They are frantically searching through Phil's drawer for Dan's shirt, which he just has to wear.
"Dan, seriously, we've got to go, like, now. Just pick a different shirt," Phil orders, impatiently.
"You don't understand. I don't want a different one. I had planned to wear that one and now I don't want to wear anything else, okay?" Dan continues to mindlessly toss Phil's clothing out of the drawers in an effort to find his shirt.
"Okay, but Dan I honestly don't think the shirt is in my room. You should go check your room again. Only don't actually do that. We definitely don't have time. Here just wear this," Phil suggests, holding one of his own shirts in his hands.
"Phil. You know I can't do that. We can't share clothes in public. People will freak out," Dan explains, still searching. "Look, I know you wore that shirt. I saw you wearing it the other night when we were watching Game of Thrones. And, you know, you didn't even ask to wear it, by the way," Dan pointed out. "You seriously lose everything". Dan is increasingly becoming more irritated with Phil and his propensity for messing things up.
"Okay, fine. I lost it, then. But we've got to go the BBC now. I mean right now. I may lose things sometimes, but you're always making us late for things," Phil rebuts.
"Right, okay, that is just not true. We have rarely ever been actually late for anything and you know that, and where the fuck is my shirt?" Dan has become very exasperated with the entire situation and has just stopped even looking for it, just standing still, looking helpless. He, then, turns around and looks at Phil standing there, patiently waiting for Dan to stop it with his childish temper tantrum so they can leave for their job. Dan, then, realizes how ridiculous he is being.
"Are you done now?" Phil asks.
Dan chuckles a bit. "Yeah, sorry. You know, I honestly don't even like the shirt that much. I'll just throw on a different one. Just give me one sec". Dan runs to his room and quickly slips on his Donnie Darko shirt, and meets Phil at the door.
"Oh, you're ready. That's great. Hereee we gooo!" Phil says, imitating Mario from the Super Mario Brothers games, while turning the door knob. Dan laughs at the complete cheesiness and adorableness of what Phil has just done, and he has gone from being intensely frustrated with Phil to being immensely attracted to him. Attracted. These are the word that skitter through Dan's mind. Attracted and adorableness. These aren't words that he is supposed to associate with Phil. Not anymore, anyway. There was a time when those words would have been completely appropriate in this context, but that time has ceased to exist, and now Dan and Phil are just flatmates, friends, and co-workers. That's the way it was supposed to be.Me and Phil are best friends. We get along exceptionally well, because we're best friends, and we care about each other in the way best friends care about each other, and that is all, Dan. Those old feelings are gone. Quit over-analyzing everything for fuck's sake. Dan manages to brush all of those worrying thoughts away, and he decides to not explore that particular topic any further. Forcing such thoughts away is becoming a regular occurrence for him, which creates more worrying thoughts, but he pushes those away, as well. He isn't attracted to Phil, he mentally recites to himself. Phil isn't adorable. Phil just has a quirky, endearing personality that anyone would feel drawn to, and he just sometimes misinterprets it because he is the master in the art over-analyzing. Dan is also quite the master in the art of denial. He didn't used to have to deny his feelings, though. He didn't used to have to repeat that false mantra to himself because it used to be different.
Dan thinks about how they used to spend many of their mornings on the couch. Dan would lie in Phil's lap as Phil wrapped Dan's soft, brown curls around of his fingers. Sometimes they wouldn't say much; often they just would discuss what they were watching on the television. Many times, though, their conversations would veer into something more significant, often unexpectedly.
It was that kind of morning when they were both still dressed in pajama pants and T-shirts. Dan hadn't straightened his curls yet, and Phil was absentmindedly loosely twirling them, and Phil had declared the day as a "no glasses kind of day." Dan felt relaxed as he listened to Phil's rhythmic breathing; Dan loved listening to Phil's breathing. He felt as though everything would always be okay and that he could handle anything as long as he could hear Phil breathe. They were watching a documentary about giraffes and Dan had made a comment about how incredible, albeit, disgusting giraffe childbirth was.
"You know, I'm just really glad you tweeted me all those times," was Phil's response, which caused Dan to chuckle.
