Archive of Our Own ^beta

The train rocked steadily underneath him as Dan stared out of the window. He could still make out the silhouette of the Manchester station. If he squinted he could pretend he still saw Phil, waving him goodbye with a sad grin.

But he was gone. The train station too was getting too far away now to see.

Dan rested his forehead against the window, feeling the chill clawing against his skin. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. There was an ache deep in his heart that he could not explain.

He sniffled softly, slowly opening his eyes. The trees were rushing past him, a blur of greens and browns. It was undeniably beautiful, but for some reason he could not seem to focus enough to take in the view.

Music was blaring loudly in his ears. It was starting to hurt, but who would not want Muse booming in their heads? Dan could not find the energy to turn it down.

He released a deep breath, watching as his breath fogged up the glass. He had realised something while he had been staying in Manchester. His own home felt lonelier and emptier than Phil's, and he had never been there before.

What a weird realization to have.

He glanced at his phone that laid in his lap. His finger swiped across the screen. No new messages. It was no surprise, honestly. Not a lot of time had passed since they parted, but he kind of wished Phil would text him first. Then Dan would not seem needy.

Still, texting with Phil would probably make the train ride go faster. Time always seemed to speed up when they were talking - even more so when they had actually been together, but Dan would take what he could get.

He contemplated what would be the best conversation starter. I miss you. Too early, they had just seen each other. Even if it was the truth, he could not write that yet. We should hang out again soon. Too casual. It even sounded forced when he thought about it. Who texted that to an actual friend? I feel so empty without you. Too much. True, but way too much.

Maybe it was better to not write anything. Texting with Phil could technically just end up making him feel more alone. He could not afford that.

His head lolled to the side, hitting the window again. He sighed.

Tears burned at the back of his eyes and he blinked. He would not cry on the train. He shuffled against his seat. His legs kicked against his bag as he felt his face be squeezed against the glass.

He shut his eyes tightly. Crying in public was not an option. Even crying at all was pathetic, and quite frankly ridiculous in this situation. He would keep it together. At the very least until he was behind the locked door of his bedroom.

The thought of his own bedroom made him shiver. The brown walls were a lot less welcoming than Phil's green and blue ones, and his bed would be cold without a body next to him.

His jaw clenched as he tried to think of anything else. Literally anything else. But it was impossible.

His eyes snapped open when he realised that his mind actually was not able to create images of anything other than Phil. Of blue-green eyes, black emo hair and pale skin - that made it look like he had never stepped outside his house. He blinked rapidly, trying to force the pictures away, but the memories flashed by like the building they drove past.

He hated how much he already missed him. How he longed to feel Phil's arms hold him and to hear his voice. How he wished he could just stay in Manchester forever.

He hated how Phil made him feel. It felt so vulnerable and it made him feel fragile. His heart was weak. No matter how long he had tried to build a wall around it to keep himself from getting hurt, Phil managed to break through. His heart was in someone else's hands, and just now did Dan understand how easy it would be to break it.

Ever since people at his school started dating and getting their hearts broken, he had been so sure that something like that could never happen to him. He did not let people in so how could he ever end up in that situation? It was laughable now, how naive he had been back then.

It was ridiculous, but the moment Dan had stepped onto the Manchester station and seen Phil running towards him, he had felt like they were meant to meet. It was fated to happen - even if fate was not a real thing.

What if Phil decided to ghost him now? What if he thought he had been annoying while visiting, and did not want to be friends anymore?

Dan blinked against the glass. It was foggy from his hot breath, and he could not really see the outside. He gritted his teeth.

What if?

Phil was much more experienced than Dan. He had lived longer and he seemed to know everything Dan did not. He had done YouTube for years already, he had built a fanbase, he had friends, he had exes. What if Dan ended up not being good enough?

He did not have anything to offer really. With his brown eyes and slightly tan skin, and hobbit hair that always seemed to lurk underneath the surface no matter how often he straightened it.

Dan had never had any friends prior to Phil. Not really. He had people who called themselves his friends, and he himself had called others his friends before. Yet after getting to know Phil, he realised what friendships were supposed to look like. It could be effortless. They could talk for hours about nothing and everything, or they could sit in silence on skype, just enjoying each other's company. He had never known friendships like that existed.

It was so precious, and now that he had experienced it, he never wanted to lose it.

Still he knew it could all disappear. One wrong move and Phil would realise he was better off with someone else. With anyone else.

Dan pressed his fingers against his eyes. The pressure actually felt nice. It brought his thoughts over to something else. Colours and patterns painted his vision, and it did not take long until he felt his head spinning. Despite the dizziness, he did not remove his hands.

Sat like this, it was easy to pretend he was back in Phil's bedroom, lying on his bed while Phil sat on the floor. Dan would tell a joke, rolling around on the duvet to get more comfortable, and Phil would laugh and bite his tongue.

Dan smiled. His cheeks turned wet underneath his fingertips. Startled, he pulled them away.

Fuck.

His breath hitched as he brought his sweater sleeve up to wipe at his eyes. He tried to mask it, make it look like he was just scratching himself or wiping his nose, or just anything other than crying. This was not supposed to happen. Not here - not anywhere.

He could not be crying over a boy. A boy who was still his friend at that, and - if he was being completely honest - had not made it seem like that would change any time soon.

The woman sat next to him glanced over before returning her attention to the book she was reading. She probably thought he looked pathetic.

He was so stupid.

The reflection of his face stared back at him in the glass. His eyes were red - so embarrassing.

The train jolted before a voice spoke, some announcement about the next stop, but it was muffled by his headphones. All he knew was that it was not his yet. He would be sitting in this seat for a few more hours before he got home. Still his so-called home did not feel worthy of that title anymore. Now it was just an empty space.

His home was dark when he walked inside. He made sure to be quiet, he did not want to wake anyone.

After kicking off his shoes, he slipped into his room with the duffle bag over his shoulder. The light turned on with a click and he shut the door behind him, twisting the lock. His bag hit the ground with a thud and he sighed.

Music still played through his headphones, quieter now. He pulled his shirt over his head, crawling into bed. It was cold, as predicted, and still he did not go under the covers.

The room was so still and so quiet. Cold air filled it from the window that was cracked slightly open.

He rolled onto his stomach, pressing his face into his pillow. His fingers reached up to trail along the fabric, tracing the seams. They danced, rubbing small circles and squares into the plushness.

He sighed, swallowing down an ever-growing lump in his stomach. In this room, he was alone. No one was there to see or hear him.

With this knowledge, he let the dam break. In the matter of seconds, his pillow was damp as he choked back sobs. He heaved for his breath, rolling onto his side. With tears streaming down his cheeks, he pulled his legs up to his chest.

He wanted to call Phil. There was nothing he wanted more in that moment. But he knew he could not. They had grown close fast, faster than expected, and still he was unable to show this side of himself.

He had cried in front of Phil once before, but this felt too much. He was not just crying now, he was full on sobbing. As if his heart had been shattered - and it had not, there was just a tiny piece of it that had been left behind.

