Phan Oneshots

Like One Of Your French Girls

Summary: For some reason, Dan has been drawing this random guy he sees at his favorite coffee shop.

~ ~ ~

Dan had been desperate for some sort of muse for the last few weeks. He hadn't had any inspiration, and everything he drew, he felt wasn't good enough. His waste paper basket was starting to fill up with crumpled sheets of paper.

In a last ditch effort for a stroke of luck, Dan had grabbed his sketchbook and pencils, and headed out into the city. There had to be something out there.

But after at least an hour of sitting in various parks and staring at everything, all he'd come up with was a few miscellaneous lines and a raging headache. The crowds of people weren't making him any less irritated.

It was like a huge block in his mind that nothing could get through. And frankly, it was starting to piss him off.

The day was starting to come to an end, and Dan was about to just give up and go back home. Maybe find some other way to break through the barrier in his mind.

He was rounding the corner onto his street when he suddenly paused. A few feet away on the other side of the road, there was a coffee shop. Dan never got out much, preferring to be in his flat most of the time, and had therefore never explored his neighborhood much. It was no surprise he'd never noticed the place before. But for some reason, he felt the oddest urge to go in and sit down, maybe sketch a few more lines and relax. It didn't seem like it would be too busy.

With a final determined breath, Dan crossed the street and pushed into the shop.

He was right, it wasn't crowded at all. There were maybe six or seven people in the place, along with a few workers. It smelled like a coffee bomb had gone off, leaving the room reeking of caffeine. It was actually pretty cozy.

Dan made his way slowly to one of the empty tables, setting his bag on the floor and looking around. He didn't really have any taste for coffee, but they didn't seem like they would hassle him for just sitting here.

A flash of purple caught his eye, and Dan looked over at one of the darker corners of the shop to see a guy, about his age maybe older, sitting by himself, reading. The way he was sitting, his arms folded over the table top with his shoulders hunched slightly, his legs crossed at the ankle and his dark hair just falling over his face. The purple was his shirt, a deep violet with something on it that Dan couldn't make out.

And something inside of him broke.

He reached into his bag, grabbing his sketchbook and a few pencils and laying them out across the table. He started tracing lightly against a blank page, glancing up surreptitiously at the guy across the shop every now and then. Outlining the shape of his face first, his neck, and gently moving down to his arms. He hadn't done a live subject in a while, mostly sticking to flowers and different scenery. But this guy was almost begging to be drawn, and Dan was ready to accept that challenge.

He'd just started filling in the details of his face when he looked up and saw the guy was leaving. Fuck, he thought agitatedly. He'd barely gotten halfway done. He watched as the guy packed up his things and left out into the darkening night, tapping his pencil against his book absently.

Maybe he would see him again.

~ ~ ~

A week later, and Dan was sure he was edging in creep level.

It turned out the mystery guy was a regular at that coffee shop. Dan had come by the next day and saw him there, still reading, and had taken his chance. He'd stayed there for close to an hour, finishing the drawing he'd started, and even halfway coloring it in. And he'd kept drawing him, picturing him in different angles and lighting. He was borderline addicted. But the guy was an amazing subject, his features were an artists dream. It wasn't an excuse for Dan's being a stalker, but he didn't find any interest in drawing anything else.