"Phil, that has absolutely nothing to do with a baby giraffe falling out of its mother's vagina!" Dan exclaimed, laughter in his voice. He taken somewhat aback, but he was still smiling, causing Phil's lips to form their own smile.
"I know. I just think about it sometimes. Don't you?" Phil asked, softly as though he was embarrassed and regretting saying anything. Dan, though, had long ago adjusted to Phil's tendency to blurt out whatever random thought entered his mind; it was actually becoming a very lovable quality.
"What? About us meeting and stuff? Of course I do. All the time," Dan answered, looking up at Phil.
"I mean, have you really thought about it? Like, imagine if you hadn't tweeted me? Or commented on my videos? Our lives would be so different," Phil further explained.
"If you hadn't been attracted to super hot younger guys, you mean?" Dan winked to indicate he was joking. Phil laughed, but he wasn't done yet.
"It's just… sometimes I feel so overwhelmed. Like, sometimes I just look at you and I'm overcome with this all-consuming love for you, and I realize in those moments how important you are to me, and that if things had been different, we wouldn't know each other. If we hadn't tweeted and Skyped and everything, then I wouldn't have you, and I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have you." Dan had been staring up into Phil's eyes while Phil spoke these words, and Dan had never seen such sincerity and love in anyone's expression before. He couldn't stop the massive grin from escaping his lips.
"Aw, Phil. That's so sweet. You're so sweet. I love you. Like a shit-ton. Wait, that probably doesn't sound romantic. I'm not good at this," Dan noticed a smile form on Phil's lips at this, and he continued, wanting to match Phil's sincerity. "You're incredibly important to me too, okay?" Dan paused to shift himself in a better position so he could see Phil better. "Believe me, I'm really glad, too, that I was an obsessive fangirl…and a slight stalker." Dan was starting to think that it just wasn't possible for him to say meaningful things without also using humor. Phil's soft laughter, however, indicated he didn't mind. They both continued gazing into one another's eyes for a moment until Phil's attention drifted back to the television.
"Giraffes are such strange creatures. Like, did you see that baby just fallout of its mother? I mean, what the hell?" Phil blurted. Dan rolled his eyes and laughed.
"Yeah, Phil, it's not like I was just talking about that or anything," Dan said, feigning annoyance.
"Well, I was focused on more important things at the time. Like how much I love you. And your lips. I was very focused on your soft kissable lips," Phil stated matter-of-factly.
"Is that so? Well… maybe we should turn the TV off, then?" Dan suggested.
"Agreed," Phil said, clicking off the TV with the remote in one hand, while leaning down to kiss Dan's smile.
Those mornings decreased in frequency until they eventually just became nonexistent. Their relationship didn't end with a fight; there was no intensity, no passion to it, and no fireworks. The opposite of the way it had began. It was gradual and subtle and that's what most terrified Dan. He didn't see it happening. They had just stopped showing their love and affection in the ways they had before. Dan thought maybe it was because they had just gotten so busy and they had just stopped viewing the other as the most important part of their lives. The relationship had been based on all-consuming passion and urgency. They had gone so long with only contacting each other through the internet that when they did meet, they gave themselves completely to the other. They would spend every moment together, and they would have constant physical contact with each other. Whether it be kissing or sex, or just softly stroking the other's hand with their thumb, they would always be touching the other. Then, they both had began taking their videos more seriously and were going to conventions and their subscriber counts were increasing drastically. Dan had started to have something else to focus his time on. Of course, there was also just the progression of time that contributed. Time causes everything to fade, Dan thought. When something happens that hurts, they say "time will heal it," because "time heals everything"; this was because eventually the feelings about it become less intense and it's easier to cope, but Dan was realizing this also applied to good feelings. Time just lessens the intensity. Dan and Phil's relationship was unable to endure this.
Dan had been editing one of his videos. It was one of those instances where he was up at 3 AM where he felt his eyes would start seeping blood at any moment. This was also the time, he found, when his editing skills were at their most efficient. The videos he was most proud of were born from sleep deprivation and determination. He eyes were transfixed to his screen. His mind was completely devoted to constructing his video, leaving no room for any other thoughts. So, when Phil walked up to him to ask him a question, Dan hadn't noticed.
