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Daniel Howell had spent the first 18 years of his life feeling misplaced. Everything had been slightly off-kilter, fragile and turbulent. He hated cliches, but there was no other way to describe it; he had felt, for the first part of his life, like a wallflower. As though, no matter where he was, he’d never quite belonged. There was always a thrum of something uncomfortable itching underneath his skin, a yearning for something he couldn’t quite fathom, a wrongness he had put down to his repressed queerness, but felt like so much more.
Home didn’t feel like home.
He had felt entirely untethered.
That was until he met Phil.
Phil Lester had been happy growing up. He had great friends, a great family. He was ambitious and creative, and this had never been ridiculed or belittled by the people around him. In a small town in Rawtenstall he had sheltered his sexuality with careful armour, had played the part of the straight boy he thought he was supposed to be, had spent nights trying to unravel the knot of confusion in his mind about why he loved Sarah Michelle Gellar so much, but not like the other boys around him, and about why his stomach flipped when Matthew smiled at him like that in science class.
Sexuality crises aside, however, Phil had been happy. His life had been good. That didn’t stop that certain indescribable, pulsing feeling of emptiness that followed him around, though. He often felt, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, like he was missing something.
That was until he met Dan.
From that first message, and ever since then, when Dan and Phil were together, that primal pulse of wanting stopped, that aching feeling of emptiness, of being untethered, of feeling like something was missing, evaporated. Everything settled. Everything calmed. They were two halves of one whole. Beside each other was where they were meant to be. As though, if the distance between them was too great, their atoms would begin to frantically vibrate, soothed only by the other’s proximity, a salve to their anxieties.
Seventeen years had passed and yet that feeling hadn’t. If anything, time had only exacerbated it. They truly were so inextricably interwoven with each other. It was impossible to tell where Dan ended and Phil began. Some people might have called it codependency. Some would argue that they were merely soulmates.
It was a Sunday morning. Golden light trickled into the bedroom through the gaps in the curtains, blanketing them both in an ethereal early morning light as they lay, an entanglement of limbs, bare skin pressed against bare skin, in a bed that was theirs. Dan’s eyes cracked open, blinded by the sun that pierced its way through the curtains that had promised to be blackout, but never quite managed to live up to it. He wanted to grumble, to huff and roll over and bury his face under the covers and sleep for another few hours. But how could he complain when Phil was tucked against his chest, hot breath tickling the crook of his neck, cheek smushed against his shoulder, legs slotted between his? He watched Phil fondly, eyes travelling the map of a face that Dan had committed to memory, a face seared into his soul, that he would recognise from touch alone. Dark lashes fanned against the pallid skin of Phil’s cheeks, littered with a smattering of freckles, barely visible unless one had the privilege of being so close to Phil.
He looked so young like this. It had been like this for nearly all of Dan’s adult life, but the warmth in his chest that spread throughout him whenever he looked at Phil would never fade. Waking up with Phil would never get old. He was reminded of that first week they had spent together in Rawtenstall. It had been utterly perfect. From the moment he stumbled off the train and onto the platform, all giddy nerves, meticulously straightened emo bangs and skinny jeans, and laid eyes on Phil, who was desperately seeking him out amongst the throng of people on their commute, lip worried between his teeth, a calmness and serenity he had been chasing his entire life settled over him. Their eyes met. Brown meeting blue. The ocean crashing against the shore. Suddenly everything was quiet. The bustle of the train station stilled, and it was just the two of them. It felt like letting out a stagnant breath that had sat in his lungs for too long, allowing for a different kind of oxygen to fill his chest. Both of their long legs had expelled them forwards before their brains could compute, and three large strides found them crashing into each other, hugging each other so tight, as though they both couldn’t quite believe the other was real. They pulled back, somehow having the awareness that they were still in a public place. They studied each other up close. Dan couldn’t believe it. Phil was somehow even more beautiful in person, which he hadn’t thought was possible.
“Hi,” Phil smiled, and Dan thanked his knees for not giving out underneath him. He’d obviously heard Phil’s voice over the phone, but that was incomparable to hearing it in person. Dan felt so happy he might just collapse.
“Hi,” he smiled back, their beaming grins a mirror image of each other.
“Come on,” Phil said, taking Dan’s hand and pulling him along to catch the bus.
They slotted together like a lock and key. There was no awkwardness. They talked like they had known each other forever, Dan’s hand never leaving Phil’s.
That evening, when they got back to Phil’s house, behind the safety of the closed front door, no judgemental eyes to stop them, Phil kissed Dan. It was soft at first, chaste and tentative, whilst they familiarised themselves with the feeling of each other’s lips, but once they’d had that first taste, nothing would be enough to sate them, and they’d spend the rest of their lives stealing moments away for themselves, fulfilling an incessant need to feel their mouths pressed together. The kiss soon turned heated, fingers tangled in hair as they licked into each other’s mouths, tongues exploring every inch. Dan wanted to know Phil’s mouth from every angle, wanted to feel the groove of every one of Phil’s teeth against his tongue, he wanted to know him, inside and out. It was messy and heated, hot breaths in mouths, thighs slotted together as Phil backed Dan up against the wall. They tugged each other impossibly closer, needing every conceivable inch of their bodies pressed together. They only pulled apart when their lips were numb and they could hardly catch their breaths and they realised they hadn’t even stepped away from the front door.
