tw// mentions of depression

"Wake up."

"You didn't call me mom this time, we're making progress," Phil states once he woke up. Dan wiped his hands over his face, groaning.

The curly-haired brunette hid a blush. "We're going to school together, not third base."

Phil rolled his eyes and sat up from his position in Dan's bed, remembering how long they cuddled for and talked about meaningless things until they fell asleep in each other's arms. Phil changed into his proper clothes, raising an eyebrow when Dan opened mouth to say something.

"I-" Dan began, but his mother cut him off from the kitchen.

"Boys! Breakfast is ready!"

Dan shook his head, brushing off what he was previously going to say and going downstairs with Phil following suit. They ate quickly and walked to school together, Dan's hand swaying close to Phil's, craving to hold his hand. But they were in public, and Phil wouldn't want to.

Then Phil took his hand. And Dan's doubts vanished. His cheeks instantly burned pink as they walked through the doors of the building, all eyes instantly setting on their intertwined fingers. It wasn't even because they were both boys, but rather because Phil was a player and Dan had anxiety and this was just a very odd sight. The halls got noticeably quiet, hushed whispers passing around as students pointed out the view.

And then everything was ruined when their principal walked out, towering over the two. "You two, my office."

They followed as everyone watched with curious eyes, gaze running after them until the door to the office shut behind the two boys.

"Is this because we were holding hands? Because trust me, you do not wanna know what goes on in the-"

"That's not why, Mr. Lester," the principal spoke sternly, sitting down at his desk and pushing up his glasses. The two boys sat down in the empty chairs, Dan on the verge of throwing up while Phil was calm.

"W-well then why a-are we here?" Dan spoke up, his hands sweating and his throat dry.

"I just wanted to inform you two that Jason is no longer going to this school. After exceeding his strikes for breaking the rules, he has since then been expelled and is being transferred to a different building."

Dan shot up in his chair, the chair nearly falling backwards as he rose to his feet and smiled widely. "R-really? He's gone? For good?"

"Yes really. Although if he somehow finds you in the open and gives you a hard time, please let us know and we will set a restraining order."

Dan nodded wildly, Phil hiding a grin. "Thank you, sir. I'll keep him safe if Jace comes back."

Dan blushed at Phil's courage, and the principal nodded them off.

❦

Dan is wasted. It's not the first time, but its been awhile since he's felt this good. The music is ringing in his ears while bodies clash into him, his grip tight on the collar of Phil's shirt as they swayed to the beat. He doesn't even know why he agreed to go to this party, but Louise and Phil said it was a celebration for Jason being expelled, and apparently the whole school was going.

And nearly the whole school was here, drunk, chatting or on the dance floor. Louise had gone off somewhere with Charlie and Dan and Phil decided to go dance, even if they weren't the best at it.

"Do you wanna go outside?" Phil leaned over, his lips brushing over the brunette's earlobe. Dan nodded slowly, a shiver running up his spine from the physical contact. Dan let himself be pulled through the doors and out to the patio, taking his drink with him. Phil pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and laying down in the grass. Daniel flopped down next to him, Phil instantly turning to rest his head on the boy's stomach.

"I don't think I've ever been to a-a party before."

"Well what do you think of it?"

"I've discovered that getting sweaty brings unholy thoughts to my mind."

Phil laughed, smoke tumbling out of his lips as they parted. "You're funny when you're drunk."

"I'm just brutally honest."

Phil rolled over, his ear pressed against Dan's stomach so he could look up at him. "Well I like it," he complimented, a small smile on his lips. "What did you wanna tell me earlier today? When your mom cut us off?"

Dan let out a breath, moving to rest on the back of his elbows so he could tilt his beer back and sip from it. "Remember that drawing y-you found in my closet a few years ago? And how there was a piece missing from i-it?"

"Yeah, but you already said it was about me."

Dan set his beer down. "I lied."

"What?" Phil sat up, criss-cross in front of Dan with his eyebrows furrowed. "Dan, what did the piece say?"

"It was a suicide note."

It went deafeningly silent. Phil shut his mouth and Dan avoided eye contact, instead looking down at his hands as he fidgeted.

"Oh my God," Phil spoke first, running his hands over his face. "I should've made you show me the note. I should've checked to see if you were telling the truth. Oh my God, Dan, I'm so sorry."

Dan felt a tear slip down his cheek but he didn't move to wipe it away, didn't even turn to look at Phil. His lips formed in a tight line as he held his knees to his chest.

"I was going to do it. I was going to do it that exact night you came over, the same night you ruined everything and you left and I threw that drawing out the window."

"I'm never going to fall for Phil Lester again," he promised himself.

But that promise was just as empty as him.

Dan rose on shaky legs, stumbling to his drawer and taking out his antidepressants. Nobody ever felt the same, nobody ever loved him as much as he loved them, so why waste his breath on speaking to people when he didn't even want to breathe anymore in general?

He placed his hand on the cap, squeezing it to turn it before he froze. He could hold someone's hand this tight. He could grip the sheets this hard while he made love. He could pull someone's hair this roughly then run away laughing. He could grip someone's shirt this tightly during a hug. So why was he wasting this strength on such a tiny thing that was going to rip it away from him?

If people really didn't care, why did they save him that one night in the house? Why did his parents take him to therapy and try and give him as much attention possible? Why did Phil talk to him on the phone more?

So he set the pills down, he backed away from his desk and took his sketch book with him, and he drew and drew until his hand hurt and he was falling asleep.

"I didn't take the pills. I just put them back in my drawer."

"What did you do instead?"

"I drew you. I drew tons of pictures of you, of us, of our memories together- when you taught me to swim and when we climbed that tree and you fell off and broke your arm and I was crying for you but we also couldn't stop laughing. And when you got a pen and connected all the dots with my freckles but you kept messing up because my cheeks were ticklish and I kept scrunching my face up and giggling. And when I couldn't sleep so I came over to your house and we watched films until the sun came up. I thought of you, and that saved me. You've always been there to catch me whether you knew it or not. You were this unintentional fuel to the gasoline of my happiness, and its like every time I saw you or thought of you, I'd ride that happiness for hours and days."

"You didn't stutter at all just now," Phil pointed out, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

Dan shook his head, dimples forming in his cheek as he reached down and took the boy's hand.

"That's because I'm not afraid anymore," Dan told him. "That's because I a-am here, and I am lucky enough to be holding your hand, and I am lucky enough to be looking you in those pretty little eyes and do this," Dan leaned forward and kissed him. "That is because I am going to ask you this question: will you be my boyfriend?"

And even if Dan was drunk and Phil's smoke had gotten to his head, the answer was obvious, sane or not.

"Definitely."

But the night was not done yet.