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Later, Dan will be able to admit it was always going to end up this way.
He always does this, throws himself full force into projects and then burns himself out. He's been better, in his post youtube originals world, since he learned the hard way that nothing is guaranteed and throwing yourself 110% into everything you do does not automatically make the world conform to your plans.
His therapist, to her credit, calls him out a month before shit gets real, says very bluntly that he's been pushing too hard and needs to give himself a break. And Dan, to his own credit, does take the time to consider her words -- prepping for their mutual coming out and the podcast has been physically and emotionally draining, since every time he thinks he's confronted all the skeletons in his closet he always manages to find a random new femur. But he's been sleeping and eating properly, and he does his yoga and his meditation -- he's taking care of himself, and Phil…
Phil is so, so happy. Phil is glowing with excitement, has been for the last three months since they made the decision.
They need to do this. He needs to finally do this. For himself and for Phil.
He’ll be fine, he can always rest after.
The first month of the new era goes well.
Like, really fucking well. Obscenely well. Dan knows their followers arere majority good people, but he’s blown away by the amount of respectful, thoughtful, they trusted us with this comments there are.
It also makes Dan anxious, because Dan is a traumatized little bitch who doesn’t believe good things can just be good.
He tries to ignore the feeling, focuses on livestreams and recordings and Phil Phil Phil, who is glowing with pride all the time now. They dress as femboys for halloween. They make a fantasy themed calender and Phil wears makeup. They go on a fancy date. Dan is happy.
Phil’s ex texts him because Dan talks shit. Dan is less happy about that.
It’s not that he has even a remote worry that Phil is going anywhere -- even his worst intrusive thoughts can’t convince him of that after 16 years -- but he hates people commenting on his relationship. Which, yes, is a weird thing to say after he just very publicly opened himself up to commentary.
But their followers, the phannies who have been in their comment sections since two thousand fucking nine, they earned the right to have an opinion. This random fucking model, who sounded like a prick, did not -- not about Phil, not about Dan, and definitely not about their relationship.
Phil shows him the texts, because Phil is good and honest, and Dan has to admit that it isn’t that big a deal.
It still puts a weird feeling, right at the base of his throat.
He makes the mistake of delving into their comments sections on incognito mode, deep diving until he gets past the positive, sweet comments until he finds the people being obnoxious. Why is this such a big deal. They’re so annoying. Do they even like eachother, they bicker all the time.
That last one fucking hits.
Dan buys Phil a nice dessert, because he loves him and knows that Phil loves dessert.
It also, maybe, just a little, is a fuck you to John fucking Smith or whatever they called him. Two things can be true.
Dan is self aware enough to recognize that as the new year starts, he’s getting worse.
It's their designated pyjama week, and they’re caught up with everything. The projects are all stable now, it's time to rest, relax, revitalize, and come back stronger.
Which is why Dan is staring at the idle animation of his elden ring character, and hasn’t actually done anything in about ten minutes.
Phil is in the other room playing the new game Dan had gotten him for Christmas, and Dan knows that if he got up, told Phil how he was feeling, Phil would know exactly what to do. But Phil’s birthday is coming up, and Dan can’t make Phil worry in the lead up to his birthday. Besides, this is their week, no stress allowed.
He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s recognizing that things are getting bad, he didn’t used to do that. If he can recognize it, he can stop it. He saves and shuts off his game, pads out of the office to the poof they keep by the sliding glass door. It snowed last night, and the sun is bouncing off of their backyard. Its idyllic to look at, relaxing, perfect for soothing the mind.
Dan settles onto the floor with his back against the poof. This is his favorite meditation spot, looking out into nature while still being warm and comfortable in their house. He crosses his legs and puts his hands on his knees, breathing deeply and trying to focus on his body. Where is he holding his tension? What is he feeling?
He unclenches his jaw, straightens his spine. He’s tired, and he’s been worrying about other people’s thoughts when that was something he couldn’t control.
What’s in his control? His actions, like buying Phil nice things. His own emotions about coming out, which are still net positive. His fears, like everything is about to crash and burn. His anger, that he could have had this forever-
Dan opens his eyes when he feels them start to burn. He’s crying.
