Disclaimer: I do not claim to have a mental illness, nor know anything about them. I'm basing this on things I learned from books and google.
Read the note at the end please . :) I would put it here but I don't want to spoil anything!
If you have any comments/complaints PLEASE let me know ! This is my first fic, so I hope it's decent.
September 13th 2013
Daniel James Howell, eighteen years old. A boy made up with so much pain that he'd rather live inside of his nightmares then his life. Nobody knows about his secrets, his face always plastered with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Long sleeved shirts and hoodies with hundreds of excuses on the tip of his tongue, ready to chuckle and say, "Oh, I'm just cold." Or "I'm just tired." When he almost falls asleep standing up, because he was up at four a.m slicing his wrists and thighs with the sharp edge of the razor blade he keeps in his sock drawer. Telling lies upon lies about how he had already ate, a big dinner, when in reality he hasn't even looked at food in two days.
He has failed a grade twice, now in grade 10 when hes supposed to have graduated. Hes so alone, so ignored. His teachers gave up on him long before his parents, who tried to hang onto the hope he would be okay someday. That was the first time found out he forced himself to throw up, so very long ago, now they can't even look in his brown eyes that used to glitter with hope but now only contain sadness.
Nobody cares anymore.
Not his 'friends' who pretended to be supportive, but left when they first got the chance. Because his friends went places. University. Trade school. They can't be bothered with a fuck up like Dan Howell who only has a tiny flicker of hope left inside of him, so small it could be burned out at any second.
If he's being honest, and he rarely is because it's much easier to lie then explain why you won't take off your hoodie or eat just one piece of pizza, he's wanted to kill himself for a long time. Long before he started failing classes and crying himself to sleep every night.
There has always been something inside of him, something so dark that it weighs him down. Cuddles him, strokes his cheek, and whispers, 'Don't eat. You'll be so skinny. People will be jealous. They'll love you. You'll see, sweetie, just one more day. You can do it.'
But when the pain in his stomach gets so unbearable he can hardly move, when he cries as he eats an entire box of crackers and washes in back with alcohol, the voice gets upset.
"You fucking faggot. Fatass, loser, stupid.. I cannot even put into words how disappointed I am. Kill yourself, fat fuck."
He wants to. He wants to drown and entire bottle of pills and put a gun to his head. He wants to pull the trigger.
But he can't.
His parents. His brother. Aunts. Uncles. His family would be so disappointed. He might make the news. People would whisper, "Hey, isn't that Dan Howell? That kid was such a freak."
His parents have given up on him, and they were the last people holding him up to keep him from crashing down.
October 27th 2013
They are sending him away. A mental institution. He doesn't know why. He was trying his best, forcing himself to pay attention in class when his mind won't stop thinking about how much his stomach hurts, the pain spreading into his chest and his head and all he can think about is, "Please let me drop dead now." Because he can't take another second. He knows hes legal now, he doesn't have to go. But he'd rather be anywhere but at school, even though he can drop out. But he doesn't want to. He wants to make his parents and friends proud, even if they don't care.
Dan Howell is trying. He carries a water bottle everywhere, taking a big drink whenever he's in unbearable pain from the hunger, which is most of the time. It helps.
But since was trying ever good enough?
He doesn't bother packing. He doesn't care about anything in his room other than his razors. But they won't let him take those, they don't understand how much he relies on the blood to make him feel real again.
His arm is his canvas, his paint his own blood. It makes him feel something other than the hunger. He doesn't just need to cut. He has to cut.
The mental ward smells like bleach. He hates the smell of bleach. It reminds him of suicide, hes read stories about people who've used bleach as a suicide method.
They take away his shoelaces. His earrings. They give him a pair of starch white clothes much too big, because he didn't bring any clothes.
He doesn't want to wear them. They don't have long sleeves. People will stare. They will see the lines on his arms, the ones on his thighs hidden. The red and silver lines that go in all different directions that scream at everybody, "Hey, look at me! Dan Howell is a fucking freak. He cuts himself."
October 29th 2013
It takes exactly two days before anybody besides the staff notice his arm. It's a boy about his age, with black hair and blue eyes just as lifeless as Dan's brown ones.