"Dan," Phil stated, firmly, with his hand placed on Dan's shoulder. Dan forced himself to avert his eyes from the screen, though thoughts of editing were still freely flowing through his mind.
"What is it?" Dan asked, unable to keep his irritation from tainting the question.
"Hey, why so hateful? I've been trying to get your attention for a while now," Phil said, defensively.
"I'm not hateful. I'm just – I'm trying to edit a video, Phil. I've been awake for too long and my eyes hurt and I just want this to be done," Dan explained with tension in his voice.
"Well, I'd like to be asleep, too, but I've been waiting for you."
"What? Why would you be waiting for me?" Dan asked, confused.
"I kind of thought maybe we could talk. I mean, we don't really do that so much anymore," Phil said, quietly.
"Oh. I mean… Don't we?" It had occurred to Dan that maybe Phil was right.
"Not like we used to. I mean we don't really do anything like we used to. Haven't you noticed?" Phil asked, his voice tinged with what Dan sensed as sadness.
"Yeah. I guess you're right. It's just… I don't know. I mean, we're busy," Dan paused for a moment to think. "Does it feel like it used to, to you? Our relationship I mean?" Dan finally asked.
"No. I mean that's what I'm saying. That's why I thought we could talk. Maybe we can fix it?," Phil suggested, his voice still quiet, but there was an obvious hint of hope present.
Dan's mind had still been spinning out thoughts of objects he could Photoshop into certain scenes of his video, but his full attention had finally come back to Phil. He had sat completely still, looking into Phil's eyes. He had thought about the passion they used to have. Those mornings on the couch. The way they used to whisper "you are my everything" to each other. Dan thought about these things, and realized he didn't feel like that any longer. He couldn't lie to himself anymore. Phil definitely was not his everything now. He didn't feel that fierce need for him anymore. He could be away from Phil, now, without feeling as though he was drowning. And he knew the same applied to how Phil felt about him. He averted his eyes from Phil's, and twiddled with his thumbs. Dan's mind wandered to the time he went to the circus when he was really young, and how it had been bursting with noise and he remembered that he had to cover his ears with his hands and that he couldn't stop himself from crying because of how loud it was. Dan looked at Phil standing in the doorway, and decided that no amount of noise, not even the noise from that circus, could ever be as loud as the silence that was currently present in that room. He knew he was going to have to be the one to break it.
"Hey, you know, I've been thinking. And, I don't know. Maybe we should just take a break? Like, things aren't the same, you know? As they used to be... And I don't think it's fair to either of us to keep going on this way. Yeah, I really think that's the right thing to do," Dan decided.
"Oh. Okay," Phil finally said after a pause. It seemed to Dan that Phil was having trouble processing Dan's words. "I mean, is that – is that what you want? Do you actually want it to be over?" Phil added.
"Well, I mean, a break. If we want to get back together, we can. I mean, we can still be friends, right? I mean, I feel like we'd be able to do it," Dan explained.
"Well, if that's what you want to do. Then, yeah. Sure. Friends," Phil said. Dan could no longer read his expression or the tone of his words.
"All right. I mean, I know that seems weird right now, but I think we'll adjust, and it'll feel right."
"Okay, then. Yeah, we can make it work, I'm sure," Phil said. He was still just standing there, though, and Dan felt like the situation was quickly turning awkward.
"Oh, hey did you have a question when you came in here?" Dan questioned, remembering.
"Oh. Yeah, I did. I was just wondering where my blue mug was?"
"Right," Dan muttered, turning around in his chair, reaching for the mug. "It's right here," he said, offering the mug to Phil, smiling.
"Cool. Thanks, Dan," Phil said, while walking away. Dan was quick to return to his editing. Thoughts of Phil invaded his thoughts a few times, but he brushed them away, determined to finish his video.
The duration of that discussion was six minutes. They had been dating for over a year, and Dan had ended it all in six minutes.
