It's the end of an era
It's the final goodbye
I never thought this day would come
But oh how wrong was I
We're saying goodbye
He has your heart
But you still have mine
I guess we'll live life apart
I thought our love would last
But I guess I thought wrong
For you did not think like me
But I'm going to stay strong
We're moving on
You with him
And me on my own
I guess our chances we're slim
I love you still
I just want you to know
That you'll always have a place with me
I'll always say hello
It's been a while
Do you think we'll last as friends
Or will we grow apart like we've never been
Do you think one day we'll make amends
I said I'm sorry
I said we'll be okay
I guess I was lying
But I only wish you could stay
I wish we were okay
I wish you still loved me
And we were still together today
I wish I was still carefree
But I know you don't love me
And I couldn't wish you to stay
In a place that you hate
This is just a damn cliche
We're not friends
I don't think we'll ever be again
Because my fucking feelings
I guess I can't complain
when you first smiled at me
I knew i'd be yours
turns out i was right
yet you're not mine
not anymore
i let you go
said you could find someone else
and you can
you deserve it
but i still don't like it
i don't like the fact that you have someone else
someone other than me
you once said we'd be forever
guess forever doesn't last as long
i remember holding your hand
i remember laughing at your side
i remember your eyes
do you remember anything?
do you remember Sunday mornings?
my tousled hair?
do you remember me
after all...
i remember everything about you
- I remember (Do you?)
At least I got to kiss you
At least I held your hand
and forever i'll be your's
until the very end
Now you're gone
you've got someone else's hand
they're saying I love you
They say until the very end
and I shouldn't be mad
I should've stayed away from you
I'm no good for you
Yet you we're the best thing for me
and I'm sorry for ruining you
I'm sorry for calloused hands
and broken smiles
when everything seemed to be
about the miles in between
and I know i'm not number one
Instead i'm on the sidelines
so that if he hurts you
maybe you'll come back to me
even if just for a second
even if just for a moment
a fleeting moment in which
I was yours
and you were mine, but that's not an option
I can't ruin what you have now
he cooks you breakfast
and he holds the door
he says I love you
he's what you're looking for
and I'm sorry he's not me
~ He says forever (i said it first)
Summary: In which one night leads to disaster, and two lives lead to misery. Can they rekindle what they once had?
Genre: Angst
Warnings: A whole lot of angst, mentions of blood
Word Count: 2.1k
Read on ao3
--
Mini Fic Playlist: Move On / Love Me Or Leave Me / These Four Walls / Switch Hearts / When You Were Mine / Talk Me Down /
--
Dan Howell believed in all manner of things.
Science, aliens, Kanye West being the biggest blessing to the planet, cosy nights in being infinitely better than wild nights out.
But most of all, he believed in his love with Phil Lester, its sincerity, and its reciprocity.
He felt it in every kiss, every hand brush when in public, every exchange of ‘I love you’ in the pitch darkness as they snuggled under the duvet.
He didn’t know where it all went wrong, where they went wrong.
It was their weekly date night, and they were getting ready in separate rooms. He could hear Phil’s out of tune singing through the wall as One Direction blasted from the living room, it was all soothing. A routine he had come to love with all his heart, found comfort in it.
So much so that he decided the time was right, and slipped the velvet box into his blazer pocket. They both always made an effort to dress nice, and in the moment he was thankful, he wouldn’t seem suspicious or out of place.
“Are you ready, love?” he called across the hallway.
“One second!” Phil called back, followed by a loud thud.
Upon dashing into Phil’s room, Dan saw him laid on his back, struggling with socks. “I may have fallen off the bed” Phil commented casually, and Dan laughed. He crouched down beside Phil and pressed a kiss to his lips, excited for the night ahead.
He should have noticed when Phil didn’t kiss him back.
The restaurant was busier than usual, the waitress didn’t waste any time in getting their orders. Their routine had stretched to the food they ordered, and Dan was confident enough in ordering for them both now, the waitress commented on how cute Dan and Phil were together.
Dan should have noticed when Phil didn’t respond.
He snuck the ring box onto his lap whilst Phil was in the bathroom, and just the sight of it made him giddy.
When the food arrived, every mouthful furthered his anticipation. He noticed that Phil was fidgety, wriggled around his seat every few minutes, Dan hadn’t seen him like it since 2009. He studied Phil’s expression as they both ate, and Dan deduced that he had to be nervous.