His name was Phil. He heard the counselors talking about him. Phillip Lester, who has clinical depression and social anxiety and was found lying in a bathtub of his own blood.
But he survived. Now he's here, sitting next to Dan in group therapy. Dan notices Phil has painted his arm, too. He taps the black haired boys shoulder, making him twitch and turn to Dan with wide eyes. Eyes that say hes been sad for a long time.
Phils gaze travels down to Dans wrists. He traces his own cuts, now mostly scarring, with his index finger and gives Dan a look.
Dan knows Phil has social anxiety, and he doesn't want to push his limits. So he just smiles and turns back around, a small smile on his face that might actually reach his eyes if it tried a little bit harder.
November 5th 2013
It's just over one week of Dan being in the mental ward when he speaks to Phil again, this time during an activity. They are making them paint. Not with Dan's preferred type of brush and canvas, either. He sets his easel next to Phil's, giving him a small smile and getting a hesitant one in return. Dan's heart breaks even more when he sees how hard it is for him to smile.
He knows Phil is broken.
But Dan doesn't care. He thinks Phil is beautiful. From the way he always leaves the cupboard door open when hes getting a board game, or the way he watches Dan play piano with that almost-smile on his face.
He loves Phil's pale hands next to his tanned ones when they both reach for something at the same time, which happens quite often. They never speak, only stare at each other for a second and turn away.
"Is that a muse album?"
Dan is surprised. He knows how uncomfortable Phil gets around other people.
He nods, and Phil looks embarrassed. He looks like he wants to hide in a hole and never come out.
"It's one of my favorite bands," Dan tries. He doesn't know what to say. But he wants to talk to Phil. He doesn't know why. Why should he care about the black haired boy he knows nothing about when he can't even take care of himself?
Phil nods. "Mine too."
And after he says it, he looks so proud of himself. Proud for talking about himself willingly, group therapy and private sessions don't count. They ask stupid questions like, "how are you doing today?" like anybody here really knows how they are doing.
"Awesome."
Phil gives him that almost-smile, the smile he hates for being sad but loves at the same time. They talk for a while. It turns out they share the same taste in movies and video games, too.
Dan is proud of Phil. He knows he would never be able to get out of this place, but he wanted Phil to. He wanted Phil to heal and get better and have a family, never to relapse again.
But miracles don't happen in the real world.
November 19th 2013
Dan got his medication upped. He takes Prozac now, just like most of the people in movies like Prozac Nation do.
He's gained weight. He knows he has. The nurses won't let him see the number on the scale, thinking it will help, but it doesn't. His ribs no longer show.
He knows hes getting fatter, and it has to stop.
But he can't. They won't let him throw up, even though he's tried shoving his fingers down his throat in the middle of therapy. They make him eat, saying if he doesn't, he won't be allowed in the activities room.
But he has too. He needs to see Phil, because Phil is an enigma and he has to figure him out.
November 22nd 2013
"Whats that?" The question comes from another boy a few years older then him. Probably about 23. He doesn't know his name. Nobody does really.
The boy is well known for his fits of anger.
Dan looks at his canvas, a messy blob of grays and blacks with a slap of green on the top. Hes embarrassed.
"It's… It's nothing.."
"Tell me, gay boy." He says it with a small smirk on his face, like hes happy because he knows how upset he just made Dan. He probably is happy.
"It's just something from a movie."
"What movie?"
"You wouldn't know it."
"Try me," he says, leaning down so his lips are against Dan's ear "Or I'll fuck you in the ass. I know you would love that."
Dan says nothing. What would he do anyway? He may be tall, but he's also very weak from malnutrition and tired from not sleeping. He's so lonely. He has a room to himself, and it's so quite. He's used to sleep with his dog at home, and he could hear his dads loud snores through the wall.
He misses that.
When Dan continues to say nothing, the boy just chuckles and walks away.
He feels like hes going to cry. He wants to go home.
"Totoro?"
Dan looks up. It's Phil.
"You.. you've seen it?"
"Sure I've seen it."
"You don't think it's childish?" Dan bites his lip.
"I still play Pokemon."
"You're never too old for Pokemon."
"That's true. But the new generations suck."
They both smile.
November 30th 2013
They don't talk much. But when they do, it feels just about as good as cutting. It's a release. It numbs him.
