"THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMING OUT TO SEE ME TONIGHT, LONDON!" Phil screamed into the microphone, his ears nearly bursting with the chanting of the crowd before him: thousands of listeners (he refused to call them his fans) cheering for him and the rest of his indie rock band, Runaway Sky. The fact that this many people came to see them always made a warm feeling erupt in his chest.
See, Phil wasn't the typical famous person that most people looked up to. He saw himself as an average guy who just happened to have a nice voice. He didn't have beautiful hair like David Beckham or rock hard abs like Chris Evans. He was just Phil, a twenty-two year old with a black fringe who had a liking for skinny jeans and always wore a mask on stage.
The truth is, no one actually knew that Phil was famous. No one of unimportance, anyways. It was just the way he liked it, wearing a completely white mask with gold engravings that spiraled around his eyes and hid the top half of his face so that no one knew what his true identity was. He had tried to find a mask that completely covered his face, but the sad fact was that it had muffled the way his words sounded through the microphone so he had to find one that allowed his lips to be free.
He never really asked for the fame, never actually wanted it, but he refused to stop making music because it was something he loved more than anything. So the only way to actually avoid fame was to wear a mask during all of his shows and interviews of the like and to go by the alias of Skye. That way he could go anywhere he wanted without worrying about the paparazzi sticking their noses into places that weren't theirs to know about.
After three years of going about his life like this, Phil was content.
He got off the stage with a grin, blowing kisses at the audience as he departed to the sidelines.
"Great job tonight, man!" His manager, Greyson, applauded, patting him on the back with a fond smile on his face. He gave the rest of the band the same treatment, looking like a proud father who just sent his children to university.
"I swear I've never heard a crowd more excited, Max, the bassist, laughed. He carefully placed his turquoise bass in the case, a smile graced upon his face, green eyes shining. "You did great tonight, Phil. Voice is strong as ever."
Phil chuckled, waiting until they got into their changing room to take off his mask. "You too, Max. I think that's the strongest show we've ever done, if I'm being honest."
Jesse and Craig nodded in agreement, stretching out on the leather couch. "At least we have a month break now," Jesse sighed, raking a hand through his shaggy blonde hair. He cracked his tattooed knuckles, making Craig cringe beside him. "Now I can finally see my dog."
They all laughed, and Phil was so thankful to have found a group of people as amazing as they were. And they were surprisingly good at keeping Phil's true identity a secret, something that was important to him that the band recognized and respected.
"I'm probably going to head out," Phil remarked, wiping the sweat from his mask before putting it back on until he could reach an area that was inconspicuous enough that he could change out of his clothes and remove the famous mask. There was always a group of people standing outside his dressing room afterwards, so he didn't risk changing now. And maybe it was a pain in the ass, but he'd rather waste a few minutes changing in the bathroom than to risk his private life.
True to his suspicions, there were about ten people standing outside his door who all squealed when he walked out. "Skye!" They screamed, straining Phil's hearing for a moment.
But Phil just grinned at them, doing a little wave. "Hey guys!" He greeted, taking in the appearance of some of the people in the front. There was a girl with a shock of bright blue hair and heavy eyeliner that looked like she was about to pass out, another girl with blonde hair that had too many beaded bracelets on her arm, and a tall male (he looked young, but older than everyone else) with a brown fringe and matching chocolate eyes that sparkled in the light.
The one thing he hated about meeting his listeners was that he never got to spend as much time with them as he wanted to. He took a few pictures, signed a few posters, and was off to become Phil Lester again in a dimly lit bathroom away from everyone else. Whereas all he wanted to do was get to know each and every person who liked his music.
But that was the price for fame, he supposed.
A month break from concerts was also a code word for three hour long singing sessions in the basement and annoying group messages where Craig complained about how his mother wouldn't stop pinching his cheeks and Jesse making lame dad jokes despite the fact that he wasn't even a father.
It's only been a day since their last concert and Phil already needed to get away from the endless group messages, putting his phone on airplane mode so that it would stop dinging every five seconds. And just for good measure, he put it on silence as well, just in case one of the fuckers happened to break through his guard.
"I'm going out!" Phil called to his pug, Burrito, nuzzling his head so the dog got a few last bits of affection in before Phil disappeared to the library for a few hours.
