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“Phil.”
His name lingers in a fog of sleep before dropping to the bed. The mattress dips with the weight of it. There’s one quick, deep breath before he presses his face further into the pillow and sinks back into a disjointed dream.
“Phil!”
It’s loud enough to break through now, dragging consciousness with it. Phil resists with a grunt, turning away from the sound but a hand comes to grip his shoulder, shaking him abruptly before pulling away. He hears a heavy put upon sigh and finally allows his eyes to open, slowly letting in bright morning sunlight. “What time is it?”
“Finally.” Dan is stood now. Phil twists to see him zipping up a bag and stepping into his shoes. “I’m leaving, just thought you should know.”
“Leaving? What time is it?” Phil can’t make sense of anything. The way the sun streams in says it’s early, so much earlier than he ever gets up. He’s not looking at Dan because his eyes have settled on the duffle bag sitting on the bed near his feet. He searches for a memory he must have lost. Was there a plan? Is Dan going away today?
“It’s like 6:30,” Dan says, like that’s a perfectly reasonable time to be waking Phil up. He’s bothered, annoyed. Judging by his tone, it must be quite a burden to drag Phil from a dream this way. “Go back to sleep. I just thought I should tell you before I left.”
Dan grabs his jacket off the back of the desk chair while Phil watches, confused and only half awake. Something squeezes around his heart like a fist, clenching tighter every second as awareness creeps in. The night before had been rough. Dan spent most if it sulking, complaining about every little thing, while Phil mostly stayed quiet and tried to leave room for Dan to vent. His offers of affection were ignored, his empathy met with derision. Dan had snapped at Phil, refused to talk to him. He’d rolled his eyes at Phil’s insistence that they not go to bed angry. I’m not going to bed, he’d said you are. So not my problem I guess. Phil was genuinely hurt but there was no getting through so he did go to bed, falling asleep alone to a soundtrack of the too loud television coming from the lounge.
“Wait, Dan. You’re leaving?” Phil says, voice shaky and cracking, his body reacting before his mind is fully aware of the fear he’s facing.
“Yeah, I’ll…” He turns as he speaks but stops short when he sees the alarm on Phil’s face. “Phil?”
Dan looks so tired, his eyes are pink and heavy, ringed in blue grey, his mouth pulled down at the corners. All the while, his body darts and weaves around the room.
“Phil. What?” He’s so terse, Phil is almost afraid to answer.
“You’re leaving? What does that mean exactly?” Any attempt to appear detached is lost to the panic rising in Phil’s throat.
Dan just stares at him for a few moments and then, “Jesus Phil, I’m not leaving you. I’m just leaving.” There’s that eye roll again. It’s so dismissive and it stings, it really does. Phil wonders if it felt like this for his mum when he would roll his eyes as a teenager. Dan’s not a teenager though.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know.” Again with the irritation, like Phil has no reason to worry, no right to know what to expect.
“Are you ok?” Phil asks, earnest, and sits up, reaching for his glasses.
“I don’t know.” An honest answer, matter of fact.
Phil throws the covers off himself and stands, reaching under the bed to pull out his suitcase. He pulls shirts from the closet leaving a mess of hangers on the floor. Three drawers slam one by one as he grabs what he needs from the chest. He doesn’t actually know what he needs because he doesn’t know where they’re going or how long they’ll be gone but he grabs a change of jeans and some pajamas, a handful of underwear and a pile of single mismatched socks and shoves in all into his case.
“Get the chargers and my pillow, I’ll be fast.”
Dan is still stood in the middle of the room watching Phil. “Fast at what?”
Phil has already turned on the shower and he climbs in in lieu of answering. He keeps his hair dry and washes as quickly as he can, then steps out to dry off and brush his teeth. He grabs hair product and his toothbrush and opens the door to find Dan in the same spot.
“Fast at what?”
