phan one shots

he | song fic

Summary: She by Dodie. Changed to he for obvious reasons.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: depression, anxiety

Am I allowed
To look at him like that

Pretty, pretty, pretty, he was all white, like fresh snow.

All white, seamless, smooth, sugar white, gorgeous, porcelain white. All white expect for his eyes like a beacon in the dim lighting, his candy stained lips full and supple and beautiful, bitten and marked from his nervous teeth, and his shock of ebony black hair spilling around his ears, silky locks twisted between his fingers.

Falling forward over his face when his arms folded into a wall in front of his stomach, in front of his chest. To stop his heart from tumbling right out of his timid body, to stop his built up words from bursting through all of his loosening seams, to stop his breath from catching and choking and strangling in the air.

His eyes were an aurora borealis. Deep, deep blue, ocean blue, cerulean blue, sapphire pools of shattered storms and rushing waves over white sand. And around his pupils, shifting waves of yellows and greens. Framed by his fluttering lashes. Blue fire as they burned him from the inside out, blue fire as they consumed him and left him breathless and gasping, and longing for more of him, and his sweet scent, and his addictive warmth.

Phil.

He was so beautiful.

Could it be wrong
When he's just so nice to look at

Laughter, tumbling from his mouth in such unexpected bursts, his tongue peeking out his the side of his teeth in the adorable way it always did, though he denied to fact any time Dan brought it up. He covered his lips instantly, fingers folding over the bright smile spreading over his face, hiding the pink roses flourishing on his pale cheeks. He glanced around nervously, turning away as though he'd embrassed himself. Dan watched him with a twinkle behind his eyes, affection bubbling in his chest quickly enough to make him gasp for air. He wanted to pull Phil's thin wrists away and bask in the light, in the pure beauty of that smile, of that soft, timid laughter tinkling in the air like warm rays of morning sunshine and skies of crying stars, overjoyed by the existence of such a beautiful and wonderful human. He could almost sob for the sheer gratefulness of his existence.

And he smells like lemongrass and sleep

Dan ran his fingers through the older's midnight hair, his body curled into a fetal position, sinking into his oversized sweatshirt. His lashes fluttered sleepily at his light touch, a gentle, honey coated hum vibrating in his throat.

"Your hair's all fluffy Dan," He giggled quietly, his fond words ladened with tired content. Dan smiled, leaning down to allow his soft hands to touch his curls. He smelled like lemongrass and sleep, the soft curves of his legs and sock clad feet pressing against Dan's under the checkered covers. He ruffled the crescent shaped strands. "Mmm, you're so soft."

He tastes like apple juice and peach

Phil poked Dan's dimple, which dented his blushing cheek, tracing constellations between the occasional cluster of freckles on his daffodil stained skin. His warm fingertips traced over his exposed collarbones subconsciously, running back and forth over the sharp edges peeking out over the wide neckline of his oversized striped shirt. He inhaled him deeply. Dan almost fainted at the feeling.

He smiled so gently, so lazily, breathing clouds of peaches and apples over his sensitive neck.

Dan was in love with everything he did.

"Pretty..."

You would find him in a Polaroid picture

"Dan, what are you doing?" Phil laughed, gripped the pages of his book tighter, his glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose as he adjusted himself on the sofa cushions, taken off guard by the sudden click of a camera. Dan looked up at him, sticking his tongue out playfully as a blacked out photo slowly ejected itself.