So, I think I've killed enough of you with cute fluff feels, so I've decided just to poke and prod at Dan and Phil's happy little bubble... enjoy! P.S: I promise I will stop spamming you with updates, I've just been really inspired today, but have now gotten to a stage where I have no idea what to do with the story, so... oops! Any suggestions?

Phil's POV.

Over the next few days, the dust of the last two months seems to settle, and whilst I'm glad that Dan and I have finally worked through everything, I'm shocked to realise just how much we've neglected in order to do so when over dinner he says quietly,

'Phil, we missed your birthday.'

'Hm? Wait, we missed what?'

'Your birthday. We missed the anniversary of your actual goddamn birth, Phil. And Christmas. And God knows how many radio shows we've skipped out on at this point.' He continues, fists clenched as he stares at the table in disbelief.

'Dan, stop a minute. Just breathe. Why has this upset you so much?' I ask, sensing an oncoming outburst.

'Because I've taken over your life! In just a couple of months I've managed to fuck everything up because I can't deal with my own shit like a normal human!'

'Dan, this is ridiculous. You've had to deal with more shit in the last few months than most people do in years. We both have. Do you honestly think it matters to me or anyone else if we've had to take some time out? That it wasn't worth it?'

'Phil, when was your last live show?' Dan asks in the same slow, tired tone of someone near breaking point. 'When did you last upload a video, not counting random collabs that you've had stashed for a while?'

'I don't... I don't know!' I say defensively.

'Ok, yes or no then: was it or was it not before you came home... around Christmas?'

'You mean was it prior to me coming home minutes away from finding the dead body of my best friend? Obviously. I'm human. Videos haven't exactly been my highest priority lately.' I seethe, my voice biting and acidic.

'My point exactly. I've been keeping you from your life.' he states, deadpan. I know from experience that that's not a good sign; Dan's prone to implosion, bottling everything up until he reacts violently inwards.

We're the same that way.

'Dan... Fuck, how do I say this? You are my life, but that's my choice. If I choose to focus on us, then that's what I want, and if I don't want to film my life when it feels like it's being tossed around like a kids toy, then that's my choice too.'

'Phil, what you're describing... it's withdrawal, denial. I need to know that I'm not toxic or whatever. Can you promise that being with me makes you happier than you'd be if things were the same as before?'

'Of course, Dan! There's nothing you could do to ever make me resent you or fall out of love. This is forever. The last couple of months... Just the shaky start to a new chapter.' I shrug, keen to move on and drag us both out of this pit before we've dug ourselves too deep.

'Are you sure? Phil, I'm worried about you.' he murmurs, reaching across the table to hold my hand. 'I worry about bringing you down.'

'Dan you couldn't if you tried.' I say, trying for as reassuring a smile as possible.

'Prove it.'

'How?'

'Let's go film a video. Right now.'

'Have you actually thought this through? Got an idea in mind, or...?'

'Let's do... Ah, I know! Let's do a 'How to Get Inspired' or something on my channel. If we talk about procrastination, video ideas, distractions, stuff like that then we can tie it in to why we've been so inactive lately. It's a start at least, and we don't even have to post it if you don't want.'

'Fine. Fine, let's do it.' I consent reluctantly.

'Awesome!' Dan smiles, clearing our plates and leading me to his room to help set up the camera, lights and microphone. When everything's ready, we place two chairs at his desk, take our seats and start filming.

'Hello Internet, long time no see! To help me make up for it, I've brought along everyone's favourite guest, AmazingPhil! Hi Phil!' Dan begins in his usual breezy tone.

'Wotcher, Danny Boy' I say, smiling knowingly at the camera - in his latest Internet Support Group, Dan had an email from a fan who called him that, and his viewers will get a kick out of me using it to make him cringe again.

'Did you just?' Dan groans, face-palming - always hamming it up for the camera. I hate to admit it, but he's right: already the familiarity of this routine makes me feel calmer, lighter. 'Seriously, there's the window, how many times am I going to have to tell you to jump out of it?' he jokes. reaching over to push me off my chair.

