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“Phiiiil!”
Phil chuckled when he heard his partner yelling for him -- an improvement over this morning, when he'd been snappy and wanted to be left alone.
Phil grabbed a bag of crisps on his way down to the office, hoping that if they were ready for interaction, they'd also have drunk the water Phil left them.
Sure enough, when he got to the office Cici was sitting there, all big brown eyes and hair messed up from him tugging on it. “Philly, I'm staaaarving!”
Phil bit back a snicker; Cici was such a drama queen, Phil loved him.
“I brought you takis, but if you don't want spicy, you're gonna have to come upstairs, princess.”
Cici immediately made grabby hands, wanting to be picked up, and Phil sighed affectionately, mentally thanking himself for going to the gym this week. He scooped Cici up in his arms -- which was difficult, thank you, Phil would love to have super strength sometimes.
“Don't think I can do the steps today, kiddo,” Phil huffed, "I promise to pick you up again when you hit the top?”
Cici immediately whined, and Phil paused in their journey to look at him. “Cici.”
“Fine,” Cici said, climbing down. “The second we reach the top-”
“I'll pick you right back up and you can sit on the island while we figure out dinner.” Phil promised. Cici grumbled, but nodded and trudged up the stairs. Slowly, of course, because Cici hated the stairs. He had been the biggest objector to the floating staircase, but the rest of the system (and Phil) had won that particular argument.
As promised, when he reached the top of the stairs, Phil held out his arms for Cici to climb up again.
Cici just stood there, arms crossed and pouting. “Danny's yelling at me.”
Phil gently booped him on the nose. “Well you can tell Danny I said to shut his face.”
It worked, Cici immediately started giggling, wrapping his arms around Phil's neck for Phil to pick him up again. “Can we cook?”
“Oo, someone's feeling fancy. I think we have stir fry stuff.”
Cici cheered as Phil set him on the island. Cooking with Cici was just Phil cooking while Cici watched and commented like a host on bake-off, and Phil never minded. The other headmates said that Phil spoiled Cici, but Phil spoiled all of them, really, they just didn't want to admit it.
He got out his cutting board and knife and started prepping his ingredients, while Cici chattered about whatever came into his head -- dreams, usually. Dan's dream journal was one of the first ways he connected with Cici.
Phil was just getting things in the pan when the background noise abruptly cut off. He paused, turning to see that his partner had a very blank face, and was blinking slowly.
Phil had gotten pretty good at telling who was fronting, but occasionally it was a guess. It was definitely an older headmate, and with the way his brow furrowed… “Dan?”
“Yeah,” Dan said, touching his temple with a little frown. “Sorry, that was -- weird. Sudden.”
“Everything okay?”
“Um…” Dan chewed idly on his lower lip. “I… think so? Tell me you didn't carry Cici up the stairs.”
“Relax, dad, I didn't,” Phil teased, “if you're fronting, you can help.”
Dan relaxed immediately, hopping off the counter. “Fuck off, you didn't make the kid help.”
Phil laughed, setting his spatula down to tug Dan close and kiss him. He did not have a favorite headmate, refused to pick one-- but at the end of the day, Dan was the host of the system, the one Phil had fallen in love with back in 2009, his partner in life and everything else. It had actually been a few days since Dan had fronted, and Phil had missed him.
Still, Dan seemed a bit off, so as Phil pulled away from the kiss and rested their foreheads together, he asked; "How's your head?”
It had become a loaded question, for the two of them. Dan managed a weak smile. “Still attached.”
“Good,” Phil gently tugged Dan’s face downward until he could kiss his forehead. “Help with dinner.”
“Yes, dear.”
The next morning, Phil found Dan sitting at the table, twirling a pen in his fingers and staring at his journal.
“You look like you’ve been awake for a bit,” Phil said, eyeing the empty mug next to him.
“Bubba woke us up,” Dan muttered, distracted by whatever he had written down. His voice was deeper than usual, and Phil hummed. “Touching right now, or-”
Dan was already shaking his head, and Phil nodded, skirting around instead of kissing him good morning. He had a feeling that whatever was going on this morning was… a lot, for Dan, and it was all trapped in his head.
Not for the first time, he wished he could just. Help. Take some of it off his shoulders, just for a bit.
Instead, he sighed, and got himself a coffee and some breakfast. They made a point of keeping their schedules very flexible, to accommodate both of their health issues, but they had a deadline for a sponsorship video this week, and podcast day was tomorrow…
“Babe?” Phil said softly, “you don't have to tell me everything that's going on, but can you tell me if you're okay?”
“Sorry,” Dan mumbled, “it's loud, my head hurts.”
Phil softened a little. “Yeah?”
“Yazi, just-” Dan lowered his head down. “All of you, stop it, just-”
Abruptly, they straightened up and glared down at the journal in front of them.
“Hi?” Phil said, and Yazi sighed heavily, standing up and grabbing their mug to get another cup of coffee.
“Cici is having a complete meltdown, I think one of the boys said something.” Yazi said while slamming a cup of coffee back like a shot. “Our head is literally pounding, Phil, holy shit.”
