All My Fanfics

Our Timeline

Our Timelime
Description: Phil is starting to forget little things about his relationship with dan and it scares him
Warnings: swearing? i dont think theres anything else.
word count: it's pretty short actually. only 476!!!!!! trying to cut down

I'm having some trouble keeping track of our timeline. See, I'm that kind of person that tracks everything the most tangible ways. Scrapbooks, diaries, you name it. But the gaps in the timelines always seem to be the weeks or months that I want to remember the most.

When something important is happening, it's hard for me to keep track of it because usually I'm too busy being involved in the important thing. And it's hard to encapsulate all the details - the sights and smells, the little crease in your cheek that I love so much, things like that - in just a single diary entry, you know?

I was lying in your bed yesterday and I found this card under your pillow. It read:
"The person I was when I first met you, if you think about it, is not me. He is not Dan Howell. I am Dan Howell. The Dan Howell that loves you more than words can express and the Dan Howell that works with the most beautiful human being alive. I am the Dan that kisses you every morning and seems to fall more in love with you every single day."

I didn't - don't - remember the day you first gave it to me. It was 2009 maybe? I didn't have it in my records, and so the memory was practically gone forever.
My heart started palpitating wildly because I simply needed to know. A diary entry of a BBC Radio 1 show doesn't matter, this does. Why didn't I write about it? How did it magically travel to your room if you never even sleep there anymore? Somewhere in my mind I realized that I was probably overreacting, but that voice was so small, so insignificant that i just ignored it. So, logically I called out for you. You ran into the room and leaned against the doorframe like you do sometimes. I smiled at you as a tear ran down the side of my face and tried to remember the last time you wrote me a card.

"Phillip, what in god's name is wrong now?" you asked in earnest, your face contorting to one of legitimate worry.

"Nothing, it's just that... soon we'll be reduced to nothing but memories in a stupid scrapbook and I can't fucking remember when you fucking gave me this fucking card and I love you so much and I need to remember everything about you. Dan I just... I don't want to forget."

So you smiled and plopped yourself down beside me, and you cupped my face in your hands. "I gave you that card in 2010 on our second anniversary. Also, you won't need to remember anything, Phil. I'll never leave you, ever. We'll keep making more memories, okay?"

I'm having trouble keeping track of our timeline. But it doesn't really matter, does it?