#*me crying alone in a hotel room* at least there’s dan and phil

[locamotivednp]

Things are pretty awful, but at least dan and phil are gay and love each other.

[breathlester]

moment of epiphany, in gold light

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

summary: a proposal on new year’s eve

genre/themes: fluff, established relationship, proposal, new year’s eve content warnings: mentions of alcohol

excerpt: 

The door to the balcony opens, revealing Phil with his duvet still wrapped around his shoulders like a cape, the garish yellow of his emoji pyjamas poking out underneath.

Dan grins in relief, scooting over on the bench. "Did you find it?"

But Phil doesn't move to sit beside him. And when he unfolds his arms in front of his body, no bottle comes into view in his hands.

Only a small, velvet box.

Dan's sat outside on their balcony, wrapped in the sad pimp blanket, nursing a nearly empty mug of chamomile tea. A breeze whistles past his pyjama clad legs that are folded underneath him, and he shivers.

"We really ought to get a portable heater for out here," he yells over his shoulder in the vague direction of the kitchen door, where Phil has disappeared to a few minutes ago on the quest for champagne.

It's New Year's Eve 2018, and they've got a lot to celebrate.

Phil has returned only a day ago from the Isle of Man and naturally, they both opted for ringing in the new year alone together, in the comfort of their apartment. It's odd, really, how much it feels like home, Dan muses, considering that they've spent most of the year away, in hotel rooms, in places they'd never been.

Dan hasn't missed the apartment while on tour, but longed for it quite a bit in the few days he spent with his family. Because of course, it isn't so much the building that offers the comfort and familiarity associated with the concept of home, rather than...

A stray early firework lights up the sky and Dan waits for the noise to fade so he can listen for one of his most comforting sounds in the world - the cluttering of a lanky, clumsy man who at this moment is surely leaving all their kitchen cupboards open on the search for champagne glasses.

Only there's no cluttering. There's no sound at all coming from their flat behind him.

Dan stills.

Waits a moment.

Clears his throat - "Phil?"

Quiet. Disconcerting quiet.

Dan sets his mug aside, twisting around to stare at the door Phil's left ajar.

Calls again louder, more urgently. "Phil?"

There's a muted response then, and the sound of a door closing somewhere in their apartment.

Dan lets his breath escape with a hiss, the tension seeping slowly out of his body, one hand pressed to pounding heart.

"Jesus fuck," he murmurs to himself, then shouts, "Hurry up, you bum, I want my new year's kiss!"

Approaching footsteps, first on carpet, then on tile. The door to the balcony opens, revealing Phil with his duvet still wrapped around his shoulders like a cape, the garish yellow of his emoji pyjamas poking out underneath.

Dan grins in relief, scooting over on the bench. "Did you find it?"

But Phil doesn't move to sit beside him. And when he unfolds his arms in front of his body, no bottle comes into view in his hands.

Only a small, velvet box.

Dan's breath gets caught somewhere between his lungs and his lips.

Phil moves then, two long-legged steps until he's in front of Dan, kneeling down with a little trouble as he arranges the blanket around himself so he won't step on it and topple over.

Dan still hasn't exhaled, or blinked for that matter, ever since his eyes have fallen on the tiny, blue box in Phil's nervously fiddling hands.

"Dan."

He breathes sharply then, out and in and out again, gaze snapping up to Phil's face.

His hair is tousled from Dan playing with it while they've been sat outside, leaning into each other. His glasses are slightly askew, cheeks red and in spite of his blanket he's shivering from the cold - or maybe nerves, Dan can't quite tell. He's wearing the adventure time hoodie that Dan gave him for his birthday years ago, in another life it seems, and the yellow clashes terribly with that of his pyjama bottoms.

In short - he's perfect.

"Dan," Phil says again, voice soft and shaky, and Dan looks at him - looks and looks and smiles, finally.

"Yes," he says.

Phil opens his mouth as though to continue, then seems to register that the word sounds much like an answer to a question he hasn't posed yet, at least not with words.

"You haven't - you need to let me ask you first!" He protests.

Dan tugs on his furry blanket, worrying at his lower lip to suppress the giggle that's bubbling up inside him.

"Well, sorry to tell you, mate, but you're not exactly being mysterious right now."

Phil rolls his eyes, whining his name.

"Daaan. Just let me do this, please?"

Dan's never been able to say no to that face.

"Yeah, okay. Fine," he feigns nonchalance, "go ahead then."

Phil swallows thickly, closing his eyes for a second as he breathes, before looking up at Dan again.

"Dan," he says for a third time.

Dan smiles, nods softly, encouraging.

Phil's eyes brighten and he continues, "we've done so much together, this year. And these past nine years, really. I've loved you since I was 22 years old. I'm almost 32 now, and more in love with you than ever. You have and continue to challenge me to become better, stronger, more confident. You make me happier than I thought possible. You've been my partner in life and work and on stage around the world, twice. And most importantly - you're my best friend. And there's no one else I want by my side as we go into the new year - the start of a new decade in our lives, together. The second of many more, hopefully. Because I want to see you grow old and grey next to me. I want - I want to see kids grow up with you. There's so much more to come for us, I know it, things we can't even imagine yet. And so -"

His voice falters for a bit as he fumbles with the little box in his hands, head lowered.

Dan allows himself a moment to breathe, to became aware that the air is colder against his cheeks now because they're tear-streaked. He sniffles, wiping at his eyes, and Phil looks up at the sound.

His face does a complicated thing when he finds Dan already crying and Dan laughs wetly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Sorry," he croaks.

Phil shakes his head, shuffling closer on the floorboards, and reaches for Dan's hand. Dan gives him both, squeezing his fingers.

"I've thought for so long about what I want to say until I realised it doesn't matter because you already know everything. You know me so well, Dan, better than anyone else. So all I can say is just... will you ma-"

There's a whistle then, followed by a deafening bang, as golden sparks rain down from the sky. Immediately, a second rocket is launched, and then a third and a thousand more, all exploding in quick succession and painting the night blue and green and red and silvery white.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Dan half-snorts, half-chuckles, extracting one of his hands to gesture towards the sky. "Really? Was this your plan then, for us to be literally interrupted by bloody fireworks?"

Phil's eyes are wide, sparks and swirls of colour reflected in them, and he's smiling in surprise and wonder. "No, I -"

Dan leans in to hear him over the crackle and roar of the pyrotechnics.

"I didn't know when I was going to do this and then tonight as we sat here I just realised I didn't want to go into the new year without proposing. So I figured there was no better time to do it than..."

Dan giggles, sucks in a breath. "You forgot about the fireworks, didn't you? Really had your thunder stolen there."

Phil purses his lips, corners curled up in a smile. "Well, I guess there was a minor flaw in my plan..."

He laughs, too, then, eyes scrunching up, and Dan wants badly to kiss him right now - but he still hasn't asked the question.

"Out with it then, before we're sat here 'til 2020."

Phil takes his hands again, lifts them to his mouth to kiss the knuckles.

Dan can feel the edge of the box press into his skin, and then Phil lets go of his hands to click the lid open and says, simply, "Marry me?"

Dan barely hears him over the noise but he reads the words easily off his lips, as though he'd done it a thousand times.

He nods, then nods again, unable to stop the motion once he's begun.

"Yes," he gasps out, choked, "yes, yes, of course, I'll marry you."

"Yeah?" Phil's mouth forms, barely a breath.

Dan just keeps nodding.

Phil's face explodes into a smile, outshining every fireworks display.

The tears are flowing again freely, his breaths coming in big sniffs, heart thundering away in his chest. Dan has to blink several times until his fiancé comes back into focus.

There's a small, velvet box being held out to him in shaking hands.

Inside is nestled the most beautiful thing Dan has ever laid eyes on - well, save for the man offering it to him.

A slender silver ring with a delicate pattern of brilliants, embedded in whose middle is a single shimmering onyx.

Dan hears himself gasp in a breath. Then he extends his hand towards Phil.

"Put it on me already," he whispers, voice certainly drowned out by the firecrackers that are still going off in the background.

Phil struggles with freeing the ring for a second but then the box clatters to the floor and Phil's blanket cape follows as he sits up, pausing for a moment to seek Dan's eyes before he slides the cool metal band onto Dan's fourth finger.

They're both shaking violently now and Dan catches Phil dabbing at the corner of his eye with his hoodie sleeve, blinking furiously.

He sits, admiring his ring for a moment, the way the gems light up when another firework goes off in their proximity.

Then he reaches for Phil, "c'mere," pulling him up with fingers knotted into the fabric of his jumper, until their mouths collide in a messy kiss.

Phil's still kneeling on the floor, hopefully on his blanket now, and the edge of the bench must be digging into his stomach, but he's not complaining - hands sliding round the back of Dan's neck, lips framing his bottom one, kissing at his cheeks and his chin and anywhere he can reach until Dan's giggling breathlessly.

He twines Phil's hair around his fingers, watching the inky black strands caress his engagement ring, and presses his mouth to a spot just above Phil's ear.

"Happy new year, Phil," he breathes. "I love you so much."

His mug tips over beside him when Phil scrambles to his feet and onto his lap, wrapping him up in a proper embrace that crushes his hip against the armrest and pushes Phil's knee into his ribs, and they still haven't got their champagne to toast the new year, but Dan couldn't care less. He just wraps his blanket around the both of them and connects their lips once more.

There are still fireworks going off around them as they kiss and kiss until neither of them can breathe. Then Phil pulls back, just the tiniest bit, and whispers into the gap between their mouths.

"Happy new year, Dan."

*** this used to be on my ao3 page (softiejace). i’m taking my phan content down from there for personal reasons, but reposting it here so people can still enjoy it :) ***

[paradisobound]

Sail Away With Me: Part 3

Summary: It was a fluke. Dan shouldn’t have ever gone with Sam to a party on a yacht. He shouldn’t have trusted her to go. But in a chance encounter, he ends up in bed with Phil Lester, a billionaire CEO of a luxury clothing company. When he thinks he’s screwed up enough, he realizes he’s in way too deep. Because Phil Lester has fallen in love with him. The catch: Dan gave Phil a fake name and all Phil has to remember Dan by is the tattoo on his hip and the necklace he left behind.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: A semi-explicit sex scene between Dan and another male

Pairing: Instagraminfluencer!dan and CEO!Phil

This is a chaptered work. Updates every Saturday around 1pm EST

**MASTERLIST | ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN | WATTPAD**

DAN POV 

“I got an email from a company called Luxor.” 

The breeze is blowing through Dan’s curls as he pushes his hand through them and shuffled them a bit on top of his head. They were sat on the balcony just outside of Sam’s room, overlooking the coast. The mist from the water kept kissing his skin, leaving his cheeks a bit dewey. 

Sam looks up at him, tucking a stray strand of her wavy red hair behind her ear. She’s wearing her glasses this morning and although Dan’s seen her with them often, he knows that if she were to be photographed like that right now, she would definitely be seen as ‘over-casual’. But truth was Sam was nearly blind. 

She wraps her lanky arms around her knees and draws them closer to her chest as her shorts ride up her thighs a bit. She sniffles a bit and wipes at her nose before finally opening her mouth to say something to Dan. 

“Not impressive.” 

“Oh?” 

Sam shrugs again and lets her feet down from the edge of the chair, putting them on the floor. “Luxor is just another stereotypical clothing brand.” 

“But the email seems promising.” 

Dan scrolled a bit further down the email where they said they would love to meet up with him at their London office to talk about negotiations for a potential contract deal between them. To say Dan was intrigued was an understatement. He was used to companies reaching out to him for his large Instagram presence but he often doesn’t get anything that pays him anywhere near what Luxor would probably pay him. 

He lets out a sigh and looks back out at the coast. In the distance, he can see boats of all kinds: yachts, sail boats, everything. Dan takes in a deep breath, holds it, and then lets it go as he relaxes his shoulders. 

He’s actually feeling pretty lucky that he wasn’t too hungover this morning. He definitely cannot say the same for Sam who currently looked like death ran over her twice but he can at least say he’s feeling better. 

Although, the tinge in his backside was definitely an indication of his night last night. He wouldn’t even be entirely sure that the night was real if it wasn’t for that light ache in his lower back. If he closes his eyes, he can still feel everything and it makes his skin tingle. 

“It’s up to you,” Sam says, drumming her fingers against the side of her chair. Her finger nails made a pleasing yet slightly obnoxious clicking every time they hit the metal. “But I don’t think Luxor is worth it.” 

Dan shrugs. “I’ll think about it.” 

Sam shrugs again and leans down, resting her chin against the railing of the balcony. 

“How are you feeling?” Dan asks her, knowing full well that she isn’t feeling the best. She follows his question by another shrug—she must be in that mood today—and then sits up. She reaches into her hoodie pocket and fishes out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one out and placing it between her lips as she lights it. 

“Does that answer your question?” She asks with a chuckle. “I’m hungover as fuck and I have a headache thats bigger than the whole of the UK.” 

Dan lets out a soft chuckles and reaches over, rubbing her arm gently. She twitches for a second and then laughs. “We’re a mess.” 

“And that’s why we’re best friends.” 

“Because we’re both hot messes?” Sam asks with a lighthearted chuckle. 

Dan nods and lets out a loud snort as he reaches for the table in front of him and picks up his cold coffee and takes a sip. 

Sam finishes her cigarette and puts it out in the ash tray that she has hidden under her chair. She then lets out a loud groan and stretches up before she kicks her long legs out in front of her and stands up. “Let’s go.” 

“Where?” Dan asks. 

He knows its the afternoon, but he’s didn’t know they had any plans. 

“Lets go swimming.” 

She extends her hand out and Dan takes in as she lifts him up and forces him back inside the doors to her bedroom and they get dressed to go out. She calls for a cab via the PA system she has in her room and then they leave to go towards the beach. 

***

“We couldn’t get ahold of Phil Lester.” 

They’re sat on the beach, the warm summer breeze blowing in their hair. People are walking all around them and Dan is digging his toes into the hot sand. 

“Oh?” 

Sam nods with a sympathetic look. She’s got her hair tossed up in messy double braids now and her freckles are darkening in the sun. Dan reckons that Sam is actually quite pretty. And if he was attracted to females, he’s sure he would jumped on the opportunity to be with her. But it’s just not something that would have worked. 

They tried...once. When they were newly eighteen and Dan was still figuring out if he liked girls. They met at a club while Dan was on a trip to Ibiza with his university friends for a vacation. Dan had no idea who Sam was when they first met but they shared a few drinks and found themselves to be natural friends. 

Dan tries to forget about how they tried to have sex once and he totally failed at it, panicking just as Sam undressed. And it wasn’t even like a genuine panic, it was more that he knew this wasn’t what he wanted and the thought of it was unsettling to him. Sam didn’t mind, and despite the first few hours being a bit weird, they can laugh about it now. 

“I asked Gillian to get ahold of Jeanna Trombley who is Phil Lester’s personal assistant. She takes all of his calls and everything. And she tried but Jeanna said that Phil Lester was far too busy right now to answer a call about a missing possession so...sorry, babes.” 

Dan feels a bit of sadness willing in his chest. He pulls his knees up to his chest and lays his cheek on his knees, turning his head towards Sam. She reaches out and puts a hand on his back and rubs it and that simple act is enough to make him sniffle and will himself not to cry right now. 

“I’m sure you’ll get it back one day.” 

“How?” Dan asks. “He doesn’t even know my real name and I doubt he even remembers me.” 

“My dad is good friends with Phil Lester, in case you didn’t know.” Sam juts in. “He does a lot of business deals and in return, he often offers Phil a place to stay in our hotels in a private executive suite just for him. I’m sure I can ask him to see if he can even talk to Phil.” 

Dan lets out a scoff. He know Sam’s dad wouldn’t ever do anything like that. 

“He probably is keeping it as a trophy.” 

“A trophy?” Sam asks, clarifying. 

Dan nods. “Yeah, like, oh I fucked this guys brains out and his necklace fell off so I’m going to keep this to remind of that night. You know, that kind of a trophy.” 

“I don’t think Phil would be that selfish.” Sam says, furrowing her brows. “I’ve met him before...I mean, I don’t think...” She stutters on her words. “Yes, it’s true that there are times where Phil can be a bit cold hearted but I don’t think he’d keep someone else’s possession for a trophy.” 

Dan shrugged. His skin was feeling a bit hot and he was beginning to feel a bit sweaty and gross. Sam let out a sigh. “I don’t know what else you want to do, Dan.” She says, her words cutting through to him. “There isn’t much to do at this point. Honestly, I would just let the necklace go. For all we know, maybe you didn’t lose it in his bed. Maybe you lost it on the dock or somewhere else in the yacht. You’re just thinking of the worst case scenarios right now.” 

Dan swallows and reluctantly nods because Sam was right. But he didn’t want to admit it. The necklace was still something that meant a lot to him and it wasn’t easy for him to come to the realization that he might have to part with it. 

“Come on, lets go swimming.” She says, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. “There is no point getting all pissy right now. It’s our last here. Let’s make the most of it.” 

Dan lets a smirk take over his lips and he dips his head down as he allows for her to drag him into the warm Mediterranean water. 

***

They ended up in a club somewhere, the music blasting and the lights strobing all around them. Dan’s got a few drinks down and Sam has a few more downed and they’re well past sober. Sam is dancing with some random guy in the crowd and Dan is dancing a bit off to the side where their table of empty drinks and cups are. He’s downed his third mixed drink and he’s reaching for a test tube shot from someone walking around the dance floor. He reckons he should be a bit more responsible but he’s also way past the point of giving any fucks whatsoever. 

The guy with Sam gets a bit handsier with her and Dan looks protectively to make sure she’s okay. And she definitely is by the way she’s kissing up and down the Adonis’s neck. Dan watches her for a few moments before she takes the mans hand and winds her way through to their table. 

“I’m leaving with Nick so you know the drill.” 

And Dan does. If Sam doesn’t text him within three hours of leaving, he needs to call her and etc...

He gives her a smile and watches her leave out the door with this fit guy as he left stood alone with an empty test tube shot and another one coming his way. He’s tempted to reach for it but he’s stopped when someone comes up next to him. 

“You’re looking a bit lonely over here.” 

Dan turns and makes eye-contact with a beautiful tanned male stood in front of him. His knees go a bit weak and he feels already the tell-tale signs of arousal spinning in his stomach at looking at the attractive male. His voice was sugary sweet in the best way possible and his bright green eyes shone directly into Dan’s brown. 

“Maybe.” Dan answers, smirking a bit. 

“You’re too cute to be lonely,” The male says. “I’m surprised no one else has snagged you up yet.” 

Dan shrugged. “Most people can’t handle me.” 

“Handle you?” 

Dan nods, playing along. “I’m a bit more than people can normally handle.” 

“Is that so?” The man asks, moving a forward. “Show me.” 

Dan reaches out and takes the mans hand in his palm and drags him into the middle of the crowded dance floor. He knows the man probably thought Dan meant he was going to drop to his knees and blow him in the middle of the floor but this was nicer. 

He wrapped his arms loosely around the mans neck and they swayed together as the mans hands placed themselves firmly on Dan’s hips. 

“What’s your name?” Dan asks. 

“Ivan. Yours?” 

“Dan.” 

Ivan smiles at him and leans down, pressing his lips against Dan’s neck and sucking a bit onto the tender skin. Dan’s breath hitched and he let out a low moan as he clung in closer to Ivan and let him suck continuous kisses onto his neck. 

They left, not long after. Dan shot Sam a text saying he was going home with a guy too and the fact that she replied with a thumbs up emoji made him chuckle a little bit. They took a taxi to the guys home, which was a small little villa on the coast. 

Once inside, it didn’t take long for the heat between them to intermix with the heat of the night. Dan shimmied off his clothing somewhere in Ivan’s living room and Ivan’s pants found their way with his as well. 

Dan went down on him, sucking him off the best he could but by the second round “Yes! Suck that cock!” came from Ivan’s mouth, he was getting to feel a bit less excited about what was happening. 

He still very much wanted to have sex, that was definitely still true. But somewhere in the back of his head as he swung his legs over Ivan’s hips and seated himself on top, he could still hear Phil’s voice and feel his hands on his skin. Ivan’s hands felt bigger, and colder. Phil’s were soft and gentle, warm to the touch like they were sear Dan’s skin if they were left too long. 

It took Dan a lot longer to get off with Ivan. Ivan finished pretty fast and then proceeded to let Dan ride him until he finished. But by the time Dan was close,  his thighs were aching and he was beginning to feel like this was more a chore than actually getting himself off. 

He came with a whimper and then pushed off from Ivan, landing beside him on the bed. Ivan kissed him, softly one last time, before Dan pushed off and told him he needed to get going. My friend is probably worried. He lied. 

He grabbed his clothing and dressed as fast as he could. He used Sam’s contact to call for a taxi and he waited outside for it and jumped in as soon as they came. When he got to Sam’s home, she was inside too, sitting on her bed wiping off her melted make up. 

“Was your night a bust too?” She joked, the remnants of black mascara on her cheeks. 

“Kind of.” 

Sam chuckled. “Nick came after a few seconds and then blacked out on me. I was back here within an hour.” 

“Ivan was okay but it took me a while to finish.” 

She sucked in a breath. “Oh no.” 

Dan looked at her and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh no, what?’ 

She shook her head. “Was it because you were thinking about a certain someone instead?” 

“Don’t be daft.” Dan says with a laugh. 

“Your red spot on your cheek just got darker. You’re lying.” 

Dan felt his cheeks light up more “I wasn’t thinking about Phil!” 

She shrugged back and the conversation ended. 

He fell asleep next to Sam in her bed that night and in the morning, a private cab was waiting for them to take them to the airport where they would catch Sam’s family’s private jet back to London. 

It was bittersweet for Dan as he watched the plane lift off out the window. He really felt as if a part of him was being left behind in Amalfi and he knew that part of him was currently in Phil Lester’s hands. 

***

Dan went back to his flat in London with a heavy feeling in his chest. He threw his suitcase down on the floor of his living room and then collapsed on his couch. Sam said she would be over a bit later for take out but he was really enjoying the time alone right now. 

He pulls out his laptop from his bag, the first time he’s done it the week he’d been gone. He finds his browser is open to his emails and he refreshes the page and looks at the Luxor email, still sitting proudly at the top of the list. 

He reads it over again and sees that they want him to be a brand model for their Instagram page. They want him to model their clothing on their Instagram and his own and they would compensate him for it. He could easily do that. 

Shooting back an email, he agrees to whatever they want him to do and he asks if he can meet up at their headquarters in London sometime this next week. He closes his laptop down and waits for their reply just as soon as a text appears on his phone. 

Sam: Phil’s assistant just got back. Says Phil doesn’t have your necklace. He only has one that belongs to a guy named Ethan...

Sam: I tried to tell her it was probably yours but Phil is adamant on not giving up the necklace to anyone besides Ethan...

Dan felt tears rush to his eyes and he wiped them away stubbornly with the regret of what he did that night with Phil. 

Because fuck Phil Lester and fuck everything else too. 

[septic84]

Eschew The Chew

“Phil, wake the fuck up!” I jerked up fast, feeling my stomach lurch.  

“What the hell, Dan?”  

“We need to pack and go, now!”  

“Go where?” Dan wasn’t playing a joke on me; I could tell by his demeanor that he was scared. “Dan, calm down, what’s going on?”  

“It’s all over the BBC, Phil!” He said, pulling a travel bag out of the closet. “It’s like some virus,”

A03

 I had now fully sat up, if Dan had not have been so scared, I would have laughed at how animated he was.  I grabbed my glasses and placed them on my face. “Virus?”  

“Yes, it’s making people cannibalistic.”    

“Dan, are you intoxicated?”  

“Fuck off!” Dan was now shoving random pieces of clothing into the bag. “Just look at your fucking phone, okay?”    

So, I did, but nothing would load, not on Wifi, not on data. “there’s nothing Dan, I can’t get anything to load.”  

“Shit,” Dan said, “That means it’s getting worse.” I walked into the lounge where Dan had the TV on, we hardly watched anything on cable.  

“Started in the northern parts of Ireland and is spreading rapidly. Daily curfews and quarantine zones are now going into effect in all of Ireland and are expected to affect the UK later tomorrow.”  

“Holy shit,” I muttered.  

“You see!” Dan demanded, “What I believe to be one of or the last Plane to Florida is leaving in three hours and we need to be on it. It may be our only chance.”  

“Hold on,” I took a deep breath. “Dan, we are talking about leaving country. We are going to leave our families here?”  

Dan took a deep breath, “Phil, we are going to have to trust that they can take care of themselves.”  

I was stood frozen, I couldn’t move.  

“Phil!” Dan screamed, “I am not fucking kidding. We need to move!” I went back to our room, placing various things in my travel bag. How do you know what to pack for the apocalypse?  After I had packed clothes, some irreplaceable keepsakes, and my pillow, I took another bag to the kitchen and filled it with nonperishable food items. That was smart right? If the disaster movies taught me anything, it was that food becomes scares quickly in these types of scenarios.  

Dan walked into the room, “Okay, I have packed everything in the bathroom.” He looked at me and nodded approvingly. “Oh, good idea. I hope they don’t limit our baggage.”  

Once we arrived at the airport it was sheer chaos; people were screaming, crying or just staring into nothing. “Dan,” I whispered, “What if we don’t get out?”  

“We will,” was all Dan said. He was surprisingly calm. We saw armed officials with medical staff examining people.  They were making their way throughout the lines and were currently examining the family next to us.  I started to panic.  

“Deep breaths, Phil. Don’t draw too much attention to us, okay?”  

“Right,” I said  

“Names?”  

“Daniel Howell,”  

“Phil Lester.”  

“Country and city of origin?”  

“United Kingdom, London.”  

