Phil must be out the door in twenty minutes. It gives him ten to finish getting himself ready and then another ten to get his stuff together for the meeting and breathe. Breathe. Then, twenty minutes from now, their Uber will come. The app says the drive will take twenty minutes, which if that is true, it will give them fifteen minutes to spare: either fifteen for the possibility of hitting sudden traffic or fifteen to be early and breathe. Or both and Breathe. Now the clock on the bedside table behind him says nineteen minutes, but Phil is standing in front of the wardrobe, which gives him only less than nine minutes to pick out a shirt.
This is why he always wears black jeans.
Phil’s wardrobe is going to kill him. He’s going to fall into it, and it will kill him. Dan is running late, and because Dan is running late, Dan won’t notice that the wardrobe consumed Phil. Then, they’ll definitely be late. Or they’ll miss the meeting all together. The wardrobe ate Phil or is eating Phil or is eyeing Phil or is
“Here. Phil, wear this.”
Dan puts a hand on his shoulder and reaches into the wardrobe. Why doesn’t the wardrobe bite him? Why is Dan impervious to time, unlike Phil?
For Dan, it’s a second’s choice.
Time strings Dan along and not Phil, and Phil is lying on the floor bleeding out, as time is coming up against him like it does in a video game: the invisible wall pushing him forward into the level, into the unforeseeable doom that Phil cannot control. Dan can fly.
Phil is standing stuck. Shirt.
He looks at his hand. Is this too casual? Too smart? The pattern of the shirt intermingles in front of his eyes.
Put it on just breathe put it on just breathe.
He throws it over his head quickly, and now his hair is messed up so he’ll have to fix it again. Phil swings his head around. Five minutes.
Fix your fucking hair. Phil, fix your fucking hair.
Dan’s standing in front of the full-length mirror casually. Flirtatiously. Dan pushes back his hair one more time, as is if courting Time instead of Phil. Dan has dated Time for twenty-seven long, promiscuous years while Phil only for nine. Phil’s the spooked cat, but Time stares back at Dan. Time pushes His hair back in response to Dan’s gesture. An affair for nine years. Delayed. Careless. Borderline Reckless. All the time in the world for Dan. None for Phil, and Phil’s known Time longer. He trips him and turns up His nose to him because Phil can’t flirt—the blonde-haired girls from his primary school years know that. Time controls that. Time knows that, and Time makes him suffocate, as He flirts with Phil’s person. Phil’s Dan, not His Dan. Phil’s left spinning.
Phil’s Dan.
Their phones buzz in synch, placed together to the left of the clock on the bedside table, parallel to each other and charging. Ready to Go. Prepped and Connected. Dan and Not Phil. Dan was the one who placed their phones like that, neatly and orderly, last night before they went to bed. Phil can’t do that either.
His Dan takes one long-lasting gaze at Him, and Dan leaves the mirror to walk over to the clock and pick up his phone to type. Phil’s Dan then puts it to his ear.
Phil looks in the mirror with Dan gone, and everything in the reflection is ahead. A head. Fix your fucking hair. He pushes back his quiff, but it looks wrong, falls wrong. He can hear Dan behind him.
Behind him. So, if Dan’s behind him, where’s Time?
How many minutes? Phil turns around, and knocks right into him.
Him being Dan, not Him. Not Time.
He can’t fucking see? But Dan’s now in front of him, staring at him. Phil can’t see Dan’s face, and his heart is beating faster than the seconds—now ahead of time. Too fast for time. Without Time, without bearing.
His chest is caving inwards, inverted without time. Behind then ahead, never between. Dan is still there, somewhere, and Dan can flirt with Time—so Time must be somewhere.
Phil feels hands drag him onto the bed somewhere and sits him down on the duvet, which curves underneath him, supporting him. Dan is rubbing his back while also holding his hand. He can head His Dan’s voice.
“Phil? Phil, I want you to breathe. I know you can do that.”
Dan brings Phil’s hand to Dan’s chest.
“Follow my breathing.”
So, they sit there.
And Phil forgets the clocks.
After a period of breathing, of Dan bringing him to exist between, in the present, Dan speaks again.
“The meeting is canceled because something came up at the BBC, and Marianne is going to reschedule for us. She’ll let us know by either this evening or by tomorrow morning what the deal is. Everything is fine. We can just sit.”
Phil nods ones, looking forward. Still trying to breathe.
Dan brings him back to lie on the pillows, shuffling together to the top of the bed.
He can see a little better now that his eyes are attached to his brain and his brain to his train of thought.
Phil takes a breath, “I don’t know what happened.” Keep breathing.
“Do you want to try to tell me?”
Phil looks at Dan for the first time in an hour. His head is still spinning, but his chest is loosening so he’ll be okay.
“I woke up kind of off today, but I didn’t really think it was going to amount to anything until I started freaking out about being late, even when we weren’t going to be late. It’s stupid.”
“You know anxiety isn’t rational, Phil.”
‘Yeah.” Phil takes leans into Dan, onto his chest to hear his heartbeat. “Can we take a nap? I’m exhausted.”
“Of course.”
Dan pulls the covers over them both, and Phil listens to Dan’s heart slow from beating in time to something time can’t even touch or try to touch. The moment is theirs.
Chapter 3 of Thinking Too Much is officially on ao3! Here’s the link (please tell me if it’s broken I’m still fairly new at this) or if you prefer, I posted the Tumblr version yesterday
Phil is stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing out the dredges from his coffee mug. It’s a lime green one, with a :o face painted in stark black. That pretty much sums up how he’s feeling this morning, slightly nauseous and a bit in shock.
It’s not that this day has come as a surprise, really - they’ve been planning the tour for nearly a year. It’s infused itself into every work day, every email, every conversation. It’s just that now that it’s here, now that they have to stop planning the show and start doing the show, he feels frozen.
Phil puts his mug down and grips the edge of the counter instead, trying desperately to push down the wave of panic clawing up his throat. They can do this. They’re ready. They’ve probably forgotten to pack something, but that’s okay. He’s already triple checked the Do Not Forget !!! list. It’s fine.
Now if only it could feel fine.
“Phil?” The sound of Dan’s voice floats up from the downstairs hall, startling Phil out of his racing thoughts. “Ready to go? Car’s here.”
His knuckles are white from holding on to the counter so tightly. Breathe, Phil. You have to go. Nothing’s wrong. You have to -
“Phil?” Dan’s voice is suddenly right next to his ear, and there’s a warm weight pressed against his lower back. “Hey.”
