Chapter Text
Dan was convinced that his body was punishing him for everything he’d put it through over the years. And, though not stating it so bluntly, his therapist agreed. She told him, Dan, your body has gotten so used to the pain, it’s refusing to let go of it. It’s you enjoying being miserable in the closet all over again. And that’s how he found himself walking into a small reception of a private physiotherapy clinic in South London on a Wednesday afternoon with his heart hammering somewhere in his throat. His fingers shivered while he filled out a form on a tablet that the brightly smiling receptionist Emilia handed him.
He sat in a plastic chair, tapping his foot. He was already sweating in his large black hoodie. Ever since he’d started gaining weight uncontrollably, courtesy of his depression meds and binge-eating episodes, he’d been hyper-aware of every curve, stretch mark, and jiggly bit on his body. A few times, he considered getting up and leaving, but the twinge he felt in his hip when he moved his leg wrong and the stiff soreness in his jaw reminded him that he really needed help.
Emilia checked the form, tapped the screen for a moment and then walked him through a hallway and around a corner to a door labelled Treatment room 4.
“Make yourself comfortable, alright, darling? It’ll be just a minute,” she said as she opened the door for him.
Dan walked in and scanned the room. It was bigger than he expected. One of the shorter walls was lined with wooden cabinets painted in bright colours. There were plants on them, and on the windowsills, and in every corner. Amongst them were scattered different pieces of a model of a skeleton. Diplomas and certificates were displayed in frames on the wall above a wide wooden desk with an ergonomic office chair, and the rest of the walls were decorated with posters describing the anatomy of a human body… and one titled Anatomy of a Goose. Dan squinted and stepped closer. The goose in the picture was holding a knife, and the little descriptions said Shenanigan scanners, Wings of doom… it made him giggle and relax for a moment.
In front of the desk were two armchairs – a blue one and a green one. They were quite wide, not your regular armchair, and Dan imagined how comfortably he could curl up in it. The last piece of furniture in the room was a white, padded treatment table covered with a thin sheet of white paper.
Dan thought that he was supposed to sit in one of the chairs, but he couldn’t get himself to move from the spot. He did some research the night before, and it made him feel even worse than when his therapist first suggested it. The physiotherapist was going to touch him more intimately than anyone had touched him in months. He wanted to run. No, he wanted to throw up and then run. And maybe cry.
Several minutes passed, and no one showed up. He was considering going back to the reception when the door opened, and a tall, blond man with glasses in transparent frames, flushed cheeks, a Sunnydale High t-shirt, and a black galaxy print backpack barged in.
“I am so sorry to keep you waiting, you would not believe what just happened to me on the tube,” he blurted breathlessly, then smiled at Dan and offered his hand for a handshake. “Hi. My name is Phil Lester, I’m a senior physiotherapist at our clinic, and I swear I am not usually this tardy.”
“Oh. H-hi. And–it’s okay, no worries,” Dan choked out, outstretched his hand, but didn’t even squeeze Phil’s back, only stared at him. Phil gave him a charming, apologetic smile.
“I will change real quick and be right with you.” He disappeared behind another door on the other side of the room, and Dan’s legs almost gave way. The urge to run, throw up and cry all at the same time hit him like a sack of bricks. It had to be some freaky coincidence. Because… there was no way in the fucking hell that the physiotherapist who had the same name as his first boyfriend, the same high cheekbones and prominent nose as his first boyfriend and wore the same t-shirt that Dan had bought the aforementioned first boyfriend while they were dating, was actually his first boyfriend.
No, it had to be the weirdest coincidence in the world.
The man returned a few minutes later with a tablet in his hands, wearing a pair of navy scrubs and a white polo shirt with “Phil Lester Senior Physiotherapist” embroidered under the clinic logo.
“So. How would you like us to address each other today? We can do first names, last names, or even nicknames. I used to have a patient who liked to be called Raspberry,” Phil said casually.
Dan sniggered, caught completely off guard. “Is that true?”
“No,” Phil smiled innocently. “But it's an option. I’m happy to use sounds as well. Whatever works best for you.”
Alright, scratch that. Nobody else in the entire world but Phil Lester, his Phil Lester, would string together such a peculiar assortment of nonsense as a way of putting people at ease.
“I-I think first names are alright. I’m Daniel,” he said, making sure not to automatically add his last name, even though there was no way Phil would recognise him. Phil still looked the same, save for the hair, broader shoulders, and toned arms. Dan, on the other hand, more than anything else, resembled an undercooked, chewed-up shrimp. At least that’s what he thought, comparing himself to the skinny emo twink with rosy cheeks he once was.
