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daniactuallysnuffledthatpopcorn · 6 years

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Home for Christmas (Part 3 of 4)

Summary: Every year Dan goes to a ballet performance of the Nutcracker around Christmas (he even starts to enjoy it after a while), but what he’s really waiting for is the nights he gets to spend with one of the lead dancers after the show.

Rating: M

Word count: 7.3K (20.3K total so far)

[A/N] Hope you enjoy my Christmas mini-series!

<-- part two

Start at the beginning

As the new year crawled by Dan found himself tempted to google Phil’s name more and more with each passing day.

When university started back up after Christmas break and he found himself surrounded by the people who had to get used to seeing him without Rosie he caught himself just before pressing enter multiple times, erasing the words he’d typed and turning off his phone screen before he could change his mind again. He tried to avoid running into her, sometimes going as far as skipping dinner because she was sat in the kitchen, until he no longer felt his phone burning in his pocket watching her tending to her pans at the stove. Until he no longer had the pressing urge to get out of town every chance he got, visiting Eleanor on the weekly.

Final exams rolled in way too fast and left him feeling wholly unprepared. No matter how many study dates and trips to the library he set up, it never seemed to be enough. Law books were big and heavy, pulling on him with every step that brought him closer to the exam halls. Eleanor, whose exams didn’t start until the day after his, stayed with him and made him a full fry for breakfast the morning before his first test. It was her way of trying to offer her support when she knew that as a neurosciences student she was completely useless when it came to helping him study.

Although he liked to think he was fully over Rosie by May, it still gave him some sort of satisfaction when Eleanor gave a resolute “yes” to his ex’s polite “you alright?” as they sat at the kitchen table.

He wondered how she would greet Phil if she knew the ins and outs of their agreement. His phone lit up, signalling a new Snap from Davis.

Summer was a gift from god.

After missing their November weekend together Dan and Eleanor spent a whole week exploring Rome in early August, completely avoiding the topics of love lives and university and focusing on sunshine and gelato and the ancient history they were walking around in on their flipflops. They held hands the way they’d done in primary school, before they hit puberty and girls and boys weren’t supposed to do that kind of stuff anymore. Before they cared about what anyone thought of their relationship.

Dan neglected to mention to her that on the last night, when she went to the bathroom as they were having a couple of drinks at the hotel bar, an Irish boy slipped him a napkin with a string of numbers on it accompanied by the words, “if you’re not interested feel free to bin this, but otherwise, text me”. Dan shoved it in his pocket, where it stayed until he got back to his parents’ house in London and he unpacked his suitcase. He stood with the paper in his hand for a minute or so, and then another few minutes staring at the new contact in his phone.

Sat cross-legged on the bed he carefully crafted a message. As he was typing it took everything from his willpower not to close the app and go to google. To just type in that one name that he’d put into that bar so many times before. Instead, he resolutely tapped the ‘send’ button and then proceeded to put his phone under his pillow to leave it there for the next couple of hours.

When Nicholas replied he was almost surprised. They spent the next couple of weeks texting and although Dan had initially been sceptical, the more he learnt about Nick, the more he felt that there might be something and he might not need to be stuck on his Christmas dates for the rest of his life.

Nick was nice. Genuinely nice. He was a good listener, made jokes at the right time, and had an intricate knowledge of all kinds of animals as he was studying to become a vet. Dan found himself looking forward to the evenings when Nick got home from placement and the two of them could Skype call before they went to bed. Long nights were spent lying on his back on the carpet, feet propped up against the side of his desk, phone tucked comfortably between his shoulder and his ear. He could hear the Irish boy smile through the phone.

He liked Nick. He really did. But when in early October he asked him that dreaded question, “so, what are we?”, Dan couldn’t stop his fight or flight response from kicking in. Unsure of whether he feared commitment to a boy or commitment to anyone at all, he broke it off.

From there on, things went downhill. Fast.

One of the boys Dan lived with dropped out, meaning they had to either find a new flatmate or a new place, and the others’ half-hearted search for a house stressed him out. University was pulling on him like a ball on a chain and the words danced before his eyes on the nights he tried to catch up with the stacks of work accumulating on his desk. Eleanor’s ugly selfies sent over snapchat were only doing so much to put a smile on his face, their effects diminishing with every day.

Two weeks after Reuben had left, Dan sent in his student withdrawal form.

Three days later, he found the courage to tell his parents, sat on Eleanor’s bed with one hand in hers and the other hand clutching the phone held to his ear. Everything was falling apart, but the one constant he could always count on was his best friend always being right by his side.

Dan moved back home hesitantly. His old bedroom felt too small for him and his hometown was full of eyes watching him, knowing he didn’t belong there anymore.

What did he actually want to do with his life? He had no idea, really. His new job at an electronics shop was not it though, that was for damn sure. It had him drifting through the days, every week feeling like the last, endless and exhausting. To pass the time he messed around with the products when he got bored, feeling professional when he pressed buttons on the DJ sets knowing what they did, and adjusting camera lenses with expert eyes. In those moments he felt for a moment like he was on the right path, just not knowing where it would lead him yet.

In mid-December Dan used his first wages to buy one of those fancy cameras. He spent hours in his bedroom sat cross-legged on the floor adjusting settings and filming little test videos, the reality of his world forgotten for a precious while.

Four days before Christmas Dan planted the camera up on one of his book shelves, fixed his hair in the mirror for exactly two minutes longer than necessary, and then pressed the record button.

He filmed his first video in one go, with rambling tangents and awkward pauses to edit out later, which he did the day after, when he got home from work. He was tired. After a nine-hour day the last thing his eyes wanted to do was focus deeply on something for another couple of hours. One by one his family members went to bed, the sounds of their bedroom doors closing reaching Dan even through his headphones. In the morning, when his alarm would go off at half seven again, he’d hate himself for this, but that felt well worth it when he clicked ‘upload’ and watched the bar load up to a 100%. It was two in the morning when his first ever YouTube video went live.

Dan and Eleanor had bought tickets for the ballet in early December almost out of habit. There had been no discussing it, just Eleanor asking if he’d already bought them or if she should. On the day before Christmas Eve she picked him up in her car, blasting Mariah Carey so loud Dan could hear it the moment he stepped out the front door. She was wearing a beautiful silver dress and had her hair braided back so her elegant hoop earrings were clearly visible. He complimented her as he plopped down in the passenger seat of her Volkswagen.

He tried to play it cool, but it was difficult to do so when he’d been looking forward to this night for months. It felt on the verge of pathetic, but his monotonous job left him with plenty of headspace to contemplate all that could happen and might be in the future. He’d lived this day and the next dozens of times over in his head stood behind the counter smiling artificially at customers as he rang up their purchases.

They knew their way around the theatre by now. They knew where to find the coat room, and the fact that it cost 50p per coat, and they knew the quickest route up to the balcony and the toilet closest to it. Dan ran his hands over the balustrade as they walked to their spots. The place was still fully lit, giving him a view of the seats and the stage below. Two little girls were on stage in front of the curtains, doing pirouettes and falling out of them with big grins decorating their little faces. He stood and watched them for a moment, until he felt Eleanor demonstratively lean over the railing next to him. “You excited?” She asked.

“Yeah, I guess.” He said without tearing his gaze away from the kids.

“Have you spoken to him at all since last year?”

Dan shook his head, “I don’t even have his number. I don’t know his last name or anything.”

“Really? I thought you had a somewhat regulated plan.”

“If we’re both single by Christmas, we spend the night together. That’s it, that’s the whole plan.”

She laughed, “You’re a bit of a disaster, Dan.”

“I know.” He said. He sighed deeply, leaning further down until his chin came to rest on his hands. “I’ve given up trying to sort this out, I’m just along for the ride now.”

