1.

Dan thinks back, sometimes, when he's had too much to drink or too little sleep. He thinks about life before Phil, and then he tries to not think about that anymore. Someone, a fan, probably, asked him once what it was like. He had laughed and joked about it being terrible and sad and lonely. The word came to him later, much later, in an entirely undignified train wreck of a thought. Darkness. That's what his life before Phil was. Sure, everyone joked about Phil being the literal sun, but Dan had always kind of glossed over that concept as it applied to his own life. He was in the dark for the first eighteen years of his life, and Phil brightened up his entire world. For the first time, thanks to a guy on the internet, Dan felt like he was something to someone. Someone looked at him and didn't seek out his flaws and faults; Phil drew out the good parts of him and showed him that there was more to life than darkness.

The night of the Halloween gathering wasn't one for the record books, aside from it being a chance to see Phil and also where he learned that as exciting as the idea of being around some of his YouTube idols was, he'd really rather just be with Phil. Like, all the time. Taking that into account, it shouldn't have surprised him that he hated living in the dorms; hated living in Manchester and yet still not living with Phil. It was a perpetual feeling of so close, yet so far, and really, it got old pretty quickly. He should have just said something, told Phil how he felt, because the older boy was feeling the same way, but Dan's insecurities crept back in and he stayed silent. Until, of course, he'd stayed at Phil's way too late one night and drunk far too much, only to insist that he go back to his dorm as to not be a burden. Phil had been significantly less drunk and after several minutes of not being able to convince Dan to just stay for the night – something that wasn't usually a problem, mind you – had agreed to let Dan go back to his place on the condition that Phil went with him to make sure he made it safely. Honestly, Dan learned later, Phil had hoped that the act of putting on his shoes and going down the stairs would convince Dan to change his mind – you can still stay here, you know? You look tired and it's late; you could get to sleep now instead of ages from now, and you know you're welcome here. You're always welcome here, Dan. – but Dan had been inside his own head for too long and didn't want to bother Phil any more than he already had. So Phil went with, calling a cab because it was both late and dark, and tall men or not, it was still safer than walking when they were both at least a little drunk. Dan expected Phil to drop him off and go home, and was entirely surprised when Phil paid the driver and followed Dan out of the car. Dan sputtered; Phil wrapped an arm around his waist and guided him to his building.

It was fortunate, really, because the car ride and the night air and the walking had turned Dan's stomach, and he barely made it to his bathroom before getting sick. He hated it and hated that Phil was a witness to this, knowing that his face was blotchy and eyes were watering, because drunk as he was, he knew how he looked when he got sick. It was disgusting and entirely the opposite of what he wanted the boy he liked to see, but Phil just sat by him, rubbing his hand over Dan's back in a way that soothed his nerves and quieted the thoughts in his head that suggested he was being more of a bother now than he had been at Phil's flat. After a few minutes of quiet from his stomach, Phil pulled some toilet paper off the roll and handed it to him before standing and filling a cup with water from the tap. He surprised Dan even more by returning to the floor, sitting just behind Dan, who had leaned away from the toilet but hadn't moved much beyond that.

Dan turned his head to look at Phil, ignoring the knowledge that he looked like a mess at this point, and gave him a weak smile. Phil's hand returned to his waist, and Dan closed his eyes for a second. The next moment, he felt Phil's other hand at the other side of his waist and allowed himself to be pulled back into an embrace. They sat there for a few minutes, Dan's back against Phil's chest, before Dan worked up the courage to whisper a single word, somewhere between a question and a plea.

"Stay."

Phil's arms wrapped around Dan a little more securely then, and he pressed his cheek against the top of Dan's head. "You need to get some rest," Phil had said eventually. Dan had protested, saying he'd get better rest if Phil was here. Phil gave in and held Dan until he fell asleep, keeping away the nagging thoughts of how he'd left Phil's flat in order to give the older boy a break from him and had done the exact opposite.

2.