“Alright, Daniel, please, make yourself comfortable,” Phil gestured towards the armchairs. “First, we’ll discuss what we’re dealing with here, go over some boundaries and expectations, and then I’m gonna ask you to change before we begin.”
Dan hesitantly picked the blue armchair and sat down, though he struggled with the comfortable part.
“I–I have to change?”
Phil gave him a surprised look. “Well, we won’t get much done if you’re dressed for an arctic expedition,” he said kindly but with a humorous edge to his tone. “Oh. They didn’t tell you when you booked the session? You’re supposed to be wearing shorts and a sleeveless top, ideally. Or thin sweats and a t-shirt.”
Dan knew. He did extensive research on what would happen during the session. He was just hoping to somehow avoid it. That morning, he put on a tank top and shorts he liked to wear before he started his medication. Both were too tight now and emphasised every pound he’d gained since. He felt agonisingly exposed wearing it. The sight of the neglected man in the mirror, whom he barely recognised, filled his body with anxious tingles. He ended up lying on the floor for several minutes, struggling to draw a proper breath.
“It’s okay, I have some spare, clean clothes here,” Phil said, smiling kindly when Dan didn’t respond for a while. “No need to be embarrassed or anything, Daniel. Next time you’ll know. Now, let’s go over your form. I see here that you mentioned headaches, pain in your neck, shoulders, face, pain while chewing… are there any more difficulties with your jaw?”
“Um, yeah. It gets stiff, I can’t open my mouth properly sometimes, and it makes these popping sounds.”
Phil nodded, tapping on the screen. “Alright. We can definitely look into that today. Next, you mentioned frequent muscle pain. Can you tell me a bit more?”
“It’s like… I’ve overdone it at the gym; except I haven’t been. And it happens mostly in the mornings.”
“I see. Any dizziness, fatigue?”
“Yes, but I have low blood pressure and–and my meds can cause that too.”
“Alright,” Phil nodded. “We’ll keep an eye on that anyway. And last thing, you checked chest tightness, heart palpitations, and multiple breathing issues.” Phil put the tablet down on his knees and looked up at Dan with a serious but kind expression. “That is a lot for one body to deal with, Daniel. But you are in good hands here. Now, this treatment can feel quite intrusive, so we’ll need to go over some boundaries and ground rules because I’ll need to touch your jaw and face, your neck, and I’ll need to see how your muscles work and how you’re breathing. How do you feel about being touched from your chest up today?”
“W–well, I’m here, aren't I. Just d–do what you need to do, it's fine,” Dan said, but his heart was already hammering painfully hard, and his chest tightened with anxiety. And the urge to throw up and cry was making rounds again. He fidgeted with the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling them lower and squirming in his seat.
“Daniel, it’s not about what I have to do. I need you to feel safe and comfortable because if you don't, whatever exercise and treatments we do, they're quite pointless. And I need you to understand that you are fully in control here. You can tell me to stop at any moment, and I will. No questions asked. Or if you don't feel comfortable saying stop, you can tap my arm, or we can come up with a safe word or sound. This therapy puts you in a vulnerable position, and some patients do get overwhelmed and need a break. And that’s okay. Trust me when I tell you that I’ve seen and heard it all.”
“That actually helps,” Dan admitted, chuckling in embarrassment. He still felt silly and childish, but that was not due to lack of effort on Phil’s side. “Alright, so...” He looked at Phil with expectation.
“So. I need you to tell me about any boundaries that you’d like to set today, any spots that you don't want me to touch, and any worries that you have regarding what's going to happen today,” Phil explained.
Back when they were dating, there was no part of Dan’s body that he didn’t want Phil to touch. Quite the opposite – he couldn’t get enough. But that was long in the past, and Phil must’ve realised that. Or maybe he really hadn’t recognised Dan. One way or another, he knew how respectful and gentle Phil was. He wasn’t going to feel less uncomfortable with anyone else.
Dan nodded, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
“Alright. Ehm, the thing is, I–I’ve gained a lot of weight since I started my depression meds. And…” he hesitated, gulping. “I feel like… like no one should see me or touch me because I’m… erm… yeah.” Disgusting. The word he was thinking was disgusting. But he could bring himself to say that to Phil.
Phil nodded empathetically the whole time.
“Okay. Thank you for being honest with me. I figured that you were using that big hoodie as sort of a safety blanket. And if it makes you feel any better, that’s a very common first reaction for people who deal with sudden weight gain. So how about we leave the hoodie on for now? We can focus only on your jaw today and take it at a pace you’re comfortable with.”
