Misfit (Phan AU)

Chapter Forty-Six

a/n: it's been over 100 days since I last updated, just so you know, and I've been working on a few different things in that time and writing solely third person works, so if it seems like my writing style has changed drastically it might be because it has. ANYWAY, im back from the dead, pls read the author's note at the end of the chapter bc i have some Updateos to give

*Dan's POV*

I walked in front of the mirror for the hundredth time, confirming what I already knew. I'd decided this was my outfit for the night nearly an hour ago, yet I was still stalling. Not by my own choice, but because Phil hadn't shown up at my door with his own decision yet. That was unlike him, usually he was the one rearing to go and dragging me along behind him, chastising me for taking so long to get ready.

I was trying to be patient with him really, but I was starting to worry even though Cat had promised to warn me if anything strange were to happen. I paced back and forth across my room, running my hands through my hair. I decided then and there that if he hadn't shown up by the time I counted to a hundred, I'd have to go see what he was doing.

And if I counted just a little bit faster than I probably should have, then so be it.

The moment I reached one hundred, I'd already started toward the door. I yanked it open and moved to rush into the hallway, only to freeze when a hand settled on my chest. I looked up with wide eyes, noticing for the first time that someone had been standing on the other side of the door. I'd been oblivious in my worried state, but now that I was actually looking at Phil I didn't feel much better. He looked terrible, almost as if he were on the brink of tears.

I stepped forward cautiously, reaching out to straighten out the collar of the shirt he'd chosen to wear. It was one of my nicer ones, considering most of his clothes had either been lost in the fire or were yet to be retrieved. It fit him surprisingly well though, and black really was a good color on him. If only it weren't covered in cat hair...

"Phil? Are you almost ready?" I asked gently, looking up at him through my lashes. He paled considerably, which was saying something considering he already looked borderline ghostly. He sighed loudly, shaking his head and taking a stumbling step forward. I tried not to lose my balance as he collided with my chest, instead accommodating the closeness by wrapping my arms around his torso and hugging him.

"Not really." He mumbled into my shirt, sounding indescribably pained. I tightened my hold on him instinctively, rubbing soothing circles against his back with the palm of my hand.

"Talk to me, what's wrong?" I asked softly, pressing a kiss against his temple. He shrugged his shoulders before allowing them to slump again, leaning the bulk of his weight against me for support. He nuzzled his face into my neck, making a point of ensuring I couldn't see his face as he answered.

"None of your stuff fits me right." He sniffled slightly, the tremor in his voice giving away the fact that he was only growing closer to crying.

"Yes it does." I argued gently, taking a deep breath before carefully pushing him back. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes hurriedly, blinking at me as I raked my eyes over his outfit. He really did look good, I had no idea what he was so worried about. I looked back up at him with intentions of saying so, but he looked so distracted that I already knew it wouldn't change anything. I reached up, grabbing his jaw and turning his head to face me again. "Hey, we can stop somewhere on the way and pick something up if that'd make you feel better."

"It wouldn't." Phil huffed, looking frustrated with himself. He shrugged my arms away, turning to march over to the bed. He collapsed across it with no hesitation, rolling around until he was bundled up in my comforter. He looked up at me once he was more-or-less a human burrito, eyes wide and lips pouted adorably. "Do we have to go?"