#phanangst

[flowerpotphil]

Guysssss

Please can I get some phanfic prompts? I'll take anything at this point

[cas-tellation]

Place The Blame On Fayecastle

Dan and Phil had broken up over 6 years ago. There hadn't been anything since then. No phone call, no text, just nothing. Until now, apparently. Because now Dan was in the bookshop with fairly lights adorning the walls and Phil was standing in front of him and everything had come crashing down once again.

word count: 4,282

triggers: drinking, mentions of self harm, mentions of mental illnesses such as depression and anxiety, mentions of rape, mentions of physical abuse, slight body dysphoria

ao3 link.  read pt.1 here (You can read this without reading the first part! It will still make sense dw.)

This was written for a competition ( @phanficwritingcomp​ )

**PLEASE READ TRIGGERS AND STAY SAFE XX**

It’s almost painful, pretending to be happy.

You paint a smile onto your face in bright pastel hues, letting the yellows and purples swirl into each other and create the smile for you. The words get stuck in your throat, like the edges of the letters are caught on something and refuse to move past your lips. Every move is shadowed with doubt, but you live with it. It becomes who you are, a plastic face to shield everyone from the monster underneath.

Dan shrugs off the black jumper and impossibly dark skinny jeans in TopMan’s changing room, staring at his gaunt reflection in the mirror for a split second before pulling on a pale pink t-shirt and white jeans. The fabric is soft, and it feels like he’s going home. He almost wishes that he has a flower crown as well, thinking that it’d set the outfit off nicely. His bare feet are cold against the tiled floor, but he ignores it. He’s almost in a trance, at this point, staring at his reflection as if it’s another person entirely.

In a way, it is another person. The pastel genderqueer person in the mirror is someone else: someone Dan left behind a long time ago.

The dulled colours don’t seem to fit how skinny he’s become. They do nothing to hide the bags under his eyes or the thin white lines speckled across his forearms.

His hair is straight, but he kind-of wants it to go natural again.

He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head, turning so that he wasn’t facing the mirror, and stripping down, pulling on the darker coloured clothes again. It felt almost like he was putting himself in a cage, wearing the masculine white collared shirt, dark jeans and black jumper.

He leaves the store, not buying anything.

Maybe it was because he simply wasn't that person anymore.

Or maybe it was because he was scared of the person that he really was.

-

The rain is what finally makes Dan vear across the pavement and push his way into the bookshop. The ancient looking sign in the door showing off it’s name: ‘Faycastle’.

Everything is made out of wood, a darker forest-like aesthetic revealed in the ways that ferns lined the windowsills. The bookshelves stretch to the ceiling, fairy lights dancing down the edges, illuminating the book’s titles softly. The 1975 playing in the background, barely audible over the roar of the rain smashing against the thin window panes from outside.

Dan makes his way to the back of the store, where he’d hopefully be out of eyesight from everybody else. The bookshelves are close together, filling the shop up with as many books as it could possibly hold. He flits in between them like a shadow, letting his fingertips trail over their spines, feeling the millions of stories that they held.

There are more plants at the back of the shop, but their leaves are all withered and dead, the sun's rays not being able to reach them.

Dan plucks a book of the shelf. It’s old, the cover barely hanging onto it’s spine. It feels rough under his touch, the pages edges are all frayed, some pages stained from moisture.

All of the books look to be in similar shape, give or take some years.

The one that Dan’s holding is poetry; ‘Atalanta in Calydon’.

He lifts it up to his face, breathing in deeply.

“It’s the chemical breakdown between-” A voice starts, but it abruptly cut off as Dan looks up, closing the book and pushing it back onto the bookshelf in one movement.

Phil.

Dan physically takes a step back.

Phil.

His mind is playing over every single moment that he and Phil had spent together. Every sleepy cuddle. Every drunken kiss. Every word. Every sound. He can almost feel Phil’s body against him, a cloudy memory between them in the bookshop.

“Dan?”, He hears Phil’s voice ask.

He nods, looking up to meet his eyes.

He wishes that he hadn’t. They captivate him. They’re blue and yellow and green and they light up everything around him.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the last things that he had ever said to Phil. He couldn't stop thinking about the stuttered; “I just don’t love you”, or the way that he had seen the lights in Phil’s eyes die. Or even the way that Phil had practically screamed at him; “Why?” He remembered the way that Phil had gasped out a strangled; “One for the road, then?” He remembers the kiss, wet and desperate.

“Dan?” He can hear Phil’s voice touching upon his name again.

“Phil.” Dan barely manages to murmur.

A strange look passes over Phil’s face. Dan can’t catch it in time to tell what emotion it is. Maybe it’s just Phil remembering what he and Dan used to have. Maybe it was just Phil remembering the countless ‘I love you’s, whispered through nights long ago.

“You’re…. You’re not wearing pastel clothes?”

Dan almost laughs. He hasn’t worn anything even remotely pastel for years, save the minutes spent in the changing room a few hours ago. Is that really what surprises Phil the most? The fact that he’s wearing different colour clothing?

“Um, yeah… Fuck, what’d you expect?” Dan mutters. He wants to get out of the bookshop, but he can’t just walk away.

Phil looks lost for once. He stumbles over a sentence, but can’t articulate it properly. Dan stares at him blankly. He knows that the stars that Phil used to see in his eyes are gone, he knows that this sullen, sad person is the exact opposite of everything that Phil used to be so comfortable around. He knows that he’s different and barely recognizable. But he doesn’t care.

“I um. I have to go…” Dan ends up murmuring, sidestepping past the black-haired boy and slipping easily out of the shop.

He pretends that he can’t hear Phil calling after him.

-

His mind is a mess. It yells at him day and night, scrambling his thoughts and pushing people away from him. Everyday is broken up into endless routine; wake up, shower, get dressed, go to work, eat, go back to his house, sleep. He wears dark masculine clothing that makes him want to rip his face off because it’s the opposite of who he is.

He goes through case after case at the law agency. Rape. Abuse. Divorce. He drinks coffee after coffee. Black tie and white button up, followed by a dark suit jacket and trousers to match. Showers so hot that they burn his skin, but he relishes it. Late nights and baggy eyes.

Painting a smile on your face, and going around like you’re not bothered.

He wants to go back to the time when he’d wear pink jumpers and flower crowns without a care. He wants to go back to the time when he could sleep the night through and wake up feeling alive. He wants to go back to the time when he’d wake up pressed against Phil’s chest.

He wants to be happy.