She didn’t respond, but without needing to look over Dan knew she was rolling her eyes at him.

They watched the girls dance until they were ushered off the stage and the lights started to dim. The hall had filled up quite a bit since they’d turned their back on the balcony, and they had to shuffle past grumbly chic people annoyed they had to move their legs to let them past. It was Dan and El’s third year. They were used to the rich people by now.

The lead dancers had all changed. He recognised the previous lead as one of the background dancers, along with a couple of others who’d had big roles the years before. Phil was nowhere to be found. Dan had a heavy feeling in his stomach as he watched them float across the stage. Eleanor noticed too, taking her best friend’s hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. They exchanged a short glance, but Dan couldn’t bear looking her in the eyes for too long, too embarrassed about his situation and the hope he’d displayed before the show. She knew he’d been excited for their meeting and Phil’s not being there made him feel ashamed, naive almost. His eyes absentmindedly followed the ballerinas, not really taking anything in.

Eleanor kept a firm grip on his hand, pulling him downstairs to the bar and pushing a glass of champagne into his hand. She wasn’t sure what to say either, clearly. Dan could see the radars in her head spin as she tried to come up with a way to comfort him.

“Dan?”

He saw Eleanor’s eyes light up before he turned and faced the person who’d said his name.

Phil was wearing slacks and a button-down shirt, his hair neatly swept to one side. He looked older, more mature. Dan was glad Eleanor had made him dress up that year, so he knew he looked good. He subconsciously reached up and tugged on his tie a bit as he looked the dancer up and down.

“It’s good to see you.” He managed to say.

“You too.” Phil said.

“I thought you might not be here this year.”

“I’m not on the team anymore. Not as a dancer, at least. I’ve taken up that coaching position like I told you I might last year, I’m assistant coach now.”

“Wow, congratulations.”

Phil laughed, “It’s not that spectacular, I’m not sure if it deserves congratulations.”

“Well, you’ve done better for yourself than I have.” Dan said. It was out there before he could stop himself, and the moment he’d said it he was afraid he’d enclosed too much information about his personal life.

“You can tell me all about it after the show,” Phil said, “I have to get back to the team now. I was just coming to say hi and make sure you knew I was here. Backdoor?”

“Yep, see you there.”

“Perfect.”

He watched Phil leave before turning around to face Eleanor, who had a smug look on her face. “See, it’s all fine.” She said.

“You say that now, but you were afraid he wouldn’t be here too.”

“Maybe.” She admitted. She touched her champagne glass to his, “Cheers to another fun night for you.”

“And cheers for hopefully one for you. You deserve one.”

He meant it. After Nicola cheated on her six months into their relationship she’d stayed away from boys for a while, but a week earlier she’d said she might try and pull on the 23rd of December, for the first time in months. He watched her eye a guy standing behind them as she nodded and took a sip of her drink. “I sure do.”

Dan couldn’t help but break into a smile when he watched Phil approach. He was stopped a few times along the way to shake hands and receive pats on the shoulder, but eventually he made it over and to Dan’s surprise he leaned in and kissed him right in front of everyone. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, can you just leave?”

Phil nodded. “Let’s walk.”

The moment they stepped out into the cold Dan glanced over to see if Phil would change his mind about walking, but he didn’t. They both put up the collars on their coats and bowed their heads against the wind. Dan had his hands shoved deep into his pockets until he felt Phil’s fingers brush against his wrist. Wordlessly, their fingers intertwined and fell between their two bodies.

“It was a good performance.” Dan said eventually.

He saw Phil nod from the corner of his eye, “They trained their little hearts out. The lead got sick three days ago, so this was the understudy performing. She’d never had this big a role before and was so nervous, bless her.” He smiled to himself.

“When did you start coaching?”

“With the start of the new schoolyear, this September. I still dance too, just not on this team anymore. I’ve stopped competing too, I’m just doing it for fun on the side now.”

“That must’ve been a transition.”

“Yeah, I struggled with it a bit. Still do, really. I miss it, but I know this is where I need to be and what I need to be doing.”

Dan stayed quiet. His mind drifted to his own situation, how he was far from where he needed to be. He bit his lip, face numb with the cold.

Phil squeezed his hand. The only comfort he could offer without asking too much about his life outside of their Christmas dates.

The hotel was a twenty-minute walk from the theatre, and when they finally stepped into the lobby Dan’s whole body started stinging as the warmth from inside hit him. Next to him, Phil rubbed his hands together and blew on them. His cheeks were bright red, shimmering in the bright lights. Dan couldn’t help remarking in his mind that he looked cute and kissable.

They took the lift up. Hand-in-hand once again, eyes shyly meeting through their reflections in the mirror. The third time and still it felt new and exciting.

There was only one big, king-sized bed in the room this year. Phil’s suitcase was on the floor by the desk with a couple of items strewn over the chair.

“So, I have a suggestion. You can say no if you want.”

“Okay.” Dan said, raising his eyebrows.

“I brought a really nice bath bomb. From Lush. The bath is fairly spacious.”

“Yes?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Phil grabbed him by his tie and pulled him in, their lips touching together gently.

They got undressed as the bath ran in the other room. Phil was still as toned and gorgeous as he had been the years before and Dan’s fingers itched to reach out and touch him. He had to have patience. Soon enough, they’d be bunched up in the bath, with no other choice but to touch each other.

The bath bomb fizzed and coloured the water a pale, glittery blue. Phil lined up the little hotel shampoos and soaps on the side, his muscles flexing under his taut skin as he moved. Dan’s eyes were glued to him, mesmerised.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

Phil got in first, settling in comfortably before beckoning Dan over. The latter was hesitant, trying to be elegant about it and almost slipping in the process. A small tidal wave splashed over the side of the bath as he steadied himself on the tap. Phil laughed. He was relaxed, with his head resting against the wall and his arms stretched out over the sides of the bath. The hot water made Dan want to relax, but the situation was so foreign and new to him that he was struggling to keep his composure altogether and was happy enough when he finally settled down with his knees pulled into his chest.

The bath water being blue obscured most areas Dan was insecure about from sight, and soon enough he was relaxing his legs, stretching them out alongside Phil’s. “So, how was your year?” Phil asked.

He was good at asking those questions that could be answered by pretty much anything, leaving the decision as to where to draw the line with Dan once again. “Good,” the latter said hesitantly, “it was a ride.”

Phil laughed, “Yeah, me too.”

“I’m- I was in university before. I dropped out.” Phil didn’t seem to judge him, just nodding encouragingly for Dan to go on. “So, I work in a store now. Trying to, you know, sort out my life and all.”

“What do you want to do when you’re older?”

“I don’t know, die maybe.”

“Okay, that’s valid. But before that?”

Dan shrugged, “I don’t know, honestly.”

Phil decided not to press anymore, and Dan quickly took the opportunity to ask about his year.

“It was good. I went on my last Europe tour as a member of the team instead of a coach, so that was a bit bittersweet. I’m excited to coach though. Oh, I finally moved out, too. Was about time.” He laughed, the water moving off him in little waves.

Dan put on his underwear before he dried any other part of his body. Phil had no such inclination, stood in the middle of the hotel room stark-naked while drying his hair. The bed looked cosy and inviting, and although the room was warm enough Dan longed to curl up under the covers for a while.

Wearing just his pants he crawled into bed and pulled the duvet up to his chin. While he waited for the other to finish up, he grabbed the remote control off the bedside table and turned the TV on to a radio station that was playing Christmas songs. The only thing this atmosphere needed to be perfect was a little scented candle, but Dan would settle for this.

“So, I’ve been waiting pretty much all year to make out with you. Do you mind doing that for a while before we decide what to do with the rest of our night?”

Dan grinned, “I think I’m alright with that.”

