AN: Hi guys! Sorry I've been MIA for so long, but I'm back! I don't really know where this is going, so this might just be a one-shot. But probably not... Reviews?

Disclaimer: I ah-bviously don't own Dan or Phil. But that would be cool, in a really weird way.

Also, I don't wish this kind of thing on anybody, believe me, it's awful. And I hope that this never happens to either Dan or Phil.

WARNING: This is probably triggering, 'cuz if it is for the writer then it probably is for the reader. So don't read if you get easily upset. Also, may contain ah-dorable, angsty homosexual fluff later on, so if you don't like, then don't read!

Dan fell asleep on the couch with his sleeve rolled up. Now, for anybody else, nobody would notice or care. But this was different. Because Dan cut, so rolling his sleeve up was not an option. Ten new cuts were added to his massive collection today, and the blood was starting to dry when he fell asleep on the couch at almost 1 in the morning.

Phil woke up at nearly 2, he needed to use the bathroom. Afterwords, he went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, when he saw Dan laying on the couch.

Silly Dan, he thought. Must have fallen asleep on the couch again. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. So when Phil walked over to look at Dan, he was totally not prepared for this. What the hell? he thought, Why was Dan's wrist bleeding? He leaned in, and saw the horrible truth. Ten fresh, new cuts were on Dan's wrist. Phil started to shake. This was so bad and he was so scared. Nudging Dan a little, he tried to wake him up. Dan didn't move. By now Phil was petrified, and he grabbed his friend and shook him.

"Dan!"

Dan opened his eyes.

"What's going on?" He asked groggily, then realised his sleeve was rolled up and tried to quickly but subtly pull it down. "Why are you awake at-" he glanced at the clock "2 in the morning?"

"I think the more important question is why do you have cuts all over your arm?" Phil said. He was not only shaking, now, but also stuttering. Dan avoided his friend's gaze. "Dan? W-what's going o-on?"

Dan forced himself to get up slowly, then he took off towards the hall. Phil was faster than him, though, and pounced on him, tackling him and pinning him down by the arms and hips, which was not the best idea considering that Dan cut.

"Phil get off! You're really hurting me," Dan whined, wincing. Phil looked him in the eye: "You swear you're not going to run off into the lounge or something if I let you up?"

"I promise," Dan said, and Phil let him up. He stood up, brushed off his jeans, then sped down the hall to his room, locking his door.

"Come on, Dan. Really?" Phil called, but he'd already locked himself in his adjoining bathroom. Dan slid his back down the cold tiles of his bathroom, until he sat on the floor, knees close to his chin. Tears spilt down his tan cheeks, crying silently. Sobbing for everything that mattered to him: Phil, his best friend who he secretly loved as more than a friend; Youtube, the place he could rant about whatever and people would listen; and now that he thought about it, that was it. Those where the only things he got up every day for. And even those weren't enough. Silently, he got up from the cold tiles and unlocked the bathroom door. Tip toeing into his room, he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. Sitting back on the cold tiles of his bathroom floor once again, he began to write.

"Dan? Are you okay?" Phil called through the door. He got no response. "Dan? I'll be in my room if you need me, okay? I just need you to know I'm here for you," he said, and went into his room. Phil was still concerned, but he decided Dan just needed space. A little voice in the back of his mind told him he should be there, to hold Dan and let him cry, because he loved him. Shut up, Phil told the voice. This is not the right time to tell him about how you really feel.

Dan was still crying as he finished what he was writing. He folded up the note with Phil's name on it and put it on the floor of his bedroom, sliding it under the door a little bit. Going into the bathroom again, he got out his razor blade and 2 bottles of pills. Sliding down to sit on the floor again, a fresh wave of tears pooled in his eyes. He knew this was it, he had reached the point of no return, and to be quite honest, he didn't care anymore. Picking up his blade, he turned it over in his hands a few times before he took a shallow, shaky breath, and angled the blade over his wrist. He made one long, deep slice down either forearm, then stood up and walked over to the sink. Opening the cap of the first bottle of pills, he shook some into his now shaky hand. Dan popped the twelve little sleep pills into his mouth, and rinsed them down with some water. He looked back down, and swallowed another, just for 'luck'. Thirteen seemed like a good number. Opening the second bottle, he started to feel woozy and tingly all over, like his entire body had been given Novocain at the dentist's office. He smirked a little, then shook more pills into his palm. Swallowing more or the extra-strength painkillers than his brain could count properly, especially being so drugged, he sank back to the floor. Blood was everywhere, but he didn't mind. It was such a nice colour, too nice to sit around inside a person where nobody could see. He could feel himself slipping away, there was no turning back now, not that he wanted to. Holding the middle three fingers of his left hand to his lips, then saluting, he whispered "Bye, my lion." Dan felt the drugs pull him under, and knew it was over. AN: See what I did there? Hunger Games reference!

