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It’s ridiculous, Dan knows, but he sees it, his whole life laid out in front of him, when he first looks into Phil’s eyes.
He’s at the train station, and Dan’s feet have barely touched pavement, hands still shoving his duffel bag back onto his shoulders, when he sees the flurry of movement approaching him.
His eyes lock onto Phil’s - Phil, in real life, in the same town, at the same station - and he feels his heart clench and stop beating entirely. Phil’s approaching at a fast pace, and Dan wants to laugh - something giddy and breathless, he’s sure - when he notices the small hops Phil’s making, quick skips to drag him closer to Dan, faster.
And then he’s there, Phil Lester, in front of him. Dan can’t find any words to say, can’t wrench his thoughts away from Phil’s eyes - so much bluer without the pixelated grain of Skype, a little green too, and a little yellow - and he’s searching them for something, gaze roaming across Phil’s face, and then his neck, and down to his hands, hands that are reaching out to him.
Dan realises he’s smiling, that he’s been smiling since he first caught sight of Phil, when he sees the smile mirrored back on Phil’s face, and he feels his cheeks start to ache. He’s looking back into Phil’s eyes then, and finds it, what he’s searching for, and he feels it in the lump in his throat, feels it in the warmth flooding his body, understands with a surety he’s never had before, that he’s going to know Phil Lester til the day he dies.
The sounds of the crowd around them burst back into focus as Dan crashes into Phil’s open arms. Phil makes a soft sound of surprise, something caught between a laugh and a gasp, and Dan soaks it in for a few more seconds before pulling back.
“Hi.” His voice creaks slightly. He clears his throat and lets out a noise dangerously close to a giggle. “This is so weird.”
Phil’s smile has become smaller, and Dan can almost feel the same awkwardness emanating off of him now as from the first time they’d done a video call. Phil throws his arms out to the side, jazz hands at the ready, “Ta da! Welcome to Rawtenstall.” Then takes a step closer. “Also, hi.”
“Hi.” Dan says again, grinning, and Phil returns with his own wide smile, unable to resist. “I can’t believe you have a full body attached to that neck.”
Phil pretends to examine his arms intently, mouth pursed into something serious, but the effect is compromised by his lips twitching upwards in resistance. “Thanks, I grew it myself. Mostly.”
A laugh erupts out of Dan before he can stop it, and he’s tempted to clasp a hand over his mouth, or perhaps sew it shut permanently, to prevent himself from forming any more reactions wildly disproportionate to how funny Phil’s joke had been. “I’m sorry - I just - sorry. This is so weird. I’m so excited.”
Phil seems to melt a little at the words, relaxing his shoulders and reaching out again, this time poking at Dan’s duffle, and nudging it forward. “Can I carry that for you? We should get moving too, there’s about three trains coming in at the same time soon.” Phil’s tugging at the straps at Dan’s shoulder but Dan refuses to let Phil carry his bag - it’s definitely overstuffed, and embarrassingly heavy - and Phil tugs harder, pulling Dan to his side, and keeps pulling until they’re both giggling maniacally and grabbing madly at the bag and at each other until one of them - Dan’s sure it was Phil - launches into a sprint that the other has to match and they’re racing through the throng, eliciting yelps and squeals, until they’re crouching outside the doors to the station, sucking in lungfuls of damp Lancashire air.
Dan lets out a groan and clutches at Phil, trying not to spare any oxygen on laughing at the small wheezes coming of Phil. “My god. You are a monster for making me do that kind of exercise.”
Phil clutches at his chest in mock offence, but the dramatic gasp he lets out is lost between the other, more general gasps. “That was definitely your fault! There I was being a gentleman -” Dan snorts. “- excuse you - there I was, with my manly muscles, ready to sweep you up -”
“Sweep me up? Like I’m a pile of dust bunnies caught under a bed?”
Phil waves it off. “Sweep you off with my chivalry, you damsel.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Rightfully so.” Phil does grab his arm then, and starts to lead him down the cobblestone path. “There’s so much I want to show you, this’ll be fantastic.”
Dan is beaming again, and he hates to think what his face looks like gazing up at Phil, but he doesn't have to think long as Phil leaps into a story about some little old lady that had asked him to roll two massive carts of luggage all the way down Main Street the other day.
All Dan has to do is interrupt regularly with a few of his own snappy comments and a seemingly endless supply of thoughts he wants Phil to know, and really, it's the easiest thing he’s ever done.