#Sorry for being a bit less active; mental health struggles held me back a bit

[dorkafricska]

Comfort 🌟 Ko-fi, Insta, Bluesky

[wroughtbetwixtfanfic]

Stamped Into Memory, Ch 5.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Campbell’s just trying to survive in the new world. He knows he can make it– it’s everyone else he’s worried about.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Major Character Death, Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Family Issues, Substance Abuse, Slow Burn, Dubcon Kissing, Romantic Friendship, Mild Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Unhealthy Relationships, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It, implied animal death, the dog lives, Antisocial Personality Disorder, ASPD, Campbell has mild ASPD and is actively trying to not be awful

Word Count: 5835

Ch 1 || Ch 2 || CH3 || Ch 4 || AO3

The door was open when Campbell arrived home. He rushed in, adrenaline surging through him for a split second as he imagined all sorts of terrible things, but then he heard Elle's voice coming from the kitchen. Calm. Happy, even. Campbell slowed down, rounding the corner with curiosity instead of that ready-to-fight reaction.

Elle was sitting on the floor with the dog. Not just any dog, but that dog from the night Cassandra died. The dog looked at him with intense amber eyes as Elle ruffled his fur. "Let's get you all fixed up, okay?" "Hey," Campbell said as he came into the room. He tried to keep his tone casual, more for Elle's sake than the sake of the dog, but he couldn't help but stare back. "Who's this?" "Uhm, he's a stray. He showed up in our yard." "I've seen him around town." "Yeah, you mentioned hearing a dog that night, right?" "I did." Peeking up at him, Elle frowned. Campbell had tried hard to keep his expression blank, but either that had tipped her off, or he hadn't tried hard enough; she suddenly seemed nervous. "I don't think anybody's been looking after him. His paw is hurt. I was thinking, maybe..." She looked back at the dog. "I'm sorry, I know this is your house, and I should have asked before bringing him in." Campbell shook his head and went to the fridge to get some cold water. "No, it's okay. It's just strange he showed up here." "I can take him to someone else." "You don't have to do that, really." He knew how hard things had been on her lately, and that she still didn't have many people she was close to in town. The dog was just a dog, right? It's not like they were some omen of doom or anything. "Maybe it's good for you to have a friend around." "He seems like a really good dog. He's super sweet." "What are you gonna name him?" "He doesn't have a collar, but I mean, he kinda looks like a Charlie. Don't you think?" Elle leaned against Campbell as he came over and kissed her hair. "Is that silly?" "It's whatever you want. Hi, Charlie." He bent down and offered his hand to the dog. Charlie sniffed his fingers, then gave a tailwag. Campbell scritched the dog behind the ears, glancing at the dog's paw; it was bloodied, and definitely painful, like maybe another animal got a hold of it. Or, maybe, like Charlie had gotten tangled in something sharp. Poor thing. "Do you wanna be my dog?" Elle cooed at Charlie. "Let's get that paw fixed up." "Do you need help?" "Oh, maybe. I just wanted to wash him." The dog followed them upstairs and hopped into the tub, easy as pie. Campbell brought up the dishsoap and some towels; he'd have to go find Allie at dinner and see if she knew where they could get some pet supplies. Charlie held still while Elle washed him, and Campbell helped hold him still while Elle wrapped the dog's paw. "I've always wanted a dog," Elle sighed as she cooked some rice and frozen meat scraps to feed Charlie. The dog was laying at her feet. Cute. "Did you ever have any pets growing up?" Campbell winced at the memory of Oliver. "No. Sam had a bird, but I never had any pets of my own. Dogs are cool, though." "Mm. Looks like Charlie's being a good boy." "He is. I wonder where he came from, though. Cassandra told me everyone's pets were gone. It's kind of weird he's just... here." "Yeah, it is a little weird. Maybe someone will recognize him." "Maybe." Doubtfully. Campbell had never seen the dog before they'd arrived at West Ham 2.0, and when Campbell woke in the middle of the night, Charlie had his front paws on the windowsill. He was staring out the window and into the night, his body and tail stiff. A soft, low growl issues from his throat. When Campbell got up and went to the window, there was no one outside. No one that Campbell could see. A cold feeling went up Campbell's spine, and he never quite got back to sleep. His phone pinged softly around seven, a few hours after dawn. Elle was already gone for work, and Charlie was laying across his leg, grumbling as Campbell wiggled free. Campbell read the text on his phone over and over before getting up and throwing on pants. He tripped down the stairs and went into Harry's room, prodding him awake. "You need to get dressed." "Hnngh? Why?" "They're holding a meeting at the church. Greg Dewey was arrested for Cassandra's murder." Campbell felt the world spin slightly as Harry's expression immediately fell in shame. "You knew." "Since yesterday." "How did you know? How did Allie find out?" "Because he told me. Bragged about it." Harry sunk into his blankets as Campbell began to curse. "I went and told Kelly. She told Allie and the others." "And you didn't think I deserved to know this?" "Cam, I was worried that if I told you, you'd have gone and killed him yourself. I wanted to go to someone less homicidal." It was the truth. That didn't mean Campbell wanted to hear it. "Goddamn it." "Hey." Harry slipped out of bed and lightly curled his arms around Campbell as Campbell began to pace. "Hey. I'll go with you, okay? We'll meet Elle there. It's going to be okay." They shouldn't have been that close, but Campbell held still, slowing his breathing; Harry's scent, day old Axe deodorant and coffee, sapped away all the poison pooling on Campbell's tongue. This wasn't some threat he needed to attack. This was Harry. Fucked up Harry, who loved Campbell and was struggling with his own shit. Campbell sighed and pulled away, going back to his room to get ready. A quick text to Elle confirmed that she got the news, too, and would save them a seat. By the time they got there, though, the church was packed. Elle was sitting next to Helena. She gave Campbell a helpless look; Helena was talking to her about something, but there was definitely no room left anywhere else for three people. They were lucky enough to find a spot where he and Harry could sit together. Campbell put a hand lightly on Harry's hip, directing him to the small open spot; he quickly yanked his hand back when Harry shot him a questioning glance. Right. Little shit like that could start rumors. Not that anyone was looking at them. Allie stood at the front of the church, her face shuttered and her body drawn in on itself. Once it seemed like everyone was seated, she cleared her throat. A silence fell over the church. "Hey, everyone. I just... I'll keep it brief. I just wanna give you an update on everything. Uhm, everything that's happened." She glanced around the church, shifting her weight. Nervous. "There was an arrest this morning. Greg Dewey. We're keeping him in an undisclosed location for now, until we can figure out what happened, and if there was anyone else involved." The gathered mass erupted into chatter. Allie left the church fast, before Campbell could even try to speak to her. Not taking any questions, then. It wasn't any wonder. Even on her way out, people were clamoring for more information. Gossipers. Campbell rolled his eyes and went to find Elle; she headed back to work, and they headed back home to get ready for their own shifts. Grizz, luckily, managed to convince Luke and Clark to let Campbell into the store for dog food. It's not like anyone else was using it. Like Campbell had thought, the only dog in town was their strange new roommate. At least Charlie had stopped hovering at the window in the dead of night. It made it easier to live with him, and not suspect he was some sort of inter-dimensional being sent to destroy them all. Harry, on the other hand, was a wreck that night. After they'd come home from dinner and their work shift, when Elle was in the shower, he came begging for some of Campbell's stash. "I haven't asked you for anything in a long time," Harry reasoned. "Can't I just get something for tonight?" Campbell raised an eyebrow. "Because you've been trying to get clean, or because you've been working through your private hoard?" "You know I'm not clean. But I need something after all this shit with Dewey. Something stronger. I just... I just need to sleep." "You need to get off the drugs and onto something useful." "Look, we can have an intervention tomorrow, if that's what you want to do." "Ugh." Campbell went and fished out a decent sized does of a pill that would, or should, knock Harry out for a while. "Here. Go get some sleep." "Campbell, this is one pill. I might as well just go to the fucking pharmacy myself." Resting his chin on his hand, Campbell smiled the smile of a fox that had raided the henhouse. "I think you'll find the cupboards a little bare. Look. You need to sleep? This will help you sleep." "I know how much I need, this isn't enough." "It'll have to be." "Cam--" "We need to be smart," Campbell cut in. He could see that Harry was freaking out. He was starting to go into withdrawal, like Campbell knew he would, because the supplies wouldn't last forever no matter how careful people were. "Harry, you need to be smarter than this." Harry growled. "I'm not a fucking child." "Then don't act like one. This isn't going to fix what's going on up in your head, okay? Coke, all those painkillers, alcohol. It's a band aid. You need help." Taking the pill, Harry slumped his shoulders in defeat. "It's not like this is how I imagined my life going, you know. I was gonna do things. Be somebody." "Depression is a bitch." "I'm not depressed." Harry bit his lip when Campbell stared at him. "Well, I mean... I just assumed it was my own fault." "Because that's what all our champagne and caviar parents say to sweep shit under the rug, so they don't have to deal with it. Take your pill and go to bed. We'll figure something out in the morning." Harry hummed a little sound of agreement and shuffled off downstairs. Campbell flopped back on the bed, his head full of too many thoughts. How could he not have seen it in Dewey? Why did he do it? And now, he was back to worrying about Harry, along with everything else. How was he supposed to keep Harry from crashing? Elle came in soon after, with Charlie at her heels; she seemed distracted, but weren't they all? It had been a long, strange sort of day. Campbell was brushing his teeth while Elle tidied up her side of the bathroom. "Fuck, I can't believe that little shit had it in him. Can you? I mean I, I..." He trailed off for a moment and fluttered his hands in the air. It didn't make sense. "I didn't see it coming, out of all the people Harry had at that party." "Harry's party?" "Harry said some shit about Cassandra before prom at his party, and we gave a list of the suspects to Gordie, but nothing came of it until now." "Did he ever tell you what he said?" "I don't think he even knows what he said. Drunk fucking rambling. Maybe people will finally stop whispering and giving me those fucking 'you killed Cassandra' looks." "It's not like there's any evidence tying you to it now." Now. Campbell rinsed off his toothbrush and turned, trying to read the expression on Elle's face. She was brushing her hair and didn't seem aware of any sort of offense, but Campbell knew what he'd heard. "Do you still think I'm involved?" "No, of course not." "Are you sure?" "Why would I?" Elle looked over at him. "I just meant, in case anyone got suspicious. They can't possibly pin it on you." Campbell knew there was little point in pressing the matter. If Elle didn't believe him, why would she be sleeping with him? Or even living there still? At some point, paranoia was just that. Paranoia. He was just being jumpy because of the arrest. Once things were settled, maybe they could all just move on. But how would things even be settled? He went to sleep that night, imagining all the ways he would end that little bastard, if he could. Was Allie dreaming of the same things? The next morning, they all headed out to see the new work list. Elle, morning inventory check. Campbell, morning clean-up after breakfast. Harry, evening clean-up after dinner... again. They all sighed and headed out, Elle towards the stores and Campbell to the cafeteria, while Harry headed home. Campbell was used to working with Harry. If Harry was home alone, Campbell couldn't keep an eye on him-- not that Campbell ever stopped Harry from his bad habits, but Harry had been having a rougher time. What if he did something foolish, when no one was home to stop him? But Harry was alive when they got home that night, and the night after. The only ones who seemed to have done something foolish were Allie and her cronies; when everyone was called back to the church for Dewey's trial, the first thing Campbell noticed was that Dewey had been bruised up. Oh, that wouldn't go over well at all. Who had done it? Surely not Grizz. Probably not Luke. But Clark, who sat right behind Dewey and was practically breathing down his neck? Yeah, that guy was capable. Campbell wasn't upset. He was jealous. What he wouldn't give to be able to wrap his hands around that scrawny fucking neck and-- "Sorry I'm late," Harry mumbled as he slid into the booth behind Campbell and Elle. He leaned forward to whisper to them. "What's going on?" Elle shrugged. "You haven't missed much. We're just waiting for Allie." "Are you okay?" Campbell asked, turning to look at Harry. "Yeah, just a little slow this morning." Harry looked haggard, washed out, and his hands were shaking. But before Campbell could question him, a hush fell over the room. Allie was sitting at a table at the front of the room, and a group of people were sitting off to the side-- a jury, but who selected them? Through what process? Allie hadn't said anything about what was happening or how, not to him or anyone he knew. Gordie, of course, was on the prosecution's side. Helena was sitting next to Dewey. It all seemed so contrived. Like some sort of play. Either they had enough evidence or they didn't. Pretending to be a fair, balanced court was laughable. Courts weren't even fair and balanced in the real world, with trained adults. Allie offered a sort of smile, but it wasn't comforting in any way. "A week before my sister died, uhm, I was complaining about how wild it was that we had to take care of everything. You know, everything was our decision. And she was like, really? Alexander the Great conquered the whole world when he was our age." She sniffled. "Which was kind of annoying of her." Campbell couldn't help but sneer. Of course. Had to have one last dig, right? "Well," Allie continued, "we own it all now. The good and the bad." And that much was the truth. Campbell leaned back in the pew as Gordie presented his evidence-- the bullets they pulled from Cassandra's body, and the gun they had found in Dewey's possession. The gun used the same bullets. Helena threw some bullshit at Gordie-- oh, but could they be sure it was the same gun-- but Gordie held his ground. The jury passed the bullets around among them, murmuring things Campbell couldn't hear. "Another thing," Helena said as she went to sit back down. "Dewey has bruises all over him." Dewey whined before Allie could reply. "Yeah, they fucking beat me." The crowd began to buzz, and Allie raised her voice to drown them all out. "We had a problem guarding him. It won't happen again." "You arrest him, you beat him up." "It's not relevant." Helena raised her eyebrows. The noise of the crowd increased, becoming angry; Campbell could hear some teens whispering questioning remarks. Wrong move, Allie, and Helena could tell. "It's not relevant how the people in charge of this prosecution behaved?" "It was a mistake. It has nothing to do with whether he's guilty or not." Allie's tone went steely. "Move on." Glancing around the church, Helena shrugged. "We'd like to call Harry Bingham to the