“Both of you?”  

I nodded.  

After the doctor looked into both of our eyes, then mouths, he took each of our temperatures. “They’re good.” I breathed a sigh of relief.  Since Dan and I were cleared to fly, one of the armed guards led us directly to the plane. There seemed to be limited staff and the normal “check your bags” policy seemed out the window.  Dan and I had all of our bags with us in the cabin of the plane, on our legs.  

“See, we’re fine,” Dan said when we had gotten arranged.    

“Are we?” I asked, hesitantly.    

“Don’t Phil, not now,” Dan warned. Looking closer at him, I now noticed the fear on his face. I could tell he was doing everything in his power to keep moving forward, to keep going. I took his hand and squeezed it, not releasing it when I had finished. He gave me a tight-lipped smile.    

The plane took off a short time later; it was eerily quiet. There were no conversations and only the occasional wail from one of the two babies that were on board. Glancing around I noticed everyone either had blank stares or panic on their faces, there was no in-between.  

“Where are we going when we land?”  

“I have booked a hotel for at least a week in Orlando.”  

“Okay, then what?”  

“I don’t know Phil, I got us out. Right now, that’s all that matters.”  

“Thank you,” I stayed quiet for the rest of the flight. I wondered how many people in the UK had already been infected, how quickly had is spread and if it had reached London. I then wondered how much time we had running to Florida before it got there.    

The plane had touched down about 10:00 pm local time. At the Orlando airport, there were also many armed guards and more medical personnel at the gates, screening people before they were allowed to enter.  We had passed again, but this exam was more in-depth. They asked about medical issues, medicines we were taking and the last time we had had a physical. They went through all of the bags of the passengers and gave them cards that showed they had been cleared medically and their bags had been searched.  

When we were in the hotel room Dan looked as if he were about to break.  “I’m going to go take a shower,” he didn’t wait for my response, but I still muttered “Okay.” As soon as the water had been running for about 5 minutes, I heard Dan start to sob. I wanted nothing more to comfort him, but he clearly needed to be alone. Using the hotel phone, I called my parents and brother, leaving them messages in case they were able to get them. I hoped they were okay. When Dan came out he looked as if he hadn’t slept for days.    

“I called my parents and Martyn and left them messages in case they can get them at some point, you should do the same. I am going to shower now.”  

“Okay,”    

The bathroom was steamy and smelled like Dan, this brought me a little comfort. I wiped the fog off of the mirror and stared at my face. I didn’t look that bad, maybe a little tired.  I turned on the shower and stood under the stream of water, watching it swirl down the drain.  I wondered why I wasn’t crying now, why wasn’t I as upset as Dan? I didn’t feel much of anything and I figured I must have been in shock.  I washed and got out feeling like I was in slow motion; as if time had been thickened by honey and I couldn't move properly.    

When I went back out to Dan, he had the news on. As he predicted, all flights out of Ireland and the UK had been grounded. Also, the same had happened in The Netherlands, Belgium, and France; no planes were allowed in or out. The number of infected people had grown increasingly, hour by hour.  The news was repeating clips of people that were caught on security cameras who were infected. Some were just aimlessly walking, staring blankly ahead. Others were violent, going after and attacking anyone who was not behaving as they were. It was horrific to watch, I was numb.  

“They are literally fucking Zombies,” Dan breathed out.  

I did not have the words to respond to that. I sat next to him watching video after video of the same scene. The further advanced the virus progressed, the more violent and dangerous they became.  If I didn’t know better, I would have thought we were watching a movie, but this was real life. Dan silently grasped my hand as we watched what appeared to be the fall and demise of humanity.    

“Are you hungry?” he asked, surprising me.  

“Are you being serious right now?” I asked, motioning to the TV.  

“I,” I watched his head fall in dismay. “I don’t know what to do, Phil. I don’t think we are ever going back to London.”  

“You don’t know that,” I said, indignantly.  

“Phil,” He said softly, “Look at them. Even if they can cure these people, they are destroying everything. Without humans, healthy working humans, the city will collapse.”    

“So, what are we going to do then, Dan? Live here? Look for a house? Do we go elsewhere? What do we do?”  

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.  

“I don’t either.”  

“This is really happening isn’t it?”  

“Yes. It is.” He yawned.  

“We should sleep, it’s not like staying awake is going to help us right now, watching this over and over won’t either.” I turned off the TV.    

“I don’t know if I can sleep,”  

“Then we should lay down and at least rest.”   We both got settled and started by laying far away from each other, but gradually Dan was inching closer to me.  I pulled him onto my chest, kissing the top of his head. “Rest, love.”  

“Phil, I’m scared.”  

“I know. Rest.” After a while, Dan’s body stilled. Knowing he was asleep helped me to relax and with his breathing as my guide, I drifted off.  

We woke up around noon the next day, we didn't speak. We sat on separate beds, both trapped in our heads trying to process the unthinkable.  

“Should we turn on the TV?” I asked.  

“No,” He said, “Not just yet.”  

“Okay.”  There was still Wifi in the hotel; Dan started one of his playlists and we sat together, listening to relaxing instrumental melodies that helped to somewhat put my mind at ease.  

“I'm not sure what I am allowed to say,”  

“Well, talk to me about anything other than what’s going on.”  

“Ah,” I came up with nothing.  

“Yeah, I know.” He said shaking his head.  

“I didn’t pack sun cream.”  

He smirked. “Lucky for you, I packed the bathroom and there was some in there.”  

"That is lucky for my translucent skin, thank you. We should eat something.”  

“Are you hungry?”  

“I don’t feel hungry, but I am sure I am.”  

We decided to walk down to a nearby café, not going too far from the hotel. As we picked at our sandwiches, I started to watch and listen to the other patrons.  

“It’s spread into Spain already,” someone said. “It’s spreading so fast and no one knows how to stop it. I am afraid it’s only a matter of time before,”  

“Phil, don’t eavesdrop,” Dan looked at me. “Hey, we should go swimming.”  

“You want to go to the beach?”  

“Yeah, why not?” He opened his backpack, showing me the towels and sun cream.  

“Okay, yeah.” I smiled at Dan as we left money at the table. On our way out I overheard the same person say. “We are all screwed.” I couldn’t help but agree with them. It seemed to be the end of the world.  

On the beach Dan and I were sat on our towels, watching the waves. I had to admit, it was easy to get lost in them and forget why we were actually here. I wondered how many more moments like this I would have with Dan. Would this be the last? I looked at the way the sun was hitting his face, he was truly beautiful.  

“Let’s swim.”  

I smiled at him, “Yes, let’s.” I wanted to make sure whatever time we did have left was spent doing things that made us happy.  As we made our way out into deeper waters, Dan came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.  He started to kiss my neck. It was so public; it wasn’t something I was used to.  

“The ocean and the sun make your skin glisten a lovely shade.” He murmured against my neck. He continued to kiss my neck, softly starting to suck at the flesh. “So, you wanna?” he whispered as he trailed his hand down my side.  

“Here?” I whispered harshly, “Dan, the world is ending and it’s three pm, we are at a public beach .”  

“I know, but no one can see us.” I was hesitant, but remembering my earlier vow to make sure the time we had left was memorable, I agreed.  So that is how at three pm, in the ocean during the apocalypse Dan and I were having sex. “I love you so much, Phil.”  

“I love you too, Dan. You mean so much to me.”  

“Please don’t stop, I am so close,”  

“Me too,” I moaned. When I felt a breeze I noticed that somehow, we were not in deep water anymore, not at all. The water was brushing against us about knee level.  Anyone who looked our way would be able to tell what we were doing and could see all of Dan. “Dan,” I slowed down, “We’re in the shallow, people can see!”  

“Good,” He growled, "I want them to see.”  My whole body shuddered, I was moving my hips faster, spilling inside of him.  

“Yes, Phil, I’m cuming.” Dan moaned low and quiet as he found his release. When he had stopped panting so heavily, I slowly moved us back to the deeper water.  “Holy shit Phil, that was so hot.”  

“End of the world brings out your kinks, does it? I see you were already prepped.”  

“Well, It could be now or never so, a guy needs to plan ahead.”  

“And if it ends up on the internet?”  

“Well, then we will be giving them one hell of a finale, won’t we?”  

I laughed pulling him close to me, kissing his lips. He tasted of salt. Looking deeply into his eyes, I brushed a curl off of his forehead, suddenly his brow knit together.  

“Phil, promise me something?”  

“Anything.”  

“If I get infected, leave me.”  

“What?”  

"We both know it will be me that will get infected, of course, it will."  

"Dan,"  

“Don’t stay with me and die. Please.  

“We’re not going to talk like this.” I said, “We are going to be fine.”  

“You can’t possibly know that, Phil.” He said softly.  

“I can and I do. I’m done swimming now; I need to shower.” With that, I started to make my way back to the shore. I refused to listen to that, I just couldn’t.  With Dan in tow, we made our way back to the hotel.  We did not speak, but Dan did bump his shoulder into mine. It was our silent signal that we were good.  

“We should turn the telly on now,” I said after we had both showered. “As awful as it is, we should know what’s going on.”  

Dan sighed, “At least we had a nice day.” Grabbing the remote, he turned on the news. It was worse than we could have thought.  They now had blocked off most of western Europe.  So many countries were infected now, it was only a matter of time before it made its way to America.    

“How does it spread? Where did it come from?” I asked, not expecting an answer.  

“I have no fucking clue, it seems to have started in Ireland, but who knows what started it.” Dan sighed. “We have to figure out what we are going to do, Phil.”  

“How? We are Youtubers, we make videos, what would it be? “How to survive Zombies” tag?”  

“Actually,”   “DAN! I am being serious.  

“Jesus Phil, how should I know? It’s not like I have a contingency plan for the living dead, do I?"  

“Dan I’m,” A knock at the door cut me off midsentence.    

Dan looked at me and got up to answer it. “Tom?”  

“Oh, thank Christ, you’re still here. I’m glad to see you, mate.” He invited himself in. “Hey, Phil,”  

“Hi, Tom. Glad to see you’re okay.”  I said,  confused as to why he was here.

“Well, I’m not sick physically, so there’s that.” He ran his hand through his hair. “A literal Zombie apocalypse, bloody hell.”  

“How are you here, Tom?”  

“I hoped that you both had gotten on one of the planes to Florida, I checked and you had. Then I tracked you here, was able to get your hotel information and here I am.”  

“Wait,” Dan said, “what do you mean you tracked us here?”  

“Well, I hacked into some systems, but yeah, I found you.”  

“How?” I asked.  

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, boys.” He said.  

“Right, so what’s the plan then, Tom?”  

“Go north, into the woods.”  

“Are you mad? Into the woods, he says. What do you know about the woods, Tom? You’ll get eaten by wild animals. What do you know about survival?”  

“You really think that I would be unarmed in a Zombie apocalypse?”  

“Okay, but why are you here? Why did you come to find us specifically?"  

Ah,” he rubbed his neck. “I figured you may need help.” He sat down. “I was already in the air when it crossed the border into the UK. I knew America would be the best bet.  I lost my cell service, then I knew that it was bad. I am kind of a doomsday nerd, so I have planned for something like this."  

"You think you know a guy, "Tomska, Youtuber and a doomsday aficionado." Dan sighed.  

“You want us to go with you?” I questioned.  

“Staying here is a death sentence. “  

“What are you on about?”  

“I am sure it’s here already, Phil. I am sure someone, perhaps even many people are infected.”  

“How? There are medical screenings.”  

“Yeah, but what are they even screening for? A fever? No one knows how this started. It is spreading too quickly to do any early-stage testing. They have no idea what it is. They can’t tell if a fever is even a symptom. How could they know?” He paused. “Look, lads, this thing is unpredictable and it’s quick. If you are in a city that is infected, the chances that you will get away unscathed are slim to none.”  

“How do we know you’re not infected, then?” Dan asked.  

“How do we know either of you isn’t infected?”    

I sighed. “We don’t.”    

“No, we don’t, however with how fast it develops, I think we would have been starting to feel off by now. Then again, I have no idea. Maybe it’s just poof, Zombie.”  

“Right, so what do we do?”  

“We head north,” He said.  

“How do you even know where to go? How familiar are you with America?”  

“Oh, I know enough.”  

“Where north?”  

“Just north, for now.”  

“This is all so fucked,” Dan said, looking at me. “What do we know about survival?”  

“Not much,” I admitted.    

“As I said, I thought you may need my help.” Tom looked at the TV. “We aren’t going home lads, soon there will be no home left.”  

“What does that mean?”    

“They are going to burn it, Dan.”  

“The entire country? What? Why?” I was confused.  

“Phil, they are trying to save humanity. They have already burned most of Ireland.”  

“Who is “they?”  

“I don’t know, citizens? Government? I don’t know. All I know is that it is what is in store for our homeland too. It’s been three days and it’s ramping up to take over all of Europe.”    

“Oh my god,” I muttered.  

“We want to survive, right?”  

Dan and I both nodded.  

“Good, pack your things, we need to get petrol for the car, supplies and we will leave.”  

“Right now?”  

“The longer we stay here, the less likely we will make it out alive.”  

“Wait, can you even drive in America?” I asked.  

“I’ll manage just fine." Dan and I exchanged looks. “Listen, it’s not like we are here to sightsee, we are running for our lives. I’ll be fine driving.”  

The Black SUV was packed to the gills with supplies. We were both nervous about Tom driving in America, let alone in a huge SUV, but we didn’t know what else to do. Tom seemed to have his wits about him and he had a plan, that was more than we had.  Tom’s gun occupied the front seat as Dan and I sat in the next seats back.   I figured that he probably had more than one, but I didn’t ask. As much as guns made me nervous,  in the circumstance we were in, it seemed like a good idea that someone had them and knew how to shoot; at least if the movies were any indication.  

“I’ve got it mapped out; we will be sticking to the back roads to avoid the county border health checks.”  

“We aren’t sick though,” Dan said.  

“Mate, we are British, they will automatically assume that we are infected.”  

“I don’t know that that’s true,” I said.  

“It is. People are scared.”  

“That’s xenophobic,” I muttered  

“None of that matters, right now Phil. Even though the American media has given them a false sense of security by closing the borders, people are still fucking scared. How could they not be?”  

“So, do you know exactly where we are going yet?” Dan asked.  

“North,”  

“You keep saying that,”  

“You’ll know when we are there.” He looked at us in the rearview mirror, “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”  

I felt Dan grasp my hand, it was the slight comfort that I needed to be able to fall asleep. I was awoken an unknown time later to hushed voices.  

“He’s very calm about this,” Dan said.  

“I think he’s in shock Dan, no offense intended, but Phil’s a pretty happy go lucky guy. Something like this must take a much larger toll on his mental state. We are darker, more cynical.   I mean, how many times have you been in an apocalypse together?”  

“Fuck off, Tom.”  

“I’m just saying, give the man some credit. He seems to be holding his own.”  

“Right. Tom,  I am still a little confused. Why did you look for us? Phil and I, I mean.  You have been friends with us for years, but we have never really been good friends. I don’t mean to be rude and I am not ungrateful, I’m just wondering why you went to so much effort to find us.”  

His voice dropped low, “I didn’t want to be alone.” He paused a moment. “I tried to find the others, too you know. The “YouTube” gang.”  

“Well, who else did you find?”  

“No one.” He said, his voice thick with emotion.  

“Oh god.”  

“I think the Brighton crew made it out, but I can’t be sure.  I really hope they did.”  

“Me too,” Dan said, somberly.  

About 20 minutes had passed, I still had my eyes closed. I hadn’t even thought about our other friends, they could be dead, infected or just as lost as we were before Tom found us. Just like my family, just like Dan's. I still really couldn’t muster any emotion about it, but I knew I would be shattered if my emotions ever returned.  

“We should stop and eat,” Tom said, breaking the quiet. “We’ll stop here, wake him up.”  

Dan slowly rubbed my shoulder, but I could tell he knew I was awake. I faked waking up.   “Hm?”  

“Food time, Phily!” Tom said from the front seat.  

I sat up and stretched. “Is it safe to stop?”  

“We’re going to find out,” Tom responded, parking the SUV in front of the large windows. When we went in, he requested the table in front of those windows. Tom wanted to keep an eye on our lifeline, which currently was a vehicle full of our supplies.  

“Glad you fellas are here and not over there,” The waitress said thoughtlessly as she handed us menus. I somewhat agreed with her, but the uncertainty of the health and safety of my family and friends had me on edge. “So, what’ll  ya have?” I pointed at some sandwich; I wasn’t very hungry anyway. I guess I had been lost in my thoughts because Dan was softly nudging me.  

“Food’s here.”  

I shrugged, looking down at the food as if it were the enemy. My stomach lurched.  

“You should try to eat something,” Dan said, softly.  

“I don’t know if I can,”  

Tom cocked his eyebrow at me, “You’re not feeling poorly, are you?”  

I was, a little, but I said. “Not Physically.” I figured the unease in my stomach was fear or emotion-related. Maybe even both. Also, some could be contributed to the fact that we had been riding in a car for so long.  

“You should try to eat,” Tom said, his voice harsher than before, almost as if I were to eat something it would prove to him that I wasn’t infected.    

“Tom, back off. Phil gets travel sick; we have been in a moving car for hours.” I was thankful for Dan.  

“Oh, right.” He looked at me. “Sorry.”  

“When are you going to sleep?” I asked I wanted to take the attention off of myself.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to stop moving.”  

“You still need to sleep,” Dan said, taking a drink of his coffee. “We’re sticking to back roads still, right? Then I can drive while you sleep for a bit.”  

“Dan, are you sure?”  

He shrugged, “It can’t be that hard, just the other side of the street, right?”  

“Yeah, okay.” Tom conceded, “I could use a nap.” We had finished at the diner, after paying for our food and an uncomfortable and disgustingly wet handshake from the owner, we piled into the car.  Dan and Tom had gotten out the door before me so they had avoided the grotesque gesture of appreciation.  As I walked to them, I noticed my hand was stinging.  I looked down to see a cut that the man’s sweaty palms had come into contact with; I cringed and desperately attempted to keep down the two bites of sandwich that I had taken.    

“You okay?” Dan asked.  

“Yeah,” I said wiping my hands on my pants.  I didn't want to talk about it.

 Tom pulled into a petrol station and filled up; he also bought many food items and drinks. He waved his credit card at us. “Might as well max the bastard, they can’t expect me to pay the bill when the world’s ending, can they?” He winked; Dan rolled his eyes.   Tom drove us to the back roads so Dan could take over. He turned on the radio.    

“Officials say outbreaks will be likely, but the CDC has assured AXI news that they will be able to maintain it, keeping casualty rates lower than other countries”    

Tom scoffed, “Oh yeah.” he said sarcastically.  

“Be as snarky as you want, but you had better hope they’re right,” Dan said.    

Tom had pulled over for Dan to drive; but not before a quick insisted lesson on how to shoot a gun.  

“Tom, I don’t want to know how to shoot a gun.”  

“Tough, you need to. If something happens to me, you need to know how to protect yourself.  

“I won’t shoot anyone, anyway.” He said, bitterly.  

“You would if it saved him.” Tom pointed in my direction. I saw the inner struggle happening, it was written all over Dan’s face.    

“Okay, show me.”  He said, his voice wavering.

I had stopped paying attention at this point. I couldn’t handle the thoughts that the conversation had spurred on. It was too much.  Watching Dan have to choose to kill someone to save me was a daydream I didn't want to indulge.

After about 20 minutes, they both got back into the SUV, and Dan started to drive. He surprisingly did pretty well. Tom and his gun (at least the one I knew of) were now in the back and I was next to Dan upfront. With Tom sleeping, I felt calmer.    

“How are you doing? Dan asked, quietly.  

“I’m not sure,” I was progressively starting to feel worse. I had a headache and was currently doing everything in my power not to vomit. Dan knew I was sure of it.  I knew he hadn’t said anything because he didn’t want to draw too much attention to me; Tom was already suspicious.  I wasn’t sure what lengths Tom would go to avoid infection.  Even if I wasn’t infected, would Tom’s paranoia get the best of him?  

“I’m not sure we are doing the right thing,” Dan said.  

“I know, neither am I, but I don’t know what else to do.”  

“I know.  

It was starting to get dark and I could tell that Dan’s confidence in driving had drastically diminished. I saw a sign for a motel, lit up. “We should sleep,” I said, motioning to the sign.  

“I doubt Tom would approve,” He said, but he was already slowing down.  

“I don’t care,” I said looking at him. “Dan, I need to get out of this moving vehicle.”  

Dan nodded, took the exit and pulled into the “Lazy side Inn.” He left me in the car with a sleeping Tom while he got the rooms.  

“Wake up, Tom,” He said getting back into the car.  

“What?”  

"I have gotten us two rooms for the night. I need to sleep on an actual bed and Phil needs to be stationary for a while.” Tom sighed but didn’t protest. Dan handed him his room key as he unloaded our bags.  He went directly to the shower as I sat on the bed observing our room. This was a questionable hotel, I was sure it was typically only used for one thing, but at least we weren't driving.  

“What are you thinking about?” he said, scrubbing his hair with a towel.  

“Nothing, really. I am just thankful to be still.”  

He kissed the top of my head, “Go shower, you’ll feel even better.”  

So, I did.  The water felt fantastic and it was nice to change into clean clothes. When I came out, Dan had the Tv on.  

“In addition, to the closure of the US border, the military has amped up the efforts, putting in a nationwide curfew. No one is to be outside after 10:00 Pm in your respected time zone.  Fighter jets and military-grade vehicles will now be on constant patrol. This will remain in effect for an undetermined amount of time.”  

“So, it starts,”    

“Yeah,” Dan said softly. “It appears so.”  

“I’m so,” I paused trying to find the words.  

“So,” Dan prompted.  

“I don’t even know, numb, I guess.”  

“I’m sure a lot of people have that reaction,”  

“I’m just having a hard time accepting this is reality.” I shook my head. “This is actually a Zombie apocalypse. I just don’t understand, how?”  

Dan threw his arm around me, “We should sleep, I’m sure Tom will have us up early.”  

“Probably,” I groaned.    

Dan looked at me intently. “I know car rides make you sick, but you seem unwell otherwise,”  

I looked at him, “I’m not sure.” I sighed. “Maybe you should just leave me here.”  

“Fuck off, Phil.  I am not leaving you.”   "How is this any different than what you asked me in the ocean, Dan?" "Goodnight, Phil."  

When I woke up the sunlight told me that it was probably late morning. Dan was still sleeping; I kissed his forehead softly so it didn’t wake him up. I looked out the window, everything seemed peaceful, calm, normal. If I didn’t know better, I would think we were on holiday and not running from a deadly virus.  I guess we could look at it as a holiday, except we wouldn’t ever be going home. We didn't have a home left, from what we were told. My stomach felt better today and I was starting to feel hungry. I wondered if that was what happened in stressful situations; once you accept the chaos and fear, your emotional responses are muted and they stop having physical effects on you. I didn't know, but it seemed plausible.  

“What are you looking at,” Dan’s sleep voice was one of my favorite sounds, I smiled.  

“Birds, currently. I wonder if animals can be infected?” I asked, rhetorically.    

Dan grunted and stretched, untangling himself from the blankets. “How are you feeling?”  

“Better, hungry.”  

“Good, that’s good, Phil.”  

“Mm,” I hummed, noncommittedly.    

“We should eat, I’m surprised that Tom hasn’t been banging on our door for ages. What time is it?”  

I looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand, “11:30.” I frowned. “That’s a good point. Maybe we should check on him.  

Dan hung his head, “Yeah, maybe.”  

We got dressed and attempted to leave the room, but before we could I noticed an envelope on the floor.  

I picked it up, retrieving the letter inside and read it out loud.  

“I had to leave, I located some of the others. I have left you the car and half of the supplies, there are bullets and a gun in the glove box. DON’T GET RID OF IT. You need it and I want it back when we meet again.  I left a map in the car, the route is highlighted and marked, I also made some marks for stopping places. We will all meet up at the circled area as soon as we can. Don’t waste too much time staying in one place. I have heard that it was confirmed to be in America now, so the further north we get as quickly as possible gives us the best chance. Be smart, don’t get caught up in things that don’t matter. God speed! (I’ve always wanted to write that in a letter.) -Tom”  

I stared at the note stunned, I wasn’t sure that Dan and I could do this on our own.  

“Well, I suppose we had better get moving then.”  

I looked up at him, “How are you so calm about all of this?”  

He shrugged, “This is pretty low shock value, all things considered.” He was calm, I was numb and I still couldn’t wrap my head around any of this. "We can eat in the car."  

“Dan, the gun,”  

“I can use it if I have to. Hopefully, It won’t come to that and I can give it back to Tom without shooting it.”  

“Right,” I wasn’t sure Dan would shoot anyone, even if it was to protect me. “So, I guess we are leaving?”  

“Yeah, I suppose.”  

Dan’s driving wasn’t good back home, so here it was even worse. Despite that, I was giving him credit for how well he was doing. He had managed not to get stopped by the authorities and we had not been in a collision. That’s all that mattered, I supposed. The map was leading us far north, to Thunder Bay Canada, so following the map, we drove. We had driven for most of the remaining daylight. It was starting to become dark.    

“We need petrol,” Dan said  

“I will look for a place,”  

“Great.” He rearranged. “I am so bloody bored. And sick of fucking driving.”  

“I’m sorry.”  

“S’not your fault. I just am sick of this nightmare. No internet, no sofa crease, no Netflix. Tom is gone and we truly are on our own. We have no idea how to get anywhere without this map, which is just fragile paper that can be destroyed at any moment. It's pretty much our lifeline at this point. If we lose it, we are screwed. I am not sure why we split up. In every movie known to man, splitting up ends badly. Yet here we are.” He glanced at me, he was waiting for me to reply.  

