Phan Oneshots

Somewhere Only We Know

I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand

Phil’s footsteps made light indents in the dusting of snow. He had his coat pulled up to his ears and a thick scarf around his neck to keep out the chill air, but he wasn’t cold. He was filled with a warmth he only got at this time of year; when the first snowflakes touched the trees outside his window and he packed himself a small bag and set off with a strange smile playing across his face.

Dan’s hair was frosted with snow, the flakes clinging to his lashes and melting on his lips. He smiled at Phil’s eyes. They were the colour of the sky, a perfect, glimmering pale blue that reflected the falling snow like a tiny new universe held within the glossy orbs.

They walked in silence. The earth was hard and crisp beneath their feet and there was no need to speak here. The snow muffled everything in pure, white silence and it fell steadily without a breath of sound. The flakes were thicker now: light and fluffy and starting to settle. They settled on the ground and on the trees, coating the branches in a blanket and slipping down to dapple the grassy floor. Flakes fell on the river, frozen solid and reflecting the sky above, and they sat for a moment on a fallen branch to watch a small bird slip frantically across the ice until it skidded to an abrupt halt against tree trunk with a thud. Dan grinned. The frozen river made him feel complete for the first time in three hundred and sixty four days. They were nearly there.

The snow spiralled down around them, falling on Phil’s shoulders and swirling between their legs as they walked. A gust of wind caught the flurry and sent it spiralling back up into the sky where it was caught by another breath and twisted back down to skim across the frozen ground. There was no one else around. They had left the fields to follow a path they had made themselves many years ago.

The snow was like a thousand feathers falling against their cheeks that turned cold and wet all of a sudden as it melted. It felt like home, because Dan and Phil were on their way to somewhere only they knew. A place that came alive as the snow fell and the ground froze. A place that they dreamed of all year round, that pulled them out of slumber when waves of lethargy pushed down on them; that dragged them to work even in the driving rain and filled their hearts with warmth when the heating broke and the landlady screamed.

They had been walking for a long time now and Phil was starting to tire. It was always worth it though; every year when the first snow fell. He would try to catch it on his tongue and Dan would laugh and make snow angels; but Phil didn’t mind. He wanted to capture it – to hold the taste on his tongue for the next three hundred and sixty or so days.

The worst years were the years when it didn’t snow. It had gone three years without a single flake once; and Phil had cried till he couldn’t even remember what it looked like anymore. That’s why he tasted the snow now: he wanted to immortalize it in every sense possible. Hold onto the moment with all his strength.

Dan was kicking the snow as he walked – sending clouds of white up into the air with a childlike glee. Phil smiled fondly. They were nearly there.

The snow is white and grey, part and whole, infinitely various yet ultimately repetitious, soft and hard, frozen and melting, a creaking underfoot and a soundlessness. It is substance, almost the idea of substance, that turns grass, roads, fields, trees, cars, and walls into the one, pure white. And it has called them home.

They have reached a marsh. Normally waterlogged and treacherous to pass, the ground has frozen solid and they walk with ease to a place only tangible for a few days a year. It’s like an oasis within the thick trees and sodden soil. A small glade, dusted with sparkling white snow. There is a fallen tree here that they have smoothed into a bench and finally Dan’s hand finds Phil’s. They like to think that this place belongs to them – they’ve certainly never seen a sign of human touch. It’s both wild and peaceful. Here, for the first time in three hundred and sixty four days, Dan’s lips meet Phil’s. The warmth of each other’s arms seems to fill the clearing and a strange, silvery light filters down through the snow topped trees.

In this place that belongs only to them, Dan speaks to Phil. They talk about all the simple things – work and the electricity bill and the crazy old lady that lives above their flat. It’s nice to hear each other’s voices for the first time in three hundred and sixty four days. It’s nice to feel the touch of frozen fingers against warm, flushed cheeks and damp skin. And it’s nice that no one can see them here because if they did they’d probably think they were crazy.

They spend all day together, not wanting to waste a minute – not even to eat. They’ve waited too long for this to worry about menial things. Dan’s skin contrasts caramel against the harsh, white snow while Phil’s blends in, the pink of his cheeks tinting the hue with soft colour. Phil brushes Dan’s damp hair out of his eyes with a cold hand, staring almost hungrily at his face – trying to drink it all in before their time is over. He presses a kiss against the smooth pink crescents of his lips; again and again, his hands twisting through his hair as if he could press his entire body against Dan’s until they merged and never had to part again.

But the sun is starting to set and their time is almost over.

The snow is no longer powdery and though beautiful it is cold and sharp, biting their fingers and kissing their cheeks in a cruel mockery of their display. The light is fading. The snow is tinted gold and red as pink as the sun slips slowly over the horizon, and Dan and Phil cling ever more desperately to one another. It doesn’t always end like this. Sometimes the snow falls for days and days and once – just once – they were forced to leave before their time was up, for they were human and stomachs can only go unfilled for so long. But they can always tell when it is coming and now, as the last of the light slips out of their reach, the snow fall stops.

Dan is alone in the clearing, his arms empty and his heart cold.

Phil is alone in the same clearing – just centimetres away from Dan – but he can’t feel Dan’s warm breath anymore or the smooth leather of his jacket. Because he’s millions of billions of miles away in a shift of time and space that means they should never have met. Except for an anomaly; a tiny rip that lets the first snow through taking little of their worlds with it to join in a swirling, sparkling white haze.