But what would Phil have to be nervous about?
The realisation hit him mid-mouthful, sending his fork clattering onto the porcelain plate as he cupped a hand over his mouth.
Was Phil going to propose too?
Phil sent him a look, silently asking if he was okay, and Dan waved off his concern.
They finished their meals in silence, the small smile never quite leaving Dan’s lips.
Before they started dessert, Dan cleared his throat, prompting Phil to put his spoon back down and listen.
“Phil, I need to say something” Dan began, feeling butterflies in the pit of his stomach, but he knew this was the right step for them. They were both ready, sitting on a seven-year healthy relationship, and there was nothing Dan wanted more than to spend the rest of his life with the man sitting opposite him.
“Oh god” Phil’s voice was shaky, and he sat back in his seat. “I need to say something to you too”
But Dan wasn’t going to have his thunder stolen. He was going to propose to Phil, as he had dreamed of doing for years. He wasn’t going to be beaten, he had spent months planning this night. Passing it off as a typical date night when in reality it was the opposite.
“Me first!” Dan insisted, and Phil bit his lip, and shook his head slowly.
“I really don’t think this can wait-“
“Fine. At the same time?” Dan compromised, at least he would get his proposal out one way or the other, even if it wouldn’t be after the romantic dialogue he had mapped out in his head. They were never ones for extensive metaphors and clichés, anyway.
He watched as Phil chewed on his lip, contemplating Dan’s offer.
Around them, happy couples were clinking champagne glasses and feeding each other, families were laughing and joking, and the atmosphere was the most pleasant Dan had witnessed in ages. It was the perfect setting, he had a feeling everyone would be happy for them.
Phil eventually nodded, taking a deep breath.
Dan grinned.
“On the count of three?” Dan asked, and Phil nodded, taking another breath.
They both counted down from three on their fingers, and with every passing second, Dan felt more and more sure of what he was doing, and there was nothing in the world that could ruin their special moment.
Three.
He watched as Phil crossed his hands on the table. He envisioned the ring on Phil’s finger, how perfectly it would complement his complexion.
Two.
He wrapped his hand around the box on his lap.
One.
“Marry me?”
“I’m breaking up with you.”
--
Dan Howell knew all manner of things.
How to tweet relatable things, how to make even the saddest person smile, how to ace any test without studying at all.
But most of all he knew that Phil Lester didn’t like making a fuss, causing a scene. Phil knew that Dan didn’t, either.
“You did it over a dinner in public because you knew I wouldn’t kick up about it” he spoke over the silence in their flat that night, when they stared at each other from opposite ends of the living room.
“I thought it was the best way” Phil replied, looking down at his feet.
“The best way would be for you to talk to me about this so we can work through it” Dan couldn’t disguise the hurt in his voice, nor the tears brimming in his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be gone by Friday”
Dan slid down the wall once Phil’s door closed, and he heard the lock click. He had never felt more alone.
The ring box tumbled out of his blazer as he cried, and he clutched it to his chest whilst he walked into his bedroom, and climbed into bed alone for the first time in years, hearing complete and utter silence from the room across the hallway.
--
His days were long since Phil walked out of his life a year and a half ago.
He heard from a mutual friend that Phil now lived in the outskirts of the city in a big house, doing extremely well for himself.
As Dan walked through the now empty flat, a one-way train ticket clutched in his hand, the memories jumped out at him, taunted him.
Over there by the stove is where Dan burned his eggs the first week they moved in, because Phil distracted him with a makeout session.
Over there where the superhero posters used to be was where Phil hit the hammer on his thumb whilst putting up the frames, and Dan ran out to the shop to get plasters, and returned to see Phil curled up on Dan’s bed fast asleep.
Over there where the sofa used to be was where they spent most of their nights, lazy kisses shared over buttered popcorn and reruns of sitcoms, blissfully content in each other’s presence.
He wondered if Phil ever thought about him, ever thought about them.
He had to know.
The friend sent over Phil’s address with the addition of ‘hope you two work things out!’ and Dan slipped his phone and the train ticket into his pocket before locking the door to the flat for the last time, leaving the happiest times of his life in the vacant rooms behind it.
Dan felt the same bout of anticipation in his stomach as he did on the night that ruined it all, but this time it was gut-wrenching instead of heart-racing.