He was in dire need for the quiet shuffling of pages, the old book smell stinging his nose while he lost himself in thousands of words as a way to gain inspiration for some songwriting. It was the same routine every time he needed to write, and it hadn't failed him yet.
The library was nearly empty when he arrived; a few people were sitting at computers typing up essays, but otherwise empty. Probably because it was only nine in the morning and most sane people are either working or sleeping, not browsing at the library.
He took a seat at one of the tables, the hard wood of the chair digging into his back--but it was comfortable because it felt like home. He bent over to retrieve his black journal from his bag, the leather smooth beneath his fingertips as he cracked it open, admiring the scribbles and endless doodles scratched into the paper.
Phil always got extremely excited when he wrote music, so much that his fingers started to shake and he couldn't stop the small smile from appearing on his face. He pressed the purple pen to a brand new page after he jammed some headphones into his ears (the band Brand New always gave him inspiration) and let the words take over him, fueling him with feelings that stay dormant and thoughts that never saw the light of day until he put them on paper. It was a beautiful feeling and made Phil remember why he did this.
And sometimes it feels like your head's underwater, but there is always time to breathe.
Phil nearly jumped out of his skin, ripping the headphones out of his ears so fast that it kind of hurt. He came face-to-face with a pair of brown eyes and brunette hair that looked vaguely familiar, and where the hell has he seen this gorgeous specimen before? "Yes?" Phil asked politely, trying to inconspicuously hide his writing journal from view. If this guy had read his new lyrics, things could get messy pretty quickly.
The guy smiled and his nametag read 'Dan' which made Phil's head do some kind of explosion because of course, this had to be someone from the show yesterday, one of the people who stayed after to meet Phil. God damn it. "Did you drop this?" He asked, holding out Phil's very first writing notebook; it held thousands of words that were later made into some of his most well-known songs.
This is very, very bad.
"Ah, I must have," Phil chuckled, trying his hardest to laugh it off despite his secret panicking session. He took the notebook from the boy carefully, trying his hardest to not let any of the pages peek out to betray his biggest secret. Dan looked slightly surprised at Phil's voice, and Phil was almost certain he'd been caught. So as nonchalantly as possible, he asked, "Is something wrong?"
Dan shook his head, causing his hair to fling into his eyes, wiped away by slender fingers. "No, sorry, your voice just sounded familiar is all?" His voice tilted into a question, like he was questioning whether Phil was being authentic or not.
But Phil is a liar at heart and said, "I get that a lot, actually."
There was an awkward silence between the two where Dan squinted at Phil for a moment like he was trying to place something, but then he shrugged as if he didn't find what he was looking for in the first place. His eyes flickered to Phil's open notebook, making Phil nudge it under his arm uncomfortably. What a nosy fuck, this guy is. "What are you writing about?"
"Boring stuff," Phil lied smoothly, not even blinking. "Work stuff."
"What do you work as?"
Phil blanched, offput by the question. He'd never really been asked that question by strangers before. So what could he even say? I'm Phil Lester, a singer in a band who always wears a mask and goes by the alias of Skye? Definitely not. "I'm a secretary at a music industry who gets people food and sometimes helps with lyrical suggestions."
Did that even make sense?
But apparently it did because Dan's eyes immediately lit up and he extended a hand as if he had deemed Phil acceptable enough to talk to. "I'm Dan, fellow librarian and music freak."
Phil chuckled, shutting his notebook completely and shaking the boy's hand. His hand was smooth, warm in Phil's own. It was nice and Phil was actual trash. "Nice to meet you, Dan. I'm Phil."
Rule number one that Phil had always set for himself while in the world of fame: Never get close to anybody.
He broke that one rather quickly. Normally, he would go to the library once or twice a week while on break from touring. And yet, he found himself there every night since the day he met Dan, always finding excuses to be at the library. First it was so he could work in the quiet library atmosphere, and the next he was telling himself that he absolutely needed Ellen Hopkin's newest book even though he didn't really have time to read anymore.
Dan was younger than Phil by four years, the confusing age of eighteen, and he wasn't really sure what to do with his life so he took a gap year to continue working at the library until he found a reason to further continue his education. Phil didn't mind that Dan was only making minimum wage or that he didn't know what the hell he was doing (he even briefly thought about becoming Dan's sugar daddy, but he doesn't want to talk about that now).