-

The next time he sees Phil, it’s late at night and Dan’s half asleep, standing in front of the lawyer’s office and trying to remember how to call a taxi. His hands are fumbling with his iPhone and tears are welling in his eyes because he couldn’t fucking do anything these days. Stress shakes his fingertips and he nearly drops his phone in a left-over puddle from last night’s rainstorm.

His eyes are blurry and he’s not completely sure if it’s from the tears or just his body shutting down after running of caffeine for days.

He curses, running a trembling hand through his hair, pushing it up into a quiff.

And then he’s there. Phil. Dan thinks that he might be hallucinating until Phil’s hand comes up and rests on the small of Dan’s back, offering him support.

“Let me help you, okay?” His tone is so soft. Too soft.

He pries Dan’s iPhone out of his hand, “You want a cab, right?”

Dan nods, barely.

Phil rubs his hand into Dan’s back a bit as he steadily dials the number, talking to the person on the other end for a second before hanging up. He fiddles with the phone for another moment and then hands it back to Dan, who shoves it into his pocket so that he doesn’t end up almost dropping it again.

“They’re coming.” He informs the shaking boy. His hand isn’t moving off of Dan’s back, but Dan doesn’t really mind it.

The cab gets there quickly enough, and Phil ushers Dan inside. Neither of them say goodbye to the other but actions speak louder than words as Phil runs a hand through Dan’s hair.

-

Dan feels like shit. He’s coughing and his throat is all sore and his head hurts and his mouth tastes bad. He doesn’t remember how he managed to get back to his apartment the previous night. He stays in bed. Not that he could get up even if he wanted to. He sleeps all day, waking up at 10pm and not knowing what to do with his life.

He was a lawyer. And a damn good one at that. But he wasn’t happy. He made enough to live in London and to pay for everything without a worry, but a house isn’t home and all he wants to do is go home.

He ends up calling his Mum.

They talk until there’s nothing to talk about and then they just ramble to each other. Dan promises that he’s come visit her and Dad soon. He tells her that he loves her and she says it back. She tells him to pick up therapy again because it might help. He tells her that he’ll try but he’s not promising anything.

When they finally hang up, the stars are shining and the moon lights up the street, early dawn brushing across the sky. He sends his boss a text saying that he won’t be in today because of ‘personal issues’. His boss doesn’t seem to mind. He never does.

He cleans his room and has a shower that’s not burning hot. He googles a recipe and makes chocolate chip cookies. He eats half of the cookies whilst watching American Horror Story and then orders pizza. Before he goes to bed, he calls his old therapist and books an appointment before he can back out of it.

-

By the time he goes back to work, nothing’s magically repaired. The days off had aided him slightly, but being behind on his work make it harder.

His boss sees how he’s acting, and asks if he wants a few more days to himself. Dan freezes. He doesn’t know if he should, but a gentle ‘you can work from home for a bit, get those cases worked out in a calmer place, alright kid?’ sends him home to his couch and T.V, typing away at his laptop between sips of tea.

-

He’s scrolling through the contact list on his phone, trying to find the number for a client when he sees it. The ‘Phil Lester’ contact. He knows for a fact that he never put Phil’s number into his phone. He’d deleted it after they had broken up, nearly six years and two iPhones ago.

He doesn’t text him with a simple ‘why the hell’s ur number in my iPhone?’

No. He’s not like that. They were never like that.

He doesn’t even know if it’s really Phil. It could be someone else for all he knew.

-

D.H; “What were you talking about chemical breakdowns?”

P.L; “What?”

D.H; “When I was in ur bookstore . u started talking about chemival breakdowns”

DH; “Chemical**”

P.L; “Oh yea u were sniffing that book.”

P.L; “Old books tend to smell good due to the chemical breakdown that occurs as they age.”

D.H; “So you go up to random ppl and start talking about breakdowns in chemicals?”

P.L; “Only cute random ppl.”

-

The fifty-seven year old white man was sentenced to eight years of imprisonment for raping a fourteen year old girl on her way home from school. Dan thinks that it should have been lifetime imprisonment. The young girl, now sixteen, is crying in court. Dan tries to ignore her pitiful sniffles and yells about fairness and justice.

The family thanks Dan afterwards in his office. He shakes the parents hands and offers them sad smiles then hugs the daughter, holding her for a long while, swaying back and forth.

It wasn’t fair. (life’s not fair.)

-

Two weeks pass, a steady stream of therapist appointments, both his own and sitting in with clients. He calls his parents alot, even goes down to Reading to visit them for a few days. His boss asks him to start working from the office again and he does so readily, throwing himself into work but still trying to keep his mental health somewhat stable. It doesn’t help, being surrounded by other people’s problems all the time.

-

D.H; “hey.”

P.L; “It’s 2am what are you doing awake?”

D.H; “Just thinking.”

P.L; “Good thoughts?”

D.H; “No not really.”

P.L; “Want to talk about it?”

D.H; “I’d rather not.”

P.L; “So I got a new cactus today.”

D.H; “You mean yesterday, its 2am.”

P.L; “Yea. Yesterday. New cactus.”

D.H; “...and?”

P.L; “Sorry I thought I heard a dog outside, had to go check.”

D.H; “Why would a dog be outside your flat at 2am?”

P.L; “Idk if there was a dog I would ask them but there isnt so I can’t.”

D.H; “What happened to the cactus then?”

P.L; “Oh yeah, so I put it in the shop bc I thought it’d look nice there but an old lady fell on it (??not sure how it happened??)”

D.H; “That’s your news? An old lady falling on a cactus.”

P.L; “Ikr my life is so very exciting.”  

D.H; “Sounds like it.”

D.H; “Was she okay? If u need a lawyer to fite off old ladies im here.”

D.H; “I’m just gonna go and assume that she was fine.”

D.H; “Phil?”

D.H; “If u fell asleep then ur a nerd.”

-

He can’t stop remembering Phil’s arms around him, years ago. Telling him that everything would be okay. (It wasn’t okay.)

-

They’re at a coffee shop together after many days of texting. The conversation is flowing easily, as it always had. There wasn’t any small talk, just diving straight into meaningful conversation. There hadn’t been any mention of their breaking up from years ago. They danced around the topic, not touching on it. Neither of them really minded. They sipped their drinks -Dan’s a small hot chocolate and Phil’s a huge caramel macchiato- and talked about everything. (Almost everything. They didn’t talk about themselves. They didn't talk about how they felt for each other.)

-

P.L; “Hi.”

D.H; “Hey.”

