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Sometimes, it takes Dan a moment to remember how to breathe. It’s an easy motion, really, something you just know how to do as soon as you need to do it. A simple in and out.
Sometimes, he feels like he can’t do it at all, like the walls around him are closing in so tight and so fast that even if he remembers how to catch his breath there isn’t time to anyway. He’s just too late.
The feeling plagues him now, covering him in a clammy sheen of sweat as he twists around under the duvet for what must be the hundredth time tonight.
He’s barely managed to sleep, chest heavy with a weight so colossal and so invisible. Dan reaches for his phone charging on the bedside table, swallowing roughly at the big white letters telling him that it’s just after 4 am.
It feels like someone’s holding an open flame next to his face as his cheeks burn with shame. His stupid fucking brain can’t shut up for enough time for him to sleep, to get enough rest to do what he needs to do, to just be able to get through the day.
They have rules, him and Phil. And it’s a Tuesday, meaning that they’re in full swing and they have a lot to do. A lot is riding on them now. Far too much for them to be able to take a break in the middle of the week. He runs his hands over his face as he thinks about it being Tuesday, Dan’s liveshow day.
He doesn’t think as he sighs quietly and kicks out of the duvet, careful to not disturb Phil. He slips out of Phil’s room and into his own, pulling on jeans and a jumper over his pants. Sliding into a coat, he picks up his wallet and keys and slowly makes his way out of his room.
Guilt rises up in him when he looks at Phil’s door, but the flat feels so hot and terrifying that he needs to leave. The guilt eats at him as he travels down flight after flight of narrow stairs, and Dan worries that he might throw up.
Cool air envelops him when he opens the door to their building, soothing the burning, twisting sick feeling in him. He pulls his hood up over his curling hair, turning left.
*
He doesn’t know London very well yet. It’s too big, too vast, too overwhelming in ways that Manchester never was for him. He misses Manchester fiercely in these moments, aching for the comfort of a much smaller flat in a much taller building and the view of the first city he could find himself in. London doesn’t feel like home.
The early November air bites at his face as he tries to find their street again. He turns left, feeling relief wash through him as he sees the line of shops he’s become so used to in the last few months.
The guilt and shame left him soon after he started his walk, swiftly being replaced with a cutting pain he hasn’t been able to shake for weeks. He tries not to think about it.
(But he can’t help himself. He’s in pain and he’s angry. He doesn’t know how to deal with it, where to put these feelings that he doesn’t want to have but thinks he probably deserves anyway.)
The guilt comes back first, as he steps into their building. The shame comes as he starts to climb the stairs, reaching their door and knowing that he’s been out for far too long.
He stops in the kitchen to get some water, his stomach sinking when he reads the glaring green numbers on the microwave. 5:26 am. He downs the water and places the glass in the sink, suddenly feeling too hot again.
The flat is dark and quiet. He pushes open the door to his room, jumping when he sees Phil sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Fuck!” Dan exclaims, clutching at his chest.
“You left,” Phil says hoarsely. Dan kicks off his shoes and sheds his coat. “You didn’t take your phone.”
Part of Dan wishes Phil was yelling, wishes that he was taking a knife to his gut and twisting. The feeling is there but Phil is quiet. Not moving.
(It feels worse.)
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry I—I couldn’t sleep. Needed to get out for a bit.”
It’s not the first time Dan has done this, though usually he isn’t gone for so long. Phil nods anyway, sighing.
“It’s scary, Dan. To wake up in the middle of the night without you and not knowing where you are or where you went, or even when you left.”
“I’m sorry.” His throat feels like it’s full of cotton. He can’t swallow, the invisible weight pressing down on his chest again.
He sits down next to Phil, who leans against him.
“I’m tired,” Phil says. “I’m so, so tired.”
Dan knows that he isn’t just talking about waking up in the middle of the night.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Just take your phone,” he says. “Not everything is your fault.”
The guilt inside him has shifted into a monster. It rears on its hind legs, breathing white hot pain through Dan. It twists with anger.
“I’m sorry. I—I’m scared. Still.”
“Me too.”
*
Dan wakes up the next morning to Phil crawling back into bed.
"Wha time's it?"
Phil faces him. "Quarter to seven. Had to pee."
He looks exhausted. His eyes are rimmed with lavender half-moons, and Dan thinks if they were any darker they would look a lot like bruises.
Dan leans forward, putting his head into the crook of Phil's collarbone. His lips brush the soft skin there, bringing a hand up to place on his chest.
It's steady. Flat. Sprinkled with hair, and he knows if he was looking at it there would be a constellation of freckles. He loves the feeling of Phil against his hand, his cheek.
Simultaneously, though, it's fucking terrifying. Terrifying to know that this is what he loves, for the rest of his life, forever. It's beautiful but—but something twists in his chest at it. Something ingrained and deep and dark. Something he doesn't like to think about but these days he can't exactly stop himself.
"Sorry," Dan whispers.
"I love you. I'm not going anywhere," Phil says. Dan can feel him tip his head, lips press against his hair. "So let me stay."
It hurts. It hurts because Dan cares so deeply but feels so ashamed. But loving Phil…loving Phil is the best thing he can do. The best thing he's ever done and the best thing he can keep doing.
"I love you," he says. "I wish today wasn't today. I wish we could just stay here. Pretend we're the only ones who exist."
Phil laughs quietly, the low sound reverberating through Dan. He moves in closer to Dan, wrapping an arm around him.
"Let's pretend this is forever. We can stay here for as long as we need."
Dan nuzzles his chest. That, he can do. And it sounds really fucking nice.