Phil forces his eyes open. How long has he be standing here, that Dan came up to find him? “I’m fine,” he chokes out.
(He’s such a bad liar.)
Dan pries one of Phil’s hands away from the counter and slips his body into the space instead. Phil allows himself to be pulled forward by gentle hands, rests his forehead against Dan’s shoulder. Can’t they just stay here?
Dan’s thumb presses a quiet rhythm between his shoulder blades. It helps. Probably not as much as he needs it to, ultimately, but it’s enough for right now. Enough to get him down the stairs and into the car.
“We have to go,” he says, muffled by the crisp white fabric of Dan’s shirt.
“We can stay another minute, if you want.”
Phil shakes his head, already pulling away. “No. Let’s go. Before I change my mind.”
His meager attempt at a joke falls flat on Dan, who makes a grab for Phil’s wrist before he can get too far. Dan’s looking at him with his serious do we need to talk about this face and Phil really, really doesn’t want to. He tugs his wrist free. “We have to go, Dan.”
Dan is still looking at him but mercifully doesn’t push it. Phil has a feeling he’ll be forced into this conversation later, but for now he’s shrugging on a jacket and locking the door behind them. This can be a problem for Future Phil.
***
There’s green and farms and hills and then more green so he’s off again, thinking about bright stage lights and what obscure pocket of their suitcase Dan might’ve put their passports in and people, always so many people, and -
“Hey.”
Dan’s looking at him again, one headphone out and Frank Ocean paused on his phone screen. “Come back, yeah?” he says softly, “Lost you for a minute there.”
Phil exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah. I’m here.”
Dan takes his other headphone out, tucks a leg up under himself so he can face Phil fully. “It was like this last time too, remember? It’s always hard at the beginning. Everything is.”
Phil nods. “I know. I just - “ He attempts some sort of hand gesture to try to explain whatever’s happening in his brain right now. It’s probably not that successful, but Dan says “I know” anyway, scoots across the backseat of the car and hands Phil one of his earbuds.
Dan lays a pinky over Phil’s where it’s been digging harshly into the seat and presses play on Frank. By the time the sea rises up to meet them, Phil knows it more than he ever has.
Warnings: hurt!phil, anxiety, panic attack, breakdown, phil has social anxiety n a bit of a panic disorder which stems from that
Word Count: 3.7k
In which Phil's introversion runs deeper than one might think, and it's been a rough few weeks of socializing. Could one meeting be all it takes to push Phil over the edge?
~•~•~
Phil woke up very much craving a lazy day. A day in which he could simply lie with his boyfriend and watch stupid television. They were done moving, done meeting with family. He wanted alone time. He certainly didn't want to have to be around strangers or have to work with others.
For quite a while, Dan had been the only one who didn't leave Phil mentally and physically exhausted after socializing with him. Even Phil's other closest friends left Phil tired and relieved after hanging out. Dan was the only one Phil could stand to be around practically 24/7.
It hadn't always been that way, however. Back in 2009/10, every time Dan finally left after being over, Phil was exhausted. He loved Dan and every second they spent together, of course, but he couldn't deny the tiny bit of relief he felt when he was able to be alone again.
Phil was 100% an introvert. Social situations easily drained him, even with is loved ones. And when expected to talk with strangers, his nerves often got the best of him. He was relieved to come into any alone time, even if it meant his friends leaving. Too many social situations could overwhelm him easily, and he often felt terrible during those situations when others seemed fine.
He'd been this way all throughout high school, but wasn't diagnosed with social- and later generalized- anxiety until he was 19 and in university. From there it was a lot more manageable, and Phil had a much easier time making friends.
Phil had told Dan about his condition before they met, and he was extremely understanding. Dan gave him space when he needed it, never pressured him into any situations Phil wasn't comfortable with, and made sure Phil didn't feel judged.
Dan had always had a few run ins with anxiety, so he understood, but he'd never had it as serious as Phil. Which led to Dan feeling terrible about coming to Phil with his problems for the first year and a half of their relationship because "you have it so much worse and don't need my crap, Phil." But they worked through that once Phil realized he'd been doing it.
Dan wanted to move in with Phil as soon as he could, already entirely committed to his and Phil's relationship, but Phil was a little more hesitant. It wasn't that Phil wasn't committed, he was. He was certain he'd never be with anyone else again. He'd fallen just as hard and fast for the boy as Dan did him. But sharing a living space with his boyfriend, seeing him everyday, could Phil handle never really having alone time?
Dan was his usual perfect understanding self when Phil explained his concerns. Dan promised he'd wait as long as Phil needed, and even suggested that they find a flat where they could have separate bedrooms so Phil could have his own space when he needed it.
After that conversation, Phil finally had the courage to start looking for places, and he and Dan moved in together before Dan's second year at university was to begin. Phil was glad he'd gotten over his silly fear, as Dan ended up needing his support a lot in the following year, and as their careers began to intertwine, they gained popularity by the thousand.
Things went downhill a few times, but, in the long run, Dan was always there for him when he needed it.
And in that way, Dan hadn't changed a bit. He was fairly tuned in to Phil's emotions, able to tell when his anxiety was bad. He talked Phil through the rare panic attack. And he still made sure that Phil had his space when he needed it. But nowadays, Dan was the only person Phil could spend all his time with without being anxious and exhausted.
Phil rolled over. He found that Dan was already up, and sighed. They had to go out today and meet with their management to discuss a possible new project.
Phil already felt anxious at the though of having to go out and engage in professional conversation with practical strangers. In fact, he was in such an anxious mood already, he wasn't even sure he wanted to see Dan. But, he knew that was just the anxiety talking, and once he did see Dan he'd feel better.
So, Phil forced himself out of bed and into the kitchen, trying to ignore the unease in his stomach. He found Dan already putting Phil's coffee on.
Dan noticed Phil enter and smiled. "Hey," He breathed cheerily, "Morning."
Phil groaned, leaning his forehead against Dan's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his slightly taller boyfriend, feeling a bit better when he had Dan's arms protecting him.
"Butterflies?" Dan asked softly.
