#fuckingphil

Dan was renowned for being sensible. Proper, articulate and in his second year of university, doing a law degree no less, and he was shaping up to be everything his parents wanted him to be. There was the one exception however, Dan was a flaming homosexual.

This was something he kept to himself in fear that if his little secret got out, he’d loose the respect he managed to gain himself. Not that his uni were particularly homophobic, he was just scared of judgement.

It wasn’t as if he needed to tell anyone. He’s never had a proper relationship, didn’t have the time. He doesn’t most weekends studying the stacks of books that he practically needed to know off by heart in order to pass the many exams he needed to sit. It was like they were slowly picking out the slackers, forcing them to do exams and seeing who gave in first.

Survival of the fittest.

Luckily Dan had made it to his second year, and until now had lived in a house with a guy in his year along with Patrick and Carrie, a couple of third years, just off campus. Now he lived alone, Patrick and Carrie had left and the other guy dropped out to pursue a career in theatre. It got lonely over the summer.

But luckily a new year meant new students. Possible roommates. Dan had left an ad on the large notice board by reception. In big red letters it had advertised ‘a five bedroom house with 2 bathrooms, looking for roommate/s’. So far he’d had no responses.

Until one afternoon he gets a call.

“Hello?”.

“Uh, Hi, my name’s Phil Lester. I’m calling about your house” the voice was northern, deep and slightly husky.

“Um, yes. Is it just you or…?”.

“My mate Jack is looking for a place too. So far it’s me and him but we’re waiting for a reply from my our other friend”.

“And you all attend the university?” Dan asked, acutely aware of how posh he sounded compared to Mr-gruff-northerner on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna do art and Jack’s doing film studies.”

“Okay” Dan said, a little unsure of allowing these two, possibly three, complete strangers into the house.

Then again, it’s what Patrick had done for him last year.

“Okay” Dan restarts, a little more positivity injected into his somewhat sceptical manner. “Come over tomorrow and we can talk more in person”.

“Sure, I’ll be there around midday. That’s when the train from Manchester gets in”.

“Alright, see you then…Phil?”.

“Yeah, see ya” he hung up and Dan breathed a sigh of relief. He hated phone calls at the best of times.

–

He’d never been more nervous in his entire goddamn life. Not even when he opened his exam results letter, or approached his first lecture at uni.

He was inviting a complete stranger into hi-…their house. And with a just phone call and a some upcoming basic small talk to base his decision on.

He needed to chill out, it was only a conversation. A little conversation. And why should HE be nervous? He already lives here. It’s Phil who should be nervous, shaking and sweating slightly. He took a deep breath.

The doorbell rang.

“Oh shit” Dan cursed under his breath. He made his way to door, ruffling his hair and fixing on his best smile. He opened the door.

“Hello, I’m Dan” he held out his hand, expecting to see someone shorter than he was. Except he was greeted by someone’s chest.

“Hiya” a cheery northern voice answer, taking his hand firmly and shaking it briskly. Dan tilted his head upwards to see Phil face-to-face. He was pleasantly surprised.

Phil was tall, to say the least, and his hair was ruffled and was charcoal in colour. He had a bar through his left eyebrow and a tattoo of some sort peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. On most people they would look ridiculous, but on Phil…well, he wasn’t complaining.

“Hi, I’m Dan. Dan Howell. I’m 20 years old and I’m studying law.” He released his hand from Phil’s iron grip.

“Well, I’m Phil Lester. I’m studying art and I’m 19. And I’m guessing this house belongs to you?” He asked, raising a pierced eyebrow.

“It does now, wanna come in? I’ll show you around” Dan smiled, gesturing inside.

Phil wandered inside, looking around at the bright green hallway (Carrie’s choice, not his). He was smirking, and Dan couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or not.

“Interesting interior” he chuckled. Oh.

“I’m not the first to live here, and I couldn’t be bothered to re paint. So I’m learning to tolerate it” Dan sighed, chewing his lip slightly.

Phil nodded, huffing out a short laugh.

Dan lead him round the house, which continued Carrie’s unusual colour scheme. He couldn’t quite tell if Phil was liking what he saw.

“Um, so that’s my room” Dan pointed at a door adorned with stickers. Phil stifled a laugh. Dan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He pointed to the door next to it. “And that’ll be your room, or your friend’s if he’d prefer.”

“Oh, so we’ll be next door to each other? How lovely” Phil winked, and Dan gulped. Fuck.

“Y-Yeah…I guess we will”.

Dan turned on his heel and made his way back downstairs and into the kitchen. He sat down at the table, shuffling a stack of paper. Phil sat down opposite him.

“Now, the boring stuff. Sorry” Dan laughed, and Phil sighed.

