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Some days are just too dark. It was the middle of the afternoon, but Dan was still laying on his front hidden away in his bedroom and staring at his wall. It was dark, no curtain drawn to let the light in. He didn’t miss it. It’s been 3 weeks since he’s seen the sun, convinced he couldn’t find it even if he pushed the curtain aside. He rolled over and that was all the energy he had for the day being used up. He felt the tears begin to flood his eyes, ready to leave their mark on his cheeks again when he heard his door click open.
“You need to get up.” Phil’s voice sounded closer than it has been in days, but Dan couldn’t bring himself to look at the man. “I’m serious, Dan. If you don’t get up, I’m dragging you back to the clinic.”
Dan’s breathing quickened at that last word, panic setting into his chest, but all he could do was roll over again and face the wall. He wanted to say that he can’t get up, that he wants to get up and knows he should get up, but he just can’t do it. Not right now. Not today. Before Dan could dig himself deeper into his own thoughts, Phil was kneeling in front him in his line of vision. He almost forgot what it felt like to look into the man’s eyes. They reminded him of the ocean, the earth, the prettiest watercolour painting one could ever make.
Phil was holding a towel in one hand and used his other to gently brush Dan’s fringe off his forehead. “Just take a fucking shower.”
Now Dan knew Phil well enough that him swearing off camera wasn’t surprising, but Phil was never one to swear at Dan. His eyes widened and as if moving on impulse, he was sitting up and taking the towel that was offered to him. Phil was leaving the room before Dan could actually get off the bed and so he hesitated. Dan stared at the towel then stared at the floor, his bare feet making cautious contact with the wood. “Just take a fucking shower,” was Phil’s voice in his head. And he was up and he was walking and he didn’t feel brave. He was on autopilot as he made his way into the bathroom, stripped himself of his clothes, and got into the shower. He scrubbed his body under the warm water, but soon enough autopilot was turning off and he was just stood there letting the shower wash away nothing. Moments later there was a knock on the door. Maybe he’s been in here too long.
“I’m going to come in unless you tell me not to,” Phil said. He waited for a response and when he got none, he opened the door, stepping inside. He was relieved to see that his best friend had actually listened to him and gotten into the bath, but was worried to see him just standing there behind the blurry and fogged up glass. “Did you wash up?” Phil moved closer, sliding open the shower door just enough to see his friend’s face clearly. Slowly, Dan nodded his head. Phil smiled. That nod was progress. “Did you wash your hair?” This time Dan’s eyes left the drain and looked over at the array of shampoos and body washes next to him, realizing he forgot that part of bathing. He shook his head, again, slowly. Phil pushed his sleeves up and slid the door open a bit more, reaching in to adjust the intensity of the shower. “Sit down.”
Dan actually looked at him curiously this time, but a moment later found himself sitting on the floor of the shower, his back facing Phil like he asked. Phil had leaned over him and taken the bottle, pouring some of the shampoo into his hands and began working it into a lather on his head. Dan closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath. Suddenly he felt exposed and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. He heard Phil laugh softly behind him.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. It’s okay.” Phil’s fingers were massaging his scalp and Dan felt his face heat up, but he carefully allowed his legs to return to their previous position. He tilted his head back and felt a light kiss on his forehead. “Go on and turn around for me. It’s time to rinse.” Dan lifted his head up, but kept his eyes shut as he adjusted his position in the bathtub so he was back under the shower. He combed his fingers through his hair, disappointed that it didn’t feel as good as Phil’s did. When he opened his eyes, Phil was already standing and sliding the glass door shut. He watched through the frosted glass as he left.
The towel felt so good against his skin, he thought as he wrapped himself up. Wiping the fog off the mirror, Dan looked at himself. He didn’t like it, wasn’t happy with what he saw but figured since he’s already here that maybe he should brush his teeth. Surely, if he could take a shower, he could brush his teeth, yeah? He counted out the seconds of each minute as he brushed, finding the task more bearable if he gave his mind something to do. When he was finished, he made his way back to his room.
It’s not really his room, it’s the room he shares with Phil. But for the past few weeks, they’ve been sleeping in different parts of the house because Dan wants to hide and Phil respects that. He dries off as he approaches his closet. Realizes he doesn’t want to open it, doesn’t want to make anymore choices for the day. He’s tired again, thinks maybe he never stopped being tired. He doesn’t know, doesn’t care, it’s too much and he can’t do it. Not today. Not right now. He turns towards his bed, sniffles, then softens. Phil’s old university hoodie is laying on the bed along with a pair of boxer briefs and socks. Dan is relieved and thankful and drops his towel to put on the clothes. As he tugs the hoodie over his head, he notices that the sheets on his bed has been changed too. He tugs the sweatshirt up, breathing in the scent of his best friend and becomes aware of just how much he wants to be next to him right now.
He’s quiet as he finds his way to the kitchen. Phil is at the stove, stirring something in one of the pots and Dan just watches. “I’m making pasta,” Phil said without looking up. Dan is quick to use his voice this time.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know.” Phil looks at him now, smiles gently then invites him over. “Come here.”
“I’m not hungry,” Dan takes a step back. His body is telling him to leave now, but Phil is persistent.
“I’m not asking you to eat, I’m asking you to help.”
And Dan wants to help. For once, he doesn’t want to be the one who needs help in this relationship. He wants to be the one who can provide it. So he closes the distance between them, takes over at the stove as Phil steps aside to cut up vegetables. And the food smells good and Dan feels dizzy, but Phil is back again. This time he stands behind him, arms at either side and he’s resting his chin on Dan’s shoulder, whispering soft words into his ear. Dan doesn’t know what he’s saying, thinks he’s talking about the food, but thinks differently when Phil’s arms wrap around his waist. Their bodies are flush against each other and Phil’s scent is overpowering the food and Dan is dropping the spoon in the pot and turning in Phil’s arms. He embraces him; wraps his arms around Phil’s neck and buries his face in the spot above his right shoulder.
“Please,” is all Dan can say. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, but Phil will figure it out because that’s what Phil does. Phil shushes him, holds him tighter, slips a palm under the hoodie to rub Dan’s lower back.
“I love you so much, Daniel Howell. I’m always going to love you this much, if not more.”
“E-Even if I can’t t-take a shower?” Dan was sobbing, but made the effort to look into Phil’s eyes.
“Yes. And I’m still going to marry you next week even if you’re still wearing my York hoodie and plaid briefs. I love you always, all ways. Understood?”
Dan nodded fervently and their lips met like they did the night Phil proposed and the night they finished their tour and the day they first met at the train station. Phil nibbled and sucked at Dan’s bottom lip, unbothered by the slight saltiness from his tears. Instead he could taste the mint and he gave Dan’s body a gentle squeeze and Dan let out a soft sigh.
“I’m so proud of you, Dan. I’ll be with you the whole way. It’ll take time, but I have all the time in the world for you. And even if you can’t see it now, I’m proud of what’s to come and I’m proud of you.”