Warning: if you're easily triggered by mentions of depression and/or anxiety, might wanna skip the first part of this chapter. It's not too bad, just an implication.

***

Phil woke up crying. Deep, body trembling sobs that made him squeeze his eyes shut and pull his blankets tighter around himself. He had to stuff his face into the pillow so he didn't make any noise; his parents had come home last night, and hadn't yet left for work, and he definitely didn't need them bursting into his room.

He'd been doing that a lot lately. Crying. He didn't know what it was that caused it, except the fragile bits of his mind now starting to slowly deteriorate. He just knew that trying to hold it back only made it worse.

And this was how he'd spent the last three days. School was out of the question, it would probably just make him break down even further.

What was wrong with him? He was having such a hard time dealing with anything, and reality was starting to scare him. Because now he didn't even know the true definition of reality. With all that had happened to him, the past few days and ever since he'd met the godforsaken Dan Howell, he wasn't surprised that his grasp on the real world was slipping into nothing.

He'd thought of ways he could possibly dim the anxiety and crisis from his brain; drugs and alcohol were the most popular, it seemed, but he was afraid of becoming a junkie. Sleeping never lasted long enough. Reading, writing, the Internet, all of the things he had enjoyed before did nothing to get him through the day. There was no solid distraction for him. But he was starting to realize that just dealing with it was not enough.

They only lasted a few minutes, the random crying jags. The heavy feeling in his chest soon subsided and his body stopped shaking, and he could breathe properly again. He looked up at the bedside table where his phone usually sat, wanting to see what time it was, before remembering he'd thrown it across the room yesterday when it came to life at 7:30 in the morning. There was a 32% chance that it was broken, but he found he wouldn't be too miffed about that.

So he settled for staring up at his ceiling instead. It was early, judging from the weak blue light that slanted in through his closed blinds, and the sounds of his parents still downstairs. He would wait till they left before even attempting to get out of bed. He didn't even know how he looked and he didn't want them asking any questions.

His neck was aching terribly, and he shifted slightly to ease any pressure that could be the cause of it. That's what he got for falling asleep curled up in a circle, clutching his head tightly. He was in desperate need of a shower as well, and clean clothes. And maybe he would change his sheets as well, he'd read somewhere that that was a good way for clearing your head.

Another ten minutes of mentally compiling a list of things to do, and Phil heard the distinct sound of his parents leaving, the front door slamming and cars being started. He let out a breath of relief he hadn't even known he'd been holding. As much as he hated an empty house, he didn't find any joy in the idea of actually interacting with people, even his parents. He was too much of a mess right now.

He stood from the bed, almost falling back down again as dizziness overtook him. He closed his eyes and waited for it to pass, leaning against his wall. He was wearing only boxers, and was actually surprised at how warm it was outside of his blankets. It was still edging between fall and winter, and the usual weather was chilly with rain mixed in.

The sheets on his bed were stripped hastily, and he even grabbed a few stray clothes from his bedroom floor before stuffing it all in the wash downstairs and turning it on. And he almost smiled at the small sense of accomplishment he felt at doing this small thing.

His phone wasn't broken, thank god, only bearing a small crack on the bottom of the screen. It was almost dead though, and he plugged it into his computer out of habit. He didn't really have much use for it besides calling his parents and the occasional person he deemed an acquaintance. And recently, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

After showering and eating a (very) small breakfast, there wasn't much else to do besides lounge. His room was starting to become claustrophobic, so he decided the living room was much more comfortable.

He sat there for most of the day, curled up on the couch and watching old tv shows that didn't make much sense to him. He felt a lot more relaxed now, less heavy and anxious. His lingering headache had begun fading and he felt good. Like all the shit that had been plaguing him had disappeared and he was just Phil again. Quiet Phil Lester who had no affiliation with supernatural beings and beautiful brown eyed psychopaths.

Of course, all of that was shattered when someone knocked on the door.