When Dan came to visit for the first time, Phil was a mess of nerves. He supposes that their fans have theories of that day, but in reality, it was the beginning of when Phil went from being just Phil to part of Dan and Phil. Phil doesn't remember meeting most of his friends; that's probably normal – most people meet as strangers and become friends later. He remembers meeting Dan. He remembers the wait in the station before Dan's train showed up, trying to stand somewhere that wasn't in everyone's way but also somewhere that had a clear view of the incoming train. He didn't know what to do with his hands or his body or his face – should he play it cool and let Dan see him first, or should he call out to the boy as soon as he spotted him? Would Dan want a second to himself before getting ambushed with a hug? And – oh, God – could he hug him? Would that be okay? Then, another check of the clock showing the arrivals and departures, and only a minute had passed, so the cycle began again. It ended up being a moot point, as Dan's eyes found Phil's the moment he stepped onto the platform. There was a beat, a slight moment of oh my gosh you're here you're really here this is really happening, and then there was just movement and hurried apologies to those in the path of one to the other, and then they were together and hugging and everything in Phil's head was Dan Dan Dan Dan. It still is, sometimes, if he's honest with himself. He knows that he loved Dan before they met in person – he knows that with every fiber of his being – but he also knows that his feelings for Dan were stronger after that day.

Not that he told the boy that, of course. Sure, they mentioned liking each other and they flirted and maybe they were a little adventurous early on, but Phil was careful to keep the strength of his emotions under wraps. Dan was young, he kept reminding himself, and four years wasn't that much but it was something. Dan was young, and Phil loved him fiercely. As Dan got a little older, and as their total amount of time spent together in person increased, Phil often wondered if he could tell Dan he loved him – like really, proper loved him – without spooking the younger boy. Every time, he decided that it wasn't safe yet; telling Dan now might ruin everything. He often warred with himself, this was Dan he was thinking of. Dan, who loved him back – Phil was fairly certain of that from day one but never wanted to confirm his suspicions just in case he'd read everything wrong. He thought he knew Dan's tells, the way his eyes went soft and the difference in his smile when Phil was the cause of it, the way Dan would say one thing but allowed himself to be convinced by Phil to do the thing he probably wanted to do in the first place. But – even after a while, after Dan had moved to Manchester and after they'd more than doubled their time spent together – Phil wasn't sure, sometimes. Phil could usually convince Dan to stay at his flat if it even started getting dark out, but sometimes Dan insisted on returning to his own bed for the night. Sometimes Phil let him go with just a hug, but sometimes Phil stood his ground. On the first occasion where that didn't work – Dan was dead set on going back to the dorms, despite the look in his eyes telling Phil otherwise – Phil went with him. He didn't want to let the boy go, they were a little – or a lot – drunk and Phil wanted to maintain the illusion that Dan was his already, that he could go to bed and wake up and still have Dan next to him in life.

That's really all he wanted, Phil was coming to realized. Dan. He just wanted Dan, with all his emotions and turbulent thoughts and anxieties. He wanted Dan with his jokes and smiles and creative, brilliant ideas. He wanted it all, and he knew that, without a doubt. It made sense to him, then, to walk Dan to his room and to comfort him when he was sick. And when Dan asked him to stay, Phil wanted to tell him that he would always stay with him, forever, until Dan asked him to leave. Phil would stay in Dan's life as long as he was allowed.

But Dan meant his room, then, and Phil stayed there, too, because as much as he tried to tell himself that Dan had wanted to come back to his dorm for a reason and Phil should just leave him be, he really couldn't bring himself to leave the boy he loved. And the next morning, when Dan rolled into him and woke up, Phil just wrapped his arms even tighter around the smaller boy and dug his nose into Dan's neck. This, forever.

3.

Years passed. Their relationship changed and grew and cracked and healed. It always came back to the two of them, together, with no desire to leave the other and no desire to be alone. Dan stayed up later than Phil did, at first, but when Phil admitted one night that he wanted to hold Dan as they fell asleep – do the pillow talk thing, the late night sleepy murmurs, the soft kisses, and the goodnight wishes – Dan closed his laptop and followed Phil to bed. He found that he enjoyed it far more than he enjoyed his late night, down the rabbit hole searches. Anyhow, the internet was still there for him in the morning, and if it made Phil happy, it was worth it.

