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phan-of-the-pen · 5 years

Text

I Dare You To Stay: Chapter 19

hope you enjoyed the fluff this is SAD

Tags for chapter: MAJOR angst, talk/mentions of depression/mental health issues, minor issues of self worth

Words for chapter: ~2.5 k

Fic Summary: Dan Howell is a barista working a shitty job, frequenting his shitty apartment, and living a shitty existence, hiding his asexuality and going for a PHD in self-depreciation and depression. Phil Lester is a part-time intern, part-time employee at a local weather station, trying to get experience in his field and make a name for himself, while juggling a second job at the nearby Tesco’s to give him some financial breathing room. Their paths were never supposed to meet, but what happens when they do anyways, one rainy day in Manchester?

(ao3!)

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~~~~~~~~~~

Dan ignored yet another buzz from the phone in his pocket. Like the past four this morning, this message would too be from Phil, and Dan just couldn't bring himself to look at them.

All of the texts boiled down to Phil trying to make up his absence to Dan, but Dan just wasn't in the mood to try and pretend to be anything but exhausted. His limbs were heavy and his heart was slowly numbing. Phil leaving was only part of the problem, but Dan just couldn't bring himself to shoulder it at the moment.

Phil was spending the next few days shadowing a retired but incredibly knowledgeable meteorologist. Dr. Mathers had worked with the weather station Phil was a part of for decades, and he had earned several awards for his work. He was more qualified in retirement than some of the meteorologists that were currently working in the bigger stations, and taking the time to learn from him was an opportunity that both Phil and the station couldn't pass up.

Normally, Dan would be just as excited and happy as Phil about something like this, but recently getting out of bed was an uphill struggle. He felt horrible about not being as outwardly supportive as he should have been, and he didn't know how to make it up to Phil. Even if he did, he wasn't so sure that he would be able to go through with anything, not with how much his mental health was crumbling in his hands.

It was the beginning of the second week in the new year. Jaime had left nearly two weeks ago on the 8AM train back to London on New Year's Day, and her departure had carved a deep chasm in Dan's soul. As angsty and emo as it sounded, he didn't have another way to describe how he felt. She had been going back and forth for what seemed like so long, and those two weeks that she had spent in Manchester had been almost solely devoted to just the two of them. Dan had been rendered nearly breathless with the realization of how much he had missed Jaime, and he had greedily drunk up every moment they spent together in the vain attempt at sedating an endless desire to be around her.

What he had failed to account for was how alone he felt now that she was gone; it was like he was missing his arms, or his legs. And it wasn't like he was entirely without her. They would text and Facetime, and he would skype her whenever they had the chance, but it was nothing like the real thing. Jaime wasn't meant to be simplified to just the pixels on his screen. In a way, her absence now hurt even more than her initial series of trips back and forth from Manchester to London.

Before Jaime's Christmas break, Dan had survived the separation by spending his spare time with Phil. Their blossoming relationship ended up flourishing because of it, and Dan was extremely grateful for how much they ended up strengthening the foundation that their relationship was built upon. These past two weeks have done nothing up test that foundation, however.

Phil had cancelled so many of their shared plans that Dan had only seen him twice in the past two weeks, and neither of those times were longer than half an hour stops at the coffee shop. Both of the two times that he and Dan had seen each other Phil had promised Dan that he would stay for at least an hour, but by the time twenty or thirty minutes were up his phone would ring and Phil would drop everything to answer it outside. After talking animatedly on the phone with a frown for ten to fifteen minutes Phil would reappear and shake his head. He'd chug down the rest of his coffee and walk out the door. "I'm really sorry, Dan, but I have to go. It's work." Phil was also only answering maybe half of the texts that Dan sent him, and he had acted horribly distant in the few and strained interactions the two had had.

Dan was as hurt as he was worried. Phil was shutting him out from something, and Dan wanted to be there for his boyfriend and smooth out the stressed creases in his forehead and surround him in a soothing hug. At the same time Dan was suffering from severe anxiety about the whole thing. He had never had the chance to talk to Phil about how he had been hurt from being shut out before, and now didn't seem like a good time.

He couldn't turn to Jaime because she was busy with the play, and he didn't want to spoil one of their few talks with his relationship problems. Good things to drown out the bad things was what he wanted right now, so talking to Jaime about this was out of the question. He couldn't lean on his boyfriend because Phil was not only dealing with something on his own, but currently all of their conversations were giving Dan skin-crawling anxiety with every terse word Phil gave him.

Dan didn't even have Mary.

She had been in the coffee shop once in the past three weeks, and it had been to tell Dan and Jaime that she wouldn't be around for a little. She needed a surgery to finally get some help for her bad knee, and she wouldn't be able to make the trip to the coffee shop for two months in her old age.

Part of Dan was happy to know why she had been acting strange a few weeks ago, but another part of him was sad and upset that he wasn't going to be seeing her for a while.

While Dan would never concern her with a problem of this magnitude, he would have killed to get even one morning with her. A little "Good morning, Daniel!" would have made his whole week, especially in the midst of all of this crap.

Dan unlocked the door to the coffee shop and flicked on the lights. He tossed his jacket into the break room and immediately and mechanically started to set up for the day.

He shovelled coffee grounds into one of the brew machines and slumped against the counter as he waited. His stomach grumbled a little as coffee started to permeate the air, but he didn't make a move to try and fix it. He hadn't eaten since his pitiful dinner of a slice of old pizza last night, and considering the fact that he didn't bring a lunch with him, it wouldn't be until he got home until he possibly would eat again.

Dan could just grab something from the case—they were allowed to—or even stop in one of the many shops up and down the street, but he didn't care if he didn't eat.

He didn't care about a lot right now.

Dan scrubbed at his face, exhausted in many more ways than just physical.