The room was suffocating him, the brown walls feeling as if they closed in on him. It was so quiet. His sobs felt too loud, too raw and too unrestrained. The ache in his heart had not left, but it had spread to his chest and his stomach.

He pulled his knees closer, arms wrapped tightly around them. His face buried themselves in his pants, his forehead pressed uncomfortably against the rough fabric.

Tomorrow, he knew he would wake up to a message from Phil. One saying something along the lines of Hope you got home safely. But right now, in the darkness of the night, it all felt hopeless. He felt broken and empty, and he really did not know how to move forward.

He knew he should sleep. If not, he would be tired in the morning, and he really did not want to collapse due to lack of sleep. He was tired now too, but the thoughts swarming his head made it impossible to fall asleep. Every time he tried to close his eyes, an image of Phil would flash through his mind.

He whined loudly, throwing himself onto his back. His hands grabbed the pillow, pushing it hard against his face as he sobbed.

The tears kept coming, kept flooding like a faucet. His body shook with sobs and his chest rose and fell unevenly with each breath he took. The pillow in his face did muffle the sounds, but it did not help to make him feel better. He felt like he was not in control of his body, of his emotions, and that scared him.

He was not allowed to feel this over something so small.

The weight on his chest turned heavier. With a harsh tug, he pulled the pillow off his face and took a deep breath. He gasped at the freezing air that hit his burning hot skin.

He blinked up at the ceiling. His eyes had gotten used to the darkness, but the tears blurred his vision and he was not really able to see anything.

This was fucked up.

He brought his fingers up to touch his cheek. They were warm, and when his finger rested on his lips, the salty teardrops hit his tongue.

A sudden pang of exhaustion hit him and he closed his eyes. For a moment, he remembered he should pull his pants off and creep under the duvet, but his muscles hurt. He did not move at all.

He allowed sleep to take over him instead, and as he felt it tugging, he hoped he would dream something sweet. Maybe he would meet Phil again in his sleep. Before he could dismiss the thought, and call it stupid, he drifted off.

Tomorrow would come, and one day he would see Phil again, but tonight he was just here. All alone.

-

The apartment was quiet except for the hum of Phil’s laptop. Dan did not know when the silence between them started feeling this loud.

Maybe it was when the jokes in their comment section seemed to cross into actual speculations.

Dan had never really had a problem with people joking about their chemistry or their relationship. It had been funny at first, and he had laughed about it with Phil. Now, though, it seemed as if everyone believed there was something going on.

It did not matter how many times he told his audience that he was straight, nobody believed him. It was not the truth, it was a lie every time, but nobody was supposed to know that. Because how would they?

Of course they did.

His classmates had noticed it before he noticed it himself. It was as if he was unable to hide that part of himself no matter how hard he tried. And it was all because of how he acted around Phil. He was unable to take his eyes away, and he always laughed a bit too hard at his jokes. But was that really enough for the entire internet to believe they were a thing?

Dan did not know exactly when he had started distancing himself from Phil. He had not really noticed that it happened either, if he was being honest. It was as if his body knew that he had to keep it together, to stay away, if he wanted the suspicion to leave.

There was someone he could always count on, that would notice even the smallest change. The viewers. He had lost count of how many comments he had gotten about how their relationship seemed to change. But he never acknowledged that he saw them, or that he noticed the shift.

Phil had noticed too. He had noticed before Dan did, and before the comments came. He kept asking if he had done something wrong.

The first time he asked, Dan had laughed it off, made some sarcastic remark that definitely did not do its job of lightening the mood. The second time, Dan had shook his head and just kept drinking his coffee as their attention wandered back to the tv screen. The third time, Dan had been tired, too tired to deal with it the right way. He had simply walked away, leaving Phil to deal with his thoughts alone.

Dan had felt awful about it. The morning after, he was going to apologize, he had promised himself that, but Phil had acted as if the entire thing never happened. So Dan did not say anything. Instead he went on with his day.

The air between them was filled with the smell of Dan's bitter coffee and Phil's tea - with way too many spoons of sugar. The room was cold, and Dan pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. He sank lower onto the table, folding his arms in front of himself. He sighed with a small glance in Phil's direction.

Phil sat on the opposite end of the table. His hair was messy and he had his glasses on. He blinked tiredly against the pc screen as he worked on his latest YouTube video. One hand reached out to stir the tea. The clinging of the spoon against the mug hit Dan's ears and he turned his head.

“You've been acting weird lately”, Phil commented. He did not turn his attention off his screen. His eyes flickered across it as he read whatever text was written, before he typed something on his keyboard.

Dan did not reply. What would he even say? He closed his eyes briefly, fingers scratching against the wooden surface.

It became quiet between them again, save for the clicking of the keyboard. Dan was happy that Phil did not seem to want to continue the conversation.

Phil sighed softly. Dan watched as he lifted his mug, blowing the steam away before taking a slow sip. The spoon hit against the frame of his glasses, but he barely reacted. He averted his gaze from the screen and looked down at Dan. Their eyes locked for a moment, before Dan looked away, staring into a wall.

Phil's voice was quiet, and too careful, as he asked, “Did I do something?”

Dan hated how badly he wanted to say yes, just to make it easier, simpler. Phil had not done a thing - he had been his soft, kind and funny self. And yet, Dan wished he had done something. He wanted to have a reason for feeling this way.

He had been a YouTuber for around three years, he really should be used to weird comments by now. But he was not. How could he let the world ruin his friendship with Phil?

“No”, Dan whispered. “You haven't done anything.”

Phil stayed quiet for a moment before he replied. “Okay.”

Okay.

Sometimes Dan wished Phil would say something more. It was selfish, he was well aware. Still, maybe if Phil pressed a little harder, Dan would give in and explain everything. He had never been good with pressure. And Phil was not good with confrontation.

Dan wished Phil would get angry at him. Which was a very weird feeling. He wished Phil would be upset with him for not communicating, that he would demand an answer, or perhaps scream or shout. Because then Dan's feelings and actions would be justified.

But Phil was not like that.

He turned his attention back to the work in front of him, but his fingers only hovered over the keyboard as his eyes scanned the screen. If he noticed Dan staring, he did not show it. Phil's lips pressed together, into a straight line and his brows furrowed.

Then he turned his head, eyes softening as he looked at Dan - whose head immediately snapped in the other direction. Dan heard fabric shifting when Phil moved. A hand landed in his hair, messing it up slightly, and Dan twitched. “Are you sure?”

Are you sure? Of what, exactly? Was he sure Phil had not done anything wrong? Yes. Was he sure he was okay - which was probably what Phil was asking? Not at all.

Dan nodded, a soft hum falling from his lips. “I'm sure.”

Phil's hand lingered in his hair as he hesitated, before he pulled it away. The warmth faded too quickly, being replaced by the rhythmic clinging of the tea-stirring.