“I’m not sure what to say,” I said honestly.  

“Then don’t say anything, much like you have been since this started,” he huffed.  "I'll just be alone in this worry, I guess."

“Dan,”  

“Don’t say you’re sorry again.”  

“Why are you mad at me?”  

“I’m not mad, not exactly, but you’re acting strange and I’m bloody scared, Phil.”  

“I’m,”  

“Don’t. Just don’t”  

We got petrol and drove for about another hour, tense silence as company. There was no light left in the sky now, it was fully dark.  

“I need to sleep," I could hear the fatigue in his voice.  

Holding the map close to the radio for light, I said “There’s a “rest stop” marked here."  

“What does that even mean?”  

“For lorries, I think.”  

“Right, just tell me where to turn.”  

We had parked in a quiet corner, under a tree, and dim amber light. The rear seats were folded down into a makeshift bed, I grabbed a bag that contained some of our food and set up two plates.  

“Snacks for dinner,” I said, smiling slightly in the overhead cab light.  

“No shit, Phil. You don’t see a diner, here do you? Don’t be stupid.” His voice was callous and mean.  

“Dan, can you please stop being rude to me?” I had finally broken. The tears I had questioned the existence of that first day in Florida were now flowing down my face. “I know you’re scared and I haven’t been that supportive, but now,” I stopped and looked at him. “You may be the only one I have left. My family may be dead. I can’t deal with your cruelness or attitude right now. I am sorry, whatever I did or didn’t do to you. I am sorry. Just, please.”  

“Phil,” Dan said softly, moving towards me, pulling me into a hug. “I’m sorry. I will do better. It’s not fair for me to expect you to process a certain way or in a certain amount of time. I’m just tired, yeah? I’ll do better. Once I sleep, it will be better. Please, don’t cry.” I sniffled, “Let’s eat, I’m sure we both could use some food.”    

We had eaten and were getting ready to lay down to sleep. Dan had the gun back with us, though I was sure he was somewhat scared of it. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with it either, but I didn’t say anything.    

‘I love you, Phil,”  

“I love you too, Dan.”  

Unfamiliar voices woke me up, harsh hushed whispers seeped in through the doors.  

“Do you think anyone is in there?”  

“Maybe they are asleep?”  

“There isn’t anyone around, maybe we could,”  

“I don’t want to do this,”  

“Dan,” I whispered directly in his ear “Wake up.”  

“Wha,” I put my hand over his mouth, pointing to my ears indicating to him to listen. The dim amber light from outside gave just enough light for him to be able to see me.  

“We have to do this. We have to at least check.”  

“What if they are infected?”  

“We don’t even know if it’s occupied.”  

“It could be,”  

“I don’t think it’s spread this far north.”  

Dan reached for the gun and sat up, oh god. This was happening. He didn’t pick it up yet.  

“There is someone in here and we are very much awake.”  He said, causing me to jump.

“Oh shit,” the female voice hissed.  

“So, you’ll be on your way then,” Dan said with more confidence than I had ever heard him express.    

“Ah,” I heard more whispers, unable to make them out I strained harder with no luck. “Listen, we don’t mean any harm. We just need some supplies, we had to run,”  

“They were collecting sick people, we had to go.”  

“You’re sick?” I squeaked, fear in my voice.  

“We’re not sick at all and the one who is isn’t “Zombie” sick.”  

“Doesn’t matter, leave!” Dan yelled.  

“Please,” the female voice sounded desperate, “We just need a little food for my child so he can take his medicine. We don’t have any food right now, we are,”  

“Prove it!” Dan barked. I had never heard him speak in this tone.  

“What? How?”  

“I haven’t heard any children.”  

I heard a car door open and close, then a child whine. “Moses, wake up,”  

“Momma, I don’t wanna,”  

“I know, baby,”  

“There,” the male voice said. “So, you see, we need to help our child. We don’t want to hurt anyone.”  

“Dan,” I whispered, “The kid,”  

“Yeah, I know,” he closed his fingers around the gun, still not picking it up. “Okay, this is how this is going to work, I have a gun.” He took a deep breath. “If this is a trick, I would just leave right now. Think of the kid.”  

“We promise, just a little food and we will leave.”  

“Momma, I’m scared,” I heard the child start to cry.  

Dan’s hands were shaking so badly I doubted he could have opened the door, let alone pick up the gun. Without much thought, I picked it up, Dan looked at me confused. My hands held it steadily, I wasn’t sure how. “Phil,” Dan whispered, I shook my head  

“How can we be sure you’re not infected?  

“We have hand sanitizer!”  the male exclaimed  

Dan scoffed. “I doubt that will combat becoming a Zombie,”  

“The alcohol sizzles on the skin of an infected,” the female said, “It’s been all over the news!”  

“What?” How could we know if that were true? We hadn’t paid any attention to the news lately.  

“Do we trust that?” Dan whispered.  

“I don’t know,  how do we know how it spreads, is it through the air?”  

“No,” the male voice said, “direct contact with bodily fluids.”  

“We haven’t been keeping up with this as well as we should have been,” Dan said, shaking his head.  

“Fine,” I took a deep breath. "I have the gun, I am going to crack this window,”  

“Put your arms together and show us you aren’t infected.” Dan finished.  

We cracked the window and saw three arms and a hand applying the sanitizer, nothing happened. Dan opened the door and climbed out, I followed closely.  

“Thank you,” the woman said, relief flooding her face. I looked at the little boy, he looked sick. I frowned. Dan reached into the back and grabbed a bag of fully sealed food and water. He knelt to him, “Hello,” I heard him say in a tone of voice he saves solely for animals and children. I smiled. “Are you hungry?” The boy nodded. “Okay, here.” Dan handed him the bag as he retreated to his parents, stumbling slightly from the weight of it.

“Thank you,” the man said.  

“You’re welcome,” Dan said. “So, they are rounding up sick people are they?”  

“Yes,” the woman said, “They think they are more susceptible, but it’s spread through bodily fluids, not the air. It’s ridiculous."  

“What are they doing with sick people?” I asked. Both of them remained silent. “Oh,” I said.  If they couldn't answer, I knew it wasn't good.

“You’re British?” The man said, panicked, suddenly noticing our accents. “Did you live here before, or did you flee?”  

“We just made it out,”  

“They say it started in Texas, a flight from Dublin. At least in the US”  

“We hadn’t heard,” Dan offered.  

“The updates we’ve heard is that they lit most of the Uk on fire and alcohol burns the skin of those infected in the stages where they don’t physically appear sick.”  

Suddenly, the woman dropped the bag and the man tossed the hand sanitizer to Dan. They just had realized they didn’t know if we were infected or not.  “Your turn then,” He was nervous. Dan nodded and applied some to his arm and nothing happened. Relieved the woman picked up the bag. Dan handed it to me.  My hands shook as I took the bottle, setting the gun down on the seat.    

“Phil?” Dan asked, his face dropping.  

“Yeah, Yeah.” I popped open the cap and drizzled a large glob on my arm, suddenly pain blossomed and I heard sizzling.  

“Holy shit,” the man said, ushering his family quickly to his car. “He didn’t touch the bag, did he?”  

“No, I didn’t,” I said sadly. They all slammed their doors and sped out of the parking lot.  

“Oh, Phil,”  

“Dan,” I said quietly. “I am not sure how I haven’t infected you.”  

“How did you get infected, Phil?” He asked, raking a hand through his curls.  

“Must have been the sweaty guy at the diner,” I said. “Dan, I’m going to turn into one of those things. I am going to die.”  

“You don’t know that, I bet the American government is trying to find a cure right now! You’re going to be fine Phil; it’s going to be fine.”  

“I don’t know how I am still me; I thought this thing moved fast.”  

“See? Maybe you are somehow immune to that part!”  

“Dan,” I said softly. “You know you have to leave me here.”  

“What? No Phil. No. We have to go to meet Tom and the others.”  

“Dan, I am going to become a Zombie.”  

“We don’t know that for sure!” He insisted, he was becoming hysterical.    

“Dan, please don’t make this harder than it needs to be,”  

“No, we will live here, in the car, until they come up with a cure!”  

“Remember Florida? You asked me not to stay and die with you. I am just asking you the same.  How can I allow myself to even consider having you stay with me? How can you do this to me? I am going to infect you.  You are going to die, because of me. You have to leave, now! Somehow you are not infected!  You are going to survive. Go.”    

Suddenly Dan opened the front door, laid across the seats and got something out of the glove box and came back to me.  “I'm sorry about this," He said, confusing me.  

“For what?” Suddenly, Dan, had me pinned to the rear seat; I saw he was holding something that glinted in the light. “What are you?” My words died in my throat as there was a  sharp,  burning pain in my arm. Dan then slit his palm open and pressed it into my cut, as hard as he could, causing both wounds to open further.  

“No, Dan, what are you doing! Stop!”

"You have not infected me and you won't, Phil. I am infecting myself."

I struggled against him, “Please, stop.”  Tears welled up in my eyes.

“Shut up, Phil.” He said softly, “You know, my whole family is probably dead too.  I’m not fucking leaving you, Phil. I knew you wouldn’t accept that. Now we both are going to be infected.”  

I was crying at this point. “You are an idiot.”    

“I don’t see it that way.”  

“We are both going to die now, you realize that, right?”  

“Or become mad Zombies together,” He had removed his hand from my arm and grabbed a wad of napkins. He pressed some to the cut on my arm as he tried to control the bleeding in his palm.  

I moved my arm and held the pressure on my wound. “You could have gone to Tom, could have been happy. You didn’t have to become this,”  

He shrugged, “Can’t be bothered, I can't see a life where I am happy without you.” He grabbed my face and kissed me hard. “I love you.”   “I love you too,” I said resolved.    

“So, what do you say, Phil? Want to be my Zombie boyfriend until the end?”  

“This is so stupid, you should have run from me. This is going to be hell.”  

“Nah,” he said kissing my cheek. “This will be the most fun I’ve ever had!”  

[danfanciesphil]

too high (can’t come down) by @danfanciesphil

Suspending himself 7,000 feet above the rest of the world seems likely to be a sure-fire way for Dan to escape normality, and isolate himself for the foreseeable future. The Secret of the Alps, a small hotel tucked into the side of the Swiss mountains is too niche for most avid adventurers to have heard of, making it the perfect place for Dan to work as he sorts through his problems. Unfortunately, privacy is a coveted thing, and as Dan soon finds out, the hotel harbours one guest who values it more than most.

Rating: Explicit Tags: Enemies to lovers, snow, mountains, skiing, hostility, slow burn, secrecy, longing, repression, nobility, classism, cheating, eventual sex

Ao3 Link

Chapter One Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Mr Novokoric doesn’t cross paths with Dan for the rest of the day, so Dan doesn’t get a second opportunity to gawp at an entitled semi-celebrity, not that he has much of a desire to, after their first encounter. It’s probably for the best that Dan avoids him for a while, given that he’s still shimmering with rage. How was he supposed to know that this man is some sort of Royal exception to the hotel rules? Just because he made a mistake doesn’t mean he deserved to be talked to with such... disdain. 

So, devoid of any further unpleasant - albeit unnervingly handsome - strangers, the rest of Dan’s third day passes without much to note. Mona had been right about the days here being pretty much the same. He imagines it will soon become hard to distinguish one day from the next. He’ll have to use the evening film as a marker so he can remember which days he did what, though that won’t be easy either, as Mona has an apparent love for heist movies, which aren’t known for their vastly dissimilar plots.

Dan heads to bed weary, wondering how long it will take to fall into a routine, so he can drift through the days without thinking. As he fumbles for his key, he notes the light on in the next room again, and pauses. He spends most of his days alone here, either in the suite on the top floor, or out on the slopes somewhere. If Mr Novo-dick is really in the room next to his, then that presumably means the music Dan has been hearing is coming from him. At least that means Dan isn’t developing a slow schizophrenia, but it does seem odd. Dan wouldn’t have had the man who shouted at him this morning pegged as a Chopin enthusiast.

Putting it to the back of his mind for now, Dan goes inside and gets ready for bed, only realising he’s being especially quiet when he’s already in his pyjamas, sat under the covers, ears staining to hear something above the silence. As the wait stretches on, Dan feels the familiar weight of his own guilt, failure and misery closing in, and soon the first of his tears begin to drip from his lashes. Soon, he is full on sniffling, eyes streaming, mouth pulled down in an unattractive curl.

And like clockwork, a melody begins, drifting slowly and calmly through the wooden wall. It’s soothing and delicate, making Dan’s sniffs lessen, and then stop altogether. He sighs in relief, settling back into his pillows, and lets the music buffet him gently into a long, deep sleep.

*

The next couple of days pass in a similar vein. Dan is woken early by the extreme light pouring into his room. He drags himself downstairs and into the kitchen, where Louise teases him for ten minutes straight while he drinks the coffee she makes him, and eats whatever delicious food she’s prepared. He sets up for breakfast out on the balcony with Mona, and serves the four guests that attend, all of whom tell him he’s a ‘charming’ and ‘polite’ young man. 

In the intervening hours between breakfast and lunch, he cleans the guests’ bedrooms and changes the beds, tidies the communal areas, and if he’s feeling brave, goes outside to sweep the area around the hot tub and wipe down the benches in the sauna. He and Mona then serve lunch, eat whatever Louise has left over, then do a general stock take. After that, they serve dinner, eat dinner, and finally set up the evening film. During any downtime, Dan sits at the front desk, answering the phone when it occasionally rings, booking in new guests, or granting the requests of current ones. At the end of the long days, Dan falls onto his bed, sometimes managing to worm out of his clothes, sometimes not, and makes a valiant attempt at crying himself to sleep. Inevitably however, that light, classical music starts up before he can get too lost in his own sadness, and he finds himself floating away with it, his cheeks sticky with dried tears when he wakes up the next morning, ready to repeat the whole thing again.

He’s never exactly rushed off his feet, but he rarely has time to be bored, apart from late in the evening, when Mona leaves him at the desk, and he wiles away the hours until his shift ends playing on his phone, or reading one of the books left for guests on the mezzanine lounge.

For three days, Dan doesn’t speak again with Mr Novokoric, though he does glimpse a flash of crimson from his window each morning, and occasionally catches sight of him wandering through the hotel, on his way back from the hot tub, or clasping a cup of coffee as he sneaks back into his room. On his fifth day, Dan watched from the desk as Mr Stevens - a middle aged guest with a receding hairline and an aversion to wearing anything except a robe - accost Mr Novokoric in the lobby to discuss the weather. Somewhat hilariously, Mr Novokoric appeared to be too polite to simply turn his back on the man, and had stood for eight patient minutes, responding in short, stunted sentences, and looking extremely uncomfortable. It had been the highlight of Dan’s day.

On Saturday, Dan’s seventh day, just before noon, Dan is sat at the front desk, wondering if Louise might have finished making lunch yet, and if he could go up and see, when the front door slams open, and Mr Novokoric hurtles through it, still wearing his skis. Dan can only watch, mouth agape, as the man awkwardly but determinedly slides his way into the lobby before reaching down, muttering angrily, and undoing the skis one at a time. He then proceeds to kick each one hard, sending them skittering across the wooden floor, and into the far wall. It’s reckless, idiotic behaviour, and if it had been anyone else, Dan would not have hesitated to call them out on it. The skis are heavy, and the walls are made of wood, for christ’s sake. Dan can see the chips they’ve made from all the way across the room.

Mr Novokoric does not, apparently, care about this. He marches across the room towards Dan, pulling off his thick gloves and tossing them to the floor as he goes. If he thinks Dan is picking them up for him he can forget about it. By the time Mr Novokoric is at the desk, Dan’s mouth is a set line, and he’s having trouble keeping himself from curling his fingers into fists.

“Sir, is there something the matter-”

“I need to use your phone,” Mr Novokoric barks. “Now.”

Dan thinks about saying no, or refusing, mostly because he wants to piss this asshole off, but his years of customer service training override his petulance. “Certainly, Sir,” he says through gritted teeth, then reaches underneath the desk, and lifts the corded telephone up onto it. “Go right ahead.”

Mr Novokoric snatches the receiver at once, and immediately begins punching in numbers with such vigorous jabbing motions that Dan fears for the keys. He lifts the receiver to his ear, fingers drumming restlessly on the lip of the desk. He turns to Dan, incredulous.

“Are you just going to stand there and listen to my private call?”

Heat surges into Dan’s cheeks, mostly born of the intense anger that sweeps through him. He doesn’t trust himself to reply, so he simply turns from the sight of the man in front of him, and begins pretending to be engrossed in the guest information database on the hotel’s only ancient computer.

For a moment, Dan can still feel eyes on him, and is convinced he’s about to be shouted at further, but then he hears Mr Novokoric’s voice say “about bloody time!”

The voice on the other end of the line, which Dan can just about hear, replies, “who is this?”

Dan has to hide his smirk in his hand.

“It’s your husband, you wank-stain,” comes Mr Novokoric’s hushed, furious response, which has Dan’s eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t recognise my voice.”

“Phil?” the disembodied voice says, vaguely. “This isn’t the number you were calling from a minute ago.”

It’s taking an extreme amount of effort for Dan to keep his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him. He tries valiantly to appear as though he’s engrossed in reading the Stevens’ guest information. It seems that under ‘special requests’, Mr and Mrs Stevens had asked for ‘an extra robe each’.

“That’s because you pissed me off so much that I dropped my phone down a mountain!”

There’s a pause in the conversation, and then the responding voice says, a touch amusedly, “a little harsh to blame me for that, darling. What could I possibly have said that would upset you so much?”

“I’m upset because you cancelled on me, again!” Mr Novokoric snaps. “I can’t believe you, Nikolai. How long are you going to leave me up here at the peak of Mount-fucking-Whatever? Are you playing out some warped, Rapunzel love story for the media?”

There’s something vaguely pathetic lurking beneath Mr Novokoric’s words. Dan squints at the screen, not seeing it, and strains to hear whatever is being said on the other end of the line.

“Darling, you know I’d have you with me in a heartbeat if I could,” the voice says, sounding slow and distracted. “I’ve just been drowning in all these meetings and dull media-stints. You’d be bored stiff if you were here. It won’t be much longer. There’s that benefit thingy in a week or so, right? You should probably come along to that. I’ll send the helicopter to collect you.”

“Oh I should probably come, should I?” Mr Novokoric snarls. “Good to know that, as we’re married, it’s probably a good idea for us to be together at least one fucking night of the year. You know, most married couples actually live in the same house. We’re not even in the same country most of the time!”

“It’s for the best that you stay out of the public eye for a bit, Phil. We’ve spoken about this.” 

“Even if that’s true, Nik, you said you’d take a few days off to spend some time with me-”

“I have to go, darling, I’m sorry,” the voice says. Dan might be imagining it, but he thinks he hears a splashing noise, followed by a shriek of laughter. “I’ll see you in a week.”

“What’s that noise? Nikolai, are you in the Ibiza apartment again-”

He cuts off as the dull note of the dial tone replaces the other person’s voice. Dan chews the inside of his cheek, and sneaks a glance up as Mr Novokoric places the receiver down, slowly, and turns to lean against the desk. At first, Dan is smug; he wishes he were able to hang up so brutally on him, but on closer inspection, he notices that Mr Novokoric actually appears to be crying. At least, his bright blue eyes are glistening. Traitorously, Dan’s good nature wins out, and he feels his heart squeeze in dumb sympathy. Dick-brain or not, Dan can’t just sit by while a guest he’s employed to look after cries right beside him. He plucks the box of tissues from the shelf behind him.

“Ex-excuse me, Mr Novokoric,” Dan says, swallowing a wash of pride for getting the name right on his first out-loud try. He holds out the box of tissues even though the other man doesn’t acknowledge him. “Here, take these.”

Mr Novokoric turns to Dan coldly, snatching the box from him. “I’m not crying,” he insists, but yanks a tissue from the box anyway, scrubbing it over his face.

“Oh, no,” Dan says, nodding in complete agreement with this outright lie. He really is an absurdly patient and talented customer service worker. “I just thought…” he scrambles for a viable explanation. “Well, I don’t know about you but I think the, er, high altitude of this place does something weird to my sinuses. I’m blubbering every night,” he jokes, thinking that the peppering of truth might give his ramble a little weight. 

It would be so easy, Dan thinks, for Mr Novokoric to accept Dan’s fumbling excuse for the offer of tissues, to blame the thin air for his tears and never speak about it again. But evidently the man has a defensive arsenal so loaded and precarious it can be triggered with the slightest wrong step.

So, Mr Novokoric’s expression hardens, and he says, “so it’s you that I can hear wailing on the other side of my wall, is it? You should keep these for yourself.” He shoves the tissues back into Dan’s hands. “Maybe then I'll actually get some sleep.”

Like he’s been whipped, Dan shrinks back, attempting to swallow the burning lump of coal now lodged in his throat. Any response he might have had, stupidly kind or not, dies on his tongue. For a split second, he imagines he sees a flash of regret pass over Mr Novokoric’s features, but then he is stalking away, skis lying forgotten against the wall, and stomping up the stairs. Dan sits heavily down in his chair, and tries not to let the flames of angry, hurt humiliation burn him to ash.

*

That night, Dan does his best to muffle his sobs in his pillow. They’re worse tonight, because the embarrassment of knowing he’s being heard, that he’s been heard this whole time, only makes him feel worse. If he could halt the tears altogether for Mr Novokoric’s sake he would, but nightfall has always been the time where his resolve leaves him. With nothing to distract him, Dan can only dwell on everything that’s wrong. At ten past one, however, the music seems to know to start up anyway; it’s baffling, obviously, but the only explanation Dan can think of is that the music is either unrelated to Dan’s crying, or being played to drown it out. He tries not to be grateful for it, knows that before long he’ll rely on it to send him off, but in the end he can’t help letting the swells of notes wash over him, and press him into unconsciousness.

*

Just after lunch has been cleared on Sunday, Dan is caught in a pleasant but rather over-detailed discussion with Mr and Mrs Stevens about their show-dog, Sherbet, when Louise calls him over from the serving hatch. He excuses himself politely, leaving the middle-aged couple to their game of Uno, and walks up to her.

“What’s up with you today?” she asks as soon as he’s within earshot, then places a mug of coffee in front of him. “You’ve got a face like a trodden foot.”

He manages a smile, but he doubts it’s very convincing. “Just tired,” he says, picking up the mug. “Thanks.”

She slaps his wrist, and he almost spills some. “That’s not for you, foot-face.”

“Oh.” He lowers it, glancing back at the Stevens’s. “Did they order…?”

“It’s for Phil,” she says, briskly wiping up the coffee Dan spilled with a wad of kitchen roll. For a moment, Dan just looks at her blankly, and she raises an eyebrow. “Mr Novokoric.”

“Oh,” Dan says, and smartly places the mug back down, stomach squeezing.

For whatever reason, his abrupt action makes Louise laugh. “Christ, he’s not a yeti, Dan. Anyway, he’s been looking for you all morning, so I thought you could take this to him.”

Exhausted as he is, it takes the words a few tries to penetrate Dan’s addled mind. “Wait, what?” he asks eventually, sure he must have misheard. “Looking for me?”

“Yes,” Louise replies, like this is a perfectly normal occurence. “Mona mentioned it earlier. Apparently he was hoping to catch you at breakfast but you weren’t serving.”

“I… I was adjusting the chlorine levels in the hot tub,” Dan says, feeling as though he’s stood on the edge of a crumbling cliff. Mr Novokoric is looking for him, specifically? Had he not made Dan feel awful enough yesterday? Is he looking for another chance to brutally attack his ego for a trivial reason? “Do I have to take this to him?”

Louise looks at him strangely. “Are you scared of him or something? I know he’s technically Royalty, but he’s just a regular guy underneath, Dan. Not much older than you. I know it’s a bit daunting at first, but don’t worry. He’s pretty chill.”

This makes Dan snort. “I’ll try and remember that next time he’s verbally abusing me.”

“Yeah, he’s a hot-head at times,” Louise allows. “I remember my first few encounters with him being on the snippy side. You’ve just got to get past that though, he doesn’t mean it. I just think he’s a bit… frustrated.” This makes Dan’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, and Louise laughs at her own phrasing. “Not like that. Well, maybe like that. I mean, he’s here for weeks at a time, supposedly having ensnared this fabulous young hottie. But where is this prize pig, y’know?”

“Ibiza,” Dan mutters, and when Louise sends him a puzzled look, he picks up the coffee mug, sensing defeat. “Where am I taking this, then?”

“He was heading for the gym, last I saw.” Louise watches him make his way towards the stairs, being extra careful not to spill any coffee lest he feel the wrath upon its delivery. “Dan?” she calls out, making him pause. “Be nice, okay?”

“Me be nice?” Dan exclaims, and turns to shoot her an incredulous look, but Louise’s expression is unmoved. 

“Just let him say what he’s got to say.”

“Let him belittle me, you mean?”

Louise sighs heavily, turning away from him, and Dan is left in the middle of the mezzanine with a steaming mug of coffee, and a niggling sense that there’s still some great secret etched into the wooden walls of this place that he still hasn’t been entirely privy to.

*

Dan has only been in the gym once, on his first day, which is a perfect allegory for his entire mentality around gyms in general. From outside the door, he can hear a rhythmic pounding noise, like someone is punching the shit out of something. It’s unsurprising, then, that as he enters the gym, he sees Mr Novokoric in the corner by the mirrors, punching the shit out of a big cylindrical bag. For obvious reasons, this sight does not instil Dan with a desperate urge to go over and interact with Mr Novokoric, who is wearing headphones, and appears not to have noticed Dan come in.