P.L; “You busy?”

D.H; “No not really, why?”

P.L; “The stars are out and the sky is clear.”

P.L; “There’s a great view of them from the roof of Fayecastel.”

P.L; “u don’t have to come but it’d be nice.”

D.H; “give me 15mins i’ll be there.”

-

Phil’s ushering him up the thin steps to the roof, having already slipped between the bookshelves and tightly-packed plants in the store. The stairs creak underfoot and Dan can hear Phil ahead of him in the darkness, murmuring something about almost being there.

He pushes open the door, faint light streaming in from the light reflecting away from the moon.

Dejavu settles over them like a thin mist. They couldn’t count the number of times that they’d done this before.

But now it’s different because they’re older and Dan doesn’t wear soft clothes and his dimples don’t show anymore and Phil’s hair is shorter and he hasn’t smoked in a year.

They’re the same people but nearly everything else is different.

Dan drops to his knees then rolls onto his back, his hands resting on his stomach as he stares skywards. Phil copies his movements, inches between them that may as well be miles.

“It’s like nothing has changed at all,” Phil whispers through the darkness.

(It had changed.)

“They haven’t changed.” Dan replies, motioning a hand to the sky.

(everything changed.)

“We changed, though.” Phil’s words are barely audible, but Dan’s breath catches in his throat and Phil knows that he had heard him.

“Yeah,” Dan sighs, tilting his head to look at Phil.

“I’m sorry.” Phil’s eyes are trained on his, blue meeting brown.

“For what?” Dan knows what Phil’s trying to apologize for. The ability to read Phil’s facial expressions and thoughts flashing through his eyes had never left.

“For whatever I did to make you stop loving me?” It came out as a question.

Dan laughed drying, “You didn’t do anything.”

“I did something.” Phil murmured, turning his face back to the stars.

“No. You didn’t. It was my fault,” Dan almost wants to yell, reaching out a hand and grabbing Phil’s chin, forcing him to look at the younger boy, “It was my fault, Phil. You didn’t do anything.”

(It was Dan’s fault.)

“Then why did you stop loving me?” Phil’s voice sounds broken and dejected.

(Dan didn’t stop loving him.)

They’re laying side to side, facing each other under the stars onto of a lonely bookshop, millions upon millions of stories lay underneath them, but the only story that they were living was their own. It used to be one of happiness and love, soft colours and smoke, honey-tasting lips and gentle arms, but then it had changed into something harder, slipping under an icy surface. Words in Dan’s head has screamed at him just as his father used to. His lips were on someone else's. They were drunk and stupid and Dan was scared. He was scared of Phil and being with him. He was scared of his pastel pink clothes and his curly hair. He was scared of who he was, without even knowing who he was. Stuck in a whirlpool and then the ‘I don’t love you.’

Dan’s breathing hard. All of this was his fault. He shuffles closer to Phil, pressing their shoulders and sides together. He wants to make it right but doesn’t know how because this is Phil and Phil used to be everything he had.

But now he’s nothing.

(He’s not really nothing, but Dan doesn’t know what to think.)

It hurts being around Phil like this, pressed up against one another, staring at the stars. If Phil’s hair had been longer and Dan had been wearing pastel clothes, then they might have passed for much younger, happier versions of themselves.

“Why’d you leave?” Phil’s question is watered down, like he was trying to stop crying.

(Because Dan was scared.)

I was scared.

“I was scared.” It comes out barely a whisper, could have been easily mistaken for a sigh.

“That’s no excuse.” Phil says, his hard eyes reflecting starlight but not shining any of their own.

Dan goes silent for a long while, Phil’s words burning into his head. It wasn’t an excuse. It was the truth but Dan knows it’s not good enough. He’s not good enough. Why is he even here? Does he really think that he has any chance with Phil? After all that had happened between them? He stares at the stars, like they can give him an answer.

“Is there any chance?” Dan mumbles, not taking his eyes off the stars.

“With what?” Phil shoots back.

“With us.” Dan chokes, turning his head to watch Phil’s reaction.

Phil flinches, rolling over onto his side to properly face Dan.

“With us.” He repeats back, as if he couldn’t believe that Dan had just said that.

Dan manages a small nod, his gaze unwavering from Phil’s.

He watches Phil’s eyes because they always say more then his lips do.

(yes, yes a million times yes.)

-

P.L; “How are you?”

D.H; “Good. Just got back from therapy.”

D.H; “You?”

P.L; “Sleepy.”

D.H; “Then go to sleep u nerd.”

P.L; “But I haven’t talked to you all day.”

D.H; “Fair enough.”

P.L; “How was therapy anyway?”

D.H; “It was good, we worked some things out.”

P.L; “You’re happier now, aren’t you?”

D.H; “Kind-of, yeah.”

D.H; “You make me happy, too.”

P.L; “You make me happy as well.”

D.H; “I’m glad.”

-

Abuse. Towards a mother and her two-year-old daughter, from the ex-husband. Five years of imprisonment. They thank him. Why do they always thank him? He doesn’t think that he deserves it.

-

He goes back home for a few days to see his parents, then he locks himself away at the office and tries not to let the stress get to him as he goes through case after case. He drinks too much coffee, and thinks too much but he can’t stop himself from doing that.

-

Dan takes Phil out on a date. A proper one, in a restaurant and everything. He trades his black jacket in for a pink button-up, but changes his mind minutes before leaving his flat, ending up with dark coloured clothes and a shy smile plastered across his face.

Phil complements Dan on how he looks and Dan does the same right back. They talk as they eat, quietly, as if they didn’t want the rest of the restaurant listening in. Dan tells him about how much he hated law school and in turn Phil explains to him why he’s running a bookshop of all things.

(There was a chance. This was their chance.)

Phil drops Dan off at home afterwards, stopping at Dan’s doorstep and turning to face him. Dan’s cheeks are tinted pink and the soft hits of dimples poke through. His hair is slightly curly, his eyes staring fixedly at the floor.

Phil hooks two fingers under Dan’s chin, tilting his head up in order to meet his eyes evenly.

Neither of them speak but that’s okay because they’d never really needed to talk in order to understand the other.

Phil is the one that leans forwards, towards the slightly shorter boy.

Their breaths are mixing together and Dan’s lips are parting of their own accord. Phil’s hands slip forwards to rest on Dan’s hips, and Dan’s hands are reaching up to grip Phil’s face between them, his eyes fluttering shut as he pushed himself up onto the tips of his toes, making him level with Phil.