“Must we? Can’t we have a little fun instead?”

There it was again. The flirting. What was up with all the flirting? Dan could feel himself going a little red, and he coughed slightly.

“I er, don’t know what you mean?” Dan busied himself with looking at his papers.

“Oh I’m sure you know what I mean Daniel”.

Okay, that was it.

“Can we get on with this please? I appreciate the thought but I’m not really looking for someone right now.”

At Dan’s firm words Phil sank back into his chair, fiddling with his fingers and mumbling an apology under his breath.

—

An hour later they’d sorted out the mound of paperwork, and Dan had seen a more sensible side to Phil. One that actually took things seriously and didn’t try to flirt with him every five seconds. And it had been decided, Dan now had two new housemates.

He just hoped to God that he wouldn’t regret his decision.

–

Phil returned a few days later, with an armful of boxes and a friend. Presumably Jack. Tall, glasses, sandy hair styled in a quiff. He looked the part of a film student that’s for sure.

“Hiya, I’m Jack. Thanks for this by the way. Really appreciate it” he smiled, his northern accent was strong but not unpleasant.

“Oh! No problem, It’s nothing honestly”.

Dan gestured inside and went back to sorting out his notes for his classes whilst the two new-comers focused on unpacking.

An hour or so later, Phil appeared downstairs.

“Hey” he grinned, leaning against the opposite side of the kitchen counter to Dan, who had his head buried in notes.

“Hello, all okay?”.

“Yeah, Jack really likes the place. I like it too, feels more homely than I imagined it would” Phil drummed his fingers on the countertop. An obvious sign of boredom.

“Do you still have packing to do?” Dan asked.

“Why? You trying to get rid of me?” Phil laughed, and a slight irritation kicked in.

“No, I’m just trying to work…that’s all” Dan huffed out a laugh.

Phil held his hands up in defence, “I’m sorry, just trying to have a little fun”.

“University is necessarily about fun Phil. Some of us have responsibilities”.

“Responsibilities? Is that code for 'pushy parents’?” Phil laughed.

Dan shot a glare in his direction, and went back to his notes, fuming.

And Phil sensed he’d probably crossed a line.

–

School started and Dan saw very little of his two housemates. In fact, the only time he really saw them was when they stumble in at 2am, blind drunk. Dan had forgotten the thrill of living independently, being able to do what you want. It looses its appeal after the first few months.

Dan next spoke to Phil one morning when his law lecture was cancelled, and he had come down later to find Phil nursing a hangover.

“Hey” Dan said cheerily, and Phil shushed him. “Oh sorry” he whispered.

“Ugh, I feel terrible. I don’t think I can move”.

“You know, you should really consider your liver in all this. You don’t want to die young do you?”.

“I thought that was the new trend” Phil laughed bitterly “Anyway, why are you here so late? You’re normally gone by half eight”.

“Lecture cancelled..”.

“Ah” Phil sat up slightly and winced, holding his head in his hands.

“Well” Dan sighed, pitifully “I have nothing else to do today, and you look like shit, so consider me your nurse for the day”.

“You don’t have to do th-”.

“Yes I do now shut up and let’s get you to bed”.

After much stumbling and complaining, they finally managed to get phil to his room. Phil crawled into his bed, groaning slightly.

“Leave me to die”.

“You have a hangover, not the plague Phil”.

“Okay mr medical expert, I thought you were doing a law degree.” Phil mumbled back.

Dan chuckled, and left to go and get a glass of water and a bunch of pain-killers. When he returned he found Phil fast asleep, curled in a ball.

Not wanting to wake him, Dan lightly place the water on the bedside table and left the room.

—

“MUM! Listen to me for fuck’s sake! For once in your goddamn life, just listen to me!” Dan was shouting desperately down the phone now. He’d just told his parents he wanted to drop out of university. They weren’t taking it too well.

In the next room, Phil and Jack sat tentatively, not making a sound. Dan had expressed his worries to them about not wanting to do law as few months back.

It was Phil who persuaded Dan to go through with dropping out.

“I’m not a failure! You can’t say that to your own son”.

And needless to say, he didn’t anticipate this. No wonder Dan had always been so anal about work and studying. It was pushy parent syndrome.

“Mum! Just fucking listen to me ple-” The sound of the landline being slammed onto the table rang throughout the house. Then, silence.

“Should we…” Jack whispered, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen. Phil shook his head.

“He needs privacy, let him be”.

—

The next morning an unsettling silence fell about the house. Phil felt terrible. He’s the one who pushed Dan to do this. He’s the one who made Dan unhappy.

“Hey” a small, slightly husky, voice interrupted Phil’s desperate thoughts. He looked up to see Dan; dishevelled but still as attractive as ever.

“Hey” he gulped “Look I-”.

