Chapter Text
He rings his mum on the way back. He feels more awake than he has done for a while and he still has all of the Charlie stuff in his head which means there are now so many things he needs to do, so many things he needs to face up to that he might not be ready for. The least he can do is keep his promise to call.
"Child," she says, customarily.
"Hi mum."
"You sound like you're outside, are you outside?"
"I'm on my way back from seeing PJ," he says, "I told you I would."
There's a clinking sound on the other end and he can imagine her sat at their kitchen table with a warm mug in her hands. He suddenly has a pang of homesickness he wasn't ready for. At times like these it would be nice to have his mum, to give her a hug and make everything else go away like he had when he was little. But his mum can't fight his battles for him anymore, she can't stand up against the demons in his own head, only he can do that.
"Oh Phil. I'm glad."
He hums into the phone and pauses at the top of the stairs to the underground because he'll lose signal if he goes down.
"Are you ready to talk about it?" She asks. Always so careful, always tiptoeing around the conversation. He hates that she needs to do that.
He sighs, mostly to himself.
"It's… complicated."
"Of course it is. I wouldn't expect you to get mixed up over something that wasn't. I know you have… you feel things strongly, but you're not one for getting worked up over nothing."
He bites his bottom lip because that makes something heavy rise in his throat.
"Thanks mum."
"Are you sure you don't want to come home?"
"No… no I think I need to talk to… well, to Dan."
"Dan."
"Yes."
"I see…" she pauses, just for a second, but he hears it. "Well it's good you have a friend."
"Mum."
She knows better than that. She must. But she's giving him room for denial, which is nice. But also another one of those things he wishes she didn't have to do.
She hums down the phone. "I know love, just… be careful."
"I am."
Be careful he isn't the same. Be careful you don't react the same way. Be careful. Be careful. He's been careful, perhaps too careful given how things have worked out. Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith. Like replying to a tweet, or grabbing a coffee, or saying yes to a project. If he doesn't, if he keeps playing it safe and secluded over and over he'll look back and he and Dan will have passed by each other. Like ships that pass in the night he will be merely a story of something that once happened to Phil a long time ago. And Phil isn't sure he wants go settle for that anymore.
"I've got to go," he says, "I…"
"Do what you have to, love."
He says goodbye and finally hangs up. He heads into the underground, shoulders squared and feeling lighter than he has in days. He has hope, buoyant and beautiful hope.
-
The idea comes to him when he's finally checking his emails. There's one from a radio producer at the BBC finalising his booking to appear on the radio show. Dan's radio show.
It isn't ideal, and of course he doesn't expect everything to be fixed at Dan's workplace but it's a first step. A show of willing.
He responds with his confirmation and that's that.
-
The BBC building is all glass. It reflects the sun and the revolving door moves too fast so that he almost gets stuck in it but the lobby is cool and echoing and the visitor badge around his neck makes him feel a little important.
He's amazed that the nerves don't get to him until he's in the lift. He's been riding the adrenaline before this, but it wears out once he follows the girl with the short spiky ponytail down the corridor. They go through a room filled with mismatched sofas and then a sound room with amps he recognises as the live lounge and then they're there. In front of a desk that has hundreds of buttons and dials and lights, engineers in headphones moving them in unison and then--
Dan. On the other side. Head dipped low over his laptop, fringe swinging into his eyes. It takes everything in Phil not to rush through the people, pole vault over the complicated desk, stand amidst the strange array of drawings and posters and celebrity face masks and say-- what?
Something Phil. Think. How has he got this far without knowing what he's going to say?
"Howell," the woman is saying. "Your guest is here."
Dan looks up, slightly confused for a second before their eyes lock. Phil sees the back of his jaw clench, the way his lips purse slightly throwing an annoyed dimple into relief on his cheek.
"Thanks Ros," he says. "I've got it."
Dan comes around the desk. Expertly dodging cables Phil knows he's going to trip on and finally they're face to face. He doesn't look mad, he doesn't look much of anything. His face, the one Phil has grown to know so well, is shockingly blank.
"I didn't think you'd come," Dan says.
"I... " Phil starts, but he still has no idea what to say.
"Come on," Dan says, moving past him but making sure they don't touch. Phil aches. "We've got a half hour, I know where we can get… snacks."
He doesn't say coffee. Phil doesn't get coffee with Dan anymore. That makes him much sadder than it has any right to for something so small.
If he's going to feel this way about anything it should be the way Dan avoids his eyes, or how they walk with a considerable distance between them in the corridors. How everything is different. How much he misses how it used to be. How he doesn't know how to bring up everything that's happened. Where does he even start?
