Chapter Text
June 11th, 2009.
The breeze that leaks into Dan’s bedroom through the slightly cracked window causes him to stir, his eyes remaining closed as his brain and body awaken. A thick, white duvet cocoons his half naked body. His bare feet poke out of the bottom of the duvet, his legs too long to stay in one place as he sleeps. Blankets are never long enough to fully cover him, he’s gotten used to the coldness that lingers on his feet. His deep, brown eyes remain hidden behind his eyelids, pressing them further in hopes he could fall back into a deep sleep as he realises what day it is.
His eighteenth birthday.
Dan Howell is often described as someone with the essence of Winnie the Pooh. Despite this, he is sarcastic, he knows better than to hold out hope. Those around him persist and swear he was once bounding with joy, always smiling and laughing. Infectious giggles and smiles. He tries his best not to think of it, only he drowns in the memory of who he could’ve been. He could still be that tiny, annoyingly positive child he once was. The reality of how different things could have been, if those around him had been different. Kinder. If he was different. It swirls a pit in his stomach as his mind spirals further, the ache in his chest is like an anchor, he is frozen in place, forever confined to the four walls of his bedroom in his parents home.
No, no, no.
His mind races, thoughts swirling at a thousand miles per hour. He lazily drapes the duvet over his head, stifling a groan into his pillow. He still hasn’t opened his eyes, refusing to confront the day as it is. His bedroom is small, walls painted in shades of brown. It’s big enough to fit him, that’s the only thing important to him. He has his computer, he can’t think of much else he could possibly need. The room is quiet, rays of sunlight piercing through his slightly opened curtains. Dan’s increasingly rapid, agonising thoughts completely cancel the silence that carries through his home. Birthday’s, to him, feel like an annual reminder of his own mortality. Nothing really lasts forever, does it? He takes the time to wonder if anything could last forever. Does he want it to? The idea of being stuck to something ‘forever’ makes his skin crawl. Is anything worth forever? A thought pulses through Dan’s mind, sticking itself out like a sore thumb in the midst of his spiral.
Am I worth it? To anyone?
Stop. No. Yes. Shut up. Make it stop.
He pleads with his own mind. Begging and aching for the weight on his chest to find some relief. His face is now wet. When did that happen? He’s been so busy spiraling that even the tears forming behind his tightly closed eyelids have managed to escape past the barrier onto his soft skin. An overwhelming feeling of guilt and fear washes over him. It's his birthday. He should be celebrating with his family. Instead, he’s firmly sinking further into the crease of his mattress. Hidden from the world under a warm duvet. He wonders how long he’s been doing this for. It feels as if it’s been going for hours. On days like this, he really wishes for that alternate reality he likes to imagine of things being different. Of him being different.
His body feels heavy under the aching pressure of his mind. Holding his own head up even feels like too much of an effort today. His limbs are weak, tangled still in the same white duvet he’d pulled further over himself what feels like hours ago. He has no desire to move. His mind gave up on today before it even woke up, therefore he too had given up on the day.
Or so he thought.
Dan’s spiralling was swiftly interrupted by the pounding bangs on his wooden door;
‘’Daniel, are you up? Happy birthday!’’
It’s his mum. She sounds much too cheerful for Dan’s liking, his own gloom overpowering his ability to appreciate his mum’s happy birthday wishes.
The question was met with a low grunt, he doesn’t have the strength to muster a verbal response, a grunt will suffice. His spiral being interrupted gives him a small window of time where maybe he could at the very least sit up, open his eyes and consider confronting the day he worked so hard to avoid. If it was up to Dan, he’d travel back in time to be the chirpy child everyone seemed so fond of. It’s no surprise that people aren’t quite as fond of him as they used to be, he got used to that a long time ago. The sharp glares from people he couldn’t even place a name to in the school corridors, the boys in his classes who had nicknamed him things he couldn’t even consider repeating. People acted as if he was revolting, as if merely looking in his direction would give them a disease. Dan is not diseased. Despite the fact his school journey has ended, his exams are over, the feelings caused by his former schoolmates taunt his mind daily. A lot of people enjoyed having their turn at hurling profoundly offensive words at him, words he couldn’t even define. The torture of having these labels hung above his head for the past few years had broken him down in ways he was yet to realise.
