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This guy is tall. Light skinned, five o’clock shadow on his cheeks, black-rimmed glasses. No one wears glasses anymore, only as a fashion statement, but Dan is ready to admit they suit him, just like the burgundy shirt with a sparkly collar.
"Hi, I'm Phil."
There's something subtly graceful about him. The way he plays with his napkin and fumbles with the menu, noticeably nervous. The way he sits with one leg over another, accidentally touching Dan's knee under the table, his blue eyes darting from the wine card to Dan's eyes and back.
"There are no prices," Phil notices, and Dan nods.
"Yeah. The choice of meals is pretty limited though."
Dan doesn't like that he sounds as if he comes here every day. You don't really impress your date by knowing the menu by heart or bragging about wine. Phil doesn’t seem to mind.
"I wonder if you can order something that's not on the menu," Phil says and Dan furrows his eyebrows.
This part, the dinner and small talk, is preliminary for him, like waiting for a dentist’s appointment. He never thinks about alternatives to familiar pasta or creme soup, he’s occupied with other things: looking and acting natural, making jokes, holding his back straight. Especially when the other person is much more gorgeous than he is. And Phil is gorgeous.
"We can try that," Dan replies and rings an old-fashioned bell on the table between them. A waiter appears, smiling and polite.
Dan sends the waiter the brightest of his smiles: "Can we have tacos, please?" Phil looks up at him, a playful smirk on his face.
To their confusion, the waitress doesn't look puzzled at all. She nods and disappears with their order, gently taking the menus out of their hands.
"Apparently, we can," Dan looks around. "I wonder if these people know that." Almost all the tables are occupied, people are savoring drinks and food, quietly speaking to each other, laughing at lame jokes. Of course, he doesn’t know for sure that the jokes are lame, but this place was created to host awkward first dates, and Dan feels like he knows all this too well.
"Oh, that woman is having sushi," Phil points out and Dan looks around to where one enthusiastic couple has a whole lobster on the table between them. Pretty impressive. Phil sighs, "Damn, I should've ordered sushi too."
"You can do it next time," Dan blurts out and immediately regrets it. It's not a secret that all these dates are just transitional points on their way to a real soulmate. Sometimes Dan wishes he didn't know that. The Coach's "Everything happens for a reason" doesn't help that much anymore, especially on the nights when he lies awake thinking about another day with a person he doesn't really like.
Phil looks uncomfortable, he has every right to be, and Dan bites his lip trying to come up with a smooth exit from this conversation.
"Sorry,” he smiles at Phil and leans a bit closer as if sharing a secret. “I really can’t wait to eat these tacos."
***
Wine tastes nice, it always does, but Phil admits he would enjoy some beer. When Dan offers to ring the bell again, Phil laughs, risking to spill the taco filling on his plate. It’s not the best choice for a date meal, both of them munching unattractively on lettuce and beef, fingers greasy with sauce, but it feels damn nice to be eating something besides pasta or cannoli. Dan is fucking sick of Italian food at this point. He also wishes they weren't at this fancy restaurant, but rather somewhere on a couch in front of a TV. They may still do that later.
"Hey, wanna see how much we have?"
Phil nods, and they both reach to their pockets for the Coach. Dan leaves a splotch of mustard on its futuristic surface and wipes it off with a napkin.
"Ten hours."
Fuck.
"Yeah."
"They're probably letting me off easy," Phil says and puts the device back into his pocket. Dan's glad to notice a hint of frustration in his voice. “You’re my first.”
***
The house looks homey and romantic. Softly glowing lights and warm textures, plush chairs and a big floating bed. Whichever food he and his date desire is always a ten-minute delivery away. Books, and films, and video games to explore together
Phil gapes at the fridge, opens it, and takes out two small packets of Ribena. Dan chuckles when he’s offered one.
They're both a bit giddy with wine and Dan really wants to pee, so he excuses himself to the bathroom. He pees, brushes his teeth and checks his hair. Alcohol marks his skin with red splotches. When he opens the bathroom door, he half-expects to see Phil in bed, already naked and lubed up, like some of his previous partners.
He's not. Phil’s found an old Zelda game on a gaming console, and he’s sitting on the floor sipping on his juice and thumbing the controller buttons. The sight of him is so weird to Dan that he doesn't know what to do. They have seven and a half hours left. That's almost nothing.
Phil pauses the game and beams at him from the couch.
"Join me?"
They spend two more hours in the game until Phil decides he wants coffee and makes them both caramel macchiatos from the coffee machine in the kitchen. They watch Friends while sipping on the hot drinks, knees touching, the warmth of their bodies so close and so nice.
Dan kisses him.
The Coach displays three more hours when they’re making out in bed, slowly kissing and touching and whispering in the dark. They're both sleepy and cozy, Phil's erection against Dan’s thigh pleasant but not demanding. They fall asleep, too tired to do anything about it.
