#phan crack

Dan didn’t mean to. He just saw the cardboard cutout, and no one was around, and he had always wanted a cardboard cutout of Phil to complete his shrine. So he took it.

Okay, when you put it like that, it did sound a lot like he meant to.

And so what if he did? It was part of his branding. Phil trash number one, the fans called him. Oh, they had no idea- and Phil didn’t either. It hadn’t ended when he met Phil. It hadn’t even ended when they started dating, or moved in together.

No, when Dan said he was Phil trash for life, he meant it. He had been born Phil trash, he had lived Phil trash, and when he died, he wanted to be buried in a Phil-shaped trash can.

No one was looking. So he took it. That was all. Fitting it in his suitcase on the way back home was a little hard, and it was a bit dented and creased by the time it made its way into his closet shrine in their apartment, but it was perfect. He lit the candles around the edges and took a step back. It really was perfect.

He stood back and sighed in contentment.

“Dan?” He heard Phil’s voice behind him.

Dan jumped, trying to close his closet door behind him. “Hey,” Dan said casually.

“Dan? What’s that?” Phil approached.

“Uhhhhhh,” Dan said.

Phil got closer. His eyes widened.

“Phil,” Dan said. “I’m coming out of the closet.”

“Oh my god,” said Phil, reaching for his phone, probably to take a picture so he could remember Dan’s shrine forever.

Dan smiled.

“Dan, that’s… wow, that must have been a lot of work.”

“It was,” Dan said, happy that his partner was so proud of him.

“I’ll- I’ll be right back,” Phil said. “I, um, left my… keys… in the oven. I’ve got to go, uh. Take care of that.” Phil stumbled out of the room, his eyes never leaving Dan’s.

Dan nodded. He understood, this revelation must be a lot for Phil. He would need some time to process a labor of love on this level. But when he went into the kitchen to find Phil, to reassure him that Dan had done this for Phil, that he didn’t expect Phil to reciprocate, or even be able to- after all, Dan’s cardboard cutout was still on the other side of the Atlantic- their flat was empty.

After searching their flat for a few minutes, Dan shrugged and looked for a box of Crunchy Nuts to sacrifice on his mini-altar. He was halfway through his ritual when he heard a ringing at his door. He opened it to find a police officer.

“Hi,” the officer said. “We’re here to talk to a Mr. Howell?”