I'll Leave You With The Outtakes // Phan

Part 14

"Stay," Phil whispers desperately, pressing his hands into Dan's waist like he can somehow make him strong again, keep him from getting worse, but he can't make the disease process stop and no matter how hard he tries he can't make Dan stay.

"Wish I could," Dan whispers back, pressing himself closer to Phil, leaning into his touch. The air is chilly, wrapping around them like a black cloak. Stars dotting bright above, stars that Dan had earlier traced with his fingertip while mouthing the names of the constellations to himself. The globes of burning gases and matter were reflected in the pupils of Dan's eyes, and Phil had found himself watching the galaxy beside him instead of the one above.

Phil wonders if he holds Dan close enough, if he can keep him forever. If he can keep him from burning out, from imploding in a flash of light and heat and pain. Phil made a promise, a long time ago, to protect Dan. Protect him from anything. Except he had always considered the physical and emotional, not something as intangible as what is killing Dan. What is slowly eating away at his bear while all Phil can do is sit back and watch as Dan gets worse and worse.

He's terrified, because it's the first time he's made a promise to Dan that he's realized he can't keep.

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Dan's changed his mind. It's a gradual one not a sudden one. Spurred by the fact that it's already progressing faster than they expected, but also because—Dan's realized he now has something he's desperate to hold onto.

He wants every possible moment he can ever have to be spent with Phil. He's not forfeiting any time. Fuck it all, Phil won't care if he can walk or not. It's Phil.

Dan's not going to give up without a fight.

But he is going to prepare for when he inevitably loses.

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Phil walks in on Dan snuggled under the covers with his knees to his chest, frantically typing into a document on his computer, before pausing, tapping his finger against the keys, and going back to typing.

"What're you doing?" Phil asks, sinking onto the mattress beside Dan and nudging teasingly at his legs. Dan just runs his teeth over his bottom lip and makes a non-committal noise, eyes still trained on the screen in front of him.

"Writing a book without me," Phil jests, slithering closer up next to Dan watching clumsy fingers jitter over the keys. It hurts to watch almost, maybe because Phil remembers how fast Dan used to be, and now he can see the obvious difference.

Dan sighs, closing down the tab on his computer, and pushing the lid of the laptop closed with a small click. "A video," he says simply.

Phil can't help his surprised reaction. Even though Dan's insisted they film everything lately, he hasn't wanted to upload any of it to their channels. It's been radio silence from Dan and Phil.

"Oh?,"he prompts, wondering if it's the I Have Lou Gehrig's Disease video and if that's why Dan's looking slightly grey. The color likes to sop from Dan's skin, and it's his job—Phil's mission—to brighten him back up.

"It's just an idea,"Dan says softly, like he's holding something back. A fact that wants to drip from his lips.

"For DanIsNotOnFire?"

"Maybe."

Dan's eyes are fluttering, he's tired or maybe he's just trying not to look at him, Phil can't tell. But the topic seems to make Dan uncomfortable, so he drops it. Settling instead for wrapping his fingers around Dan's atrophied digits.

"Thought we'd go see Chris and Peej, soon...that okay?"

Dan hums his agreement, and they fall quiet. Phil's okay with it. He's been sleeping in Dan's bed a lot lately, being close to Dan for every second that he has. Stilling Dan's troubled sleep with lips pressed against his temple and arms encircling his stomach.

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