“If you’re going to apologies, then don’t. You just wanted to help, you didn’t know how my parents would react” Dan fumbled with the sleeves of his jumper. He felt 16 again, shy and scared. Desperately trying to find his way in the world of A-levels and social gatherings.

“I just feel awful, for you I mean. I had no idea” Phil sighed, not really sure what to do or say.

“Not many people do…” Dan practically whispered. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. “Um, anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. For pushing me to drop-out. I’ll be much happier now, and that’s all down to you” Dan smiled for, what felt like, the first time in months. In the midst of exams and breakdowns he never really had time to smile.

Dan turned and went back upstairs. It was only when Phil heard the sounds of what he presumed were boxes, he remembered.

Dan would have to leave.

—

“I’ll keep in touch, if I have time. Maybe we’ll see each other around?” Dan smiled sadly at Phil, who was trying very hard to not get emotional about the whole affair.

“Yeah” He tried to inject some happiness into his voice.

Dan leaned in for a hug, and Phil’s brain went AWOL for just a moment, but in that tiny space of time Phil found himself pressing his lips to Dan’s cheek.

“Er…that summarises most of the things I’ve been meaning to say…I guess.” Phil blushed a little, it looked odd considering his badass exterior.

Dan smiled, properly this time. Not forced or out of sadness. He was happy, at long last.

–

It wasn’t for a few years until they met again. On a busy street in London one Saturday afternoon. It was a miracle that they spotted each other.

((Then again, the both of them aren’t your average looking human being)).

“Oh my god! Phil Lester?” Dan had gasped, and Phil stopped dead in his tracks.

“Dan?” He’d span round and the two men pulled each other in for a hug. “How’ve you been?”.

“I’m good. Really good, actually. I work at the BBC now, I sort out the playlists for radio one. It’s great, really rewarding”.

“Fuck, wow that’s…that’s amazing” Phil grinned. “I’m an animator now. I’ve done some adverts and stuff. Worked on a few films. I guess life’s finally treating us well”.

“Yeah…um, do you wanna catch up? Over coffee or something?” Dan gripped on the sleeves of his jumper slightly. Even at 25 he still got nervous about asking boys out.

Dan has learned to crave the taste of alcohol, he has learned to depend on it, to feed off of it and suckle as much of it as he could out of every bottle. He needed the drink, he desired it, wanting to soothe the nerves and grief that was eating him apart. Each amber stained bottle would be thrown aside, soon replaced with another that was full of the somewhat ill tasting brew. The taste has stained his lips and tongue, his breath reeking with the heavy scent of beer mixed with the sweet scent of what used to be Phil's favourite mix of intoxicating liquids. The bags underneath his eyes were prominent, and dreary eyes were hardly kept open. He often clicked his tongue, singling for the bartender to send him down another drink. He had built a steady habit of walking to the same bar, hungover and stomach cramping from the lack of food. However despite his bodies resistance to the ill effects of the drinks, Dan was nearly determined to drink till he had died of alcohol poisoning. He was sad. Simple and straight forward, he wanted to taste the sweet kiss of death, however he wasn't even going to chance killing himself. Because someday, Phil might return to him. 

His lips easily slipped around the tip of the bottle, and he downed more than he had intended. His stomach gurgled uncomfortable, and Dan hiccuped, he set the drink down, and paid the amount he assumed was suitable, before drunken footsteps found their way to an empty home. His vision would come in and out of focus, and he'd watch the passing of the car lights as he thin and fragile body would walk through the cold streets. Seeking the not-so-warm-warmth of his home. The air was bitter, and unforgiving, reddening the exposed skin that no longer fit in the shell of Dan's jacket. He wiped his raw nose with the back of his hand, sniffling and breathing slowly. His hair had grown quite a bit, though he didn't bother to manage it, he didn't have anyone to impress, and he hardly walked into the daylight of social activity anymore. So he sat and simply though 'what's the point? Let it grow to my hips, I don't care'  

The slam of the door shutting echoed throughout the home, and out of self pity and hope he shouted, "I'm home!' into the empty apartment, and waited a few moments for a reply. But the voice he wanted to hear didn't come, instead he was met with a soul eating silence. He stared up the hollow and dark stairwell, standing for a few moments, swaying slightly as he held onto the railing. He was expecting Phil's tired voice to break through the emptiness, but still nothing rang through. Phil wasn't home, and Phil hadn't been home in a few months. And Dan did nothing but blame himself, it was /he/ who did this to someone whom of which he loved so dearly, it was /he/ who broke the hearts of Phil's family, and destroyed his life, it was him and /only/ him who had done this. Well, in Dan's mind that's how things played out. Phil had fallen asleep on the cold pavement months ago, and Dan had never seen those scared eyes open since. He remembered stroking Phil's pavement burned cheek, watching the blood drip from his ears and forehead as he told him he would be okay over and over and over until he watched tired eyes close, despite Dan's begging for Phil to stay awake. 