Of course Phil's anxiety was nothing like the exciting jittery feelings you got when you talk to your crush or have your first kiss. Phil's butterflies were enormous, dark, pounding against his ribs and flying through his stomach at high speed. But they'd come to call Phil's anxiety this, as Phil didn't like blatantly stating his problem, but he could think of little other ways to describe it. Back when Dan had first met him, he'd described it as "dark butterflies," meaning the feeling you get when your anxious and excited, but much darker, much more sinister. Dan had promised he would chase away the butterflies. He'd kept good on that promise for the most part, and Phil couldn't be more grateful. Of course he didn't magically heal Phil or whatever crap they show you in movies. He just worked with Phil, talked him through his attacks, got him help, listened. He supported Phil while Phil did his best to help himself.
Phil nodded, as well as he could with his forehead pressed tot he top of Dan's shoulder. "I hate this," he breathed.
Dan was silent, wrapping an arm around Phil, running his back. Phil knew complaining wouldn't help, but he was so tired of feeling like this.
"You want your meds?" Dan asked, gently, thumb stoking Phil's arm.
Phil sighed. He had anxiety medication that was to be taken as needed. He was only meant to take it when he felt overwhelming anxiety, a possible panic attack coming on, or if he was panicking already.
"Yeah," he begrudgingly replied. He didn't want to feel like this all day, and they really couldn't get out of their plans.
Dan seemed relieved with his reply and gently pulled away to find the tablets in the bathroom medicine cabinet.
Phil got a coffee mug down, staring at the coffee maker. He tried to ignore the twisting in his stomach. Why couldn't he just have a normal day talking about his career with his management and getting excited over a possible new project?
He guessed he'd just a had a rough few weeks. With meeting with management, interviews being set up, still feeling like he'd just gotten back from playlist and vidcon, his vacation with his family. His family had visited yet again, and Phil was drained. He hadn't had enough time alone to make up for all the time spent around so many people. Phil's anxiety was due to spike soon.
"When was the last time we saw your psychiatrist?!" Dan called from the bathroom, hoping he was somehow wrong and they'd seen him recently.
Phil bit his lip, still not happy with the fact that he had to see a psychiatrist. He knew it was stupid to be embarrassed in front of Dan, but Dan didn't have to see a professional. Phil shook away those thoughts and thought on Dan's question. It had at least been a few months... "Why?" Phil replied nervously.
Dan returned to the kitchen, frown on his face. "I can't find any of your meds, I think we're out, love," Dan spoke apologetically.
"Oh," Phil mumbled, hands gripping his empty mug tightly.
Phil met with a psychiatrist every few months and he prescribed them more of the anxiety medication when needed. Phil had used quite more than usual over the past few months, and it made sense for him to be out.
"A-are you sure?" he asked, feeling the butterflies move faster and swirl in his stomach.
"I'm sorry, Phil, do you want me to call and cancel?" Dan asked, obviously concerned.
Phil thought a second and waved his hand. "I'll be okay. I can let you know if it gets bad, but I have breathing exercises and stuff. I'll be fine," he assured, smiling.
"Alright, but I'd skip the coffee. Caffeine won't help, sadly," Dan warned.
"The one good thing in my life," Phil over-dramatically cried.
Dan chuckled, heading off to get dressed. Phil turned off the coffee maker with a sigh and followed after Dan to get dressed himself. By the time they left the flat, Phil seemed better.
~•~•~
Dan gave Phil's hand a squeeze before they stepped out of the cab to enter the building and meet with their management. Phil gave him a smile, hoping Dan wouldn't worry about him.
It was pathetic. Phil was a grown man. He should be able to handle himself. He took a few deep breaths, trying not to let Dan know know anxious he actually was. He needed at least one of them to be able to pay attention to the meeting without worrying. Dan had a tendency to worry too much about taking care of Phil whenever Phil had an issue.
Dan sent Phil a reassuring smile before they entered the building, greeted by the familiar faces of some of the crew that joined them on tatinof, and the unfamiliar faces of other coworkers.
Phil was having a hard time focusing as he went on autopilot with his greetings and smiles, following them down the halls. He could hear Dan chattering animatedly with someone.
Phil instead focused on his breathing. He was glad that Dan was able to sort of take over. He'd grown a lot in that area. For a long time Phil had to be the adult, take care of the professional stuff, for the most part. But in the recent years, Dan allowed Phil to teach him how to take on more responsibility. Phil guessed that since Dan's own mental health had improved, he realized Phil needed to take a load off before his could improve as well. Whatever it was, Phil was grateful.
Most of the meeting went by without incident, mainly due to the fact that no one really interacted with Phil. Phil had just kept to the corner, nodding along, smiling politely. His anxiety didn't necessarily get better, but it didn't get worse.
At least until...
"Phil?" Dan asked.
Phil shook himself from his thoughts to find everyone in the room focused on him, staring at him expectantly. Why was everyone looking at him? What had he missed? Stop looking at me, please stop, why are you staring at me? What happened? Please don't look at me, oh God, leave me alone. He looked to Dan to somehow save him, and Dan's brow furrowed.
"Phil, you okay?" Dan asked, gently.
"Yeah, mate, you alright?" Another voice asked.
Everyone continued to stare at him expectantly, some murmuring among themselves. They're talking about me. I probably look so stupid. Fuck. Fuck. I can't speak. Why can't I speak?! The butterflies in his stomach beat their wings faster and faster.
Why had Dan called attention to Phil's discomfort? Why would he put Phil on the spot like that? Didn't he know how Phil was feeling? Why would he do that?!
Phil felt his breathing speed up and his eyes water, and he freaked out. He couldn't panic here, not in front of the people he worked with. Fuck, this was so embarrassing. He tried to focus enough to find the nearest exit. He got it within his sights and impulsively bolted for it. He needed out. He needed to get away. He needed solitude.
Phil walked quickly down the halls, staring at the floor as tears slipped down his cheeks. Every person he passed increased his heart rate and made his movements and breathing even more frantic. Finally he saw a sign for a bathroom and rushed into it, relieved in the slightest that he finally had somewhere to be alone.
He locked the door to the family bathroom, sinking to his knees in the corner and letting out a sob. His breathing was quick and shallow and he couldn't even think properly.
Fuck! What was he going to do now?
Dan glanced over at Phil when he didn't reply to the question he was asked. Dan frowned a little as he looked his boyfriend over. Phil looked even paler than usual, and he didn't seem to at all register that he'd been asked a question.
"Phil?" Dan asked, thoughtlessly, hoping to get Phil's attention.