'Up to you; I don't think either of us are going to get our way.' I laugh, as I manage to stop myself from falling completely. 'So, Dan, what are we doing today?' I ask, turning to look at him - but he's in the middle of turning the camera off. 'Dan, what are you -'

'Phil, stop.' He says, sitting back in his chair and after an agonising moment shifting to face me. 'What the hell are those marks on your legs?' he breathes, visibly shaking as he works to contain rage or grief.

'What? Shit.' I say as I look down at my lap. Stupidly, I've worn cut-off joggers all day, seeing as we've just been lazing around the house, but as I fell they must have ridden up because visible just above my knees are the first few rows of scars. Furious and dreading what's about to come, I tug at my clothes until I'm as covered as I can be.

'Phil, where did you get those scars?' Dan presses, clutching the sides of his chair as if he might fall off otherwise.'

'Dan, they're old. Years old, back from before uni -'

'Don't bullshit me Phil!' Dan snaps, 'They're fresh... Raw. Weeks old, if that. Jesus... Fuck! What the actual fuck?'

'Dan, it's not like I planned to! I got lower than I ever thought I could and did something stupid. It won't happen again. End of.'

'No, Phil. Not freaking 'end of'. You... you could've died! This kind of crap doesn't just go away when you think you feel better... I mean, why - Shit. It was me, wasn't it? You did this... because of me.' he finishes, practically spitting the words at first, but midsentence turning deathly pale, a queasy sheen on his skin like he's gone into shock or wants to throw up.

'No, Dan! Not because of you. Because... Because I thought I'd lost you, and I was scared and -'

'You got addicted.' Dan finished. 'Maybe I didn't push you off the cliff, but I may as well have walked you to the edge. Fuck!' He screams through gritted teeth, standing up, knocking his chair across the room and racing out of the door. I'm about to rush after him when I hear the click of the bathroom lock followed by the unmistakable sound of retching. Instead, I opt for pacing Dan's room, throwing open the window to let some air in because my lungs are caving in and I can't breathe properly.

Shit, this is bad.

After the longest few minutes of my life, Dan re-enters his room. Well almost - he seems glued to the doorframe, unable to meet my eyes or come any closer.

'Phil, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I did this to you and didn't notice until now. I think... I think it's best for you if I give you some space. I'll still live here, and I'm more than happy to be your friend and help you through this if you'll let me, but it's pretty clear that I'm not good for you. I hate to see you hurting, so as long as I'm the reason you're in pain, I'll keep my distance.' he whispers to the ground, and though he won't look at me I can hear his tears in the tremor of his voice, see his pain in the way he wraps his arms across his chest, holding himself together.

'Dan, please don't. Please don't do this.' I beg feeling tears brim in my eyes as it gets even harder to breathe. 'You're more than good for me, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. If you leave, I don't know I'll keep myself together, so please... Please, stay.'

'Phil, I...' a strangled cry escapes Dan and for a moment, I think I've won because he crosses the room, seizes both of my hands and kisses me hard. Desperate, like me, but fresh and clean and pure, the taste of toothpaste on his lips. But just as I let myself hope, he pulls away, places a palm against the side of my face and says, 'I can't. I can't break you anymore than I already have.'

'You didn't, Dan. You didn't break me. You fixed me.' I sob, looking up to meet his gaze only to find that he's gone. I hear his footsteps in the office and with every one something inside me snaps until I'm not sure how I'm even still standing. Out of nowhere the pain gives way to numbness and I find myself mindlessly trudging into my own room - until I'm suddenly spilled out across the floor, unsure at what point the world rotated. Rolling onto my back, I stare at the ceiling, thinking that I must've fallen over and that's why there's a pain and slight dampness spreading along my arm but deciding that I don't care either way. It doesn't matter. Not important, not worth thinking about...

Is anything?

Does anything actually matter anymore?