Dan brings them to a vending machine tucked into the corner of a dim grey room, a sofa shoved against a wall and a table with music magazines spread on top of it. There's a coffee machine and a sink but the room looks less polished and modern than the rest of the building.
Dan faces the vending machine and looks at it with a knot in the middle of his brows. His eyes are hard and Phil thinks that the expression is probably for him, rather than the snacks within.
"So… how have you been?"
Dan cocks his head and doesn't meet his eyes. "Fine."
"Good. That's… good.
Phil swallows and feels his tongue thick and cumbersome in his mouth, he can barely speak around how dry his lips feel, how alien the sounds fit behind his teeth.
"I didn't think you'd come," Dan says.
He sounds sad. Phil hates that he sounds sad.
"I… wanted to." it's all he can think to say. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Ha!"
"What?"
"Now you want to talk?" Dan turns, shifting on his heel until he's facing Phil. He looks mad. "You don't just get to pick and choose when you want to talk to me and when you don't. I deserve better than that."
Phil looks down at his shoes, fighting the urge to run away and escape the conversation. He needs to stay, he needs to get some of this out or it will eat at him.
"I know," he says to his Vans, "You do. I just… I didn't--"
He stops, because despite everything he still doesn't know where to start.
Dan sighs and Phil can hear the frustration in it.
"I spoke to Tyler. And Cat. They told me what they said…"
Phil looks up and Dan is staring at him hard.
"You know it's all bullshit, right? They said some shit to me about you ages ago, when I wouldn't stop going on about you." Dan looks sheepish at this. "It was just some dumb joke about hooking up with you for views and… honestly, it never really crossed my mind afterwards. I forgot they even said it once I actually... I should have told them to fuck off when they said it but it was so ludicrous to me that I would even meet you that I… you know… just forgot."
Phil nods, quick and jerky.
"Okay, yeah, I'm stupid I didn't… I'm not sure I ever really…" he lets his shoulders drop from where they've been drawn up, letting the relief flood through him.
He'd pretty much decided that in light of everything that Dan has said to Charlie, how he defended him to his own detriment, that even if Dan had started out wanting to spend time with him for some sort of popularity gain, his feelings must have changed a little. Despite that, it's still nice to hear Dan say out loud that it wasn't like that at all. And Phil can let himself believe it, for once.
"You were right," he says finally, "I was just scared. I don't think I ever really believed it."
Dan bites his bottom lip, chewing a bit on it, the pink flesh turning white. "Last time we spoke you were convinced. What changed your mind, Phil? Why are you here?"
Phil blows out air, makes space for what comes next in his body, like deflating.
"I think I owe you an explanation. For… well, for everything."
Dan's brows lift a little at that, like he's surprised.
"I know," Phil says, forcing a bit of a laugh overtop of his awkwardness, "I don't… I'm not good at doing that. But I want to be… when it comes to you. With you I want to be better."
Dan nods, just once and then beckons him to follow as he makes his way over to the small, beat up couch. He flops down onto it and Phil follows suit, perching on the opposite cushion, suspended and uncomfortable.
"Take your time," Dan says, with far more patience than he has any right to have at this moment.
Phil shakes his head, he had no idea how Dan is like this, how he isn't screaming at Phil to just get on with it. But there he is, all restrained and not pushing him, sitting, waiting, calm and collected. It makes everything crazily zipping around Phil's chest calm, like a flock of birds haphazardly flapping come to a stop, settling in rows.
"So… PJ showed me… um, the things. On Twitter."
"On Twitter?"
Phil nods a little. "Hm, Ch-charlie. The… stuff he's been saying."
"Oh." Dan's mouth purses a little, going tight at the corners. His nostril flare, just ever so slightly. He doesn't look happy. "I didn't realise you didn't know about that."
"I blocked him ages ago."
Phil puts one hand in the other in his lap, squeezing fingers around his palm. He fidgets, nervously. This is difficult, moreso than he'd thought it would be.
"I… I'm not used to talking about this," he says, "I haven't. Not since…"
Dan reaches over and Phil watches his slide his fingers overtop of his, stilling them where he's squeezing over and over. Phil marvels at him, he has every right to stay mad at him, but here he is offering comfort like he always does.
"You don't have to," he whispers.
"I do," Phil insists, not knowing what to do with all of Dan's wonderful patience. "I do. I... "
Phil shifts, turns in his seat until his body is angled towards Dan's. Dan doesn't move his hand, just slips his fingers between Phil's so that they're holding hands. It's a small thing, but it's enough to ground him.
