Warnings: Angst, Panic Attack, Depression, Swearing, like 2% fluff
Summary: Dan has bipolar disorder, he’s broken, to put it bluntly. Even after all this time he can’t fathom why Phil still sticks around.
Some days, Dan Howell is so fuelled by energy that he feels like he could run a marathon, make a thousand videos and paint an artwork so beautiful that it could rival the work of even Van Gogh.
Other days, Dan Howell can almost not find the energy to provide for his breathing, let alone for the rest of his muscles. He lies facedown on the carpet as he wonders what is it about life that makes people want to live?
Or at least, that’s what his therapist says, “that’s okay” coupled with the infamous “it’s not your fault” and sometimes even a “you don’t deserve this” during a really bad session.
And Dan wants to scream. It is his fault! His fault entirely. No one exactly force-fed him the pills when he was 16! The depression that led to it in the first place wasn’t caused by pricks or social injustice, it was caused by an imbalance in his own brain chemistry. Everything was entirely his fault and Dan knew that lying to him wasn’t going to make it otherwise.
Dan doesn’t know why Phil sticks around, as Dan often repeats to his weekly. The standard oh-so-Phil response is a bone-crushing hug, a murmur of “you’re my best friend” and the offer of a mug of tea and a movie marathon.
In all honesty, Dan appreciates Phil’s resilience to stay with Dan. In his deep dark recesses of his mind Dan knows that if it was Phil that was bipolar, while Dan wasn’t, Dan would’ve tried to escape as fast as he possibly could.
Or maybe not, Dan muses as he unfocusly scrolls down tumblr one day while in one of his rare in-between states. Because in the deep, dark recesses of his mind, Dan know that he loves Phil, be it platonic or maybe even something more.
“Dan.” Phil’s voice calling from the kitchen snaps him from his reverie.
“Mhm?” Dan hums back as loud as he can.
“Are you prepared to accompany me on a quest of epic proportions?”
“Depends what it is, if it’s just to fetch carrots then I think not.”
Dan hears Phil’s laugh drift in from the other room, Dan’s pretty sure that that laugh alone could power the whole of London, if not the UK.
“No, I need to find a new tripod considering you broke the last one.”
Dan snorts, “You’re the one who tripped over it.”
“But you’re the one who left in lying in the hallway.” Phil mocks in a sing-song voice.
“Then you should’ve had your glasses on, you dumbo.” Dan muttered, returning to his dashboard.
“Come on, you haven’t seen the sun in days.” Phil’s voice sounds from the doorway.
Dan looks up from where he sits in his sofa crease to see Phil holding out his hand to him.
Dan groans, “If I must.” he says, closing his laptop lid and accepting Phil’s hand, letting him pull him to his feet.
Phil laughs again, as Dan tries to concentrate on anything but the feel of Phil’s hand in his own, trying to ignore how right, how natural it feels.
“Come on.” Phil says, still holding Dan’s hand in his own as he starts to drag him out the room and down the stairs of their flat.
Grabbing both of their coats, Phil pulls Dan down the stairs, both of them giggling like a pair of japanese schoolgirls, the plain joy shining in their faces spreading throughout the flat
Phil drags Dan the last flight of stairs, both of them tumbling onto the tiny metre-wide landing where the entrance of their apartment lay.
Suddenly Dan finds himself nose to nose with Phil. quite literally. Phil, who’s eyes seemed to be illuminated from within. Phil, who’s tongue was sneaking it’s out of the side of his mouth as his face was lit up by a smile which could probably heal cancer patients. Butterflies didn’t even begin to cover what Dan’s was feeling in his wrecked stomach, the sheer presence and closeness of Phil sent his thoughts into a spiralling freefall, as Phil’s fucking smile just the sheer joy in it that seemed to be all directed at Dan, kickstarted his heart into beating ferociously like a trapped bird trying to flutter its way free.
All too suddenly, like the tiniest film of cloud worming its way in front of the sun on a perfectly brilliant day, a thread of concern weaves its way into Phil’s carefree blue.
“Have you taken your pills today?”