stand," she called out. Harry inhaled sharply behind Campbell, but stood and headed up to the front of the room without prompting. He'd barely sat down in the empty chair provided when Helena launched into him. "According to witnesses, you said that Dewey confessed to you. Can you clarify?" "We were at the coffee shop, on break." Harry glanced at Campbell, who tipped his chin up just a little. Say it. "We were just talking, talking shit. Whatever. And he basically just came out and said it, that he killed her." Dewey jumped up from his chair. "You fucking asshole!" Helena paused as Clark and Allie began to shout at Dewey, who was eventually subdued and put back in his chair. Frowning, she turned back to Harry. "You were saying?" Harry looked down at his hands. "He had this creepy smile, like he was proud of himself. He said that someone had to show her who was boss, and that whoever did it was a hero." "Is that when he confessed?" "Basically, yeah." "Basically?" Helena asked, crossing her arms. "Yeah." "Did he actually say he'd killed her? In those exact words?" "Not those exact words, but that's what he fucking meant." "Why? Why would he tell you? Why would he confess to you?" For a long time, Harry didn't respond. He opened his mouth and closed it again, biting his lip and blinking fast. He looked guilty. There was no way around that. "He thought it'd make me happy." "Happy?" "That Cassandra was dead." "Why would he think that?" "Because we were rivals in high school. And because I was talking shit about her," Harry admitted, causing a ripple of hushed conversation to rise among the jury. Allie looked furious. "I know it was a dick move, but I was drunk and pissed off because Kelly had dumped me. I didn't mean it." Helena gestured to Harry as she stepped closer to the jury. "Let's be clear about this. Harry Bingham confessed that he made disparaging remarks about Cassandra Pressman, and that night, she was dead." Harry stood up. "Don't put this on me! Look, he told me that he got me the peace and quiet that I wanted, and that he deserved a thank you. I might be a piece of shit, but he's the killer." "Did anyone else hear this?" "No, but--" Helena cut Harry off. "So, it's your word against his. Someone with no history of violence, against someone who hated her." Shrugging, she returned to her seat next to Dewey. "Maybe you put the gun in his house. Maybe you set him up." "That's not what happened." "Maybe you're lying." "Yeah, because I look so much better right now," Harry scoffed. "I didn't want to do this, you know. I didn't want to be here. I came here because I wanted to try and do the right thing." After a few more questions, Harry was dismissed; he darted back to his seat, and when Allie allowed everyone to leave, he was one of the first people out the door. The walk home was quiet. Elle kept glancing between them, and Campbell knew she had something on her mind, but he was too tired to ask. If she couldn't be bothered to just ask, well, that was her problem. Campbell was more worried about Harry, who was shaking by the time they got home; he didn't talk for a long time, and he silently left to go to work, but he curled up next to Campbell on the sofa that night while Elle was taking Charlie for a walk. "You know I didn't do anything, right?" Campbell pursed his lips. "I know you didn't do anything to Cassandra, but it's not me you have to convince. I don't see how they could suspect anyone but Dewey, considering they have the actual goddamn gun." "If they try and pin this on me..." "I won't let them. I promise." Harry burrowed his face into one of the sofa pillows. "This is all so fucked up." He dragged himself off the sofa and slugged his way towards his room. "I'm gonna clean the kitchen and go to bed. Maybe things will be less shit in the morning." It was unlikely. Campbell kept his opinion to himself, though, and went to help. They worked in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts; Harry wandered off to take a shower once they were almost done, and Campbell stayed to sweep the floors. He'd just finished when Elle and the dog came home. Elle wiped off Charlie's paws, taking her shoes off at the door. "Getting in some stress relief?" "Yeah. Kinda worried about Helena and her bullshit interrogation." "I mean, she's a nice person. I'm sure she's just doing her job." "Really doubt her job is trying to pawn a murder off on my best friend," Campbell muttered. "The jury better not fall for that shit. Harry doesn't even like guns." Elle busied herself with Charlie, eyebrows furrowed. "What do you think they're gonna do? Once they decide who did it?" "I don't know. Lock them up, I guess. Either that, or kill them." "I'm going to take a bath," Elle said suddenly. She  came over and gave Campbell a quick kiss on the cheek. "Is it okay if Charlie's on the bed?" Campbell ruffled the fur on the dog's head. "Sure. I don't care about a little dog fur." Nodding, Elle grabbed Charlie's collar and took him upstairs with her. Campbell sighed, going back to cleaning the spots Harry had missed. Helena was the last person he expected Elle to befriend; Helena was smart, but religious, conservative, and more than a little judgmental. It seemed an odd choice. She also pointedly went after Harry. Was there something going on with Elle and Harry that he'd missed? Of course, Campbell had never told Elle about the kiss, because it had been a one time thing and Harry knew better than to try again. Was it wrong? Probably, but Campbell didn't want to cause worry over nothing, though... Did she somehow know? Was that why she seemed unconcerned about Helena's behavior? Campbell looked up from scrubbing the sink as Charlie trotted down the stairs and stopped at the back door. "Hey, boy. What's up? Didn't you just go out?" Charlie let out a long, low whine, staring at the doorknob. Campbell shrugged and went to the door. Maybe the dog had tanked up on too much water, or something. He slipped on his shoes, opened the door, and stepped out onto the porch. Charlie stood at his side, looking out into the woods. Campbell tensed as Charlie let out a growl. "Charlie? What is it?" Campbell asked. The dog bristled. Something in the air felt wrong. Cold. "Charlie? Hey, let's go back inside." But Charlie surged forward, taking off before Campbell could grab his collar. The dog charged into the woods, barking and snarling. Campbell grabbed a flashlight off the kitchen counter and went after Charlie; he wasn't going to let the dog face whatever was out there on his own. Campbell heard barking, but he didn't see Charlie anywhere in the thick trees. Fuck. He tried to follow the sound. He didn't call out Charlie's name. The dog wasn't going to mind him, and it'd just announce his presence. For some reason, that seemed like a bad, bad idea. A yelp came from up ahead, close by, and the barking stopped. Campbell jogged a few paces and swung his light around, but there was nothing. Campbell put his hand down on a large rock as he caught his breath. He yanked his hand back as he felt something hot, wet; the flashlight revealed a thick red liquid, and a lot of it. Blood. Campbell felt his stomach heave, but he didn't have time to process what was happening. He heard a twig snap up ahead, and something moved in the beam of the flashlight. Campbell bolted back towards the house, running fast enough that his lungs and legs felt like they were on fire. He didn't stop until he was inside, and had the doors and windows locked. He rubbed his hands on his pants without thinking, then cursed. He couldn't tell Elle about finding blood. She would be devastated. And besides, maybe Charlie had caught a rabbit, and it was the damn dog he'd heard moving out there in the trees. Campbell figured they could wait a couple days. If Charlie didn't show back up, then he could tell Elle about the blood. At least it'd give Charlie a chance to show back up. Upstairs, he stripped out of his clothes and shoved them a ways under his bed. He'd deal with that later. Campbell put on new clothes, sucking in slow breaths and trying to stop himself from thinking about it all too much. He went back downstairs, peering out the windows. Nothing, dog or otherwise. He sighed and turned on the hot water, squeezing soap on his hands and scrubbing the little bit of dried blood left on them. As much as he tried to forget about it, he kept replaying that yelp in his mind, and the shadow that had darted in front of the flashlight. What could it have been? A coyote? Wolf? Bear? Elle came down the stairs a few minutes later, just as Campbell had finished getting the blood off of his hands. "Where's Charlie? I can't find him anywhere." "I don't know." Campbell met her gaze. God, she was already worried. He had to give her some sort of truth. "I took him out because he was crying at the door, and he just took off into the woods." "What happened?" "It looked like he spotted a rabbit or something." "I need to go--" Campbell grabbed Elle by the shoulders as she began to reach for her jacket. "Hey, no. It's super dark out there right now, and we won't be able to see snakes or anything. I'll put some food out, see if that'll work. If not, I'll go look for him in the morning. He won't go far." Elle looked out the window and frowned. "Yeah, I guess you're right." "I'm sorry." Campbell kissed her hair. "I know how much you love Charlie. I'll see if I can get some people to come out to the woods with me and help me look." Neither of them slept well that night. Elle tossed and turned, and Campbell kept waking up at every little creak and groan of the house. Not because he was afraid-- he wasn't scared, so much as hyperaware of the reality that there could be other people or animals out there that they hadn't seen before. And if it was a person, well, no one ever hides in the woods for a good reason. Charlie wasn't back by morning. There wasn't any sign of him. Harry, Sam, and Grizz all agreed to help him look for the dog, but after a couple hours of combing the woods and calling for him, there was nothing. Campbell couldn't even find the area where there had been blood. It was like it had never even happened. The search was cut even shorter by a text buzzing all their phones. Allie, summoning the town to the church. The jury had apparently reached it's verdict already. "We could keep looking after," Sam offered. "Or even put up posters around town. Someone must know where he is." Campbell sighed. "Yeah. Thanks." Sam rested a hand on Campbell's back, and Campbell let him. It was a heavy day for them both, and Allie. Sam hadn't really offered his opinion of Dewey and the accusations against him, but then whey got to the church, Campbell could see the smallest spark of hatred in Sam's eyes. Campbell gave Sam's shoulder a little squeeze of encouragement, before they separated and went to sit with their own groups. Harry and Elle were already sitting, and he squeezed into the aisle seat next to them just as Allie began to speak. "Do you have a verdict?" she asked the jury. One of the girls nodded. "You want to...?" The girl stood, clasping her hands tightly in front of her and looking down on the ground. Her voice trembled as she spoke. "Guilty. We find him guilty." A chorus of cheers went up through the church. Allie smiled, ever so briefly before she dropped the mask back down over her face. "Thank you to the jury for doing its job. Now it's up for me to decide his sentence." Allie stood. "It could take a while. Guards, will you take him back to his cell?" Clark grabbed Dewey, and they were dragging him off when Dewey began to shout. Allie held up her hand, stopping them. "Everyone, can you come back and sit? Dewey has something to say." Dewey was brought back, and he faced his audience. For a moment, he didn't say anything, but then he spat on the floor and grinned. "Cassandra was a fucking bitch. So is her sister and her black boyfriend that makes all the rules." People began to shout him down, but Dewey just yelled back louder. "So are all the women here. Fucking bitches who won't give us the time of day, who think we owe them everything? I killed Cassandra for everyone because she had it coming." Campbell began to stand. "Piece of fucking--" Harry grabbed Campbell's waist and tugged him back down, whispering. "Don't. Not like this." He glared at Dewey. "Even if the little fuckstain deserves it." Dewey must have heard, somehow, because his gaze landed directly on Harry. "On the night of prom, we were all at Harry's house, and he said he wished she was dead." "Fuck you!" Harry growled as the crowd turned to stare at them. "I told you all I said things I didn't mean. I was drunk, I barely remember what I said." Laughing, Dewey pointed at Harry. "You know what you did. Everyone there knows what you said." His grin sharpened as he turned his finger to Campbell. "And Campbell helped me plan it. He was there, he planned the whole thing." "What?" Campbell felt his blood drain from his face. He planned the whole thing. Surely no one would believe Dewey? But everyone was giving him that terrible look, that one that said I knew it. Campbell stood and this time, Harry didn't try to stop him when he began to move towards Dewey. "He's a fucking liar, and a murderer. I don't have to sit here and take this." Allie barked out an order. "Get back to your seat." Grizz stepped between him and the scumbag, his voice low. "Don't, Campbell." "Get the fuck out of my way." "Stand. Down." Campbell wanted to punch Grizz, but he kept his hands at his side, curled into fists but still. "Allie," he called out as he looked to his cousin. She knew how close they'd been. She must have known. "You know I didn't do it. I wouldn't have." "What do you want us to do?" Clark asked, suddenly behind Campbell. Allie looked Campbell up and down, her face completely blank. Empty. Campbell could read just about any face, but not this time. Her tone was just as distant. "Arrest him." Campbell gaped at Allie as the crowd erupted into jeers and hollered insults. They'd had their difference, but throwing him to the wolves? "You can't be serious." Allie just stared him down, silent as the guard grabbed him and began hauling him out of the church. He could hear Harry's voice in the crowd, protesting, and caught a brief glimpse of Elle-- pale, shocked-- before Allie's cronies dragged him out the doors. Campbell struggled at first, mostly from instinct, but then Grizz grasped his shoulder and leaned closer. "Settle down. We'll figure this out." And Campbell grit his teeth, forcing himself to relax. Grizz snapped something at Jason and Clark, who each had one of Campbell's arms; they eased their grip and stopped, giving Campbell time to get his feet under him and walk instead of being keelhauled like a traitorous sailor at sea. They headed towards a black SUV, and Jason shoved Campbell in the back between him and Grizz. Clark and Luke took the front seat. "I didn't do it," Campbell said to Grizz. "The little dickweed is setting me up." Grizz shook his head. "I know, but this is how it has to be until we can figure out what's going on. Just take it easy. Once we talk to Allie, we can get this cleared up." "She hates me, and you know it." "Yeah, but I don't. Sam doesn't. We can make a case." Campbell leaned his head back against the seat. Fuck. He took long, slow breaths as they drove to Allie's house; he didn't understand why they weren't using the cells in the police station on the outside of town, where the cop car they used for Fugitive came from, but he wouldn't ask. Best to not give them ideas. He didn't even complain when they tossed him in the upstairs bedroom, handcuffing him to the radiator. Patience, Cassandra's voice murmured in his mind. Patience. Grizz, more than anything, looked disturbed. He ran his hand through his hair and looked around the room, as if the answer would be there somewhere. "If you need anything, I'll be in the hall outside, okay?" "Yeah, whatever." The door clicked shut as Grizz left, and Campbell closed his eyes. He was innocent. There was no evidence tying him to anything. He'd had Cassandra's blood on his clothes from checking her pulse, but Elle had gotten rid of those. No one had seen him. He didn't have any guns of any sort, his prints weren't on anything. Campbell was many things, but he wasn't a murderer, and surely Allie would come to her senses and realize that. All he had to do was wait.

