"I'm ready to breath again,
I'm beginning to catch my breath
I'm ready to dream again,
Surviving what left me for dead"
***
Elliot was leaving in two weeks; the day after FTC, which he kept trying to say was a good thing, but they all knew it didn't matter. They'd rather not do the competition at all and have him stay than anything.
And Audrey wasn't taking the news too well, either, if not worse. Phil was starting to realize that their relationship was a lot more serious than he'd been thinking, and this whole moving business wasn't easy on the both of them. They spent a lot of time together, trying to make the best of it he assumed, and Phil was there when it became too much for Grayson to handle. Him and Elliot had worked things out, somewhat, but it was still hard to just get over completely.
"What do you think it'll be like without him?" Gray asked softly, staring up at the ceiling of his room glumly and clutching his the front of his shirt tightly. Phil watched him, looking for any telltale signs of a breakdown, because he'd been doing that a lot lately; breaking down. Maybe it was healthy, letting him get it all out without any violence or malice, but it was horrible to watch.
"You shouldn't think about that."
"Yeah, let me just forget about it, right?" He smirked. "My best friend, possibly the only person who gets me, and he's leaving and I won't ever get to see him face-to-face or call him at three in the morning because I can't sleep or talk to him about the stupid fucking stars like we used to. I'll just forget all that, okay?"
He knew that trying to reassure him wouldn't work, he'd just angry and tell Phil to leave, so he just sat and stared at his shoes, useless as he was.
Gray wasn't the only one that would miss Elliot, but Phil knew it would probably affect him the most.
"I mean," Grayson said in a shaky voice. "At least he knows how I feel about him. Even if it didn't go the way I planned, at least he knows. If he had left and I'd never said anything...god, I would have gone insane."
Phil moved from where he was sitting at his desk towards his bed, laying out beside Grayson and looking up as well. "He's not the only guy out there, you know," he said in the least accusing tone possible, hoping he was coming across as reassuring and not asshole-ish. "It won't be good at first, sure, but...it'll get easier. And maybe you'll find someone else."
Grayson tried to laugh, but it died in his throat and all that came out was a strangled gasp. "Yeah, I'm sure, but he's here right now, so what else am I supposed to do?"
And yeah, there was no good answer to that, so Phil just kept his mouth shut and let him wallow in peace.
"God, just forget about my stupid problems for now," Grayson said, turning onto his side and giving him a curious look. Phil turned to face him. "What about you?"
"What about me?" Phil asked mechanically, shifting uncomfortably at the sudden subject change. He wasn't used to people asking about him, his life; it was unsettling.
"You and Dan." Gray shoved his shoulder lightly. "Are you even gonna try and talk to him? Someone in this fucked up equation needs to be happy, and we're all rooting for you."
Phil shook his head. "I don't think it's such a good idea."
"And why's that?"
"Look, I miss him. There's not a day that goes by that I don't miss him, and what we had," Phil said. "And sure, maybe I've resolved some of the problems we had, but...I'm still terrified that I'm not good enough. He can do so much better, and we both know it."
"You're the worst kind of pessimist," Grayson said, and Phil rolled his eyes. "Why do you like him?"
"That's not important."
"Tell me."
"Jeez, I don't know," Phil said, dragging a hand through his hair. "He's...nice. And funny. He has a nice voice, even when he's not singing." He paused, and Grayson gave him an impatient look, waiting for him to continue. "And he's just a great person, okay? He know how to have a conversation without being annoying, and he's not afraid to start an argument about stupid, small thing that matter to him, and he's got the most creative fucking mind, it's absolutely thrilling. And he's gorgeous, and he makes me laugh like no one else can, and he..." He suddenly can't breath around the lump in his throat, and he cut himself off, shaking his head.
"What would you do to get him back?" Grayson asked softly. Phil nearly choked on his answer.
"Anything."
***
He'd been through a lot the past week. Hell, the last two days had been more stressful and emotion-filled than he'd ever experienced before, and it was hard enough making the conscious decision to climb out of bed every morning, let alone make an attempt to try and patch up whatever could possibly be left between him and Dan. It was this constant weight that sat on his shoulders, going over and over and over the good and bad thing that would happen, and he tried his best to shut it out, but to no avail.
And so by the time Friday rolled around, he'd decided he would go to TCEs gig. It was at eleven, only a few blocks away at some club that Phil had never heard of, and it wouldn't be that hard to sneak out. Or maybe he just had more motivation to, for this situation.
He was just also terrified; of getting caught, of getting turned down, of fucking things up even more than they were already. Because what would he do then? This was, quite possibly, the one and only chance he had left to show he was good enough. At least, it felt that way.
He stayed in his room until it was time to go, scared that his parents would pick up on the nervous vibes he was practically sweating through his pores, and instantly know he was planning on doing something outside their bounds of acceptable, and by the time he'd climbed out of his window and into his car, he was a mess of twisted nerves and contradicting thoughts. Was he doing the right thing? Would this make any sort of difference, to anything?
Inside the club was a lot more crowded than he'd been expecting, and he barely made it to the door that led backstage without being trampled to death by the mostly drunk and impatient patrons.
He had no idea where to go, or if he was even allowed to be in this part of the building, but there wasn't much room to second-guess the possible consequences of it.
He passed through hallway after hallway, all twisting and turning like some impossible maze that he would never get out of, and just as he was starting to think this was a mistake altogether and leaving would be the best idea, he suddenly pushed through a set of thick curtains, and he was backstage, surrounded by equipment and wires taped to the walls and floors carefully. It was hot, the smell of sweat permeating the air and the humidity making him start perspiring immediately.