“Oh,” Phil frowned. “Is there… I know I can't help, really, but I can try to comfort Cici? I hope he's okay.”
Yazi turned, a fresh cup of coffee in their hand. They don't look quite as frustrated, just tired. “That's -- you're very sweet, bub, thanks, but we just have to talk it out as a system. We're filming today, right?”
Phil chewed his lower lip. “We can push it back?”
“Don't be crazy, we have deadlines to meet.” Yazi said, holding up their mug. “Keep this coming and I'll be fine.”
They managed to finish the video by the skin of their teeth.
When things got chaotic between system members, they tended to go on autopilot, and whoever was fronting would keep them alive and functioning, but it was far from perfect. Definitely not ideal conditions for filming. But they had a lot of experience, especially as a duo, so after they finished, Phil sent the footage to the editors without much concern.
Yazi, who had drank another three cups of coffee in the last four hours, was staring at their journal again, chewing the end of their pen. Phil knew to give space at the point -- after all, he couldn't exactly reach into the shared headspace and mediate. Sometimes the arguing would be external, through passive aggressive notes or just the system talking aloud to themselves, but over the years they had gotten very good at working it out in their head.
So Phil focused on taking care of everything else. He ordered dinner. He answered emails. He gave his partner plenty of space to work through whatever was going on, and figured they'd call if they needed him.
Which was why it was an unpleasant surprise when there was a very loud bang right next to his ear, followed by a cackle after Phil fell out of his chair.
“Linny, why?” Phil groaned, and she stood over him with a shit-eating grin on her face.
“Hi Phil!”
“Hi,” Phil sighed, slumping back on the floor. “Are you hungry or something?”
“Yep.”
“I already ordered pizza, but if you want something else I think we have dino nugs-”
Linny shrieked, and Phil winced. She was by far the loudest headmate, and she was excited about everything.
Still, he climbed to his feet to see Linny running into the kitchen and throwing open the door to the freezer. “If you rip the bag and they go everywhere, you’re cleaning them up!”
“Boo!” Linny shouted back, but didn’t tear open the bag with her teeth. Instead, she bounced on her toes and waited for Phil to come and start the oven. Phil affectionately thought of Linny as a tornado, always in motion, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake.
“How's your head?" Phil asked, and Linny's entire face scrunched. “These guys are cunts, and I don't care if they hear me.”
Phil hummed, laying the nuggets on a tray. “That’s fair enough.”
“Are you mad at us?”
Phil liked this about Linny, she had no filter and didn’t care about offending. “Nope.”
“Even though we suck at making videos?”
“You don't, but even then I wouldn't be mad.”
“Oh,” Linny nodded. A beat passed, and then “are you mad at us for any other reason?”
Phil shook his head. He knew that Linny would keep focusing on this until something else distracted her, so It was better to focus on making food.
“Cici keeps screaming and crying, all because he got called a stupid name,” Linny groaned. “It’s so annoying, don’t you think it’s annoying? He's such a stupid brat, I wish they would all fuck off.”
As she spoke, Linny casually grabbed a paper towel from the roll and started tearing it into small pieces. Phil eyed her hands, putting the tray in the oven. “You want a distraction?”
Linny nodded so fast that Phil worried about her neck, and he led her back to the couch. “C’mon, let’s play some MarioKart. I’ll let you win.”
“I don’t need you to let me win.” Linny said quickly. While they loaded up the game, Linny grabbed Phil’s shirt and tugged.
When Phil looked at her, he saw a bit of Dan in her eyes, maybe Yazi -- the whole system, really, all looking at him at once. “Thanks for taking care of us, Phil.”
Phil’s heart swelled, and he nodded. “Always.”
Linny blinked for a moment, then flopped back on the couch. “I call Yoshi.”
They played until dinner.
By bedtime, Linny was still fronting, and she didn't seem happy about it.
One of the big reasons Dan still had a separate room was for nights like this, when a headmate who wasn't really comfortable sleeping with Phil was fronting. The problem was, Phil was worried.
Linny never usually fronted this long, and Phil knew better than most how frustrated she could get, so after he brushed his teeth he padded across the hall to check on her.
As he approached, he heard crying, and the sound of Linny saying stop, stop, please stop!
Frowning, Phil opened the door. “Lin- oh.”
Linny had one hand tangled in her hair, and the other hand was scratching at the back of her neck so fiercely that the skin had split, and her nails were bloody.
“Make it stop,” Linny demanded “I want it to stop!”
As she shrieked, she pulled at her hair so hard that a few strands came out of her scalp. Phil rushed over, not touching, not invading her space, but there, hands out. “Linny, Linny, give me your hands.”
“I hate it! I hate the voices and the memories and broken pieces, I want them to stop, make it stop!”
“I can try,” Phil said, voice low but desperate. “I'll try, but just- just give me your hands first, love-”
“Make it stop, make them shut up!” Linny shrieked, punching herself in the head so hard, too hard-
Phil knew that grabbing her hands would be the worst thing, so he resisted the urge, but god his heart was breaking as Linny just started to scream. Wordless, loud, as if she was being murdered.