Giving him a wide berth, Dan slowly approaches, intending to place the mug of coffee down on a nearby surface and escape quickly before Mr Novokoric has the chance to either hit him or yell at him some more. Instead, what happens is this: Dan attempts to edge along the wall to put the coffee down, and at the same moment, Mr Novokoric draws back his elbow and catches Dan in the arm, jolting him. Louise makes a good cup of coffee, Dan will admit. As it soaks through the fabric of his shirt sleeve, however, he can’t help but wish it was a little less scalding.

“Fuck,” Dan shouts, just as Mr Novokoric jumps back in surprise, ripping his headphones from his ears. He’s panting and damp, strands of his jet black hair sticking to his forehead, making it look like he’s got a stupid noughties side-fringe.

“Careful!” Mr Novokoric exclaims, as if Dan hasn’t already done the stupid thing. Surprisingly, he takes the mug of hot coffee from Dan’s hand. “Are you hurt?”

Dan shakes out his sleeve, wincing. “I’ll live. Sorry for startling you.”

“You should announce yourself next time,” he says, like a wanker. Like Dan calling out ‘whaddup it’s me your boy Dan’ would have done any good at all when he was blaring what Dan thinks is... Fall Out Boy? Really?... through his headphones. “I could have really hurt you.”

Doubtful of this statement, Dan’s eyes flick down to Mr Novokoric’s biceps. Begrudgingly, as he surveys the shallow valleys of his arm muscles, Dan admits to himself that out of the two of them, there’s no question of who would best the other. Dan’s never been more glad of his own long sleeves.

“Yeah,” Dan mutters, wanting nothing more than to scurry away to his room and recover from this incident with the excuse of changing his wet shirt. “Sorry, Sir. Won’t happen again. Enjoy your coffee.”

“Wait,” he says as Dan turns to go. “I wanted to speak with you.”

Oh, God. It’s true. Louise wasn’t pulling his leg, it seems. Dan seriously considers just legging it. He could potentially feign a third degree burn from the coffee and sprint back through the doors. “Um, yeah,” Dan says, his own cowardice feeling vaguely nauseating as it curdles in his stomach. “She mentioned.”

“Yesterday, when I used the phone at reception-”

“I’m really sorry that I’ve been keeping you awake,” Dan blurts, badly needing this to be over now. “I never meant to-”

“I owe you an apology,” Mr Novokoric says, which stuns Dan into silence. For a minute, all he can do is stare into those two darting blue eyes, utterly perplexed. Mr Novokoric sips his coffee self-consciously. “It was rude and completely unacceptable for me to hone in on something so personal. I have no idea what your circumstances might be. I was upset, and I lashed out. So,” he sticks his hand out, awkwardly, into the space between them. “I’m sorry. Can we put it behind us?”

Dan stares at his outstretched hand as if it were a foreign beast. Then, belatedly remembering societal norms, he reaches out and takes it. “W-well, I suppose-”

“Great,” Mr Novokoric says, shaking Dan’s hand quickly, once, up and down, and then dropping it like it’s coated in poison. 

Dan stares at Mr Novokoric’s back as he sets the coffee down and pulls his gloves back on. Could it be that there’s a shade of decency to this man? Not once did it cross Dan’s mind that the reason he might be looking for Dan was to apologise.

“Yeah, great,” Dan echoes softly, and Mr Novokoric turns, eyebrows raised, as if he’s surprised Dan is still standing there.

“You can go now,” he says, puzzled, and turns his back.

All thoughts that Mr Novokoric is anything less than a rude, entitled bitch flies out of the gym window. Dan rolls his eyes, shaking his sleeve dry as he turns to leave.

(Chapter Four!)

[philsdrill]

Make You Feel at Home

Summary: After struggling through the last few days of the US tour, Dan and Phil take time to recover. Dan has to think fast on how to deal with a homesick and anxious Phil before they fly across the world to Australia.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: homesickness, one mention of being a little bit ill, slight fear of flying

A/N: Guess who birthed this little fic baby in one afternoon? Clearly I needed a break from writing chaptered. Also thank you so much to @knlalla for helping me get rid of my oversupply of commas and weird grammar.

AO3

The last few days of the US tour had been a struggle for Phil; Dan could see that. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and he’d been a little ill, which had drained an extra bit of energy out of him. He’d a rough night on the bus, followed by a hotel fire alarm the next night. After the last date in Vancouver, the two of them had collapsed into their bed for the night, finally getting a night of sleep with an opportunity for a lie in in the morning.

The next morning disappeared as the two of them slept well into the afternoon. It didn’t matter now if their sleep schedule was awful, with them about to fly to Australia in a few days. For now, all that mattered was that they got some rest and recovered from the long time they’d spent on the road. They had a couple of days to get their clothes washed, to let their injuries heal, to let their bodies recover before they got back to work again in a week’s time.

Dan eventually woke up properly about two pm, a slight headache telling him he needed to drink some water and maybe eat something. He slowly sat up in bed, then after a moment’s stretching, set off across the room to get himself some water. He’d wake Phil up in a minute, once he had himself together.

Dan knew that Phil was the more tired out of the two of them; Phil was used to getting good nights of sleep, whereas Dan could function on less sleep if he needed to. Anyway, it was time they got up, so that they could experience at least some of the day before it was night again. He gently woke Phil up, knowing that it wouldn’t necessarily be an easy feat.

It was ten minutes before Dan had Phil sitting up, placing his glasses on his nose and a glass of water in his hand as he leant back against the headboard. He seemed the better for having slept so long, but Dan could see in his eyes that he still wasn’t feeling one-hundred percent. Dan found him some paracetamol, then sat down next to him with the room service menu in his hands.

“Let’s get some food,” Dan said, his voice still warm and full of sleep.

Dan shuffled the menu halfway onto Phil’s lap so they could both read it, pointing out the section with the pancakes.

“I think I’m going to get banana and berry granola,” Dan said after a few minutes’ consideration, “You?”

“Just toast and orange juice,” Phil yawned, “And coffee. Not sure I’m feeling up to pancakes this morning.”

“Okay,” Dan nodded, thinking how unlike Phil it was to not have pancakes given the option, but he knew Phil wouldn’t appreciate him pointing it out.

Dan made his way to the room’s phone, a long standing agreement between he and Phil that he did all the room service orders. It didn’t take him long to reel off the order, then he returned to Phil, settling back onto the bed next to him, where he would stay until there was a knock at the door.

“What d’you want to do today?” Dan asked softly. “Just stay here and relax?”

“Yeah,” Phil nodded, “I think taking a shower is the most effort I’m willing to go to today.”

“Fair enough,” Dan smiled, “We can lay in bed and catch up on some shows; sounds good.”

When the room service arrived, the two tucked into their food, Dan throughorly enjoying his granola while Phil munched slowly on his toast. Dan was a little worried about him at first, but when he finished his toast, his juice and his coffee, Dan knew he was doing okay. He remained quiet for a bit, but it was noticeable when he started to benefit from the energy, a hint of a smile finding his face, then enough motivation to get out of bed to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth.

The day progressed quite strangely, with little routine. After they had both brushed their teeth, they sat on their phones for a while, catching up on social media, Dan releasing a relatable tweet to the world and Phil quietly liking a few things on twitter. Dan dug out his laptop to go on tumblr, and at that point, Phil headed off into the bathroom for his shower.

Whilst the two would sometimes shower together, today wasn’t a day for that. Maybe Phil wouldn’t have minded a little back rub and a gentle head massage, but Dan knew Phil also appreciated his alone time. A shower was a good place for clearing your mind and developing new thoughts, so hopefully it would do Phil some good.

What Dan didn’t expect was Phil to return to the room in a towel, tears streaming down his face and merging with droplets of water. Dan quickly abandoned his tumblr dashboard and opened his arms to Phil, mumbles of ‘what’s wrong?’ and ‘are you okay?’

“I miss home,” Phil sobbed. “I just want my bed and my own shower gel and things that smell familiar and…”

“Oh Phil,” Dan said softly, bringing both arms around his damp partner. “I know it’s a while yet, but we’ll be back before you know it.”

“I just feel like we’re going further away from home and I’m not sure I want to anymore,” Phil cried, “But I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Dan, knowing it was up to him to convince Phil back into a positive mindset, started to remind Phil of all the things he’d been looking forward to about these places. “You’re going to get to see a koala again. You’re going to get to see the beauty of New Zealand in person. You’re going to have the opportunity to make a silly name pun in The Philippines. You’re going to get to see India for the first time, go back to Singapore and Hong Kong. I know it’s a lot, but it’s going to be exciting, and at the end of it, we’ll be going home. I propose we have Pyjama Week 2.0 when we get back, but for now we’re having a mini pyjama day today in a hotel room, which is the most we can manage at the moment. It’s going to be okay, Phil. I promise you’ve got your energy back and we’re back doing the show and meeting people.”

“Yeah, I know it’s going to be good. I just miss home and wish we could go back for a bit first. I want to see my parents and my plants and just sleep in our own bed for a night or two,” Phil said, still sounding sad, but not crying so much anymore.

“How about you message your parents and see if they’re free to Skype today or tomorrow?” Dan suggested. “Would that help? It’s been a while since you last did that.”

“I think it would yeah,” Phil nodded, “I miss them.”

“Well let’s message them now while we remember,” Dan said, reaching away from Phil for a moment to grab his phone.

“What shall I say?” Dan said, opening up a message to Phil’s mum, “How about… ‘Hi Kath, Phil was wondering if you and Nigel are free to Skype at some point today or tomorrow? He’s feeling a little homesick and we think it would be good for him to catch up with you while we’ve got a couple days off’ ?”

“You don’t need to say about me being homesick,” Phil groaned, “But the rest of it’s okay.”

“Phil, I think it’s best to be honest and straight up about that. I don’t want them worrying about you if you seem a bit sad and tired,” Dan said, his finger hovering over the send button. “It’s from me.”

Phil realised he should just trust Dan’s opinion and okayed the message, letting Dan send it off to his mum. Dan never expected a reply so quickly, but he had one in moments.

We are about to get ready for bed, so either tomorrow or right now? What would Phil like?

With this reply, they were reminded of how late it was at home, but delaying it until tomorrow didn’t seem to sit well with Phil. There was a sense of fragility in his eyes, in the way he held himself, and Dan knew that Phil’s mum would probably be able to help with that.

I think tonight would be best - sorry for keeping you out of bed.

Dan quickly received another message, saying that they would put the computer on and they’d be ready in five minutes. In this time, Dan got Phil’s laptop set up while Phil got dressed in his pyjamas. Thankfully he had no reservations about his mum seeing him in his pjs, fresh out the shower, with slightly red-rimmed eyes from crying.

Dan wanted to give Phil the space he needed, so he asked Phil if he wanted to be beside him or at the other side of the room. They quickly settled that Phil would sit on the bed, and Dan would be at the table at the other side of the room.

When Dan heard the familiar Skype ringtone, he left Phil to it and settled down to work on editing a gaming video, keeping himself from intruding on Phil’s conversation. He put on his headphones, but had one ear slightly out from under the padding, so that he could hear if he was needed or being spoken about.

Dan got a good half hour of work in, very productive apart from the odd glance over at Phil to see if he was doing okay. It was one of these glances that brought to his attention that Phil was in tears. He whipped off his headphones and padded across the room to where Phil was sat on the bed, hiding his face in his hands.

As he approached and heard the audio from the Skype call, he heard Kath’s worried voice, “Phil, where’s Dan? Is he with you? Do I need to message him?”

“I’m here,” Dan spoke up, climbing onto the bed and getting into the shot with Phil, “Was across the room with headphones, what’s happening?”

“Phil was saying he’s anxious for the flight,” Kath said, as Dan took Phil into his arms, “The long one to Australia.”

“You are?” Dan asked softly, “You didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t really think about how long it was when we booked it… and just now it’s getting close, it’s finally sinking in… I don’t know if I can do it,” Phil sobbed.

“I will play ‘I spy…’ with you for eighteen hours if it helps,” Dan told Phil, hugging him, but still conscious he was in front of Phil’s mum, “And it was twenty-three when we flew from London, so you’ve done longer than this before and you survived that.”

“But my legs were so squashed…” Phil said, trailing off.

“You know we paid for the fanciest seats on the plane,” Dan reminded Phil, rubbing his hand down Phil’s back, “The ones with the most leg room and all the perks. We’re not going economy; it’s not going to be cramped.”

“Phil,” Katherine spoke up from the laptop. “You’ve done a harder flight before; you’re going to be okay. You’ve got Dan by your side if you get anxious and an eighteen hour game of ‘I spy…’ sounds good, doesn’t it?”

Dan turned to Phil’s mum, still keeping his arms around Phil, “I think he’ll be fine with it when we get to it; he’s just had a hard couple of days and I think he’s still quite tired, despite a long lie in. I think this anxiety will pass.”

“Get some rest in the next couple of days, Phil,” Kath said softly, “And you too, Dan, but Phil, you look like you need it.”

“I will, mum,” Phil said, nodding, brushing the tears away from his eyes, obviously feeling a little better in that he was looking slightly embarrassed.”

“I think we should let you go for now,” Kath said, “But we can speak again if you want while you’re still in Canada.”

“Thank you, mum,” Phil said softly, looking into the screen.

“Go have a cup of tea and maybe get some fresh air and see how you feel,” she told him. “We’ll be going to bed, but I’m sure Dan’ll look out for you.”

“I will,” Dan said firmly, giving Phil’s parents a little smile, “And thanks for taking the time to talk to Phil; I think he needed that.”

Phil nodded his agreement to that, and then the Lester’s started saying goodbye to each other, Phil curled into Dan’s chest, but paying all his attention to his mum and dad, as it was their last few moments on screen.

When the call was over, Dan took Kath’s advice by making Phil a cup of tea and then dragging him out onto the balcony to drink it. They stayed out there for a while, even after Phil’s cup was empty, talking over Phil’s anxieties, the change of scenery helping to bring a change in his brain. Phil would be okay for the plane, Dan was confident in that, but he’d stick by Phil’s side and give him all the support he needed until then.

As it got late and the sun started to go down, the two of them headed back into their room, pyjamas no longer warm enough for sitting on the balcony. They ordered some room service for dinner, and over their food, discussed their plans for tomorrow. Dan thought they should explore the city a little more, so they felt a bit more situated and less like they had no idea where they were. He wanted to make tomorrow’s evening about self care and looking after themselves, something that Phil needed. They’d do some shopping to buy some supplies for that: maybe a bathbomb, some face masks, some snacks. Dan had a vision, and he knew Phil would appreciate it in the end.

The two men went to bed quite early, at least quite early for them. It had been a short day and despite how much they’d slept in, some more sleep would do them good. Dan made sure to hold Phil close for the night, hoping that maybe he’d feel at home enough in Dan’s arms.

--

The following day found them exploring the city of Vancouver a little more, treating themselves to some ice cream as they walked through a park. Stanley Park was giant, and by no means did they see all of it, but from what they did, it was beautiful, walking amongst the trees, enjoying ice cream, enjoying nature. It was really what they needed to get out of their hotel room and into the world, where they had time to think, but not think too hard. They couldn’t exactly hold hands in public, but the peace of walking together was enough for them.

After spending a while in the park, they slowly made their way home, via a few shops to pick up some things for their evening of relaxation. They took a trip into Lush, and after a lot of sniffing, picked out the perfect bath bomb for the two of them to share. They headed into Shoppers Drug Mart for a few other things: some toiletries they’d been running out of, a fancy moisturiser and face masks, of course.

Their last stop before returning to their hotel was a supermarket, where they picked up some snacks, some comfort food: cookies and popcorn and Dorito’s; everything they needed to add some flavour to their evening.

By the time they got back to their hotel, both Dan and Phil were complaining to each other about their legs hurting, having walked further than they’d expected to. They were more than ready to sink into their bed, to order some take-away and spend the evening pampering themselves.

After eating a moderate amount of food with all the dips, with a show playing in the background, they settled into each other’s arms for a while. The bath would come next, but they both wanted time to digest their dinner before that.

When they finished the third episode of the show, Dan got up, cracking his back and padding across the room to their bag of purchases from earlier, “So Phil… you ready for that bath?”

With a grin and a ‘yeee’ from Phil, the two of them headed to the bathroom to drop the bath bomb into the bath and watch it dissolve into all its beautiful colours. The bright colours weren’t quite Dan’s aesthetic, but what did aesthetic matter when one was enjoying a private moment with their partner. He liked the scent, and it was Phil’s favourite, so that was what mattered.

When the bath was full and the bomb dissolved, the two stripped of their clothes and settled into the bath, Dan being Phil’s pillow today, letting Phil lean back against his chest and be enveloped by his body. Now that they had the privacy and all the time in the world, Dan took it upon himself to give Phil a back rub, to rub softly, then more firmly, easing most of the tension from his lover’s back.

With some of Phil’s favourite shampoo, which they’d picked up in the drugstore, Dan rubbed his fingers into Phil’s scalp, taking longer than he needed to lather the shampoo because he knew it would feel good. This had Phil’s eyes fluttering shut as he melted back into Dan, enjoying the fingers softly rubbing his head.

The two men stayed in the bath until the water went cold, until the warm towels on the towel rail got too tempting to stay in the cooling water any longer. They quickly rinsed off the remnants of the bath bomb with the shower before wrapping themselves up in the warm towels.

Before leaving the bathroom, they got their facemasks out of the packet and applied them to each other. Like the cat whiskers from TATINOF, it made sense, as they could see the other’s face better than their own.

In towels and facemasks, they returned to their room. It didn’t matter if they looked stupid, because they looked stupid together. They settled down on their bed to enjoy some snacks, some comfort food, pulling up another show on Dan’s laptop. They laid together for a while, indulging in the food and enjoying the show, until eventually, tiredness got the better of them and they had to finish getting ready for bed.

They settled down for the night in each other’s arms, relaxed and full of warmth. Enjoying time in each other’s presence was almost like being at home and the two of them were a lot better mentally from it.

The remainder of their time in Vancouver was spent trying to relax, trying to recover, trying to feel at home, before they set off to the other side of the world. In the end, the flight to Australia was no problem for Phil, and once they got settled back into the routine of the tour, Phil’s homesickness got left behind somewhere. He’d be happy for when they eventually did get back to London, but for the time being, Dan was his home.

hope you enjoyed!

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[xsjakalen-blog]

Free birds shouldn’t be kept in cages - 1/3

Part 2 Part 3

Part 1 - Pride

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence

''What the hell is this?'' Dad asks with a raised voice while looking through the monthly bills, eyes narrowed. Mom looks up from the ironing board in front of her. Dad is as usual seated in his armchair by the old television, resting his tired legs on the footstool, his cane by his side. Phil and Martyn are sitting beside him on the grey carpet, eyes fixated on the cartoon playing in the television. Phil keeps quiet. Martyn has taught him to.

Mom places the iron back on the ironing board and takes place beside Dad, who points at something on the paper with a stiff finger. She bends down to get a closer look, takes a step back as she finds out what he's referring to. ''The oven broke,'' She explains with a weak voice, folding her hands in front of her. ''I had our landlord come fix it.'' Dad grabs the remote, turns off the TV.

''Hands on the wall.'' Mom doesn't cry as she obeys, she never does. Phil clenches his small fists and looks to his big brother. They both know what comes next. Dad arises from his chair, grabbing his cane. Martyn covers Phil's eyes with a hand, but he can still hear the well known sound of wood against flesh, the screams of pain that follows. -x-x-x-

''Howell,'' A female guard commands Dan to step out from the line of newly arrived inmates, voice monotone and eyes fixated on the clipboard in her hands. She hands Dan a small paperclip and an identification card as he approaches her with stiff steps, signals for him to tag along with a quick, impatient hand gesture. Dan attaches the card to the pocket of his orange jumpsuit and follows her hasty steps. The obnoxious colour makes him stick out among the grey sweatshirts, white tank tops and jogging pants adorning the other inmates, signals his status as a newcomer, a newborn to the hierarchy behind bars.

''Breakfast starts at six, lunch at one, dinner at five,'' The guard informs him as she leads him past the dining hall and activity rooms, quiet criminals staring him down, calculating his every move. There's no hoard of dehumanized animals awaiting him, no wordstream of profanities and dirty promises flowing his way; just an agonizing, straining silence, making his ears ring and blood boil. A lot of them are covered in tattoos, steroid muscles prominent through their shirts. Dan has neither, got nothing but his pride. ''Work hours are between breakfast and lunch, phone and shower hours between lunch and dinner.''

Dan walks with his chin raised, face stripped from every emotion. He won't show them any sign of weakness. ''Got it,'' He responds and fixates his eyes on the prison's concrete walls, painted in a mocking pattern of blue and white, symbolizing qualities none of the men within these walls posses; hope and innocence. The entire interior seems cynical and impersonal, every single furniture Dan passes is made of steel and bolted to the floor beneath his white canvas shoes.

The guard guides him up a staircase leading him to an elongated corridor filled with claustrophobic cells, only segregated by metal bars. When he'd awaited his trial back at county he'd been isolated twenty three hours a day, but at least his concrete cell had provided him with an illusion of privacy and space. ''We lock down at nine, all lights are out at ten.'' The guard stops in front of a cell and scribbles something on her clipboard with the pen in her hand. The cell contains two steel beds bolted to the floor, two small steel cabinets mounted on each side of the wall, a small window in the middle and a steel toilet underneath it. No sink. ''Your cellmate is inmate Liguori, he'll fill you in on the rest.''

Liguori, a young man Dan guesses to be around the same age as himself, looks up from the book in his hand at the mention of his name, offering Dan a short nod out of courtesy. Despite the friendly gesture the man's hooded eyes are cautious and calculating, defined jaw locked in a tense frown, distrust engraved in stern facial features. Dan returns the nod and enters the cell, wondering how long it will be before that look adorns his own face.

''I don't get any toiletries?'' He asks the guard as he sits down on his bed, the thin mattress reminding him of a piece of cardboard. The question makes both the guard's eye and Liguori's lip twitch, one in annoyance and the other in amusement.

''This is a category B prison, inmate,'' The guard barks, finally looking up from the clipboard. Dan knows his existence has been reduced to nothing but a waste of air by the glare he receives. ''Not a goddamn hotel.'' The guard slams the cell door shut and storms away.

Liguori leans forward, watching her leave through the bars and only arising from his bed once she's completely out of frame. He grabs a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste from his cabinet, throws it to Dan.

''Thanks,'' Dan mutters as he catches the items, placing them beside him. He leans back against the bars, sighs as he tiredly rubs his face. The inmates at county all claimed prison would be better, some even adding additional charges to their sentences just to get transferred, but so far Dan can only doubt the truth of those statements. County is for the criminals who still have a chance of making it on the outside, prison is for the criminals who are no longer wanted on the outside.

''I'm not your friend, newbie,'' Liguori responds as he closes his cabinet, combing a hand through a mop of curly hair. Dan nods slowly in understandment, pushing his pride aside and respecting the yet undefined rules. ''But we were all new here once.''

''Yard time?''

''A privilege, not a right.'' Liguori takes place in front of the toilet, pushes his jogging pants a bit down and proceeds to take a piss. ''Hell, even the fucking air we breathe in here is a privilege according to those pigs.''

-x-x-x-

During breakfast the following morning Dan chooses to take seat at an empty table, defying the hierarchy among the rest of the inmates. The majority of them are visibly divided into groups, the leaders seated in the middle of the steel tables, their followers scattered around them. Apart from the tattoos, bland clothing and concrete surrounding them, the scenario truly looks like something taken out of an old renaissance painting. Dan doesn't want to take any part in it, his pride won't let him.

The movies all got one part right in their portrayals of prison; the food absolutely sucks, and Dan refuses to believe it was ever made for human consumption. He struggles to identify the grey sludge in the tray in front of him, but guesses it's supposed to resemble oatmeal. Before he gets to taste it the sound of approaching footsteps reaches his ears, and as he looks up a group is making their way towards him, steps laced with confidence and chests puffed up in a silly display of domination. Dan straightens his back, relaxes his shoulders and raises an eyebrow their way.

''Me and my crew would like to welcome you,'' Their leader starts out, his parade of dancing monkeys forming a half circle around him. Dan's cellie is there too, keeping his gaze down as Dan tries to catch his eyes. Their leader stands in the middle, arms crossed as he pins Dan down with his hazel eyes. He's older, a few years, with a square jaw and straight hair that haven't been cut in a while. ''Maybe we can help each other out while we're here,'' He says and moves closer to Dan, arms crossed over his chest. Dan can feel the rest of the inmates looking at them, eyes glued to the scenario as if it's an episode of a tv series. The guards near the two exits in each side of the dining hall are watching too, making sure all their tamed animals don't cross any boundaries. ''Make our stays a bit more pleasant.''

''I don't think so,'' Dan responds, the rejection finally making Liguori raise his eyes from the ground, offering Dan a gesture so subtle he almost misses it; a brief, sharp shake of his head. Dan squints his eyes at him, his fingers clenching around the plastic spoon in his hand, a vague fire of anger burning within him. Dan doesn't need help, doesn't need whatever protection both Liguori and the man in front of him seem to offer. He walks alone. He walks with pride.

''Careful,'' The man exclaims as he slams his fist down on the table, the force of it making the food tray clatter and tremble, specks of oatmeal escaping from it, landing on the steel surface instead. Dan takes a deep breath through his nose, calmly places his spoon in the tray. The leader bends down to meet him, points toward someone observing them from a distance. ''I'm not the only one who got my eyes on you.''

''Get your ass back in your seat or that's a shot, Kendall,'' A guard barks, but the leader, Kendall, stands still. Dan follows his finger's direction, is immediately captivated by a pair of wide, unsettling eyes a few tables ahead, bluer than the painted walls behind them and greyer than the concrete floor beneath them. They're like windows; the owner can look out but Dan can't look in.