"You have to keep your eyes open Phil, promise me you won't fall asleep!" 

But Phil had done just that, and because of Dan, he was withering away in the care of hospital attendants. That night was crystal clear, a wind nipped at the pair as they walked down the street from their very own flat. Dan saw into the window through to the cafe, and he had groaned, pointing Phil and telling him to get get them in line as quick as he could. Phil had rolled his eyes in response, wanting to know the reasoning behind why he should run just to get them coffee.However he had done it anyways, and the screech of tires was the sound that covered Dan's shout. The front of the car colliding with Phil, hitting him sharply just above the hips, his arched backwards, body falling limp on the black ice that laced the road. Dan didn't get the time to apologize, he didn't get the time to cry, or to tell Phil how much he needed him to stay. He never got to tell Phil how much he needed him in his life, he didn't tell him how important he was to him, and now he believed he'd never get the chance to admit to those feelings. 

"You're such a fucker you know that?!" Dan shouted into the apartment, voice bouncing off the ears and revealing the slurred sound of his words to himself. "You think you can just walk out of my life and fall into a coma?! You don't have the bloody right to!" He screamed, voice raw from the seemingly unruly amount of time he had spent crying. "I hate you! I hate you I hate you I fucking hate you! You ruined me!" 

Phil was living his life asleep in a hospital bed made out of foam that wasn't fit for a dog, when he could be out achieving every life goal he had set for himself, he could be travelling, marvelling in the sites. Even visiting his family seemed like the highlight right now, any damn thing that was of relative importance to Phil mattered way too much to Dan. He never thought he'd be living out those scenarios he played like a movie reel in his mind, however here he was, slumped against a dirty white wall and calling out for Phil, asking- begging for him to return, so everything could get back to normal. He wanted what he had strived so hard to get for back, his best friend. He had lived so long without someone to depend on, and after four fucking years of happiness god decided to play one last game and mad Dan's life rip itself to shreds in front of his very eyes. Dan waned happiness, and he had finally achieved that, he didn't understand why he deserved this, and he spent nights with alcohol pumping through his veins while he contemplated the options. 

A scream tore itself from Dan's vocal chords, it made his eyes teary and his hands clenched into fists. He was so built up on anger and melancholy that they had taken over his sense of feeling. Sending the young man into full fledged rampages, breaking and shattering objects around him, but he never touched a thing that belonged to Phil. His head reverberated as it came into contact with the wall, a soft sigh falling from white and chapped lips. Dan breathed easily for a moment, air filling his lungs and exhaling slowly. He knew his behaviour was laughable and brash, but he couldn't release the built up hatred within himself easily. In fact, nothing had been easy since Phil had nearly passed away, nothing had gone back to normal and absolutely nothing made him feel the same. Phil made Dan feel like himself, Phil made Dan feel wanted, and important. Dan was sick of praying for Phil to return, the stress and sorrow had already taken a tole on his body, and he was getting tired of hoping for Phil to get better. It was a fool's paradise to think so. 

Worn eyes stared at the stairs in front of them, and they almost expected PHil to appear from the door behind, asking what was wrong and providing a place of comfort for the younger. Dan was suffering with the loneliness, but he attempted to stay strong, he tried hard to smile and he would tell himself that Phil would wake up, and he would get to see his resplendent face once more. But in the back of his head a creature was snickering, the mind made up animal braking through his words of hope, and telling him how thick-skulled he was to believe such lies. Dan had nothing else to work on anymore, nothing to live with but empty bottle of liquor and a broken heart. He was resilient to giving in, yet to some it already seemed as if he had given up. Dan had gained foul habits, subjecting himself to heavy amounts of alcohol in a dim witted hope that it would help free him from his pain, help him forget a little. It only made him more unstable and dangerous, but the drinking reoccurred almost every night, and Dan was honestly surprised he hadn't needed to get his stomach pumped. He believed the amounts of alcohol got him through his strenuous work days, however old friends differed in their opinion. 

-

Nowadays, phone calls can change a lot in a person, they could bring bliss and euphoria, or anguish and heartache. This is why Dan was afraid to answer phone calls, the hospital often rang his phone, informing him of Phil's condition. Every time he had answered the call button he was petrified he would receive bad news, but that call hadn't come, not just yet, at least. The doctors had sat Dan down several times, and discussed the possibility of letting Phil go, but Dan wasn't going to give in to their words, he was going to keep Phil in the care until he himself was old and grey, he couldn't let him die, and he was more than thankful when Phil's parents had agreed to the same thing. The couldn't let their baby die, and Dan never wanted to hug a pair of people more for giving Phil more  time to break through. That day, the doctor had informed Dan that Phil may never wake up, but Dan had shook his head, he was quick to believe Phil would recover in front of others, excluding himself. 