And Dan tries his hardest not to scream, they had been in the middle of something that almost seemed like it was taken straight from Dan’s old books that used to sit on his shelf, something out of a fairytale. All of it ripped away by the fucking fact that he was broken. Good for nothing. Either in a state of frenzied energy or death-crushing depression, broken and unfortunately, hopelessly in love with his 100% straight best friend, he realises, letting out a breath as the finality of the situation sinks in.
Dan knows what he should say, he should really run upstairs and gulp them down before heading out. He knows that he should run away from the magical moment that had just transpired, he can sense the tiny tendrils of depression starting to weave their way up into his mind from their resting place in the darkest corner of his mind.
Banishing them with the already fading memory of the euphoria that has spread through him mere moments before, Dan averted his eyes from Phil (he doesn’t think he has the strength to lie while staring straight into Phil’s eyes) and says “Took them this morning.”
Dan moves his eyes back to Phil, feeling a tiny prick of guilt as relief spreads through Phil’s ocean which lies in his eyes.
You really could go swimming in those eyes Dan thinks hazily, as Phil throws him his coat, and Dan retreats up the stairs due to lack of space to quickly slip it on. Phil then hesitantly, holds out his hand to Dan as he opens the door, with barely a moment’s hesitation Dan takes it, their fingers interlocking as Dan silently shuts the door behind him.
And for a moment, even if it was for sheer comfort, Dan can pretend that he and Phil are more then just best friends.
It’s been four hours and Dan can feel himself slipping.
The tendrils that had curled themselves around the edges of his mind earlier had now firmly taken root and had thickened and darkened, casting their shade on even the brightest memories in Dan’s head.
The trip had been a disaster, to say the least. First of all there had been some sort of back-up on the Northern line, which had led to then standing uncomfortably in a dangerously claustrophobic train for 15 minutes. After they had finally stumbled out of that mess, they had found their usual first port of call for filming equipment closed, with no clear reopening date. It was around this point that the sky has darkened considerably, with the static feel in the air of an impending thunderstorm.
Finally, leaving the fourth electronics store they had visited that day with satisfaction hanging in the air, after having finally found a tripod to replace the one which had been broken by the combined effort of both of them. Well the satisfaction was more just Phil’s, Dan, however, was paying for the mistake of not taking his pills earlier in the day.
Dan is on the verge of tears, he can feel the horrible gaping emptiness of depression start to swallow him. As they cross each street, the sickening proximity and rush of people makes Dan’s head spin, and not in the warm and fuzzy way either.
Almost by instinct, Dan reaches out, grasping blindly beside him for Phil’s hand, past the point of caring for who saw them. Feeling Phil gently take his hand in his own only makes Dan cling on tighter, clinging onto Phil’s hand like it was his lifeline, which, he supposed in some ways it was. Dan hears Phil chuckle quietly as he begins to rub his thumb in soothing circles across the back of Dan’s hand.
Dan let’s himself be slowly calmed and comforted by the rough, familiar feel of Phil’s hand in his own, that is, until they are interrupted by a slight cough from behind them.
Dan’s dread and worthlessness comes crashing back him instantaneously, threatening to crush them as they both turn around and spring as far away from each other as physics allows in that busy London street.
The person whom the offending cough belongs to, short in stature, bright red, teenage girl, pulls down the sleeves of her blue and white polka-dotted coat nervously. Dan catches a flash of familiar white letters on one of the numerous wristbands on her arm OFFICIAL PHANDOM MEM-
Dan curses inwardly, the feeling of absolute helplessness and terror being added onto the already crushing weight imposed by the tendrils which have wrapped their way around his mind. Dan wipes his already clean hands frantically on the front of his coat, as though he’s trying to wipe away any evidence of the crime, the fact that a fan just caught he and Phil’s fuckingholding hands.
Dan likes to get caught up in his own little homemade fantasy in which he pretends it’s not platonic, the fan, by her bright red face and muttered apologies thinks it’s not platonic, however the truth is, now matter how bleak, Phil knows it’s not platonic, and both Dan and the fan knows that that’s what matters.
So Dan and Phil do what they do best, the act, they smile and the routine that both of them have danced a seemingly infinite amount of times begins. Phil poses for a selfie, dragging Dan, now feeling even more worthless than before, into the frame. They exchange customary hugs, Dan hoping that the fan won’t notice how hard he’s shaking. How forced each smile is because he’s attempting to keep the tears at bay. How much the universe hates him because every single time a good thing has ever happened to Dan Howell in his life, it is counteracted by an equally terrible thing.
