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As the morning light filtered through the curtains, Dan stirs from his restless sleep, his mind already heavy with the weight of the day ahead. Today marks The Anniversary, a painful reminder etched into his soul. Rolling over, he reaches out for the warmth of another body, only to find the empty space beside him. It is unusual for Phil to be absent, especially on a day like this. Dan's heart sinks as he wonders where his partner could be, the silence of the room amplifying his sense of solitude.
He sits up in bed, his bones creaking a little as he does, with his gaze lingering on the empty side, where Phil's presence usually brings comfort. Today, however, the absence feels like an ominous omen, intensifying the loneliness that gnaws at his insides... but that's stupid, he tries to persuade himself as he rubs his tired eyes, attempting to shake off the lingering remnants of sleep while thoughts of the past floods his mind, threatening to overwhelm him. Every detail of that difficult day, and the impossible days leading up to it, replays in his memory like a haunting melody, each note laden with sorrow and regret. With a heavy sigh, Dan reluctantly rises from the bed, steeling himself for the day ahead, uncertain of what it might bring without Phil by his side.
Of course, he was catastrophising. As soon as he steps out of their bedroom in his black plaid pyjama pants and an old merch t-shirt, the smell of breakfast cooking meets his nose. He doesn't know what time it is; he unusually didn't check his phone as soon as his eyes opened, perhaps avoiding messages from his parents or whoever else may know what today is. He can guess though that it is between 10 and 11. It isn't going to be any earlier than that if Phil was the first to wake as he much prefers sleeping in closer to midday. It is why they've missed many trains and flights and once an interview, but Dan loves his Phil all the same. His tardiness and all.
Feeling a mixture of relief and surprise, Dan pads barefoot into the kitchen, following the scent of freshly cooked pancakes that wafts through the air. As he enters, he finds Phil standing by the stove, a gentle smile gracing his features as he flips a golden pancake with practiced ease, unlike their shared Sim character who would regularly drop them. The sight warms Dan's heart, melting away the lingering traces of loneliness that had enveloped him earlier. Phil glances up, his eyes meeting Dan's with a silent understanding, wordlessly conveying a reassurance that speaks volumes. As they stand together in the cosy kitchen, Dan feels a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows of the past, grateful for the simple yet profound gesture of love that Phil has prepared for them both. "How did you sleep?"
"Pretty well considering." Dan shrugs like the day means nothing, but Phil has known him long enough, has lived with him long enough, to know the truth. "Pancakes eh? Usually that's our celebratory breakfast or post good sex food."
"Well, we are celebrating. Celebrating that you're still here." He says this casually like this is a normal thing couples celebrate. "Fifteen years right?"
"Um... yeah."
"Well that's fifteen more years on this planet and for that I am thankful." Life would be so different for Phil if the suicide attempt fifteen years ago was successful.
Dan was seventeen and miserable whilst grappling internal homophobia amongst other external factors like bullies and not fitting in. He felt very isolated, like no one understood him and the only way out at that time was very final. There are a few failures in his life that he's insecure about, but this isn't one of them. Life still isn't perfect, but he's now accepted that his mental health struggles will always be present, they're just a lot less stifling now he is building his future with Phil.
As Phil pours another batch of pancake batter onto the sizzling skillet, he turns to Dan with a casual smile, asking the seemingly innocuous question, "What toppings do you want on your pancakes, love?" Yet, to Dan, the question feels like a tender embrace, stirring emotions that threaten to spill over. Swallowing hard, he fights to compose himself, blinking back the tears that threaten to betray the fragility of his heart. It isn't the question itself that has brought him to the brink; it is the simple act of being cared for, of being seen and understood in a way that only Phil could.
With a tremor in his voice, Dan manages to choke out a response, "Just syrup, please," his words carrying a weight that belied their simplicity.
Phil nods in understanding, a softness in his eyes mirrored the depth of emotion swirling within Dan's chest. There is a silent exchange between them, a language of love spoken in the quiet moments of vulnerability. With each movement in the kitchen, with each tender glance shared between them, Dan feels the walls he had built around his heart slowly crumbling away, replaced by a sense of warmth and acceptance that he had longed for more than he dared to admit. In their shared space, surrounded by the aroma of pancakes and the gentle hum of morning light, Dan finds solace in the simple yet profound connection he shares with Phil, a connection that anchors him amidst the tumult of his emotions.
They somehow make very basic small talk while devouring their food. Dan's appetite is definitely depleted compared to normal, but still he manages a couple of the perfectly cooked pancakes. How he's felt on The Anniversary has varied from year to year but now he's reasonably relaxed all things considered and when he looks across to the other side of the table at his boyfriend and the remnants of Nutella at the corners of his mouth, he knows why. "Phil." He mumbles and straightaway his partner's blue-eyed gaze is fixed on him. "Thank you, y-y'know for breakfast." He nervously stammers and Phil knows that he is thanking him for a lot more than breakfast.