Their noses bump together and Phil lets out a breathy giggle, his hands expertly pulling Dan closer. He tilts his head, his stomach flipping over a million times.

Then Phil’s lips are on his and all Dan can think about is Phil.

(It used to be like this all the time, Dan’s mind being wiped whenever he was graced with Phil’s touch.)

He’s transported back to a time when he would wear pastel clothes and smile all the time.

He’s transported back to who he used to be. (To whom he wished he still was)

Phil’s hands are tugging lightly on his hair and his teeth are biting at Dan’s bottom lip, pulling it away and then letting it ping back into place.

He tastes the same, like starlight dancing on the waves of an ocean.

The heat makes way for gentle pecks, against his mouth, his chin, his cheeks, just above his eye, near the shell of his ear.

Dan lets his hands fall down to his waist and leans forewards until his whole body is resting against Phil, his head pressed against Phil’s shoulder.

Phil’s holding him up.

Strong.

Soft.

Gentle.

Neither of them ever want to move.

(The stars are watching them from above, smiling within themselves at the re-joining constellation below them)

-

P.L; “My mom’s asking me if I have a boyfriend.”

P.L; “What should I say?”

D.H; “idk.”

P.L; “Have you thought about possibly dating me again?”

D.H; “Yeah.”

P.L; “And…?”

D.H; “I don’t want us to end like we did last time.”

D.H; “I don’t ever want that to happen to me again.”

P.L; “Are you willing to give it a shot?”

P.L; “Dan? It’s been 10 minutes u ok?”

D.H; “Tell her that yes, you’ve got a boyfriend.”

-

Dan goes to Urban Outfitters the day before Phil gets back from visiting his parents. His hair is curly and the acrylic paints that make up his face are designing themselves into a soft smile, without any prompting. It’s not a painful smile. It’s not a smile to try and hide anything.

He gets some pastel clothes, loving the way that it feels soft against his skin.

He digs up an old flower crown when he gets home and places it on the top of his head, letting the dulling colours mix with the vivid brown of his wavy hair.

He looks at himself in the mirror, running his hands down his arms where the short-sleeved lavender shirt didn’t reach. The pale scars that littered his forearms didn’t itch. They didn’t feel ugly anymore.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, staring at his reflection.

The person that looks back at him is full of hope.

That person is wearing light-coloured clothes and a pale blush is covering their cheeks and the hint of a smile is poking through.

It’s not painful, being happy.

[flowerpotphil]

Can I have phanfic requests

[cas-tellation]

Not What You Thought (I’m sorry, I didn’t know) Pt. 7

masterlist - read on ao3

summary: Dan's ready to start his new life, as a boy. As Dan instead of Yazi. He's going to a new school in Manchester, where everybody knows him as Dan. Everything's going fine, except for when Nichole texts him and his binder is too tight and when dysphoria hits him like a fucking train. Oh, and there's that kid that sits with him behind the school at lunchtime and brings him food.

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains lots of very descriptive self harm. If you are triggered by this but still want to read the chapter, please message me and i’ll give you a summary!!  

There’s something about the atmosphere around Dan’s house that makes his skin crawl. Maybe it’s the way that his mum watches him with prying eyes. Or perhaps it’s the lack of family pictures on the walls. It could be the low whispers that he can hear through the walls late at night. It might even be the odd family relative that still refers to him as ‘Yazi’.

Whatever the reason was, he was uncomfortable and frankly quite anxious. The anxiety is what sends him outside late at night in nothing more than his pajamas, alternating between staring up at the night sky and sitting on the swings in the park.

This particular night it’s the stars that have caught his attention, calling his gaze up to the sky so that he doesn’t have to suffer through  everything that is happening on earth.

His runs his fingers over his forearm, grimacing when he’s met with the ghosts of scars. It wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting it. More like he wished that they’d just go away. Battle scars, yeah right. More like ugly scars left over from being too weak.

-

Nearly a year ago, on the bathroom floor of Nicole’s house, his whole body hurting.

His back is pressed against the door, not letting Nicole in, despite how hard she was knocking. He doesn’t know where her parents are, but wherever they are, it’s not here.

Nicole had been drinking. As usual. Maybe that’s why she didn’t realize what triggered Dan. Or maybe, she didn’t care. Though Dan thought it was the first one. It had to be, because if anybody cared about him, it would be Nicole, right?

His current state of mind suggested otherwise, screaming at the already-broken human and telling it to destroy itself in what may be the worst way possible.

There’s already too many scars to count. All faded and white, or bright red, having been made recently.

The thing about Nicole’s house is that it’s a relatively safe place, if you ignored the copious amount of alcohol that were stored away in the fridge. The knives were kept high up in cupboards, razors tucked away under the sink, nothing very easily accessible.

But the thing about Dan was that when he wanted or needed to hurt himself, not much would stop him from doing so. His fingernails were long. He could bite the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood on his tongue.

This time it was the razor. It’s surprising, really, how easy they are to disable until all you’re holding is thin metal blades. His hands has slipped a few times, resulting in a copious amount of accidental cuts on his hands. He tries to steady himself, tracing the veins in his forearm without pressing down hard enough to draw blood, Nicole’s slurred screams in his ears.

Everything was too much.

Too much hurt, too much pain, too much emotion.

Too much.

“Don’t you dare do something stupid Yaz!”

“Please, babe, get out of there we should - we should talk !”

Nicole’s voice, as panicked as it is now, really isn’t helping in the slightest. It’s simply making everything more than too much. That extra boost, unbeknownst to Nicole, is what finally makes him press the blade harder, feeling the cold metal bite into his already-scarred and broken skin. Then, he flicks his hand to the side, gasping and barely holding back a cry as beads of blood poke up along the cut, instantly turning into more and more and more.

It’s running down his arm and everything hurts.

But for the life of him, he can’t stop.

Again and again and again and again until he can’t hold back his screams of pain and despair.

And again, after that, and then another one.

More and more and more and he wonders, vaguely, if he has any more blood left to bleed out. He lets his head slump back against the door, choked sobs wracking his thin body.

This is it, he thinks. This is the end of everything. On the floor, a distraught friend trying so hard to help him. But her screaming made his heart beat faster and his hands tremble more.

No matter how much she wanted to help, how could she possibly fix someone who didn’t want to be fixed? Who didn’t want to feel better?

Or, perhaps better phrasing would be preferable. How was Nicole expected to save someone from themselves?

In short, she couldn’t.

Nobody could except Dan himself.

