phan™

e

Dan swears he's going to scream. If one more stupid reporter, or fan, or coworker hint at him and Phil. Hint at them being together, a couple, in love, married. He will end up screeching if one more bright, smiling interviewer implies that him and Phil are somehow more than friends. Because, that is all that they are. Friends. And if Dan is perfectly honest with himself they aren't even that. He knows he just has to live for two more minutes, just two more. So Dan re-plasters on his fake smile and watches Phil give his accolading farewell to the crowd of fans that is sitting in the seats below them. Phil's a natural really, with fans, with mentioning Dan, and sneaking glances at him.

The perfect business partner. They should've called this The Amazing Lie Is Not On Fire.
Dan starts counting to one hundred and twenty in his head. By one-eighteen it's all over. Finally. Dan gives a halfhearted wave and disappears behind the edges of the stage with Phil at his heels. The mask is dissolving off of Dan's face, not completely. Not yet, not until they are out of the public eye—away from backstage techs and pages and any wayward fans, then he will finally be able to sink into reality. Or—more aptly hide from the world in his room with the door locked and ignore the existence of all other human beings—especially the other human being who will be residing in the flat.
Phil is saying something. Dan isn't listening. If he's being blunt with himself, he doesn't care. All he can think is that it's one more over, one more appearance down—out of an infinite amount. He snaps something rude at Phil just to get him to shut up. This is a skill that Dan has gotten all too adept at over the past two years. Getting Phil to piss off and leave him alone by being an asshole. He should have a shiny, framed Master's Degree in that exact expertise.
It's one thing to live with your best friend.
It's another to be inexplicably associated with a person who you share cold silences with unless on camera or being watched.
Dan should've known what he was getting into when he had decided that Phan was the perfect brand name to make his career soar. Not that it hadn't worked...because Phan is what pays Dan's bills. It made him famous.
Phan is his career. Even if it had once been more than that.
-
Dan just wants to go home. He wants to be there already, enraptured in familiarity and divided by walls. But instead he has to endure the rest of this bus ride. Endless monotony of wheels spinning on pavement, and Phil silently reading a novel in the seat across from him.
If Dan weren't feeling generally salty he might actually try to engage in conversation with Phil. Maybe even stiffly apologize for being an arse. He would smooth a rigid laugh at one of Phil's poor attempts at a joke to soften things between them. Even though Dan knows a bit more congeniality on his part would make all of the Next Times easier, he can't quite muster the effort.
Phil is all frowns and fringe, not even noticing that Dan is staring at him, watching Phil's eyes flick across the page through the glare of his glasses. At one point in time Dan might've found the way Phil's teeth dig into his bottom lip in captivation endearing.
Now, he grinds his jaw and tries to brush off the flick of irritation.
-
Dan toes off his shoes the moment they walk through the door to the flat and makes a beeline for his room. He collapses face-first onto his duvet and just breathes in the familiar smell of the fabric softener they use. God, he is just so glad to be home.
The door closed. The space free of prying eyes.
He hadn't quite realized just how exhausted he was, until now. Now Dan is distinctly aware that his feet are sore from standing all day, lower back aching from the car drive and attempts at good posture. All of his muscles just feel weak.
But now Dan is home and he can peel off his jeans and curl up under the covers and sleep for twelve hours until Phil banging ape-like around the kitchen will wake him up and Dan will be forced to face the reality of daylight. Even if it is noon by the time he normally gets up. The fact that his sleeping habits annoy Phil makes keeping them up all the more rewarding.
Dan tries to ignore the fact that in a few very short days he will have to do this all over again.
Another bus ride.
Another city. More fans, more onlookers, more 'shippers'. More acting.
And then Dan is nearly tempted to cry. But this is what he wanted isn't it? To be famous, successful? This is what Dan wanted.
-
Some stupid fan brings it up—so maybe she's not stupid, but Dan can't help but feel bitter—and then he can't stop thinking about it. It echoes through Dan's mind for the rest of the Meet and Greet. And the very next moment that Dan has alone. (Which admittedly, he hides in a loo...)
Dan watches it.
He's an idiot. And in that moment that he actually types in the dreaded words to the YouTube App search bar on his phone, Dan has never hated himself more.
Because while that fangirl with the dip dyed hair and nervous giggle might enjoy this, Dan can't.
He feels sick.
More than that, he's angry.
Angry that he can't turn back time and stop himself from ever agreeing to the video.
But Fetus Dan is laughing at something Fetus Phil just said, and they both have cringe-worthy hair but they both look so goddamn happy. Even with the shitty camera quality and the poor editing, the emotions still leak through the footage. Dan just wants to scream at his former self to stop flirting, you fucking idiot! but instead he watches Phil tackle the younger him to the ground.
Then there's a jump cut. Nice editing there, Phillip, Dan thinks. As if it wasn't obvious, as if no one would be able to tell.
Or maybe it's only obvious to Dan because he knows exactly what happened in those seconds that Phil cut out.
In the moment Dan had thought it was an accident at first, that Phil's lips had just accidentally collided with his.