He had seen his therapist a few days ago, and she had warned him that he needed to try and prevent himself from falling further down this hole he was spiraling down, but Dan didn't really take her advice to heart. When he crawled out from this latest depressive episode he knew he would regret not listening to her, but right now he was empty and lonely, and that voice in the back of his head was too loud for him to ignore.

He didn't have his boyfriend. He didn't have his best friend. He didn't have Mary. He was all alone.

And it hurt. More than he could try and articulate, really.

~~~~~

Dan pushed the bag of crisps away from him, his minuscule appetite already gone. He wrapped the blanket around his body tighter and stared blankly at his television screen. One of the series he had been watching with Phil had uploaded a two hour season finale, but Dan wasn't absorbing a single second of what was being played. His stomach grumbled, but Dan only frowned and buried deeper into the blanket. He really didn't want food right now.

He didn't really want anything right now.

No, that was a lie.

He wanted someone. He didn't care if it was Jaime or Phil, or anyone else, but he needed some kind of human contact. Dan desperately wanted someone to help him pull himself out of his head space.

Dan slipped his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. He had two unread texts from Phil that had accumulated since the last time that Dan had checked his phone a few hours ago. He ignored them for now and brought up the thread he and Jaime had.

> To: my maraschino cherry are u around?

It was close to an hour before Jaime responded. Even with her uncharacteristically late reply, Dan's heart still soared. He clicked on the new text.

> From: my maraschino cherry [multimedia message]

at a party rn. we did our first run of the whole set today! so we're celebrating lmao

anyways

did you need something? I can easily duck into a room, np danny

The picture attached was one of Jaime in what looked like someone's lounge. The whole thing was a little blurry, but Dan could easily see the sheer happiness on his best friend's face. Her arm was around an attractive blonde, their faces pressed together as they both widely and drunkenly looked into the camera.

Dan instantly felt guilty for bothering Jaime. She was having so much fun. There was no reason for him to not only ask her to momentarily leave the party to talk to him, but to also trouble her with the knowledge that he was rapidly slipping into a deep depressive episode. It would kill her mood and make her needlessly worry about him.

She deserved to be happy.

Dan quickly typed out his reply and sent it, backing out almost immediately.

> To: my maraschino cherry no dw! i just was wondering if u had time to talk lol. have fun! dont get TOO drunk ;)

Dan stared at his text chat with Phil. He read over the last two texts he had missed from his boyfriend, and bit his lip, trying to decide if he should bother Phil.

Phil hadn't directly seen what Dan's depressive episodes could come to. Jaime had been in the trenches with Dan, and even though she had never seen what they looked like behind locked doors and closed blinds until not too long ago, she had picked up his pieces after every one and was all too aware of the damage they did to Dan's mental and physical health. Phil knew the general gist of it from the few details Dan had given him, but there was no doubt that Phil would be in way over his head trying to handle Dan. Not to mention trying to deal with him in a depressive episode this strong.

Dan was also all too aware of how worried Phil would be over him, and Dan knew for a fact that no matter how far Phil pulled away from him, if Dan told Phil about this mounting problem Phil wouldn't be able to think straight until he could make sure Dan was okay with his own two eyes. It would put him off of his game for the whole week, and Dan didn't want to derail this important trip for Phil before it really began. This was an opportunity for Phil that Dan was determined not to ruin.

Frowning, Dan closed out of the messaging app. Almost instantly he reopened it again. His therapist had pointed out to him several times that he struggled with accepting and asking for help, and that he needed to let people into his life more if he wanted to get better. This was one of those instances, right? So shouldn't he talk to someone?

Dan drafted a message and deleted it. He tried again but only erased it as well. Dan groaned and nearly clicked the screen of his phone off out of frustration.

One more time…

Dan left this third attempt devoid of anything that would suggest that Dan was in trouble. In fact, it was very simple to what he had initially sent Jaime.

> To: Phil Lester (is amazing!!) hey, do u think we could talk?

After sending it, Dan felt a bit better. Even if he never gathered the courage to admit to Phil that he was in a bad place and that it would only get worse, he was confident that talking to Phil would make his spirits soar. It wasn't a miracle cure, but it would soothe the worst of the mind-numbing loneliness and depression deep in his bones.

Except Dan watched as the hours ticked by and his phone remained quiet and dark. When Dan blinked back into reality it was nearing 2AM. His Netflix show had long since expired, and there wasn't as much as a twitter notification on his phone. Dan dragged himself to his bed even though he knew that it was doubtful that he would sleep tonight.

Meanwhile, something hard had settled in the furthest reaches of Dan's chest. It made breathing difficult and his brain take three times as long to process even the smallest things. It had admittedly been a while since he had been last acquainted with it, but it was familiar. Sickly comforting in the sense that it was something he was so used to. In a way, it was like coming home.

When it was time to get up and get ready for work, Dan got ready on complete impulse. He was too busy dissociating to even remember the walk there, and was mildly surprised when he found himself stocking the cash register on muscle memory alone.

That was one thing that was different with this depressive episode, it seemed. Ever since he had first started to fall into this predicament about a week ago, he had buried himself in work. He took extra shifts in the coffee shop and even sometimes stayed overtime. Coming from someone who normally shut down in every way in the deepest caverns of his depression, the behavior was horribly different from what he was used to. Maybe it was because this depressive episode was caused by something different.

Before, they had been caused by his longing for things he didn't have: a family, a lover, acceptance, someone (or a group of people) who loved him and he could love in return. After he was kicked out and he found Jaime, they slowly became fewer and farther in between as he and Jaime became inseparable. Even though they were still there, he could manage them.

Dan had never had a depressive episode triggered by an all-consuming, numbing sense of being utterly and completely alone before.

Something deep in his gut did he have the feeling that this one would not be his last.

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