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This work was written for the @phandomreversebang and was inspired by this wonderful art by @dnovep.
Word count: 4002 Rated T (Mild references to sex and homophobia, mental health, established relationship)
Read on AO3
“Phil.”
His name lingers in a fog of sleep before dropping to the bed. The mattress dips with the weight of it. There’s one quick, deep breath before he presses his face further into the pillow and sinks back into a disjointed dream.
“Phil!”
It’s loud enough to break through now, dragging consciousness with it. Phil resists with a grunt, turning away from the sound but a hand comes to grip his shoulder, shaking him abruptly before pulling away. He hears a heavy put upon sigh and finally allows his eyes to open, slowly letting in bright morning sunlight. “What time is it?”
“Finally.” Dan is stood now. Phil twists to see him zipping up a bag and stepping into his shoes. “I’m leaving, just thought you should know.”
“Leaving? What time is it?” Phil can’t make sense of anything. The way the sun streams in says it’s early, so much earlier than he ever gets up. He’s not looking at Dan because his eyes have settled on the duffle bag sitting on the bed near his feet. He searches for a memory he must have lost. Was there a plan? Is Dan going away today?
“It’s like 6:30,” Dan says, like that’s a perfectly reasonable time to be waking Phil up. He’s bothered, annoyed. Judging by his tone, it must be quite a burden to drag Phil from a dream this way. “Go back to sleep. I just thought I should tell you before I left.”
Dan grabs his jacket off the back of the desk chair while Phil watches, confused and only half awake. Something squeezes around his heart like a fist, clenching tighter every second as awareness creeps in. The night before had been rough. Dan spent most if it sulking, complaining about every little thing, while Phil mostly stayed quiet and tried to leave room for Dan to vent. His offers of affection were ignored, his empathy met with derision. Dan had snapped at Phil, refused to talk to him. He’d rolled his eyes at Phil’s insistence that they not go to bed angry. I’m not going to bed, he’d said you are. So not my problem I guess. Phil was genuinely hurt but there was no getting through so he did go to bed, falling asleep alone to a soundtrack of the too loud television coming from the lounge.
“Wait, Dan. You’re leaving?” Phil says, voice shaky and cracking, his body reacting before his mind is fully aware of the fear he’s facing.
“Yeah, I’ll…” He turns as he speaks but stops short when he sees the alarm on Phil’s face. “Phil?”
Dan looks so tired, his eyes are pink and heavy, ringed in blue grey, his mouth pulled down at the corners. All the while, his body darts and weaves around the room.
“Phil. What?” He’s so terse, Phil is almost afraid to answer.
“You’re leaving? What does that mean exactly?” Any attempt to appear detached is lost to the panic rising in Phil’s throat.
Dan just stares at him for a few moments and then, “Jesus Phil, I’m not leaving you. I’m just leaving.” There’s that eye roll again. It’s so dismissive and it stings, it really does. Phil wonders if it felt like this for his mum when he would roll his eyes as a teenager. Dan’s not a teenager though.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know.” Again with the irritation, like Phil has no reason to worry, no right to know what to expect.
“Are you ok?” Phil asks, earnest, and sits up, reaching for his glasses.
“I don’t know.” An honest answer, matter of fact.
Phil throws the covers off himself and stands, reaching under the bed to pull out his suitcase. He pulls shirts from the closet leaving a mess of hangers on the floor. Three drawers slam one by one as he grabs what he needs from the chest. He doesn’t actually know what he needs because he doesn’t know where they’re going or how long they’ll be gone but he grabs a change of jeans and some pajamas, a handful of underwear and a pile of single mismatched socks and shoves in all into his case.
“Get the chargers and my pillow, I’ll be fast.”
Dan is still stood in the middle of the room watching Phil. “Fast at what?”
Phil has already turned on the shower and he climbs in in lieu of answering. He keeps his hair dry and washes as quickly as he can, then steps out to dry off and brush his teeth. He grabs hair product and his toothbrush and opens the door to find Dan in the same spot.