It wasn’t just the words that hurt. Plenty of older, stronger ‘lads’ loved using Dan as a punching bag, although the pain of their rough hands meeting his soft face almost felt kinder than the words used on him. A kick to the stomach, a punch to the face. The words always cut deeper. He’s still not sure why. Sure, maybe all of that is over now. Maybe nobody from school will ever even remember Dan, perhaps now he’ll finally get to slip into a shadow, a mundane and quiet life.
Dan’s body jolts, the quiet breeze in his room turns to a rush of cold air, before relaxing back into a breeze. His fingers curl around the duvet as he pulls it down from his face, his dark eyes finally releasing from behind his eyelids. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, his room lit with the bright, invasive beams of sunlight. Without moving any further, he studies his bedroom. The dark clothes thrown across his bedroom floor, he took them off the previous night without really caring where they landed. Sleep was more important. His eyes shift towards the desk, his computer. The only thing that could possibly motivate him to peel himself from the warmth of his bed. He squirms, detangling his legs from the duvet. His elbows press against the firm mattress as he forces his body upright, he sits back, finally confronting the day.
His long, dark brown hair falls into his eyes. It’s usually obsessively straightened, in his morning state however, the straight ends have gone curly. His natural hair is curly and he hates it. He wants nothing more than to fit in, maybe keeping it straight will help him achieve that. He brings a tired hand up to swipe the hair from his eyes, adjusting it blindly in hopes his bed hair isn’t too bad. His lungs fill with air for what feels like the first time today, his exhale is deep and slow. The sound of the birds chirping outside replaces the silence, he takes a moment to listen. He’s taking this as slowly as possible, hoping to delay as much interaction as possible.
Hesitantly, one foot presses onto the floor. Shortly followed by the other. He pushes on his wrists and stands, wobbling slightly as he tries to balance. The heavy weight on his chest remains, his pleading to his own mind clearly did not work. All he can do is be thankful he’s even out of bed and standing. The breeze hits his bare skin, it’s almost refreshing.
A few of Dan’s rushing thoughts subside, a new realisation that his bladder is incredibly full. He desperately doesn’t want to have to clean the consequences of that up, so he hurries off into the bathroom.
The noise of the toilet flush rings in his ears, he fixes his hair in the mirror and decides on brushing his teeth while he’s here, two trips to the bathroom is too much effort.
It doesn’t take long for him to scramble back into his bedroom, eager to log onto his computer. The internet is Dan’s favourite place, finding his own serenity on the screen right in front of him. He waits for it to turn on, staring intensely at the loading screen. He yawns, his brain feeling foggy. It’s probably due to the spiral he’s actively attempting to suppress and ignore, he wonders how long that will last. It doesn’t matter right now, as all he cares for is the screen in front of him.
‘’Dan! Come downstairs, please.’’
A muffled yell from his mum. Dan is instantly reminded he’s supposed to be spending time with his family. He throws his head back, a low groan escaping his lips. He hesitates, his fingers hovering over his keyboard as he contemplates logging on anyway, pretending he hadn’t heard the call from downstairs.
Deciding not to fight it any longer, he begrudgingly removes himself from his desk chair, making a silent promise to himself that he’ll be back as soon as possible. He reaches into his open wardrobe, grabbing the first top he can find. It was a simple, black top. Nothing special, the neck was low cut, sleeves shorter than usual. Dan had a very specific style in clothing, it was one of the few things he allowed himself to express freely. He throws the top over his head, shooting a quick glance over to his window. He drags his feet over to open his curtains, immediately blinded by the sun, again.
His bedroom door creaks as it opens, an eerie shrill that pierces Dan’s ears. He slowly makes his way downstairs, passing a clock on his way forces him to realise he truly has no idea what time it is.
10:34am
How the fuck is it only 10am? Are you fucking kidding me.
It feels much later than 10am, Dan feels like he’s been deprived of sleep for days. A huff comes from the back of Dan’s throat, a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. Today is going to drag on and on.
Finally, he finds his feet reaching the bottom of the stairs. He’s immediately met by the cheering from his family, infinitely more enthusiastic about today than he ever will be.