***
In the morning, Phil hugs him, and Dan likes the feeling of their cheeks pressed together. He lingers in the embrace and Phil squeezes him like an old friend.
"We'll probably see each other around," says Dan, and Phil smiles.
"That would be great."
***
Another date is ready for Dan in two days.
He doesn't feel like dressing up, just puts on his big black sweater and dilutes the darkness with baby blue nail polish and some highlighter on his cheeks. The girl on the other side of the table has light pink hair, speaks with the same posh accent he does, and compliments his look. She's very nice and pretty and looks like roses smell. They have three weeks together.
***
"I'll order sushi."
Dan hasn't seen Phil around yet. Of course, it's just been three days, and the territory is enormous, but he kind of hoped to bump into him on a run or in the mall. Melody taps on the screen a couple of times and returns to the couch, snuggling in front of a fireplace under Dan's blanket.
"I ordered you miso soup."
She's nice. She's really really good. She says she doesn't like having sex with guys and Dan wonders how the heck did the system matched them then. Probably another test. He doesn't mind not having sex for three weeks, he had longer abstinence days, and months, and a whole year once. So they cuddle, and sleep together, and kiss sometimes, pretty often actually, and they like the same music.
***
They're in the cooking class together, surrounded by other couples and a mouth-watering smell of lasagna, when Dan notices a familiar hairstyle in the front row. He calls Phil’s name, and Phil beams seeing him, the black apron with tiny lobsters on it looking good against his light skin.
"Wouldn't call you a chef," says Dan at the table when they finally get to taste their impeccable dishes.
"I'm not! I'm not even gonna eat this. I hate cheese," Phil picks up an olive and throws it in his mouth. "Hey, meet Damien."
Damien is shorter than both of them and he’s wearing a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt. He doesn't like Dan but manages to hide his frown behind a fake smile.
"Phil told me about you! Ten hours, huh? That's rare."
Dan puts on his own fake smile.
"How much do you guys have?"
"A year."
He’s never had a year with anyone here, and hopefully, he never will. But this time will come and probably soon, and he hopes it will be with someone sweet like Melody and not a fucking douche like Damien.
***
Dan’s next partner is the opposite of his type. He looks at Andy and tries to keep his spirits up, but it's really hard. The guy asks Dan about his nail polish and laughs so loudly the people at other tables turn. Dan considers himself lucky he couldn't find his eyeliner tonight. Andy also admits to never dating guys and looks noticeably confused with the idea. The thought of a whole year together almost makes Dan sick.
As soon as they enter the house, Dan excuses himself to the bathroom.
"How do I abort a relationship?"
The Coach blinks in green light and tells with its reassuring voice. "It's too early, Dan, you still have time to change your mind."
"No, he's not my soulmate, and you know this."
"Try staying open-minded, Dan."
"Fuck!"
He splashes some water on his face. He can hear music coming from the living room and presses his fists to his eyes.
"I know you can shorten the relationship time if I demand it. I’ve seen it happen."
"Only in case of abuse, Dan. Do you want to accuse Andy of abuse?” The screen lights up with a button saying Report Abuse. Dan reads the small text in the bottom of the screen. The reported individuals will be pulled out of the system. That’s pretty fucking harsh. He won’t do that to this guy.
"Shit." He thinks of Phil, of how chill he seemed with the idea of spending a year with that sleazy man. "Okay."
***
He learns to live with it. Andy seems to really like him and understands when Dan explains why he likes wearing makeup and nail polish sometimes. They jog together. Sex is bland but not aggressive which is good enough. He guesses it could be worse.
In a mini golf area on a scheduled date with Andy, someone calls his name. Dan smiles before he even turns around to look.
"Phil." He tells himself he's fond of this guy because of their short but memorable night together. And they share a lot, Dan even used to have hair like that. It's nice to find a friend here.
"How are you?" Phil asks, but Andy slides into a conversation and their private moment is gone again.
Andy seems to like Phil too, probably a little too much. He lingers shaking hands with Phil, smiles a little bit too sweetly. He acts weird with a man he's just met, especially in front of a person you're supposed to spend a whole year with. Dan should be jealous of Andy, he should feel hurt for being forgotten about for a minute, to see his date's eyes graze along Phil's slim figure. But it doesn't happen.
Dan is screwed up.
He thinks of Phil when he's fucking Andy that night. It doesn't help much but he remembers the dim lights and their kisses tasting like cinnamon and coffee and Phil's soft lean body, so wonderfully clicking with Dan's own. He comes but he feels so sad and desperate afterward that he has to lock himself in the bathroom again, listening to Andy's snoring through the door.
"Coach? What if I want to be with someone else?"
"You have three hundred fifty-one days left until your next match."
"Fucking stupid AI."
He wishes he was brave enough to throw the Coach across the room, let it land on the tiled floor with a shattering sound, to see its screen break. Then he would go find Phil and talk to him.