''I only ask nicely once,'' Kendall continues the conversation against the shell of Dan's ear, but that's not what sends shivers down his spine. The face of the wide eyed stranger is graced by a touch of youth, childishness even, the only thing giving away that he's years older than Dan being the soft wrinkles in his porcelain skin, appearing near the corners of his mouth and eyes as he straight up laughs at the display before him.

''Last warning, inmate!'' The guard barks once more. Kendall stands up straight again, not yet leaving, both him and the observing stranger awaiting Dan's answer. The stranger rocks gently from side to side, bites down on plump lips and burrows thin, long fingers in black hair in excitement. He looks absolutely mad. Dan can handle mad. Dan can handle Kendall. Dan can handle every fucking thing as long as he got his pride.

''I only decline nicely once, too.''

-x-x-x-

''How's home?'' Dan asks as soon as Adrian picks up on the other end, his voice a frail whisper despite the hallway being completely silent, empty. A fight had broken out in the yard a few minutes earlier, and Dan had seen an opportunity to finally make the call. Violence has never really entertained him anyway.

The phone in his hand is old, connected to an orange box mounted on the concrete wall through a curly wire. Calls in prison are expensive, each call charging the receiver around two pounds a minute, which is money Dan is very aware Adrian doesn't have, not anymore. He'll keep it short. He just needs to hear his brother's voice, just needs to know that life goes on outside the prison even if it feels as if the earth has stopped rotating inside it.

''Shitty,'' Adrian responds after a few quiet moments, Dan guessing he too is at loss for words. They haven't talked since Dan was first incarcerated, not even at Dan's trial. It's not that Dan hadn't had the opportunity to call at county, he just hadn't known what to say before now. He knows Adrian feels guilty and responsible for what happened, but not more than he does himself. Dan doesn't regret his crimes as much as he regrets the costs of not getting away with them. ''How's prison?'' He sounds tired, yet the languid voice still bears a touch of the cheekiness that used to characterize Dan's little brother.

''Pretty shitty, too.'' Dan relaxes his shoulders as the conversation goes on, slowly easing into comfortable familiarity. He wonders where Adrian is staying, how he manages to get by. There's so many questions he wants to ask, but also so many answers he's not ready to receive. He rests his free arm against the wall in front of him, looks down at the floor, mahogany orbs fixated on a speck of dirt on his white canvas shoes.

''You'll survive,'' Adrian promises, voice laced with a fierce certainty despite the layer of dullness wrapped around his vocal chords. The words result in an ugly grimace spreading across Dan's facial features, making his eyebrows knit together and the corners of his mouth tug downwards. He's tired of merely surviving; it's the bare minimum of life, a weak, shameful state of living reserved for society's fuckups, the bottom of the food chain.

''What about you?'' Dan truly couldn't care less about his own well being. It doesn't matter if he'll spend the rest of his days locked up, rotting away in his prison cell. Nothing matters as long as Adrian is okay. Nothing ever has.

''I'll survive, too.'' Adrian's certainty isn't so fierce anymore, but Dan is still grateful for the lie.

''Good.'' The sound of lazy footsteps in the distance makes Dan resume his prideful posture, body standing tall within seconds, the vulnerability that had previously adorned his face quickly turning to stone. ''I'll call again soon, okay?'' He promises, the air heavy with words that'll never be spoken. They don't need to say it, never really have. They just know.

''Yeah, yeah,'' Adrian responds, the sound of shoe soles scraping against concrete floor becoming louder, approaching. Dan turns his head as the steps comes to a screeching halt a few feet from him, and is immediately met with the same mixture of grey and blue from the dining hall a few days ago. The man just stands there, staring at Dan with wide eyes while fiddling with the hem on his sweatshirt. ''Take care, don't drop the soap,'' Adrian bids his farewell on the other end. Nothing about the man's demeanor reeks of danger, yet Dan still feels intimidated and cautious underneath his unnerving gaze.

''Little shit,'' Dan responds even though Adrian has already ended the call. He places the phone back on its stand and then turns to face the stranger, who looks as if he has something he wants to say. ''Got a problem?'' Dan asks, taking a step towards him, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. The question seems to entertain the man, a tight smile claiming his lips in seconds, revealing a row of white teeth. He's skinny, but Dan can still sense the patches of firm muscle beneath the sleeves of his shirt. He takes another step forward. There's only a feet between them now.

''You won't survive on your pride in here,'' The man responds as if he got his plan figured all out, sees right through the tough facade Dan trusts to keep him safe in here. His voice is deep, a smooth sound laced with heavy excitement that makes Dan's blood boil. He closes the gap between them, standing barely an inch taller. He reaches out, grabs the small identification card attached to the man's shirt.

''What will I survive on then, Lester?'' He asks, the name tasting foreign and bitter in his mouth. Lester doesn't flinch, doesn't front, doesn't do anything. He just smiles as if he can predict the future, as if Dan's fate is a book he has already read and knows the ending to.

''Submission.'' The word drips off Lester's tongue like venom, but he speaks as if it's the antidote. Behind the madness in his glossy eyes there's a primal emotion; hunger, need, desire. Dan feels sick.

''I'd rather die.''

-x-x-x-

The day Dan finally gets to discard of the obnoxious orange jumpsuit is the same day he gets assigned to work in laundry. The laundry room is in the prison's basement, a cramped and damp room without any windows, the only source of light being a small lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. The small room is filled with the soft humming of the washing machines and dryers, filling in the silence between Dan and his work partner. They're standing at a steel table, folding the grey jogging pants and sweatshirts, stacking them according to size. The job pays barely a pound a day, but Dan is still grateful for the solitude and comfortable atmosphere. Down here he's not a prey.

''It's pretty nice, isn't it?'' The man on the other side of the table asks, offering Dan a friendly smile as he looks up from a pair of pants. He's fit, a bit shorter than Dan, smooth skin baring traces of a tan that refuses to disappear despite being deprived of sunlight, eyes warm and brown. ''Keeps your mind busy.'' Dan nods slowly, agreeing. It reminds him of home somehow. ''I'm Padilla,'' The man introduces himself and reaches his hand across the table.

''Howell.'' Dan takes the hand, shakes it and reminds himself he's not in prison to make friends. Him and Adrian used to do the laundry every third day together. When they were younger Dan would take the warm towels from the dryer, cover Adrian's tiny, thin frame in them while he folded their clothes himself. It's the weirdest, smallest things he misses in here.

''First time?'' Padilla asks and Dan wonders what gives him away; the heavy bags underneath his eyes or the permanent lines of worry between his eyebrows. He'd gotten a glimpse of his reflection in the cell window this morning, and could barely recognize the person staring back; curly, untamed hair and a five o'clock shadow had never been part of his appearance before now. ''What are you down for?''

''Are you asking me what I did, or what I'm convicted of?'' Dan responds, earning a humoured chuckle from Padilla, proving he too knows the law system doesn't care about intentions, merely evidence; that is if you're too poor to afford an actual lawyer, and is stuck with a public defender like Dan was. The court didn't care that Dan was trying to save Adrian. The court cared that Dan had shot a guy and left him paralyzed from the waist down. ''Armed robbery, twelve years.''

''Parole?''

''In eight.'' He'd accepted a deal, plead guilty to one count of armed robbery, and in exchange they'd looked past around five counts of burglary alongside the possession of an illegal firearm. Twelve years is a long time, but some might consider him lucky. It doesn't matter now. Whoever said time is money couldn't have been more wrong. ''You?''

''I've done three so far, got one left,'' Padilla informs, face briefly lightening up with joy at the mention of how little time he got left. ''Got caught with a couple of grams on me.'' The guy seems like a ray of sunshine, and Dan can't even bring himself to feel jealous. Maybe he can befriend a single person in prison, just one. ''Wrong place, wrong time.''

''I can relate to that.''

-x-x-x-

''Boys,'' Dad warns during dinner, nodding towards the brothers' plates from behind the newspaper in his hands. They're all seated at the big dining table, just like a normal family would be. There's a big portrait of the Lesters hanging on the wall behind Dad, his hunting riffle mounted on the space above it. The plates are nearly empty, just a few pieces of steamed broccoli left on each of them. Phil hates steamed broccoli. ''Eat up, your mother spent a lot of time cooking this.''

''They're not hungry,'' Mom excuses them. Dad looks up from the newspaper with narrowed eyes. He calmly folds it in his lap and places it beside his own plate, then grabs Mom by her hair and bangs her head repeatedly against the surface of the table. The boys both shovel down the remaining broccoli, Dad only releasing Mom once both plates are completely empty.

''They don't pay for the food in this house,'' He says and picks up his newspaper again, chuckling a bit at a comic strip. Mom thuds to the floor, covering her bleeding face in her arms. Martyn grabs Phil's small hand underneath the table, clenches it reassuringly.

-x-x-x-

The nights are the worst. Dan always lies awake, tossing, turning, mind a battlefield for aggressive, undefeatable thoughts. He thinks about a lot of things; how Adrian is doing, what cell Padilla is in, when Kendall is going to approach him again. He tries to keep Lester out of his mind, but his unsettling, grinning face always appears as he's finally about to fall asleep, immediately stirring him into full consciousness again.

''Liguori?'' He asks one night after giving up on getting any sleep, instead staring at what the cell's tiny window allows him to see of the night sky. There's a bunch of twinkling stars adorning the blackness tonight, making the darkness seem less empty.

''Shut the fuck up and go to sleep, Howell,'' Comes the respond a few delayed moments later, Liguori's voice rough with sleep and hostility. The man pulls his blanket over his head and turns his back to Dan, trying to end the conversation. He can't blame him.

''I can't.'' Silence dwells upon them for a few moments, and Dan briefly thinks his cellie has fallen asleep again. Liguori groans defeatedly, the bed creaking as he sits up, something humane behind the tough facade awakening. He tiredly rubs the palms of his hands against his face, yawning.

''Look, man,'' He starts out and rests his back against the steel bars. Dan finds his hooded eyes through the darkness, the stern look engraved in Liguori's facial features softening a bit. ''Prison sucks, but you'll be fine.''

''Thanks,'' Dan says even though it isn't himself he's worried about, and for a brief moment he thinks he sees a glimpse of a smile dancing across his cellie's lips. Maybe Liguori's not so bad after all.

''I'm not your friend,'' He reminds Dan as he lays down on the thin mattress again, turning his back and leaving him to ponder his thoughts alone. Silence dwells once again upon the suffocating cell, a serenade of muffled screams of submission somewhere further down the corridor eventually lulling him to sleep.

-x-x-x-

''Wanna sit at our table?'' Kendall whispers against Dan's ear while they're standing in line for dinner, the exhales of air against his skin making the bile in his stomach rise, the small appetite he had for the prison's poor excuse for food immediately lost. ''Final offer.''

''No thanks,'' Dan responds flatly, directing his rejection to both the man behind him and Lester's eyes imprisoning him from across the room. The inmate behind the kitchen counter slides him a food tray. Dan seats himself at his usual table, alone and prideful.

-x-x-x-

The last friday of each month the inmates are allowed to watch a movie in the activity rooms, cramped together on a row of steel chairs in front of an old tv. It's Dan's first movie and he has almost survived a month in prison. He's trying not to keep count, knowing he'll have to endure a minimum of ninety five more, a hundred and forty three at max. Tonight they're watching a documentary about predators in the savannah, which has been carefully picked out by inmate Lester. ''You've got an admirer,'' Padilla whispers in Dan's ear while shoveling down a handful of stale gummy bears from the commissary. Dan doesn't need to turn his head to know who it is, can feel the lunatic's eyes resting on him, his skin burning where they linger, observing his every move. In the TV a lion is doing the exact same thing, hiding among some yellow grass, waiting for a nearby, unsuspecting gazelle to pass him by.

''Crazy eyes over there is the least of my problems,'' Dan responds and leans back against his chair, the words raising doubt behind the secure facade. There's a reason Dan haven't been jumped yet, put in his place and stripped of his pride. He suspects it has something to do with Lester, always watching from afar as if his gaze is some kind of forcefield. He's not proud to admit he seeks out those wide eyes from time to time.

''I wouldn't be so sure about that.'' Padilla looks to the unopened bag of liquorice resting in Dan's lap. He shoves it towards him with a roll of his eyes, Padilla throwing his fist up in victory as he rips open the seal. Dan would smile if he didn't feel so cautious. There's a burning curiosity flickering inside him, a desperation to get under Lester's skin now that the man is under his own. The gazelle in the TV is moving closer. The lion prepares to attack.

''Why?'' He asks, immediately biting his tongue in regret. He's not sure his pride will save him once he knows what Lester is capable of, what lengths the man will go to. The gazelle is standing right in front of the lion now, merely seconds away from becoming prey.

''Kendall might be a hardcore criminal, but he isn't convicted of two counts of first degree murder.'' The lion springs from its hiding place with a mighty roar, burrowing its sharp teeth in the gazelle's neck, tumbling it to the ground. The gazelle fights for a brief moment, quickly giving up as the blood starts to flow, succumbing to the predator. In the corner of his eyes he sees Lester rocking aggressively from side to side in his chair, unable to contain his madness and excitement, a tight smile dominating his lips. His eyes aren't even on the TV.

''Really?''

''I think he's been down thirteen so far,'' Padilla informs, stuffing a few pieces of liquorice into his mouth. A guard who's been keeping track of the inmates moves from the room's door frame, turns the TV off as the credits starts to roll. ''Spent four years in psych before that.'' All the inmates arise from their chair, making their way towards the exit. Kendall slides a firm hand across Dan's neck as he passes him, and Dan can't help but think the most dangerous predators doesn't approach their prey, they wait for them to come on their own.

-x-x-x-

''Dropped the soap yet?'' Adrian asks as soon as he picks up on the other end. It's one of his good days, Dan can hear that by the hidden snicker lingering in his dull voice. He can imagine how the cheeky brat is smirking weakly on the other end, and can't help but smile a little himself. There's no fight in the yard this time, inmates standing impatiently in line to use the phones. He'll have to make it quick.

''Little shit,'' He responds even though Adrian hasn't been a little boy for a couple of years now, twenty years old. He'll always remain the little brother Dan had to keep close during thunderstorms, the one he'd sacrificed his childhood for so he could have one himself. Their parents had crashed in their old Toyota when Dan was sixteen. Adrian must have been ten. ''How are you?''

''I'll be fine,'' Adrian yawns, the brief moments of silence allowing the beeping of a heart monitor to inform Dan where he's staying. Adrian being in the hospital means he has a roof over his head and food on the table. It also means he's reached a point where he's no longer able to take care of himself. Dan chooses to look on the bright side of things. He has to.

''Good.'' He'd found the marks when Adrian was thirteen, specks of blue and purple scattered down his spine. He hadn't taken him to the doctor until the reoccurring nosebleeds started. Maybe things had been different if he had. ''Visitations are on Tuesdays, you coming?''

''I'll try, yeah?'' Adrian offers, a female in the background muttering something inaudible to him. Dan hopes the nurses takes good care of him. ''Next week, maybe.''

-x-x-x-

The prison's shower room is like the laundry room a small, cramped and damp room without any windows, but instead of a single lightbulb actual lamps are mounted to the ceiling. It's the only part of the prison Dan has been in so far that isn't completely made of concrete, the floor beneath his naked feet instead made of linoleum tiles. He guesses they've been white at some point in time, but either the shady lightning or years of filth and dirt makes them appear yellow.

In one side of the room the faucets are lined up, rusty pipes staining the concrete wall with specks of brown and red. In the other is a bench where the inmates can place their towels and clothes. There's currently one set of each folded neatly on it, but Dan can hear the rustling sound of someone discarding of their clothes behind him. Showers in prison aren't safe. There's no guards placed at each side of the exit, keeping a close eye on their caged animals, making sure they remain tamed. He feels the heavy gaze find rest on him, lingering on his naked form; that exact animal isn't tamed.

''Kendall wants you,'' Lester announces and turns on the faucet next to Dan, combing a hand through his black hair as the luke warm water wets it, slicking his fringe back. Dan turns his face towards him, takes in his form. Lester's skinny, but Dan can see the subtle outlines of muscle engraved in his pale skin. There's scars, long and thick across his back, the skin raised and bearing a purple tint. Where Dan's body is yet smooth with youth Lester's isn't, a thin trail of dark hair leading from his groin to his navel, starting again at his chest.

''I didn't know,'' He responds, eyes finding rest at Lester's face, voice coated in a layer of heavy sarcasm. The man lets out a short chuckle, a soft sound that makes Dan's blood boil and sends shivers down his spine. Lester does a weird thing where he rolls his tongue and bites down on it with his front teeth, a gesture Dan would consider adorable hadn't it been executed by the lunatic. ''Jealous?''

''Yes,'' Lester admits shamelessly, eyes never leaving Dan's. Sharing eye contact with him is like staring at the sun for too long. They're too bright, making him feel dizzy, and Dan thinks they might burn through him if he continues. ''Do you fear him?'' The man asks with a tilted head, curiosity and amusement gracing his deep voice.

''No.'' Dan doesn't fear anyone, his pride won't let him, so when Lester in a single step is standing in front of him, trapping him against the wet wall by placing a hand on each side of his face, he simply stands tall, chin raised. ''Fear is a choice.'' They're close, Dan can feel Lester's calm heartbeat where their chests are touching, his own heart beating fast with adrenaline.

''What else is a choice?'' Lester asks, leaning closer, hot exhales of air landing on Dan's plump lips. He turns his head, studies the hand trapping him to his left, constantly clenching and unclenching, desperate to touch. Lester turns Dan's face towards him again by grabbing his chin with his other hand, demanding and awaiting an answer.

''Pride,'' Dan responds, eyebrows furrowing as Lester releases his chin. The answer makes that unsettling, tight smile reappear on Lester's lips. Dan can't decide if it's in mockery or amusement. A combination of both, maybe. He looks like a kid on Christmas Eve.

''Submission, too.'' He begins caressing Dan's cheek with rough fingertips instead, his touches too soft and gentle to come from such bloody hands; Lester is petting him. Dan takes a deep breath, the words making every cell in his body burn with anger. He reaches behind him, turns off the faucet and pushes Lester's hand out of the way. Lester takes a step back, releasing him.

''That's not an option.'' Dan says, making his way to the bench, grabbing his towel. It's not entirely true, he knows that; whatever game Lester, Kendall and him has been playing is about to come to an end. There's only two possible outcomes. Either Dan unwillingly becomes a prisoner or he willingly imprisons his pride.

''Pride can be taken,'' Lester reminds him as he gets dressed, taking place underneath the spray of luke warm water again. ''Submission can't.''

-x-x-x-

''Howell!'' Liguori yells from behind Dan, making him stop in his tracks. He's standing in the hallway between the dining hall and yard. Lunch starts in half an hour, but he finished his work shift in laundry early today. Liguori must have too. The man jogs till he reaches him, places a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture that's unfamiliar and doesn't usually characterize his cellie. ''Yard time?''

''Maybe later,'' Dan responds and feels Liguori's hand twitch through the fabric of his sweatshirt, catches the way his lips raises in a frustrated snarl for just a single second. He tries to catch the man's hooded, wandering eyes, narrows his own as he fails. They start walking again, their steps echoing off the walls in the empty hallway. It's just the two of them. The other inmates are still working.

''Come on, let's shoot some hoops,'' Liguori continues, voice coated in a thick layer of desperation. He practically jumps in front of Dan as they reach the entrance to the dining hall, blocking it and prohibiting Dan from entering. Dan crosses his arms over his chests, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. ''It'll be fun, yeah?'' The amount of conversations they've had so far can be counted on one hand and definitely haven't been about basketball. Something is up.

''Fine.'' The words seem to ease Liguori, who lets out a relieved breath of air Dan didn't know the man had been holding in. Liguori moves from the entrance, guides Dan further down the hallway by placing a hand on his shoulder once again. There's a tiny voice inside Dan's head screaming for him to get away, but the mighty roar of his pride drowns it out. He pushes open the door to the empty yard, enters the small area secured by a barbed wire fence. There isn't even a basketball court, just a few weight benches and other work out equipment. ''We're not here to play basketball, are we?''

''No, you're not,'' A voice states from behind him. Dan turns his head and is met with Kendall's hazel eyes, his hoard of puffed up gorillas standing behind him, arms crossed over their chests as they keep watch by the door. Kendall pats Liguori on the back, but Dan's cellie doesn't look proud. There's still twenty minutes to lunch, the other inmates and guards wont be nowhere near the yard for at least a quarter.

''I'm sorry,'' Liguori says as Kendall retreats his hand, makes his way towards Dan. The apology is sincere, he can hear that. ''Survival and loyalty doesn't walk hand in hand in here.''

''Had to happen eventually, I guess.'' Kendall cracks his knuckles. ''You're not my friend,'' He says, mimicking Liguori's catchphrase. The man looks genuinely remorseful, shameful even, can't even meet Dan's eyes as Kendall's followers approach him. He doesn't fight back when they grab his arms, twisting them behind his back, offering him to their leader. Dan stands tall, chin raised.

''Sorry,'' Liguori repeats, turning his back to him as Dan receives a knee to his torso. He involuntarily bends over in pain, bites his lips to prevent any sound from escaping. A guy behind him hauls him back up by his hair, and Kendall repeats the process. He hears the ribs crack before he feels it, isn't allowed any time to react before his face is repeatedly met with Kendall's fist. His left eyebrow and lower lips splits, blood oozing down Dan's face, coating his sweatshirt and dripping onto the concrete beneath him.

Kendall takes a pause to wipe his bloody fist against his jogging pants, then motions for the gorillas to release Dan, who drops to the ground. He spits out some blood, wipes his sleeve across his face then looks up at Kendall.

''Still got your pride?'' Kendall asks with a cocky smirk, and Dan can't help but let out a deep laugh. The voice sounds deranged to his own ears, a crazy, cackling sound that makes the man in front of him frown and swing his white canvas shoe into Dan's stomach. He falls over on his back, lies on the ground while clutching his stomach.

''It's going to take a lot more than that,'' He manages to croak out between the laughs. He doesn't know what's so funny, maybe it's just the irony of it all. Kendall makes a swift hand gesture, making his followers repeatedly slam their shoes into his sides. Before Dan loses conciousness he looks up into the sky above him, a beautiful mixture of grey and blue, remembering Lester's words.

-x-x-x-

''What are you doing?'' Martyn asks, observing Phil chasing the small sparrow that always flies around in their backyard with a piece of bread. Phil huffs as the bird takes shelter in their apple tree, looking down at the brothers from a safe distance.

''I'm trying to feed the bird,'' He exclaims excitedly, jumping up and down in front of the tall  tree, waving the bread at the bird who turns it head, uninterested. Martyn sighs and grabs the bread, sits down on the grass and pats the space next to him.

''You have to make it come on its own.'' Martyn plucks the bread into tiny pieces, then throws some of it in front of him. Phil sits down and watches in awe as the bird flies down from the tree, plucking at the bread on the ground with its beak. Martyn then places the remaining pieces in Phil's hand, slowly guides it toward the bird.

''Do you think we can get one?'' Phil whispers quietly, careful not to scare away the bird now eating directly from his hand.

''Dad would never allow it,'' He responds, earning a frown from Phil. He pats his brother lovingly on the back, following the bird with his eyes as it flies away after finishing its meal. ''And free birds shouldn't be kept in cages.''

Part 2 Part 3

[alittledizzy]

Title: kick with the fray Rating: T Word Count: 1638 words Summary: Phil will laugh about this later. Maybe. Probably. (Not.) Notes: Written for @nihilist-toothpaste​​​​​​, who requested jealous!Phil, for my thirty minute fics for charity fundraiser to benefit Puerto Rico. 

[read on AO3]

Phil's shin hurts from banging into the costuming booth and his pride hurts from the sharp voiced words the woman manning it through at him and his dignity hurts from Dan and Anthony both laughing at him.

They don't mean it badly, Phil knows. Dan laughs at Phil's clumsiness on an almost daily basis, and Phil's never slow to return the favor.

But there were people watching and he messed up all the clothing on the rack and now he's got this stupid shirt on and he doesn't even know why he put his skates on first, he was just excited, excited he talked Dan into this, excited to hang out with their friend -

And he still can be, he tells himself.

*

The woman applying the glitter to his face keeps up a steady, accented chatter as she narrates what she's doing. He feels a buzz of pride at how nice this is going to look.

Dan's already gone one done, black and silver and beautiful against his skin. They can take a picture together, Phil thinks - something side by side, post it on instagram.

It's always a good night when they can post a picture together. When there's a reason, an occasion.

The woman taps his cheek with a manicured fingernail and pronounces herself done. He turns with a grin to see what Dan thinks, but Dan and Anthony aren't there anymore.

He stands on unsteady legs and roll-wobbles to the opening between the booths and the bigger skates area and looks around. He spots Dan and Anthony by the bar, a span of smooth wooden skating floor between them.

He's really not the best at this, but he can see them getting drinks and he isn't sure if they're coming back and standing here alone feels so strange. Indecision gives way to the insecurity of it, and he makes his way over to them.

"You left me," he says, trying to inject a world of teasing indignation into his voice and none of the real thing

Dan just laughs. It's that laugh he gets around people he's trying to impress, and it settles uneasily against Phil's skin. "Not actually attached at the hip, mate."

It's been awhile since he's seen this Dan, the one that wants to seem cool and casual and above everything. It's the version of Dan that often makes Phil feel small and just not quite enough.

*

So Phil does what any adult would do in a situation like this: represses it and gets a drink.

*

"That totally looks like you're groping me," Anthony says, laughing far too hard at the picture on his phone. "Man, I'm gonna tweet that, that cool?"