Phil gave Dan the house tour, kissing on the threshold of every room, until they reached Phil’s bedroom. Dan felt like he knew it already. He’d seen every corner of Phil’s room from the countless hours of video calls, he was already intimate with the offensive brown and green hues of it, had seen it in states messier than this (that wasn’t to say it was particularly tidy), but stepping into it felt like bridging the gap between his online persona and the real him. It felt like falling, but knowing there would be someone would be there to catch him, that Phil would be there, waiting at the bottom of his descent, arms open, pulling him in, to safety, security and comfort.
He adored Phil’s room. It was so inherently him. He was woven into every piece of it, from the garish colour scheme, to the knick-knacks scattered on every surface, to the posters on the wall, and the tangle of wires hanging from his desk. He felt enveloped in Phil. Dan didn’t think he’d ever felt safer.
They kissed again, falling onto Phil’s crumpled sheets as they chased each other’s lips and body heat. Time became redundant. They kissed and kissed and kissed, until the sun had set outside the window and they were left in the blanket of night, the only two people in the world who mattered. They might have kissed forever, if not for a flash of light outside that roused them from their kiss-fuelled trance. They both shot up, lips swollen and bruised, hair mussed, chests heaving, as they looked at each other with confusion.
“What the fuck was that?” Dan laughed.
Rain hammered against the window pane, pelting off the glass in fat drops. The skyline came alight with a flash of lightning, the earth rumbling with a roll of thunder.
“Come on,” Phil tugged Dan to his feet, “we can see better from the spare room,”
They hurried over to the bedroom across the hall. The window in there was large, and the bed was placed in such a way they could watch the storm unfold. Dan adored thunderstorms, they were his favourite. He thought they were beautiful. They made everything around him feel a little smaller, a little more inconsequential, in the best way.
Dan tucked himself into Phil’s chest, eyes half-lidded as they watched thunder and lightning battle it out in a world much farther away from theirs, their fingers laced together resting atop Phil’s navel. Dan had never felt so content. He wasn’t sure if it was the security of the darkness, or the hum of the rain, or the warm, gooey feeling in his chest that loosened his lips.
“I think,” Dan started, voice barely a whisper above the crack of thunder that boomed outside. “you might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know we’ve just met, but I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
Phil pressed a kiss on the crown of Dan’s head. “I feel the same way. It’s only been a day but this feels so right,”
“Are we crazy? For feeling like this so quickly?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve known you longer than just today. We’ve been speaking for months. Just because we hadn’t met in person doesn’t mean we know each other any less. I’ve always known how amazing you are.”
Dan's heart fluttered. He felt like he could burst with happiness. Like something in him was healing. “You’re the amazing one. It’s literally in the name. AmazingPhil.”
“You make me amazing. You make me feel so much, Dan. You make me feel like I could do anything. You make me feel good. I - I really like you. Like, really, really like you,”
Dan lifted his head to meet Phil’s eye. It was dark but even then he could make out Phil’s every feature, could see how his pupils were blown, he knew his cheeks would be tinged a delicious rosy pink.
Dan kissed him. “I really, really like you too. I’ve been so sad all my life, Phil. But you make it worth it. Everything has always felt so dark, but you’re a literal ray of light.”
Dan felt Phil’s heartbeat quicken underneath his palm. “I want to make you feel like life is worth living every single day. I want you to see yourself how I see you. You’re perfect.”
“Thank you for taking a chance on me.”
“Please don’t thank me, Dan. There is nothing to thank me for. Thank you for being you. Thank you for coming.”
Dan didn’t want to cry, but tears threatened to spill. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. He never thought he would be able to feel so happy. He chuckled sadly. “I never want to leave.”
“Then please stay forever.”
They both knew it was too early, but those three words nestled underneath their tongues, nipped at the cracks between their teeth, desperate to escape.
Outside, the sky lit up with the most beautiful and unusual orb of light.
“Holy shit,” Phil gasped. They both sat up, hurrying over to the window to get a better look. “That’s ball lightning. What the fuck?”
“It’s so beautiful,” Dan hummed. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. He couldn’t believe they were witness to such a strange and rare phenomenon.
It felt fateful. Like their meeting was elemental. It sealed something in their brains that they had already known. It meant something. They meant something. Two boys, one from Reading, one from Rawtenstall, were destined to meet, were carved for one another, and were made from the same stardust. The universe was giving them a sign. She was telling them they were exactly where they were intended to be.