“Fast at what?”
“Showering. Did you sleep at all?” His chargers are right where he left them. He throws on jeans and a t-shirt and grabs a tour hoodie off the floor. The last bits packed, he zips up, grabs his pillow, and walks toward the door.
“Dan?”
Dan hasn’t moved.
“Dan?!”
He startles.
“Are we going?” Phil is losing patience but he’s trying, he’s trying so hard. This isn’t the first time Dan has run off in search of a conclusion to the story in his head. It hasn’t happened in a while and this scenario is definitely new. Waking Phil up for a goodbye, however ill tempered, is an improvement.
“You’re coming with me?”
Phil just huffs and walks past Dan to grab his bag too.
“Come on.”
They get an Uber to the rental car lot because Dan is too embarrassed to let Phil ride the tube holding his pillow. They don’t talk once they’re seated in the back seat. Phil politely deflects any conversation from the driver.
The morning is dreary and grey, a little too on the nose for Phil. He thinks a little glaring sun might do a world of good right now. Maybe it would boost Dan’s serotonin levels just enough or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe, to Dan, sunny skies would be an affront today, an assault on the senses. Maybe sunny skies would bring out the friendly in this driver and bring crowds to this rental lot. Maybe dreary and grey is a safety net.
Phil’s a safety net too though and he could really use a little sunshine right now. It’s not about him, he knows that but he can’t pretend this doesn’t scare him, doesn’t bring back all sorts of memories of hard times, bad days, and worse nights. If Dan can choose to be off meds, to let these days come sometimes, then Phil can choose to cling to him for dear life. We all have our coping mechanisms.
Phil loads a cooler into the backseat of the rental car before climbing in and setting two coffees into the cup holders in the center console.
“Where did you get a cooler?” Dan sounds angry but that’s just how he sounds on days like today.
Phil answers him with forced neutrality. “Tesco.”
“And Starbucks? You did all that while I was at the counter?” The look dan gives him could best be described as suspicious but there’s a hint of gratitude way in the back of his words. Phil holds onto it and shrugs.
“You won’t tell me where we’re going or how long we’ll be gone,” Phil says, “so I got snacks. You’re welcome.”
It takes a real effort not to mirror Dan’s mood. It’s not fair to be angry so Phil breathes deep and watches the scenery go by, bland as it is. He sips his coffee and reaches behind him to pull a box of doughnuts from the cooler. Vaguely political chatter drones from the speakers. It might be interesting if it weren’t so early. Dan waves away the offer of a doughnut but reaches over a few minutes later to take one from the box.
The landscape is dull as the sky. It all runs together, rushing past Phil’s window, beige and grey and muted green. Dan’s hands make the steering wheel look like one of those toys you’d give a baby in their car seat. He fidgets, gripping in pulses and twists. The muscles of his face twitch and spasm as he clenches his jaw and Phil reaches out to touch the hard edge of it.
“Babe,” Phil sounds small, “can you relax your jaw?” He clears his throat, “it’s gonna be sore.”
Dan inhales through his nose and lets his jaw soften. It’s a small thing but it feels like a victory and Phil’s shoulders relax the tiniest bit. He tries to remember everything he’s learned, things the internet taught him in the middle of nights made sleepless by worry, and things Dan taught him, vulnerable and open in Phil’s arms on one of his better days. There’s an inner dialogue unfolding that he’ll have to repeat on a loop until Dan is on the other side of whatever this is. All he can do is be here, strong and open-hearted, a witness to Dan’s strength, reflecting it back until he can see it for himself.
A sign rushes by, the off ramp for Wokingham is ahead. It distracts Phil from his thoughts.
“Oh Wokingham,” He says, “is that where we’re going?”
The laugh that follows is scathing. “Wokingham? Phil, are you actually joking?” Dan shoots him a look that matches his tone, “Fuck Wokingham.”
Phil’s eyelids are heavy, his head wobbles on his neck, and it’s clear Dan isn’t interested in chatting. Reclining the seat, he hugs his pillow and feels himself drift. He’s not falling asleep, he’s just getting comfortable, resting his eyes.