"I had anxiety issues long before I met him," he starts, "I won't credit him with being the be-all-and-end-all of my issues. He doesn't get to claim that."
Dan swipes his thumb over Phil's knuckles. Phil looks down, stunned by the small gesture against his skin, focussing on that instead of on the way his hand is shaking under Dan's palm.
"But I thought I’d found someone who loved me in spite of those issues," Phil croaks, his voice cracking over the words, caught around something in his throat pushing upwards."I thought… It's so stupid, I thought he realised they were a part of me and loved me anyway. But… that's not… he didn't. It's too much. I can understand why."
"I can't," Dan says, "I can't understand that at all. You are not your issues, Phil, but they are a part of who you are. You don't need to be loved in spite of them, you should be loved because of them, including them, because you feel things deeply doesn't mean you're damaged."
Phil looks up, into Dan's serious, sincere expression and he wants to tell him just how much that means, what it is to have someone like Dan telling him these things. How desperately he wants to believe them but how that tiny voice in his head reminds him that they can't possibly be true, or that Dan means them now but won't once he finally sees… once he knows the full extent.
"I think if I’d had someone say that back then… Or had someone who asked me how I am before going into parties or acknowledging when my head gets loud… things might have ended up differently."
"I wish I'd known you then."
Phil closes his eyes and concentrates on Dan's thumb going back and forth over his hand.
"Me too."
"I did…" Dan says, "A bit. I was… well, I was watching your videos at least."
Phil sighs, a little groan escaping him as he thinks of what Dan must have seen, of how it all went down out there in public. How can Dan be sat here now if he saw everything?
"You…"
"I'd like to hear your side of it," Dan says, guessing what it is that is tormenting him. "I never… there was always more to it."
"There was." Phil's voice is tiny, shoved inside of him in that place where he keeps everything. It's cracking open, like something pressured finally released. "He played my insecurities. He… He knew. I told him what I felt like sometimes and he used that to keep me secluded and in the dark about everything that was going on. He said he was trying to push me, to get me to face up to things, but he just didn’t care."
"He was always so... "
"Public," Phil supplies. "Everything was out in the open, and I was just never… comfortable with that. I want to keep it between us, it was personal, you know? Our relationship. But he was so intent on...parading it everywhere."
"I think we all know why."
Phil nods. "Exactly. He used me, Dan. He put our relationship everywhere so that he could be associated with me. I wasn't even… I didn't have like, loads of subscribers then but… YouTube was different. I knew alot of people, we were friends… Charlie never really fit in with all of that. I think there are some people that just shouldn't be online, like in the public space… he's one of them. But he wanted it so much, more than anything else, and he used me to... to…"
Dan slides a little, shuffling up next to him, pressing their hips together. Their hands are still clasped but he's close now. So close Phil can smell the scent of his cologne.
"I just wanted to keep it private," Phil says again, "I didn't know… I was confused. About like, boys and not being straight and navigating the whole… comment section wanting to know my business. You know? But he… he didn't want that."
"Phil…"
"He wanted me to be different," Phil says, his voice a little thick but he's holding on. The warmth from Dan is helping, the rhythmic back and forth of his thumb on his knuckles and the press of his body against his side. This is comfort. This is what he's needed. It hurts, to let it out, to put forth something he's been keeping hidden for all this time. Fear that he wouldn't be understood. "When I didn't want to go along with it, when I had… bad days He thought I could just snap out of it and when I couldn’t he decided I wasn’t worth it, even if it did mean good things for his channel. In the end… he got what he wanted and then moved on."
"I remember… it was just as I started YouTube," Dan says, "I'd been tweeting you alot by then."
Phil nods. "I know that now. I wish… God I wish it had been different. That I'd have seen that or something. But… there was a lot of other stuff going on. I might have seen it, I like to think I'd have seen it. If... you know, everything else hadn't been happening"
"You split up with him."
"Did I?" Phil asks, "That definitely the way he tells it. He spun the story of the victim, like I’d strung him along and was some pompous stuck up big youtuber that hated everyone. He made out like he was the one that had wanted to keep it quiet, but that I'd wanted to… that I made him put it all out in the open. I can't even remember anymore, whether it was me or him. I like to think I did do it, that I did finally break free… but I don't really know."
Phil runs a hand through his hair, dragged his fingers out from between Dan's and standing up. He paces, back and forth in front of the couch, needing to move, to work of some of the rising shake he can feel. It rattles in his chest, his heart beating, pulse pounding in his ears.
"He honestly made it seem like he was the victim, the things he said… the… it was... " he breath in, quick and hard and he squeezes his eyes shuts because he's starting to panic. He can feel it. He has to do this, he has to push through.