Phil's stomach tightens unpleasantly. He doesn't have a word for the feeling that sneaks up the back of his throat, makes it feel a little like burning.

No, he wants to say. Because I wouldn't do that, I don't do that.

But Anthony's already hitting tweet, because Anthony's not the kind of person that has to think five times before touching another man with a camera around. Anthony doesn't subject himself to this type of restriction and relief, navigating boundaries by staying far away from them.

*

Dan and Anthony both sail with ease around and around him, keeping up conversation with each other and teasing Phil for his slowness with each pass.

"Skate with me?" Phil finally asks, catching Dan alone.

"Sure," Dan says, and matches pace to Phil. He gives Phil a look and a smile and says, "This isn't bad. Thanks for pushing me."

"Yeah," Phil says, grinning because Dan really does look gorgeous with the light catching the sequins against his skin and the way he bows his head to look at the ground in front of him. "Dan-"

He's so close. Phil could just reach out and touch. He could wait for one of those moments when the lights are low and the spotlights are far away and squeeze Dan's hand. Tiny gestures of romance in the midst of a crowd are not alien to them, just reserved for special occasions.

But then Anthony skates up in front of them and he's got his phone out and he's talking in that slightly exaggerated camera voice.

Dan skates a little further away and Phil mourns a tiny moment lost.

*

He glances over two seconds before the photo gets snapped and what he sees almost knocks the breath from him.

Dan, so socially lubricated at the moment that he's fine putting his hand on Caspar's shoulder, grinning that doll-faced grin. He sees Caspar reach a hand up and casually ruffle Dan's hair, and Joe make some kind of lewd comment.

He thinks of Anthony making the joke about Phil groping him.

He thinks of this, how the world will see this, Dan touching Caspar.

He skates off on knees that aren't steady enough to accommodate the force behind the initial push. He'll surely fall, he thinks, but right now he's not sure he cares.

*

Dan skates up beside him. "What was that? You just took off?"

Phil shakes his head abruptly. "Not now," he says, and to his own ears he just feels tired.

Dan shrinks back. It's strange how after so many years, Phil can still cut him down with a harsh tone sometimes. Not always, but sometimes, and when he's drunk - well, that's usually one of those times.

"Fine," Dan mumbles, and skates away faster than Phil could catch even if he tried.

*

"It won't come off," Phil says, fighting the embarrassment to smile for Anthony's camera.

In the back of his mind he's thinking about how he doesn't want to spend time with another youtuber for at least a year. He's sick of cameras, sick of double and triple checking every look, sick of how it only matters with Dan-

Dan seems to have forgotten the strangeness earlier, at least. Two more drinks in and he seems as light as a feather in the moment. A distant part of Phil is actually happy that Dan seems to be enjoying himself, after how much Dan resisted coming.

But that part feels very distant right now, and the fucking skate still won't come off.

He tries to cling to the thought that he'll laugh about this tomorrow. But he's already said that three times today and his little inabilities - his failure with the tea, the collision on his skates, and now this - start to stack one on to of the other until it feels like nothing about him works the way it should, he can't do anything the way he's suppose to do.

He looks to Dan hoping that Dan will look back at him, hoping that Dan will see something in his face that makes Dan suddenly realize how not entirely alright Phil feels right now.

But Dan is laughing to Anthony's camera, and Phil doesn't even feel like part of the moment.

*

They don't talk on the way back up to the hotel room, but Dan is humming and tapping his foot and occasionally looking down at his phone as he texts.

"Anthony's asking when we're going to the airport," he says. "I think he wants to get breakfast."

"Don't remember." Phil's voice is quiet and he just feels tired. So, so tired.

*

Phil stands and stares in the bathroom mirror. 

Dan frowns from behind him, suddenly appearing. "Why'd you take yours off? I thought we could get a picture." 

And he regrets it - suddenly, fiercely. It makes him almost want to cry, wishing he could have it back. Because he did want a picture, and now Dan -

"Phil." Dan's voice is cautious and curious. "What's going on?"

Phil presses his hands to his face and shakes his head. "Nothing. Nothing, I'm just."

Dan smells faintly of sweat and alcohol. "Did I do something?" He sounds confused and slightly lost.

There's so much in Phil's head, but he knows he's too tired and he knows the words would come out wrong and he doesn't want to fight and he doesn't want to make Dan feel the way that Phil feels right now.

So he doesn't say anything, but he steps into Dan's space and whispers, "I need-"

Dan's arms come up around him and Dan holds him tight and lets Phil cling back as hard as Phil needs.

*

He wakes up the next morning with a headache and a stomach heavy with regret. Some things are better with a night of sleep.

And some aren't. Some linger. Some things are always there, just waiting for the right kind of series of unfortunate events to draw them out.

"Crisis over?" Dan asks, rubbing his temples. "Fuck, I've got a hangover. Order me breakfast?"

"Thought you wanted to meet Anthony?" Phil asks.

"Don't actually give a fuck about Anthony right now," Dan says, staring at Phil. He's got that look of slow realization on his face.

Phil holds his breath. He wills Dan not to say it, not to speak out loud this weird shame of Phil's.

"I don't," Dan says again. "Give a fuck about Anthony."

"Okay." Phil sits up and turns his body away from Dan's, using the pretense of looking for the room service menu.

He feels Dan move and sit up, and then feels Dan's front pressed against his back. Dan must be kneeling on the bed, but he's hugging Phil from behind and dropping a kiss on the curve at the back of Phil's neck.

But he doesn't say anything and Phil makes himself breathe again. He looks down and the menu is in his hand. "What kind of hangover food do you want?"

Dan kisses his shoulder again and whispers, "Love you." which isn't an answer at all and is in fact something Phil knew, absolutely and unequivocally.

But it's still exactly what he needs to hear.

[georgiabread]

was i made from a broken mold?

summary: Somewhere, Phil feels his gratitude and pride. He tries hard to latch onto those positive emotions, sick of all the grey. But tonight, he’s so lost in the shade he can’t find any colours.

word count: 2.6k

trigger warnings: anxiety, mild panic attacks, insecurity

a/n: (disclaimer) this is a work of fiction and i don't cast aspersions towards or claim to know anything about phil's life and experiences. the story is based off my own emotions and imagination.

They’re a quarter of the way into the tour, and that’s when Phil senses it brooding behind his rib cage. The beginnings of a thunderstorm, grey and heavy and cumbersome. Expanding, stretching, forcing him to take longer, deeper breaths, more than usual. Demanding trips to the bathroom to close his eyes. Slipping a quiver into his fingers. If he’s honest, it’s daunting. He really thought he could escape it for a while, as if this road trip-adventure would be his ‘safe haven’ for a month or two.

Obviously, he got ahead of himself.

Anxiety knows no boundaries. You can’t give it a call and tell it to stay away for a bit while you’re busy (despite how much Phil wishes it worked like that). But he sort of assumed, and maybe hoped, this tour would take up so much of his mind and body, there’d be no room for a mental illness. As it turned out, the busyness of the tour was more of a breeding ground.

A List of Aspects Which Contributed to the Festering of Phil Lester’s Nerves:

1. Having to confirm extra dates with venues, under the pressure of not disappointing and angering their audience.

2. Constant rehearsals and the stress of fucking up everything they’d worked hard for.

3. The risk of anything about his and Dan’s personal life revealing itself at any point on tour.

4. Figuring out how to pay rent and other bills while they were gone.

5. Overwhelming insecurity and fear of interaction.

It sounds stupid. But it’s all that and more, piling against his brain, until something insignificant breaks the storm.

The convoy’s first official stop is Boston, and everyone is granted the gift of hotel rooms for a couple of nights. On the first day, some of the crew join Dan and Phil to grab coffee. The rest stay behind at Wang Theatre, constructing the set and testing light systems for tomorrow’s performance. Normally, Phil would be eager to do a bit of exploration while buying some drinks as a thank-you to the guys working tirelessly on the show. But today – today Phil is so out of it he might be glued in place as the world continues to move forward.

He’s buried deep. The jostling of city sounds – restaurant murmurs, the hiss of a bus, a dog’s bark – are muffled, as if he’s underwater. His brain is unable to form the words to a sentence. He only manages a monotone smile at the banter thrown between his co-workers. And Dan hasn’t noticed yet.

They stop at a Starbucks on the corner (Phil swears Dan mentioned something about a capitalist agenda once again, but he can’t remember hearing it). Orders are taken, someone pays, and Phil finds himself holding his and Dan’s cups.

Phil takes another deep breath; that’s all he can do in these situations, but his senses kick back in and there are voices in the cafe and people are looking at him and his lungs are frozen solid.

He makes it outside. Someone in the group calls his name, and Phil turns a little too fast, coffee loose in unstable fingers. Unstable footing. Unstable balance. Phil grasps a streetlamp before he can fall, but when he looks down, there’s vanilla iced coffee and chocolate mocha spilt all over the concrete. Dammit. And then –

“Awh, good one, Phil!”

“Dude, how’d you manage that?”

“You clumsy bastard.”

“What the – Phil, you just dropped our drinks. You fucking idiot.” That’s Dan, and those are the words that hurt the most.

And it’s a joke – really, everyone is treating it like one and their words don’t mean anything – but the teasing takes on a scathing filter in his ears. Especially Dan’s.

It takes a while for his mouth to catch up with his brain. “Oh – oh god, I’m sorry. I don’t know what...I’m sorry. Sorry Dan, I’ll just run in and buy you – buy you another one. Sorry.” He scuttles back inside, avoiding everyone’s gaze. If there’s a shift of emotion in Dan’s eyes, Phil doesn’t notice.

On their way back to the theatre, Phil zones out while his thoughts clamber over one another like the zombies in World War Z. His fears, doubts and second-guesses seem to have an agenda of their own, one which involves engulfing him in panic. Does Dan actually think I’m an idiot? Everyone saw that. Why do I always make a fool of myself? God, what if Dan hates me?  He tries to find calm in the suggestions collected from mental health organisations, like drinking water and grounding himself with his senses. Nothing works. The thoughts stick around until bedtime; Dan is asleep, back turned, and Phil can’t hear his own heartbeat over the loudness in his brain, but the organ is heavy enough to feel its drum.

He doesn’t acknowledge it, but in the back of his mind is the reminder that he’ll feel this grey and tight-chested for two more days at least.

*

On show day, Phil’s brain is wading through claggy mud. He feels empty, and at the same time so, so crammed with anguish and fear. Because he’s performing tonight. He’s meeting the people who look up to him, he’s putting on a show that demands energy and happiness. And he’s drained of it.

Dan doesn’t say anything, but one look and Phil knows that he knows. Or, knows some of it. He makes Phil tea and does the talking with Ed and Marianne. He keeps a comforting hand on the small of Phil’s back wherever they go, a reassurance that he’s there. When they sit on the lounge in the dressing room, laptops open on thighs, Phil slouches against Dan’s shoulder and Dan massages his scalp. It doesn’t cure him, but it’s enough to keep him afloat for a while.

The crew is buzzing today – setting up merch stalls, preparing for weird-kid stories and seven-second-challenges, doing more lighting checks. It’s another one of those days where Phil feels absolutely useless, watching everyone organise and work while he steams his voice and gets his face powdered. But it’s not like he has the vitality to work anyway.

“Are you sure you’re alright to do this?” Dan asks him ten minutes before the meet and greet, resting his fingers on Phil’s elbow.

Phil stares at the metal door ahead of them. On the other side are a hundred or so of his audience, waiting with anticipation just to see him. He knows how this works. They grin and hug and stumble over their words, expecting so much in the space of a minute. They want recognition and connection, they want to be known. And Phil can’t blame them because he was in their shoes once, but he can’t give them what they want.

His mind is overflowing. His body is vacant. Everything they say, he won’t hear. Phil turns his head and flashes a weak smile at Dan. “I’m sure,” he says. “You know we can’t call it off, though.”

“I mean…we could? If you really wanted.”

Phil shakes his head. “I can’t do that. I can’t disappoint them.”

Dan stares at him a moment longer, before nodding, squeezing his elbow and threading their fingers together in the few minutes they have left.

The meet up passes by like a fog. When it’s over, Phil can’t recall any names. The conversations and stories are vague and unimportant, yet he finds himself overthinking every word he said, every hug he gave.

And the show? Well, he does good. He remembers all his lines, he finds energy in the adrenalin of being on stage, the audience laughs when he wants them to laugh. For an hour and a half, Phil can jam his mind with nothing but the performance, while his anxiety simmers beneath. But when he speaks, the words don’t belong to him. When their Sim voices his insecurities, he feels more vulnerable than encouraged, especially when the crowds shout their dissent at his feelings.

But the night is still a success. The crew congratulate them with pats on the back and raised wine glasses. Their audience tweets about how hilarious the show was and how lovely Dan and Phil were. Somewhere, Phil feels his gratitude and pride. He tries hard to latch onto those positive emotions, sick of all the grey.

But tonight, he’s so lost in the shade he can’t find any colours.

*

Eventually, the storm thins.

It happens in the hotel room. The door to their suite clicks shut, a metaphorical breakwater against the swell of everything that wants to drown him. Phil’s feet sink into the carpet. He stares at Boston through the balcony windows; the city blinks back at him, a chorus of silver and gold, and he fills his lungs with air that feels weightless for the first time in days.

Dan was carrying their shared backpack. It hits the floor, and along with it, the pressure on Phil’s shoulders. He closes his eyes. The breakwater shudders. And the waves are crashing over his head, a collision of relief and misery and paralysis, washing away the tendrils of anxiety but leaving a heavy emptiness behind. He murmurs a half-choked, “Dan–” but Dan is already there, knowing exactly what he needs in times like these.

There is safety in the way Dan holds him, warmth in the fingertips trailing across his back, love in the lips hushing him and kissing his temple. Phil sags against him, takes a deep breath against his skin. It trembles, but it’s okay, because the worst is over and he’s here and he’s alone with the one person it isn’t an effort to be around.

In the shelter of Dan’s collarbone, he lets himself cry, just a little.

Then, a shower. He peels off his clothes and steps under the hot spray after shaking his head at Dan’s offer to join him. Dan understands. He needs this, a way to wash off the day and gather himself into something more solid.

After two shampoos and a quick body wash, Phil relaxes his shoulders. He lifts his head and sticks his whole face under the jets. It feels heavenly on his cheeks and silences the world for a moment, as he listens to nothing but the rush of water and his muscles loosen. Several more tears dribble out and join the shower droplets, but Phil reminds himself it’s okay and it’s healthy. And it makes him feel a little better – he climbs out and catches his reflection in the mirror, red eyes and all, and laughs stupidly at himself.

Dan’s buried to his neck in the duvet, staring at his phone, when Phil emerges wrapped in two towels. He slips on a pair of boxers and doesn’t bother with the rest, while Dan dumps his phone on the nightstand and pulls back the covers. Phil crawls underneath, small and needy as he clutches Dan’s waist and pushes his face into his shoulder.

Dan kisses his hair. “Feeling better?” he whispers.

There’s a pause, and a shrug.

“Out of ten?”

Phil whines in the back of his throat, turns his face to the side. “Five, I think.”

“Were you okay during the show?”

“I guess,” Phil mumbles. “I was, like, high on adrenalin but you know what it’s like.”

Dan does know. There were times during the UK tour when his own depression would mute his surroundings and isolate him from his own body. It made it hard to connect with everyone around him. But Phil would be there to hold his hand and keep him upright when he could.

They’re different in the way they deal with their illnesses, Phil had noticed. Dan prefers solitude, where he can beat down his thoughts in private, and finds comfort in the silence shared with another person. Phil needs physical contact and someone to listen to him, someone to remind him he is loved and valued.

Phil shifts so his head is pillowed by Dan’s chest, and Dan’s fingers wind through his damp hair. Usually, Phil would smile. Playing with his hair is always something Dan does when they cuddle. But now, ease makes way for insecurity. He wonders if he really deserves being held like this; if Dan is only comforting him because he feels obligated; if underneath it all, Dan hates him and his whining and his burdens and his dependency and–

“Do you know what triggered it?” Dan asks softly.

Phil breathes, examining the baby hairs on Dan’s chest. “Everything,” he says eventually. “But there was this time when – um. Actually. No, it’s – never mind.”

Silence.

“Phil.”

“Yeah.”

“You can tell me, if you want. Whatever leaves that mouth, I’m not gonna judge it.”

Phil shuts his eyes. He hates this. He hates it because Dan triggered it, really. Dan and the crew but mostly Dan, his words the tipping point. He hates it because it’s not Dan’s fault, per se, but Dan will still feel guilty even though he doesn’t deserve to feel guilty when it’s just Phil’s brain fucking up again. Maybe he won’t even feel guilty, just angry at being blamed, angry that Phil is making such a big deal out of harmless teasing.

But he won’t; he never has, Phil tells himself desperately. He’ll understand.

Phil opens his eyes and his mouth, waiting for the words. One thing he has to work on is cutting off the fear before it magnifies, and he does that now. He focuses on the way Dan’s thumb caresses the back of his hand. He’ll understand.

“We were – we were getting coffee,” he starts, peering up at Dan. His partner only nods, urging him to continue. “Yesterday, at Starbucks. We were leaving, and I had both our drinks and someone said my name and I turned and – and spilt the – the coffee and everyone started shouting and – I was in the, you know, the sad zone, a few days before, and yesterday I was feeling a bit spacey.” Phil wipes the dampness from his eyes. “So when everyone yelled at me – and I know it was a joke and stuff, but it kind of sent me over the edge and that’s why I’ve been such a disaster today. I don’t know.”

Again, silence. Phil can’t bring himself to look at Dan. Vines slink towards his lungs as the quiet lingers, and his mind twists, turns, overthinks.

Then Dan murmurs, “I shouted at you, didn’t I?”

Phil shrugs. “Yeah. But – but everyone did, it’s not like–”

“Phil.” There’s a hand on his cheek, stroking the skin. “I know it might not seem like it, but everything you’re thinking up there is wrong. It’s not your fault. I should’ve noticed sooner what was going on – I’m sorry I was so rude to you, about coffee of all things.”

Phil sniffs and drops his gaze. He feels Dan kiss his forehead.

“Love you,” Dan whispers.

After a few seconds, Phil recognises a calm that settles over him. And then – he laughs. It’s wet and pitiful and there’s nothing really funny about the situation, but he laughs and holds Dan a little tighter. “Love you too. God. I’m the worst.”

“You’re not. You’re Phil, and Phil is allowed to feel like this.”

He should probably say something snarky in reply with an undercurrent of thankfulness, but Phil ends up ditching the first part and smiles softly at Dan, and Dan understands the words without having to hear them.

It’s not over. Anxiety will link its pinkie finger with Phil’s and cling to him for two more days, more or less. But it’s not always unshakeable; beneath the doubts and the worries and the blame, Phil knows he can rise above the clouds and he knows Dan is always willing to pull him up some of the way. For now, Phil presses a kiss to Dan’s chest and lets sleep overtake him, safe in the arms of a love that will always be there to guide him through the fog.

phanfics

[fiction-phan]

Not the Right Time

Summary: Dan and Phil are getting married in a few minutes and Dna couldn't be more excited. At least, until he starts thinking about everything that could go wrong and everything that could change once they get married. And so, he does what any sane groom would do. He runs.

Words: 3.1k 

A/N: Just like I promised yesterday with the excerpt, here is another oneshot based off of this prompt on @phanfic. Enjoy!

Read it on AO3

Dan wasn’t really sure what he was doing. It was almost as if his actions still had not caught up with him and he found himself living in a different moment.

The last thing he really remembered was standing at the altar and waiting for Phil to show up. They were going to get married in a few minutes and Dan couldn’t be happier. At least, that’s what he thought. He’s in love. He loves Phil like he had never loved anyone before so marriage was the obvious choice…right?

That’s what had gone through his head when Phil got down on one knee and proposed. Dan barely even thought about it before he said yes. What was thee to think about? They were in love and had been together for more than six years. They basically already behaved like an old married couple so all that was left was for them to actually get married.

No one was surprised when they announced their upcoming marriage. Some even said that they had been expecting it for years. It left Dan feeling a little disconcerted. Other people seemed to be more aware of what he wanted than he himself was.

He shook off all the negative thoughts going through his head and instead decided to dedicate all his focus to wedding preparations. They didn’t want anything big but their wedding day was going to be one of the most important days of their lives so they wanted everything to be as perfect as possible. Dan forgot all about his worries and reservations amongst preparing invitations and visiting different wedding locations.

Dan really should have known that although doubts and reservations can be pushed to the side momentarily, they cannot be ignored forever. It was just his luck that they all flooded back in as he was waiting for his fiancé at the altar.

A multitude of questions started going through his head. Am I really ready to be tied down? Will things chance between Phil and I once we officially tie the knot? Cue the mental breakdown. All Dan could think about where the multitude of ways in which things could wrong. And so, he does what any sane groom would do in his place. He bolts down the aisle.

He could see all the guests who had already taken their place staring at him flabbergasted but Dan simply didn’t care. He needed to get out of there before he ended up having a panic attack in front of everyone.

Dan ran all the way back to the hotel they were staying at, desperately hoping that Phil had already left their room. He could not have felt more relieved when he entered their bedroom and realised he was all alone. Phil must already have been on his way to the venue. Phil. He felt his stomach drop when he thought of his fiancé, finally arriving at the wedding venue, just to be told that Dan had ditched him.

He had half a mind to go back and explain that it had all been a huge misunderstanding. They would be able to get on with the wedding and it would be as if nothing had even happened. Dan was already opening the door to leave when he paused and realised he couldn’t do that.

There was no doubt whatsoever in his mind that he loved Phil. He wanted to be with him till the end of the line. But marriage? Dan couldn’t deny that his feelings of doubt and worry back at the venue had been completely real. He couldn’t get married knowing that he wasn’t completely sure about it. Phil deserved better than that. He just wished he had realised all this before his actual wedding day.

Phil was going to kill him. How was he supposed to explain to his fiancé that getting ditched at the altar didn’t mean dan didn’t love him? Even thinking about it sounded completely ridiculous.

Dan thought about what Phil must be thinking. He was probably already at the wedding venue at this point and was made aware of the fact that he was nowhere to be found. Would he be mad? Furious enough to come looking for Dan in order to give him a piece of his mind? Or maybe he would choose to focus instead on the crushing disappointment of not finding Dan waiting for him at the altar like they had practiced countless of times before. What if he just burst out crying in front of all the guests at finding out his fiancé had fled? None of the options helped Dan feel any better about himself.

How was he even going to explain himself to Phil? Oh, hey there Phil! Sorry I wasn’t there but something came up. Even thinking about it made Dan wince. Not only was it the worse excuse he could possibly come up with, but it also made him sound like the biggest asshole ever.

Besides, he had no doubts that Phil would be able to see through all his excuses and demand to be told the truth. You don’t date someone for more than six years without learning to tell when they’re lying.

That left Dan with no other option other than to tell the truth. That is, if Phil let himself talk for long enough to explain himself. Not that Dan would blame him if he didn’t. He couldn’t imagine himself managing to somehow stay calm and understanding if it had been the other way around and Dan was the one getting ditched.

Dan should have known him better than that. Should have known that Phil loved him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt even in a situation like this. That is why, when he heard the knock on the door, the last person he expected to see was Phil.

Phil didn’t look as if he had spent the last fifteen minutes crying his eyes out and he didn’t look as if he was considering the idea of punching Dan in the face. He actually looked quite calm considering the situation they found themselves in.

Dan could do nothing but look at his fiancé (was he still his fiancé?) with a gaping face. There was so much he wanted to say but he didn’t have any idea of where to begin from or how to word it. Phil didn’t talk straight away and so they were left staring at each other in silence.

Phil, seemingly realising that Dan had no real intention of talking, was the one to break the awkward silence that was settling over them. “Are you going to let me in so we can actually talk or are you just going to stand by the door and look at me like a fish out of water?”

Dan quickly snapped out of his stupor and stepped back in order to allow Phil to walk in. He was completely out of his depth. Why wasn’t Phil yelling at him, screaming, throwing punches? Okay, so maybe I wasn’t expecting Phil to suddenly start punching me in the face but I definitely wasn’t expecting him to be so calm either. Phil was acting as if this was just like any other day and they were about to have a very normal conversation.

Phil sighed and rolled his eyes. At this point, Dan was actually pleased to see such a reaction. He was done with all the pleasantries and the complete avoidance of the topic at hand. Dan wasn’t proud of what he did but there was no point denying it any longer.

“I fled our wedding”, he blurted, pretty much stating the obvious.

“I know.”

Dan waited for Phil to say something else but was left disappointed. Was this what Phil was playing at? The silent treatment? Dan couldn’t help but think that abandoning someone at the altar deserved something harsher than the silent treatment but he wasn’t about to point that out to Phil.

“I’m sorry," he said, and instantly found himself wanting to take it back. That was nowhere near close to the things he had thought of saying to Phil while he was alone in the room.

Phil seemed to agree that his apology was lacking in a lot of things since he was looking at him in what appeared to be disbelief. “I’m sorry? And here I thought I would get a little more than that, considering I was ditched at my own wedding," he pointed out, making Dan wince. “An explanation maybe?”

Dan knew he was right. They had spent months planning for this wedding, wanting it to be something they both enjoyed. He was already lucky Phil was even giving him the chance to explain himself. Thinking he could get away without having to explain anything was expecting too much. They couldn’t go back to their life as if nothing had happened. This time, it had not just been the two of them. There were guests who had seen the whole thing.

Now Dan just needed to somehow find the right words to explain himself without ruining things. Or at least, without ruining them more than he undoubtedly already had.

“I love you,” he said, thinking that would be a good place to start. He needed Phil to understand that all of this did not happen out of some realisation that he did not love Phil as much as he had originally thought.