Even if they went to bed at the same time, Phil woke up first. He'd normally stay in bed for as long as he could before the need to use the bathroom consumed his brain, but every so often, he'd slip out of bed and start the coffee and breakfast, something more elaborate than cereal. They liked cereal, so it wasn't like they were suffering, but Phil wanted to give Dan the world every day. Some days, he gave him pancakes. And Dan would wake up alone, grope around for Phil only to open his eyes to an empty half of the bed. There'd be a pang in his chest for the briefest second – every time – before he remembered that Phil just did this sometimes, and Dan could find him in the kitchen. He would. It wasn't a question. Phil would be there or there'd be a note saying he'd gone to get milk or eggs or coffee. For Dan.

Still, Dan would take a moment to regulate his heartbeat and then go find Phil, ignoring everything else – the need for a shirt or hoodie, the bathroom, even, on occasion, water and something to stop the pounding of his head – until he could wrap his arms around his boyfriend, bury his face in Phil's back or hair or shoulder, and reassure his still-insecure brain that Phil hadn't gone anywhere. Phil, every time, like clockwork, would stop whatever it was he was doing and turn to wrap Dan in a hug. It was different now that Dan was taller, but he'd still curl into Phil's embrace like he was 18 again, small and unsure of himself. Phil would hold him until Dan sighed or they smelled something burning, whichever came first, and then Phil would return to his breakfast endeavor and Dan would go do the morning things he'd forgone previously.

Sometimes, if Dan had a particularly bad night or if Phil was feeling extra cuddly, he'd hold Dan for a beat longer and whisper to him to go back to bed, that he'd bring breakfast to him. Dan would snuggle up closer to Phil, just for a second, and then go do whatever he needed to and crawl back into their bed to wait for Phil. In a bit, the older man would bring a tray to their room, loaded with pancakes and toppings, extra fruit, and coffee already made to Dan's taste. Every time Phil got it right – which was every single time, for years now – Dan's heart flipped over. It was such a little thing, getting his coffee right, but it was something. And then Phil would hand Dan the tray, because they'd learned years before that Phil couldn't get into bed without spilling something if the tray was in his hands or on the bed, and Dan would laugh at his awkward movements. Phil would smile and laugh, and lean over to take the tray from Dan and while he was there, press a kiss to Dan's cheek or forehead or hair, wherever his lips found first.

They'd eat and talk, sometimes about a TV show or plans for a new video, and sometimes about the future of their career and relationship. They talked about future dogs and kids and houses, and what kind of garden Phil would like and how Dan wanted a larger, fancy piano and maybe a bigger wardrobe. They'd talk and eat until they were full or the food had gone cold, whichever, and then they'd eventually get up and start the day, orbiting around one another as they worked together but apart with practiced ease. It was moments like those when Phil remembered the times long ago when he wanted to tell Dan the extent of his adoration for the boy, but didn't want to scare him off. He didn't worry about that anymore, and it was nice. Nice to not have to be concerned about saying something startling, showing his cards too early. He didn't have to worry about Dan not feeling the same, because he did.

4.

It rained the morning of their wedding, and Phil collected Dan in his arms as they stood, watching the rain beat against the windows. They stood in silence for a while, knowing that they had time before they had to leave for the ceremony. They were being very untraditional and had both stayed at their flat the night before, because Phil knew that Dan would get anxious otherwise and Dan knew that Phil didn't see the point in being apart when they were happier together, and you should be happy on your wedding day.

"There was a time," Phil had said softly after a while, "where you would have been in a panic over what this weather would do to your hair."

Dan had laughed and then groaned. "I'm still concerned; it'll just make it even curlier and less like what I'm used to."

Phil had just pressed a kiss to the back of Dan's head. "It's lovely. You're gorgeous, Dan Howell, regardless of what your hair does."

Dan had blushed but stayed put for a handful of minutes longer. It was a change that Phil appreciated, even if it made him realize how much Dan had grown up. How much they'd both grown up. The years had passed like nothing, from when they were 18 and 22, and scared kids with emotions bigger than they could handle. Phil's brain was still largely occupied with Dan Dan Dan Dan, but it was a comfort now, instead of a nervous rushing.

"Dance with me," Phil had said, suddenly. "Just one song, for practice. The last dance before we're married."