Dan rises to his feet, catches his as he walks by, pulling and tugging until Phil is cradled against his chest. His face buried in Dan's shoulder, Dan's large hand smoothing up and down his back.
He feels pathetic. It's just a breakup, something people go through every day. But he knows that his anxiety means his reacts differently, he's heard people tell him time and time again that his reaction is valid. Because Charlie had essentially fucked with his entire career, his whole life, all of his friends. So many of them believed him, he lost a lot of people. But it's hard for Phil to rationalise that when he's feeling small and silly and like he's overacting even though he can't help the way his breath comes in spurts, all bound up in his lungs, sporadic and laboured.
"It's okay…" he says, low in his ear. "I've got you. I know… I saw… it's okay. It's over."
"It was easier to go along with it," Phil sobs, "because then at least I wouldn’t get hurt. At least then… by then I just wanted it over. I didn't want YouTube or anything. It was a really… a really…"
"Shhh," Dan soothes. He flutters a hand to Phil's cheek, lifting to press their foreheads together. "It's okay."
"It was a bad time. I… didn't come out of it very well."
"You disappeared," Dan says. "For a little while."
Phil reaches out, folds his arms around Dan's waist and pulls him close, liking the nearness of him, the familiar shape of him, when he feels like this. His heartbeat is slowing, a little, bit by bit.
"I wanted to quit completely. Some stuff… happened."
"Do you want to…"
"Yes," Phil insists. "I want to tell you all of it. I don't want anything… all of it. I need you to know."
Dan pauses, runs his thumb across Phil's cheekbone. "Can I kiss you? I want to… but not if you're… I don't want to make it worse."
Phil nods, leans forward, bring their mouths together. It's fleeting, a tiny fluttery thing across Phil's lips. He feels himself reset a little. Dan isn't magic, he can't kiss away Phil's panic attack but it does give Phil something to focus on, and it's reassuring to know that Dan is still here. After all of this, after hearing most of it, he's still here.
"When you're ready," Dan says.
"I just… it was stupid. It sounds a lot worse than it was." He pulls away a little bit, needing space to tell his story. Dan lets him go. "I just had some bad days right after. I tried to stay off Twitter and away from what everyone was saying but… it was harder than I thought it would be. I just… went to bed. Honestly, that's all it was I was just so tired of everything, it felt like the world was too bright and too loud and wherever I went there was just… noise. People attacking me. So I went to bed. For about a week."
Dan nods, clearly a little perplexed.
"I didn't eat," Phil clarifies, "I barely drank water I got… I went to bed but I didn't sleep. I was dehydrated and exhausted and having a kind of extended panic attack. Eventually my parents got too worried and ended up taking me to A & E. I guess I was pretty out of it because they admitted me, just a for a little bit while they gave me some fluids and stuff. I wasn't like… crazy or suicidal or… you know, I was… lucky. But it wasn't… good."
"Phil…" Dan says, reaching for him again before deciding not to. "Sorry. God, I'm so sorry that happened to you… I… it's so stupid but I wish I'd been around to… Have you been… since we… I mean... "
"A bit," Phil nods. He isn't going to lie to Dan now. "But I have… while I was at the hospital they had people I talked to. I learned, some stuff. I'm not always the best at remembering but I have… like PJ and my mum and stuff. They know. So they're good about…"
"Would… Could I…" Dan tips his head a little to the side, "I want to help. I want to be there for you like that."
"You're already really great at it," Phil says, "You don't need to do any more than you already do. I don't want to be like a… full time job for people. I don't want you to be... "
"I want to," Dan says, simply.
Phil just looks at him for a moment, shaking his head. "Where did you come from Dan Howell?"
Dan smiles, a bit, Phil watches it unfolding on his face the way that it does, lighting it up until he's glowing.
"Nowhere special."
Phil can't believe that.
"I was… after the hospital I had all these systems in place to function. They weren't the healthiest and I'm sure the people I talked to there wouldn't have recommended them as they mostly entailed keeping everyone and everything at arm's length but… it meant I could rejoin the world a little bit. I could exist in it anyway. I could make videos and talk to my audience, as long as it was all on my terms, as long as I didn't interact too much."
Phil shrugs a tiny smile of his own appearing. He feels a little lighter, and his heart rate is back to normal. He can feel it all like a weight lifted off his chest, he can breathe again.
"Then you came along. And… I couldn't… I tried. God, I tried. But you were something else, Dan. I couldn't help myself. It just got, messy. Because I didn't… I still don't… know how to deal with all of this like a grown up. I'm not… equipped to deal with how I feel about you."