Shit.
He has his January therapy appointment, and Erica agrees that he’s probably having a bit of an episode. She talks him through it, they go over support systems and Dan’s strategies for managing his depression. She’s proud of him for recognizing his feelings, but reminds him that he doesn’t actually know that something bad is going to happen.
He still doesn’t tell Phil how he’s feeling.
There’s so much going on, and Phil is still so blindingly happy that he gets to have his first fully out of the closet birthday, Dan refuses to ruin that for him.
“Would it be ruining?” Erica asks him, “or would it just be honest?
“Ruining.” Dan says immediately, and she pierces him with one of those I’ve known you for almost 10 years, I know how you tick looks.
“Would Phil say that?”
Dan hates her, sometimes. He also loves her, as his therapist, which is why he keeps going to her even when she asks the hard questions.
“Lets say it did ruin his birthday, or even just make him sad,” Erica continues, “are you responsible for that? Or is Phil responsible for managing his own emotions?”
“It’s his birthday,” Dan says stubbornly, and Erica nods. “Fair enough, and I’m not saying talk to him about this five seconds before you cut the cake, but don’t you think he would want to know if you aren’t happy?”
And, honestly, that’s the root of it. Dan looks at Phil, sees how happy he is, and thinks, why don’t I feel like that?
He says this, and Erica agrees that it sucks.
“But it’s also to be expected,” She says, “like we talked about before; you and Phil had very different experiences with pride and sexuality. Complicated feelings aren’t good or bad, they just are, and that's okay.”
“But I want to be happy,” Dan says, “this should be -- I should be happy. It’s over, the thing that was holding me back is done. Why aren’t I happy?”
“Journal prompt.” She says, and he groans -- she assigns him these, gives him something to think about for the whole month between sessions, and any time he ruminates on it he’s supposed to write it in his journal. He wrote an entire mental health guide, he should be excused from therapy journals forever.
Then again, his last journal prompt resulted in the hard launch, so.
“Fine,” He grumbles. “Anything else?”
Erica softens a bit. “Give yourself some grace. Most people never put themselves under this much public scrutiny, you’re doing fine.”
Dan isn’t sure he believes her, but he nods anyway.
That night, Dan taps his pencil against his black therapy journal and chews on his lower lip. He had broken the main question why don’t I feel happy about coming out? Into several smaller questions; what does happy feel like? Have I felt that since the hard launch? Why do I feel like I need to be happy about it? What did I expect to feel before?
So far, the only thing he’s written, just under what does happy feel like, is the word Phil, underlined twice.
“Dan?”
Dan looks up to see Phil walking in with two mugs of decaf. He offers one, and Dan flips the notebook over and makes grabby hands at him. His partner laughs and hands him the mug, along with a kiss on the temple.
“Journal Prompt?” Phil asks, recognizing the notebook in his lap, and Dan hums, taking a sip. Coffee made by Phil always tastes better than anything else.
“You have a hard session today?” Phil asks, sitting by Dan’s feet and rubbing his knee. “You’ve been quiet.”
“Just thinking.” Dan says.
“I feel like I haven’t checked in, recently,” Phil says, eyes big and soft, “I’m sorry, how are you?”
Dan laughs, because that’s such a Phil thing to say; saying he hasn’t checked in, as if they don’t live together, as if Phil doesn’t ask him how he feels constantly, as if he's the problem when Dan is the one who can’t just let himself be happy.
“I’m fine,” He lies, “how are you?”
Phil beams at him, so fucking beautiful, Dan loves him so much it aches. “I’m incredible. I’m so happy we did this, Dan.”
“I’m happy too.” Dan says, and it’s not even a complete lie -- he’s been happy, he has felt joy in the last three months, he’s just felt a million other emotions at the same time.
Phil squeezes his shin. “Wanna keep writing, or watch TV?”
“TV, obviously,” Dan says, setting his notebook aside. He can worry about it later, right now he needs some Phil time. Best form of therapy there is.