Dan usually desperately tries to avoid thinking about their past relationship and that night he ended it, but it's all been coming back to him more frequently in vivid detail, and it's getting harder for him to push them away. He wants to believe that he made the right decision. That's the way it felt at the time. Now, though, there's this ever-present nagging feeling that he was wrong, but he doesn't know what he can do about it. His friendship with Phil is too important for him to risk. Even though it was Dan who initiated the breakup, Dan always felt it was what Phil had wanted. He had seemed to have adjusted very well to it, and Dan didn't want Phil to know that the old feelings still remained for Dan if Phil's were still gone.
Phil is visiting his family in Florida, again. Dan hates when Phil's gone for an extended period of time. There are many reasons for him feeling this way. One of which is that he, of course, misses Phil when he's away. Also, no one is there to turn the lights off before he goes to bed so that the demons don't get him. This actually is a concern for Dan, as pathetic as it seems. He doesn't even believe in demons. He believes in science and logic. He realizes what complete nonsense the whole thing is, but regardless, it takes a lot of effort for Dan to muster the courage to turn the lights off, himself. He has a specific, albeit simple, strategy he implements when doing this. He covers his eyes and runs. Sometimes the effort even this takes is too much, so sometimes he decides to just leave the lights on.
Although no one being there to turn the lights out is a major problem for Dan, there is actually a more pressing matter for him when Phil's gone. He has no one to talk to when he's going through one of his "existential crises". He uses humor when he talks about them in his videos, downplaying them significantly. The truth is that Dan has a tendency to get genuinely depressed. He becomes trapped in his thoughts about what he's done with his one and only life he'll ever have and his inevitable death. He'll lie in his bed with these thoughts relentlessly swirling. He'll think about how one decision can alter his entire life. His mind will consider the impact of every seemingly innocuous choice he made that day. What if he had gone to Starbucks that morning instead of just sitting on the couch? Would that have changed anything? Maybe he would have been hit by a bus. Or what if he had smiled at that person walking on the street? Maybe that would have changed something. Maybe that person was contemplating suicide and perhaps Dan's smile could have provided her hope. And, of course, what if Dan hadn't tweeted Phil? The list of these possibilities are neverending for Dan, and he'll literally feel insane when he's caught in this web of thoughts. It can be terrifying. He often feels like he's just wasting his life away and the anxiety this causes is immense. Usually when he's like this, Phil will be there for him to talk to, and it becomes a lot easier to handle. When he's alone, though, he tends to succumb completely to these feelings, and he gets lost in it.
It's night now, or early morning, and he's lying in his bed with these types of thoughts circling through his mind, and they seem endless, and that's the scariest part for Dan. He feels as though he won't be able to rise from the abyss he feels he's in, though he always does. He's clutching his bear close to his chest as a form of comfort. He stares at Bear's foot. He focuses on the "1991" stitched there. He takes his finger and traces it along each raised number. 1991 was the year he came into the world and he is unable to stop himself from wondering what year it will be when he is taken out of it. He tries searching for happy thoughts, and his mind jumps to Phil. He can see Phil's face. Phil's dark colored fringe sweeping across his forehead. His eyes. Those blue eyes that were so blue they seemed unreal.
He remembers one time when he was snuggled up to Phil on Phil's bed. They were completely swathed in the duvet, with Dan's head resting on Phil's chest. It was late and they should have been sleeping, but they didn't want to stop talking. Especially Phil. Dan always thought that Phil had too many stories to only be in his twenties.
"And she just stared at me. Her eyes were wild," Phil said, his voice going up an octave when it got to "wild". Dan hadn't been able to control his laughter. His stomach was aching with it.
"This actually happened, though?" Dan paused to laugh some more. "Some old lady actually just came up to you demanding you to eat this pie?" Dan went into another bout of laughter.
"Yes! I swear! She said it was very important that I eat the pie. It was terrifying!" Phil's voice tended to squeak when he got excited, and he often got excited when he told stories. Dan had always thought it was adorable.
"Where did she even get the pie? I don't understand," Dan questioned, a wide grin still plastered on his face.
"She said she found it! Just lying on the street. What the hell, right?" Phil said, laughing.