But—of course--the aftermath had proved that completely wrong. Dan simply stares at the end shot of the video. Heart hands and nervous smiles.
It makes him angry, something in Dan's gut curls at the sight of him and Phil like this. So comfortable with each other, so couple-like, so...different. And of course they'll make a Phil Is Not On Fire 7, with cat whiskers for the 'lols'. But it will never be like before.
Dan decides he's been hiding away for too long, and he should actually get back to his job. He tucks his phone away, and tries to remember what he's supposed to be. Who he is supposed to act enamored with. The persona is almost natural to slip into.
Dan Is Not On Fire and his best-friend (maybe lover) Amazing Phil, the dynamic duo. Just like they were in 2009 but with better cameras and better hair.
-
Dan likes America, it's nice. The people are a lot more upfront about things, loud and all busy looking. They have accents that Phil likes to make fun of, and there actually aren't as many people walking around carrying guns, despite what Dan always expects. Times Square is already decked out for Christmas, and the architecture is all significantly newer than in London.
But he's just too tired to enjoy it. He would much rather be wandering the city than cramped in a Barnes and Noble suffocated by copies of a book he and Phil wrote together. The air just seems too stuffy inside. Dan's head is drifting away to the brisk breeze outdoors and the busy streets.
Well, fuck, he finishes scrawling his name and glares at the barely legible signature. When had his handwriting gotten so much worse?
He's just tired is all. Tired, and there are still a hundred more books to sign, before they go to another city. Chicago and L.A. Hundreds more books, hundreds more signatures.
And now there's another copy in front of him again.
"Hi there,"he says with a smile to the fan in front of him, leaning over he pages to scrawl across them.
"Dan?" He looks up at his name, his eyes meeting Phil's. It's not the usual look he gets from Phil, so it isn't what Dan is expecting. Concern, and worry don't really register in his brain until he realizes.
He dropped his pen.
It just slid out of his fingers onto the copy of their book.
"Are you okay?,"Phil is asking, quiet enough that the other's in the line waiting on them can't hear. But surely the wide eyed fan in front of Dan has also noticed. Suddenly Dan feels extremely stupid. His fingers are twitching oddly, and he fumbles three times to pick back up the pen. Finally managing to force a shaky signature and hand the book back to its owner.
He's just tired.
It's the stress and the jet lag and the copious amount of autographs that Dan has been giving out as of late. He should do hand exercises or something.
-
Los Angeles and Chicago go well enough. Dan struggles against his left handedness and butterfingers, and he ends up dropping various items throughout the time. But it's nothing like the New York Incident. Maybe the rest on the plane flights is finally doing Dan some good.
L.A. is sunny, even in November, and rife with the YouTube community. It's his and Phil's last day in the United States, and in California, so they're supposed to be collaborating with Tyler Oakley and a few other Los Angeles based YouTubers.
Tyler has enough energy to brighten up both him and Phil, and sitting between the two of them as they film actually let's Dan relax. His shoulders loosen, his smile becomes less rigid. The video filming doesn't take very long, Tyler offers to take them out into metro L.A. Tyler does most of the talking. Phil chiming in for Dan's silences. It's almost okay. It's almost like they are all friends. And Dan can almost imagine that he's just an average tourist from London, visiting a friend in America. There's a Thai restaurant that Tyler recommends. And because the hostess recognizes Tyler they end up getting to avoid the half an hour wait to be seated. Everything is dreamily alright--then Dan's phone chimes. Phil's still laughing at an innuendo of Tyler's as he reads the text, and tries to answer.
"Your hand is shaking,"Tyler says quietly. Dan flinches at the comment, he hadn't realized Tyler was even watching him. Much less, noticing his struggle.
His fingers blunder over the screen. Like Dan's hands just won't listen to him as he tells them what to do. They have a mind of their own. When Dan voices this aloud, Phil giggles, then quickly blurts,"Sorry, that's just really funny."
"Yeah,"Dan mumbles, his face heating. He is just so stupid, why can't he answer a fucking text for god's sake?! The only letters he's managed to type are utter nonsense. "It's—it's been doing that."
"For how long?" Dan doesn't answer Tyler, but Phil does. He wants to stab him for it.
"Since we first got to America, right? But, he's always been jittery."
Dan grits his teeth and twitches his thumb clumsily, erasing everything he has typed and starting again. Or trying to. For once actually thanking heaven for auto correct, because it makes his misspelled attempts legible. "It gets better after a bit."
He can physically feel Tyler's gaze,"You should get that looked at."
"No, no,"he brushes it off,"Phil's right. I'm jittery. It's why I always make so many typos. I think my hands are just giving up after all of those books signings."
"I get that,"Tyler says slowly,"But, even after Binge...my hands were tired, but not like that, I mean--."
"Leave it, Ty,"Phil snaps, cutting the bouncy American off sharply,"If Dan says he's fine, than he's fine."
Tyler frowns pointedly at his drink. Phil glares at Dan. And Dan is tempted to throw his phone against the wall. Because the illusion of normality is shattered again, and he still can't type like a normal human being.
But—at least Phil is right. He's fine. Yes, his left hand is acting up and it's frustrating, but not worrying. Not yet, anyways.
-