But Dan is lying on the floor covered in blood and hyperventilating. His heart is beating too fast and he feels like his brain might explode. The blade drops from his hand to the tiled floor with a sharp clang, and his eyes drift close.

-

The scars feel ugly. Ugly and stupid and pointless and just plain disgusting. They make his fingers shake a little and his breath come in shorter intervals.

The sight and feels of the past memories makes him want to do it again, which is perhaps the scariest thing about them, the power that they still held. Dull and light and barely visible, and yet they still made him break.

Weak.

He lets his gaze drift up to the sky. It’s simplier up there anyway. Much better than down on earth, at the very least.

They calm his heart, making it easier to breath. He stops running his fingers over his scars and presses his palm flat over his heart, feeling it’s steady beat. He takes deep breaths, his eyes never once leaving the sky.

Calm.

-

By the time that Dan goes back to his house, the stars have disappeared and the sun has started its slow climb up the sky.

His breathing is steady and his mind is away from the scars on his body, calmed to the extent of a smile crossing his face.

(In reality, the scars still felt ugly, but Dan was just too starstruck to feel that thought in his mind anymore.)

-

By the time that Dan drags himself to school, he really regrets staying up all night. His eyes keep drifting shut in class. One moment he was blurrily staring up at the teacher, and the next there was a big thunk as his head hit the desk.

-

Phil’s waiting for him, behind the school, a bag beside him, a smile on his face.

Dan says, “Hi,” and “did you bring energy.” Not even stated as a question.

Phil says, “You look like a zombie,” and then he reaches up to grab Dan’s hands, tugging him down to the ground, where Dan fell against Phil’s chest and decided that this would be a great time for nap.

Phil calls Dan a nerd in the most affectionate tone of voice, ducking his head down to place a kiss to the top of Dan’s head, not even attempting to wake Dan up.

-

His dreams are plagued by memories that he’d much rather forget. Of Nicole, mostly. Some of her friends. Their friends. It was just that Dan was weird and shy and kept to himself so they never really became his friends. Nicole was his friend. Singular. Nicole. That was, until she wasn’t.

-

Phil wakes him up by shaking his body slightly, grimacing at the look that Dan gives him.

Dan says, “I actually hate you.”

And Phil, rolling his eyes, kisses the frown off his face and runs his hands through Dan’s hair.

When he pulls back, Phil says, “You’re late for your next class.”

Dan, groaning, drags Phil into another kiss, leaving his words ignored.

-

Phil had managed to persuade Dan to go back to class. How he did it, Dan doesn’t know. Still half-asleep, Dan barely makes his way through the rest of the day. He tells himself that he’s going to go to sleep earlier from now on. Of course, sleepily telling future-him to do something and actually doing the thing are two completely different things.

-

When Phil texts him close to three in the morning, Dan gives up trying to sleep completely, and goes to the park to meet his friend.

Phil instantly tells him that he’s not trying to make a habit out of being outside at night, nor is he in any way attempting to keep Dan awake after he’d fallen asleep at school the previous day, in such a worried tone that Dan cuts across him and assures him that everything’s fine and that he was awake anyway and how he’d never want to willingly pass up the opportunity to spend the night with Phil.

Lapsing into comfortable silence is something that Dan loves. A conversation coming to an end, and then quiet. Quiet and bodies moving against each other. Maybe not comfortable silence , persay. But comfortable all the same.

He hadn’t come here for this, the taste of Phil on his mouth and his hands buried deep in his hair.

He’d come here because there wasn’t anything else. No sleep. No peace.

And then Phil, around him the atmosphere being lit up like a fucking firework show. Peace.

Phil’s fingers on his waist and Phil’s tongue in his mouth and whatever sleepiness that Dan had been holding wasn’t there anymore. Phil. Everywhere, Phil.

Phil pulls back and Dan whines.

“No,” Phil murmurs, and then, “i’m sorry.”

“About what?” Gasped, needy, hands still gripping at Phil’s body. Are you okay, did I do something wrong, why are you sorry.

-

A year ago, another person, shorter, longer hair. Thick eyeliner. Nicole. “I’m sorry,”

“Why?”

And then, a universe, crashing down.

-

“About what?” Dan repeats when Phil doesn’t reply right away. His hands are still on Phil. Like if he stopped touching him, Phil would disappear. Like Nicole.

“For-”

Dan cuts him off with a kiss on his neck, the words left unsaid and tumbling into a low groan. He pushes Dan away. Gently, his hands soft, lacking anything real.

“I didn’t-... Dan, ” He says it like Dan’s name means something. “Dan.” His pupils are blown wide. There’s desperation in his tone.

“I- um.” An awkward glance down towards his crotch and oh.

Dan backs off immediately, his face red with blush, his eyes averted almost uncomfortably. Phil mutters something about needing a few minutes. Dan rolls his eyes, still sitting close enough to Phil that their shoulders touch.

“Jesus christ you’re horny.” Dan nudges Phil with his elbow, “We literally were barely making out.”

“Yeah well - …” Phil fails to come up with a good enough retort, just making a little grumbling noise under his breath.

“Am I really that hot that you get hard with just a kiss?” Dan teases, being careful to keep his voice light.

“You’re too cute to be hot.” Phil bites back, using one of his hands to brush his fringe up into a quiff.

“I can be hot.” Dan argues, turning to glare at Phil.

“ … no, not really.” Phil laughs, “you’re cute.”

“Shut up.” Dan settles into Phil’s side, turning his head to look up towards the sky, which was conveniently speckled by stars.

Phil says, “Cutie.” His voice hushed. He wraps an arm around Dan’s shoulders, drawing him closer.

[dip-the-pip]

I have a angsty little prompt!! (It's kinda cliche tho). Maybe like, someone going back to visit a loved ones grave and remembering all the great times together?

Lost Inside Your Dreams

Rated: T

Word count: 1750

Please read tags on the fic before reading!

Read on AO3

[thephangarbagedisposal-blog]

Pills (Chapter One)

Read the prologue here! x

So maybe Dan couldn't see right, because all the colors had bled together, creating something he would normally appreciate if it weren't what he constantly saw, but he still wanted to do the things he'd been planning for that day. He hadn't expected this and was accustomed to being busy, so booked a heavy schedule.

But he decided he wouldn't let this hold him back, ignoring Phil as he told him, "It's fine! We can just cancel. Sit."

Phil was obviously worried, not letting Dan go until the younger agreed that he would say if he wanted to leave. They left about ten minutes late, hoping PJ wouldn't care. He didn't.

