#cafephan

It's been three months since they've last seen each other.

Dan receives a text saying his car is outside waiting for him. He takes a deep breath, checks his appearance in the mirror, nervously flicks his hair around, and straightens his black tie unnecessarily. He buttons his black suit jacket and heads towards the door.

On the journey over, the uber driver attempts to make small talk, but Dan just lets it wash over him; right now, he can't speak for fear of vomiting. He knows that certain members of the press will be there tonight, those who very publicly plastered it all over social media that he and Phil had split - how they found out, he still had no clue. Now, tonight, he is going to have to answer the questions that are about to be thrown his way.

It's been three months which Dan has had to adjust to life. Three months since Phan was no more. Tonight is the first time Dan is seeing Phil since the week after they split, when Phil had come by to collect the last of his stuff from their flat. Tonight is the first social engagement to which they'd both been invited, and yes, Dan is highly emotionally charged, as well as scared stiff that he'll have a breakdown and embarrass himself. He hates that life has made him a needy little shit, and that was part of the problem, just one of the many reasons why they'd split up in the first place. Now, tonight, he has to face his fear and put in an appearance at the movie premiere he's been invited to see.

He pulls up at the cinema in Leicester Square, thanks the driver in a tight voice, steps out of the car onto the red carpet, and forces a fake smile onto his face. He's greeted by fans screaming his name and flashes from mobile phones as they take pictures. His fans have been his only source of comfort these past months; without them, and their love and support, he often wonders what he'd have become. He waves and calls hellos to those who have turned out, even stops to sign a few autographs and take a selfie or two. He's finding it hard to hold it together, he can see the questions in his fan's eyes, but no one is brave enough to ask him outright about what happened between him and Phil; for which he is relieved. Though that relief doesn't last long before a journalist is up in his face asking him questions. Dan politely but firmly declines to answer; he'll address this when he's good and ready, not before.

Minutes later, Dan finds himself stiffening. He'd been chatting to one of his youtuber pals when they'd pointed out that Phil had just arrived. Dan slowly turns his head in the direction of the road and sees Phil looking rather sharp in his suit, and the breath is knocked from his body. Phil looks absolutely radiant in this light, almost ethereal. Dan's eyes start to prick with tears as he watches Phil's every move, that smile that could light up the sun is being conveyed to everyone but Dan. Dan slowly makes his way inside, and boy, does he feel rough.

The movie is now over, and it's time for the after party. Dan couldn't really concentrate on the movie, but he goes through the motions of congratulating the stars of the movie for a job well done before finding himself a quiet corner so he can try to breathe again. Tonight has taken its toll on him.

Why's it only you I'm thinking of?

As the night proceeds, Dan tries to find the courage to go and speak to Phil. But his heart and mind are having an internal battle with each other. His mind is screaming at him to just go and do it, but his heart is telling him to just stay away, it’ll only hurt more. Eventually, though, Phil makes his way over to Dan. They eye each other for a moment, and it seems neither of them can speak, until Phil does.

"You look good, Dan."

Dan whispers a thank you. He wants to hug Phil so damn tightly, but he doesn't. He holds himself in check. As a waiter appears, a single glass of champagne upon the tray he's carrying, both Dan and Phil go to grab the delicate crystal flute, fingers colliding and quickly withdrawn feeling as if they've been burnt. A round of fake laughter and many back and forths take place before Dan gives way and takes the damn drink. Phil is attempting to make small talk, which he knows Dan hates, but neither wants to acknowledge there are things they still need to talk about. Dan's mind is a raging torrent.

Tell me there are things that you regret.

As the night goes on, Dan finds a quiet spot away from the throng of the party. He's not sure how much more his heart can take tonight. He's done nothing but torture himself all night. Instead of trying to ignore Phil, he's watched him like a hawk, and he feels emotionally wrecked. Why must his mind betray him like this? He'd resolved to not do this to himself, but as usual, his resolve didn't last long. He just wishes the night was over, he feels so very cold and alone right now, and his chest hurts. He's not used to being alone at these sorts of things yet. It was always himself and Phil against the world, but now, now, it's just Dan. A small part of him dies in that room that night.

Do you still think of me sometimes?

At long last Dan can leave to go home. It's been an appropriate amount of time since the party started. He lets the right people know that he's leaving and does his best to avoid Phil. He can't take having to say goodbye again, he feels he might just break. But his luck has run out; outside on the kerb, Phil is also waiting for his ride home. Dan desperately wants to find a place to hide, but the square is still too brightly lit. So he decides to hover behind Phil and not make his presence known.

The funny thing about Phil was he always knew when Dan was there, and tonight is no exception. Phil looks over his shoulder and gives Dan a small smile. Dan's heart stutters in his chest, and his breaths come in short, sharp bursts. Oh how Dan remembers that little smile, and how it would make him smile, but now, that smile is like poison. Neither say a word, and then Phil is gone again.

Don't it feel fucked up we're not in love.

Once Dan is home and locked away from the world, he finally allows the emotions he's been feeling all night to overspill. His heart breaks all over again as he strips himself from the now crumpled suit he's wearing and throws himself down on the bed, gripping his pillow tightly as sobs rip loudly from his chest and throat. He grabs the framed photo that he kept of himself and Phil and stares at it through a sheen of tears; he remembers the day it was taken, they were sat together on a part of the beach outside their rented villa in the South of France.

It's hurt him so much to see Phil tonight, to see him looking happier without Dan, he wishes he could go back and fix what went wrong, but you can't fix things if the other person doesn't want to fix them. The words slung at Dan often come back to haunt him, 'bored,' 'stagnant, 'you're getting more clingy, the older you get,' 'I feel suffocated,' 'I can't do this anymore.' Dan knows why their love broke and crumbled away, it was all his fault, but at the same time, Phil hadn't given him a chance to change. But maybe if he'd changed, Phil wouldn't have loved him still, for he wouldn't have been the person Phil fell in love with in the first place. All Dan ever wanted was to love and be loved in return.