Dan kept his gaze locked on the table as his fingers ran against it. He bit his lip softly, exhaling through his nose. He wanted to say something, to break this cycle before it turned into something permanent and unfixable, but the words laid heavy on his tongue. They refused to leave. If only there was some way to make everything magically okay again.

A familiar burn settled in the back of Dan's eyes. He let his face drop, pushed against his arms as he closed his eyes, willing the tears away. This was so incredibly stupid. How was he crying over something he had the power to fix?

Only he did not have the power. He knew he had the ability - undeniably he was the only one who could fix this - but he was too weak. His chest ached. He sniffled, and he could feel Phil's stare on the back of his head as he stood up abruptly. “I'm gonna go work on a video”, he said. “I'll be in my room.”

Phil did not stop him.

Dan knew he would not, yet he could not help the disappointment he felt. What did he even want? For Phil to call him back? Force him to sit down and make him talk? To explain everything? He did not want any of that.

In the back of his head, he knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to be understood, to be held as he cried, and to not be judged - for once in his life. But he was not ready to admit that, not even to himself.

And Phil only watched him as he left the living room. He did not call after him, did not make a single sound, he only followed him with his eyes.

The concept of time was kind of fucked up. Sometimes it felt like an hour had passed, and then Dan would look at the clock to see it had in fact only been five minutes. Other times, three hours would have gone by in what felt like ten minutes.

So Dan did not really know how quickly he made it back to his room. His steps felt slow and heavy, and yet the world blurred past him, as if he was in a car driving a hundred kilometers an hour.

The bedroom was cold once he stepped inside, the window cracked open. Dan sighed loudly, sliding down the door once it closed behind him. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he did not look at it. It was probably just a notification from Twitter.

Even behind a closed door, he could still feel Phil's eyes on him. They seemed to follow him wherever he went. Or maybe they were not Phil's. Maybe it was the audience - because they truly seemed to have eyes everywhere. How else would they know of things neither him nor Phil had ever talked about publicly?

Dan pulled his knees flush to his chest and rested his chin on top of them. His nail cracked as he bit it, and the sound felt too loud in the otherwise quiet space. He exhaled deeply, fishing his phone up from his pocket. The strong light made him squint.

One new message from Phil lit up his notifications. Only a few minutes ago.

With shaking fingers, Dan swiped across the screen, eyes reading the words once the message opened.

Probably being annoying now, but if you need anything I'm right here x

For a moment, Dan did not breathe. Not because he was taken aback by the message, or the x at the end. It was simply because he did not know how to respond. Why did he never know what to say? Nothing he could think of felt appropriate.

His eyes flickered to the top of the screen as a Twitter notification popped up - a comment on one of his latest posts. When will dnp stop pretending phan isnt real? Its so obvious!

Dan stared, the words blurring together as tears blocked his vision. When the first rolled down, he rubbed harshly against his cheeks and eyes. The fabric of his hoodie burned, but he could not care less. His phone laid heavy in his hand. Another notification dinged, from Twitter. In a state of panic, before he could read any of it, he threw his phone across the room.

Admittedly, it was a bit too hard. It crashed against the wall before hitting the floor.

“Dan? You okay?” Phil called from the living room. His voice was laced with concern.

Dan ran his hands over his face. “Fine!” he shouted back. “Just dropped something!” It was not completely a lie. Still not the truth either.

Why did the truth matter anyway? Sometimes it was better to tell the truth - and meaningless to lie - but other times there was really no reason why anyone should have to tell the truth.

Lying was much easier.

-

“You forgot your phone!” Phil shouted after him, but Dan was already halfway through the door and it clicked shut behind him before he could respond - not that he was going to either way.

He told himself that he would turn back soon. Once it got too cold to stay outside. It should not take too long. He had left without a jacket, without a phone and without a plan. All he had was a need to be alone, a need to get away from his thoughts.

His shoes thudded against the pavement, but it was inaudible over the noise from the traffic. The evening air bit at his skin and he rolled the sleeves of his hoodie down. He swallowed hard. With a deep inhale, the chill spread through his body. The smells and sounds of the city almost felt like too much, but he knew that it would not take long before he got used to it.

He did not really know what he was looking for, why he was outside when the warm apartment had been right there. Sometimes it became too much, being stuck inside. He had nothing against their home, or against Phil - it was all he could ever ask for - but his mind was a completely different thing. At times it did not even feel like a part of him. And it was those times, that he just was unable to be around anyone. Not even Phil.

Their problems had faded away eventually. They had learned to be more open, and communicate better when things were not working out. But this was different. Dan did not leave the apartment because something was wrong. It was because he was wrong. There was something wrong with him, with the way he felt and reacted to things, and he had no idea how to fix it.

The city lights were a blur around him. He did not really focus on where he walked, and he did not focus on his surroundings more than to make sure he did not walk into people. He would let his feet bring him wherever they wanted. Anywhere would be better than home.

Probably.

Even if home was warm and cozy, and Phil was there, the streets were better. At least in that moment.

Not a lot had happened in the past days, which was why Dan did not understand why he felt this way. He did not understand his own feelings and emotions, and how pathetic was that?

He was not really sad. He felt more empty than anything. As if his body was just a shell for his soul and his soul was not there anymore - because souls were not real, they were just a thing people believed in so life would not feel as hopeless, useless and meaningless as it was.

He felt completely devastated and broken, and still he did not feel like crying. Even if he wanted to, he was not sure he would be able to - tears seemed to be scarce now. All he really wanted was to lie down, face down, and disappear.

And that was selfish.

There were people that cared about him, deep down he knew that, and he did not want them to be left alone with the shame, wondering if it was their fault.

So, he walked. He walked until his feet started hurting, and he was sure he was going to get a cramp in his thigh. He sat down at a bench. It was cold, but not unbearable.

His head fell back to rest against the wood. There was an ache in his neck where the bench pressed against his skin. He did not move. The pain meant he was there. And if he was there, that meant he was alive.

At the very least, he was alive.

His head was spinning. Was it only his thoughts or was the world around him spinning too? He closed his eyes. The palms of his hands dug into the bench, desperate to ground himself. He was sitting down. His feet were planted in the grass. He was not actually spinning around. He was only dizzy. He could survive that.

He opened his eyes, blinking up at the lights above him. If he had not been in the middle of the city, he would have been able to see the stars. He wished he could see them now.

The city continued to hum around him. It could have been grounding and reassuring, because sometimes it was. Instead it was just yet another reminder of how loud everything seemed to be. Of how fast the world moved. Dan did not move at the same speed. He was stuck.

A couple passed by him, their hands interlinked as they laughed loudly. Dan quickly turned to face the other way, a pang of emotion spread through his chest. He did not know why, but whenever he saw someone who had found their person and was able to be with them in public, he felt an ache in his heart. They always seemed so sure of everything, they did not have to hide, and when they were together, it was as if they forgot about the horrors of the world. Or perhaps they had not been made aware of said horrors yet.

A deep exhale left Dan's lungs, visible as smoke in the cold air. He watched as it dissolved, fading away into the night.