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 7)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 8.5k story words: 35k (so far) chapter: 7/? rating: m warnings: language genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[previous chapter]] [[first chapter]]

Phil ran around his apartment, collecting the things he’d planned to show in his liveshow. He always found that liveshows went more smoothly (and avoided too many personal questions) when he had some concrete, pre-planned topics to talk about — especially when there were hot topics his fans knew about that he was trying to avoid.

Like this week.

It had only been four days since Dan had first tweeted at him and, well, those four days had been packed full with at least a few dozen tweets exchanged between them. If his viewers reactions on twitter were anything to go by… well, it was sure to be a hot topic tonight.

Phil’d spent a lot of the day thinking about how he wanted to spin his interactions with Dan. In fact, he’d genuinely considered canceling his liveshow just to avoid having to get into it. They’d both agreed that giving the proper truth — that Phil worked at a coffee shop Dan frequented — was out of the question. They valued their privacy far too much to disclose that information. But obviously, he had to say something.

Being as vague as possible seemed like the best option: they’d met through his work (not a lie), and had seen each other a few times because of it. Phil didn’t need to divulge the nature of their relationship — and honestly, he barely knew how he’d describe it anyway. They were more than just a barista and a customer for sure. Dan had flat out said several times that he considered Phil a friend, and Phil thought of Dan as one, too. But sometimes… well, sometimes their interactions didn’t feel like friendship. Or at least not any friendship Phil had ever had before.

It felt more… flirty.

Which was insane. For a multitude of reasons. Not the least of which being that Dan had a girlfriend, with no visible history of dating, well, not girls. Against his better judgment, Phil had done a bit of digging on Dan. Which he knew, he knew he shouldn’t have done.

For one, they were friends and it just felt somehow creepier to internet stalk someone he was actually fairly close with. And second, he knew how it felt to have more information about himself on the internet than he was aware of, and imagined Dan was just as uncomfortable with it as he was. Plus, it felt wrong to learn things about his friend that Dan hadn’t explicitly chosen to tell him.

Regardless, Phil had looked him up. Along the way, he’d learned that Dan had had some mental health issues a few years back that were arguably still present, depending on the source. He’d learned that with the exception of Isabella, Dan had never been in a relationship — or at least not one that he’d made public. Phil learned that Dan was incredibly private about his family life, to the extent that almost nobody even knew the names of his immediate family.

If it had been just a normal friendship, Phil would have needed to wait until Dan decided to — if at all — tell him about things. But this friendship was different. They were both very public figures and now he was sitting on all of this knowledge and he wasn’t sure if he should hide the fact that he had it or not.

His only condolence was that Dan had apparently binge watched a bunch of his videos, which meant he undoubtedly knew a lot more about Phil than he’d elected to share so far as well. Hell, he’d finally just confessed that he was kind of famous too (if giving Dan the necessary information to find out on his own could even be considered confessing, that is).

By now, Dan was sure to know that Phil had never had public relationships, with the exception of some dubious, long deleted evidence from his early, early days of YouTube. Dan also probably knew that Phil was incredibly close with his family, to the point of possibly oversharing about them in his public life. Dan had also likely caught on to the fact that his AmazingPhil persona was a bit different, a bit more innocent and bubbly than his day-to-day personality. Oh well. That was what Phil had signed up for when he’d started broadcasting his life all over the internet. And in some ways, Dan had signed up for the same gig.

Once Phil had gathered his… props, for the show, he set himself up on his sofa, and pulled up YouNow. While the streaming site loaded, Phil drafted a tweet so that all he had to do was hit post once he was live.

@AmazingPhil: Lions and plants and socks, oh my! Come hang out with me on YouNow and help me decide if I should keep the stuff I bought on Amazon this week [link]

When Phil saw the green icon indicating he was live, he sent the tweet and waved hello to his audience. He was always astounded at how many people were there at the very beginning of his shows, as if they’d just been lurking on his YouNow, waiting for him. Phil didn’t know if it was flattering or creepy

“Hi guys! How is everyone doing today?”

As he read out some of the funnier responses, he watched the number of viewers steadily climb. “Sarah says she’s watching me instead of doing her maths homework. Bad Sarah! Do your homework. Adam says he’s trying to make a cake he saw on the Great British Bake off. Good luck Adam, I’m not a very good baker but I believe in you.”

As the stream continued, Phil reacted to another handful of comments in order to give people time to arrive. After a few minutes, he glanced at the viewer count to see if he was near his typical audience size yet.

Seventeen thousand. That was a full seven thousand more than usually showed up for his shows.

Phil had a hunch that it had to due with his recent twitter activity. It was probably best to start his pre-planned activity before everyone started nagging him to talk about it.

“Laura wants to know how my week’s been. Pretty good so far, nothing to complain about,” Phil said, scanning the chat for anything else innocent he could answer before switching tactics completely.

“Okay guys, are you ready to help me decide if I should keep the stuff I bought on Amazon? Kelsey asks why I bought stuff if I’m not sure if I want it. Well, Kelsey, it was really late at night, I was bored, and it all seemed like a good idea at the time. Haven’t you ever heard of impulse shopping? It’s a real problem. See this is what happens when you live alone. You don't have anyone to tell you if the stuff you’re buying is cool or not. ‘Get a roommate’ someone said — sorry I missed your name. I only have a one bedroom flat, it’s definitely not big enough to share with —”

Phil was interrupted by a high pitched diiiing from his phone. Oops.

“Sorry, guys, I forgot to turn my phone on silent.” Phil embarrassedly grabbed his phone and toggled it to silent without looking at the screen. “Everyone’s asking who it is. I don’t know, I didn’t check. Let me have a look.” Curious himself now, Phil flipped his phone over.

@danielhowell liked your tweet.

Not so subtly, Phil threw his phone to the other end of the couch as if it were on fire.

Holy shit. If Dan liked his tweet about his liveshow did that mean…? No. No way. Dan was a busy celebrity. Surely he had better things to do on a Wednesday evening than watch Phil’s liveshow.

Phil tried his best to arrange his features into a more neutral expression before turning back to the camera. Naturally, the chat was flooded with people asking why he looked so surprised and who the message had been from.

