Hey!
Disclaimer: I do not own Dan or Phil and what I have written is entirely fictional.
Rated T for language and mildly described making out.
Happy reading! :)

Dan's POV

It hadn't been a good day.
There had been phone calls from the BBC and emails from YouTube and the landlord had come to check that we were taking care of the apartment (which didn't go very well because by that point we were already pretty cold with each other, mostly because we were stressed, and the place was a mess and it honestly probably looked like we'd been throwing various objects at one another, which was great). I had barely slept the night before, and Phil had drunk so much coffee that it was doubtful he could keep still for five seconds, and we were just generally in a bad mood. Phil had started his Younow, which I could hear through the walls, but he didn't sound very happy and I knew that the chat would be filling up with questions asking if he was okay. I opened up my twitter on my phone, and there were the tweets. "What's wrong with Phil?" "Has something bad happened, Dan?" "Have you and Phil been fighting?" "DAN OUR ANGEL BEAN IS SAD WHAT HAS HAPPENEDDDDDDD" I couldn't get away from it. Couldn't they just let us live our lives? Ok, that was harsh. I know they just care about us. But still.
I decided to at least stop them from thinking we'd been arguing (though technically I guess we had been). I went and made him a coffee (and yes he'd already had too much but I wasn't going to bake him a cookie), and took it through to his room, where he was sat cross-legged on his bed, Totoro on his lap, glasses on, chatting to his audience about a film we'd seen recently. I gave him a small smile.
"Hey, I was making coffee and I thought you'd like a cup." I tried to make my voice as chirpy as possible but it wasn't working.
"Sure." He took it from my hands with a nod of thanks, and I left.
And I knew that I had just made everything worse. I knew that they would be able to tell how wrong it all was. I knew they'd be able to tell that Phil didn't want anything from me then. Not a coffee. Not companionship.
I went back to my room, closed the door, lay down on my bed, and prayed that it would be better later.

Phil's POV

The liveshow was hell. I think something that my audience don't realise is that I'm not always a cute, happy little angel. I can get sad sometimes. I can get mad sometimes. I don't think they'd like to see me mad. Most people I know who are aware that I'm not always happy really really hate it when I'm angry.
Especially Dan.
Which is why I feel so bad.
I don't want to be angry with him, but I am. Though in all fairness, he's being a bit of an asshole. Usually I just let it go when he's acting like a jerk, and I try to make him feel better, but I'm not inhuman. It gets to me, and I know it isn't really his fault, but damnit, I can't live constantly being nice. You have to fight sometimes to have a healthy relationship, they say, which I guess is probably a good thing. Considering that I know that we're going to end up fighting.
I honestly didn't want to leave my room, but I knew that he was on the other side of the wall and I knew that he could tell that I'd stopped talking to them. I could just stay here, I suppose. I'll watch some anime.
Well that plan didn't work.
I couldn't stop thinking about Dan and I had no clue what was going on in the episode because I'd stopped determinedly reading the subtitles after the first two minutes or so. So I decided to brave the storm, metaphorically speaking. I got off my bed and went to go to Dan's room. As an afterthought, I grabbed Totoro because if I looked smaller and cuter with a cuddly toy it might just help my cause (which I know was manipulative, but still).
I knocked on his door. "Dan?"
"What?" he mumbled from inside.
"Can I come in? I need to talk to you."
He groaned. "Fiiine."
I opened the door and walked in to find him curled up on his bed like a small child, staring at his phone screen like his life depended on it. I knew he was just trying to avoid looking at me. I wasn't stupid.

Dan's POV

He came in and sat down next to me on my bed. "What do you want?" I snapped at him, hating myself for sounding so crude but at the same time hating him for being so bloody caring and perfect.
I didn't expect him to get mad.
But he did.
"For God's sake, Dan, you don't have to be rude! I'm trying to sort things out here!" He didn't raise his voice, but it suddenly went hard and I couldn't hear the gorgeous laughing undertones.
"What if I don't want you to sort it out, Phil? Do you know how patronising it is when you make everything okay and I'm suddenly the bad guy because you didn't yell and you didn't say things that you would regret and you didn't end up feeling guilty because you were the better person!"
"So you want me to get angry then? Well that's fine by me 'cos you have been such an asshole today!"
And so it continued, and it got worse. And we were shouting and the people underneath us had turned up their television really loudly to tell us that we were too loud and that they had children and my swearing was unacceptable but neither of us cared. I had long forgotten what had even started it and now we were just throwing insults at each other.
It came to an end rather abruptly.
"Oh shut up Dan, you're being such a prick and you're making yourself look so stupid! You're always so petty!"
"Well, I apologise! Though to be honest one of us needs to be a stupid petty prick because you're always so calm and happy. You're just bloody perfect, aren't you Phil Lester?! It makes me sick!"
He stared at me. And I knew I'd gone too far. That insult was one I had known would hit him hard, and I said it anyway. I definitely was a stupid petty prick.
I watched the tears form in his eyes. I opened my mouth to say sorry, but he just turned around silently and ran out of my room. "Phil! Phil I'm sorry!" I shouted after him, but a few seconds later I heard the front door slam. Damnit.
I flopped down onto my bed and curled up into the smallest ball I could. I looked across the room to see Totoro discarded on the floor. Slowly I got up, and went to pick it up, before returning to my 'foetal' position, this time with the large plushie scrunched up in between my chest and my knees. I pressed my face into the soft wool and I sobbed. I kept seeing Phil's face, tears in his eyes, and I cried harder, mentally screaming at myself for doing that to him.
Why did I have to be so cruel?
I loved him, for Christ's sake.
He didn't know it.
Why would he?
Like he'd want me now.