“Showering. Did you sleep at all?” His chargers are right where he left them. He throws on jeans and a t-shirt and grabs a tour hoodie off the floor. The last bits packed, he zips up, grabs his pillow, and walks toward the door.
“Dan?”
Dan hasn’t moved.
“Dan?!”
He startles.
“Are we going?” Phil is losing patience but he’s trying, he’s trying so hard. This isn’t the first time Dan has run off in search of a conclusion to the story in his head. It hasn’t happened in a while and this scenario is definitely new. Waking Phil up for a goodbye, however ill tempered, is an improvement.
“You’re coming with me?”
Phil just huffs and walks past Dan to grab his bag too.
“Come on.”
They get an Uber to the rental car lot because Dan is too embarrassed to let Phil ride the tube holding his pillow. They don’t talk once they’re seated in the back seat. Phil politely deflects any conversation from the driver.
The morning is dreary and grey, a little too on the nose for Phil. He thinks a little glaring sun might do a world of good right now. Maybe it would boost Dan’s serotonin levels just enough or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe, to Dan, sunny skies would be an affront today, an assault on the senses. Maybe sunny skies would bring out the friendly in this driver and bring crowds to this rental lot. Maybe dreary and grey is a safety net.
Phil’s a safety net too though and he could really use a little sunshine right now. It’s not about him, he knows that but he can’t pretend this doesn’t scare him, doesn’t bring back all sorts of memories of hard times, bad days, and worse nights. If Dan can choose to be off meds, to let these days come sometimes, then Phil can choose to cling to him for dear life. We all have our coping mechanisms.
Phil loads a cooler into the backseat of the rental car before climbing in and setting two coffees into the cup holders in the center console.
“Where did you get a cooler?” Dan sounds angry but that’s just how he sounds on days like today.
Phil answers him with forced neutrality. “Tesco.”
“And Starbucks? You did all that while I was at the counter?” The look dan gives him could best be described as suspicious but there’s a hint of gratitude way in the back of his words. Phil holds onto it and shrugs.
“You won’t tell me where we’re going or how long we’ll be gone,” Phil says, “so I got snacks. You’re welcome.”
It takes a real effort not to mirror Dan’s mood. It’s not fair to be angry so Phil breathes deep and watches the scenery go by, bland as it is. He sips his coffee and reaches behind him to pull a box of doughnuts from the cooler. Vaguely political chatter drones from the speakers. It might be interesting if it weren’t so early. Dan waves away the offer of a doughnut but reaches over a few minutes later to take one from the box.
The landscape is dull as the sky. It all runs together, rushing past Phil’s window, beige and grey and muted green. Dan’s hands make the steering wheel look like one of those toys you’d give a baby in their car seat. He fidgets, gripping in pulses and twists. The muscles of his face twitch and spasm as he clenches his jaw and Phil reaches out to touch the hard edge of it.
“Babe,” Phil sounds small, “can you relax your jaw?” He clears his throat, “it’s gonna be sore.”
Dan inhales through his nose and lets his jaw soften. It’s a small thing but it feels like a victory and Phil’s shoulders relax the tiniest bit. He tries to remember everything he’s learned, things the internet taught him in the middle of nights made sleepless by worry, and things Dan taught him, vulnerable and open in Phil’s arms on one of his better days. There’s an inner dialogue unfolding that he’ll have to repeat on a loop until Dan is on the other side of whatever this is. All he can do is be here, strong and open-hearted, a witness to Dan’s strength, reflecting it back until he can see it for himself.
A sign rushes by, the off ramp for Wokingham is ahead. It distracts Phil from his thoughts.
“Oh Wokingham,” He says, “is that where we’re going?”
The laugh that follows is scathing. “Wokingham? Phil, are you actually joking?” Dan shoots him a look that matches his tone, “Fuck Wokingham.”