A cold rush of air sends a shiver over Phil and he reaches for a duvet that isn’t there. “Dan. It’s cold! Roll up your window.” He curls in tighter but his eyes flutter open to see Dan reach out and crank the heat up. The droning voice Phil had drifted off to has been replaced by something deep and loud, an angry voice half sings, half raps, and Dan sings along, hand drumming the beat into the steering wheel.
“Pull over, I need a wee.” Phil sits upright and throws his pillow into the back. “How long was I asleep?”
“An hour? Hour and a half? Wasn’t really paying attention.”
The nearest exit takes them to a petrol station and Phil runs inside, grateful for an actual toilet. He’s never been great at having a wee on the side of the road with his nervous bladder. When he comes back, Dan is leaning against the car, a picnic of road snacks laid out on the boot. Phil pauses just outside the shop, taking a moment to look. From here, Dan is only beautiful. He looks cool and strong, no sign of his crumbling resolve, no chemical imbalance, no dark circles, no trauma.
“Glad you’re eating.”
Dan holds out the pastry in his hand for Phil to take a bite. It’s a thing they’ve done a thousand times and Phil basks in the normal of it.
“When I get diabetes, you’re going to have to give me the shots.” A joke in poor taste, another small hint of normal for Phil to hold on to.
Phil gathers up wrappers and bottles and takes it all to the garbage. By the time he’s back, Dan is back in the driver’s seat.
“It’s bloody cold.” He says, starting the car and cranking up the heat. Phil breathes into his hands and looks to Dan, carefully choosing his next words.
“Feeling a little better?”
The twitch in the muscle of Dan’s jaw says he chose wrong.
“Better than what?” Dan says with a laugh that’s not at all funny.
The music is up and they are on the road again, making their way over the bridge to Wales. They don’t talk. Phil usually knows what to say, what not to say, how to just be there. He knows the heavy, shut down numbness of Dan’s depressive episodes and the weepy desperation that sometimes comes when the clouds are about to part. Maybe this is what it’s like when Dan runs off. Maybe the mood swings and the worry in Dan’s brow are par for the course. He hates that he doesn’t know. Running away like this has always been something Dan did without warning. Phil has never been privy to this piece of Dan’s puzzle but he can see that Dan’s mind is racing. He thinks he knows how that feels but he can’t be sure. He wants to know what to say. He wants to make stupid jokes and eat pizza and go home and cuddle. He wishes that he could be enough.
Outside, the blue sky has cracked through the murky grey clouds. The sea is calm, rushing past on both sides and soon they’re driving right along the coast. It brings to mind family holidays and morning walks with his mum but beneath the comfort, there’s an undercurrent of fear. Any moment, those dark waters could rise up, crash over them, envelop this little town they’re in. He conjures an image of he and Dan on the Isle of Man, watching the sunset, kissing on a high cliff where no one could see. Staring into the water, he clings to a heavy handed metaphor. He and Dan run deeper than most could imagine, so constant in their ebb and flow, so strong in their quietest moments. He’s lost in those thoughts when he feels the car pull off the road and realizes they’ve arrived. Somewhere.
Before he can ask, Dan is out of the car and walking toward the water. Grabbing a blanket from the backseat, Phil finds a grassy spot without too many rocks. There’s a lighthouse in the distance and the sound of the sea in Phil’s ears as he stands and watches Dan stretch his arms above his head. The blanket isn’t much barrier from the poking grass and pebbly sand but Phil sits anyway. Phil watching Dan, Dan watching the sea, birds screaming overhead. Enough time passes that the light has changed, the clouded sun giving a glow that feels like early morning though they left that part of the day at home. Finally, Dan turns and begins the walk back. He sits but the distance between them is miles wide.
“You ok?”
“No.”
Of course he’s not ok. “I can read on my phone or play a game. We could probably get a signal here, watch something.”
All he gets is a heavy sigh in response.
