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There was a Gap dividing them.
It was both literal and metaphorical, and it was literally and metaphorically driving Dan mad.
Truth is, they knew it was going to be hard. They talked about it a lot before actually agreeing to make a tour throughout all of the US, the pros and cons, the challenges, the sacrifices, the rewards.
But they weren’t truly prepared. At least Dan was now realizing he hadn’t been. The excitement and earnest desire to bring the show to everyone, to meet their fans, to know new places, to travel, had overshadowed the difficult part of it all; keeping their distance, not showing affection, hiding themselves from the world even when they thought they were safe.
They were professionals at keeping their distance. They had mastered the art of moving around each other and never touching, even when working together, commuting together, walking together. The years at Radio 1 had been the perfect training, always on camera, on the public eye, live, with no possibilities of editing out any mishaps.
But at the end of the day they would go back to the apartment, where the curtains could be drawn and the cameras could be turned off, and they would hug and kiss and cuddle and drown themselves in the warmth and smell of the other, finally coming home.
That feeling, the peace and comfort of lying in each other’s arms, they couldn’t have it here.
The bed they were sharing in the bus was just the result of a bargain, the cheapest rent bus they could find that would accommodate all the crew. It was by obligation that they got the bed, so as not to make anyone else uncomfortable, while everyone else slept not even two meters away from them, privacy depending on a single thin and clunky door that could be opened if someone pushed too hard, even when the lock was on. They slept together, but The Gap was there.
They were very mindful of The Gap.
Dan knew that once they arrived in Las Vegas they would have a bit more privacy, and a night in a proper hotel and maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to hold Phil again.
He was sitting at the tiny table in the lounge area of the bus as it cruised through the neverending flat lane that crossed the desert. Night was coming to an end and staring out the window he could see the faint line that announced the break of dawn, it should’ve been beautiful. It felt like a punishment. Yet another day that started and he wasn’t back in their bed pushing Phil off of him due to the heat and sweat.
The click of the bedroom door reached him and immediately after the soft padding of careful feet treading to the front of the vehicle.
“Dan?” Phil whispered as he placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder. Dan closed his eyes, not giving into the touch, the rest of the crew could wake up at any moment. Phil’s hand withdrew almost instantly.
“Hey.” he answered, his gaze now fixed again on the horizon.
Phil sat on the couch on the other side of the table, hugging his knees up to his chest, head resting on them and looking at Dan.
“Woke up early or never went to sleep?” Dan blinked at the question and a small smile tugged his lips up. Phil didn’t need to ask why he wasn’t in bed, he already knew.
“Never went to sleep.”
Phil only hummed in response, his eyes already closed again. Dan let himself look at him in the growing light, his soft features and pale skin, his disheveled raven black hair, the way his shoulders moved up and down with his breathing… and averted his eyes again as he felt the tug in his stomach and the ache in his own arms that screamed for Phil’s touch. There was a pang in the back of his eyes and he blinked trying to make it go away, there was no room for tears.
“Lucky we don’t have a show tonight.” his partner whispered so low Dan could hardly make the words apart from the humming of the bus.
“Yeah.”
The minutes passed in silence, as the golden hue of the rising sun began to fill the bus, but Dan kept staring until the burning was too much and had to look away.
“Why do you do that?” he heard Phil’s voice, but all he could see was the dark spot in the shape of the sun that clouded his view.
“What?”
“Looking at the sun.”
Dan blinked several times.
“It’s less painful to stare right now.”
“Less painful than what?”
“You.”
He heard his partner's hard inhale, but none of them said anything else, because The Gap wasn’t just physical.
The Gap was in how they spoke to each other, how they controlled constantly not just what they said, but the tone, the softness or harshness of their voice, the way they said their names while talking to each other, the things they talked about even when alone.
The Gap was in the way they trained themselves to refer to each other as friends, sometimes if comfortable, best friends; others just as roommates.
The Gap was in their constant vigilant state, looking for cameras and gazes that might see through their charade, their carefully planned posed partnership. All while avoiding looking at the other.
The Gap was in how Dan preferred their fans to conspire about how much they actually hated each other rather than the rumours that dragged the truth out in the sunlight.
The Gap was in every hour, every minute, every second he couldn’t feel Phil’s soft touch on him, taste his mouth, hear his breath.
“Coffee?” Dan said, only to prevent the thoughts and need to keep flooding through his mind.
“Yeah.” Phil answered.
The coffee machine would inevitably wake someone up, it was too noisy, but right now he was sure that neither of them could stand another minute alone.
“You sure you guys don’t want separate bedrooms?” The tour manager was going through the accommodations they had booked for this specific hotel.
“We’ve got work to do.” Phil answered simply, looking out of the lobby’s windows. Outside the day was bright and painfully colourful.
“There’s a sponsored video that we need to film tonight and upload this week.” Dan lied, as the woman shot her gaze up with a look that by now he knew very well. “We promise we’ll get some sleep, but it’s important.”