“Just a twitter notification,” Phil said, aiming for nonchalant. Hoping to brush off the topic, he grabbed his first item off the table. “Okay, so first Amazon purchase is…” Phil attempted a drumroll noise “...socks!”

Phil held the pack of socks up to the webcam, flipping through the different pairs as he described them. “See, they are all plant themed. There’s cacti, and succulents, and bamboo. What do we think, do we like them?”

Not that he was surprised, but virtually no one in the chat seemed to care about his dubious Amazon purchases. Almost every single question was directly related to his interactions with Dan, both on Twitter and in real life. Until now, he hadn’t realized how much their fanbases overlapped.

This might be a harder topic to avoid than he’d initially thought.

Phil filtered through the Dan-related comments until he found a few people reacting to the socks and focused on those. “Amanda says she thinks they’re cute and Ashley bets that they’ll mix and match well. I agree, Ashley. Great. I’ll keep the socks.”

Phil sat the socks down on the table and picked up the next item, showing it to his audience and making another hopefully witty comment. As Phil struggled to push through the mass of comments related to Dan, he went through his next few purchases a bit slower than strictly necessary. He figured the more time he spent on this, the less free time he would have to talk about unplanned topics — namely Dan — at the end.

The charizard plushie and the grow-your-own-terrarium kit were his to keep, but everyone agreed that the Buffy figurine was more demonic than cute and needed to go back. From what Phil could tell, the comments had been split in regards to the aesthetic hat he’d picked out, and he chucked it away with a, “Maaaaaaybe.”

A quick glimpse at the clock told Phil that he’d been live for a little over half an hour already.

“This last one I’m a little more unsure about, guys.” Phil held up the jumper, trying to center it so that the lion on the front was in focus. His uncertainty was mostly for his viewers benefit. Phil was pretty damn sure how he felt about the jumper — it was bloody hideous. The lion design had looked adorable online, but then again that had been a small picture, it had been one in the morning, and he’d had a few mixed drinks by then. In reality, though, the lion was incredibly disproportionate and the quality was something he’d expect from a cheap, knockoff vendor on the street.

Nonetheless, Phil peeked around the jumper to read people’s comments. Those who were engaging in the Amazon conversation were all agreeing with him. “Sounds like most of you don’t like this one as much. I didn’t think so either. I love lions a lot, but this one isn’t very cute is he? Okay, back to Amazon that goes, then.”

Phil made a show of dropping the jumper and throwing it out of sight. He scanned the chat, looking for more reactions. His eyes landed on the word jumper and he read the comment out loud without processing it first.

“Max says to talk about Dan having the same pug jumper that you own.” Oh crap. That’s not what he’d anticipated when he’d seen the word jumper. “I, uh, yeah.” Phil fumbled for a second before pulling himself together and smiling brightly. “Funny, right? Definitely not his usual style. Honestly, when I lent it to him, I wasn’t sure he’d even want to wear it in the moment, much less at his own house when he had other options.”

Belatedly, Phil realized his mistake. He’d just confirmed that Dan didn’t just happen to own the same jumper as him, Dan had Phil’s actual jumper. Phil’s eyes tried to follow the chat, but it was moving too fast to comprehend. The only thing he could make out was Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan.

Well, I guess that topic is officially being discussed.

With a deep breath, Phil finally addressed the questions everyone had been tweeting at him, and he assumed were flooding the chat. “Everyone’s curious how I know Dan — Dan Howell, that is, in case anyone hasn’t been looking at my twitter this week. I met him through work. Don’t get too excited, it’s not like we’re actually working on anything together, I’ve just seen him around a few times.

“Maddie asks why I lent Dan my jumper.” He was well and truly in this mess now. Phil grasped for a story, settling on something plausible. Hopefully Dan didn’t mind too much. “Did you see Dan on Innuendo Bingo last week? It was really funny, right? He got so wet though. I ran into him in the bathroom afterwards. I was just being nice and helping him out because he looked like a drowned puppy.”

Phil chuckled, trying his best to brush the topic off, maybe bounce off some easier questions to answer about Dan before heading off for the week. Suddenly, though, the chat started filling up with the same messages. Half of them appeared to be copy and pasting something into the chat from some other source, and the other half were just keyboard smashes and different variations of “oh my god” and “did you see what he said?”

Phil assumed it was the other message they were freaking out about, the one everyone was spamming, the one he was clearly supposed to be noticing. Warily, Phil froze the chat so he could read what it said.

Daniel Howell: um excuse me i thought we were friENDS but go off i guess

Phil cocked his head, trying to figure out if this Daniel Howell was his Daniel Howell or an impersonator. It certainly sounded like something Dan would say, and Dan had liked his tweet. And Phil knew Dan had a YouNow account because he did liveshows of his own sometimes and… yup. That was definitely the real him.

Oh, great.

“Hi, Dan!” Phil smiled and waved, trying to figure out how the heck he was going to respond. He settled on teasing Dan back. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen you since Saturday. I thought you forgot about me!”

Of course, that started up a whole new flurry of questions. He should have known.

What was he supposed to say? How much was he allowed to say? It was intimidating enough having to talk around his and Dan’s relationship live to so many people, but to have to talk about it with Dan listening? That was so much worse. Dan would know instantly if Phil said something embarrassing, or too revealing, or flat out stupid.

“Everyone wants me to talk more about Dan.” With a sigh, Phil resigned himself to properly answering a few questions about Dan, hoping that if he actually gave his viewers some information they would let him switch topics.

“Justine asks how often I’ve been seeing Dan. A couple of times a week.” Four or five counts as ‘a couple’ right? “Tyler says that it must be cool to be friends with a famous singer. I guess? He’s just Dan to me. He’s a pretty normal guy. I kind of forget that he’s super famous most of the time.”

Phil skimmed the chat for more questions he was willing to answer.

Amee: have you met isabella because ngl she kinda seems like a bitch

Phil snorted, unable to completely control his laughter. From what he’d heard about Isabella, or Izzy as Dan tended to call her, he was inclined to agree. Not that he was about to voice that opinion online to seventeen thousand avid viewers. He looked for a less controversial question.

“Misty asks if he actually sent me a preview of a song. He did! I don’t know if I’m allowed to say anything about it though, so I’ll just say that it was great and I liked it a lot. He’s definitely really talented.”

Phil glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen.“Alright guys, one last question and then I’ve got to go. It’s been forty five minutes already! Samantha asks what we usually do together. Well, we started out just chatting because of work, you know, when we happened to both be around. But yeah, we’re friends now and we, er, we grab coffee or snacks together a lot. Most of the time we just hang out and talk, but sometimes we both work on whatever we need to. If you guys have more questions, you can tweet them at Dan, but I can’t promise he’ll answer any of them.

“I’ve got to go now, guys! I hope you all have a good night.” Phil started waving, making it clear he was going to leave. “Bye Brittany! Tiffany says she’s going to do her homework. Good! Bye Peter, bye Jim.”

Phil moved her cursor to the end button, trying to stop the stream. Like usual, younow was slow to respond. Awkwardly, he kept waving at his viewers while he punched the end button a dozen times. Eventually, the screen turned black, and Phil huffed a sigh of relief.

Now that Phil was finally done livestreaming, he tabbed back over to twitter. There was a new DM from Dan, which surprised Phil less and less each time it happened, but he was especially unsurprised this time — Phil didn’t expect to get away with talking about Dan in a livestream that he was watching without hearing from him. The message had been sent while he was still live, and was neither teasing nor admonishing, which had been Phil’s top two guesses at what Dan might have to say.

Daniel Howell: i’m glad you think of me as a normal guy and not just some famous rockstar

Phil felt his cheeks flush. He was eternally grateful that he’d thrown his phone to the other end of the couch and hadn’t seen that message while he was still live, or else seventeen thousand people would have seen him blushing and Dan… well, knowing Dan, he probably would have noticed the correlation between when the read receipt showed up and when Phil started turning pink.

Phil Lester: :) of course. I mean, it’s cool that you make music, but you’re more than just Dan Howell, Singing Sensation

He left his phone unlocked on the couch while he went to the loo. When he came back, the screen had dimmed but there was no new notification from Dan. Phil wasn’t sure if that meant Dan hadn’t watched the end of his liveshow, or if Dan had started doing something immediately after, or what. But apparently, he wasn’t going to respond now. Phil sighed and shoved his phone into his back pocket.

Phil’s phone was silent the entire time he cooked and ate dinner. By the time he crawled into bed with his laptop at half past midnight, he’d just about given up on hearing from Dan again. But he should have known late hours of the night meant nothing to Dan.

Daniel Howell: thanks. i think you’re more than just a famous youtuber for the record

Dan stared at the message he’d typed out to Phil, debating if he really wanted to send it or not.

Daniel Howell: i’m glad you think of me as a normal guy and not just some famous rockstar

He glanced back at the YouNow tab. Phil was still talking about him, now having moved on to loosely discussing the somewhat shitty snippet of the song that Dan had sent him. That song was basically all he’d been eating, breathing, and thinking about since Isabella had left Sunday night.

Working on his song was easier to deal with than trying to think about the things Izzy had said, than what had happened while she was at his flat, than the possible repercussions of their fight. So instead, he’d been hibernating alone since then, holed up working on his song. The only people he’d talked to were Phil and a few miscellaneous fans on twitter.

Before he could second guess (or third or fourth or fifth guess) it, Dan pressed send on his message to Phil, and shut his laptop, perhaps with more force than necessary.

With a sigh, Dan decided it was time to face the world.

He picked up his phone, and rang Louise. Despite it being nearly eight o’clock at night, she answered on the second ring.

“Daniel, there you are.” Her voice was hushed but stern. Of course. Darcy was probably in bed. Dan knew it was Darcy’s bedtime and he felt bad for calling, but if he didn’t do it while he had the nerve, he would back out. Again.

“Hi Louise,” Dan’s voice came out smaller and more upset than he’d meant for it to. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d been holding back.

“You’re lucky you’ve been active on twitter recently or I would have worried you were dead and just shown up at —”

“Lou,” Dan cut Louise off. “If I ask you for a favor, can you promise to just help me and listen and not lecture me?”

“Aw, love, what’s wrong?” Her voice was instantly softer.

“I just, um, you’re not too bad at arts and crafts, right? Like gluing broken stuff back together?” Dan fiddled with the hem of his shirt, running his fingers through the growing holes at the bottom.

“I’m fairly handy. Do you want me to fix something for you?”

“Yeah, do you mind?”

“Of course not. When do you want to bring it ‘round?”

Dan’s hands moved from his shirt hem to tap at his thigh. “Um, I was thinking now actually. If you’re not busy that is.”

Louise responded without hesitation. “Do you want tea or hot chocolate? Or should I open something stronger?”

Dan felt a wave of relief wash through him. “Hot chocolate sounds lovely, Louise. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Be quiet when you come in, please? Darcy’s asleep.”

“I will.”

Dan hauled himself out of bed. He slipped on a pair of black shoes that horrendously clashed with his white joggers, but whatever. He glanced back at his bed, where Phil’s jumper was bunched up, and considered pulling it over his tshirt.

It was just — it was soft. His week had sucked so far. He hadn’t seen Phil in ages, he’d been ignoring all of Izzy’s calls since she’d left, and he was bloody upset. He was allowed to wear something soft and comforting.

He decided it was worth whatever prying questions Louise might ask, pulled it on, and made his way to the kitchen.