Dan's phone buzzed in his back pocket, playing an tune he had soon anointed with being annoying after only a week of using it. It woke him from his drunken slumber, and as he smacked his lips he pulled it from his jean pocket, and brought it up to his ear as he pressed 'answer'. The soft words that were spoke through the receiver made him feel dizzy, and he hardly got out any words that made sense as he stood, mumbling absolute nonsense as he rushed down the stairs, virtually tripping over his own feet as his toes caught the heel of his foot. He was trembling, and as uncoordinated feet ran down the streets, something that seemed to be a smile appeared on his lips. Britain residents grumbled filthy words behind Dan's back as he ran past, but Dan's heart pulsed and beat against his ribcage, and he couldn't hear a word besides the rush of his own blood pumping and squeezing through his veins. His knuckles had turned red, and they were bruised, his mouth still tasted of the dirt he deemed fit beer,  and his hair remained disheveled as he walked into the hospital. 

People get lonely. 

And it's normal, of course it is. To feel such an emotion that is so vast in difference from it's very similar companion alone. To be alone is to be by oneself, in solitude, probably with a laptop or overdue homework..And perhaps both. People choose to be alone, and it's normal because not everyone likes to be around others, not everyone likes to be shoved into the uncomfortable bubble of a new person who could be their new companion. Being alone with a book, or a pencil and paper, can be relaxing and often relieving. A cuddle with your favourite fluffy blanket and teddy bear is enough to make one smile, or a cup of tea to steam by the hand of an absent newspaper reader. Alone isn't always a nice word. When sadness pangs a person heart and they find themselves without others for a shoulder to cry on, they do feel alone. However, there's always someone out there to dry your tears. 

Being lonely, shares similarities with alone, however happiness is not a common trait between the two. Lonely is an emotion to some, when solitude and silence is all someone knows, and the soft smiles of others is the small chance they have been given into a pathway of friendship. People who are alone have friends, but they don't know how to reach out for help. Their vocals chords wind around one another silencing the pained victim as so they cannot cry for the ones they love, the people they cherish. Lonely is not a good thing. And Phil, wasn't alone. 

Today had been positively boring, boring is a bland word, and Phil didn't favour it in the least, but it fit perfectly to that day he was struggling through. Bland, bleak, uneventful if you wish. Every second he endured seemed to be a gruelling one, the clock teasing him with the slow hands that just barely mimicked the familiar 'tick tock' of an original (and more fast paced) clock. The pad of his fingertip tapped the top of his desk -his fingernails having been chewed off to an awful habit he had obtained- and they went along with the clocks sluggish hands. Phil's lips mouthed the number is was on, stopping at sixty and quickly returning to one before the clock had gotten there before his own conscious thoughts. English was a favourable course, but Phil was begging father time to speed up, and he seemed to have gotten his wish, as the bell rang and he was dismissed to lunch. 

Kids rushed out of the classrooms and crowded the already cluttered hallways, bumping into one another without so much as an apology. Phil didn't mind, how could he? It happened everyday, and if he was to complain about it, he  might as well keep his thoughts to himself. His footsteps sounded down the hallway with many others, and within moments he was muttering profanities as he tried to open his lock, sighing when it finally 'clicked' and unlocked. He pushed his stuff hastily into his locker, grabbing the small bag that had lunch he made this morning in it. 

"And I see you're still eating sandwiches." Pj commented as the pair sat down, Phil rolling his eyes at the small chuckle that fell from the others lips. 

"I can't make anything else Peej, I'm not a chef." Phil retorted, and Pj nodded in slight agreement. 

The two ate in relative silence, one person making a comment every so often about someones getup to their uniform, or rambling over homework that they didn't want to finish. The bag Phil's lunch was in now contained garbage from both Pj's and Phil's lunch, and it lay on the table between the pair, the plastic crinkling so often as Phil had begun fiddling with it. Absent words began to fumble out of Phil's mouth, and it wasn't till he heard an ear piercing screech that he had finally shut up and paid attention to his wide eyed friend, who was suddenly frantic to get out of his seat.  Phil straightened up in his seat and slowly turned around. People running past blurred his sight, and it wasn't until he stood that he had seen a familiar figure, stood up on the centre wooden table of the cafeteria, 

Daniel Howell, had a gun, and it was cocked and pressed to his temple.