He wished he could be smoke. Just for a fleeting moment, he could be gone, his body nowhere to be found and his mind finally at peace. It was impossible. He was forced to stay where he was, unmoving in a world that moved too fast.

He wondered how time could move so fast. When he was younger, it all seemed so much slower. The time between his birthday and Christmas seemed to stretch into eternity. Now, however, he could just blink and it had all passed by. A blink and he would miss it.

Logically, he knew why. When he was a year old, one year was his entire life, and now one year was just a fraction of it. Still, he wondered if time would feel slower if he was not so desperate to change. He did not want to feel this way forever, but time was running away from him. If he did not actively try to change, it would never happen. He would be gone before becoming the version of himself that he wanted to live as.

But that was too hard.

He wanted to get better. He wanted to understand himself. He wanted to find coping mechanisms that were healthy and actually worked.

Yet the reason he wanted to change was because he was stuck. And being stuck meant not being able to move forward. If he could not move on, he could not change. And not being able to change, just made him crave it more. It was an unbreakable cycle.

His fingers curled, digging into the rough surface of the bench. If he focused hard enough, he could will his attention onto that sensation, instead of the one in his heart.

He looked at the streets in front of him. The world kept moving - people were going home, people were going out. Others had plans and places to be. Dan felt like he was watching through a glass. Everything seemed so far away. Out of reach.

There was no way to tell how long he sat there, not without his phone. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. His thoughts were blurred now, the same hollow questions and phrases looping until they lost all meaning and just served as background noise. He sat unmoving until a cold breeze broke through the barrier of his hoodie. He shivered.

Maybe he should go home.

Home meant Phil. Home meant warmth and comfort. But home also meant concern and questions.

And Dan did not know if he could handle that. He would not be able to reply to Phil's questions, nor would he be able to soothe his worries.

It would be better to wait until he was sure Phil would be asleep. Then Dan could slip into bed unnoticed. In the morning, they would pretend like nothing had happened. Once the sun broke, and Phil saw Dan at home safe, he would not be worried anymore. He would not demand answers. But if Dan went home and Phil was still awake, his mind would still be clouded with concern.

He stayed seated. Only when his eyes almost slipped shut from exhaustion did he stir. Sleeping outside was not an option.

His legs protested when he stood up. For a moment, he thought they would not carry him, that he would collapse onto the ground, but he kept standing. His limbs felt heavy. The cold had seeped into his bones and stiffened his muscles.

He walked slower this time, not hurried by the need for getting away. His feet still hurt, a dull throb against his shoes. They were too thin, too hard.

A city never sleeps, and London was no different. Still, it was quieter now and less busy. There were people walking the streets and cars driving past him, but it blended away easily.

Dan kept his head down, hiding his face with his hood. It would be bad if anyone recognized him. He focused on the cracks in the pavement and his footsteps as he tried to remember which way was home.

When their apartment complex finally loomed in front of him, his fingers had gone numb from the cold. He pressed them against his lips, trying to breathe some life into them, but it did not do him any good.

The stairs up to their apartment felt too long. He thought he was about to pass out when he finally got to their door. It was unlocked - Phil had probably left it like that in case Dan did not bring his keys.

He pushed the door open, shutting it quietly behind himself. His forehead hit the door frame and he closed his eyes, exhaling deeply.

The apartment was too quiet after being out on the streets for so long. It felt heavy and unnatural.

He took a few steps further inside, feeling ready to dive into his bed and sleep for twelve hours.

“Dan?”

Fuck. No, that was not supposed to happen. Phil was supposed to be asleep!

He stood frozen, staring into the dark apartment as he waited. For what, he was not sure. For Phil to find him maybe? Or for it all to be a dream, and he would just wake up.

The light in the room turned on as Phil walked inside. He was dressed in his pajamas, his hair was disheveled and his glasses askew. His arms were crossed over his chest.

Dan could not look at him. Instead he stared at the floor, letting the hood block his view. His fists balled up, nails digging into his skin.

“Where were you?” Phil asked. His voice was not really that loud, but with no other noise around them, it felt like a gunshot through the air. He ran his hands through his hair when all he got in response was a shrug. “Dan-” He interrupted himself by biting the inside of his mouth.

Dan closed his eyes. The soft padding of Phil's footsteps reached his ears, and he did only have time to be confused for a few seconds before he felt arms wrap around him.

“I was so worried”, Phil whispered.

Swallowing down his emotions that threatened to spill over, Dan leaned further into Phil's touch. His knees buckled, finally giving in. Phil's arms tightened around him, supporting his full weight. “I'm sorry”, Dan whispered back. That was the only thing he could say. He could not explain himself, not when he had no idea what was going on, what he was feeling nor why he felt that way.

Phil exhaled deeply, as if he had been holding his breath the entire time. He ran his hands along Dan's back. “You're freezing.”

Dan nodded slowly. His eyes fluttered shut. “I'm tired.”

For a moment, he thought Phil had not heard him. But then he sighed. “Okay.” Slowly, he started moving, helping Dan over to his room. He guided him inside, and watched as Dan settled under the covers as he closed the windows.

On his way out, he sat down on the mattress. His hand rested on Dan's shoulder briefly. “Will you be okay?” he asked quietly.

Dan nodded against the pillow, already drifting off. “I'm fine, Phil. Don't worry.” He heard the other retreat to his room before sleep took over him.

-

The credits of the movie rolled, casting flickering light across the room. Phil yawned beside him, shifting to stand up. Dan smiled at him, softly. If the fans had seen it, the moment would definitely be put in a Heart Eyes Howell compilation. But no one was there to observe, only the two of them.

Phil smiled back, stretching his arms above his head. His t-shirt rode up, exposing his boxers and the skin on his waist.

Dan let his gaze wander. “Time for bed?” he asked when his eyes locked with Phil's again.

Phil glanced at the clock on their wall. “It's getting late.” He cracked his back as he waited for Dan to stand up too. Another yawn rippled through him and he threw his head back, feeling his lungs expand in his chest.

Dan pushed himself up, taking a step forward. He had meant to walk all the way to the door, but he felt the familiar wave of dizziness hit him like a truck. His vision darkened at the edges, like that one stupid filter, and the world around him got blurry. As his arms reached out to cling onto something, his fingers hooked onto Phil's t-shirt. “Oh no”, he muttered out.

His stomach churned as the room around him seemed to turn. He did not really feel like he was moving, but he could see the floor coming closer.

Phil's hands grabbed onto him before he hit the ground. He managed to reduce the fall damage, but Dan's knees still burned when the hit the carpet. “Dan- shit, are you okay?” His voice was sharp, the sleepiness long forgotten, but it sounded muffled when it hit Dan's ears.

With his heart beating fast and hard against his ribs, Dan took some deep breaths. Even while sitting, he still felt as if the room was spinning. The static in his ears, the blur in his vision and Phil's tight grip around his arm certainly did not help at all. His body trembled. “I'm fine”, he muttered. He pressed his palms hard against his thighs, closing his eyes only for a moment. The world tilted again and his eyes snapped open as he leaned against Phil.