Phil blinked, seeming confused. He looked around, obviously unsettled. Then he seemed to recognize the situation and a familiar look took over his expression. Dan recognized that look. Shit. Phil's anxiety.
Dan had let himself forget to worry about it while he was talking and planning. Phil had seemed content to sit alone and barley contribute. Dan thought that would get him through the meeting.
Phil looked to Dan desperately, and the rest of the world melted away as Dan stared at Phil. "Phil, you okay?" He asked, softly.
Someone asking a, "Yeah, mate, you alright?" brought Dan back to the real world and everyone else began murmuring concerns. Everyone was focusing on Phil, and Dan silently cursed himself for calling attention to Phil. This wouldn't help at all. Dan bit his lip, and Phil jumped up, running from the room.
Fuck.
Dan briefly explained that Phil hadn't been feeling well, and that he'd likely rushed to the restroom, to his coworkers before he hurried to find Phil. He sped down the halls of the building. He discovered a bathroom and found it locked. He listened carefully and, sure enough, he heard quiet breathy sobs.
"Phil?" Dan called softly.
Phil let out a sob when he heard Dan on the other side of the door. Dan had probably told everyone about Phil's disorder and panic. Dan was usually so good at being discrete. Did he not care anymore? Did he not notice how Phil had been on the verge of panic the entire time? Was Phil just a massive burden?
"Phil, love," Dan pleaded, "I'm so sorry, let me in?"
Phil was upset and scared and confused, but he knew he was shit at getting trough these without Dan, so he reached up with a shaking hand and unlocked the door. He sunk back into his fetal position against the wall, hyperventilating and shaking.
Dan opened the door and, upon seeing Phil's state, rushed to close it and get to his boyfriend's side.
"Oh God, Phil, I'm so sorry," Dan rambled, entry grabbing Phil's hands to pull them from his chest. "Cmon love, sit up, knees down," Dan requested. He needed Phil to keep his chest free and be able to fill his lungs even with the shallow breathing he was doing.
Phil did as he was told, really having no choice as Dan gently manhandled him into a good position.
"W-w-what d-did you-" Phil struggled to breath as he gasped out words. "T-tell," he added, still hyperventilating.
Dan was confused for a moment, but quickly gathered what he meant. "Oh, sh-sh-sh, love, I just told them you felt ill today, that's all," Dan reassured, thumbs storming over Phil's knuckles as he held his boyfriend's hands.
Phil was relieved at that, but his panic didn't ease in the slightest. He looked a wreck, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, tears running down his cheeks, snot running down his upper lip, breathing quick and shallow, entire body shaking. Though, Dan had seen him in this position far too many times before.
Dan grabbed a few squares of toilet roll and held it to Phil's nose, cleaning him up a tiny bit. "Shhh, Phil, breathe," Dan coached, "Deep breaths, fill your lungs, then let it out slowly." Dan had both gotten used to, and would never get used to, this. He knew how to act and what to say, but that didn't stop his internal panic every time. The mantra in his head of oh my God, Phil's hurting. Fuck, I probably could've stopped this. Shit shit shit. He still had a hard time seeing Phil broken like this when Phil had always been his personal hero, his rock, the strong one. But like this, he looked so small.
Phil squeezed Dan's hands, needing to be grounded, to feel something that felt real in his confused and floaty state.
"Just breathe," Dan murmured, squeezing Phil's hands back. "You're okay. We're gonna go home, yeah? But first you've got to breathe for me."
Phil just wanted to go home, but he knew Dan was right. He needed to calm down first. He focused on breathing, still finding it hard to focus on anything. There was a ringing in his ears and he just wanted to sleep but he couldn't if he tried. It was much easier when he had Dan's calm, soft, voice to focus on.
"K-keep t-alk-k," Phil forced out through his tears and hyperventilating.
"Of course, of course, love," Dan spoke, sat crisscross in front of him and still holding Phil's hands away from his chest so it wasn't restricted. "Just breathe, Philly. You're doing so well."
Dan rambled praises, spoke about what they'd do when they got home, how excited he was for the new Game of Thrones.
Phil tried to take deep breaths, focusing on Dan. Dan's voice. Dan's face. His eyes flickered over Dan's face. Dan's freckles, a very few dark ones scattered here and there. Dan's lips, turned down slightly as he looked at Phil in concern. Dan's eyes, wide and watery as he talked Phil through. Phil always forgot how much his attacks actually affected Dan.
"That's it love," Dan praised, "You're fine. You're okay. I'm here, Phil."
Phil breathed in longer than he expected to be able to, held it for a few seconds, and then slowly let it go. He was a bit proud of himself, during a bad panic like this he normally took a long time to calm down, especially away from home. He sniffled.
"There you go. You're so strong, you're doing so well," Dan rambled, "I'm sorry. We should've stayed home. I'm sorry, Phil."
Phil just leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes. He was so exhausted now. "Can we go home?" he asked, voice shaking and sleepy, "I wanna...go home..."
Dan smiled sadly. "Of course, love, c'mere." He opened his arms and Phil fell into them, burying his face in Dan's shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Phil whimpered, shaking having calmed now. It hadn't been he worst attack he'd had, but it'd been more than an average one. Panicking away from home always made it harder to calm down.
Dan frowned. "Don't be sorry, sweetheart, don't ever be sorry. This isn't your fault. I should've realized sooner. Cmon, love. We're gonna go home, watch some tv, and cuddle for the rest of the day, how's that sound?" Dan offered.
Phil sniffled and nodded. He stood on wobbly legs and moved over to the sink to splash water over his face. Dan set a hand on his lower back, rubbing softly. The silence wasn't the thick, anxious, uncomfortable, silence that Phil was used to. With Dan it was always the gentle silence, the kind that assured Phil he didn't have to say a thing.
Dan wrapped his arms around Phil from behind, hunching a little to rest his chin on Phil's shoulder. They remained that way in silence as Phil's breathing completely leveled.
"Are the butterflies gone, now?" Dan asked softly.
Phil hummed softly. "If I try not to think, they're a bit quieter."
"That'll do for now," Dan spoke, kissing Phil on the side of the neck, "At least until we get home, then I promise to make it all better, okay?"
"Dan," Phil sighed, "We've talked about this. It's not your job to pick me up all the time."
"Phil," Dan retorted in the same manner, "We've talked about this. I want to be here to pick you up because I can't stand not doing something when I know you're hurting, and before you say something stupid, you're not a bother. You're never a bother. All I want to do is make things easier for you, because that's what you've always done for me."
