Chapter Text
Thirty-six months. Three weeks. Five days.
Sometimes, if he sits on the balcony in the evening, he can hear the gentle plucking of the upstairs neighbour's guitar, the low hums of a song she may have heard some years ago, or maybe she had just made it up. Occasionally, although mostly on the weekends, her partner will join, the soft keys of the piano echoing from somewhere inside, their voice matching hers in a peaceful melody.
Today is one of those evenings.
It's the end of Summer, and the sun is beaming down on the city. Dan is relaxing on the balcony with a bottle of cider, sipping away despite the fact the drink is warmed by the hot sun. He's just enjoying the peace of the moment. The neighbours are playing a song that he reckons could be Talking Heads, but it stops and starts between broken, mumbled, inaudible conversation, which intertwines with the sounds of the city engulfing them, the busses and taxis, the tube, the music blaring from the pub down the road and the laughter of it's patrons.
He couldn't leave this city even if he tried. He can't believe how much he had hoped for a quiet house out in the countryside somewhere.
Life has been interesting for Dan in the last few years, changing in ways he never believed he would have the confidence for, and staying the same in ways he thinks he prefers. Still, the chair opposite him remains empty, there remains to be only one pair of shoes by the door, one toothbrush by the sink, and the bed is still occupied by only one person every night.
Maybe it's better that way.
Several attempts had been made to fill the space in his life that his previous lover had filled. None of them had managed to successfully recreate the warm and loving presence that he had, hadn't been able to make him laugh in the way he had, hadn't be able to love him in the way Dan convinces himself he did, even though he didn't half the time.
Eventually, the stark realisation came that replacing Kyle wasn't what he could nor what he should do. He had to move on, make peace with the fact that he wasn't looking for Kyle, he didn't want the love he had with Kyle, make peace with the fact he had to move on from the very idea of Kyle.
He needed to reassess his expectations.
He just doesn't feel ready for that part yet.
And that's okay.
A text notification from his phone pulls him from his bubble, and he retrieves it from the other chair, where it lays out of the suns glare to keep it from overheating.
Will: Tune into Kerrang radio!!! They're playing your song!!
His hear drops. Flips. He feels sick to his stomach and his hands start shaking at the very idea of his stupid, silly little song playing for everyone to hear, as if he didn't choose to upload them, as if he didn't choose to release them into the public sphere.
Since he moved into his new flat, to start afresh and get away from the memories that seeped out of every corner of their his old flat, he had a sudden burst of inspiration. He'd kept it a secret from pretty much everyone apart from Will (who had been so kind as to help with the music) that he had been quietly writing songs, singing them into his phone, playing on his old keyboard that resides under his bed.
And then he mad the brave? Stupid? Decision to put them online.
Will had cheered him on from the sidelines, and had even got in touch with one of his friends, Woody, who could play the drums.
And for a brief moment, he hates Will for it.
His exit from the balcony is only marked by the noise of the scraping of the chair legs against the ground as he scurries inside. The radio, second hand from a flea market, comes to life with some old 80s song that he's sure he'd know if his mind wasn't elsewhere, and then comes...
His own voice.
His own keyboard.
The choppy, echoey vocals, the tinny drums.
"Fucks sake..." He mumbles, feeling his cheeks immediately flushing violently red. What if people hear it? People he knows? What if his friends take the piss next time he meets with them? "Why the fuck have you done that..."
And, well, the song isn't great... All made worse by the fact it's his stupid lyrics, his whiny vocals... He still can't quite believe his ears.
His phone pings again.
Will: Exciting times mate!! Proud of you!!
But it doesn't feel exciting.
It doesn't feel like anything to be proud of.
It feels embarrassing. Sickening. This isn't how it was meant to go, the songs he uploaded - the stupid songs he decided to stupidly upload to that stupid website - were meant to just sit there, doing... Nothing. Unheard. Unlisted to. Collecting dust.
Why the Hell did he even do this?
The trees that line the road do little to protect Kyle from the head of the sun as it beams down on the road, almost blinding if not for the sunglasses that cover his eyes. The sound of the radio and the rumble of the engine fill the air. It smells like petrol, sunshine, sea water, Summer.
Like a proper Summer, where the days stretch on infinitely, where even the night is warm enough for just a t-shirt, where the responsibilities of life just don't feel so crushing. You can smell the heat in the air, even feel it through the breeze from the open window, sun-kissed skin damp with sweat.
It's been a lovely day. Kyle, his parents, and Freddie - their two-year-old cocker spaniel, have been down to the coast for the day. Freddie has swam, ran, barked, and ate his way around the seaside, living his best life.
"Thank you for driving us, Kyle," his mum says with a soft smile, putting her hand momentarily on his arm, "It's been a lovely day."
"Yes, Kyle!" From the backseat, his dad impersonates Freddie in a high-pitched tone, something he does often to get a cheap laugh. There came a point where Kyle was convinced he was doing it when he thought no one was around, that the laugh was for his dad and nobody else. "I had a lovely day, especially when Dad gave me some ice cream! It was good ice cream, wasn't it, Fred? Only cost me four bleeding pounds. I enjoyed it dad!"
