Dan kneeled on the shaggy, light grey carpet of his flat, picking at the weird frayed ends that stuck out by the wall. Whatever caused the carpet to do that, it had happened before he and Phil moved in. Whatever, just forget about it, he told himself. It's time to control your obsession over imperfection.
He turned back to the new wardrobe they had just built. Dan stood up and walked over to the 'masterpiece' that was the wardrobe. "Are we filming?" He called over his shoulder to Phil. "Okay, help me move this to the wall then." He paused, looking behind the looming wooden wardrobe. "Phil?" He took a few steps forward. "Phil?!" Frowning, he walked back behind the wardrobe. "PHIL!" No response. Dan rolled his eyes. "Fine! I don't need you!" He called to the empty room.
Suddenly, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. Stumbling, he tripped on the corner of the new wardrobe. As his head collided with the floor, and blackness overwhelmed him, all Dan Howell could think was, I shouldn't have said that. What if I do need him?
Sometime later, Dan opened his eyes. Where am I? He realized with a jolt that he'd knocked himself unconscious. He was lying on the floor, ruff grey carpet scratching his face unpleasantly. "Hey, Phil?" He called out as he heaved himself up. Again, nobody answered. He probably went out. He thought, desperately trying to be rational. But what if he took you seriously? What if Phil thinks you don't need him? A tiny voice at the back of his head piped up.
Dan reached for his phone, which was never too far from his side. Dialling Phil's number, he waited. "The number you are using is not in service. Please try again, or press pound for more options." Dan frowned. Suddenly he turned and, as if in a trance, walked towards Phil's bedroom. He pushed the door open and froze. Empty boxes cluttered the floor, cobwebs hung from the ceiling and dust coated the walls. Dan stared at the room, the room that so many people across the world knew. The room which was now empty.
"Phil?"