Phil smiled a bit. "We always get so sappy after these don't we?" He asked.
"Well next time we're sappy, I'd prefer it to occur without this as the cause," Dan spoke, cracking a small smile. He squeezed his arms around Phil. "I love you," he murmured softly.
Phil smiled. "I know." That was the one thing Phil's anxiety could no longer touch. He knew Dan loved him, and no amount of overthinking would change that fact. Dan would always love him and he would always love Dan. That was just how it was. Dark butterflies or not.
When they got home, Dan would assure Phil he had nothing to be embarrassed about. He'd cuddle Phil until Phil's panic-induced exhaustion took over and Phil feel into a deep, blissfully dreamless, sleep. Dan would stroke Phil's hair, calling and making another appointment with Phil's psychiatrist.
It wasn't the best situation, but it was no way the worst. Dan was able to help Phil. Phil was able to recover from his episodes. They were able to manage it. With each other's support they'd work to tackle whatever messy situation their minds threw at them.
The End
(If u like this I have an idea for a prequel that takes place in 2012 and one that takes place in 2009I !! Lemme know if you'd like that ^_^)
Summary: Phil can control the weather, and he has Dan. However, the future is unreliable.
Genre: Magic AU, Anxious!Phil, Angst, Fluff
Rating: T
Word Count: 1.5k
Author’s Note: This fic is part of the same universe as literalweatherman!Phil within London Weather?, which does not have to be read for this fic to make sense.
Phil is not sure how to feel.
He is happy to be back from tour, but it’s like the whole universe lies ahead.
They have their documentary to edit, and wisps of plans that they are humoring; yet, it’s like the future lies dead on the grass, covered in mud, and Phil’s not in the mood to get his hands dirty. He’s just tired, and he already took a shower this morning.
Ahead, they have hubbub of PINOF, Spooky Week, and Gamingmas—the seasons which require a lot work within the Dan and Phil household, but there is nothing overarching or with a grand motive. Nothing big, nothing long-term.
Well, there are still the unannounced tour dates, and that is still stressing him out, despite not wanting to admit it. They even have the documentary that they will start and finish this week. Still, they’ve pretty much worked through everything regarding the tour, yet what’s next?
Phil knows that he really does not need to be doing all this thinking right now. They’ve only been back a day now. They deserve to relax: catch up on T.V. shows, fill up on Dominos, have—
“Hey Phil, do you want to go on a walk with me?”
“Uh, sure!” Phil glances up from where he is staring at the blank wall from his spot on the couch. Dan is looking at him, standing above him. Maybe having a nice day with Dan will cheer up his mood? It usually does.
But, he feels stuck.
Phil looks out the window for an answer, “Dan, it’s drizzling. Maybe we shouldn’t.”
Dan raises an eyebrow, and Phil rolls his eyes.
“What? I already changed it yesterday when I went to the shops.” It’s a lame excuse, but he doesn’t think Dan catches it.
Dan laughs, “Oh, like you’re so moral all the time.”
“Fine, I’ll do it just because I love you or whatever.”
Dan snorts.
Phil can hold himself together, and he smiles because he loves Dan.
Phil hauls himself off the couch to find his jacket and put on some shoes. He grabs his wallet and his charging cellphone that is plugged into the wall.
He follows behind Dan, as they head down the stairs.
Then, they are outside, and the rain stops. That is something reliable.
“Do you want to go to the bakery?” Dan asks, “I’m craving sugar, and I know that you are too.”
“Sure.”
Dan bumps Phil’s shoulder and wiggles his eyebrows.
Phil shoves his hands into his pockets, “This is what those pistachio muffins do to you, huh?”
They keep walking.
Phil was kind of okay, but now he isn’t. He hates that. As all the people busily walk by, his chest feels tight and everything feels shallow. He tries to keep up his pace and mask the sound of his breathing. London doesn’t care, even though it owes him.
It starts drizzling because he isn’t concentrating, and the surrounding world doesn’t exist, despite it being all he can think about. The people around him who press forward are starting to break out their umbrellas.
Dan turns to look at him. Dan notices the rain. His curls are flattened.
Their eyes lock, and Phil hates how obvious he is—how shit he is at holding things in.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m good—just don’t feel the greatest.”
“Do you want to go back?”
Phil shakes his head. “We’re almost there anyways.” He can do this.
Dan’s knuckles brush the side of Phil’s thigh, as Dan walks beside him. It’s brief, but it’s there. Phil is grateful.
Phil takes a deep breath, and he tries to focus on arriving at the destination: one foot in front of the other, do not get hit by any car, bike, or human passing by, concentrate on breathing—in and out and in and out. He is the gliding, smooth dot on Google Maps, getting closer and closer: “Three minutes until arrival at your destination.” In and out and in and out.
Three minutes, and they do arrive.
“Go find a seat, and I’ll get something for you,” Dan says before he goes up the till, leaving Phil.
Phil nods and looks around the room. Everyone looks the same, existing within the mechanic framework of society. It’s both flawless and seamless. Phil is feels like rust—it must be the rain, it’s always the rain. In and out and in and out.
Okay,
Phil sinks into a booth against the window, slouching against the worn-in leather. As his head, like the shop around him, hums and prickles, he watches the raindrops slide down the cool glass and the faceless people worm past. His breath comes in shaky, but he tries to keep quiet and ignore everything. Focus on the rain. However, the bustle of the bakery buzzes around him, and he still can’t begin to separate one mechanical voice from the other. Its weight squeezes. He can’t stop it.
Dan comes with two warm drinks and a paper bag tucked under his arm.
“Thank you,” Phil manages.
He takes a paper cup with two hands and lets the steam hit his face. He takes a sip. It’s warm.
He still feels out of place, but the heat is nice. Grounding, humanizing.
“I thought you’d like this chocolate croissant.”
Dan smiles, but it dies from his eyes until it is the mere movement of muscle when he looks through the window.
“Can’t escape this London weather, huh?” Dan says, focused on the rain. It looks like he’s trying to will it away.
“Apparently not,” Phil replies.
He says that while looking at his drink.
“You know you can tell me, Phil.” Dan is looking right at him.
“Just anxious.”
Dan rests his chin on his hand with his elbow on the table, leaning forward, “The adjustment of coming back from tour bugging you?”
“Yeah.”
“You know you’ll come around.”