As they bid the fan farewell, they start to walk towards the station for the tube to carry them back to the safety of their flat, both of them keeping the other at arm’s length, desperately trying not to make any sort of contact, physical, eye, hand, with the other person, which harder than it sounds on a busy London street at rush-hour, with a creeping dread of an impending storm hanging in the air.
Dan can feel the rushing sense of dread and the tightening of his throat, as though something is lodged in there. He starts to try and take in deeper breaths, to try and calm himself but people are spinning their way around him and the ground seems to be heaving, every brush against him, instead of feeling apologetic, feels aggressive and only succeed in making his pupil dilate and his breaths more irregular.
Dan can feel Phil giving him a sideways glance of concern but he barely notices, he feels panicky and worthless, totally out of control of his own life. Dan wants to reach out and grab Phil’s hand tightly in his own and never let go but he can’t, fans would notice, it’s not what platonic best friends do, a hundred different contradictory reasons pass through Dan’s brain at the speed of light until it’s too much, it’s too much. Oh god, it’s too much.
And suddenly they’re on the tube the doors are closing and everything is too tight, people are pressed up against him and Dan feels like he is being crushed from all sides. Dan thinks that it couldn’t get worse until he hears a screech of “OHMYGOD IT’S DANANDPHIL.” from behind them.
Dan feels Phil tense up beside him, it’s the other kind of fan and both of them know it. The complete opposite from the quiet, reserved polite girl who they met on the street earlier, the type of fan which was unnecessarily loud, especially nosy, and had zero respect for the fact that Dan and Phil were normal human beings too, with lives and feeling and mistake upon mistake piled on top of them. If Dan wasn’t on the very edge of tears, he would’ve marvelled at how different the two types of fans were.
And suddenly they were in their faces, quite literally, the two fans were pressed up against them, both of them screaming and attracting shifty looks from their fellow passengers.
Phil of course, puts on smile, not quite reaching his eyes, Dan notices through his haze of despair. The fans were making Dan want to run and hide forever, they were being loud, obnoxious, completely disregarding Phil’s feelings with their onslaught of questions and comments. Dan is seriously considering just running away and hiding forever before the fans turn to him and start their interrogation.
Dan no longer quite has the energy to force a full smile, instead dropping into a sort of half-grimace as he concentrates on fighting back the tiny pinpricks at the back of his eyes. The fans’ questions too obnoxiously rude and personal, he wants to either run and never look back or curl up into a tiny ball and scream.
Dan doesn’t know what pushed him over the edge, he has a faint memory of one of the fans basically demanding him to upload more and suddenly Dan can feel tears running down his cheeks, his fake smile drooping down as he retches and tries to breathe, only to find out that he can’t.
Dan knows what it is, Dan knows what it is and he wants to scream except he can’t because he has no energy left as his body attempts to fight off the panic attack. He just stands there, in front of two crazy fans, with tears creating a fucking waterfall cascading down his cheeks.
Karma is really a bitch, Dan thinks faintly, through his panicked attempts at drawing breath and the deep seated searing embarrassment and hopelessness that has started to spread throughout his body.
Dan dimly hears the announcement for their stop ring out through the intercom, he barely hears the muttered words of Phil saying that they have to go as Phil, keeping a tight grip around Dan’s shoulder, starts to push their way out.
Dan is sure that he must’ve blacked out for a second, because suddenly they’re standing outside, with rain just starting to fall, the droplets falling on Dan’s cheeks and mixing with his tears.
Dan barely has the strength to keep his eyes open as Phil hails a taxi and drags Dan inside, quietly telling the driver their address as he draws Dan closer to him.
Any other time Dan would’ve relished the physical contact, he would’ve treasured every second of it, but right now Dan is shivering and stone-cold both inside and out, as the horrible void within him starts to claim every single piece of his soul.
Phil says nothing the entire ride home, he just merely draws Dan closer and keeps him there as tightly as possible, as though he’s afraid that Dan could slip through his fingers at any moment.
The silence between the two remains as they pull up outside their flat, Phil pays the driver, and still hanging onto Dan, drags him inside and starts to help him up the stairs.
