phan one shots

stained glass

For some reason, Dan didn't like the apprehension and anxiety etched over his soft features, and felt a strange urge to say something that would smooth away the worried crinkles forming between his arched brows. He approached him carefully, sinking down beside him on the floor warmed by sunlight, and was immediately dizzied by the close proximity, the detail of each gorgeous feature, the warmth he radiated, and that scent. It was intoxicating, a mix of lemon shampoo and soap and something that was entirely unique to his being. He immediately felt a spark of infatuation.

Who was the beautiful boy sitting in an empty church?

"Hi."

He spoke the word gently, softening his greeting in lace and allowing the slight spike of panic he felt bleed through, wondering if a sign that he too was a socially awkward freak might put the boy at ease.

He seemed to momentarily freeze, his lips parting in shock. As though he hadn't really expected Dan to talk to him. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, brushing and smoothing down his wayward strands of midnight hair before forcing out a response.

"H-hello..."

Dan had to resist the temptation to coo. His voice was deeper than his, but it somehow seemed lighter, layered with more nervousness, sweetened into a pretty lullaby threaded with sunshine. He spoke as though the air itself were delicate, though his words seemed to echo in the silent room.

He offered him a weak smile, his dimple making an appearance. He blinked slowly, and glanced around, the color behind his eyes jumping to the edges of the deep pools.

"I'm Dan."

The boy tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, and grasped at the sleeve of his bright sweatshirt. He seemed to roll his name around in his head, gaze flickering to meet his for a second before moving away again.

"U-um...h-hi Dan."

So fucking cute.

"And you are?" He prompted, laughing softly at the dark blush that bloomed on his pale cheeks.

"R-right, right, sorry," He murmured, mumbling something under his breath, and twisting his nimble fingers together. "I'm Phil."

Phil.

The name suited him well.

He smiled, a bit more confidently this time, and turned his attention back to the windows, taking in the art etched in their depths.

He saw Phil's shoulders sink slightly now that his attention wasn't fully on him, and follow his gaze.

"Do you come here often too?"

Phil jumped again at his question, scrambling in a panicked state for an answer. Dan wanted to grab his shoulder and tell him to calm down, but he was pretty sure that would only freak him out even more.

He patiently waited while he got his bearings.

"U-um yes," He finally forced out in a voice just above a whisper. "But, mostly on Tuesdays, or Saturdays. I-I'm not v-very religious but..."

Phil trailed off, words dying as though he'd decided half way through that it wasn't important, and his lips tugged into a distressed frown.

"But...?" Dan continued for him kindly, and Phil let out a tiny puff of air.

"B-but I l-like it here. I like the art, and the quiet. It's just...It's peaceful and calming...it makes me feel better," He sighed gently, seeming to relax a bit once he'd finished talking. Dan opened his mouth to reply, but Phil jumped, face lighting up.