New To Me (Phan)

Chapter 18

"Dan?" Phil said in surprise upon opening the door. "What are you – are you okay?" His eyes widened when he took in my appearance. I hadn't seen myself but I had a rough idea of how I looked. Red rimmed, puffy eyes. Tussled hair. Dishevelled clothing. Was I forgetting anything?

"I –" I opened my mouth to speak, but I choked on the words and started crying instead. Fabulous.

Phil didn't even say anything. He immediately wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a hug. Didn't question me, didn't stand there in confusion, didn't tell me to go away which he really should have based on the way I treated him. No, his automatic response was to just hold me.

This world didn't deserve someone as good as Phil Lester.

I rested my head in the crook of his neck and wrapped my arms around him in return, fists clinging desperately to the back of his shirt. I breathed in the scent of him, of coconut and wood fire, and relished in the warmth that radiated off of him, easing the chill that had settled into my bones. He was perfect. And it just made me cry even harder. That was the problem.

Eventually I calmed down and he led me to his room, never letting go of my hand. We sat at the foot of his bed, my head against his chest and his arms wrapped around me. I allowed my heavy eyelids to droop, lulled into a sense of complete comfort by the steady beating of Phil's heart.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" I didn't answer. I didn't know how. So Phil ventured a guess instead. "Is it Cat?" My stomach tightened at the thought of her. She wasn't the issue, but it was related, so I nodded against him.

"Are you two... broken up?" If we weren't already we surely would be the next time we saw each other. She would be mad at how I ran out on her. And me... I needed to sort my shit out.

"Probably." I whispered lifelessly. Phil waited for me to elaborate, but I didn't. I was tired of talking, of thinking, of feeling. I just wanted to fall asleep right there and then, wrapped in Phil's arms, and forget about everything. Was that too much to ask?

"Okay." He said finally, breaking the silence. "How about I tell you what happened with Charlie and then you tell me what happened with Cat?" Phil said.

"I already know what happened with Charlie. The douche bag threw you into a cabinet." I mumbled into him. Phil chuckled lightly, and I could feel the sound reverberate throughout his chest. It felt nice.

"But why he pushed me. Why I deserved it." Phil said quietly.

I frowned. "Why would you say that? Don't think like that, Phil."

"I wasn't a very good boyfriend." He continued, ignoring me. I huffed disbelievingly. As if Phil wouldn't be the best boyfriend in the world.

"I didn't pay him enough attention. The amount a boyfriend would normally deserve." Phil paused and then took a shaky breath before saying, "Because I was paying too much attention to you instead."

My eyes flew open and I drew away from him, sitting upright. What was he saying?

Phil kept going, keeping his gaze averted from mine. "Charlie asked me if I had feelings for you. I told him you were just a friend, but he didn't believe me. He, uh, had a few drinks, and started accusing me of cheating on him.

"...He said I didn't look at you the way that people who were just friends looked at each other. I kept denying it but he just got more hysterical. And then..." he trailed off. I already knew what happened next.

My eyes never left his lips as he spoke. I was mesmerised by them. By the shapes they formed and the words that came out of them. "I..." my voice broke as I attempted to speak so I cleared my throat and tried again. "I still don't see why you think you deserved it."

Phil took a deep breath before answering, his eyes finally meeting mine. "Because he was right. I don't look at you the way I look at a friend."

Was he saying what I think he was saying? I couldn't be sure. I could feel the effects of the alcohol taking place, warping my perception of reality. To be honest, I wasn't entirely certain that Phil was actually there, and not just some figment of my imagination.

But if he was saying what I thought he was saying...

"Phil, I – " I started to say, but quickly stopped myself. No. The back of my throat started burning and for the third time that night I could feel tears forming in my eyes. God, I was such a wreck.

Phil looked slightly alarmed at my reaction. "What's wrong?" his hand subconsciously rubbed comforting circles across my back and I shivered involuntarily. "Dan. You can tell me anything. Please."

I shook my head, blinking back tears. Not this. Usually, yes, but I couldn't confess this. Because telling this to anyone, let alone Phil, meant confessing this to myself. And I just couldn't do that. I wasn't ready. I didn't want to have to confront the fact that I could be gay and in love with my best friend.

But I couldn't do nothing. Not when all I could think about all day everyday was Phil. Not when my heart skips a beat when his eyes make contact with mine. Not when all I wanted to do was talk with him, laugh with him, do other things with him. All I thought and felt and saw was Phil and it was driving me insane.

The realisation of how much I had missed Phil this past month hit me like a train. I wanted him. I needed him.

And in my intoxicated state I didn't think twice before leaning in and kissing him.

At first Phil didn't respond, seemingly frozen in shock. But then his hand came up to cup my cheek. He was kissing back. And it was a thousand times better than before.

I became putty under his touch and virtually melted into him. My already alcohol hazed brain seemed to switch off, allowing longing to solely guide my actions. It was different than with Cat. This was slow and deep and tantalisingly good. This was bliss. Pure unadulterated bliss.

I clutched the front of Phil's shirt and fell back against the bed, pulling him down with me. My hands entangled themselves in his hair, gently tugging at it and causing a faint moan to escape Phil's lips. That sound. That one glorious sound turned me on so indescribably much.

Every cell in my body was tingling with excitement and I could feel something stirring inside of me. This overwhelming and all powerful whirlwind of desire. A lustful hunger that completely consumed me, demanding more.

One of my hands left his hair and grazed across his shoulder, his chest, his stomach, and made its way to the waist band of his jeans where it undid the top button. Phil suddenly tensed and drew back from the kiss. "What are you doing?" he asked me, slightly out of breath. His fringe was pushed back and his cheeks were flushed and holy fuck, he was hot. How had I never registered that before?

My eyes struggled to focus on his as I attempted to string together some words to form a coherent sentence. "Making out." I slurred, reaching up to grab hold of Phil again. Only he wouldn't let me. He unfisted my hands from his shirt and placed them at my sides.

"You're drunk." He said sadly, though the lust in his eyes was still undeniably present.

"So?" I pouted. My body ached at the distance between us. I wanted so desperately to hold him, touch him, run my hands over him and press my body against his. My brain couldn't understand why he wasn't letting me.

Phil sighed, despairingly, getting up off the bed. "Just... sleep it off, Dan. I'll talk to you in the morning."

I wanted to argue but the alcohol rendered me incapable of speech. Instead, against my own will, I became engulfed by the comforting feel and smell of Phil's bedsheets and within a minute I had already drifted off to sleep.