Phil’s eyelids are heavy, his head wobbles on his neck, and it’s clear Dan isn’t interested in chatting. Reclining the seat, he hugs his pillow and feels himself drift. He’s not falling asleep, he’s just getting comfortable, resting his eyes.
A cold rush of air sends a shiver over Phil and he reaches for a duvet that isn’t there. “Dan. It’s cold! Roll up your window.” He curls in tighter but his eyes flutter open to see Dan reach out and crank the heat up. The droning voice Phil had drifted off to has been replaced by something deep and loud, an angry voice half sings, half raps, and Dan sings along, hand drumming the beat into the steering wheel.
“Pull over, I need a wee.” Phil sits upright and throws his pillow into the back. “How long was I asleep?”
“An hour? Hour and a half? Wasn’t really paying attention.”
The nearest exit takes them to a petrol station and Phil runs inside, grateful for an actual toilet. He’s never been great at having a wee on the side of the road with his nervous bladder. When he comes back, Dan is leaning against the car, a picnic of road snacks laid out on the boot. Phil pauses just outside the shop, taking a moment to look. From here, Dan is only beautiful. He looks cool and strong, no sign of his crumbling resolve, no chemical imbalance, no dark circles, no trauma.
“Glad you’re eating.”
Dan holds out the pastry in his hand for Phil to take a bite. It’s a thing they’ve done a thousand times and Phil basks in the normal of it.
“When I get diabetes, you’re going to have to give me the shots.” A joke in poor taste, another small hint of normal for Phil to hold on to.
Phil gathers up wrappers and bottles and takes it all to the garbage. By the time he’s back, Dan is back in the driver’s seat.
“It’s bloody cold.” He says, starting the car and cranking up the heat. Phil breathes into his hands and looks to Dan, carefully choosing his next words.
“Feeling a little better?”
The twitch in the muscle of Dan’s jaw says he chose wrong.
“Better than what?” Dan says with a laugh that’s not at all funny.
The music is up and they are on the road again, making their way over the bridge to Wales. They don’t talk. Phil usually knows what to say, what not to say, how to just be there. He knows the heavy, shut down numbness of Dan’s depressive episodes and the weepy desperation that sometimes comes when the clouds are about to part. Maybe this is what it’s like when Dan runs off. Maybe the mood swings and the worry in Dan’s brow are par for the course. He hates that he doesn’t know. Running away like this has always been something Dan did without warning. Phil has never been privy to this piece of Dan’s puzzle but he can see that Dan’s mind is racing. He thinks he knows how that feels but he can’t be sure. He wants to know what to say. He wants to make stupid jokes and eat pizza and go home and cuddle. He wishes that he could be enough.
Outside, the blue sky has cracked through the murky grey clouds. The sea is calm, rushing past on both sides and soon they’re driving right along the coast. It brings to mind family holidays and morning walks with his mum but beneath the comfort, there’s an undercurrent of fear. Any moment, those dark waters could rise up, crash over them, envelop this little town they’re in. He conjures an image of he and Dan on the Isle of Man, watching the sunset, kissing on a high cliff where no one could see. Staring into the water, he clings to a heavy handed metaphor. He and Dan run deeper than most could imagine, so constant in their ebb and flow, so strong in their quietest moments. He’s lost in those thoughts when he feels the car pull off the road and realizes they’ve arrived. Somewhere.
Before he can ask, Dan is out of the car and walking toward the water. Grabbing a blanket from the backseat, Phil finds a grassy spot without too many rocks. There’s a lighthouse in the distance and the sound of the sea in Phil’s ears as he stands and watches Dan stretch his arms above his head. The blanket isn’t much barrier from the poking grass and pebbly sand but Phil sits anyway. Phil watching Dan, Dan watching the sea, birds screaming overhead. Enough time passes that the light has changed, the clouded sun giving a glow that feels like early morning though they left that part of the day at home. Finally, Dan turns and begins the walk back. He sits but the distance between them is miles wide.
“You ok?”
“No.”
