Fluffy Phan Oneshots

Is This Really How It Happens?

I was scrolling through Instagram. It's a vital part of my daily routine. Wake up. Regret it. Go on phone and sink into the whirlpool of other people's lives. Always better than mine. Always there to make myself feel worse about myself.

At least my post's aesthetics are always amazing. The one thing people avtually enjoy about my account. Always commenting about how my feed is just "SO PLEASING WOW". It's like they choose to block out the captions beneath each picture. Each caption is always more depressing then the one before it. Either Muse lyrics or some of my own poetry.

The fact that nobody ever comments or asks about it doesn't really bother me. I'm used to it. People love to choose to ignore the bad parts of something good. It's easier.

One day I'm refreshing my feed and suddenly a little '1' icon shows at the top right corner of my screen. A DM. Probably a troll. One of the downsides of having a public account. But when i cilick on it, It's from a guy with a rather lame username: AmazingPhil.

"Your captions!", It read with an accompanying heart-eyed emoji. Seriously? Is he just taking the piss out of me?

I quickly type a reply, asking if he realised they were music lyrics, not just random sad words to make my account look more dramatic.

He replied right away. I'm a bit creeped out till I see his response.

"Look at my account, Daniel Howell. You're not the only Muse lover in Britain, you know."

I immediately click on his profile. His account is the opposite of mine. No theme or specific colour palate. Half of his feed is random selfies with animals and awful, overdone filters. I can't help but laugh at one picture where he seems to be hugging a pair of completely weird socks.

The other half of his feed are pictures of all things Muse. Posters of Muse seemingly stuck up on his walls as well as notebooks filled with Muse lyrics.

I smile as I click back onto my Dm's. I type a message about how amazing I think his feed is then realise how fake that sounds when everyone else says it to me and quickly delete the text.

"Wow. You're almost as obsessed as me..." I end up saying instead.

"We should meet up." He replies almost instantly. I'm a bit shocked by his response. I barely know this guy and he's asking to meet up? Just because he like Muse and is obviously my age, doesn't mean he's not a weirdo creep.

"To discuss Muse, I mean. None of my friends like them and it'd be cool to meet someone who does." Phil's next message persuades me to step out of my shell.

"Same. What about RETRO RECORD STORE in London?" I send the next message half hoping he'll say yes and half hoping he'll cancel. My anxiety would rather not meet someone new...

"One of my favourite places! See you there at 12 tomorrow!"

I smile despite the roaring anxiety ache now growing in the pit of my stomach. This was okay. I'd be okay.

The next day I enter the store and search for the raven haired boy. He doesn't seem to be here so I head to the rock section of the store, hoping to find a new gem among the piles of old records.

Soon, the door's bell tinkles to announce the entry of someone new. I turn and there standing silhouetted by the light coming from outside, is Phil. My stomach flips.

He smiles and comes over to me and wordlessly joins me while rummaging through the records. I gasp as I pick up a dusty 'The Smiths' record.

"Don't tell me you like The Smiths too?" He asks, examining the record with me, leaning close so he can see it properly. Or at least I think that's why he's leaning close.

I nod shyly and he turns to me, his eyes wide with happy disbelief.

"Okay, when I pictured meeting my soul mate, I did not see it happening over Instagram DM!" He laughs, still looking intently into my eyes.

"I mean, it's gotta happen somehow, right?" I say , finally finding my voice. "Even if it is as lame as some social media messaging system."

"I'm Phil, then." Phil replied, suddenly, making me laugh.

"What?"

"Let this be our proper introduction then. I'm Phil Lester." His hand was still outstretched, waiting for my hand to join in and shake.

"Daniel Howell." I said, reaching out and taking his hand. Instead of shaking it though, Phil let both of our hands drop, still intertwined. He gave my hand a quick squeeze.

"Daniel, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Our hands didn't stop touching till the end of that first date.

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OKAY HI! Wow I don't think I've written here for a loooong while. Thanks to those who encouraged me to get back at it... Idk if i'll contine for toooooo long but if you really want me to, drop a dank comment!