Work Text:
The morning had been bad.
Usually, though, mornings weren’t bad. Dan’s therapist had warned them about how some could find the whole getting out of bed part a trigger for bad episodes, especially when taking the meds in the morning, but that hadn’t been a problem. For Dan, the worst kinds of episodes only ever surfaced in the darkness after midnight, and mornings were at most just dull.
This morning wasn’t just dull, however, it was hell.
Phil hadn’t expected the empty space next to him in bed when he opened his eyes. He always woke up before Dan, always, and so when his hand traced the mattress and found nothing but a rumpled duvet, his eyes widened a little and he frowned in confusion.
“Dan?” he sat up in the bed and once again let his hand search the empty space beside him, even lifting the duvet slightly and peeking in underneath. When it became obvious, even for his still drowsy mind, that the bed was empty, he reached out for his glasses on the nightstand and slipped them on.
“Dan?” he asked again, raising his voice as he glanced over the bedroom they shared. After waiting a few seconds without a reply, he threw the duvet off of his legs and got up. On his way to the door, Phil picked up one of their shirts –he didn’t really bother to look whose it was– and cracked the bedroom door open.
He couldn’t really place the unsettling feeling in his gut as he slowly made his way through the hallway towards the kitchen, but when he found that both the kitchen, the lounge and the bathroom was empty, he’d figured it out. This never happened. Something was wrong.
“Dan, where are you?” he called again, his voice ringing through the apartment this time, and since there really was nowhere else to look he decided to head upstairs to the office. He found the door to be closed, which it only ever was when they were filming, and Phil took a shaky breath as he cracked it open to peek inside.
“Dan? Dan, what’s going on?”
He was sat on the gaming couch, his knees pressed to his chest and his head leaning down in between his arms so that Phil couldn’t see his face. He wasn’t wearing anything but a pair of grey sweatpants and the usually detailed curls looked slumped, almost like he’d been pulling at them.
He didn’t answer, and Phil felt something churning in his gut.
“Are you okay?” Phil asked softly, the panic subsiding slightly but the feeling of worry only increasing. Dan had never hidden away from him like this. In all honesty, it made Phil even more worried, and the lack of response felt like another punch in the gut.
Phil took a few careful steps inside, whispering a quiet Dan as he closed in and he slowly reached out towards the other once he was close enough. Phil gently grazed his hand on Dan’s shoulder in an attempt to get through to him, but Dan shook him off and Phil knew. He could tell that this wasn’t good – it was bad. Very bad.
“Leave.”
Phil had never heard him like this.
He could identify the agony and the all-too-familiar emptiness in Dan’s voice, but there was something else that just didn’t sit right with him. He’d never heard him sound so vacant; a tragic hopelessness laced each letter, draining out every trace of life in his otherwise melodic voice, and Phil felt his heart thump violently against his ribcage.
“Go.”
Phil didn’t move. “Dan, you don’t-”
“Fucking leave!”
The words stung, more than he probably would admit, and he winced at the hostility in Dan’s voice. “But–”
Dan slowly lifted his head then and their eyes met. His face was drained from colour, his eyes bloodshot and puffy as he stared at him with such lack of emotion that Phil fell silent. This was bad. This was bad bad bad bad bad.
“Tell me what I can do,” he pleaded, even if he knew that he couldn’t do anything. He wanted to help. He’d do anything.
Dan looked at him for a moment and then he chuckled, a noise so empty and ironic that Phil automatically took a step backwards. Phil swallowed as Dan said, “Just leave me the fuck alone.”
It took everything in him not to walk forward. It took every ounce of self control in him not to wrap his arms around Dan, to squeeze so hard that all the demons would be crushed to death, to plant kisses over his skin and tell him it will get better, I know it will. He didn’t do it, but it was hard not to.
Instead he looked at him for a few seconds before slowly turning around to leave.
“I love you,” he said before he closed the door and even though he didn’t expect any reply, the lack of one still hurt.
––––
It took exactly five hours and twenty five minutes until the door to the office cracked open and Dan made his way down the stairs.
Earlier, right after Phil had closed the door to the office behind him, he’d gone down to the kitchen and made breakfast. He made one sandwich for Dan, knowing very well that he wouldn’t eat it willingly, but he put it in the fridge for later and made coffee for two. He ate his own breakfast in the living room with the sound on the television turned off, just in case he would hear the creaking of the stairs.
