Deterioration(A phanfic)

Deterioration

I.

Phil was standing in their empty bathroom picking himself apart.

He hated that his lips were so small and oddly shaped, he hated that his nose was a bit too big for his face, and he hated how his skin was so pale it almost blended in with the unpainted walls. Yet, most of all, Phil hated when he smiled. His nose would widen and flatten, while his lips would spread so thin as his tongue poked out, his whole face awkward and misconstrued like an unfinished marble statue. He could never pull off the smirk Dan made much less a simple grin. Phil knew that he could never look as good as Dan, never be drooled over by girls and boys alike, but if he stopped smiling he'd never have to face the weird nose and thin lips. He'd never have to face the fact that to the fans, he was always a step below his best friend, who would only be a best friend and no more because of that. So Phil vowed no more grins, no more laughs, only brooding, mysterious Phil Lester.

II.

Dan caught on in time of course, the quick laugh and sudden frown whenever Dan would make a joke, or the way that Phil would keep a stoic and calm face when talking to the waiters and cashiers when they went out, instead of the manic grins and happy greetings he used to practically yell at them. Dan hated that he never saw Phil smile anymore. He started worrying. Why was Phil always sad? Why didn't he laugh? Was it Dan? He started getting scared. Scared that Phil didn't want to be his friend, didn't want a failure, a tagalong, a dropout, to spend the rest of his life with, because honestly, who would? Dan was young and stupid; Phil was a solid 3 years older than him with multiple degrees. Compared to Phil, Dan was a pathetic excuse for life. Dan thought Phil wanted to stop hanging out with Dan. Dan thought Phil hated him.

III.

Phil stopped smiling for a while now, people would always ask about it on the live chats and numerous Twitter comments but Phil ignored them, he was too focused on other things. Mainly his body. Phil got as close as he could to changing his face but he realized that his body was the bigger problem. He was tall and awkward but not in a cute, lanky, Dan type of way, but more like a hulking bull in a china shop. He had too much flab on his stomach and legs. His arms lacked in muscle and unlike Dan, his arse was just large and ugly, not cute in anyway. He thought these must've been the reasons why people always preferred Dan to him, why Dan never preferred him at all. Phil knew how to solve this though. He told himself to stop eating as much, let go of the, the midnight snack and candy testing with Dan, the cupcakes and bacon, the disgusting amounts of cereal and fast food, even if it meant letting go of time with Dan. This is what Dan would want. When Phil looked better he'd come back to Dan. Only then he'd deserve him.

IV.

Dan got more and more anxious. Phil stopped wanting to go out with him or talk to him, he rarely saw Phil come out of his room anymore. When Dan invited Phil to the movies Phil mumbled something about a new video and closed his door. But Phil hadn't uploaded a video in two months. nor had he done any livestreams. He no longer texted Dan funny thoughts at three in the morning or snapchatted him a half done dinner when he was outside. But Dan got desperate. Dan would text him endlessly snapchat him everything that looked worthy of a pictures, but with no response. Dan would find himself scrolling through lines of blue text boxes on his phone, tears streaming. Dan did everything he could to talk to Phil. Knocked on his door, slid little papers under him, asked him to go out for coffee at the Starbucks they loved, but Phil never came. Dan started crying almost every night begging for someone to tell him what he did wrong. He started losing himself in the unanswered calls, texts, pictures, and notes and started to find himself in the late night drinks. But all he got was a burning throat, wet eyes and no answers. Dan thought Phil was leaving him, spending the time in his room to pack and set up plans with Chris or PJ. Dan thought Phil would never talk to him again. Dan thought he would never be good enough for Phil.

V.

Phil hated himself. He had eaten almost nothing in the past week. His face was gaunt and his ribs poked out. Sometimes he would see dots in his vision and wake up dizzy and short of breath, but at least he didn't have thunder thighs. Phil couldn't tell you what day it was but he did know the calories of every single thing in his pantry. Phil still didn't love himself; he hated everything and most of all, he missed Dan. And he knew Dan missed him. He got all the things Dan texted him and all the notes slipped under the shut door, all the funny pictures, and all the begging. Oh god the begging. Dan would plead with him to come out and talk to him, sometimes crying and screaming profanities at the wooden door. But Phil didn't want to come out, he wasn't pretty yet, and deep down he knew he never would be. He never wanted Dan to see him again because he knew Dan would get mad at him for doing this to himself, for peeling away at every layer that made him Phil, leaving a bare bony skeleton of everything he once was. Phil knew Dan would hate him for doing this, starving, dying, frowning. But it was only because he loved Dan that he did.

VI.

Dan couldn't take it anymore. He had only seen Phil once in the past three weeks and he looked so frail. He walked by the kitchen while Phil was drinking coffee and pouring a packet of stevia. His eyes were sunken and his collarbone protruded like a stick. His frown had become permanent like an unwanted tattoo stuck onto the older boy's mouth. It was all wrong, all off. That's when it hit Dan why. Phil looked worse than him, Phil never looked worse than him. Dan, who had once drank vodka and eating cereal for five weeks straight. Dan, who would sometimes stop posting videos, or tweets, or livestreams for weeks as a time. Phil always was his backbone and safe guard. Phil had never sunk to this. Dan first thought that Phil was departing, tearing off Dan's happiness one day at a time, but he now knew Phil was hurting, destroying both of them faster and faster every passing hour. Dan thought Phil was hurting more than him. Dan thought he was hurting Phil.

VII.

Phil wanted to die. There was no savior, no loving Dan. The brown-haired boy started screaming and crying every night. The few times he went into the kitchen he saw liquor and vodka bottles empty or pouring lazily onto their linoleum floors. Sometimes there would be blood, and that made Phil want to crawl into a ball and wait for someone, anyone to comfort him. Someone to hold him and tell him Dan would never be hurt and it was only a dream, a harmless dream. Even still, they danced around each other, stopping all conversation and contact. Only seeing each others decimated states once in a blue moon. When he did see Dan, his throat closed up. The younger boy had lost his shine and sparkle, there were bags under his eyes and his hair had grown long and ragged. He constantly wore long baggy shirts and had a bloated stomach from all his midnight drinking. Even without seeing Dan's pain, Phil was getting worse. The older boy was practically skin and bone, his vision was a twisting mirror flowing in and out of reality with every step he took. Phil was too far-gone. Phil wanted Dan to bring him back.

VIII.

Dan was too far-gone. His days went back in forth with a restless cycle. Eat. Drink. Cry. Sleep. Repeat. Over and over till his head spun and all he could think about with the black-haired boy whose smile used to make Dan's heart flip. Dan wanted to touch Phil. Hug him, cradle him like a child and tell him he'd be OK, that they'd be OK. Dan thought about this obsessively, being able to touch Phil's long, messy hair, kiss his neck, hands, stomach, lips. He thought about holding Phil in his arms, as they would be tangled in bed, content and joyful, the way a couple should be. But Dan also drank obsessively, and soon enough the two planes collided and Dan found himself sneaking into Phil's room, curling up next to the black-haired boy in the messy bed.

IX.

Phil woke up at 3 AM and threw up blood and bile on the bathroom tiles. He ate a few saltines and drank a glass of water before stumbling back to his room, only seeing the younger boy once he had laid down. Dan had curled into a small ball, like he was attempting to disappear. Phil wanted to reach out to Dan. He tentatively touched the brown haired boy before pulling him into his arms and stroking his hair. That night, while Dan slept unperturbed for the first time in weeks, Phil spoke to the younger boy for the first time in months.

"I love you, Dan Howell"