Carefully, he stepped over the shards of glass, pots, and pans that still littered the kitchen floor to the breakfast bar. He really needed to clean that up before the maid came tomorrow.

Dan was thankful that he had saved the pieces of the bright pink mug from the floor during their fight. They were still tucked away on the breakfast bar, safe from further harm. Dan piled the pink shards of glass into a container with painstaking care. He glanced around the floor, making sure that he hadn’t missed any pieces. Sticking out from under the ledge of the counter was a bright pink handle. Dan scooped it up and gently added it to the container. With a determined flick, Dan turned the kitchen light off and left.

The night air was colder than he’d anticipated. He probably should have gone back upstairs to fetch a warmer coat. Instead, he pulled Phil’s jumper more tightly around his body, taking care to not jostle the box in his arms too much.

With cold fingers, he dug his keys out of his coat pocket and shakily unlocked the door to Louise’s townhouse. A welcomed rush of warm air hit him when he stepped into the entryway of Louise’s home.

To her credit, Louise was probably the best friend he could have asked for. When he walked into her lounge, he was greeted by Louise sitting on the sofa in front of two mugs of steaming hot chocolate.

Wordlessly, Dan climbed onto the couch, careful not to shake the box too much, and rested his head in Louise’s lap. Louise seemed to switch to full mum mode at the action, running her hand soothingly through his hair and letting him wallow in silence. She didn’t question anything — not the container he was cradling to his chest, nor the bright blue jumper he was wearing that clearly didn’t belong to him, and not even the barely-faded purple marks on his neck that she was bound to have a perfect view of from her position. She didn’t even question why he came over with fifteen minutes notice after three days of radio silence. She just let him be for a few minutes.

His eyes wandered the room as Louise played with his hair. There was a box labeled crafting supplies on the arm chair and a half empty bottle of liquor on the coffee table. He rolled onto his back and looked up at Louise.

“Peppermint Schnapps?”

“Just in case.”

“I love you Louise, you’re the best.” Dan sat and pressed a small kiss to her cheek. He leaned forward and poured a generous splash into both of their mugs, his destroyed mug resting in his lap.

Louise giggled as he handed her one of the mugs. “I know you too well, Dan. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Dan shifted the container of glass in his lap. “Please, Louise. Can you promise not to lecture me tonight? I know what you’re going to say and I really don’t want to — I just want to talk. And fix this. I need you to fix this.” Dan shoved the container into Louise’s hands.

She opened the box and peered inside. “Oh no! The mug from your grandma. Out of all your mugs, this is the one you broke?”

“Erm, not exactly.”

Louise looked at him curiously.

“They’re all broken. Except one. This is just the only one I care about fixing.”

Louise gasped. “What happened? Did your shelf break or something?”

“No, no. The kitchen’s fine. It was... um, Isabella.”

“Isabella,” Louise said tersely. It wasn’t a question, but Dan knew she was expecting him to explain.

“She came over. Sunday. That’s part of why I’ve been… not around.” Louise stayed silent, waiting for him to keep talking. Dan took a deep breath and continued. “She’d been on twitter and seen Phil and I talking. She accused me of being flirty. When she figured out he was Phil from the coffee shop, she lost it even more than she already had. I know she has a temper, I’ve seen it plenty, but I’d never seen her that livid. She greeted me by throwing all of my pots and pans on the floor and when she ran out of those… well…” Dan nodded at the mug in Louise’s lap in lieu of any further explanation.

Louise studied the broken shards for a minute. When she finally spoke, Dan half expected the lecture he’d begged her not to give, but it didn’t come. “Isabella did this. To all of your mugs?”

Dan nodded. Louise’s eyes flickered down to his neck.

“And then what?” she asked.

“She said a bunch of shitty things. You know she’s not quite comfortable with the… bi thing, and she went off about me being gay and not liking girls and… I don’t know. I lost it too, I guess. One thing lead to another and…” Dan shrugged and took a long sip of his hot chocolate.

Louise narrowed her eyes, appraising him studiously. “You know I have to ask, love. Was it all consensual?”

Dan’s eyes grew wide. “Yeah, yeah of course! It was angry and rough, as I’m sure you can see, but of course. She consented.”

“And you? Did you consent?”

Dan had to fight rolling his eyes, even though he knew she was just looking out for him. “Yes, Mum, I consented too.”

True to her word, Louise simply nodded and moved on. “Let’s see what we can do about your mug, then, shall we?” She sat the container of mug fragments on the coffee table and got up to gather a few supplies from her box of crafting materials.

Dan smiled gratefully at her retreating figure. This was exactly what he’d needed. A chance to talk about their fight without being told how stupidly he’d acted, how big of a bitch Isabella could be, or how unacceptable both of their behavior had been.

Louise came back and diligently spread the bright pink pieces across the table. A comfortable silence fell between them as Dan drank the remainder of his hot chocolate and watched Louise’s delicate hands work out the puzzle. Once she’d figure out how the pieces went together, she motioned him onto the floor next to her.

“Come here, love. I’m going to need your hands too.”

Dan clambered off the sofa and curled his legs under him, settling on the floor by her side. Her hand grasped his and wrapped it around the mostly-intact base of the mug. Louise unscrewed a small tube of glue and lined the jagged edge. The next hot pink chunk fit almost perfectly on top of it. Instinctively, Dan reached out and held the piece in place.

“Push them together firmly. Not too hard, though,” Louise instructed as she reached for the next piece.

Together, they worked silently to rebuild the mug. It was nice to have something to do with his hands, to not be alone. For the first time in days, Dan finally let his mind drift, finally properly contemplating everything that had happened with Isabella.

Their fight was bad. He knew it was. The things that Isabella had said, about his sexuality, about their relationship, about Phil — for days Dan had thought he was angry, livid even. But now that he was here with Louise, finally letting himself think about it, he realized that more than anything, he was hurt.

“Look, I know you hate her, and probably with some good reasons,” Dan started.

“Hate is a strong word. How about avidly dislike?” Louise’s fingers were sticky as she manhandled his hands to grip the mug how she wanted.

Dan chuckled a bit, despite himself. “Okay. I know you avidly dislike her, with good reason. At the moment, I’m not her biggest fan either, trust me. Sunday night was shitty — I mean, really fucking shitty — but, I do kind of miss her. And I know, I know this is a dead end relationship. It’s just… comfortable, I guess. And it’s better than nothing, ya know?”

Louise hummed, but didn’t say anything. Dan could tell she was biting her tongue.

“Just say it, Louise. What are you thinking?”

“Are you missing Isabella or the companionship?” Louise questioned without looking up from the mug.

Dan knew his answer instantly.

“Does it matter?” he sighed.

Louise glued the final hot pink shard to the reconstructed mug, and rearranged his hands to cup the entire thing.

“Do you want a real answer?” she asked softly.

Dan sighed. He had a feeling he knew what Louise was going to say. Or at least, the general theme of what her message would be.

“Not really, but go ahead anyway,” he said.

“Of course it matters. I know you like having a person and I can understand that. But companionship is so much better, so much more, when you actually love the person that you’re with. Trust me. And you deserve that. But you’re never going to find that if you stubbornly stay in a broken relationship. Can you honestly tell me that empty companionship is enough?”

Dan contemplated the mug in his hands and slowly loosened his grip. The pieces were fused together. There were dark lines down the sides where it had been glued back together, and there were a few chips missing, pieces that must have been too small for him to notice in the wreckage of his kitchen. There was no way it would be functional ever again. Even if the pieces were glued tightly together enough to hold liquid, the glue probably wouldn’t survive.

But it was intact again. Not whole, not undamaged, not perfect. But intact.

Good enough.

“No, it’s not.” Dan leaned back against the couch. “But it’s good enough.”

The thermostat in Beans and Grind appeared to be broken.

When Phil had unlocked the door to the coffee shop that morning, he had been assaulted by a wave of absurdly hot air. He’d power walked straight to the thermostat when he’d got inside, frantically shedding his coat as he crossed the shop. He’d turned the dial all the way down, pointing the arrow to the lowest temperature option. At the time, it had seemed like a potentially extreme reaction, but forty five minutes later, it was still just as hot and the heater wasn’t showing any signs of relenting.

With a resigned sigh, Phil pushed the sleeves of his fox patterned jumper up over his elbows. He was slightly disgruntled that he was undoubtedly wrinkling the sleeves; he had been hoping to film a video in it later, and now he’d probably have to change into something neater.

All morning, the before-work crowd had commented on how warm it was in the shop, as if Phil wasn’t aware that it was approximately four thousand degrees. He was grateful when the clock struck nine and the steady stream of customers stopped coming in.

Phil waited until the shop was empty for a few minutes before yanking his oppressively-hot jumper over his head. His white tshirt would have to be professional enough. It was better than suffocating, anyway.

In his haste, his shirt got rucked up with his jumper, both getting tangled around his glasses. He fought the jumper, trying to free it from his face and simultaneously pull his undershirt down, but wasn’t particularly successful at either.

Ding

Shit, just his luck that a customer would come in at this moment.

He heard a loud, booming laugh.

He knew that laugh.

Dan.

Suddenly, cold hands were brushing against his chest and tangling in the clothing wrapped around his head. Phil felt Dan grab his tshirt and pull it down his torso, his cold hands grazing his ribcage as he did so. The touch was shocking, and not just because Dan’s fingers were so cold. Everywhere Dan touched, sparks radiated through Phil. Without his consent, his mind rushed to imagining Dan’s hands running up and down his ribs for far different reasons, under far different circumstances. Phil was almost glad his face was hidden because he was positive that his cheeks were flushed red.

When Phil’s shirt was adjusted, Dan’s hands slipped inside the bottom his jumper, sliding inside, and reached up to his face. Carefully, Dan held his glasses in place with one hand and coaxed the neck of the sweater over Phil’s head with the other.

Finally, Phil was free from the jumper. His eyes adjusted to the light again and he was greeted by a smirking Dan stretched far across the counter, Phil’s fox jumper held tight in his hands. Even being as tall as Dan was, Phil was fairly certain that his feet had to be dangling over the other end

“Morning, Philip. I didn’t realize coffee was coming with a show now.” Dan’s face was cheeky, his eyes roaming up and down Phil’s body.

Phil’s cheeks flushed. “You’re one to talk. You stripped your clothing off last time you were here without any concern about customers.” Or me.

Dan shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t see you objecting.”

Phil rolled his eyes and grabbed his jumper out of Dan’s hands. “You don’t seem to be objecting either.”

“You’re lucky it was me that walked in. I feel like not everyone would have taken so kindly to seeing you half-naked so close to all the food.” Dan retreated slightly across the counter, but not much, landing with a soft thump on the floor.

“Shut up, you’re making it sound worse than it was. I was only taking off my jumper.”

“Speaking of jumpers, I seem to have forgotten yours. Sorry.” Dan didn’t sound very apologetic.

Phil giggled. It almost seemed like Dan liked wearing Phil’s jumper just as much as Phil enjoyed seeing Dan in it. “If you want to borrow it for a while, all you have to do is ask.”

Dan flushed red and tried to hide his small smile in his chunky scarf, but Phil caught it anyway. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled.

Phil smiled, secretly pleased that Dan apparently liked his jumper so much. “For here or to go today?”

“For here. I have a meeting at eleven but I figured I’d head out early and see you first.”