"Hey!", Dan forced out, his vision still acting out. Phil let out a much more convincing and cheery greeting, that signature smile plastered on his face. PJ still looked suspicious, but thankfully decided not to press the subject.

"Is Chris coming?", Dan asked, not seeing the brown-haired boy. They were reconnecting the Fantastic Foursome. Chris was known for being late, so they all just smiled at the familiar occurrence that they hadn't experienced in a while.

'They probably tried to stay away from you. You're so annoying. Just leave already... They all agree.'

Dan winced at the headache the thoughts had started, Phil noticing immediately. He looked at him with concern grazing his face, but then they heard a loud, “Sorry I’m late!”, as their friend pushed through the crowd of people. Directing their gazes to Chris, the two smiled.

“As usual…”, PJ noted with a small smirk. Chris rolled his eyes, playfully punching the boy in the arm. Dan tried to laugh, but his voice seemed to be trapped in his throat, and his tongue felt heavy, so he didn’t. He remained silent, unmoving.

The pretty colored were still there, Phil’s blue eyes mixing into a entity of red, blue, and yellow. He frowned at that, wishing he could stare into them without having to close his eyes right after.

And he had to spend a week like this.

They hung out for two hours, laughs and smiles just like the old times. Dan seemed a bit reserved, which Chris pointed out, to which Dan just said, “Just tired.”

Dan and Phil had to leave though, unfortunately, as they had other things to do. So they left, and while getting into the taxi, Dan almost collapsed, but thankfully holding on to the wall of the car. Phil furrowed his eyebrows, a pout on his face.

He pulled Dan toward him so that he was laying his head on his shoulder, telling the taxi the address of where they had to go next. It was roughly 40 minutes away, so he let Dan sleep on him for 30 minutes.

Finally, they got there. Dan had already been awake for 10 minutes, Phil not wanting him to be too groggy. They were meeting with a sponsor, discussing the videos they wanted them to make.

They entered the building, showing the security I.D. Dan had a dizzy spell, nausea following after. Phil took him into the bathroom, where the boy leaned against the wall and allowed a few tears to slip out of his eyes.

He felt so helpless. These pills were supposed to stop the horrid thoughts he had, whispering words into his mind until he wanted to die even more. Phil held him lightly, rubbing his back. “Wanna go home?”, Phil quietly asked.

“I do… But we can’t go. We have to go to that meeting. I’ll be fine. Just… Cancel lunch with Louise.”

Dan felt guilty for cancelling the plans two hours before going, but Phil reassured him it was okay.

‘How are you so useless that you can’t handle a bit of dizziness? You should just die. So fat and worthless… You don’t deserve him. He should have better. He wouldn’t leave you though, he’s too nice. So why don’t you just kill yourself? Leave so he won’t have to leav-’

But then Phil had turned him around, hugging him properly. Dan panicked, because how was he supposed to get through an entire hour and a half of talking to a major company? This was to make them a lot of money, and he didn’t want Phil to miss out on that because he couldn’t handle a bit of stress.

He forced himself to calm down though, letting the embrace spread hope through his chest. Phil smiled softly when the boy relaxed. “Ready?”, he asked. Dan hummed, nodding.

With that, they walked out, going to the room they were meant to. “Sorry we’re late…”, Phil spoke.

The meeting was going fine, perfect even. But then, Dan started to get a migraine, sweating thoroughly on his hands. Phil noticed the tenseness that Dan seemed to be experiencing, holding his hand under the table.

When the meeting finally ended, they left first. Dan broke down into tears over the pain, his head throbbing relentlessly.

Phil shushed him sweetly, massaging the back of his hand as they quickly left the building. Phil hailed a taxi, the driver looking concerned. They got in, and then drove to their apartment. Phil thanked the driver, handing him an extra 5 pounds.

He helped Dan into the building, who was sagging uselessly against the elder, tears staining his cheeks. His head was throwing thoughts at him whilst banging at his brain, and everything was just too much.

But Phil was there, and he laid Dan on his bed, laying down next to him and massaging his head. They laid there for maybe an hour, before getting hungry. “Is your head better?”, Phil asked. Dan nodded, and they walked to the kitchen to make pizza or something.

But Dan collapsed in the middle of the hallway, Phil rushing to his aid. “Hey… It’s okay…”

And if they spent the rest of the night sleeping on the couch, then it was perfectly fine.

(Phil had already cancelled the plans they had.)

[wadewilliams61-blog]

Happier - Epilogue (on Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/R4Hq40K5PB This is based off the song Happier by Ed Sheeran so if you haven't heard it I would give it a listen so you understand what is happing in the story. ( I just want to give credit to the writers that have already written stories to this song I'm sure they're amazing <3) warnings: this story will get really depressing so I'll put warnings in the beginning of a chapter if there is anything too heavy.

[oh-my-phanta]

Tears of Love and Vigor

Summary: Dan was in an accident and after trauma to the brain he has amnesia. (p.s. ignore the title I am literally just trash but if you know what it's from then I applaud you) Warnings: amnesia (not sure if that needs a warning? I'll put it anyway) angst (*gasp*) not much else this is relatively mild and kind of fluffy (well like the end is fluffy) Word count: a little over 3k

.....

A month.

A month ago everything was fine until-

A month ago Dan got hit by a car.

A month ago Phil had cried outside the ICU because apparently 'boyfriend of six years still doesn't make you family.' So instead of going in and seeing his boyfriend in what could have been his last moments, Phil was forced to wait for Dan's family to arrive, so he could tell them what happened and they could go see Dan.

A month ago Phil learned that Dan was in a coma that he may never wake up from. After that he was allowed to see Dan whenever he wanted.

A month ago Phil had to break the news to the fans that Dan was in a coma and they weren't sure when he was going to wake up, or if he even would.

A month ago both Dan and Phil all but disappeared from the internet.

But now, now Dan was awake. For the first time in a month Dan's eyes were open and alert. When Dan had first woken up Phil had been asleep at his side; though he soon woke up to Dan's crowning voice, "Ex-excuse m-me. Excu-use m-me."

Phil had woken up and stared wide and teary-eyed at his boyfriend who he feared he would never get the chance to talk to again. "Dan. Dan, oh my god Dan. I was so worried. I didn't- oh my god. You're awake. You- you're awake."

With each happy word and tear that escaped Phil, Dan had only looked more scared and confused. "D-do I know you?"

With those words Phil's world came crashing down around him. The words the doctors kept saying to him over and over again crashing around in his head.

