Work Text:
Phil settles onto his bed, draped in his customary three towels, and heaves a deep sigh. He hasn't seen Dan since this morning, when he'd spent several minutes hugging Phil from behind at the kitchen counter before disappearing downstairs for his second day of filming. Phil, for his part, has spent some of the day writing the script for his own video, even though he doesn't plan on filming it until Dan has posted.
He knows Dan is done filming for the day, probably finished completely, having heard him come in their front door and trudge to the office. He won't approach unless Dan wants him there, though, and expects him to appear in the doorway and demand cuddles any minute now.
Just as Phil is settling into a couple of hours of aimless scrolling on his phone, it dings. A message from Dan.
Office. Want you to watch something
Phil semi-reluctantly pulls himself out of his cozy world of towels and pillows. He's seen bits and pieces of the video's script, helped Dan out with a couple of segues between topics, been shown some of the art Hector had sent over. It all looked amazing, and Dan's delight at the art had been infectious. Phil hadn't been expecting to see any actual video footage until long into the editing process, however.
He shoots a message back,
be right there
lemme get dressed
and pulls on the comfiest PJs he owns, along with Dan's big jumper that he usually keeps for when he's sad.
The office is dark when Phil enters, the only light coming from the computer screen, which is paused on a rather unflattering still of Dan's face. Dan himself is slouched in one of the office chairs, buried in a hoodie and his rattiest PJ bottoms, facing the doorway.
"What's up?" Phil asks, standing between Dan's spread legs. Normally Dan would bring his arms up and pull Phil closer by the waist. But he doesn't, instead fiddling with the mouse, his eyes flicking over to the screen.
Phil gently rubs Dan's arm.
"You nervous?"
Dan nods, still staring between the screen and his own hand, resting on the mouse.
"I-" Dan starts. "Fuck. I dunno how to-"
Phil crouches, watches as Dan chews at his lip.
"Relax, bubby. Tell me what's going on in that head of yours."
Dan won't look at him, and Phil doesn't like the fear in his eyes. He hasn't seen it aimed at him since they were eighteen and twenty two, and Dan was terrified of how much he liked Phil, what it meant. Dan nods slowly, then swivels the chair to face the monitor again, making Phil stand once more. He pushes the chair back and stands, gesturing for Phil to sit down. Phil does, hoping he doesn't look as worried as he feels as he scoots closer the the desk.
"I need you to watch this. Just one section, it'll loop at the end so-" Dan shuffles his feet. "you don't need to wonder when to stop."
He continues to ramble, his movements becoming more and more agitated. He hasn't looked Phil in the eye once.
Phil wants to get up and hug him, but he's not sure if it will help or hurt.
"I'm gonna get a drink, just watch it- actually no, I'll click play and then go, that'd be better. Or maybe-"
Phil's chest aches, cracks forming in his heart as he watches the man he loves work himself into a panic over Phil— Phil — seeing just part of this video. A dark corner of his mind worries that Dan wasn't as ready to make this video as he claims, but he pushes it down. He has to trust Dan's judgement here, no matter how much he wants to wrap Dan up and keep him safe in their little bubble.
"Dan."
"Or maybe I should just say it, shoving this at you and fucking off is a dick move, really-" Dan has started to pace, dithering between the desk and the door.
"Dan." Phil says firmly. Dan stops, gazes somehere past Phil, his eyes wide. "What's going on? You're worrying me." More than worrying, honestly, he's tamping down actual fear of what could possibly be making Dan so so nervous.
Dan sighs heavily, hangs his head.
"There's… There's something I haven't told you. About me." He says quietly.
"Is it that you're secretly gay?" Phil tries to joke. It gets a weak chuckle out of Dan, so he considers it a success. "You can tell me anything, Bear. And I know you know that but I'll always remind you when you need it."
Dan raises his head, and finally, finally, looks Phil in the eye.
"It's not just telling you." Dan says after a long moment, "It's that I've never told anyone. I'm the only one who knows." He pauses. "I mean I'm pretty sure my therapist suspects, but I never actually told them, so —"
Realisation dawns, and Phil nods.
"And now you've put it in the video."
Dan nods.
"You asked me if I'd sent everything to Hector. And I said I had, but that's not true. There's one last thing I— haven't yet. Because. Because you need to know first." Dan says, starting hesitant, and ending firm.
Whatever this thing is, it must be huge.
"Then tell me." Phil says simply. "However you need to."