He hasn't told anybody how he feels until today.
He tells his counselor, a pretty blonde woman named Dr. Warren.
She just listens. Then finally she says, "Do you love him, Dan?"
He doesn't know.
December 7th 2013
It's almost Christmas. He wants to go home.
Christmas is a good time. His parents are usually so busy with shopping and getting ready, they don't notice him.
Which to some people might sound awful, but to Dan, it's a relief.
He gets two weeks away from school to sleep in past noon, play Guild Wars all day and browse Tumblr.
Which almost makes him happy, almost.
December 24th 2013
They talk a little more now.
He looks up from where he was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering not for the first time why he turned out the way he did.
Phil stood at the door with a small bag in his hands, Dr. Warren beside him.
"We need Phil's room for a dangerous patient. Phil will be your roommate from now on."
Dan gives Phil that special smile and nods.
He's glad. He's never had a roommate before. Maybe now it won't be so lonely.
He's so glad, in fact, he doesn't notice the sad look on Dr. Warrens face when she walks away.
January 11th 2014
The first real smile.
It's paining time again, Dan carries a tray of paints over to his easel, struggling to support the weight. Hes so tired, so hungry. It overwhelms him for a moment, but that's all it takes before the paint falls to the ground and breaks open, some of it splashing up on Dans face.
He looks over at Phil, whos smile reaches his eyes. They sparkle for just a moment, but it's all it takes before Dan is smiling back.
He feels so whole, so happy. Feeling for the first time in years, hope.
February 14th 2014
"Dan?"
He knows that voice. It's the one he's come to love in the months his been here.
It's the only steady thing in his life. His parents visits are getting less and less frequent.
He walks over to Phil's bed, where the boy lay with a worried look on his face.
Dan pulled back the covers and laid next to him, wrapping his arms around Phil and resting his chin on his head.
They stayed like that for hours, and shared their first kiss that night.
February 17th 2014
Phil is not getting better.
He has nightmares, bad ones. He wakes up kicking and screaming and calling for Dan.
Dan , of course, is already awake by the time Phil asks him for help. Phils screams are loud, loud and gut wrenching and painful and of course Dan can't sleep through that.
But he would never say so. He just gets up and goes over to Phil's bed, wiping away his tears and holding him until he falls asleep again.
But Dan can't sleep.
He knows he's helplessly in love with Phil, and he doesn't want to lose him to the darkness of his mental illness.
February 20th 2014
"Wanna come play piano with me?"
Phil doesn't respond.
February 27th 2014
"You know being here isn't free, right?"
"Are you trying to make me feel worse?" Dan was angry. Angry at the stupid therapist, who was supposed to be helping, but instead she just twirled her blonde hair around her finger and stared at him.
"It was just a question, Daniel." She snaps her gum.
Dan is more then angry. He's pissed off.
Pissed off because he didn't do anything to deserve to feel this way. He's always tried his hardest to be nice to everybody, even when they don't return the favor. He's always done his part around the house and took care of his brother. So why? Why him?
Why does he have to be stuck here with the rest of the crazies who see huge spiders when they aren't really there, throwing their babies out a window because they think they are possessed, jumping off bridges and surviving but permanently crippled, when there's nothing wrong with him.
He is not crazy. He's a little sad. He doesn't know why he's sad. He has no reason to be. He doesn't know why he cares about Phil so much, when he hasn't even known him for a year yet.
"Yes. Yes I am 'aware' being here isn't free, okay? I know my parents pay for it. I didn't ask them too!" He digs his nails into his arm. It hurts, but only a little bit, because they make you clip your nails here. Yet another thing he can't control. He wants to go home. But he can't leave Phil.
"You're not stupid." It wasn't a question.
"I failed two grades. Of course I'm fucking stupid."
Her expression didn't change. "Grades aren't everything, you know. I know for a fact you aren't stupid. I see the way you look at things. You see things in a way people your age shouldn't have to see."
He doesn't' respond.
"I think you were forced to grow up to fast."
March 2nd 2014
"Phil?"
The boy in question grunts.
"Wanna watch Totoro with me?"
Phil just nods and plops down on the couch well Dan puts the movie in. Dan sits down next to him, wrapping his arms around Phil and ignores the looks he gets from other people.