‘’Thank you.’’ Dan’s voice croaks, realising it’s the first time he’s spoken all morning.
‘’There’s cereal in the kitchen! We have presents for you to open after, so don’t disappear too fast.’’ His mum warns, a softness to her tone as she points in the direction of the kitchen. Dan nods, silently wishing for the time to speed up.
****
An hour had passed, Dan’s empty cereal bowl still in front of him. He’s been fidgeting with the spoon, twirling it around the bowl, occasionally flinching at the noise the spoon makes as it hits the ceramics.. He has to admit that spending time with his family isn’t the worst, he feels it doesn’t happen too often, birthday’s force them to tolerate the shared time.
Birthdays aren't totally awful, as much as Dan hates to admit it. The presents are nice, to feel thought of. Known. Although Dan still refuses to believe they know him as much as they claim to. Thoughts begin to invade his mind again, they are swiftly pushed away as a present is shoved into Dan’s hands.
He carefully tears at the paper, the gift itself is rectangular. It’s hard, he can assume it’s a video game of some kind. He feels the eyes of his family, they’re watching him, eyes filled with expectation. He is grateful for the gift, the worry of failing to portray the feeling through facial expressions consumes him.
He sets the paper aside, nodding to himself as he confirms his suspicion of a video game being beneath it. Guitar Hero. For the first time all morning, excitement courses through his veins. He leaps to his feet, dizzy for a few seconds, a smile forming from ear to ear.
‘’Thank you!’’ His voice is dripping with enthusiasm, his eyes sparkle with a childlike excitement.
He spends some more time with his family, they share stories and revisit old memories. Although old memories are some of the least of Dan’s favourite things, he tolerates it for the day.
Dan’s mum begins to show him some videos of the child he used to be, the joyful little boy he started out as. As the videos go on, part of him wonders how it was possible to take it from him. The next video begins to play, his memory floods back. He’s at his grandparents home, his nana filming him as he plays with some cards. He’s pressed up next to his grandad, they’re sitting in bed. He focuses on his younger self, the little boy in the video couldn’t be further from him. Even his hair has completely changed, the little boy in front of him had blonde, bright curls. Dan almost feels there’s something deeper about that. His hair changed, so has he. He’s gone from a happy little boy with bright, blonde curls, to his current, cynical and sarcastic self who can hardly force himself out of bed in the morning. His thoughts are paused as he hears himself speak;
‘’Look at all my snaps, Nana!’’
God, he really did sound like Winnie the Pooh, didn’t he? Hearing his own voice makes his heart swell, for a moment he wonders if it really was ever him. There’s a tug on his heart, the strings of it being pulled as he thinks of who he was, who he could’ve been.
His eyes begin feeling damp, that’s his cue to find an excuse to hurry off back upstairs.
‘’Thank you for the presents, I was going to chill in my room for a while though. Is that okay?’’ He glances at his parents, hoping they don’t mind his ask.
To Dan’s delight, they nod. Without another second, or a chance for them to change their minds, Dan sprints upstairs in such a hurry he barely makes it without falling face first up the stairs.
He resumes the position he had been comfortably in earlier, his focus entirely locked into his computer. He hurries to enter his pin, eager to find some comfort in the internet as he usually does.
Many people don’t understand what’s so important to him about the internet, or why he spends so much time scrolling. They don’t realise that the internet is filled with so many people. People like Dan. It makes him feel much less alone, he can be someone completely different. He can be whoever he wants to be, even if he’s not quite sure what that means for him yet.
He loads Youtube in front of him, the homepage staring back at him. He spends a lot of his time scrolling this homepage, desperately in need of watching something. To Dan’s surprise, a familiar name has been featured on the homepage.
His eyes flicker over the title, down to the channel name, finally onto the face in the thumbnail. He had been subscribed to this channel since 2007, yet this was the first time he had seen it featured in his homepage. His eyes linger over the boy in the thumbnail, he had always thought he was rather pretty.
‘’INTERACTIVE SPACE ADVENTURE - START HERE!’’
‘’AmazingPhil’’
AmazingPhil.