“I know.”
“One step at time.”
“Yep.”
“You know that change can be good. I know you know that.” He pauses. “But yeah, it’s a lot. I’m surprised it’s you instead of me that’s been getting down.”
Dan links his ankle around Phil’s under the booth.
Phil glances up, and his shoulders relax a bit. Phil exists; he isn’t rust.
“I’ll be here.” Dan says it with confidence.
Phil takes a sip and looks out the window. Then, he looks back at Dan. Their ankles are still interlocked. He still can feel it under the table.
“And I will be too.” Phil says it without thinking.
Dan’s red spot on his lower jaw, reddens.
“We’re cheesy shits, aren’t we Phil?”
“I mean, it’s what we do best. So, why not?” Phil says, as he cracks a small smile.
He still can feel it under the table.
The tightening hum recedes for a bit.
~
His mum figured out he could control the weather; then, she found out he liked boys. It had been a rough night before, caught between his life at university and what would come next, and he needed some fresh air. It was morning. It was raining.
In a daze, tired, disgruntled, terrified, he slumped down the stairs from his room, and he pried open the sliding glass door in the kitchen, stepping barefoot onto the muddied grass. He looked up, and he stopped the rain. It made him feel a bit better, despite his pounding head.
Yet, his mum had been watching him, sitting at the round wooden table, drinking her coffee. He hadn’t noticed, as he was too busy staring at the sun as if it were both a stranger and friend to be. A lover.
He really needed coffee, he was mad at getting his feet muddy, and now he had to shower.
But, she says it out of the blue. With a maternal instinct, warm: “You can make the sun shine, child.”
Thunder cracks, and the sky rips apart. His heart pounds and his chest tightens.
Phil wants to vomit all over the ground—then, he would’ve really needed to shower.
He takes a slow step inside, despite the weather, and says, “Mum, I—”
“When you were a child, a baby really, I would take you on walks around the neighborhood in your pram. Whenever it started raining, you would look up at the sky with a smile, and instantly, the sun would start shining again. You’ve always had your grandmother in you. Your father never really saw it, but it’s the sort of thing one just knows instinctively. It’s okay, Phil— ”
“I also like boys.”
It is forced out of him. Phil doesn’t know why.
He turns to shut the glass door.
It’s steadily pouring, and Phil’s mum looks worriedly out the window.
He curses himself for making it sound like a question when in fact there is nothing to question.
She gives Phil a comforting smile—the kind that only mothers are capable of. And Dan. But he doesn’t know that then.
“Love, it’s okay. Come here.”
Phil walks over, tentatively.
They embrace. Phil is not sure how to feel.
Well, he feels better.
Now.
~
Dan knows the London weather better than any meteorologist out there.
And the sun always shines somewhere, at the very least.
the title is a metaphor sorry if u came for a choking kink fic
Genre: angst, hurt/comfort
Warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, overthinking, the annoyingly overused cliche of dramatized 2012/early 2013 phan as an angst creator in a non au universe
Word Count: 3.4k (i tried rlly hard to wrap things p nicely but the ending still seems a lil abrupt rip)
In which midnight thoughts might lead to something Phil hasn't quite learned to deal with on his own. (wrap your cold hands around my throat, keep me gasping, keep me broke)
~•~•~
Phil laid in the dark, eyes wide open and tears collecting in them. He'd never been good at falling asleep. His mind always went far too quickly to quiet down enough for sleep. And recently it'd been worse, especially since he didn't have a body next to his.
With another person to sleep beside, maybe even in the arms of, Phil could quiet his thoughts a little. He could focus on their heartbeat, their steady breathing, the feeling of their skin pressed against his. Unfortunately, it had been a while since he'd been able to sleep beside the man he loved.
Dan had been giving Phil a lot of space lately, and Phil hated it. He kept counting the things he'd done wrong, trying to figure out how to right them. But he couldn't fix things. Dan would have to come to terms with everything and learn how to deal with it maturely on his own.
That didn't keep Phil from staying up, mind racing with worries about how this could all possibly get better, worries that it was only ever going to get worse.
Phil couldn't lose Dan. Dan was the one person who he felt completely comfortable around- at least he was. Now, just seeing Dan sent a jolt of anxiety through Phil's system, for fear of a fight, a passive aggressive comment, even a break up.
Phil closed his eyes, trying to swallow down the butterflies that started in his stomach and crawled into his throat. He just wanted things to go back to normal. He missed Dan talking him through his anxiety with his gentle touches and soft voice. He missed feeling completely comfortable in his own home. Now, his relationship was the source of most of his anxiety.
Phil felt a few tears leave his eyes as the anxiety in his stomach bubbled up and intensified. He just wanted it to stop.
Phil took a shaky breath. What would Dan say if he were here? The old Dan, the one who always helped him through the anxiety, and chased away the dark butterflies?
Phil realized he wasn't breathing very well, which meant he might be on the precipice of an attack.
Dan would tell him to breathe. Deep breaths, in through the nose, held for a few seconds, and slowly out through the mouth. Dan would ask him to try and relax his shoulders and jaw.
Dan knew all about how to pull Phil out of an imminent panic attack, having had a bit of practice with it and done a lot of research. Why wasn't he here? Phil wanted him here.
Phil choked on another sob. No, Phil. Pull yourself together. He thought. Breathe. In through the nose, slowly, and hold it. He tried to use the breathing exercise Dan had taught him, sitting up to assure his airway was open to get enough air in his anxious state.
Phil took a few more deep breaths, trying not to think about anything other than breathing.
When he had calmed down a bit, he opened his laptop, setting it beside him on the bed and began playing an episode of Friends. If he listened to it as he attempted to fall asleep, he might not think as much.
Thankfully, it worked, and Phil was asleep within the next hour.
~•~•~
Dan's eyes flickered open. He laid in his bedroom, alone. He was glad Phil had taken his suggestion about getting a flat with separate bedrooms when they'd first moved in together, because Dan was certain Phil wouldn't be able to handle sleeping in the same room as Dan currently.
And Dan was guilty, of course he was. He loved Phil so much, and he could see him hurting. Phil put on a brave face, laughing and joking, trying to act normal with Dan, but Dan knew just how bad this entire situation had made his anxiety.