Phil's throat had gone dry, the thudding of his heart covering the sound of white noise and shouts. Teachers loomed at the edge of the room, keeping the students back from their unstable peer. Phil had been caught up in his panic, as he now realized that he was alone. People watched nervously as Dan's gaze lowered to the ground, and Phil winced when his hand tightened around the black shell of the handgun. PHil let out a soft cool breath, and stood from his seat, slowly stepping out over and facing the man who still stood on top of the table two tables away from Phil. Phil's demeanour was calm, though his insides were scrambling for him to do something. Dan, Daniel Howell was going to shoot, and it wasn't going to be Phil's blood that would stain the tiled floor. 

Phil edged closer to Dan, and froze in his spot when Dan's gaze tore from his feet, and locked onto Phil's face. His gaze was blank but full of question all at one time. He was hesitating to pull the trigger, his finger rested on it and he was so close to the sweet kiss of death but he lingered right on the edge, just barely peering over the fence. 

"Dan," Phil breathed, his breath hitching when Dan reacted to the soft tone, and his composure nearly broke. 

He was a bomb, and Phil knew that if he cut the wrong wire, he would set Dan off, and it would be the last of the lovely man everyone knew. Dan was always sporting a smile, and his words constantly worked their way into any conversation, the young man wanting to be heard, and to be listened to. Dan had a beautiful voice, and a friendly outlook that most people would fall in love with on moments greeting. He had put himself out there as a role model, regardless if he wanted the title or not. And now he was crumbling before everyone, the hand that held the gun shaking in his grasp. He was revealing what he was hiding, and it was heart breaking and oddly beautiful. Phil wasn't one to call tragedy beautiful, but this was something his own poetic words could not explain. 

Another step, and Dan tensed. 

"Dan, put the gun down." Phil murmured, voice soft and smooth. He needed to get rid of the most dangerous thing there. 

Dan had shaken his head, and Phil nodded. His own stance was uptight, as he could feel the eyes of teachers and students boring into him from almost every direction. They watched him and Dan, and many were crying. Much like Dan was, however the boy cried silently, weeping quietly as if he was afraid to capture the attention of anyone. Suddenly Phil was remembering what Dan had said in his English class the year before, the dapper young man standing before the class and ranting over a subject that everyone paid attention to. Dan seemed to love to be the centre of everyones thoughts, he liked being told what he did was good, and he thrived off of good motivation. 

Phil had taken two steps, and Dan swallowed. "I've got one bullet, and you're not stopping me." His voice cracked and skipped over, and it broke Phil's heart to hear what was such a confident voice be degraded to such a pitiful sound. 

"You don't have to do this," Phil said, and kept his eyes on Dan as he stepped closer, only one table distancing them. Dan's body language was important, and Phil was certainly paying attention. "This isn't the answer to your problems. That gun isn't going to fix anything Dan, I can promise you that." Dan's jaw had clenched, and it seemed like his grip had faltered slightly, however he tightened moments after, and stood up straighter. 

"I've run out of options." Dan squeaked, "Faking confidence doesn't work anymore. Nobody listens to you when y-you've got it good." 

"I'll listen." Phil said, and chanced a small smile at the fragile boy. He stepped closer, hands hanging in the air near his chest as to show he meant no harm. "You know I'm a good listener," Dan shook his head once more, and a frustrated noise left the man. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and let out a strained breath, pressing the cool metal of the handgun further into his temple. 

"Your words-s can't change anything. I've heard it all Phil," Dan started, sniffling. His red rimmed eyes stared directly into Phil's calmer ones, and it was obvious the amount of rage that was storming behind brown eyes, but Phil wasn't scared. 

"Stories always used to make me happy," Phil said, inching closer, hoping his proximity wasn't something Dan was aware of. "Even the girly ones make me happy." He added and watched Dan's lips press together in a thin line. "Can you imagine being a kid again?" Phil asked, and Dan slowly nodded, "Getting excited for a new day, laughing when you got ice-cream on your nose. All those happy moments. They are apart of you Dan." He said, and watched Dan uncomfortably shift in his position. "The sad ones are too, and sometimes they overpower the good. Like when you ride your bike and fall off, scrapping your knee and ruining what could be a perfect day. I used to ruin my friends day all the time, destroying her barbie dolls and putting them back together when she was upset." 

"It's not that easy anymore, Phil. You don't understand." Dan said. There was a sheen of sweat slicked across his forehead, and his fringe had fallen into his eyes, however Dan did not move to fix it, afraid Phil would lunge when he decided he was most vulnerable. 

"I may not Dan, but you can teach me to understand." Phil said and winced when Dan's loud voice rang over his calm thoughts; 

"But you won't listen! You'll sit and act concerned and the second /you/ get uninterested you'll be gone! Because I'm too good to have problems right? I'm too happy to have any other bloody emotion besides happiness!" Dan's voice boomed throughout the cafeteria, echoing slightly as it bounced off the walls to grate against Phil's ears once again. 