Phil debated whether or not to actually answer it. He could pretend he wasn't here and the person would just go away, assuming no one was home. Most likely it wasn't even anything important, nothing he would consider worthy enough to make him get up. And just as he decided that, yes, he's just let them leave, they knocked again, much more persistent then before. So they were gonna be like that....

He stood up with a sigh, not even caring that he was wearing pajama bottoms with Cookie Monster's face plastered all over them. Maybe that could be a defense tactic. Scare them away with his weirdness.

He opened the door, and froze when he saw Dan, fist raised as if getting ready to knock again. They stared at each other for a moment, and Phil swore he couldn't breathe again. Fear and excitement and that heavy feeling flooded through him all at once, making him shiver. He shook his head.

"No." He said scratchily, clutching the door tightly. "No, you have to leave." Dammit. He'd just been repairing himself, slowly getting back into some regular sort of mindset, and now here was the root of his problem, fucking everything up again. He tried to close the door, ready to crawl back under his sheets, but Dan stopped him.

"Phil, please, I'm begging you." He said in a rush. "Please just let me in, we really have to talk, about a lot of things. Just a few minutes, I only need that much."

"I can't." Phil replied thickly. "Dan, I'm going fucking crazy right now, because of you and everything else. Just leave me alone, I want to be alone."

"Phil..." Dan pleaded, taking a step closer.

"You can't force your way into my house, Dan." Phil said firmly, looking down at where Dan's foot was an inch away from crossing the threshold.

Dan raked his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh. He looked so incomposed, his hair sticking up in places and his shirt slightly wrinkled. Phil almost felt bad for him. "You'll never have to see me again, okay? Just talk to me, this one time, and I'll leave you alone. I promise."

And goddammit, Phil actually hated that idea. That he would never see Dan again. It made his chest hurt just thinking about it, and that was when he fully realized just how fucking dependent he'd become.

His body told him to stop, and his mind was a constant stream of no no no, but he seemed to not be in control because he nodded and stepped aside so Dan could pass through. He closed the door and followed him into the living room he had been preoccupying earlier.

"What is it?" Phil asked shakily, standing in the middle of the room and picking at his shirt timidly. "What do you want?"

"Are you okay?" Dan said softly, reaching out a hand slowly, as if to touch Phil's cheek, but Phil flinched away. Dan looked almost hurt by that. "Haven't seen you in a few days. I was really worried."

"Why?" Phil asked sarcastically. "I'm not that important. You don't have to worry about me."

"Why do you think that?" Dan questioned. He took a step forwards, and Phil automatically stepped back. "I think I have some right to worry about your wellbeing. I don't want you to... doing anything stupid."

Dan took another step and Phil almost tripped trying to back away again. "You don't have to pretend anymore, Dan. I know I'm just another fling or something with you, before you move on, or I die, or whatever may happen. Just a toy."

"And where the fuck did you get that idea?" Dan asked, still advancing, and now Phil was pressed against a wall, clutching his shirt pathetically. "You're damn well more than a 'toy'."

Phil shook his head, glancing sideways so he wouldn't have to face the heat of Dan's eyes. "Zoe... told me. About your past, and other people you found important. That I wasn't the first and I wouldn't, by far, be the last."

"Well Zoe's a fucking liar." Dan said, close enough now that Phil could reach out and touch his chest if he wanted. "Okay, there have been other people, I'll admit that. But I'm.... a lot older than I look. And I was different then, physically and mentally. And you, are different from all of them. I don't want to worry about what might happen to us later, I just want right now."

"Is that what you say to all of them?" Phil asked with a humorless laugh. "They're different and unique and, you 'want right now'. Bet it's popular with the ladies."

"Shut up." Dan said, pressing both hands on the wall on either side of Phil's head, and leaning in. "That's not the reason you've been hiding, I know. You don't care about my past, or about what Zoe said. It's something else."