A part of Dan couldn’t help but hope that Phil knew this already and he wasn’t doubting Dan’s love for him. He wouldn't have shown up at their room and calmly demanded an explanation if he was unsure. “I really do love you,” he continued. “I just don’t know if we’re doing the right thing. We’re happy with the way things are right now. Do we really have to change anything?”

Dan didn’t miss the relief that spread over Phil’s face at being told that he was still very much in love with him. He couldn’t help but hate himself a little bit more. How could he have made Phil, the most important person in the world for him, feel as if he was not loved? If they somehow managed to get through this, Dan was going to make sure that Phil knew exactly how much he was loved.

Phil could only look at him in confusion. “Where is all this coming from? We talked about marriage many times before I proposed and you always seemed to be in favour of the idea. I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I wasn’t completely sure it was what you wanted. Besides, you said yes.”

Dan couldn’t really argue with that. It wasn’t as if Phil sprung out a proposal at him out of nowhere. The both of them had brought up the topic throughout the years. At first, the both of them agreed that they were still too young or the relationship was too new. Both of them had always considered marriage to be a possibility in the future.

As time went on, the idea of getting married stopped seeming like such a faraway dream and started becoming more of a reality. By the time Phil proposed, they were both on board with the idea of getting married, buying a house and finally adopting the dog they had been talking about for ages.

Dan still wasn’t entirely sure what changed. He still wanted the house, and he most definitely still wanted the dog. He just wasn’t sure if getting married really fit into the picture for him anymore. He loved what they had going on for them right now. They were being the most open they had ever been with their viewers, where they weren’t hiding their relationship as much anymore. What if all that changed after they got married? Dan didn’t want their whole dynamic to change, not now that everything was going so well.

“Only you would get cold feet on the day of your wedding and decide to blow the whole thing off,” Phil said, sitting down on the bed. At least he didn’t sound mad. Just exasperated, and really tired. “Not meaning to judge, but couldn’t you have thought about all of this before you were at the altar?”

Dan could only smile sheepishly and shrug. He was shocked that things didn’t seem to be going as bad as he initially expected. Phil still hadn’t said anything about breaking things off because Dan fled the wedding. Maybe things could still be fixed between them. He tried not to think about all the guests they invited to the wedding who were probably still waiting for an explanation of what was going on. Dan was definitely not looking forward to that conversation.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” he said, hoping Phil could understand that dan had never meant for any of this to happen. “I know that I made a right mess of things. You have no idea how much i wanted to forget about everything and just come back to you so we could get married but I couldn’t do it. You deserve better than to marry someone who is not completely certain of what they really want to do.”

This was the moment Dan had been expecting from the second he got to the empty room and realised he had abandoned Phil at the altar. Phil was going to realise that there was going to be no wedding today and he was going to leave him.

Phil seemed to be thinking really hard over the situation, and Dan couldn’t blame him. What he did today was horrible and he didn’t have any doubts that Phil was feeling hurt over it, even though he was good at not showing it. If what he wanted was a break, that’s what Dan would give him, even if it would crush him. It was the least he could do.

Phil surprised him yet again by standing up and walking closer to pull Dan in for a warm hug. Dan could feel himself relax in the arms of the man he loved and genuinely felt as if he could cry over the relief that he could feel washing over him.

He didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky but, somehow, Phil understood. He understood that Dan loved him very much but was just not ready to get married.

“You know it’s going to be a nightmare explaining to all of our guests that we’re still together but we’re not getting married today, right?” Phil asked, making Dan groan. “I’m going to make you explain things to them just for ditching me instead of talking to me about your worries.”

“I hate you,” Dan said, but they both knew what he really meant. I love you. Thank you for understanding why I couldn’t do this.”

*

A year later…

If you were to tell Dan that, a year later, he would be the one getting down on one knee to propose to Phil, he would have laughed. Yet that’s exactly what happened.

He never regretted postponing the wedding. Getting married was something he needed to think about and Dan could only be grateful over having taken the time to do just that even if it meant having to explain to all the guests that the wedding was off yet also reassuring their devastated families that they were still together. Needless to say, that did not go over very well.

A year later, they were back in the same situation. It was the day before the wedding, yet Dan wasn’t feeling very nervous. Thinking back to the last time they were in the same hotel, he couldn’t help but laugh. He had been a nervous wreck and, to this day, he wasn’t really sure why he was convinced was such a good idea when the only emotion going through his body was fear.

Things were different this time around. Dan was looking forward to the upcoming day and he was excited to finally get to call Phil his husband. He was going to walk to the altar and he was going to wait for Phil to get there so they could finally get married without a glitch. There would be no running off this time.

It wasn’t until they were getting ready to go to bed that Dan realised Phil was feeling a lot more nervous than he had previously let on. His fiancé kept looking at him worriedly and Dan was getting tired of being asked whether he was sure about the wedding or not.

He couldn’t help but feel relieved when Phil finally decided to open up about his worries in the darkness of their hotel room. “You’re not going to run away again, are you? I can’t walk up to an empty aisle again Dan. Once was bad enough, but I couldn’t take it again.”

Dan couldn’t help but feel guilty all over again. Even though he did not regretting deciding to put off the wedding, he did regret having waited till the wedding day to come up with his decision. Phil had thought he had ditched him and kissed their relationship goodbye, even for just a few minutes and that was a regret that Dan would always have to carry around with him.

It would be stupid to blame Phil or feel offended over him thinking that way when he had every right to. Dan did it once, what was keeping him from doing it again? It was up to him to show Phil that he really did mean it this time. He wanted to get married and finally get to call Phil his husband.

“I know this is scary, especially with what happened last time,” Dan said, hoping he was being reassuring. “I promise that this time I’m going to be right there at the altar waiting for you. I love you and I want us to get married. I wouldn’t have proposed if I wasn’t completely sure of what I wanted. Do you trust me?”

Dan didn’t think he ever felt as in love as when he felt Phil nodding against his shoulder. “I trust you.” After everything he made him go through, the pain, the disappointment…Phil still loved him.

“Then you have to trust that I’ll be there tomorrow. I won’t let you down again, I promise.”

*

The next day, after a beautiful ceremony and quite a few tears, Dan could happily say that he was finally Daniel James Howell-Lester and he couldn’t be happier. Now they just needed to adopt a dog.

A/N: This oneshot was shorter than what I usually write but I still love it and hopefully you did as well.

As usual, don't forget that your lovely comments are what gives me the motivation to keep on going and writing so make sure to let me know what you think.

If you have any prompts in mind that you would like for me to write, let me know. 

[ryleesfanfiction]

Alive- Chapter Six

We were sitting on the bed, our eyes focused on the TV playing in front of us.

"Two local teenage boys escaped from Blackwell Psychiatric Ward early this morning,"  

Suddenly our pictures were on the screen, Phil scoffed and threw a sock at the TV.

"That's so unflattering."

"Why do they always have to take the worst pictures?" I ask.

Suddenly the screen cut to who I guessed was Phil's mom.

"I don't know how this happened but, Philip, if you're are listening to this, please come back to Blackwell, or home. Please."

"This is bullshit." Phil said, clicking off the TV.

My anxiety spiked as his voice raised.

"They don't give a shit about me! They just want to lock me up again because I'm crazy, because I'm not normal! Cause I got something wrong with my brain!" Phil thumped himself on the head with his palm, pacing back and forth in front of the bed.

"Phil, you're not crazy, come sit back down. Don't hurt yourself." I pat the bed beside me.

"Apparently I am! My parents only want me to come back to Blackwell so they don't look like bad parents for having a mentally ill kid!"

"Phil, you're not ill."

"Yeah I am, I'm fucking nuts!"

"Have you taken your meds yet?" I ask, my brow furrowing in confusion.

"I don't need to take my freaking meds, they only make it worse!" He snaps causing me to jump at his voice. "They give you the meds so they can flaunt their fancy Harvard degree and say 'I fixed your kid, now pay me loads of money'. I should have just died when I tried to kill myself, then my parents wouldn't have to spent so much money on me."

Now I was getting mad, how could Phil get mad at me for something I couldn't control? Yeah, we were both a little crazy but that's not our fault, we were born with it, we can't control it. How could Phil say he should have died, what would I do? Did he want to die? Did he not want to be with me anymore? Of course he doesn't want to be with you anymore, you're just a burden, just a reason to get out of Blackwell. Voices fog my mind, covering up any reasonable decisions.

"What do you think I would do without you?! Huh? I would just be at Blackwell with all of the other crazy's, wasting away until I eventually OD from all the meds! I would be all alone, basically dead, unable to feel anything! I get it if you just want to get away from me, everyone else does, but at least say it now so this can all be over. Don't fuck with my feelings, Lester, everyone else already does."

Phil takes a step back, shaken from my words. He stutters for a response but comes up with none. Exactly, he can't come up with any lies about how he 'loves' you. He doesn't love you, no one does, you're unlovable, just a hopeless romantic who can't even be happy. If you can't be happy then how are you supposed to be loved? How are you supposed to love? You can't. You're going to die alone, you stupid fuck.

I get off the bed and walk past Phil, leaving him inside the room to sputter for a response I'll never hear. Slamming the door behind me, I angrily walk down the hallway letting the voices take over. I was tried, so tired of trying to fight them off, maybe they were right. Phil didn't love me, no one can love me. I push out of the glass doors and outside, the slight breeze sends shivers down my spine. I don't know where to go so I just walk aimlessly around town, looking at the unfamiliar buildings. Was I in a different city than Blackwell? This town didn't look familiar, it didn't spike any memory, then again I had slight amnesia from my schizophrenia. . . but wouldn't the pills fix that? I hadn't taken my meds yet so that would explain the voices, I really needed my meds but I wasn't going to walk back and face Phil, not after what happened.

"Hey, kid." Someone hissed.

I came to a quick stop, looking down a dark alley.

"You wanna have some fun?"

------

Phil's POV (oof)

He's been gone too long, hours for that matter. I thought it would be best if I just let him go, let him cool off. After I took my meds I realized what I did, I made him think I didn't need him. He's wrong, I need him more than anything, I need him so much, he means so much to me I can't be here without him. He makes me feel sane, as ironic as that is.

I pull on my shoes and coat, pocketing the key card before taking off to find Dan. It was late, the sun was setting and it was getting darker by the minute. I need to find him before dark. I roam the streets for what feels like hours, panic sweeps over my heart as the sun sets and darkness takes over. Where was he? Where could he have gone. I spin around when I hear a noise, soft crying. I knew that sound, it was Dan. Thank God. Turning into an alleyway I see a small figure leaning against the brick wall.

"Dan?" I try to swallow the shakiness of my voice but it still comes out as a shaky as my tremors.

"Phil?" He hiccups.

"Oh Dan, come here!" I fall to my knees, wrapping his small frame in my arms.

He was shaking, cold and crying.

"I need my meds..." He cries. "I feel so sick."

"You're withdrawing, come on let's go back to the hotel." I stand up, pulling him up with me.

"I threw up a couple of times." He moans.

"That's alright, we'll get your meds. Can you walk?"

"Barley. . . my legs are s-shaking too much."

I wrap my arm around his waist, using myself as a crutch. We somehow make our way back to our room, after kicking the door closed I set Dan in the bathroom, running a hot shower. He strips of his clothes as I get his meds, helping him swallow them. As he showers I sit on the bed, waiting for his return. Steam follows his exit from the bathroom, he was dressed in a white t-shirt and his sweatpants hung low on his hips, he fell onto the bed face first. I rolled over and ran my hand through his hair, within minutes he was asleep. I just really hope he gets better, I love him so much, I hate seeing him in pain. Yet again, this was my fault.

[septic84]

The stranger who loved me.

Writing a book about our lives as Dan and Phil the YouTubers was surreal. I wasn’t sure how we pulled that off let alone the tour we were about to start. The Amazing Book Is Not On Fire sparked The Amazing Tour Is Not On Fire and we were about to go on stage to perform our first show. Everything was going smoothly until it wasn’t. I saw Phil stumble, try to regain composure, then fall off of the stage.

   A03

“Oh shit,” my voice echoed over the microphone, I reached down to switch it off, waiting to see Phil come back up the stairs. When he didn’t, I hurried down to him.  

“Phil, are you okay?” I said approaching him. The crowd was whispering and talking hushed. Phil didn’t respond. “Phil?” When I looked down at him, he laid still, there was a pool of blood under his head. “Oh my God!” By this time our security team had already started to section off the area as the medical staff was making their way towards us. I leaned down and switched off Phil’s mic. “Hey, hang in there okay? Help is coming.” He didn’t move.  An announcement was made to the theater that there was an emergency and for everyone to stay seated. I heard people crying in the audience, I couldn’t blame them, I was almost in tears myself.  I knew when Phil was well again, he would feel really bad about making so many people so upset due to his clumsiness. He had finally managed to hurt himself badly due to his constant tripping over his own feet.    

When we got to hospital, a member of the security team was allowed to go with him and wait outside the door, I, however, was asked to stay in the waiting room. Nervously my knee bounced up and down as I wrung my hands and stared at my feet, I really wanted to be with Phil.  Not knowing what was going on was killing me.  It seemed like days had passed when A doctor came out to give us information.  

“Philip Lester?” I stood up and walked to the doctor.  

“Relation?”  

“He’s my,” I paused, “Best friend and flatmate. We were in the middle of our stage show when he fell.”  

He nodded, “Okay, come with me.” The doctor started to rattle off information too quickly for me to keep up. Several medical terms later I had sussed out that he had broken his nose, had swelling on his brain and was in a coma. “He is stable right now; we have a specialist coming in the morning to review his charts,”  

“Okay,” I said as we entered the room. Phil was hooked up to several machines and an IV. His head was wrapped in gauze, his eyes were both black from bruising.    

“I’ll leave you for now,” The doctor gave a sympathetic smile and left.    

I sat next to his bed, “Oh Phil,” I choked. I could hear the beeping of the monitors and machinery as I laid my head down on the bed, not able to contain it anymore, tears slid down my face. I was so scared, Phil looked too fragile and helpless. What was worse is I knew I couldn’t do anything for him. Not at all.    

I must have dozed off as I was startled awake by a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see Martyn smiling down at me, sadly. “Hi,”    

“Hey. I would have let you sleep, but they say the specialist should be here soon,”    

I nodded, “How long have you been here?”    

He shrugged, “Few hours,”    

“I can’t believe he is laying here literally because he fell off of the stage. “  

Martyn chuckled humorlessly, “Leave it to Phil,”  

“The swelling is already going down,” the specialist said after she had his head scanned again.  “He should wake up in the next few days, granted he keeps making progress like this.” She looked at Martyn, then me, “It’s good news, boys.” She smiled, nodded and walked out.  

Three days later Phil woke up. I was making my way back to him from the bathroom when I heard him groan in pain and saw his eyes flutter open.  

“Hi there, Phily,” I said softly. He turned and looked at me, his face held the look of utter confusion, I laughed. “You fell off the stage, you absolute mess.”  

“I was on a stage?”  

“TATINOF?”  

“What?”  

I shook my head, “It’s okay Phil, take your time.  I will properly drag you and we can talk about all that when you are feeling better,” I smiled at him.  

“Well, that’s nice I guess,” he paused, “but I have no idea who you are.”  

“Haha, very funny,”  

“I wasn’t being funny,”    

“What?” I swallowed hard, “You don’t know who I am?”  

“No, am I supposed to?”  

I felt as though I was about to faint, “Yes!” I squeaked.  

“Mr. Lester, I see you are awake,” the nurse walked into the room. “How are you feeling?”  

“Sore, my head, and face really hurt,”  

“I’m sure,”  

“He can’t remember!” I blurted out, panicking.  

“Oh, “She said, what’s the last thing you remember?”  

“Being at uni.” I audibly gasped.    

“Let me go get the doctor,” she smiled as she left.  

Luckily, Martyn came in at the same time.  

“Martyn? Oh my god, I’m glad you’re here!” Phil’s face relaxed, but he was side-eyeing me.  

He laughed, “Why are you looking at Dan like that?”  

“He doesn’t remember who I am,” I said, sadly.  

Martyn’s face fell, “What? How is that possible?”  

“How am I supposed to know? I have no idea what's even happening,” Phil said.  

“Sorry,” I muttered.  The doctor came in and examined him, she ordered a series of brain scans to try to figure out Phil’s memory loss.  

“Phil, do you know what year it is?” she asked.  

“Well, no, but judging by how old Martyn looks I am assuming I am not in Uni anymore.”  

“Hey!” Martyn said.  

“You don’t remember why you’re here?”  

“No, I don’t even know where “here” is.  

“And you don’t remember Dan, at all?”  

“No,”  

This was a nightmare, I stepped out of the room and sat on a bench in the hall. I wasn’t sure what to do. After a few minutes the doctor came out, “He could remember everything eventually,” She clasped my shoulder. “Don’t give up.” I nodded.  

I overheard Martyn talking to Phil, “Dan. As in Danisnotonfire.”  

“I have no idea what that means?”  

“YouTube?”  

“Martyn, the last YouTube video I remember making is after I returned from Busch Gardens in America,”  

“Oh my god, when was that? So that means you don’t remember him like, at all?”  

“I take it Dan is important?”  

“Ah, yeah. He’s become like family to us.”  

“Us us, or like you and our parents?”  

“Phil, Dan is your flatmate,”  

“Oh,”  

“And your best friend.”  

“Oh,”  

“At least that’s what you tell people.”  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  

I knocked on the door, “Excuse the interruption, I just thought I’d let you know I am going to get a hotel room,” I doubted Phil wanted me to sleep by his bedside anymore. “I’ll see you, I guess.”  

“Dan,” Martyn started, I waved him off  

“I’m really glad you are awake Phil,” I smiled, nodded and walked out. He had no idea who I was, the video he was referencing was before he even tweeted at me. I was a stranger to him. He didn’t know about the legacy we had built with YouTube, BBC radio 1, TABINOF or TATINOF. What the hell was I going to tell the internet?  A member of our security team took me to a hotel, they had agreed to stay around until Phil was released, just for precautionary measures. I had a set of Phil’s contacts in their pot in my pocket, his phone and I knew that his pillow and things from the dressing room were in the car.    

“Ready?”  

“Yeah,”  

Once I was checked in, I kicked off my shoes, took off my skinny jeans I had been squeezed into for days now, leaving me in my pants. My shirt came off next, grabbing Phil’s pillow I crawled into the bed. I inhaled Phil’s scent and fell asleep, crying into it.  

I woke up to my phone ringing. It had only been two hours, it was Martyn.  

“Hello?”    

“What hotel are you at?”  

“Why?”  

“Because I am coming over.”  

I groaned getting up to open the door when he had arrived.  

“You didn’t have to leave, Dan.”  

“He has no idea who I am, why would he want me there? If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t want me there.” He said nothing, “See, exactly.”  

“What are you going to do about the tour?”  

“I have already emailed everyone to cancel it.”  

“You decided this on your own?”  

“Well, it isn’t like Phil cares, is it?”  

“He would if he knew.”  

“I know that but he doesn't, he can’t remember me, let alone our stage show.” I flopped down on the bed. “As far as the rest of it goes, what the fuck am I supposed to do?”  

“I’m not sure,”  

“Same. Do I pretend to be Phil? Tweet that he was hurt, but keep it vague? Do I tweet as me? Do we just ignore it? I know Phil wouldn’t want us to ignore it, at least not the one who knows and loves his fans, but,”  

“Dan, it doesn’t have to be figured out right now, you know, that right?”  

“I suppose you’re right.”  

“I want to ask how you are, but I’m sure I know. You overheard us.”  

“Yeah.” I swallowed. “I, just. He’s my best friend, he’s my only friend. He doesn’t know who I am.”  

“Still sticking with the “friend” label, huh?”  

I rubbed the back of my neck nervously. “He is also my business partner,”  

“I suppose you could let your manager and team handle it, but you would know what Phil would want, better than anyone. I won’t pressure you, but it has to be addressed.”  

“I know,” I looked up at him, “What if he never remembers me, Martyn?”  

“We can’t think like that,”  

“I can and I am. Look, I get it, but you will always have a place in his life. He knows who you are. What’s going to happen when they release him? Is he coming back to our flat? Will he go to yours? Your mums? Why would he want to live with me?”  

“Deep breaths,”  

“How did this happen? How is this fair, to anyone? This is like a terrible movie of the week.”  

“He hasn’t said much after I told him who you are, he just keeps repeating the same timeline he referenced before. In Uni.”  

“Our story doesn’t exist, Youtube Dan and Phil don’t exist.”  

“Not right now, they don’t. He has another brain scan tomorrow, they will be determining a treatment course, if he can go home or leave, I guess.”  

“Where are you staying tonight?”    

“I think I’ll stay at the hospital. The idea of him being alone really bothers me.” I felt the guilt stabbing in my gut. “I’m heading back then, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”  

“You think I should come back?”  

“Of course, you should Dan. Scans at 10:00.”  

“Okay,”  

“Try to stay positive, yeah? See you in the morning.”  

“Sure, see you.”  

Even though I was exhausted, I wasn’t able to sleep.  I was so damned scared that my life was over.  I was nothing without Phil, everyone knew that, and I was not the exception. If Phil didn’t remember me ever again, I had no idea what I was going to do.  I tried to resist a trip down memory lane, but that only lasted so long. As I panicked, I loaded a PINOF playlist, set an alarm and closed my eyes, listening to us laugh.  

My alarm went off and I pulled myself out of bed as the memories flooded through my mind. I showered, drank the disgusting hotel room coffee and brushed my teeth before I left for the hospital. I had no idea if Phil would even want me there, but I still went. I knocked on the frame of the door.  

“Hey, Dan,” Martyn greeted.  

“Hi,” I said, meeting Phil’s gaze.  

“Your hair is really curly today,” He said.  

I blushed; I had forgotten to straighten it, “Ah, yeah,”  

“Come sit, Dan.” Martyn motioned to the chair.  

I sat, but it was so awkward and uncomfortable that I was constantly shifting in the silence.  

“Well, this sucks,” Phil said casually, smiling. I laughed. “Is this as weird for you as it is for me?”    

“I can’t be sure, but it’s pretty fucking weird.”    

“Yeah, apparently we have known each other for years.”  

“Oh Phil,” We were interrupted by his mum, she had finally made it here. I wondered when she would arrive.  

“Hi, mum, this is Dan,”  

“Silly boy, I know who Dan is,” she turned to me and kissed the top of my head. “Hello, darling. How are you holding up?”  

“Fine,” I whispered. One of her fingers twisted in one of my curls as if to make a point, though she didn’t say anything else.  

“The doc will be here in a while to take him for another scan, we will know more then.”  

“He doesn’t remember Dan at all?”  

“He doesn’t remember a lot of things, not just me,” I said softly.  

“Oh, Dan,” She murmured  

“You know, I am right here; I was the one who got hurt, like actually. He didn't.”  

“If you remembered you wouldn’t be taking that tone with me, mister.”  

“Well, I don’t okay? It’s not like anyone is telling me much anyway.”  

“We don’t want to make it worse, Phil.” Martyn said, “The doctors haven't told us what we should and shouldn’t do yet.”  

The doctor came in before anyone else could say anything, “Ready for your scan?” Phil looked scared so without thinking I took his hand in mine. He jumped and I released it. “I’m sorry,” I muttered. I got up and walked out of the room so they could take him to his scan.  I watched in the hall as they wheeled him away for his procedure. Kath was suddenly pulling me into a hug.  

“Hey there, my strong lad,” she soothed “You’re okay.” I clung to her; I needed this comfort.  

“I just don’t understand how he doesn’t remember. What am I supposed to do? I mean he’s my best friend.”  

“Oh, we are still going with that are we?” Kath huffed. I pulled back and looked into her eyes, blushing. “He’s also your business partner,” She grabbed his shoulders, “Have you decided what you are going to do?”  

“I canceled the tour, other than that, I’m not sure what to do. Phil doesn’t remember anything since 2008,” I took a deep breath, “That means YouTube, BBC, the gaming channel, the book or the tour.”  

“Let’s see what the doctor says, we can work on it from there.”  

“I suppose you could call me; I doubt he wants me here.”  

“Well, I want you here. And I am hungry, let’s take Martyn and get some lunch, shall we?”  

“This is really a family matter, isn’t it?”  

“Daniel, you are family and you know it. Stop it.  Come.”    

The doctor explained that Phil’s brain was healing, but the amnesia was an unfortunate side effect. It was diagnosed as selective amnesia, which I thought was a stupid name, but as Phil remembered his mum, his brother, and his childhood, this seemed to be the best fit. The doctor couldn’t give us a time frame or confirmation that the last 7 years of his life would even return to him.  He was to rest, but also try to trigger his memories slowly.   They warned not to do too much too fast, but “they” remained hopeful that this would work. I wasn’t so sure.  They advised me to put things away that would cause him to ask too many questions,  and slowly reintroduce them.  

“We will be able to release you tomorrow,” she said, leaving the room.  

I took a deep breath, chewing on my lip.  

“Well, “Kath said, “We’ll get you back to London, back to your things and your bed.”  

“I live in London?”  

“Yes, you do.”  

“You live with me, “I said softly.  

“Oh,”  

“You’ve lived with Dan for several years,” Kath said, patting his shoulder. “If we want your memory to return, that is the best place for you.”  

Phil looked scared, I hated that. “Phil, you can stay with your mum or Martyn for a while, if it would make you more comfortable,” relief crossed his face.  

“Nonsense, all of his memories are in and at your flat. “  

“Mum,” Phil said.  

“This is what’s best for you, Philip. You need to go back to London.”  

“Look how scared he is,” I squeaked, “How could it be best for him?”  

