Phil POV:
Hi I'm Phil! I know something is wrong with Dan, with all the forced smiles and fake laughter. I know Dan but I have the feeling that he's hiding something from me, and I wish he could just trust me enough to tell me. I love him and he's just gonna have to tell me one day. But anyway, he's amazing and I wish he could see it. Maybe he's depressed? I have no idea. I could always ask him, maybe he'd tell me.
"Hey Dan," I say as I walk into the lounge, where Dan is in his sofa crease. "Can I ask you something? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." "Yeah sure," Dan says. "Dan… Are you depressed?" "Um… yeah actually. That's why I sometimes don't come out of my room and my self care goes to shit but it sucks and I tried pushing you away so many times but you just kept coming back and I'm really sorry for being a depressed piece of shit, but I'll get better I promise." "Dan… will you let me help you get better? Please?" I am so glad he finally opened up to me, but now comes the tough part. "Dan, a couple of weeks ago I found bloody tissues in the trash. Are- are you cutting yourself?" At this, Dan tenses up. "What are you going to do if I say yes?" "Help you through it. I'm not gonna say you can't have bad days because you can but I want to see you really smile again and laugh without it being fake. I can't promise it's gonna be easy, but it will be worth it." I am so sad that he felt the need to do that to himself and just god I want to help him. "How long have you been cutting yourself?" I ask gently. "Um, around five years?" He starts counting on his fingers. And jesus that's a really long time and how did I not notice earlier. "Dan… that's called a maladaptive coping mechanism. You can't do that anymore. Would you be okay with giving me all your blades or whatever you use?" I say. "Well, you'd have to get rid of the kitchen knives too. I always said that I'd never fuck with knives but I did. Nearly bled to death." Oh holy moly. This is a lot worse than I thought.
