𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓+𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐒 ✭ 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐍

ṬℎїԻ†ẙ Š€ṽḙη

a.n - hey:) happy thursday, hope your day wasn't shitty:)) hope this can make it better:))

Dan sat cris-cross applesauce on his bed as he angrily stared at Phil's contact glaring in his face. Phil's letterman jacket lumped in his tight clutch. His painted fingernails dig into the fabric as he leaned his head into it subtly taking in the scent. It was the third time the player called him and it was the third time Dan ignored the ringing. Dan's breathing picked up once more as he watched Phil's face fade with his black screen then appear once again with another call.

The day much like Phil's digitized features faded into darkness and the only sound that could be heard was Dan's phone against the silence. Eventually, Dan gave in swiping his phone from the tangled blankets in front of him and pressing the device to his ear. "What do you want, Lester—"

Phil's shoulders slumped at the use of his last name erupting coldly from Dan's mouth. "I wanted to apologize, but I also didn't want to say I'm sorry over the phone so I have a question."

Dan leaned back into his pillows eyes shutting in annoyance, his hand tugging the jacket with his fall. "Hmm?" he shoots.

"If I were to be, hypothetically, standing outside your window would you hypothetically unlock it?"

Dan's eyelids instantly shot open. He swiftly scrambled off his bed and over to his window, swiftly opening the shutters peaking his head out.

Phil dropped the hand that held his phone against his ear as his gaze lifted up towards the sky and up at Dan.

"What the actual bloody hell are you—"

"I'm sorry, Dan," Phil shouted underneath a whisper in order to not wake up neighboring houses. "I really am—"

"No you're not," Dan yelled quietly. "How could you be when you'd drop everything to go do it again?"

"I—Dan, I had no choice!" Phil bit down on his bottom lip.

Dan slammed his hands down into his windowsill. "You had no choice? No choice! Of course, you had the—"

"Let me explain myself—" Phil took in a deep breath, eyes doing the work equivalent to Satan making Dan's heart thump in agony. "Please."

Dan looked up at the stars in the sky then back down. "I can't let you in my mom's downstairs—"

Phil shrugged against the cold air. He clapped his hands readying himself for a climb. "I'll come in through your window, I'm stealthy."

"You're kidding, right? What is this Twilight!? You psycho! You're gonna fall—" Dan began to exclaim. His grip fighting on the seal of the window, fear riding waves in his tummy.

"Back up, princess," Phil murmured making Dan's eyes roll into the back of his head but that ritual was quickly chopped into two when Phil began to dart towards the wall of the house.

"Phil!" Dan screamed, he slammed both of his hands into his face shielding his eyes backing into his room.

After a few second Phil's hands clammed around Dan's white rustic windowsill hoisting himself up, and soon he threw himself into the room tumbling in. Dan backed himself against his desk, laughing with a hand over his mouth.

"The only word to describe you is derailed!" Dan blurts gripping onto his vanity.

Phil sat on Dan's carpet trying to contain his laugh; his breathing becoming corse. Without warning, he jumped up from his seat. With each step he burned the space between their bodies and the fire within Dan's cheeks flared with the sight of Phil.