Phil slipped under the covers with him and pushed him down onto his back. Dan laced his fingers through Phil’s mildly damp hair as they kissed. Maybe his flight response to Nicholas’ question had had less to do with the question of commitment to either a boy or anyone, and more to do with the fact that he was already committed to something. To a 24 hours period just before Christmas.

Phil’s hands were a bit cold roaming his sides. They sent shivers down his spine, but he did nothing to stop them.

Soon enough they were both warmed up and their almost naked bodies moved together, arousal already showing. Every time Phil’s hips touched against Dan’s thigh it sent a pleasant shiver to his dick, his fingers tightening against Phil’s hair and skin. It was pretty clear that ‘what they would be doing with the rest of their night’ wasn’t much of a question, really. With the way hands and mouths were moving this was only going in one direction.

Phil’s lips had trailed off, going from Dan’s neck to his chest and down to his belly. Looking down at him Dan watched the trail of faint hickeys grace down from his throat to the waistband of his boxers. Phil had already moved on, his breath ghosting over the bulge in the fabric and his hands moving up Dan’s thighs with confidence.

Although one part of his brain was focused solely on the fact that a very attractive boy was about to give him a blowjob, the other part of him couldn’t help but think about what would happen after. The memory of last year was still fresh in his mind to put a slight damper on his excitement. He wanted to try again. The thought of actually having sex with Phil made his whole body tingle, but it was also scary. It was like losing his virginity all over again, where he had no idea what he was doing, and he just had to surrender all control to another, more experienced party.

For a few minutes though, Dan’s mind was completely taken off anything he could possibly worry about as Phil pulled down his underwear and put his mouth on him. He started by teasing along the shaft with his tongue, one hand holding him firmly by the base and the other with fingertips barely grazing along his balls. Dan opened his eyes for a moment, glancing down at the sight below him. A soft sound escaped from the back of his throat before his eyes closed again.

Phil was an expert. His mouth and hands moved just right, and much sooner than he wanted to Dan had to nudge him off to stop him from finishing him off. “Can we try last year again?”

“Are you sure you want to?” Phil sat up on his heels. He needed no further explanation; he knew what Dan meant.

“Yeah. I want to try, at least.”

“I don’t want to say something stupid, but as it didn’t work last time, are you sure you really want it? Don’t do it for me, I’m doing perfectly fine without it.”

“No, yes, I mean- I really want it. I do. I’m just scared of the pain.”

“I’ll go very slow. The moment it doesn’t feel nice you give me a shout and I stop or take a step back, okay?”

“Okay.” Dan breathed.

The two of them kicked off their boxers, Dan pulling Phil back down for a quick kiss, but neither of them had much patience for a make out session knowing what was on the table now.

Phil had lube at the ready, spreading it on his fingers and pressing soft butterfly kisses to Dan’s abdomen as his hand moved down. Dan closed his eyes. He felt more vulnerable than he ever had before. He was clutching at the sheets, but Phil carefully took one of his hands in his and said in a hushed tone, “Squeeze my hand. Let me know if I do something wrong.”

He kissed Dan’s thigh while he pushed a finger in. Dan made a sound and Phil’s movements stilled, but he squeezed his hand, urging him to go on.

He took it slow. Like he promised. He gave Dan time to adjust before putting a second finger in, and eventually let go of Dan’s hand to tease his dick a bit, moving up and down in excruciatingly slow strokes. His whole body was on fire, feelings things he’d never felt before.

Eventually, after what felt like forever, Phil called him back to attention by pulling his fingers out and putting both hands on his hips, “You doing okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I think you’re well enough prepared, if you’re still up for it.”

“I am.”

“Okay.”

Dan’s eyes followed Phil as he hopped off the bed and got a condom from his suitcase. He tore open the wrapper and rolled the condom onto himself with practised fingers, putting some extra lube on himself after. The actions of someone who’d done this before and knew the pitfalls.

“Okay?”

Dan nodded. His throat was slightly closed up with nerves, but as Phil settled in between his legs he felt no urge to move away. Rather, he felt an impatient pull in his stomach, his dick twitching at the thought of what was about to happen.

The moment Phil’s tip grazed his entrance Dan closed his eyes and let his head fall back. He focused on relaxing, aided by Phil’s soothing hand on his side, rubbing circled into his skin with his thumb. Being filled up felt weird, and it just kept coming until finally he felt Phil bottom out. He was given a few moments to adjust, catch his breath, which he took reluctantly. He wanted to move on. Desperate already even though he only had to wait a few seconds.

“Go.” He muttered hoarsely.

Phil started slow. A practice run.

His hands were firmly holding on to Dan’s hips as he started speeding up little by little. Every time his hips touched against Dan and he was fully filled up, Dan let out a shaky breath. He had no idea how long Phil was going to last, but he didn’t think he had a lot of time in him. His dick was aching to be touched but he knew he’d come very quickly if he gave into the urge.

“How are you doing?” Phil asked. The question came out breathily, the words clearly an effort to utter.

“Good. Too good, maybe.” Phil gave him a questioning look, but Dan took a few seconds to recover before he continued, “I’m getting close.”

“Me too.”

“Touch me.” There was nothing in him that could muster up even the slightest bit of politeness. Phil didn’t need any. His hand reached down, and fingers wrapped firmly around him. It only took a few firm strokes in time with his hips to make Dan emit a desperate little sound and come all over his own belly. Phil followed shortly after, pushed over the edge by Dan’s muscles contracting around him.

Dan flinched when Phil pulled out. He felt overstimulated and sore, but completely satisfied. It was a tired, content kind of satisfaction, making him want to finally curl up and go to sleep. “What time is it?” He whispered, following Phil’s movements as the other went into the bathroom through half-closed eyes.

“Nearing half eleven.”

Dan laughed as much as his sleepy state allowed him to and closed his eyes fully, “I usually don’t go to sleep for another two hours or so.”

“We can go to sleep now, if you want.” Phil’s voice came from the other room.

“Hmm, up to you.”

Phil returned, putting his underwear back on and slipping back under the covers with Dan, “If we go to sleep now we’ll have loads of time together tomorrow. I’m not leaving till the evening. If you want that, of course.”

That woke Dan up. He opened his eyes and raised his head, but Phil had turned the light off and the room was dark. “Of course I want that.”

“Okay. Okay. Sleep now, then. We’ll have a lot of time tomorrow.”

Dan turned around, picking his underwear off the floor and wiggling into them under the duvet. When he was done, Phil crawled up beside him and wrapped his arms around him from behind. “This okay?” He asked. His warm breath stroked along Dan’s neck, making his skin raise into goosebumps.

“Yeah.” He whispered back.

He fell asleep with Phil’s arms tightly wrapped around him, soothed by his even breathing against his skin.

When Dan woke up Phil was still fast asleep. He snuck out from under his arm and tiptoed to the bathroom, where it still smelt like fruit and mint or whatever the bath bomb had been. After peeing Dan put a bit of Phil’s toothpaste in his mouth and sloshed it around for a bit; it would have to do.

“Morning.” He was greeted by Phil, lying on his back with one arm thrown over his face to protect his eyes from the sunlight, when he walked back into the bedroom.

“Morning.”

“Want to order some room service and chill in bed while we eat?”

“Sounds good.” He leant down and kissed the top of Phil’s head without really thinking, not realising himself until he met the other’s eyes. Phil pulled him down with a hand on the back of his neck and pecked his lips.

They ordered room service on the hotel website, Dan getting pancakes and Phil some vegan waffles. While they waited for it to arrive Dan got dressed, splashing some water in his face and attempting to bring his hair to some kind of order. He startled when he felt hands touching his belly. Phil had appeared behind him, wrapping his arms around Dan’s waist and now resting his chin on his shoulder. “What do you want to do today?”

