SEVEN

"Our rates have grown tremendously since last night's show. And I'm setting my bet on the fact that it was that little smooch that did it." Zach looked up at the sky. The band was relaxing at the beach.

"So?" Dan pushed.

"I think it'd be great if you two continued the teasing. Hold hands, hug, do whatever. The audience loves it, I love it, everybody loves it. Keep this up and we'll be all over billboards!"

"But I-" Phil tried, however Cassidy came running back.

"Some random dude just got me a blunt! I love Mexico!" She said, taking a drag from said blunt. Phil blinked.

"Zach," Phil continued, clearing his throat. "I really don't think this is a good idea."

"And why is that?" Zach tilted his head.

"I um. . ." Phil avoided looking at anybody. "I have a boyfriend."

"Seriously?" Miles went wide-eyed. "Since when?"

"It's been a year or so. . ." Phil murmured.

"Why didn't you say so?" Dan furrowed his eyebrows.

"I tried to but nobody-"

"Is it that serious? Can you not just flirt with Dan a little bit?" Zach offered. "I mean, you agreed to join the band. Surely you should try to please the fans."

"But I. . . I don't know."

"Just figure it out. But you've only played one show. It wouldn't be that hard to drop you right back out," Zach told him, then stood. "I'm gonna go get a drink. Dan, care to come with me?"

"Are you paying for me?"

"Sure."

"Then hell yeah."

The two went off to the bar, Cassidy laying down on a towel next to Phil. He glanced at Miles. "Do you think he was serious? About dropping me?" He whimpered. Miles bit his lip.

"I'm not so sure, Phil."

It wasn't such a relaxing time at the beach after hearing that.

♪

After their second show that night, the crew decided not to party publicly and instead drink on the tour bus. Of course, Phil should've realized it wasn't just alcohol that would be consumed.

The smell of weed was strong in the vehicle, and Phil was high. He never had been, and right now his brain was all fuzzy as the headlights passed by them. Music was playing in the background, and Phil sat quietly, thinking to himself. He observed his friends, watching them all laugh and chat.

He felt excluded, but it wasn't like he was making an effort to be included. Dan was drunk and high, whispering with Cassidy- who was also high. Miles was sober, peacefully scrolling through his phone.

"You good, love?" The music and talking sounded underwater to Phil's ears. He looked up at Cassidy and tiredly nodded. "Alright well, I'm off to bed. Anyone else coming?"

"I'm following suit," Miles piped in, standing and going after her as they went into the other room.

"Are you going to bed?" Phil asked Dan, realizing how raspy and sluggish his voice sounded. Dan leaned his head back against the couch, taking another sip of his drink.

"No," he breathed out, not looking at Phil. "What about you?"

"No."It was silent for a bit, the only noise being the low alternative music playing and the engine running as the bus moved along. It was dark, possibly past midnight, yet there seemed to be so many cars on this highway at the same time.

Phil's vision drifted back to Dan who had shut his eyes, drink loose in his hand. Phil let himself admire him, softly smiling to himself as he did so. Dan was pretty- gorgeous, even. He had long eyelashes and messy curly hair with shaved sides that longed to be brushed over. A structured jawline and a few freckles on his neck, with rosy pink lips.

Then Dan opened his eyes, catching Phil staring. However, Phil didn't stop. He couldn't- it felt like his gaze was glued to the other boy's. He gulped as they held eye contact, Dan's eyes half lidded, but focused. Nothing was being said but the atmosphere was so fucking tense.

Phil's heart was pounding in his chest, throat drying out as seconds ticked by. Why was Dan looking at him like that? And why did it feel so. . . odd?

Finally, Dan cut the silence. "Phil?" He murmured.

"Yeah?" Phil found himself saying.

"Come here."

Phil got up slowly, as if under his control. His hands were sweaty, legs trembling, and maybe it was the weed- but something in Phil's body told him it wasn't. He moved around the table and sat next to him on the red couch, facing Dan.

Dan started leaning forward, and Phil's breath caught in his throat. He wasn't going to kiss him, was he? Was this because of Zach's suggestion? Phil's lips parted absentmindedly and then Dan's head met his shoulder, leaning on him. Phil furrowed his eyebrows, baffled. And then, he heard it. A sniffle. And then he felt it, Dan's body trembling.

Dan was crying.

Phil tensed up, unknowing of what to do. They weren't close, and they never had been. He had no idea what to say. But maybe, Phil thought, this situation required no words- only actions. So Phil sighed, and wrapped his arms around Dan, letting him cry against him. He rest his chin on the top of his head, brushing at the back of his hair.

Phil wanted so badly to make him feel better. He hoped this was working, if only a little bit. But he also just really wanted to know what was wrong. Dan seemed fine on the surface, hell he had many reasons to be fine or even more than fine. He was in a band, he broke the law and got away with it, he was loved by millions and he had many friends.

But Dan also has a mind, and that's a big part in his life, and could also be what's ruining it. So Phil sat, holding him as Dan silently sobbed against his chest. Phil focused on the feeling of Dan gripping his t-shirt, and he decided he wouldn't move- not until Dan suggested he do so.

Eventually Phil noticed Dan wasn't crying, and his breathing was soft along with his once-tight grip, indicating he had fallen asleep. Phil had sobered up and the music had stopped itself at some point. He breathed out, hesitating before deciding to cautiously pick up Dan.

He carried him like a child, with his arms around his neck and legs wrapped around him. He set him down on his bottom bunk, peeling off his shoes. He thought about undressing him before deciding they weren't close enough, and pulled the blankets over him. He checked he was on his side (to make sure he wouldn't choke on his own vomit) before getting ready for bed himself.

Once done in the bathroom, he came back and took one last look at Dan. He had snuggled himself up in the sheets, mouth open with tiny little snores tumbling out. His hair was in tangles in his face, hands curled up in gentle fists in the sheets. Phil flashed a lopsided smile, climbing up to his bed and getting comfortable.

The last thing on his mind before falling asleep was, unsurprisingly, Daniel Howell.