“I’m sorry.” Phil squeaks out. “Maybe this is your thing. I should have stayed home. I just get scared Dan.” Dan stretches the crick out of his neck and Phil wishes he could shave some of that annoyance away. “I try so hard not to make it about my feelings when you’re like this but things have been pretty good,” Dan’s brows shoot up, he’s picking at the grass next to blanket, “or maybe just familiar, I don’t know. But I’m having flashbacks if I’m honest. Last night was hard, this morning was hard.” Phil continues, “No, not hard, terrifying.”
Dan’s head turns just slightly and the flash of his eyes makes Phil want to reach out and pull him in but he stays put.
“Sorry I was a twat last night.” Dan tucks in his legs and pulls the blanket around his knees. “But I’m ok Phil. I mean I’m not, but I’m figuring it out.”
“Ok but that’s what scares me Dan. The only times you’ve ever scared me is when you’ve said you could handle things.” Phil’s lip is sore where he keeps biting it. “It just makes me think back to right before you started therapy. You kept insisting you were fine and then, well you weren’t. Do you remember what you said to me?”
“No.” He answers, exasperated.
Phil looks right at him and speaks slowly. “You said, ‘It’s getting scary Phil.’ Then there were tears. You weren’t really crying but there were tears. And I held you there. And you said you were scared. You said it a few times.”
“Ok, Yeah. I remember,” Dan says, “I was scared. That was a darker place than I had been before.”
“And now? Are you scared now?”
Dan turns his body toward Phil, finally looking at him. “Not like I was then. I’m not on an edge anymore. I would never do that do you.”
“Will you please come here?” Phil is really trying but he has to touch him. He’s the most important person on the planet and he can’t survive this moment without something, just a touch, he’ll take anything.
Dan lays his head in Phil’s lap and Phil’s fingers are instantly in his hair. It’s a fix and the itch under his skin finally subsides. He’s aware of the utter codependency, the addiction he has when it comes to Dan but he doesn’t care.
“I’m not going to do anything I can’t take back. This is different. I’m different.” He rolls on his side, curling against the cool air. “The thing is though, that means there’s no way out.”
“Jesus Christ Dan. How can you just say that?”
“Hear me out.” Dan has readjusted his position several times already and now he sits up, one leg folded in, on leg sort of wrapped around Phil’s so they are finally, finally close. “If I’m gonna do this, if I’m gonna feel everything, I can’t stagnate, I have to keep moving forward, making my life what I want it to be. You can’t be the only good thing in my life Phil.”
“I’m not. You have so much Dan.”
“Whatever. Some days you are. I want to have a good life with you, not just for you or because of you. Does that make sense?” He’s brushing his fingertips up and down Phil’s neck, searching for some connection and knowing he needs it as much as Phil does brings more comfort than anything could. He nods, it’s a small thing but it’s all he’s got.
They sit like that for some time. Dan watching Phil, Phil watching the sea, birds screaming overhead.
“So what were you doing last night? If you weren’t depressed or whatever, why were you up?”
“I was writing. All night. And drawing and outlining and my brain was about to combust so that’s why the drive.” There’s almost a smile now, the sunshine Phil’s been waiting for.
“Oh. Cool. What did you write?”
“Welp. Phil. I was working on a script, a concept really, for a video. It’s way too long right now, I’m gonna need your help cutting it down.”
“Of course.” Phil is lost but he waits.
“It’s my coming out.” Dan says, his eyes expectant.
“Coming out? Like, of the closet?”
“No Phil, it’s my coming out into southern American society. I’ll need a chaperone, will you escort me to my cotillion?” At least he’s laughing.
“Ok, I’m just surprised.”
“What do you think?”
“I think you should do whatever you need to do to be happy.”
Dan laughs, “Well I don’t know about that lofty aspiration, but I think it will help.” He leans back a bit, gets a good look at Phil’s eyes. “Anyway, that’s not what I’m asking. This is gonna out you too. I can’t exactly not mention the guy that made me commit to one dick for the rest of my life.”