“R–right, okay. And… could you not touch my neck, like… like this? It really triggers me,” Dan said and wrapped his fingers loosely around his throat. Phil’s soft smile fell, and for a moment, there was heavy silence between them.
“Of course,” Phil said then, visibly shaken but quickly bouncing back. “I have no reason to touch you like that. Is there anything else you’d like me to know upfront?”
Dan shook his head and sighed with relief, his breath hitching.
“Alright. Let’s get started, then,” Phil said and got to his feet. “Can I ask you to lie down on the treatment table for me? On your back, please, head right here. You can take your shoes off if you like.” He opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a small pillow that he placed over the hole at one end of the table. Dan did as he was told, his heart hammering again. Phil was right; he already felt very vulnerable, even though it was Phil. They’ve done more intimate things than this.
“I’ll be sitting just here behind your head, okay?” Phil said as he pulled his white round stool closer to the table. Dan hummed in agreement, watching Phil wash his hands in the sink and sit down. He was clean-shaven and smelled just as cosy as Dan remembered. That helped him relax.
Phil gently placed the tips of his index and middle fingers just by Dan’s ears, talking to Dan the whole time, describing what he was doing. “Now, please slowly open for me, as far as you can without discomfort. Good… now slowly close. One more time, please. Can you try a bit wider? Oh, dear, that was a big pop. Okay, close now, slowly. Are you doing alright so far?”
“Yeah,” Dan said. Phil then handed him a mirror.
“I want you to do it one more time and watch what your chin does.”
“Shit,” Dan muttered when he finally noticed. “It’s like… going to the left.”
“Yes. We’ll figure out what’s causing it and fix it. It’s most likely a tight muscle or a stuck disc.”
“Okay,” Dan muttered.
“Okay,” Phil echoed and moved his fingers slightly lower. “Now please clench your teeth, but not too hard, don’t hurt yourself. Okay, now relax… and repeat it a few times for me. Good. Do you have any questions so far?”
“Yeah, um, I googled the jaw stiffness and muscle pain and–”
“Can I stop you right there?” Phil said kindly, looking down at Dan with empathy. Dan nodded. “Google is not a doctor, Daniel. Your symptoms are not nearly bad enough for tetanus, your jaw won’t detach, and I can almost guarantee that you don’t have a rare disease that was last mentioned in a scroll from the 17th century.”
Dan took a shuddering breath. “It really scared me, though,” he confessed. “I’ve been having dreams about that.”
“I hear you. I’ve always been googling symptoms and falling down rabbit holes, despite being a medical professional and knowing better. And during Covid… I won’t even tell you. It was bad. But I’m working on it with my therapist. Even therapists need therapy sometimes. We all need a little help to get through life. Did you mention this to yours?”
Dan caught himself wishing that he could have been there for Phil. He knew how much Phil could spiral and remembered talking him through his Doctor Google-induced anxiety attacks. He must’ve been absolutely wrecked during Covid.
“Not… necessarily the way I did now. I will, though.”
“Okay, I’m glad. Now, I’d like to figure out for sure what’s causing you pain and the popping. However, I can’t do that from the outside. Would it be okay if I put my gloves on and poked around your mouth a bit with my fingers?”
Dan hesitated. No, it wasn’t fucking okay for his ex to stick his fingers in his mouth. It was weird, embarrassing, and so humiliating that he could cry. But the pain was worse. So he agreed.
“Okay,” Phil said softly. “This can feel very invasive, and I want to assure you once again that you can ask for a break or stop me at any point. You can pat my arm or raise your hand.” He continued to explain what he was going to do step by step while he washed his hands and put on his gloves with a rubber snap.
“Are you still okay?” he asked as he sat back down behind Dan’s head.
“Mhm,” Dan nodded.
“Is it okay if I put my hand on your forehead?”
“Sure.”
“Alright. Now please open as far as you comfortably can and try to focus on breathing through your nose, like when you’re at a dentist.”
That was good advice. Phil’s gloved finger tracing the inside of his cheek almost made Dan gag. It’s been a while since… well. He didn’t want to think about that with his ex’s finger digging behind his molar. He could hear Phil breathe, and it threw his mind right back to when Phil used to spoon him and breathe into his ear.
“Now close and open a few times, and please try not to bite me.”
Dan giggled around Phil’s finger and closed his mouth carefully.
“I do get bitten,” Phil said, smirking as if trying to stifle a laugh. Dan then tapped Phil’s arm urgently, and Phil removed his hands at once. Dan turned to the side and burped into his fist.