He had nothing to lose. He was leaving later in the day, never to come back as the recurring nightmares he had nightly weren’t helped by the fact he slept in the room where Phil once slept too. Where Phil once slept beside him.
This was his last-ditch attempt. He had no idea what he would do, just turning up on Phil’s doorstep with nothing prepared probably wasn’t the most thought out idea.
But he had to know if there was a chance for them at all, a chance to rekindle what they so foolishly lost - Phil never gave a reason why.
Phil could have a new life, for all Dan knew, they hadn’t been in contact since. But it was now the day before their old anniversary, and the timing was so bittersweet. It was the only day Dan could book a seat on the train.
The lashing rain plastered Dan’s curls to his forehead as he ran towards Phil’s street, uncaring that his legs threatened to buckle beneath him, and he felt like he was going to throw up the contents of his past four meals.
All he cared about was that Phil was close to him, and Dan had to know if there was a chance. If Phil turned him away, then Phil would never see him again. He had to know. He deserved to know.
--
Dan Howell noticed all manner of things.
The subtle looks of affection his parents sent each other across the dinner table at Christmas, the blushing of his friend when she gushed about her new boyfriend, the bright headlights of a speeding car, the amber brake-lights initiated a second too soon.
He didn’t notice the teary blue-eyed man behind the wheel, dabbing at his eyes furiously as he drove, losing control temporarily as their song played through the radio.
--
Phil Lester believed in all manner of things.
Lions being the superior animal, Buffy The Vampire Slayer being the ultimate television show, pancakes being the best thing to happen to the world.
But most of all, he believed that if you loved something, or someone, then you fought for them.
He knew he made a mistake, he’d spent a year regretting it, living in remorse, too scared of rejection to try and make contact with Dan again.
He heard from a mutual friend that Dan was moving, leaving London, never to return again.
Life would never send him a clearer sign, he thought. He had to fight for Dan, fight for them, whatever chance they had left.
He spent the past year and a half in regret, but also in deep thought. He distracted himself with work, anything that would temporarily take his mind off the brunet man he still loved so dearly but let down.
He didn’t know why he did it.
He seldom heard anything about Dan, he had kept himself to himself. But tomorrow would mark their old anniversary, and Dan leaving the day before may as well be Dan waving goodbye to everything they once were.
He had every reason to, Phil knew, but he cursed his mother for telling him ‘if you love something, let it go’. It ruined his life.
It happened in a blur, one second he was crying over the phone to his friend who told him that Dan was leaving, and the next he was turning the car keys in the ignition and speeding out of the garage.
The lamplight was as dull as Phil felt, he had felt nothing but dull and numb since the night he ruined it all.
Phil believed in love, and he knew that he had it, the real, true thing. He knew that he would do anything to rekindle what they had, a last-ditch attempt to win Dan back in any way he could, before he walked out of Phil’s life forever.
The darkness was unforgiving on Phil’s sadness, and he sighed as he turned on the radio as a way to drown out the screaming silence. Their song began to play, and Phil found himself turning it up to a high volume.
He could only see Dan’s face as Phil said he wanted to break up, he had never seen the other man so hurt and defeated, a shell of himself. Phil felt tears slip down his cheeks as he slammed his foot on the accelerator and zoomed down his street, in the direction of the flat he missed with all his heart, and the person he loved with his entirety.
--
Phil Lester noticed all manner of things.
The loving glances couples in the streets sent each other over interlocked hands, the wistful kisses they shared when they thought nobody could see in the queue for the cinema, the aching in the pit of his stomach whenever he woke up with nobody beside him, the aching for Dan.
He should have noticed the figure dashing across the pavement towards his street in the pouring rain, he should have recognised through his streaming tears the face now pressed against his windscreen, blood mixing with the winter rain.
Summary: In which one misses another, and words aren’t enough.
Genre: Angst, Songfic, (non-youtuber) au
Song: Dear Darlin’
Warnings: Some swearing
Word Count: 2k
Read on ao3
***
Phil;
I firstly apologise wholeheartedly. Not for the contents of this letter, no not at all, but for my handwriting. It’s scruffy, it’s scrawl, it’s-
“Fuck” Dan shouted as he screwed the paper into a ball and hurled it at the wall, not bothering to watch its pathetic descent to the floor. He ran his hands through his hair as he kept his gaze on the wooden floorboards below him.
