He sat silently on the bedside table, his inanimate eyes gazing upon his only friend. He'd seen it all before, the rise and the fall, the ups and the downs, the stress and the relief, the happiness and the sadness. This time he was witness to what must have been the stress, and was waiting for the relief, though for the first time in forever he didn't know what was going on, he didn't understand why. His dark-haired friend had never kept secrets from him before, so whatever it was, it must have been frightening. His private words to him had been cryptic and lacking content, whatever it was, Phil was extremely reluctant to even admit it to himself.
"I know, I'm being ridiculous. I'm speculating! Don't judge me," Phil, his dark-haired friend, spoke to him. Lion's gaze remained the same, as expected from a small, inanimate stuffed animal, but Phil continued as he projected his own thoughts onto the toy.
"Don't look at me like that! It's fine. Not a problem. I'll get up and be productive when I feel slightly less dead inside," Phil sighed deeply and held his old, worn friend to his chest, stroking his mane with his thumb, "then I'll be fine. Everything will be fine."

Dan had gone out early that morning, leaving Phil alone in the flat. He got up, ate his cereal and rewatched a couple of episodes from Season 3 of Buffy. He even remembered to close the cupboard doors and clean-up afterwards, it was a good, quiet start to the day. Everyone needs some time alone from time to time, so he embraced it by not even bothering to change out of his pyjamas. He logged onto his computer and began editing a couple of things that he'd been intending to finish for a few days, they weren't REALLY a priority, but at some point they really had to get finished. Just as he had settled in and his mind adjusted to the task, he heard quiet music coming from Dan's room. He quickly saved where he was up to and slowly walked around into his flatmate's room, the music becoming louder as he got closer. The door was open a jar and he pushed it open further. The room was a mess and his phone was sitting on his bed vibrating and ringing some vaguely familiar tune. He'd forgotten his phone, what a genius. Phil quickly picked up the call,
"Hello, Dan's phone," he answered. A woman replied to him in a soft, gentle and professional voice, asking if Dan Howell was available, he was not. She asked for a time she could call back and apologetically informed Phil that she could not release Dan's private information to him, she then wished him a good day and hung up. Where did she say she was from again? London Psychiatric Clinic? Dan hadn't told him anything about appointments there, Dan hadn't mentioned any appointments anywhere. Why did they have private information to give him? It was at this point that Phil had collapsed in a heap on his bed, quietly wondering and worrying about his closest friend.

"Phil, do you want tea? I'm making tea," Dan called out from a few rooms over, "I'm using the new Christmas mugs!" Dan had just walked through the door roughly 3 and a half hours after he had left, he was somewhat surprised that the flat was quiet and the kitchen was tidy with no cupboard doors open.
"Christmas mugs? But it's May?" Phil responded while dragging himself from his cocoon of bed clothes and making his way to the kitchen,
"That's why they were so cheap, here you go. It's a cat with a Santa hat."
"Yeah, it is. It's cute," Phil said, looking at the grey tabby on the mug,
"What's the matter? You're acting weird." Dan smiled weakly at him, letting him know that it was okay to open up,
"Yeah, I'm just really frustrated with myself and how poorly some of the editing is coming along," he smiled, "I'll be fine." He wasn't lying, he was frustrated and he knew he would be fine once he figured out what was going on. Truth be told, the only reason he felt so down was because he was so worried about Dan. Dan was worried about him because he was worried about Dan because Dan was worried about who knows what! He pulled himself together. It was only a bad day.

The clock stuck 4am and Dan was still awake. He was making every effort to remain silent, but apparently everything you do is twenty times louder when you're trying not to make noise. He was sprawled across his bed, the blankets heaped to one side and the only source of light came from the screen of his phone. He was tired, but his mind wouldn't stop racing, thoughts swimming through his head. It's just a thought, Dan. It's just a thought. He could have sworn he felt the presence of something else in the room. Suddenly the dark was terrifying. He jolted upright, quickly got out of bed and ran to turn on the lights. He was alone. He left them on as he climbed back into bed and silently reprimanded himself for being so anxious and paranoid. For weeks the thoughts inside his head had been getting worse, getting scarier.

At first it was the occasional, "If I walked out in front of that car, would I just get injured or would I die?" until it escalated to, "I should jump off this 8 story balcony." Needless to say, it was becoming scarier and scarier, especially since he had absolutely no idea of how to convey this to Phil.
"Well, you see, Phil, I don't WANT to kill myself, I just don't want to exist any more and I have the strong urge to throw myself in front of a train. No, don't get upset or worry! It's FINE! I just want to be… not alive, it's not a big deal. I don't want to die, it's just that I don't exactly think I can continue to live." Because that would most DEFINITELY go down well. What could he say? It was becoming overwhelming, it was too much. He unlocked his phone and opened Tumblr, he knew it was a bad idea but why not? He searched the suicide tag and just scrolled. There was some reassuring stuff from time to time, but the majority was somewhat disturbing. The reoccurring theme of self-harm echoed through his mind. It wasn't something he hadn't considered, but why not? Maybe it would be enough to stop the thoughts? Maybe it would soothe his mind to the point where death wasn't the only way out? Maybe it would be the cure? He didn't know, but he needed to find out.

After about 5 hours sleep, Dan woke up and made his way to the kitchen. He poured some cereal and decided to eat it standing up in the kitchen, just planning his day and what he was going to say to Phil about heading to the shops later without arousing suspicion. Wait, in what way is shopping suspicious? Whatever. Just tell Phil you're going out and smile. Lots of teeth.
"Dan? What are you doing?" a voice spoke from behind him, causing him to jump and barely avoid spilling his food, he must have zoned out.
"What?" Dan asked, slightly dazed. Phil rephrased the question,
"Why are you eating standing up, facing the corner of the kitchen? Even by your standards that's a little weird," he laughed a little but his eyes told Dan that he was quite serious.
"I just zoned out, it's all good. I'm actually about to head out for, to, uh, for the… shop."
"Oh…kay? Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, mate. I'll see you later!" Dan put his hand on Phil's shoulder and smiled at him before walking past him and out the door, leaving his cereal on the counter.

Dan was gone and it was game time. What exactly was "game time", you ask? It was time to go through Dan's things. Phil hesitantly entered his friend's room, his computer was open on Tumblr, no surprises there. He decided to go through the physical aspects of his room before snooping through his laptop, he looked through drawers, under the bed, in his sheets, the wardrobe; he didn't even know what he was looking for, but he was sure he'd know it when he saw it. So far he hadn't found anything, and then he saw it. A small box on top of the wardrobe. He had no idea what could have been in it, especially since it was so tiny, but it was peculiar, and peculiar was exactly what Phil was looking for. He reached up and grabbed it, it was a match box. Why did Dan need matches? He held his breath and opened the box.