But the thing that was extremely problematic however, was how absolutely and positively obsessed Dan was with Runaway Sky. His phone background was even the lead singer, Skye, in all his white-gold masked glory. Phil would be be lying if he said it didn't made him uncomfortable, but only because he was 99% afraid that Dan would connect the dots and realize that twenty-two year old Phil was also twenty-two year old famous indie rock vocalist, Skye.
It had been two weeks since Phil had first met Dan, meaning that there was only two weeks left before Phil would be going on tour again and he was internally freaking out. What would Dan say when Phil disappeared for a few days? Thankfully he was just touring around the UK so home was always going to be close unlike if they'd toured in America, but Dan was a smart kid. Terrifyingly smart. Which was why Phil wondered how Dan hadn't picked up on Phil's secret yet. Unless he had but just wasn't telling, which was highly doubtful.
He supposed he could always tell Dan that he went on a family vacation of some sort. But then he would have to go on vacation a lot for that to be even close to realistic.
Dan's smile lit up the room when he took sight of Phil, his hair slightly curly from the misty rain outside but his brown eyes were as bright as ever and Phil thinks he's a bit lost in them. "Phil! Did you finish the book I gave you already?"
One of the traditions that Dan and Phil had started was that Dan would pick out a book for Phil to read, and Phil had to read all of it before he could come back to the library. Usually he would finish it in a day or two, which is faster than he thought he could ever read in the first place.
The book he was returning today happened to be Perfect by Ellen Hopkins, a story about teenagers dealing with different issues to try to become, well, perfect in one way or another. This time, though, he left a little note in the cover where Dan would see when he opened the book to scan. It was a tidbit of the newest song he was working on, and Phil believes that by the time it comes out, Dan will already have known who exactly Phil was. Phil doesn't like lying to Dan, especially if they end up getting any closer.
There are stars that shine in your brown eyes, and Ill never get over you even when the world stops spinning.
Coffee sometime? -Phil x
And maybe it was corny beyond belief, but the grin on Dan's face when he saw it made everything worth it. "Of course I would like to get coffee with you," Dan said quietly. Phil could tell how much he was trying to hold back his emotions because they were in a library and loudness was frowned upon.
"After you get off work?" Phil asked hopefully, beginning to get out his lyric book while Dan turned to rifle through a bookshelf, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
"Do you even have to ask?" Dan snickered, making Phil beam. Who would have guessed that Phil would be so attached to an eighteen year old fan? Not only was Dan extremely attractive for his age, he was also intelligent about the wildest things and his quirky attitude made Phil keep coming back. "Ah!" Dan exclaimed suddenly, pulling out a book with such force that Phil wondered how the book didn't go flying out of his hand. The brunette placed the book in front of Phil, leaving him to stare at it quizzically.
"Once Upon a Marigold?" Phil asked in disbelief. "Um, no offense, Dan, but isn't this a children's book?"
Dan rolled his eyes, puffing out his cheeks and huffing as if offended. "Just read it, you freaking jerk. It's the first chaptered book I've ever read and it still remains my favourite book of all time." He looked as if he was about to say more before a woman - his boss - appeared and told him to get to work sorting through books. Dan pouted, but promised to see Phil when he got off at three, and then Phil was alone.
He spent his next few hours mindlessly doodling in his journal, writing about cute boys with brown eyes and how it sucks hiding from the people you care about.
The world may be small, but I don't mind because you're by my side.
At one point, he took a picture of the doodles in his notebook and put it on Skye's instagram with the caption, '90% of the time, I don't even write, I just doodle aimlessly.'
In seconds, it got thousands of likes and Phil could have sworn he even heard a squeal on the other side of the library that sounded an awful lot like Dan. The thought made him smile.
It was a dangerous game he was playing, but Phil was addicted and Dan was a drug.
You must be a drug, my dear, since I seem addicted to you.
Three hours later, Phil was broken out of his lyrical thoughts by Dan slamming his hands on the table and exclaiming, "Let's go!" Which earned a harsh word or two from his manager that Dan just laughed off. "I hope you know that a coffee date is extremely cliche, Philip."
Phil raised an inquiring eyebrow, packing his things into his bag carefully. "Is there somewhere else you'd prefer to go then, Daniel?"
Dan pursed his lips, scratching his head like he was deep in thought. "Ah! We could go to your house!"