Phil huffs a relieved sort of giggle, “so you aren’t sad, or numb, or any of that?”
“Not today. Just nervous, excited, anxious, terrified, maybe a little sad after writing my story down, but just normal sad.” He lays back down, so tired, like talking about this has used up the last of the adrenaline that was keeping him up. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“We don’t have to talk about this now.” Phil says, back to the important work of stroke Dan’s hair.
“Actually, we do. Kinda the whole point of this little trip. You’re the one that came along and uninvited bub. Can’t escape now.”
“Yeah, I mean, say what you want Dan. I’m already out to everyone that matters.”
Dan looks up at him. “I can think of 4 million people who matter who don’t know.”
“Oh come on, they know. I talk about hot guys all the time.”
“Yes Phil, I know.” Dan says with utter contempt in his voice. “And sure, the lesbians know, but what about all the people who will just assume we’re straight unless we literally leak our sex tape? What about all the people in denial because they’re just so in love with big daddy Philly.”
“Ew. Stop.” Phil crinkles his nose. “I’m not subtle Dan. And I don’t care if they know for sure, they’ll figure it out.”
“Ok babe. You do you. I’m just saying, you could maybe help some people.”
“How did this become a conversation about me?” Phil watches Dan snuggle in and close his eyes. “Let’s just get through your video first. See how it goes. You know mine will be pretty low key. If I decide to make one.”
“Alright.” Dan bats his eyelashes at Phil. It’s not intentional, just a thing that happens when he feels like this. “Thanks for hijacking my road trip. I love you.”
“Wait, what about your family, Dan?”
“Guess that’s step one.” He sounds so sleepy now, the words slur a bit, his breathing slow. “I’ve got till June. Maybe I’ll do it at Easter.”
“The June video.” Phil says.
“Has to be June.” He yawns. He looks so small sometimes. “A year is enough time thinking about it. I’ve got to rip off the plaster.”
Everything is different. Different to last night, different to this morning, different to last year, and so different to a few years ago. It doesn’t mean an absence of fear. Loving Dan means a small corner of his heart will always be hollowed out, lying in wait for the next time he sinks. But he’s reassured, for now.
There’s a little shack of motel up the road, generously referred to as a bed and breakfast on the website. Phil drags Dan awake after a half hour or so and leads him to the car.
“You can’t drive Phil.” Dan mumbles.
“I can and I am. It’s just ten minutes. No complaining.”
The lady at the front desk wears a scrutinizing gaze as she checks them in. Phil repeats yep just one room, more than once.
As they make their way up the stairs with their bags and Phil’s pillow, Dan whispers, “We’ll have to make some noise for her sake, after I get a nap.” Phil giggles looking over his shoulder.
They choose a movie and Dan’s asleep before the title appears. Phil isn’t far behind. Eventually, he gets up and ventures out to bring back a real meal. They eat and talk about all the ideas overflowing in Dan’s mind. Phil makes Dan take a shower and he doesn’t even unzip his bag, just climbs into bed to make that noise they’d talked about. In the end, they’re rather quiet but for breathy sighs and whispered affection. Dan is happy to do this Phil’s way, to let the weight of him hold him steady and let himself be adored. And so Phil does adore him, covering his skin in kisses, keeping their bodies impossibly close. He’ll taste every sweet and bitter piece of Dan and hear the soft sounds that only he’s allowed to hear. Dan will end up draped over Phil, drifting off yet again. Silky brown curls will slip around and past Phil’s fingers again and again and he’ll remember a time when he was the only one who got to see these curls. The years of hiding so many pieces of them are coming to an end but some things, the most important things, will always belong to just the two of them.
summary: dan is stuck in the wrong timeline. one day, he kisses phil goodnight. the next morning, he’s completely alone. he doesn’t even recognize where he wakes up, and little details in the world around him have changed. he has no clue what’s happening or where to go next in an effort to fix it; all he knows is that he has to find phil.