Dan admires his videos a lot. Phil is creative, talented and extremely funny. Not that Dan thinks about it much, (He’d be lying if he said he doesn't), Phil is also extremely beautiful. His eyes are a deep blue, if you look close enough there is a mix of yellow and green in there too. His hair is dyed black, his haircut somewhat similar to Dan’s. Phil is perfect.
Without another second to think, he presses play. The video itself is the starting point to a whole story, one that Phil has created entirely on his own. Dan has to wonder how his mind works, how can one person possibly come up with something this incredible? His brain itches, obsessions unfolding.
This fucking guy. He’s incredible.
Dan’s body feels shaky, the physical reaction to his excitement over this project from his favourite youtuber. He swiftly continues through the storyline, he is determined. He's finding new videos with every click, some with no views, comments, likes. He is the first. He needed to make that clear. He decides to leave comments, telling himself nobody will notice anyway. It’s not like AmazingPhil would ever reply to him anyway.
****
Hours pass, Dan remains exactly where he began. The outside world is entirely dead to him, he’s completely engrossed in Phil’s creation. Absolutely mesmerised. Not only by the stories, but by Phil. He’s so naturally funny, his ability to create, to perform. Dan has been following Phil for some time, he knows they share interests. He entertains the thought of having an actual conversation with Phil for some time, eventually cut off by his intruding thoughts, zoning back into the videos.
Maybe it’s not a completely stupid idea.
He reaches the very last video. He has dedicated his entire birthday to this, in his opinion it's completely worth the time. He straightens his back, leaning against the back of his chair as he stretches his legs for the first time in a couple of hours. The sun is still beaming through the window, the warmth on Dan’s skin feels nice. His mind is completely consumed by the thought of the space adventure. He allows himself to fall into a daydream, a world where he could have even just one conversation with Phil, a world where he could be a friend.
His daydream is interrupted by more calls from his family, they want to give Dan his birthday cake. To be honest, the last thing on his mind right now is cake. He’d much rather be thinking of this pretend world where he was with Phil, they could make their own adventure. He blinks slowly, his eyes closing for a couple of seconds. The image of Phil’s face is painted on the back of Dan’s eyelids, yet Phil doesn’t even know Dan exists.
I could change that.
The thought rushes through Dan’s head. Despite his need to get downstairs, he fumbles for his keyboard as he types out a few tweets to Phil, he hits post and shuts off his computer. He knows he won't get a response, but it’s a start.
****
It’s 19:56, Dan is sitting with his family again. The cake in front of him is lit with candles, white and red icing and some sprinkles covering the top. He stares into the flames as they flutter at him, he can feel the warmth of them by his face. He doesn’t really understand the whole birthday wish thing, they never come true. Maybe for some people, but Dan is not one of those people. He knows that. Every year, he still makes a wish. Part of him holds out hope that sometime it’ll come true. He waits, and he waits. It never comes. Yet here he is, eighteen years old, still holding out hope it’ll come. Clinging to it like a child. The noise of his family around him rings through his ears, they’re singing the usual ‘Happy Birthday’ song to him, he doesn’t really like being sang to, but he’s much too deep in thought to protest.
‘’Make a wish, Bear.’’ His mum chimes, a smile crossing her face as she encourages him to blow on the candles as they finish singing to him.
He hesitates, he doesn’t want to wish for the wrong thing. He’s been wishing for the same thing for the past couple years, why change it now? He knows what he wants. He purses his lips, ready to blow air out of his lungs. His mind set on his wish. The usual tears are fighting against his eyes, he can’t help but remember his spiral from this morning, he’s been begging for this wish to come true for so long. He spends so long wondering why it hadn’t. He attempts to push it down, to delay the tears he knows will escape eventually.
I wish I was straight.
He stops. His lips closing, he hasn’t blown the candles out yet. His thoughts racing as he realises he could wish for something much greater, much more important. Maybe he has found something more important to him than the fear of being himself.
Phil.
One word. Not a sentence, barely a wish. Just Phil. The air passes his lips, the flames of the candles flickering as they’re blown out. The smell of the freshly blown out candles surrounds him, it’s a pleasant smell. The tears he had felt previously were no more, he doesn't understand the feeling in his stomach, he just knows he doesn't want to push it any further out.
He avoids the question of what he wished for, excusing it as;
‘’If I tell you, it won't come true!’’
