my happy little pill | phan

10: Dan Fucks Up And Phil Is Unfazed

*tw & smut*

Phil's POV

Dan is a shivering mess on the bathroom floor. His eyes are swollen and bloodshot from crying, and he is staring at me like he wants me to say something. The only problem is that I have no idea what to say.

"Phil," he says so quietly that it's almost inaudible. "I'm...I have...fuck, Phil, just please don't flip out at me but I..."

He trails off and slowly lifts the towel that was concealing his lower half and I feel my two hands slapping across my mouth. He's cut himself again. I can't help him like this. I have no experience, and I don't want to make things worse. Oh, my God.

"I think you need help," I say quietly. "Dan, I —"

"Please don't," I hear Dan beg. It isn't often that he begs me for things, but here he is sitting on the floor with dark red cuts on his leg and a worried expression on his face. "Phil, you can't tell anyone. You can't."

I bite my lip. What can I say? "I can't help you on my own. I don't know what to do. Self harm is serious and you need to speak to somebody about it, anyone. A therapist maybe?"

Dan pauses. "You," he says in a low voice. "I need your help. You're...you're the only one that I really trust."

I try to object but he continues more forcefully. "You know me better than any motherfucking therapist. I don't have to open up about my hellish teenage years, or my time at Uni. You know me, Phil. I just need...I need...God, Phil I don't know what I need."

And suddenly he's crying again. I awkwardly place my cold hands on his back and pat gently, murmuring softly. "It's okay, it's all okay."

Dan buries his face in his scrunched up hands and we sit in silence for the next six and half minutes with Dan's choked sobbing. When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are red and raw and his cheeks are blotchy. I feel my heart ache and my own eyes prickle with tears.

"How about you come downstairs and we can play Pokemon or something?" I offer, feeling lost.

Dan breathes shakily, nods and covers his legs with the towel again. "Yeah, okay. I just need to get dressed."

I nod, and I walk towards the door, but I can't help but think of his legs covered in red lines as I move. And I feel guilty for some reason. Like, I should have been there for him more and I should have noticed this. I should have stopped this. It's all my fault.

But I need to keep my feelings in check. My only priority now is getting Dan better, and that's all.

+++

I need to take Dan's mind away from everything that is going on, so after we play a game of Pokemon, we decide to film Phil Is Not On Fire 6. I already have it scripted so it should be fun.

"WHISKERS!" I shout down the hall as he walks up to my bedroom with a pair of black Sharpies. "I'm actually really looking forward to this."

Dan smirks. I can still see the pain in his eyes, but the small half-smile printed on his lips is a start. "Get into your bedroom, Phil Lester."

I laugh and sit down on my bed as Dan sets up the tripod and camera. I quickly dust off a few cookie crumbs that lie on my duvet cover. Whoops.

"Are you okay to make this video?" I ask him before I start filming. I don't want him to feel pressurised into making this video. We have all of the days in November to make it, so it's okay if he isn't up to it today.

"Phil," he says in the voice that he always uses on camera. "I'm fine. Lights, camera, action!"

I hit the record button and Dan and I sit shoulder to shoulder on my bed, staring fixedly at the camera lens. We fix ridiculous expressions to our faces.

"Do me up, Dan," I say and then realise how terrible that sounds. I giggle like a school child. "I mean, whisker me up."

When he laughs I can't see a trace of the broken boy that was curled up on the cold bathroom floor earlier today. It's almost like this morning didn't even happen. He's a good actor, and I don't know if that's a good or bad thing.

"That's got off to a bad start," he chuckles. He presses the Sharpie to my cheeks and draws little black whiskers on my skin, scraping over them so that they're better defined. They're going to be hell to get off my face after this video.

We start with the usual would you rather? questions and other staple Phil Is Not On Fire video items. One thing that was written on my script was "Re-enact the Anaconda video."

Dan laughs harder than he has all week.

"My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun," I talk-sing in the fabulous Northern accent that I can do. I slap Dan's butt with a soft toy snake as hard as I can. Dan spins around and wrestles the soft toy snake from me and starts rubbing the poor toy between his legs, back and forth, back and forth against his crotch. It's every shade of wrong for my channel.

"Timmy's...only...young," I say, trying to get the snake back. He only moves "Timmy" faster.

"Timmy likes it," he says mockingly, laughing. His face lights up when he laughs.

We answer some more questions and stuff, and Dan resumes with playing with little Timmy. I pounce on top of Dan, with the camera still filming, and rip the snake from his hands. He stares up at me innocently with the camera still watching our every move.

"You don't need a snake," I whisper. "You have me."

I lower my face to his and kiss him hard, mouth open. He moves his mouth against mine, and with his hands he pulls the snake through my legs and rubs it back and forth over my crotch. I feel myself tense and press myself against Dan tighter, so tight that it's almost like we're one single soul, one body combined. I slide my cool hands under his shirt and he gasps into my mouth as I trace my fingertips over his bones.

"Edit this out," he mumbles as he traces butterfly kisses down my neck. He presses harder on the snake and I feel myself harden. I should really turn off the camera because it feels like we are recording our sex tape or something, but this feels too good for me to simply stand up and walk across the room for a couple of seconds.

My breathing quickens and I'm suddenly gasping for air. Dan is thrusting against me as he tears off my tee shirt and I banish his, flinging it across the room. He gets rid of Timmy and begins to undo my jeans, tugging slightly at the waist as if asking for my permission. I nod breathlessly, my face buried in his shoulder and sucking a sweet spot. Dan moans with pleasure and yanks off my jeans so hard that the zipper breaks.

I don't care though. I free my legs from my tight black jeans and tangle myself into Dan; Dan, who is currently ridding himself of his own jeans. I bite the smooth skin of his shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to leave little teeth marks and Dan's grip tightens on me with his fingers biting into my sides.

I love him so much.

He coils his legs around mine and slides his hand into my boxers, grinding against me. I gasp with Dan's name on my lips.

But despite the smile on his face as I kiss the hollow of his neck, I can't help but stare at the rows of fresh cuts on his thighs and on his right arm.

And I can't help but feel guilty somehow.