He suffered severe head trauma, so even if he does wake up there's no saying what the effects will be, or if there will be any lasting effect. Just keep in mind that if he comes to he might not be exactly himself. After all amnesia is common in people who have suffered this much trauma.

He never believed them, because how could it happen? How could Dan ever forget him.

When Phil has finally gathered his wits enough to respond he says, "I- uh- yeah- um I'm- I'm your- your best friend. I'm your best friend."

He doesn't entirely know why he didn't tell Dan what he really was to him. Maybe because he thought it would hurt more.

"I- I'm sorry. I don't- I don't remember. I'm sorry."

God knows it already hurt enough.

.....

During the following weeks Phil along with Dan's family (who he remembered) helped to fill in the holes in Dan's memory (which seemed to be the last six years of his life). It was difficult and tedious work as Dan had a never ending stream of questions and everyone wanted to make sure to tell him everything they could remember.

Throughout it all the most unbearable thing was the awkward silences that seemed to haunt Phil whenever he and Dan were alone. Never before had they had silences like these, even when they had first started skyping. The conversation between the two had always been flowing and the silences always held a sense of comfort. With this 'new' Dan however Phil didn't quite no how to act.

Dan and Phil had grown together and their relationship had flourished, but now it was as if Phil had gone on the journey alone. Dan was stuck in the time where their relationship was soft and gentle, not wanting to break the fragile bonds they had created. Phil was where the 'old' Dan had left him; completely in love, and knowing more about Dan than he knew about himself.

So Phil didn't know what to do. The Dan that knew him was gone. The Dan that was here hardly knew anything about Phil. The Dan here only knew Phil as a friend, his supposed best friend.

Despite this Phil didn't stop trying. Even if it seemed that part of Dan was missing, he was still Dan and Phil loved him more than anyone. So Phil trudged onward, trying to help Dan as best as he could whilst constantly feeling as if he were drowning in a sea of helplessness.

.....

It had been three days since Dan had been discharged from the hospital, and Phil still wasn't used to the 'new' Dan. It was unnerving to see Dan wandering around the flat in awe of almost everything he saw. It seemed as though ever since Dan had first entered their flat the vague look of amazement had yet to leave his face.

When Dan had first entered the lounge he had looked around the room slack-jawed. "I live here?"

Phil had flinched slightly at his wording; it had been a long time since they had used 'mine' and 'I' in exchange for 'ours' and 'we'. But he had ignored the slight sting that came with Dan's words, instead he had smiled and nodded.

The next days were filled with encounters similar to the first; Dan questioning about his life and Phil taking each question with a tight-lipped smile. Phil felt that with each question the knife stuck in his chest was pushed deeper and deeper. Yet, Phil never told him to stop asking, after all how were you supposed to tell your amnesiac best friend/boyfriend to stop asking about the life he hardly remembered? So, Phil continued to answer Dan's questions, because while they hurt him, they help Dan. Despite wanting to help Dan however Phil took solace in the time he spent alone. So when Phil woke up before Dan on the fourth day Phil decided to let him sleep; anime and breakfast tradition be damned.

Phil slouched into the kitchen and started the coffee, before pulling out a bowl and cereal from the cupboards. After breakfast was ready Phil headed to the lounge. When Phil sat down he looked to his right and felt a pang at the empty spot where Dan was supposed to be; where Dan could be. Even as Phil contemplated getting Dan though, the dread of his question kept Phil seated.

About halfway through the first episode of Attack on Titan, as Phil still couldn't bring himself to watch a new anime with Dan, Dan walked into the lounge. "Hey," he said through a yawn. "You didn't wake me up."

When he says that Phil feels his heart leap in his chest. Then Dan sees what's playing on the TV and asks, "What are you watching?" and Phil's heart sinks back down to his feet.

Phil clears his throat quickly and plasters a smile onto his face, "Um yeah. This is, uh, nothing. There's coffee in the kitchen." Phil feels as if the tense awkward air after his jumble of words is choking him.

Dan narrowed his eyes at him before nodding his head and heading out the door. Phil sighed and put his head in his hands. It's okay, he told himself. It'll get better; it's okay. He ran his hands through his hair before picking up his empty bowl and mug and bringing them into the kitchen.

"We're out of cereal," Dan greets when Phil enters.

Phil sighs, "I'll go get some later."

"No. No that's okay you don't have to."

Phil laughed, "Dan it's fine. I've been shopping before. I'll be fine."

Dan looked down, his cheeks turning slightly red as he mumbled something out that Phil couldn't understand. "What was that?"

"I just. I don't want to be alone is all." Dan says, rubbing the back of his neck with red stained cheeks.

Phil smiled, "You could always come with me."

Dan looked up, biting his lip, "Are you sure? I mean I wouldn't want to be a bother," he said gesturing towards his right arm, which was wrapped in a cast.

Phil winces, sometimes he forgets that the car took more than Dan's memories. "No, no it's alright. You a wouldn't be a bother. Besides it might help you know. Getting out of the house. It might trigger something."

"Yeah," Dan mummers.

Phil silently curses himself. Its been two weeks since Dan woke up and yet he still seems to say things that upset him. "Yeah. Great. So we'll leave in about an hour so we can both get ready. Sound good?"

"Yeah, great." With that Dan leaves the kitchen breaking the awkward tension flooding the kitchen. Phil lets out a breath, slumps against the counter, and rubs his forehead. He felt like he was being drained slowly and soon enough he wouldn't have it in him to move. He lets out a bitter laugh; he never thought he'd lose Dan to anything but death itself.

.....

A little over an hour later and Dan and Phil are heading out the door and to the closest Tesco.

The journey there is rather uneventful, other than asking a few questions; So do I have a car? No, we walk everywhere. Do I go out a lot? Not really, no. Unless there's an event to go to. So then I really am internet famous? Over five million subscribers. Wow I never thought I would actually get the courage to start. Do you know what made me decide to do it? Me.

The last one had made Phil pause for a second as memories of when they had first met flooded through him. Some of his favorite memories. Memories Dan couldn't recall. Phil took a deep breath and tried to speak around the lump forming in his throat. By the time he had managed to choke out a response they had arrived, "We're here," he said quickly before Dan could respond.

With fake smiles plastered into their faces they walked inside and headed towards the cereal aisle.

A few minutes later and they were walking out of the shop, bags with cereal in their hands.

About half way home they come across a Starbucks and decide to stop for coffee. They are sitting in silence sipping their drinks when they hear a gasp and a squeal come from the front of the shop. When they turned their heads towards the sound they saw two people heading towards them.