His family don’t press further. He is finally allowed to retreat upstairs after they’ve eaten some cake. Rather than logging back onto the computer, Dan removes his shirt, flopping onto his back on his bed. He hasn’t made the bed today, his messy duvet tangled beneath him. He stares at his ceiling as his brain recalls Phil’s videos. He brings a hand to his face, rubbing his cheek as he contemplates the reality of his daydreams. There is no reality, why would he of all people have any chance at talking to Phil?
Fucking idiot.
His eyes press closed, his mind swirling with regret. It’s not that serious, Dan knows that. People tweet all the time, it means nothing. Dan doing it is absolutely no different. His elbows press into the mattress, supporting himself as he sits up. His legs press to his chest. A gentle tear rolls down his cheek. His mind fills with a sadness he can barely describe, he tightly wraps his arms around his knees. His body aches for someone to embrace him, cradling himself is nowhere near as comforting. The lonely feeling presents itself as a dull ache in his chest, a feeling Dan is no stranger to. It’s annoyingly familiar. Frustration bubbles through, the gentle tears turn to sobs within seconds. He paws at his face with the back of his hand, desperate to stop the tears from flowing. He can’t even explain why he’s crying. His breathing is ragged. Trying to slow the rapidly accelerating thoughts feels impossible. He feels completely useless, hopeless. Tiny gasps escape his lips. The rise and fall of his chest speeding up, he forces himself to take a full breath. Slowly, his breathing tames. The sobs continue, his mind racing. He brings the duvet to his face, immediately using it as a towel. He wipes his face, allowing the sobs to soak the duvet.
Gross.
The sounds of his small sniffles fill the room, nobody has noticed the sobs that echo from his bedroom. He's left unsurprised. He can't just stare at the ceiling and cry all night, his only distraction is only a few feet away. The computer he abandoned only a few hours ago.
In hopes he’ll feel even slightly better, he logs back on. He opens twitter, his tweets showing in front of him. Suddenly, his dark, glassy eyes grow wider.
AmazingPhil had favourited one of his tweets while he was offline.
Phil.
In the shock of his discovery, his hands meet his face. They’re damp with sweat, slightly shaking onto his cheeks. The worry in his mind had surely subsided, he's left almost entirely incapable of understanding what he was upset about in the first place. His heart flutters with excitement, he of all people has just been noticed by AmazingPhil. His mind rushes with questions. How did Phil find his tweet? Did he smile when he saw it? Has he seen any others? He wants answers so badly. He thinks of the possibility of Phil’s smile as he comes across Dan’s tweet, sweet like honey. Dan could get drunk on the sound of his voice. Intoxicated by the thought of him.
He leans into the back of his chair, his excitement barely contained. His feet swing below him, he hasn’t even realised he’s doing it. His body rocks itself in an attempt to calm down, this was truly the best possible birthday gift he could’ve received. It wasn’t really a gift, obviously. Phil didn’t have a clue who Dan was. Dan was just a fanboy. That’s all it was, but Dan could find contentment in this recognition for now.
He spends some time scrolling Phil’s twitter, watching some older videos of his. He remains completely mesmerised by everything Phil does. It’s only at 23:07 that Dan finally decides he needs to take his eyes away from the screen, his eyes have grown heavy. Aching. He turns the computer off, his movements slow. The sun has set, his room going completely dark as the dim light of the computer turns off. It makes him jump slightly, flinching at the sudden darkness. He isn’t too bothered by the dark, although it startled his distracted mind this time around. He trails off down the hallway, it’s eerily quiet as the rest of his house is in a quiet slumber. The bathroom is cold, he brushes his teeth, covering his face with lukewarm water. The knowledge that AmazingPhil had recognised him is still reeling in his mind, the excitement still causing Dan’s stomach to twist.
He creaks his bedroom door open again, the awful screeching noise it makes meeting his ears as he closes it. He climbs into bed, duvet tangled in his long figure once more. His eighteenth birthday had started out as something Dan was hoping to completely avoid, to just shut it out entirely. Yet, as the breeze continues through his bedroom, he thinks maybe it wasn’t such a bad day at all. The memory of his spirals suppressed, replaced by the thought of Phil. He drifts off, finally at peace for at least the next few hours.