“Good, I was hoping you had time to stay for a bit.” The porcelain mug clanked against the coffee machine as Phil shoved it under the spout a little too eagerly. Phil tried to ignore the bit of coffee that splashed out against his arm. At least he was no longer wearing his jumper.

Dan pushed the sleeves of his leather jacket up, probably just as affected by the heat in the coffee shop as Phil had been. Phil’s eyes flickered down to Dan’s exposed forearms, eyes catching on the thin red scratch marks running the length of them. Briefly, Phil wondered if Dan had been playing with a cat or a dog recently. He’d pay good money to see that.

“Mmm, of course,” Dan hummed. “You have some explaining to do, mister.”

Cockily, Phil flashed Dan a smirk. “Really? Seems like you watched enough videos that it should be pretty self explanatory.” Phil wasn’t normally one to pay too much attention to new likes and comments on his old videos, but out of curiosity, he’d checked his first video after he knew Dan had watched it. He’d sorted the comments by date and hadn’t been disappointed. Beneath a string of comments screaming about Dan discovering Phil’s first video was a comment from the man himself.

Daniel Howell: being this precious should be illegal

When he’d found Dan’s comment, Phil had been too curious for his own good and clicked on Dan’s account. Much to his surprise, Dan’s recently liked videos tab was just pages and pages of Phil’s videos. Phil wondered if Dan knew that his likes were public.

Phil had half been expecting Dan to blush when he teased him about watching his videos, but instead, Dan’s lips just quirked up to match Phil’s smirk.

“That’s true, I guess.” Dan reached out to take his coffee from Phil’s hand before he could set it down on the counter, their fingers lightly brushing together. It shouldn’t have affected him the way it did, not when Dan’s hands had been on his bare ribs just moments ago, but Phil had to bite back a gasp at the touch. “I suppose I know a lot more about you now than I did, but all it did was leave me with more questions.

Phil rolled his eyes, trying to appear like he found Dan silly, but really he got it. He so, so deeply understood what Dan meant. The more Phil learned about Dan, both in person and from his dives into the depths of the internet, the more Phil wanted to know.

He’d learned that Dan had a childhood dog at his parents that he adored, but he didn’t know if Dan wanted a dog of his own. He’d learned that Dan was amazing at Mario Kart, but he didn’t know what other games he enjoyed playing. He’d learned that his inspiration for his songs usually came from his own life, but he didn’t know what was inspiring him at this moment.

With a mock resigned sigh, Phil wiped down his work area — he’d accidentally made a mess of it during the morning rush. “Alright, then, Howell. Let’s hear your questions.”

As soon as the words were out of Phil’s mouth, Dan’s questions poured out of him the same way his words always did when he was passionate about something — fast, loud, and all at once.

“Why did you decide to start youtube? Was it hard to get into it? What’s it like working with the BBC? Why the heck do you work at a coffee shop? Do you think —”

Phil threw his drying rag at Dan, smacking him in the face. “Slow down, will you? I can only answer one question at a time.”

Dan’s boisterous laugh filled the coffee shop. “Sorry, I got excited.” He threw the towel back at Phil, sprinkling black coffee grounds onto Phil’s white shirt in the process. “Start at the beginning then. How’d you get started on youtube?”

Between fans, interviewers, and confused adults, Phil got that question a lot and had an answer ready. “I got a camera in a cereal box and just started making videos.”

Dan cocked his head, considering Phil. “That’s it then? You just found a camera and your first thought was I’m going to make youtube videos?”

Something about the way Dan’s eyes bore into Phil coaxed out a deeper answer, an answer he usually kept private. Dan had a way of doing that. Those big puppydog eyes could probably make Phil confess to anything. “At first, it wasn’t a thing. YouTube wasn’t a thing. I just kind of posted the first video for fun, and then, over time, I found myself coming back to it. I was living at my parents after uni. Most of my friends either didn’t live near me or were disgustingly in love and… I don’t know. I was bored I guess. I wanted a way to connect with new people, maybe a way to make some friends. So when I discovered the youtube community, which was so small and close-knit back then, it seemed like the right thing to do.”

Phil wasn’t sure what he expected from Dan after he let all of that pour out — perhaps pity — but it wasn’t understanding. Which was exactly what he ended up getting.

“That’s kind of how I got started in music, actually! I hated so much that was happening in my life, I didn’t have friends, I just needed to do something I loved.”

“Exactly!” Phil agreed. “And I made so many good friends so quickly. It was exactly what I needed. As for getting popular, it was a lot easier back then. Like I said, it was really close knit, so we all collabed together and promoted each others’ channels. I was even part of a few community things, like ApartmentRed. And slowly, my subscribers grew and grew and grew until I woke up one day and I had over four million subscribers. I couldn’t believe it. All I could think was, I’m just Phil, from Rawtenstall.” Embarrassed that he’d been talking about himself for so long, Phil tried to switch the conversation over to Dan. “What about you? How did you get popular with music?”

Phil already knew, sort of. He’d seen clips of Dan talking about how an up and coming producer had come into a bar he was playing at by complete chance one night, and asked him to come to the studio the next Monday to play some of his original pieces for their boss. But Phil was willing to bet that Dan, like himself, only ever told part of his origin story during interviews.

“I was eighteen and I had been accepted to study law at Manchester University, but I hated the idea of it, so I decided to take a gap year and really give music a go. My parents fucking hated it. They said that if I wasn’t going to be working towards a more viable future by taking this horrific internship at a law firm, then I wasn’t allowed to live at home. I think they really thought I’d give in. But. I don’t know. I was young and passionate and reckless and stubborn, so I packed a bag, grabbed my guitar, and left. I got a job at a DIY store — which I was horrible at, by the way — and a really crappy studio apartment, and spent every free night I had playing gigs at shitty dive bars. And eventually, it paid off.”

Phil shook head, a bit in awe of Dan’s courage. He’d never realized how much Dan had risked when he decided to chase his dreams.

“Wow, that was so bold of you. I guess I was really lucky. My parents were really supportive of the youtube thing. I think initially they were just happy that I was doing something, making friends. But when it became clear that it might become profitable someday, they did everything they could to help. How do your parents feel about you singing now?”

“They’ve come around,” Dan answered as he shrugged out of his leather jacket all together, draping it on the stool next to him. Clearly, the heat in the store was beginning to get to him. “I think they were only really against it in the beginning because they wanted what was best for me and, well, I guess you know how difficult trying to make it the entertainment business can be. But we’re close now and they support what I’m doing. What about your family? You seem really close with them.”

“Yeah,” Phil agreed. “We are. They all think it’s cool, and my brother actually does a lot of behind the scenes stuff for me. My extended family is a bit confused by it all though. Like, outside of my grandma, I think most of them are convinced I make a different type of internet video.” Phil attempted a wink and immediately regretted it — he was well aware of how unsexy his two-eyed attempt at winks were.

Dan laughed, loud and unrestrained. “Now there’s an image. Innocent AmazingPhil fucking someone on the internet for money.”

“Hey! I am innocent,” Phil argued indignantly, pretending to be offended.

Dan laughed, doing his best to give Phil an incredulous look despite it. “Right. Do I need to remind you that you called me daddy like three days ago?”

“I was kidding!”

“Right, and we know only innocent people joke about daddy kinks.” Dan tugged at the chunky grey scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. Was Dan okay? Phil was kind of surprised Dan had lasted so long all bundled up he way he was.

“Jesus fuck, it’s really fucking hot in here,” Dan grumbled.

“I know,” Phil agreed. “That would be why I was trying to take off my jumper when you got in. You’ll probably be more comfortable if you take your scarf off.”

It seemed the logical thing to do, but Dan looked unsure, his eyes flickering between his half-finished coffee and Phil, as if the last thing he wanted was to remove his scarf. Phil squinted at Dan, confused

“You have to promise not to give me shit,” Dan tried to threaten.

It occured to Phil, then, that Dan was embarrassed. Cocking an eyebrow, Phil taunted, “I don’t think I can make any such promises, but go on then.”

Dan grumbled something incomprehensible, but obligingly lifted his hands to his scarf. A bit reluctantly, Dan unwound the grey fabric. Suddenly, Phil understood that the scratches on Dan’s arms likely weren’t from an animal — not if the marks on his neck were anything to go by.

Phil could feel his heart plummet into his stomach at the sight. He knew, obviously he knew that Dan had a girlfriend. And she was gorgeous. Of course, of course they were having sex. It was just — he’d never thought about it. Not really. Isabella had always been a distant figure in Dan’s life, one he didn’t even really talk about that much.

But now...

Now, Phil had no choice but to think about Dan and her having sex.

He felt like an idiot. His thoughts of Dan falling apart underneath his felt like distant fantasies all of a sudden. Instead, he was falling apart with someone else — his girlfriend. Girlfriend.

With a jolt, Phil realized he’d been silently staring at Dan’s neck a bit too long. Deliberately, Phil forced out a laugh, which came out weaker than he’d been hoping for.

“Damn,” Phil added.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dan mumbled into his coffee cup.

With a monumental effort, Phil did his best to revert back to his joking self, trying to emotionally distance himself from the thought of Isabella leaving those marks on Dan. “And here you were saying that I’m not innocent. I don’t think you get those kinds of marks from being a good boy,” Phil teased.

Phil saw a flicker of something flash through Dan’s eyes. He’d forgotten what those words apparently did to Dan.

Evilly, Phil leaned forward on his elbows, resting his chin in his palm. “Were you a bad boy, Daniel?”

Instantly, Dan’s cheeks turned a deep, dark red. The expression was far prettier to focus on then the hickies covering his neck. Apparently bad boy affected Dan just as much as good boy.

“Fuck off. We got into a bit of a fight, if you must know.”

“A fight?” Phil prompted against his better judgment, taken by surprise.

“Yeah, protip: angry sex may feel great in the moment, but it hurts like fuck for days.”

Phil hadn’t been expecting Dan to actually like, admit to being a bad boy. And if Phil was being honest he kind of hated Dan confirming what he’d suspected.

“Those marks are days old?”

Dan huffed. “You should have seen them Monday.”

“Oh, wow. Um, are you guys okay?”

Why did he ask that? There was no potential good answer. If Dan said no, Phil wouldn’t be able to keep himself from feeling kind of sort of happy about it, despite feeling bad for Dan at the same time.. If Dan said yes — well, Phil’s heart just needed to get used to taking a beating when it came to Dan.

Dan didn’t answer right away. His eyes bore into Phil’s, almost as if he was looking for something, but Phil didn’t know what.

Finally, he spoke, sounding defeated.

“I don’t think we ever are. But we’re good enough.”

what did you thinkkkkkkkk? a bit less angsty than the last chapter? right?  

thank you @auroraphilealis for all of your wonderful editing and suggestions. you always make me a better writer <3 

[[next chapter]]

[h-pescod]

Why You Should Stop Screwing Around With Low-Energy People

* I should probably say that I'm going to curse occasionally, in this post or otherwise. I'm going to try my hardest to keep my language "professional," but at the end of the day I'm still going to get fired up about things - it happens, but I'll work on keeping it to a minimum.

*****

With all of the fads going on in society, whether it has to do with beauty or health or fashion, there is always someone telling you how to think, how to act, how to feel. And a lot of them are basic, helpful tips, like drinking water and keeping track of appointments by starting a daytimer (something often forced upon us in primary education when we need it the least, and pushed to the point where we hate it until we reach pseudo-adulthood, when we realize how useful they actually are).