Dan wakes on a cloudy morning in February feeling miserable.
This is bad, he recognizes, this is a bad sign. They’re supposed to film today, and he’s supposed to be getting better, not worse.
He still feels well enough to be mad that he feels like shit too. He isn’t numb, not yet, but he isn’t good and he hates it.
“Good morning!” Phil says as Dan comes up the stairs, and Dan grunts. His head is pounding, probably because he’s clenching his jaw again. When’s the last time he meditated?
“You okay?” Phil asks.
“Fine.” Dan says, a bit sharp. “Close the fucking drawers. Is there cereal, or did you eat it all?”
“Cheerios, but we’re out of crunchy nut,” Phil says. “Are you sure you’re good? We don’t have to record today.”
“When else would we record, Phil?” Dan says, maybe shoving his bowl around a bit too hard to be convincing. “We have plans all weekend, it has to be today.”
“Yeah, but-”
“I’m fine.” Dan snaps, and Phil steps away from him.
“Okay, okay, you’re fine,” Phil says, rolling his eyes. “I get it, fucking hell. Fuck me for worrying about you I guess.”
He turns to leave, and Dan feels a sharp stab of guilt.
He can’t have a breakdown, not now, not today, not this weekend when they’re supposed to go up north for an art show and a visit to PJ and Sophie and Phil’s parents. He needs to be fine for a few more days, and then he can call his therapist and admit what's been going on and…
And…
And what?
He still isn’t happy.
He stares at his cheerios, and furiously wipes his face before he has to admit he’s crying.
He’ll be okay. He’ll get through this night. All that shit he claims.
When you’re in crisis, focus on what’s in front of you. What are your immediate needs?
He eats his cheerios and goes to get dressed. He’ll apologize to Phil later.
The podcast recording is a blur. Dan is starting to go numb, but he’s pretty good at faking it and ignoring the grey at the edges of his vision. He thinks their editors notice, because one of them is even brave enough to ask him if he’s okay.
Dan manages a polite smile when he says he’s fine. He pretends to ignore Phil rolling his eyes at the blatant lie.
They film a few other non podcast things, including some stuff for patreon, and honestly, Dan is just grateful that Phil doesn’t bring up his attitude on camera. He knows in the back of his mind that Phil wouldn’t, but one of the fears he has been able to recognize in himself is that with all the eyes on them they were going to turn into his parents -- always angry, always fighting with no regard for who could see them.
There's something morbidly comforting in the knowledge that Dan expects the worst from everyone, including the love of his stupid life. He's sure Erica would give him a journal prompt about it.
They get through their day and head home, and Phil is obviously still upset, because he doesn't even try talking to Dan in their Uber. Dan just closes his eyes and leans against the window, hopes that if he can sleep maybe he'll feel better.
Cold fingers grasp his and squeeze, and Dan sighs heavily, then squeezes back.
“I told PJ and Sophie we aren't coming,” Phil says once they get inside. “And my mum. We'll have to eat the cost of the art show tickets, but-”
“We could have still gone,” Dan protests, but it's hollow even to his own ears. Cement is settling into his bones now, he wants his bed.
“Stop saying that,” Phil says, “stop acting like you're fine, it's just me.”
His voice is sharp and oh, Phil is angry. He hasn't recognized that Phil is angry. Of course he's angry, he had to cancel their plans because Dan can't feel normal human emotions. Dan ruined their recording and their weekends and Phil's life, and he should just-
“Oh,” Dan says, physically stopping himself from following that line of thought. “Oh, I'm doing bad, aren't I?”
He says it like a revelation, and Phil looks devastated.
“Let's get you in bed, sweetheart,” Phil says, and he only pulls out the sweetheart when he's scared, and Dan feels tears well up in his eyes.
“I'm sorry,” he cries, “I'm sorry, please don't leave me-”
“Never,” Phil promises immediately.
As they climb in bed, Phil pulls him close and presses his lips to Dan's forehead.
“Just rest,” Phil says, “everything else can wait. Just rest now.”
What can he do but obey?