"Phil, I swear to god, you make these things up," Dan said shaking his head, still smiling.
"But I'm not! I swe-," Dan pressed his finger to Phil's mouth to interrupt him.
"Shutup. I know you're not lying. I've been around you enough to know these things do actually happen. It's so weird, though. You're seriously a weird person magnet," Dan concluded.
"Shutup," was Phil's only retort.
There was finally a comfortable silence that fell between them, and the drowsiness that Dan had been feeling intensified greatly, and he felt sleep coming. He decided to look one last time at Phil's eyes, and he found himself lost in them.
"Hey, Phil? How are your eyes able to fit an entire ocean in them?" Dan asked, his own eyes closing. He drifted into unconsciousness before he even heard Phil's response. Maybe Phil had been asleep, himself. That night Dan dreamt the world was only able to contain things that were crystal blue. Only lakes, pools, oceans, and Phil remained.
To him, Phil and happiness have always been synonymous. But thinking about Phil, now, was not bringing happiness. It was bringing despair and regret. He can't hold onto the good memories for too long before the memories of that night – that stupid night when he decided on a whim to end the best thing that ever happened to him – came back. He starts to truly realize how massive of a mistake that was. He isn't even going to deny it to himself, anymore. He still loves Phil. This is a simple fact, of which he can do nothing about. He's just lying there, feeling helpless, with tears softly leaking down his face, when he hears somebody in the house. Phil's back. Dan quickly wipes his tears away and tries to appear normal, in preparation for if Phil comes in. Not that he would. There's no reason for him to.
But within a minute, he hears a tapping on the door.
"Dan? Are you awake?" Phil half whispers. Dan doesn't know how to react. He thinks it would probably be best for him to just feign sleep, but instead, he hears himself telling Phil to come in. He reaches over to turn the lamp on.
"Oh, you're actually in bed. You could've said. I just wanted to let you know I'm back," Phil explained, standing in the doorway.
"Oh, hey. I'm completely awake, so, figured I'd let you in." It takes effort for the words to come out. Dan hopes he's maintained his composure well enough for Phil to not sense that anything was wrong.
"Hey, are you all right?" Phil asked immediately. Fuck Fuck Fuck, Dan thinks. How does Phil know him so well?
"Well, yeah, I mean why wouldn't I be?" Dan replies.
"You're voice sounds off, and you're face is kind of red like... I don't know. Like you've been crying or something." Dan notices Phil's gaze scanning Dan all over. He should've known he wouldn't be able to hide anything from Phil. "And your clutching Bear," Phil says, shock clearly present on his face once this observation is made. Phil rushes over to Dan's bed, sitting on the edge. "You're not okay," he states simply. "Do you want to talk?" he asks.
"I've just, you know, been thinking a lot. I'm fine, though, okay? I'm tired now, and I'm sure you are too," Dan answered, his voice thick with forced back tears. He was hoping Phil would realize he didn't want to talk and that he'd leave. He didn't.
"Dan, I wished you'd talk to me. You're obviously really upset. And the lights were left on in the house, still. I thought you were getting better with that?" Phil said, attempting to coax Dan to talk.
"I'm sorry, but, honestly, I really just wish you'd leave," Dan admitted, his voice stern. Or, at least, that was his goal – for his voice to be stern. But it was still coming out as a croak. It looks like for a moment, that Phil is going to leave. But he doesn't.
Phil sighs. "Look, Dan, I know how you get when you're alone for a while. If you need to talk about what you're thinking, I'm here and I'll listen."
"Why do you care anyway?" Dan murmured so quietly he wasn't sure Phil would even hear it.
"Why do I care? Because your my friend. Why are you even asking that?" Phil seemed completely dumbfounded.
"I don't know. You've never seemed to care before. I mean not really cared, anyway. You're a nice person, sure, but I don't think you actually care," Dan stated, honestly. He kept his gaze placed on one of the black squares of his duvet, not wanting to actually make eye contact with Phil.
"That really hurts, Dan. Wow," Phil laughed in disbelief. "I don't know what I've done to make you think that, because I care about you a lot." It was Dan's turn to laugh, spitefully.
