Give Me Some Of That Bass // phan

Kiss Me Again

"Hold me feel my heart beat,
Put your arms around me"

***

Dan was a singer.

It was one of the many things that had Phil so intrigued by him; he was always mumbling under his breath some random lyrics he was working on, or flat out belting his favorite songs, and it was always beautiful. His voice was a godsend that was greatly treasured by everyone who had the pleasure of hearing it.

His vocals were the main attraction of his band, TCE, or that's what Phil liked to think. He honestly wouldn't have ever listened to any of their music if he hadn't personally heard Dan's singing, wanting to hear how it sounded with different chords and beats accompanying it.

And Dan was never shy about singing, whether it was in public, or at practice, or when he was alone with Phil and they had nothing better to do. Those were some of his favorite moments they spent together.

So it came as quite a surprise when he was calling Phil at six in the morning on Monday, complaining about stage fright.

"You've never been nervous about singing in front of people before, babe." Phil said, the phone shoved between his shoulder and ear as he looped a belt through his jeans. School didn't even start for another two hours, but Phil couldn't find it in him to even try and go back to bed. Once he was awake, it was impossible to fall back asleep. "What's so different now?"

"There's gonna be so many people there." Dan said, his voice slightly muffled, possibly because he was still in bed, his face shoved into the pillows like he did whenever he was feeling insecure. "All of our other gigs have always been medium sized, if not extremely small. Like, 150 people at most, and even that's nerve wracking. This is the biggest audience we've ever had."

"Well, there's always the most popular solution." Phil said, staring in the mirror over his dresser as he tried to make something of his hair. "Imagine them all naked."

Dan laughed on his end. "No, they'd only end up looking like you."

"That's a good thing, yeah? Imagine you're just singing to a thousand me's."

"That'd be horrifying."

Phil frowned even though Dan couldn't see him. "Don't hurt my feelings. It's almost like you don't like looking at me."

"Well...."

"Dan Howell, I will dump you over this phone call right now."

Dan laughed again, much louder than before, and Phil smiled. He loved making Dan laugh like that, he didn't do it often.

"You know I'm just kidding." Dan said lightly. "I can't keep my eyes off of you." And Phil would never admit to the small swell of pride he felt in his chest at those words.

"I would hope so." He replied, moving over to the closet to try and find a shirt that wasn't torn in random places and didn't have any offensive words on it. The selection was small, and he settled on a gray Rolling Stones T-shirt that hung loosely on his lean frame. "Hey, have you heard anything new about FTC lately?"

"No." Dan sighed. "PJs been freaking out about it, though, taking all his frustration out on us. Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth it."

Phil agreed wholeheartedly, humming into the phone. "But then no one would get to hear that pretty voice of yours."

FTC was a... competition, for lack of a better word. All kinds of bands and music artists signed up and did their best, playing against other groups in the hopes of making it to the top. It stood for Fuck The City, a name that no one really knew the meaning of but everyone collectively agreed with. It was a bloodthirsty battle of the bands that caused all kinds of drama and tension, because everyone wanted to win. There were stories that circulated the music scene of sabotage and cheating, so lethal and intricate that some people were afraid to even try and enter.