He doesn't care anymore.
March 4th 2014
"I love you, Phil."
The words come out of nowhere. Dan wasn't planning on saying them, they just slipped out, and now Phil is staring at him with a shocked look on his face.
"I love you, so much. I've never felt this way about anybody. I.. I don't know how you feel about me. You don't have to love me. Fuck it, you don't even have to like me. Just.. I couldn't bear the thought of you hating me. I hate myself but you mean a lot to me and I-"
He's cut off by Phil's lips pressing to his.
"I love you too."
March 12th 2014
He's leaving today.
He has too.
Dan is going home.
But he doesn't want to leave. Even though he's not getting better here, not really, it's better then being back home. He can act like himself here, he doesn't have to fake smiles or pretend to care about anything.
But his parents aren't going to pay for him anymore, and he's not considered a threat to others, so the government won't pay for it.
He cried hard that night. Silent, heartbreaking sobs that burned his throat and his chest and made him shake so hard he had to go back to his own bed. Phil didn't notice, already sound asleep and done with his nightmares for the night.
Eventually Dan falls asleep himself, just before the sun came up but after his throat is raw and sore and his heart feels like it's going to explode.
March 15th 2014
He never got the chance to say goodbye to Phil.
He couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he just left his home phone number and address under Phil's pillow.
His parents didn't seem happy to see him. They pretended too, though.
They smiled a fake smile Dan knew all too well and hugged him. They tried to make him a huge welcome home dinner that Dan refused to eat, His mom and Dad exchanging glances but saying nothing.
March 20th 2014
Dan didn't get to go back to school.
They decided he missed too much.
But it was okay. He didn't want to go back anyway.
Instead, he got a job doing dishes at a local pub. He hated it. It was as bad as school, getting yelled at when he wasn't working hard and fast enough.
He wants to go back. Hes tired of faking smiles again. It hurts him, hurts so bad. The things that used to make him happy like music or video games don't help anymore.
April 4th 2014
That is as long as he can make it before he makes himself purge again.
He crawls into the bathroom at exactly 6:22 am, he checked, and leans over the toilet.
His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, crushing him. His chest hurts. His wrist hurts, from were he had cut it only hours before. He promised himself he wouldn't do this. Even more, he promised Phil. Phil promised him.
But he can't keep that promise. He has to. Hes getting fat again.
June 21st 2014
It's his birthday. The day he's supposed to celebrate being alive, but instead, he wants nothing more then death.
His parents bake him a cake. He eats it. He eats a lot of it, much to everybody surprise including his.
Of course, it doesn't stay. He pukes it up within ten minutes of eating it.
And then he knows. He knows hes never going to get better. Because after all that time, he thought he was okay. But he didn't get better.
July 5th 2014
He comes home from work, exhausted, and he finds a note on the table.
"Dan,
I love you.
You were the only person who made me feel like I had a place in the world.
But I'm just so tired. I cant do this anymore,"
Dan starts crying. Sobbing. Screaming.
He knows that writing. He knows were this is going. Hes wrote his own version in his head over and over.
"Daniel James Howell,
You're a soldier.
-Phil.
P.S. I love your smile"
And that's when the last flicker of light inside of Dan Howell burns out.
September 10th 2014
Phil came to his house.
Dan missed him.
If Dan wasn't at work, he could of possibly saved his life.
That thought hurts more then anything.
Phil didn't have a clean suicide. They found him in a restaurant washroom, one they used to talk about back at the Hospital, one they both loved. He had slit his wrists and swallowed so many pills his body rejected them and he threw them up.
But Phil was persistent. And, in the end, he won.
October 29th 2014
Dan could never forget this day, exactly one year ago, when he met the only person who could make him feel whole again, who could take the tiny spark inside of Dan and make it burn brightly again.
But that spark is gone, and when his finger eventually pulls the trigger after hours and hours of willing himself to do it, even when his parents find him there long after his body's gone cold and they call the police and an ambulance who label his death a suicide and close the case, taking his body away, they know.
They know that even though his official date of death is October 29th 2014, Daniel James Howell has been dead for a long time.
-x-x-x-x-x-
So, how was it? :D I know I sort of focused more on the sad parts then the actual love, but I dunno. Please tell me what you thought!