Listen to the song if you want...you don't have to but it might create a better atmosphere for the fic. But hey, it's your life. Do what you want.

Phil slid down the wall, ignoring the tears as they streamed down his face. He gazed through bleary eyes at the scene around him, the shattered glass and broken frames. There was a smashed vase in the corner, the flowers lying between the shards; the water slowly drying as the hours wore on. He clutched at the crinkled photo in his hands; unwilling to let it go, but unable to force himself to look.

"Fuck it." He whispered. It wasn't if opening it would make his heart hurt any more than it already was.

He slowly unfolded the picture, smoothing out the wrinkled corners. Fresh tears fell, harder and faster; wetting the thin paper. He traced his fingers across the face next to his own, remembering how it felt to do that in real life, with the real person; instead of a cardboard copy.

"I can't do this anymore." He told an empty room.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping in the number he knew better than his own; one he had never been able to forget.

But when the call connected, and the tone began to ring; he hung up. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't go through with it. He couldn't face the rejection, not again.

"He probably doesn't even think about me anymore." Phil's mind tried to reason with his heart.

"Then why do you think about him?" His heart countered.

Phil sighed, rubbing his face as if that simple action could wipe all his feelings away. He glanced at his phone, astonished at the time.

"It's already a quarter past one." He muttered. "How pathetic am I?"

"I wish I didn't need you." He spoke to the picture in his lap.

"But I do. I'm alone, and I need you so badly...I can't even control my thoughts let alone my emotions anymore. And every time I look at my phone I want to call you. I keep reminding myself that I said I wouldn't call, but it doesn't stop the urge."

He laughed shakily. "And now I'm talking to a photo. Hello, therapy."

"I really can't live without him."

Dan knocked the alcohol down his throat, wincing slightly as it burned. He slammed the glass down on the table, uncaring of whether it broke or not. It wasn't as though it was his glass, and he had a brand new credit card burning a hole in his wallet.

His gaze kept turning to the door, waiting for Phil to walk through it. It was stupid; Phil was at home and Dan was holed up in a random hotel room. There was no possibility of Phil walking in.

Not that it stopped Dan from wishful thinking.

He recalled the way Phil would rush into the room, excited about this or that. It didn't matter what Phil wanted to say, just his presence caused Dan to smile.

He wished that Phil would sweep in now. He would wrap his long arms around Dan, and they would hold each other tight. Dan wouldn't let go, and he wouldn't make the same stupid mistake again.

"Who am I kidding? There's no way Phil would come here...he's probably not even thinking about me. He's probably completely forgotten about me by now. If only I could..."

It's not that Dan wanted to forget Phil. Far from it. It's just that thinking about Phil reminded him of the mistakes he had made, and the stupid decisions that caused his heart to ache every time he thought of Phil.

"It's a quarter after one, and what am I doing? Sitting alone in a hotel room mourning the absence of the love of my life, and drinking my troubles away. Maybe I should call him..."

Dan picked up his phone, and just as quickly; he put it back down.

"There's no way he would want to hear from me, not after what I've done. Besides, I'm probably that drunk he wouldn't believe me anyway."

Dan flopped his head onto the table, groaning as his alcoholic blood-fuelled brain hit the hard wood surface.

"At least if it hurts I know I'm alive. Certainly better than feeling numb."

"I can't do this anymore." Dan muttered to himself.

He tapped the number into his phone, telling himself not to hang up; in an almost mantra-like way.

"Hello?"

"Phil..." Dan breathed, relief swelling at the sound of Phil's voice.

"Dan? Is it really you? You're really calling me?"

"Oh Phil, I've missed you so much. I'm so alone right now and I can't control anything and I just...I need you." Dan started sobbing, using his spare hand to wipe away the falling tears.

"I miss you too, Dan."

"I'm a little drunk, and I know I told you I wouldn't call; but I couldn't take it anymore. I need you so badly, and I really want you to be here and you're not...and I just..."

"Where are you?"

"What?"

"Where are you Dan?" Phil's voice was urgent.

"I'm...I'm at this hotel. On 8th...I don't know what it's called. There's big palm tree out the front, and a...a bush with pink flowers on it."

"I'll find it. Do you know what room?"

"Uh...21B."

"Okay, don't move. I'll be there as soon as possible."

Dan almost-alright, Dan did-fall off of his chair when he heard a loud knocking echo around the room. He ran to the door, almost tripping over his own feet. To add to it all, he almost hit his head on the door as he opened it. He gripped the door to help him regain his balance, as the sight of Phil standing before him, red-eyed and rugged; almost knocked him over.

"Phil..." He whispered, reaching out to touch Phil's arm to make sure he was real.

"Dan, you look wrecked."

"I am." Dan said straightforwardly. He stepped back, allowing Phil room to walk in.

Phil stepped past the threshold, pulling Dan along with him to the three-seater lounge. He helped Dan sit on the couch, and carefully sat next to him. Their fingers slid together, not squeezing or moving, just there; assuring each other they were there.

"I'm so sorry." Dan said quietly, eyes on the floor as he was too ashamed to look at Phil.

"I know." Phil replied just as quietly.

"I didn't mean anything I said, I was stupid and foolish and I'm so sorry Phil."

"I know."

"I..."

"Dan." Phil's tone was stern, and it caught Dan's attention. It wasn't until Phil lifted Dan's chin with his fingers that their eyes met.

"I believe you. We were both angry and we said things we didn't mean; and I for one will regret it for the rest of my life. But I know you didn't really mean it."

"I didn't." Dan shook his head.

"I forgive you, Dan. Do you...do you forgive me?"

"Yes. Yes, yes of course I do. I'm so sorry Phil; I promise I'll never say those awful things to you ever again."

Phil crossed his legs on the couch, and Dan brought his up, folding them so he was kneeling. Phil gripped Dan's waist, pressing his lips softly against Dan's. Dan wrapped his arms around Phil's neck, kissing back with everything he had. All the pain, all the sadness was expelled through their lips; and both felt better the more they kissed. Dan pressed harder against Phil, pushing him backwards onto the couch. Phil uncrossed his legs and stretched them out. They were a bundle of awkward movements for a while, eventually settling with Dan stretched on top of Phil, his fingers tangled in Phil's hair.

"I love you. I never want to fight with you again; it was the worst mistake of my life." Dan rambled, pulling away from Phil.

"I love you, too. And if we do fight again, I'm not going to let you go."

Dan smiled, before leaning back down to kiss Phil with all the passion and love he felt.

It may have been 2am, but neither cared. They were in each other's arms, and they were happy.

And to Dan and Phil, that's all that mattered.