A few days of social media detox and lots of rest later (plus an emergency call with his therapist), Dan feels a bit more stable.
He isn't perfect, and for the first time since they started the podcast they announce that there won't be a new episode this week. The fans react perfectly fine, with only mild disappointment, but it still feels like failure.
“Right,” Phil says on Tuesday, “we're gonna play I-statements.”
I-statements was something they started years ago, as a way to make sure both of them felt heard in a given situation. It was the only way they got through the valentines leak, and it was how Dan managed to tell Phil he wanted to leave YouTube.
Dan nods, sitting on the couch looking away from Phil. They never try to force eye contact during I-statements, just hold hands and look at opposite walls.
“I feel sorry,” Dan starts, “I took out my anger on you and upset you last week, I didn't mean to.”
“I appreciate that,” Phil says, squeezing his hand. “But I felt -- and still feel -- really, really angry that you didn't tell me it was getting bad again.”
“It wasn't that-”
Phil taps his hand, their silent thats not an I statement. Dan sighs.
“I didn't think it was that bad, until the day of when it was too late to stop myself from imploding.”
Phil sits with that for a long moment, then sighs shakily. It sounds like he's on the verge of tears when he says “I didn't think you felt the need to hide anything from me, anymore. Even if you feel a little bad, I thought you would tell me.”
That hits dan like a sledgehammer to the chest, and he squeezes Phil's hand instead of pulling him into a hug the way he wants to.
“I felt bad,” Dan confesses, “because you were so happy when we came out, and I was too, but I didn't feel as happy as I expected to. And I didn't want to burden you with that.”
“You are not a burden,” Phil says, and then rephrases; “I need you to know that you are not a burden.”
Phil's said it before, but it still makes him cry every time, and Dan turns around so he can hug his partner and cry into his shoulder.
“I wish you had told me,” Phil says, voice small and shattered, “I wish I could have helped you. I'm sorry you felt like that for so long…”
“Not the whole time,” Dan says, “there were good parts, bright moments, for the most part I've been my normal self, I just…”
“Wanted to be happier?”
“Yeah, exactly.” Dan closes his eyes. “I felt like I’d defeated the monster, and instead I was still scared and anxious and reading too much into what everyone thought and-”
“And that’s just who you are,” Phil says gently, “That’s the man I fell in love with. I -- Don’t get me wrong, I would give anything for the ability to snap my fingers and make you happy forever, but I love you, I’ve loved you for 16 years. Happy as I was to come out, I never thought it would magically fix everything.”
“I knew that too,” Dan sighs, “But I hoped.”
“The stress probably also didn’t help,” Phil hums, “I had some higher anxiety days too, you know that. But we get to rest now, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Dan echoes. “I’m still sorry.”
“I know,” Phil kisses the top of his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you struggling.”
“I love you.” Dan picks up his head, “You know that, yeah? I love you.”
Phil snorts. “We wouldn’t keep ending up here if we didn’t love each other, I think.”
“Yeah,” Dan grins, “Good thing we do, then.”
Phil rolls his eyes, but as he pulls Dan in for a kiss, he’s smiling.
The next time they sit down to record an episode, Dan leans toward his mic and says “So I had a bad week.”
“Mmhm,” Phil says, “Think you had a bad few months, actually.”
“Yeah,” Dan admits, a bit sheepishly, “I do this thing where I ignore my feelings until I can’t anymore, it annoys the shit out of my therapist.”
“It annoys the shit out of your boyfriend too!” Phil chirps, and Dan reaches over and hits the oof button on his soundboard.
“My point is,” Dan continues, “we’re in our honesty era, yeah? I’ve been feeling like shit, lets talk about it.”
“Group therapy.” Phil nods. “Group Pherapy.”
They talked for a while about feelings and therapy homework and times when they expected to feel a certain way but didn't.
Just before they brought out Richard, Dan caught Phil looking at him tenderly, and his heart leapt up into his throat.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Phil said, “just proud of you.”
And -- yeah, Dan was sitting here, in a life he built, with the love of his life. His heart was full.
He was proud of himself too.