He needed to do this, he had to do this, he wanted to do this, he just couldn’t fathom his thoughts into legible literature. He had attempted poems, a plethora of ballads, sonnets and free-verse alike, but they all ended the same, a character shaking in the corner, cold and alone in the dark of the night.
Nobody understood.
“It was just a fling, I don’t get how you can be like this” Caspar commented when he and Joe came over to Dan’s flat during a cheer-up attempt. Dan simply pressed his lips together and kept his stare firmly on the mind-numbing football game that was playing monotonously on the television set.
Nobody understood.
“Forgive me for seeming potentially insensitive here, but… how can you be like this, Dan? It was a month at most, it was short and sweet. People are in your state after years, not weeks” Louise tried to disguise her disappointment in sympathy, but it was obvious. Dan let his head dip down, and he stared into his paper cup of coffee, watching as the swirls of the caffeine intertwined as the foam dissipated, each imperfection finding a partner and disappearing until only a single ripple every minute or so disrupted the tranquillity. He envied a cup of coffee, but this was his life now.
Because his life had left him a month ago, when Phil left, taking Dan’s entirety with him.
He was now a mere shell of himself, moulded through misconception, the epitome of heartbreak and misery tied up with a shaky, chapped-lip smile that was as transparent as his tears.
Dan’s gaze flicked over to the landline phone, resting on the windowsill, next to where he was sat for the duration of the night before, trying again and again, his hope dwindling as the dial tone continued for minutes at a time, before the automated voice greeted him, after a while it almost seemed pitiful. He couldn’t even live vicariously through an answerphone message.
He glanced over to the front door, and the smashed, scattered pieces of his iPhone that laid in front of it. Nobody understood how Dan couldn’t cope, how every night he would stretch out his arms as he did when they used to watch whatever late-night panel show they could find together, when Phil would snuggle into Dan’s chest and he was happy. They were happy.
Phil;
It’d be a miracle if you could read this. It’s impossible for me to articulate a sentence, or even a word, to tell you how I feel.
I miss you.
The paper was again screwed into a ball and thrown in the same direction as its predecessor, and Dan didn’t spare a concern for the loud smashing sound that occurred a few seconds later and the huge crash that followed it.
He sighed, and walked over to the windowsill. Sat in his now usual spot, he picked up the receiver of the landline, and pressed speed-dial 1. He rested the receiver on the sill, and listened intently as the invisible operator linked the call through, and Phil received it. Dan waited, that’s all he did now, and he waited.
He waited until the line went dead, not even to be greeted by the answerphone.
His eyes squeezed closed as his head gently rested upon the window, a stray tear dribbling down his cheek as the rain continued to fall, dancing with the utmost intricacy upon the windowpane, harmonious with the rumble of thunder in the oncoming distance. He allowed himself to cry relentlessly for the first time, drowned out by the eruption of lightning, gaining dominance of the murky sky, a metaphor to himself wrapped up with a fluffy-cloud bow.
His eyes reluctantly opened to the sight of a notebook he had left from the night before, one of many scattered through the flat. The ballpoint laid upon it, the paper only slightly crinkled in comparison.
Dan’s hand was stretched out for the utensils, but his fingers curled back as the paper was just within reach. He was shaking, as was usual by this point, and his mind cast back to the time when he first tried, and every time he had thought a ‘what if’.
Then came the sub-conscious scribbling.
Phil;
You’d laugh at me, you’re probably laughing at me right now, at my handwriting. You always hated when I tried to write while upset, didn’t you? You used to say it was illegible, unnatural, unnecessary…
Ironic, truly.
Another balled up piece of paper thrown carelessly against the wall.
“I think you need to get out a bit, you’ll forget all about it!” Joe insisted a few days ago on a whirlwind visit, when Dan kept his focus on the news story about a couple being reunited. Joe didn’t see him cry, because he didn’t. He wrote, reams and reams of similes and juxtapositions, about blue reuniting with brown, pale touching tan, plump kissing chapped. Summarised with a nine-word length; I was warm in the hold of your eyes.
“But didn’t you meet on a blind date of all things?” Jim had asked casually, yet laced with disapproval, during a Skype call clearly fuelled by Caspar’s gossip tendencies, and Dan nodded, expression deadpan and head dipped once again.
Nobody understood.
Phil;
No-one understands what we went through.
