Work Text:
London, 2012
There was a crash sound coming from the living room. Couple of months ago he would have scared himself of any clatter in the house at night, but now, he just knew too well what he would find. “Not again,” he sighed as he walked out of his room.
“Phil,” he called tiredly. In the living room his housemate was wandering around. Eyes closed, hands reaching blindly. “Phil, no!” he caught him just before Phil bang himself into their TV. And not for the first time either. Nine days in two weeks, that’s a new record of Phil’s sleep walking habit. He knew Phil was a sleep walker, but it had been very rare he almost forgot, and it just suddenly became worse, almost every night now. And now he spent most of his time stayed awake in case his friend would get a hand on a knife and kill them both. He wouldn’t bother, to be honest, if it just him. But he would never let Phil get hurt. Never.
He did ask Phil if he’s alright when he was awake, though. But he always said he’s fine. He looked fine. Phil acted like usual, just like how they used to be that it somehow irritated him, made him wonder if it was only him who got so depressed, if it was only him whose life began to shatter. Phil did nothing different, showed nothing different. At least when he was awake.
“Come on, let’s get to your room,” he said as he stirred Phil out of the living room. He placed his hands on his waist gently, trying not to wake him up or startle him and guided him through the corridor and into his room.
Once in Phil’s room, he placed him tentatively onto the bed and draped him with blanket. He sighed. He was tired, stressed, and lack of sleep. He was angry, but with whom, he got no one to blame. He wanted to run away, but he got nowhere to go. He tried to hide, but he couldn’t just curl up in a corner when the battle was all inside his head. He couldn’t escape his own thought. The thought of society. The thought of people’s judgment on him.
He looked at Phil. He was paler than usual, if that even possible. He looked tired, as tired as him. He never really looked at him since ‘that day’. In fact, he always avoided having eye contact with him, especially when they were in public. But looking closely at him right now, he looked so fragile. Phil never said anything about this situation. He knew how uncomfortable it would make him. They did everything like usual, like nothing happened. Although he knew, there was a thick wall barrier between them now, one that he built himself. But Phil said nothing. He acted just like usual, though less enthusiastic. He did nothing different, showed nothing different. And so, they remained that way.
He was about to get up when he heard a soft murmur. “Daniel.” He turned his head. Phil was stirring restlessly on his bed. His brows creased and his lips trembled slightly. “Dan,” Phil murmured again. And that was when he saw Phil’s shut eyes were damp.
“Hey, ssshh…. Ssshhh,” he whispered, his hand stroking Phil’s hair softly, “it’s okay, I’m here.”
“Please,” Phil began to sob. “Please don’t leave me.”
“Phil, I’m here, I’m not leaving you.”
“I’m so sorry. This is my fault. But please, please don’t leave me.”
“What?” he frowned. “Phil, what are you talking about?”
Phil sobbed harder, his body shaking uncontrollably. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Phil!”
“I’m begging you,” Phil choked, “please don’t–”
"Stop." He hugged him. “I’m never leaving you,” he said softly in Phil’s ear. “I’m sorry I let you blame yourself.” He hugged him tighter as if his life depended on it. “I’m sorry I’m so selfish I didn’t think about how you feel.” There were tears streaming down his cheeks, but he didn’t wipe it. He didn’t hide it. For the first time since that day, he let himself being honest. “We’ll get through this. Someday, we’ll stand side by side without a care of what people would say.” He breathed. “We’ll get through this.” And for the first time since that day, he finally destroyed the barrier between them.