Perhaps I won't sound all that different, judging by the title of this post, telling you to drop people from your life. You think to yourself, "why should I listen to you? I don't even know you." And you shouldn't - because you don't. But I will share a personal story, so you can judge for yourself how it works.

I am one of the most organized people I know, and I do everything from highlight to colour-code to run three different calendars to make sure I can keep track of everything. This type of thing is really helpful for when I have off days, when my brain decides all we're going to do is lay in bed, or binge watch the Lord of the Rings, instead of actually being productive and pounding out a term paper or another chapter of my book. I also value my sleep, so I try my absolute hardest to get to bed at a decent hour (as in, before midnight if I can), even if it means that I have to sacrifice finishing up the last couple of things on my to-do list because my eyes are almost literally being held open by toothpicks. What I will say as well is that last semester (full university course load, absolute hell, do not recommend if you can help it) I was also really struggling mentally due to a variety of external issues. All you really need to know is that I was tired all the time, but that I was still managing to get my assignments in on time and do decently well on them.

And I had this friend. She was nice enough, and a good person, and I enjoyed spending time with her. For sake of anonymity, we'll call her Amy. Amy and I had a class together, and while we didn't necessarily see each other all the time that was okay, because we were both busy. At the beginning of the semester, after having an argument, we were still seeing each other for an okay amount of time, going for coffee over break and then texting in the evenings. And that was all well and good.

Now, I struggled a lot over the summer, and even going into the beginning of the semester, but I was working on keeping a positive attitude even though I had a lot on my plate. But even if you're self contained, it's nice to have some sort of support system. The problem was she was a super crappy texter unless she really wanted to talk to you. And that was fine, because Amy also had a lot going on in her life, so I tried not to worry about it too much as far as day-to-day stuff. It really started to grate on my when I really needed her and she wouldn't even reply until several hours later, sometimes in the evening the next day, or two days, and her only excuse was "I was busy," even though I knew she was active on all her social media, and she had hung out with several other people during that time.

I won't go into too much more detail, but let's just say that this put Amy and I on the rocks, big time. Am I saying that I did everything right in the relationship? No, by no means was I perfect. There were plenty of other things I could have done to maybe impress upon her that despite being her so-called "best friend," Amy wasn't even treating me like she liked me very much. But as you can probably imagine, this whole ordeal was unnecessarily draining on me, and it wasn't something I needed on top of everything else going on in my life. I wasn't getting the support I needed from her, despite giving more than enough to her and constantly checking in to make sure she was taking care of herself (she had a bad habit of trying to lose weight by.... not eating... like at all... I'm talking full-blown Tony Stark diet, sans alcohol).

I don't want to bad-mouth her. Amy was a good friend, for the most part.

But she was also super low-energy. Like I'm talking 90% of what she did was complain about shit, even if it wasn't directly related to her; school, her cousin, how tired she was all the time, how busy she was even though almost all of her schedule was self-imposed and when she wasn't fucking around at yoga and taking pictures in coffee shops working she was doing absolutely fuck all until 22.30 when she actually started to study. Sorry, still a little bit salty about that. My point is that she was really negative, and our conversations started to revolve around a couple of select topics rather than a wide variety, if they occurred at all.

We managed to keep our friendship alive, in a Frankenstein's Monster "returned from the dead" sort of way, until December, when I had suffered through numerous depressive episodes that she couldn't care less about because she "didn't have time" even though she could do all sorts of other things, and cared about other people (when I say "didn't have time," I'm saying that she wouldn't even text me back when I wouldn't talk to her for days since I was spiraling and she knew it, no that she didn't necessarily care about me). So I dropped her, and we argued about it. Amy said she hadn't done anything wrong even though we had had no less than three conversations about her shitty attempt at superficial friendship in the span of four months, and things would change or about four days until she went right back to it.

And now - now, oh my gods. It took me a bit to be able to hear her name or think about her without hurting inside, because I cared about her and that wasn't reciprocated, but now I'm so over it that I see her in the hallway sometimes and if I didn't hear her name I wouldn't even have known she was there. I don't feel as tired, emotionally, as I did when I was struggling to keep a friendship together all by my damn self. I'm a happier person. I'm more focused on bettering myself rather than trying to please another person, and I've more or less adopted "equal effort or leave" as my motto. I've stopped fucking with people who are so internalized with their own problems that they couldn't give less of a shit about your feelings or what that's doing to a relationship.

I'm not saying that you should immediately drop someone who isn't giving their fair share in a relationship. "It be like that sometimes" is a good thing to keep in mind, because people go through things that they may not feel comfortable sharing and they may not be able to give 100% to you. Sometimes you have to pick up the slack. But you also have to remember that if you're consistently giving more to them than they're giving to you - like Amy was, taking my support but giving very little attention or support in return in the ways I told her numerous times that I needed it - then you may have to consider letting them quietly out of your life. If they aren't picking up the slack when you need them to and only support you when it's convenient for them, re-evaluate. Have the tough conversations about why what they're doing is hurting you. It isn't worth your mental health to try and keep beating a dead horse, especially if you've expressed your concerns and their behaviour hasn't changed.

Friendships, relationships, and human interaction are all wonderful things. You need them. They're important to social balance and making sure you don't get stuck in your own head all the time and you have people to take care of you. But at the end of the day, your mental health needs to come first. If you aren't happy with something, change it. If something is hurting you, figure out why and deal with it. People who aren't on the same wave-length as you, who are negative and only bring down your mood when you have a conversation with them, are not people who you want to be around long-term. At risk of sounding like all of those infomercials where they guarantee you things, I can guarantee, from personal experience, that if you evaluate every relationship that's causing you pain and let that person go if you have to, you will feel better. You'll be happier. It will be one less thing for you to worry about at the end of the day.

Because you do not depend on the attention other people give you - your health, your idea of yourself, is not dependent on the amount of time people spend on you, and if someone is wrapped up in themselves and cannot see you for your worth, then maybe they aren't as important in your life as you thought they were going to be.

Stagnation is a sign of low energy, and in order to take care of yourself you need to be aware of it. If something stagnates, ask yourself why. If it's a change you can make, then do it. If it's a change they can make, or need to make, talk to them about it. They may not realize they're doing it. But if it becomes a consistent problem, at the end of the day your life only deserves positive energy, and you may need to let them go. You are not responsible for taking care of people.

[minithemoocher]

To Meditate or To Medicate...

It’s been a while since David or I have sat down to share some thoughts with you - things have been wild since the move to our new unit - but we are here now! July marks our 6th Month at Lochburn Road, it’s insane how quickly the time is going.

July also marks the one year anniversary of me taking medication to help me manage my OCD. I wanted to talk a little about that subject, medication and the weird feelings it invokes in me. When I actively consider the concept of taking a tablet every night, it leaves me with the strange thought that in some way, it represents weakness. I have had this conversation with lots of people in the last year, about the undocumented possible side effect of taking medication; embarrassment, shame and denial.  

I have kind of jumped in head first here, with out much context of what has happened since my previous post about Mental Health so let me spin off some cliff notes and I will loop back round to the above subject...

I found out that I have OCD or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

I discovered that OCD takes many forms and the stereotypical hand washing, light switch flipping and cleaning portrayal of OCD is a poor and marginalized representation of the condition.

I have a few different strains of the the bloody thing but the most difficult to deal with is the Intrusive Thinking OCD (sometimes called Pure O).

Intrusive Thinking is one of the more difficult to diagnose given the lack of obvious physical ticks (they are there, you just need to look really closely) It is also commonly misdiagnosed as Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder (yup) and also in my case Health Anxiety.

I have most likely had it all my life (definitely since my late teens) and it has swayed back and forth from various strains.

Read this page for a small over view of the different types of OCD https://www.ocduk.org/types-ocd

I contemplated that I might actually be crazy despite all my nice talking and self reassuring in the months before.

I finally agreed to take medication after a particularly grim reaperish, month long episode.

So that roughly covers it in terms of the diagnosis and I am glad that I have something to work with. It took a good while but we got there (we as in me, Davie, the doc, my family - having multiple personalities is not a symptom).

It’s worth noting my intrusive thoughts & compulsions are around the unknown - vague I know - or you could say a lack of ‘solid evidence’. Read bed bug gate post if you want an example! Another common one for me is the thought that I may, accidentally, have done something terribly wrong and not known it or realized it and the potential repercussions of said terrible thing (that I haven’t done). That kicks off the cycle of the intrusive thought, which becomes the obsession and subsequently the compulsion to try and quell the thought, such as repeatedly asking some one to give their view on a the (bizarre) hypothetical situation and ask for reassurance. I can see why to the untrained eye it looks like someone just worrying and stressing a little. I call it getting stuck in a loop, which can go one for hours, days, weeks, months. It’s no the greatest tbh! And the mad situations I come up with make me question my claim to not being very creative.. So anyway, medication. That’s what I really want to talk about. 2 years ago, when I originally took really unwell and began talking a bit more publicly about it I was all over the place. I was determined that I absolutely would not be taking any tablets, not that there was ever anything wrong with someone else taking them, but I wasn’t going to do it. Don’t get it twisted here - I never had an issue with anyone else taking medication, in fact I actively encouraged those who had made that decision to stick with it, try it and give it a fair shot. It was not that the medication was bad per se but more of the idea that my mental health was not bad enough that I needed it. In other words, for me, denial.

So, I went in pursuit of other means - some work - some don’t! Training, has and will always be the best medicine for me. I’ve covered that off in posts before, but given the nature of OCD and it’s ability to morph quicker than morph himself, I have since discovered that my management programme needs to be able to evolve and change too.

But anyway, my pursuit of holistic and organic management started. I did a lot of research online, sifting through loads of articles, website, blogs and magazines to help me find possible solutions. The obvious one here CBT but I am going to leave that one out just now - it’s not massively relevant to my point, I am talking more of the life style advice stuff that people give. There were some really good, sometimes obvious points; don’t drink, eat well, sleep regularly, exercise, mindfulness, go for a walk, talk to some one etc etc. The list goes on. However, as I researched on and on I started to unearth this concept, from some people’s perspective, that medication is bad, not good, masking the problems and in some case portrayed as being a sign of your inability to deal with your issues.

So I had my plan, no medicine - it’s definitely not an option as it is bad - train, eat well every day, no drinking, sleep 8 hours a night, avoid stressful situations, practice mindfulness, no social media, no TV and avoid conflict. Sorted.... except it’s not very realistic is it. Well for me it ain’t. I am 29 years old, with a family (and some very patient and understanding friends), a wee one to look after and a house and business to run. I also live in a big city in the 21st century. My plan had some challenges. Long story short, it didn’t work. I was fucked (sorry for language but best way for me to accurately describe my state at that time) from being really unwell for a good amount of time at this point. I didn’t have the reserves there to execute my plan. I kept trying, but understandably, given my head space alone, kept failing in my endeavors which in hind sight only added to my issues.  And in to the bargain I had managed to convince myself that medication was absolutely not an option because it was bad - it would mask my problems, not help.  By this point my aforementioned denial was gone, I knew I was in really deep and really really struggling but again nope - no way - I am not taking pills. In the end it got really grim. We will call this the grim-reaperish stage!  I won’t go into the details but suffice to say I am grateful that I made it through that stage for the 2nd time in a year. During the grim reaperish stage, I had no choice but to hand over my care to my family and doctor. I was incapable of making any decisions. So medicine was prescribed and Davie held my hand as I cried taking it. Now for me, it helped me start to turn things around. It took the edge off, i panicked less, I feared things a little less, I wasn’t living in constant state of fear and high alert. It certainly didn’t magically fix my problems nor did it mask them, it just allowed me just a little tiny bit breathing space to help me start to execute my previous management plan. It allowed me to get back training regularly, it allowed me to able to keep some food down and actually have an appetite, it allowed me to not go from 0 to 100 as soon as there was a slight sign of challenge or uncertainty - now I just go to 50. I am taking that as a result.

