Phil Searches Through His House, Looking For A Food

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Phil Lester types out a document on his keyboard. He is desperately trying to find a local venue who will accept him to play live there; however, he always comes up short in the "who the hell are you" portion of the owner's applicant forms.
Phil stopped typing and sighed. Why do they make it so hard to start my career? Maybe if I lived in a larger city, like London, my odds would be a lot better. People there probably accept new people to play all the time. But, instead of complaining to himself for another half an hour about how Manchester cafes are crazy for not letting him perform, he took a sip of tea from his white cat whiskers mug, both the tea and mug homemade blends of his personality. Phil honestly doesn't think he could drink coffee for quite a while after having worked at Starbucks for a few months, which begs the question: why did he so readily drink from Dan's coffee?
Ever since he had met Daniel, rather, Dan, Phil has been feeling a bit on edge. Yes, venue owners are horrible here, but Phil was experiencing an extremely different, unknown sort of anxiety. Since that night, he has been catching himself wondering what Dan would think of his life, every little bit of it. He would probably think that I'm super lame. Phil thought about all of his bad habits: drinking, shoving pounds of sugary cereal in his mouth, and, worst of all, was how he acts when anxious or down. Phil could be in the bath for hours, cursing at himself and wishing so badly to be someone else.  Although he hated all of these things, except for the cereal (it's so delicious, I can't help myself!), Phil only liked to think about them occasionally, as to stay true to the bright side of his life.
Phil was extremely proud of where he has gotten in the past five years since he was eighteen. In that time, he had received an degree in English from university, along with a minor in music. He plays most everything safe, all from the way he walks, hovering over others from his tall height, to smoothly glossing over his guitar strings when he feels lonely at night. Phil usually sits in the park at sun fall, just in time for when the moon starts peaking out from the other side of the earth, under a tree and a thousand-million glowing stars, gliding his fingers along the fretboard as he plays a relaxing tune from which he had created, and seeks reconciliation within himself again and again to preserve his lighthearted nature. With the moon as his gracious audience, Phil doesn't feel very much alone after he finishes the number or three, then heads on his route leftwards back home.
But Phil, having left his guitar there by accident two nights ago, was not able to rest so easy after he was stopped by none other than Dan... I wonder of his last name... Although Phil went and picked it up the next morning, he couldn't get Dan's soft figure and graceful disposition out of his head.
Lester was famished, his hair needed washing, and his black eyeliner was smeared from having it on for far too long. He promptly sighed, shut his laptop whilst pushing it onto the other couch cushion, and headed to the bathroom where he dialed up his favorite Chinese food delivery, undressed, and started his shower.

AN:
Hello, fic readers from the deep beyond of this app! I literally have no chill with this story, so this is the second update of the day, but I am so excited to plunge into developing the scene of where this all takes place and of all of the characters mentioned thus far.
Thank you so much for reading this far! Much love, Em

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