"And how do you feel about me?" Dan asks.
"Dan…"
"It was real, Phil. I don't care what Charlie says, or what the stupid voice in your head has to say. It was real."
"I know. I was happy."
"Me too. You have no idea how happy I was. Can't we just be happy, Phil? Please?"
He wishes it were that simple. He wishes they could just draw a line under everything and go back to how things were before, but it would never be that easy. It can't be.
"There will always be Twitter, and viewers, and people shipping. I'm never going to want to put it all out there, I'm always going to want to… hide."
Dan shakes his head and for a terrifying moment Phil knows that this is it, this is the moment that Dan walks away. He wouldn't blame him.
"Phil, I'll never fucking Tweet again if that's what you want. You think any of that matters to me more than you do?"
"Don't be absurd."
"Okay, okay. That's extreme… but the sentiment is the same. Phil… I don't want people all up in my business either. If you don't want me to mention you at all, or if as far as the world is concerned we're just best friends, then that's fine with me. I mean, if that was all you actually ever wanted from me, I'd be fine with that too. I just care about you. Alot. I don't want to lose you."
"I don't want to lose you either," Phil says, "And I don't want you to have to like, lie. I just… If we were going to… I want to keep it to us."
"I understand that, and I… I never want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."
"I'm probably never going to be okay," Phil warns, "I'll always be… like this."
"Phil," Dan moves towards him, folding his arms around Phil's waist and pulling him close once again. He's been in and out of Dan's space today but he slides his hands up Dan's arms, over the curve of his bicep and on to his shoulders. He feels settled here, safe. "I don't want you to be anyone you're not. I only… I mean, I just hope that you talk to me. Just… I want to be there for you."
"And if it gets too much for you?"
Dan shakes his head. "I promise I'll talk to you too. I'll tell you when I need space, and you tell me when you need help, or you need space too. Can… I don't want to push you. I really want this to work. But I think… it'll probably only work if we actually talk to each other about this stuff. Not talking is what got us in trouble in the first place. Can you do that? Do you think it's… is that okay?"
It's scary. The prospect of staying this open. Of leaving this place and not closing down that piece of him again, not crawling in to his bed and saying goodbye to world, but remaining a part of it. This is what it means, to care for someone the way he does Dan, to let them in, to be vulnerable. Dan's eyes are warm and they don't demand an answer, Phil knows he could step out of Dan's arms right now and Dan would let him go. He doesn't want to.
"It's okay,I can do that." Phil says. "You know… no one has wanted me for me before."
"I do," Dan say.
"Yeah," Phil nods, "I think… I know. I believe it."
He huffs out a laugh, incredulous at himself. He does. He really believes it.
"I want you too," he says to Dan. "Let's just be happy."
"Okay," Dan smiles and leans in, only half way, waiting for Phil. "Let's be happy."
Phil lets the world shift a bit to accommodate the new way of things, feels the himself smile and lean in, meeting him in the middle.
Dan's lips are soft and welcoming. Phil sighs into his mouth and Dan lets his tongue flick out against the join of his lips. He parts to let him in, tipping his head and moving closer, lifting a hand up to the back of Dan's neck, holding him there. He can feel the way Dan's hand presses against the base of his spine, the warmth of his broad palm seeping through his shirt.
There is a vibration on Phil's hip and they part, Dan laughing.
"Shit," he says, "It's my phone."
"Anyone important?"
"Fuck, Phil! The show! We forgot about the show."
Phil's eyes go wide. He'd been so busy baring his soul that he'd forgotten they were there to do the radio show.
"We have to get upstairs, I mean we have time but they're… we have to go now. I'm sorry."
Phil laughs, "That's okay."
"Will you… after the show. Come back to mine?"
Phil nods. "Yeah, I'd like that."
"I'm glad I met you," Dan says, moving toward the door. "You know, finally. It was getting a little ridiculous that we kept nearly-meeting."
Phil follows him out of the door. "I'm glad too," he says, "but… what if we hadn't?"
Dan holds his hand out and Phil doesn't hesitate to take it, slipping his fingers in between Dan's as they walk the halls. He does drop it as they enter the studio, but they share a warm fond look as he does and Phil knows Dan is okay with him wanting to keep it just to them. He won't push Phil past the point that he's comfortable with. He doesn't know if it will always be that way, but it's what he needs for now.
"I wouldn't have let that happen," Dan says as they get ready to go on air, "I'd have met you eventually."
"Yeah?" Phil says, "We wouldn't just have been ships passing in the night forever?"
"Definitely not," Dan says, "It would have happened. At some point."
And somehow, Phil believes him.