A/N: This chapter contains self-harm and mild gore.
They didn't even think about actual marriage for five months, just enjoying the engagement and horribly milking "fiancé" until it wasn't a real word to them anymore. Then one day at the end of April, eating junk food and watching TV in the lounge, Dan's mind started to wander to the actual wedding itself. They'd agreed to have a big, fun wedding with family and friends, a smaller ceremony and then a huge party for the reception. To Dan at least, though it was obviously a huge deal, the ceremony itself was too boring to really be valued too much. He wouldn't be paying any attention to what the officiator was saying, drowning in just how stunning his husband-to-be looked instead, standing in front of him, waiting for the two of them to just be pronounced husbands. Then they'd go and have fun, eating and drinking and just having a great time at the reception. Dan couldn't wait.
They wanted to get married on their anniversary, October 20th. Dan still smiled remembering how it only took one day of knowing each other in person for Phil to ask him out, to be his boyfriend, and how eagerly he himself had said yes. He never once regretted it.
He found himself image searching venues and tuxes and cakes, invitations and favors and wedding bands that wouldn't be too fancy or expensive. He was falling more and more in love with the idea as he discovered the options, but was anxious to have to make a decision in the near future. If they wanted to get married in six months, they should probably get at least some planning done now. But he and Phil had the same tastes in most everything; compromise shouldn't be difficult, and maybe not even necessary.
He decided to test it out, picking a few of his favorite options for a venue and picking up his Macbook to bring to their bedroom, where he was pretty certain Phil was asleep. He didn't bother knocking, of course.
"Hey, Phil, I was looking at some-…" He never finished his sentence, dropping his laptop to the ground at the sight before him.
Phil was sat on the bed in his shorts, staring wide-eyed up at Dan as he entered. "Dan, I-I…" he stuttered, dropping the small blade to the sheet. He curled in on himself, no longer aware of the blood dripping from his upper arms and inner thighs, down onto the ragged old towel he was sat on. "I'm sorry…"
Dan rushed forward then, taking one of his fiancé's wrists and tugging gently on his arm to examine the damage. He was speechless for a long moment, mouth opening and closing as he tried to say something. "Why?" he eventually choked out. "I thought…"
"I thought so, too," Phil answered sadly, not needing Dan to finish what he was saying. "But ever since a year went by since he took me, I've been having nightmares, and… and it hurts, Dan."
Dan sighed, gently kissing one of the self-inflicted wounds, shuddering at the taste of blood on his lips; he was ready to vomit. "I…" He had no idea what to say. "Let's go for a walk."
"How long ago did you start hurting yourself?" Dan asked after they walked a mile or so.
Phil bit his lip hard enough to sting and leaned against his fiancé. "Today. I didn't want to but I did, and I'm sorry."
"It's not weakness, babe, but… Please, you need to get help." Dan was begging now for maybe the tenth time, pleading with Phil to see a psychiatrist. He knew that Phil had to be in a really dark place to do this in the first place, and it wasn't going to be easy to come out of that, but Dan would try to lead the way.
"I… I'll try to talk to someone about it, Dan." He kissed his cheek gently in assurance. "I promise."
Dan gave a small smile and leaned in to kiss him on the lips, sweet but full of love and hope.
They kept walking a while in silence. Dan would occasionally squeeze Phil's hand, or Phil would squeeze Dan's or lay his head on his shoulder. Dan was getting hungry and was about to ask where Phil wanted to go and eat when suddenly their hands disconnected. "Phil-?" He spun around to see Phil standing still, staring blankly at a building. It didn't look very conspicuous, a little rundown maybe, but otherwise not unlike the rest of the buildings on this street. "Phil, are you okay?" He approached cautiously, trying to determine what exactly he was looking at.
"This…" His voice was quiet and trembling slightly, but his gaze was firm and set. "It's where he kept me."
Dan's mouth dropped open and he stared at the building as well. This place was where his baby had been held captive for over six months last year, and he knew the memories were still very fresh in Phil's mind –they probably always would be.
And then suddenly Phil was running forward, to the door. Dan ran after him, watching as Phil opened the unlocked door and going inside. "Babe-!" He headed in behind him, heart pounding hard as he worried the man might still be here and ready to strike.
The smell hit hard, and Dan reeled back. Phil wasn't overtly affected by it and he headed to the stairs, going down slowly, each step solid. Dan followed, groaning when he found that the stench was growing stronger but not about to let Phil out of his sight, here of all places. At the bottom of two flights of stairs, the source was found in a decayed body.
"I… I must have killed him when I pushed him down the stairs…" Phil was in shock. Dan came closer to lay a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it to keep him calm. Phil was gone a moment later, running up the stairs.
Dan sighed, slouching against the wall and ignoring the smell now. He could only imagine how Phil must be feeling about that: this man may have hurt him in ways Dan couldn't even imagine, but at the same time he'd never meant to kill him. He'd never meant to do anything to him, Phil just reacted when the man came after him in his escape. He'd been so scared, and-
Footsteps could be heard rushing back down the stairs and minute later, and Dan watch Phil come down with fire in his eyes. He stood by as his fiancé kneeled down by the body on the floor, drew back a kitchen knife, and stabbed it in the ribcage. Dan felt a rush of adrenaline as Phil stabbed again, and again, and again.
By the end of it, Phil had stabbed the decayed monster two dozen times, and both men were splattered with bits of rotted flesh. Dan pulled Phil up from his knees and held him tight against him. Phil dropped the knife to the floor and squeezed Dan back, burying his face into his shoulder.
Dan pulled away slightly, and was relieved to find that their faces were clean as he leaned in to kiss Phil full on the mouth, every ounce of love and passion and pride seeping from his lips and into Phil's.
Later that night, lying in bed curled into one another, Phil promised Dan that on their wedding night, over a year of abstinence would come to an end.
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