In the Company of Strangers: Reflections on 13 Years in the Phandom
“Do you forgive me? For years of dealing with my bullshit?” Dan asked.
“I don’t think I need to forgive you. It’s not something I’m forgiving. I accepted it.” Phil replied, not skipping a beat.
This was the line that hit me the hardest. Of the 46 minutes and 37 seconds, it’s the one that brought me the closest to tears, the one that made me sit and reflect. I accept it. I choose you.
It reminded me of sitting in the corner chair in David's office, fiddling with a pen, then stopping and apologising. Always receiving the same response: you don’t need to apologise. Not a no biggie, or all good. Never an acceptance of the apology. But also never a direction not to do so. Simply a noting that had apologised, and that it wasn’t something I had to do. A reiteration that I’m allowed to be an inconvenience, to take up space.
Before today, when someone outside of the fandom would ask me if they were together, I never knew how to answer – never really knew how to explain why I cared for them so much either if I’m honest. From people within the fandom it was easy, a bit of gossip, a way to express our shared interest. But answering it with people outside of the fandom, in the real world, that was always much harder. Yes - they have a mortgage, they’ve called each other soulmates. But also no - they haven’t said they are, and it’s not my job to add to speculation.
My theory was always that they were. That Dan was terrified, and that Phil thought Dan was worth waiting for. Even though I now know it to be true, it feels so improbable. 16 years together. 16 years of having their every interaction critiqued, of relying on only each other. TATINOF. Daniel and depression. Introverted extroverts. The hiatus. Being in a closeted relationship. Dan's overwhelming fear of being known and tied down to a single identity. And Phil, saying I love you and I see you and I choose you, over and over again. I love you on purpose.
Now, as an adult with a fully developed frontal lobe, I can recognise that much of this was projection, a mirror I built to see myself more clearly. I crave few things more than to have someone pick me, over and over again, in every lifetime. I’m lonely, and they showed me what not being alone could look like, and in doing so became the only constant company I’ve ever known.
I found them in year eight, two odd-balls who were best friends, who cared and who made me laugh. In year 9 I met H, and we bonded over our shared attachment. I watched their every YouNow livestream before school, their banter steadying my breathing. They reminded me that dying wasn’t the only way out — that being alone didn’t mean I would always be.
I remember being so angry to find out there wasn’t reception at the house we were staying at for Christmas 2014 (year 10). Gaming-mas was the only part of Christmas I was looking forward to, a reprieve that was just for me, my time, and it felt like it had been wrenched away and stomped on. Oh, you thought you’d have solace on this trip away you’re dreading? No, no. We’re taking that too.
In 2016 I got to see them live on stage, just meters away from me – there, in real life. With my crush?! My also gay crush who I was falling harder and harder for by the second? The one who looked showed up in a gorgeous blue dress for the high school dance and may have also been crushing on me? The one who I was so scared of getting close to because I thought she’d be able to see right through me? That one?? That’s who I first saw Dan and Phil with?
Three years and one relationship later, I watched Dan’s coming-out video on the bus home from uni. I texted L rapidly, flooded with sympathy, sorrow, and a strange kind of pride for a man I’d never meet. Two more years passed, Dan now off the internet and I spent my morning walks to work listening to their voices, seeking out their comfort in the cold of a new place.
K and I quickly found the connection and began to make constant comparisons, her the sunshine and me the darkness. I fell harder and harder with every comparison, if Dan and Phil were in love, then surely we were too. But maybe that’s what friendship looks like from the outside — devotion mistaken for something larger. Together we survived a household breakdown, shared late-night talks, and me completing my masters thesis. We saw Daniel Howell live on stage as he dreamed aloud about the future. I thought we'd be forever.
Two more years passed and I saw them again, new housemates, friends and therapist in towe. The anxiety lingered, in a way that was unexpected. Something still stilted that I couldn't quite reach. And I think this is what was missing. Their whole selves, or as much as they were willing to share. Have the courage to exist. The words echoed throughout me being. Words of wisdom, but a challenge still. Who is me, if not a reflection of you?
I still consume piece of media they make, grateful for Phil keeping Dan alive so Dan could learn to help himself, and for both of them for somehow doing the same for me. Yet two lines from the video linger: I am comfortable being miserable in an environment where I don’t do the thing that would suddenly make me feel better. Because I’m so terrified of all the bad things that could happen. I worry that loneliness is my closet to bear, that it’s been my companion for so long that I don’t know if it will ever leave, or if the time comes I’ll have the courage to let it go. So, for now, I live with it - in the company of strangers who still make me feel seen.
