Phan Oneshots

Jesus Christ, That's a Pretty Face

Summary: Phil is a famous indie-rock singer who never shows his face on stage and Dan is a massive fan who unknowingly meets his favorite artist at the library.

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"THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMING OUT TO SEE ME TONIGHT, LONDON!" Phil screamed into the microphone, his ears nearly bursting with the chanting of the crowd before him: thousands of listeners (he refused to call them his fans) cheering for him and the rest of his indie rock band, Runaway Sky. The fact that this many people came to see them always made a warm feeling erupt in his chest.

See, Phil wasn't the typical famous person that most people looked up to. He saw himself as an average guy who just happened to have a nice voice. He didn't have beautiful hair like David Beckham or rock hard abs like Chris Evans. He was just Phil, a twenty-two year old with a black fringe who had a liking for skinny jeans and always wore a mask on stage.

The truth is, no one actually knew that Phil was famous. No one of unimportance, anyways. It was just the way he liked it, wearing a completely white mask with gold engravings that spiraled around his eyes and hid the top half of his face so that no one knew what his true identity was. He had tried to find a mask that completely covered his face, but the sad fact was that it had muffled the way his words sounded through the microphone so he had to find one that allowed his lips to be free.

He never really asked for the fame, never actually wanted it, but he refused to stop making music because it was something he loved more than anything. So the only way to actually avoid fame was to wear a mask during all of his shows and interviews of the like and to go by the alias of Skye. That way he could go anywhere he wanted without worrying about the paparazzi sticking their noses into places that weren't theirs to know about.

After three years of going about his life like this, Phil was content.

He got off the stage with a grin, blowing kisses at the audience as he departed to the sidelines.

"Great job tonight, man!" His manager, Greyson, applauded, patting him on the back with a fond smile on his face. He gave the rest of the band the same treatment, looking like a proud father who just sent his children to university.

"I swear I've never heard a crowd more excited, Max, the bassist, laughed. He carefully placed his turquoise bass in the case, a smile graced upon his face, green eyes shining. "You did great tonight, Phil. Voice is strong as ever."

Phil chuckled, waiting until they got into their changing room to take off his mask. "You too, Max. I think that's the strongest show we've ever done, if I'm being honest."

Jesse and Craig nodded in agreement, stretching out on the leather couch. "At least we have a month break now," Jesse sighed, raking a hand through his shaggy blonde hair. He cracked his tattooed knuckles, making Craig cringe beside him. "Now I can finally see my dog."

They all laughed, and Phil was so thankful to have found a group of people as amazing as they were. And they were surprisingly good at keeping Phil's true identity a secret, something that was important to him that the band recognized and respected.

"I'm probably going to head out," Phil remarked, wiping the sweat from his mask before putting it back on until he could reach an area that was inconspicuous enough that he could change out of his clothes and remove the famous mask. There was always a group of people standing outside his dressing room afterwards, so he didn't risk changing now. And maybe it was a pain in the ass, but he'd rather waste a few minutes changing in the bathroom than to risk his private life.

True to his suspicions, there were about ten people standing outside his door who all squealed when he walked out. "Skye!" They screamed, straining Phil's hearing for a moment.