As Dan sits on the kitchen floor, staring blankly at the fridge, his videos are not being made, his emails are not being answered, his Tumblr is not even being updated. Nothing is getting done, but what does it matter? It's all pointless. He has been sitting here for two and a half days now, completely immoblised. He has not eaten, he has not drunk, he has not even gone to the toilet. The past two and a half days have consisted entirely of Dan sitting on the kitchen floor, staring at the fridge, hoping to find the meaning of life in its distorted, silver reflections. He thinks he has slept but he isn't sure, he just drifts in and out of consciousness so subtly that when he awakes, he can't quite be certain he was ever asleep.
Six hours later, nothing has changed. It has now been three days since Dan collapsed onto the kitchen floor, no longer able to muster the energy to stand, or even to care. Three days since Dan's world collapsed around him. Three days earlier
Phil just can't take it anymore! He screams at the top of his lungs and punches the wall, expecting his fist to break straight through the plaster. Instead, he scrapes his knuckles, infuriating him further. He pulls his fist back for another swing, this time aiming for a photograph when an he feels a hand grab his elbow.
'Stop!' shouts Dan, 'This isn't he-'
Phil spits in Dan's face and storms off, leaving a trail of broken photographs and kicked over houseplants in his wake.
'Please,' Dan says, tears streaming down his face, 'please let's just talk about this. We can work it out'
'I'm done talking. I've had enough of you and your possessive, demanding bullshit and I can't do this anymore!'
Phil starts shoving stuff into a suitcase; clothes, his secret money stash, his stuffed lion when the realization of what he is doing finally hits him. He's leaving Dan. He's doing the one thing he swore he'd never do, the one thing that will break Dan forever.
'No,' he thinks to himself, 'I can't let him control me any longer. I need to get out of here.'
Phil storms out of his room and through the kitchen, past a distraught Dan and straight out the front door of the apartment they shared until just moments ago because deep in his heart, Phil knows he can never return. It's too late for that now.
Dan collapses to the kitchen floor in shock, salty waterfalls of pain gushing down his face. In his head he's chasing after Phil, they're talking and they work things out. Phil returns and they never speak of this terrible day again. Dan doesn't even realise he's imagining this, that it's all in his head, for quite some time.
Present dayA knock on the door startles Dan awake, for once aware that he had dozed off. He tries to stand but fails, instead crawling to the door to unlock it. As the door swings open Dan realizes its him, he's back! Phil has returned to make things right! Dan looks up at Phil's face, slowly distorting into an angry scowl. Dan tries to speak but no words come out. Suddenly, Phil's skin becomes pale and lifeless and he lifts off the ground, a bloodied noose around his neck.
His soulless eyes stare at Dan and his mouth moves silently, 'This is all your fault Dan,' he seems to say, over and over and over again.
Dan awakes on the kitchen floor, terrified and crying from the first of many nightmares that will plague Dan for many years to come. Dan is desperate to escape the emptiness that has consumed him for the past three days. He leans over and grabs a piece of glass from one of the broken photo frames and braces himself, not certain how bad the pain will be. Dan presses the shard of glass into his left forearm and pulls it across, gasping in pain as the crimson liquid oozes up and out of the cut. He positions the glass to cut again but hesitates, remembering the pain from just moments before, unsure if he can do it again. Then he remembers where the glass came from, the pain of his fight with Phil and Phil walking out and he has three more cuts on his arm before he even notices, each one deeper and bleeding more heavily than the last. He cuts once more and realises he no longer feels the emptiness that gripped him not long ago, nor the pain and heartbreak of his best friend leaving him. Other than the pain in his arm he feels… normal.
Dan stands and walks to the sink, cleaning his cuts under the tap before heading to bed to spend his first real night alone in the apartment.