Not So Alone
Also: The Lateness of The Hour
Pairing: PHAN PHAN IT WILL ALMOST ALWAYS BE PHAN
Warning: Extreme amounts of cheese and some rusty writing
A/N: I don't even know...I'm just re-trying to get back on dA and writing and stuff. Oh jeez. I also couldn't decide on a title so there are three working ones.
Disclaimer: Heed me, people of the Internet. I own neither Dan nor Phil and there is no evidence that any of this ever happened. Please don't sue me. I have no money.
The cool midnight air hit Dan as he walked through the cold London streets. The wind sent a chill down his spine, but Dan kept walking, impatient. It wasn't unusual for him to wander about the drained streets at such a late hour. Most people would be asleep but he was a bit of a night owl.
He found himself patrolling a bare and unfamiliar park. It was ugly; the grass was yellow with age and malnutrition, the flowers wilting from exhaust. There was a broken fountain right in the centre, and it was obvious that someone had tried to fix it, but given up after finding that the work load was too much to bear.
Peculiarly, someone sat at a bench (the paint was chipping as it was). Dan squinted in the dim moonlight. The someone was a male: the light stubble on his cheek told him that. He had hair as black as the night that surrounded him and a mild, almost satisfied look to him. He turned, and noticed Dan staring at him.
"Hello." His voice was even pleasant. "Can I help you?"
Dan stuttered, surprised. "N-no, I just...just walking around and saw...you...." This boy's eyes were so amazingly blue, Dan noticed.
The boy's lip twitched and he turned back to the fountain, as though he hadn't just spoken to Dan at all.
"What are you looking at?" Dan asked after a tentative moment. The boy motioned for Dan to sit with him, removing a half-full coffee cup and a notebook from the bench.
"You know, I used to come to this place when I was younger, you know."
"Did it look any better?" Dan asked him. Again, the blue-eyed boy's lips twitched, but he didn't smile, not exactly.
"Not really," he shrugged. "But I would always sit and imagine that it was beautiful, at some point."
Dan could suddenly imagine this boy staring intently at the fountain like he was now, only as a small child. For some reason he couldn't see him without the stubble. It was almost laughable.
He continued. "You have to imagine it. If you think of the flowers as vibrant, colorful, alive, this place could be on the cover of a magazine. If the angel's wing on the fountain was just a little shorter, or perhaps if the angel itself was taller, then the fountain could look like something created professionally. Considering everything was painted, remodeled, recreated; it could be...magnificent."
Dan stared at the scene before him, and the edges of his mind began to curl, forming the pictures as Phil described them. The reds of roses and the greens of the leaves, the shorter wings and the elegant patterns in the base of the fountain. He gasped aloud; the vision in his mind really was magnificent.
The lips of the man next to him twitched again, seemingly against his will. "Didn't I tell you it was beautiful?" The look of satisfaction returned. He scribbled in his notebook and offered some of his coffee to Dan, which he gratefully accepted.
"So," the black haired boy said. "What brings you by? You know, considering the lateness of the hour."
"Just walking through town," Dan answered vaguely, not really wanting to talk about his problems with a complete stranger.
The boy turned to Dan and looked him in the eye, almost surveying him. He didn't look away; instead he leaned in, close to Dan's face. Dan's eyes widened and the other boy smiled.
"Sometimes," the blue-eyed boy whispered, "When I feel a bit...unfortunate, I do the same thing."
He stood up abruptly, taking the rest of his coffee and his notebook. "You know," he winked, "just walk through town."
And, even as he watched the blue-eyed, black-haired, mild-smiled and smug boy saunter away, Dan suddenly didn't feel as alone as before.