Yes, to some it was short, maybe even sweet, they just say we tried.
Did it ever feel like trying to you? Were the kisses ever forced? Unneeded? Unwanted?
Were the amorous exchanges ever misconstrued? Emotionless? Routine?
I’ve been thinking. About you, about us, which you could argue would mean I was daydreaming. Imagining.
I miss you.
It was never forced. It was never anything but the truth, these arms are yours to hold, whenever you may want them.
If these words were to ever break through wall of my illiteracy and into something readable for you, and this were to end up at your door, I just want you to know something… I mean them all. Every phoneme, every syllable.
But there’s something that means more.
I love you, Philip Michael Lester, and it scares me to think that I may love you forevermore, as long as I am still here.
I wish I had told you sooner, maybe things could have been different…
I love you, Phil, there’s no hiding it.
Nothing hurts like your absence, and nobody understands.
Envision the rest of this page is filled with the many reasons why I love you and forever will, all written neatly, in a cursive font. Envision the rest of this page subtly alludes to why you should come back home, to me.
Please excuse my writing, I fear I may be digressing. I can’t stop my hand from shaking. I can’t cope, I can’t function.
Envision the rest of this page is filled with the many reasons I wish I could kiss you, just for one last time, and why I treasure you more than I treasure my very life. You were my life when you walked out, and I fear you will be even in ten years’ time when I am but a simple wistful, casted away thought after seeing a milky brown cup of coffee left on a park bench.
I miss you, Phil, and I love you.
All I can say is… I mean everything.
He reread again and again, far past the point of needing only to dot the Is and cross the Ts.
The paper made contact with the wall, tumbling down to the wooden underlay, and rolled under the dining table.
He padded into the bedroom, ice-cold in temperature, not bothering to switch out the lights. Another sleepless night, alone, cuddling a pillow in place of the love of his life who had slipped through his fingers.
---
Dan;
I’ve been thinking.
I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.
My words, they’re weak, I know. My hopes, they’re dashed, naturally. I just wanted to write you… maybe for closure… really for reconciliation.
I’ve cried every night, and nobody understands. They say we were only a short, sweet, whirlwind of a romance, and that it makes no sense for me to be in the state I am. They say we tried, and that had to be enough.
But it never felt like trying to me, not once did it feel forced. Everything I said, I meant with all my heart.
But there’s something I want to tell you, before my hand starts shaking erratically as it has every time before this and you’d have to excuse my illegible handwriting.
I’m unequivocally, irreversibly in love with you, Daniel James Howell, and it’s daunting and utterly terrifying to me that I am certain I will be forevermore.
I wish I told you before, I wish I told you this in place of what I said that night. I was wrong.
I miss you, and nothing hurts like knowing you’re not next to me at night. It’s cold and lonely without you. I can’t cope.
If you ever receive this, and I’ve somehow managed to make it readable, I want you to take but one thing away from it.
I love you. It’s a big word, a huge, enormous word with immense connotations, but I mean them all. Every single one.
I love you, Dan, and I no longer feel afraid to say it.
Picture the rest of this page tells you the reasons why, the reasons why I love you eternally. The reasons why I want to come back, to kiss you even just one last time, to just be in your presence for but a minute.
I’ve gone off on a tangent, and I apologise.
Yes, this has been fluffy (maybe saccharine?) but please know this;
I mean every single word. I mean them all.
Phil looked down at the envelope marked Dan that sat on his lap, having repositioned it after breaking the speed limit to arrive at Dan’s apartment building in record time and the letter jiggled about on the passenger seat.
He looked up at the sixth row of windows, and his gaze settled on the fourth set across.
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead in anticipation as the lift ascended to the sixth floor, and the envelope crinkled slightly as his hand began to ball into a fist. Determination emanated from the man.
It was a short journey before Phil was stood in front of the door he was well acquainted with, the glossy wood waiting for him to knock upon it.
He stood in silence, not moving a muscle, for minutes at a time.
His fingers began to uncurl from their fist as his fingertips ghosted in front of the door, centimetres from making contact.
The envelope began to audibly crinkle, and Phil realised he was shaking, badly. He raised his head again and studied the intricacy of the pattern within the wooden door, and his fingers retracted.
He sighed, and placed his other hand on the envelope too, and he bent down to set to place it on the doormat.
