Celadon

Chapter 9

Summary: Dan lives in a world of black and white, only to be brought to color when one is united with their one soulmate. But Dan found who's supposed to be his soulmate... two years ago. So why is it that he's finally seeing all the colors now, when he lays eyes on a boy he doesn't know?
A/N: This is just a fluffy little chapter to advance the story a bit, like last time. A shoutout to holysmokesphan and her wonderful fic Color that you should really read as it has the same exact concept and it's very very very good.
Genre: Soulmate au, angst, fluff, smut
Warnings: Swearing, suicidal themes, smut in later chapters, representation of homophobia
First Chapter Previous Chapter
It's been three days, and I've been expecting my parents to crack, to call me and tell me how worried they've been, how I need to come home right away and explain everything to them rationally, but all I've gotten is silence. Silent phone, silent door, and the constant looming knowledge that I can't put explaining to them off forever.
Phil's gone most of the time, working, nine to five, and I know soon my welcome will have been worn thin and I'll simply be an awkward side glance, another expense to add to Phil's already full plate.
The truth of my independence and adulthood chokes me up when I'm sitting on Phil's couch, half considering visiting him at work, half wondering what job I would be qualified for to support myself and, it seems, Phil.
I realize they aren't going to call. Because I'm an adult and I've made my decision and proclaimed my proclamation and I have every power to not speak to them again, to move forward in my life. I have every power to make Phil my only lifeline.
I can't let this go on any longer. I'm going to the coffee shop, I've decided, to get Phil, to visit my parents and make them listen.
I've been borrowing Phil's clothes, an odd thing since he mostly wears colorful plaid. I pull on a red shirt and catch the color in the reflection of the bureau mirror.
Charlie loved red on me.
The thought hurts. It hurts to remember, because so much has changed so fast. And I know what red is now, but I'm still not sure what love is. Charlie knew what both of those things were. Charlie knew the world better than I, I think.
Not a day passes I don't see something that reminds me of how we ended. And it's not the pang of a love lost, it's the regret of a hurt perpetuated, a hopeless plummet that came to a full stop.
I'm out the door now, the sun setting too early for my taste. Sometimes I wish the stars weren't simply a myth to me, that they would shine bright with a reminder of how dull our world really was. But cities were built to block out the reality of the universe with light and noise, and our hearts are trained to pretend nothing is bigger than what we have here on Earth.
I've been depending on my own ability to ignore these past few weeks. I've been a city, just blocking out everything and faking like I'm the only planet among the stars, like spinning through life and just taking, taking, taking without giving is fine.
The coffee shop isn't far. It never seems to be, and I know that if I hadn't left to be alone, everything would still be very wrong, but less wrong than they are now. I would still have my own bed and a little brother to think I'm old and uncool and Charlie to sit with the scent of coffee on her skin and laugh at the stupid things I say.
Now I have Phil with his blue eyes and daddy issues and deep, scarce voice and constant absence and I'm not content and I don't know if I ever will be.
Because losing Charlie for Phil was like losing the day and gaining the night, like losing the summer and gaining the winter. You feel warmth and independence and unconditional love one minute, and the next you're confused, intrigued but confused, you don't know where you're going and you want more but you also miss the sun. You understood the sun, you knew every side looked the same. But the moon.
Oh god, the moon.
Phil is the moon, and I only see the parts he chooses to show, the parts that shine so bright and soft that I can't look away, and he fails to mention that there's so much I don't know.
It's not that late, but I see the glow of the cafe in the dark of dead winter. I walk through the door, and it isn't an action that should bring me to a stop, but Phil just tends to do that sometimes.
He's talking to a customer over the hum of the working coffee machine, laughing with her. It's only customer service, but I can't help the pang of jealousy in my chest when a stranger can make him smile and all he seems to provide for me are strained words and tired kisses. I blame it on his work. I always do.
He hands her the coffee, she returns with another smile, and I want to leave. But that level of melodrama doesn't exist in real life.
I half expect his smile to fade when he sees me, but my heart leaps when he sees me and his grin widens.
"Dan!" he exclaims. "Came to visit me?" he leans on the counter, flicking his hair out his eyes.
"Yeah, I..." I begin, his smile such a relief I forget my reasons for visiting.
"I have good news," he interrupts me with smiling eyes.
I blink at him before shaking myself out of my haze. "Yeah?"
He glances around. "I was going to wait until I got home to tell you, but..." he trails off, leaving me hanging.
I smile involuntarily. "Phil, tell me!" I prompt quietly.
"I got promoted!" He says in a hushed tone. "It's not official among my coworkers though, so keep quiet." He winks and my stomach drops.