Of course he’s not ok. “I can read on my phone or play a game. We could probably get a signal here, watch something.”
All he gets is a heavy sigh in response.
“I’m sorry.” Phil squeaks out. “Maybe this is your thing. I should have stayed home. I just get scared Dan.” Dan stretches the crick out of his neck and Phil wishes he could shave some of that annoyance away. “I try so hard not to make it about my feelings when you’re like this but things have been pretty good,” Dan’s brows shoot up, he’s picking at the grass next to blanket, “or maybe just familiar, I don’t know. But I’m having flashbacks if I’m honest. Last night was hard, this morning was hard.” Phil continues, “No, not hard, terrifying.”
Dan’s head turns just slightly and the flash of his eyes makes Phil want to reach out and pull him in but he stays put.
“Sorry I was a twat last night.” Dan tucks in his legs and pulls the blanket around his knees. “But I’m ok Phil. I mean I’m not, but I’m figuring it out.”
“Ok but that’s what scares me Dan. The only times you’ve ever scared me is when you’ve said you could handle things.” Phil’s lip is sore where he keeps biting it. “It just makes me think back to right before you started therapy. You kept insisting you were fine and then, well you weren’t. Do you remember what you said to me?”
“No.” He answers, exasperated.
Phil looks right at him and speaks slowly. “You said, ‘It’s getting scary Phil.’ Then there were tears. You weren’t really crying but there were tears. And I held you there. And you said you were scared. You said it a few times.”
“Ok, Yeah. I remember,” Dan says, “I was scared. That was a darker place than I had been before.”
“And now? Are you scared now?”
Dan turns his body toward Phil, finally looking at him. “Not like I was then. I’m not on an edge anymore. I would never do that do you.”
“Will you please come here?” Phil is really trying but he has to touch him. He’s the most important person on the planet and he can’t survive this moment without something, just a touch, he’ll take anything.
Dan lays his head in Phil’s lap and Phil’s fingers are instantly in his hair. It’s a fix and the itch under his skin finally subsides. He’s aware of the utter codependency, the addiction he has when it comes to Dan but he doesn’t care.
“I’m not going to do anything I can’t take back. This is different. I’m different.” He rolls on his side, curling against the cool air. “The thing is though, that means there’s no way out.”
“Jesus Christ Dan. How can you just say that?”
“Hear me out.” Dan has readjusted his position several times already and now he sits up, one leg folded in, on leg sort of wrapped around Phil’s so they are finally, finally close. “If I’m gonna do this, if I’m gonna feel everything, I can’t stagnate, I have to keep moving forward, making my life what I want it to be. You can’t be the only good thing in my life Phil.”
“I’m not. You have so much Dan.”
“Whatever. Some days you are. I want to have a good life with you, not just for you or because of you. Does that make sense?” He’s brushing his fingertips up and down Phil’s neck, searching for some connection and knowing he needs it as much as Phil does brings more comfort than anything could. He nods, it’s a small thing but it’s all he’s got.
They sit like that for some time. Dan watching Phil, Phil watching the sea, birds screaming overhead.
“So what were you doing last night? If you weren’t depressed or whatever, why were you up?”
“I was writing. All night. And drawing and outlining and my brain was about to combust so that’s why the drive.” There’s almost a smile now, the sunshine Phil’s been waiting for.
“Oh. Cool. What did you write?”
“Welp. Phil. I was working on a script, a concept really, for a video. It’s way too long right now, I’m gonna need your help cutting it down.”
“Of course.” Phil is lost but he waits.
“It’s my coming out.” Dan says, his eyes expectant.
“Coming out? Like, of the closet?”
“No Phil, it’s my coming out into southern American society. I’ll need a chaperone, will you escort me to my cotillion?” At least he’s laughing.
“Ok, I’m just surprised.”
“What do you think?”
“I think you should do whatever you need to do to be happy.”