“Ugh. Sorry,” he said in embarrassment, feeling his cheeks burn up.
“That’s okay, Daniel,” Phil chuckled. “You swallowed a lot of air; it was inevitable.”
Dan lay back down and took a deep breath.
“Can we continue?” Phil checked.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. You’re doing very good, Daniel,” Phil assured him. “Now I need you to really focus on breathing. The culprit is this cheeky muscle on the opposite side. It’s very tight and tense, and I need to give it a little massage. It’s going to be unpleasant, and I need you to stop me if it’s too much, okay?”
Dan nodded and opened his mouth again to let Phil’s fingers in. It was not unpleasant. It hurt as fuck. Dan’s eyes watered, but he didn’t stop Phil.
“Just a little longer, almost there… nearly done… a few more seconds… alright. Now deep breaths, relax.” Phil took off his gloves, handed Dan a few tissues, and poured him a cup of water. Dan wiped his mouth, breathing heavily.
“You can sit now,” Phil said, helped Dan up and handed him the plastic cup. Dan felt a little dizzy from the sudden change but drank the water without spilling, finally getting rid of the rubbery taste in his mouth. “We can take a little break and then move on to some exercises if that’s okay.”
Dan nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”
He spent the next several minutes looking in the mirror and slowly opening and closing his mouth under Phil’s guidance, with his fingers gently placed on his jaw. Phil was standing behind him, and Dan felt better, but he was exhausted. A few times he caught himself wanting to lean back against Phil’s chest and beg for a cuddle. He desperately needed a cuddle.
“Daniel, focus, please. You’re drifting again,” Phil said softly. “Hang on, I have an idea.” Phil opened one of his drawers and returned with a black marker.
“This is a skin-safe marker. Is it okay if I draw a little dot on your nose and your chin to help you keep your jaw straight?”
Are. You. Fucking. Kidding me.
Dan didn’t say that. But he thought it very loudly. That was his best opportunity to mention knowing Phil. Back when they were dating, they drew cat whiskers on each other’s faces with a similar black marker for a video. Not once, but twice. If he wanted a chance to bring it up, Phil just threw one in his face. But he didn’t take it. He just finished the exercise with a black dot on his nose and chin, slowly getting frustrated with his inability to do it perfectly. He felt like a failure.
But Phil didn’t seem to think so. He kept praising Dan’s effort and telling him that he was doing a good job.
“My own fucking face is not listening to me!” Dan snapped near the end of the session while Phil was trying to teach him another exercise. He huffed and shifted uncomfortably on the table, hanging his head and covering his face with clenched fists. He felt like crying, and that made him even angrier.
“I feel like a broken puppet,” he whispered. Something he wouldn’t confess to anyone but Phil.
“Daniel,” Phil said gently, crouching in front of Dan. “Daniel, look at me, please.”
Dan shook his head, breathing raggedly.
“Daniel,” Phil said, cupping Dan’s elbow tightly pressed against the younger man’s body and rubbing it with his thumb through the thick, black fabric.
“I’m sorry,” Dan whispered a moment or two later, slowly putting his arms down, not looking at Phil.
“It’s okay,” Phil matched his volume, looking up at Dan, his eyes full of understanding and empathy. “Daniel, you did a fantastic job today. But your body is tired and in a lot of pain. It’s in survival mode. You can’t expect to get everything up and running in an hour. That’s not possible. If it was, I would really struggle to pay my mortgage, you know.”
Dan’s lips twitched in amusement.
Phil smiled. “I think that’s enough for one session, what do you say?”
Dan agreed – they only had a few minutes left anyway – and slid off the treatment table. His jaw was sore but more relaxed than it’s been in months. They both settled in the armchairs, and now, when Dan was not as tense as before, he let his eyes wander and noticed a lion plushie on Phil’s desk. The same one that Dan cuddled the first time he’d slept at Phil’s. He stared at it as if in a trance, and his hand itched to reach for it.
“So,” Phil said, pulling him back to reality. Dan turned his head to him. “How do you feel about your first session?”
Dan took a deep breath and nodded. “Better than I expected, to be honest.”
“I’m glad to hear that. However, I couldn’t help but notice that you were very uncomfortable. That’s not unusual, and many people loosen up quickly enough, but if you’d rather request another therapist, or if you’d feel more comfortable with a woman, perhaps, you can tell Emilia, and she’ll arrange it. But if not, I’ll see you next Wednesday.”
He was giving Dan an easy way out of the awkward situation without having to acknowledge their past. And that, well, that made Dan feel like the most pathetic loser in the entire world.