genre: sci-fi, a lil bit of angst, happy ending
warnings: none (for now)
fic word count: 2.0k (but there will be more!)
chapter word count: 2.0k
written for the @phandomreversebang !
inspired by the awesome moodboard by @maybeformepersonally !
beta’d (beginning to end) by @i-might-just-leave-soon !
a/n: i’ll be updating this fic every wednesday for the next six wednesdays, and then it’ll be finished (y’know, seven chapters)! after that i will, for the most part, retire from fic writing. thank you to everyone who’s supported my writing over the years!
read it on ao3
“I’m exhausted,” Dan said, stretching his lanky body as he clambered off the couch. He and Phil had just finished the Game of Thrones finale, and he was ready to fall over in bed. He put out a hand to pull Phil off the couch with him, and the two of them staggered sleepily into their bedroom, not even bothering to brush their teeth. They collapse into bed, and Dan barely gathers the effort to rotate towards Phil and plant a goodnight kiss on his forehead. That was their evening tradition: a kiss on the forehead before bed.
“Goodnight, Dan,” Phil muttered, the edges of his mouth twitching up peacefully as he acknowledged Dan’s kiss.
“Goodnight, Phil.”
That was the last thing Dan remembered. Of course, Dan remembered everything about Phil, but that was the last of it. He fell asleep beside Phil, the love of his life, and he woke up somewhere he couldn’t identify. At first, he simply panicked, concerned that he had been YouTuber-napped. Then he looked around the room and found pictures of himself. There were pictures of him with his family, pictures with his dog, Colin, and pictures with people he’d never seen before. The immediate fear dissipated into pure confusion; he didn’t remember taking any of those photos.
Dan peeled himself out of bed and picked up his phone. He tried to look at it, but it was blurry, even though it was right in front of his face. He blinked a few times, but he could tell this wasn’t the blur of sleep. Eventually, he noticed a pair of glasses sitting on the bedside table. He glanced around for a moment before cautiously picking up the glasses and putting them on. With them, he could see the phone perfectly. That was odd, he thought. He had never been farsighted before.
His phone looked strange as well. The screen was smaller, and his background was of a man he didn’t recognize. When he unlocked it, he found most of the same apps he had the night before, but when he went to Twitter, his verification was gone, and he found that he had only 934 followers. Dan was no longer a YouTuber.
Immediately Dan began to question what exactly he was, but at that point he had no care for such a thing. He threw himself into motion, throwing on a shirt he didn’t own and shorts he wouldn’t usually choose to buy. As he whirled through “his” apartment, Dan only cared about one thing: finding Phil.
He tore out of the building, not stopping to think. None of his movements made even a bit of sense; he jerked his head left and right, attempting desperately to figure out where he was and ignoring the map on his phone. His mind was so clouded by his confusion and fear that he had no logic left.
Dan took off aimlessly running down the street, a feat that was already uncommon for him, searching for anything familiar amidst the chaos. After a few minutes, he slumped into a bench and put his head in his hands.
“What in the absolute fuck is going on?” Dan whispered to himself. He threw his head back and ran his hands through his hair, which he suddenly realized was straight. That was impossible; he would never be able to wake up with straight hair.
After getting struck across the face with even more confusion, Dan finally managed to attempt to think about his situation. He looked himself up and down; the clothes he had picked up were all pastel pink. “What the hell? Is this some Opposite Day bullshit?” Dan swore again, unsure if he had the restraint at that point to utter a sentence without cursing.
A cab approached, and Dan decided to wave it over. He climbed in and told the driver to take him to his old address; maybe Phil would be there.
On the ride over, he pulled the small phone out of his back pocket and reopened Twitter. The account he opened up to appeared to be an aesthetic account devoted to the color pink. It had his name on it, but it certainly wasn’t his.
He switched to the search function and searched ‘phil lester.’ A full page of accounts popped up, but, on first glance, none of them appeared to be Phil. He looked through them each, to no avail. Social media didn’t appear to be helpful in this situation.