“You almost cracked your head open on the table”, Phil said, thumbs rubbing against Dan's skin. “I'm not so sure you're fine.”

Dan huffed. It was supposed to sound like a laugh, but it just sounded pained and breathless, like he was struggling. He shuffled his feet, pushing against them to stand up.

The second he lifted his head, the dizziness came rushing back. He leaned over, steadying himself with his hands on his knees. He felt Phil's hands grabbing his shoulder, pulling him back up and steadying.

“Okay”, Phil started, more to himself than anything. Dan thought he sounded like he was going through a list in his head. “Did you eat enough today?”

Dan rolled his eyes before closing them. With an exhale through his nose, he replied, “Yes, Mum.”

Phil ignored him, but his grip tightened slightly. His thumbs traced the seams of his sweater. He sighed softly. “And water?” The look in his eyes was sharp, and Dan felt as if he would look through any lies.

Dan stared back at him. “I'm not an idiot.”

Phil's tongue made a click and he raised an eyebrow. “I'm not too sure about that…” He trailed off playfully, glancing to the side.

Dan hit him in the shoulder with his hand, but smiled nonetheless. “It's just my blood pressure”, he said. “This happens. You know that, you've seen it before.”

Phil frowned. “Yeah, and it still freaks me out every time.” His hands were not gripping Dan as tightly anymore, they were just… There. Resting.

Dan straightened his back with a sigh. The dizziness was still there, in the back of his head, but it was manageable. “Nothing to worry about. I'm still alive.” He stretched his arms out above his head, as if he had a point to make.

Phil watched him carefully. “I don't like it”, he admitted.

With a small chuckle, Dan looked at him with a raised brow. “Don't like what? My terrible coordination?”

Phil's frown deepened, his mouth tightening. “I don't like seeing you like this. Like you're about to drop dead at any moment.” His eyes flickered across Dan's face, scanning it for any changes.

Dan only stared back. His eyebrow quirked up. “It's really not that bad, mate.” He shrugged.

Phil shook his head. His eyes still darted over Dan's face. Tension spread in the air between them as Phil thought out a response. “You went down like a sack of potatoes.” His voice was softer now.

Dan bit back a smile. “Well”, he started. “I am a sack of potatoes, am I not?”

Phil's lips twitched into a small smile. He exhaled sharply, a mix of a sigh and a laugh. “An incredibly unsteady sack of potatoes.” His hand rubbed a small circle against Dan's back.

Dan leaned back into it. “Yeah”, he muttered. He closed his eyes, just for a brief moment. “Let's go to bed.” The hand did not move from his back as they moved through the apartment.

Phil opened the door, lingering by it as Dan sank down onto his mattress. “Let me get you a glass of water?”

Dan knew there was no reason to say no, so he nodded. As Phil disappeared to the kitchen, Dan closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander. He was not really tired, and he would probably end up staying awake for too many hours. Still, he wanted nothing more than to sleep. That was the only time he got a break from his brain, and he knew that while asleep he would not be dizzy.

Phil was taking his time. The padding of his feet had stopped. Dan tried to imagine what he was doing, what he looked like.

Maybe Phil had already filled the glass, running his fingers along the rim as he frowned at the sink. Maybe he kept filling it and pouring it out - stalling to give himself more time. Maybe he was currently filling it up as he stared at the fridge, debating whether or not he should bring a snack they could share.

Or maybe he was rethinking everything. Maybe he thought Dan was becoming too much - he had too much baggage with him.

Dan rolled onto his side, staring at the wall. His room was dark, but dim light shone through his window from the street outside. He could hear the soft rumble from the cars.

Footsteps approached the door as Phil stepped through. Dan did not acknowledge him until he sat down on the bed. “Water delivery”, he said lightly, one hand pressing against Dan's shoulder.

He turned around, gazing tiredly up at Phil. With a soft groan, he sat up. His legs swung over the edge of the bed, but he pulled them up to sit with them crossed instead. As he grabbed the glass - it was freezing cold - his knee bumped against Phil's thigh. “You're being an idiot”, Dan said, nudging his shoulder. He sent him a small smile before taking a sip.

Phil smiled back, leaning back against his palms. His eyes were narrowed playfully as he watched him. “Finish it.”

Dan shot him a glare, but downed the water either way. “There”, he muttered. “What'd you think?”

Phil raised his eyebrows with a soft chuckle. “You're so stupid”, he said softly, shaking his head. He sat up straight, grabbing the glass and placing it on the bedside table. When he looked back at him, there was a kind of softness in his eyes that made Dan look away. “Try not to die in front of me”, he joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I don't know how I'd handle that.” He grabbed Dan's hand, interlacing their fingers.

Dan bit his lip. A smirk spread across his face as he turned back to look at Phil. “No promises.”

Phil gave him a harsh shove, forcing a noise of surprise out of Dan. “Dick.” He still wore a smile, and Dan knew he was not actually angry.

His fingers still lingered on top of the other's hand, and Dan felt his face go warm when he looked down at them. “We should try to sleep”, he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his hand as he faked a yawn.

Phil watched him softly, but nodded. “We probably should.” He stood up, slowly walking towards the door. “I'm only a phone call away.” He hesitated by the door, looking back.

Dan flopped onto his back with a hum. He pulled the covers far up to his face. His eyes locked with Phil's. “I won't die in my sleep.”

Phil raised his middle finger. “Not funny.”

Dan grinned back. “Kind of funny.”

Phil rolled his eyes before stepping outside. The door clicked shut behind him and Dan heard his footsteps retreating to his own bedroom.

He sighed loudly, staring up at the ceiling. The world had stopped spinning now, but if that was from lying down, the water, or Phil's concern, he did not know. He could hear the hum from Phil's computer, and he was probably watching some kind of video.

Dan closed his eyes. He was tired, but he did not think he would be able to sleep. Not when he could still feel Phil's hand on his own. Not when he knew Phil was awake in the other room.

He knew that if he got up, walked over to the other's door and said something - Actually, I feel like shit. Can I stay here? - Phil would immediately scoot over and give him space on the bed. He did not even have to say anything. He could just show up, and he would be invited to sleep there for the night. But he did not move. He stayed under the duvet that felt heavy enough to crush him. Phil had already done so much - not only then, but throughout their entire friendship.

I don't like seeing you like this.

Dan exhaled deeply. He could make it through this alone. It was okay - it would be okay. He just had to make it through the night, and then everything would be fine. Tomorrow, things would feel lighter.

Or maybe not.

-

"They'll understand," Phil said, squeezing Dan’s shoulder.

Dan nodded, but he was not sure if he believed it. He stared at the phone in his hand, blinking slowly. The message was already written. A simple excuse that he had a headache, but it was a lie. Both Dan and Phil knew that.

