I'll Leave You With The Outtakes // Phan

Part 13

Phil hears it before he sees it. A clanking of keys. Stuttering music. Dan's trying to play piano, and judging by the sound, he's failing. Something in Phil's chest cracks, broken pieces shifting in his chest, scraping against his lungs.

"Dan,"he says softly, as he pushes open the door to the room.

Dan pauses over the keys, brow crinkling in concentration as he licks his lips and Phil feels a tidal wave of grief come crashing over him as Dan sits there, eyes narrowing even further, hands curling into fists as he struggles to find air to draw into his lungs.

He sinks onto the bench beside Dan, who's desperately trying to ignore him, their hips now shoved together so that they can both fit.

Wrapping his arms tightly around Dan's shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of his head that he can only hope is comforting, Phil murmurs Dan's name once more. Dan turns into Phil's embrace and buries his face in Phil's collarbones and Phil feels his heart sink down to his knees when he feels the dampness against the fabric of his shirt.

"Hey,"he says gently, he says gently, snaking a hand between Dan' chest and his and grasping Dan's chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. Dan's eyes are glossy and rimmed red and he looks so pathetic and hopeless it's got tears prickling at Phil's own eyes. But he won't cry - not now, because this time Dan needs him to be the strong one. And he will be.

"Bear,"he murmurs, knowing that Dan doesn't really mind his use of the nickname anymore. It's only a minute or two until Dan's silent sobs stop completely, but the sensation of helplessness remains. "S'Okay,"he says, grabbing one of Dan's hands—pale and slender and smaller than his own, Phil has always loved that—and wraps his fingers around the chilled skin. He smooths out the clenched muscles.

"It doesn't sound right,"Dan mutters,"I can't do it anymore, it doesn't sound right. I keep messing up and it's all clunky. I can't get it smooth, I can't get it right. I've played it a thousand times, but now—I'm so useless."

"No,"Phil nearly growls it, his tone going harsher than he's been with Dan lately. He doesn't know what to do, Phil feels helpless and he hates it. God, he hates it. He wants to kiss Dan senseless and whisper all of the words that are running through his mind into Dan's pale skin. He wants to show Dan just how beautiful, and perfect, and whole he still is. There's just no time. No time to figure out if he's even allowed to do that. No time to discern how to go about it without messing everything up again. No time. There never is, and his stomach lurches because they're running out of fucking time and he has so much he needs to say.

Instead, just pulls Dan closer to him. "You're not useless,"he says firmly,"Never will be. Please believe me, please." He doesn't say what he wants to, but he can feel the words thrumming in the air around them nonetheless. He presses them into Dan's skin with a chaste brush of lips. Phil forces Dan to hear them by sheer force of will and the grip he has on Dan's hand.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you so much.

He can't quite say them, but he can show them. And it's enough. 

-

It happens in a Tesco's. The tune begins to play over scratchy loud speakers.

Dan swallows thickly as he recognizes the song, stopping mid-step, leaning on his crutches. Phil pauses in front of him. His eyes dropping from the rows of cereal to the white specked laminate floor. Dan's heart seems to swell in his chest, aching in time to the words of the song.

"We danced to this,"he says quietly, it's meant to be a fact, but he sounds like he's asking a question. Confirming that the night of suits and red carpet and music was actually real. It almost seems too shiny in his memory now. Not quite tangible. Glossy.