"Hasn't your mum ever taught you that inviting yourself over to other people's houses is considered rude?"
Dan rolled his eyes. "Hasn't your mum ever taught you that I don't give a fuck?"
Phil chuckled lightly and scuffed him on the head, messing up his curls even more than they already were. "Watch your damn prophylactics. You're still a child."
"I'm only four years younger than you," Dan whined, following Phil out of the library. Luckily Phil only lived a few minutes away, but he was praying that he hadn't left his mask out somewhere Dan could see.
His phone dinging made all of his worries float away for a moment, digging it out while Dan looked at him curiously. He nearly hit himself in the face when he saw it was the band group chat, Jesse exclaiming how they only had one week left and that they better get laid or something in that week.
Phil: guys pls shut up for once im hanging out with someone and you're all annoying af
In a matter of seconds, his phone was dinging nonstop and he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He swears he could kill these guys.
Jesse: OOOO PHIL'S GETTIN SOME. DETAILS LATER.
Phil: I actually have a problem that we need to discuss later, but his name is Dan. He's a fan and I like him a lot.
He quickly switched his phone to silent before the guys blew up his messages with how much he screwed up or how he's probably getting him some 'twink ass' tonight, as Jesse would put it. And he'd rather pay attention to Dan right now, who was looking even cuter as his hair got curlier because it had started to drizzle, the cool raindrops sticking to Dan's cheeks.
"Annoying friends?" Dan mused, lips turned up in a smile as he gazed at Phil with those coffee-coloured eyes.
"Something like that," Phil laughed nervously, bees angrily stinging inside his stomach. They had reached his flat, which was admittedly a bit more pricey that just a normal person's considering the large amounts of money he made, but he had tried to tone it down a bit so that he didn't draw much attention.
Burrito barked enthusiastically as he slid the key into the lock, and as soon as the door opened, a tan ball of fur and fat tumbled through the door, flinging herself at Dan's ankles. Dan giggled and pet her just as enthusiastically, scratching behind her ears in the way that she loved.
"What a beautiful dog," He exclaimed. "What's her name?"
"Burrito," Phil said before internally cringing. His Instagram held dozens of pictures of a pug named Burrito on it. How could he be so stupid? He scoped the room to make sure there was nothing that could give away his identity, and he almost breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw nothing but the dog.
"That's funny, Skye has a pug named Burrito too!"
Immediately, Phil responded as nonchalantly as possible. He couldn't fuck this up anymore. "Skye? That famous musician you like so much?"
Dan nodded, his lips turned up as he straightened and looked around the apartment, taking in every detail from the colour of the blue walls to the type of television Phil owned. "Nice place you got. It suits you." His voice had gone soft and Phil felt all of his anxieties fall away because it was just Dan and Dan was harmless.
"Would you like to watch a movie?" Phil suggested, gesturing to the case of movies that towered against the wall. There were so many movies that Phil occasionally forgot which ones he owned and which he didn't.
"Sounds good to me." Dan brushed a curl from his eyes and padded over to the case, running his hands along the spines like Phil had often seen him do with books, so carefully as if he was caressing an item that held a lot of meaning. He stopped on Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and pulled it out with a look of utter adoration.
Phil wished Dan looked at him that way.
"Wonderful choice, Dan," Phil praised, taking the case from him and popping the disk into the DVD player. The credits started playing and Phil left the room to grab them popcorn and some orange Fanta.
When he came back, Dan was sprawled across the couch with Burrito curled around his feet. Phil turned slightly pink at the sight, eyes catching a sliver of skin from Dan's stomach where his shirt had ridden up.
Dan seemed to meet his gaze with one of challenge. "Looks like I've stolen your couch," Dan sighed, mocking sadness. "Whatever shall Phil do?"
Phil smirked, coming around the couch to stand in front of the television. "What a shame," he groaned, but his eyes gleamed in the lights. "Looks like I'll just have to find a new seat..." He trailed off and pounced, landing on top of Dan with a thud.
Dan squealed from underneath him and tried to push Phil off, failing when Phil grabbed his wrists with one hand and held him in place, the other hand moving to tickle his sides. "Phil! Stop!" Dan screeched, face red, eyes watering with just how hard he was laughing.
"What's the magic word?" Phil taunted, moving to his neck which Dan squirmed even more for, whimpering like a hurt dog.