Dan didn't need convincing; he was moving towards his laptop before Phil had even finished speaking. They didn't need to talk about which song to play, which was another perk of loving someone for as long as they had. Dan turned the sound up and met Phil in the middle of the room, wrapping his arms around Phil's neck and relaxing into Phil's touch. They swayed and pivoted for the few minutes that the song played, and then just stood there, with one of Phil's arms wrapped around Dan's waist and the other cradling the back of his head, which was now buried in the crook of Phil's neck. Dan was okay. He was, he just needed a minute. He overwhelmed his senses with Phil and mumbled a stream of I love you I love you I love you, knowing that Phil knew but needing to say it anyway.

5.

They sat together, on their bed, which was covered in a cream-colored duvet. Their old branding ones had been washed and folded, and stacked in a closest to use for guests or if they wanted to build a blanket fort. The background was different, but from the viewfinder, you couldn't tell that they were in a house and not an apartment. There was an end table on each side of the bed, with candles and a book and Phil's glasses, and the dresser behind them was an aesthetically pleasing mix of things from both of their separate rooms. If the title of the video didn't give it away, then surely the background would. If that failed, well, maybe the rings on their left hands would do the trick.

"Hello, Internet," Dan said, saluting, once the record button had been pressed.

"Hi, guys! We're here today to share something with you that we haven't before." Phil glanced at Dan, who ran a hand through his hair.

"Do you think anyone's listening to this, or are they all just screaming because of the title?"

Phil pretended to think for a minute. "Probably just screaming." Dan nodded, and Phil continued. "But if you are watching, then yes, Dan and I are together. We've been together. And now we're married."

"He put a ring on it," Dan chimed in with a wink. "But really, we got married. We actually got married. Can you even believe it?" The question was directed at Phil, but Dan knew that at least half of their audience would be screaming NO at their computers.

"I can, actually," Phil said, surprising Dan just a bit. "I mean, no, I can't believe that it's finally happened after we've been planning for so long, but I can believe that we ended up married. Does that make sense?"

"In a strange and convoluted way, yeah, I guess it does."

"I just," Phil started, and then paused. "I loved you, so much, right from the start. I never stopped, and that feeling never went away or lessened. I knew from the moment I met you that I never wanted to be without you. I wanted to love you forever." Phil smiled at Dan. "And now I get to do just that."

Dan gave a small half-laugh, but looked a couple seconds away from tears. "I did, too. Once I got a taste of what being around you, being near you, was like, I didn't want anything else. At first, maybe it was a little bit of a break from the reality that had been my life. Like, I got to be with you and nothing mattered. My job, my failures, my lack of knowing what I wanted with my life… you just let me be me without all of that clouding our time. But then, even when it all caught up to me and time with you was mixed with uni and decisions and life, you still just took it all in stride and didn't change or force me to do or be anything else. And I still wanted to be around you. I wanted to live with you, but I didn't want to crowd you or become suffocating."

"You were never suffocating me, Dan. You were – and still are – my favorite person to be around."

"I know, I know that, now. You're mine, too, you know, and you were then. And you were just always there. You were there for me but you were also just there, existing and allowing me to exist next to you. I needed that, and I loved you more for it."

Phil looked at him for a moment. "I'm going to love you forever, you know. I never was quite keen on the concept of marriage because I didn't see what it did for me that loving you couldn't already do, but when we got married, we made vows… and thinking about those vows, the things we said? That's more than just a piece of paper. I could always promise to love you forever and I'll always promise that, but we did it in front of our family and friends and there was something magical about that. And now everyone knows how much I love you and how I'll always love you. I like that." Phil blinked back tears as he finished; Dan was past the point of no return on the crying front. Without another word, Phil opened his arms and Dan folded himself into them, a move so practiced that it felt like breathing. The camera kept recording as the two spent a few moments like that, before Phil looked up. "That's all we have to say right now. We'll probably go back to our normal private life style of living, but now that this isn't a secret anymore… well, no promises, but we'll see. We'll see you later, guys. Bye!"

When the video was edited and uploaded on both of their channels, they shut their phones off and let the internet react as it would. They'd debate the title of the video, knowing that whatever they put wouldn't be clickbait. They wanted viewers to have a bit of a warning before they watched the video, but they didn't want to make a bigger deal out of it than it was. In the end, the title left little room for imagination but captured their point as well as they hoped.

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