The click of the lock is the only sound that echoes between the two as Phil pushes open the door and starts to help Dan make the final ascent towards Dan’s bedroom, Phil quietly helps Dan into his room, and removing Dan’s coat, tucks him into bed before leaving the room.
Now that he’s finally safe and sound, in the comfort of his own room, Dan finally lets himself think of what transpired in the last 20 minutes. Dan closes his eyes as hopelessness devours him, the story will already be circulating the Internet, across tumblr, instagram, twitter, Dan daren’t check, Instead he opts for staring blankly at the wall opposite, wondering what the big hype of being alive actually is.
A quiet knock on the door echoes throughout the room before it opens and Phil’s coming in with a two mugs of tea and a packet of pills in his hand.
Mutely, Dan sits up and accepts the tea, before quickly swallowing the pills which should’ve prevented the whole disaster, if he’s only taken them earlier. As Dan drains his mug, he sets it on his side table as the bed dips under the weight of Phil, who has perched himself on the edge of the bed beside Dan.
“I’m sorry.” Dan whispers, after a while of both of them just sitting in silence.
“it’s not your fault.” Phil answers back almost immediately, taking Dan’s hand and absentmindedly drawing circles in his palm.
“But it is,” Dan shoots back, trying to not let himself be distracted by the pattern being lightly drawn on his hand by Phil’s soft fingers. “I fucking broke down over a simple suggestion.”
“Suggestion?” Phil forces out a short, bitter laugh. “Dan, that was a demand, even if you didn’t take your pills this morning, even if you lied to me.” Dan tries not to burst into tears again at the slight hitch in Phil’s voice “you have every right to react like that, you’re working so hard, just because the fans can’t always see how hard, they have absolutely no reason to mach up to you and demand more, it’s selfish and mindless and just fucking rude.”
Dan starts slightly at the anger in Phil’s voice, Dan is usually the angry, passionate one of the two. Dan honestly can’t remember the last time he heard Phil swear either.
“It still doesn’t change the fact that I’m broken.” Dan retaliates.
“Dan…” Phil’s voice trails off as Dan looks up, shocked to see Phil’s ocean in his eyes brimming up with tears.
“Phil, it’s fine, I know that you’ll end up leaving me one day because of it. I’m broken and you’re the one having to pick up the pieces.” Dan says, hoping that Phil won’t detect the tremor in his voice.
Immediately Phil’s eyes snap to his, “Dan, I promise that I will never leave you, I mustn’t leave you, I can’t leave you.”
Dan sighs, the hollow aching place inside of him where his heart used to reside throbbing painfully “I’ll kick you out then.”
The silence which follows those simple words is deafening, “What?” Phil whispers quietly.
“You heard me.” Dan says sharply, leaning back on his bed and closing his eyes. Too tired to care anymore, only desperate to not have Phil share his burden, “I refuse to let yourself be tied down by some sense of obligation to me.”
“Dan I do all this because you are my best friend and I love you.” Phil replies, his voice catching and hitching as he attempts to choke back the betraying tears.
But not in the way I love you, Dan’s hollow soul throbs painfully, a splash of violent colour among the swallowing grey.
“Prove it, prove it that you’re not just doing all this out of some sense of obligation.” Dan says, tiredness washing over him, threatening to pull him into black nothingness.
Five seconds pass in silence, then ten, Dan silently counts in his head, and just as Dan is convinced that Phil has left the room he feels a warm pressure on his lips.
Dan’s eyes fly open in surprise as he feels Phil’s lips fit against his own, attempting to wriggle some sort of reaction out of him, another second passes before Dan gives him and kisses Phil back for all he’s worth.
Dan feels like he could stay in this moment forever, both of their tears mingling together as they kiss each other desperately, blindly scrabbling onto the other like they were drowning.
All too soon, Phil pulls away, closing his eyes he rests his forehead against Dan’s whispering “Please don’t send me away Dan.”
Dan’s crying and he can barely choke out a “God no.” before he’s pulling Phil back in for another kiss.
I’d like to clarify that I do not have bipolar disorder, nor do I know anyone who has it. All references in this fic is taken from the internet and asking psychologists. I apologise if you feel like I have misrepresented the condition.