"I'm sorry! Please get off!"
Phil chuckled and let up, releasing Dan's hands and pulling him into a sitting position. "That should teach you a lesson."
Dan's face was still red and slightly sweaty as he wiped his eyes. But his eyes were gleaming when he turned to Phil and said, "But what if it didn't?" And if that didn't sound like a challenge, Phil didn't know what did.
With only a moment of hesitation, Phil leaned forward and attached his lips to Dan's, eliciting a sound of surprise from the younger boy. The kiss wasn't heated, nor was it anything close to a makeout session, but it was short and sweet and Dan's lips were so soft against Phil's that Phil almost just gave in to the temptation and deepened it. But he didn't, and he backed away instead to smile at Dan's glossy eyes and pink cheeks.
"I hope you learned your lesson, Dan," Phil said softly, knowing with utmost certainty that Dan definitely did not learn his lesson.
"You're going out of town?" Dan repeated, frowning as he shut the book he was reading to stare at Phil. "For how long?"
Phil shrugged, twiddling his thumbs. Truthfully, he had no clue how long he would be gone. His next tour lasted about two months, with short breaks in between to visit home. He was sweating just thinking about what to tell Dan when he kept disappearing for weeks on end. "Probably a week or so? I have to.. Visit family." Yeah sure, sounds plausible enough.
Dan sighed and leaned his head on Phil's shoulder. "I don't want you to go," he whined, pouting a lip. "When are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow," Phil sighed, pressing a kiss to the mop of brown hair. If he could just take Dan with him on tour he would be happy. But Phil was a dumbass and kept digging himself a deeper hole. "I'm gonna miss you."
"I'll miss you too, you jerk." Dan suddenly brightened then, grabbing Phil's hand and entwining their fingers together. "Did I tell you I'm seeing Runaway Sky again in a few days?"
You've got to be fucking kidding me.
"No?" Phil was visibly tense, shoulders rigid, fingers tightened in Dan's hand. Dan shot him a confused look so he tried to calm down, which was hard when he was nearly pissing himself. "Didn't you just see them?"
"Yeah," Dan giggled, obviously trying not to pay any attention to Phil's odd behavior. He probably just thought Phil was jealous. "What can I say, though, I'll see them every chance i can. They really saved me and I look up to them so much. Plus, I can just tell how good of a person Skye is. Most people would be dying for fame, but Skye doesn't want it, hence the mask. And he truly cares about his fans, even writing a song for one of them that died in a car crash."
It was true. The bit about the car crash, at least. Phil couldn't help but be wonderfully awed by how highly Dan thought of his alias. "What day are you going to see them?" He cuddled into Dan's side, stroking his free hand through his silky hair in the way he knew Dan adored.
"Wednesday," Dan replied, and he was absolutely beaming. Phil fell for him just a bit more, he reckons. But now he just needs to figure out how the Hell to break the news that he's actually the singer of Dan's favourite band.
Come Wednesday, Phil knew exactly how to do it.
It was subtle; so subtle that Dan would have to be paying attention enough to even catch it, but Phil has been working his ass off to get it exactly right and the band was completely for it. They thought he was idiotic, of course, but they understood how much this meant to Phil, so they let it go.
After a month break from the bright lights and crowds the screaming was deafening and the brightness hurt his eyes a bit, but it was exhilarating knowing that Dan was out in the crowd watching him, singing along even. Phil made eye contact with a pair of brown eyes for a few seconds before tearing his gaze away, heart pounding in his chest.
Funny how Phil could be scrutinized by thousands of people, and just one quirky brunette could make him more nervous than any number of fans.
"I'm so glad to be back on stage for you guys!" Phil exclaimed into the microphone, loving how a hush fell over the crowd at the sound of his voice. He tried to soothe the nerves in his stomach by taking a sip of water and adjusting the mask on his face. "In fact, I'm so happy that I've got a surprise for you guys. Do you wanna know what it is?"
A chorus of screams and Phil grinned, nodding.
"Well you see, I've been working super hard while on break and I happen to have a brand new acoustic song ready to be heard!" He started to say more, but the crowd went absolutely crazy, jumping and screeching and Phil even saw one girl start to cry. "This was written for someone who I've gotten to know pretty well lately and who I absolutely adore. This is 'Addicted to You.'"