“Right.” she said, looking back down to her tablet. “I just sent you guys the itinerary for today. You have… Two hours before lunch, and then we’re scheduled to go to Hoover Dam.”
Dan looked at Phil. The canyon had been his idea. Phil ignored him.
“Great. See you in two hours.”
Dan grabbed his suitcase and his key and headed straight for the lift. Phil would come up in another one, surely, if he even came up at all.
The hotel was crowded, lots of people wandering in the lobby, in and out of the buffet. He took the lift with a young couple that was all smiles, hugs and giggles, and the knot in his chest tightened. They would’ve never done that in a public space, but every step he took further away from Phil felt heavier and heavier.
The room was dark and silent, the curtains were drawn and the aircon was on, which he appreciated deeply. But his heart sank when he saw the beds.
Usually, when they booked double rooms they had two double beds where they could more or less cuddle together in a ball of limbs. This room had twin beds, and there was no way they would both be able to fit on one of them.
Dan couldn’t do it anymore.
He was taking out his phone when the door opened and Phil walked in. Dan saw in his eyes make the same path his own had made, the recognition and the pain.
The door closed with a soft noise and silence fell between them.
One, two… before the three seconds had gone by Dan was already throwing his arms around his boyfriend's waist and burying his face on him, breathing deep, as if he had finally reached the surface of a very deep ocean.
Phil’s arms locked around him, and with the feeling of comfort and safe familiarity, Dan finally allowed himself to cry.
“Oh, Dan…” one of the hands on his back slipped up until it was firmly holding his head, fingers intertwined in his hair.
“God, I missed you.” he managed to articulate between sobs.
“I missed you too.” Phil’s voice was also wobbly and Dan could feel the soft kisses being laid on his temple.
Time went by, to Dan it felt like eternity and a second at the same time. It didn’t matter, as long as Phil was holding him, as long as he was holding Phil, as long as The Gap wasn’t there, it didn’t matter.
When the tears stopped and silence fell once more, Phil grabbed his face and pulled it up. In the safety of the dark room, staring at Phil didn’t hurt anymore, it healed everything that was broken inside him, filling every dark hole with light and colour and love.
“We need to get ready.” Phil said in a broken whisper.
“I don’t want to.”
“I know, but we must.”
“Kiss me.”
“Not now.” The words dropped heavy between them and Dan took a step back breathing deep. The Gap was still there. They still couldn't cross it.
“I’ll take a shower.” he said and moved to his suitcase to look for clothes. Phil sat down on one of the beds, his head buried in his hands. There was no anger between them, only love, and care and the pain of being so close and yet so apart.
They went to have lunch with the crew and they talked and laughed and pretended, just like every other day.
And then they went to the canyon, and the beautiful sight was almost enough to make Dan forget about the hole in the middle of his chest.
They still stole glances, and smiles. They always did. They had so many rules, but none of them could stop them from finding the other. They bantered and fought and called each other names, and everyone around them laughed. They shared half stories and half anecdotes, because the full version was not for anyone else than the two of them, and they talked about half their plans, and half of their wishes.
They sat across each other on tables, so they wouldn’t be too close.
They walked without waiting for the other, so it wouldn’t look like they were paying attention.
They took pictures and filmed the other just to make sure The Gap was there.
When their lips finally met, back at their room, Dan thought that this was what it must feel to drink the nectar of the gods.
“God, I missed you” he said again, but the intention behind his own words was different from the ones that very morning, and the grunt Phil gave while leaving a trail of kisses on his neck, was all the answer Dan needed.
They kissed for a long time standing against the wall, next to the door, their backpacks forgotten at their feet.
The Gap was gone, they were allowed to cross it, and Dan could breathe again.
Eventually, the feeling of the sunscreen on their skin combined with the dust that had stuck onto their arms and faces was too much.
“Shower?” he asked in a murmur and Phil nodded.
They went together under the hot stream, and behind the security that provided the steam and the running water, between kisses and moans, they took care of their most urgent needs.
***
“What are we going to do about that?” Phil asked once they were dry, looking over Dan’s shoulder, and he turned to realize they still had two very small beds.
“Push them together?” Dan ventured.
“It’ll be less trouble to just sleep on different beds.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Dan…”
“Bub, I don’t want to go to bed alone.” He would never know if it was the pleading in his voice, the sadness in his eyes, or the fact that Phil was all too well aware that Dan hadn’t slept in almost 30 hours, but he nodded.
“Ok. Let's do that.”
It was only when they were both lying down, tangled in each other, trying to be as close as possible, to be touching as much skin as they could; when he felt Phil’s breathing become slow and steady; when the beating of his own heart finally settled, that Dan felt The Gap disappear.
Next morning they would have to build it again, plant it there again. But at that very moment, Dan was home, and he didn’t have to mind The Gap.