Before long, they were at his flat; they were much closer than Dan had anticipated. He paid the driver with money he found in the case of the phone, clambered out of the cab, and made his way up the stairs and to his door. He was sweating a bit after the walking; finally, he felt at home. As he knocked on the door, anxiety welled up in his stomach. Suddenly the door opened, and he found himself face to face with a very tall, very slightly dressed woman. “What do you want?” she said, a harsh tone to her voice. She clearly had yet to have her morning cup of coffee; it reminded him a bit of Phil.
“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but have you seen Phil Lester?”
“Nope,” she said, slamming the door in his face before he even had a chance to apologize again.
“Well, that was fun,” he said into the void. He backtracked down the stairs and realized that he’d sent the cab away. He took a deep breath, far more annoyed than the word annoyed could convey, and waited for another. Luckily, it came quickly, but the ride to their first London flat, which was his last guess as to where he’d find Phil, was a bit longer, so he still had to wait. He decided to take advantage of the time and explore the phone that had basically been dropped into his lap. As any normal Internet dweller would, he first searched through the camera roll. The majority of the camera roll appeared to be pictures for the pink Twitter account, but he’d find the occasional meme or selfie of him in all pastel clothes. He didn’t particularly enjoy it, but he supposed he could see why the fanfic writers seemed to take such a liking to it.
Suddenly, his mind shifted to the life he’d built with Phil as he realized everything was gone. Not only was his relationship with Phil gone, but the fanbase they’d built was gone too. He was certain all the people that made it up still existed, but it occurred to him for the first time that he no longer had any fans. There were no longer blogs, Instagram accounts, or group chats dedicated to him. It felt freeing, almost, but also deeply saddening. All the lives he’d impacted were suddenly the same as they’d have been had he chosen to never upload Hello Internet in the first place. His heart swelled with determination to find Phil and return to a universe where the two of them had built their own universe. Thinking back to all the people who had told him on tour that he and Phil had saved their lives, he knew he had no choice but to find Phil.
The taxi pulled up to their first London flat, and he couldn’t help but crack a smile looking at the building. He and Phil had grown so much in that apartment, and he still felt a bit as if it was his home. This time, being more realistic, he told the driver to wait before he made his way over to the apartment complex. He climbed another set of stairs that he was all too familiar with, and his body almost seemed to transport back four years as he relived his memories of that flat.
This time, he was a bit more optimistic as he knocked on the door. He took a deep breath and stood there for a moment, a combination of hope and fear filling his lungs as time passed. Finally, he realized nobody was going to answer the door, and put his head down as he made his way back down to the taxi.
Dan sighed and pulled up Maps to direct the driver back to the apartment he’d woken up in. Luckily, whatever stranger he had taken over the life of bothered to put “Home” into the app, because Dan hadn’t a clue how to get back to the building he’d ran from. He sat hopelessly, thinking of nothing at all until he arrived back at the apartment. He paid yet another driver with money that wasn’t even his and climbed even more stairs, only managing to find “his” flat because he’d left the door open in his frenzy.
He slammed the door closed and flopped onto the bed he’d rolled out of. He had only one more idea. He did a quick Google search and pulled up the only resource he had left: a London phone book. He found nearly as many ‘Phil Lester’s as he did on Twitter, but none of them had Phil’s phone number. Still, too suspicious to give up, he called each number. Some of them didn’t answer, but it was clear that none of the ones that did were Phil. Well, at least they weren’t his Phil.
Tears pooled in his eyes as he jerked forward. “Fuck, DAMNIT!” he shouted, throwing a punch into the mattress and then curling the sheets into his hand. “I don’t know what to do,” he said to no one at all.
The truth was that there was no one there to hear him, and it was the first time in Dan’s adult life that he’d been truly alone. Sure, Phil had left for a few days, but he always knew his life companion would return. Now, he had no clue if Phil even existed at all. He was completely alone, with no one to talk to and no one to direct him. He was like a lost child, but he was a fully functional adult in a timeline he didn’t recognize.
