Stars light up the dark side of your eyelids. Concrete presses against your left side as the right aches from a harsh shove you've just received.
"Watch where you're going!" A crude voice ripples through the ringing in your ears.
You open your eyes and pull yourself up from the city ground. Faded stars still flicker around your vision as you stand up and brush the pebbles off of you.
"Oh, bite me!" You want to yell at the stranger. Instead, you move on.
The city was never a polite place; you've learned this quickly since you've moved here only a few few weeks ago. All you can do is try to see through the stars and walk.
Suddenly, your phone buzzes. You feel as though the fall had never happened when that familiar noise breaks through your thoughts.
Youtube has just alerted you that your favourite vloggers, Dan and Phil, have uploaded a new video. Oh, how you love watching those videos. Dan and Phil already light up your day, but you feel like you specifically need it ever since you moved into your new apartment. They make your bad days seem like a distant memory.
You hurry home so you can sit down and enjoy whatever these boys have made. The broken elevator doesn't even bother you today as you race up three flights of stairs and wrestle the stiff apartment door open.
With a six minute record you have ripped your work clothes off and replaced them with pajama pants and a tee shirt, gotten a much deserved plate of leftovers, and cocooned yourself in a few blankets on the couch.
Your thumb scrolls through the home page to tap the latest video.
These videos aren't your entire life, but they are a big part of it. You're a sucker for stupid internet memes and bad photoshop and the occasional inspiring rant. Dan and Phil do all of these things and you can't help but keep coming back for more. These guys make everything better just by being...them. They're amazing friends from your perspective and can't imagine seeing one of them without the other.
Luckily, this is a collab video. Your eyes take in the images on your cell phone, quickly ridding of the blotchy stars that show every time you blink.
The video plays on. You can't help but notice Phil is a little pale today. You silently joke to yourself that he's always pale, and you quickly forget about it. He's just as bouncy and happy as usual. Your focus slides back to the point of the video: something about cheese.
Every few days for the next few weeks you get to watch a new video. You routinely eat your food and curl up in your baggy clothes and blankets. Get rid of the stars. Enjoy the internet.
Dan and Phil start doing more collab videos. You're happy to see them in the same picture, but it seems odd. Dan only shows up in the video to do simple tasks, like getting up to grab a prop, adjust the camera, or tap Phil on the shoulder to grab his attention and to keep going.
You can't help but notice Phil is particularly drained looking again in the next video. He leans on the bedpost tiredly, wrapped up in Dan's sweatshirt.
Dan takes note and props him back up before looking to the camera.
"Sorry guys, Phil is a little tired today," Dan smiles. "But we'll upload another video soon, hopefully a lot sooner than the usual. See you later."
The screen goes black and you're back in reality. Something is wrong. You guess Phil's just got another case of "man flu" and only comment a small condolence on the video before moving on with life.
Over the next few weeks, your new home really starts to feel like home, despite its flaws. You know it well. For instance, you have to keep up the pace with the crowd or you'll get shoved around. You can cross the street even if it's not your turn; you just have to look both ways for cars. Don't walk alone at night. There's a Subway down the street from where you work. You even met somebody down the hall from you. Things are turning out, but Youtube is still something you go back to.
These videos are no longer a comfort, but a luxury. Dan and Phil have done their job to make your days a little easier, a little more fun. You're pretty happy.
But over the few weeks, videos come slower. A few times a month turn into a few times every three months.
"Sorry for the late video, guys!" Phil laughs. "It's been really busy around here."
Four months.
"I can't believe I did it again." Phil sniffles with a chuckle. "Silly Philly. You guys are the best for waiting."
Five months. Is Phil still sick? What's going on?
"I'm getting real lazy." He jokes tiredly. "Dan even had to make the bed for me today. Can you believe that?"
Six months.
"Would you believe me if I said I lost my camera?" Phil softly smiles.
Seven Months. The videos stop.
Eight Months. Still nothing. Even Dan stopped uploading videos.
Nine months.
Ten months. It's definite in your mind: Phil is way sick. You saw him in those videos. You rewatch them and notice all of the little things giving it away. You panic and wonder what's happened and you look it up. Turns out everybody is asking the same question and getting no answers.
At eleven months your phone buzzes. You excitedly do what you did almost a year ago today: put on your comfy pants, get a few blankets, heat up some food.
You go to AmazingPhil's channel, seeing the video uploaded there. You tap the play button but you don't see Phil. It's just Dan.
You can't even remember half of what you heard once the video ends. All you know is that it all ended too soon. Your memory only retains the last few seconds of the video.
Dan sighs. "We thought it would blow over and worrying you guys wouldn't be worth it. But um…" He looks down and tightens his hold on that small stuffed lion.
He clears his throat. "Goodbye, Internet."