DAN P.O.V

I still hadn't resumed my old life - my YouTube life. It was still a lot to handle and I didn't think I was ready for that. Truth be told, I didn't know if I'd ever be ready for that.

I knew my limits, and how much I was able to cope with. Which was why it was so incredibly stupid of me to willfully overstep that boundary line.

A month had passed since I had woken up and things were going okay. Okay as they could ever be with almost a quarter of my life erased from my brain. But I was dealing with it, largely with the help of Phil.

But the thing was, Phil put his own life on hold to get mine back on track. I never posted on it but I had taken to checking twitter occasionally. I saw the questions that Phil was bombarded with by subscribers, and the half-truths Phil told in response. I read his excuses for why he couldn't make liveshows, why the next video was taking so long, why I hadn't tweeted anything since I woke up.

I felt this enormous knot of guilt in my stomach, weighing me down. I was nothing but a burden. All I did was cause stress and worry and sadness. I was a plague infecting those around me.

I owed it to Phil try. To be the Dan that he remembered, the Dan in my videos, so that everything could go back to normal. Not my normal, but his normal. He'd sacrificed too much and I felt like it was my turn. Which was how I found myself at a YouTuber party on the brink of having a panic attack.

I wasn't entirely sure what it was for. It was some dinner especially for Youtuber creators. I don't really know. But Phil and I were invited to it regardless. He initially declined the invitation but not wanting him to cancel on my behalf I told him that he should go. And I told him that I'd go too. Like I said… stupid.

Phil was my tour guide of the YouTuber community, subtly introducing me to everyone. A few people I vaguely recognised from before the forgotten period of my life, which was rather exciting. But most people were new to me.

And the longer the night continued the more frustrating it got. The people I talked to made references to things that I didn't understand and brought up experiences that I couldn't remember having.

Luckily, I had Phil by my side the entire time, jumping into the conversation when I didn't know how to respond to something. I couldn't tell if he was doing that on purpose or if his timing was just incredibly perfect. Either way, I was glad he was there.

At one point in the night he tried to leave a conversation I was having with someone to go get himself a drink and I panicked a little bit and grabbed hold of his hand to get him to stay. He looked down at our intertwined fingers then back at me and his expression softened.

He didn't complain, and instead squeezed my hand gently, letting me know that he got my message. Which was essentially: 'don't you dare fucking leave me.'

It was all so overwhelming. All these strangers coming up and talking to me like they'd known me forever. I felt like I was intruding on other Dan's life and was paranoid that I'd say or do the wrong thing and fuck everything up for him.

I had to keep reminding myself over and over again that there was no other Dan. There was only me. This was my life.

And it was theoretically idyllic. A thousand times better than my old life in every conceivable way. In fact, I was living the dream. In this world I wasn't studying law; I was a YouTuber with millions of fans. I wasn't living in a crappy dorm room; I had an apartment in London with my idol. My idol who was also, as it turns out, my best friend.

I should have been happy... but I wasn't. Because it still felt wrong.

It was an unsettling experience feeling as if you didn't belong in your own life; in your own skin. It made me feel sick to my stomach. I wanted to go somewhere that felt safe and familiar but the problem was that place didn't exist. Not anymore. Everything was new and scary and alien to me.

I was starting to panic and the alarm bells were going off in my head. If I didn't get out of there soon, I was bound to have a full on meltdown.

But then for the second time that night I found my hands in contact with Phil's. He had scooched up closer to me so that his side pressed up against mine and he held one of my sweaty and shaky hands within his warm and steady ones. "Are you okay?" he whispered to me in concern. His blue eyes looked up into mine trying to get a read on the situation.

I didn't trust myself to talk, out of fear that I would start sobbing instead. I shook my head and tried to blink away the tears that were starting to form in my eyes.

Phil wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him. It was odd, but for a second I felt as if I'd found that place that I so desperately wanted to escape to. I still couldn't remember Phil or anything about our life together, but he'd been with me every step of the way since the minute I woke up. And being in his arms it felt safe, and it felt familiar.

"Let's go home then." He whispered into my ear, his breath tickling my skin.

"You don't have to do that." I said thickly, my voice straining with the effort to hold back the tears.

Phil let go of me and stood up. He held his hand out for me to take, which I gladly accepted, and without stopping for one last drink or to say goodbye to anyone he took me home. Where once again we found ourselves lying on a bed together, but this time we were in Phil's room. He didn't question why I insisted on his room instead of 'mine.'

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, facing him, my hand still locked with his. Phil's free hand reached over to gently brush my fringe out of my eyes.

"For what?" Phil asked, still stroking my hair. I simply closed my eyes against the touch, even though I knew I should probably stop him. I knew that allowing him to continue would only give him the wrong impression.

But I was a selfish person, as was made abundantly clear from tonight. So I let him continue.

"For not being Dan," I yawned. My eyes were still closed so I didn't see his reaction. But the way his hand froze in my hair I could imagine the confusion on his face.

"What are you talking about?" Phil asked, but I was too far gone. Already pulled under by the enticing waters of sleep, promising me temporary absolution. Which I gladly welcomed.