self-help // phan

novem

Self-Help
a dan and phil fanfiction
chapter 9
Enjoy.

The first thing Dan knew was that his head hurt.

He didn't know where he was, or why his body burned. He blinked a single eye open to find a big alarm clock staring at him. Beside it was a glass of water and a thermometer.  The bed was soft and comfortable, but the warmth overwhelmed his limbs. Dan sat up, and his muscles immediately protested.

When he recognized the blue and green checkered sheets, that's when he remembered what had happened previously.

How had he gotten here?

Glancing down, the bright yellow jumper that he wore wasn't the clothing he had left his home in. And instead of sporting jeans, thick pajama pants hugged his legs. Dan moved to clamber off of the bed when his fingers brushed against something soft in the process.

His breath caught when his eyes rested on a sleeping Phil, his lips puckered out slightly. At once Dan spun around and scrabbled off of the bed, but that only woke him. Phil seemed confused and began to rub his eyes drowsily, Dan took his chance and darted to the bathroom.

He looked awful.

His normal light-brown eyes were dull with exhaustion and his hair was stuck to one side. Dan's skin was a sickly pale, as well as a sheen of sweat glossing his face. Dark circles hung just below his eyes, his lips chapped and turned down.

Another thought occurred to him: How had he gotten into these clothes?

"Dan," a soft voice spoke just outside the door. "Are you alright? Can I get you something?"

He wished he hadn't come. This just keeps getting worse.

"Yes, I'm fine," Dan's voice came out shrill, he paused to clear his throat. "I'll be out in just a minute." he smoothed his hair in an attempt at making himself more presentable, and splashed his face with water.

It's just human interaction.

Before he could change his mind, he opened the door. Phil immediately came into view with brows furrowed. For a moment, Dan was sure he was looking at the wrong person. His black hair was a tousled mess, and his chin was lined with stubble. His blue eyes were dull and his lips seemed to be stuck in a permanent frown. His glasses were slid down his nose.

"What were you doing in front of my door?" Phil said before Dan could open his mouth. "Your fingers were blue and your clothes were practically frozen."

Phil motioned for Dan to follow him to the couch, and waited for an answer. It had been over a month since he looked this worried.

"My dad, he..." Dan trailed off. "He kicked me out."

"Oh, no," Phil's voice came out in a whisper.

"What happened when after I got here? How did I get in these clothes?" Dan couldn't remember anything other than he dizziness and chill.

"I called 999 and asked for what to do," Phil explained, "When I gave them your temperature, they said you had mild hypothermia." Had Dan really been outside that long? It surely didn't seem like it.

"I did whatever they told me to do. Ran a luke-warm bath and placed you in it-still in your clothes of course- and then changed the wet ones into softer clothing. They also said that human contact was best, so I thought it was best to save all the awkward bants and just get you warm first." he finished.

Dan was too busy taking in what he had said to notice Phil's look of despair. He'd moved him around so much and he didn't even wake? He wasn't surprised if Phil thought he was dead!

Another thought reminded him that, if Phil changed him, he saw under his clothes. His cheeks took a darker red as he turned and looked around the room.

It was not as neat as he last remembered it, there were clothing littered in various spots, alcohol bottles lining each table, some were crushed up cans.

From the looks, Phil wasn't doing so good.

"Phil..." Dan began nervously, "Are you okay?"

The dark-haired man's attention snapped towards him, and he quickly nodded.

"Yes, I just, I-" he stopped stuttering and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Dan felt a comfort from looking into the familiar warm gaze.

"I don't think it's best we talk about this, Dan." Phil's voice took an octave it never had, he sounded as though he were giving him some sort of warning.

"Tell me," Dan insisted. What could be so bad, anyway?

Phil sighed, and ran his hand through his hair.

"I haven't been doing so good recently. These past few days, I don't know. I've never had a mid-life crisis before, and I-"

"I've been feeling that way before too!" Dan interrupted. Phil blinked at him, mild surprise gathering in his expression.

"Why did you quit the sessions?" Dan's voice was quiet. "I obviously needed more, more help, medications, something-" He stopped himself. He took a breath, and ended with, "I needed you, Phil."

Everything seemed to add up to Dan. Why he'd been acting so tense, why he felt so empty. He was missing the parts of his day that gave him the best feeling.

Phil's eyes widened. "Dan..." he trailed off.

"I had to end the sessions. I had to." Phil edged closer. "There was nothing else I could do, Dan. Don't you see?" his pupils grew and shrank vividly. "We were becoming to attached to one another! It's against the law to have anything but a simple relationship between therapist and patient. That's not what happened, and I couldn't risk ruining your improvement by my own problems." Phil sighed, and looked down. "I couldn't risk it."

Dan was struggling to take in all of this new information. Phil was becoming attached to him?

"I wanted to be your friend," Phil breathed, "The first rule we learn as psychologists is not to get attached. 'They are not your friend. They are your patient.' I got upset when you were hurt, angry when you talked about what the kids used to do to you. Don't you see why that's wrong?"

Phil pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few breaths. When he turned his attention back to the younger boy, Dan had his mind made up.

"Then be my friend."

"What?"

"I'm not your patient anymore," Dan pointed out, "Is there any lawbreaking in that?" Phil blinked as if he'd been too troubled to consider it.

"I'm you're exception, aren't I?" he inched closer. Brown eyes met blue, and for a moment they gazed at each other. No words were spoken but it was enough to iterate what was unsaid.

"You're my friend, Phil." he said quietly.

Phil seemed to gain his composure and broke the stare-off.

"Right," he said. "I should probably have picked up before you woke up."

Dan went along with Phil changing the subject, and they both began to clean up the messy apartment.

In the back of his mind, Dan only wondered one thing.

What's going to happen now?