Really, this was just the existential crisis to end all existential crises waiting to happen. As if life, death, and time weren’t already scary enough, now he’s being thrown around like a rag doll with no significance from one timeline into another? There was so much to contemplate that he couldn’t even begin. He rolled over onto his stomach and made himself comfortable; it was going to be a long day.
Dan did, in fact, spend most of the day contemplating his existence, but he eventually laid eyes on a laptop that luckily had Netflix downloaded. It turned out that a new timeline had plenty of new shows. In this universe, Queer Eye contained five British lesbians. He couldn’t pass that up, could he?
After his third episode and plenty of tears, something in the credits caught Dan’s eye. “Wait,” he breathed out, fumbling to hit the “J” key and go back. He watched again, this time much closer, and slammed the space button to pause the show. On the screen in blaring letters was a header reading “Production Manager” and underneath it: “Phil Lester”.
Dan spasmed forward, nearly knocking the laptop off of the bed. “Holy shit!” he shouted. Sure, it was possible that he could simply be a different Phil Lester--it wasn’t like there weren’t way too many of them already--but Dan could feel it: this was his Phil.
Dan’s mind began racing; how could he use this information? He panickedly typed “phil lester uqeer eye” into Google, not caring about his own typos, and began scrolling. He found multiple websites that credited Phil for his work on the show, but not a single website told him any of Phil’s contact information. As he searched, time ticked late into the night. Dan usually stayed up long past midnight, but after a few hours straight of existential crisis, he was exhausted. Scrolling through multiple pages of Google searches can be quite boring, so Dan nodded off shortly before the night officially ended.
Sadly, however, there were a few things Dan didn’t know as he dozed off that evening. He didn’t know about the reminder on the phone he’d neglected all day making sure he, or the him that used to live in this timeline, didn’t forget about his first day on the production of Queer Eye. And he surely didn’t know that while he slept, as the clock struck midnight, the world began to change around him. It was like he slept in a protective bubble, holding him in place as the timeline disassembled and reassembled around his body. At 12:01, his entire universe had changed once again. Dan slept through that night in bliss ignorance until he was woken up and his world turned upside down once again.
Summary: Dan is a reluctant Crown Prince, always watching the world outside his window and wondering what else is out there. As he walks through the village outside the Castle walls one day, he meets an quirky villager with a passion for nature, an oddly constructed house, and a secretive past.
Notes: Written for the @phandomreversebang. This was inspired by the incredible art work done by @jorzuela. And huge thank you to @unhawkeye for being an awesome beta. And to both of you for the encouragement as we went along. This got a bit long, but it was a great experience all around.
my 2nd art for this year’s @phandomreversebang !! 🌈❤️💖⭐️💕❗️drag queen d&p as contestants on ‘rupaul’s drag race’ (here they are backstage on ‘untucked’) 👯♀️👍
@obsessivelymoody wrote an AMAZING fic for this art, which i recommend EVERYONE read immediately & send lots of love to!!! here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20142370/chapters/47719564 🎉✨❤️💚💙🥰💋
M (for violence which will get progressively worse), 12.3k (so far)
Phil is different from everyone else in his village. For one thing, his mother is dead. For another, she wasn't human, so neither is he. To learn how to harness the powers he inherited from her, Philip enlists the aid of a Druid living at the edge of a mysterious forest. To make matters more complex, the forest’s waters are drying up and a beautiful flower nymph is telling Philip that he's some sort of chosen one sent to the forest in order to protect it. How is Phil supposed to handle all of this? And who or what is causing the forest to slowly die?
Act 1 Rating: T (violence, some angst - it’s not THAT bad yet)
Act 1 Word Count: 12.3k
Act 1 content warnings: Past minor character death, suspense, food, fire, someone being tied up at the wrists & ankles, mentions of drowning, lots of dead trees.
(Acts 2 and 3 coming soon!)
My fic for the 2019 @phandomreversebang, based on art by @dansphlevels which you can see here.
Thank you to my beta @elleberquist6 for always being so thorough and supportive!