Returning to my hotel room, I sighed. Kath was not going to acquiesce my offer for Phil to stay with one of them for a while.  Tomorrow afternoon Phil and I would be back in our flat, alone. He had no idea who I was other than what people had told him.  I was headed back to our apartment shortly, to put away anything that was us.  I would put it all in the gaming room, I would have to buy and install a lock to keep him out. It was overwhelming, as I packed up my things, (and Phil’s) I forced myself not to cry.  It was not the time. It was shortly after three am and I had finally gotten the flat cleaned up to an acceptable level. Martyn and Kath would be dropping Phil off in the morning, I made sure his coffee mug and coffee were set out for him. The photos of us that were kept on the wall we never showed on any platform, all of our awards, plaques, and art that hinted to who we were, was now all locked away. Anything at all that made us, us.  I looked around at how empty the flat was, it mirrored how I felt. Making sure the gaming room was securely locked, I hid the key in my room, which also was now bare.  I was in my pants, laying numbly on my bed. This was going to be the hardest thing I have ever done; I wasn’t sure I was strong enough. It wasn’t like I had a choice.    

I woke up to keys in the lock, Phil’s voice then Kath’s. “Wow, this is a nice flat.”   “Yes, you and Dan have a nice place here,”  

I pulled some clothes on and walked out to greet them, yawning.  

“Sorry,” I muttered.  

“It’s okay, Dan,” Martyn said.    

“I’ll show you to your room,” I said, forcing the kindest smile I could muster.  

“Right, thanks.”   What he didn’t know is his room was actually our room, it had been for years now. I swallowed hard.  

“Here we are,”  

“Okay, thanks.” He walked in, looking around. “At least this looks the same,” He said, motioning to his duvet. I laughed softly.  I missed him so much, I just wanted to hug him.  After explaining to him where everything was, I excused myself.  

“I’ll let you get settled, then.” I went back to the lounge.    

“You can do this, Dan.” Kath pulled me into another hug.  

“Can I?”  

“Of course,” she lowered her voice “When you love someone, you would be surprised what you can do.”  

I didn’t even refute it, I just pulled back and nodded.    

“We’re off now, I will be staying in London for a time, just to make sure he gets settled.” she turned towards his room “Phil, we’re leaving.”  

Phil came out and hugged his mum. “I know you’re scared, it’s okay. I promise you; you are safe here. I wouldn’t leave if that were not the case.” He hugged Martyn next.  

“Dan really cares about you Phil, you’re fine.” He reassured.  

“Bye,” He said, his voice was timid and it made my heart clench.  

After they had left, we stood awkwardly. “Ah, I have things out for you to make your coffee if you’d like.” I motioned to the kitchen  

“Yeah, okay.”  

“If you need me, I’ll be in my room, which is the one just down the hall from yours.”  

“Thanks,”  

I didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to be doing, I just wanted to be around him. I knew he must be feeling really strange too.  For the most part, he spent the day in his room, I hoped he had been resting, but I couldn’t be sure. After the pizzas I had ordered arrived, I knocked on his door.  

“Ah, yeah?”  

“I ordered us Pizza, I’m hungry, I figured you would be too.”  

He opened the door, “Yeah, I am, thanks.”  

“Did you want to eat with me or?”  

“Yeah, sure.”  

We were set up in the lounge, I wasn’t sure what we should watch, what would be too much or too confusing, so I put Buffy on. He smiled.  

“I love Buffy.”  

I smiled at him, “I know,” I remained quiet for most of it until Phil had sauce dripping off of his chin and I absent-mindedly grabbed a napkin and wiped it off. His face was still black and blue, I sucked in a breath. Then I caught his eyes, they were wide and uncomfortable.  

“Oh, god. I’m sorry.” I said quickly snatching my hand back.  

“It’s okay,” He said. “I take it we are close, but I just don��t know that.”  

“I know, I know.” I looked down  

“Your hair is cute curly, you know.” He said, eyes still on the screen.  

“Ugh, I hate it. I look like a hobbit.”  

He laughed out loud. “I see why we are friends, you’re funny.”    

“Yeah, yeah.”  

“So,” He turned towards me,  “We have lived together for years?”  

“Yes,”  

“How did we meet?”  

Was I supposed to tell him this soon? “Um,”  

“I mean, I don’t know do I?”  

“I’m worried to push you,”  

“Well, the whole reason I am here is so that I can remember you, isn’t it?”  

“Yeah, yeah it is. We met because of your Youtube channel.”  

“Really?”  

“Yes, really.”  

“Wow, that’s so cool.” He smirked.  

“Yeah, I Tweeted at you, a lot. I liked Muse, you liked Muse.  

“Do you watch my videos?”  

“Yes,” I smiled, “and then we met.”  

“Wow, when was that?”  

“2009.”  

He gasped, “Sorry, I keep forgetting it’s 2015.”  

“I’m sure this is hard for you.”  

“Yeah, I guess I graduated huh?”  

“You did,”  

“Good.” He yawned, “When am I allowed to go on the internet again?”  

“Oh,” I took a deep breath, “Let’s just give that some time. There is so much shit, now Phil.  I want you to be feeling better before you open that Pandora’s box.”  

“Is it that bad?” He said softly,  

“Some parts are, most are not. Are you tired?”  

“Yeah, I suppose I am.”  

“Okay, time for bed then,”  

“Dan?”  

“Yeah?”  

“I know this must be hard for you too,”  

“I’m okay, Phily, don’t worry about me.”  

“Phily?”  

“Yeah, ah, sorry.” I blushed.  

“Well, goodnight then,”    

“Goodnight.”  

In the coming days, Phil had asked a few common questions, but nothing too in-depth.  I was struggling and found myself face down in the hallway.  I literally did this all the time but Phil, of course, didn't know.     “Oh!”  He just happened upon me having a lie down on the floor, “Are you alright? Should I call someone?"    

I scoffed. "I'm fine this is a thing I do."  

"Why?"  

" That's the million-dollar question.”  

"Should I do something?"    

"Nope."    

"Okay then." Phil had discovered my existential crisis hallway, he probably thought I was insane. I took a deep breath and continued my spiral.  

“Dan?”  

“Ugh,” I groaned.  

“I don't mean to pry, but you've been laying on the floor for 3 hours, at least since the last time we spoke.” He crouched next to me, “I feel like I should do something,”  

I smirked, “Yeah this is how you were when it first started too.”    

“Well, that makes sense, since we're friends, right?”  

“Yeah, right.” We stayed in silence for a while, he eventually sat leaning his back against the wall, wrapping his arms around his knees.  

“You may not remember, “I chuckled, “but you sure act like the Phil I know.”  

“Does this happen a lot?”  

“More than it should, I suppose.” I sat up, “thanks for sitting with me.”    

He smiled, “I want you to tell me more about our life, I want to remember you.”  

“I'm not sure I can right now,”  

“Why does it seem like there's something really bad that's happened?”  

“There is a lot of things Phil, a lot.”  

“Why won't you just tell me, why is there a locked room upstairs?”  

“Because,” I stood up to leave, “I want you to remember and not just learn about it. I doubt you'd forgive me a second time.”  I walked into my room and shut the door, but he followed me.  I heard through the door “We're friends, of course, I will!”  

But we weren't just friends and that was the problem. Did I have it in me to show him that video? The one that everyone now refers to as the” v-day video.”  I was so mad when it posted, he was so embarrassed. There was so much backlash from that alone, but there was more.  What about the “I like vagina” posts, or all the “no, I'm not gay” posts?  Then there was the whole  "no homo Howell 2012," that whole year was a cluster fuck.  

“Well can you at least show me what shops I go to?  I need toothpaste.”  

I open the door and stepped out, “Yeah okay, we typically just order from Tesco. We don't go outside much, I mean we were going to, but then you fell.” I ordered a car.  

“Oh, sorry.”  

I smiled. “It's okay Phil, you didn't intend on this happening.”  

“You said I fell off the stage, why was I on a stage?”  

“Ah, don't you need toothpaste? Let's go.”    

“You can't put me off forever, you know, that right?”  

 “I know,” I noticed he was in a t-shirt, “I have your coat in my room, hang on, “  

He cocked his eyebrow when I returned.  “We share clothes?”  

I handed it to him.   “Yeah, sometimes We do.”  I guided him towards the door we got to the car    

“Wow, I can't believe I live in London. That's truly mental, why did we move here?”  

“For work mostly, we lived in Manchester before.”  

"We did?”  

“Yes, we did. I went to Uni there for a while. I know what you're doing, by the way.”  I was so tired of not talking to Phil, of feeling so alone, that I answered his questions. I got lost in thought and my leg was pressed into his. I realize the comfort it brought me, it seemed to do the same for Phil.    

“We're really touchy-feely friends, aren't we?”  

I blushed and laughed, “We are. Does it bother you?”  

“No, not really.”  

“Okay, good.”  

We had made it through Tesco fairly easily, thankfully not running into anyone we knew or any of our followers.  We were at the checkout and Phil looked exhausted, his face looked sickly as the dark purple bruises were now fading into browns and yellows.  

“Are you okay?”  

“Starting to get a headache,”  

“We're almost done.”  He seemed unsteady; I looked around and seeing no one was looking, I looped my arm around his waist. “Lean into me.”  

He snorted, “You clearly don't want to be touching me in public.”  

“You don't understand,”  

“Of course, I don't.”  He pushed my arm away. We didn't speak the entire way home; I wasn’t sure what to say. When we got home, I started to put groceries away in silence, I glanced at him. He looked miserable.  

“You should go lay down, I don't want you to get a migraine, you have that look on your face.”  

He sighed. “It's so frustrating that you know so much about me and I can't remember anything about you.”  

“I'm sorry, Phil,” He shook his head and walked away. There wasn’t much I could do to help that.  I missed him so much, the him that would allow me to be close to him at the right times, the one who understood why we needed to be careful of who saw us in public. I missed Dan and Phil, both professionally and personally. I missed my old life.  

I knew It was risky, but I snuck up to the gaming room. I needed to feel connected to my Phil to be able to help this Phil. I looked through our photos, our book, and his Twitter.  I even watched the “V-day” video. I needed to hear him say I love you. I haven't watched it since the accidental uploading, it was too painful.  But, now in the dark, with all things Dan and Phil surrounding me, I was glad I had it.  I watched it twice wiping my eyes,  I took a deep breath; it was time to pull myself together.  Standing up, I looked around the room one last time,  turned out the lights then shut and locked the door.  I met Phil at the bottom of the stairs.  

“Hey, are you feeling better?”  

“I guess so, I'm so bored." His eyes drifted up the stairs, “Are you okay?”  

I smiled at him, “Yes. We can play Sonic?”  

He looked at me suspiciously, but said, “Yeah, okay, thanks.”  Some time into the game, we were laughing and had made our way closer to each other on the sofa, our legs touched like they always did. When it was my turn, I noticed he was watching my face more than the game, I smirked.  

“You know I can see you staring at me, yeah?”  

“Ah,” he stammered, “sorry.”  

“Do I have something on my face?”  

“No, it's just,”  

“Just what?”  

“Nothing, never mind,” I pause the game setting the controller down.    

“What?”  

“It feels like we are or have been more than friends in the past,”  

I swallowed hard, “what?”  

“Oh,” he said, “I guess that means I’m not crazy?" I nodded in silence. “Why does everyone think we're just best friends then?”  

“It's complicated,”  

“My family even calls us best friends, why are we “best friends” if we are or were more?”  

I sighed, “More than one reason, mostly because of me.”  

Phil took a deep breath, “Are you embarrassed of me?” He looked down at his hands  

“No, no not at all Phil. It's nothing like that. Why would you think that?”  

“Well, look at you, then look at me.”  

“It has nothing to do with that, Phil. And that’s ridiculous.”  

“Wait, you’re not out yet, are you?”  

“No” I whispered “I’m not even sure what I am,”  

“When did we start being more than friends?”  

“2009.”  

He looked back up to my face. “Are we still more than friends now?”  

“We were, before, the accident I mean.  We didn't label anything and we didn't tell anyone. Something, well several things actually, happened. Things were really bad for a while, it almost destroyed us. Since then we are more than friends in private, but not in public.”  

“So, we didn't tell anyone, meaning I had to be closeted again?” I tightly pursed my lips. “Wow, I was so ashamed of myself.  I mean I struggled from 12-18 to come out,”  

My eyes became glossy. “I know, you're the first “out” person I’d met.”  

Phil looked around the flat, “you've hidden anything that may have hinted that we were together, haven't you?”  

“Yeah, I wasn't sure what to do. The doctors said it would be best.”  

“That’s what’s in the locked room?”  

“Yes, it is also our office.”  

“We work together, I know that, what do we do?”  

“Phil, now that you know, about us I mean,” I paused. “I think it’s time to know the rest,” I got up and got my laptop. Maybe this was too much too fast, but I couldn't dodge the questions any longer.  “If you remembered, you’d know how awful this is,” I pulled up “Hello Internet” and paused it before it could start.  

“Oh my god, you’ve always been cute,”  

“Shh, now, I won’t stay for this, I hate it.”  

“So, you’re a Youtuber too?”  

“Yes, I’ll be back in a few,” I came back after I knew enough time had passed.  “You were the “really good friends,”    

“Okay,”  

I loaded up PINOF, “Watch this playlist, come find me when you are done,” I pressed play and left the room, hearing my younger version of myself say “Why do you always make cat whiskers on your face?” I went up to the gaming room, grabbed the copy of TABINOF, when to my room and laid down. I wasn’t sure how this was going to go. I was trying to take deep breaths to stave off the panic, in the process, I fell asleep.  

When I opened my eyes, it was dark. “Shit.” I walked out to Phil, he wasn't in the lounge, I knew where he was. I realized that I probably hadn’t locked the gaming room and that's where he would be. I found him, staring at a picture of us in Japan, me kissing his cheek.  

“Hey,”  

“You're cute when you sleep, you know.  Do you honestly think people believe we're just friends?  I mean I don't remember and I can tell how much you love me when you look at me in videos.”  

“What have you seen?”  

“All of PINOF, Day in the life, some Sims and the Halloween baking video. The way you look at me, people know, believe me. If you think otherwise, you're just fooling yourself.  Then I Googled, I saw Dailybooth, Formspring, then I made it up here the door was open. We have created a universe that is solely ours, haven't we?"  

"We have,"  

"I saw the "VDay" video, I had to after all the things I read. It wasn't a joke, was it?"  

"No, it wasn't. It was really a valentine. It was also a very dark time in our history, I said some very stupid things."  

"Yeah, I saw. Dan, are you afraid of your sexuality?"  

"I don't even know what my sexuality is, Phil." I looked him in the eyes, "What I do know is that we work."  

"You love me though, right?"  

"More than you know, you saved my life."  

"The stage I fell off of, that was our tour, right?"  

I nodded handing him the book, "First performance,"  

He thumbed through the book, "wow, we are very successful." He stood up and walked towards me. "This must be really hard for you,"  

I snorted out a laugh, "well, it's not been easy, but I'm kinda attached to you if you couldn't tell."  

"Yeah, I've gathered," he took my hands in his, "I know somewhere in here," he pointed at his head, "The Phil that knows you, misses you, very much."  

I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my face, "I miss him so much,"  

"Please don't cry," he cradled my face with one of his hands, I leaned into his touch. "Dan, I know this may be weird, but can I kiss you?"  

I leaned forward and my lips met his. It was a strange sensation, my lips knew his lips, but the hesitation wasn't something I was used too. I wrapped my arm around him and he started to kiss me harder. I pulled back and rested my head on his shoulder.  

"I promise you, Dan. I will remember. I am so lucky that you love me,"  

"I've always been confused about why you stayed with me, after everything,"  

"Have you met you?"  

"That's my point."  

"Dan, I can't remember feeling what I did before, but I know already why I've stayed with you."  

"It's really a brain fuck, being this close to you and missing you at the same time."  

He nodded, "I'm pretty overwhelmed right now, I think I'll go to bed. This has been a lot."  

"Okay, Phil, get some rest, I would hate for you to get worse," he nodded and started down the stairs.    

Now that he knew everything, I didn't have to lock the gaming room anymore. He knew we were in love; that we were more than friends, he knew we were Dan and Phil, the iconic YouTuber Duo, and he knew that we also actually were best friends as well.  I realized how tired I was, this had been a lot for me too. I wondered what questions he would have for me after he processed all the videos, all the Google searches, and that kiss. As much as I missed Phil, this was the most progress we had made since the start of this whole ordeal. Smiling to myself, I finally had hope.  

I woke up to Phil groaning loudly. "Shit," I got up and walked to his room, his door was open. "Hey, are you okay?"  

"Dan, can you bring me coffee? I really don't want to get up." His arm was a crossed his face.    

"Do you have a headache?"  

"No, not really. Something feels off. My nose hurts."  

"I'm sorry, I'll be right back with some coffee."  

He moved his arm and looked at me suspiciously, "Really?"  

"Yeah, but don't do that again, okay?  You woke me up and I thought you needed my help."    

"Well, I do! Plus, you know If you make it, I won't steal your Shreddies."  

I scoffed, "Yeah, yeah. You and your cereal stealing," I had made it halfway to the kitchen before it dawned on me. "Oh my god," I ran back to his room.    

"What's wrong?"    

"Phil?" I asked tentatively.    

"What is it?" He had sat up.  

"You remember me?"    

"What's gotten into you? Of course, I," suddenly Phil froze, "Dan? Why are we at home? What happened? What about TATINOF?"  

I jumped on the bed pulling him into a quick hug and forceful kiss.    

"You remember."    

"Oh my God, I fell off the stage, didn't I?"    

"Yes, you nutter, you've caused quite the drama,"  

"What happened?"  

"You fell, broke your nose, cracked your head open. You couldn't remember me, us, YouTube, I mean at all Phil."  

"Really?" I nodded, "Are people mad?"    

"I've no idea, I haven't been online at all for a few weeks."  

"Weeks? It's been weeks?  I fell off a stage and had to be taken by ambulance to hospital and you haven't said anything to them? Oh my God, Dan."    

"I'm sorry, okay. I was dealing with my own shit, yeah? It felt like a lifetime to me, I had to explain everything to you, Phil, I mean everything. Us, the “vday” video, YouTube, all of it. I had to relive all that shit, so forgive me for being distracted. "  

He leaned over and kissed me and said, "I'm sure that must have sucked."    

"Yeah, it was difficult." I rubbed the back of my neck, "He, well you, I guess, asked me why we weren't, like why we were "just best friends."  

"Oh," he took my hand, "it's okay Dan,"  

"But it's not, not really. You pointed out that I had forced you back into the closet because I can't figure out my shit."    

"Did I say it like that?"    

"No, but you weren't pleased."  

"Dan, I don't care about that, you know that right?"  

"How could you not?"  

"I love you, Dan. I wouldn't ever want to hurt you. In the earlier years, after all of that stuff, I knew you weren't ready. I accepted it then."  

"Phil, that,"  

He continued, "I also accepted that you may never be ready, but having to act like you were only my "best friend" in front of people never bothered me. Okay, maybe a little, at first, but Dan, you are my best friend. You also are a person I get to hold and kiss and share my dreams with. No memory me didn't know everything when he made that comment, he didn't know how important privacy is to us, or what would happen even if you were ready to be out. He didn't have the whole story. I would never force you to come out for me, I don't have a right to. You come out when you're ready, it's no one else's business. Do it when you are ready."  

"I love you, Phil Lester "  

"I love you too, I'm sorry I forgot you, us, everything."  

“I'm just glad you remember now,"  

"Can we still do the rest of the tour?"  

"Ah, maybe, I canceled it."    

"What? Why?"    

"Phil, you thought it was 2008."  

"Oh, wow. I don't anymore though, I want to continue."  

"Do you think we should?"  

"Of course, we wrote a book and were going to tour it, I had an accident but I remember now, there’s no reason not to."    

"I'll call everyone later,"    

"Good. So, about that coffee?"  

“Get coffee yourself, you spoon, and stay out of my Shreddies.”   

Bingo Card:

Amnesia

TABINOF

Vday Video

[alittledizzy]

Title: Lullaby for an Anxious Mind Rating: T Word Count: 1.2k Summary: Dan's having a pretty bad day. (Set immediately after his return from the Bahamas at Playlist 2017.)

[read on AO3]

The lights are too bright. The crowds are too full. The noises of the theme park are too loud.

Dan is so, so tired.

He knows he's being too quiet. He's staring down at his phone too much. His heart is racing and he feels like he's on a ride that just won't stop.

He just needs that place inside of himself, and he can't find it right now.

*

Phil notices.

Phil always notices.

He tries to soothe in small ways. The pressure of fingertips against Dan's elbow, a hand solid on Dan's leg when they sit and sip their drinks. He sits beside Dan on every ride, guides them from place to place so no one stops to ask Dan for an opinion.

Phil is warm and charming, laughing and keeping up conversation with Cat and the other hangers on that seem to trickle by for a quick hello or a longer chat, despite the lack of invitation. Phil is good at things like that, walking the line on the side of polite but not encouraging.

He's a human shield between Dan and the world right now, and Dan couldn't be more grateful.

*

He'll probably cry later.

The stress of the day will catch up to him. The jerking roller coaster of emotion, the desperation and anxiety and adrenaline of not knowing where he was going to end up. Those miserable minutes where he thought he was going to be stuck.

"What a first world problem," he'd joked in the van on the way to the parks. He'd been trying so hard to remember what normal people sound like, keeping up with the beats in conversation with their manager. "In paradise, oh no, poor Dan."

She'd laughed, but Phil's smile had been troubled.

When they're back to the hotel he'll tell Phil he needs a shower and he'll stand underneath the spray and cry some and hopefully that'll help.

*

Cat finds other friends.

Dan doesn't even realize she's leaving until she's standing to get her bag. He puts his phone down long enough for a goodbye but doesn't stand to hug her. She leans awkwardly half on him and he pats her shoulder instead.

As soon as they're alone, Dan can feel Phil's eyes on him.

"What?" He says, a touch defensive. He can't help it.

"We should go back soon," Phil says softly.

*

In the hotel, he starts to shake.

"Let's take a shower," Phil says, and he disappears to start the water.

Dan thinks of his plan to cry in the shower. He'll try not to cry in front of Phil, but if he does, that's all right. Phil understands, if not why the tears come then at least how to comfort Dan through it.

The warm water will relax him, maybe even let him fall asleep without hours of thoughts bouncing loudly around in his brain.

*

Phil undresses him with uncharacteristically patient fingers.

Dan's breathing is shallow again. It's less of a precipice itself and more like he's been on some kind of plateau and he can finally see the downhill climb. It's overwhelming in its own way.

Phil lets him step in first, and he stands behind Dan and puts his arms around Dan's middle. The solid warmth of Phil all up and down the back of Dan makes Dan's breath hitch. He can't tell his heartbeat from Phil's but he can feel the movement of the breaths that Phil takes, and he times his own against them. He pushes back, feels Phil's soft cock against his ass, feels Phil's lips against his shoulder.

He turns and wraps his arms around Phil and feels Phil's fingers through his hair then cupping fully over the back of Dan's head. Hard and fast, burning in his chest, and then everything is wobbling and his face his wet with tears and the spray from above and Phil can absolutely hear those choked sobs but he just holds on tighter.

*

Dan feels hollowed out and empty after, crawling into bed in just his underwear. "I want pizza," he says, pulling the duvet up to his chin and fisting his hands in it.

Phil sits beside him, on top of the blanket. He rests one hand in Dan's damp hair. The touch relaxes another fragment of something held tense in him. Bit by bit, he is coming back to himself.

"We can get pizza," Phil says, and he rings room service and he puts the television on a movie they've both seen before.

They don't talk. The buzzing in his mind calms under the combination of Phil's hands on him, grounding him, and absence of a pressure to pretend he feels like a normal human being right now.

*

Dan listens with a sleepy half-attentiveness to Phil's awkward encounter with the hotel worker.

(He's probably tipping too much, he always tips too much because he can't do the percentages in his head and he forgets the value of American money and overcompensates.)

(Dan tips too much here, too, because he always ends up feeling mildly guilty that it's someone else's job to deliver unto him delicious cheese and carbs.)

"Phil." Dan sits up and smiles. "That's not just pizza."

"There's pizza." Phil points to a plate with a personal sized pizza on it. It sits amidst a fresh salad and a massive plate of chips and at least three other plates, two of which contain desserts. His voice goes slightly softer when he says, "You didn't eat much today."

Dan would protest more, but he's suddenly starving. "We're definitely taking up running again when we get back home."

*

"Thank you," Phil whispers.

They're nestled together in the darkness, close but only touching at specific points; bent knees and arms brushing. Dan never falls asleep easily, moving constantly with restless energy, but Phil does and the voice in the quiet stillness of the room startles Dan.

"For what?" Dan asks. He whispers, too.

"Going through all of that today, for me." Phil sounds upset, a hint of something that hadn't shown through earlier. "So you can stay with me."

"Not just for you," Dan says. It's true; he wants to stay, he wants this for himself as much as because Phil asked.

"But I know it's hard for you, and I didn't - I could have gone with you."

"It wasn't supposed to be so difficult," Dan says, though in the back of his mind he wonders if there could have been any eventuality that wouldn't have led to him feeling like this. Had the cab driver been pleasant, had the beaches been beautiful, and all the engines been working just fine - the things in his head that make everything feel impossible would have just honed in on something else.

"I'll go with you next time," Phil says.

Dan laughs, a quiet exhale. "There had better fucking not be a next time."

"Still," Phil insists.

Dan rests a hand on his chest to settle him. Phil covers Dan's hand with his own and briefly squeezes.

"It's fine," Dan says, and now in the aftermath when he can breathe again - it actually is.