As Our Tragedies Atrophy

IV. TERMINUS

"Hello internet."

Brown eyes stared into the camera, feeling nothing short of uncomfortable before it. Funny how the one outlet that once brought him comfort now made him feel overwhelmed. He paused and steeled himself, taking a deep breath.

"Before I say anything else, I know what you're thinking. Dan, where have you been? In my defense, I don't really have one. I mean, not really. Not one that can be summed up articulately into a succinct five-minute video tied together with an apology. But I can try."

Another pause.

"Now you all know just as well as I do how everything went down, but just in case you've been out of the loop, attending to your own personal lives that I'm sure are much more important and eventful than mine, here's a little recap."

His hands are gesturing frantically, and they've even started to tremble.

"Everything was relatively normal. I was uploading semi-regularly - as regular as I could ever get - doing radio shows, and then one day... It all just stopped. Because of this, my channel has been inactive for a little over three years. I know I'm by no means a consistent uploader, never have been, but a lot of you thought it was odd. And you were right. It wasn't normal, and some of you tried to contact friends of mine who may have answers, but they were all vague. It was because I asked them to be - and then when you tried to ask Ph-Phil..."

He stopped and looked away from the lens, the viewfinder. His entire frame trembled as he stood up and tried to clear his head. He had to do this. He had to continue.

"It was because I asked them to be," He resumed. "And then when you tried to ask Phil... nothing. You received nothing. Not because I told him to, because believe me. I would love nothing more than for Phil to appear and tell you that everything is perfect and the way it should be, but that's not happening because Phil is no longer here."

Not a day has gone by where he wasn't on his mind, where Dan wasn't constantly mourning and feeling the poignancy of it all. How there was no longer someone by his side, and how there was no one to fill the emptiness in his heart. He hasn't said his name aloud in so long. Dan started to cry genuine, heartfelt tears - something he's never done throughout the entire history of danisnotonfire.

"Sorry, excuse me." He wiped his nose and cleared his throat. "This is all very difficult, and new, but that doesn't mean it can't be good. Phil taught me that, you know? Even when we were worried about his future and the amount of time we had left, he embraced change and accepted it as something good. He accepted change as the opportunity for new experiences. He always saw the glass half full and maybe that's why I loved him so much."

He took a deep breath.

"Alzheimer's may have taken his body and his mind, but it didn't take his heart. In the moments before he died, he remembered me, and us. He remembered the promise to love me until the day he dies, and guess what? He did."
He smiled, though his tears still flowed freely.

"This channel began with Phil and the only right thing to do is to end it with him. There's nothing left here for me. I can't pretend that I have more to share with the world because the fact is, I don't. All that's left for me to do now is carry on with life and hope for the best."

He looked away from the camera again and wiped some of his tears.

"To anyone who has watched and been around as early as 2009, and to the people who came along the way, I just wanted to say: thank you. I never imagined my life to turn out the way that it did, but it happened. It's real. I found happiness and confidence, I found my best friend and the love of my life. Every moment we shared was important, the littlest fraction you were allowed to see didn't even begin to cover half of it. I will remember this, even though Phil couldn't. I will always remember the laughs, the jokes, all the good times we shared with each other. This was truly the most fun I have ever had. Goodbye, Internet."

-

But that wasn't the end of Dan's journey. There was but yet one last item that remained on Phil's bucket list, and unfortunately he didn't live to see it.

Halley's comet only arrives once every 75 years. As he stared at the comet on the night of July 28, 2061, he thought of Phil and hoped that somehow, and in some way, Phil was able to see it, too.

His hand ran over the pages of Phil's notebook, Thor laid down next to him. Every bump and ridge of ink against the paper was traced by his fingertips. He wanted to believe Phil was with him in that moment.

He turned the pages until he reached the end and pulled his pen out. Every last thing on the list was completed and he smiled upon once again reading "love him until the day I die."

Life goes on without Phil, but Dan found comfort in the idea that Phil never really left him at all. He saw Phil in the trees, in the wind that carried his thoughts. It took a while for him to be comfortable talking about him, but once he did, he could never resist talking to others about an amazing man he once knew named Phil Lester.

Sometimes he'd come across fans on the street who'd greet him or give him a hug. There would be a split moment when a fan would look to the side of him and remember that things were different. "I'm so sorry. I keep forgetting," they would say. Dan never criticized any of them. Of course Dan could exist without Phil, but everyone felt the gap, the emptiness that came with only referring to Dan alone.

There were days where he'd allow himself to cry. It was healthy to do, or at least that's what he thought was true. There were days where he'd put on Phil's own jacket and pretend for one moment the older man was hugging him tightly. It wasn't much, but it got him through life. The last moments before death consisted of thinking about Phil of course, but also despite everything that had happened in his life, he was truly happy and satisfied with the mark he left behind on the world. He was buried in the open spot next to Phil, right where he always belonged.