He took a deep breath, searching the crowd for a certain tall nerd before beginning to sing, hearing the strumming of Craig's guitar.
"There are stars that shine in your brown eyes
and Ill never get over you even when the world stops spinning.
And the world may be small
but I don't mind because you're by my side.
You must be a drug, my dear
since i seem addicted to you.
My mind lies awake at night
to the thought of what it would feel like with you lying next to me.
They told me not to get attached,
but that's hard to do
when you have galaxies in your eyes
and a light in your soul that no one can tame.
You're my muse when I can't think,
you're the sun at the end of a storm.
So please don't think you equate to nothing
because to me, you're a beautiful dream.
And maybe I'm a little too over the top
But i hope you'll at least accept this song
Because I'm addicted to you, my dear."
The song ended with a final chord, and the crowd erupted into cheers, leaving Phil a shaky mess, because Dan definitely got the message. After the very first line, his lips had formed the syllables of, "Oh my fucking God," and now his eyes were wide as saucers, hands covering his lips.
Because Phil had just sung part of the lyrics he had used to ask Dan out.
"And with that, we're out!" Phil laughed, throwing the peace sign to his listeners before running off the stage. He felt like a scared dog with his tail between his legs.
"That was brilliant!" Jesse exclaimed once they were safely in the dressing room, patting Phil on the back with a loud slap. "Hopefully your Dan liked it! Maybe you'll get some good sex tonight from that stunt, mate!"
Phil shrugged him off, biting his nails anxiously. "Shut up," he muttered, pulling his phone out of his pocket when he heard the familiar dinging. Five times.
Dan: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU
Dan: TELL ME THAT DIDN'T JUST HAPPEN
Dan: I DON'T KNOW WHETHER TO BE ANGRY OR HAPPY
Dan: I'M CRYING A LITTLE???
Another text informed Phil that Dan was going to be waiting outside of Skye's dressing room and that the magic word was 'enchilada'. He assumed that he had to incorporate the word into a sentence to assure Dan that it was actually him.
"You okay mate?" Craig asked gently, eyes soft as he searched Phil's face.
Phil nodded, biting his lip and beginning to walk towards the door, chest hurting from how hard his heart was beating. "Dan's coming," He gasped right before opening the door, feeling a sense of déjà vu when it swung open to reveal a group of about ten people. Plus Dan. Sweet, gorgeous Dan with his curly brown hair and watery chocolate eyes, skin turning pink when Phil opened the door and greeted everyone with his famous, "Hey, guys!"
It took way too long before the only person left was his Dan, and then it was just them and Dan was staring at him in some sort of awe. After a couple moments of complete silence, Dan blurted, "What's your favourite food?"
To which Phil just chuckled and replied with, "Enchiladas apparently." Dan gasped and his hand flew to his mouth, tears beginning to well in his eyes. "Would you like to come inside?" Phil asked softly, wishing more than ever that he could just kiss the hell out of Dan right then and there.
Dan nodded and stepped inside, looking more than shellshocked as Phil shut the door behind them. And when Phil removed his mask completely, Dan let out a small sob. "You fucking jerk," he whimpered, slapping Phil on the chest with as much force as a stuffed animal. "I can't believe you would hide something this huge from me. And after I ranted about how much I love Skye- OH GOD." He visibly cringed, burying his face in his hands.
"Hey, look at me," Phil whispered, thankful that the rest of the band members had apparently snuck out to give them some alone time. Phil took Dan's hands in his own, lowering them so that he could stare into those beautiful brown eyes. "I'm still the same person. I'm still Phil Lester. I just like to write songs and sometimes go up and sing onstage." Dan snorted at the 'sometimes', but allowed his dimple to show anyways. "I'm really sorry for not telling you sooner. I just didn't know how to bring it up."
Dan stared at him for a long time, hands still clasped in Phil's until he pulled one away to wipe at his face. "I think you're a fucking jerk and I hate you a lot," he announced, smirking and looking at Phil through his eyelashes. "But at least you write pretty songs about me." And then he launched himself at Phil, connecting their lips so suddenly that Phil stumbled backwards, catching himself on the wall.
He grabbed Dan's hips to pull him closer, running a hand through Dan's hair and sighing with content.
Because this is the sort of feeling that people write songs about.