“Anything. I wouldn’t mind staying in and just hanging out.”

“What, just talking, getting to know each other?” Dan asked. It was meant as a joke, but when Phil shrugged he nodded, “Alright, sure.”

They ate their breakfast sat cross-legged on the big double bed. Soft Christmas music played on the TV as they started chatting, carefully at first but quickly becoming more free in their questions and stories.

In the middle of one of his stories Phil suddenly called his dad ‘Mr Lester’, bringing the hand that was just about to put a bite of pancake into Dan’s mouth to an abrupt halt. Phil hadn’t noticed, his lively storytelling not stuttering for even a second.

But Dan had a name.

He had a full name to plug into the Google search bar rather than just the name of the ballet company. He wasn’t sure whether to try his absolute hardest to forget it as soon as possible, or whether to save it to his long-term memory and tattoo it onto his brain.

At about half two, when Phil was lying flat on his back with Dan’s head resting on his belly, both staring at the ceiling and half at the other’s hands gesturing in the air as they spoke, Dan’s phone started ringing. They both raised their heads, disturbed.

It was Eleanor. A picture of her and Dan as little kids in a playpark illuminated the screen.

“El?”

“Danny-boy, where are you?”

“Uh…” Dan glanced over to the bed, where Phil had grabbed his own phone and was scrolling through some missed messages.

“I told your mum you’re hanging out with a mate, but I can’t hold her off forever.”

Fuck. Christmas crafts.

“I hadn’t realised the time.”

It was quiet on the other end for a moment, “Bring him.” She said finally.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll come back.”

“Really, Dan, bring him.”

It was a weird crossroad to be at. He had 24 hours with Phil, but he also had a best friend and a mum waiting for their Christmas tradition, and he’d already let them down by being late. Last year in November he’d been at the same fork in the road, he realised, and he’d made the wrong decision then. He’d chosen Rosie over Eleanor and he still hated himself for that. It was clear-cut, really.

“I’m sorry for forgetting the time, I’ll be over as soon as I can. Get the crafts ready, I’m feeling the creative juices flowing.”

Eleanor laughed, the sound sending a relieved warmth to Dan’s heart. “Alright, alright. See you soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” When Dan turned back to the bed he wasn’t sure how to break the news. He bit his lip and sat down, awkwardly.

“You have to go?” Phil asked.

“I have a Christmas tradition with my mum and my best friend. It’s bad enough that I forgot about it.”

“It’s okay,” Phil nodded. His smile said that he meant it, “My bus leaves at ten, we can have dinner together if you want?”

“I’d love that, yes.”

“Meet me at the hotel entrance at seven?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay, all good. Have a good day, Dan.”

Dan bit the inside of his cheek. This was the right thing to do, and he was looking forward to crafts, as he did each year, but this still felt bittersweet.

When Phil opened his arms he happily fell into them, “I’m sorry.” He said.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. The day after is not usually a part of our tradition, after all.”

“I know, but it would’ve been nice.”

“Yeah, it would’ve been.”

Eleanor hugged him when he came in. Her arms were familiar and welcoming, and decidedly not upset with him. “How was your day, huh?”

He grinned, “Most excellent, thanks for asking.”

“I want to hear all about it. As soon as we’re not with your mum anymore, that is.”

“Are you kidding? You know about my thing, I want to hear about your night.” She winked at him and spun on her heel, walking to the living room. “Eleanor, you bitch, you can’t do this to me.”

“I can, and I will.”

“Dan, there you are! Did you have a good time with your friend?”

“Oh yeah, it was lovely.” Dan said, doing his best to hide the grin on his face that was mirrored by his best friend to his left.

Eleanor, always right beside him.

Scrolling was a bit more difficult than usual after the Glue Accident, but Eleanor managed it as she showed Dan Facebook pictures of a boy with blonde curls and a toned dancer’s body. They’d done two hours of crafts with Dan’s mum and then quickly retreated to Dan’s room with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, now stood forgotten on the bedside table.

Cam seemed nice enough, but it was clear that Eleanor didn’t care much for his niceness: he’d given her his number at the end of the night, but when Dan asked her if she’d put it into her phone she said she didn’t even remember where she put the note. The night had but a content grin on her face that was enough for now. A reminder that she still had it and that Nicola was a stupid idiot who was missing out, like Dan had been telling her for the past couple of months.

“So, what about you? Why were you still with him?”

“He’s here all day. Not leaving till nine tonight.”

“Wait, you were going to spend the day with him?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s still here?” With every word she was sitting up a bit straighter.

“Yeah.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Bros before hoes. Mums before- I don’t know- bums? You know what I mean.”

“Okay, crafts over. Go back to him, God. Your mum and I will still be here tonight and tomorrow and all the time after that.”

Dan was quiet for a moment. “El,” He said then, softly, “I’m sorry about last November.”

He didn’t need to explain what he meant. She gave him a sad smile and a playful push against the shoulder that meant more than it led on, “I know.”

“I really am. I shouldn’t have prioritised Rosie over you, and that was so fucking dumb of me.”

“Yeah, you were an idiot. Still are, really.” Eleanor agreed.

Dan grinned, “Yeah, alright, alright, calm down.”

“You deserve it though.” She said, laughing along. Her hand, still on his shoulder, shook him gently, “Go. It’s okay, we’ll hang out tonight and watch Home Alone. After he’s left.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You came to crafts, thank you.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to miss it.” He scrambled to his feet and kissed the top of her head. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, idiot.” She shook her head at him as he left the room.

It was six o’clock when he made it into the hotel lobby and the realisation that he had no way of getting upstairs or contacting Phil to let him in. He stood, probably suspiciously, next to the check-in desk for just a little too long, before his stupid foggy brain finally thought of something to do.

“El?”

“Why are you calling me? Go have sex or something.” She whispered the last part, probably still at his house, near his mum.

“I don’t have his phone number. Can you see if you can find Cam’s and ask him for Phil’s number for me?”

“Really? You want me to ask a guy I slept with last night for one of his friends’ phone numbers? Do you want me to break the guy’s heart?”

“Tell him it’s a gay emergency.”

“A gay emergency, huh?”

Dan’s face flushed red, “At this point, I can’t really deny anything anymore, you know?”

“You’re gay?”

“Oh my god, this is not what I called you for, El.”

“I know.”

“I’m not gay. I’m just- not straight. Bi, maybe.”

“I’ll find Cam’s number. Tell him it’s a bi emergency.”

“You’re an angel.”

“Yeah, and you’re so lucky to have me.”

After they hung up the phone Dan spent another couple of awkward minutes hanging around the check-in desk, giving the lady behind it a nod that he hoped was reassuring and friendly.

Just before his standing around started going from ‘weird’ to ‘scary’, Eleanor texted him. Just a string of numbers. Presumably Phil’s phone number. Phil Lester’s phone number.

What was he even supposed to say? What did you put in a first text to someone you’d known for two years but had only really seen three times?

Hey, it’s Dan. I’m back at the hotel if you want to hang out now? Am in the lobby.

His finger hovered over the ‘send’ button, and after a glance at the clock – twenty past six – he pressed it.

The lady behind the desk was really starting to give him looks now, so he moved to near the lifts, which was maybe even more suspicious. Thankfully, a minute or two later, one of the lifts opened and Phil appeared, now dressed in some casual jeans and a T shirt. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How were your crafts?”

“Excellent, I’m a master.”

“I’m sure you are. Want to go straight to the restaurant?”

“Sure. Where are we going?”

“Well, it just so happens that I know of an exquisite Pizza Hut around the corner.”

“Hm, really? How did you become acquainted with it?”

“Ah well, I just Google Maps-ed it a minute and a half ago.”