He took a step back, and tried to breathe as deeply as he could. They had a plan for moments like this; different plans, in fact, for different members of the system. Linny's was to give space, try to keep calm, don't crowd or touch because that would make it worse. Phil knew the plan, Phil had helped create the plan.
Sometimes, Phil fucking hated the plan.
It was hard, it was so, so hard to see his person struggle like this. With trembling hands, Phil sat on the edge of the bed.
“Linny,” He whispered, “Linny, please look at me.”
Linny slammed her hands against her head a few more times, then gripped her hair and tipped forward to press her face against the bed, still wailing. Phil felt his own tears drip down his cheeks, but he forced his breath to stay even, his voice soft but firm. “Linny.”
Finally, finally, Linny reached one hand for him.
Phil took it, squeezing. “Good, that's perfect, sweetheart, can you breathe with me? We're gonna breathe, Lins, In… out…”
As he guided her through her breaths, he squeezed her hand rhythmically, grounding her. She didn’t pick up her head, or stop shaking, but the wailing screams turned into sobs, which turned into quiet, shaky breaths.
Linny tugged on his arm.
Phil practically threw himself across the bed.
He pressed his torso to the mattress, one arm laying across her upper back, his other hand coming up to gently, gently, stroke her hair.
“It’s alright,” He whispered, kissing the top of her head. “You’re all alright. I got you, I’m not going anywhere.”
He pressed his cheek to her head, as if he could hear into her brain and speak to all of them at once. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And he meant it.
Phil ended up falling asleep at the edge of the bed in Dan’s room, legs on the floor, head on the edge of the mattress. Linny would freak out if someone was in bed with her, and even though she had fallen asleep with Phil comforting her, he had crawled onto the floor.
He slept terribly, always did after anyone melted down. He picked up his head and blinked -- it was still dim in the room, the sun only just rising, and his partner was still asleep on the bed.
When they were asleep, Phil never knew who was fronting. Dan had tried to explain that dreams were vivid and complicated, but it just made Phil’s head hurt. He stared at their face for a long moment, trying to determine if they were dreaming or hurting or upset, but they looked calm, serene even.
Phil leaned down and kissed their forehead, brushing a curl back behind their ear.
Their face scrunched, and they opened their yes. “Bubby?”
Definitely Dan. Phil smiled a bit. “Hi. How’s your head?”
“Better,” Dan said, closing his eyes again. “Sorry.”
“No sorries, love you.” Phil kissed his forehead again. “All of you.”
The corner of Dan’s mouth twitched up into a smile “Love you too.”
While they ate breakfast, Dan journaled. It was an important part of his routine, the first and best way he connected with his headmates. He made a point of doing it every day, even on days when he woke up feeling good.
Dan chuckled, suddenly, and Phil looked up from his toast. Dan turned the journal around to show a doodle -- messy, clearly Cici or Linny. Sorry 4 Freaking Out :< with a butterfly and a flower and what appeared to be a T-Rex stomping on a town.
“Aw,” Phil laughed. “I love it, thanks.”
Dan hummed, looking down at the drawing for a long moment, his smile fading a little.
“Something wrong?”
“Just thinking,” Dan shook his head. “This would make a great podcast opener, if I wasn't so…”
“Hey,” Phil said, coming around the table to tilt Dan's face up so he was looking at him. “Hey, none of that. Look at me.”
Dan pressed his cheek into Phil's hand, and Phil brushed a thumb under his eye. “You don't owe anyone anything, Dan, okay? Not me, not them, not anyone.”
“I think I maybe owe you a tiny bit, all things considered.”
“I only accept payment in kisses and haribo.”
Dan laughed, turning his face to kiss Phil’s hand. “Love you too, bubby.”
Phil gazed at him for a long moment. “You know I would do anything for you, yeah? If you wanted to say it, if you never do-”
“I know, I know,” Dan said. “I love how much you love us. You take such good care of me, Phil.”
Phil had to kiss him, for that. Had to.
When he pulled away, Dan's eyes were gleaming, and he looked happy.
Phil grinned back. “Cici coming out to front for the podcast?”
“Maybe later,” Dan said, “but he's right here next to me, and doing better than he has for the last few days.”
Phil kissed his forehead. “For Cici. And everyone else who wants it.”
Dan’s giggle was distinctly child-like. “Kip is demanding their own.”
“Oh, well I gotta kiss Kipper.” Phil said, obediently giving Dan another forehead kiss, then another for good measure.
As always, he ended up doing one forehead kiss for each headmate, even the ones who may not have wanted one. And an extra one for Dan, because Phil may not have a favorite, but Dan was the one who Phil originally fell in love with, and no matter how many headmates came out of the system, Dan always got an extra kiss than the rest of them.
“I love you,” Phil whispered in his ear.
He wasn’t quite sure who he was talking to.
He figured it didn’t really matter.