"Oh my god, Phil!" I exclaim, a bit too loudly. He hushes me, and I continue in a quieter tone. "You won't be working behind the counter anymore?"
He shakes his head. "You're looking at the new co-manager of the best coffee shop in England."
I smile widely at him, remembering his constant flood of complaints from the last few days, about the pain in his feet and his head, about the customers he hates the most, about the slick sweat he would collect from the steam of the machines.
"So I was thinking," he continues, eyes darting around the shop with a nervousness. "Now that I'll be making more money, and have less hours..." He sucks in a breath, meeting my eyes. "Do you want to move in with me? Like, officially?"
My heart pounds faster, and I feel a ridiculous grin spread across my face to match his. All my worries, about being a burden, about Phil just wanting me gone, all just empty.
"Yes."
"I mean, we'll have to work out the specifics later, and I still want to fix things with your parents, but I think...I don't know, I just think it would be safer. For you." He looks as though he has more to say, but he doesn't phrase it.
"I think so, too."
"We- will you please order something so it doesn't look like I'm slacking- can go meet your parents about it tomorrow, and you're an adult so they can't stop you, even though I hope we'll be able to reconcile and everything- I'm serious, Dan, I don't want my current managers to retract my promotion because I took too much time standing here talking to my boyfriend."
I laugh and order a macchiato, watching him work with fluidity, ecstatic that this can be his last day working a sub-par position, but almost feeling nostalgic for the uniform he's in, the one he wore when we met only weeks ago, when he met Charlie, when we first kissed, when I first saw his flat.
I offer him the money in my pocket for the coffee, but he shakes his head. "It's on me," he insists.
I take a sip from the coffee he hands me as the door sweeps open and Phil shoos me away to tend to his customers. I take a seat at a table, smiling into my coffee and glancing up to watch Phil work every once in a while. I start to wonder if coffee is an aphrodisiac or if I just have a thing for Phil's smile, because I can't keep myself from asking him when his shift is over once his patrons leave.
He throws me a smirk and glances at his watch, noticing the lack of customers in the shop.
"I'm done in like 5 minutes," he claims after my third time asking.
I swallow down the rest of my coffee and tap my fingers against the table, the silent hum of the shop heavy and almost unbearable.
Phil taps his foot, crossing his arms and waiting only thirty seconds before he whispers "Fuck it," and pushes through the gate between the drink station and the queue area, pacing over to the door and flipping the sign on the door to "Closed," locking the door from inside.
I stand from my chair and approach him, expecting him to gather his things to leave, but instead he turns and clears the area between me and the counter, fast, sparing no time to tease as he connects our lips and pushes me back against the counter.
Everything is white hot again.
"Should we go home?" I ask between breathy kisses.
He shakes his head, biting my words away. "Can't-wait-that long," he confesses into my skin.
"Will we get caught?" I ask, sucking in a breath as his lips suck gently on my jaw.
"We're the only ones here," he assures me. "We're celebrating."
I smile with the weight of his kiss on my neck as he hoists me up onto the counter, pulling me closer by the thighs and tugging my skin softly with his teeth. He pulls back from my neck, leaning into my lips again and I tangle my fingers through his hair, our kisses becoming rougher as his restless hands wander over my thighs and up my chest.
We jump at the sound of a click, produced by someone at the front door.
"Shit," Phil hisses, recoiling back from me. He looks around wildly, eyes settling on me once again a second later. "Just get behind the counter," he directs me, motioning for me to kneel down and pushing through to the service area himself, busying himself with cleaning a filter just as an older man pushes through the door with keys in hand.
"Phil, lad!" the man calls with a wave. "It's late! You closing up?"
"Yes, sir," Phil answers, hardly glancing up from his work.
"Excited to start your new job on Monday, yeah?" the man, his boss, asks.
"Yeah, it'll be great to leave the counter, if I'm honest," Phil admits to his boss.
"I'm sure," the man says, jingling his keys. "I was just droppin' by to pick up the jacket I left in the offices, then I'll leave you to finish up here."
"Alright, sir," Phil answers, placing the filter to the side as the man crosses the room and enters a door on the other side. I duck lower, sweat beading on my forehead, heart racing with fear and adrenaline. I hear the door open and shut again as the man returns to the main room.
"Well, see you Monday, Phil!" he calls.
"See you, sir!" Phil answers. The front door thuds shut and Phil and I breathe out a collective sigh of relief. We look at each other, expressions so guilty we can't hold back our laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation.
"Home?" I ask through giggles, shuffling my way out from under the counter and standing once again.
Phil offers me his hand, and I take it, our fingers intertwining with the leap of our hearts. "Home."