"There have been people who have jumped off the Golden gate Bridge, and survived." Phil squeaked, and licked his lips when he registered the confused look on Dan's features. "Every single one of them have a key thing in common. They all realised, about a two thirds of the way down, that al their problems were solvable, that every little thing that drove them to take control of their death was fixable. If you pull that trigger Dan, you won't get that moment. You won't get the time to think about what you are doing, because when that bullet pierces your skull, you'll be gone, a non existent life form that I and many others will mourn for. Think. Think with me about all your problems. 

"Think about that small thing that made you upset, or whatever has been driving you from the start of all this. Think about if you were in the position of a surviving jumper, what would you say to yourself as you fell?" Phil's words had plucked on a nerve with Dan, as the many was shaking, no longer standing tall and confident. The gun was flattering from his grip only slightly, and tears waved over his lashes, sating his cheeks and streaking down with a glistening trail before the collected at his chin, and dropped to the floor. 

Phil was stood near the edge of the rounded-wooden table that Dan stood upon, the fragile gaze of the other piercings Phil's gentler one. He was patient, and he watched Dan tremble, neither man breaking eye contact once as memories and rationalised thoughts fought with one another in Dan's brain. 

"If I was I survivor…" Dan murmured, voice cutting through the silence easily. "…and I-I was falling fr-from that bridge. I'd ridicule myself." He breathed, "I w-would tell myself how stupid I was-s for letting my own brain, and l-loneliness, do this too me." Hope flickered in Phil's eyes, and he silently edged the boy onwards, "I would close my eyes and cry-y for those few moments I had, and I would think I was stupid for st-stepping foot off the railing, b-because problems are always solvable, I just never looked for the answer hard enough." 

"Then step down from the railing, Dan." 

Dan's resolve had cracked, his body failing in the ability to hold him upright any longer. His shoes squeaked as he stepped down over the edge of the table, frantic motions driving his body to collide with Phil's. He was searching for comfort, for a voice that would tell him everything would be okay again, that this was only going to be one time, and that he'd know what true happiness was like soon. Phil's arms were quick to wrap around Dan's shaking frame, holding the younger flush against his body in one swift movement. He supported Dan's frame with strong and caring arms, Dan having nuzzled into Phil's chest. Slowly, Phil's pale fingers moved down Dan's arm, slipping between the gap of Dan's palm and the gun, and taking it from his grasp. Phil didn't waste a second in disposing of the gun the only way he knew how, throwing it across the room and listening to it bounce around on the old tile floor. Phil's grip hadn't faltered once, in fact his grip had tightened on Dan, chests still pressed up against one another's. Dan was blubbering out words that Phil couldn't understand, sniffling and snivelling as he attempted to get a grip on himself as people began to flood the room. However they had only come into retrieve the gun, and in moments notice Phil and Dan were alone again, wrapped up in each others embraces. Phil hadn't noticed the tears that were travelling down his own face, but his attention was only partially divided to himself, as he was focused on Dan, and his words. 

Their fingers were linked together, fitting together smoothly as they walked hand in hand. Dan’s expression did not match the one of his boyfriends, instead his lips were tugged down at the corners, and his eyelids drooped. Bags hung under brown eyes, and they were the side effect of guilt. Dan felt nothing but utter guilt, and he knew all of it was his fault. He couldn’t place the blame on another living person, no one but himself was fit for the taking. Dan had gotten himself into a relationship he no longer wanted, he was holding the hand of a person he no longer loved. To see Phil’s warm hearted and unknowing smile everyday hurt, because Dan knew he would soon strip his best friend of that smile, and he knew it would take years to repair. With a skilful hand and precise stitches, slowly bringing pale lips into a smile. His gaze casted over to Phil’s, and a weak smile forced it’s way up onto his lips. Though it immediately fell when Phil’s expression turned into a concerned one.

  “What’s wrong?” He asked, words laced with confusion and slight paranoia. Phil turned his heel, and stopped the both of them, his gaze still set upon the younger man. This was a usual run for Phil, he cared about Dan, and the last thing he wanted Dan to be was upset, or hurt. “Is something on your mind?” As he spoke his grip tightened on Dan’s hand, however Dan slipped his fingers from the grasp. Phil swallowed a thick lump in his throat, his empty hand opening slightly for Dan to take if he wished.

  “I… I’ve been hiding something from you, Phil.” Dan started. He licked over his lips and pressed them together, watching Phil’s eyes contort from a look of concern to one of fright.