After three hours he redid the coffee. He redid it again, one and a half hour after that.
Phil was sat on the sofa with his computer in his lap, working on his next video script, when Dan slowly came into the lounge. Phil looked up at the sound of padding feet, but didn’t say anything as Dan walked around the table and plonked down in the sofa next to him. He simply lifted his computer into the air and sat up straighter as Dan lay down, placing his head in Phil’s lap and closing his eyes.
He fell asleep instantly, and Phil slowly ran his fingers through the soft curls a few times, mostly just to calm himself down.
An hour later, Dan woke up to the muffled sound effects of Mario Kart. His eyes flickered open, his head still rested in the safety of Phil’s lap, and he scrunched his eyes shut a few times due to the tiredness. He didn’t move, but eventually he felt the slight headache subside enough that he could watch Phil finish a race, coming in sixth place, and the edges of his lips curled upwards ever so slightly.
“You’re so bad,” he mumbled, his voice croaky and quiet, but a trace of his usual mocking tone could still be heard.
Phil jumped slightly. “You’re awake?”
“Mhm.” Dan twisted his neck so that he was looking up at Phil. He didn’t say anything more, but Phil smiled back at him with saddened eyes.
“Good to have you back.”
They looked at each other for a few moments until Dan broke the eye contact and rolled over again so that he was staring at the scoreboard on the TV. Wario was in the lead, followed closely by Toad, the character Phil played. “You’re losing to Wario, y’know.”
“Shut up.” Phil chuckled, but it was distant and reserved, and he pressed continue in order to start up the next race. “You hungry?”
Dan watched the countdown and then the cars zooming away over the start line. “No.”
“There’s a sandwich in the fridge.” Phil twisted the controller in his hands making the colourful car swerve over the racetrack, and he quickly glanced down at the boy in his lap before returning his attention to the game.
“Don’t want it,” he whined, just like a child, and Phil pressed his elbow into Dan’s shoulder lightly to push him a little.
“I know.”
After a few moments in silence, Phil paused the game and placed the controller next to them both on the sofa. “Finish the race, I’ll be right back.”
Dan slowly got up from Phil’s lap and sat up straight, following Phil with his eyes as he made his way up from the sofa and walked out of the lounge. Once Phil was in the kitchen, he filled a glass of cold water and took out the sandwich he’d made earlier. Even though he knew that Dan would be reluctant to eat, he also knew that he needed to.
When he came back to the lounge, Dan hadn’t touched the controller and instead he lay down with his head facing the other way.
“Here,” Phil placed the plate and the glass of water on the table in front of him.
Dan didn’t move.
Phil knew from experience that it didn’t work to nag at him when things were like this, so instead Phil simply sat down again and picked up the controller. He continued his race and right before he passed the finish line, this time in second place, Dan held the glass of water to his lips.
They didn’t talk much. Phil mostly just played Mario Kart, and after some time he switched over to Fortnight. He didn’t ask Dan to join because he knew that he wouldn’t want to. The only thing he wanted to do was to lay there without any pressure and just be, because that was hard enough for him as it was. Phil didn’t push him about finishing his food or doing something else, because he knew it’d only have the opposite effect and make it all so much worse.
The first few days after he’d started taking the pills, Phil had been so worried for him that he wouldn’t leave Dan out of his sight. It’d made them both completely mad, because Dan felt worse when he was being babysat and Phil felt helplessly worried when Dan wanted to be alone. It was hard on them both, but Phil learned to listen and Dan learned to open up, at least most days.
After some time, Dan crawled back up into Phil’s lap and snuggled into him. Phil went back to running his fingers through Dan’s hair and it calmed them both down, made them both feel loved and home and like everything was okay.
Dan’s eyelids began to feel heavy about the time they usually ate dinner, and even though he felt more like going to bed and forget that the morning had ever happened, he knew that he had to say something. The worst parts of anger and emptiness had slowly dissolved over the hours and the only thing left was the intense guilt that usually stuck around for a few days. He knew that Phil understood, but he whispered a quiet “I’m sorry” into the thin air, anyway.
Phil didn’t answer. The knot in his throat slowly untangled, however, and he thought that maybe, maybe, things would be okay.
––––
The next day, everything was mostly back to normal.
Dan was asleep next to him when Phil woke up, and even though it felt familiar and safe, it didn’t feel completely alright. The look on Dan’s face from the day before, the terrifying undertone in his voice, the way he shook Phil off of him; it haunted him. He couldn’t help it.