Dan laughs, “Well I don’t know about that lofty aspiration, but I think it will help.” He leans back a bit, gets a good look at Phil’s eyes. “Anyway, that’s not what I’m asking. This is gonna out you too. I can’t exactly not mention the guy that made me commit to one dick for the rest of my life.”
Phil huffs a relieved sort of giggle, “so you aren’t sad, or numb, or any of that?”
“Not today. Just nervous, excited, anxious, terrified, maybe a little sad after writing my story down, but just normal sad.” He lays back down, so tired, like talking about this has used up the last of the adrenaline that was keeping him up. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“We don’t have to talk about this now.” Phil says, back to the important work of stroke Dan’s hair.
“Actually, we do. Kinda the whole point of this little trip. You’re the one that came along and uninvited bub. Can’t escape now.”
“Yeah, I mean, say what you want Dan. I’m already out to everyone that matters.”
Dan looks up at him. “I can think of 4 million people who matter who don’t know.”
“Oh come on, they know. I talk about hot guys all the time.”
“Yes Phil, I know.” Dan says with utter contempt in his voice. “And sure, the lesbians know, but what about all the people who will just assume we’re straight unless we literally leak our sex tape? What about all the people in denial because they’re just so in love with big daddy Philly.”
“Ew. Stop.” Phil crinkles his nose. “I’m not subtle Dan. And I don’t care if they know for sure, they’ll figure it out.”
“Ok babe. You do you. I’m just saying, you could maybe help some people.”
“How did this become a conversation about me?” Phil watches Dan snuggle in and close his eyes. “Let’s just get through your video first. See how it goes. You know mine will be pretty low key. If I decide to make one.”
“Alright.” Dan bats his eyelashes at Phil. It’s not intentional, just a thing that happens when he feels like this. “Thanks for hijacking my road trip. I love you.”
“Wait, what about your family, Dan?”
“Guess that’s step one.” He sounds so sleepy now, the words slur a bit, his breathing slow. “I’ve got till June. Maybe I’ll do it at Easter.”
“The June video.” Phil says.
“Has to be June.” He yawns. He looks so small sometimes. “A year is enough time thinking about it. I’ve got to rip off the plaster.”
Everything is different. Different to last night, different to this morning, different to last year, and so different to a few years ago. It doesn’t mean an absence of fear. Loving Dan means a small corner of his heart will always be hollowed out, lying in wait for the next time he sinks. But he’s reassured, for now.
There’s a little shack of motel up the road, generously referred to as a bed and breakfast on the website. Phil drags Dan awake after a half hour or so and leads him to the car.
“You can’t drive Phil.” Dan mumbles.
“I can and I am. It’s just ten minutes. No complaining.”
The lady at the front desk wears a scrutinizing gaze as she checks them in. Phil repeats yep just one room, more than once.
As they make their way up the stairs with their bags and Phil’s pillow, Dan whispers, “We’ll have to make some noise for her sake, after I get a nap.” Phil giggles looking over his shoulder.
They choose a movie and Dan’s asleep before the title appears. Phil isn’t far behind. Eventually, he gets up and ventures out to bring back a real meal. They eat and talk about all the ideas overflowing in Dan’s mind. Phil makes Dan take a shower and he doesn’t even unzip his bag, just climbs into bed to make that noise they’d talked about. In the end, they’re rather quiet but for breathy sighs and whispered affection. Dan is happy to do this Phil’s way, to let the weight of him hold him steady and let himself be adored. And so Phil does adore him, covering his skin in kisses, keeping their bodies impossibly close. He’ll taste every sweet and bitter piece of Dan and hear the soft sounds that only he’s allowed to hear. Dan will end up draped over Phil, drifting off yet again. Silky brown curls will slip around and past Phil’s fingers again and again and he’ll remember a time when he was the only one who got to see these curls. The years of hiding so many pieces of them are coming to an end but some things, the most important things, will always belong to just the two of them.