Dan had awoken before Phil the following morning, and began committing the map of Phil’s face to memory. It would change over the years, with age and the passing of time, but it would remain fundamentally the same at its core, and Dan, he would love it always.
As it still did that very morning, Dan’s chest would bloom with a love for Phil that physically ached, that all-encompassing warmth and fondness for him. The first day they had awoken together, that feeling had been laced with a certain anxiety, anxiety that this wouldn’t last, that he could lose this, this special, sacred thing, the one thing that had made him feel more safe and happy than he had ever felt. Over the years the anxiety slowly left him as he came to accept there would never be Dan without Phil. They were part of each other, permanent fixtures in each other’s lives. Phil was Dan’s and Dan was Phil’s.
“Hey,” Dan whispered, as Phil stirred on top of him, face scrunched in confusion, softened with sleep. His blonde hair stuck up in every direction, eyes puffy and mouth dry, the skin of his cheek a harsh red from a night pressed against Dan’s chest. He was still the most beautiful thing Dan had ever seen.
“Morning,” Phil murmured, pressing kisses along Dan’s collarbone. Dan sighed contentedly as Phil rolled on top of him, kissing, licking and biting at the skin of Dan’s neck, pressing his hips against Dan’s, their cocks hardening between them. Phil was always so horny in a morning. Not that Dan was complaining.
Phil worked his way up the column of Dan’s throat, until finally he kissed his way to Dan’s lips. They didn’t care about morning breath or messy hair as their tongues lapped over each other. Phil rocked his hips against Dan, they were both fully hard now, and the feeling of Phil’s length against Dan’s cock made him hiss in pleasure. Phil reached his hand up to Dan’s mouth, holding it below his chin as he pulled back.
“Spit,” he commanded. Dan obliged, looking up at Phil with his pupils so big his irises had disappeared.
Phil collected the precum and spit in the palm of his hand and used it to wet both of their cocks, taking them in his hand and stroking them together. Dan threw his head back, watching through hooded lids as Phil rolled his hips in time with the languid flick of his wrist. He was still so fucking hot. The sounds he made had Dan rutting his hips up, desperate for more, more, more.
He sat up, hand flying up to the back of Phil’s neck to anchor Phil towards him, kissing him fervently.
“Can I fuck you?” Dan asked, his voice almost a whine.
Phil considered it, a playful smirk taking over his features as he slowed his movements to a torturous pace. “What’s the magic word?”
“Please, Phil. Please can I fuck you?”
Phil loved to make Dan beg. Clearly he wanted it just as much, though, as he quickly acquiesced. He nodded, then threw himself off Dan’s lap to lay on his front, chest pressed against the mattress, ass high in the air. He was a spectacle to behold. Dan couldn’t believe that was all his. He kissed down Phil’s spine, hands kneading at the flesh of Phil’s ass, before he grabbed the lube from the bedside table, deftly covering his fingers. He circled Phil’s entrance, before pressing the pad of his middle finger inside. Phil pressed his hips back, desperate for more.
“Hurry up,” his voice was strangled. “Don’t tease. Need your cock.”
Dan didn’t need to be asked twice.
He made quick work of opening Phil up. He knew Phil’s body better than his own, knew all his likes and dislikes, knew just what to do and say to get him there. He ran his fingers along Phil’s prostate, until Phil was crying out and leaking all over himself, demanding Dan’s cock inside of him. Dan was more than happy to oblige.
Nothing felt better than Phil’s heat around Dan. The way Phil swallowed him up, took him so well, to the hilt, their hips pressed together as Dan was buried deep inside of him. It was where they were meant to be.
Dan drove into Phil, and Phil met him with the same ardour. The room was filled with the salacious sounds of skin slapping against skin and their pleasured mewls, until they were both coming undone together, Dan’s body collapsing against Phil’s as he succumbed to the white hot pleasure, his cum filling Phil up as Phil came all over his stomach.
They stayed there for a moment, until they had caught their breaths. Dan pulled out of Phil and headed to the bathroom to grab a washcloth. He worshipped Phil as he cleaned him up, running the warm cloth all over his body, following its path with his lips, leaving no stretch of skin unkissed.
When they were both clean, and the sheets changed, they headed to the kitchen, where Dan made coffee and Phil poured them both cereal, opening far too many cupboard doors than what was necessary for a 2-ingredient breakfast.
They settled together on the couch, watching a rerun of Buffy, with Dan in Phil’s lap. He wasn’t paying attention to the TV. They’d seen it a million times before. For every milestone of their relationship, Buffy The Vampire Slayer had been there.
Dan had become accustomed now to the warm feeling that settled in his chest whenever he was with Phil. Happiness was a byproduct of Phil’s proximity. Phil had kept the promise he had made the first night they had spent together, under the glow of ball lightning; he had made life feel worth it every single day.
“You’re not watching,” Phil pouted. Dan kissed it away.
“I love you,” Dan replied, simply. Phil smiled down at him.
“I love you, too,” he said, without a moment's hesitation.