Later, they decided to go for a walk. It was something Dan’s therapist suggested he’d do after a particularly bad episode, and Phil usually came with him.
Even if they’d wanted to, they could never be affectionate when they went outside, though. They’d grown used to it over the years but it still stung slightly when they saw another couple holding hands or kissing in public, since it ached within both of them to do the same.
They did it in secret, though, whenever there was a chance.
This time, their hands were interlaced. Phil’s thumb caressed the back of Dan’s knuckles and their hands were hidden between the two of them, away from any curious eyes, because it felt necessary to be close.
It wasn’t spring quite yet, but almost. They were sat at a park bench, their thighs touching and their hands pressed in between them, the sun warming their faces and helping them both to forget things that they didn’t want to think about. Phil still felt slightly off, though. He was anxious but it wasn’t bad, he was just worried. Worried for Dan.
Birds chirped in the distance, two children were playing across the lawn and their screams and giggles reminded Dan of summer, and suddenly Phil broke the silence between them by asking, “Do you ever think about killing yourself?”.
Dan snorted.
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know, just- do you?” he asked again.
Dan thought about lying. He thought about shaking his head and say of course not, how could I? but that was a lie and Dan didn’t lie, not to Phil. Instead, he squeezed Phil’s hand gently and squinted into the distance, watching the children run in circles.
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“I- well, it’s not… easy. To explain, I guess.” He paused, trying to ignore the vicious thumping his heart made as he spoke. He didn’t like to talk about it, not even with Phil. “I don’t necessarily want to kill myself, but sometimes I don’t really feel like being alive.”
Dan could feel Phil moving beside him and he turned his head towards him. Their eyes met.
“Would you?” Phil’s voice was slightly shaky and his eyes gleamed of worry.
Dan smiled. “No, I won’t.”
“You promise?”
If they hadn’t been sat on a park bench in the middle of a busy park, if they hadn’t been Dan and Phil and if they hadn’t been so close yet so far apart, Dan would’ve placed his hand on Phil’s cheek and brushed his fingers against his skin. He would’ve leant forward, planted a featherlight kiss on the paleness underneath and whispered, so close to his lips that they were basically touching, that he would never hurt Phil like that.
But he couldn’t. And he didn’t.
Instead, Dan squeezed Phil’s hand and smiled. It was bittersweet and warm, and Dan knew that Phil would understand, even if he didn’t explain it fully.
“I promise.”
Phil didn’t smile back at him and Dan understood why. He was worried, especially after what’d happened the day before. “I know it was bad yesterday, but I’m not suicidal.”
“But how can you know, like, for sure?” Phil mumbled, breaking their eye contact and instead glancing down into his lap. He studied the black fabric and brought his free hand up to his hair in order to sweep a few stray strands back to the rest. “After you started taking the antidepressants, it’s– I don’t know, it just feels like you’re getting worse. A lot worse. And it’s been more than, what, 3 weeks now? The doctor said it would get better after 2 weeks, but it just seems like it’s getting more and more difficult.”
“Well yeah, but this is my brain, Phil. It’s complex and medication always works differently for everyone, you know that. There’s no cure for depression, it’s just there.” Dan took a deep breath. “I know this is hard, believe me, but I’m trying. You’re trying. And even if it’s hard to believe that I really want this,” he waved his hand between the two of them in a ‘us’-motion, “when I’m being a depressed asshole, I do really think that we can get through this. I just need some help every now and again.”
Phil was quiet for a long time.
Dan even started to worry, the silence making his mind run in circles and trip over conclusions like Phil doesn’t want this anymore and I’m bad for him, but he didn’t say anything. He wanted the two of them to be on the same page because if Dan’s mind was breaking Phil too, he’d get Phil out of this. He would never drag Phil down into the dark with him, even if he couldn’t always control his episodes, and he needed to know that Phil believed in the two them as well.
The soft squeeze from Phil’s hand awoke him from his thoughts and their eyes met again. Dan stared into what the fans always described as “icy-blue”, but they were so much softer, so much warmer than the cold everyone always described them as. The yellow streaks that surrounded his irises reminded Dan of sunshine dancing on the surface of water and the daft green woven in between always felt like home.
Looking at Phil always felt like home.
“We’ve made it this far,” Phil mumbled, his face softening. “and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you Dan, you know that. We’ll be fine.”