Phil's hand still rested on Dan's shoulder, lingering. He too watched the phone with a frown as he waited for Dan to send it.

Dan held his breath for a moment, before exhaling deeply through his nose. His thumb hovered over the screen, never actually touching it. It should not be this hard - it was just one plan cancelled - but it felt like an entire mountain he had to cross. A heavy weight laid itself inside his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

Phil watched him carefully, eyes gracing over Dan's face. “You could tell the truth too”, he suggested.

With a huffed out laugh, Dan turned to face him, hand dropping to rest against his thigh. “And tell them what, exactly?” he asked, clenching his jaw. “Sorry, I can't come because my brain is malfunctioning?”

Phil did not smile as Dan had expected - hoped - he would. “They care about your mental health too.”

Dan swallowed, feeling his throat tightening. Phil was right. Of course he was. He was always right in these situations, though Dan would never admit that out loud. Their friends had bad days too. Dan was not the first to cancel plans - and it was not like they could not go out without him.

His thumb twitched over the screen. He hesitated, biting his lip as he waited. For what, he did not know.

Phil did not push. He just sat there, their thighs pressed together as he gently squeezed Dan's shoulder.

Dan took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he backspaced the message. For a long moment, the black screen stared back up at him. He waited, his mind spinning with different messages - and the scenarios that would follow them all.

Then finally, he started typing.

Hey, not in the best headspace today. I'm gonna sit this one out. Hope you have a great time.

His finger hovered over the send button. He could feel the sweat on his back making his shirt stick to his skin. His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips as his eyes flickered across the screen, rereading the message a million times.

“That's good”, Phil said softly. He brought his hand down, tugging Dan's away from scratching at his own wrist. Their fingers intertwined.

Dan shook his head. “It sounds pathetic.” His bottom lip trembled slightly, and he bit down at it.

Phil looked at him. “It doesn't”, he said, his voice still soft, yet oddly firm. “It sounds honest.”

Dan did not know if that was any better. He did not remember when honesty had started feeling like a weakness. He sighed, a sharp sound, and before he could rethink it, he pressed the send button and tossed his phone across the couch. He could still feel Phil's skin against his own, slightly damp but not uncomfortable.

Phil gave his hand a squeeze, but did not say anything. He just smiled.

His palms pressed hard against his eyes as Dan leaned over, bending across his knees. His elbows dug painfully into his thighs. He was almost getting light headed by the way his mind spun. Would they be annoyed at him for not showing up? Would they think he was being dramatic? Would they talk about him while he was not there?

Phil rested his hand on Dan's lower back - it felt weirdly heavy through the fabric of his shirt. “They don't hate you.”

Dan laughed, but it sounded hollow and emotionless. “Didn't say they would.”

“You didn't have to.”

Neither of them spoke for a good while. Phil rubbed Dan's back in a way that was meant to be comforting and grounding. Yet Dan was not so sure he wanted to be comforted and grounded - or that he deserved it really. Part of him wanted to detach from the situation, from the world, and just float away. But the more rational part of him wanted to lean further into the touch, and maybe lie down with his head resting in Phil's lap.

Dan waited for his mind to stop spinning before he sat up straighter. He took a deep breath, his eyes closing as his lungs filled with the smell of the scented candles they had lit earlier. “You should still go,” he said, forcing a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

When he glanced at Phil, the other looked like he was about to protest. “I don't need a babysitter”, Dan joked. “And I need to be alone for a bit.”

Phil's hand fell and he gave a slow nod. “Sure, yeah, of course.” He stood up, hand ruffling Dan's hair for a second before he stepped away.

Dan watched as he rushed through the apartment, grabbing his phone and jacket. Phil hesitated by the door, keys in hand, waiting for Dan to change his mind.

But he did not. He gave a small, encouraging smile, and Phil sighed softly. “Call me if you need anything”, he said. “I won't be late.”

Dan listened to the door clicking shut, and the lock turning. He sighed deeply, fists balling up. His nails dug into his palms, but he welcomed the burn with open arms - anything to take his mind away.

The apartment was so quiet, so unmoving without Phil there. He could see the flicker of light the candles casted onto the wall. His eyes flickered around the room, unable to rest on one thing for more than a second. He swallowed down air, his tongue feeling too big, too heavy for his mouth.

He blinked. He had to move, he needed to move. Pressing his hands against the plush pillow of the couch, he managed to push himself up. After locking his knees to not tumble over, he started pacing, walking circles around in the living room - just to do something, anything.

His throat was closing up, tightening and making it impossible to breathe. Dan rushed forward. His hands dragged along the walls as he stumbled through the hallway. He almost felt drunk with how his vision had doubled and it felt like the walls were turning around him.

Once he had made it inside the bathroom, he grabbed onto the sink, leaning his entire weight onto it. It was the only thing keeping him standing. He stared at his reflection. His skin looked pale under the artificial light, his eyebags dark and heavy.

He pressed his forehead against the mirror, his breath fogging up the glass in quick, uneven bursts. He tried counting them, as his therapist had told him, but they felt too fast, too sharp, and his mind was spinning. It was impossible to focus on even the simplest of tasks.

The cold sting from the mirror had disappeared now, replaced with a dull ache. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the faucet. The water splashed out, hitting his shirt and his hands and his pants. He gasped for his breath. The water was freezing when he threw it in his face. It bit at his nose and threatened to claw his skin off.

His heart pounded loud in his ears as he pushed himself away from the sink. Water still dripped from his face and his hair. His feet sagged against the tiled floor until his shoulder blades hit the wall. As he slid down, too fast to stop the motion before he crashed into the floor, his arms folded around himself.

There was a burn in his eyes. He was not sure if the wetness on his face was pure water anymore or if it had mixed with his tears. He brought a hand up to his cheek, feeling the heat exploding through his skin. He tried taking a deep breath, forcing the air into his lungs, but it got stuck in his throat, choking him.

His shirt clung to his skin, wet from the sweat and water. He pulled at it, feeling stuck and trapped. It dragged along his back, but would not move any more.

He sobbed. He could not breathe. His entire body shook. Was it the crying, the fear, or was it just pure exhaustion?

He had to breathe - he had to get his mind onto something else. But that seemed like a too impossible task. It was so simple, and yet completely impossible.

Call me if you need anything.

Phil's voice broke through his thoughts. He should call Phil. He should ask him to come home. He should try to explain how he was feeling even if it seemed useless. Phil would understand. He would not get angry at him for asking for help. He would probably wrap him up in his arms, put on a movie and force Dan to watch it with him. Then they would curl up in one of their beds together, possibly listen to some Muse, and Phil would wait until Dan was asleep before he let himself drift off.

But he could not. Admitting it out loud - I need you - was too hard. He was barely able to say it to himself, how would he tell Phil that?

His phone was still in the living room, lying screen down on the couch where he left it. Even if he made it over to it - which to be honest did not seem possible with the way his legs shook - would he be able to dial Phil's number? Would he be able to ask him to come home? No.