Dan had been familiar with Phil's anxiety disorder for years. He should be good at this by now. But recently, everything he did and said seemed to make it worse. Dan had to force himself to give Phil the space he needed to calm down, as much as he wished he could make it better, he'd fucked up. Phil got anxious around him now, more than he did anyone else. Dan was meant to be the person he wasn't anxious around. So, Dan had to give Phil his space. At least until Dan had worked through all this crap and was able to be a good boyfriend and hang out with Phil without getting upset, and in turn, making his boyfriend anxious.
Dan missed Phil, of course he did. It wasn't as if they didn't hang out together, but not like they used to. A kiss was rare. Cuddles were merely occasional, and even laughing together wasn't as often as it had always been.
Dan finally dragged himself out of bed, finding Phil sipping coffee in the lounge. "Morning," he murmured, attempting a small smile for his boyfriend.
Phil looked up at Dan. "Oh! Morning," he spoke.
"Sleep okay?" Dan asked conversationally.
Phil's mind momentarily flashed back to almost slipping into an overthinking-induced panic the night before, but he pushed the thought aside. "Yeah," he replied with a smile, "You?"
Dan smiled back. "Yeah me too." Dan didn't mention how much he wished Phil had been in bed beside him.
~•~•~
Night fell again, and Phil left to his own room while Dan continued to scroll through the internet. Phil was so tired- anxiety did that too him- but he was unable to just pass out like he'd hoped.
Instead, he lie awake. His thoughts weren't too bad, and he almost began to drift off when suddenly his mind filled with every bad thought he could think, thoughts seemingly coming from nowhere.
Dan's about to go sleep in his own room because he doesn't love you anymore.
Phil's eyes shot open in the dark as he recognized the thought.
What are you gonna do when he leaves you and moves out and your sorry ass is left all alone to fend for yourself? You really think you can meet someone else with the way your mind works? You can't survive without Dan, you're barely doing it now.
Phil couldn't help but listen to the thoughts, taking them in as facts.
You're fucked up. Dan knows it. That's why he doesn't touch you anymore. Doesn't sleep beside you. He's disgusted by you now. He spent years picking you up when you fell apart, but he's tired of it now. You're ruining his life, his career, he doesn't want this. He doesn't want you.
You're going to be all alone. Alone.
Phil didn't realize he'd sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, or that he'd begun hyperventilating, until he got dizzy from lack of breath. Oh God, he couldn't stop his panic now it was too late. He let out a sob.
He wanted Dan. Dan was the only one who was ever able to make it okay. Every attack he'd suffered before meeting Dan he'd had to figure out how to talk himself down from. On the very rare occasion that the attack was a really bad one, he'd even passed out entirely. His parents had always tried to help, but having them around made him freak out more and it'd get worse.
He wanted Dan. Where was Dan? He couldn't do this alone.
Pathetic. You can't do anything on your own. Dan isn't coming, he doesn't care. Better get used to this, Dan's not going to help you again.
Phil felt so stupid there, panicking over not being able to stop panicking. He wasn't even sure what triggered the episode in the first place, what triggered all the thoughts. but he couldn't stop crying, and he couldn't breathe- fuck, fuck, fuck.
He felt nauseous as well as dizzy, still unable to catch his breath. He almost felt like he was going to throw up.
Dan please, please, I'm sorry, please, I need you, please come make it better, I'm sorry for everything I did just- please, please.
He let out another sob. Realistically, how was Dan going to come to his rescue when he had no idea Phil needed his help?
Even if he knew he wouldn't come.
Phil could hear his heart beating in his ears and he just wanted it to stop. Please, please, make it stop.
-
Dan was walking to his room when he paused in the hallway to read whatever notification had popped up on his phone. He looked up when he heard what sounded like a choked off sob and froze. For a moment, he was convinced it was his imagination, but as he walked closer to Phil's room, straining his ears, he heard more quiet sobs and gasps for breaths.
Dan's heart dropped into his stomach. Was Phil panicking?! He opened the door quietly, peeking inside, and, sure enough, Phil was curled up, knees to his chest, sobs forcing their way out between gasps for air.
Dan rushed into the room, impulsively, needing to help his boyfriend. Hopefully he wouldn't make things worse.
Dan didn't touch him, not yet sure if this was a touch-averted panic attack or not. He sat on the bed in front of Phil. Phil was shaking and hyperventilating terribly, and shit- this was a bad one. Dan didn't think he was getting hardly any air into his lungs. He had to get Phil's breathing leveled out or he could pass out. He'd never lost consciousness on Dan before, but Dan wasn't ready to start now.
"Phil," Dan spoke urgently, "Phil, I'm right here, can you hear me?"
Phil could hear Dan, though it sounded like he was underwater. Dan was here? Phil gasped in a breath. "D-d-d-" he stuttered, reaching to touch Dan, to assure he wasn't dreaming this up.
Dan took his shaking, outstretched, hand, squeezing it. "Yeah. Yeah, love, I'm right here, sh-sh-shhh. It's okay, it's gonna be okay. Can you give me a number? How bad is this one?" Dan asked, attempting to remain calm, even though his own heart was beating frantically. It'd been a while since he'd talked Phil through one of these and, in his own mild panic, all the information he knew about them almost left his mind.
Phil let go of Dan's hand and held up eight shaking fingers. His breathing was still short, fast, and shallow, and he felt dizzy.
Dan bit his lip, guessing that Phil's anxiety over the past few weeks had built up to this. Remain calm, he reminded himself. "Okay, love. I know you're scared right now, but you have to breathe for me. It's all gonna be okay. I'm here. We've done this before, yeah? We're gonna be okay."
If Phil's mind had been working properly he would've wondered what Dan meant by "we," but he could hardly hear Dan. He just knew that Dan was going to coach him through. Phil was thanking whatever powers that be, because a second ago he thought he was dying, and he still felt like he was dying, but Dan was here.
Dan grabbed both of Phil's shaking hands, squeezing them tightly, trying to ground Phil. "You know how to do this, baby, just try to breath in slowly, hold it for a few seconds and breathe out slowly," Dan spoke, practically begging Phil.
Phil shakily breathed in, but was unable to hold it, just breathing out and hyperventilating again.
They continued on like this for a moment, Phil unable to do as Dan told him and breaking into breathless sobs that left him desperate for air.
"Hey." Dan placed Phil's hand on his own chest, focusing on breathing deeply. "Match my breathing. C'mon." Phil was really having a rough one, and Dan glanced down at his phone, ready to call a hospital if Phil didn't start breathing properly soon. Phil hadn't had anything near an eight in forever.
