A/N: This has Major Character Death in it, so you've been warned and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

Falling, falling, falling. Endless falling.

Phil could feel himself falling.

As all of his numbers grew bigger, he fell further. The subscribers, the radio show listeners, the twitter followers, the facebook likes, his bills, his age, pushed him another mile down.

Surly, he was at the centre of the earth now? Why was he not burning in the fiery pits of Hell? Why couldn't he leave?

The pills were falling too, falling into his shaking palm, too many, yet the perfect amount.

X

Dan was laughing at a very sexual joke Chris had told him, but there was a nagging in the back of his head.

Phil.

Phil, his best friend, had said he felt sick. He made Dan go to Chris' house were he had invited them two and PJ. "Have a good time," he had said. Dan knew he was lying about feeling ill, he knew Phil was lying to him.

He'd been off for a few days. Quieter, more reserved, less Phil-ish in so many ways. Dan had asked all the questions: Whats wrong? Did I do something? You'd tell me if there was something bothering you, wouldn't you?

To which Phil replied with the answers that Dan expected: Nothing No. Yeah, 'course I would.

But then his phone was ringing, his landlord's name showing up on the ID.

"Heya, Larry," Dan said as he got up and went to walk out of the room, so that Chris' hilarious sex noises were not in the background of the call.

"Dan, it's- Phil." Larry sounded choked, like he was trying not to cry.

"What's Phil? What's wrong, Larry?" Dan stopped in his tracks, at the doorway, his tone so serious that Chris' stopped making inappropiate noises from behind him.

"I- Phil's- Phil's dead, Dan. I'm so sorry. I found him, they think he killed himself, an overdose on pills, and..." Dan zoned out, he breath catching in his chest.

Phil's... Dead?

Waves of emotions were washing over him; sadness, so much sadness, fear, angry, agony, no shortage of agony...

Dan's phone slipped from his limp fingers, crashing to the wooden floor, smashing, but he didn't give a fuck. A broken phone was nothing compared to his breaking, smashing, crumbling heart, smoldering ruins, rumble in his empty chest.

Hot damp was slipping down Dan's paled cheeks, PJ and Chris standing beside him, talking to him urgently, as he leaned against the door frame. But their words were nothing, noise, no meaning, nonsense to his ears, that felt like he was under water.

"Phil's... dead." He managed to whisper. His mouth felt dry, his eyes blurringly wet, while the rest of him was numb, other than his cracking heart in the centre of him, the only thing he could feel.

This couldn't be real, could it? If anything, it would be Dan who went of his own accord, in comparison. Even the Phandom knew that. He was always the one with depression, which he'd had in his past, and the self-harm problems, and the anorexia in the Phanfics.

Phil was that happy one, the sweet and innocent one that seemed like a big cuddly lion.

How could he have missed all of this?

Dan felt his stomach again, now he could feel two organs in his body, his mangled heart and sickened stomach.

His chest was shaking with sobs, a constant vibrating rattle from within himself, unlike Phil's. So many shallow breaths, like he was trying to make up for the air that Phil had lost chance to take in.

Dan's feet were moving, Chris' and PJ's shouts following him into the dark night, almost black, but deeper to Dan. It felt solid as he moved against it.

Someone was saying something, with his username in it. He dove past a gaggle of teenage girls, one wearing a llama hat, the rest all wearing Dan's and Phil's t-shirts.

Tears were still pouring down his face, and more shouts followed him as he sprinted on, out of breath.

More people, endless people on the streets. It wasn't even the weekend or that late, so why did the streets feel so crowded?

He didn't know where he was going, he just had to get away from the depression following him like a pack of hungry dogs, or he'd fall back into the paralazying illness.

He just had to run.

Maybe he'd fall, like Phil.

Maybe he'd fall and meet Phil on the way, and they'd never stop falling together, until the end of time.

Falling, falling, falling. Endless falling.