And not ten feet away, all standing as far apart as it seemed possible, was TCE.
He was standing in the shadows of the back walls, hidden by a few tall speakers and heavy looking cases, so they couldn't see him. The sight of Dan, standing by the curtains toward the stage, made him stop breathing for a second. The lights from the main room splashed across his face and the skin of his throat like phosphorescent paint, making him look unreal.
There was no easy way to approach this, at all, but there was no way he was just going to walk out and demand that Dan talk to him; they would most definitely have him thrown out of the place or harassment or something, and he was not going to let this chance slip so easily away from him. He pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a text to Dan.
phil:
are you busy?
Dan let the curtain drop back into place, the light disappearing and casting his face into deep shadows again, and pulled out his phone. Even from were he was standing, Phil could visibly see the tension that crossed Dan's back and shoulders as he opened the message.
ex-lover:
a little. why?
phil:
we need to talk.
like, right now
It took a few minutes for Dan to respond.
ex-lover:
this really isn't the best time, later??
phil:
meet me by the backdoors it'll only take a few minutes. i swear
He didn't stay to see if Dan opened his message, but went to stand by the back doors that would lead out into the parking lot, and swore that if he waited any longer than five minutes, he would take it as a lost cause and leave.
He didn't know what to say. Fuck, he really hasn't thought this through, didn't have any sort of plan; how the hell had he expected this to play out, just apologize and hoped that, by some magical feat, Dan would forgive him? Stupid, he was fucking stupid and he was only going to make things worse for-
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Phil looked up and met Dan's gaze, practically shaking when he realized this was the closest they'd been to each other in the last few weeks. And Dan looked anything but glad to see him.
"I know I shouldn't have come," Phil started weakly, frantically trying to put his words together in a way that would make sense and wouldn't piss Dan off. "But I need to say this, and I need you to listen to me. At least give me that."
Dan shook his head. "If you're going to apologize to me-"
"I'm not." He ignored the weight that was beginning to shatter the bones in his chest and continued. "Look, you told me that...I didn't make you happy. The relationship we had, it was all kinds of messed up, and I have done so many things that only made it worse. And I get it, I understand why you didn't want that anymore."
"Then why are you here?" Dan asked thickly, staring at the wall beside him rather than meeting his eyes. Phil watched him dejectedly.
"Because you also said that this wasn't forever. That we could start over, and not make the same mistakes." He reached out slowly, tracing his fingertips against the back of Dan's hand. "I want to do that."
"Phil..." Dan said, pulling away from his touch. "You can't just....you can't waltz in here, give me this sympathetic speech about how messed up we were, and promise it'll be better. You can't expect me to accept that." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "This, every single miserable thing we went through? It will always be there, whether we want to change it or not, and I can't bring myself to just deal with it, like it never happened."
"And I'm not asking you to." Phil protested. "I know this is gonna leave a huge mark, and nothing I say or do, nothing we do, will erase. But that's how it's supposed to be, that's how we get better. We move on, and when things get bad, we don't avoid it like we used to."
He was pleading at this point, desperate to make Dan see his side and attempt to reconcile what they were before.
He knew they wouldn't be perfect. They never had been, and that was something they would come to terms with, because it wouldn't matter as long as they had each other.
"I hate this so much," Phil said quietly, "tiptoeing around you, pretending like I don't care whenever I see you with PJ, staring at you when you're not looking. It's killing me, and maybe you don't feel a damn thing about me anymore, but you still mean the world to me. So what else am I supposed to do, if I can't try?"
Dan didn't say anything to that, and the darkness of the backstage surrounded them like a shroud of privacy and secrets, pushing into his lungs and making him suffocate, but he didn't react. His heart was beating in his chest, and he swore he could feel it in the palms of his hands, and the soles of his feet, and quick tempo that almost made him nervous all over again.
"Dan." They both turned at the sound of a new voice, PJ standing a few feet away and staring at the pair curiously. "We're on in three minutes."
"Yeah, okay," Dan said to him, his voice catching slightly. He turned back to Phil. "I have to go."
"Wait, Dan--"
"What do you want me to say to all of that?" Dan exclaimed, stepping backwards, towards where his band mates were waiting. "Look, maybe we're just not meant for each other, okay? Maybe it never would have worked out between us, and maybe it never will."
And that was it. Dan left, and Phil stood there in that small area for what felt like years, as if he was waiting for Dan to come back and act like the whole thing had been a joke. A cruel joke, but God, he would take anything but this right now.
He didn't stay to hear them play. He didn't think he'd be able to bear that, so he exited through that back door, out into the empty alleyway between this building and the one next door, uncaring of the cold air that seeped into his clothes immediately.
***
a/n: w-what?? an update? is the world finally ending??
two months, it's been two months since i last update this, feel free to cyber bully me i deserve it, honestly. sorry for the wait, idk whY IVE HAD SM TROUBLE WITH THIS CHAPTER
time for an unreasonably long note about the recent things going on in my life !!
•i changed my username ! the long reign of fearmeplease is dead, an era has ended, and we grace this new title with a chance at daylight
•stranger things is the Trend™ rn and i'm sure everyone's watched it by now, buts it's SstILL SO GOOD?? IM STILL IN AWE??
•retrograde is so fucking lit and i'm so glad they finally put it on spotify (even tho i still bought the cd, smh)
and school starts next week, which means this story is officially a year old, and i'm still not finished with it yet, gr8.
2 more chapters ;)
okay i love you all and idk when this'll be updated next so pray for me, and see you next time peace :3