It was a short walk. Five minutes, maybe. Dan felt some weird sense of pride walking next to Phil, boasting with the cute guy he’d managed to get to… take him on a date? He wasn’t sure what this was, until fingertips touched his hand palm and fingers intertwined with his. He glanced to his side and the two boys made eye contact, grinning at each other, each content with what had just occurred between them.

Dan’s secondary school had had a pizza hut right around the corner, meaning he was very, very closely acquainted with how things worked in there. Phil, who’d been on a ballet diet most of his life, had only stepped foot inside a Pizza Hut maybe three times, had no idea what was going on from the moment he walked in.

“The salad bar is free?” He asked quietly, “Dan,” he did a little jog to catch up with the other, “Dan, it’s free?”

“Yeah. The bacon bits are vegan, too.”

“The bacon bits?”

Dan was enjoying being the one with more experience on something for once, albeit with the workings of a cheap pizza place.

He didn’t need to look at the menu, knowing his order by heart. Amusedly, he watched Phil study his options with his finger tracing the letters as he read them. “Is this one any good?”

“What, the pan? Sure. I’m a classic fan though.”

“I think I’ll be adventurous and get a pan.”

After they’d ordered Dan got some more entertainment from watching Phil squint at the salad bar options, carefully picking up some tomatoes and then loading up on bacon bits. “You’re sure?” He asked, by which time it was already far too late to dump the whole lot back into the bowl.

“Yeah, they’re vegan. My friend who’s vegan has them all the time.”

“Okay.”

Phil made the classic mistake of overloading on the salad bar, so he couldn’t finish his pizza. Dan gladly made use of this by eating the last 3 slices.

The boundaries had been moved, and for some reason instead of making it more awkward, as it had been before when they weren’t sure where the lines were drawn, they spoke more easily and fluently. Phil even opened up about his childhood, and how he’d started dancing.

Dan had to try his best to not stare at him fondly, leaning his head on one hand, while he listened.

It was a quarter to eight. They had exactly an hour and fifteen minutes to get Phil’s stuff packed up and get him on the bus, yet the moment they left Pizza Hut, they headed in the exact opposite direction of the hotel.

Their fingers were intertwined, hands swinging between them as they walked.

They got ice cream at a place Dan loved, sitting outside on a freezing December night despite the odd looks they were getting. By the end of it Dan couldn’t feel his tongue, but it was worth it to see the happy smile on Phil’s face, and the way his cheeks had gone red and rosy from the cold air.

Eventually they had to reluctantly make their way back to the hotel. Hand in hand once again.

Dan watched him throw his things into the suitcase on the floor and zip it up with the effortless movements of someone who’d done this many times before.

“I’ll see you next year?” Dan asked. He felt hope and hurt burning in his heart at once.

“I’ll be here. I hope you will be, too.”

“I’ll see if I can find the time to pop by.” Dan said. A weak attempt at a joke while he felt like a small part of him had just been zipped up into a suitcase headed north.

Downstairs by the bus, the other dancers greeted Dan like a friend with pats on the back and smiling nods. “See you next year, Dan.” One of them told him.

A fair assertion, or so Dan hoped.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #phan au #ballet au #phan smut

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deadcactuswalking · 4 years

Text

The Top 10 Best Hit Songs of 2020

Screw your introductions. It’s 2020, we haven’t got time for a pre-amble. This is the best list.

THE TOP 10 BEST HIT SONGS OF 2020

For 2018 and 2017, I did four massive lists with at least 10 songs each discussed in depth for the end of the year. I’m proud of them and I stick by them but they’re tedious to write and read. You really need some kind of visual medium for them to work that well, at least in my style of year-end lists. Thankfully, there are hundreds of people doing just that so instead, I’m just going to take 10 songs I remember from the predicted year-end list and ramble about them in hopefully a more precise way. Let’s start with... oh, for f—

#10

“I Hope” – Gabby Barrett

Peak: #3

I don’t like country music, or really get country music. I’m British, I’m not supposed to, but as I do watch charts I see country music gaining increased prominence on the charts, in an era of streaming I didn’t think it could really cope with. I’m using SailorCharts’ predictions for the Billboard Year-End Hot 100; this is at #10, which is crazy to me. That’s probably thanks to that nonsensical Charlie Puth remix but let’s ignore that for the sake of my sanity. “I Hope” is vindictive, overly harsh and absolutely repulsive. It shows an uglier side to Gabby Barrett that you’d usually only be able to see if you look up her political views, but that’s what makes it so uniquely cathartic to me. This is a person who I disagree with heavily on a moral principle ripping off a middling Carrie Underwood track with blown-out, compressed and really gross production... but that’s 2020 for you. It’s hard to listen to with a straight face or without turning it off, but you have to endure it. You have to listen to this woman croakily belt her overlong chorus until the melody of that hook grounds itself into your mind, and you remember that climax point. “And then I hope she cheats”. Barrett isn’t destroying the guy’s sports car as a metaphor for her revenge fantasy like Underwood, she is just completely upfront about how much she wants this guy to be left emotionally distraught by this new relationship out of pure spite. Nothing represents the constant aggravation of 2020 finally releasing and expressing all of the fears and anger society has kept curled up until they were forced to isolate for the sake of common human respect and dignity, and the fact that people are adamant that they’ve had enough of oppression, inequality and the elite, than those squealing guitars in the second chorus and Barrett’s raspy delivery. This song is far from perfect – I’ve seen many argue it’s not good at all – but it feels necessary this year as an avenue for the public to vent their frustration. Now let’s do that with someone who isn’t a Trump supporter.

“The Bigger Picture” – Lil Baby

Peak: #3

Yeah, speaking of songs being necessary, I admire Lil Baby, a person with a platform who people, especially the youth, will listen to, for making a protest song like this. Regardless of how many rappers express their grievances about racial inequality and societal issues, the person with the biggest and most impactful voice will always matter the most to me. The most important issue Baby gets at here is that racism isn’t new or simple. It’s complex. It’s deep-seated. It’s systematic. It exists in the very way people function under their governments and how people live their lives and do business. Even me mentioning business is a sign of how capitalism undermines the struggle for the economy. Lil Baby speaks from his own experience in Atlanta and gets to the heart of real Black struggle in the United States, with the inherent fear and defiance that many young Black men have of the police and authority, regardless of background or criminal record (oftentimes non-existent, unlawful or directly targeted). Sure, he dips his toe into some centrist ideas, which I’m not a fan of, but they aren’t rooted in this “why can’t we all get along?” crap often spouted by those who don’t want to see social upheaval affect the money flow. It’s not just rich old white dudes either, look at Lil Pump, Lil Wayne and Kanye West, and how buddied up they got with Trump for their own desperate financial security and outright refusal, in many ways hypocritical, to help the working-class and the disadvantaged. They’re only disadvantaged because of the elite. It should not be an inherent birth right to be impoverished, but that’s how we live, and I admire Baby for attempting to make a change over the melancholy pianos and trap skitters. Oh, and yeah, he’s flowing and spitting over this. He’s not boring and overly pretentious. He’s engaging. He makes you want and need to listen to him because he, like many Black people in America and oppressed minority groups worldwide, has got something to say. We’ve got to start somewhere. Black lives matter. Now for some honourable mentions.

Honourable Mentions

Let’s have a lighter tone, perhaps, for these next few entries, but first, let’s run through some honourable mentions, in no particular order other than where they are on the predicted Hot 100.

“Blinding Lights” – The Weeknd

This song has already been talked about to death, by about March, so I’d be doing a disservice to discuss it here.

“Don’t Start Now” – Dua Lipa

Same here. This is a weird list because whilst this would be in the top five if I had more to say about it, I don’t have much to say about it other than how it is a perfectly composed pop song. I want to discuss songs I actually care about on a level more than pure sonic enjoyment, so make of that what you will.