His chest tightened. He needed help. He needed Phil. But Phil was on the other side of the city, having fun and drinking with their friends. If Dan called, he would ruin it. It would be selfish.

Dan squeezed his eyes shut, digging the heels of his palms into them as his head dropped against the wall. For a second, the pressure grounded him. He took a deep breath, the feeling of his lungs expanding filling him with relief.

His hands slid across his face, fingers tangling in his wet hair. He tugged lightly. He had to focus.

One inhale. One exhale. Two. Three.

The air was thick. It was as if he had used up all the oxygen. He should open the door to let more inside, to feel the fresh breeze of the open living room window. When he turned his head, looking at the door through hooded eyes, it seemed to move away from him. Mocking him.

He gave his curls a harsh tug. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks, creating salty streaks on his damp skin, and fell from his jaw. They made patches on his shirt - Phil's shirt actually, all of his own had been dirty.

It was sticky. It still clung to his skin, restraining him. His hands grasped the fabric, pulling at it. It was a struggle, for a moment the shirt was wrapped around his neck and when he tried to move it, it choked him, but after a lot of fighting, the shirt laid in a pool of water, sweat and tears by the sink.

His skin prickled from the cold, but he welcomed it. It was better than not feeling anything at all. His eyes fluttered close, his feet slipping against the floor until his legs laid straight out. He was so tired.

Phil had said he would not be late. He would be back soon. Dan should clean up, dry the floor and get into some other clothes, but just the thought of moving made his breath hitch.

It would be okay. Even if Phil did find him like this. He could lie and say he had taken a shower and felt dizzy.

Maybe he would feel better soon and be able to get ready before Phil came home. That would be ideal. But even if he did not, it would be alright. Phil would not push him for answers, content with just comforting him.

Dan sighed. His head ached - he could have just gone with that excuse from the start. His body tingled, the way it often did when he was exhausted.

He went limp against the wall. His mind went blank. Phil would be home soon. It would all be okay. So he waited.

-

Phil glanced up from his PC when Dan stood up. He raised an eyebrow.

“I think I'm gonna go to bed”, Dan muttered, rubbing his face with open palms. “I'm kinda tired.” He watched as Phil's eyes flickered to the clock on his screen. It was probably too early to be considered a normal bedtime, but Dan was too exhausted to stay up any longer.

Phil hesitated for a moment before he nodded. “Alright.” He kept his eyes on Dan as he locked himself in the bathroom.

The night routine went quick. He brushed his teeth, splashed some lukewarm water in his face, and when he managed to stumble over to his bedroom door, it felt as if only a minute had passed by. He gave the door a slight nudge, hearing it slip shut behind him as he dropped down onto the bed.

For a while, a few minutes, he did not move. He just laid there as a mannequin, straight out. His nose was buried in the pillow. It was slightly hard to breathe, so he took some deeper breaths than normal. His shoulders rose as his lungs expanded. The puffs of air were too loud - the room too quiet. If he strained himself, he was able to hear Phil's quiet hums from the living room.

He moved his arms, lifting them so he could grab onto the pillow. It was cold. Like his body. Cold and numb.

He trashed around, pulling the covers from underneath himself as he rolled onto his side. He did not crawl under them, not yet. One knee folded over it, trapping it under his weight as he wrapped his arms around it. He took a deep breath and buried his face in the soft fabric.

Dan felt disconnected. As if his body was not his. His limbs were just there for the purpose of being there. He moved one leg, feeling the drag of the fabric along his skin. His body was the only thing keeping him from floating away. If he had not had a body, he would be free to go wherever, to dissolve and disappear into the air. That was the only thing he wanted.

His pants had risen up his ankles, curling uncomfortably around his knees. He moved his hand to pull them down, but the stretch was too much, too painful, and he let his body hit the mattress again.

He tapped his toes against the opposite leg, only a few times, just so he was sure he was actually there. Sometimes he wondered how much was actually real, and how much just happened in his head. From time to time, it felt as if nothing was real, that everything was just a dream, that one day he would wake up, being seventeen again and never having experienced real happiness.

He rolled around, pulling the duvet with him. It laid itself heavy onto one of his legs and he curled it up, relishing in the heat it gave, as he rested his other leg on top of it. He pulled the fabric tighter around himself, using his feet to pull the pant legs down around his ankles again.

As he laid there, with only his eyes visible to the rest of the world. He thought. And he remembered. And he hoped. It all mixed up. He did not know which thoughts were memories and which were dreams, if they were from the past, the present or the future.

He closed his eyes. The darkness engulfed him, covering him as a blanket, heavy and thick and unbreakable. His body felt numb. It was not his own, it was just… there. A constant reminder that Dan would have to be something, that he would always just be, until his last breath.

He rolled around, making sure the cold did not slip in under the covers. The pillow squished his face, smothering his nose, and he had to breathe through his mouth. The mint from his toothpaste stung in his throat.

His face was burning. Perhaps he was getting sick. That seemed to happen often lately. He hoped that was not the case, Phil would get too worried.

When he opened his eyes, the darkness was still there. Both in the room with him and inside his mind. Nothing could chase it away.

He could not hear Phil anymore. Perhaps he had fallen asleep on the couch - unlikely, it was still quite early.

The pillow under his face was becoming damp, and when he brought his fingers up, loosening them from their clutch on the duvet, his cheek felt wet too. He exhaled sharply, his breath hitting his skin, warm and damp.

It felt as if he cried every other day - at least. He must be empty of tears some time soon. That could not come fast enough, he thought. He would rather be empty and unable to feel anything, than to break down over every inconvenience, no matter how small.

He pulled the duvet over his head, curling into a ball under it. Maybe if the world could not see him, he would be exempt from all the pain and suffering. It did not seem fair, really, how often he felt like shit. But then again, rather him than someone else - like Phil.

The fabric in front of him was turning damp too now and he huffed loudly.

The weight of everything suddenly felt too much. Of the world, of his mind and of the expectations of others. A strangled sob escaped his chest and he pressed his hand against his lips, muffling the ones that followed. It did not take long until his hand was wet with both tears and saliva.

He felt so lonely. Even with Phil in the apartment, nothing seemed to shake away the feeling that he was alone in the world. His feelings, thoughts and experiences were his own, he was alone with them, and no matter how hard he tried to explain them, no one would ever be able to actually understand them.

He laid like that for a long time. Just thinking, and eventually just existing. His mind was empty, like his body and his heart. For the first time in ages, everything was quiet. He released a breath, smelling the mint trapped under the duvet with him.

His body felt heavy and light at the same time. It was ready to float away into oblivion, only held down by the invisible chains. For a moment he was floating in some weird space between being asleep and awake.

A soft knock broke the quiet of the room. His heart jolted, his eyes snapping open. “Dan?” Phil called out. “Are you asleep?”

He could lie, he could stay under the covers until the dawn broke outside his window, he could be quiet and let Phil believe he was sleeping. But he did not want to. He gave a strangled noise, just enough to be heard outside the door.

