Phan One-Shots

Help Me Remember

Dan's POV

I won't be able to fall asleep tonight, that much is clear. I've been tossing and turning for hours; it's already 2am. It's the third night this has happened. I don't know how much more I can take.
I know why this is happening, too. I cannot seem to cease these thoughts of a certain raven-haired boy who is currently sleeping peacefully in the next room. I snatch up one of the loose pillows on my bed, and slap it down over my face unceremoniously. I force my gritty, sleep-deprived eyes closed, clenching my jaw in determination. This is not going to force me out of bed. I am not going to go to Phil's room.
I am... not going to spill how I really feel...
Block that out. Phil is my best friend. I have nothing but platonic love for him.

The clock on my bedside table ticks on...

No. I can't take this anymore. Doesn't matter how bad I screw up; if I don't steal this opportunity I might hate myself for the rest of my life.
I throw on a hoodie from my floor before sneaking out of my room, and tiptoe a short trip down a familiar hallway. I can't help myself; I'm shaking- though, this is more from fear than anything else. I can't believe what I'm about to do.
I knock on Phil's door as quietly as I can whilst still being heard on the other side. I hear quiet shuffling a few moments later, and the door swings open.
Phil smiles a tired smile at me and leans against the doorframe, and I try to ignore the fact that he looks incredible when he's shirtless. "Dan, is everything alright? You're up late."
I try to remain composed, I really do. But can't stem my tears anymore, and his face immediately morphs into one of shock. "Oh my gosh- Dan, come inside."
I stumble into his room, and his hand lands between my shoulder blades, rubbing soothing circles across my back. I raise my hands to my eyes, scrubbing furiously at them in an attempt to rid these damn tears from my face. Phil senses my distress and takes me into his arms; squeezing me tight and making me ever so slightly uncomfortable. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, Dan."
But I need to. I need to make him understand. "Phil."
He closes the door behind us, submerging the room into almost complete darkness, then turns back to look me in the eyes. he absently smooths my unruly hair back off my forehead, studying me closely. He's not much shorter than me at all. "What's wrong?"
I collapse my head against his shoulder, bringing my hands up to tug at my hair. "I'm so stressed, Phil. I'm scared." He rubs my back soothingly through my thick grey hoodie. "What'd you mean? Why are you scared?" He looks bewildered. "I'm sorry, Dan, I'm not used to seeing you cry." I lift my head to meet his eyes again, feeling tears brim in my eyes once more. "Phil, I have so much on my mind. I'm trying to make videos and do liveshows, but I just can't fight this feeling of hopelessness. I just..."
sadness pools in his eyes at my distraught words, and he pulls me close again, cooing comforting words in my ear. "Dan, it's okay to cry, to be upset. I can't even fathom what you're dealing with right now." The darkness in his room suddenly seems to weigh down on me. "I'm forgetting what it feels like to be loved." I rub my hands over my neck, pulling away from him, but replace my hands back on his chest when I begin to feel as if the cold air is curling around me. "Phil, I can't keep this to myself anymore. I have feelings for you, a lot of them. I have to deny it all the time; tell the fans that we're just friends, and the whole time all I want to do is kiss you and feel your body against mine. It's the only thing that can reassure me this world can be kind sometimes. I don't want to feel this helpless and alone anymore." I feel Phil's muscles slowly tense under my shaking hands. he takes a slow breath, then tries to gently pry me off him.
"Dan-"
But I refuse to let go. "I don't want it to hurt anymore."
I see him close his eyes, like he knows what I'm going to ask him, but he's dreading hearing it. "Phil." I am met only with silence.
"Please, Phil. I need you. I need you to help me remember."
I feel him release a shaky breath, like he's holding back tears. "Please... please love me, Phil. Help me remember what I don't have to fear."
He's scared; I can feel it. I am so selfish. I just asked my straight, best friend to love me, as... more than a friend- just because I'm hurting. I am a dick.
I'm about to back away from him, to run out the doorway and sob the night away, when he catches my arm. "Dan, don't run away. I want to love you. I do love you. please don't doubt yourself."
I freeze, glued to the spot in shock as he leans down to capture my lips with his own, the passion behind his actions making something in me stir, something I'm not used to feeling. He pulls me closer and lifts me up, holding my waist against him as he crawls onto his bed. The shock invading my system never leaves, the idea of Phil showing me just how much he loves me making my palms sweat and my heart race. Even just this feeling of being kissed passionately is making me cry further, but not out of fear or hopelessness; out of pure relief. This is exactly what I need.
He strips my hoodie off me, throwing it down the side of his bed. I am left with nothing covering my top half, and immediately I attempt to cover myself. I am used to feeling self conscious.
He gently pulls my hands away, slowly but surely. The look he gives me is sad but loving, whispering, "It's okay. I think you're beautiful. I won't do anything you're not comfortable doing."
He pulls off his boxers, and I bite my lip when I catch a glimpse of him. Okay, who know that was hiding under all his clothes?
"Lift your hips," he whispers, and when I do what he says, he pulls my boxers down my legs, rubbing my thigh soothingly with his free hand.
I can't contain a gasp when his fingers begin to brush over my length delicately, eliciting a soft groan from his lips and causing a blush to flood my body. His gaze is hooded as he watches me react to his gentle touch, lids growing heavy with apparent satisfaction. "Shit," he whispers, his hand going down to his area that was liking what I was doing more and more with every passing second. He leans over to his bedside table, pulling out an unfamiliar bottle. I watch his beautiful face as he squeezes a substance onto his hand, coating his fingers.
Oh. I know what's coming.