“ROCKSTAR” – DaBaby featuring Roddy Ricch

Roddy Ricch should be absolutely treasured while he’s still here.

“Life is Good” – Drake and then Future

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about pop music in 2020 it is that Future, when he’s on, is an absolute monster. Anyway, more honourable mentions soon, and let’s hop back onto the list proper.

Screw it, it’s my list.

“All I Want for Christmas is You” – Mariah Carey

Peak: #1

At the start of this year in January, it felt like just another monotonous routine of a year that started exactly how it would end: with apathy about the world in ruins. This is true for most years but 2020 decided to spice it up a little with... you know... 2020, and all of its pandemics, riots and chaos. So, for just a short time, can I talk about a song that provides absolute joy to absolutely everyone? It peaked at #1 at Christmas in 2019, which was part of the 2020 chart year, and it’s on the predicted list, so it counts and it is an incredible song that reaches into the holiday festivities with manufactured cynicism, before plunging into that jolly bag of cash and producing the most organically happy Christmas song ever. The song is, by name, not even about Christmassy commercialism, and rejects it entirely, with how Carey croons beautifully about how she isn’t asking for gifts, snow or Santa Claus. It’s telling how a single about wanting personal connection every holiday season is the biggest Christmas song of all time instead of any of the other schlock that gets reissued and has a resurgence in this time of year. It helps that it is a gorgeous and intricately composed song with that mellow intro building up into the sleigh bells and pounding percussion carrying the wonderfully 90s strings. This is a timeless classic and I’m so glad it’s a Christmas standard, for what it stands for as well as it being just an amazing song that really only comes around every so often to be a bonafide smash hit everyone loves and appreciates... except maybe every retail worker since December 1994. Walmart is a cesspit anyway, I assume that bile can be chalked up to overplay and negative connotations, of which this song on its own in a vacuum, has absolutely none.

“We Paid” – Lil Baby and 42 Dugg

Peak: #10

How do I even...? I mean... just listen to the song. It clicks. I’d love to leave it there but I am obliged to ramble so... I find this song impossible to explain. I mean, it’s just “We Paid” by Lil Baby and 42 Dugg, an absolute anomaly. It’s barely a song, with a chorus unrecognisable from its verses, two nasal and uninteresting vocalists, flows I’ve heard before and clearly rushed, awkward bass mastering and mixing overall... yet it’s so, so addictive. It’s all about that intro for me, where it starts with a whistle and off-beat, complete nonsense producer tags and pre-verse rambling from 42 Dugg, before the bass kicks in and it just hits so hard. I couldn’t care less about any single line after “’Fore I go broke like Joc”, and I don’t have to. Both Dugg and Baby have stiff flows but are full of character that is so, so necessary over this menacing trap beat that survives only off of the melody so incredibly low in the mix I can’t tell what it’s even trying to be. Oh, and, while we’re here...

“24” – Money Man, remixed by Lil Baby

Peak: #49

This is good for a lot of the same reasons, and wasn’t even a hit. I just wanted to highlight this song for many of the same reasons I really love “We Paid”. It’s a complete nobody rapping robotically over a trap beat that bumps but only because of the cadence and charisma of the two rappers here... which is kind of non-existent in both songs. It relies on the flows, and they’re just kind of monotonous after each of the iconic opening lines. It’s also telling that this chorus acknowledges two Black men who have since become iconic in their fields and died within a month of each other, those being Kobe Bryant and Pop Smoke, may they rest in peace. It’s pretty tragic, actually, and adds a sense of depth to the braggadocious triumph these deflated singles attempt to convey. I am bemused by these songs and whilst you can try to fully understand popular music to the point of deep analysis and Genius annotations, the best music has a sense of mystery and intrigue, at least to me, and something about the whistle in “We Paid” and the vocoded guitar line in “24” makes these two tracks incredibly replayable. Also, you know, Lil Baby’s verse on “24” might be the verse of the year.

Honourable Mentions #2

The sequel is never as good as the original. Regardless, here are some more honourable mentions.

“WHATS POPPIN” – Jack Harlow, remixed by DaBaby, Tory Lanez and Lil Wayne

This guy is a bad omen. “I’mma spend this holiday locked in” is an eerie prediction of this dour year. Also DaBaby is awesome when he tries.

“Roses” – SAINt JHN, remixed by Imanbek

The original song is dreadful, I have no idea how this Kazakh house DJ pulled this remix off but it is a massive improvement from about every possible angle you could think of.

“10,000 Hours” – Dan + Shay and Justin Bieber

That’s well over a year, like that’s 416.7 days. These guys are devoted... and honestly kind of scary.

“Ballin’” – Mustard featuring Roddy Ricch

Chorus of the year.

“Blueberry Faygo” – Lil Mosey

This song is awful, absolutely reprehensible, with no redeeming factors and a clear lack of effort put into anything in the song itself... but at least it’s optimistic. At least it sounds happy and like a true Song of the Summer, and, oh, my God, we needed that this year.

“Lemonade” – Internet Money and Gunna featuring NAV and Don Toliver

Peak: #6

NAV is on my best list. NAV is on a year-end list. NAV has a #1 hit in the United Kingdom, Portugal and Greece. NAV, the Brown Boy himself, has one of the biggest hits of both 2020 and 2021, given that this isn’t caught between years, and I’m not complaining because this song is a riot. I did say that this list wasn’t based on pure sonic enjoyment but I’m going to throw that absolutely out the window for this one. If anything, “Blinding Lights” and “Don’t Start Now” aren’t on the list out of pure fatigue, because this song is just as incredible as it sounded on release, with that slick, watery acoustic guitar coating a light trap skitter and bouncy 808s. That’s a description I could use about most hip-hop this year, but “Lemonade” has this liquid-smooth quality to it and it is safe to say that NAV and Gunna fill up all of the space available in their container here, whatever that means. NAV, for once, co-opts a flow that sounds great from his whiny Canadian mumble, mostly because he takes Don Toliver’s flow from the chorus, and whilst he didn’t write this chorus, he absolutely sells it with his soulful crooning. This song is a hedonistic celebration of everything materialistic and meaningless, but it’s having fun doing it, and that is seldom seen in 2020’s trap efforts. Gunna’s flows here are playing with the beat in a way that is reminiscent of Young Thug but finally in a way that sounds uniquely interesting and fitting for Gunna, and not just straining his limited vocals out to testing out a flow that clearly doesn’t fit the guy, or settling for something a lot less engaging. Man, out of all people to be praising this year, I did not expect it to be Lil Baby, NAV and Gunna... back to back, several times. Let’s get back to people I did expect to be gushing about by the end of the year.