When the two reached Dan and Phil, the boy was the first to speak, "Um, hi, you're Dan and Phil right?"

Dan's eyes had gone wide and he looked towards Phil. Phil smiled softly before turning towards the two, "Yeah, would you like a picture or something?"

The girl nodded quickly before saying, "And we just wanted to make sure Dan is okay. I mean with everything that's happened, we just want to know how you're doing."

Phil smiled and said, "It's not perfect, but it's getting better."

Dan smiled and nodded along, "Y-yeah, everything's getting better."

The two smiled ("Good" "I'm glad you're doing okay"). Before they left Dan and Phil gave them hugs and took pictures with them.

After they had left Dan had slumped down in his seat looking both confused and amazed. "Does that happen to me a lot?"

Phil nodded his head, "Yeah, like I said over five million subscribers."

"I know, I know, but I just- I dunno- I guess I just didn't really think they would care that much."

Phil smiled, "Yeah. They can be a bit," he paused for a moment, searching for a word, "eccentric at times, but they love u- you. They love you Dan, you make them happy."

Dan stared at him with an unreadable expression, before busting out into a huge grin. Phil smiled back, and for the first time that day it was entirely genuine.

.....

Later that night Dan and Phil were say in the lounge watching Attack on Titan (Can we watch what you were watching earlier today? It looked interesting.) The last of the pizza was being eaten and the third episode was coming to an end. When the ending song started Phil stood up and turned off the TV. "I think that's enough for now."

Dan groaned, causing Phil to laugh. "We can some more in the morning, don't worry."

Dan smiled at that. "Well, goodnight then, Dan. I think I'm going to go to bed."

As Phil was walking out the room Dan's voice rang out, "Phil. Can you- can I talk to you first? Please."

Phil sighed before turning around and looking at Dan. He smiled softly before saying, "Of course."

Dan pats the couch next to him, motioning for Phil to sit next to him. Phil obliged, crossing the room and sitting next to Dan. After a moment of silence Phil spoke up, "Do what did you want to talk about?"

Dan looked up at him, his eyes full of worry, "I just wanted to- to ask if you were okay. It's just you've seemed a bit down lately, and I just, well I've been watching your videos to try and- and get to know you again, and I- I haven't seen you smile like you do in those videos, not really. So I just want to make sure you're okay because you're always asking about me and dealing with my questions and- I'm sorry. I just can't stand the idea of you being sad, and I don't even know why, but I can't. I just want you to be okay."

Dan's little speech hit Phil like a punch to the gut. The urge to pull Dan in and kiss him was strong; Phil had to look away. Phil attempted a smile, "I'm fine."

But he wasn't, and the crack in his voice gave him away.

The cracks had appeared in the foundation and now Phil was crumbling. The tears he had been holding into since Dan woke up were pouring down his face. He tried to keep the sobs from wracking through his body; he failed miserably. As he shook he was vaguely aware of arms wrapping around his waist. Phil leaned into him taking strength from the comfort of the arms he had missed so.

"Shh. Shh. It's okay Phil. It's okay. I've got you. I'm here." Dan consolences only made him sob harder.

After a few minutes Phil pulled away from Dan and wiped at his eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't- I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Phil." At Dan's words Phil looked up into deep brown eyes. "I wasn't the only one to lose something. I lost my memories, but you lost your best friend. It's okay to be sad."

Phil shook his head,"No, I didn't lose you. You're still here. You're still Dan. You're still my best friend." You're still the person I fell in love with.

Dan sighed, "Even so, that doesn't change the fact that I don't remember you." Dan words were like a knife to Phil. "I don't remember you Phil. I don't remember you, so even if I am still me, I'm not your best friend. But I have no doubt that you are mine. I have no doubt that you know me like the back of your hand; even this version of me. So, considering you are the best friend of someone who can't even remember your favourite colour, I'd say you have a right to be sad."

Phil let out a choked laugh. This, he thought. This is what I've been missing. This is what I've been needing. Dan. Finally Dan being Dan.

"God I love you."

With those four words both Dan and Phil look taken aback. Phil curses himself, the 'I've missed you' he was going to say had transformed on it's journey from his brain to the open air.

"I- I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I'm s- hmph." Phil's apologising was cut off by Dan's lips crashing into his.

After the initial shock wore off, Phil started kissing back. It was soft and sweet and everything Phil had been missing these past weeks.

A few more seconds passed before Dan pulled away, resting his forehead on Phil's. They were both smiling the widest they had in the past three weeks.

"You- Not that I'm about to complain, but why did you do that?" Phil question after a moment.

Dan looked down sheepishly, "Well as it turns out certain things didn't entirely disappear."

Phil furrowed his brow. "What do you mean."

"Well," Dan started, backing away and lacing his fingers through Phil's. "I've just been getting this sense like something's missing. That and I've been wanting to kiss you and hold your hand since I woke up, which was quite scary at first, as I had no idea who you were. And these last couple days have been even worse. Sleeping in my own bed felt wrong, but as soon as I was in your room I was at peace. When I would see you in the kitchen making dinner I just wanted to walk up behind you and wrap my arms around you; I actually almost did once before I stopped myself.

"And what I said earlier today, it's not just that I didn't want to be alone, it's that I didn't want to be without you. Every time you leave my side I want you back. And seeing you smile made my heart soar, and hearing your morning voice made it skip a beat.

"And I was just so confused as to why the hell I would feel like that about my best friend." Dan said accusingly. "But I suppose that's all cleared up now."

Phil huffed out a laugh, "Yeah sorry about that. I don't know. I guess I just thought it was hard enough being your best friend that you had forgotten, let alone your boyfriend."

Dan rolled his eyes, "I guess I'll forgive you this time, but I swear to god if you something like this again-"

Phil cut Dan off with a laugh, "I love you and all, but I don't exactly plan on us having to go through this again."

Dan smiled, "I guess that's for the best."

Phil nodded his head, and stood up from the couch, pulling Dan up with him. "C'mon let's go to bed, yeah?"

Dan smiled and let Phil drag him to their room. After getting ready for bed the two plopped down next to each other, and cuddled.

"You know, I still don't remember much about the last six years," Dan whispered into the quiet of the room.

"I know," Phil replied. "But until it comes back, no matter how long it takes, this will be enough. We will be enough, and we always will be."

In response Dan leaned forward and pressed his lips against Phil's.

They didn't say anything else that night, the soft, sleepy kisses and the shared smiles were enough to fill the silence.