Dan nods again, then plops himself down on the floor by the chair and leans against Phil's leg.
"I don't think I can say it again. Not today. I had to do way too many takes to get it right."
Phil runs his fingers through Dan's hair.
"Just tell me when to click play."
Dan nudges his head against Phil's knee.
"Do it now, before I… Freak out again."
So Phil does, casting one last worried look down at his boyfriend.
"But I saw no end." The Dan on the screen says, "No escape, no way to change the world or who I was, so one evening I thought 'Fuck it'-"
The Dan on the floor clutches at Phil's leg as the Dan onscreen takes a deep breath—
"And I attempted suicide."
Phil hits the spacebar without thinking. Stares at the screen, at Dan with a sparkly jacket and a haunted look in his eyes. Then he's sliding out of the chair, onto the floor with Dan — his Dan — and pulling him close.
Dan freezes for a moment, then loops his arms around Phil's waist. He's trembling. Phil brings a hand up, gently guides Dan's head down onto his shoulder.
"I've never told anyone…" Dan mumbles, as though there are no other words in his head.
If Phil had thought his heart was breaking before, it's completely shattered now. His chest goes tight as he feels his T-shirt getting damp where Dan is hiding his face. He can't speak, doesn't know what he'll say — if he'll beg Dan to never leave his line of sight again, apologise for not being there, for them not meeting sooner. Some horrified part of him realises that his old worst fear had been far more likely to happen than Phil had ever known.
"No-one?" He eventually croaks. It runs around and around his head. Dan, alone. Dan, hopeless and scared. Dan, carrying the weight of what he'd tried to do with him for all these years.
Dan shakes his head against Phil's shoulder.
"Who would I have even told?" He says, with a sad, wet little laugh. "My parents?" He sits up then, red-rimmed eyes meeting Phil's. "And then you came along…" he continues, "And I was so fucking happy with you that I didn't—"
Phil moves his hand to cup Dan's cheek, brushes some of the tears away with his thumb.
"I didn't want to ruin it." Dan confesses.
"Dan… You wouldn't have. You would never have ruined anything by telling me."
"It was just… Too soon. And then too late. But then I started writing this video and I realised that… If I'm gonna tell my story, I have to tell the whole thing. All of it. Everything that's been messing my head up since the moment I became conscious. And what it led to. So I knew I'd have to tell you before it was done. I've wanted to tell you for years, and I'm so sorry I didn't."
"You don't need to be." Is all Phil says, before he takes Dan's hand and gets to his feet, gently pulling Dan with him. He needs to be strong now, even as his chest aches with the knowledge that all he can do is try to put Dan's pieces back together. Dan's eyes are still wet, big and disbelieving. "C'mon," Phil says, tugging Dan out of the office. "Let's go get comfy and order food."
Dan trails behind him, utterly silent until they're both settled on the sofa with the lights dimmed, Phil's arms wrapped tightly round him. He wriggles closer, pushing himself into Phil's body like he's trying to merge into him and become one being. They end up half in each other laps, Dan's head tucked under Phil's chin, as Phil strokes up and down his back, reassuring himself that he's still here.
"I stopped." Dan says quietly, "Before it was too late. Knew it would fuck my family up, especially my grandma." He takes a deep breath. "Couldn't do that to her."
Phil hugs him closer for a moment. "I'm glad." He says simply. Glad that Dan stopped, that he survived long enough to get better; glad that he's still here, warm, safe, and content in Phil's arms.
"Me too." Dan murmurs, fisting a hand into Phil's jumper. "I'd never have met you if I'd — If I'd gone through with it."
Dan looks up at him then, eyes huge and vulnerable, and Phil leans down to kiss him softly. When they pull away, Phil smiles at him and Dan smiles back — small and still a little haunted, but real, not the smile Dan uses when he's trying to pretend everything is fine.
"You'd have twatted your head on every cupboard in the house without me, anyway." Dan jokes, poking at Phil's chest accusingly, startling a giggle out of him.
"Permanently concussed." He agrees amiably.
Dan snorts, and starts to speak again, but his stomach gives a loud rumble, cutting him off. They look at each other, then burst into laughter.
"Food." Phil says firmly, once he can talk without giggling, before digging in his pocket for his phone.
"Food." Dan nods, then settles himself against Phil's chest once more. Just to himself, quiet and sure, Phil thinks — Exactly where he belongs.