Phil tried to place his focus on Dan's steady breathing, and do as he was doing, breathing in as slow as he could manage, holding it for a few seconds, and letting it out of barely parted lips. The fog lifted a little and he began to remember how to do this. He took another breath, feeling his lungs actually fill, held it a moment, and breathed out. Finally air was getting to his brain, and the dizziness began to fade a little.
Dan sighed in relief. "That's it. That's it, love. You're gonna be just fine."
Phil took a couple more deep breaths with Dan, as Dan held his hand to Dan's chest.
"D-Dan," He attempted to speak, "'M s-sor-rry." His voice was as shaky as his body still was.
Dan felt tears collect in his eyes as he stared at Phil. "Oh, love, don't be sorry, please don't feel sorry. It's okay. You've done nothing wrong."
Phil wanted to argue, but he was so exhausted. He let out a pitiful sob. He was still shaking quite a lot, but he knew from past experience it was only because of all the adrenaline that had just rushed through him. It would take a while for his body to settle.
"Please don't l-leave me," Phil requested weakly, well aware of how pathetic he sounded. He hoped Dan guessed that, in saying that, Phil didn't just mean tonight.
Dan brought Phil's shaky hand to his lips, before meeting Phil's tear-filled, eyes. "Phil, I could never leave you. I love you," he spoke, as sincere as he could make it. Phil had to believe him. Dan didn't know what he'd do if he didn't.
Phil let out another sob. "I-" he sniffled, "I love you," he replied, falling against Dan, burying his face in Dan's shoulder as he continued to sob, residual fear hanging on.
"Shh, shh, shh," Dan murmured, wrapping his arms around Phil. "Breathe, love, it's all okay now. You're okay."
Phil clung to Dan as he tried again to steady his breathing. He sniffled. "M'so tired, Dan," he whimpered.
Dan rubbed his back before gently pulling away. "I know," he murmured, gently, "C'mon, lay down with me. I'll stay here, is that what you want?"
Phil nodded. "Please," he whimpered.
"Shhh, c'mon, down we go, love." Dan helped Phil down onto his side, pulling the duvet over them both.
Phil shuffled up as close as he could get to Dan, face in Dan's chest, moved down the bed more than Dan so he could feel shorter for once. Dan wrapped his arms around Phil's back. Phil was still shaking pretty bad, but he was breathing properly.
"I was scared you wouldn't come. I thought I was going to die," Phil spoke quietly, voice shaking, but sobs calmed, "I mean I know that's stupid, but I felt like I- like I was going to."
Dan squeezed his eyes shut, holding Phil against himself. "I'll always come," he promised, "I'll always come when you need me, and I'll never let anything happen to you." He stroked Phil's back. "I'm sorry you had to feel like that. But you're okay now. I've got you, and you're okay. Just get some sleep, darling," Dan murmured, "I'll be right here."
~•~•~
In the morning, Dan woke up first, understandably. Phil must've been completely worn out after his episode. Dan had had one or two panic attacks in his life, and neither were as bad as Phil's last night, but he knew how exhausting just those were.
Phil was still wrapped in Dan's arms, and Dan's muscles ached from lack of movement all night, but he didn't mind.
Dan and Phil had to talk. Dan had to know what had brought that on. He was certain it was something Dan had done, and he needed to know how to fix it. He couldn't handle being the cause of Phil's anxiety anymore. And causing him a full-blown panic attack was not okay.
Phil sleepily blinked his eyes open, smiling when he felt the arms around him. He looked up to see Dan's face, awake as well. Anxiety made itself quietly known in Phil's stomach. Would Dan be upset that they were sharing a bed?
"Hey, love," Dan murmured softly, brushing the messy hair from Phil's face. "You feeling okay?"
The nerves in Phil's stomach dissipated at the concern in Dan's voice. Right. Last night. Dan had been just like he always was, gentle and calm, talking Phil through it.
"Mhmm," Phil replied, smiling a little. He leaned in, face inching closer to Dan's. Dan met him in the middle, kissing him gently, hand moving through his hair.
"I'm sorry, Phil," Dan breathed when they pulled back, "I'm sorry, I should've been there before you could even work yourself into a panic. It was about me, wasn't it? You were thinking about us?"
Phil looked down. "It's not your fault, Dan. I just- when it's late I let all the bad thoughts come and convince me of all these bad things. I just, I'm messed up, and I don't want you to realize it and leave. I'm weighing you down. You have to pick me up off the ground all the time and you can't even vent about your own issues without me freaking out."
"It is my fault, okay? I know how your brain works, love, and I'm still here. I'll talk you through any anxiety you need me to. I love you, and that means I'm there for you. No matter what. I just got so involved in my own crap I stopped paying enough attention, I thought you needed space. None of this is your fault, and I would never think of leaving. You're the only one I could ever imagine being with," Dan promised.
Phil looked down. "Maybe I should go back to taking medication and getting therapy and stuff..." Phil started, "I don't want your life to revolve around worrying about me, Dan. You're only 21 and you have to take care of me like I'm some kid."
"I really don't mind making sure you're comfortable. And needing a little help is nothing to be ashamed of. When it comes to us, I'm sure you help me the same, if not more. But, if you want to, we can look into medication. That might make this all more manageable. But until then, please just be open with me. Tell me when you're having a bad day, or when something I do makes you anxious. I'll try and be open too, and talk rather than letting my anger get the best of me, okay?" Dan bargained.
Phil smiled. "When'd you get to be so smart?" he asked, pushing Dan's hair aside.
Dan smiled back. "I'd say it's about time."
"Okay then. I love you. You love me. We're gonna communicate more. This will be okay, yeah?" Phil spoke.
"Yeah. This'll be okay."
And it was. For the most part. Dan and Phil were happy, close, comfortable, behind locked doors. In the public eye, they were friends and nothing more, but Phil didn't mind. He wasn't sure he could handle the pressure and anxiety of so many eyes on them, anyways. Phil had a few lesser episodes, but Dan was more observant, usually able to see it coming, and able to talk Phil through it. In return, Phil did his best to listen to Dan's concerns and reassure him when he needed it. They were back on the path to function. And even when they had their little tiffs, Phil was able to tell those anxiety induced thoughts to fuck off by wandering into Dan's arms and admitting his anxiety. No matter how pissed Dan seemed, he always reassured his boyfriend, terrified to see the man he loved panic the way he had before.