In essence what I am saying is that medication has helped me a little and that’s ok. Yet sometimes, I still struggle telling people that I take medication every day and for me there is no definitive end date as of yet, we are hoping for next year but who knows. Each day as it comes right. Here is the reason I struggle with this admission; once I read some one else’s opinion that medicine is bad and taking it makes me weaker and it really stuck with me. I was already in denial about the state of mind and this compounded that thought real quick. A rational mind would say ‘ that’s one person’s opinion, you do you’ and they would be right but for me, and for many other’s struggling with that question, the thought process might not be that rational. It’s important to note I also seen people on the flip side, advising that I should me medicating and not bothering with alternative methods of management. It works both ways - the no medication stuck with me because that’s the conformation I was looking for.

So just to be clear, I am not saying that medication is good or bad, nor am I saying that mindfulness and meditation etc is good or bad. What I am saying is that every one person is different, and they already have a hard and laborious task of finding the correct solution for them so if you are issuing out advice, please do so with caution and compassion. Medicine, holistic or pharmaceutical, as treatment is such a controversial subject across many illnesses, I think it’s only fair that the recipient of your opinion has one, asked for it and two, that it is caveat-ed with the fact that is this is your opinion (based on referenced facts if required) and they should make try to make an informed choice of their own.

Information sharing is great for Mental Health issues, and it is something I have actively encouraged in my previous posts, but I suppose the important bit I missed was please do so with a heightened sense of awareness of how someone may react. Please don’t shame someone for taking a more holistic approach or for choosing a medicine based approach. Usually these types of comments come from a place of love and concern, but it’s maybe how we do it that matters. Instead of saying ‘do this not that’, maybe suggest putting some time aside to research options together and approach it with an open mind. You might just be the rational voice that someone needs when they can’t think rationally!

Everyone is different, but they all share the common goal of getting better or feeling like themselves again. My OCD will never fully go away, I am stuck with it for life and whilst it may be peaks and troughs, it is always there. What may be a fleeting comment for one person, is likely to stick with me for longer.

So to medicate or to meditate. I have found that a mixture of both is working well for me - ok not so much meditating, more like smashing pads, bags and sparring, sitting in silence in my head can some times be a little over bearing. The point is you do you, be informed, know the risks and be confident in knowing that you are far from weak. My previous posts re the mental health campaign are over on the NewLife Mental Health Blog which davie has hijacked this week. You can see them here: http://www.newlifeglasgow.com/mental-health-campaign-blog

Thanks Jill

Ps. I always say this but it’s kinda part of my OCD - I am not a doctor or medical professional. I am just some random lassie, who kicks and punches for a living and happens to be trying to figure the shit out of my OCD. My posts are are just my experiences.

[envirotravel]

The Great Escape: Month 59 Roundup

Oh, my monthly roundups. They are so ridiculously out of sync with real time now (this post is basically one year late, ha ha) that I recently considered axing the series, but I decided to play catch up instead — so brace yourself for a couple of these coming up! However, now that I’m writing on multiple timelines they do serve as a nice roadmap of my archives for those who want to follow my travels chronologically.

Apologies for the delay, but I suppose better is late than never… right?

Oh, how hard it was to leave my island life! This was my final month in Thailand before jetting off to Brazil and a stateside summer, and it was a struggle to say goodbye. Aside from one hellish visa run and one giggle-filled girl’s weekend in Samui, I stuck close to Koh Tao and enjoyed my last bit of stillness.

This is a simple post for a simple month!

Where I’ve Been

• One night in overnight transit

• Five nights on Koh Tao

• Two nights on Koh Samui

• Twenty-one days on Koh Tao

Highlights

• Breaking my Diet Coke addiction! Long time readers know that I’ve long considered the stuff to be carbonated gold, and I spent years jolting out of bed and immediately heading out on a mission to source a can if I happened to find myself without it. I was well and truly addicted.

When I started thinking about doing a DIY health retreat, I knew I wanted to kick my ridiculous Diet Coke habit. But it took me months to psych myself up for it! I knew that there was nowhere better than Thailand to do it, since I don’t actually love the Thai formula for Coke Light. And you know what? It was raging success — so much so that I extended my initial four weeks to six! I took a million notes and learned SO MUCH from the process. Literally one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever given myself. It’s basically not travel related at all, but give me a shout if you’d be interested in a post about getting un-addicted from diet soda!

• Crushing my 5K time. Well, perhaps crushing is a bit of an exaggeration. But I did semi-train for a run for the first time ever, and I saw the results! I set a new best pace for myself, and had a blast crossing the finish line. It wasn’t just that final moment of euphoria though — I also cherished my sunset jogs with my running buddy Amy leading up to it.

• Easter Brunch. Our whole Samui girl’s trip was divine — not because we did anything super special (apart from the race, of course) or ate or drank anywhere especially noteworthy. But we were together, and it was our last big hurrah before my summer departure, and I just loved it. The highlight was our Sunday brunch complete with DIY mimosas and endless toasts to friends and upcoming farewells.

• Not one but two diving courses! A sidemount speciality and an enriched air certification were the perfect courses to take side-by-side. I learned so much, I got excited about diving on Koh Tao again, and I got to cap it all off with a group trip to Sail Rock surrounded by friends. I couldn’t have asked for better days in the ocean.

• Celebrating Sonkgran! My first Songkran years ago was just days into a heart-wrenching breakup with my boyfriend of three years, so suffice it to say that was pretty bittersweet. And I’ve been just missing the big day ever since in my comings and goings from Thailand. Finally, in 2016, I got to have a big wet and wild, happiness-fueled do-ver. Travel BFF Heather even flew in from Bali! Honestly, it was the best day I could have asked for. It’s one of the greatest holidays I’ve had the privilege of celebrating!

• Calling quits on Photo of the Week. It had to happen! I didn’t regret it for a second and I’ve really enjoyed focused more on my Instagram and Facebook since. (My newsletter has been far less successful, unfortunately.) It just took so much pressure off!

• Getting enough sleep. It says something funny about our society that I write here every day about my travels around the world but I’m almost embarrassed to say that I get 7-8 hours of sleep a night when I’m on Koh Tao because I know what a luxury that is.

I’ve spent years with various degrees of sleep deprivation due to anxiety and extreme scheduling. Not that both those didn’t flare up occasionally over my time in Koh Tao — and not that I didn’t have the worst mattress on the planet — but overall it was the most well-rested half a year I’ve had.

Lowlights and Lessons

• Another hellish visa run to the Burmese border. Paying to spend twenty-four hours being motion sick and be bored to tears by a bureaucratic puppet show? I vowed then and there to never do another one — and so far I’ve stuck to it! (I take mini-vacations instead.)

• Our Samui hotel was pretty disappointing. After all the fabulous places we’ve stayed over the years, it was kind of a letdown to land somewhere so meh for such an epic trip — I really wanted to treat my girls to something special! Ah well, that’s what we get for booking last minute! We still had a blast.

• My Brazilian visa photo. Lol? I know it sounds like a funny thing to complain about, but I was legit horrified to learn that the awful passport photo I’d submitted with my Brazilian visa application was PRINTED ON THE VISA AND PASTED INTO MY PASSPORT. Of all the passport photos I’ve had to submit over the years, none but the original have actually ended up in my passport! Lesson learned: I’ll never settle for anything less than frame-worthy again. Tears were shed, guys. My vanity knows no bounds.

• The Boat Party… ugh. Honestly, this was so traumatizing of an event that this is the first time I’m mentioning it anywhere in public. And frankly, I’m still going to be super vague, because I’m always on edge writing negatively about anything pertaining to the Thai Government or authorities, considering the country’s track record of warmth towards free speech and criticism.

But basically, what happened was this: a yacht was hired for a private party of mostly long-term expats. We boarded the boat with much elation and enjoyed our fun at sea for about an hour before being approached by a police vessel which boarded the boat and forced it back to a pier other than the one we’d departed from. When docked, we headed for the end of the long pier — only to realize the police had locked it from the other side. We spent two hours in the hot sun with no water or access to bathrooms, portions of it on our knees with our hands over our head, while the police tossed the boat and tried to figure out what charges we could be held on. When we were released, we had to write down names, passport numbers, addresses, and more. It was incredibly traumatizing and I actually cried when we were finally freed. Anyway, that’s the short version — for the longer one, you’ll have to wait for an incredibly juicy chapter of the book I’ve finally accepted I’ll try to write someday.

• Leaving Koh Tao. Seriously, it never gets any easier. This was one of the best seasons I ever spent on the island, and leaving literally felt heart-wrenching. That said, a travel writer stranding herself on an island that is the isolation equivalent of being a 4-5 hour drive from the closest, most expensive airport and a 7-8 hour drive from the more reasonably priced one is not a sustainable business plan and I recognize that my time off the island is necessary for both my business and my mental health! Still, there are always things I long for when I’m away.

Best and Worst Beds of the Month

Best: Well I didn’t really travel much this month but I did soak up my last beautiful weeks of sleeping in my own apartment! Kind of a shame that I loathed, ya know, my actual bed.

Worst: Easy — my evening on the night boat with broken AC followed by a miserable motion-sickness inducing car ride to the edge on Thailand on my visa run. (Though frankly, the hotel in Samui was nothing much exciting either.)

Best and Worst Meals of the Month

Best: Our post-Songkran brunch at my friend Janine’s house! I made banana cinnamon pancakes and mango mimosas — hangover food in the tropics.

Worst: Sorry to be a broken record, but I’ll have to go with “whatever shitty snacks I compiled from a five-minute stop at 7-11 just over the Burmese border.” Yeah, I really hate those visa runs.

Spending

I had another nice and low-key month of expenditures (much needed before the spend-storm that was Brazil!). While Songkran and our trip to Samui were mild splurges, my day-to-day lifestyle on Koh Tao is so affordable it can definitely absorb the blow of a few fun activities thrown in per month. In Samui I also used some built up hotel credit I had — nothing special for being a blogger, just normal loyalty programs anyone can use! — to cover the majority of the cost of the rooms.

Unusually for me, two of my biggest splurges were clothes and accessories — new bikinis from local Koh Tao designer Flip Flop and Treacle, and some new jewelry from local island jeweler Amy Jennifer Jewellery. Had to send myself off in style!

Saving

Hallelujah! I doubled my income from the previous month thanks to a few big campaigns coming in with my regular blog partners, as well as a successful month for affiliate income. Again — right before Brazil, I seriously needed it.

Health and Fitness

Between my 5K, the training for it, and trying to use up all my gym and yoga passes before heading off to Brazil, I basically crushed it. Admittedly, Songkran was quite debaucherous, but overall

What Was Next

Six weeks in BRAZIL!

I simply couldn’t ask for better travel companions than all of you!

Since I left home for my Great Escape, I’ve been doing monthly roundups of my adventures filled with anecdotes, private little moments, and thoughts that are found nowhere else on this blog. As this site is not just a resource for other travelers but also my own personal travel diary, I like to take some time to reflect on not just what I did, but how I felt. You can read my previous roundups here.

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