  And then the worry began to set in. Dan could admit he was afraid, he was afraid of how Phil would react, and he was worried that Phil would take this to heart. Phil had often ignored his emotions, setting the negatives ones aside to focus on the uplifting, and happy ones. At the start of their friendship, Phil would come to Dan for help, for guidance. He would ask him to bring him a little bit of peace, to be comforted. But after this, Dan knew Phil wasn’t going to run to him.

  Phil shifted uneasily on his feet, and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Hiding something…?” He repeated, and bunched his hands up into fists when a wounded look was set on him. He was sure Dan could hear his heartbeat, as the sound of blood rushing was all that was filling his ears. He was anxious to hear what Dan had to say; had he cheated on him? Had one too many and winged out on a one night stand? That was the only question flooding Phil’s mind, though what he was met with proved to be worse.

  Dan had nodded at the words, and gently adjusted the fringe on Phil’s forehead as he breathed out a shaky sigh. “I can’t be in a relationship with you anymore.” The words came out as strained, though he fought to finish his sentence, despite the lack of pain he showed.

  Then came what Dan feared; silence. Nothing but the blurred murmured words of those around them, a jumble of words spliced together to fill the silence the two were sharing. His gaze was locked with the older males, and the hurt behind them was evident. Phil’s mouth moved, but no words came out. He looked as if someone had taken something of value away from him, though; Dan supposed he had done just that. His hand fell down to his side, and he watched Phil’s eyes flicker over his face, looking for something, anything- to show that he was joking. But Dan’s face portrayed an uncaring emotion, and Phil was unsure of what hurt more.

  “Y-you don’t want to be with me anymore?” Dan’s heart ached when Phil spoke, the pain behind his voice obvious, and as it tittered off at the end, Dan knew he would be met with tears.

  “I’m sorry, I just don’t feel the same anymore. At the beginning of our relationship I was sure this was what I wanted. I thought I would love waking up to see you beside me every morning. I thought that when I held your hand I would never want to let go… But I’m not happy with us, and it’s been substituted with guilt.” Dan rambled, his words crossing on in an endless string that repeated over and over in Phil’s head. Tears brimmed blue eyes as he nodded, forcing out an ‘I understand’ as a weak response to the strong one of his counterparts.

  Phil was holding his breath, desperate not to look so affected by this. But how could he not show any emotion? How could he not show any pain? He loved Dan, and he had always felt as if Dan loved him in the exact same way. He loved the morning kisses and the late night talks, the meaningless cuddles at 2am and the constant conversations about tomorrow. He took a step back and sniffled, a hand coming up to rest on Dan’s chest when the younger had stepped closer. “Don’t.” He muttered, and ducked his head as he let his hand fall.

  “I thought you loved me.” Phil whispered, a knot tying in his stomach that only seemed to get worse and worse with each and every syllable that came out of Dan’s mouth. This was cruelty, and he never thought he would experience such pain, to be rejected, humiliated all because he was foolish enough to believe his best friend was in love with him. Everything suddenly felt fake, all the ‘I love you’s’ they had shared no longer held any meaning, and it was ripping Phil apart at the seams. He was angry, frustrated, and he felt as if he had been completely violated of his thoughts and feelings, anything that he had shared with Dan almost seemed to be tainted.

  “I trusted you, Dan. And you decide to end this with ‘I don’t love you anymore’?!” He questioned, his voice growing in strength, “Why would you hold my hand if you felt that way? Why would you tell me you loved me if you didn’t?” He blabbered. Before he could control himself tears were streaking down his face, and his hand smacked Dan’s away when he attempted to wipe them away. Phil wasn’t going to give into Dan’s kindness, and he certainly wasn’t letting Dan guilt trip him.

  “I never thought it would be you. I thought you would always be there. And that if we ended our relationship it would be because of an actual reason, not because of false love. But as always, I guess I thought wrong.” Phil’s words shook as he got to the end of the sentence, and it looked as if Dan was fighting to squeak some words out of his own.

  “Look Phil I’m sorry-“ Dan’s words were cut off by a sharp smack to the face, his cheek sweltering up in a bright red.  His fingers grazed over the now throbbing area, and he looked up at Phil, tears welting in his left eye. “Don’t you dare.” Phil muttered, “I don’t want to hear your fucking apology,” He snapped, “I don’t even want to hear you speak. Because for all I know, those words could be fake too.”

For once, Phil knew his words would cut straight through Dan, and he intended for them to hurt. He wanted Dan to experience the pain he was feeling, the worthlessness of not being wanted. “All of this was a lie, wasn’t it?” He asked, a faux smile on his lips. “You just waltzed into my life thinking you ‘loved’ me. Don’t tell me you thought wrong, because you damn well know what being in love feels like, you made me fall for you.” He wiped his eyes and took in a deep breath, standing up straighter and looking Dan directly in the eye.