When Light Met Dark // Phan

Six

Dan woke up early the next morning with a sharp pain coursing through his neck, like he had been stabbed several times while he slept, making it near impossible to lift his head. With a hissing intake of breath, he was able to stretch so he was looking up at the ceiling then back down again to see that Phil hadn't moved as much more than an inch, his hands now splayed haphazardly across Dan's chest. Dan smiled softly to himself, but then realised he wouldn't be able to move until the other had woken, which was getting uncomfortable just thinking about as his neck muscles twitched again, serving as a reminder.

He took one more look at the sleeping man in his arms before reluctantly nudging him. It almost pained him; he looked far too peaceful to interrupt, but some things just had to be done. Phil whined sleepily, lifting his head to look at Dan with bleary, wide eyes, which only made Dan want to hold him closer, if only to lull him back to sleep again. It looked like Phil was momentarily unaware of his whereabouts, judging by the mild streak of panic in his eyes, but less than a second later, he sighed, lifting himself up.

The loss of warmth was unwelcome, even more so when met by the chilling air in the living room, but Dan brushed these thoughts away, sitting up next to the other man and stretching his arms out fully.

"Good morning," Phil yawned, letting his head fall against the sofa cushions behind him, "sorry for squashing you." though the apology didn't seem very sincere, when his subtle smirk was taken into account.

"I only got a cramped neck out of it, don't worry," Dan smiled, before standing up fully, "is it okay if I make breakfast today?"

"Go ahead, just ask me if you need to know where things are." Dan nodded, walking into the kitchen, scarily unfamiliar, yet he was determined to prove that he could pull his own weight, though he was sure Phil would say Dan didn't need to prove himself. Phil always made pancakes, so why not try to do the same? How difficult can that be? Dan had been cooking for years, so why was he so scared he'd screw up now?

"Where are your frying pans?" he said loudly

"I think I left that next to the sink"

Oh.

Sure enough, he turned around to see the pan, cleaned after yesterday morning's breakfast, but deciding to brush away the momentary embarrassment, he picked it up and placed it on the stove.

After that, it didn't take him long to find everything he needed, and soon enough, he had three cakes cooked already. Phil entered, rubbing his eyes behind the glasses that had somehow found their way onto his face. The glasses themselves suited him very well, their black frames complementing his eyes as well as his almost abnormally pale skin.

"You need help?" He said, standing next to Dan, hands poised, waiting for further instruction.

"Um, maybe could you get some toppings out?" It honestly felt odd to give orders in someone else's house, but if Phil's offer for him to stay was going to last a while, he might as well get used to it. Phil nodded, rushing around the kitchen, practically throwing a bottle of syrup and a packet of strawberries onto the counter.

"And maybe try not to break it?"

Phil giggled sheepishly, laying the table and waiting patiently, watching the younger man bustle around the kitchen. He was still curious about his guest, though he couldn't quite explain why; they'd talked about what had driven him to the bridge that night, so surely that was enough.

Phil shook his head determinedly; he didn't want to only know the minimum, he wanted to know everything. Like Dan's favourite food, music preferences, what he'd choose to take to a deserted island, what kind of people he absolutely hated... His eyes bored into the back of the brunette's head, trying to come up with a plan of action, though, something like this couldn't be planned and executed quickly; a good relationship between the two had to be built over time and with trust.