“Can I come in?”

Dan did not respond. He knew that Phil would enter either way, as long as he had not outright said no. He did not have to say yes, so he would not.

The door creaked open, and Dan imagined how the light broke through the dark room. He heard the quiet tap of Phil's bare feet across the floor. The mattress dipped. Phil's hand landed on top of the duvet, resting on Dan's waist as he pulled his legs up onto the bed.

They both stayed silent, long enough that it started becoming uncomfortable. Dan shuffled, struggling against the covers for a moment, before his head poked up. His hair was probably a mess, his eyes red and cheeks streaked with tears, but Phil did not comment on it. He did not smile nor laugh.

Neither did Dan.

For a few moments, they just stared. Dan felt as if Phil was reading his mind, carving his way through his skin and into his brain, listening to all the doubts and fears he had never voiced out loud.

But Phil stayed silent. Dan could see the way his mind was running at a thousand miles an hour, but none of these thoughts made it out. Dan did not know if it was because he was waiting for Dan to make the first move or if he just did not know what to say to start the conversation.

“Are you alright?” Dan asked. His voice was hoarse from the crying and gave away at the end. He raised an eyebrow when Phil's lips tugged upwards into a small smile.

He nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact. “I'm good, yeah”, he chuckled. “You?”

Dan was about to nod. To lie and say that of course he was fine. But Phil deserved better than that. Phil deserved someone who could actually voice his problems and tell others when he was feeling down - not that feeling down was the appropriate word for how he felt.

He bit the inside of his mouth, eyes flickering to the ceiling. The door was still open, letting the light paint the room in the dull glow from the outside.

Phil waited. As he always did. His eyes softened ever so slightly as he watched Dan. Still he did not push, did not ask more.

Dan knew that Phil was aware that he was not doing good. But that somehow did not feel enough. He felt like he should say something, should explain himself and his thoughts and his feelings. His unexplainable feelings.

He swallowed, the sound shooting through the room - too loud, too sharp. Phil's fingers were still rubbing against his waist, a simple but steady comfort, a reminder that he was, had always been, and would always be there.

Dan opened his mouth. At first only air came out. He felt like a fish, opening and closing his mouth without making a sound. But Phil waited patiently, only watching him with soft eyes.

“I'm not okay.”

Phil's hand stilled, and it suddenly became unbearably heavy. Dan wanted to push him away, to tell him to get out of the door and leave him alone again. But when he looked at Phil's expression - his round eyes burning with emotion, his mouth curving into a sad smile - he stilled. “You've been feeling like this for a while, haven't you?” Phil asked when it seemed like Dan was not going to say anything else.

Dan looked away. Phil had noticed. Of course he had noticed. He always noticed everything, and it was not like he was being very sneaky about it. “I don't know how to explain it.”

Phil blinked slowly. “You don't have to explain it.” He let his hand drop against the mattress and shifted his position. “Scoot over”, he said, nudging Dan's shoulder.

Dan frowned, rolling around as he moved closer to the edge.

Phil tugged at the covers, crawling into the heat. They stared at each other for a few heartbeats, Dan's round ones meeting Phil's kind ones. “Hi”, Phil whispered.

With a soft giggle, Dan looked down. “Hi.” He shuffled a bit closer, hoping Phil would understand what he wanted, without him having to actually say anything.

He did. Phil wrapped his arms around him, pulling him flush to his chest. “I'm right here, Dan”, he whispered. “I'm not going anywhere.” He pushed his face into Dan's hair, a hand coming up to run through the brown locks.

Dan's fingers found their place in Phil's hoodie, curling into the fabric and pulling him ever so slightly closer. “I won't be good company tonight”, he mumbled, his voice muffled by the fabric.

Phil smiled, squeezing him in his arms. “You don't have to be”, he said. “Just exist with me, that's enough.”

Dan blinked a few times before huffing. “Sounds fake, but okay.” He arched his back, trying to get rid of the ache that had settled there.

“It's not fake”, Phil muttered into his hair. One of his hands rested on Dan's lower back. The pads of his fingers dug into his skin where his shirt had rode up.

Dan's eyes shut as he inhaled deeply. “I'm so tired, Phil”, he whispered. Every muscle in his body hurt, it seemed even more evident now with Phil lying next to him. “I'm tired of everything.” He let out a shaky puff of air that hit Phil's neck. “I'm tired of pretending that everything is fine.”

Phil's shoulders tensed up, his grip around Dan tightening. “You don't have to pretend with me. Ever.” He pressed a soft kiss against Dan's hair. “I'd much rather see you sad than not see you at all.”

Dan broke. The dam he had been building up all these years, finally cracked. His body shook with a violent sob. Tears streamed down his face, staining Phil's shirt. He was sure he was hurting Phil with the way his fingers dug their way into his hoodie, poking into his back and his ribs.

But Phil did not pull away. He did not hesitate. His arms stayed around Dan, one on his back and one in his hair, holding him through it all as if his arms could serve as protection to the storm in his head. He gently rocked them back and forth, rubbing shapes into his skin and he whispered quiet meaningless words into his ear.

“It's okay Dan. You're not alone.”

Dan's breath stuttered. He was trembling like a leaf in the wind, but the touch of another person grounded him - or perhaps it was just because it was Phil. His mind did not make any sense. It was a fog of confusion and emotions. Exhaustion pulled at him, threatening to pull him under. “I don't know what's wrong with me”, he admitted. His voice sounded too shaky, too quiet.

“That's okay”, Phil replied, his voice steady. Like a light in the darkness. “It's okay to not be okay.”

It was such a stupid saying. Dan had heard it many times before. It's okay to not be okay. It had never meant anything to him, because obviously it was okay. That did not make it any simpler.

Hearing it from Phil was completely different. His body went limp. He stopped shivering, instead leaning into Phil. There was an ache in his chest, one that had been there ever since he started elementary school, ever since the first playground bullies started calling him gay and a cocksucker. For the first time, it lessened slightly. It was not as suffocating anymore. He could breathe freely, without fearing what would happen next. In this little bubble Phil had made for him, he was safe.

Dan felt like they laid there for hours. Phil kept rocking them back and forth. He kept whispering small nothings and pressing soft kisses into his hair and forehead.

The tears were still on his cheeks, but they had dried up now. They were no longer rolling, the only proof of them ever doing so was the damp spot on Phil's hoodie.

Dan opened his eyes slowly. His view was mostly blocked, but he could barely make out the light that still glowed from the door. He sighed softly, feeling the numbness slowly leaving his body.

He did not want to float away anymore. He wanted to stay in Phil's arms forever. There, he was safe. There, he could finally be free.

“I don't know what I'd do without you, Phil”, he confessed. At first he thought that Phil must have fallen asleep, that he was imagining the way his hands rubbed against him and the ways their bodies rocked, because Phil did not reply.

At last, he gave Dan's body a squeeze and inhaled deeply. His voice was full of affection and love when he whispered back his promise, “You never have to find out.”