"Are you okay back there?"
"Time of my life, Love. Having the time of my life. Me too!"
Kyle and his mum share a look but can't help bursting into laughter. They pass the local chip shop and the smell makes his stomach grumble.
They're only about five minutes from home, but he's so ready to chill out. Between the driving and the frequent heart attacks when Freddie decided to swim out further than he should've, it's been a long day.
"Oh God, I am so fed up of this song!" His dad complains as a familiar bass line plays through the radio. Admittedly, Kyle loves this song and has very much overplayed it this Summer. "Did you do this? Did you ask them to play this?!"
"I would love to take the credit," Kyle says, chuckling and tapping the steering wheel, "Nothing to do with me though, unfortunately."
"God almighty, pull the bloody car over, I'll walk the rest of the way."
Instead, Kyle locks the door, turns the song up, and he and his mum sing along (accompanied by Freddie's backing vocals) the rest of the way home.
"They treat prisoners better than I've just been treated," he says to Kyle as they pull up on the drive, the gate left open from this morning, and the song from the radio coming to an end. "And I am ashamed of you, Fred. Singing along like that. Whose side are you on?"
His dad departs the car, commenting that he will go and stick the kettle on, and then continuing to lecture the poor dog as they head inside.
"I'll grab the bags out of the back, Sweetheart, just give me a second to shut the gate," his mum says, kissing him to the cheek before getting out of the car and heading towards the boot.
For a moment, he takes a breather, tuning out the radio presenters rambling, and just enjoying not being in charge of the vehicle.
And then he hears his voice.
The him who he tries not think about daily.
The him who he tries to pretend isn't the one who got away.
The him who, even after three years, he still isn't over.
Him.
His heart skips many beats, firstly because how the fuck is Dan on the radio, and since when the fuck was he writing music?!
But he reminds himself, he doesn't know Dan anymore.
He knew the Dan he loved, the Dan he lost. Not the present Dan.
A harsh reality to accept.
His mind is moving so quickly that he only picks up on a few words - Icarus? He thinks, something about something only just beginning? Taking a fall?
Fuck fuck fuck.
Is he dreaming this?
"Mum, I'm gonna go inside - take a shower. Keys are on the seat," he says quickly, turning the ignition off and discarding the keys in the drivers seat. He doesn't even wait for a reply as he heads into the house, kicking his shoes off, and flying upstairs and onto his computer, where he quickly types all the words he can remember.
It comes up blank.
No, he definitely heard the song.
He tries Icarus only just begun.
Nada.
Icarus' life.
Many unrelated results.
He sighs.
Dan Smith Icarus.
A Soundcloud link with three songs on it.
Icarus.
Daniel in the Den.
Haunt.
There is no picture on the account, no information other than the name and three songs. He feels strangely sick, but strangely proud because his Dan is on the radio, which is so cool!
He clicks on Icarus first, just to confirm that yes, this is the song he has just heard on the radio, and then it autoplays onto Daniel In The Den.
"Kyle, Sweetheart, you okay? You ran off a bit quick. I thought you were going in the shower?"
Freddie follows his mum into the room, stealing a sock from the floor, and then jumping on the bed with it in his mouth.
The last few years post Dan have been... They've been rough for Kyle.
She was worried sick about him. Worried that he may go back to old habits. Worried that she would lose him all over again. Perhaps it was lucky that he didn't go back, that he managed to keep afloat, that he managed. And for that, she is so proud of him, but still - she sees it in his eyes, feels how he is missing half of himself.
But, when he came back the same night Dan had made his mind up, she couldn't argue with the other man's decision.
"I... Um..."
"Kyle...?"
"Dan was on the radio?"
He says it as if he can't believe it himself.
"When Dad went inside, and you got out to shut the gate - he was singing on the radio..."
"No way," his mum says, moving closer to look at his screen. He nods and plays the song, despite the fact she wouldn't have heard it. "God, that is him."
That accent, that tone, that voice is recognisable anywhere, to anyone that knows Dan. But Kyle remembers the karaoke, the drunk and the sober ones.
They sit and listen to the last song - Haunt. Kyle could drown in his voice, get lost in his words, sink in the melody. Everything about it is so Dan. He almost can't stomach to listen to it.
"Are you okay?"
"Huh?"
"With... Hearing Dan?"
"Well, it's been three years, Mum."
"I know, but..."
"I know, Mum. It hurt. It hurts. I still miss him, but I fucked it up and I can't blame him for not wanting to go back to that. I had a lot of nerve to even show my face at his flat again. I'll be okay... It's just... I don't know. Unexpected. Especially hearing the shy Dan I once knew, singing on the radio."
His mum chuckles, but it's short lived.
"Do you want my honest opinion, Kyle?"
He doesn't reply, instead he just looks up at her from where he sits, his heart torn between here and somewhere in London.
"I think that song is about you."