With breakfast done and the dishes washed, Dan and Phil settle into the easy rhythm of their domestic routine. The day stretches out before them, devoid of any pressing obligations or urgent tasks. As they move about the cosy confines of their forever home, there is a sense of tranquillity that envelopes them, a quiet contentment born from the simple pleasures of companionship.
In the living room, they curl up together on the sofa, sharing whispered conversations and gentle laughter as they lose themselves in their social media feeds. The soft afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, casting a yellow glow upon their intertwined fingers and casting shadows that dance along the walls like old friends reunited. They briefly discuss new video ideas, Phil taking centre stage about a plan he has for his own channel, but that's all the work chatter they allow themselves for. The rest of the day is spent watching their latest anime series, and playing some games, with the ghost of Dan's past just watching from a far, but not getting involved.
They treat themselves by ordering both lunch and dinner. Japanese for a late lunch and then pizza for dinner. When they migrate back to the bedroom at a much earlier time than usual, they cocoon themselves in blankets and tangled limbs, with the TV playing a film that they've already seen many times before. It is just background noise, a distraction from their worst nightmares, and Dan can tell that despite Phil's overly positive mood today, he internally worries about the man he loves by the way he grips him tight like a koala bear. "What are you thinking about?" He murmurs into his boyfriend's hair which seems to be changing colour regularly at the moment as he can't decide whether he's going with his natural colouring or back to box dye.
"I just... hate how lonely you were. How you thought... that was your only option."
"It was lucky we started talking soon after, eh?" He didn't tell Phil about what happened until several years later. They were prepping the questions for Phil is not on fire 4 and there was one about reading fanfiction. The first one that came up on Wattpad had a trigger warning for a suicide attempt in the description and Dan just broke down. Phil ended up bawling his eyes out too after discovering something about his best friend that was hard to stomach. "But yeah it was shit. It's part of who I am today though."
"I get that." He didn't used to. When he first found out, he was too horrified to think straight. After years of deep conversations and explanations, most more recently when Dan wrote and then released his book, he does now understand. "Did you hear from your family?"
"I heard from my grandma, but no-one else. I guess it's 2024 and they still don't get me." It used to hurt but now he's all cried out. "At least I have you." This loving statement is accompanied by him holding Phil tighter. "I promise one day I will be okay enough with life to tell the world about us."
"I know that. There's no rush. Have I ever rushed you?"
"Never."
It was apparent quite early on that there was chemistry between them, but they have found their true selves during their blossoming relationship with each other. There was no rushing though from their first kiss to the first time they fell into bed together. It has meant that the progress has felt authentic and at a pace they both needed, even with all noise of the outside world. That noise has almost been their breaking point on numerous occasions, but now as they drift off together at a healthy time, they know they are stronger than they think.
It is only 3am when Phil stirs from his slumber in the stillness of the night about four hours after they muttered their goodnights. The gentle rhythm of his breaths is interrupted by a soft whimper echoing through the darkness. With his mind swirling with the whisps of his now absent dreams, he slowly becomes aware of the figure beside him, writhing in the grips of a nightmare. Dan's brow furrowed in distress, his features contorted with unseen horrors as he tosses and turns on the bed.
With a tender touch, Phil reaches out, his hand finding Dan's trembling form, his fingers trace soothing patterns along his back in a silent gesture of comfort. He whispers words of reassurance, his voice a gentle murmur amidst the shadows, hoping to anchor Dan to the present and chase away the demons that haunted his dreams. This is something that during the years together, he has sadly perfected. Sadly, because Dan with his overactive imagination and the difficulties of his past does suffer with bad dreams often and almost always around the time of The Anniversary.
As Dan's breathing gradually steadies, his nightmares receding into the nooks of his mind, Phil remains by his side, a silent sentinel watching over him in the quiet hours of the night. With each rise and fall of Dan's chest, Phil experiences a surge of love and protectiveness, a reminder of the deep bond they share and the lengths he would go to ease Dan's suffering. He likes to tell himself that one day what they have together will be enough and he will forget how to help his partner during these instances (in the nicest possible way), but that time still feels far in the distance. However, it is a lot closer than it was just a couple of years ago.
With moonlight peeking through the curtains that he failed to close properly once again, Phil quietly sits up so he can lean over his snoozing boyfriend and press a kiss to his temple, his lips lingering there as if to imprint his love upon him, a silent vow to always be there to chase away the shadows and bring light to the darkest of nights. And as Dan's nightmare fades into oblivion, replaced by the peacefulness of sleep, Phil settles back into bed, holding him close by wrapping both arms around his torso from behind, knowing that no matter what trials the night may bring, they will face them together, bound by a love that transcends even the deepest of fears.
This is how they wake the following morning and although Dan knows this means his own personal lifeguard had to save him from drowning in his thoughts again, he is grateful to have him here. Especially so close.