Words: 1.2k

Genre: Angst, and fluff (I guess)

Summary: Something had gone wrong, and Dan regretted nothing

AN: I wrote this a month ago and reread and was like woah okay when dead I able to write like that? (Like this style) there may be a second part written by the amazing im-a-baby-phanosaur but idk yet :)

Something had gone wrong.

Something had gone wrong, but Dan didn't regret anything. Thank god, he would tell himself everyday. Because although everyone thought it was wrong, he thought it was right. He was better off now.

Phil had moved out nearly a year ago, now - or was it two? Dan couldn't be bothered to count. It wasn't that it was painful - of course it was, but he wouldn't admit that - it was because every thought of Phil would turn him grey with anger and hatred.

He doesn't even really know what happened. He just knows that Phil had never cared, that Dan had been blind, and that in the end Phil pretending to love him had been too much. He wouldn't even admit that he only took Dan in because of pity. Dan had lost it that night, and Phil wouldn't even be human enough to admit it. He DID love Dan, he cried, over and over, and Dan just sat and rocked back and forth because of course he didn't, no one did. Why couldn't he just tell the truth, for once in this net of lies that was slowly strangling Dan.

So Dan hated him. Simple as.

But the day - and the week - had been long, and Dan couldn't keep his mind away from the enthralling face of his once companion. He had started thinking that perhaps he was blinded with this writhing thing he called hatred. Maybe, just maybe, Phil HAD cared and Dan was being stupid and he could hope and -

No.

Dan sighed and trudged through the flat, one foot dragging after the other in a pathetic parade. He almost bashed into a door frame a few times, but eventually he collapsed on the cracked couch, forcing all responsibility from his mind. As he sat down he felt the physical strains on his body float away, but the persistent silent shouts in his head intensified. Indignantly, he sighed again, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds; perhaps to push out all the thoughts. It didn't work, of course. Dan laughed at himself.

Why did he bother.

Why does he bother.

He then got himself lost in a void for a few minutes, or maybe a few hours, and when he woke again, he was greeted by a sense of longing.

He was definitely mad. But - no, that laptop was definitely staring at him. The temptation was too much, and his eyes just kept dragging back to it. With a sigh, he grabbed it.

Seconds later, the screen was flushed with blue, and the Tumblr logo appeared soon after.

The keyboard clicks echoed in his ears, and he hovered the cursor over the button. Was he actually doing this? But then the thought of Yes, he needed this.

Images and gifs filled the screen, and the effect of those blue eyes were the same as when he first saw them. It had been so long since he had seen them last.

It was odd how a few images of him and Phil could flush out everything, leaving him with the truth.

They just looked so happy together. When they had split, as it were, the fans had gone wild. Apparently. Dan had shielded himself from the inevitable storm. He couldn't escape from the confusion inside him, and the fans wouldn't make that any better. But he had seen the tags before The Argument. Everyone had said how much Phil adored him, friendship or otherwise - what emotion it was was irrelevant.

Dan face palmed. How. Had. He. Been. So. Stupid.

Whispering it over and over, he continued to scroll, tears dripping like blood down his cheeks. It was painful - if comforting - to see the look in their eyes. If emotions had voices, then Dan would have heard his longing for his boyfriend screaming shrilly at him; voice hoarse from the continuous attempts. And once again Dan asked how he could have let his own thoughts take away what was actually there.

He had really messed up this time.

He had let fantasy and fears mix with reality.

And then he thought about how Phil must have felt.

Ten times worse, was the answer he decided on. To be told you didn't love someone. He must have even though Dan despised him. And then he gave Dan up.

He gave Dan up, because Dan came first, and, Dan realised with another aching groan, always had.

The screen had blurred. He couldn't see anything through the stale tears, which had waited too long to plummet.

The thoughts came round in circles. They would always come back to the same things: how idiotic Dan had been, how the depression had won, and Phil.

For once, he realised with a wet, wry smile, the fans had been right. He had cared. They had both cared. But Dan had been falling, and he had kicked down the only thing keeping him up, before knocking himself out, to blind him from the plunge.

And Dan had been happy, as well. Dan saw the smile which rippled through his once glowing features, and he vaguely remembers what it's like to have that singing through your body. He looked around, about to speak up, and then he remembered that Phil wasn't there. He had lost his best friend and lover.

So what was he gonna do about it?Finally he asked the question. What was he, the pathetic mistake which he was, going to do to correct it.

Talk to Phil. That's what he was going to do. Why was that so hard to come up with?

Oh. Because he hadn't talked to Phil in ages, and he had told him he never wanted to see him. He wouldn't be surprised if he had moved on from now. His mind had kept the option hidden, because talking to Phil was his biggest fear right now.

He scooped his phone out of his pocket. He went to contacts, to find Phil's as Unnamed, and without a photo.

Now, that wouldn't do. New start; forgiveness, and all.

He went to his camera roll. He laughed; despite everything else, he had never had the heart to totally delete Phil. He still had that album.

A tear plopped on the screen, and Dan wiped it away, to find a picture of him and Phil. He chose that one, and Phil now had a face.

His finger, annoyingly, was shaking as it hovered over the blinding Call button. And he knew that his voice was shaking even more. What would he say? What could he do? Say sorry? What in the whole of Dan's mind could help Phil forgive him?! Probably nothing, he decided, but he could try. Could try to hope that his mind would choose a course.

The tone was drilling in his ears; each second cruelly taunting him.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

And then the tone, and Dan's heart, stopped. The call was unavailable, or something.

Dan was silent. His brain refused to respond, refused to cry.

And then.

And then the phone started vibrating in his hand, and, and, yes - Phil's face filled the tiny screen. Out of his mouth came a mix between a sigh, a laugh and a sob, as he pressed it to his ear.

"…Dan?"

Phil's voice filled his head; finally. Dan couldn't help smiling, and he found it ironic. Obviously he'd have to look up the definition of "Hatred".

"Phil."