“everything i wanted” – Billie Eilish

Peak: #8

Much like “The Bigger Picture”, this song made the list out of necessity, mostly in its lyrics. I would be absolutely selling this year short to not include one of the most thought-provoking young women in pop music on a list like this, and thankfully, she wrote a gorgeous song that I can discuss here. Firstly, the sound of this song is brilliantly subtle and intimate, with panning keys, light-weight clapping percussion and such little focus on everything surrounding Eilish’s soft, dead-pan cooing multi-tracked to add that extra depth and convincing delivery to the lyrical content, which we’ll discuss later. It’s not that this makes the song sound unfinished or lazy, or even uninteresting, because it has that degree of elevation that is necessary for a lyrically focused song like this, with the second verse starting off with just the muted 808s emphasising that intimacy that Eilish attempts to convey through the lyrics, which are mostly an ode to her and her brother’s especially close relationship. Eilish details her depression and even nightmares, relating to a lot of her music’s themes surrounding sleep paralysis and the very concept of dreaming. That first verse is heavy in content, and honestly distressing to even write about here, but it can be summarised in this: Eilish had a dream where she committed suicide by jumping off of the Golden Gate Bridge, which is a common location for these types of deaths, adding that unnerving realism to the verse. The verse may be about betrayal but you could interpret it and much of her music as a response to the press and the media, which seems to flip on how they portray and criticise her, which has been increasingly obvious this year. That makes the idea of no-one, not even her fandom and those keeping the most attention and eyes on her, caring about her suicide even more damaging and raising the stakes to something that doesn’t feel like meaningless teenage angst or even just dropping off emotional baggage. The song is, in many ways, a love song to the only person she thinks would care: her brother, FINNEAS, with the chorus reciting his words of wisdom and reassurance to Eilish as she struggles with suicidal thoughts. The verses may be a specific and detailed level of insight into her psyche, but the chorus, with its wider scope and lesser detail, doesn’t come off as unrealised. Rather, it appears motivational, to both Eilish and the audience, but with the following verse and final leg of the chorus making it incredibly clear that words mean nothing without an action to follow it up or back up what has been said. Motivation doesn’t mean a quote on a wallpaper or Genius lyrics page. It’s about the willpower and the inspiration to change the way you think about yourself and make self-improvements to battle these demons, even when it seems impossible, and if it does seem impossible, there’s always your close support bubble that can reassure you and bring you back down to Earth when it all feels so unreal and that you can’t handle it.

Ee-ooh.

“The Box” – Roddy Ricch

Peak: #1

It’s tough to go into extreme depth about the personal impact a hit song has had on your mental health and what this means for the audience of said artist, and then completely dismiss it for another wacky Young Thug clone, but I did it before – in this very list twice already – and I’ll do it again, God damn it. “The Box” is pure chaos. It starts with this triumphant brass section that sounds dusty and classic, but then you immediately hear that damned “ee-ooh” sound, barely on beat and barely holding a note. It sounds like a poor falsetto imitation of a door creaking, and it is perfect. It’s just such an engaging hook, as if the actual hooks and choruses weren’t engaging and interesting enough. There’s so many intricacies to Roddy Ricch’s performance here and his array of flows are put on display excellently over this menacing beat with that reversed 808 that sets this apart from any other trap beat, especially with the eerie keys and especially with Roddy Ricch, who delivers possibly the best performance on this list second to my #1. The song starts with that mighty, iconic hook and even with that, Roddy rejects his flow before the measure is even up, outright refusing to continue and stalling with a muted “mm” sound. The lyrics aren’t cryptic by any means but it’s not like they’re all that simple, forming some kind of trap-rap word association all about “the box”, which could really mean anything at this point. He goes for a whiny elongated ending to each line in the second part of the chorus before switching sides to elongating the middle of the line in contrast to him spitting the last few words in rapid succession with a carefree cadence that’s almost inspiringly smooth. His verses are littered with charisma and hilarious ad-libs, and that’s before he goes into that falsetto for the second half of the first verse, with a simple but joyously stiff delivery, that makes his voice get closer to cracking with every syllable. Then we have the second verse, where the dude even laughs on beat and makes it sound great. The yelping in the second verse is endearing and amazing, with the way the beat cuts off for him to belt “BITCH, DON’T WEAR NO SHOES IN MY HOUSE!” at the top of his lungs like a misogynist toddler absolutely completing the song for me, and how the beat comes in afterwards is just perfect. It’s hard to explain this song without listening to it, again, but one listen of these flows and how he plays around with the beat like a kids’ toy is enough to understand truly why this song is one of the best of this year, and that Roddy Ricch is an absolute treasure.

I’m a 2020 presidential candidate / I done put a hundred bands on Zimmerman

This might be the best lyric on this list by the way. Speaking of ridiculous trap bangers with quotable lyrics and incredible flows...

“Heartless” – The Weeknd

Peak: #1

How did both of these songs hit #1? Sure, they’re trendy, they’re catchy and they’re by popular artists, but there’s something about these songs that feels so chaotic and messy, yet so grounded in reality despite how loony these guys and their performances are, including the lyrics. For “The Box”, you have 30 Roc’s pounding trap beat to make sure Roddy doesn’t completely go off the walls, and for “Heartless”, well, the same is true, but replace 30 Roc for the absolute legend of modern hip-hop production that is Metro Boomin. The intro going into the first verse is one of the highlights of pop music this year. I love how it leads you in with the mystery of the coating of reverb-drenched synths, all of which sound oddly alien, before revealing the layer of the trap beat and furthering the mystery via The Weeknd’s whispering “sheesh” ad-libs. Then, when that first verse hits, all subtlety is dismissed as excessive and unnecessary, even with that first cocky opening line, but especially when the heavy 808 bass continues to crash multiple on each bar surrounded by air horns and Abel’s never-ending luxury porn. This song is an ode to self-aware, reckless and absolutely self-indulgent materialism, highlighting its effect on not only how Abel copes (most notably with the amphetamines making his “stummy” feel “sickly”) but also on who surrounds him, particularly his inability to settle down and find a partner, and how frustrated he is with this, which is especially true in the chorus, before he puts on the disguise once again for the verses, in which he spits a list of endless excessiveness in his bars carrying as much swagger as he usually does. This song in all its maximalist production is oddly minimal in how it presents the raw psyche of the character of the Weeknd and his drug-addled mindset that couldn’t care less about the effect he has on his friends, family, women, himself or even society, as long as he has a good time... but it’s increasingly clear that he knows the impact this life style has and he understand that it makes him “heartless”, but only because that’s what he decides is directly affecting him and of course, Abel has always made sure that the character of the Weeknd is as selfish and self-obsessive as possible. It helps that this isn’t a moaning and moody piece of self-indulgent boring trap slop. It isn’t conveying a message through music that can’t represent it, it’s effectively pulling off its narrative through the whole sonic package, and you know what helps even more? It’s fun, and it’s funny, and the revealing bridge where Abel looks back at his past relationships and how this life style is a response to the damage and pain inflicted on him by said relationships, comes as a genuine shock because just seconds earlier, the guy said this:

So much pussy, it be fallin’ out the pocket

What an incredibly thought-out song, and definitely one deserving of a couple GRAMMY Awards in whatever category those racist out-of-touch elitist executives decide to retroactively slot the Weeknd into when the backlash becomes too much. With that said, here are some more honourable mentions.

Honourable Mentions #3

Now in IMAX 3-D!

“Break My Heart” – Dua Lipa

INXS are fuming.

“Good as Hell” – Lizzo

This is beautifully composed and genuinely motivating, and Lizzo has so much charisma but in 2020, I do not feel “good as hell” enough to justify this being on the list. Hey, what can I say? Truth hurts.

“Truth Hurts” – Lizzo

That failed gag was about as on-the-nose as this song itself, but Lizzo totally embraces that.

“For the Night” – Pop Smoke featuring DaBaby and Lil Baby

“Wishing Well” – Juice WRLD

I’m not a fan of these songs in particular but it would be awful of me to not include these two artists on the lists, even if it’s tragic that it has to be posthumously. Both were gone way too soon, and way too close together for it to feel anything more than distressing and really depressing. Sure, they represent two completely different issues rappers face, but the fact that the two biggest hip-hop artists of 2020 are both gone and not able to see this immense success is just a tough, bitter pill to shallow. Rest in peace to both of these men and I hope out of respect for their legacy, and out of apathy for how the record labels milk both of these audiences, that I won’t need to talk about them in the years ahead.

I have just discussed a lot of important songs with meaningful concepts, deep lyrics and insight, sonically innovative instrumentals and genuine emotional trauma as the background for their creation... but when I discuss my #2 as well as my #1, I need you to keep in mind this question: what is the purpose of pop music?

