delivered

epilogue : part 9

this is the last chapter don't even fucking touch me or talk to me

"i'm sleep," dan whines in a childlike manner, pushing his face further against phil's neck and attempting to get closer to him even though it doesn't seem possible when they are already pressed against each other too firmly. the darkness of the sky outside and the time on the clock seems increasingly irrelevant-dan isn't sure how they have managed to just. . .stay in each other's presence for so long without making any kind of conversation, or eating, or using the bathroom, because he is quite sure that neither of them have moved an inch in the past three hours. he isn't even sure if he has working limbs right now-but that's probably the sleepiness talking.

"sleep?"

"sleep,"

"you're cute," phil laughs softly. somehow his fingertips aren't tired of tracing paths across dan's body, or searching through the wild forest atop dan's head-he is just as addicted to the feeling of dan as he was three hours, three months and three years ago. he can swear on his life that time hasn't moved, neither has he to be fair, but he can't tell if it's midnight or morning, if it's cold or hot, if it's awkward or boring-phil can just tell that dan is finally here-real, breathing, here.

"debatable,"

"don't test me howell, i have valid points,"

"it's lester," dan pokes him playfully. "if you get my last name wrong again i'm divorcing you,"

"fine, lester,"

"okay, howell,"

"listen whatever you are doing right now is very gay," phil raises his eyebrows in mock confusion and dan looks up at him with squinted eyes, his lips stretched into an adoring smile.

"yeah that's because i haven't done anything gay in three years,"

"wanna do. . . something gay?" phil teases him half heartedly, moving the slightest bit closer so their noses are touching and the sharp intake of dan's breath makes him almost pin the younger man to this worn out couch. almost.

"mm, yeah," and all the cement of morality and time and space melts fleetingly in dan's brain-all he can see right now is phil, so in a classic tale of how-not-to-meet-your-husband-after-years-he leans forward and let's his lips touch phil's.

it's surprise that it doesn't take phil less than a second to respond. he just releases a shaky breath and let's his fingers span out behind dan's neck, his thumbs pressing into dan's cheeks softly as the familiar pattern of his mouth burns a figurative hole in his chest. it isn't reassuring-on phil's part-it tastes like acid disguised as honey, it feels like betrayal disguised as love, it feels like whatever they are doing right now belongs to someone else.

he pushes his mouth harder against dan's, tries to conquer the jealousy of somebody else touching dan dissolve on his fingertips as he pushes them harder into dan's skin but it just hurts, everything hurts in a way that it hasn't hurt before and he just can't understand what has gone wrong.

dan pulls him on top, their chests flushed together and mouths moving feverishly, and although he can feel the desperation behind dan's hands that bunch his shirt into tight fists and he can feel dan's raw admiration as he traces his tongue softly along phil's mouth-that vehement distrust is so much stronger, and when phil pulls away in a manner that provides far too less of context-dan seems to know exactly what he's thinking.

"please don't do this," dan winds his fingers through the collar of his shirt and pulls him closer, pressing his lips softly against phil's cheek and kissing gently along his jaw. "i can't lose you again,"

"i can't forg-"

"i'm yours," he interrupts. "always have been and always will be, it's only you, it's always been you," he cups phil's face so he can look at him.

"i love you," and when their lips touch again, the burn of heartbreak dissolves, the simmering hatred vanishes, the searing disloyalty finally destructs the home in phil's chest and leaves to find another and god, something sparks in his body to let him know that he can finally love like 2009 again.

all over again.

--
the end

literally don't even dare