Again, his fingers began to uncurl from their grasp as they hovered above the mat, shaking, and Phil sunk to his knees, pressing his hands to his forehead, completely crinkling the envelope in the process.
He looked again to the door, silently praying that the love of his life would be there, in the doorway, but he wasn’t. Only the merciless, dank lighting of the building corridor greeted him, doing all but commanding him to leave.
He ran his thumb over Dan’s name and rose to his feet, and began heading back in the direction of the lifts, the envelope dangling loosely between his fingers as his arm swung helplessly by his side.
Phil cast one last, tear-filled stare over his shoulder to Dan’s flat as the lift door closed behind him.
-- E n d --
Dear Darlin’ is one of my favourite songs ever so I really hope I did it justice? Even a little? Probably not but still, please let me know what you thought!
Also SOMETHING INSANE HAS HAPPENED AND I'M SO HAPPY. I've gained a few nominations in the 2015 phanfic awards!! If you'd like to vote for me (which if you do, thankyou so much) just click this link and follow the directions, I laid everything out clearly c:
Thankyou for your ongoing support, I wouldn't still be writing phanfiction if it weren't for you lovelies xx
Pairing: Phan (danisnotonfire x AmazingPhil)
Genre: angst, songfic, break-up
Warnings: swearing
Words: 629
Summary: Phil called the shots for god’s sake, but now he regrets it. Now he wants Dan back, and Dan wants Phil back too. (It’s all so toxic and they’re such a fucking mess.) | song!fic/drabble based on Jet Pack Blues by Fall Out Boy
I got those jet pack blues, just like Judy
The kind that make June feel like September
I’m the last one that you’ll ever remember
Phil sat there. He just sat. No sobs racked his body, no screaming, just…… nothing. He let the realisation just sink in painfully slowly. His mind screamed “No! No! No!” as his heart laid injured and broken. It was - fuck - he can’t even describe it. He called the shots, saying that he doesn’t want it anymore. That he’s done with everything.
So why the fuck is he regretting all of this?
And I’m trying to find my peace of mind behind these two white highway lines
When the city goes silent, the ringing in my ears gets violent
Dan walked and walked and walked. He just wants to get as far away from their flat - Phil’s flat - as possible. The city was eerily silent, and then did he realise that he was in the dark. A deep sinking feeling settles in his stomach and he remembers how Phil would hold his hand whenever he’s scared and how he tells him to look up at the night sky because stars would always calm him down. Small raindrops fall down and progress into harsh waves of rain and Dan lost it. He fell down on the pavement, curling in a fetus position as sadness overcome his body. And fuck it fuck it fuck it he wants to forget but all he can do is remember.
I’ve got those jet pack blues
Fight off the light tonight and just stay with me
Honey, don’t you leave
But bloody hell Phil couldn’t take it anymore. He took his phone out and called Dan because fuck it Phil needed that twat. He called and called and called hoping that Dan would just pick up the goddamned phone and Phil is about to throw his phone outside the window into the pouring rain. But Phil was oh so desperate and he just wants Dan to know so he attempts one more time. It rings and rings and rings and there are warm tears falling down from Phil’s cheek and it stopped ringing and there is a sliver of hope in Phil that maybe Dan actually picked his phone and it wasn’t just the fucking voicemail.
“Hello, It’s Dan.”
“D-dan,” Phil took a deep breath.“It’s Phil and I-”
“Please leave your message after the tone. Thank you. Please leave your message.”
And Phil is even more desperate than ever. The phone beeps and Phil starts talking.
“Dan, I’m so so sorry. Let’s just - let's just forget about it. Dan, I need you. Please, please, please just stay with me.”
He’s in a long black coat tonight, waiting for me in the downpour outside
He’s singing “Baby come home” in a melody of tears
While the rhythm of the rain keeps time
Now Dan is running. He runs and runs and runs as fast as he can back to Phil, back home. He sees Phil’s silhouette in a long black coat and Phil is running and Dan is running and they’re a fucking mess. Their lips collide and salty tears mix with the rain and their arms are tangled with each other and they don’t even fucking know if they should be sad or happy or angry but all they can feel is need and it’s so fucking toxic right now.
Did you ever love him? Do you know?
Or did you never want to be alone?
“I don’t ever want to be alone. You’re next to me in my life.” Phil says, snuggling closer to Dan under the duvet.