#2 – “RITMO (Bad Boys for Life)” – The Black Eyed Peas and J Balvin

Peak: #26

Popular music and especially the charts should always be taken with a grain of salt. Art doesn’t necessarily mean anything without meaning appropriated to it, and that meaning has a bunch of baggage that correlates to the lyrical meaning and contextual history behind whatever is being analysed and what is being criticised or praised. The Billboard Hot 100 is a glorified stat pad, as many have pointed out, and there are flaws in the system that don’t even make it a perfectly accurate set of data. This isn’t to undermine popular music and its impact. I’m not saying Elvis Presley and his ludicrous amount of weeks at #1 is to be scoffed at, or that Michael Jackson’s Thriller is an inconsequential piece of music that shouldn’t be remembered as fondly and as often as it is. These albums and artists had a genuine effect on culture, and the society that follows it, especially in the United States’ desperate attempts at gathering an “American” culture to cope with their extreme levels of regional, ethnic and economic diversity and disparity. Neither my #2 nor #1 pick reflect that at all. In fact, “RITMO” is a laughably bad song, but to call it a song implies there is art here, when in reality this is a pure product made for a soundtrack to a mildly successful Will Smith movie, made as a cash-grab by a fading producer-rapper and a tacked-on genuine mega-star who was offered millions of pesos to rap on this dated, lazy house-adjacent reggaeton beat. This isn’t just a product, it’s packaged and not with limited edition decoration, just typical, disposable plastic that’s harmful for the environment. I’m not doing a worst list this year because I want to celebrate what remnants of fun we had in 2020, and it’s telling that a lot of these songs are from 2019 or earlier in the year, and feel like separate landscapes even. Do you seriously remember “RITMO” in any capacity? Or even the movie that it was made for? It’s almost outstanding that a song that samples a band called Corona can be so oddly tone-deaf to the current situation, and not even one of the pandemic, but one of social progression and worldwide oppression that this song ignores to sell a product... but ignorance is bliss.

It’s misleading to say that 2020 started off awful in March. That would just be blatantly untrue. Hell, the virus was discovered in Wuhan in December and made its way to Europe and the United States by the time late January rolled around, and even by then the US had killed important Iranian military secretary and one of their national heroes Qasem Soleimani ostensibly on grounds of “terrorism” for the sake of a power play and risking a potential world conflict. Diplomatic incidents don’t just happen, they have reasoning and they have a background. Not even in popular music do things just happen, they follow a trend or a burgeoning genre, and if they don’t, they are pioneers of a trend that follows to varying success. You can see this in 2019 producing the biggest hit of all time with “Old Town Road” by Lil Nas X, which felt like a sudden insurgency of this random country-rap pop song by a complete nobody becoming suddenly one of the most important cultural milestones in the country’s history. It’s less of a sudden event and rather an exemplification of things that were happening over time, like the dominance of streaming, conglomerates manipulating what was believed to be organic digital and social media to benefit them and the elite, the increasing saturation of white men in the country genre that has yet to improve from his bro-country years, the racism that runs rancid in the South as Republicans steer closer to extremism and anyone who can challenge them decides to clear their way to the centre or is oppressed and ignored by the government that can continue silencing them. You may say that it’s not that deep but if you talk about popular music, you absolutely have to consider its wider impact. With all that said, sometimes it’s better to live in the moment.

“Hot” – Young Thug featuring Gunna

Peak: #11

Maybe it’s bizarre for me to dismiss everything I said about the cultural impact of popular music and its existence as a product for the big three record labels as well as a milestone for culture and the audience that consumes it, just so I can put my favourite hit song at the top of the list. I would completely agree with you, and I wasn’t planning really to put this song so high until it immediately clicked in a contrast with “RITMO”. “RITMO” isn’t self-aware of its existence as purely a product and nothing else, but it’s not like that fact is hidden from you when you listen to the track. It is pure ignorance of the wider world and pure ignorance of anything that is actually and genuinely important to people across the States and across the world, but not in a way that can move people and become important. Sure, the song is fun and catchy and actually a pretty damn great song, that is why it’s so high on this list, but it’s more to represent how heavily these songs juxtapose each other. “Hot” is in equal proportions a promotion of commercialism and materialism, much like “Heartless”, but without any of the emo-adjacent moaning about fame and without any of the self-awareness... which may seem like “Hot” misses the point but it absolutely does not. “Hot” is the absolute peak of the trap genre. It’s not conceptually important, but it is a song that means the most to me in this particular period and in this particular year. The song is an album cut from 2019 that is only big because of a Travis Scott remix and SpongeBob memes, so it sets itself up to be perfectly detached from 2020, even before you hear those triumphant horns from Wheezy and the trap percussion that bumps harder than anything else on this list or in Thug’s discography. That immediate release of energy coated in smoky, whispery ad-libs isn’t what makes this song important, though, it’s the subtle build-up of Gunna’s simple, direct but menacing flow that feels like he is directly talking to you and almost wagging his finger at you whilst doing so. It’s just Gunna appreciating and absorbing the peak of hedonism in a cohesive and monotone Auto-Tuned flow. Just like the years of the Trump administration and prior, it creates a routine and a pattern that despite how outrageous it may seem, gets you used to believing what is expressed and revealed, which is often completely petty and ridiculous nonsense, just like Gunna’s bars here. Then Young Thug comes in. The aura of mystery surrounding his reverb-drenched mumbling in the bridge intrigues you and pulls you in, taking you out of the Gunna-infused hypnosis and dragging you face-first into starstruck astonishment. The song finally releases in full-blown explosive trap-rap fashion with one simple meaningless phrase: “I took the Bentley coupe back then I hopped in a Cayenne”, followed by that energetic screeching ad-lib that book-ends nearly every bar here. Finally, there’s liberation. Sure, this is hyperbolic, and I’m not trying to make some insanely pro-Biden political statement here, but it feels significant to me that this is one of the biggest hits of one of the most historically essential years in recent history, even if it didn’t make much initial impact. Thugger switches from sing-songy melodies to repetitively imitating a machine-gun in a guttural yell, and it feels natural. It feels chaotic and that there is very little focus, but that’s because there is. He is completely ignorant of anything surrounding him and indulges in his own self-aggrandisement with rapid but smooth flows in his signature yelping delivery. The lyrics are frankly meaningless and irrelevant listing of luxury brands and cars, but that’s because Thugger couldn’t care less about the wider world or what surrounds him or even the impact he himself has on society or culture. It’s not like that means the song can only be appreciated in a vacuum because it creates that vacuum for itself, and by using that one manic Thugger verse – the best verse I heard in 2019 and one of the best verses to ever hit streaming services on pure energy and delivery alone – allows itself to release and indulge in the little things, the petty fantasies, those precious albeit unimportant elements of life that add up to form some kind of self-satisfaction and dare I say in 2020, happiness, and before you can even truly appreciate that...

Turn the whole top floor to a whorehouse / Hundred racks in ones, dude bought the flood out

...it’s taken away from you once again, and you have to scour your way through a fading trap beat without any of the additional touches that made it so great in Thugger’s verse, without the playful flutes, and most importantly, without the fun. You’re left there with what remains of Wheezy’s composition after it was ravaged by Thug and with only the same whispery, barely audible repetitions that started the song off, and you realise that whilst the release may feel great and liberating while it’s there, until you break the routine and bring about change, your happiness and your freedom is meaningless and any attempt to replicate that same feeling is futile. So to answer that question, the purpose of pop music is to reflect on how culture and society develops, evolves and adapts with what it’s faced with, but ultimately, to us as people and consumers, music serves as a fleeting moment of joy, self-expression and most importantly, a release of what has to be bottled up and silenced in the everyday routine of life, because of powers outside of our control. Farewell, 2020, and good fucking riddance.

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