Meanwhile, Phil was sitting in his room, trying to read a book but really just listening to see if Dan was okay. After not hearing any sounds of life for almost a half hour, Phil was beginning to get really scared. Tears began to form in his eyes, though he wasn't entirely sure why. Walking out of his room, he tiptoed over to Dan's room and knocked on the door. "Dan? Are you okay in there? You've been in there a really long time, I'm worried about you," he called, and then noticed the paper on the floor. Picking it up, he unfolded it and started to read.

Phil,

This is it. You've found out that I cut. By now I'm probably dead. Sorry you get to find out this way. But life was too hard, and I'm sure it will go on without me. You meant a hell of a lot more to me than I was okay with for a long time, because of the way I am. And that way is bisexual. And if you haven't put all the pieces together by now, I'm in love with you. I always have been. But if you went back to when I was little, I was bullied. So much. In 10th grade I realised that I was bi, and everything got so much worse. I started cutting, but nobody really seemed to notice, or if anyone did notice they didn't care. I thought when I moved out after secondary school things would be different. But no, of course not. Nothing's changed. And when I met you I knew I loved you right away. So I'm sorry. For all of it. But mostly, because you're the one who has to pick up after my own shitty mess. Because I realised something: for most people, depression is just a chronic disorder you live with for the rest of your life that can be controlled. But for me, it's become a terminal illness. I made it easy for you to tell people what's happened. On the desktop of my laptop, there are three videos I made. One for you, one for my family, and one for the viewers. They are labelled. It won't be too hard to do. This is really long but you have to know what's going on.

Love your llama,

Dan

Phil had new tears streaming down his cheeks by the time he was done reading. No. No this can't be happening. He tried to turn the door handle but it was locked. Thankfully, he still remembered how to pick locks from when he wanted to be a magician, and he soon stood in the middle of Dan's cluttered room.

"Dan?!" he shouted, sobbing. No reply came but he notice that the bathroom door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open all the way, collapsing on the floor. No no no no no no no! Laying on the cold tile surrounded by his own blood, lay Dan, very pale. He wasn't breathing, but Phil's shaking hands could find a very faint pulse.

"Oh God, Dan! Why?! Noooooooooooooooo!" He screamed, holding Dan's limp body in his lap. His shriek had alerted the motherly lady who lived next door, who by that point had come over and immediately called an ambulance, hoping against all hope that they could save Dan.

"Shhhh, Phil, it's going to be okay. The ambulance is coming, they'll make it better."

Phil just sat on the floor, holding onto Dan, crying silently into his hair. The ambulance got there just then, and Dan was put on a stretcher. Phil was allowed to come in the ambulance with him, but he had to stay in the corner and not make a fuss.

Phil's POV

The EMT guys immediately began checking Dan out, giving him one of those things to help him breathe. I'm still crying, but I'm staying in the corner like I promised. They must still think he's alive because he's hooked up to a lot of machines. One of them is measuring his heart, I think it's called a defibrillator, and even though it was really slow, his heart was still beating. We come to a stop, and everything is going so fast, Dan's rushed inside, radios crackle, and there's a lot of medical lingo shouted back and forth. Suddenly, I'm jarred from my thoughts by the guy who drove the ambulance.

"You getting out, son? 'Cause otherwise you have to ride around with me all day," he says kindly. I'm still crying, so I only nod, and he helps me climb down.

"Th-thanks," I squeak, and he just smiles at me. I walk into the emergency room. I walk up to the desk and ask the lady, "Excuse me, do you know what room Daniel Howell is in? He just got here a few minutes ago."

"Oh, that poor boy who was being revived?" She asks me. I nod. "He's gone into surgery. You're going to have to wait out here," she smiles sadly at me. "How are you guys related, sweetie?"

"Um... He's my boyfriend," I stammer. I know this is the only way to be allowed to see him, even though it feels wrong to say that. Not that I don't want to. Because I'm hoping against all hope that if he is okay, he'll still feel the same way about me. Oh God. I said 'if he's okay'. " Ma'am? Do you know if they think he's going to be okay?"

"I don't know, sweetie. It's hard to say." I walk over to the chairs in the waiting room, trying desperately not to cry. But it's no use: more tears have started streaming down my face.

So, what do you think? I kinda feel bad just leaving it there, but I haven't decided what's going to happen next yet. Reviews are the best things ever! 143 guys! 3