Phil exhaled sharply. He cursed the heavens that he was so easy to read. Or maybe he'd just gotten to close to Dan, that he couldn't hide anything from him.

"You're a demon." Phil muttered, staring up at Dan's dark eyes. "A monster, the thing of children's nightmares. And there are people out there trying to kill you and your family. I don't want to risk my life anymore because of you."

Dan stared at him for the longest time, like he was thinking. Phil tried to calm himself, stop his hands from shaking and his breathing from speeding up. Their close proximity wasn't doing anything to help.

"I'm sorry." Dan said after a moment, almost whispering. "I'm sorry that I dragged you into all of this without thinking. I'm not the best decision maker, you might already know. I can't help it. You make want to stop being this way, and then there's my family, who do the complete opposite. It's like, I'm being pulled in two completely different directions; I don't want you or them to get hurt because I'm being selfish, but I can't keep away. I just, I love you so much, and it's really worth risking it sometimes, worth the idea that we might have to leave because-"

"What did you say?" Phil asked, scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion.

"What?" Dan replied.

"You, you said... you said you love me."

"I didn't."

"You did. Right after you said you were selfish."

"Oh." Dan said blankly. "Um. I didn't mean to."

"I really fucking hate you sometimes, Dan." Phil said, clenching his jaw in irritation. "Why can't you just be consistent? It's like you're two different people; someone who actually cares, about me and other things, and isn't afraid to speak for themselves. And someone who just follows other people's orders like a dog." He shook his head, staring at Dan sadly. "I don't know how to handle you sometimes."

"Why are you getting so mad at me?"

"Because you just said you love me and and now you're taking it back!" Phil replied angrily. "You just went on and on, about how important I am to you, how you're willing to be a selfish bastard because you have feelings for me, and now you're second guessing. What the hell do you want with me?"

He stopped when Dan touched his shoulder, gently, as if he was testing the waters. Phil didn't protest, and Dan took that as permission to keep going, gliding across Phil's collarbones, up his throat and across his lips. It was featherlight, barely there, and Phil breathed out shakily.

"I don't know." Dan whispered. Phil closed his eyes, jumping slightly when he felt Dan's hand lifting his chin, and Dan's breath drifting past his lips, and Dan's body just a centimeter away from touching his own. "I don't know what I want. I want things I can't have. Things I'm not supposed to want, and to be honest, it's really scaring me. This is new to me."

"Well you really need to figure it out." Phil replied, cautiously wrapping his arms around Dan's neck. "Cause I won't be here forever."

Their lips met softly, colliding in a way that made Phil's head spin. If he was being truthful, it was probably the best damn kiss they'd shared since this all started. It was just a gentle drag and pull, chaste kisses filled with pretty much every emotion you could name.

It only lasted a minute, before the sound of a car door slamming made them pull apart. Phil pulled out of Dan's hold and turned to the window beside him, peeking out of the curtains and watching his mum walk towards the front door. He panicked, turning to tell Dan he had to leave as quickly as possible, but the room was empty. He didn't have time to react because the door opened and his mum was there, carrying a few bags.

"Hi, sweetie." She said amiably, smiling at her son as she walked to the kitchen. "You didn't go to school today?"

Phil shook out of his dazed state. "No. I wasn't feeling well."

She didn't question him further, leaving him by himself once again. He let out a deep breath, feeling the smallest smile tug at his lips.

God, he was so fucking confused. About everything.

***

a/n: sorry if this was a really boring chapter. I'm building the tension and stuff, like... I don't know. Letting it all play out before the real shit hits the fan.

But what's up guys, glad you decided to keep reading this. Really. All your votes and comments and reads make me smile like a loser. I am a loser.

I hope this was alright, and things are just getting started. Man. This story is gonna be... wow.

Alright, peace :3

(wanna play a game? Tell me your favorite song and I'll reply if it's one of mine as well, and listen to ones I don't know. Please? No? Okay I'll leave you alone.)