hey guys...wait

yes, I'm wearing a spitrag, and what?

Dan's brown eyes stare blankly into the computer screen as it loads and stresses itself into oblivion trying to open the video processing program. The dastardly rainbow spiralling wheel of death spins at the same speed as his consciousness as it goes down the drain. He sips his coffee (black, surprisingly) and returns his eyes to the now loading computer screen with a slight smile. He then realises that the flat is eerily quiet, and yells for Phil.

"Phil-l-l-l!" He exclaims, wheeling his chair into the small corridor, only to get a harsh "shush" in reply, followed by a giggle. He puts his hands up in surrender and grins. "Alright, love you too, babe."

He scoots his way back to the computer and sees himself on the camera. His hair is slightly tousled, and there are bags under his eyes with a slight grey hue to them, but he's feeling energised for the first time in two weeks, so it's time to film something before the angry mob comes and attacks him.

He props the camera up upon his tripod and angles it to best capture his whole essence before clearing his throat and thinking about what he wants to say. He decides to film it all in one take (because god only knows the next time he'll have free time) and to not edit it for the same reason. He's just gonna try to say whatever comes to mind while also making up an excuse for why neither men have uploaded anything in nearly a month.

Dan's slender finger slides over the record button and clicks it, earning a three beep countdown until the red recording light begins to flash. He takes a breath in and tries to be as professional as possible.

"Hey guys! Wait...oh fuck," He says in an over enthusiastic manner before face palming over what he had just said. "Phil has literally attached himself to me like a parasite and is slowly taking over my body."

He laughs quietly and looks into the camera again, fixing his hair with his fingers. "So, uh, I know I look like I got run over by a train. I also know that a mob of you guys are gonna show up outside me and Phil's flat if I don't explain myself soon."

Under the table, he fiddles with his wedding band: a calming distraction to him. "It's been a long ass three weeks, huh? Yeah, I know. And I'm sorry, and so is Mr. Philip who sends his regards from the nur—office."

Already two screwups. Damn he's on a roll tonight.

"I'm so tired so I'm not going to be editing this, but just know that we love you guys and appreciate all the messages we're getting on social media. Phil likes to brag to me that he's getting more memes, so don't let him win this.

My mental health has been whack for the past month and..." a pause catches his tongue as he considers what he's going to say next,"Okay, that's a lie. Sorry, we've become compulsive liars over the past ten years, huh? The truth is...we've just been busy. No spectacular reason, no excuse: we've just been busy."

Dan nearly topples over at the sudden noise erupting from the "office" as he nearly slipped up calling it, and he places a hand on his chest in panic. The wrong hand. He laughs at himself in the camera and holds up one finger to signify that he'll be back in a second, and he hoists himself from his chair and into the hallway.

"Phil, is everything alright?" He yells, because what the hell, right? He gets a mock-annoyed scoff in reply (as he's supposed to be sleeping—it's his shift in an hour) and he hears footsteps upstairs.

Phil sighs and bounces the tiny baby in his arms, only earning more cries. He frowns and looks into his husband's equally exhausted eyes. "He won't stop crying. I'm a shit parent."

"Hey," Dan immediately embraced him, sandwiching their son between them for a moment before pecking him on the lips. He runs his fingers down Phil's stubble coated cheek and smiles. "You are not a shit parent, Phil. You're the best dad ever."