Sighs and Fire (Phan AU) (INCOMPLETE)

(1.13)

The drive to Zone 3 is a billion times longer than the first time I came here to meet Phil all those months ago. I know the route to Phil's by heart now, but the amount of time it's taking to get there is next to infinity.

I open my mouth to ask my mother if she could drive faster but try and pass it off as a yawn instead which just makes me look awkward. I see her raise an eyebrow in the corner of my eye. Even still, it's better than risking another lecture.

There are heavy boxes in the car which are slowing us down for God's sake and can't you see this traffic? It's not usually this busy on a Friday... You will be alright, won't you? You'll keep safe? And you'll visit us every week? Joseph won't say it but he'll miss you, you know. More than you think.

Silence.

10 more minutes pass. We turn some more corners. Then I see it - and by sensing my mum stiffens I know she can too - the block of apartments. My new home. Phil is somewhere in there right now, waiting for me.

I feel like I'm metres from my freedom and everything my mother is doing is preventing and slowing me down from getting there - driving around to try and find a closer parking spot rather than taking the first one we saw, reverse parking into one spot instead of choosing the easier spot right in front of us and asking me questions I've answered a hundred times before.

I'm trying not to get annoyed and keep reminding myself that this was a big thing for her too, and when I get inside after lugging all the boxes of my things and closing the door, I'd be able to spend as much time with Phil as I pleased.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I feel like I'm letting go my irritation. It was a skill I had learnt once.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Phil won't refuse you to move in because you spent an extra few minutes in the car, Dan.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I'm nervous now. I don't know why. I shouldn't be.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I've dreamed of this moment for years.

"If you're not sure about this, we can turn around right now and you can stay living with us. Nothing is set in stone. You don't have to do this."

I know my mum's trying to comfort me, let me know there's another option, but the way she says it sounds as if I decided this last night, not four months ago. I wonder if the drive felt as long for her as it did for me.

"No, I'm fine, I'm ready."

Yet neither of us move. It's oddly nice for us both to be speechless and staring at the same building. I pinpoint where Phil's - and now mine, I suppose - lounge window is and just absent-mindedly stare.

It's the end of an era.

But it's a beginning of the next part of my life, too.

"I'll always love you Dan, even after everything that happened. I love you."

"I love you, too."

My voice is hollow and the phrase seems meaningless. It scares me that those words don't sound sincere to my own mother. I'm not sure if she notices.

As I'm still watching the window, the net curtain is moved aside to reveal Phil, who is no doubt achingly beautiful, look out to the car park. I can only assume he's looking for me. My heart swells, there are fireworks in my stomach and I'm smiling so wide that probably I look weird to passers-by.

And now I'm ready, so ready to start this new life with him.

-

I'm lucky the building has a lift otherwise I would be dead. Or my forearms would've snapped off. Or both.

While I was packing, I was thinking more about fitting as much as I could in the boxes rather than any other logical way, for example, by weight.

Phil laughs at me as I struggle to pick one up and instead push it along the landing from the lift, but he's not really any better than what I am and uses the same technique.

It doesn't take more than 10 minutes to get all the boxes from the car into the flat and Phil tells me to put them anywhere and we can sort it out later. Or tomorrow. Or next week. Whenever. I'm just happy you're here.

When I push the last one into the hall and stand up straight, Phil and my mum are both looking at me. Phil looks positively thrilled, but my mother looks like she's about to cry so I don't complain when she pulls me into a tight hug and doesn't say anything else apart from to visit soon and that she'll call me later.

She leaves then, only waving as a goodbye. I didn't expect her to cry in front of me. After all, she's never been the best with expressing her emotions, and flouncing off before showing an inch of one isn't a surprise. I think about the wine she tried to hide in the cupboard earlier.

I remind myself it doesn't matter now.

I close the door, go to the window and watch her drive away. When she's gone, I breathe a sigh of relief and notice that a huge weight of my shoulders I didn't even realise was there was gone.

I turn back to Phil who hasn't said a word but has seen everything, and wrap my arms around his neck, tilt my head at smile at him. I can't describe how free I feel.

"What?" Phil asks me, looking embarrassed.

"I love you."

The words are sincere to Phil, at least.