myself. For Phil.

A/N: hey guys! hope you enjoyed this chapter. as always fav, follow, and review! i'm getting really excited about this fic. so much so that i'm writing instead of studying for finals this week. wish me luck guys. ~l