The Coach in his hand is as solid and perfectly round as ever. It blinks at Dan with its three-digit number, one of the scariest sights in Dan's entire life.
He takes some sleeping pills he finds in the cabinet above the sink and falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.
***
This is supposed to make him feel happy, right? Finally, whole. Find another human who would accept him as he is, someone kind and beautiful and patient and brave and loving. Dan doesn't really need that much. But it makes him miserable to the point where he's constantly feeling on edge, contemplating whether to try and escape. He looks at the impossibly tall walls and imagines endless empty fields behind them. Rivers, maybe, or deserts.
After another miserable conversation, the Coach offers him the services of a professional human consultant. He jumps at the opportunity and makes an appointment the next day.
A consultant is a human, though she doesn't look like one. She's looking straight at him, makes notes on a notepad just because she has to, not because she will use them. Dan feels trapped and exposed.
"I just feel unhappy."
The consultant smiles and offers him some coffee. Dan sighs, admitting defeat.
"Do you have caramel macchiato?"
***
He's never felt as exhausted as he does when he’s saying goodbye to Andy. He's gonna miss some parts of him - a year together leaves you heartbroken regardless of your feelings. So they embrace and smile and leave in two different carts, Dan's one driving him to the apartment building for the temporary lonely souls.
The elevator takes him to the third floor, to the corridor with identical doors and bright lights. He could fall to this gray carpet and never get up again until the security comes to tell him to move with their electric guns. But he’s not alone in the corridor.
"Oh," they say at the same time. Dan's heart is beating fast both from joy and unexplainable hurt. He's so tired, almost desperate. "You don't look well," Phil says with a concerned frown. They look at each other for a solid minute before Phil grabs his hand. "Follow me."
Phil's flat is small and cozy and a bit messy, and there's an unfinished bag of crisps on the bed. They kiss each other slowly, each move so careful and lovely, so hot, like nothing Dan’s experienced this whole year. What's been with Phil? He slides a hand down the front of Phil's jeans until they both moan from the friction and unreality of what's happening.
"They will know," says Dan in a short pause between the kisses, his body leaning into Phil's, hands grabbing his flesh and risking to tear the clothes off. He's not afraid but he needs to know if Phil knows what's at stake. They won't be able to use the system again. They won't find their soulmates.
"I..." Phil stops him, their bodies a hair away from each other, and that's it, that's when Phil pushes him away and says that it's wrong and completely impractical and just stupid. One hookup versus a chance to meet your perfect person. Phil wouldn't do such a stupid thing.
"We should leave," Phil says and before Dan asks where and why Phil takes him by the hand and leads to the window. "Look, over there. On the wall."
Dan's seen the ladder before, but it's never occurred to him that it could be a way out. They will be caught before they reach it. They will be separated and Dan will never taste Phil’s skin and feel all the things he wants to feel with him. But he nods, his body buzzing with adrenaline. Does Phil feel the same? Are they actually doing it?
The fear washes over him the moment someone knocks on the door. Phil kisses him one last time and looks him in the eyes. "Remember when the waiter brought us tacos even though they weren't on the menu?"
Dan nods, his whole body shaking with anxiety. Phil brushes his hands over Dan's cheeks. "I want to try something."
Another knock and Phil opens the door, faces the robotic security guard and loudly says: "We want to leave."
Nothing happens. Completely nothing. The guard doesn't move.
"Let's go."
They run through the hall, down the stairs, past the lobby. There are people outside, but they don't move, frozen in mid-air. There's a couple playing frisbee on the grass and one of the women is stuck in a funny pose like a video game character paused at the wrong moment. Phil's hand is the only real thing right now, and they run even though no one's catching up with them. Dan laughs. Phil looks at him and laughs too, and the wall is suddenly so close, the ladder right there in front of them and it looks impossibly huge.
But it's so easy to climb. They move fast, they don't get tired, Phil’s checking in on him from above, and they smile the whole time, Dan's feeling so light and ready for something he doesn't even know is coming. This is most certainly a dream and when he wakes up, he's going to leave this all and find Phil. He can only hope that the real-life Phil is just as ready to kiss him as the dream one.
It suddenly gets dark, and they're not climbing anymore. Dan grabs Phil's hand. Phil says something but his lips make no sound. They're waiting.
***
There's just one thing on Dan's mind. A quickly moving dot on the smartphone screen, connecting his picture with a man of his dreams. His hair is black and his eyes are a startling blue and Dan knows everything and nothing about him, but there's no chance it's not something special. Dan's hand is so sweaty he might drop his smartphone on the train’s floor so he puts it away but then reaches for it again, just to check that he's not leaving, just to make sure Phil is still there.
The train stops. Dan is the first waiting for the doors to open, a bag across his chest and a nervous smile on his face. He finds Phil’s face in the crowd the same moment his phone buzzes with a notification. Say hi to your soulmate!