"Whatever, Phil." Dan turned over on his side, facing away from Phil.
"No, wait. What are you doing? You can't just say something like that and expect me just to walk away. Why are you being like this?" Phil demanded, which was a characteristic that Phil didn't usually possess. Demanding. His demeanor was usually quiet and polite.
"Because you don't care! Not in the same way I care about you. You just don't. If you did, you wouldn't have – you wouldn't have..." Dan no longer wanted to finish that sentence. The tears were back, and he didn't want to be dealing with any of his, and he hated the way his voice was breaking.
"I wouldn't have what?" Dan was still silent. He was no longer trying to staunch the stream of tears, and they were now flowing steadily. "I wouldn't have what, Dan? You have to finish what you were going to say."
"You wouldn't have let me let you go!" Dan shouted. The intensity would have been greater if he weren't still crying and if it wasn't punctuated by a sniffle. And if what he had just said wasn't so messy. Phil probably didn't even hear him.
There is a long silence. He notices that he is now sat up in the bed. He doesn't remember making that decision.
"I thought that was what you wanted. What was I supposed to do?" Phil's voice is soft and gentle, the antithesis of Dan's voice.
"You could've said something, Phil! If that's not what you wanted. You could have let me know! But you didn't say anything. You just took your fucking mug and left, and we never even mentioned it again."
"You were smiling when you gave me that mug, Dan. I remember that. I thought that was what you had wanted. You had stopped showing any interest in me long before you broke up with me, anyway. I wasn't about to beg you to stay with me." There is another long pause. Dan's mind is whirling with thoughts of that six minute discussion and of the months prior to it.
"We had both stopped showing interest in each other, though. Right? That's why I figured we should end it. It made sense then."
"Dan. We had just become focused on other things is all. Our lives stopped being completely about each other. But, I never stopped loving you. I thought that was obvious? I thought all we needed to do was just talk some. That's why I came into your room. But you seemed pretty intent on ending the relationship... so what was I supposed to do?" Phil's own eyes are filling up with tears now.
"Well, I'm just an idiot, I guess. I've regretted it ever since. \ I thought just because things weren't as intense as they were before that meant we shouldn't be together. But, that was dumb logic because, honestly, we were so close before that we probably would've been considered codependent," Dan paused. "We could've regained the intensity. But, we didn't because I ended it." Dan's voice is calmer. He suddenly just feels sad.
"Dan, how exactly do you feel about me? Right now. Because I'm confused." Dan notices that Phil must have, at some point, edged closer to him on the bed.
Dan thinks about the question. He thinks about the years he's had to be with Phil without being able to actually be with Phil. He thinks about how he misses Phil speaking to him with affection in his voice . He misses how it felt to have his and Phil's mouths meet together. He misses the feeling of their bodies being connected, Phil's pale white skin moving along with his own tanned skin. He especially misses the special emotional connection they always shared. He misses nestling up to Phil on the couch. He misses listening to him breathe. He misses saying "I love you".
"I miss you," Dan finally responds.
"I always thought you were the one who didn't care," Phil says, voice soft.
"Wait, what? Did you actually?" Dan is incredulous. "Of course I care! You're one of the most important people in my life. You've always been more to me than just the person who turns out the lights, you know. I thought that was, like, evident," Dan speaks as though it was all matter-of-fact. Dan notices Phil is smiling.
"You just talked about something serious without using humor." Phil couldn't have looked more proud.
"Well, yeah. You matter a lot. You need to know that," Dan said, seriously, and there was a pause while they just stared at one another.
"You know, I've missed you too," Phil reveals, smiling.
"Well, we don't both need to be sat here missing each other, then." It was tough for Dan to contain his giddiness. He wanted to pull Phil next to him and rest his head on his chest so he could listen to the heartbeat he's been missing so much.
"Dan?"
"Yes?"
"I just really want to play with your hair," Phil states, still smiling.
"Go, for it." They move so that Dan is rested on Phil's chest, just as Dan had wanted. He listens to the soothing sounds Phil's body makes while he closes his eyes, finally feeling like things are as they should be.