Four of Dan’s birthdays, age 18 to twenty two
Dan had always imagined himself settling down with a girl. He was bisexual, and he liked boys well enough, but somehow he couldn't see himself staying with a guy, not forever. He liked their muscled arms and their broad shoulders, their strong legs and hard jaws. He liked to be with guys. But he could never see himself settling down with them. Whenever he thought of himself getting married, having kids, growing old, it was always with a woman. No woman in particular, but a woman. Not a man. Sometimes he thought about why. Was it because that was more accepted? More normal? Or just because however much he liked boys, he liked girls more?
Dan found himself wondering this on his eighteenth birthday, sitting on the floor of his room, drinking all alone. Did he like girls more? Or was he just trying to fit in, to be normal for once in his life? He had always been insecure, always wanted to just blend in with the crowd. But he had thought that he had moved past that now. Decided that it was better to be happy than to be normal, whatever normal was.
He liked girls. He liked their curves and their long hair and their soft skin. He definitely liked girls. He just didn't know whether he liked them more than boys. Taking another swig from the bottle in his hand, he decided not to worry about it. He would go where life took him, love whoever he happened to love. Draining the bottle, he threw it to the side, ignoring the crash when it hit the wall. He sighed and curled up on himself, closing his eyes and doing his very best not to dream of the future.
A year later, Dan had another bottle in his hand, only this time he wasn't alone. He sat with Phil, chatting easily and laughing at things that weren't funny. They sat at opposite ends of the sofa, their legs stretched out and overlapping. Phil got up to get himself another drink, returning with a cupcake that he had somehow crammed nineteen candles onto. “Tadaa!” he announced, making Dan grin. Holding the cake in one hand Phil fumbled with the box of matches, but his hand slipped and the box fell, sliding under the sofa. Phil muttered something, crouching down to grab it when his foot slid across the wooden floor and he fell with a yelp, the cake flying through the air before landing upside down on the floor. Phil just looked confused as Dan began to laugh hysterically. “Your cake...” he said sadly, but Dan just grinned.
“I don't care about the cake,” he said, but Phil still looked upset. Dan stood up unsteadily, throwing his arms around Phil. “Thank you,” he whispered.
They stayed like that for a few more seconds, arms wrapped tightly around each other, before Phil pulled back. “You really don't mind about the cake? I can-” but Dan cut him off by putting his hands either side of Phil's face and pulling him forward and crashing their lips together. It wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't anything like what Dan had imagined his first kiss with Phil to be. But it was a kiss. It was a start. And at that moment, Dan wasn't thinking about the future, because all he could think about was right now. Phil's lips on his, Phil's hands in his hair, Phil's smell, Phil. It was midnight on Dan's nineteenth birthday, and all cared about was Phil.
On Dan's twentieth birthday he had yet another drink in his hand. Phil wasn't by his side, but he was around; in the same room, or maybe the next one over. Dan stood talking with friends, a smile on his face. The night drew on and the party died down as people started to leave. At last only a few remained, a couple of close friends who had passed out on the sofa. Dan smiled at the sight, whipping out his phone to take a picture of the dribbling pair before turning away, scooping up a couple of bottles before making his way into the kitchen. Phil was loading the dishwasher, but he straightened up when Dan walked in. He opened his arms and Dan walked into the hug, leaning against Phil. “Love you,” he murmured quietly. Phil just pulled him even closer.
Dan found himself thinking back to two years ago. When he'd been sitting alone in his bedroom, drinking to try and stop the onslaught of thoughts. Pulling back a little, he pressed a soft kiss to Phil's lips. He didn't need to drink to do that now. Now he had Phil.
He still found himself thinking about who he would end up with, but now it was different. He had spent a short amount of time telling himself that the partner he imagined wasn't Phil, (after all, Phil was bound to get bored of Dan sooner or later) but it was no good. At first it was still a faceless stranger, only now it was a man. That nameless girl of two years ago had long been pushed to the back of his mind, replaced by this new fantasy. Then that faceless stranger would be clumsy. The stranger would be tall. The stranger would wear glasses. The stranger would have blue eyes. But as the year wore on that stranger was no longer faceless, no longer a stranger. Now the man in Dan's dreams was Phil, and it scared Dan to death. Phil was older than him, more popular than him, more confident than him, better than him. Phil was better than Dan, there was no way around it, and he was bound to get bored of him sooner or later.
Dan had been drinking, but he was nowhere near drunk enough to block out the thoughts that sometimes threatened to smother him. So instead he just kissed Phil harder, and tried to forget all thoughts of ever being without him. Because right now, he couldn't really see a future without Phil.
On Dan's twenty-first birthday, they had gone to Vegas. They sat opposite each other in a restaurant, Dan laughing at Phil's attempts to eat spaghetti bolognese without getting it all down his chin, Phil failing spectacularly. Dan had decided to stop at one glass of wine; this was a night he wanted to remember. They had left the restaurant after finishing their desert, “That chocolate cake was the best I've ever had!” Phil had exclaimed, leaving Dan to scoff: “You said that last week when we went to that little cafe,” This had prompted Phil to explain why this chocolate cake had been so much better, and therefore deserved first place in the chocolate cake awards.
Now they were walking through the city streets, hand in hand. There were still people around, far too many people for them to be holding hands like this, to be standing so close, but Dan just didn't care. He leaned into Phil, doing his best to rest his head on Phil's shoulder, though he had long outgrown the height at which it was comfortable to do so. They found a bench overlooking a park and sat on it. Dan scooted closer to Phil, so close that he might as well have been sitting on his lap, but it wasn't as though Phil minded.
For a while they stayed silent, just looking out over the green. It was Phil that spoke first, although his words were so quiet that Dan barely heard them. “Happy birthday Dan.” he whispered. Dan tilted his head upwards, capturing Phil's lips with his own. Eventually he had pulled away, shifting so that he could lie down and rest his head on Phil's lap. “I love you,” he had said simply. And when Phil had replied with the same, Dan began to wonder whether the future that he had imagined for him and Phil could one day be more than just a dream.
